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[fanaticsnail]

Quiet Ride

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,900+

Synopsis: Prowl has taken control of himself and held you as his willing hostage as he heeds the call of Optimus Prime in a gathering of Autobots. You are not privy to the knowledge of his race, just as he is not privy to the knowledge of your own occupation as a detective. In the quiet ride, you both simply spend time getting to know one another more instead of handling classified information detrimental to your dual existences.

Themes: Prowl x human!reader, detective!reader, GN!reader, fluff fic with dynamic exploration, chemistry, mutual pining, flirting, quipping, transformers, holograms, could be read as platonic

Notes: HAPPY BIRTHDAY @skullfacedlady. I hope you enjoy your present. I haven't written for Transformers before, and I hope I did him justice! Have a beautiful day!!!

The hum of the engine purring through the dashboard was almost enough to lull you to sleep at the wheel: something that you knew never to do from the first time you ever stepped into the driver's seat. Something you still should never do, despite the fact the car you were currently operating was sentient and was perfectly capable of moving himself seamlessly within the capacity of adhering to the road rules of earth.

“You were dozing off again, little human,” the voice echoed through the radio at the centre of the consol, “It’s alright. You’ve been awake for far too long, and I am more than capable of taking us to the rendezvous point without your voice to accompany me.” You rolled your eyes at that comment while moving your foot away from the accelerator and drawing it towards the brake pedal.

“Don’t test me, Prowl. I might brake-check you for that,” you threatened him with your toes gently tapping at the centre of the pedal, “Then we’ll see who’s really in control here.” Your standard issue combat boots tapped at him once more before you moved back to hovering over the accelerator and clutch, shaking off the sleep and reforming your posture in the process. The autobot huffed in a grumble before switching the radio to something different and louder than before. “Alright, alright. You don’t have to be a dick about it. You want control, take it. It’s yours.” You removed yourself completely from the pedals and pressed your knees into the leather material of the drivers seat you were comfortably sitting on.

The first time you’d met the autobot, it was an accident. Your car was out of commission after it was totaled in a large-scale barricade to stop a high speed pursuit: the damage was done in extremities you didn’t think was at all possible. Without a car, your job as a police detective on the field was pretty much over, so you’d spent a long time at the lot in various districts until you found a replacement you’d purchased yourself.

He was beautiful. You fell in love with the interior design more than the outside, but the outside was extremely easy on the eyes. A perfect depiction of dark and light, something you knew you would have to fix when you’d make him a standard issue. Hell, you’d almost planned on getting rid of your personal car and keeping him all to yourself - but that would seem a waste of an overwhelmingly powerful engine.

You couldn’t help but feel the way you did about cars, especially with the way your father felt about engines. He had drilled into you at a young age his passion, taking you to spend time fixing things in his workshop until you could take apart an engine, clean it, and put it back together again. It was time you had cherished in every moment, something you’d never taken for granted. Even when you’d joined the police academy, you ensured you still spent that time with your father as much as you could when you’d gotten home. How he loved your new car.

“Daydreaming again, human?” Prowl asked you, cutting you away from your thoughts and trapping you back in the moment with him, “What’s going on in your head? Keep me company with those thoughts.” He snickered before turning the volume down on the radio, slowing the movement of the car while engaging in incoming traffic. “Honestly, do these people here know how to drive, or am I to estimate their trajectory alongside their stupidity?”

“Prowl,” you warned him, attempting to hide your smile in your tone, “Why don’t you let me take control for a moment until we get back onto the open road?” You quirked your eyebrow and slowly stroked along the wheel, “C’mon, big guy. It’ll be fun?” He purred out a small growl, his engine doing the same and causing a passing pedestrian to jump in shock. You gave them a wave and an apologetic smile before you manually took control of the car and began navigating him through the streets.

“You’re far too gentle with me,” Prowl commented, adjusting the wheel while you turned at the intersection, “I can barely feel you change gears.” Waiting at the next set of lights, you softly tapped your thumbs to the rhythm of the music against the steering wheel and hummed along, prompting Prowl to click some gears beneath the bonnet in frustration, “And you are still too far lost in your own mind to pay any attention to the world around you.”

“I am waiting for the light to turn green, Prowl,” you dismissed him, “And I’m gentle because I don’t want to rattle your engine. Unfortunately for me, you’re rattling it enough on your own with your constant need to pester and interrupt.” The light turned green and you adjusted the clutch and accelerator accordingly until you turned onto a barely populated highway towards your destination, “Why must I be the one to keep you entertained, and you not me? Perhaps my ‘dozing off’ was due to the fact you’ve told me very little about what we’re doing or where we’re going.”

“I would prefer to keep Autobot business to Autobots only,” he growled in response, sharply taking control of the steering wheel and jolting your hands away, “Adding you to the equation could be detrimental for the cause. I can’t give you information that can be pried out of you should we become separated.”

“Do you honestly believe the others and their human counterparts have not discussed things like this?” you furrowed your brows and moved your hand towards the toggle beneath your seat, pushing it back to give yourself leg room without touching the gages, “What if your leader… Who was it again? Optimal Prime-?”

“-Optimus Prime,” he corrected you quickly, “And you will do well to learn that name properly before you forget it. Even correcting you was possibly too much.” You felt the toggle move on its own, pushing you back into an adequate driving position as one would tuck a toddler into the dinner table to engage in a meal they didn’t want, “And if you are to be in that seat, you are to at least appear to drive me. Stop behaving petulantly, little human.”

“Urgh, fine,” you rolled your eyes once more and immediately undid your seatbelt and whipped it back away from you, “I’ll move to take the passenger seat.”

“What?” he almost yelped in confusion, “Absolutely not. Get back in your chair, detective.”

“Bite me, Autobot,” you almost giggled in glee, crawling over the police radio at the console to get into the passenger seat, “You’re being a brat. Telling me ‘wake up’ or ‘entertain me’ or even ‘you’re doing it wrong’. Honestly, Prowl. You’re being a big baby.” As soon as you entered the passenger seat, you clipped yourself in and put both feet on the dashboard.

“I’m being a baby?” he scoffed at you. A small switch beneath the steering wheel triggered, offering the hologram of what you believed to be his camouflaged form to blend in whilst driving alone illuminated the seat beside you. “You’re the baby here, Detective.” You took a moment to look at him: carefully inspecting his sharp features with your pointed gaze and fighting a laugh at his quippiness.

“No need to get honked off, Prowl,” you chuckle to yourself and hug your knees, both feet still planted firmly on the dashboard and gazing out the window to avoid the creeping heat slowly rising in your cheeks at how handsome he truly was as even a hologram. It was almost not fair: he was a beautiful car, and a beautiful depiction of his humanoid self. “The, uh… Your holo, Prowl. Who came up with the design?”

“Excuse me?” Prowl asked, confusion in place of his prior defense, “What kind of question is that?”

“One that departs absolutely no information about your affliction with the Autobots, nor does it interfere with my work as a detective,” you shrugged, turning your head and attention back to him, “Your features are quite striking, is all. Straight pointed nose, nice eyes, I can’t tell if your hair is grey, brunette or blonde through the hologram setting.” You raked your eyes along his form and settled on his lips, “Those lips are heart-shaped. Highly sought after by humans. Very pretty.”

“First of all: get your feet off my damn dash, Detective,” he pointed with his index finger towards you and the floor, “Secondly: are you suggesting I’m... Attractive by human standards?” You raised your hands in defense and slowly placed your feet on the floor on either side, planting them in place and fixing your posture.

“I was, but you’re ruining it with that attitude,” you chuckled at him and shook your head, “Are all Autobots like you? Prudish, boring, firm, no-nonsense?” You reached for the radio station and turned the music off, fixing your attention on him entirely, “Or am I just the exception when it comes to engaging in a friendship with you?” Prowl’s hologram smirked at you before turning his attention towards the road: despite the fact he didn’t need to in order to operate himself.

“I am known to be harsh and unrelenting when it comes to the safety of my people,” he commented sharply, but still with that smile he held firmly in place, “I am not prudish, nor am I boring. I’m simply attempting to save my people from dying a painful death and extinction at the hands of the Decepticons.”

“Those are the... Bad ones… Right?” you uttered, leaning over the dash and examining the holograms nose once more, “No, you’re actually really attractive, and it’s starting to piss me off. Especially that nose. Unfairly pretty.” That earned you a laugh from both the engine purring outside and from the hologram himself. You laughed alongside him, finding his joy contagious the longer you spend with him - despite the fact it was offered to you sparingly.

“Yes, they’re the bad guys. And I just wanted to give myself a look as a human for someone that should be trusted,” Prowl moved his eyes towards you, “Do I look like I should be trusted, Detective?” He moved his eyes along you, and you felt almost vulnerable beneath his piercing gaze. He looked at you like he was scanning you: reading you from the inside out and undressing you with calculated precision.

“I trust you,” you smiled warmly at him, sitting back in your seat and staring out the centre window, “It’s you that doesn’t trust me. We’re meant to be partners, you know? Two of us working together in whatever capacity for the benefit of Autobots and Humanity. You don’t trust me enough to tell me where we’re going, nor tell me the names of your friends that we’re meeting.”

Prowl took a moment to mull over your words and slowly drew himself to the conclusion he had been contemplating for a while. He knew he was strict, firm, and all of those things you had named him to be. He wanted to trust you, in some ways he truly did: but there was a little nagging voice in the back of his mind that told him that once that wall came down, there was no way to build it back up again. Once he gave himself over to you, there was no way to return to what he once was.

Once he truly allowed himself to love you, to welcome you into his heart fully, he would likely be called away from you and driven to wherever Optimus Prime decided he would be.

“I will tell you one day, little human,” he uttered affectionately while carefully shifting gears into a slow acceleration in the endless highway, “For now, you just rest. We’ll be there soon.”

"And your entertainment, Autobot?"

"I can keep myself occupied for a blink or two, little human. It's you that I believe would require the entertainment."

[cactusvolumes]

His Words, Your Ears (I.K.)

Synopsis: Ijichi was a man of few words, but he was able to make actions that spoke volumes

Tags/Warnings: Ijichi x GN!Reader, omegaverse, fluff, pre-relationship

Word Count: 1,579

Ijichi had never been the most outspoken guy. It was something he really struggled with, taking the words from his head and putting them in his mouth, then actually getting them out. It was an entire process, and only became harder when you started involving those pesky feelings. He was teased often by his peers, even into his young adulthood, and it only made the issue worse. Already, he’d been bad at expressing himself, and now when he did manage he was mocked for stuttering or teased for the words he did manage to get out. So, he took to keeping quiet. If nobody wanted to hear what he had to say, then he simply wouldn’t say it - after all, nothing was lost by him keeping his mouth shut. Clearly, he had nothing of value to say, so why say it at all? Of course that didn’t actually prevent the teasing, because instead he was teased for being quiet, but that was something he learned to live with. Better that than actually teased in a way that hurt, for the way he felt and expressed himself.

That all made it just that little bit harder when it came to being able to talk to you.

You made his heart flutter, his stomach twist, fingers tremble with the desire to reach out and touch you if only to keep you close for just a little longer. Your smile in his view, your eyes on him, your scent under his nose - anything that he could get. Anything that didn’t involve opening his mouth, anyway. He was always there for you, even if as an assistant manager it was his job, he truly went above and beyond. Even outside of work hours, if you needed a ride then you could always call him. His soft and clean smell, sea salt, pine and linen so comforting each time you climbed into the front seat of his car - because you deserved to be in the passenger seat, especially outside of work hours. You were his friend, not just another coworker. Your own Omega scent was his personal favourite, and when you got out of his car he’d always take the long route home, just to carry it with him for a little longer.

Ijichi was quite sure he’d never tell you how he felt, and that was something he’d long since made his peace with. There were better Alphas out there for you, Alphas who you could protect you better, take better care of you than he could. He always got so tongue tied if he tried to comfort someone, never knew where to put his hands if he wanted to hold someone, he could never truly expect to be a good mate and you deserved only the best that life could offer. He was man enough to accept that he wasn’t it. That doesn’t stop him being there for you, and being prepared in case of your every need.

There’s always a spare bottle of water in the glove compartment, a spare pen in his blazer pocket, enough yen for a meal when you forgot your wallet, fuel in the tank to get you where you needed to go.. and a sweatshirt in the trunk in case you ever needed it.

For once, the two of you had time off. It was rare that you got to spend time together as friends, even less frequently with the rest of your extended group of friends from school, but there you all sat. It was a fairly nice day, two picnic blankets set out, various snacks strewn around still in their packaging to share. Satoru, Suguru, Kento, Shoko, Yu, Ijichi, and yourself. Families were similarly scattered around, somewhere there was music playing, and you were laughing together as if work wouldn’t come again on Monday. Whenever the entire group was together, it was like you were back in school again, without worries or responsibilities. You’d never truly known a world where none of you had worries or responsibilities, not when the world you lived in was one with sorcery and curses, but for a while you could pretend. You could forget, with the warmth of friendship around, the connection of pack settling heavy in your chest, so different from how it had felt when you’d lived at home with your family. These were the people you’d picked for yourself, and they’d all chosen you in return.

Shoko was the first to leave, Kento not far behind her. They were the most conscious about having to wake up tomorrow, the more responsible ones of the bunch. Yu wasn’t long after that, something about needing to walk his adorable dog, and a promise to send pictures to the group chat. Satoru and Suguru chose to head home together, arms slung around each other like they were still seventeen, roughhousing like young Alphas did, but with lips pressed to skin like they weren’t suppposed to. Who was going to stop them? They were the strongest.

Though the high volume left with your friends, that comforting warmth lingered. You and Ijichi sat side by side, fingers just short of touching, silence settling between you. It was never awkward though, not with Ijichi. Silence came naturally, like it was a language you both spoke fluently. You always had. He’d been the quiet boy at school, so rarely voicing anything for himself, and you’d been there to fill his silences, until you’d learned to be quiet with him. The slight shifts in facial expression, the deepness of breath, the tenseness of muscles all became a dance you participated in effortlessly in order to read each other - knowing when to speak and when to be quiet, when softness or brashness was needed. The two of you worked around each other like you’d been born to do it, like there was never another option.

When the clouds shifted from fluffy white, to a light grey, you weren’t too concerned. It seemed like you had time before you needed to rush for cover, so you made no rush to pack what was left of your things from the picnic. Movements slow, conversation idle. Why rush on such a lovely day?

Because the skies opened with a vengeance not two minutes later. That was why.

Suddenly, you were forced to rush to toss away your rubbish, scrambling to hide under a large tree as you laughed together at your misfortune. You hadn’t picked your clothes that morning with the potential risk of a weather change in mind, so foolishly you had no jacket to protect you, and the rain had already soaked the t-shirt you were wearing. Ijichi though - perfect, sweet, attentive Ijichi - he reached into his little backpack and pulled out a spare hoodie from inside, offering it to you. Quickly, you pulled it on, sinking into its warmth. It seemed like it was probably large even on him, so it wrapped around you perfectly, and his scent was thick in the fabric.

Ijichi was easily your favourite Alpha, despite knowing so many of them. He was less brutish, and of course it helped that he was your friend. Your classmate back in school, so you spent more time with him than anyone. Even now, he was always there for you. It was hard not to be borderline obsessed with him. To be wrapped in his scent, the fabric of the hoodie warm from being in his bag in the sun, and it was his. Even if it wasn’t saturated with that comforting, familiar smell, the fact that it was his would be enough to make your heart flutter.

The park was quieter now, families having rushed off for their cars, teenagers scrambling to get out of the rain. Quiet enough, that when the low rumble started in Ijichi’s chest, you could hear it. You’d brushed it off at first, sure that you must be mishearing, but when you lifted your eyes to meet his, intending to thank him, it seemed to intensify. You paused, eyes widening just slightly, and that must have tipped Ijichi off. You broke eye contact at the same time, your cheeks warm. He felt like an idiot, failing to control himself like that, rumbling over the sight of you in that hoodie he always kept close, just in case you needed it. You’d never been more flustered, the sound making you want to purr in reply, to press in closer just to get more of his scent, to breathe it in like it was the only air you needed.

Neither of you addressed it, just walked towards the car together in silence, slightly heavier than it usually was. Your fingers brushed together by accident once or twice, and it made your heart jump each time, fluttering excitedly at the prospect of touching him. You climbed into his car together, with you in the passenger seat where you belonged, and if you buried your nose into the fabric of that hoodie for the rest of the drive home as you watched the world pass by, well that was your business. It was Ijichi’s business if that low rumble started again, not quite fully drowned out by the car’s engine. Still, nobody acknowledged it.

Another day, maybe, when Ijichi had found his words. If anyone deserved the effort it took for him to force a confession from his brain to his mouth and out into the air, it was definitely you.

Tags: @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @cainnoable @queenmimi2817 @hellkaiserinphoenix @wrennyx @lunulatalux @gojosbigboobies @yoonsucks @fanaticsnail

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[fanaticsnail]

kissy booth for rosinante please ><

The Kissing Booth - Rosinante / Corazon for Louise8803

Word count: 900+

Notes: Thank you so much for your ask!! I love this man, and he's just a delight to write for. I hope you enjoy your kiss, Louise!!

The familiar prick of candifloss was soured by the waft of cigarettes and singed hairs. A disgruntled conversation between two men bickered with one voice dominating while the other participant remained quiet. You tilted your head to make out a further utterance of the conversation before a participant un-ceremoneously was dropped onto the stool in front of you.

“There is an empty chair here, beloved brother,” the voice sighed in annoyance before turning towards you, “What is this? A… A kissing booth?” He chuckled at the sign, prompting you to roll your shoulders back and sit upright in your stool. 

“It is,” you utter firmly, “And it’s not a free seat. This is raising funds for a charity, and you have no right to simply take-.” Your voice was cut off by the sound of rustling paper thrusting itself into the glass jar by your side alongside the tinkering of coins brushing against the base of the glass. “I have found myself in a charitable mood,” the voice chuckled warmly down at you from an unknown height, “It is not found often, so count your blessings on all fingers and toes tonight. I have struck down men for less than that, kitten. For now,” the voice stoops close to your ear, purring in its tone while the scent of a floral-forward cologne strikes you in the nose, “I have paid you out for several moments of entertainment for my younger brother. You will take care of him while he sits still and causes no mischief.” 

The man close to your ear rises to taller stature and moves to your guest sitting opposite and whispers a departing commandment of, “Try not to set yourself on fire this time, mi corazon,” before leaving the vicinity all together. 

The air was thick, awkward, and more silent than you had anticipated. Your guest offered you no conversation or inkling of starting one at all, prompting you to lace your fingers together and toy with your thumbs against one another. It was only when you felt a small amount of pressure on your shoulder that you jolted back into reality.

“Hello?” you asked your guest softly while reaching for his hand. Your fingers made contact with what you assume were his before he pulled them away from you. You frowned before retracting your digits away from him, “I don’t… bite. If that’s what you’re worried about. Nor do I judge anyone for any-.”

“-I don’t want a kiss out of obligation.”

The voice called you out of your circling inner thoughts spilling from your lips. That deep baritone wrapped in a whispery hoarseness had you by the throat the longer you attempted to listen to him. You felt him shift in his seat before your nose picked up on tobacco and mint leaves with a warm cologne that had your head swimming in a sweet dizziness. 

“I want you to kiss me because you want to.” He was much closer than you’d pictured. His breath tingled against your lips, the way you felt his gaze on you had you almost self conscious, yet your body continued to lean in. “I want you to kiss me, don’t get me wrong. I’ve been watching you with the others, and your kisses seem so sweet…” 

Your guest’s hand came to rest on your cheek, holding you still while his lips were held a breath away from your own. You could almost taste his kiss: greasepaint on the air while that mint scent continued to tingle your skin with every breath of longing you held towards him. A warm laugh floated onto you that had you immediately at ease as you continued to give yourself over to the emotions he invoked in you. 

“So sweet,” he whispered against you while you felt you had no choice but to whine. “Do you want to kiss me?”

“Yes,” you whimpered as his hand continued to hold you stationary, “I want to kiss you.” 

“Not out of obligation?”

“No,” you nodded while leaning in, “I want to because I desire it. Please.” The man clicked his tongue down at you while chuckling, causing you to almost pout before his lips completely ingulfed your own. 

Passion. 

Raw passion with need pooling from every swirl of his tongue colliding against yours. 

His kiss was deep, enthusiastic, sultry, and raw - yet continuing to withhold full strength to not frighten you. He pulled an unintentional moan from your throat, causing you to chastise yourself while your hands blindly sought out his collar to pull him in closer. There was a large difference in size between you, that much was completely certain. He was far larger than you assumed him to be, yet his kiss was truly perfect. 

Once he pulled away, his quiet chuckle continued to warm the air while you heard the rustling of material gliding from his persons. A piece of cloth touched your lips and began to gingerly swipe at your lips, nose, and cheeks while you could feel that tangible smile roll down at you from his much taller frame. 

“I… Got a little messy there,” he smiled down at you, “Sorry, dove. If, uh… If you want to come and find me after you finish here, I’d love to talk to you a little bit?” He placed the handkerchief, or what you assumed was a handkerchief, into your hands and drew your thumb over the embroidered silk to find the initials alongside a heart woven into the fabric. 

“To… Talk?” you clarified with your brow furrowing at the top of your blindfold in puzzlement, “After a kiss like that, you… Just want… To talk?”

Your guest hummed sweetly before reaching down and taking your hand in his larger one, thumbing over your knuckles and giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Of course. I don’t talk to just anyone.”

[c1nnam0roll-08]

⋆˙⟡Boyfriend!Nerdjo who follows you around like a lost puppy—trailing behind you every time you stop for a chat with your popular friends. He’ll just stand there, large hand enclosed around your pinky and chin resting on your shoulder. He’ll wait patiently, blue eyes darting around the room to entertain himself until you’re done catching up.

⋆˙⟡Boyfriend!Nerdjo who'll buy you coffee and lunch in exchange for coming to spend time with him in the library—finals are right around the corner and he needs to be the highest scorer! He’ll help you with your work too, of course. 

⋆˙⟡Boyfriend!Nerdjo who’ll get distracted by your beauty when he’s supposed to be studying for his exams. The way your hair falls over your face, the smile you flash at him when he says something witty, and the way you play with the bracelets on his wrists make him go insane. 

⋆˙⟡Boyfriend!Nerdjo who can’t help but eye your cleavage every time you lean over the table—you do this on purpose just to see his cheeks turn pink and stumble over his words. Sometimes you’ll wear a miniskirt and bend over in front of him, yearning for his shy and respectful demeanor to shatter.

⋆˙⟡Boyfriend!Nerdjo who folds so easily—your modest attempt at seduction has his dick straining against his jeans uncomfortably. You know that he’s done for. He’s gnawing on his lip with his eyes trained on you, textbook long forgotten. 

⋆˙⟡Boyfriend!Nerdjo who will pack up his stuff with unsettling urgency, grabbing your wrist and dragging you back to his dorm. Meanwhile you celebrate, slick gathering in your panties the rougher his grip on your wrist becomes. 

⋆˙⟡Boyfriend!Nerdjo who slams the door behind him, eyes pleading as he pushes you to your knees. You’ll unbuckle his belt with no hesitation, already knowing what he needs—you free his pretty pink dick from the confines of his digimon boxers before taking him into your mouth with a pleased hum. 

⋆˙⟡Boyfriend!Nerdjo who can be pretty rough if you teased him enough. He’ll bury his pale hand in your scalp, forcing himself in and out of your mouth as whiny moans escape from his lips. He likes it when you choke on him, gasping for air with tears in your eyes.

⋆˙⟡Boyfriend!Nerdjo who’ll pull your nose flush to his pelvis, releasing his milky cum down your throat with a hushed whimper. You’ll swallow, then you’ll rise to your feet—grabbing him by the collar and shoving your tongue into his mouth, making him taste himself.

⋆˙⟡Boyfriend!Nerdjo who will drop to his knees in kind, burying his head underneath your miniskirt to devour you. He’ll eat you out with the same diligence he puts into his assignments—he won’t stop until you're struggling to stand, legs shaking and hips jerking.

⋆˙⟡Boyfriend!Nerdjo who kisses you sweetly, brushing stray strands of hair from your face once you push him away from your overworked pussy. Then he’ll hold you flush to his chest in bed, letting you watch him play his gameboy until you doze off. He wonders how the hell he got so lucky.

(c1nnam0roll-08 / 2026)

[c1nnam0roll-08]

GOD IS A WOMAN ✧.*

✧Synopsis: Sure, you love when your boyfriend takes the lead, pinning you down and fucking you hard—but you’re starting to think that the sight of him completely at your mercy is even better. Yeah, this is definitely how it’s meant to be.

✧Featuring: Satoru Gojo, Toji Fushiguro, Kento Nanami, Choso Kamo, Suguru Geto, Ryomen Sukuna

✧Content Warnings: femdom elements, slight pet play, begging for it, crying, vaginal sex, breeding kink, overstimulation, mentions of pregnancy, oral (f and m rec), handjobs, body worship, power dynamics, grinding, humiliation, degradation, praise, swearing.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

SATORU GOJO

“Fuck- I love you, princess.” 

“Oh yeah, Satoru?” your nails run through his hair as he kisses down your body, leaving a trail of sticky saliva in its wake.

“Yes, baby- sooo much-“ he ceases his kisses to look up at you, stars in his eyes and eyebrows furrowed. 

God- he’s just so pretty (he would look even prettier between your legs).

“I think you should prove it to me, pretty boy.” your grip on his hair tightening as you push him down to your needy cunt. “Show me how much you love this pussy.” your tone is sickeningly sweet—even for Satoru’s sweet tooth, your bold command surprised him.

“Your wish is my command, princess.” he says, letting you guide his head down to sink into your heat. Satoru treats your cunt with teasing kitten licks and light smooches on your clit, his hands moving to hold your hips steady. 

“Oh come on Toru, you can do better than that, can’t you?” you taunt him before flicking at his hands’ grip on your hips. “Hands off baby, I control the pace, not you.” 

Satoru whines before reluctantly retracting his hands from your hips and balling them in fists on the couch. He makes sure to double his efforts on your pussy, light kisses turning into sucks and kitten licks turning into crazed laps of his tongue. 

“Mfmm- that’s right, baby- tell my pussy how much you love her.” you clench your fist in his silver tresses so hard he groans in pain—your hips grind up on his face while you use him. 

Satoru looks you in the eye, gaze never wavering as you ride his mouth. His hips roll against the couch in a pitiful attempt to ease the tightness of his pants—your newfound dominance over him is clearly doing a number on your boyfriend. 

“Awww- I almost think you’re loving this more than I am, sweet boy-“ your breath hitches when Satoru hollows his cheeks in a mean suction over your clit. “If you make me c-cum- ngh- I’ll let you fuck my t-tits-“ 

That’s all the motivation necessary for Satoru to force his tongue into your sloppy hole, loud slurps mixing with the sound of your high pitched moans. Your legs wrap around his head in a head lock, holding him hostage against your cunt. 

He can’t breathe but he still takes it like a champ—desperate to please. He’d die willingly as long as it’s between your legs. His utter devotion behind each filthy thrust of tongue has your cunt fluttering and your tummy tightening.

“Sooo good for me, Toru- fuck- m’gonna cum!” your legs crushing his skull as your hips jerk against his face, juices flowing from your pussy. Once your high subsides, you relax your legs, freeing Satoru from what he thought was his inevitable end. 

“Tell me you love me.”

Your boyfriend is panting, face covered in slick, eyes glossed over, completely pussy drunk.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

“Just let me fuck you, doll-“ 

Your beast of a boyfriend was begging for pussy.

When you had put the dirty bastard on a sex ban (for shoving his thumb in your ass mid fuck), he merely scoffed—he swore that you’d cave and ask him to fuck you again within a few days. Little did he know that it’d be the other way around. 

“I can’t take it any longer-“ 

You never would have thought that the huge man that you call “daddy” in bed could be so pathetic. You feel slick seeping through your panties the longer this display of his goes on.

Toji is palming his stiff cock through his sweats, head leaning on your shoulder as he pins you to the wall with his staggering weight. 

“Awww, is my big strong man feeling frustrated?” your tone dripping with sarcasm as you replace his hand with your own, earning a groan from him. “What was it you said again? That I’d be begging for you?” emphasizing your words with a tight squeeze to his swole cock. 

“If you say please… I might let you fuck my fist instead, Toji.” you whisper, peppering kisses on the side of his slack head.

It’s not your cunt, but anything sounds appealing to Toji when he’s this horny. He has to swallow his pride before he can even begin to form the word “please” in his throat. 

“Please-“ it sounds like he’s choking on the word, like saying it caused him physical pain.

“See? It wasn't so hard was it?”

Toji mumbles something under his breath before it’s cut off with a low groan. Your hand had reached into his pants, freeing his cock—glossy pre seeping from his angry red tip. 

“Christ- feels so good, doll.” he bites down on your shoulder, trying to stifle his moans when you wrap your hand around his girthy cock—your thumb rubbing circles around his sensitive tip.

“Relax for me, ji’.” 

Toji’s hips are bucking into your fist, hands squeezing your waist, resting his entire weight on your smaller form. You’re pumping his dick with one hand while the other moves to scratch the back of his head—you swear you hear him whimper from your gestures. 

“Shit, you’re sooo good to me, baby- m’sorry, just please n-no more- ngh- sex ban.” he begs you, moving his head from your shoulder to look in your eyes. 

Oh. Toji is just putty in your hands. 

“Mfm- cumming, doll-“ he spurts wad after wad of hot cum all over your hand, some staining your clothes. 

“Thank me for making you cum, Toji. Say it with sincerity and maybe I’ll let you fuck me.” you coo, still pumping his overstimulated cock. 

“Fuck- thank y-you, baby.” 

“Good boy.” 

Toji fucking shudders.

CHOSO KAMO

“Tsk- tsk- what did I just say, Cho?” you reprimand him, your grip on his jaw bruising as you push him away from your sopping pussy.

“Not t-to touch you until I- ngh- cum!” his usual deep voice turning into something higher– whinier. 

You’re sitting on the edge of your shared bed, Choso kneeling at your feet. The sight before you can only be described as sinful—he’s shirtless, broad chest on display while he fucks his weeping cock between your closed calves. His pupils are blown wide as he looks up at you with pure adoration, tears gathering in his waterline. 

“You were being such a good boy earlier, baby-“ you pause to lean forward, flashing Choso a glimpse of your ample cleavage. “What changed, hun?” your voice dripping in condescension.

“You’re j-just so beautiful, i c-couldn’t help myself- you’re pussy w-was right- mfm- there!” he’s crying now, his pretty face glistening with tears—his relentless rutting between your soft legs never letting up for even a second. 

“I thought I trained my puppy better than that-“ your tone similar to that of a mother’s scolding. “you know you’re not supposed to eat until I say so, Cho.” your nails stroke through his sweat slicked hair, giving it light tugs here and there to make him grunt. 

“M’sorry- I won’t d-do it again-“ his face contorts, breath hitching.

He’s so close—and you know just what will send him over the edge.

You slap him. Not hard, but just enough to sting. He whimpers, hips stuttering as his forehead falls to rest on your knees.

“Cum for me, sweet boy.” It's not a soft request, more of an order. 

Choso spills creamy ropes of cum between your calves, some splattering on the floor beneath him. He lets out soft groans of your name while he rides out his high.

Choso jolts when you spread your legs, easing the friction on his sensitive cock.

“Come eat your dinner, pup.” you purr, spreading your glistening folds—almost snorting when you see a trickle of drool running down the side of his lips. 

In the blink of an eye, Choso is shoving his face in between your legs, lapping at your cunt like he’d been starved for weeks. 

“There’s my good boy.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA

“Hey- stop that- the fuck are you doing, woman?” 

Sukuna’s broad tattooed back is facing you—you can’t help but ogle him as the water drips down his Greek-God-esque figure. You’re palming his well-built ass, surely embarrassing him to no end. He had finally agreed to letting you shower with him, so you’re not about to let this opportunity go to waste.

“Whyyy? Am I not allowed to appreciate my sexy boyfriend’s body?” you ask, slapping his ass for good measure making him grunt in surprise. 

“You’re so goddamn weird-“ he can’t finish his sentence when you reach around his front to grasp his semi-erect cock. 

“You tryna kill me, woman?” Sukuna groans as the blood rushes to his dick almost immediately. 

“Maybe-“ you round his body until you’re face to face under the water, slow pumps on his cock never relenting. “or perhaps I’m just bored of you making me cry.” your grip tightens, strokes picking up in pace. “Won’t you cry for me, Ryo?” 

His low groans turn into something quieter, breathier. 

You sink to your knees in front of him, scratching his abs on the way down—your eyes almost predatory. You hum as you take his cock into your warm mouth, the vibration has Sukuna’s hips stuttering. Water runs down your face, hair a soaked mess, but that won’t stop you when your dominant boyfriend is surprisingly submitting. 

“Fuck- babe-“ 

Oh you had him going crazy—the term of endearment is certainly a rarity. 

His hips start thrusting into your waiting mouth, hands bury into your hair—his dominant nature is making itself known, but you can’t let him take control- no, not now. You pull your mouth off of his cock immediately.

“What the fuck, woman.” he protests the loss, eyebrows furrowing. 

“If you had just kept your hands to yourself, Ryo, I wouldn’t have stopped-“ you lightly scratch the vein on the underside of his sensitive dick—he shivers. “If you ask me nicely, I’ll let you cum in my throat.” 

“Damn- fine- please, babe?” 

“That’s better, Ryo.” you take in a deep breath before deepthroating Sukuna until your nose is flush to his pelvis. 

You hear his hand slam against the wall of the shower.

KENTO NANAMI

“Shit- I don’t know if I c-can keep going, honey.” Nanami is breathing heavily, his grip on your moving hips bruising. 

“But you told me that you wanted a baby, Ken-“ your voice feigning disappointment. “you’re not cumming dry yet…which means that you still have more to give me, don’t you?” you whisper innocently into his ear—subtlety trying to strike a negotiation with him. 

“You’re insatiable, darling-“ his breath hitching when you ran your nails through his disheveled hair. 

You and Nanami have been fucking for the past couple hours, switching positions like you were being paid for it. Right now, you were riding him—loud smacks filling the room as you bounce on his overworked cock. He was just filling you so well, your pussy teeming with his seed—you’re addicted, not quite ready for him to tap out just yet.

“I’m not greedy, baby- you’re just not generous enough.” you stifle a giggle before languidly rolling your hips up, up, up and down on his cock. 

“Good god- I’m serious, honey- I’ll be cumming dry pretty damn- ngh- soon.” he’s practically begging you to release him from this hostage situation, his dick twitching uncomfortably inside your tight cunt.

“But soon, isn’t now, Kento-“ you whine, childish petulance oozing from your words. “Besides, if you want your precious daughter you’re gonna have to give it all you’ve got.” you remind him of the whim that got him into this position in the first place. 

Nanami lolls his back in defeat, eyes squeezed shut as you use him—he lets out a breathy groan every time you bottom out. 

“C’mon, Ken- fill me up one- mfmm- last time. You wanna be a daddy don’t you?” you taunt him as your own impending orgasm builds inside of you. 

He spurts a single pathetic rope of cum inside you, a tear falling from his glossed over eyes.

The sight alone has you clamping down on him, a mix of your shared fluids dripping from your messy pussy onto his pelvis. 

“Fuck- look at that-“ your words urging him to look between your legs as you spread your folds. “That’s all you, love.” Your fingers gathering some of his cum and bringing it up to your clit, rubbing in slow circles—the view is just filthy.

Nanami is going to die here.

SUGURU GETO

“Lower.” you order in a low murmur—the ball of your foot forcing Suguru’s shoulders down in a bow so deep his face damn near hits the floor. 

“You have people bowing for you everyday, Sugu-“ your pressure on his built shoulder becomes closer to a bruising shove rather than a light nudge.“I’d expect you to know what one looks like, handsome.” 

Suguru grunts in slight annoyance, still not accustomed to your sudden boldness—you’re lucky he loves you enough to let you embarrass him like this. Reluctantly, he lets you push him down until his bare chest meets his knees.

“There you go-“ you lean down to grab his chin between your fingers, pulling his gaze up, up, up until he meets your eyes. “Now show me how much you deserve to fuck me.” you finish your demand with a chaste peck to his lips. 

“Where’d you find all that damn audacity, gorgeous-“ Suguru roughly grabs your ankle, bringing it to his lips and bites down before soothing the pain with a smooch. “I’m curious?” he asks, continuing his journey up your legs—trailing wet kisses in his wake until he’s face to face with your glistening cunt.

“You have a whole crowd of “monkeys” that obey you-“ your breath hitches when Suguru plants a filthy kiss on your cunt before raising himself to climb on top of you. “Is it a crime for me to want you to obey me? Behind closed doors, at least.” 

Suguru leaves kiss after searing kiss on your body as you speak—he nips at your nipples, then your collarbone, then your neck. 

“Hmm, cute.” Suguru is thoroughly amused by your little power trip, but he’s getting impatient. “But we both know that you’re only able to do this because I’m in a good mood, baby.” 

“Mhmm, and I’m so grateful that you are-“ you sigh in pleasure as you line his cock up to your drooling cunt. “because this was the highlight of my week, Sugu.” you coo, brushing stray hairs from his face. 

“Now fuck me like you’re indebted to me.” you command, an intoxicated smile on your face. “Whatever you want, gorgeous.” he says before crashing his lips into yours as he buries himself inside you with one deep thrust.

(c1nnam0roll-08 / 2026)

[bluukive-deactivated20260523]

⚠︎ (mdni) Thinking about Gojo Satoru with both hyperspermia and hyper-viscosity.

He's so embarrassed about it at first — shying away from being intimate with you due to the sheer amount of cum he produces. Not only that, it was incredibly thick, too. The way it just kept coming over and over through heavy pulses, creamy rivulets that keep oozing their way out of his cock even after he thinks his orgasm is over...

But Satoru was lucky to have a partner as understanding as you. Admittedly, you didn't quite know what to do the first time you were face to face with such a spectacle.

You were done sucking his cock, having hollowed your cheeks in just the way Satoru liked, tongue flicking out to prod at the plump veins snaking down his length. It was enough to have the man before you biting his fist, hips jerking in a poor attempt to fuck your throat.

You let him, of course — letting out a chorus of wet gags that'd make a nun blush. His dewy tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly, face screwing in pleasure when you tightened around him and milked him for all he was worth.

But then his orgasm rapidly approached. Satoru could feel it with the way his balls were suddenly beginning to heave, tightening up on him after you dug your tongue into his slit. He pulled you off without warning, ignoring your whines of protest and cumming.

He didn't cum in messy ropes that sprayed out of him in a way that'd be relatively easy to clean afterwards.

No — Satoru's cum poured out of him in thick, slow moving streams that stretched and clung to each surface it could reach. When he came on your face, your lashes were coated in the potent substance. It left your lips glossy, slowly sliding down your chin and between the valley of your breasts, the sensation lasting hours after you had both cleaned up.

When you convinced him to let you swallow for the first time, Satoru warned you of the possibility of you choking. And you did — spluttering around his cock as your throat worked to accommodate the sudden feeling of being utterly stuffed full.

You gulped down the mess loudly, nails digging into your boyfriend's thighs as it dribbled out of the corner of your mouth in fat globs.

Satoru apologised profusely afterwards, but he noticed that a large part of you enjoyed it — watching as you pulled off of his length, gasping for air and fingering at the wet strings of spit and cum joining your lips to his groin.

You cleaned him up, of course, eagerly lapping up the mess until Satoru was writhing from overstimulation.

Then there was the matter of thoroughly stuffing your pussy up to the brim next. Your boyfriend had no problem getting hard again, sobbing into your mouth as he held you down in a mean mating press — balls thwacking against your ass as he pummelled his aching cock into you.

Satoru ends up cumming in bucket loads, letting out a choked groan into the warmth of your mouth as another round of goopy cum shoots out of him and into you instead.

It takes long seconds for Satoru to stop cumming inside of you, tears leaking from his eyes as he pulls out and and watches your pussy struggle to hold it all in.

Your puffy folds are glistening, your stomach was slightly bloated — and his eyes are on the way your pussy inevitably pushes out his load with a filthy squelch, legs shaky. Satoru can only moan at the sight, grimacing when his cock treacherously jerks before him.

But who better to handle his wretched orgasms if not for a very eager you?

inspired by this post by @pearlescenthoney, I love your mind ugh

[gojosbigboobies]

Domain Expansion: Gneep Gnorp │ alien gojo x reader │ WC: 13k │ MDNI 18+ │ ao3

You were on a train, half-asleep and heading toward the only vacation you'd saved for in months, when a beam of light stole you from your seat and dropped you on the pristine floor of an alien spaceship. The creature waiting for you was tall, blue, six-eyed, and inexplicably thrilled to meet you. He called himself Satoru Gojo, said your job had been permanently discontinued, informed you with absolute sincerity that your mitochondria were top 12%, and presented to you a bedroom filled with manga and cat plushies. He was ridiculous. He was terrifying. He was, against every rational instinct you had, the most endearing thing you'd ever met. He was also, according to his instruments, a 97.51% match as a soulmate for you.

alien abduction, alien satoru, alien anatomy, explicit consent, size kink, satoru has two dicks, heat/rut, soulmates, EXTEREMLY FLUFFY, oral sex, p in v, no use of y/n, tired & touch starved reader, office worker reader, it's all very sweet tbh, even the smut

The Milky Way was, without a doubt, the most fascinating galaxy of the cosmos for Satoru. 

While a majority of galaxies were sprawling with life of many different sorts, born from elements like Carbon, Silicon, and even the occasional Nitrogen-based anomaly, this particular spiral arm held something special. 

Humans. 

Satoru pressed his face against the observation membrane of his vessel, six pupils dilating with undisguised delight as he watched the blue-green marble rotate beneath him. His species had catalogued over forty thousand sentient races across the observable universe, and yet none of them quite compared to these bizarre little bags of carbon. 

They touched each other. Constantly. For no tactical reason whatsoever. 

They leaked fluid from their faces when experiencing strong emotions - sometimes from happiness, sometimes from sadness, sometimes from both simultaneously. They created elaborate audio patterns they called "music" and then moved their bodies to it in synchronized rituals. They formed pair-bonds based on something called "chemistry," which Satoru had initially assumed was a scientific discipline but apparently referred to some ineffable quality of interpersonal attraction that even humans themselves could not adequately define. 

Magnificent. 

He had studied them for approximately 847 Earth rotations now, cycling through countless subjects, absorbing their media, their art, their endless streams of digital communication. He had learned their languages - all 7,000 of them, though he was particularly fond of Japanese for its efficient honorific system and the pleasing way it organized concepts. It even had his own name’s sound as a common name to the tongue!

He had studied their mating rituals extensively - though the sheer variety of approaches they employed was frankly overwhelming. Some humans preferred elaborate courtship displays. Others simply... asked. Some exchanged resources, others exchanged verbal affirmations, and a baffling number seemed to form attachments through shared trauma or mutual hatred of a third party. 

Humans were complicated. And Satoru adored complicated things. 

But it wasn't until 73 rotations ago that he had found her.

She was, by most human standards, unremarkable. 

That was an incredible thing to Satoru, because she seemed so fascinating to him. 

A young professional, grinding through long hours at a job that drained more than it gave. She rented a modest apartment that she kept meticulously clean despite working well over fifty hours per week. She owned no pets, though she followed an almost embarrassing number of cat accounts on social media. 

She consumed approximately 500 milligrams of caffeine daily. She slept an average of 5.2 hours per night. She had been single for four years, two months, and sixteen days following an apparently unsatisfying relationship with a human male who had, according to her private digital correspondence, found her to have, “the emotional depth and fun of a parking cone.”

That was human humor! She on the other hand did not find it humorous.

None of these statistics explained why the preliminary compatibility scan returned a result of 97.51%.

That was unprecedented. The average cross-species compatibility rating hovered at roughly 18%. Even among his own kind, anything above 65% was considered incredible grounds for pair bonding. But 97.51%?

Satoru had run the scan fourteen times. He recalibrated his equipment, consulted the archived databases of six different observation stations, and every single time the result remained the same. 

According to every metric his species had developed across millenia of studying interpersonal bonds, this human was his perfect match. 

The natural conclusion, then, was that he needed to retrieve her. Unfortunately, humans possessed a remarkably high value in the statistic known as “Consent”.

Their independence and individuality were a shockingly important value across nearly all of their cultures, and as such, to simply abduct another sentient being was considered a kind of villainy reserved for their humorous animated television productions and cautionary fiction. Satoru was aware of this. He had watched the documentaries of course. He had seen what humans did to aliens who took without asking in their stories, and it usually involved a great deal of violence and a rousing musical score. 

However...97.51%?

Certainly, he could present optimal conditions to make her stay most enjoyable. 

In his analysis, her primary sources of cortisol, humanity’s stress-related hormone, was financial - particularly in relation to obtaining shelter, food, and entertainment, a tragically common trait among the human population. She worked herself to the bone not only for herself but for her family who depended on her, sending money so they could breathe a little easier while she slowly suffocated under the weight of it all. 

The second most common source of her stress was the internet, specifically the social gathering spaces for communities of shared interest, where she would voluntarily enter discussions only to be aggravated by the opinions of others. 

The third was from video games and manga. 

She was a fascinating contradiction. Why did she seek out stress as entertainment?

He needed to have her as his pair-bond to at least answer that.

And so, after spending an excessive amount of Quarp energy to recreate the environment he believed would bring her the most joy, Satoru surveyed his work with no small amount of pride. 

A spacious bedroom. Three attached bathrooms - an indulgence, perhaps, but humans seemed to value them. Two full kitchens, because his research indicated that food preparation was both a necessity and could also be a creative outlet. A large, impossibly comfortable sofa facing a television connected to every entertainment signal her planet produced, surrounded by video game consoles loaded with simulations of titles that wouldn’t reach her world’s market for another fifteen years. An entire wall dedicated to manga, organized by genre and then by estimated preference based on her re-read frequently. Finally, a large, plush bed surrounded by an almost alarming number of cotton-stuffed cat plushes framed around its perimeter, arranged like a soft honor guard for her. 

He naturally felt confident that he would be able to satisfy her. 

So, proton star, why was he so nervous?

Anxiety born from expectation seemed like such a human emotion. Perhaps he had gotten adjusted to studying them that some of their feelings had wormed their way into his usual mental acuity through his fleegles. That idea thrilled him, actually. Perhaps more would come from proximity, a process he will excitedly observe and document. 

With a metaphorical butterfly in his stomachs - which was, he had learned, not the result of consuming the actual flying insect - Satoru reached for the console. 

His finger hovered over it.

847 rotations of watching. Seventy-three of wanting. Fourteen compatibility scans all returned with the same impossible number. Six observation stations databases that confirmed what his own instruments kept insisting. 

97.51%.

Satoru pushed the button. 

— — —

Work, go home, eat, sleep. 

The rhythm of your life beat to that tired mantra, steady and unchanging. An eight-to-six job with weekends off in theory only, because theory did not account for overtime going long past dusk, or the quiet guilt that kept you glued to your desk when everyone else had already gone. Days bled together into something colorless and flat, broken only by increasingly rarer visits to family or the private joy of sinking into a new manga, pages devoured with the same hunger that you denied yourself everywhere else.

Life was dull. Stripped of meaning beyond survival. 

Work hard. Pay rent. Keep the apartment standing. Send money home so the people who depended on you could breathe a little easier while you slowly forgot what breathing easily felt like. 

It was enough. It had to be.

But today - on this night, finally - you were free. A rare long weekend stretched ahead of you like a promise, and the gentle rocking of the bullet train had already begun to lull your body into something resembling rest. The week had been brutal, the kind that left your bones feeling hollow, and the reward you’d scraped together over months of careful saving now curled around you like a lullaby. For a precious few days, you would not belong to fluorescent lights and ringing phones.

You had planned everything with a reverent precision. A proper vacation away from your home to a nice, warm place where no one knows you and you’d be able to live luxuriously in the cheaper economy. You’d eat recklessly - fried everything, too much sushi certainly. You’d sprawl somewhere warm with the new doujinshi you’d splurged on, the one about a mermaid and a human painter that people only would not stop talking about until curiosity finally won. You’d do absolutely nothing productive, and you’d enjoy every second of it.

Your eyes drifted shut. The hum of the train filled the silence your thoughts would usually occupy, and for once, you let them go quiet.

Then light bloomed behind your closed eyelids.

The world lurched.

You tumbled hard as the nothingness you’d been dreamily embracing turned into a horrible reminder of gravity and you landed hard and undignified on your ass. Pain flared bright and sharp up your spine. You blinked, groaning, hands pressing flat against a surface that was absolutely not the warm upholstery of a train seat. 

The floor beneath you was smooth, cool, and faintly luminous - too nice for public transportation. The walls stretched upward in seamless white arcs, glossy and pristine to the point of sterility. There was not a speck of dust. Not a smear of dirt. Not a single indication that any living thing had ever touched this place. 

The air smelled wrong - clean, but not the satisfactory levels of human-clean in a way that you couldn’t place. It was clean in the way that the inside of a sealed container or lab equipment might be clean. It was clean in a way that meant nothing organic had any business being here.

Your brain was already rushing with thoughts on fear and implications, your heart hammering in your chest. Were you drugged? Did someone on the train find you and-

“Hello!”

A cheerful, bright, downright delighted voice spoke up.

“Oh, it is a delight to have you here! I do apologize for interrupting your commute home, but I’m afraid your time at the job has been discontinued permanently. Your needs are now met and you may be comfortable - welcome!”

You stared at the wall in front of you. The voice was coming from behind. It was speaking Japanese - fluent, cheerful Japanese, with the cadence of someone who had learned it from every possible source simultaneously and settled on “enthusiastic textbook” as their default register.

Discontinued permanently?

Before you could process that - before you could even begin to unpack what “your needs are now met” meant in any context that made sense - the voice continued, warm and pleased and utterly unbothered by the fact that it was addressing someone who had just been ripped off a bullet train.

“I am Satoru Gojo.”

You heard the rustle of fabric. A bow. He was bowing.

“I do welcome you to a new home! I have ensured it is to your liking, with none of the spreadsheets and tedious work campaigns you do probably detest!”

The silence that followed was, in his estimation, probably meant to be the part where you thanked him.

You turned around. 

He was tall. Maybe not unreasonably so, more model tall, but with his lean, defined build, his height stood out in a way that would make you look twice if you passed him on a street, not normal enough to blend into a crowd. He was wearing human clothes, though maybe a better explanation was what an alien would interpret humans to wear based on ab amalgamations of the most attractive idols and shoujo love interests, but it was undeniably fashionable in a way that you couldn’t quite place - like a clinically analyzed and understood result of studying every runway show from the last decade.

His hair was white, a stark and soft-looking texture in naturally messy looking layers that somehow also looked like not a single hair was out of place. It may have been attractive if it weren’t for it framing six eyes.

Six. Eyes.

They blinked at you in a rippling sequence that was not quite synchronized, and every single one of them was looking at you with an expression of absolute, beaming joy. 

He was also blue. 

Entirely blue. 

Your scream tore free before you could stop it. 

You scrambled backward on the pristine floor, one hand frantically pointing at him, the other clutching onto the fabric of your skirt like it could somehow anchor you to reality. 

“What the fuck are you?! Why are you blue? Oh god, you’re an alien - are you going to probe me!?”

The grin faltered. He looked offended.

Why was he offended!? He kidnapped you.

“Probe you?” He tilted his head at an angle that was just a little far beyond what a human’s neck would be able to comfortably allow, “Why would I probe you?” He paused, the question seemingly genuine before he straightened up in an almost comical eureka sort of emotion, “Ah! It is your trope on extraterrestrial species, of course!” 

He smiled again, shaking his head before waggling his finger at you like he was making some academic point, “Don’t worry, there is no probing unless it would help you relax and is one of your human joys. Besides, I have already collected an extensive knowledge of your biological data through non-invasive scanning methods. Much less barbaric.”

A pause. His expression seemed to brighten and warm further, something which really shouldn’t have been possible with how kind he seemed to be trying to be.

“Your cellular composition is fascinating, by the way. Did you know your mitochondria are particularly efficient? Top 12% of your species!” 

He said it as though it were a compliment. Like it was the highest possible compliment that could be given.

“This…isn’t real,” you muttered, laughter and hysteria tangling in your throat. “I fell asleep on the train. This is a dream - some kind of fucked up, weird dream.” You pinched your own arm hard enough to make yourself yelp. Pain bloomed, unmistakable and cruel, “It’s real. Oh god, it’s real.”

Your legs gave out properly this time. Knees hit the floor, your hands clawing into your hair, vision blurring as the sheer absurdity of the situation tried to break your brain in half. You leaned forward, breathing for a few failing seconds before slamming your forehead against the pristine floor. Once. Twice.

He winced when you did it. He actually winced. Two narrow antennae-like appendages - which you now were able to notice were placed a short distance above his eyebrows - flattened backward against his skull in what you at least felt like in your read of the creature seemed to be genuine distress.

“Oh, please do not damage yourself,” he said, and the concern in his voice was so earnest it almost made you angry, “Your skull is not designed for repeated impact with solid surfaces. I have medical capabilities, but I would prefer not to utilize them so early in our acquaintance.”

Our acquaintance. As though this were a dinner party and not an abduction. 

You sagged there, palms flat against the cold surface, breath shaking. Then something caught up. A detail, snagged on the wreckage that was your rational mind. 

“Wait…” you said faintly, blinking up at him. “What d’you…what do you mean my job has been discontinued?” your echoed, hollow. “My needs are met? Are you speaking English?”

You pressed your head against the floor one final time for good measure, groaning into the impossibly clean surface. 

“This…has to be the weirdest fucking Thursday of my life.”

You heard him first, then saw him out of peripheral vision, moving to a crouch beside you. He made a motion to reach for your shoulder in an all too human comforting kind of way, then seemed to think better about it and pulled back before sighing, “You…are distressed.”

Another moment of very genuine sounding concern. An empty sounding almost nervous laugh left him, the kind of exasperation you knew all too well that came from someone who had a plan that was most certainly not going the way they’d expected, “Yes. It is Thursday according to your Earth calendar. I can adjust the day where I take you if needed, wipe clean the memory so that it may be a new experience for you if another day is more optimal. I have not observed such a need in your culture but would enthusiastically learn and abide by it. I suppose that Saturdays are more frequently reserved for significant life events on your planet, so perhaps that would be the best day.”

What? That was what he thought to respond to? 

As if he could see the confusion on your still downturned face, he continued, “I have provided for you optimal conditions. The floor is temperature-regulated at 22.3 degrees celsius, which my data indicates to be within human comfort ideals. It can be made warmer if you prefer lying on it compared to the comfortable environment I have prepared for you. There is no medical worry as the air filtration system removes 99.97% of particulates from the air, apart from the necessary ones for your kind.”

That was when his hand touched your shoulder. It was normal feeling at least, if slightly warm. You took a chance and decided to look up, seeing that he was motioning towards the rest of the room you were in that you never properly processed.

It was a bedroom. A rather extravagant, albeit relatively  normal, bedroom. You couldn’t see much of it but on one end he directed to there was a large, very comfortable looking bed completely lined with cat plushes.

“There are cat dolls. I have spent a great deal of time assembling them for you, all legitimate from your world. I know your people value them greatly and hope this will help you consider this seriously.” There was a beat in his words, a weight sitting over them like he’d presented the best bargaining chip he had and put his full confidence into it, though he didn’t seem completely certain as he spoke. “Oh!” His antennae suddenly jolted straight, another unexpectedly expressive moment of revelation, “Right. I must answer your questions. Yes, I speak English! I speak all of your languages, but Japanese is my favorite. The honorific system is so elegant - it conveys so much social information in such efficient particles! -san, -kun, -chan, -sama-" He counted them off on his fingers, "And the way you construct compound kanji! Truly inspired. Your species' linguistic diversity is one of your most charming qualities."

He didn’t give time for you to process the explanation of his apparently very real enthusiasm for language, let alone the time to process a proper response, before he continued, “In respect to your employment-” Satoru waved a hand dismissively, and for a moment the air around his fingers shimmered with something that definitely wasn’t normal, “You experienced elevated cortisol levels for an average of 7.3 hours per day in that environment. The average human’s stress relationship to their job is much lower. Your sleep debt has accumulated to critical levels. Your caffeine dependency is technically a substance addiction, though I understand this is culturally normalized among your kind.”

He leaned closer, his expression shifting to something that was probably meant to be reassuring but landed somewhere in the uncanny valley between earnest and unsettling. This was especially the case when it was on a fact that it was on a very pretty face that read something like an attractive lead in a manga but with blue skin. 

Perhaps sensing the response he was going to receive as you unpacked what he said which was genuine in tone but felt like an insult when you, he cleared his throat and continued, “You do not need to work anymore. I have simulated your currency, and no-” He raised up a finger, wagging it in that way you’d only seen teachers, presenters, and know-it-all friends do before he continued, “It is not counterfeit. I analyzed the patterns of your economic system and generated value through methods your species will not develop for roughly 340 years. It is entirely legitimate by intergalactic standards.”

He seemed very proud of that distinction though it did nothing to temper the confusion you felt, “Your familial obligations are also accounted for. Your family and any members they develop into will receive the optimal amount of resources - and believe I have calculated it thoroughly - to provide financial security without arising suspicion from your taxation authorities.” Another proud pause, blink, and smile “I am quite thorough.”

His mouth opened and closed a few times, clearly deliberating sharing something before he finally spoke again, “Would you like me to return you for two days then retrieve you on Saturday? I waited 73 rotations already, I will happily wait two more, or another day if you need. Whatever is optimal for you, I can ensure it is done. Though I-” he swallowed - probably anyway you didn’t know if he needed saliva or not - as the words trailed off before he cleared his throat, “...I do hope that you don’t delay it though.”

Beneath the avalanche of information he was providing you, the slow realization that had begun to creep through you became confirmed. 

He knew you.

Not vaguely. Not generally. Intimately - as though you were a familiar constellation you assumed that he must enjoy mapping and had been studying for months. For, what, 73 days? A chill traced your spine as realization settled. Those moments over the past weeks, though you now realize it’d really been months, the strange sensation of being watched while folding laundry or waiting for the kettle to boil, the faint prickle between your shoulders that never quite rose to panic. You had brushed it off as imagination, or exhaustion, or perhaps a harmless spirit that had attached itself to your routine.

But it had been him. Watching. Waiting.

It was creepy.

It was also, against every instinct of self-preservation you possessed, somehow endearing. Satoru - if that was his name or some weird culture transition he was making like he was some foreign-exchange student - didn’t seem to understand that what he had done was wrong. Not in the way a villain didn’t understand. In the way a creature from a fundamentally different framework of existence had looked at you, found something that resonated with every instrument he had, and reached for it with the only tools available to him.

Despite the severe feeling of discomfort that was still making your stomach turn uncomfortably…he was not ill-meaning at all. All you could give him in that moment wasn’t any kind of distasteful look, but simply bewilderment. 

He stood back up, understanding that perhaps helping you up when you were attempting to navigate the sheer depth of what was happening to you was a bad idea. As he did so his antennae drooped a bit, his mouth to speak, then choosing to close again as better judgement set in. Each movement was soft and expressive, each impatient moment where he wanted to say something but held his tongue bizarrely endearing.

Satoru sounded so distressed when he had offered to return you home temporarily and push back the date of your kidnapping, his voice wavered even when he had mentioned the “cat dolls”. 

He called them cat dolls. You couldn’t deny that you liked them, certainly. Had he really put effort into getting so many? You squinted at the sight, making out at least two dozen, some of which had passing resemblance to ones you had when you were younger but cleaned and brand new. 

With the blue alien towering over you but now at a distance where you could properly see past his legs, you could make out the room. You hadn’t spent much time beyond the occasional dream of building up a room that would be your ideal in every way, but looking at the massive shelf of manga, the video game consoles in perfect condition, the luxurious couch, a beautiful kitchen, it all came together to be almost precisely what you would make if money wasn’t a concern.

Apart from what you were now realizing were possibly…bathrooms? Three of the four doors were labeled with a circle or triangular sign with a bathroom standard of different people silhouettes on each. 

Regardless it was well considered in a way you’d not felt like others had given you in years or perhaps ever.

The thought, more a feeling, came over you all at once.

Why is this alien so cute?

“I apologize. My introduction to you has been sloppy,” Satoru finally said, bowing with that excessive politeness he was trying to embody, “My speech, my answers, they were all far too fast. Too technical for the speed. I apologize for this oversight, you deserve better.”

The sentiment nearly made you laugh out loud in astonishment. 

Well, you couldn’t sit and be simply stunned to silence forever. You stood up slowly, one foot at a time before planting your hands on your hips, trying to make yourself steadier than you felt, “Okay…so, let me clear this up. You kidnapped me. You want to…look after me? You’ve prepared things you think I’ll like. So that means you’re the feeling I’ve had of someone watching me, right?”

You were choosing your words very carefully. It felt wrong to insult him as he was in a very bizarre way, being aggressively kind and interested in what felt like an entirely sincere way. You knew he was trying to be delicate even if it certainly did not come across that way to you, and there was a certain fragility to his words, like he was terrified of ruining this moment. That made you want to approach the topic delicately, but directly. 

The alien’s lips drew to a line, nodding as he took the sentence and in turn carefully constructed his own response before finally replying, "I prefer the term 'observational study,'" he offered, though he had the grace to look slightly abashed. "But yes. I was the... presence. I apologize if this caused you to be sad or alarmed. Among my kind, extended observation prior to introduction is considered respectful. It demonstrates genuine interest rather than impulsive selection." A pause. "I am beginning to understand that humans interpret this differently."

A laugh with slightly more humor this time escaped you as you nodded, “Yeah, you could say that. Observational study,” you echoed it, quieter this time as you wrung at your hair, the sensation a reminder that this was indeed not some bizarre dream or hallucination. A deep breath came and left as you took a few steps forward, then back, but your pacing was immediately interrupted by what laid just behind you.

The planet Earth before you, set apart by a perfectly invisible glass that framed the platform you’d been brought in on. Immediately in a way that you’d not felt for years, a true sense of wonder entered you.

It rotated slowly beneath you, impossibly beautiful. You could make out the familiar shape of coastlines you’d known your entire life - a sliver of light and land, distant and small. A place you had lived every day of your existence. A place you had worked yourself raw for. A place that had never, if you were truly honest, really felt like home. 

It was so small. Such a small piece of a massive whole that you obviously understood but never truly comprehended until you saw it laid out before you in person. 

You had prayed for an escape for years. A lottery win. A secret relative coming to light and being generous. A windfall of any kind to change your fate. Anything to tear you free from the grind and gray repetition. 

Instead, it had arrived as a blue-skinned alien with six eyes and an unsettling devotion to your happiness. 

He stood behind you at a careful distance, probably something he’d calculated to be the optimal space to stand away from someone who you respected that was mulling over life changing decisions. Well, it was a comfortable enough distance, yet not enough that you couldn’t feel a warmth at your back from him. He didn’t feel threatening at all, not even demanding. He was simply there, waiting for you to decide what happened next. 

You thought about the apartment you’d left behind. The desk. The train carrying you toward a vacation you’d saved months for - a few stolen days that would have ended, as they always did, with the slow dread of Monday creeping back in until it petrified you. Then, you would do as you always did: become so lost in that feeling that you wouldn’t properly enjoy the last day and would go into work once again and be miserable. 

You thought about the people who depended on you. He had said they’d be taken care of. You weren’t entirely sure if you believed him, but someone this meticulous, almost frantic in how thorough he was, probably wasn’t lying. He seemed too earnest for that. Maybe he’d make a mistake, sure, but it seemed like if there was an issue he would be delighted by the prospect of clearing it up for you. 

You thought about the last time someone had gone through this kind of effort for you.

Once again, you couldn’t remember one.

“Satoru,” you said, and your voice was steadier than you expected.

His antennae perked up, his six eyes fixed on you.

“I’ll stay.”

The words even surprised you as they left your mouth so easily.

What happened next on his face was extraordinary. His eyes widened in sequence - bottom to top, left to right - a wave of pure, undiluted delight rippling across his features. His antennae shot upward and began to vibrate at a frequency that produced a faint, almost musical hum. The bioluminescence beneath his skin flared bright enough to cast shadows.

“You’ll stay,” he breathed. “You’ll stay! Oh, this is - this is optimal. This is beyond optimal. This is-”

He searched across what was probably those 7,000 languages he knew for a word adequate to his emotional state and finally said,

“-very good,” he finished.

Despite everything, you felt the corner of your mouth twitch. How was this okay? For him to be just…so endearing.

But you straightened, crossing your arms.

“But I want to know the real reason you picked me.” Your voice was quiet, firm. “There are billions of people on Earth. People who aren’t exhausted. People who are probably nicer than I am.”

You looked up at him.

“Why me?”

Satoru was quiet for longer than he had been since your arrival.

He moved to stand beside you at the window, maintaining that careful distance, and watched the Earth turn with you. When he finally spoke, the manic energy had drained from his voice, leaving something thoughtful and almost fragile in its place.

“You ask why not someone nicer,” he said. “But I did not scan for nice. Nice is-” He waved a hand. “Nice is a performance. Many humans are nice because they wish to be perceived favorably. It is a social lubricant, not a genuine quality.”

He turned his gaze from the planet to you, and there was an unmistakable vulnerability in his expression that seemed to transcend whatever the difference in your biology might be.

“The compatibility matrix analyzes over 847 distinct variables. Neurological patterns. Emotional processing signatures. Values hierarchies. Humor resonance - which, by the way, is extraordinarily complex to quantify. Your species finds amusement in such varied stimuli.” His voice had grown softer, more contemplative. “It measures how two beings would fit. Not physically, though that is a component, but in the sense of complementary existence. Whether proximity would enhance or diminish wellbeing for both parties.”

He looked at you directly, and for the first time in amidst all the technical babble and explanations and attempts to make you understand, there was no rehearsed or panicked correcting quality to what he said. There was no data, no statistics, no enthusiasm reaching for the next fascinating fact. Just him.

“You work yourself to exhaustion for people you love, even when they do not always appreciate it. You find joy in small things - a good story, a warm meal, a cat video of precisely 47 seconds that you have watched sixteen times.” He held up a hand before you could object to ask which video it was. “You are angry. Often. At systems that exploit you, at people who dismiss you, at a life that feels like it is happening to you rather than for you. But you do not let that anger make you cruel. You simply… endure. And occasionally you yell at fictional characters in your manga for making poor romantic decisions.”

A small smile tugged at his mouth. It was almost human, that expression.

“You are not nice. You are good. There is a difference. And you are tired of pretending there isn’t.”

Something cracked in your chest. Not a painful kind of crack, more like the way ice cracks on a lake when it warms up - that fissure that lets warmth start to seep through.

He looked back at the Earth. His antennae settled into a gentle, relaxed curve. After realizing you were watching for that now to get a read on what he was thinking or feeling, you decided to make a conscious effort not to just look at that and instead watch one pair of his three sets of eyes. 

“My species does not pair-bond frequently. We are independent by nature, self-contained - connected to our families, a small circle of friends, but the concept of wanting another being’s presence outside of those units is rare.” A soft, self-deprecating sound left him. “When I first received your compatibility results, I assumed the equipment had malfunctioned. I am a warrior and a researcher. I observe. I catalog. I destroy if I must, for the sake of my people and the universe. I do not attach. Not like others do.”

His voice dropped.

“But I found myself returning to your data. Again and again. Not for research. Simply because viewing your routines brought me a sense of peace I had not previously experienced. Watching you read brought me satisfaction. Your frustration at your job made me wish to solve it. Your laughter -”

He stopped. The corner of his mouth twitched a bit.

“You do not laugh very often. But when you do, my circulatory system behaves erratically. I consulted medical databases. Apparently, this is significant.”

He turned to face you fully, and despite the alienness of his features - the blue skin, the six eyes, the antennae that telegraphed his every emotion, which you realized you were watching again - there was something painfully sincere in his expression.

“You asked why you. The honest answer is that I do not entirely know. The matrix says we are 97.51% compatible, but numbers are just data. They do not capture why your particular arrangement of atoms resonates with mine.” He pressed a hand to his chest, over what was presumably his equivalent of a heart. “You feel like an answer to a question I did not know I was asking. I have spent 847 rotations trying to find a more scientific explanation for that, and I have failed.”

A beat of silence. That allowed you to mull over the words and understand them better. In short…you were soulmates. Scientifically so. Even with that insight from machines that you assumed worked incredibly well considering they were an alien’s technology, he wanted to learn about what that meant personally, not simply assume it.

Though the understanding starting to fully come over you was monumental, the moment itself was brief. Satoru continued, “Also, your taste in manga is excellent. The enemies-to-lovers genre demonstrates a sophisticated understanding of emotional complexity.”

His antennae did an anxious flutter, his brow knitting upward, “Was that too much information? Human courtship guides suggest ‘maintaining an air of mystery,’ but I find deception inefficient and -”

You didn’t get the chance to answer.

Something in him seemed to release all at once. He moved forward with a speed that shouldn’t have been possible, and suddenly you were lifted clean off the ground, your face pressed into his broad chest as his arms wrapped around you and spun.

His body was firm beneath your cheek, impossibly steady, and he smelled – good? Not something you could name or place, but something that slipped past your defenses before you even thought to raise them. Warm. Safe. Right, in a way that made no logical sense whatsoever. His arms fit tightly around you, fitting in a way like he had been designed to hold exactly you.

“You said it though! You want to stay!” he said, and his voice cracked with joy. “Oh, yes. We have so much to talk about! We must start making your house hotter for you!”

Despite the absurdity - despite everything - your arms rose on instinct and wrapped around his torso.

You held on.

You could not remember the last time you had been held like this - what was this, the fourth time you’d felt that way with him? A moment where you weren’t merely touched, but embraced with such care, such unspoken gentleness. The warmth spread outward from your chest, loosening knots you had carried for years, and your eyes burned as emotion crept up on you. It felt absurd to cry over a hug from the alien who had stolen you from Earth, and yet your throat tightened all the same.

You weren’t angry anymore.

How could you be?

“Do you mean housewarming?” you finally asked, voice muffled against his chest. You pulled back just enough to look up at him, hands settling at your hips.

“Housewarming,” he corrected himself, antennae bobbing with slight embarrassment. “Yes. The idiom. The synonyms you employ are difficult. So many of them, and they change meaning based on context.”

“Okay.” You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, embarrassed and overwhelmed in equal measure. “Show me around.”

— — —

Three weeks had passed before you had realised it, and surprisingly it was easier to adjust to life on a spaceship than you had initially thought. True to his word, Satoru had indeed taken on caring for you as if it were his job, often hovering a little bit too much. Thought that too had become endearing in its own way

He was completely endearing if you were being honest with yourself.

He worked hard, you also learnt. He had students that he taught and cared for, he had told you that his people were very independent, but he had told you before introducing you to his children that he had found them all on planets that either had been destroyed or were in dangerous situations.

He was kind, you watched him as he taught his students, the way he’d teach them how to fight, to defend themselves, the way he’d grin and laugh whenever he was with them.

Satoru had been nothing but sweet to you too, he visited multiple times a way, always told you whenever he had to go on a mission, bringing you different sweets and other foods he thought you’d like, he sat and watched movies with you and played video games with you, told you jokes that you didn’t always understand but no matter what, he always did his best to make you happy.

He had also taught you about his anatomy, his antenna, or his fleegles as he had called them, were a sensory organ that let him sense feeling and emotion, he had explained how they helped him communicate with other species even if he did not speak their languages, that he could feel intention behind words and act accordingly, and that he knew despite your ‘rough’ start together that you were growing to become truly happy. 

And weirdly enough, you were.

“You are pressing the buttons harder than before,” Satoru said from behind the couch. “The increase in force will not change the outcome.”

“It might,” you muttered, eyes glued to the screen. “He knows when I’m not trying hard enough.”

“That is not how the program-”

“I know how the program works,” you cut in, right before your character got flattened again. You groaned loudly and dropped your head back against the cushion. “I hate this game.”

There was a shift behind you, the couch dipping slightly as he leaned over the backrest to look at the screen. His fleegles angled toward you, twitching faintly.

“You are frustrated,” he said.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “A little, video games are fun but piss me off sometimes.”

“It is at approximately sixty percent intensity.”

You let out a small laugh at that, turning your head just enough to look at him. “You don’t have to give me numbers every time anymore, you know.”

His antennae lowered a bit, but not in a bad way, more thoughtful than worried. “I am still learning what information is helpful.”

“I know,” you said, softer, then leaned sideways without thinking until your shoulder rested against his arm. “You’re doing fine.”

He went very still the second you leaned on him, like he didn’t want to move and ruin it.

“…You are leaning on me,” he said quietly.

“Mhm,” you replied, eyes back on the screen. “You’re comfortable. Don’t get used to it.”

“I am already used to it,” he admitted.

You smiled a little at that, then lost the fight again and dropped the controller into your lap with a tired groan. Instead of sitting up, you stayed leaning against him, head tilting until it rested lightly against his shoulder.

For a moment he didn’t say anything at all. His fleegles lifted slowly, then settled in a relaxed curve.

“I have been studying human recreational behavior,” he said after a few seconds, voice careful in that way it got when he was nervous about something. “Specifically activities performed by two individuals with the purpose of strengthening emotional connection.”

You hummed. “That sounds like you’re about to ask something.”

“It is called a date,” he said. “I would like to take you on one.”

That made you look up at him properly, your head still against his shoulder.

“A date,” you repeated.

“Yes. A proper one. I have prepared several environments that align with your preferences. An observation deck with low lighting, a simulated beach, a restaurant based on your memories, and two additional options in case those are not satisfactory.”

You stared at him for a second, then laughed softly, not pulling away.

“You’ve been planning this, haven’t you?”

“For nine days,” he admitted, of course he had - he also planned everything you had learnt after the first day.

You shifted a little closer instead of moving away, your arm brushing against his side as you reached for the controller again.

“…Alright,” you said, smiling to yourself. “Yeah. I’ll go on a date with you.”

His whole posture lit up, the faint glow under his skin brightening as his fleegles shot straight up. “This is optimal,” he said, almost breathless. “Extremely optimal.”

You nudged his arm with your shoulder.

“Relax,” you murmured. “You haven’t even taken me yet, now come on help me beat this boss, alien boy.”

— — —

The next day felt different from the moment you woke up. Not in any obvious way, nothing on the ship had changed, the lights were the same soft brightness, the air the same perfect temperature, the quiet hum of the systems steady as always, but there was a strange awareness sitting in the back of your mind that hadn’t been there before.

You were going on a date.

With the alien who had kidnapped you.

The thought should have been more alarming than it was, but instead you were weirdly excited, you had become annoyingly fond of him over the last few weeks, he was really everything you could ever want in a partner, his weird scanner was… annoyingly right.

You stood in front of the mirror in the bedroom for longer than you wanted to admit, turning slightly to look at yourself from different angles before letting out a small breath through your nose.

“This is stupid,” you muttered. “It’s literally the same guy I see every day.”

A soft knock came from the door frame.

You looked up to see Satoru standing there, very clearly trying not to look like he had been standing there for more than half a second. His posture was straighter than usual, his clothes a little nicer than what he normally wore around the ship, like he had gone through several options before settling on this one. His fleegles lifted the moment your eyes met, then immediately tried to relax again.

“You are ready,” he said, and then paused, his lips curled into a smile.. “…You look very good, your clothing brings out the color of your eyes, it's very pretty and a little bit distracting.”

You blinked at him, then smiled a little despite yourself. “You say that every day.” You smiled too then, head tilted to one side. “But thank you,”

“Yes,” he replied, completely serious. “It is accurate every day, you are always pretty, if not pretty, then the most beautiful thing in the cosmos”

“So where are you taking me,” you asked, walking toward him. “You never said which one you picked.”

“I calculated that the observation deck would be the most optimal first location,” he said, stepping aside so you could walk past him, then immediately falling into step next to you, his fingers reaching out tentatively towards yours. “Humans frequently prefer elevated views during important conversations. It encourages reflection.”

You glanced down at his hand that was hovering beside yours, with a slight hum you took his hand into your own, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“You researched date locations.”

“For nine days.”

“Of course you did.”

The door to the observation deck slid open with a quiet sound, and the moment you stepped inside you stopped without meaning to.

The lights were dimmer here than usual, the wide glass stretching out in front of you to show open space, stars scattered across the inky dark sky, far more luminous than anything possible at your old home. Earth was visible in the distance, smaller than the last time you had stood here, slowly turning in silence.

He had set up a table in the center of the room, a candle flickering on the table, a fancy looking table cloth and two very human looking glasses, on plates was human food, the smell salty and savoury, already enough to make your mouth water.

Whilst life on the ship was amazing, you did miss human food.

You walked forward slowly, taking it in, your fingers brushing the back of one of the chairs before you turned to look at him. “You built a restaurant.”

“It is a dining environment,” he corrected, though his fleegles were already twitching with nervous energy. “Shared meals are a common human bonding activity. I wished to follow proper procedure.”

You looked back at the table, then at the view, then at him again, and the smile that came this time was softer, warmer, the kind you didn’t even realize you were making. “It’s really nice, Satoru, thank you.”

His shoulders lowered just a little at that, like tension you hadn’t noticed finally let go. He stepped forward quickly, then slowed at the last second like he was reminding himself not to move too fast, pulling out one of the chairs with careful precision. “I believe I am supposed to do this,” he said.

You laughed under your breath and sat down, letting him push the chair in before he moved to the other side and sat across from you, still watching your face like your reaction mattered more than anything else in the room. The soft light reflected in all six of his eyes, the faint glow under his skin a little brighter than usual, his fleegles held high but trembling slightly at the tips.

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table without thinking, smiling at him in a way that felt easier than it should have. “You know,” you said, “This is actually really romantic, I like it.” You reached out across the table, to give his hand a squeeze.

His antennae twitched in surprise, then lifted higher. “This is going well?”

“Yeah,” you said. “It is.”

He let out a small breath, almost relieved, then straightened like he remembered something important. “After the meal, humans typically continue the date with an additional activity. I prepared multiple possibilities to ensure optimal enjoyment.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “How many is multiple.”

“…Seventeen,” he admitted, his fleegles drooping.

You laughed, shaking your head, warmth settling in your chest as you looked at him across the table with the stars behind him. “Of course you did. Alright then. Let’s see if your research is actually any good.”

He relaxed a little after that, the tension in his shoulders easing as he reached for the dishes like he had rehearsed the motion more than once. The food actually smelled good, warm and familiar in a way that felt strange this far away from Earth. Rice, golden and salty with seafood and vegetables mixed in, paella. Something you had always loved back home.

His attention to the details, once again made your heart beat a little harder in your chest.

“Did you make this yourself?”

“Yes,” he said immediately, then paused. “With assistance from the ship’s fabricator. But the preparation sequence was designed by me. I reviewed your past meals and selected items you consumed frequently during periods of elevated happiness.”

You smiled at that, softer than before, and took a bite. The taste made your eyebrows lift before you could stop yourself.

“…Okay, that’s actually really good.”

His fleegles shot up so fast they almost quivered. “It is?”

“Mhm.” You took another bite just to prove it, nodding as you chewed. “You didn’t have to go this hard for a date, you know.”

“I wished for it to be correct,” he said, watching you like the way you held your spoon was the most interesting thing in the universe. “Human courtship rituals appear to rely heavily on first impressions, and you are my pair-bond, I want to do these things for you, anything less than perfection is sub-optimal.”

You swallowed and gave him a look over the rim of your glass. “You kidnapped me three weeks ago. I think the first impression part is already over.”

He blinked, considering that very seriously, then nodded once. “That is accurate.”

You laughed quietly, shaking your head before taking another bite. The silence after that wasn’t awkward, just filled with the soft sound of utensils and the low hum of the ship around you. Every once in a while you caught him looking at you instead of his food, all six eyes focused in that way he had when he forgot to pretend he wasn’t staring.

“You should eat too,” you said, pointing at his plate with your spoon. “You made all this and you’re not even touching it.”

“I am observing your reaction.” He said, pushing around some rice with his spoon.

“You can observe and eat,” you said. “Multitasking. Humans do it all the time.”

He nodded like that was valuable information and finally picked up his own utensils, movements precise but a little stiff. You watched him for a second, then smiled again, smaller this time.

“You’re nervous,” you said.

“I am not nervous,” he replied automatically, then his fleegles twitched. “…I am experiencing an elevated anticipatory response.”

“Satoru, that’s called being nervous, for someone who knows a lot about emotion you are a little dense about it,” You said softly, a breath of laughter escaping your nose.

He hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Then yes, I am nervous. I want to be perfect for you, is that bad?”

You leaned back in your chair a little, more relaxed now, one leg folding under the other as you looked at him across the table with the stars behind him. The dim light made the faint glow under his skin stand out more, soft blue against the dark, and for a moment you just watched him the same way he always watched you.

“You’re doing just fine Satoru, you don’t need to worry so much,” you said, voice gentler, “this is really nice. I didn’t think I’d ever get to go on a date in space.”

His eyes widened slightly, all of them, and his antennae lifted before settling again in a slow, pleased curve. “You are enjoying yourself.”

“Yeah,” you said, smiling at him. “I am, I like spending time with you.”

He looked down at the table for a second like he needed a moment to process that, then back up at you, expression softer than you had ever seen it.

“This is also… very enjoyable for me,” he admitted. “Sharing a meal with you produces a high level of internal stability. My circulatory rhythm is more consistent when you are near.”

You laughed quietly. “That’s the weirdest way anyone’s ever told me they like being around me.”

“It is the most accurate way, you make me feel happy, stable.”

You shook your head, still smiling, then reached across the table without really thinking and nudged his hand lightly with your fingers.

“Well,” you said, warm and teasing, “your research paid off. Good food, nice view, decent company. I’d say this is a pretty successful date so far.”

His fleegles lifted high again, the glow under his skin brightening just a little as he looked at where your hand had touched his, then back up at you like that single moment meant more than anything else that had happened all night.

“This is… extremely successful,” he said quietly. “Thank you,”

He stayed like that for a second after you pulled your hand back, still looking at the spot on the table where your fingers had brushed his. The faint glow under his skin hadn’t faded yet, and his fleegles were still lifted in that pleased, slightly shaky curve that meant he was trying very hard not to get ahead of himself.

You finished the last bite on your plate and leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms over your head with a small sigh. “Alright,” you said, looking at him again. “So what’s next? You said you planned activities, right?”

His posture straightened immediately, like a switch flipped somewhere in his brain.

“Yes,” he said. “The next portion of the date.”

You laughed softly. “You say that like this is a lab experiment.”

“I prepared multiple options,” he continued, ignoring that completely. “However, based on current emotional readings, I believe the most optimal choice is the observation walk.”

“The what?”

“The observation walk,” he repeated, already standing up. His fleegles lifted with excitement now instead of nerves. “Humans frequently engage in walking together after meals. It allows for conversation without the pressure of direct eye contact, which increases comfort levels during bonding.”

You shook your head, smiling as you stood too. “You really did research everything.”

“For nine days.”

“I know, you told me.”

He moved around the table quickly but slowed right before reaching you, like he was reminding himself not to be too sudden. His hand lifted slightly, hesitated in the air for a second, waiting for you to take his hand.

And you did, letting your palm slide inside of his larger one, his sparkly skin warm against yours, even the smallest touches from him made you feel at ease.

“You may follow me,” he said instead, very formal all of a sudden.

You raised an eyebrow at that, amused, but went with him anyway. The door at the side of the observation room slid open, revealing a long curved corridor made almost entirely of glass. The lights were low here too, just enough to see where you were walking, the stars stretching endlessly on one side while the ship’s metal frame arched overhead in smooth white lines.

You had been in here many times before, grabbing a volume of manga to lay on the ground and spend the afternoon reading whilst he was occupied with other tasks.

“You like it here don’t you?” He asked, looking down at you.

“I do, it’s pretty, I like watching the stars,” you said, walking along the glass like you had done plenty of times before. “I come here all the time when you’re gone. It’s quiet.”

His expression softened a little at that. “I know.”

You glanced at him. “Of course you do.”

He fell into step beside you, his hand holding onto yours tightly, the moving floor carrying both of you along the curve of the ship while the stars slid past outside. The silence wasn’t awkward, just comfortable, the kind you had gotten used to with him, where neither of you felt like you had to fill every second with talking.

After a moment he spoke again, quieter this time. “Humans frequently walk side by side during dates. It allows conversation to occur without excessive pressure.”

“You really memorized a guide, didn’t you?”

“I reviewed several.” Satoru said, looking a bit sheepish.

You laughed under your breath and slowed a little, letting the track carry you while you looked out at space. After a second you felt him slow too, matching your pace automatically like he always did.

His hand lifted slightly at his side, hesitated, then lowered again. His fleegles tilted forward, then back, like he was arguing with himself.

“…There is another behavior humans sometimes perform during dates,” he said carefully, his cheeks once again glowing.

You looked at him, already smiling a little. “You sound like you’re about to read from a textbook again.”

“I am attempting not to,” he said, which only made you laugh quietly. “Don’t laugh! It’s embarrassing to ask,” He said, all six of his eyes squinting.

“Well,” you said, turning your body toward him, “what behavior?”

He hesitated, all six eyes fixed on your face like he was trying to make absolutely sure he read your expression right. His hand lifted slightly, then dropped again, and his voice came out softer than usual.

“They sometimes… kiss.”

The word hung there for a second, and you felt your chest tighten in that strange, warm way you had started to recognize around him.

He didn’t move closer.

“If this would be uncomfortable, I will not-” he started, the words coming out quickly now, nervous in a way that was almost endearing. “I only thought that since this is a date, and your emotional state is positive, and my readings indicate strong compatibility, it might be an appropriate-”

You stepped closer before he could finish.

That shut him up immediately.

He froze, fleegles shooting straight up, every eye locked on you as you looked up at him, close enough now that you could see the faint glow under his skin shift with his breathing.

“You know,” you said softly, “you don’t have to explain everything like a report.”

“I do not?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

“No.”

You reached up without thinking, your fingers brushing lightly against his arm just to ground yourself, and smiled at him in that warm, steady way you hadn’t even realized you’d started doing around him.

“…You can ask,” you said.

His throat moved like he swallowed, the glow along his neck flickering faintly.

“…May I kiss you?” he asked, quiet, careful, like the answer actually mattered more than anything else in the universe. “Please?”

You held his gaze for a second, then nodded once, your smile soft.

“Yeah,” you said. “You can.”

For a second after you said it, he didn’t move at all. All six eyes stayed locked on your face like he was making absolutely sure he heard you correctly, like if he moved too fast the moment might disappear. His fleegles were standing straight up, the tips trembling faintly, and the soft glow under his skin had brightened enough that you could see it shifting along his neck and jaw with every breath.

“You… said yes,” he said quietly, like he was confirming it for himself.

“I did,” you replied, smiling a little. “You’re allowed to continue now.”

That seemed to be the part he hadn’t planned for.

He stepped closer, slow and careful, like approaching something fragile, one hand lifting slightly before stopping halfway between you like he wasn’t sure where he was supposed to put it. You could see the hesitation all over him, the way his shoulders were stiff, the way his fleegles kept twitching like his body had too many signals at once.

“You’re overthinking it,” you murmured.

“I am attempting to perform the action correctly.”

“It’s a kiss, Satoru.”

“That does not reduce the importance,” He whispered, “You are my pair-bond, I want this to be special, to be perfect, you deserve nothing less."

You laughed softly at that, then reached up and took his wrist, guiding his hand the rest of the way until it rested against your side. He went completely still the second you touched him, like every system in his body paused at once.

“There,” you said quietly. “That’s fine.”

His fingers curled slightly against your clothes, warm and careful, like he was afraid you might disappear if he held too tight.

He leaned down after that, slow enough that you could have pulled away if you wanted to, giving you more time than he probably needed to. Up close you could see the tiny shifts in the glow under his skin, the way his eyes kept trying to focus on all of your face at once, the way his antennae tilted forward like they were trying to feel what you felt before it even happened.

When his lips touched yours, the kiss was almost hesitant, soft and unsure, like he was waiting for a signal that he was doing it right. He barely moved at first, just the warmth of him there, one hand still at your side, the other still holding yours like it was a lifeline.

You smiled into it before you even meant to, then leaned in a little more, pressing closer so he didn’t have to guess.

That was all it took.

His fleegles jolted, the glow under his skin flaring brighter for a second, and his hand tightened slightly at your side as he kissed you back properly this time, still gentle, still careful, but not as unsure. He made a quiet sound in the back of his throat, something soft and surprised, like the feeling caught him off guard even though he’d spent nine days preparing for this exact moment.

When you pulled back, it was only a little, just enough to look at him.

He looked stunned.

Not confused, not overwhelmed, just… stunned, like his brain was trying to process too many good things at once.

“…My circulatory rhythm is irregular,” he said breathlessly.

You laughed, your hand still resting against his arm.

“That’s your way of saying you liked it?”

“Yes,” he said immediately. “Very much. Could we do that again, please?” His voice had a quality to it that felt new with him, a sort of excitement that wasn’t just the considerate and eager type he usually displayed.

You shook your head, smiling, then leaned in again and kissed him one more time, quick this time, just to see what he’d do.

His fleegles shot straight up again. His hands were on you, one settling on your cheek, fingertips weaving into hair, the other on your hips. His body felt so warm suddenly - or maybe you only just noticed how warm it’d gotten, how wonderful that heat felt -  his breathing unsteady.

When you pulled back, you were the one laughing now.

“You’re cute when you don’t know what to do,” you said.

“I know what to do,” he insisted, even though his voice was still a little unsteady. “…I simply did not expect it to feel like that. I…” He seemed to be holding back, his eyes darting from you to his hands, which he was now wringing close to his chest. 

“Like what?”

He looked at you for a long second, expression softer than you had ever seen it, all six eyes focused on you like nothing else existed.

“…Optimal,” he said quietly.

You smiled, your fingers slid down to lace with his without thinking, breaking that nervous fidgeting as the stars drifted slowly past behind him.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “I think so too.”

For a moment after the second kiss, He fell still, his hand remained at your side, fingers curling lightly into the fabric of your clothes, but the rest of him had fallen rigid. The glow under his skin which had only been a dim glow before had transformed into a steady pulse that spread up his cheekbones.

You noticed it right away, the shift in his composure. “Satoru?” You said softly, your free hand coming to touch his heated cheek.

“My…umm, my internal state has changed,” He uttered, his voice tighter than before. “Unexpectedly.” His lips were practically trembling as he spoke, the tips of his fleegles jolting with quicker pulses of light than you’d seen from him before.

All six of his eyes blinked in a ripple, unfocused and hazy for half a second before snapping back to you, his fleegles twitched a few times, before flattening against his head, like his body wasn’t sure exactly how to react to your proximity.

“Changed how?” You asked, your face still close enough that you could feel the rise and fall of his break against your cheeks.

“My species has…” He trailed off, looking embarrassed. “Certain responses to bonding stimuli.” His fingers tightened at your waist. “I did not anticipate this level of response so quickly.”

You blinked at him. “What? A biological response?”

His eyes flickered again, before falling shut, his fleegles tremored as if he were trying to steady himself. “Yes, increased sensory awareness, elevated circulatory speed, instinctive attachment drive… difficulty concentrating on anything except the responsible individual."

You stared at him for a moment, your lips twitching. “You’re saying a kiss did that?”

“Yes.”

“That fast?”

“Yes.”

You couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that slipped from your throat, you weren't making fun of him, not even a little, you were just surprised. “You weren't lying about the compatibility were you?”

“I wasn’t,” he paused again, his brows furrowed. “That’s not the concerning part.”

Your smile faded a little then. “Okay, then what’s the concerning part?”

He hesitated then, for the first time since you had agreed to stay he looked genuinely unsure of himself in a way that wasn’t just social awkwardness. His eyes drunk you in as if looking away was not an option, his fleegles moving forward angled towards you as to understand what exactly you were feeling.

“My species enters a heightened state after mutual bonding is initiated,” he said quietly. “It increases my protective instincts, attachment, proximity seeking, it makes restraint more difficult.”

“Restraint?” You paused. “Is there something else you’re not mentioning?”

Satoru shifted. “I will not do anything you do not want,” he said immediately, the words tumbling out of his mouth too fast, you had never heard him sound so serious. “It is not a question and never will be a question, but right now my instincts are stronger than they were yesterday, and I…”

You watched him for a second, letting your thumb brush across his cheekbone, taking in the almost delirious expression that had taken over his pretty face. “I think I understand what it means, it’s sex isn't it?”

He sucked in a breath, just the smallest touch, your words had sent another shock through him, his glow somehow even brighter. “Yes… It is… embarrassing.”

“Okay,” You said softer now. “What do you need?”

That seemed to surprise him more than anything else. 

“I need… a moment,” he admitted “To stabilize, I don’t want to rush it.”

You nodded your head, but didn’t move away completely, your hand still in his as you took a pace backwards, letting him breathe.

“You’re not scaring me you know?”

His eyes widened at that. “You are not alarmed?”

“No,” you said. “You told me what's happening and why, plus you’ve never given me a reason to be scared of you, if you need this, need me then you can have me.”

“You are…” He huffed, finally dragging his gaze away from you. “Being too kind about this, I wanted it to be perfect and romantic not… because of this biological response.”

“Satoru, it’s fine”

“My instincts are telling me not to let you go,” he said quietly.

“That’s the most alien way anyone’s ever asked for a hug,” you said.

“I was not asking,” he admitted. “…But I would accept one.”

You laughed softly and slid your arms around him without hesitation, resting your head against his chest the same way you had before. He froze for half a second, then his arms came around you much tighter than usual, not crushing, just firm, like he needed the pressure to ground himself.

“Come on, let's go back to your room and help with this biological response.”

Satoru glanced back down the corridor, and then back to you, his eyes boring into yours, his fleegles twitching as if to check for any kind of uncertainty.

“You are sure? This would change everything.”

You nodded your head, already tugging him back through the starlit hall. “I’m sure, now come on.”

He fell into step beside you quickly, closer than he would have even walked beside you this morning, his grasp on your hand tight and his breathing heavy, you could feel the restraint at how much he was holding back.

“Thank you…”

“For what?” You asked, glancing over at him.

“Not increasing the distance, running away,” He whispered, his grasp on your hand tightening.

You smiled at him then, your cheeks flushed. “You’re the one who said proximity helps? Right.”

“Yes, it will help a lot.”

The rest of the walk back felt shorter than usual, excitement bubbled up inside of your chest, the entire ship quiet aside from the constant drone of the engines, by the time you had reached his door he had only grown more needy, even his eyes were glowing now.

The door to his room slid open, it was the same as yours, minus the additional bathrooms and cat plushies.

You stepped inside first, then turned to look at him in the doorway, watching the hesitation in his eyes before you tugged him inside. “Come on then, don’t stand in the doorway all night, Satoru.”

The door slid shut behind him with a shush, leaving you two alone inside his bedroom.

For a second neither of you two spoke.

You were still standing close, still holding his hand and knowing that the walk was over, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. His fleegles twitched once and then twice, as he let out a low shuddering breath.

“I don’t know if I can control myself for much longer.”

“Then don’t.”

At that moment whatever composure Satoru had remaining snapped, he moved forward faster than you could blink, his large hands cupping your cheeks before he slammed his lips into yours, devouring you as if he were a man starved.

You responded in kind, meeting the kiss with the same hunger, your arms snaking their way around his neck as you pulled him down closer to you, moaning into his mouth as he walked you backwards onto the softness of his bed.

Satoru knelt between your thighs, his six cobalt eyes fixed on your face. His blue skin was smooth and cool against your flushed flesh as he dragged his long slender fingers down your thighs, hooking under your pants and underwear pulling them off and tossing them to one side, before tugging your thighs apart, finally bearing your soaked cunt to his hungry gaze. 

“I want to taste you,” He murmured, his gaze flickering to you, you nodded your head, giving him permission. That was all he needed before descending upon your pussy.

Satoru devoured you, there was no gentleness left within him as his tongue slid through your folds, moaning at your taste alone.

His tongue was impossibly long and flexible, curling and flicking in ways that had your back arching off the bed within seconds. He wasn't exploring, he was claiming. Each stroke was deliberate, a wet, hot brand against your most sensitive flesh. He lapped at your clit with the flat of his tongue, then circled it with the pointed tip, the alternating pressures sending jolts of pleasure straight up your spine.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, the strands surprisingly soft between your fingers, and held on. The sounds were obscene-wet, sloppy noises as he ate you out with a single-minded focus that was both terrifying and the most arousing thing you had ever experienced, no human experience you had ever had could even compare to him.

He moaned against you, the vibrations making your thighs tremble, his six eyes never leaving your face, watching every twitch of your expression, every gasp that escaped your lips.

“Satoru,” you breathed out, his name a broken sound in the air.

He responded by pushing his tongue deeper, fucking you with it in a slow, steady rhythm that had you seeing stars. Your hips began to move on their own, grinding against his mouth, chasing the pleasure he was so willingly giving. He let you, one of his hands moving to grip your hip, holding you in place.

That coil in your stomach tightened, a familiar pressure building with every motion of his tongue, he could feel it too; you could see how his eyes seemed to glow brighter, in the way his ministrations grew more urgent.

“Please, please cum f’me I need it, let me taste you,” Satoru whined, redoubling his efforts and when he sealed his lips around your clit and sucked, hard, and that was it.

Your orgasm crashed over you, a wave of intense pleasure that left you crying out his name. Your entire body went rigid, then trembled violently as he worked you through it, his tongue never stopping its relentless assault until you were a panting, whimpering mess beneath him.

When he finally pulled back, his face was glistening with your arousal, a look of pure, unadulterated satisfaction on his handsome features. He licked his lips slowly, as if savoring the taste. “You taste even better than I could have ever imagined,” he rasped, his voice deep and husky with need.

“More, please,” You whimpered, your fingers tugging at his hair pulling him up to you, your lips meeting his in a filthy kiss, your taste heedy as Satoru pushed his tongue into your mouth.

Satoru broke the kiss as he moved over you, his body covering yours, the cool blue of his skin a stark contrast to your flushed heat. You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh, and when you glanced down, your breath caught. Two cocks, perfectly aligned, both thick and ridged along the underside. The tips of them glowed with a soft, ethereal blue light, pulsing gently in the dim light of his room, matching the rhythm of his heart.

“Shit, two of them?” You asked breathlessly, blinking up at him owlishly.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice strained, the last shred of his control hanging by a thread.

“I’m not backing out,” You whispered, spreading your thighs wider, a silent invitation that was all the permission he needed. He positioned himself, the glowing tips of his cocks nudging against your entrance, one slightly lower than the other. The first push was overwhelming, a delicious stretch as the thicker of the two sank into you, the glowing blue tip disappearing inside your body. You gasped, your hands flying to his shoulders to hold on.

“It’s a lot- Satoru!” You whimpered, your hands tugging at the soft hair at the nape of his neck, your lips caught between your teeth biting down hard enough until you could taste copper inside of your mouth.

He didn’t stop. The second cock pressed against you, and for a moment you didn’t think it was possible, but then your body yielded, accepting him alongside the first. The feeling was indescribable, a fullness so complete it bordered on pain, but the pleasure was right there with it, a sharp, thrilling edge.

As he stilled you could see it, the faint blue glow under your skin, right where his cock made your abdomen contort and bulge.

Satoru let out a shuddering groan, his head dropping to your shoulder. “You feel… incredible,” he panted, his six eyes squeezed shut as if he was trying to memorize the sensation. “So tight, so perfect.”

You nodded, “So full… please move,” You begged, wrapping your thighs around his waist.

Then he began to move. His hips rolled in a deep, powerful rhythm, both cocks sliding in and out of you in perfect sync. The friction was mind-blowing, each thrust hitting you in a way that had your toes curling. The glowing tips inside you cast a faint blue light through your skin proof how deeply he was buried within you.

The sounds of your coupling filled the room - skin slapping against skin, your breathless moans, his low growls of pleasure. His pace quickened, his movements becoming more erratic as his instincts took over completely. He was fucking you with a desperate, primal need, and you were taking it, begging for it.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice rough. You forced your eyes open, meeting all six of his burning gazes. “Please, my love.”

The coil in your stomach tightened again, impossibly fast. His glowing tips seemed to pulse inside you, the light growing brighter as his own release approached. He shifted his angle slightly, Everything proved to be too much, your orgasm tore through you, sharp and intense, your inner walls clamping down around him.

He cried out your name, a raw, broken sound as your climax triggered his own. You felt a strange, warm heat flood you as the blue light from his tips flared brightly before slowly fading. He collapsed against you, his weight a welcome pressure, his body trembling with the force of his release.

For a long moment, you just laid there, tangled together, the only sound your combined breathing slowly returning to normal. He was still inside you, a comforting, intimate presence. He lifted his head, his glowing eyes soft as they looked down at you.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice gentle now, the urgency gone. “I didn’t hurt you did I? I tried to be gentle.” Satoru’s expression was so tender that it almost hurt.

You reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead. “I’m more than alright,” you whispered, a contented smile playing on your lips. “I’m perfect.”

He smiled then, a genuine wide goofy smile that reached all of his eyes, softening their intense glow as he leant down to press a kiss to your forehead, then the tip of your nose and finally your lips, a slow and lingering kiss.

“Perfect,” he murmured against your mouth, the word a reverent whisper. He slowly, carefully, withdrew from you, the loss of his fullness making you sigh. He settled beside you, pulling you into his arms and tucking you against his warm chest. His heartbeat was a steady, calming rhythm beneath your ear.

“God…where did…” You swallowed, a soft laugh leaving as you looked to him, looking so gentle and doting for you once again, “Where did you learn to talk like that? You sounded like a perfect fit for uhh…human mating back there.” “Ah…” Satoru’s fleegles drooped slightly, a bashful look coming over him as he scratched his cheek, “Well, I was thorough in learning about your people before I was even drawn to you. There is a remarkable amount of human pornography.”

You weren’t able to suppress the snort that left you at that response, “Yeah, that makes sense. You research that too?”

“My research was very thorough,” he replied in a terse way that told you he might actually have a sense of embarrassment somewhere in his alien brain. You simply smiled, rubbing your cheek into his chest as he held you once more.

You laid in comfortable silence for a while, your fingers tracing lazy patterns over the smooth skin of his chest. The ship’s engines hummed their constant lullaby, and the starlight from the viewport painted the room in shifting shades of silver and blue.

“So,” you said softly, breaking the quiet. “Is the biological response satisfied?”

He let out a laugh, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. “Very,” he said, his arm tightening around you. “Though I think my instincts are still telling me not to let you go. Ever.”

“I think I can work with that.”

A/N: Hi ya'll I hope you enjoyed! If you wanna be added to my taglist follow and let me know!

My next update should be the monster files!

[caramelluxe]

── We had some good times didn’t we? ♡‧₊ ⸝⸝

.✦  What of yours do they find after your death? ˎˊ˗

♡.ᐟ Characters: Kento, Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, Toji, Sukuna

☽☾ Fem. Reader intended ☽☾ angst ☽☾ hurt/no comfort ☽☾ major character death ☽☾ talks of self harm, depression, death, suicide ☽☾ a little graphic in imagery ☽☾

𝒦ento

Kento found your journals, your diaries, your unfinished drafts and book manuscripts you had wanted to finish writing and publish.

You had a special place in your room for them, a shrine dedicated — bedazzled and crowned, cherished like he had cherished you. 

Now that he held them in his arms, they felt so light. 

The pages had lost their shine, the words felt subdued, the covers looked bland. Cold to touch and lifeless. Like you had been in his arms—

He flipped through the pages, they were coarse on his fingertips, unlike your skin. Did you find them rough too, Kento wondered. He wished he could ask you one more time. 

Kento was greedy, he wished for so many things. So many things for one last time. 

The words were on the pages. In your variety of handwriting. Some fancy cursive looping that said you had taken your time writing them down, some in quick scrawls that said you had been preoccupied. His name popped up often in them, and why would it not? It was you who had written them, after all. More often than not, he saw the letters: K, E, N, T, O, surrounded with little hearts. All in reds. Sometimes glittery, occasionally maroon, few burgundies, random carmines. 

Reds.

They bled the same shade you had drowned the bathtub in when he had found you. Bleeding out your precious ichor in the stingy white of the tub. He had seen the slashes on your arms, held you and cleaned them — but this time he had been far too late.

Maybe he had been ignorant too. Maybe he hadn’t seen it, like he hadn’t seen you past the mosaic blur of his tears clouding his sight to the sight of your body.

He had been too late.

Kento; another entry started with that word. Some loving combination you had carved out for him from your own being, and just the mere sight of that pedestal had him crumbling to the floor of the bedroom.

It felt so vast today, so humongous, so endless. How could he ever live here anymore without having you to hold his hand and you to hold him? 

Kento’s shoulder shook as he thumbed through the diaries and journals and loose sheets of pages you wrote on. The ink bled because his tears fell on them and broke the restraint that held them on paper and from coming to life. But here he was, sobbing and begging you to come back, back to life in his arms, and your ink was bleeding on the tatami just as stark as you had been bleeding in Kento’s arms. 

For the last time.

𝒮atoru

Satoru found your clothes. 

Or rather, your clothes found him. Peeking from the closet. Not that he could avoid them, what with the closet being a shared space that had witnessed your combined debauchery on numerous occasions.

They had always felt warm to him. Warm on his back, when you had him pinned to the racks, your hands fisting his shirt, and his arms around your waist. Or warm when he would take them off you. 

It was your cursed technique, you always argue — You always used to argue. Heat and temperature, and hot fire thrummed in your veins. But Satoru used to argue back. That it wasn’t just that. It was the sheer life running with the heady blood in your veins.

Now when he held the fabric — cottons, silk, nylon, wool — they were so cold.

He wanted to put them on you, to shake you and wake you up and tell you to don these clothes and give him a show because he wanted to see you decked out in colours he had picked for you because he knew you’d look gorgeous in them. It didn’t matter how you looked at that moment. You could be half asleep, drooling on his chest while he cuddled you, and you’d look divine. You could be knee deep in cursed corpses, blood on your hands and half-singed uniform and Satoru would still kneel to your beauty.

He would tell you that you were just as gorgeous even now, even lifeless, even silent and cold to his touch. Cold that you hated and held him stubbornly to remove. Cold that you said came from his infinity but really, he never needed that around you, so why complain? But he would never fight you on that. How could he? Why should he, rather, if he had been awarded with another proximity from you? How could he do anything but greedily covet that. So he would let you twist and turn him into a malleable couch, and settle close to him, arms interlocked while he stared at his favourite girl, looking positively angelic in his arms. 

Shame that he could not tell you that right now. 

With your body in the morgue and his last goodbye’s given away. 

Satoru limped against your closet, burying his face into your clothes, drinking in the dying heat, as his tears drenched the precious fabric shamelessly.

Even on your deathbed, you looked exquisite to Satoru.

𝒮uguru 

You always called him the connoisseur of brilliant scents. 

Ironic, really.

Ironic that Suguru would have to come home to a scent that was floating away. Flickering out and snuffing away because he had been callous with the privilege.

Privilege of your company, privilege of your existence, your fragility. 

One moment you had been beside him, filling his senses with the fragrance of lavender, roses, spices, life. 

And the next moment… you were gone. 

Gone like the wind that had knocked past him when Haibara and Kento told him — about the blasted mission, about how it has gone wrong, about the misevaluated curse, gone, gone, gone — gone like the anchor when Shoko had left his side to clean up your corpse, to give it this final respect in the parting, gone like the sanity when Satoru had got up to give Suguru the space he obviously needed.

But how could that space be anything but maddening if you were the foci he was orbiting around. You, who kept him grounded, you and his friends. But, how could he—

And then the scents were fading. From your room, from your closet, from your books, from your clothes. 

It hadn’t even been a week. 

Suguru stole your perfume bottles. He didn’t mind if people thought he was a creep for that. Nor did he care that he was losing it steadily. He should probably get help.

But then again, you never thought it prudent enough to ask for someone’s help in the mission, even if it meant you’d sacrifice your own body. So why should he?

He was never the bigger person of you two.

So, Suguru stole the bottles. Crystalline and embedded with shallow phrases, one that never encompassed his feelings for you. And he doused his entire room in it.

He didn’t care about the incoming throbbing headache. All he wanted was you back.

On his bed, on his sheets, among his clothes, on the shelves, on the torn pages, in between the commas, and the semi-colons — he wanted you back.

But Suguru had always been cursed, hadn’t he?

So, in his room, Suguru stayed hidden, drowning in a scent that would wither away too, just like you had.

𝒮hoko

Dr. Ieiri hadn’t been one for the philosophies of life. That had been her best friend’s job. To ponder on the miseries and agonies of life. Shoko always thought that beyond the pain, life was actually beautiful. If you had someone worth making it beautiful.

Well, someone alive who was worth making life beautiful.

After all, if you were dead and decaying on the operating table Shoko worked on… that wouldn’t be quite fair to life, no?

When you had been cremated, and crowned away in the graveyard, Shoko found your medicines.

It was mundane. The meds that didn’t harm you, but humanely, you needed to carry on with your life. Sometimes iron supplements, maybe some hormone balance pills, could be vitamins, a nutrient addition. It was all so human.

And she hated it. 

Hated the bare sight of things that showed that you were just like every other person she had lost. Stowed away six feet under, even in all your ingenuity you were very mundane, very human, very normal, very alive — until you were not. Until your bones snapped, and your blood vessels burst. Until you became one with the thing that made you human. Death.

She wanted you to be invincible. Powerful. She held the tablets and crushed them and turned them into this poisonous blend as she cursed your humanity. Why couldn’t you have been like Satoru? Or Suguru, if being The Honoured One had been too much? Why couldn’t you have been someone the stupid curses couldn’t even touch? Why couldn’t you have been someone larger than life and the personification of forever? 

Did you not know that she hated watching the people she shed her heart on die like the corpses she worked on?

Shoko poured the mixture in a tall glass of beer, and lit a cigarette to pop it between her lips. When the cocktail of pharmaceutical poison was done, she poured it down the drain.

Did that hurt, she wondered? Did you watch it from up there and lash at her for wasting precious supplements? Because Shoko felt the sting, aching and biting in her chest — maybe it was her heart. Oh, it hurts so bad. Sobs poured out of her.

Maybe once upon a time she could’ve counted her friends to comfort her… but traitors, the whole lot of them, for they had left her to join you in your death.

𝒯oji 

Shiu told him, because he had been busy getting you flowers. 

The same lilies crumbled under his feet as he ran to the hospital. To the news he refused to believe until he saw your face and — 

Oh.

He saw it then, with the tears on little Tsumiki’s face, and baby Gumi’s confused wailing. And you. His angel. His silent angel.

Could angels die? 

Toji wondered if he had ever asked his mother that. Could an angel die, mum? Could an angel die — he wanted to ask you but. 

Back home, the walls taunted him. Fading with chipping away paints — the hostility floated in the settling flakes of whites, yelling at him for his stupidity. But he has promised you that he’d be good. That he’d take care of you, and his kids with honesty, and care. He’d abandon his bad habits, leave the bottle, throw away the old deadly contacts to live frugally, but really live.

He hadn’t expected a roadblock in the way. And seemingly, it turned out to be a mountain. 

How was the dishonoured sorcerer killer supposed to brave this height? How was he supposed to shake this insurmountable peak when he was shaking himself? 

You left him with bills. 

Not unpaid, but rather, paid in full. 

Bills after bills, loans paid, debts covered, nothing due. Was the exhaustion of this that killed you? Not even the hospital charges were left for him to cover. You had all of it done and cleared. 

What was left for Toji then? You were gone, your sight was gone, your sounds were gone, your touch was gone, your taste, your scent — all gone. 

What was Toji supposed to do?

𝒮ukuna 

They said that the King never had a scarcity of anything. He had everything, the formidable King of Curses. 

Fools, he’d say. He’d tell you while he touched your face, cradled them in his palm, and hoped that you wouldn’t be repulsed by the stench of lives he had taken coming from them. And then you’d comfort him, like he was a dog — maybe he was. Maybe he truly was meant to be a disciple at your feet. 

That would explain why he was clutching your jewels in his far too big palms. Palms that had held you, now held your bloodied crystals and metals. Carved out of golds and silver and platinums in your weight so that he could bejewel you in them. 

But here, there was the object; not the deity who deserved that.

Like a dog, too, Sukuna had been too greedy, too demanding. 

And like a dog, yet again, he had been too wrapped up in the pleasures of your company that he forgot that he had enemies. 

Sorcerers, enemy nations, kingdoms, and people out for blood. And fools — bastards, rather — who’d go not for him, but for his bleak sensitive spot, his jugular and aim at you. He’d win, always. Fight away the silly cretins with a single swish of his finger, but Ryomen Sukuna had gotten soft, you see.

You had dulled his edges, made him yearn not for a bloody battle, but for the taste of your skin on his tongue, and the touch of your jewels, your haori, your face on the tips of his fingers. 

So here he was, watered down to a version he was afraid he did not hate as much. But that hatred was returning, because his vision remained clouded with your dead eyes, bloodied lips and limp body. Your hair streaked in blood. Blood, no one had the right to spill, not even him. 

Sukuna begged apologies to your cold body, clutching it desperately and screaming out prayers to a god that didn’t exist. And when he knew the answer would never come, and your death would not be a cruel joke, he packed your accessories. Your hair pins, necklace, earrings, bracelets and gripped it so tightly it cut into his skin.

Perhaps it wasn’t too late for a massacre.

🏷️ : @pleaseimastarv2 @realalpacorn @heliumshorns @maru-the-alien @besidesjustmyamour @dolcieri @angelscriptures @fortunatelydistinguishedobject @liliklei @lunarevia

Dividers by: @/cursed-carmine @/bronzewasp

[tojipie]

toji starts acting different when an audience is involved 18+ camgirl reader x fwb toji, filming, prone bone, headlock, possessiveness, dirty talk, creampie

toji doesn't bat an eye the day you ask him to join you on stream.

the deal you lay out for him is simple. a generous 30% of your tips just to come on cam and fuck you the way he always does. a couple of basic positions, maybe a toy if your viewers really want one. there were only so many ways to get off in front of an audience, why not add another person into the mix?

and toji agrees like he was born for it. call it the way his dick tends to speak for him after a quick fuck, or his soft spot for anything that involves touching you. either way, the man ponders your offer as casually as he would the weather, pulling your naked body closer with a very serious "what day do you need me?"

he shows up to you apartment a handful of days later with a purpose, freshly showered with his choppy fringe styled the way you love. he greets you at the door with a kiss far too deep to not send butterflies between your legs. he leads you to the bedroom with an unreadable look on his face, hand splayed across your lower back.

your viewers adore him, and that's putting it very mildly.

he's been teasing you for the better half of an hour, answering questions with his dick to the hilt and his hands cupping your ass. you’re all but weightless in the seat of his lap, arms thrown around his neck with your legs bracketing his. toji takes the time to savor you, watching the way you shake every time he lifts you up and down his throbbing length.

"huh, how'd we meet?" he mumbles, leaning forward to read a question at the top of the queue "uhh, college i think? fucked her at a halloween party and i guess she never got tired of me." he laughs, thrusting up into you to punctuate the shitty joke. 

the set you'd worn for him hadn't stood a chance from the second you turned the camera on, shucked off and discarded on the floor by his heavy hands in the handful of minutes leading up to this very moment. toji wasn't just fucking you, he was drawing it out, teasing you up the wall just because he can.

he takes a moment to spread you open, hands pulling your cheeks apart to show off where your bodies meet. the viewers go wild at that, throwing money at the both of you like there’s no tomorrow.

you perk up at the telltale ding! letting you know a hefty donation had gone through, turning to try and get a better look at the monitor. 

except, toji grabs your chin with practiced efficiency, pulling your face into his neck before you’re able to read what the accompanying request says.

“hm?” he hums, scanning the brightly lit screen. “yeah, i can do that.” he reasons, shifting onto his knees underneath you.

you whine into the crook of his neck as he finally lays you down on your back, feeling him lean to the side to pick up the camera.

“wait you’re not supposed to–.” you whine, all too aware of how deep he feels inside of you now. you watch him swipe the little device from its place on your desk, holding it up to your pussy with his lip caught between his teeth

"not supposed to what? hm?" he asks, fake sympathy lacing his tone. “fuck, look at that.” he grumbles. “this what you guys wanted?”

the chat detonates with a force you’ve never seen before. you’re already way past your donation goal for the night, with more money funneling in every minute.

he sets a steady pace for the both of you, fucking his wet cock in between your legs with seamless thrusts. you can feel every inch of him like this. the way his tip drags heavy inside of you, how his girth stretches your hole to it’s maximum. even the veins on the underside of his shaft lick at you sweetly.

he holds the camera right up to your shaky body. the frame shakes every time his hips meet your ass, and the mic is probably picking up his heavy breaths but neither of you care at this point. this isn’t about the content anymore, toji’s fucking you like he wants to eat you alive.

he presses his palm gently into the little pudge of your stomach, searching, wanting.

“mhm, there it is.” he drawls, massaging the shape of his length through your tummy. “you feel me in here?” 

you nod shakily, not knowing whether to look into the camera or up at him. 

“yeah? gonna keep me in here?”

he’s never like this when the camera is off. never as performative as he is now. you flutter around him involuntarily and the groan it earns you practically comes from his soul, his shoulders shaking with pleasure.

“oh, fuck.” he drawls, fastening a hand to the meat of your hip to ground himself. he leans forward then, lips attaching to your neck as he grinds the head of himself inside of you. 

“pussy’s too fucking good.” he grumbles, “way too good.” you feel his head turn to the camera at that last part, almost like he’s trying to prove a point to the viewers at home. that’s when it clicks. toji didn’t just agree to come on here and fuck you, he came to lay a claim on you. to show the people who tune in every night that only he could fuck you like this.

“who’s this belong to?” he asks sternly. he slaps the tip of himself against your budding beat, filling the room with slick noise. “say it.” 

you’re so far gone you barely register the question. all you can focus on is getting him back inside of you. too slaps himself against you again, harder this time. you jolt at the stimulation. 

“fucked you stupid already?” he teases. five fingers close around your chin and guide your face to the side, right in line with the camera. “who’s this pussy belong to? hm?”

“yours.” you breathe.

“nobody else’s?” he finally sheaths himself inside of you, and you both groan. toji wastes no time and quickly works his way up to a steady pace. in and out like a piston in a well oiled machine. 

“no, nobody.” you punctuate. the hand around your chin finally releases and moves down to the back of your thigh, hoisting your leg forward until your knee reaches your chest.

he’s so deep like this, deep enough it even hurts a little if you focus too much. 

“gonna let me cum inside?”

you nod, squealing at a particularly deep thrust. 

“yes, fuck, always.”

“whenever i want?”

“whenever you want.” you whine, head ascending to the clouds as the pad of his huge thumb makes down to rub over your clit. toji plays your body like a fiddle. like he's the only man on earth who'll ever make you feel this good. in a way, he pretty much is.

you can feel your heartbeat in between your legs now, hammering against your walls to the beat of each stroke of his. toji hisses, almost like he can feel your impending orgasm, and pulls out with a nasty squelch to set the camera back on your desk and flip you over as quickly as he can.

he has you on you stomach now, fully in sight of the cam with his forearm locked against your neck, holding your head up for the viewers at home. toji lays flat up against you, focusing the brunt of his weight into fucking you prone bone.

a quick peek at the monitor confirms your suspicion that you look ruined like this. lips pressed into a pout from the force of his bicep curled around your face, sweaty hands fisted into the sheets below you for purchase, the whole nine yards. toji must be thinking the same thing judging by the way he looks at you. proud, almost. like you’re something he created with his bare hands.

“gonna show them how you cum for me?” he asks you, low enough for only you to hear.

you nod the best you can, unable to hide the sweet noises he draws out of you with every press of his hips. you’ve cum on only his dick before, but this feels different. stronger, almost. more intimate. the world beyond your bed seems to be the furthest thing from your mind right now. toji is the only thing you can focus on.

the chat is up to a rolling boil at this point. you’ve wracked up enough money to pay your rent and then some, not to mention the jaw dropping orgasm you feel building in your stomach. toji seems more focused on cumming than making the viewers happy at this point, pistoning into you like he was born for it. 

he angles his hips just a tad bit lower, and just like that, you’re clamping down on him hard. creaming on his heavy length with a noise so desperate you’re 90% sure it’s what pushed him over the edge as well.

his load seems to go on for ages, filling you up in steady, hot pumps until it spills out from around the length of him. the arm curled around your face slowly retracts, leaving you face-down in the sheets with your legs shaking and your chest heaving. 

toji snakes his fingers under your chin to turn your gaze toward him, letting the pad of his thumb stroke your cheek softly. his presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, cradling your face in his palm for a few moments until he’s sure you’ve come down from the cloud you’re on. 

he pulls out of you slowly, hand on your lower back to keep you from squirming too hard. you watch him pad over your desk, cock swinging between his legs as he bends down to face the camera with a sleazy grin before waving goodbye to everyone and pressing "end stream".

[liliklei-deactivated20260419]

jin itadori and sukuna fighting over the adorably shy!reader in their anatomy class !! >.< (they’re brothers in this au bear with me)

jin itadori, who's the gorgeous, nerdy student who sits right by your side in class, his pretty glasses perched on his nose, always borrowing your notes while geeking out about his interests because he knows it makes you happy. but there's something about the way he looks at you that makes you a tad bit uneasy.

and on that note, his brother sukuna, an equally menacing man, pink hair to match his brother's, tattoos inked over his muscled body, his grin always sending shivers down your spine.

and you, poor sweet you, had no idea that these two brothers have been at each other's throats to garner your attention in their own messy, loud, chaotic ways while you're oblivious to it all.

"they're just being nice!" you tell your friends while sukuna and jin mentally face palm themselves while they eavesdrop on the conversation, trying to wrack their brains for a way so you figure out that they want you more than anything else in the world.

jin itadori, who shamelessly flirts with you now, but you can't tell if he's being friendly, or if his comments about how stunning you are border on flirty, but you like the attention you're getting all the same (>.<)

sukuna, who casually slings his arm around your shoulders while you walk through the hallways with jin, shooting a smug smirk in his direction before mouthing 'mine', you just swear you must be hearing things.

jin itadori, who adores getting all up in your personal space while he's sitting next to you in class, shooting a glare back at sukuna while he leans over to try to explain the material to you, pointing at his diagrams while watching you scramble for words with your adorably flustered face.

sukuna, who insists on having you tutor him, using that time to observe you, pay attention to your little quirks and habits, sneaking in pictures of your pretty face so he can text them to jin and be all smug about it too.

jin itadori, who insists on carrying your bags out of class, muttering something about how a pretty girl like you should never be burdened with such menial tasks such as this.

sukuna, who insists on bringing you your coffee order every morning. he says he works as a barista in that little cafe you like. the both of you know he's a shitty liar.

jin itadori, who loves patting you on the head, watching you trip over your words while he smiles at you, brushing your hair oh so gently while you try to promise that it's all platonic, and that jin would never be into you like that of course !

sukuna, who loves praising you so he can watch your cheeks heat up, your ears flush while you look away and mutter a small thank you. you aren't used to such casual praise and people doting on you, and you can feel your heart try to escape your rp

jin itadori, who invites you over while he attempts to bake for you, he knows you like cookies and he figures having you around under the guise of 'studying for class' while soon the two of you are covered in flour, the half eaten bag of chocolate chips sitting on the counter while you relentlessly giggle. and jin swears he needs to bottle up the sound and keep it close to his heart forever.

sukuna, who walks into the apartment, watching you and jin all giggly while making, the scene so intimate it makes him want to rip his guts out. but sly as ever, he can't miss this opportunity to walk straight to you, lifting you onto the counter because he just 'doesn't want you to slip' over the mess the two of you made in the kitchen. 

sukuna and jin, who've come to the conclusion that they're going to have to share. that's only if you figure out that they've subtly been trying to hit on you for the past few months. 

okay so…do we fw this :)

divider credits: @//strangergraphics .

all work belongs to @liliklei , do not copy, repost, translate or feed into AI !!

[all-with-angel]

NEVER A BREAK w Higuruma Hiromi

summary. Ever since marrying Hiromi Higuruma, your poor pussy has never known peace. He's always gotta be on his knees begging for a bit of you, a taste, a lick, maybe even a goddamn sniff if you’d let him. And you do, if he works for it, of course.

tags. oral (f!receiving), untouched orgasm(m), begging, sub higuruma, semi-public sex, thighfucking, creampie, prone bone, using hiromi's tie like a leash, p in v, breeding themes, belly bulge, NOT PROOFREAD - i finished this about 10 minutes before posting. i mean it.

AN. My piece for @cherrys-wrld pussywhipped event! Enjoy 2k words of delicious filth!

7:32 AM - BREAKFAST

You can never get anything done when Higuruma’s home. Sure, you’re always thankful for his presence and him finally taking a break from work, but there are chores to be done! And you’re pretty sure that you can’t get anything done when your husband is nose-deep in your soft cunt, licking up your leaking juices as your sensitive bud rubs up against his angled nose.

“Please, baby-” He murmurs, warm breath sending bolts of pleasure straight to your core. “Please cum for me.”

Slick traces against his chin, dripping down onto the hardwood floor as you keep yourself braced against the counter. Lest your shaking legs give out. “I don’t know- hn,” you bite back a moan with a grin, “-do you deserve it?”

He groans at that, eager to show you just how well he can do to earn your sweet nectar. His tongue traces patterns quickly against your cunt, hands gripping and rubbing your aching legs.

Breakfast seems to be on hold (for you, Hiromi is having his right now.), as you try and fail to muster up the strength to pry your insatiable husband from your no-doubt messy hole. The same one he had filled to the brim the night prior, accompanied by the myriad of lovebites and hickeys splattered all over your skin like a lovesick painting.

Well, you weren’t complaining. But you were still going to make him work for it.

His tongue pushes up against your opening, and you can’t do anything to stop the breathy moan escaping your pretty lips. Hiromi seems very pleased at that, giving your clit a soft kiss before finally, finally taking a breath.

You look down at him, pouting at the pussy-drunk smile on his face as he leans his cheek against your thigh, a thumb gently tracing circles on your clit.

“Tired already?” you tease, head tilting to the side as you try to downplay the heave of your chest against the fabric of your shirt. 

“Hm, me?” he hums, ignoring the way his thick cock twitched against his abdomen, begging for attention. “When it comes to you, no, never.”

You yelp as he licks up your cunt, nose grinding against your clit as you instinctively grind down for more. His eyes light up with a smile before you pull at his hair, shoving him further into your pussy.

His tongue continues to lap at your cunt, desperate and practically pleading against your lips as his hips mindlessly twitch and thrust into the air. Hiromi’s hands stay planted on your hips however, hoping to somehow pull you further on his tongue.

Each move of his tongue inside of you has bolts of pleasure zapping up your spine, warmth coiling up quickly against your belly. Every lewd and echoing sluuurp! And moan reverberating against your cunt pushing you closer and closer to that edge.

“Fuck– ‘romi–” you gasp in between moans, beads of slick running down your thighs before Hiromi could lick it all up.

With a final nudge of his nose against your cunt, that coil inside of you snaps, and you could feel nothing but the blank white of pleasure wash over you. Your legs give out, but Hiromi is luckily there to catch you with his face and stabilize you with his pretty hands.

His brow is furrowed in concentration, as if he was trying to memorize the fluttering of your pussy against his tongue and imbed it into his memory for all time.

When you finally catch a breath from your god-seeing orgasm, you couldn’t help but huff a laugh at the sight below you. Hiromi was breathing hard, the floor and his stomach painted white in his own untouched orgasm.

“Aww,” you coo, giggling at the way he groans when you push against his thick cock with your foot. “That feel good for you, baby?”

“Yes, yes– thankyou.” Hiromi groans, taking the pleasure and pain of overstimulation like the good husband he is. He places quick kisses against your waist and your thighs, licking any stray droplet of your nectar. All the while he continues to twitch against you.

God, and it was only breakfast.

1:02 PM - LUNCH

To think that you’d be able to get away with trying to show off some new clothes to Hiromi, while actively teasing the fact you’d worn nothing underneath, scot-free just because the two of you were in public, then you were a fool.

Now, here you were, brain fuzzy as Hiromi held you against his chest, sweat and cum sticking your thighs together as his cockhead pushes back and forth through the soft muscles.

All because you were too stubborn about his cum leaking out of you later.

“Darling,” his precum smeared against the inside of your thighs, mixing with your sweet slick. “I’ll pull out, I promise. Just please–” he pleaded, deep voice cracking juuust a tinge as you tightened your legs around his leaking dick.

You tut at him, holding the power despite how his frame completely shadowed yours. “We both know you’d never pull out.” You roll your eyes, shuddering as his tip kisses your clit in a mushy mix of arousal and sex. “Unless you wanna use a condom–”

“No,” his answer comes fast, in time with his quickening pace, as if fighting off the idea with each slam of his fat cock into your thighsleeve. “No, not the condom, jus’ want you raw,” He talks about the thin plastic as if it were the greatest punishment of all, a barrier preventing him from feeling the spongy wet walls of your pussy.

“Then you better cum before we get caught.” You moaned, before gasping at his hand on your clit, rubbing circles as your juices coat his fingers in a pretty white sheen. 

“Together,” he bargained, thighs slapping against yours with loud plaps! that it was a miracle that you two weren't found out yet. “Please, cum with me,”

Warmth starts quickly building in your abdomen, with every drag of Hiromi’s cock against your folds and his fingers skillfully massaging your clit, it wasn’t long before Hiromi was kissing your shoulders and moaning your name against soft skin. You weren’t that far off, either.

His groans and breathing was heavy against the shell of your ear, trying so hard to stay quiet despite the perfect way your thighs felt around him, despite how he could just imagine how good it would feel to bury his cock into you just before he came… spilling his seed deep into you and pumping your velvety walls full of him.

But he’ll be good for you, so good. You have to reward him later right?

The thought itself has him twitching, groaning as his hips slam into yours like a man starved of your pretty pussy. As he technically was. 

Your thighs shake around him, feeling your orgasm creep up quickly as you look up at him in the changing room mirror. His gaze was heavy, lips parted that had been groaning and cursing so beautifully for you.

You bit your lip. “Fuck, you’re so perfect like this, Hiromi,” you had gasped with a surprising amount of clarity.

It made Hiromi’s cock twitch violently against you, an angry red staining the tip in its desperation to finally cum. There was a long moan he had to muffle in the crook of your neck, splurts of cum painting the mirror you were leaned up against before the rest leaked down his shaft and onto your thighs.

The sight had you clenching around nothing, your pussy throbbing in hot flashes of white pleasure that radiated throughout your entire lower body.

You scolded Hiromi a little bit after, telling him to control himself, especially in public. He nodded, ashamed. But you made sure not to scold him too hard, unless you wanted him hard. Again.

7:42 PM - DINNER

You're pinned to the wall as soon as you two get back home, Hiromi’s thigh is pressed up against your clothed cunt as he nearly stumbles over himself to take his suit off. A giggle makes it way to your already-swollen lips as Hiromi practically acts like a dog in rut for your touch.

He moans against your mouth at the sound of your laugh, shuddering as your hands trail across his ribcage, his back and trace thin patterns into the back of his neck.

“Love you so much,” he presses a kiss to your jaw, “Love her so much,” his hand makes its way under your clothes to cup your warm heat, still a bit sticky from earlier lunch. “So perfect.” Another hand reaches up to his tie, nearly tugging it off before a hand catches his.

“Wait,” you interrupt, stopping the way your hips grind down into the soft pads of his fingers against your hole. “Keep it on.” Your smile is sickly sweet as he pauses, curiosity, arousal and trust swirling in those pretty hazel eyes.

Any hesitation is wiped however, once you two reach the bedroom.

“F-fuck–” Hiromi hissed, brows furrowing as you tugged him forward with his makeshift leash. Strong hips slam into the soft flesh of your ass, a lovedrunk pace as he desperately worked for your praise. 

“Mmmngh!” Came your pleased moans, muffled against the pillows.

You were lying prone bone as Hiromi fucked into your tight cunt with your guidance, pulling at his tie with every order that he follows like law.

The bedframe was slamming against the wall, a loud banging sound accompanying the cacophony of moans and lewd squelching that came from the mushy walls of your insides, already filled to the brim with cum.

Hiromi’s seed mixed like an obscene drug with your slick, trailing down the walls of your pussy and onto the crumpled sheets.

It was clearly not enough for either of you, not with the way you were demanding for more, or the way Hiromi was eager to give it.

“Just like that ‘romi–” You choked out, eyes fluttering, fighting the urge to roll back and just take it. “S-so fucking good,”

The two of you looked utterly fucked in the best way possible, the usually serious lawyer reduced to a sweaty and desperate mess, wearing nothing but a black tie to keep him in his place. He could barely speak past the call of your name or curses under his breath.

“All for you,” he was rambling, forehead resting against the side of your head. “Just for you–”

Your body sinched like a vice again, shaking as another orgasm fluttered to your core and nearly mushed your head into a satisfied puddle. A long moan ripped out of your throat, drool dripping onto your pillows that were definitely still stained from last night too.

In your orgasm-induced haze, you had pulled Hiromi forward, shallow thrusts into your pussy that had him tearing up in desperation to keep you full. His cock kissed your insides with quick thrusts, your belly just barely bulging above your belly button in an attempt to make room for his massive cock.

“Can I– Let me please–” he begged, cock twitching as your walls eagerly tried to pull out another thick load from the thick shaft.

“Go on,” you murmured, nearly boneless from absolute bliss. “Cum for me, Hiromi,”

His load spilled into your, the white substance coating every inch of your insides before leaking out and making a creamy ring around Hiromi’s cock. The warmth spread across you, making your walls pulse again in time with every splurt of cum being fucked into you.

Hiromi’s thrusts didn’t cease as he continued to fuck into you, gritting his teeth as he made sure he was so deep in you. So deep in your guts that he wouldn't ever need anything else but you, your touch, and your praise.

When every last drop was milked out of him by your cunt, he had finally slumped against you, pressing pussy-drunk kisses against your back.

Hiromi could feel himself shiver at your voice, showering him in praise before either of you had the inkling to move and clean up for tomorrow. 

“Good boy.”

🏷️: @sweethearticism @veyveyx @martianzmars @yukichan67 @mannythemunchkin @hyukkja @ughitsisabella @cursesandcigarettes @pleaseimastarv2 @sugurusbeloved @viscade @sukunasoneandonly @uhnosav @ssorasky @vividly-vermillion

[zukunyy]

18+ sucking bully!naoyas cock because he’s just too pretty ✧.*

TW!!! Naoya. I think that’s all I gotta say, uni AU, alcohol consumption mentioned, degradation cus duh, my guilty pleasure is Naoya and I’m not sorry—SCROLL if you don’t like him <3

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Sucking Naoyas cock wasn’t what you had planned on doing tonight, yet here you are—on your knees, pretty eyes looking right up at him as his hand is grabbing a fist full of your hair to guide you up and down his length.

You hate him, hate his stupid smug grin, his weird obsession with making your life harder than it has to be, and you hate how much he turns you on.

The moment you walked your very first step into your new uni, he’s had it out for you. Always commenting on your outfits, your grades, the car you drove. He never missed an opportunity to remind you of how much better he is than you—and how little you are worth to him.

You never understood why you in particular. You’ve done absolutely nothing to prompt him to focus on you the way he did, but that was probably life’s cruel joke—you got far too lucky getting into your dream uni anyways.

And the worst part of all was that, despite how much of a cocky, arrogant piece of shit Naoya might’ve been, you couldn’t help the faintest tint of blush on your face whenever he decided to invade your personal space. Because this asshole unfortunately profited from more than just money.

Purely physically speaking, he was exactly your type.

And that, of all things, infuriated you the most. Because you wanted to hate him so bad, you wanted to detest every nasty word that left his mouth—but they sounded so good coming from him.

So in a way, it was inevitable. In a way, being dragged into a spare room at a semester party by him in a drunken state, and ending up with his tongue in your mouth—and soon, yours on his cock—was kind of foreseeable.

He’s hissing at the feeling of your tongue licking a wet stripe from his base all the way to his tip. “Shittt, y’fuckin’ slut.”

If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve assumed the look in his eyes was admiration for how pretty you did look. But that wasn’t it. The nicest way to put it was satisfaction. “That’s right where ya belong, huh? On yer knees f’me.” His eyes didn’t leave you once, smirking down at you while you give his leaky tip a small little kiss, parting your lips to suck him in.

You wanted to roll your eyes at him, cuss him out or something. But the smell of him—the subtle buzzing in your head, made you sort of irrational.

But you weren’t going fast enough for his liking. So naturally, without a second thought, he pushes your head all the way down until your nose hits his pelvis. You let out a gag around him, hands bracing on his thighs as you try to accommodate the sudden intrusion of his cock inside of your throat.

You could feel small tears forming at the corners of your eyes as you try so hard to keep your head where he wants it. “Just take it. I know ya can.”, he grits out, followed by a low groan at the feeling of your throat convulsing around him. “Stupid fuckin’ A-student. That’s what yer truly good at, huh? Suckin’ some cock?”

Your hands ball into small fists, punching his legs as a protest. All he does is huff out a chuckle, pulling your head off his cock with one good yank of your hair. “What? Already givin’ up?”

You take a few deep breaths, lips covered in your own saliva and a small string of it still connecting to the tip of his cock. You contemplate, just for a few seconds. But your hands reaching out and wrapping around his base, followed by your lips closing around him once again—they’re answer enough.

“That’s more like it. Knew ya’d end up here eventually.”, Naoya breathes out, his head tipping back with a sigh as your tongue swirls around his tip. You hollow your cheeks, an obscene slurping echoes through the room as your head bobs up and down his length. The faint sound of music could still be heard from downstairs, yet all your senses could focus on was the feeling of Naoya’s heavy cock on your tongue.

His fingers twist in your hair once again, speeding up your pace—never satisfied with what you’re giving him. You moan around his cock, the vibration of it pulling a low groan from his throat. Your tear filled eyes flutter open, looking up at him to gain some sort of sympathy.

“Suits ya way better, ya’know? Shuttin’ up and having yer mouth stuffed with cock.”, Naoya mocks you from above, his hand untangling form your hair for a moment to give your head a small pat, laced with pure fake-sympathy.

The view from his point was phenomenal. Watching your mouth stretch around his cock, sucking and licking all over—occasionally pulling off to place a soft kiss on his tip. His cock was glistening from your saliva smeared all over it, your own lips puffy and wet as well.

Naoya’s hips start thrusting forward in tandem with your own head moving, feeling his release nearing. “M’gonna fill that mouth of yours. Maybe then you’ll know who’s truly better, bitch.”, he groans as he holds your head in place, hips now fully rutting into your mouth like he’s fucking your cunt instead—he might as well be imagining it too.

Your eyes squeeze shut, trying to focus on breathing through your nose. You didn’t wanna admit to it, but your panties were soaked through under that skimpy dress you were wearing—on purpose.

With one last thrust, he buries his cock all the way to the hilt, hot ropes of cum spilling down your throat. He holds you there for a few seconds until the feeling of your nails digging into his thighs becomes just a bit uncomfortable.

Your eyes lock once he pulls you off, staring at you with triumph. “We quit now? Will you stop cussing me out every time you see me?”, your voice comes out rough from your previous activities—and all he does is laugh at your words.

“Ya fuckin’ wish. Now bend over.”

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AN! Shoutout to that one person that really wanted to have this, HERE YA GO! I’m trying to write more consistently, I swear guys 💔

[liliklei-deactivated20260419]

sugarbaby!toji, who would do absolutely anything for the money . (i sincerely apologise for this)

cw: pegging :D

sugarbaby!toji, who stumbled upon this lifestyle after years of being broke—he was just so tired of it, he needed a way out. and that’s when he met you, the gorgeous, sadistic angel from his wildest dreams, willing to give him an allowance beyond his imagination for what seemed to be fairly simple tasks. at first.

sugarbaby!toji, who was more than willing to comply with your little requests, strutting around your place in the tightest shirts that showed off his muscles, keeping the place clean, letting you ride his abs every single time you had a stressful day at worked.

sugarbaby!toji, who always fucks you so, so well into the mattress, he wants his pay check after all. he does everything you ask for so diligently—sometimes trying to disobey you, only to be so very pliant the second you decide to delay his payments.

sugarbaby!toji, who wants to hate this lifestyle, his entire life wrapped around your pretty, manicured fingers but he just can’t. he’d hate to admit it but he loves having a pretty girl like you just boss him around.

sugarbaby!toji, who watches you walk past your doors with a tired look on your face, but the expression you have on this time is different. and it can only mean trouble.

sugarbaby!toji, who doesn’t exactly question it when you tell him to prep himself, he’s not opposed to most things anyway, and you didn’t seem like the type to take control over him, he was just so much bigger, and he always made you feel so good, of course you weren’t gonna do anything beyond your current arrangements, of course.

sugarbaby!toji, who’s immediately dragged into the confines of your room, pushed onto your mattress with what seemed like little effort, and that’s when you gave him a look. right before dragging a box from underneath your bed, pulling out a harness, no strap. attached to a bright pink silicon dildo placed. surely, that wasn’t for him right? right…?

sugarbaby!toji, who cant help the way his cock straining his pants, watching you slowly undress, pulling his sweats down slowly, spitting in the palms of your hands, mixing it with the lube, running the slick up his length, slowly moving your hands lower..and lower.

sugarbaby!toji, who tries not to let out the most pathetic moan when he feels your fingers prodding against his ass, biting his bottom lip while you kiss down the column of his neck, before he feels your pretty fingers and fuuck he swears he’s almost seeing stars.

sugarbaby!toji, who barely registers the way you cover the pretty pink strap in lube, placing it right at his entrance.

“yer shoo pretty toji, just be good for me, yeah?”

he tries to respond, he swears he does but all he can let out is a littlest sound while you fully thrust into him, hitting his g-spot perfectly and god it’s almost pathetic, how sensitive he’s feeling.

sugarbaby!toji, whose vision goes blank the second you thrust into him harder, he’s trying so hard not to cum, but the moment he tries to hold out a little longer he’s shooting ropes of cum that cover his pretty abs, panting, flushed and out of breath.

“we are never doing that again.” he says almost unconvincingly, trying to hide his pretty face from it all, he’s just so embarrassed. and it’s worse because he liked it.

“we are SO doing that again, who knew you’d look so cute underneath me ‘ji”

sugarbaby!toji, who watches you clean everything up, kissing him on his cheek, you always treat him so well, he really can’t find it in him to complain about it.

sugarbaby!toji, who spends the rest of the night, with you tucked against his chest, thinking about it. he needs you to do that again. he’s never been more embarrassingly turned on than he has while you were looking down at him, kissing him all over his body, whispering about how pretty you think he is. his brain is so blissfully clouded, and so very fucked out he can barely think of anything else.

sugarbaby!toji, who has never been more grateful he met you, he hates to admit it out loud but he knows that he’d live wrapped around your finger forever. and he wouldn’t have a care in the world.

<33

everyone say thank you @bride0fchucky for the birth of this fic. u can throw tomatoes at me now btw.

all work belongs to @liliklei , do not copy, repost, translate or feed into AI !!

divider credits: @//pixopix .

[tojiscreampie]

MDNI 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ jerking off your bsf's satoru gojo and suguru geto 𝜗𝜚⋆₊ m.list

you and your two bestfriends, satoru gojo and suguru geto, were innocently hanging out in your apartment— which might as well be theirs considering how much they frequent your place, countless nights of them sleeping over on your couch or on your bedroom floor after a late night movie session accompanied by one too many beers. 

and tonight was no exception.

you're lounging in your living room, sat in a giant pink bean bag chair while satoru and suguru are sat on either side of the couch. and of course you just had to wear a skirt that's just a tad bit too short, showing off your lacy white panties every time you shift your legs or bend over. 

then there's your two bestfriends— why do they have to be so goddamn hot for? how is it even fair? suguru’s got his inky black locks tied up into a bun that hangs loosely on the back of his head, a few long pieces framing his face. his chiseled frame hidden beneath a black sweatshirt that sits nicely—too nicely across his broad shoulders. he throws his head back and laughs at something satoru says, god, even the way his adam’s apple bobs up and down in his throat is fucking hot. 

sat next to him is satoru— your extremely annoying overly-extroverted best friend. white compression shirt pulled taut over his husky frame, showing off every ridge of his hard chest, each muscle straining against the fabric. fluffy snow white hair sitting perfectly messy on his head, those bright cerulean orbs peaking out from behind.

and the worst part is, the stupid fucker knows he's hot. at least suguru was humble with his looks, never flaunting how attractive he was. unfortunately, satoru was a different story. 

always teasing you, saying something stupid like, “c’mon bestie, you're telling me you've never thought of me while you're layin’ in bed late at night, using whatever sad excuse you have for a vibrator? not even once? i mean, look at me!”

you'd always respond with an eye roll or just a few blinks and a middle finger to the face. 

but tonight, something just feels… different.

you're all just sitting around the tv, enjoying some cheesy comedy movie satoru threw on, the lot of you kicking back about three beers a piece already— but you swear you keep catching glimpses of suguru eyeing your legs up and down, the weight of his gaze heavy as his pupils dilate each time you uncross your legs to get comfortable, pretty white lace peeking out between your thick thighs. 

at least suguru’s being subtle with it— satoru’s just fucking staring. 

staring at the way your tits bounce when you laugh, the tops of your soft breasts spilling out of your thin spaghetti strap tank top, jiggling with each shake of your shoulders. his eyes raking down to your thighs, the smooth skin that's exposed by your short skirt, imagining how soft they’d feel wrapped around his—

“hey, anyone wanna do shots?” you stand up abruptly, walking to the kitchen as the two pervs on your couch follow you like lost puppies. 

except, they aren't the only pervs here. 

you can't ignore the heat that’s pooled in your tummy as you caught glimpses of them staring from the side of your eye, the way they'd both been adjusting those slutty gray sweats for the past twenty minutes. it's been driving you crazy. so maybe a shot will calm the nerves and the racing thoughts in your head… right?

you grab the bottle of vodka and pour the shot glasses to the brim, pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth as you try to concentrate on pouring instead of the two men towering behind you, watching your every move. 

“aw you're shakin’ sweets, need some help?” satoru’s voice is dripping with feigned innocence as he leans against the counter. 

“c’mon satoru, our girl can do it on her own, and she's doing such a good job.” you can hear the sly smirk that's plastered on suguru’s face, but fuck if his words don't make you squeeze your thighs together and squirm. 

our girl? seriously?!

“shut up and drink, you guys talk too much.” 

you turn to face them, not missing how both pairs of eyes drop down to where your cleavage is spilling out of your tank top before they reach behind you and grab their shot glasses. 

the three of you throw the shots back, the cold alcohol burning in your chest, instantly making your face feel hot. 

“whew, that's enough to put some hair on your balls!” 

“satoru, i don't think that’s how that saying goes.” you can't help the laugh that erupts from your chest as you make your way back to the living room, plopping right down on the middle couch cushion. 

suguru sits on your left, satoru hopping over the back of the couch to sit on your right— and you're sandwiched right in between them with a giant smile that you didn't even realize was there.

“what’s got you smiling like that, pretty girl?” suguru’s velvety voice hits your ears, the compliment making your cunt clench. 

“o-oh, nothing, i was just… thinking.” you fidget with the hem of your skirt, your heart pounding in your ears. 

“i mean, you guys are close. like, reaaally close. have you ever… touched each other?” 

suguru's eye’s widen slightly at your bold question, and you can't believe you just asked that either— basically asking if your two best friends have explored each other’s bodies. 

“tch, well duh! we high five all the time, right sugu?” satoru raises his palm, pearly canines on display as he smiles. 

“no— satoru i meant have you guys ever fucked. or even kissed. ‘cause i… i think that'd be kinda hot.” the last sentence comes out as a whisper past your cherry glossed lips, placing a hand on each of their thighs.

you look side to side, both of the boys rendered speechless, mouths hanging open as they stare at you, then look to each other. but what happens next is what renders you speechless. 

satoru leans over you, pretty pink lips pulling into a smirk. 

“you hear that, suguru? she thinks it’d be hot if we kissed. why don't we give our girl a little treat? y’know, just as a thanks for being such a good best friend.”

suguru scoots closer, your hands still on each of their thighs that are now brushed up against yours, both of their faces hovering a few inches from yours. 

“yeah… just as a thanks.” suguru mutters, mirroring that same smirk satoru’s wearing. 

but he doesn't kiss him, not yet. he licks along satoru’s bottom lip with a long, languid stroke of his tongue, eliciting a shaky exhale from satoru, your hands tightening on their sweats as your fingers inch higher.

“that all you got? c’mon sugu, let's have some fun.” satoru breathes against suguru’s lips, voice coming out low and rough. 

he grabs suguru's jaw, crashing his lips against his, the both of them groaning as their tongues fight against each other.

the kiss is sloppy, full of teeth and spit— like they’re trying to devour each other.

“mmm—” satoru hums as he pulls back, both of their lips swollen and glistening with spit as they turn to look at you.

you— who's sitting there in the middle of your two best friends who’ve just tongue fucked each other’s mouths, wearing your short little skirt and tight tank top, your white lace panties full of a sticky pool of slick.

your chest heaving slightly, breasts straining against your top, glossy lips parted as you've just watched what you think might be the most erotic thing you've ever seen. 

you look down at your hands that are still resting on their upper thighs, and your eyes are drawn to the tent that’s growing in suguru’s sweats, then over to satoru’s bulge that’s throbbing under his pants.

“don't get shy on us now, sweetheart.” suguru purrs, leaning in to brush your hair from your neck, placing soft, wet kisses along your neck, alternating between bites and licks.

satoru leans over, placing his hand over yours that’s resting on suguru's leg, and leads it up, and up, and up… until it’s hovering over the waistband of suguru's pants, your thumbs instinctively hooking under seams. 

suguru bites your ear lobe, his breath hot as he whispers, “you can do it, pretty girl.”

you swallow the pool of spit in your mouth, tugging down his sweats and boxers, his girthy, veiny dick springing free and slapping against his sweatshirt. 

a breathy hiss escapes suguru’s throat, and you repeat the same actions on satoru's pants with your other hand. 

satoru’s cock is a bit longer, not as thick, but fuck just as pretty. flushed pink tip slapping his covered abs, pearly droplets of pre staining his shirt. 

both of the men make quick work to rid themselves of their tops, wide broadened shoulders trapping you in between the two of them, toned chests heaving as their breathing grows heavier and heavier. 

“what's wrong sweets, need some help?” satoru grins as he leans over, his soft lips parallel to suguru’s on your neck, the both of them marking you with nips of your sensitive skin between their teeth.

your eyes flutter shut as your two best friends kiss along and suck along your neck, soft whines leaving your lips. 

you firmly wrap both of your hands around the bases of their cocks, your cunt and stomach clenching at the sound of the breathy moans that vibrate against your neck. 

moving your wrists up slowly, twisting and squeezing as you get closer to the tip, your thumb rubbing across the sensitive skin as you lather their shafts in glossy pre, watching as  more pearly drops leak from their throbbing cocks. 

“y-yeah, there you go baby, just like that— doing such a— mmph— good job for us.” suguru muses against the skin of your neck, the soft praises only making you soak your panties more. 

their desperate moans encourage you to pick up your pace, your small hands gliding up their slick, veiny shafts, every twitch of their cocks making your breath catch. 

satoru grabs your chin, the pads of his fingers digging into your jaw as he crashes his lips against yours, the both of you swallowing each other's moans as your tongues dance in sync. 

“god, you're so fucking pretty.” suguru pulls your tank top down, your breasts springing free as he kneads the soft flesh, his cock twitching in your hand as he watches satoru tongue fuck your mouth. 

suddenly, suguru places his hand behind you, tugging on your hair to make you face him— making both you and satoru whimper at the loss. 

“i've always thought you had the prettiest lips.” he whispers, voice like velvet. “open up for me.”

and you do so, staring up at him with glassy eyes as he spits directly onto your tongue— and then he turns your head back to satoru. 

“keep it in there for him.” suguru smirks, his hips starting to buck up into your hand to match your languid movements. 

satoru’s broad, toned chest heaves as he bites back a moan, grabbing your face and smushing your cheeks as he leans in, your kiss bitten lips still parted as you hold suguru’s spit on your tongue. 

“tch, always knew you were a slut suguru.” he smirks, smushing your cheeks harder as his parted lips meet yours— his eyes rolling back as he tastes the subtle hints of alcohol lingering on your mouth, greedily sucking suguru’s spit from your tongue. 

“hmph-” you whimper, your wrists twisting and stroking faster, applying more and more pressure as you reach their drippings tips. 

you'd never thought you'd be here. sitting in your couch, double fisting your best friend's cocks. 

but honestly, there's nowhere else you'd rather be right now. 

the room fills with the sounds of suguru and satoru’s groans— which are starting to turn into desperate whimpers— along with the slapping wet noises of your hands stroking up and down their lengths. 

suguru continues to massage your breast, pinching your nipple between his fingers, all while satoru releases your cheeks, his hand finding their way up your skirt and to your slick soaked panties. 

“god, she’s so fuckin’ wet for us.” satoru feels the sticky dampness on your underwear, so much so that it’s leaked onto your clenched thighs. 

he moves your panties aside smoothly, running two long fingers up your sopping folds, coating them in your arousal. 

you whimper, your eyes fluttering shut and wrists stuttering in their movements as his fingers brush your puffy clit, the pleasure from suguru playing with your tits and satoru playing with your pussy almost too much to handle. 

“getting off on watching your best friends kiss while you stroke our cocks— and i thought i was the slut.” satoru huffs.

“you're still the— nngh— slut, ‘toru.” you gasp as he pinches your clit before starting to rub quick circles around the sensitive bud. 

“both of you— kiss me, please, i need you both.” you whimper, your back arching against the couch cushion as you grind your hips against satoru’s hand.

“needy girl.” suguru whispers against your ear before nipping at it, kissing along your cheek until he meets your lips. 

satoru follows his movements, kissing along your jaw, up to your cheek, before finally meeting your lips— the three of you now sloppily making out— a complete mess of tongues and a. cacophony of pathetic whimpers leaving the three of you. 

your wrists move faster, both of them fucking into your hand as you all swap spit, satoru’s fingers on your clit applying more and more pressure. 

“a-hah-” your head falls back onto the couch, your eyes closing from the intense pleasure. 

but when you open your eyes— you almost cum right then and there.

suguru and satoru are devouring each other's mouths once again— except this time it's more desperate, more passionate— their heads bobbing against one another, spit bubbling between their mouths, and their cocks twitching an leaking in your hands. 

suguru’s hand moves from its relentless assault on your breasts down to your dripping cunt, sliding two fingers into your tight heat.

“mmm-” he groans against satoru’s mouth before pulling back to suck and bite on the soft skin of your breasts, satoru moving to suck on your neck. 

“m’close— p-please, don’ stop-” you whimper, doubling your efforts with your strokes as you try to pull their orgasms out with your own.

“f-fuck— that's it, pretty girl. cum all over my— mmm— fucking fingers.” suguru pulls back from your breast that's littered in bruises, his fingers curling up against your g spot.

“c’mon baby, y-you can do it.” satoru groans against your neck, pressing harder against your clit as his fingers move faster. 

“a-ah- nnngh!” a broken whimper escapes your throat as you cum hard, your silky walls clamping down around suguru’s fingers as you soak them. 

as soon as they hear your wrecked moans, the look on your pretty fucked out face— they're done for. 

suguru ruts into your hand, whispering your name like a prayer as thick ropes of cum shoot out onto his chest and stomach.

“f-fuuck-” satoru’s right behind him, panting against your neck as his cock twitches and spurts agaisnt your hand, ropes of white painting his sweat slicked abs. 

the three of you are left a bunch of panting messes— suguru and satoru covered in their own cum, your hands a sticky mess as their cocks leak down your knuckles, and your thighs soaked from your own orgasm. 

“that was—”

“fucking hot.” satoru interrupts you before licking up your neck. 

suguru smirks, moving your damp hair from your face. “you did such a good job for us.” 

you bite your lip, holding back a smile as you wipe your hands on your skirt. 

“wait, guys— does this mean we’re a throuple now?” satoru chimes in, a goofy ass grin spreading across his face. 

well… does it? 

comments and reblogs appreciated! ♡ repost from my old account sytorusdoll

[sixxels-deactivated20260420-dea]

mean!fratboy!toji and his shy!girlfriend ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

mean!fratboy!toji who met you one night at a black out party his frat was throwing, curled up in the corner like some kicked puppy. he asked if you were okay, if you needed some air, maybe water, and that was that.

mean!fratboy!toji who fell head over heels for you that very same night, acting like he couldn't care less for the girl that was now stuck to his side n' holding his arm. yet, he knew deep down that your pretty little pout and tearful expression would soon be the downfall of his carefully curated tough guy act.

mean!fratboy!toji who's never actually had a girlfriend before, quick hookups and shitty talking stages were more his tune. but ever since he'd bashfully asked you to be his in the library after school, he'd promised himself to try and be the best he possibly could for you, his sweet girl.

mean!fratboy!toji makes good on his promise. well, mostly... he lets you get away with far more than he does with anyone else, that's for sure. when you're eating out, he lets you take whatever you want from his plate, even going as far as to snap photos of you stealing his food.

"up here, baby. smile f'me." he'd grin, but you were too busy devouring the best bits of his meal like the cheeky little shit you were.

now, if that were geto, or even worse, gojo? he'd have knocked them in their jaw for even thinking such a thought. not you, though. his precious little thing had far more privilege than those flops.

mean!fratboy!toji had convinced himself he hated physical touch, that a swift one-and-done was all he was cut out for. so, whenever anyone tried to initiate a hug, or even a pat on the back? he'd shrug them off with a deep scowl. but with you, he was so pathetically the opposite. at the start of every day? he's hugging you tight before the walk to class. moving through crowded hallways? he's grabbing for your hand. functions at the frat? you're sat up in his lap the entire time. every chance he had to be close to you, he took. maybe physical touch wasn't all that bad (as long as it was with you).

mean!fratboy!toji was a big guy, in every sense of the word. he was a 6'4 and 90 kg of pure muscle, and his ego wasn't too far off either. but probably his biggest asset, was his cock. the long, meaty thing he was a little scared to show you at first... you weren't that confident as it stood, what could make you wanna take this thing? oh well, it was something he'd work on...

mean!fratboy!toji always felt an overwhelming sense of infatuation wash over his body from watching your eyes widen with both fear and an adorable look of excitement whenever he pulled his thick cock out.

"toji... i...i'm sorry, i don't think i can take that..." you'd admit shyly, staring up a him through those long pretty lashes as you looked away from him shyly, a look so innocent it made his dick twitch and throb harder. "aw, my poor girl, i know it's alot, but you can handle it. just let me work you open, yeah?" he'd reassure you. gently slipping in a thick finger until you whined and gasped for him to speed up.

mean!fratboy!toji gets real dirty with praise when you get sleepy. the minute your voice cracks he goes absolutely feral. he grabs the back of your neck and kisses you deep, whispering through his own moans,

“that’s my girl… keep giving me those pretty noises.” he doesn’t stop feeding you praise that makes your stomach knot tighter. “you feel so fucking good around my cock.” “you take me so well pretty baby.” “tell me what you want. fuck, i’ll give you everything.”

mean!fratboy!toji who thinks you look so pretty when you're all flustered and shy. he frequently goes out of his way to pull those cute groans from you, the ones that sound like he's seconds away from watching you pop from sheer embarrassment.

"pretty skirt, baby." he'd compliment, and just as your face lights up and you're about to thank him, he swoops in with the blunder. "d' look nicer hiked up your ass while i fuck you from behind."

he always had to try his best not to laugh at the way your eyes got glassy and your face all hot, you were just too easy to tease! he always apologised, though. weather that was with a hug or some action behind his claims was fully dependent on his mood.

mean!fratboy!toji had become a master at reading you. each of your faces meant a different thing, and with your shyness came the ability to determine what each of them meant due to your, sometimes, lack of conversational skills. when you'd go mute after he'd questioned you too long and hard about a difficult topic, he could clock the look that meant, hey, i've had enough. and if you keep going i'll literally cry. and he'd drop it immediately, scooping you up in his arms and peppering your face in soft kisses.

"m' sorry, sweetheart." he'd mumble into your neck, holding you tight so you knew you were still loved and cherished.

or when you'd get that sly look in your eye that meant you wanted to be touched, that might have been his favorite. one glance from you and he'd have you pinned down, marking up your neck and stripping off your clothes in mere seconds.

"i like how you always know what i want, toji." you'd pant through it all, and he'd take the praise as a sigh to go faster.

mean!fratboy!toji who too gets embarrassed sometimes. like, for instance, when he arrives to pick you up for a date and you come out of your apartment looking like a literal angel. blood might as well be gushing from his nose. he has to take a deep breath every time, or he's scared he'll get too excited and smother you in love, potentially ruining your pretty makeup.

on that note, mean!fratboy!toji gets insane cuteness aggression from his adorable, shy!girlfriend. one time when you're in your kitchen baking him some homemade protein bars for his workouts, toji walks in and his heart almost stops beating. you've got flour dusted on your cheeks, a cute little apron tied snug around your waist, and your hair thrown into a style you know he adores. he cannot contain himself. he stalks up to you and engulfs you in his mass, lifting you up and twirling you around in his strong arms.

"ahh! toji, put me down!" you giggle, smacking his shoulder lightly as he spins you around, pressing sweet kisses to your torso. he eventually lets up, but when he sets you down on the counter, he's right in front of you peppering wet kisses all over your face. "you're js' so cute, can't help it." he admits, pressing one smiley kiss to your lips before letting you tend to the baked goods.

mean!fratboy!toji who can't stop talking to you at the frat, his friends are concerned the real toji up and died and this was his shitty doppelganger replacement. he'd get drunk after game day on thursday nights and just rant on and on about how much he missed you, how sweet you were, how no girl could ever compare, real simp shit.

"y' don't get it, kuna... she's the greatest fuckin' thing since avatar came out." he'd sigh, his head a little dazed but still fully focused on his pretty girl. "yeah, i know. fuckin' talk about her every day, it's gay." the tatted man reiterates. "how's it gay to like a chick, fucking idiot."

they were both sloshed, but the fact remained, even inebriated you were all that was on the big goof's mind.

mean!fratboy!toji who reeeeally shows off at his basketball games when you're there, wearing his jersey. the thing swallowed you whole, but that makes it all the more adorable. he'd constantly risk shooting three pointers much to nanami's dismay, but they always went in, so no harm no foul. it was all worth it to watch your eyes light up on the side lines while waved your flag in excitement, it made his heart feel full.

mean!fratboy!toji was still mean. and perhaps, even worse, he was possessively mean. whenever there was a party and you decided to come out of your sanctuary and tag along, the amount of men that would gawk at you really got him going. he loved and hated how attractive you were.

"the fuck d' you think you're staring at?" he'd snap at the particularly shameless ones, sizing them up and throwing them the dirtiest look imaginable.

they'd get the message eventually, because after a few too many punch ups with the guys who got handsy after he'd left you alone for a few minutes, the notion set in. you were toji's, and he'd sooner kill a man before letting anyone get a piece of you.

mean!fratboy!toji was definitely still mean, just not to you.

A/N: this was therapeutic but a little bit all over the place but like it's also 2 in the morning so like yeah

[satorus-princess]

“isn’t it crazy that we were once strangers and now we’re cuddling in bed, with each other’s rings on our fingers?”

you exhale, heavy, tired. “go to sleep, satoru,” you mumble, burying your face into his chest. and he automatically moves his hand to thread his fingers through your hair.

“like, we had our own lives, had no idea who we’d end up with or where we’d end up,” he continues, awe laced into his voice. “and one day, bam! every second of my day was suddenly consumed by you or thoughts of you. or dreams about you.”

satoru’s mind is way too busy for 2 a.m.

“if you don’t let me sleep, you won’t live to see another day.”

“ohhh, so that was your plan all along, huh? seduce me, make me fall in love, then kill me in my sleep?” he says, theatrically woeful and pained. “after all i’ve done for you. am i still just a stranger to you?”

you can’t help but snort, a quiet sound muffled by his chest. “why would i wait four years to kill you? i probably could’ve done it after one year. you were already whipped.”

“probably after one month, baby. you’ve always had me whipped, let’s be honest,” he says, completely proud and unabashed. he gently massages your scalp with his fingertips before drifting them back down through your hair. it’s a mindless action, soothing for both you and him. “but you’d never kill me.”

“mm, i don’t know. depends on how much the job is. i could be a multimillionaire.”

he gasps, his hand moving down to tickle your side. “you traitor. besides, you’re already a millionaire, silly. you have me. everything i own is yours.”

you squirm, letting out a giggle when he tickles you and he does it again just to hear that sweet sound. and also just to be a little bit of a menace. you try to wiggle away but he uses his other arm to keep you tethered to him.

“okay, okay, i’m sorry,” you laugh breathlessly, trying to swat his hand away. “just stop tickling me.”

“you’re so lucky you’re cute,” he huffs, leaning down to nip at your nose playfully. he’s pouting a little, staring down at you as you catch your breath, and his expression softens. it’s one of his favourite views - your faint smile, the sparkle in your eyes, your flushed cheeks.

he groans, defeated, forehead falling to press against yours.

he could never stay upset, or even faux-upset, around you.

“what?” you ask softly, curious about his sudden groan. you feel his hand at your side squeeze. not teasing. more like he's holding himself back from something.

“i’m so in love with you, it’s insane,” he murmurs, almost sounding pained, like his heart physically hurts. “i'd let you kill me, y'know. let you torture me, drag it out, whatever the hell you want.”

you giggle, your nose brushing against his. his smile ghosts your lips.

“you’re insane.”

“incredibly, for you.”

you hum, thoughtful, closing your eyes. feeling his breath on your face, warm, alive.

“it is pretty crazy. that we were once strangers and now you'd let me kill you for money.”

he breathes out a chuckle, lips brushing yours but never fully kissing. he's soaking up your touch, your closeness. satoru never seems to understand personal space. not that you'd ever mind.

“anything to make you happy, princess.” he begins to draw circles on your side with his thumb. small, light circles.

and you reach up, placing your palm on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart under your touch and the way it begins to quicken.

“this makes me happy. knowing it’s beating for me.”

he pauses, breath catching in his throat and fingers halting in their circles for a brief moment before he brushes it off casually, “… you love me sooo much.”

if your eyes were open, you’d roll them. you know that he's deflecting. that he's masking the vulnerability with humour. and that he knows you know. no one knows him better than you do, after all.

“says you, mr i’d let you kill me,” you tease, though your index finger traces an ‘i love you’ on his chest, right above his heart.

he grins, dimples adorning his cheeks. he draws hearts on your side over and over again. engraving his love into you, wishing to carve himself into your soul.

“and i stand by those words.”

“well, if you keep me up too late, your wish will be granted.”

"well, then... i was also thinking about how crazy it is that male seahorses can get pregnant. like, sign me up heh."

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