Greetings! This blog is mostly used for personal purposes and usually online every 3 or so days, because y'know... real life stuff hehe!
yumeshipping/selfshipping safe. įįį¢
satoru gojo love forever <3
My drawing acc is 1nfinityc0smos! (just started!)
warnings; full of x reader and selfshippy centered stuff. beginner artist (please just ignore if you don't like it. i WILL block on sight).
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tags; 1nfinity speaking! , gamma pulse (for personal important stuff).
synopsis: you weren't looking for a boyfriend - one just found you anyway. but things start looking a little more complicated when the roommate you thought you hated starts cutting himself a bigger slice of your life than you ever meant to let him have.
pairings: husband!Gojo x f!Reader
content: smut + light angst, DOMESTIC IN LOVE GOJO!!!, gojo is our favorite green flag!, choso is heartbroken, arguing with yuji lol, reader is having a hard time, protective/possessive gojo, husband/wife time, unprotected piv sex, kitchen sex, kissing, they want each other so badly, accidental creampie
art by @/keki1205 + div by @/petalpxl
"Tell me he's lying."
You couldn't say that. Just like you couldn't stop Choso's heart from breaking the second it started to sink in for him that there wasn't going to be some second chance for the two of you.
He lost you.
And even in six months, if you decided that this whole marriage thing wasn't for you, you weren't sure you could go back to accepting the love he previously offered.
Not when you knew what it felt like to be chosen now.
To not constantly wonder when you'd be shoved on a shelf, only occupying some secret, hidden half of his heart that he couldn't share with the rest of the world.
Or really, just with the people he cared about the most.
"He's not," you muttered, an uncomfortable lump in your throat as you hesitantly found the strength to meet Choso's broken stare.
"How could-" Choso started, stopping himself to shake his head, dark bangs framing in the face you'd fallen for not all that long ago.
But it was betrayal burning beneath your skin now, hurt and disappointment coiling into a tight ball and bouncing around your chest as you nearly threw his question back at him.
How could you? How could he just stand in the same room he used to fuck you in and look at you like you were the one that left him?
"It's like you're not even the same person," Yuji huffed, as if the two of you had spent enough time together the past few months for him to see you changing.
You were different.
Not nearly as naive as you had been back when you were with Nanami, or quite as foolish as you'd been to think that the thing you had with Choso would ever work out.
Could you really call it a relationship? Truly?
When he would only worship you in silence?
"I'm moving out," you announced, figuring that if they were mad at you now, you might as well make it worse. Just throw everything on the table and leave them to clean up the mess. "I'll still pay my part of the rent, but I'll pack up my stuff soon."
Megumi or Todo would probably move in the moment it was empty anyway. The space you occupied in your best friend's life replaced with ease the second you walked away.
But you couldn't bring yourself to stay when you knew you would be spiraling living just a bathroom apart from someone who shattered your heart.
You'd rather stay with the person devoted to stitching you back together.
"To Gojo's place?" Yuji gawked, guilt swallowing you up as you shrugged numbly at him.
"I was thinking about it before we got married, I, well, I didn't really know how to tell you," you explained, knowing that he probably wouldn't buy it anyway.
"When were you actually going to tell me any of this?" He demanded, and you couldn't help but throw a strained glance back to his brother, not sure what you were even looking for from him.
That had always been your problem, hadn't it?
You could pretend that you didn't know what it was exactly that you wanted, but deep down, you did. Support. To be the one he'd stand up for without hesitation. For Choso to call you his without being so fucking scared of everything else.
But he wasn't capable of doing that if it meant pushing his brother away.
You hadn't forced him to choose, he had just done it anyway. And now you were picking someone else to be your priority above both of them.
"I don't know," you admitted. "I didn't want to."
You didn't want things to change. And everything did anyway.
A chapter of your life was closing, and you were already on the next page, waiting for the rest of them to catch up.
"What the hell?" Yuji asked, while Choso kept to his quiet. What else was there to expect?
"I didn't want to hurt your feelings, but I should've just been upfront with you," you continued, meeting his big brown eyes to see what you had been worried about wavering right there in them. All wounded as he shook his head, pink hair sticking up like maybe he'd been running his fingers nervously through them when he paced around here waiting for you.
"Am I just supposed to be okay with you marrying and moving in with a guy you haven't even known for a year?" He scoffed, as if Satoru wasn't literally his boss. And like he hadn't been in full support before you took him seriously. "I'm your best friend-"
"Are you?" You asked, your voice almost cracking as your throat constricted tight. "Because I don't think I'm yours anymore."
His mouth curved down, but even when you suspected water might be welling up in his eyes next, you doubled down.
āI mean, come on, Yuji, how much time have we really spent hanging out even when we already live together? You canāt just act surprised that Iām leaving when you didnāt care that much when I was here,ā you added, forcing yourself to look away at that last part as you silently reminded yourself what you were here for.
To get what you needed and go.
Even if you had to sit on the curb outside and wait for Satoru to come back for you.
āThatās not fair,ā Yuji argued, not entirely wrong either. You knew you were just saying that stuff because you were hurt too. But standing here, getting confronted like this in front of Choso was just rubbing salt in all your own wounds. "All I wanted was for you to be honest with me, and you just walked away.ā
āYou want me to be totally honest?ā You asked, a defensive laugh escaping as Choso tried to call out your name, to deescalate when it was his damn fault the three of you were doing this now.
āDonāt-ā
He shouldnāt have said that.
āI fucked your brother too.ā
And okay, you really shouldnāt have said that.
But of all the things either of you had thrown out there, you knew that was the one you wouldnāt be able to undo.
Yujiās anger immediately deflated into sheer disbelief, his stare shifting between the two of you like he was trying to somehow picture you together before immediately scrunching his nose up in disgust.
"No, no, you-"
"He broke up with me because he didn't want you to find out and get mad at him," you added, glaring accusingly back at Choso who was floundering for something to say, his muscled arms folded across his chest as hurt that rivaled Yuji's shined in his dark eyes.
"Broke up with-" He started to argue, but Yuji was talking over him, realization setting in that you really had slept with his brother. Understanding creeping into his expression like he was suddenly replaying every interaction the two of you had in front of him the last few months, his jaw clenching and releasing as he waved a finger at you that you just swatted away.
"Jesus, do I have to hide Megumi away from you after you divorce my fucking boss?" He snapped, and you winced at the weight of your...betrayal?
It wasn't like you were the only one who'd done it. And Choso had been more than willing before he decided you weren't worth the risk.
You hoped he was happy now.
After all, Yuji would think you were the bad guy here.
"Is there anything else you want or can I finish getting my shit and go now?" You asked, refusing to bite the bait.
You laid it all out.
If Yuji decided he didn't want to see you again, that this was the end of your friendship and he couldn't find it in himself to forgive you for fucking all the most eligible bachelors he knew, well, you would learn to live with his absence.
How different could it be from how you were already living?
"I want you to stay," he stubbornly insisted.
"Please," Choso added, stepping forward, his calloused palm grabbing your wrist before you ripped it away from him, recoiling from his touch. "You can still change your mind."
He hadn't changed his though.
Choso dumped you.
Why couldn't they just let you do the same to them?
"I shouldn't have to fight with you guys to feel like I'm wanted," you muttered, shaking your head as you brushed past Yuji to get a suitcase from the top shelf of your closet, unzipping it as you threw it on your bed.
Yuji made a noise, this strangled scoff that barely even sounded like it came from him, but you didn't stop, snagging the charger you needed and tossing it in. Moving quickly to pack more of your stuff in it, half-convinced that he'd just start putting your clothes back up in protest.
But they both only stared at you, a thick silence falling over as Choso's stare seared into you, silently begging you to look back. To not do what you had already done.
"I'm sorry," Choso started to apologize, his gruff voice even rougher than usual as you shielded yourself from feeling anything from his desperate plea. "I-"
"Don't," you whispered, rejecting it before he could pierce through and rip open your healing scars.
But he fucking sucked at listening.
"Please, just, get an annulment, okay? We can still fix everything, I'll-" Choso tried to promise, but you were past that.
Like you could ever believe it when he was only offering after Yuji already knew about the two of you.
He could see the resignation on your face, the way you refused to even glance back, his voice painfully breaking, "Please, don't do this because of-"
"I'm doing what I want because I want to," you deadpanned. He could blame himself, or blame Satoru, but it was your decision.
You didn't want to keep struggling in a relationship. To waste so much time struggling thinking that meant you must really be in love because you had to fight so hard for it.
Love could be easy.
If you let it.
And it simply was with Satoru.
There was no questioning. No wondering whether or not he wanted you, or wishing he would choose you. He was happy to have his ring on your finger and you by his side. Proud to be yours, permanently stained with his name on his skin and stuck to his hear.
"Do you even give a shit about our friendship?" Your (former?) best friend bluntly asked.
Would he believe you if you said yes?
"Yuji."
He froze at the sound of Satoru's voice, cold and sharp, silencing him as you both looked back at where he was standing in the doorway, his usual smile traded in for a tight-lipped frown.
Relief flooded you, your body relaxing before he even walked over to you, shoulders slumping as he protectively put himself between you and your roommates.
"You-" Yuji tried to sound tough, but his voice wasn't steady, shaking on just a single syllable.
"Don't speak to my wife like that," Satoru sternly cut him off. You forgot sometimes what that other side of him could be like. Looked over the fact that he was literally a lawyer who spent half his work hours arguing with people, his usually goofy grin and soft stare replaced with an icy mask of disdain as his gaze shifted over to where Choso was scowling back at him.
"You just couldn't fucking wait to swoop in and-" Choso snapped at him, unable to hold onto his carefully crafted image in front of Yuji at the hint of a smug smirk that automatically curled up on Satoru's lips.
"You had your chance, I just took mine," Satoru shrugged, wrapping an arm around you as Yuji just stared slack-jawed at the tension crackling between the three of you.
And you didn't really want to stick around for when he eventually realized that you all had a threesome while he was asleep.
"I'm almost done packing," you muttered to the man by your side, anxiously readjusting the glittering ring around your finger as he squeezed your waist affectionately.
"Can I grab you anything? Or-"
"My toothbrush and stuff from the bathroom," you softly said, and he was already moving to go grab them.
"Is this it then?" Yuji asked, and you hated that you could hear him getting choked up despite how heated it had been a handful of minutes ago.
"Yeah," you mumbled, keeping your head down as you chewed the inside of your cheek, refusing to let on how much it was hurting you too. "I guess so."
You hadn't figured out what that would mean for the future even after you left. Satoru carrying your suitcase for you down the stairs and putting in the trunk of his car, opening the door for you and playing the perfect gentleman as he chattered about ordering some wings with the pizza tonight, maybe some chocolate lava cakes too.
But once you were all buckled and he was back on the road, one hand on your thigh and the other on the steering wheel, he was glancing over at the first stop sign, his pretty lips parting slowly, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," you lied reflexively, exhaling as you looked out the window. "I, um, don't know."
He squeezed your thigh, offering you one of those awkwardly apologetic smiles like he wasn't that good at comforting people. But he was trying. "They weren't being fair to you."
Were they?
Or were you all a little (lot) wrong?
You told yourself that at least it was over now.
That you'd done it.
No matter how fucking shitty it made you feel.
Even if your friendship had been beginning to fizzle out, Yuji had been there longer than anyone else. The one you always used to turn to when things were hard, the bright spot in your life when everything was dull and gray and dragging you down.
When had it started falling apart? When he hadn't told you about his brothers? When he started hanging out with Nobara and Megumi more than you? When he found out about you and Nanami?
Or was this just the fate for most friendships? To fade until he would someday be someone you used to know too?
An acquaintance you occasionally grabbed coffee with. A friend you saw twice a year to catch up, no matter how many times you swore you'd see them sooner next time.
Maybe the best thing you could do now was give him time and space. Send him a text next week or leave him a voicemail when things cooled off.
He'd probably chill out if he knew that you had only agreed to giving this marriage a six-month test drive, but for some reason, you didn't really want to admit that. Didn't want to give his concerns any validity by admitting that the morning after you had realized that you might've made a mistake.
Satoru didn't try to push you to talk about it. Gave you the space and changed the subject instead of dragging it out. Taking care of ordering the food for you when you got back to his apartment, clearing out half his closet for you to have more than enough space for your clothes in it, offering to put on a movie you mentioned you liked around him months ago, back when he first started pestering you with text messages.
Even if it didn't seem like there was space left for you in your old apartment, he made this one feel like your place already. Photos from your makeshift honeymoon already printed out and scattered on the counter, new cups and plates purchased like he had you in mind.
You changed into one of his t-shirts in his, or um, your shared room, your suitcase unzipped on his floor as you rifled through it for clean panties and a pair of pajama shorts as you heard him scolding Ijichi on the phone for letting the news about your marriage slip today to Yuji through the shut bathroom door.
Sighing, you walked back through the quiet apartment, peeking in through all the rooms before finding yourself in the kitchen, leaning against the kitchen counter and looking over the photos.
Most of them were of you.
Shots he snuck when you weren't looking, head turned away or distracted. They were all warm, filled with something that made your chest all fuzzy as you found the handful of photos where he had asked tourists to take of the two of you together. His hand on your hips or on your shoulders, keeping you pressed right against him as he beamed proudly, blue eyes glinting as he pointed to the ring on your finger in one of them.
"Food should be here in ten," his warm voice called out, pulling your attention back to planet Earth as you watched him walk around. He traded his button-up and slacks for sweatpants and a plain t-shirt you strongly suspected was deliberately a size too small judging by the way it clung to his shoulders and biceps. "You like those?"
"Yeah," you softly replied, picking up the most normal-looking one of the bunch. You looked happy in it. Had been happy in it. And not the forced, faking it, sort of happy you were used to convincing yourself you were. "I do."
When everything else fell to the wayside, when it was just you and him, you didn't think anything had ever felt better, actually.
"It's okay to not be okay, sweetheart," He murmured, seeing through your struggles, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and letting his heavy chest resting on your back as he squeezed you tight.
"I sorta wish I met you sooner," you muttered, voicing the thought before it had even fully surfaced in your mind.
"Yeah?" Satoru immediately latched onto it, amusement lifting his question as he leaned in somehow closer. "If you met me instead of Nanami, you think you would have given me a chance?"
You smiled to yourself, trying to consider what you might've done if he'd been the one at that bar offering to drive you home. Or if somehow Yuki would've set you up with him instead.
Would you still be his wife right now? Or maybe even sooner?
"You probably would've still had to work to get me," you hummed, a hint of teasing in your tone. He chuckled, and your chest constricted in response, heart speeding up at the warmth of his laughter.
"You think I wouldn't?" He huffed, feigning like you were wounding him with your hesitation.
"I dunno," you shrugged. "You might have decided I wasn't enough."
Maybe, if you had made it easier, he wouldn't have been so interested. You wouldn't be the prize he currently felt like you were if he didn't need to wait so long to have you.
But all your insecurities, the anxieties you were bottling up, were almost immediately dismissed by the next words that left his lips.
"You've always been enough for me."
Satoru seemed to have a knack for always saying exactly what you needed to hear. For being exactly the kind of guy you needed.
For loving you the way you never knew you wanted to be loved.
He brushed the hair off the nape of your neck, and you were already anticipating his touch, craving it. Breaking down the walls you once hastily constructed to board up your heart so that he could fill it back up. Aching for him to hold you and tell you that he wanted nothing more than to be yours so you could allow yourself to be his too.
"Want me to make you feel better?" He murmured, his soft lips pressed against your shoulder just above the collar of your shirt. Ghosting delicately over the tendon of your throat, sighing softly just so his warm breath would send a shiver down your spine.
"Please," you half-whispered back, shutting your eyes as he slowly began to trace careful kisses in a drawn-out line up your neck. It was torture, but it was tremendous and tantalizing and a thousand other things you were struggling to comprehend as you surrendered yourself to the moment.
To your husband.
His fingers touched you with a tenderness your heart no longer had a hard time accepting, his mouth devoted to making you moan and murder his name as he slyly tugged your shorts down, slipping two fingers along the band of your panties and humming happily to himself as he let the elastic snap back into your skin.
"My beautiful wife is sad," he murmured, his head pressed against yours, exhaling like your hurt hurt him too. "What should I do, hm?"
"Keep kissing me," you suggested, your voice coming out pitchy and high as your fingers gripped the counter for support, knees unfortunately wobbly as he used his own to spread your legs further apart.
"Where?" He lightly teased, one of his hands slipping around to the front, his palm pressing down just above your clit. "Here?"
Your face flushed, heat you were sure he could feel blossoming beneath your cheeks as his mouth moved to press an innocent peck above your collarbone.
"Or here?"
God, he knew just how to torment you. To drag it out and make you squirm as he adjusted the pressure on your already aching bundle of nerves, eagerly awaiting your response as a surprised squeak slipped out of you.
"That's not an answer, baby," he mocked, and if he wasn't so pretty and you weren't so tired, you would twist around and tell him that he wasn't being fair.
But you already learned that lesson about Satoru. He was never fair.
He got what he wanted. And that was you.
"I can get down on my knees right now for you," he continued, undeterred by your indecision, unaware that all his sweet talking was unfortunately a little too effective, a damp patch growing in your panties by the second as he talked to you in that low voice. "Suck on your clit and finger fuck you until you forget all about today."
A generous offer, really. But his impatience was beginning to rub off on you.
And there was an emptiness inside of you that you needed more than just his fingers to fill.
"I want you to fuck me," you murmured, staring down at the photos and trying to control your breathing only to hear his own hitch behind you.
It took a second for him to compose himself, but then your panties were being pulled down fast enough you weren't sure they would survive before he was babbling something about how you were killing him and he was trying to be romantic here blah blah blah, but all your brain was focusing on was the sensation of two digits dipping inside you, testing to make sure you were already soaked enough that he wouldn't hurt you.
Unable to resist the temptation to push in further, swirling around as he sighed and whined that he wanted you for dessert later then, his appetite apparently bottomless when it came to how many ways he could have you.
He didn't make you wait long, pulling his fingers back out and popping them into his mouth to suck them clean as you threw him an arched brow over your shoulder.
"Go ahead," he huffed, pouting at you as you resisted a giggle. "Say it."
"You're insatiable," you accused.
"Only for you."
You wondered what it was about you that made him feel that way.
Was it too much to hope it would never go away?
His cock slid between your slick entrance, and he got a little too much in playing with you, pushing it back-and-forth, shimmying his hips while he went back to kissing your throat.
It would be a lie to say you didn't like it. That you weren't about to giggle a little when he half-whispered that he could probably cum just doing this, holding it in just for him to finally slot himself inside you.
You were immediately giving into him, folding forward just for him to grab your hair with his free hand and pull it back light enough to not hurt, but to refuse to let you run or squirm away.
"Uh-uh," he murmured, tilting your head to the side enough that he had better access to sink his teeth into your throat in a heated love bite, inch after inch of his cock shoving in as your body easily acclimated him. Moaning softly at how right all of it felt, melting for him as he easily pushed his way deeper. Familiar territory you were both treading, even though this felt different somehow. "You're all mine right now, sweetheart."
"Just right now?" You asked, although it came out as a thin gasp, eyes rolling back right as he bottomed out, cock stretching you effortlessly out, molding you to his shape as his laugh morphed into a thick groan.
"Forever, if you'll let me have it," he immediately responded, like it was a vow he hadn't gotten the chance to say at your wedding.
Forever.
Since when had it stopped sounding so scary?
He fucked you soft and slow, nudging your shirt up and running his hand over the tattoo you'd gotten for him, rutting into you a little harder every time his thumb dragged over the outline of it.
Drinking up your moans and making a feast out of your neck and jaw, and you couldn't even bring yourself to tell him to not leave marks, not when any word you tried to get out just ended up in a mushy whine you couldn't control.
Thighs trembling, barely supporting yourself when he let go of your hair to start playing with your tits instead, adoring every piece of yourself that you allowed him to have.
Pleasure warping your brain until you felt like a puddle, heat coiling and curling until it was all that you were, bent forward and whimpering for him as he filled you up so completely.
"Y-you can't just make sounds like that, pretty baby," he purred, struggling to sound composed when his voice cracked at the first word, stuttering though it as his hips drilled back down into your ass.
"Or what?" You teased back, a funny tickling feeling crawling up your throat as air wheezed through it.
Your husband wasn't satisfied to just take you from behind, pulling out to hear your soft whine before flipping you around and crashing his lips against yours to swallow the sound himself.
Hands on your ass hoisting you up, picking you up and pinning your body between him and the counter. And you were kissing him back just as hard, tongue slipping into his mouth to taste yourself on it.
And for a second, you almost asked yourself why the hell it had taken you so long to let him in like this.
But then he was pushing his cock back in, some invisible string tying itself in a tight knot around your heart as the rest of the world fizzled out until it was just this.
Just his hands and his mouth and his cock.
Crammed full while he practically coddled you, reaching up to cup your cheek as he murmured desperate promises between kisses.
Claiming you like he couldn't stand the idea of you being anyone else's. Wearing his heart on his sleeve so that you could have it. Maybe it had taken him a little longer to win you over, but he had won.
"I love you," he blurted it out, and you knew he really meant it. That he was not the sort of man who would ever take it back. Not even when he just said it mid-thrust.
But his eyes still widened, all worried like he thought you would ask him to pull out and then never speak to him again, but you just nodded nervously, leaning forward to press a soft kiss against his lips.
"You can say it again," you muttered.
He already had your name on his back.
You sorta doubted he could make this more serious than that.
"I love you so fuckin' much," he breathed again, pulling you closer and practically grinding his cock deep enough you could nearly feel him rubbing up against your cervix, prodding against the spongy spot with a desperation you were a little embarrassed to share.
A fever burning beneath your skin you were sure that he'd soothe, pleasure pulling you closer to a climax as you nodded, unable to actually bring yourself to say the same words, even if you sorta wanted to just so he wouldn't be disappointed in you.
"My girl, my wife," he continued, rambling as his pupils widened, only a thin strip of blue visible as he called out your name like it was the last thread holding him together.
"My husband," you murmured back, letting a hint of your own pride slipping through as you reached up to caress his cheek, gently brushing your fingertips over his soft skin as he let out a long whimper that left your stomach in knots.
And before you fully realized it, he was cumming inside you, warm ropes of cum filling you up as he rushed to start rubbing your clit to get you to finish too.
"S-shit, I'm sorry, oh god," he whispered, his voice breaking as he threw his head back, his thumb twitching while he painted patterns over it.
You'd like to say that it was just that his touch that pushed you over, but it was how cute he looked, his white brows pulled together tightly as he put himself on the same level as you, giving you those pretty puppy dog eyes while you wilted into his touch.
So wrapped up in him you could barely breathe, barely process where your body started and his ended when every piece of you felt so connected.
"S'okay," you tried to reassure him right as stars flashed behind your vision, scrunching your eyes shut as he coaxed you through the wave of pleasure, just pumping his cock in deeper and pushing the cum back in as yours walls squeezed tight around him.
You didn't know how badly you wanted to stay like that until it was over.
Until he started to pull out and you found yourself wrapping your legs around his waist and digging the base of your foot into his back to keep him inside of you.
āI forgot the condom,ā he mumbled, burying his face in your throat like he was embarrassed and pressing more feather-light kisses across it like little apologies. āI think I still have that extra Plan B in the bathroom.ā
āItās okay,ā you murmured back, repeating yourself and running your fingers through his hair as you found yourself cradling his head closer.
You would take it, and everything would be fine.
A neat little slideshow of the next few months playing in your head as you caught your breath, feeling his cock throb and twitch as you pictured your new routine.
Waking up next to him and showering together before work. Coming home to takeout or cooking dinner. Curling up on his couch and having lazy sex on practically every available surface until there wasn't a space left you hadn't fucked. Falling asleep in his arms.
Would all of that really be so wrong?
Letting yourself get lost in this domesticity? Truly give the whole wife thing a try since you were having such a hard time just being a girlfriend anyway?
"So, do you like rent this place or own it?" You asked, looking around it and picturing whether or not you'd still be living here a year from now when you were having an awfully hard time imagining leaving.
"It's all mine, baby," he proudly proclaimed, leaning down so his nose was nuzzling against your own. "And yours now too."
"We should paint it then," you muttered, tilting your head to the side as he grinned.
"My wife has such great ideas," he hummed, and you couldn't believe how much you were starting to like him saying that.
"How long until you get sick of calling me that?" You murmured, swallowing hard and knowing what answer you were already hoping for.
āCome hereā You grit between your teeth, clamping your thighs around his hips, securing yourself on top of a pouty looking Satoru. āStop wigglingā You gently tug his hand back towards you when he tries to pull it away.
āI need to trim your nailsā he shakes his head, white fluffy hairs rubbing against the carpet.
āBut you know I wouldnāt hurt you anywayā Satoru tries to argue, blinking up at you with an expression somewhere between glaring and pouting, his eyebrows brought closer together.
āTrue, you would never hurt me.ā You agree, perched on his lap with him laying down underneath, your legs hugging his sides in place. Satoru watches the nail clipper move closer towards him with a scowl on his face. āBut I think my bedding is tired of your nightly shenanigans, toruā
The scratches and rips in your bedding are growing more frequent than youād like to see.
Satoru grumbles a little in return, eyes flickering elsewhere. Then they return back to yours, and you can see the moment a lightbulb lit in his head ā a new idea forming.
Taking advantage of you trapping him under you for a nail trim, he shifts, bucking his hips up ever so slightly under you.
āSatoru!ā you yelp, one hand gripping his shirt, your thighs clamming further around him. He canāt say he hates that reaction of yours.
You slap his chest lightly with your free hand, glaring down at his cheeky, proud face. āYouāre annoying.ā
āAnd you love meā He counters, giving you one more slight buck of his hips, making you shift on his lap. That pleased lilt to his tone still present.
āDoesnāt change the fact youāre annoyingā you grumble under your breath, feeling warmer all around at his teasing behavior. That cat can never quiet down, can he? You chalk it down as him growing comfortable around you ā perhapse too comfortable, some might say.
He looks up at your focused face, you moving to his other hand, trimming just enough to not hurt him nor cause more furniture damage around the house. You look so peaceful, so used to things. To him.
Maybe heās not the only one whom has grown very comfortable around you lately.
A moment of content silence passes between you two, enough for you to notice his stillness. Your gaze falls to his electric blue eyes, able to see his tail swaying softly on the ground from your peripheral vision.
āSay, hypothetically speakingā He starts, his hand relaxing in yours, letting you do whatever it is you please with him ā even if it is showering him or trimming his nails.
āWere a human and a hybrid to reproduceā¦ together, I meanā he introduces the idea lightly, cautiously, using distanced and medical terms for the action. You blink down at him in a mix of slight confusion and anticipation to where this is leading up to. āā¦do you think the result would be a fully human baby or a kitten hybrid?ā
with this treasure, i summon: @xhslvt @xiyizhouswife @hartistasinombre @melancholicreaper @goatkkotsu @nightmarenyxx @sleazysaltedcat @defenestratehumanity @shhhhiamreading @totallynotashieldagent @vyxeen @hartistasinombre @angeliure-0 @septembermoonchild @ttyl0lxyx @yourlocalcatscammer
taglist is open! thanks for the reposts and comments and all interraction beforehand!!! MWAH i dont mind suggestions to what more we can do with hybird gojo!
Dark Gojo Satoru x reader: You're the only thing holding him together after Suguru.
Warnings: just Satoru being a clingy asshole ; unhealthy coping mechanisms (Gojo) ; this was meant to be fluff I'm sorry lmao, so it's a little tame
You huff for what you think is the third time in ten minutes. Even that was being generous.
āCome onnn, donāt leave meee.ā Satoru reaches out to you, tugging at your sleeves with the most gut-wrenching pout as you try to slip on your uniform jacket. You could barely get one arm in before heās sneaking himself around your shoulders, the jacket slipping off with every attempt, and all Satoru did was groan as if he was the one running late for a mission.
It wasnāt entirely too sweet. Ever since Suguru left, Satoru had been hounding for your presence in almost every moment of the day, text messages blowing up the moment you leave his sight for no longer than five minutes. You tried your best to keep up with the jokes, the smiles - even when heās being such a hypocrite himself in never letting that light reach his eyes again. But it didnāt take long where even you, who used to wreak havoc alongside him, to simply try and duck outside those all-seeing eyes. When did the word āaloneā ever feel so foreign?
God, you were exhausted.
āIāll starve! Iāll shrivel up and die without you here!ā
But damn, heās way too adorable for your own good.
āI canāt just-ā leave this mission, Satoru. Thatās what you wouldāve wanted to say had he not suddenly tackled you to the ground, almost 2 metres of muscle and traumatised male puberty crushing down upon you like a boulder of divine reckoning. You were literally gasping for air. Satoru himself was hot- hot in all the ways a boy could be, as he was literally melting into you like he wanted to fuse the two of you together. You to him. He to you. It doesnāt matter when youāre going to be late. Again.
āYou donāt need to go.ā His breath was warm against your neck, the tip of his nose rubbing your skin as if marking his territory. āOther sorcerers could handle it, right? I did all those missions anyway; they could pick up these leftovers.ā
You growled at him. āI need to graduate, Satoru.ā
āIāll make āem let you. They canāt just say no to me, even if itās for you. Recommendation or whatever.ā
After some more pitiful attempts at struggling, you finally relent, face-planting back onto the floor with an irritated grumble. You could feel his obnoxious smile on your skin, victory oozing in his features like the literal sweat you feel sliding down your neck. He was hot hot. And even the cool Autumn weather did nothing to help at all.
āā¦ Iām not going to deal with your mess, Satoru. Let go of me.ā Your hands fisted weakly against the wooden floor, the sticky pads of your fingers rubbing against its lamination. āYou want people to catch up to your strength, right? How can I try stuck underneath you like this?ā
āEven if you tried, can you?ā
Your expression soured even further. āFuck you, Satoru.ā
But the two of you know heās right.
It doesnāt matter what you do. Doesnāt matter what you try. Youāre not selfish enough to push yourself like Mei Mei, nor hold a supportive technique befitting your status like Utahime or Shoko. Something a woman like you should bear. The stares of disapproval, disgust or simply none at all, always had grated on you growing up in a world that believed you lived on the bottom rung with a purpose to just produce more victims for its future. You thought it would soothe a little in a class with the three of them, despite how far up they were, but you shouldāve realised how fast shooting stars can fall and simply burn through. How easily had it been that that roof over your head, which you thought the three of them were, would crumble down in the culmination of that single summerās day. What did that make of you?
Now, you feel like nothing more than an accessory to him, though Satoru says otherwise. You canāt help it; itās what everyone else sees when they look at you. Heās not even using his technique, holding you down like this, just a man - a desperate one for you. You can't even fight back a normal man.
In the end, you can only lie there. Satoru content on top of you.
āI saw your phone just now, someone else is handlinā it.ā He whispers to your ear, breathy, tired, willing himself to simply just relax into you. āā¦ Iām sorry.ā
But he doesnāt move. Not a budge, nose pressed to your nape before nudging up and down the slope of your ear in a pathetic attempt to get more of you.
Youāre the only thing holding him together right now, hair a little longer and darker than it usually is, your back and everything else packing more muscle than when the two of you first met. Youāre taller, too; he just wishes you grew a little more (But maybe you also shouldn't). Satoru remembers how easily he discarded you when you introduced yourself in front of the class, and all the times that came after - before Suguru scolded him, of course. But that doesnāt matter now. Heāll make it up to you. The two of you have all the time in the world as he will it. Heās the Strongest now.
(āAre you the strongest because youāre Gojo Satoru? Or are you Gojo Satoru because youāre the strongest?ā)
His mind had been a whirlwind since that day, but heās glad that something in your touch soothes him. He knows how terrible heās being, heās not that blind, but- like you, he canāt help it. The Higher-ups had been assigning him so many missions lately, and he had been taking them all with such discipline so uncharacteristic of him. He barely even protests, standing there surrounded by all those faceless silhouettes, figure still but mind completely elsewhere. Shoko would have been disturbed, had she still been in Jujutsu tech and not far away for extra medical school or whatever.
You lay limp and defeated beneath his touch now, eyes puffy and red with little pools of frustration. Heās sorry. He gives you a little apologetic nip to the bud of your ear, the fleshy meat small and naked, dragging a whimper out of you. Maybe you should pierce it with something.
God, youāre way too cute.
Heās sorry.
Like, what if you just left him? Mission classifications are usually wrong a dozen of the time, windows barely getting in on the true intel before dipping as itās too dangerous for them. If someone like Ichiji couldnāt handle sorcery life, what about you? But he canāt let you just leave like Nanami (no on else should leave him behind), nor will you or the Higher-ups allow for a change in profession so easily, like what Ichiji did. They recognise your potential as a leash, so Satoru will bite the handle that is you into his mouth before anyone else can hold you otherwise. Even if itās cruel, in your eyes and his, but at least youāll still be where youāre supposed to be: with him.
If, after four years of training with them, youāre still this weak, what power do you think you hold for yourself? You should just always be by his side, so his Infinity can let the two of you mix and stay forever.
Heās sorry.
God, youāre way too cute.
āWe can watch a movie instead. You still have Yagaās puppet, right? Hold it through the movie.ā He knows giving you a training meant for first years sounds humiliating, but he canāt help but prove something to you so you can understand his perspective. It goes against everything a sorcerer should be and how this world runs, but he canāt just lose you after everyone else. Even with that enlightenment of his, he canāt help himself but to prove to Suguru: Heās human too. āIāll get some popcorn. What flavour would you like? My treat.ā
Satoru can feel the way you try to swallow that lump in your throat, hard and wretched as if youāre trying to hold back a sob. You might be. He can feel your little jump in pulse against his cheek, his eyes capturing your stream of blood rising before he cooes at you slightly. The way your neurons fire in thought, your eyes directed towards him beneath your eyelids, that tongue of yours pressed hard against your palate. He knows he should let you go, itās the right thing to do, for both of you.
But damn, youāre way too adorable for his own good.
He simply flips you over, pressing his cheek against your chest. You don't protest further.
āā¦ Whatever youād like, Satoru.ā
You know heāll like anything sweet.
He thinks youāll be his next favourite flavour, too.
a/n: just some small writing practice to get into the hold of things
who knows how accurate this is to canon, but I want to die every time I imagine babyjo seeing curses for the first time and being so scared of the monsters that he cried and cried but no one ever came to comfort him. he cried in the way children do, with hiccups, hyperventilating, all snotty and red in the face. they probably scoffed at him too. disappointed and disgusted by his display of weakness. babyjo didn't understand why they were so mad at him for crying, why no one was protecting him from the monsters.
he couldn't shut his eyes, because he still saw them. everywhere. all at once.
babyjo eventually learnt to self-soothe. he had to. because no one would talk to him until he stopped crying. because he didn't like disappointing everyone. he might have had a blanket or toy he brought with him everywhere till it was dirty and torn apart because it was warmer than how everyone else holds him. because no one hugged him. no one rubbed his head or patted his back, no one sang lullabies to get him to sleep, or reassured him after he woke up from a nightmare
maybe someone higher up decided that the heir shouldn't have a teddy or blanky ā it's an embarrassing display of vulnerability the gojo clan cannot afford ā and they snatched it from him. no one listened to him when he begged to have it back. and he begged for so long.
once again babyjo was alone.
that's why, if he ever has a baby, best believe he's spoiling the little thing with all the toys in the world!!! he doesn't believe in letting the baby cry it out. doesn't believe in saying 'no' or 'be a big boy'. dadjo always brings his baby up to eye level or he bends down. he hates towering over his baby. he doesn't believe in a child being able to identify their parent by their legs or their shoes.
dadjo dresses his mini me in the cutest, softest onesies and cuddles the hell out of his baby as a way to heal his inner child. he's the type to be admiring his baby and then suddenly getting cuteness aggression. "my shaylaaaaa," he'd coo, biting his baby's chubby cheek.
oh and he totally compares his baby with all other babies. 'my baby doesn't scream endlessly like that in public' + 'my baby eats all their vegetables' + 'my baby can build tower blocks as tall as they are'
but dadjo also always tells his baby, 'you're perfect just the way you are. even if you're not the smartest, the biggest, or the strongest. just grow up healthy. and take care of your mommy. she gets sad when I'm not with her.'
pairings ---- yandere!gojo x reader [future satosugu x reader]
synopsis ---- In which Gojoās first friend is a metaphysical being, and that changes everything.
(Where the fourth wall wasn't as invincible as you thought, but maybe that means the plot isnāt as solid either.)
warning/tags ---- nothing for this chapter ; reader isn't specified at all ; canon-typical violence; hurt/comfort; fluff and angst; soon though ; beta, what's that?
images above by me. dividers (top) by honeyluvsw
ą¼ļ½”Ā° Ao3 (soon, lil lazy) ; a/n at the bottom :>
[ā Currently Playing: Season 2, Episode 3 ā]
Snow falls perpetually in the dawn of winter, a coat of white over the barren grey.
But this monotone scene is not what calls for his pause, nor entirely the gaping absence of curse energy from the hulking man uselessly trying to trail behind him. No. For what catches his attention, Gojo Satoru sees it again. A flicker - barely there, existing between here and not. It reaches right at his eyes, staring back at him from beyond the infinity.
That Click.
Gojo Satoru sees You, again.
Whatever āYouā were, and for once, that scares him. Excites him. He isnāt used to not understanding what heās seeing. It shouldnāt be like that; the thought inconceivable for his Six Eyes. But unlike RCT or Domain Expansions, which heās confident of acquiring sooner or later, Satoru doesnāt even know what you are. A name to classify you unfathomable - completely out of his reach, no matter how hard he tries to grasp something even closely related to you.
At least for now. Gojo Satoru has not yet found something impossible for him to do, and you - curse spirit or user (most likely something more, Gojo Satoru will not be subverted by something as boring as the first two), isnāt going to change that anytime soon. Nothing slips past him.
.
.
.
Yet once he blinks, youāre gone. As if youāve never existed at all.
Maybe you didn't - not here, at least.
Snow continues to fall, and the hand tugs him forward again. Satoru continues walking like the world keeps on turning, but your brief presence in reality doesnāt stray away from his mind.
What can someone call reality?
In common sense, it's the world around you. Through a scientific perspective instead of the philosophical, it would be the observable universe you reside in. Not only by sight, necessarily, but perception - proof of its existence from the way it interacts with the other things it shares its existence with. They can be recorded, measured, assumed - adhering to the laws of the universe that are always constant.
Constant, and easily broken. Paradoxical. Always with exceptions, or fail outside their designated boundary. Sometimes both.
That's the funny thing with existence. One might presume for it to be clear, yet its fractals hold fragility and failure of which it demonstrate gaps between what's real and whatās not. Essentially, its limits - everything and all its different infinities stuck within this 3 spatial dimensions and time. Itās hard to wrap your head around it sometimes, where shapes could pass to something higher before appearing once more somewhere impossible for any type of movement could provide. Maybe thats the thing; Some unseen boundary, impossible for this flat universe to convey:
The next spatial dimension, and its cruelty in being above.
Him and the nothing between the two of you.
His hands glide across the paper in smooth grace, perfect strokes written into the small, childish book. The cover was barely worn, a few dents in the corners but nothing truly perceptible. Satoru has kept this little Greymon-themed notebook as a log of sorts, a diary if you can stretch the term - but more of a scientific logbook, considering it only holds a focus on one thing:
Records of the small breaks in reality; You.
It started when he kept seeing you repeatedly, again and again, that inaudible āclickā of the universe giving way. Yet, they were not your ātrue formā, as he had learnt to derive the differences - admittedly based on just a natural feeling in his gut. Most were merely a flicker; a glitch in video game terms, where you do too much to try and overwhelm the code while it resists your attempts to exploit it. Like slipping into the out-of-bounds in Digimon world. Except the game this time is the universe itself, and somehow, you broke in from beyond.
However, this morning was the clearest you have ever been, and Satoru is determined to jot this down somewhere safe even if he knows he can never truly forget. Not with such an astute mind like his.
Anyways, back to the point: At that moment, you bared your true form, something he hadnāt seen since his first perception of light; The instant his eyelids cracked open and tipped the balance of the world. Something he hasnāt seen since his birth.
Not even his mother was the first thing he saw. It was you.
And after years, you came to him whole again.
[Heaven.]
Mystery Screen Sighting Log | #39 | 16:33 | January 13th, 1999 | Mid Winter | Weather: Heavy Snowfall | Location: Just outside the boundaries of the Kyoto Gojo Clan Estate
Another appearance. Major. Very, very major. Screens has shown up once again without any clear causes or origin that can be attributed based on the earlier event or of the ones before. Does it have any relation to the man that snuck up on us: āTojiā from the Zenin clan, if that elder was correct? (Not from any information that sack of old skin has given me.) Did their sudden appearance have a connection to that guyās āHeavenly Restrictionā instead?
Itās not like Screens would give me an answer as well. Blegh
Satoru pouted as his hand stilled, the pen dotting the book with a dash of ink. His encounters with you were like grasping at a fading mist, a mirage that dissipates the moment you come too near. There was nothing about you he knew: no name, no solid form - only your existence. And even thatā¦
No one knew what he was talking about, anyways; Was this what itās like to be born as a sorcerer from a bunch of normies? Satoruās already pissed at the lack of answers from all those pathetically weak and clueless caretakers of his. They should allow him in the restricted section for all of the clanās historical records already. Maybe he might be able to find something worthwhile there. Anything, really.
Itāll be really funny if theyād try to give him meds for āhallucinatingā. Goes to show all weaklings are the same, whether they can perceive curses or not.
Whatever, heāll write down something heās actually certain about now instead. Specifically, what he saw.
You Screens was a literal, actual screen. My nickname is so accurate after all Hah! My memoryās so great . If I could properly describe the form of what Screens took shape, it was as if for that brief moment in time, the curse energy and physical matter of that location went suddenly thin - that space itself of which Screens took up becoming non-existent.
Not going into the crazy physics or quantum crap of it: An easier analogy to describe would be as if to view the universe as a balloon, and Screens, from wherever beyond they are, began to push deeply into said balloon. As if to puncture, the rubber of the balloon would thin, the fabric of reality stretching and stretching until the boundary between inside and out becomes clear.
I find that a very simple way to explain what Screens did, but clearly Iām the only one that can confirm my observations. I say that Iām right. Though, the only thing thatās similar of Screens to this world isā¦
Their form, looking strangely akin to that of glass (there was also a [manās?] voice speaking muffled from beyond, though it was only through my Six Eyes reading the sound vibrations that I can confirm there was indeed noise from wherever Screens was). A faint silhouette of someoneās shadow was definitely behind that impossible mirror.
.
.
Was that you, Screens?
Was that You?
For the first time, the both of you had truly met. A giddy feeling rushes up in Satoruās stomach, but the aloof and graceful mannerism drilled into his head by his stupid clan did little to deter the small cheer of victory that spills out of his lips. His exclamation echoed throughout his private quarters, and the sudden sound probably terrified some random maid nearby.
Whatever, the amount of training and studies they made him do today warrants for some well-deserved childishness.
With a sigh, he splayed himself across the tatami mat, his head looking towards the moonlit engawa upside down in his view, scientific logbook forgotten. The structure was puny in its stature, and the shadows of the plants trapped within the tsubo-niwa danced across the thin sheets between the him and the garden. If he just ignored the view from his Six Eyes and squint, he can pretend that it was you.
āWhyād you come thennn?ā He grumbled, high and whiny in the way only an angsty twelve year old could. āWhy not before, when I kept trying to call you? Those losers started to think I was going insane, you know!ā
There was nothing except for the light rustling of a few leaves. Satoruās eye twitched in irritation.
āBlegh. You're such a bad friend. Always so quiet. Never talking to me.ā
He can see it before it happened, the gurgle of water deep within the throat of the Shishi-odoshi before it lets out a resounding click, then falling back into place as if it didnāt just mockingly snort at his complaints (he swears they only built it there to piss him off, why would curse-users and spirits be wary of a contraption meant to scare away animals. It looked a little ugly anyways.)
Well, thanks Screens. Satoru likes to imagine that the āclickā of the sozu was your answer to him, and began to roll around the poor flooring in retaliation.
āDo you hate me, huhhh?ā He tried to sob, a few tears pooling as he bats his lashes. Ah, the blankets are all messed up now, but currently your further attention is his top priority. His voice builds, an accusing finger jabbing towards the shut shoji that just so looks like you. āThen why do you keep following me? Like- Like a ghost- and Iām meant to kill things like that you know! Iām the strongest sorcerer. Impressed? If youāre like those things, I can easily exorcise āya!ā
Silence was the only thing that greeted him after his outburst, with even the night sky empty from the cawing of crows. Not a single reply from you.
Damn, tough crowd.
āBut you're not those things, aren't you?ā
Resigning to the momentary defeat, Satoru falls back to the tatami mats, a giving out a tired āhuffā as he hits the floors a bit too hard. He laid there for a while. Minutes. Hours. Who cares. Heās always alone for the night, the moon almost reaching itās zenith already.
Alone, except with you.
āI know Youāre here.ā
Satoru stares up towards the ceiling, his eyes fluttering shut after the whisper leaves his lips.
Heās never heard his voice that soft before.
With his Six Eyes, he looks over his room, picking out every single little thing. He takes in the shapes, stretching his senses far and wide as his gaze begin to encompass the entire estate: His collection of books, the servants outside, a car passing by the city. He identifies them based on their individual forms, the machinations of curse energy steadily flowing throughout their bodies as they exist. Exists. He tries to expand further, sensing the energies of people as far up to the countryside village only a few kilometres away.
Was this what you can see, or was it different? Now that he thought about it, what could something like You even see?
Words fail him, but by process of elimination, that's how you're perceiving him right now ā aren't you?
Bah, heās already exhausted from the pointless lessons taught to him by those caretakers earlier, and mentally abusing his mind again with constantly thinking about You and how you even worked is going to do nothing but make his pounding headache worse.
Deciding thatās enough for the day, Satoru flop over into his futon. He snatches the notebook to his chest, his thumb pressing over the tiny dents in the corners.
One day. He'll get you one day. Get you to finally spill all your secrets and whatever else you hold, so you stop playing with him from a distance and actually let him touch you.
The dapple of light brushed across Satoruās hair, and if he closes his eyes again, he can almost feel the tender warmth of your presence through the moonās radiance. Gentle. Shy. But always there, always watching him and everyone and - doing nothing, just holding an imperceptible pull ever since the dawn of time like the moon itself.
Heāll get you one day.
Itās well known that the universe of this reality is limited to the constructs of only 3 spatial directions of movement and time - though the latter is hesitantly constrained to just āforwardsā. This means anything that reside in a different orientation of the greater dimensions wouldnāt be ever reachable for a lower existance such as ours. Everything material, down to the not, has its infinities bounded and limited in what it could be indefinite.
Thus such how Klein bottles seems to āintersectā, itās 3D model an inferior fascimile of itās true structure.
However, these are all simply misconceptions through our limited perception of what āisā. Dimensionality itself is only just a property of abstract mathematical spaces , manifolds that can hold everything and nothing with its own individual point. Itās not surprising to find concepts thoroughly well documented and understood that works in a dimension or several greater.
Everything ālimitedā is seen through a perspective. Whatās the difference between looking at a hexagon internally divided by six triangles and a cube? Are those edges, boundaries, or is there āspaceā between of a higher dimension that seperates the two faces? For a 2D being, two planes not meeting because one is simply āon topā or āaboveā another is incomprehensible. But when a being of our universe simply transform it ādownā, they intersect.
When two of these mainfolds intertwine, when two realities intertwine, even for a single instant as you both share this same set of āspaceā - maybe it is possible for such information to transfer between the two.
For either him or You to meet the other.
The midnight winds caress his hair again, and the scrolling of your presence lulls him to sleep like fingers against his scalp.
It was another of his escapedes again, none daring to stop him when he simply got up and left the clan estate. He didnāt even close the fusuma shut as he walked out, leaving the wimpish instructor behind trying to get him back to his studies, pleading at him in vain. No one had forgotten about the time when the staff had the audacity to try and use force, the missing training room and surrounding area a grim reminder of what it means to go against the strongest. Even if he was still a child.
Whatever, heās got something more important to do: His focus for the day was already found and set the moment his eyes sensed that familiar, subtle strain of reality intersecting.
Youāre here.
Or, rather, you're about to be. The thrum in the air excited him. But this time, Satoruās ready. His steps slowed as took a random route, languidly passing through the sea of people rushing for the day.
āDonāt leave me hanging Screens.ā He kicks over some toy that another kid dropped, their bawling starting to piss him off. āSome weaklings are already trying to bug me.ā
The streets slowly became empty as he kept walking; White building after white building as his eyes extend his view far and wide. He swears heās seen the same person running back and forth after missing the bus to the train station. Yeah, heās had enough, and the lack of any sweets within the past one hour isnāt helping the irritation bubbling at his throat.
Maybe he should give those brain-dead flies a little warning already. It's funny how they try to hide their pathetic murderous intent in such obvious circumstances.
āDonāt look at me you small fry.ā
Click.
[ā Currently Playing: Season 2, Episode 11 ā]
You. Were. So. Close.
Satoruās hand darted out at a blinding speed, his head whipping to the left as he reached out to the empty air right beside his face. Even to an adept sorcerer, he was desperately grasping at nothing. But only through his Six Eyes, he sees it.
He sees you.
And now youāre in his hands.
āGotcha!ā
To an outsider, it would seem as if the pretentious kid passing by suddenly acted up and pretend-wrestled with an imaginary friend. Most were wise enough to avoid a strange twelve year old play-fighting out of nowhere in the middle of the streets alone, and that only gave Satoru more room to try force you down right into his arms. He sucks in a breath as his fingers were lit ablaze.
[ā Continue Playing: Season 2, Episode 11?ā]
āYouāre not disappearing this time.ā With a grunt, Satoru tugs harder. Limitless strained at trying to reach through the infinity between him and you. āDonāt leave me again. I wonāt let you!ā
[ā Error. Refreshing. ā]
He won't loose you.
[ā Error. Refreshing. ā]
Not anymore.
[ā Error. Refreshing-
The floor feels cold as his elbows and knees pressed against it, yet Satoru couldnāt register anything except for the absolute nothingness he holds in his arms. Or maybe it wasnāt that, but instead something even a brain such as his couldnāt comprehend. It was only until after a few minutes passed that Satoru recognised he wasnāt in the city anymore, but the one private bedroom he spent sulking over you a few days before.
The Shishi-odoshi clicked, as if in confirmation.
Satoruās breathing grew still. A foreign sensation of unease pulls in his guts as he internally warred between whether to look down into his chest or not, even if his Six Eyes were already screaming at him the answer:
There was no flow of curse energy. Or rather, the curse energy seemed to warp around a certain point like the gravitational lensing of a black hole. Almost imperceptible, but Satoru would not dare to miss the presence of your singularity.
āā¦Screens?ā
His whisper carried throughout the room, and carefully, his nose grazes at the inconceivable touch of glass against his skin. Or was it the impossible texture of paper, his form composed to you in strokes of ink against pulp. You were so cold, but inside, Satoru couldnāt feel any warmer. Infinity wraps around you both like a cocoon, the cursed technique a flimsy barrier that just barely does its purpose - inferior to the one you wield. Finally, his friend was within in his reach; right where he wants them to be.
You were here. You were real.
And youāre not going to leave him again.
āTime to tell me everything, okay?ā
a/n: child satoru is so cute like the mochi he always is lmao. hopefully he stays this cute and totally doesn't go all crazy or anything as he grows up, trying to force 'you' to stay alongside him.
anyways, thank you for reading! english isn't my first language and all so this writing here is actually helping me improve my typing and stuff instead of reading boring god damm awful bookes they give us (if only i can simply visualize gojo and geto as the characters instead...)
comments n stuff r really appreciated, let me know what u guys think, hehe
The mission in space was every physics teacher's wet dream. And yet, when you found yourself alone on a spaceship, dread filled your mind. Fortunately, it turned out you werenāt quite alone. As a weird creature youāve met by accident seemed to be quite happy in helping you finish a mission and keep a warm company.
š„ Ż Ėpairing: ź° Alien!Gojo Satoru x Physics teacher!Reader ź±
š„ Ż Ėcontent/warnings: ź° MDNI 18+ : fluff, fluff, fluff : also a bit of angst : mutual masturbation : use of sex toys : happy ending : women in stem, doomed to never being able to touch each other : prepare some tissues : space : aliens : Satoru is a brat in every universe : alien's D : mates and mentions of mating ź±
š„ Ż ĖWC: ź° 15k ź±
š„ Ż Ė notes: This story is based on the movie Project Hail Mary. Shoutout to @indiewritesxoxo whose story The One That Got Away inspired me to write a space-based fanfic!
dividers by @diviniyae
art by daichichirou on tt
"Miss, what's the space like?" a little girl with round frames asked you once during the class.
What's the space like? You wondered for a moment, with similar glasses resting on your nose.
Little models of planets swirled under the ceiling, clashing against each other with warm beams of sunshine curling around their painted bodies. The classroom stilled with silence, heavy and curious, marked by a dozen little eyes glancing up your furrowed forehead.
"Unfathomed," slipped almost in a whisper. But the kids were too young to understand this word, so you tried again. "It's endless, deep, mesmerising, silent, likeā"
"Like a night?" a boy from the first row asked, playing with the wooden spaceship, all the children in the class had just finished painting.
You chuckled, playing with your own little toy, brushing the little silver window with a thumb.
"Much, much quieter," the spaceship landed on your desk, right next to the little, soft ball painted like Earth. Your eyes shimmered as you looked around the class of a dozen munchkins. "What do you hear while sleeping?"
Something began to coil in their little Einstein heads, with soft foreheads furrowed in thought. A flicker of an idea ā a spark, their young minds were yet to discover and nourish throughout their lives.
You watched them with a smile, something warm spreading beneath your chest. Not everyone was born to be a teacher, with the day-to-day tiring work of preparing materials for classes, conducting lessons and checking all the foolish assignments that neither you nor the children liked. The education system truly was a shit hole from the very first steps those young minds took.
"Miss, that's a silly question," a little girl without one front tooth giggled. "We can't hear anything while we're sleeping!"
You hummed softly as you picked up the small earth ball. It yielded gently beneath your fingers, and the woollen toy, crocheted by your mother herself, felt pleasantly soft against your skin.
The bell would ring soon, and the afternoon sun was high in the sky, creeping through the tall, clean windows into the small classroom. Summer break was almost here, and the sweltering heat lingered in the stuffy air, filled with children's coughs and soft breathing.
"Exactly," you said, sitting on the desk and tossing the ball into the air. "That's what space is like. You can't hear anything."
"But what if I close my ears?" another boy said, pressing his hands to them. "I can't hear anything now, miss!" he screamed, setting off a wave of sweet giggles from his classmates.
The small green ball flew his way, and the boy caught it in one hand, scowling. "Hey, miss, that's not fair!"
"That was not, I do admit," you slipped off the desk, walking around the classroom. All small pairs of eyes followed you like puppies. "But you see, in space, there would be no need to cover your ears, because there is no air or matter for sound to travel through. Even when you're sleeping, there's always something out there, right?" Your eyes met a few nodding Einsteins before drifting towards the window. "You can hear the crickets singing under your window and the wind swirling between the leaves. But in space, there's nothing. Simply an empty, endless realm stretching beyond our comprehension."
A few droplets of sweat coiled on your temple, and you quickly brushed them with a thumb. Glasses sat crookedly on your nose, hair slipped away from a pin-up, and so you pushed them behind your ear.
"Miss, the space sounds so scary," the girl with round frames sighed. "I don't want to be an astronaut anymore."
You chuckled, coming to the previous boy and stealing a soft lump of earth from his sticky fingers. "The space may feel lonesome if you're there alone. But now, astronauts usually go in groups." The ball landed back on your desk, brushing gently against the wooden spaceship. "But even if you were alone, I think the view would be worth the night spent in loneliness."
And as it would soon turn out, nothing was worth the years spent alone. On the huge spaceship, with endless darkness spreading across the little window and years spent somewhere doing God knows what.
"The sun is dying," the government envoy had said. "Can you help us save the world?"
She caught you right after one of the classes, with a half-empty cup of instant noodles and cheeks peppered with crimson chilli-oil kisses. She arrived with a tall, muscular man and a printout of the PhD dissertation, placing a copy on your messy desk.
Your forehead crinkled, eyes landed on a neat, Times New Roman formatted title,Ā An Analysis of Water-Based Assumptions and Recalibration of Expectations.
"That's not mine," you mumbled, going back to the cup of noodles. You hadn't eaten anything for a whole day, and your stomach was already pressed against your spine, with hunger twisting your weary mind.
"That's your name, isn't it?" she said, pressing a neatly trimmed nail against the smaller letters beneath the title.
You didn't even spare her a glance and simply shook your head. "No, I think you've mistaken me for someone else."
Both she and the man sighed, rolling two small chairs from the children's desk to sit in front of yours. With eyes fixed on your face, grimacing in ignorance, and a few locks of hair slipping into the cup.
"I'm Yuki," she said, crossing her legs before looking at the man with the dullest, most bleary eyes you have ever seen. "And that's Choso. We're from aā¦ well. Now you only need to know that we work for NASA."
And that meant one thing ā trouble.
Seeing your utmost disinterest, she continued in a warm tone. "Listen, we know your dissertation was a fantastic breakthrough that the supervising committee didn't appreciate. Butā"
"A small correction," you interrupted, with eyes still glued to an almost empty cup. "They did not not appreciate me, but completely failed me. My research was proven wrong, and I spent almost five years chasing something that was never there. So no, it wasn't a breakthrough or anything."
"Her long fingers clenched into a fist, and a tongue nervously filled a creamy cheek. "Listen, in our current world situation, we believe that your research wasn't pointless. The hypothesis that life can exist without waterā"
"Which was ultimately proven that it cannot," slipped in a whisper, gaze still following anything but those two.
"Right," she sighed, staying shockingly patient. "But the thing is, it actually may."
And for the first time in the past five minutes, you finally looked at her. With eyes hidden behind librarian-like glasses, a white shirt neatly pressed against your body, and chilli oil still coating lower lip. You brushed it quickly with a tissue before clearing throat.
"You have five minutes."
But Yuki needed just a second.
"There are someā¦ microbes, the nature of which we aren't yet sure, that are slowly eating the sun. If we don't do something, in thirty years the global temperature will drop enough to kill every life on Earth."
A long, heavy silence stretched between the three of you, though she was the one doing the talking. The man in a suit sat in silence. He was rather handsome, with dark hair falling long down his neck and purplish under-eye bags framing his deep, doe-like eyes.
Feeling your eyes fixed on his face, Choso wriggled in place. "We believe that you are one of the few scientists who can help in research on those microbes."
A deep sigh slipped past your lips as you took off your glasses and closed eyes. A pulsing headache was filling your mind, weighing down an already overstimulated brain. A few short strands of noodles clung to the bottom of the plastic cup, looking up at your weary eyes, pleading to go home.
You finally murmured, throwing the cup into the bin, "I don't see how that's my problem. I'm just a physics teacher, the academic environment pushed me away, and I believe there are many more qualified scientists for this role."
Yuki's forehead furrowed, lips pressed in a line. "Not your problem? The world is dying, and you think it's not your problem?"
You could almost see a grey smoke drifting above her head, eyes shining like two coffee beans. Golden hair brushed against her suit-covered breasts, with a few straight strands sticking to soft cheeks. She appeared magnificently commanding, exuding a dominant aura of someone beyond the law. Even sitting on a small children's chair, you felt goosebumps cover your bare shoulders.
You leaned back in a chair, the hard backrest digging into your spine. "I just don't understand why it should be me. This," you pointed at a three-hundred-page dissertation, "was just a foolish fantasy of my younger self. And trust me, I felt how stupid it was," your eyes fell to your fingers, playing with a soft, earthy ball. "No one treats me like a scientist anymore."
And then, Yuki stood up.
Suddenly, reaching over the desk right to your shirt, before pulling you closer with a single move. Eyes fixed on yours like a deadly viper, and a sweet note of heavy perfumes hit your nostrils.
"Try it," she gritted through her teeth. "Accept my offer till I'm still begging. I don't want things to get messy, but I really need your help on this one."
And so, feeling rather threatened, you nodded swiftly and followed the kind smile that lifted up her lips.
Now, three years later, reflecting on that time, you never felt as happy and alive as you did then. Surrounded by the world's most exceptional scientists, working on alien, new microbes ā the freshest discoveries in current scientific research ā spending days and nights fuelled by bitter coffee, sitting in the labs.
The time didn't matter, as long as you could work on your research. To once again feel like a valuable input to the academic environment and a student from your PhD days, when the world was most beautiful under the microscope and while collecting the newest data.
Your heart raced during the meetings as your fingers carefully noted each idea, each plan that other scientists put forward. The greatest minds in the world, flooding your own with plans and speculations you could've never thought of. Your brain fired multiple times a day, always running, always getting fed with new questions and solutions.
Why is the sun dying?
How can we stop it?
How to produce enough fuel to go all the way right to the sun?
Is that even possible?
But then it was revealed that an alien microbe was composed entirely of water, and your world collapsed. Because it finally confirmed the very point you've been secretly trying to reject for years, proving to you that cells cannot survive without water.
Your heart broke, and a wave of shame washed over your spine. The shame connected to your younger self, foolishly believing in a greatness of discovery no one has ever made. Something worth the international conferences, massive grants, Nobel Prize, and yet, you needed a single, alien cell, something not belonging to the human world, to finally prove those old geezers from your committee right.
The white, big lamp of the lab flickered; darkness spilt over the endless night. Nothing but a faint buzz of mosquitoes filled the lab, hitting the window again, and again, and again. Hungry and relentless, looking at your body hunched over the failed experiment and slightly trembling lip.
You haven't noticed someone else's presence until something cold and wet touched your cheek. Turning the head around, you noticed a can of soda and Choso's pale fingers wrapped around it.
"Thanks," escaped in a whisper, as you took the drink.
He nodded, sitting on the stool right next to you. Your lab partner, who's been through your highs and lows for the past few weeks. The biggest encouragement and life support, always reminding you to eat well and drink something other than a third coffee in a row. He was another government body, Yuki's closest friend, yet ā you liked him.
He felt the most normal here, and thus, your head rested on his shoulder, while hair covered the slightly wet cheeks.
"Are you crying?" he asked quietly.
Your head shook, and a second later, a loud sniff rolled. Choso chuckled, offering a tissue.
"Thank you, Cho," you mumbled, trying to hide the streaming tears behind the wide glasses.
He nodded, waiting for you to calm down a bit. The white lamp buzzed quietly, and the screen of the computer shone bright with your PhD dissertation. The thick letters of the title, with your name written right below.
Three hundred pages of bullshit born from your silly dreams. The Nobel Prize? Dear heavens, you barely deserved to be part of the current team.
"That's not the end of the world, you know?" he said, then pressed his cheek with tongue. "Hm, no. It actually is."
You laughed disgustingly, with a snort slipping out of your nose and another wave of tears streaming down your face. "I'm sorry," slipped almost silently. "I'm sorry, I proved you all wrong."
Choso sighed, looking at your sorry state. He pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear and brushed away a single tear with a soft thumb. "No, you didn't. Now that we know what it's made of, you can think about another solution."
But there isn't another solution,Ā you wanted to say, and instead bit down on your lower lip. The words bubbled in your throat, but a thin thread of hope still pulled at your heart. A faint wish that maybe this discovery wasn't a disaster. That the alien cell, made almost entirely of water, could somehow help with the mission.
That you could still prove yourself as a true scientist.
"Hey," Choso whispered, turning your face towards him. Deep, warm eyes shimmered with kindness as he offered a soft smile and gently pinched your cheek. "You are one of the smartest people I have ever met. I'm sure you can figure this out. Yuki believes in you. I believe in you." Staring into his eyes, you nodded with a pout. He chuckled and opened your soda with a quietĀ hiss. "Alright, let's call it a day and get back to it tomorrow. We still have time."
But the fact was that ā you didn't.
And it was painfully obvious in how Yuki glanced into your lab every few days, asking about progress and results in halting the spread of alien microbes on the sun. Her neatly plucked eyebrows furrowed whenever you shook your head, and a short, stressed sigh escaped her rosy lips.
Try to hurry up, she would usually say, pulling a not-so-comforting smile.
Weeks went by, and everyone's stress increased. Yuki decided to set up a deadly mission, sending a team of astronauts to collect data personally.
The catch? They wouldn't return.
While there was enough fuel to reach the star teeming with alien microbes, there wasn't enough to return. Their goal was to collect the microbes, find a way to stop them from consuming the sun, and send all the data back to Earth.
The first time you heard about it, your knees almost buckled. It sounded outrageous, absolutely crazy, and the chance of finding someone mad and healthy enough to meet the requirements perfectly was already impossible.
And as it turned out, you were wrong.
The four astronauts were more than willing to sacrifice their lives for the greater good ā to venture into the vast, endless space and perish there, in the company of strangers and eerie silence. To become saviours on a mission that could save the entire world.
Except, there was a risk the mission would fail.
Except, no one knew if they wouldn't lose their lives for nothing.
Because if that happened, if it turned out that all the money and sacrifices the government has invested in it would go to waste, the world would truly descend into shambles.
You stood against it from the very beginning, but You stood against it from the very beginning, but Yuki had already decided. And so there was nothing left to do but help the spaceship travel the twelve light-years towards the only star that was also dying, devoured by an alien microbe.
One hundred and thirteen trillion kilometres.
An unimaginably vast distance a simple mind could not grasp, yet you had to find a way to make it work. To figure out how to gather enough fuel to propel the massive, metal spaceship through every single kilometre.
And after a few weeks of getting yourself filled with coffee and nights spent outside the NASA base, gazing up into the endless darkness, you finally got it.
"The alien microbes possess unimaginable power," you said in one breath, looking like a madwoman. With hair twisted into a messy braid, hands shaking from too much caffeine, eyes glimmering as if possessed by Einstein himself. Your fingers gripped the black marker before drawing another black dot on the whiteboard. "You see, what we can do is allow the engines to feed the alien microbes into a reaction chamber and boil them to the point of natural breeding. This way, the cells will multiply and multiply, allowing us to use them in a much more efficient way," the black marker swooshed all over the board, drawing a crooked picture of the spaceship.
At least thirty pairs of eyes, seated in a conference room at NASA headquarters, stared into it with furrowed yet hopeful gazes. Yuki and Choso, among them, tried to understand the point you were making. The crazy discovery you had made mere hours earlier, before quickly asking for a meeting.
"Our ship doesn't need turbines, generators or heat exchangers, because there's no conventional fuel. It works as a sort of ship driven by light energyā"
"That's impossible," someone among the other scientists interrupted. "You cannot fuel a ship of such dimensions with light alone."
You nodded, whispering like a psycho under your breath, head buzzing with numbers. "Yes, you cannot do it with the sources we have here, on Earth. But," you turned back towards the whiteboard. "Our ship is not like the others, and the microbes allow us to actually use the light force as a fuel. Look, for every action there's an equal and opposite reaction. Newton's third law, we all know it, right?" A few heads nodded in unison. "Well, our ship will emit light in one direction, while Newton's law will push it in the other. I know it used to work only in theory, but with the amount of power packed into a single microbe, we can use it for our good. In short, the alien power goes into the ship, the light comes out, and we can move forward."
A long, heavy silence filled the room as you finished your little drawing. Black lines coated the board, crossing the black dots and twisting around the childishly drawn ship. You pushed your glasses up your nose and tucked a strand of hair back behind your ear.
That was it. Nothing else could've been done on your side. If none of the scientists and governmental bodies believed your crazy plan could work, there was no other way to put the ship on a direct course towards that star.
Yuki sighed and looked around nervously. While people whispered, shook their heads, or took notes, no one offered you a warm nod or made direct eye contact. But it also seemed that no one else had a better idea.
"Are you sure it can work?" "Are you sure it can work?" Yuki asked, a heavy gaze lingering as warmth crept up your cheeks. "It's over a hundred and thirteen trillion kilometres. Are you sure the ship can be fuelled only by this alien microbe?"
Something weighed on your heart. Fear, panic, years spent believing you weren't good enough to become a real scientist. Those snickers from the PhD commission stating your research was useless. The rejections from one scientific conference after another, as no one wanted to accept your proposals.
Days spent on crying and staring at your dissertation, as if looking at it long enough would suddenly make it all worth it.
And then, under the cold light of the conference room, with thirty heads staring at you in blank mimicry, you needed to make a decision.
The one that would soon turn into a weight on your life.
"Yes," finally slipped. Strong and confident, as you corrected glasses slipping off your nose. "I can make it work."
But thenā¦
But then the catastrophe came.
The betrayal.
Yuki apologising with utmost sincerity. Choso sitting quietly in the corner of her office. Three men keeping your body down.
From the moment you saw the space crew, one thought kept lingering in your mind. You dismissed it with a casual "they'll figure it out" wave, ignoring the instinct that indicated something was off ā something that should have been clear from the start.
Why didn't the space crew have the scientist?
And a day before the departure, you finally discovered why.
"I'm sorry, I'm really so so sorry," Yuki said, trying to calm your wriggling body. The man's hands dug deep into your spine, keeping the hands and knees in place, with a cheek pressed to a dirty carpet. "We don't have any choice, and you wouldn't agree if I askedā"
"Of course I wouldn't!" you screamed, trying to bite the soft hand that reached towards you. "It's a fucking suicide! I'm a simple teacher; I can't go to a fucking spaceāah, can you be a bit more gentle?!" But the men's fingers were already wrapping your hands with a thick rope. "Yuki, you can't do it to me!"
The woman didn't say anything. She merely opened her office door and beckoned someone inside. Wearing a white robe and holding a syringe between their fingers.
Your mind raced, breathing became almost impossible, and your throat clenched as you fought the sudden urge to vomit on the carpet. You tried to meet Choso's gaze, but he sat in the corner with his head in his hands, avoiding your gaze since you entered the office.
"Choso," you cried, as the doctor came closer. Long, thin needle shimmered under the office's cold lamp, sending a shiver down your spine. "Choso, l-look at me. You fucking coward, you bastard!" Fat tears rolled down your cheeks as the man sat like a stone figure. "You knew about it from the beginning, right? How could you do this to me?!"
Deep, warm eyes that you spent days gazing into finally looked up. Slightly wet, a bit hazy, while taking in the miserable state you found yourself in. Your glasses slightly crooked, lying a bit away from teary face. A few strands of hair sticking to your cheeks, arms twisted painfully behind back.
His fingers dug into the leather chair, as if trying to force himself to stay back.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn'tā¦ I couldn't bring myself to tell youā¦"
"That I'm going for a fucking suicidal mission?!" you interrupted, still trying to kick the men off your body. "I thought we were friends! I trusted you! And you simply sold me away?"
Yuki shivered, her gaze shifting between coldness and heartbreaking warmth whenever she looked at your writhing body. She slipped her trembling hand into the pocket of her jeans before giving the doctor a small nod.
"N-No," you cried, when the man in white bent down. A sudden, sharp pain washed over your body, tickling the ends of your fingertips. "Please, I d-don't want to, I can'tā¦"
And then, a weariness slowly filled your mind, lulling it into a deep sleep. Your body relaxed, eyes half-closed, as if weighted by the countless sleepless nights you had spent in labs.
The men lifted you up, keeping your head steady, but you didn't feel a thing. Your feet felt funny, light, as if blending into feathers. Some hushed voices started to argue, someone's warm hand brushed your cheek, and a heavy, musky smell filled your nostrils.
And before you lost consciousness, a silent save the earth sneaked into your ear.
š„ Ż Ė š„ Ż Ė š„ Ż Ė
"Amazing," a low sigh slipped past your lips as you watched a massive ship slowly follow yours.
Monstrous, at least twenty times larger than the spaceship you called home for the past three years, which couldn't be contained within the small window you looked through. It appeared incredibly bright, almost as if it were made of glass, yet you couldn't see anything beyond the thick walls.
It's been shadowing you since yesterday, and it has been following you since yesterday, regardless of how long you travelled or howĀ fastĀ you went;Ā it remained rightĀ there. Always in your line of sight from your window, constantly mirroring every move you make.Ā
It wasā¦ fascinating. To say at least.
A little frightening? Sure, as you were alone on a ship, with the crew long gone and drifting silently through the vast emptiness of space.
Bit still ā fascinating. It marked the first time a human saw an object outside Earth. Majestic and otherworldly, it looked somewhat familiar yet vastly different. A faint cosmic glow shimmered on its diamond-like walls, casting short beams through your solitary window, as if attempting to communicate. As if the creature within tried to contact.
Still drifting slowly, you bit down on your lower lip. "Maybe I should stop?" you thought out loud, as another flicker of light hit your window. "What if they'll attack me?"
But at this point, already being alone on an impossible, suicidal mission, it seemed that an alien attack would be the least of your problems. In fact, maybe it would even sweeten your life a bit, and before meeting death, you would still have a chance to make the first human contact with life outside Earth.
"Okay," You took a deep sigh, pulling down the engine handle. "Let's see what you want from me."
Your ship stopped, and the monstrous glassed vehicle followed right away. With your forehead pressed to the window, you waited.
And waited, waited, till ten minutes passed and the ship stood still. Your tongue pressed against the soft cheek as you walked back and forth, awaiting any sign of activity. Yet, the vast galaxy outside remained tranquil, a gentle glow reflecting off the smooth, wall-like surface of the enormous ship. It lacked doors and windows, being just a glassy, shimmering exterior thatā
"Oh no," your throat tightened as it drew closer. And closer, closer, swooshing towards you, something long slowly sliding out of the ship's tall wall. "Oh, that's bad, fuck."
A panic squeezed your heart, thoughts rushed through a tired mind, and there weren't enough cuticles on your nails to bite them all. The window was too small to see the thing clearly, but it seemed to be heading straight towards your ship's door. A long, shining tube swooshed closer and closer until your ship suddenly vibrated, as if gently brushing against a foreign object.
Your fingers fidgeted with the plush fabric of the shirt, while droplets of sweat made your glasses slide down your temple. With unsteady legs, you cautiously moved toward the astronaut's suit and started pulling it over your body. The zipper felt heavy under your touch, and the bubble-shaped helmet was more suffocating than usual. The oxygen backpack almost doubled your load as you headed toward the door, with heavy pounding in your chest.
Your heart was always perfectly healthy, and yet for the first time in your life, you tried to remember all the possible symptoms of a woman's heart attack.
Chest pain, severe shortness of breath, nausea, radiating pain in the neck and jaw, you counted in your mind, marking each and every sign in your current state.
"Fuck, okay," trembling, glove-coated hands squeezed the handle of the massive, metal door, before you pushed it. It opened with a low, soft creek, inviting you into the endless tunnel filled with darkness.
To your surprise, gravity worked here, and thus you dropped heavily onto the hard floor. A soft oh filled the helmet as you lifted the flashlight a bit higher. Something shimmered at the end of the darkness, yet you weren't sure what.
Your steps didn't echo from the thick walls as you slowly approached the entrance to the alien ship. Thoughts clashed painfully in your mind, questions rose one by one as you breathed with a squeezed chest under the weighty kilograms of a spacesuit.
How many of them were there?
What did they look like?
Were they friendly?
How quick and painful would your death be?
Your mind tried to ignore the last one, as the chance of a cardiac arrest before meeting an alien seemed much more likely. Fingers clutched the flashlight tighter, feet moved carefully, one step after another, sticking to the tunnel's crooked surface.
"Hello?" Your voice bounced off the walls, lined with terror. "Whoever you are, I come in peace!"
Oh, what a cheesy line,Ā you thought, biting down on your lower lip.
After a few steps, the glimmering thing came fully into view, and only then did you notice it was a thick glass wall. Or at least something similar to glass, with a hard surface that stopped you from going any further.
Glove-clothed hand touched it, helmet bumped against it, as you tried to light the darkness spilling behind it.
"Hello?" slipped a bit louder, with your fist knocking on the glass. "Anyone there?"
A silence, dull and endless, filled an eerie tunnel. Looking back, you took a note that your spaceship was still there ā safe and sound ā and you let out a deep sigh. It's not as if it would suddenly float away, butā
A heavy thump suddenly shook the tunnel's floor.
Your head snapped back, breath hitched, fingers squeezed with a tremble around the flashlight.
"H-Hello?"
The light reflected off something towering and shimmering, slowly moving toward you in a relaxed, unhurried manner, nearly as tall as the tunnel itself. A bluish halo beamed off the creature's body, filling the dark space with a soft aura.
You stepped back, trying to direct a flickering beam straight at the thing coming your way, but your hand trembled too much. The heart was on the verge of stopping, and dread haunted the mind as it drew closer, revealing its height. At least two and a half metres, brushing the ceiling of the tunnel's crooked walls, filling the narrow space with its wide body.
And when the light caught on their faceā¦ oh.
The pale blue skin shimmered softly under a luminous glow. It appeared unnaturally smooth, soft, and a sudden, foolish wish to brush it with your thumb swirled inside your mind. White, snowy hair touched the handsome forehead, while nearly inhumanly pale-blue eyes gazed down at your spacesuit-covered body. You looked tiny and short in comparison, with a gloved hand once more resting on the glass wall.
The creature was dressed in a white suit, clinging tightly to its body and digging deep into the hard muscles bulging under its skin. Alien's head tilted, knees bent down, and within a second, it found itself on eye-level with you.
White lashes decorating endless, luminous blue fluttered, as if trying to take in the terror twisting your face.
"āāā°ā°ā," a low, manly voice crept past the glass.
Your eyes bulged like two porcelain plates, fingers pressed closer to the wall.
So he was a man.
Well, you could already figure that much based on his looks, but the warm tone slipping under your bubble helmet was evidence enough.
Your mind didn't register the language at first, but when his soft brow travelled up, and lips curled in a smile, you thought that maybe he was awaiting an answer.
"Oh, um," you took a step back, waving your hand clumsily. "Hello."
The creature's head tilted again, and he mimicked your gesture.
You blinked twice, still struggling to believe the situation you're in. "Uh, okay, what now?" you whispered. "I am..." You pointed at your head and said your name clearly and loudly. "What about you?"
"ā¬āā āāā āāāāāā āāāā," the creature said, and a wave of different sounds and tones once again hit your ears.
You sighed, pressing tongue against your cheek. "Right, it's not going to work."
He looked at you, and you looked at him. You, with a slightly furrowed forehead and your mind rushing through all the possible ways to communicate with the alien. He, with lips curled cheekily and pale eyes fixed on your face.
"I wouldn't mind your cooperation, you know?" you mumbled, but he tipped his head left and right, like a curious puppy.
"ā¬āā āāā āāāāāāā āāāā," the same sounds once again slipped past the glass wall.
His head was tipping and tilting, and a second had passed before you finally understood that he wanted to say something.
"What? I don't understand," you said, mimicking his movements.
And thus both of you were shaking and tilting your heads, going over and over the sameĀ ā¬āā āāā āāāāāāā āāāā,andĀ I don't understand.
His brows furrowed as if irritated, and large hand touched his chest. He took a deep breath ā first and second ā then pointed at his head and finally at yours.
Oh.
"You want me to..." you gestured as if removing the helmet. A quiet chuckle escaped him, and eyes glinted. "But I can't breathe here."
He didn't understand and thus pointed at your head once again. "āāāā āā āāā."
Your head shook. "Whatever you say, I cannot take it off. Because I willā¦" Your hands slipped up to your throat before a wave of trembling convulsions bent your body. It wriggled, shook, before, with a theatrical cough, you fell down the crooked floor.
The creature was staring at you with a furrowed forehead and a gentle flicker of amusement coiling in his spectral eyes.
"Not the best first impression, I know," you muttered, swiftly standing up. "My point is, I can't breathe without it."
But it seemed he either didn't understand or was simply relentless in his pleadings. As the long fingers hit the glass wall, pointing right at your head. Another deep breath slipped past his lips, and he nodded, as if trying to say it was fine. Whatever he filled the tunnel with, you could breathe here.
And thus, the thought of what if slipped quietly into your mind.
What if he was right?
What if he really did fill your half of the tunnel with oxygen?
But what if he was wrong, and the moment the helmet would go off, you would die in inhumane suffering?
Light blue eyes shone with anticipation, lips curled into an encouraging smile, and a finger pressed harder into the glass wall.
You took a deep breath, feeling the droplets of sweat coiling at the nape of your neck. He seemed to be a highly intelligent creature, with the ability to communicate as well as you and a rather comprehensive understanding of the differences between your species. For some reason, trusting him felt almost natural, and the assuring look of his spectral gaze made you drop your head with a sigh.
When fingers hooked on the helmet's edges, your heart was nearing its death. Chest squeezed painfully, eyes closed till the eyelids dug deep into your balls. The sweat was now dripping down your spine, wetting the nape of your neck and shirt that clung to your body under the heavy spacesuit.
"Okay," you whispered, both to yourself and him, and it seemed that he was rather amused by the agony twisting your mind. When he chuckled, your brows furrowed. "Don't laugh. There's a rather big chance this air will burn me from the inside."
And so it happened ā your fingers slowly unclasped the neck ring, allowing the pressurised seal to loosen with a softĀ puf. The bubble helmet was lifted unhurriedly, as if your lungs were still trying to grasp the rest of the oxygen swirling inside it.
With still closed eyes, you took the first breath. And the second, and the third, and then, looking back at the alien, a sweet, loud scoff slipped past your lips, and flushed cheeks.
"āāā, ā āāā°ā ā¬āā," he chuckled, pressing his forehead to the glass wall.
Still in shock, you stepped closer, also touching the warm, crystal surface with your brows. "Sure, whatever you say."
You looked at each other for a while, with beaming smiles and foreheads almost brushing as you leaned in, a rather intimate gesture. It seemed that the first meeting with another species broke down some specific walls for both of you. The curiosity and fascination with one another blurred the lines of proper manners, breaching all the careful first steps you surely should think of.
His eyes flickered, suggesting a new idea had just come to him. He raised a finger and gestured for you to stay put. After your gentle nod, he vanished into the darkness of the tunnel, leaving you alone with your thoughts swirling in your mind.
Five minutes passed, then ten, and as you sat on the crooked floor and took off the heavy spacesuit, he finally came back, with something gripped by his hand.
You looked closer, noticing the collar-like device and a small earplug. He placed it inside his ear while wrapping the collar around the pale neck. A faint, crispy sound filled his side of the tunnel, and milky brows furrowed as he pressed onto the device in his ear.
And then, with a gesture, he asked you to say something.
"Um," your head tilted, and he sat right in front of you, waiting with a soft smile. "You are rather pretty for an alien."
His fingers still pressed the small device, and after a second, cheekiness flickered in his eyes. "Am I, question? You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen."
To say you froze in shock would be an understatement.
Your lips parted, eyebrows nearly touching hairline, as body leaned forward before your hand pressed against the glass wall. You didn't know whether you were more surprised by either his ability to speak your language or the casual compliment that caused your cheeks to heat up.
"You canā¦" You shook your head, barely breathing. "But how is itā¦"
He pointed at his ear. "This device recognises your language," then gestured to his neck. "And connects with this. Whenever I speak in my language, this collar converts it into yours."
A soft ah slipped past your lips, eyes fixed on the thin, crystal band made of a sort of rubber material. Your finger brushed the glass wall, as if trying to feel the device beneath it.
Your brows furrowed when another issue started to bite into your curiosity. "But how do you know my language? How did you build this translator? Our species never made contact."
He sat closer, pressing his forehead to the glass again. At this point, you started to wonder whether it was a sort of typical signal from his species, carrying a special, unknown meaning. And when he beamed with joy, you noticed little white droplets shining faintly, sprinkled around his cheeks. Was this an equivalent of a blush?
"You didn't withĀ us," he pressed a finger to yours, and only then did you see the true, monstrous size of his hand. "But the Reds had been studying you for years."
The redsā¦
"Oh gosh!" A gasp ripped out of your throat as you covered your mouth with a hand. His head tilted. "The Reds, you mean, Martians?"
"Why are you shocked, question?" he asked, carefully eyeing as you quickly stood up and started walking back and forth between the walls.
Your mind pulsed, trying to comprehend everything that had happened over the past hour. The strange spaceship, the first-ever human contact with life beyond Earth, the final confirmation that aliens did, in fact, kidnap people and conduct experiments on them.
"I'm shocked, because humans never made any contact with life outside our planet," you said, biting down on a fingernail. "How long have you known the Reds?"
A low hum slipped past his lips, and smooth, blue forehead creased. "Five hundred years, I say."
"What?!" Your knees buckled as you once again sat in front of him, with hands and forehead and breasts pressed tightly to a glass wall. "Five hundred years? How is that possible? Are your planets close to each other?"
His head shook, but forehead remained wrinkled. "Humans are very underdeveloped."
You chuckled softly, noticing small, adorable language mistakes the translator made here and there. It's still, robotic voice muffled the creature's deep tone, and something squeezed your heart, as you surprisingly discovered that the honeyed warmth of his tone wrapped your mind in a rather pleasing manner.
"Yes, it seems so." Your head turned, with flushed cheeks pressed to the wall. "But till now I had no idea how far behind we are."
He stayed quiet for a moment before tapping gently on the wall. Your eyes slipped back to his, noticing the droplets sprinkled across his face, radiating adorably like flickering stars.
"My name is Satoru," rolled quietly, as the shimmering dust coated his cheeks ever wider. "Your name, question?"
When you said it slowly, he nodded, still tapping on the surface. Right against your pressed hand. "That's a very beautiful name."
"Yours is not bad either."
He hummed, as if in agreement.
Your head grew heavier and heavier, and the warmth was gently trying to coax you into sleep. As you yawned, Satoru's ghostly eyes carefully followed the exhaustion clouding your forehead.
"Are you tired, question?"
His throat bobbed when you giggled. "You don't have to add aĀ questionĀ at the end of each ask, you know?"
You assumed that, because of his grammar rules, he needed to emphasise the difference between normal sentences and inquiries. You've noticed that his language sounded much more melodic than yours, yet it lacked the upward pitch humans use.
"But I am tired, thank you for asking." Looking over your shoulder, you've noticed that your ship was, fortunately, still there. "How about I go to sleep, and we'll get back to our talk in a few hours?"
You slowly stood up and grabbed your heavy spacesuit. Glasses slipped off your nose, and hair stuck to still-warm cheeks, as you lifted up the flashlight andā¦ oh.
It seemed that you missed the sudden sorrow deepening between Satoru's brows. Eyes widened in panic, big palms plastered to the wall with lips just slightly opened, as he looked with a fearful expression at your attempt to move away from the wall. From him.
"Satoruā"
"Can you please sleep here?" His voice trembled, although the translator's robotic tone remained unwavering.
You looked around the tunnel, feeling the crooked ground bending beneath your feet and the dark walls emitting a deep, earthy smell. "I don't think that's a good idea, Satoru." A warm smile lifted your lips as you turned towards your spaceship. "But don't worry, I'll be back. Sleep for a bit, and before you'll notice, I'llā"
"Please," the anxiety filling his shaken voice stabbed right through your heart. "Please let me watch you sleep."
You glanced over your shoulder, seeing him in the same position. With hands pressed against the wall and eyebrows furrowed deeply.
"Watch me sleep?"
He nodded. "Iā¦ I didn't watch my crew sleep. The crew died. Satoru has been alone for the past forty years." Your lips fell open, but he quickly added, as if afraid you'd refuse again. "I watch you sleep, you won't die."
Seeing his face ā filled with anxiety, pure fear, and misery ā you could only smile softly and nod. As the mere thought of this man spending over forty years in space all alone tore your heart apart in the most inhumanely painful way.
"Yes, okay," barely pushed past your lips, before you cleared your throat. "Just let me bring my stuff."
You quickly changed into pyjamas, gathered a few blankets, a pillow and enough water for the night, before going back to the warm tunnel.
And then, as you drew closer to the glassy wall, you noticed a slight change in its shape. As during the five minutes you were gone, Satoru had prepared a special shelf for your body to lie right next to him. With his own feather-like blanket, he lay on his side, waiting for you to slip into the long space and hug him.
You giggled, filling the space with your own things. "That's quite intimate, Satoru."
His body was much taller than the width of the tunnel, and thus, he curled his legs a bit before trying to get even closer to you. "WhatĀ does intimateĀ mean, question?"
With head hitting the soft pillow and blanket covering your body, you turned his way. Nothing but a thick crystal wall kept you away from brushing noses with each other.
"It means that you're trying to be romantic with someone," but then you thought he might also not understand what romantic means. "Hm, it's when you do nice things for a certain person that you wouldn't do for anyone else. For example, make a special bed to be closer to someone."
A soft crease wrinkled his forehead, and the peacefulness of his eyes told you that he was deeply thinking. "I wouldn't do it for anyone other than you."
The sincerity beaming from his eyes was enough to assure you of the innocent truthfulness of his words. So you sighed, nuzzling deep into the pillow, hoping he didn't notice the warmth on your cheeks.
"That's very romantic, you know? Something you would say to your special someone."
"To your mate, question?"
You hummed, softly closing eyes. His presence somehow made your body tingle with a pleasant warmth, allowing the sleep to haunt your mind in a much softer, calmer way. In a way, you didn't feel for a long, long time, spending days in loneliness and a maddening need to feel someone else's warmth again.
You couldn't feel Satoru's heat, yet your heart fluttered fondly as his gaze truly watched you sleep.
"Yes, although humans don't mate."
"Why, question?"
When you giggled ā sweetly, kindly ā droplets coating Satoru's cheeks lighted up. Solely for a second, but it was enough to make him slip closer, and closer, and closer, till the glass wall was digging painfully into his body, and his heart still rushed your way.
You bubbled something under your nose. An answer he could not hear. With your lips falling open and a crystal string of saliva dripping down the soft pillow.
His finger pressed against the glass, as if wishing to brush it away.
And when another five minutes passed, a soft snoring filled your side of the tunnel. Breath calmed down, and body drew closer to his. Trying to curl into his ā big, burning hot, utterly dangerous for yours.
"I watch you sleep," he whispered, brushing the glass with your pressed cheek. "You never die."
š„ Ż Ė š„ Ż Ė š„ Ż Ė
Satoru was much more intelligent than you expected.
It's not that you treated him as beneath you, but the true power of his mind exceeded your expectations.
And as it turned out, he was in the same situation as you ā researching the alien microbes that were also eating his sun. Except that his species discovered the problem forty years before yours, and thus a wave of panic washed over your mind. Because if a creature like Satoru couldn't find the solution to the problem that apparently touched not just Earth but the whole universe, you wouldn't do it either.
One difference between you and Satoru was that, as an engineer, he could actually do things himself. Simply produce them, with all the glassed walls and tiny models of planets made from a strange, gluey substance that rolled off his fingers. He wasn't a scientist like you, so when he heard that you were the "brain" of the crew, his eyes flickered.Ā
"We can work together," he proposed, already considering the path to the only planet not consumed by alien microbes. Since it wasn't infected, it suggested there was something in its atmosphere that enabled it to withstand the lethal bacteria. "You will be the mastermind of the entire operation, I will develop the sources. Also, I have spent forty years here, so I know how to navigate."
His eyes were fixed on creating another little planet, rolling the gluey strings between his pads, moulding them into a ball and waiting until the substance dried into a crystal orb. After a few days, your glassy wall had advanced enough to have a small opening for a shelf where you could exchange little presents.
Although you forgot that Satoru's atmosphere was close to boiling lava in temperature, when your hands accidentally brushed, a nasty, red bump was left on the skin of your thumb.
He put the ball on the shelf and moved his hand away so you could grab it.
"Which planet is it?" you wondered, brushing the crystal surface.
He tsked ā something he learnt from you mere hour ago ā and mumbled. "The earth, of course."
A scoff escaped your lips, and warmth spilt over the heart. "We're not that small."
"I believe you are."
"And we have more greenery."
He wondered, this time building a small spaceship. Your spaceship. "I would like to see it."
Some things have become clearer after spending the past few days in Satoru's presence. His planet was one of the closest to the sun, wrapped in a dense atmosphere that protected its inhabitants from being burned alive. As Satoru said, the days merged with the nights, and it was always rather dark ā hence the pale, almost spectral eyes he and other inhabitants had. There was little to no greenery, and the water system had long been sustained by technologies developed by engineers like him.
"A lot of sand", he once said, and you wondered whether it would look like anything close to the climate of Arab countries.
His head tilted then, and eyes flickered with curiosity. "How do Arab countries look, question?"
You tried to describe the endless desert plains, the crimson sun, the curling droplets of sweat on your neck, and the nights filled with beaming joy as best you could. The feel of warm sand under your feet, sea brushing the skin sweetly and fresh dates melting on your tongue in sugary pleasure.
He listened, with eyes following the curve of your lips and fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.
"I would love to see it," he muttered, poking the glass wall with his finger. "It sounds beautiful."
You giggled, following the pale blue of his skin. Soft and shiny, it reminded you more of a region bitten by cold than of the merciless atmospheric temperature of over two hundred degrees Celsius.
"You're rather pale for someone living right next to the sun."
He scoffed, with fingers still creating the small spaceship. In the meantime, you leaned against the crooked tunnel's wall, with a laptop on your thighs, trying to plan the route towards the only "safe" planet.
"I'm not pale. I'm blue."
"That was a joke," you shoot him a glance, seeing the irritated squint of his eyes. "It means that the thing I say is supposed to be funny. You should laugh."
A low, awkward chuckle rolled off his lips, and you couldn't help but burst out laughing. Satoru knew how to express his joy, but it seemed he didn't quite possess the humour you did.
The moment has passed, and a comfortable silence stretched between the two of you. He was mapping the galaxy, while you tried to work out whether your ship still had enough fuel to travel that far. It would take you months to reach that planet, but there seemed to be no other choice. After that mission, the fuel will run out, and you, just as planned, will die here ā somewhere in the embrace of endless space.
A low sigh slipped past your lips, catching Satoru's attention. "Are you tired, question?"
Your head shook, and a few strands of hair fell loosely from a pinup. "I would love to invite you to my ship. There's a room where we can watch movies and stuff. I'm sure I can find something about Egypt."
And soā¦
You've also learned over the past few days that Satoru took everything seriously.
In the most genuine and firm understanding of this word.
Two weeks have passed since your meeting. One morning, as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, dressed in nothing but panties and a loose shirt while brushing your teeth, a deep, gravelly rumble shook the entire spaceship.
Your heart leapt into your throat, eyes bulged, and you dashed out of the room with wet hair and bare feet. With all the prayers you've learnt as a child repeating in your mind over and over again, as you run towards the entrance of the ship.
Did you somehow get unsealed from the tunnel?
Did something hit the ship and cause the irreparable damage that would cost you your life?
Fuck, didā
But when you finally got into the room connected with an entrance, with toothpaste smeared all over your cheek and glasses falling crookedly off your nose, a low gasp slipped past your lips.
"Satoru?!"
Because the pale-bluish creature himself stood in the middle of your spaceship, locked in aā¦
"And you're in a ball?" Like a hamster, wanted to join, but he probably wouldn't know what a hamster is.
Standing right in front of you, fully upright, with long legs wrapped in a white suit and a muscular back bulging under the stretched material ā he appeared even more monstrous than usual. A creature over two metres tall, looking all over your place with amusement shining in his eyes, his gaze following all your dirty panties spread across the floor.
"Yep, so I won't die in your atmosphere," long fingers knocked the crystal ball, before lips curved in a cheeky smile. "Can I smell it, question? I want to know how your body smells. Put it to the shelā"
A sudden warmth had hit your cheeks, and throat tightened around the remnants of the toothpaste. "Absolutely not! It's very not polite of you to ask such things."
He started walking around in a large ball that barely fit the corridors of your spaceship, its hard walls brushing against each and every machine, piece of furniture, and console on its way. He strolled freely, dropping different comments here and there, while you followed him and picked up all your clothes.
"So dirty," he snapped, pushing a loud scoff from your throat.
"I didn't expect the guests!"
But he ignored you, as your bedroom appeared somewhere within the line of his sight. Blue cheeks shone with crystal droplets, and white, fluffy hair almost stood on end with excitement. Before you could stop him, long legs swiftly moved towards your bedroom, taking in every little, dirty, detail ā more panties, a small mattress, a few books lying scattered all over the floor.
"Is that our nest, question?" He looked around before parking his ball next to your mattress. He sat down, leaning against the floor, and finally shot you a look. "I like it."
With a deep, weariness-filled sigh, you returned to the bathroom, cleaned yourself, and re-entered the bedroom. Soft light reflected off the glistening droplets on his cheeks as he probed the fabric of your panties with his finger. Only then did you realise that the ball, despite being firm, was quite flexible, enabling him to slide his fingers through its surface, which was covered in a sticky, shimmering coating that shielded his skin from the oxygen.
You took the material away from his curious gaze and pushed it back into your bag.
"Satoru, what are you doing here?" slipped rather harshly as you sat down on your bed.
He seemed to be confused by your tone, tilting the fluffy head with a furrow. "Are you mad, question?"
You knew that getting angry with him, while he was still learning to recognise human emotions, was silly. Stupid, even, and you felt as if you were shouting at the poor puppy. Except that this puppy was much taller than you and probably weighed twice your weight.
With a sigh, you fell back on the mattress and covered your face with an arm. "Sorry, I'm not mad. Justā¦ surprised. I didn't expect you would come up my ship."
He tried to roll closer, but the space was too small to allow him any other movements than going back and forth from the entrance to your mattress. So he stayed in place, trying to observe the expression on your face.
"I can't see you like that," he noted.
Another thing you've learnt about his species was how important contact and intimacy are. Not even sexual ones, but rather a simple need to always be with someone. To communicate while looking right into their eyes, to feel their skin on theirs, and to follow the movements of their lips. To feel the presence of another creature next to them, even if the only thing you did was sleep next to each other.
So another sorry slipped past your lips, and you sat again, showing Satoru your face. He slightly lightened up before pressing a hand to the crystal ball.
"You said, and I quote, I would love to invite you to my ship," he noted with utmost seriousness, and you rolled your eyes. "So I came."
Well, he was right. You did say that, and you did wish there were a way to bring him into your ship. Travelling together would be much easier if both of you were on one ship, so amidst the pure chaos and shock he caused, you quite enjoyed the fact that he could live here.
With you.
"Okay," your hand pressed to the ball, filling half of his palm. "But we need to set up some rules first. First, we don't sleep in the same bedroomā"
"But I must watchā"
"Satoru," you interrupted him, seeing the pale eyes slip into the sorrowfulness. "You have excellent hearing and even more excellent sight. I'm sure you can watch me sleep while staying next door." A grim twisted his face, and a low mumble filled his little bubble. Too quiet for the translator to catch, so you chuckled sweetly, seeing his brattiness surface. "Okay. The second rule ā you can't sniff my panties. It's somethingā¦ reserved only for mates."
And, well, if that didn't fire him up ā with eyes suddenly beaming in excitement and droplets twinkling one by one, like a tiny mingling stars. You felt as if you had challenged him, and thus quickly added. "And because we are not mates, you cannot do it. It's too intimate."
"I want to be intimate."
A sudden flush hit your cheeks, and warmth spread beneath your chest. "No, Satoru, you don't understand. It's about sexual intimacy. Something you share whileā¦" saying it out loud felt like giving a biology lesson to elementary school kids. "Matingā¦ with your special someone. When you, well, have sex and stuff. Do you knowā"
He chuckled low, a sly smile lifting his lips. "I know what mating is."
Something in your lower belly bubbled, seeing him like that. Tall and strong, spreading a slightly possessive and dominating aura. With eyes full of bratty cheekiness and something, something, slightly sensual dripping from his voice.
"Well, so you know that we can't do it," You moved back, taking your palm away from the crystal ball. "Let's work on our plan and try to find a way to save the world."
And with a slight dissatisfaction, Satoru finally agreed.
But the next months spent in his presence wereā¦ interesting. To say at least.
Every day brought new surprises, which sometimes ended with your body blushing from head to toes, sometimes him getting shy and flustered, while still trying to keep up the cocky demeanour.
He was nothing less than excellent when it came to engineering and helping with the travel itself, also being an amazing companion for the long, daring journey.
Soon he resigned from constant stay in a ball and filled the interior of your spaceship with long corridors of crystal, making himself at home. Whenever you were ā he was right next. Be it a bedroom, control room, kitchen orā¦
"Satoru!" You quickly covered your breasts with your hands, seeing him walking into the bathroom with the most casual demeanour.
A plate of some weird substance, he was always eating for supper, and a white suit half unzipped, showing off his muscular, blue chest. He leaned against the door, spectral eyes slowly following your naked body. From legs up to hips, staying longer on the gentle swell of your ass and the mould of your pussy, before going up, and up, to the breasts covered by your trembling fingers. "Sweetheart is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen."
"Sweetheart" because he really wished to call you something human pairs use for each other. Even though at least three times a week, you needed to remind him that you, in fact, wereĀ notĀ a pair.
A muffled, surprised scoff escaped your lips. You pointed to the exit with one hand, forgetting it was clutching one of your breasts. When the silky swell smoothly slipped from your grasp, bouncing gently before his eyes, he moved closer, already pushing a finger through the stretching wall.
"Can Iā"
You smacked it, once again showing the exit. "Satoru! You can't walk on me while I'm naked."
"Why, question?" he asked, relentlessly trying to get closer to your body. With a finger poking the wall, that unfortunately couldn't stretch enough to even brush your skin. "Come a bit closer."
Something in your belly bubbled, warmth spread across your chest, and a single, dirty thought of letting him touch you bloomed in your mind. After all, sexual needs and anatomy were among the things all researchers wished to know about foreign species. And because Satoru was of the same, curious kind as youā¦
"It's too early, out!"
His head tilted, and lips curved into a foxy smile. "It's eight in the evening."
"No, I mean, we're not close enough to do such stuff."
He knocked on the crystal wall. "Sweetheart, but I can't get closer."
Oh god.
You sighed, finally letting the other tit bounce softly too. Leaning against the small shelf, you glanced at him with a frown. He, however, looked anywhere but into your eyes. Rude.
"Our relationship is not on that levelā¦" yet. "What you want to do is too intimate. Sexual." And then, a sudden curiosity spiked your mind. "Satoru, how does theā¦ mate thing look like among your species?"
His eyes finally slipped up to yours. "We choose one mate for a whole life."
Well, that was rather clear.
"What about the, you knowā¦" You gestured awkwardly, partially at your still naked body.
"The mating," he finished. But as if feeling the spike in your curiosity, with round eyes ogling his naked chest and slipping shyly towards his hips, he bubbled a low chuckle. "Come closer, and I will show you."
What a brat!
With the last tsk and a dirty look shot his way, you turned back towards the mirror and finished your quick, morning "shower". Even while using rinseless soap and water pouches to clean your body, you still felt Satoru's presence behind you.
Deep blue eyes following the curve of your body, back muscles working beneath the soft skin, and when you bent over to rinse your face, a sudden, sharp breath escaped his throat.
You didn't have to look back to know that he was looking straight at your pussy.
"It's wet," he mumbled, coming closer. And closer, until his finger once again tried to evade the stretching wall, too short to even brush the swell of your ass.
You hummed, trying to hide an embarrassed warmth kissing your neck. "It's a natural lubrication. It usually happens when a woman isā¦" oh fuck it. "Excited."
He seemed charmed, completely bewitched, and some part of you wished the temperature between your bodies wasn't over two hundred degrees Celsius. As the moment Satoru's hands touched your skin, you weren't sure whether calling it the third burn would be enough.
"Why is sweetheart excited, question?"
With your body leaning forward and hands resting on the shelf, you looked back, eyes slightly hazy, wetness dripping down your thigh. A silken droplet swirled down your leg, and Satoru's always oh-so-attentive eyes, of course didn't miss it.
"I want the taste," he mumbled, and only then did you notice a bulge, trying to rip free from beneath the white spacesuit covering his hips.
You took a deep breath, bending yourself lower and lower, till he could clearly see your cunt shining with silky wetness.
"I'm excited," you started, voice dripping with sensuality. "Because of you."
As if awaiting this exact answer, his eyes, for just a second, ripped themselves away from your soft pussy and looked up. To cross with yours ā slightly teary, a bit too warm.
"I want toā"
You turned around, once again leaning against the shelf. A low groan escaped his throat, as he no longer could see your pussy in its fullness. The little pout twisting his lips made you giggle, but a tricky, dirty thought has slipped into your mind.
"How about this?" You took a step, then another, until you stood right in front of him. Much closer than before, but not close enough to let him brush your skin. "I will let you touch me. Watch meā¦" You coughed, feeling this wind of bravery leave your body as quickly as it had come. "Masturbate. And you'll let me do it too."
Satoru's lips fell open, eyes sparkled in excitement. "I thought the intimacy was only for mates. Are we mates then, question?"
"Let's call it friend with benefits."
His eyes narrowed. "We don't do such things with friends."
You scoffed, pushing your hip to the side and biting the inside of your cheek. "Well, we do, so you can either accept it or not."
And seeing that this time his bratty stubbornness wouldn't work, Satoru nodded.
A few minutes later, you found yourself in the most embarrassed, going-straight-to-the-grave position you could imagine. With elbows supporting your body on the bedroom's mattress, legs spread open, and pussy pressed against the crystal wall. The slippery juices coated the surface, making Satoru breathe much, much harder than before. With fingers wrapped around the biggest, most monstrous cock you've ever seen.
You needed a moment to take in the sight that sprang up in front of your eyes after he took off the rest of the suit. Massive, veiny shaft, with a swelled protrusion at his base, probably used while mating. The blue skin was peppered with similar droplets sprinkled on his cheeks, and shimmered faintly whenever he looked down at your cunt.
Small and fluttering, with your hole squeezing around nothing and clit swelled from excitement.
The penetrative gaze of his made you warm up even more. "Satoru, touch me," slipped like an order.
His long finger brushed the crystal wall and pushed ā gently, carefully, till he felt a soft button under his pad and heard a low moan escape your lips.
He dreamed of feeling the gummy structure of your pussy. To roll the clit between his fingers, without any surface protecting his body. To lower himself down and smell, lick, taste the dripping cum that in his mind was sweeter than anything he had ever tried.
And it should be noted that he had quite refined taste buds.
His other hand pumped his massive cock in slow strokes, enjoying the sight spreading in front of him much more than the feeling of his fingers wrapped around the dripping shaft.
"Does it feel good, question?" He asked, hearing another moan fill the small bedroom.
"Y-yeah, ahh, try to make gentle circles," slipped faintly, as you started to roll nipples between your fingers.
His thumb pressed against your clit harder, making your feet curl and legs spread even wider. As if trying to invite his massive cock, that would surely rip you in half.
Maybe the fact that you couldn't touch each other wasn't that bad. Because if he somehow found a way to fuck you with this size, you sure would feel it up in your throat.
And thus you enjoyed the sight spreading in front of your eyes ā his beefy thighs bulging whenever you jolted under his thumb, pearly cum dripping down the blue skin, long fingers squeezing the veiny meat as he still oh-so-carefully rubbed your clit.
"It's getting wetter," he noticed, biting the inside of his cheek. "I want to taste you."
His low voice made your body melt under his fingers, forcing your thighs to spread wider and wider, while chasing the pleasure bubbling in your belly. Your hole fluttered around nothing, and a sheer sight of his cock spun your mind in crazy wish to get yourself stretched around it. To feel every vein scratch your tight walls, till the drenched head would kiss your swelling womb.
"Fuck, wait, I have an idea," you backed out, crawling towards your bag.
Crazy, stupid, nasty plan slipped into your head, as you took out a mid-size, creamy dildo. With a sucking pad at the end, and a slightly curved head. It wasn't yours, as you somehow found it among the thingsā¦ oh well, does it really matter? It was clean and had been bathed in antiseptic spray multiple times; thus, using it was not disgusting at all.
But when Satoru saw it, his breath hitched. Eyes slipped down to his cock, and forehead furrowed. "Why is it so small, question?"
You chuckled, sticking it to the crystal wall. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but that's the average size of a human's dick."
He followed your body as you once again spread your legs open and brushed the silicone cock through your folds a few times. Drenching it all in your juices, and Satoru, since learning the meaning of jealousy, felt something unpleasant bubble in his heart. Because he wished to be the one making your pussy flutter around his head and push it inside, till your sugary walls would clamp around his fat cock.
Your forehead furrowed, eyes glistened from prickling tears as his thumb once again landed on your clit. But this time, the pleasure was twice as intense. With a silicone dick stretching your tight pussy and his finger rubbing you in slow, maddening circles.
"I could make you feel better," he groaned, hearing another pitched moan slip past your lips. "This pathetic thing is now worthy to be inside my sweetheart."
With rising irritation, he pressed your clit harsher. Till a tremble washed over your body and back hit the mattress, as you rolled your cunt to feel the dildo go deeper. But Satoru was right ā his cock would indeed make you feel better.
Your hands slipped up to your breasts, pinching the hard buds and chasing the maddening pleasure bubbling in your lower belly.
A deep frown creased Satoru's forehead, and he gently squeezed your clit. "I can't see your face."
"R-right, sorryāahhh," A cry rolled off your tongue as you once again leaned on your elbows. "Satoru, it feels so good, mhmm."
His cock was more flushed than before, with a cherry tip spilling the heavy, thick droplets all over his hand. He pumped it madly, never once taking his eyes off your lovely face. With pleasure twisting your brows and teary eyes fixed upon his.
"S-Satoru, I, fuck, I'm going to cum," the silicone cock kissed your cervix, smooching it wetly with hefty, gluey cum sipping from your hole.
You tried to imagine getting split open on his cock. Being filled by his cum, with creamy saps stuffing your swelling womb and pumping your belly full. Getting manhandled by his muscular arms and wide back, as he would fold you into a mating press and push into the mattress. Till each and every spring would painfully dig into your spine.
So with a final cry, you came.
With a loud cry, spine arching into the sweetest curve, and a sprinkling of sweetness gushing all over his thumb, although it was a true pity that he couldn't feel it. Your body trembled and lips fell open, seeing a furrow cloud his forehead and fingers tightening around his cock.
And then, an idea slipped quietly into your mind.
"Wait a minute, don't cum yet," you muttered, taking a pair of panties lying on your bed. With a single, dirty move, you rubbed them against your drenched folds, gathering all the creamy cum and honeyed sweetness.
Satoruā¦ dear heavens.
When a flimsy material landed inside the shelf, quite similar to the one he installed in a tunnel, Satoru's fingers snapped forward and snatched it. He brought it closer to his nose, lips, feeling your precious wetness and the rich flavour burst right onto his tongue, as a low, primal groan escaped his throat.
"Mhmm, s-so, ahh, tastes so sweet," a muffled cry was almost incomprehensible with your panties filling his mouth.
The head of his cock pulsed, massive balls constricted whenever his tongue took another lick of your fresh cum and eyesā¦ oh, eyes stayed on you.
On your breasts coated in sheer sweat, thighs still spread open and a little, minx smile twisting your lips. Satoru was sure he could cum only at the sheer sight of your angelic face, and thus, after a few more harsh pumps and muffled cries, he came. Loud and heavy, with creamy ropes shooting all over his glimmering skin and fully emptying everything he has been keeping far too long.
What a waste, you both thought, wishing it landed somewhere far, far sweeter and warmer. Deep inside your womb, preferably.
A moment has passed, with a small bedroom filled with your heavy breaths and shy glances, looking everywhere but at your cum-coated bodies. With a faint cough, you finally closed your thighs and covered yourself with a blanket.
Blooming loveliness crept up your cheeks, and suddenly looking at Satoru required far more courage and calm than it had merely thirty minutes ago.
Before you could ask whether he needed a towel, his low voice spoke first. "Are we mates now, question?"
He said sheepishly, lifting your panties with a finger.
You groaned and fell on a mattress with his chuckle tickling your burning ears.
You didn't want to destroy this moment, even though you knew your mission would end with you dying in space. That he would go back to his planet safely, while you would float and float and float, while eventually dying of hunger.
And so, sharing this sweet moment of intimacy, with warmth spreading beneath your chest, you nodded. "Yes, Satoru. Let's become mates."
š„ Ż Ė š„ Ż Ė š„ Ż Ė
The next few months were filled with nothing but joy.
With movies playing on repeat in the small, cinematic room, Satoru watches each of them with his lips agape. Enjoying the landscapes of Earth, you could project them into a closed space, with a blue sky spreading across the ceiling and tall Scottish plains stretching beneath your feet.
With the golden sand of Thai beaches shimmering in the sun and coconuts falling from the palms, the chirping of birds perched high in the lush trees of the Amazon Forest, and the endless plains of the Sahara Desert.
When you joked that the three pyramids in Giza you were just looking at were believed to have been built by aliens, he only hummed and nodded as if in agreement. A scoff rolled off your tongue, and his head snapped towards you.
"Why are you nodding? Of course they weren't!"
Plush, bluish lips curved in a sly smile. "Is sweetheart sure, question? It looks like something we have on our planet."
An unbelievable shock crossed your face as you stared at him, speechless. "No, you don't!"
"Yes, we do."
"You're fucking with me."
His head tilted. "I thought we can't fuck."
You rolled your eyes, resting your head against his shoulder. Or at least against the crystal surface he was pressed against. "Forget it."
"I can't, my memory is excellent."
And that was indeed true, as Satoru seemed to remember every single thing you said or did over the past few months. The plan you devised to obtain a sample of the planet's atmospheric gas to discover why it was immune to deadly microbes was etched into his mind with meticulous precision.
Truly mesmerising creature he was, especially as he also remembered which buttons to push, to make you cum faster.
What you had also discovered was that Satoru loved to talk about your future.
Particularly during the late nights, when you were curled up under the warm blanket, lying on a mattress in a dimly lit room, with him cuddled up against your side.
He couldn't brush your soft cheek pressed against the wall, but it was fine.
For the look of your lovely face, he watched with warmth blooming in his chest, was enough.
On such nights, when both of you longed for each other's warmth, he enjoyed dreaming. Of you returning with him to his planet, building you a small, private island with oxygen, and fulfilling all your wishes. You teaching the children of his species physics ā as you did on Earth ā and him continuing to serve as the most valued engineer on his planet.
Of you and him living together in a small seaside cottage, spending days loving each other and lying on the soft beach till darkness would spill over the ocean's horizonĀ ā the only his planet had, the one he was ready to fully give into your hands. Having sex all day and night, to which you responded with a sweet, faint giggle, as sleep slowly slipped into your eyes.
"And how would we do it, hm?" you mumbled, pressing against the crystal wall.
A soft furrow haunted your forehead, and he imagined calming it with a gentle roll of his thumb. "The atmosphere of my planet allows us to use a special technique," through the glass wall, he traced the curve of your lips. "It wraps my body in a thin barrier, but I would be able to touch you," soft lips touched to the point where your nose pressed. "And kiss you. And hug you, make love with you, although we wouldn't have children."
You understood why and giggled softly, slowly opening your sleepy eyes to meet the endless, pale blue. "You really want to get even closer, huh?"
It was a joke, and yet a warmth bloomed behind his spectral eyes, forcing your heart to skip a beat. His hand pressed to the part where your chest met the wall, before he leaned his forehead against "yours". "If I could, I would make you live inside me. So nothing in this universe would ever rip us apart."
A faint oh rolled past your lips as you bit on the soft inside of your cheek. "Satoru, I don't know how long your species live, butā¦ I don't have as much time as you think."
A sudden panic swelled behind his eyes, and thumb slipped out of the crystal wall to brush your lower lip. "My best friends have been mates for the past hundred and sixty years. How many can you give me, question?"
Something ripped through your heart. Cut it with painful slashes, till a crease on your forehead deepened. "Not a lot, Satoru. Maybe seventy years?"
His thumb paused, an ache spreading across the vast, pale blue plains. "I've lived three hundred years without you," he said, warm lips pressing into the wrinkle between your "brows". "I won't survive another seventy."
But the endless honeymoon couldn't last long.
For there was a reason why both of you found yourselves in space. Why the mission was tagged as suicidal, and why there wasn't enough fuel to get you back to Earth. And while Satoru's dreams indeed sounded tempting, you knew that it simply wouldn't work out.
For you breathed oxygen, and he needed ammonia gas.
Your body stayed cool at thirty-six degrees Celsius, while his was burning up to over two hundred.
He was three hundred years old ā you twenty-seven.
But he didn't have to know all of that. Over the past twenty-seven years, no one had made you laugh, enjoy, and love life as much as he did. Even if those brief moments of happiness were only meant to last a few months, they were enough.
After the mission, he could go back safely to his home, and youā¦ well.
And you would need to watch him die.
It was truly unpredictable, and none of you could foresee how the situation would turn out. You finally arrived on the planet, prepared to collect the necessary samples of the antidote. You didn't know, however, how dense its atmosphere would be.
How the wind would violently hit your ship, tossing it sharply left and right as you stepped outside in your spacesuit and carried Satoru's sampling device back onto the ship.
He told you to leave it. When you almost fell off the ship, he begged you to come inside. Hit the wall with hands, screamed right into the speaker inside your helmet, pleaded to leave the sample and just come back.
But you simply couldn't do it. Because leaving it here, after Satoru spent decades in space trying to seek the solution, would be simply foolish. Egoistic, and thus, after a few harsh currents, you grabbed the box filled with antidote cells and went back to the ship.
But then, it started spinning. And spinning and spinning, wish wind smacking it in violent currents, and you found it almost impossible to get back onto the normal route. Every single light inside the control room shimmered red. Satoru tried to calm you down, but there was nothing he could truly do from behind the glass wall.
You pushed and flickered every button, every controller, but after one sudden, brutal tug of the ship, your face hit the console.
Eyes filled with red, a nasty crack came from the nose, and the gaze became a bit hazy. You tried to push one last button that would help the ship get away from the planet's strong current, but you were simply too weak. With blood slowly covering your whole face and belts still pinning you to the chair.
Satoru shouted something, but you couldn't hear him clearly. Was it because of the red lamps and an alarm filling the control room? Or maybe because of the sudden sleepiness that blanketed your eyelids?
His fists hit the glass wall, spreading the dull echo around the control room. A soft sweetheart sweetheart sweetheart rolled past his lips, but you simply had no energy to look up. As if you did, the sigh of his trembling, panicked face would rip your heart apart.
His large fists wanted to break through the wall, eyes looked at the blood dripping down your face, body filled with helplessness and desperation, trying everything in his power to get close to you.
With a single finger, you still strained to push that last red button. To get the ship back on track, at least allow Satoru to be safe, and finish the mission that would help save his planet. But your body couldn't handle the gravitational force caused by the spin, which pressed you into the console. The slow crushing of your lungs, mind filling with fogginess, throat crushed beneath the flickering buttons.
So with a soft, almost inaudible I'm sorry, your eyes closed.
A second has passed, a minute, with mind registering the crying alarm andā¦ and a shatter of glass.
A sudden pain washed over your body ā burning and stinging every nerve. Someone lifted you up, carefully, slowly, trying to wrap you in blankets and clothes, anything to keep you from the lethal touch.
Quiet,Ā you'll live, sweetheart will live, sweetheart, sweetheart, keep your eyes open, amid violent waves of coughing and painful moans, filled the corridors of your spaceship. When your eyes opened a little, you saw nothing but thick steam evaporating from something.Ā
Someone.
"Satoru?" slipped out in a whisper as, from beneath the curling steam, a blue, familiar face looked down at you, wet-cheeked. "Satoru, no, y-you'll dieā"
"Shhh, sweetheart, it's okay, it's okay, sweetheart will live," he repeated like a mantra, hugging your wrapped body closer to his.
Fiery skin burned through the thick layers of blankets, leaving burns all over your bloodstained skin. Your body hit something, and before you noticed, an automated medical care robot soon filled your vision. The mechanical arms pressed the oxygen mask to your face before an IV needle slipped beneath the skin of your arm.
"Satoru," you mumbled weakly, trying to find those familiar, pale eyes.
And he was right there, offering you the most painful, heart-tearing sight. Tears ran down his cheeks, white steam curled tortuously from his body, and gaze slowly grew weaker. He could barely breathe, yet still stood right there.
Over your barely warm body, making sure that you would live.
"I watch youā"
"No, S-Satoru," barely pushed through your squeezed throat. With crystal tears swirling in your eyes and fingers trying to push him away from the table. "Go back, p-please, orā"
"No, I watch you sleep." his fingers grabbed the hem of your shirt. "You won't die".
You were too weak to fight him. In too much pain, with your head pounding, skin burning from his touch and anaesthesia slowly kicking in.
And so, with a last look into the eyes your heart laughed for, you fell asleep.
There was no way to tell how much time had passed. How long you stayed under the mechanical clutches of the medical robot.
How long Satoru needed to suffer, to make sure you would be alive.
But when you finally woke up and ripped yourself away from the needles, he wasn't there.
He wasn't in your sight, but something else, something burned, marked the floor. Dark traces of blue dust led further inside the spaceship. Still weak, with the last traces of blood dried on your cheek, you followed them, your heart pounding. And a little grain of foolish hope bloomed inside your heart, fresh tears already swirling in the corners of eyes.
The ship was back on a normal route, carrying you through the galaxy at a slow, peaceful pace.Ā Thanks to Satoru.
The blue dust led you through the control room, down into the basement, kitchen, bathroom, and finally to the bedroom, as if he tried to, for the last time, see every part of the ship. Just to make sure everything was working. That after waking up, you wouldn't have to bother yourself with anything.
And so another wave of crushing sob bubbled in your throat. A pain ripping you open as you entered your shared bedroom and saw him there ā curled on the mattress, the upper part of his body already slipped inside his crystal corridor. As if he didn't have the strength to crawl in fully. Too busy watching you sleep.
"Oh, Satoru," a cry finally escaped your throat, as your knees bent beside his body. "You fool, so stupid, you'reāoh!" A hysterical lament filled the small bedroom as you touched his cold body. "Satoru, how c-could you leave me alone?"
Face, always beaming with so much warmth and joy, lay in dead silence. With your loving, blue eyes closed behind the curtain of white lashes and lips more pale than usual.
Gathering every last ounce of strength still boiling in your body, you brought his ball back. In such a tight, ammonia-filled space, the chance of his recovery was much higher.
Opening it was almost impossible, so you cut a hole big enough to, with pain ripping through your muscles and sweat dripping down your spine, somehow push him inside. And then you glued the walls tight, with a prayer dripping off your lips, and your body cuddled into his crystal ball.
"I'll watch you sleep," you whispered, brushing the surface with his pressed cheek. "You won't die."
š„ Ż Ė š„ Ż Ė š„ Ż Ė
The sun spilling through the curtain tickled your cheeks. The chirping of birds made you sigh deeply, and the gentle sea breeze coated your skin with soft kisses. The shoulder, the soft line of the spine, the slightly sweating neck, with a salty fragrance slipping sweetly into your nostrils.
You tried to stretch, waking up your stiff body from a deep slumber, but something locked you in place.
Something heavy and long, curling around your waist and pulling you closer to another stony wall.
Or, maybe you should say, stony chest.
Looking over your shoulder, you've met with a cheeky smile curling your husband's lips and still-sleepy, pale eyes. He pulled you closer, until your head found itself under his chin and your legs entangled with his.
"Good morning," you giggled, turning in his arms. "Did you sleep well?"
Satoru hummed, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. The thin barrier wrapping his body glimmered under the spilling sunlight. After years on his planet, you no longer needed a translator to understand his language. And so you kissed his blue neck, tracing the kisses up, and up, along his jaw and chin, until finally locking your lips with his.
"Apologies, I didn't watch you sleep."
You chuckled, biting gently on his lower lip. "Were you that tired after last night?"
"Mmm," a soft, satisfied hum escaped his throat when you felt something hard poking your belly. "Forgive your husband, he didn't realise he had a tigress and no wife at home."
You chuckled sweetly, forcing his lips to curl in a sly smile.
"Does my wife need anything? Do you want Suguru to lower the temperature?"
Tracing the sharpness of his jaw, up to the curve of his lips, your head shook. "No, it's warm enough. Maybe you can ask him to lower the birds' chirping a bit. I think they're a bit louder than yesterday."
He nodded, pulling you even closer. Till your bodies tangled in one, and a slow, peaceful pounding of his heart beat against your breasts. "Mhm, sure. But let's sleep a bit longer, and then you can jump on me as much as you want, hm?"
So with the last, soft kiss between your brows and heart swelling from feeling the heaviness of your body on his, Satoru allowed you to cuddle into his muscular chest and watch him slowly slip into a deep slumber.
can you please write yan!gojo with his beloved who just escaped for the first time?
ā” SYNOPSIS: When Gojo begins to talk about children, you decide that staying compliant isn't an option anymore. You escape, but he finds you. He always will.
ā” A.N: Sorry this took so long to get to! Life has been extremely stressful lol
WRITING TAG ā” REQUEST ME
From above you, Gojo asks, āDid you really think I wouldnāt find you?āĀ
You canāt see him from behind the silken fabric, undoubtedly his blindfold, thatās shielding your eyes, and itās a relief in some ways. You know exactly what look is on his face, and youāre glad not to be faced with it.Ā
Being beneath his scrutiny is one thing, but itās another to be faced with the full weight of the Six Eyes.Ā
Like this, you can almost pretend he isnāt angry with you, but then, he straddles you and grabs your chin forcefully, making you all too aware of his erection as he grinds against your slick cunt.
Unprepared for the sensation, you barely suppress a whine. He doesnāt need more ammunition than he already has and will probably gain within the next few hours as your resolve breaks.Ā
āNot going to talk?ā He asks lightly, but you recognize the danger in his tone. You were a fucking idiot to think you could ever escape him. Things had been going so wellāif you ignored the fact that you didnāt want any of this to begin withābut you saw an opportunity to leave and took it.Ā
Now, heās going to treat you like he did in the beginning. Only this time, you know some of what to expect, but you wonāt be drugged for the majority of his conditioning.Ā
God, itās going to be so much worse than before.Ā
How could you have been so stupid? He wasnāt even that bad if you judged him solely on his affection for you. He had swathes of it, so much that it felt suffocating. You could have lived with it, but he began to talk about children. It was then that you decided you couldnāt live in the carefully constructed environment he isolated you in anymore.Ā
āThatās fine with me. Nothing you say will save you, but you know that already, donāt you?āĀ
When you donāt respond, he shoves your face to the side and grazes his teeth down your neck. You know that heās drawn blood because he laps at your neck like a kitten. He begins to leave butterfly kisses all over your torso, paying particular attention to your belly. You go stiff as a board as you realize why heās kissing your stomachāwell, to him, your womb.Ā
Deciding heās had enough of that, Gojo pulls away, leaning up. You hear the sound of him unclasping his pants, and very conscientiously, donāt flinch. You expected this, after all.Ā
His endgame is obvious, and if he wants to achieve it, heāll need to fuck you.Ā
Gingerly, you wonder how long itāll be before heās successful. You had been lucky before, but eventually, all luck runs out. Stabbing a knife into your gut repeatedly had been a risky move, and had you died, you wouldnāt have minded all that much, but it didnāt change your fate.Ā
His doctor friend had healed you, reversing all the damage you had inflicted upon yourself in a matter of minutes. She had even given him prenatal vitamins as she ignored you completely, which, so much for women's solidarity. Of course, if she were friendly with someone like Gojo, she must be cut from the same cloth.Ā
He lines his cock against your seam and slaps the tip of it against your clit. He teases you for a while, pressing against your entrance before he slides his length through your folds over and over again until the stimulation becomes too much for you. Heās trained you to be sensitive, and you think that itās never been more apparent as you cum from a little frottage.Ā
You keep quiet as you tremble under Gojoās grip.Ā
He tsks, and you know whatās coming when he presses his lips against your own gently.
Heās still angry over your actions, but it seems like he wonāt be punishing you just yet. You wish he would just hurt you. Itās so much harder to hate him when heās kind to you, but he knows that, which is why he does it.Ā
You donāt struggle against your restraints when he finally inserts himself within you. He sighs into your mouth when he bottoms out, and the feel of him inside you after two months away is uncomfortable.Ā
Itās not painful; it just feels like stretching a sore muscle.Ā
He maneuvers one of your thighs around his waist, tilting your hips up slightly and allowing him in deeper. His thumb draws hearts into your inner thigh.Ā
The next time you get your hands on a blade, youāll sink it into your femoral artery, if not your carotid.Ā
You know now that heāll always find you, but he wonāt be able to if you go somewhere he canāt follow.Ā
Gojo interrupts your train of thought as he licks something off your face, under the edge of his borrowed blindfold.
He kisses you again, the taste of salt heavy in your mouth.Ā
āItās okay,ā he croons. āIām here now. You donāt need to cry.ā
