tags (?): ryuusui/reader, hate sex, fingerfucking, oral sex (both receiving), p in v (they do NOT wrap it before they tap it), afab reader but no pronouns used, this takes place in a literal empty classroom, lowcaps
wc: ~5.1k
a/n: this is author's first smut ever, first ryuusui fic ever, and second fic to reach above 5k. guys i'm scared. thank u to uh sai, p1erce and meo(?) for reading this before i posted it i'm dying. and YES that is a will wood lyric title
you hate nanami ryuusui.
you hate his golden hair, his brown eyes, and that arrogant fucking grin on his face.
you hate that little fingersnap he does, that little "ha-ha!" each time.
you hate him. period.
so why are you doing this?
ryuusui's lips slid against yours easily, softly, perfectly, like this wasn't spontaneous and it was threaded into the very plan of the universe itself.
his hands, once on your shoulders, slide down to your waist. it almost irritates you how well he fits against you like this, but you're a little preoccupied with the tongue down your throat to think about it.
(you're a little distracted, too, by the way the sunset through the classroom window paints his golden hair and pretty brown eyes. how could you keep hating him like this?)
you're still gripping the edge of the teacher's desk like your life depends on it when he pulls away, a little dazed. pretty, pretty, pretty, your mind repeats, seeing his kiss-bitten lips and the flush on his cheeks. god..
you were almost too busy staring at the face of your once sworn rival, how the light frames it just right and his hair is a little messy from the hold you had on it a few seconds ago, and— fuck, keep it together, y/n!! you still fucking hate him. 'once sworn???' hell no. you still hate him. hate him even when he lowers down to his knees with that infuriating smirk on his face. hate him even if you let him spread your legs a little wider, hate him even if those hands on your waist are wandering lower and lower and you're just letting him—
the cloth of your skirt is bunching up at your waist. your hand makes its way into those golden locks again, pulling just the slightest when he nibbles at your inner thigh. you hear him whine a little, and it makes you wonder how much of a masochist he must be to like that. you tug again, and the noise he makes is almost.. cute.
cute, until one of his hands makes its way between your thighs. cute, until that hand slides the gusset of your underwear to the side and you can feel how much slick has gathered there. cute, until the palm of that hand starts grinding against your clit and fuck, where did he learn to be so good at this?
you bite down hard on your lip, trying to keep your noises to a minimum because god forbid nanami ryuusui gets an ego boost from knowing how well he's doing his job.
..it's a little difficult when he's doing that, though. the way his fingers are tapping at your clit now, touch featherlight like he's teasing you on purpose, or the way they slide through your slit, almost poking in. almost.
it's like he wants you to beg for a chance to cum. well, he's not getting what he wants. not at all.
even if he looks up at you with those chocolate eyes and that smug little smirk and he pushes a little harder. even if you can feel the puddle of slick gathering between your thighs and the absolute mess it's making on the teacher's desk. even if it feels so good, like you're about to ride cloud nine, but it's not enough, goddammit, please—
you don't realize you said that last bit out loud until you hear ryuusui laugh, and shit, you hate that laugh, you've hated it for a year, but it was followed by him sliding his fingers through your slit and finally, finally you're not clenching around nothing anymore. fuck, it feels so good, too, almost enough to make you forget you hated this guy.
that thought gets banished when he crooks his fingers and they reach that fucking spot, and shit, shit—
you can't help but let out a moan at that, and from the way he's looking at you you know ryuusui saw that. you'd be mad at how much more satisfied he looks if not for the fact he does it again, along with his palm still grinding on your clit. you wonder vaguely if all your mutual hatred for each other had malformed into some sort of urge to turn you into a fucked out mess for him, because he was doing a hell of a good job of it.
every time he hits that damn spot, you jolt like an animal caught in a trap. your noises are reaching levels you'd be embarrassed about if you weren't losing your mind right now — little ohs and ahs over and over like a broken record player.
finally, the bastard (can you really even call him that when you're whining so pretty for him?) speaks, still with that cocky voice you definitely, totally, always hate—
"hah! everyone knows we hate each other's guts," he starts, voice smug as ever with the slightest undertone of lust added to it. he crooks his fingers again as he continues, "but when you're like this? so fucking pretty—" you cut him off with a whine, and he laughs. god..
you've never heard him swear as much as he is now, and it's doing wonders to your already fucked up brain. when did you stop thinking of ryuusui as an irritating rich boy classmate and like this?
he grinds the heel of his palm against your clit, and you know that if he does it again you're going to cum. shit, it's like you already did, with the mess of slick coating your inner thighs and soaking the skirt bunched up at your waist.
seems like he knows that too, the little fuck, because ryuusui pulls his fingers out just as you let out a whimper. his fingers are still there, ghosting over your clit, but fuck it, that's not enough.
you muster up just enough of your energy left to beg. you're not sure at what point you let yourself drop this low, but fuck it, you need to cum so bad.
"why'd you— hnn! why'd you pull them out.. please, you bastard, let me cum—!"
you sound like a brat right now, demanding it from him, but fuck it. to you, that's what he sounded like every day of your life — "i desire this, i desire that!" — and he always got what he wanted. always. so it was his turn to give you something now, right?
luckily for you, your helpless whining was exactly what he wanted from you.
still with that maddeningly smug little grin, ryuusui slips his fingers through your slick again, gathering as much as he can, before bringing his fingers to his lips and sucking.
the show he makes of licking your juices off his fingers is a little too much for your fried brain to comprehend. one second, he's murmuring something about the way you taste ("much sweeter than the foul words that usually come out of your mouth," or something like that) and then the next, it's not his fingers between your legs anymore, it's his head.
you tug hard at his hair as he eats you out, and you wish for a moment he wasn't nearly as good at this as he is. you don't know how the fuck nanami ryuusui learned to do this shit so well, but his tongue on your clit was something you did not want to stop at the moment.
you're sure he can tell that, too, from the fucking noise. god, you're lucky it's way past dismissal time, if people were still in the hallways you'd both get caught. the way he groans into your pussy, or the whine that claws its way up your throat right after — there's no way you wouldn't get suspended for this if someone were here.
good thing they aren't, then.
"f-fucking playboy, oh shit, that's— nngh!"
every time you try to speak, try and insult his stupidly good skills and stupidly good looks and stupid everything, you cut yourself off with your own moans, and god if ryuusui isn't pleased about it. you can feel him grinning into your wet heat, before he dives back in with twice as much vigor.
"playboy, huh? i'll take it, as long as i can get a taste of this sweet cunt."
it's infuriating, how the tone of his voice is almost perfectly calm and yet you're already an overstimulated mess. you hate it. hate everything about him.
you hate, most of all, how hard nanami ryuusui is to hate when he's doing this to you.
you tug hard at his hair as a 'fuck you,' since you can't muster up the words right now, and the whine you get from him is almost enough to satisfy your need for revenge. almost.
"hate you," you whine, even if your whole body trembles at his touch and your cheeks are more flushed than ever. "hate you— fuck, hate you so much, hah!"
you hate him even if he laughs, even if you're spreading your legs wider for him, even if the way his tongue laves over your clit and his fingers curl into your g-spot is going to make you cum hard.
speaking of that, actually—
his head is buried between your thighs now, licking and sucking at you like a man starved. the pool of drool and slick between your thighs is getting larger and larger.
"mngh, n—ah!—nami, you fuck!" your grip on his hair is even stronger now, as you feel his little whines grow louder. he really likes your taste, and your hands in his hair apparently. greedy fucking masochist.
"you taste like the divine," he murmurs softly, softer than he's ever spoken to you before. looking down at his place, kneeling before you and head between your thighs, you'd think he was a devoted worshipper taking care of his god.
(actually, who says he isn't the god? now that you're drunk off pleasure and losing your mind, you can admit ryuusui is pretty. prettier than anyone else in your class, hell, the whole school, even if you argue with each other endlessly. for goodness' sake, you would have liked him to fuck you a long time ago if it wasn't for his damn playboy personality.)
"shut up, you f-uh— freak, we're literally in a classroom!"
"says the one enjoying it," he retorts, and he sucks on your clit harder just to spite you. the little 'oh, fuck!' you let out makes him grin.
in your haze of pleasure, you can tell you're going to cum soon, and maybe ryuusui can too, because all of a sudden he speeds up his work, and it breaks you.
"fuck! nanami you fffucking— please, nnh, please please make me cum, god—"
your grip on the edge of the teacher's desk is tight enough it feels like you're going to shatter it, and you're tugging at ryuusui's hair harder than ever. you can hear his little noises even through the haze, and they're only turning you on more.
"mmnh— shit, please, i'm so c-close, r-ryuusui—!"
something about the fact you said his first name instead of his last makes the last of ryuusui's restraint fucking snap.
he's never liked you. ever since you bitched about him being such an "arrogant rich kid who wanted too much," and ever since you kept looking at him with that damned glare of yours.
he had to chase you. run and run and keep being so annoying that you couldn't help but pay attention to him.
brat. honestly, the both of you are. arguing and bickering and always turning every little assignment into a competition.
it just makes him want to fuck your brains out more, though.
so when he has you whining so prettily for him, while he's on his knees, head between your thighs?
god, he's going to take advantage of that.
he can see the tears gathering in your eyes and just how flushed your face is, and he wonders why he didn't do this sooner. after all, ryuusui takes what he wants, when he wants it.
and right now? he really, really fucking wants you.
he thrusts his fingers into your sopping wet cunt again, slamming them into your g-spot just to hear you squeal. the taste of your slick on his tongue is making him lightheaded with how good it tastes — fuck, does ryuusui even still hate you anymore?
he chances a look at your face again, tears flowing down your cheeks and the most sinful moans slipping out of your lips, and he can't bring himself to say yes to the damn question.
instead, he uses his mouth for better purposes — like sucking at your clit until you're begging him to stop.
your pleading earns you one last hard touch to your g-spot and a nibble on your clit to help you over the edge, and you scream.
"fuck," ryuusui mumbles, staring up at you from his place between your legs. you look unfathomably beautiful like this, with the last remaining bits of sunlight on you, uniform crumpled and messed up and pussy clenching around his fingers.
and damn, he wants more of that. preferably right now.
he dives back in with renewed vigor, licking up your juices and getting mesmerized at how your cunt just keeps sucking his fingers back in with every thrust. you're whining, fucked out from the overstimulation, but your body still wanted more.
and ryuusui would be damned for lying if he said he didn't want to give it to you.
"mngh—!? r-ryu—" you cut yourself off with a yelp, tugging at his hair again as the pleasure washes over you.
it's too much.
and ryuusui isn't fucking stopping. at all.
he's still eating you out with the energy of a man on his final meal, and those damn fingers wouldn't miss your g-spot for the world.
your mouth stays wide open now, your moans and whines clawing their way up your throat and out. "ah, ah, ah, a-ah— ah! please—"
ryuusui bites back a groan at that. instead, he replaces his tongue on your clit with the heel of his palm again, grinding against it, so he can taunt you.
"please what? god," he mutters, looking at the pool of slick you've made, "if i keep going, you're going to squirt, aren't you? all over my fingers?"
too out of it to understand his words, you nod mindlessly, whining. "yes, yes, unh, s'too much, fuck, ryu— too much—!"
with one last motion against your clit, he does end up making you squirt, leaving you spilling all over his fingers and tongue.
ryuusui can only watch, mesmerized, fingers still loosely thrusting in and out of your cunt as you whine.
and of course, as greedy as he is, as insatiable as he is, he wants another taste.
he licks up some of your squirt and moans, loud enough you can hear him through your sobbing gasps.
god. god.
when he finally pulls out his fingers, you let out a soft whimper. eyes half-lidded, you see ryuusui rising from his place between your legs to kiss you again. your hand in his hair moves down to the nape of his neck, still pulling at those golden locks.
you really can't say you hate him anymore. not at all. not when you whimper into the kiss like that.
you don't know what part of your brain makes you think this — probably the most impulsive bit of it — but you want to return the favor.
god. the image of nanami ryuusui, whining pathetically and face flushed as you ruin him slips into your head, and you love it.
"your turn," you murmur, and even if your whole body is still trembling you know exactly what you want to do.
you slide your legs off the teacher's desk, pulling yourself off it until you're the one on your knees, between ryuusui's legs. he seems surprised at the turn of events, and.. damn, is he blushing?
cute.
"wait, what are you—"
his words are interrupted by the sound of you unbuttoning his pants. ryuusui's breath hitches, and he's still looking at you like this was unexpected.
honestly, it wasn't. what was so wrong with you wanting a taste of him, too?
now that he's the one pressed against the teacher's desk, you pull down his pants, and his underwear too, for that matter, and take his hard cock in your hand.
the noise he gasps out makes you grin. just to test the waters, you lick a stripe up the underside of it, and you hear him whine.
shit, that was hot.
"didn't know you would taste this good," you comment, and just before he can grit out a retort you roughly take his tip into your mouth, and whatever ryuusui was going to say comes out as a choked moan.
"shut up," he mutters, and for his insolence you suck a little harder, and the whimper that follows his words satisfies you well enough. maybe.
you come off the tip with a little pop, switching to lick at the base instead. regardless of where you do, though, the little noises he's making are constant. you find that for once you like that.
you try your best to swallow down all of him — you keep going til the tip hits the back of your throat, and the moan he lets out when you do that is fucking sinful.
you swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock a little, bobbing your head up and down like you think you should. you want— no, need to see what ryuusui looks like when he's fucked out.
speaking of him—
ryuusui didn't actually think you would do this, let alone voluntarily. your lips were so pretty wrapped around his cock, and shit, it felt so fucking good.
the way you were looking up at him like you needed to do this, sucking him off after letting him make you squirt in an empty classroom?
it turned him on more than he was willing to admit.
his hands slip into your hair, a little roughly, and they tug. he almost thinks you don't notice, until you suck a little harder and he chokes on a gasp.
your pace quickens, and ffffuuuck, ryuusui likes that. he doesn't know how you're good at this, but he can barely form coherent thoughts anymore, let alone words. the only things coming out of his mouth are soft moans mixed with "please—"
"please what?" you come off his cock again for a moment, replacing your mouth with your fingers to respond. it's a bit petty, throwing his own words back at him, but the long, drawn out whine it gets out of ryuusui is so fucking cute it should be a crime.
with your fingers, you slow down the pace a little, to tease the damn brat. he was already saying please, it shouldn't be too difficult to make him beg, right?
the way he looks almost makes you want to take mercy on him. the remaining light of the sunset through the window is fading slowly, but it still compliments his golden hair, and the flush on his cheeks makes you want to ruin him more.
you keep taking it slow, anyway, pumping his cock at a leisurely pace. you won't tell him outright to beg, no, it'd be much more fun to watch him do it of his own accord—
"please," ryuusui breathes out, panting, "please, i want— need more, hng—"
fuuuuck.
you're kind enough to oblige that sweet little request, sliding your fingers up his cock a little faster. just a little, to keep him on edge.
his hips rock forward softly, trying desperately to chase the pleasure you're withholding from him. he gasps out another "please," and you know what he wants. you sigh, muttering "spoiled brat," and do it anyway.
you take the tip back into your mouth, your fingers at the base. when the tip hits the back of your throat, your eyes flutter shut. god, you could stay like this forever. you weren't lying when you said he tasted good, and the helpless whines he's making are music to your ears.
"s'good," he murmurs, already dazed, high on pleasure and losing his mind. you think you prefer ryuusui like this — one hand on the desk to keep him balanced, the other tugging uselessly at your hair while you suck him off.
"fuck," he whines, hands tangling further in your hair. you curl your fingers around the base where you couldn't reach, and he lets out a groan.
your voice is muffled around him, but you manage to get out a few words still. "want to taste you," you breathed out, tightening your fingers a little. as he gasps, you continue, "wanna take you deep, mmh.."
"don't talk like t-th—ah!—at," he stammers, his hands in your hair turning into fists. the pull doesn't bother you at all — just tells you you're doing a good job.
that in mind, you swallow around his cock again, and you can already taste a few drops of pre-cum on your tongue as you do so. fuck, even that part of him tasted so fucking good.
you can feel the way he's trembling in your hold, and the way his little "ah ah ah—!"s are getting louder. he thrusts his hips a little harder subconsciously, and you can tell he's going to cum any moment now.
you double your efforts, taking more of him down your throat as he chokes on a moan. you quicken the pace your fingers have been moving at again, and you swirl your tongue around the tip one last time before ryuusui breaks.
"fuck—!" his hand grasps at your hair almost painfully as he cums, holding on like you're a lifeline. you do your best to swallow everything down, taking his cock to the hilt. a few spurts of white still leak out of your lips, spilling over onto the classroom floor.
ryuusui is left panting, balanced between his grip on the teacher's desk and you.
he looks pretty like this, you think as you pop off his cock, licking your lips for the last few bits of cum.
you can tell he's staring at you as you do so, and just to spite him, you don a smug little smirk surprisingly similar to his own.
"..y'know, you're not half bad at this," he mutters, looking almost bashful, averting his gaze. the red flush on his cheeks isn't helping his look, either, and you giggle a little.
when ryuusui looks back at you, with that satisfied grin on your face and licking his cum off your fingers, he finds it extremely fucking difficult to imagine ever hating you again.
you weren't exactly the kind of picture-perfect image they wrote about in classic literature, considering the situation — however, ryuusui doesn't give a shit about that.
kneeling down at your level, he kisses you again, only softer this time. he feels your hands come back up to their place in his hair, and his hands make their way to your waist again.
thank fuck this all happened when no one was in the damn school building.
you separate for only a moment, gasping for breath, before you dive back in like you're starving for his lips. he obliges you, deepening the kiss, before parting again, both of you panting heavily.
you'd crawled onto his lap, now, nuzzling your face into the crook of ryuusui's neck before biting softly, delighting in the whine it earned you.
his fingers slip back under your skirt, and you shiver in his hold. "enough prep already," you hiss, but you whimper when the pads of his fingers rub at your clit anyway.
well. this was going to be a loooong stay in that empty classroom, then.
you grind your hips down on him, just to hear that little noise he'll make. your slit catches on the tip of his cock as he gasps, still sensitive.
you tangle a hand through his hair and tug a little to get his attention. "oi— shit, nana—ryuusui, do you have a condom on you?"
"no," he answers, but the lopsided grin on his face tells you he's just fine with that information.
"fuck you mean no?" you're about to pull yourself off already, hopefully able to pretend this never happened, but his hands, still on your waist, keep you there. what the hell?
honestly, you're much more horny than terrified right now, but still.
"let me off," you mutter, yet there's little conviction in your words. "we can't do it raw, dumbass, there's always—"
"a risk?" ryuusui clicks his tongue, and his hand on your waist starts slipping lower.
"just a guess, but you're on the pill, right? am i wrong?"
"..yeah," you admit, averting your gaze. how he guessed that you have no fucking clue ('sailor's instincts' or whatever), but he is right.
his fingers are tracing circles on your inner thigh now, and his grin only gets wider. ryuusui leans in closer, until his lips are right next to your ear.
"mm.. well, if it comes down to it, i'm not one for avoiding responsibility," he whispers, and you pray to god he doesn't feel the way you shuddered at that. his tone is satisfied, like he's daring you to say no.
"but still— mmh!" before you can properly try and reason with him, he bites at the base of your neck, and you yelp. those fingers of his are sliding closer to where you want them, too, and ssshiiittt..
you nod once, twice into the crook of his neck, one small "yes, please," leaving your lips before you let him lower you down onto his cock.
when he bottoms out, you jolt, your hand in his hair tightening its hold as he groans. "fuck, you're tight," he bites out, thrusting up into you once to hear you mewl.
the stretch stings a little, but it's the kind of pain that makes you whine in the best way possible.
you could definitely get over all your hate for the guy like this.
you can feel your slick gathering where your bodies meet, each slide accompanied by a wet shlick noise that made you very glad you could keep your face hidden in ryuusui's neck.
your noises are muffled by that too, but clearly the greedy ass man under you isn't happy with that. "let me hear you," he demands, fingers returning to their spot at your clit. he delights in the moan it steals from you, as his other hand keeps you steady on his lap.
when another thrust into your cunt hits your g-spot just right, you cry out, whining as ryuusui does it again. "hnngg— harder," you breathe out, hand tugging harder at his golden locks.
"what's the— ah — magic word?"
you're very suddenly reminded of why you hated him and his stupidly arrogant behavior, and yet you can't bring yourself to deny him his teasing.
"please," you say, biting back a moan and a sharp retort as you do so. you feel him adjust his hold on your waist, lifting you up a little. you're about to complain over the loss of feeling before he slams you back down, gently yet hard, just like you wanted.
you yelp, your other hand sliding up his back to grip his shoulder. you can already feel tears of pleasure pricking at your eyes. fuck.
each thrust into your wet heat leaves you breathless, whining as ryuusui groans.
"shit," he chokes out when he slams you back down again, panting heavily. "do you have any idea how fucking hot you are like this—"
"shut up," you retort, even if you're still gasping for breath at his actions. "shut the hell up and fuck me—"
"mmngh, fffuuck!" he bites his lip, and out of desperation or pure instinct he thrusts his hips up into yours at the same time you shift down, and you scream.
"hnghh—! again, ryuusui, please, ah—"
your pussy clenches around his cock and he whines, doing as asked, over and over and over until you're both trembling.
the fingers on your clit press a little harder, and you squeal, the tears in your eyes spilling over down your cheeks.
you grind your hips down to get him a little deeper, and you can hear ryuusui sob at that.
you feel, too, from the franticness of his movements to the way he whines that he's close, still sensitive from earlier.
"don't you dare fucking cum yet, you idiot— haah!" tugging at his hair to emphasize your point, he mewls, only bucking his hips up more. "m'so close, please," he cries. "wanna make you cum, wanna— fuck, want to see you cry f'me—"
he makes good on his wishes, hips slamming into yours as you whimper. each thrust makes your slick slip down your thighs onto his, the slide easy with the sheer amount of it.
your brain is turning to mush, mind reduced to 'please' and 'faster' and gasping out ryuusui's name like a lifeline. he hits your g-spot every time he slams your hips together, and you moan like you're in paradise. "ah, ah, ah, uh, ah, unghh—!"
you do end up crying for him, your tears staining the collar of his undershirt as you bury your face in his neck. "fuck," you whimper, sensitivity at its peak, "fuck—!"
you cum around his cock, your juices pooling under you as you whine, hands still holding onto ryuusui tight.
"ssshit, that was— mmh!" he cuts himself off with a groan as he feels your pussy tightening around him. chasing his own release, he grinds up into your sopping wet cunt. you cry out at the overstimulation, but he pays little thought to it, lost in a haze of pleasure.
"please, please, m'gonna— fffuuuckk!"
ryuusui cums, filling your cunt as you whine. he stills, biting at your neck again to keep himself grounded.
when he looks down at the place where your bodies are connected, he notices a ring of slick and cum around the base of his cock where it had leaked out of your pussy.
fucking hot, he thinks, still a little dazed. you're still trembling on him, face flushed and tear tracks on your cheeks.
you lean in again and crash your lips onto his in a kiss, whining into his mouth when he kisses back.
— ◂ ◂ ✧ ▸ ▸ —
later, when you come home with his number and clothes that desperately need a wash, you're still wondering how the fuck that all happened.
more a/n: yeah i wrote this. in 3 days. because i imagined this but with oc x cc and not /reader oops. i hope to cook up more maybe, idk,, weeps. i hope you liked it uh uhhh please comment/reblog if you did
I got carried away again... this was supposed to be a stupid dumb drabble based on @yummyrevivalfluid 's YouTuber Senku post. but then I couldn't stop, and then I wanted to get some of my other senku ideas out of the way, and then it just spiraled into this long, semi-serious fic.... so yeah, enjoy!
cws: slow burn, strangers to partners to lovers, friends to lovers, mutual pining, nerds in love, social media stuff, reader is a flirt, eventual relationship, senku is lowk OOC, he's also down bad (#needthat), kinda cringe ngl...
nsfw cws: first times, emotional sex, switch dynamics, fingering, handjob, wrap it before you tap it (they do not...), hair pulling (giving), very implied voice kink,pillow talk, lmk if I missed anything major!
12.5k words
When you first stumbled across Mecha Senku, it was because your college chemistry professor couldn’t explain ionic bonding properly even if their life depended on it. And honestly? That would’ve been fine. You weren’t failing or falling behind on anything. You were the kind of person who took the time to color-code your notes. With pretty pastel highlighters and calligraphy titles like your professor wasn't speaking at 60mph.
You visibly got annoyed when someone asked a question that had already been answered. Five minutes ago. Word for word. And you weren’t subtle about it either. The eye twitches. The sigh. In fact, you studied chapters ahead for fun! Call it being a try-hard, but it was just how you functioned. So when something didn’t click? When you didn’t understand something?
You spiraled. Productively, of course.
So here you are. 1:34AM. Snuggled up in your bed, lights off, blackout curtains drawn, and laptop open at full brightness as you scrolled YouTube, bleary-eyed and annoyed. The only light in the room is the faint blue glow of YouTube’s homepage and your will to academically succeed (read: suffer).
You typed “bond angles” into the search bar. Hit enter, and scrolled. Then a thumbnail caught your eye.
“Predicting Bond Angles – (VSEPR Theory but not boring)” Channel: Mecha Senku Runtime: 5:28
And then you heard it.
That voice. you practically drooled at your screen. It was soft and deep, yet raspy, like he talked too much—which he did—or didn’t care if he wore out his throat explaining the same concept fifteen times. And when he rambled? Oh god. When he got caught up on a tangent about orbital hybridization—when his voice cracked just slightly because his brain was going faster than his mouth?
Yeah, you were soaked.
Kidding.
...Maybe.
You pulled your blanket tighter around your shoulders like that would protect you. Like you weren’t voluntarily listening to this man monologue about VSEPR models like it was foreplay.
You tried to focus on the science. Really, you did. He even had good diagrams—clean visuals, clear examples, actual accuracy. It was kind of annoying how helpful it was, actually. Like, did he have to sound hot while also being smart?
You watched the entire thing.
Then another.
Then another.
Before you knew it, you were five videos deep. At 2:11AM.
Your poor, old, worn-down laptop was probably overheating from the sheer amount of your spiraling. You didn’t even care.
And then… there was that video.
A short one. Barely three minutes.
“Iodine Clock Reaction – Visual Chemistry in Real Time”
You clicked on it like you were possessed.
It was simple—two clear liquids, a few drops of starch, and a timer. You knew the experiment already. You’d seen it done a dozen times in lab. You’d even done it yourself. But somehow, when he did it, it was a cinematic masterpiece.
The camera was angled just right—focused tight on his gloved hands, the faint clink of glass, the gentle pour of the liquid. His voice low, casual, like he was walking you through a magic trick instead of an actual chemical reaction.
And then—the clamps.
He adjusted the glassware with the same energy you imagined he’d use to unbutton his lab coat (which you have no idea why your thoughts immediately ran there)—methodical, focused, and totally unaware of the damage he was doing to your sanity. Forearms flexing, veins shifting, wrist angled just slightly—You blinked. Rewound ten seconds. Then watched it again.
Something dark and sinister bloomed in your chest. Something carnal. Unholy. You buried half your face in your pillow and made a sound that can only be described as a blowdryer on max output immediately followed by a deep, guttural moan. Like your soul was trying to evacuate your body in protest—but got stuck halfway out, sobbing.
You didn’t even know you had a thing for forearms.
Yet here you are. You were a mess. A high-functioning, academically driven, chemically confused mess, replaying a three-minute video about reaction rates like it was an award winning movie. Like it wasn’t educational.
“This is fine. I’m still learning.” You whispered to yourself
You weren’t.
At least, not about chemistry.
Extra notes about mecha senku!
Certified yapper; it gets so bad he just add timestamps to when he gets back on topic
Always says that stupid little catchphrase— “this is exhilarating, get excited” he can’t help himself, its like second nature
While editing his experiment videos, he add little text boxes that say “*item* acquired” ( like in the anime)
That comes in handy later
⋆.⌬ ˚𒉭 ⋆
At first, it was a side project. Something to kill time between lectures, experiments, and tutoring sessions with students who couldn’t tell a mole from a molecule if their GPA depended on it. He kept the uploads short. Clean. No face, no fluff. Just experiments and explanations—combustion, osmosis, acid-base reactions. The basic building blocks of chemistry and physics, broken down in that signature tone of his: concise, confident, and just slightly condescending.
Naturally, people loved it.
Especially college students. Especially the ones who’d seen too many dead-eyed professors stumble through half-baked PowerPoints that they repurposed over the past 5 decades and somehow still made them boring.
He didn’t need gimmicks. Just science.
And, apparently, his voice.
The comments were... something. He ignored them, mostly. Or at least, tried to.
But even he had limits.
@lo1itado11: FLASH US!!!
@freakwy: ong WE all cracking
Username: i will combust and it won’t be a controlled reaction.
Anotherusername: i can literally get off to his voice rn bro omg…
He sighed, deeply. Then dragged a hand through his loosely tied-up hair, fingers threading through strands that refused to stay neat. He didn’t even bother hiding the twitch in his left eye.
Degenerates. All of them.
Still, every new upload got thousands of views in under an hour. Every deep dive request was more unhinged than the last. And while he could ignore the thirst comments, he couldn’t deny the numbers.
His channel was growing. Fast. And if someone asked him to demonstrate a specific experiment?
Well.
He was a scientist.
And who was he to deny a request in the name of scientific curiosity?
⋆.⌬ ˚𒉭 ⋆
Now, Senku wasn’t exactly an avid social media user.
Sure, he had all the apps downloaded—after relentless badgering from Gen and Ryusui, who had both made it their mission to pressure him into being “normal” for once.
Senku used Instagram occasionally, mostly to lurk. To like Taiju’s blurry gym selfies. To comment “inaccurate” under Chrome’s chaotic science photo dumps—half of which somehow included a blurry photo of him.
Nothing on his own feed, though. His personal account was private, untouched, maxed out at like 26 followers—half of which were probably bots, and one was definitely just Ryusui’s alt.
However, he was used to getting notifications on his side account. His real one. The one that mattered.
@/mecha.senku.
So when he got a ping from TikTok, he didn’t think much of it. Just a red-and-white flash in the corner of his screen as he walked past a group of undergrads in the quad, huddled around a phone, laughing. Loudly.
Then it happened again. Another ping. Then another.
People tagging him in the same comment section. Spamming him.
Weird.
It wasn’t until after his lecture, holed up in the farthest corner of the campus library, headphones in, laptop open, coffee cooling rapidly at his elbow, half-forgotten.
The notification trail led to a single video.
At first glance, it was just a cake.
A badly decorated one at that—a war crime in the form of buttercream—uneven icing, no symmetry, and piped text that looked like it was written mid-seizure. He could’ve done better blindfolded. He was about to swipe away.
Until he saw the video thumbnail again.
He squinted. Froze. Looked closer.
It was you.
Holding a handful of what looked like paper-taped sticks. Your fingers curled delicately around them, like you’d spent time choosing each one. The video hadn’t even started yet and it was already climbing in views, the likes ticking like a metronome. The top comment had nearly eighty thousand likes.
@/semioli: “I KNEW YOU’D PUT HIM FIRST OMFG”
Senku blinked. Then, almost reluctantly, pressed play.
“Okay, so this is my ‘Hear Me Out’ cake,” you said with a breathless little laugh, voice rich with amusement and just the right touch of self-deprecation. “Please don’t judge…”
You laughed nervously at the camera, your voice familiar in the way ambient noise becomes addictive. He knew you—kind of. You were popular, at least on campus. Friendly with everyone. Smart. You asked questions in class that weren’t dumb, which was rare. People actually listened when you talked.
But he never—not once—imagined you listened to him.
Until the moment your fingers—painted nails and all—planted the first stick dead center into the cake. His channel logo. Bright. Unmistakable. Front and center.
Senku sat still. Very still. His breath caught somewhere in the back of his throat.
“I don’t know what it is about him,” you went on, eyes wide and glittering like you couldn’t believe what you were admitting, “but I feel a carnal type of desire whenever I hear his voice.”
Silence.
Real, gut-wrenching silence.
Senku just stared at the screen. One brow lifted. Lips parted slightly. Blinking. Nothing.
“…What.”
It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard shit like that before. He had. The comments under his videos were riddled with deranged confessionals and late-night voice-induced breakdowns. He’d seen them. Sighed at them. Maybe rolled his eyes on occasion.
But something about hearing you say that—out loud—while staring directly into the camera, shoving his logo into a cake like it was the most natural thing in the world…Now he’s reading the rest of the comments, most of which you had liked.
“his voice scratches my brain in just the right spot i can’t explain it.”
“if he ever does a face reveal it’s over for all of us.”
“whoever he is irl i hope he’s single bc i’m mentally married to him already.”
“i can’t even watch his videos in public anymore istg.”
A laugh, airy and sharp, passed out through his nose.
It was barely even a sound, just air. His head tilted back slowly against the chair, bones creaking lazily. One hand reached up, dragging through his hair—half-loose from the shitty tie job he’d done earlier. He didn’t even realize he was smirking. Eyes narrowed. Lashes lowered. Something wicked curled across his face, subtle but steeped in ego.
So.
You were into him.
And you didn’t even know that he sat two rows behind you in lecture. That the guy scribbling thermodynamic equations while you twirled your pen and tapped your knee was the same voice that apparently haunted your dreams.
Interesting.
Very, very interesting.
Senku closed the tab. Then reopened it not even ten seconds later, still somehow thinking his sleep deprivation was finally catching up to him. Big mistake.
You were still there—smiling at the camera, laughing like you hadn’t just shoved a stick into a cake bearing his logo and said you felt a “carnal desire” whenever you heard his voice.
He stared at the screen like it personally offended him. It didn’t. Not really. The offense was fake—just a weak cover for something worse, something much more humiliating.
You were attractive. That much had always been obvious.
He had eyes, didn’t he?
He wasn’t blind. He noticed things. Like the way you always had some elaborate doodle in the margins of your notebook that changed depending on your current hyperfixation. Like how you spoke with your hands, too fast sometimes, expressive. Like how your voice always had a bit of a lilt when you were excited about something, like you were trying not to talk over yourself. Like how you liked sitting near the window in lecture, even if it made it harder to see the board.
He noticed everything.
Which was the problem.
Because now he couldn’t stop noticing.
Your face. Your voice. Your laugh.
And the worst part?
You were smart.
Not smart like “gets good grades.” That wasn’t hard. No—smart like engaged. Curious. Your own brand of chaotic genius that showed up in how you argued with professors and picked at theories like they were complex puzzles meant for your hands alone.
You were confident. Passionate. Sharp.
You were…
Fuck.
He sat back in his chair and rubbed his face with both hands, groaning.
He didn’t do this. He didn’t get… distracted. He didn’t get flustered. Romance wasn’t even on the table. It was too messy. Too emotional. Too inefficient. He had research. He had goals. The last thing he needed was—
Another notification.
He glanced over. More tags. More people replying to your video.
More people joking, “@mecha.senku bro SAY SOMETHING!!! WE KNOW YOU SEE THIS.”
He hovered. His cursor blinking over the comment section.
He shouldn’t. There was no reason to. There was no benefit. No scientific purpose. No—He cracked his knuckles once. Took a slow breath. And typed.
@mecha.senku: Just a hear me out huh?
He pressed enter, then shut the laptop.
And immediately regretted everything.
Because within 30 seconds, the comment had over 2 thousand likes. The reply threads birthing entire romance novels in real time.
“OH MY GOD HE COMMENTED OH MY GOD OH MY—”
“HE KNOWS. HE FUCKING KNOWS.
“NAH??? THE MAN HIMSELF??? NO WAY”
“@y/n GIRL U NEED TO WAKE UP RN”
Every five seconds, your phone buzzes.
Buzz.
Buzz.
BuzzBuzzBuzz.
It starts slow—innocent. A like here. A tag there. Then, as if the universe pulled a lever, it turns into an avalanche. Your screen lights up like it’s trying to melt in your hand. TikTok. Twitter. Instagram. Even people from your group project in history are texting you like girl what the actual fuck did you DO?
You’re sitting cross-legged on your bed, charger barely keeping up, blanket wrapped around your shoulders like it can protect you from the moment. Your face is hot. Your jaw is slack. Your soul? Practically nonexistent.
You stare at the screen in disbelief.
Right there, in the comments, bolded like the laws of physics decided to write you a personalized romance book:
@/mecha.senku: just a hear me out huh
You blinked once. Then twice. Rubbed your eyes. Because—no. No way.
There’s absolutely no way that the literal voice of your academic downfall and emotional spiral just casually acknowledged the fact that you want to climb him like a fucking molecular structure.
Your mouth opens. Nothing comes out. You double-tap your phone by accident. Scroll. Scroll again. Scroll back. It's still there. You suck in a breath like it's going to help. It doesn't.
Your room spins a little—not in a dizzy way, more like the fabric of reality is reconfiguring around your phone screen. Like you’ve accidentally made a deal with a god and now the god is texting you back. Casually. In lowercase.
Your body chooses to react the only way it knows how—by laughing. Not normal laughing. That kind of panicked, unhinged, screeching laugh that sounds like it’s being wrung out of you like a wet rag. A noise clawing its way up your throat as you slowly tip sideways, dramatic as hell, into the mattress.
“Wow,” you say out loud to your empty room, chest rising and falling, heart jackhammering somewhere behind your ribs. “No way. This is such a crazy-ass dream…” Your voice cracks at the end. You sound borderline delirious.
But the comment is still there. Pinned by the original creator. Which is you.
You just close your eyes. Face-down into your pillow.
Your dignity? Gone.
Your supposed crush? Apparently omniscient.
Your life? Ruined. Maybe. Probably.
But your phone’s still vibrating under your thigh like it’s trying to combust.
And yeah. You’re never going to be normal about this again.
⋆.⌬ ˚𒉭 ⋆
It’s a few days later when you finally have biochem again.
Your professor had sent out an email at the end of last class—something about paying attention to the partner list for the next lab. You hadn’t even looked. Too busy hyperventilating over the Mecha Senku situation. Too busy swiping through your phone at 1 a.m., rereading that comment like it might suddenly disappear, or—worse—turn into something more incriminating.
You didn’t sleep much. Or at all. You just kinda laid there, vibrating at a frequency only dogs could decipher, while mentally reviewing every second of that video and every stupid thing you’d ever said about his voice.
So when your professor calls out your name and tells you to head to the back bench to meet your assigned partner, you’re still in a daze. You adjust your lab coat, swipe lip balm on with hands that are definitely not still shaking, and make your way to the station with the dull dread of someone walking to their own execution.
And then you see him.
Senku Ishigami.
Hair pulled into that slightly messy half-up style he always wears. Safety goggles already on, sleeves rolled up, already gloved. He doesn’t look up at first—he’s swabbing the inside of a petri dish with a level of focus you reserve only for exams and existential dissociations. Then he glances at you, just a quick flick of the eyes.
“Hey,” he says, voice low, casual. A little rough around the edges, like he just got over a cold or hadn’t talked to anyone in hours.
Your spine locks. You blink. Hard.
“Hi,” you manage, but it comes out thinner than you mean it to—stretched at the edges, fraying like an old thread. “You’re… my partner?”
He glances at the roster sheet clipped to the bench as if just now confirming something he already knew. “Looks like it.” There’s the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth—barely a smirk, more like a thought trying to become one. “Hope you’re decent with a microscope.”
You nod. Too fast. Too eager. Like your neck forgot how to move naturally. You try to smile like this is fine. Like this is normal. Like this isn’t currently short-circuiting every neuron in your academic-functioning brain.
You’ve never really spoken to Senku Ishigami before. Not really. Maybe a passing nod in the hallway. A blink-and-you-miss-it smile between lecture shifts. A polite “excuse me” when your bags bumped in the lab supply room once. But that was it. That was the whole sum of your direct interactions.
Everything else was observation. Safe distance admiration. Seeing him carry entire study groups with nothing but a half-dry marker and that ever-focused look in his eye. Taking note of how he argued with professors—calm, surgical, relentless—and somehow still walked out of every debate not only correct, but respected.
You admired him from afar. Kinda academically. Kinda not. (mostly not.)
But you’re a girl dedicated to her degree. A girl with goals, with caffeine basically in your bloodstream and deadlines stitched into the fabric of your week. You don’t get distracted. Not by things like this. Not by people like him. Or at least you didn’t. Until now.
Because working with him shouldn’t be this bad. Shouldn’t feel like the center of gravity shifted slightly under your feet, like the air got thinner and thicker all at once.
Except he rolls his sleeves up higher. Forearms peaking out. The lean muscle dusted in faint freckles, veins running like undercurrents
And then—God. The way he adjusts the microscope. Methodical. Controlled. His fingers moving like he’s done this a thousand times and still treats the equipment like it’s breakable—which it is, so you have no idea why him treating it as such is doing something to you—it all starts to blur together in your head.
You blink again. Swallow hard. And then you start to think back.
His voice.
That same voice. The cadence is exact. Steady and sharp with a rasp that scrapes along your spine in the worst/best way. A quiet breathless ramble as he explains the agar base—like the information is too much to simply stay in his head, like he forgets other people are listening. That subtle catch on certain consonants. That dry, low huff of amusement when your glove doesn’t go on right and you curse under your breath.
And then his hands.
Long fingers. Familiar motions. The way he handles the petri dish with practiced ease, adjusts the swabs like he’s composing something. You know those hands. You’ve seen them before. Over and over. In reaction videos. In slow motion clips, 0.25x speed. In the YouTube comments people timestamp for “scientific purposes.”
You freeze.
Fully. Completely paralyzed in real time like someone hit pause on your central nervous system. The classroom noise goes muffled. Muted. The hum of fluorescent lights above you turns sharp and migraine inducing bright. Your pulse is in your mouth now—behind your eyes, in your fingertips.
Because you’re looking at him. Really looking.
And it hits you like a truck doing 90 in a 60.
That’s him.
That’s him.
Your biochem lab partner. Senku Ishigami.
Is Mecha Senku. The, Mecha Senku.
And he knows. Oh, he knows.
He’s not even looking at you right now, but you swear—swear—there’s the faintest curve at the edge of his mouth. A smirk barely there, as he slides a sample onto the tray like he didn’t just casually detonate your grasp on reality.
“Oh my god,” you breathe. Not loud. But not quiet, either.
He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t react. Doesn’t so much as flinch. But you feel it. The moment it registers. The moment he knows that you know. Because the corner of his mouth twitches higher. Just a little. Just enough to catch onto. And then—still not looking at you, still pretending to be invested in his perfectly aligned swab placement, voice smooth and clinical like this is just another lab session—he says,
“Something wrong?”
You want to bang your head on the table.
Instead, you choke, swallow whatever dignity you had left, and squeak out,
“No. Nope. All good. Just… thinking.”
He hums, low and amused, like he already knows what you’re thinking about.
You're going to die here. Right next to your science tutor YouTuber crush who is also your real-life lab partner crush—for completely unrelated reasons—who has definitely, 1000% seen the video where you said hearing his voice makes you feel like your guts are being spiritually rearranged.
God.
You are so unbelievably, irreparably screwed.
⋆.⌬ ˚𒉭 ⋆
It doesn’t happen right away.
In fact, it almost doesn’t happen at all.
Because after the Mecha Senku revelation, after the comment, after the lab, after the video—you basically short-circuit. You try to act normal in the days that follow. You show up to class. Try to pretend like it’s no big deal that your anonymous science tutor crush is also your lab partner who is also your mutual…acquaintence? Friend? You didn't know which term you fell under in this situation. You tell yourself it’s fine. It’s not weird. You’re being mature about this.
And then he likes one of your posts. One of your older ones. A video from 3 months ago where you’re ranting about a series that you were into at the time while getting ready for the day. It was a stupid, pointless video. One which he had no reason to like. But he did.
That’s when you panic.
Not in public. But you lie in bed again at 2AM, staring at your screen like it might suddenly catch on fire. He’s watching your content. On purpose. He’s scrolling. Deep enough to find something from weeks ago, which means he’s either curious, bored, or—God forbid—interested.
You stop posting for three days.
Not out of pride. Not even out of posting strategy. Just fear. Raw, buzzing fear that anything you say or do will somehow make this whole situation worse. You delete a draft. Then another. Then six more. Your camera roll becomes a graveyard of half-filmed attempts at being funny or cute or sweet or not on the verge of a breakdown. But nothing feels right.
And meanwhile, Senku is being maddeningly normal.
He shows up to lab on time. Speaks when necessary. Makes the occasional snide remark when a burner malfunctions or a pH test fails. He doesn’t bring up the video. Doesn’t mention the TikTok. Doesn’t acknowledge the fact that you both know that this is like some weird fucked up romcom scenario that immediately got put on Tubi for its low budget. He just acts like… himself. Detached, sharp-tongued, observant, and unbothered. You, on the other hand, are barely holding it together every time he passes you a report sheet.
The dam doesn’t break until two weeks later.
You’re walking out of lecture, halfway through stuffing your notes into your bag with a granola bar half-eaten in your mouth when you hear someone fall into step beside you. Quietly synced with your rhythm, like they’d been waiting for the right second to align.
You glance over.
Senku.
Of course it’s Senku. His sweater sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Satchel strap slung lazy across his chest, and a half drunk energy drink swished in his hand. His expression is unreadable, somewhere between tired and calculating, but the fact that he’s here, walking beside you unprompted, is enough to make you question every single one of your life choices.
You’re not sure if you should say something first. Or if you should pretend not to notice the way your posture stiffens whenever he's in your general vicinity. You take another glance at him through your peripheral vision.
He still has that same unreadable expression on his face—bored, maybe. Or focused. Or just better at masking than you are. He doesn’t say anything right away, and you’re half-preparing yourself for some comment about glycolysis pathways or the upcoming quiz that you’ve been dreading over.
But then he exhales through his nose and says, “I’ve been thinking.”
Which is a terrifying sentence coming from someone who does more thinking in one day than most people do in an entire semester.
Your gaze doesn’t stray but you raise an eyebrow. “About…?”
He pauses for a beat. A way too long beat. Long enough to make your stomach drop. Then, casually: “A collab.”
You blink. “What?”
“A video,” he clarifies, like this is something completely normal that happens all the time. “A joint one. On your account. Or mine, doesn't matter to me. Mutually beneficial, wider audience reach, strategic engagement—pick whatever reason you want.”
You stop walking. He doesn’t.
“Wait,” you say, catching up. “You mean, like… a TikTok?”
He shrugs. “Sure. That’s your area. Whatever gets views. I figure if everyone is already suspecting something, I might as well do a face reveal while I’m at it.”
Silence. Pure, deafening silence. You can’t even think of what to say. Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.
Because it’s not just the words—it’s the way he says them. Like it’s no big deal. Like the internet hasn’t been begging for a glimpse of his face since his third viral video. Like he hasn’t been a literal science cryptid for the past three years and now he’s just… casually deciding to unmask like it’s just something to check off on his bucket list.
“Why now?” you ask, finally. Your voice sounds weird in your own throat.
Senku lifts a shoulder, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth like he’s trying to suppress it.
“Felt like the right time,” he says, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Besides, you’ve already done the hard part.”
You blink. “The hard part?”
He hums, nodding once. “Making me realize it’s not that deep.”
You blink again, brain buffering like it just hit a patch of missing code. “Wait… what?”
He shrugs again, like it’s nothing. Like this isn’t the culmination of literal years of silence and mystery and curated anonymity. “People’ve been asking for a face reveal since the beginning. I always told myself it wasn’t worth it. Kept saying it didn’t matter, that it’d just mess things up. But then you…” He pauses, and there’s this barely-there curve at the corner of his mouth. Not a smile—something quieter. More dangerous. “You made it feel kind of… harmless.”
Your pulse stutters. Your stomach flips. You don’t even have time to brace for what’s next.
“I mean, it’s not every day someone from your school logs online just to say she practically gets off to—”
You don’t let him finish. You physically can’t. Your hands are already flying up, face buried before your brain fully catches up, a sound of absolute mortification ripping out of your throat.
“Oh my God,” you groan, fingers pressing into your temples like you can massage the memory out of existence. “Please don’t say it like that. This is already, embarrassing enough as it is, The whole video was like a public humiliation ritual”
He lets out a chuckle at that. Way too satisfied with your reaction. Like he predicted it. When you don’t continue further he decides to speak up again.
“Think about it,” he says before splitting off toward his next class. “You pick the trend. I’ll show up.”
And just like that, he’s gone.
⋆.⌬ ˚𒉭 ⋆
You kind of forget about the whole thing.
Not on purpose, of course. It’s just that coursework piles up, assignments stack on top of quizzes that stack on top of projects, and somewhere between stressing over due dates and wanting to evaporate from existence after another surprise pop lab, the entire conversation with Senku slips to the back burner. Not in a “never doing that” way, but more like… “I will emotionally process this after midterms or death, whichever comes first.” kind of way.
There’s just never a good moment to circle back and be like, “Hey… remember that video idea you volunteered for? Wanna hang out and pretend we’re not both chronically online and know what we’re doing?”
Yeah, no. No way.
But then the first break in your schedule opens up—a blessed, random Sunday with no looming assignments due at 11:59, no labs, no back-to-back lectures sucking the soul from your body—and before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re typing a text.
It’s short, simple, and only took you about seven drafts before you finally sent it.
hey, i got a day off and i saw this new exhibit at the museum. thought it’d be nice.
You follow it up fast, like too fast:
for the collab that is!
Smooth. Very smooth.
He replies six minutes later.
sure. what day?
That’s it. That’s the whole text. Dry. Short. And so to the point it makes you start to question if he even wants to go, but you’ll take your chances. You send him the info—location, hours, all that—and hope for the best. Hope you don’t show up alone. Hope you don’t sit around pretending not to be stood up for a date that isn’t a date but still kind of feels like one.
But of course, who would Senku Ishigami be if not maddeningly consistent? If not a man ruthlessly punctual, stubbornly dependable, and irritatingly true to his word?
He’s already there when you arrive.
Not just there— but early. Waiting outside like it’s the most natural thing in the world, casually leaned against a concrete planter with one hand in his pocket and the other scrolling aimlessly on his phone. He’s not dressed up, exactly, but there’s something about his fit that feels intentional. Dark gray-beige slacks. Cream button-up shirt, top button undone. Black cardigan layered over it. Loose tie slung around his neck—totally optional, probably just for the aesthetic. Hair half-up in that signature man-bun style, the front strands framing his face.
You stop short a few paces away, your brain stalling mid-thought as your gaze continues to flicker up and down his form.
Because you? You are wearing a plaid skirt, a ruffled cream blouse, stockings, and boots that are way too tall to pretend you didn’t also plan your outfit, and a tote bag that’s got absolutely nothing useful inside besides your phone, wallet, lip gloss, and an emotional support water bottle.
Which is exactly when you notice it.
The colors. The textures. The vibe.
Oh my god.
You blurt it out before you can stop yourself, stepping the last few feet toward him like you weren’t just frozen in place two seconds ago. “We’re kind of matching.”
Senku glances up, and there it is. That thing he does. The slow, calculated glance from the hem of your skirt to your blouse to the edge of your bag and back up again, all while maintaining that unreadable expression. Like he’s gathering data. Like your outfit’s a puzzle he’s solving in real-time. His mouth twitches, just slightly, into something that toes the line between smug and genuinely amused.
“Yeah, I guess so…” He shifts his weight, pocketing his phone. “You look nice.”
You blink. Buffering. “You—uh. You too! I mean, not that I was—uh, yeah, thanks. You look good too.” You internally wince. Recover. “I hope you weren’t waiting out here long?”
He shakes his head, “Not really. Got here early on purpose.”
You nod, awkward and a little breathless, trying desperately not to read too much into it. You glance toward the entrance, mostly just to distract yourself in something that’s not his facial structure or the way the light catches on the slope of his nose.
“Should we… go in?” you ask, gesturing toward the doors. He hums, a quiet sound, like he's still mildly amused, and nods, stepping in beside you. Not ahead. Not behind. Right beside.
You scan your tickets at the entrance, hands just barely steady, and try not to overanalyze the exact distance between your shoulders. You try not to notice the faint smell of something clean and earthy—maybe his shampoo? Maybe something herbal?—that drifts off of him every time he turns to speak. You try, in vain, to be normal.
The museum’s quiet. Dim lighting. Cool air. Echoes of hushed conversations and soft-soled shoes against the polished floors. The first exhibit is drowned in amber lighting and filled with fossils in glass cases. You both drift to the same one without speaking, reading the plaque in tandem, standing so close your elbows almost brush.
He speaks first.
“Cretaceous, huh,” he says, voice low and a little warm, like he’s half-talking to himself. “Not exactly cutting edge, but still cool.”
You blink at him. “Are you—are you seriously judging the dinosaur bones right now?”
He glances at you. “Just saying, there’s been more interesting finds. I’d rather see a well-preserved stromatolite, personally.”
You snort. Actually snort, and he grins, which is possibly the worst thing he could do because now you’re staring at his lips and—
“God, you’re such a nerd,” you mutter, grinning before you can help it.
“And you’re not?” He raises an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly as if daring you to lie.
You scoff, turning back to the plaque like you can hide behind a block of educational text. “Yeah, okay, fair. But at least I pretend to be normal in public.”
“Mm. Is that what this is?” he says, and he doesn’t even try to hide the smile this time. It’s subtle, just a twitch at the corners of his mouth, but it makes your stomach do a little flip anyway.
You don’t answer. Not right away. You’re too busy trying not to combust.
You keep walking, slowly, drifting from case to case. The exhibits start to blur together after a while—early mammals, glacial imprints, fossilized flora—because your brain is short-circuiting every time his voice dips a little lower to point something out, or his hand lifts to gesture near your shoulder, or his sleeve brushes your arm.
You can tell he knows it, too. Maybe not the full extent of your internal spiral, but enough to sadistically enjoy how flustered you get. He’s not smug about it, nor cruel. Just quietly observant. Like he’s keeping a mental note every time your breath hitches a little or you laugh a beat too fast.
Somewhere between the meteorite collection and the preserved taxidermy wing (which he naturally had opinions about), you start filming. Nothing extravagant. Just quick clips on your phone—soft pans over the displays. He doesn’t comment, doesn’t shy away when the camera catches his shoulder or the back of his hand. Just lets you do your thing.
You’re halfway through the museum when your feet start to ache (your fault for wearing boots with no sole support) and your stomach lets out the saddest, weakest little growl. Senku hears it, of course. He doesn’t say anything—just jerks his chin toward the small, in-museum café tucked into the corner past the rotating exhibit, and heads that way without needing a response.
You order something simple. He does the same, and somehow, magically beats you to pulling out your wallet and paying. And then you both end up at a tiny table tucked near the window, warm afternoon light refracting through the glass and shining just right. You’re pulling your phone out again before you can really think about it.
He raises an eyebrow when he sees you tying—and failing—to discretely smile at your phone.
“I know that face,” he says, stirring his coffee. “What are you scheming?”
You grin, wide and sweet and a little mischievous. “You said I could pick the trend.”
“Unfortunately,” he mutters, setting down his cup.
You show him the audio.
He watches the sample once. Then again. Then nods. “Got it.”
You give him a quick breakdown anyway—“Ok so basically we just shake hands. So you would film me first to ‘My name is Pink, and I’m really glad to meet you.’ Then you do ‘You’re recommended to me by some people.’ Then back to me: ‘Hey, ooh, is this illegal?’ And you finish it: ‘Hey, ooh, it feels illegal?’ You got that? ”
Senku just gives you that flat, unimpressed look, the one that makes it impossible to tell if he’s judging you or already planning your execution in terrifying detail.
“Simple enough,” he says. “Let’s get it over with.”
You record it in pieces. The lighting’s good, the cafe’s not too crowded, and somehow, despite the secondhand embarrassment threatening to combust your entire being, you pull it off. You film each other, trade off holding the phone, and try your hardest not to start laughing as you record Senku's deadpan face. By the time it’s done, your face hurts from holding back a smile, and Senku looks a little too smug for someone who just debuted on the internet via meme format.
You save the clips to your phone, already planning how to edit it later.
You both take your time finishing your drinks after that—talking more now. About the exhibit, about the parts you skipped, about other museums you like. The vibe’s different. It’s looser, comfortable in a way you didn’t fully expect to get this quickly. He’s still sarcastic, still has that flat tone and know-it-all quips, but now he says your name a little softer. Looks at you a little longer when you talk.
Eventually, you both stand, a little reluctant but you both know you should leave before it gets too dark. The sun’s setting once you step outside the museum, casting everything in that amber-gold glow again, and it makes his profile look unfairly cinematic as he stretches.
“You’re surprisingly tolerable company,” he says as you walk out together.
You scoff. “Wow. Thanks. I’ll be sure to put that in my LinkedIn endorsements.”
“I’m just saying,” he replies, glancing at you, “You’re not as obnoxious as most people.”
You bump your shoulder into his. “Aw, you like me.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it.”
He doesn’t argue with that, which might be worse.
The walk back is slow. Neither of you really rushing, just sort of drifting through the early evening like you're trying to stretch out the time you have together. Somewhere between chatting about your favorite childhood shows and bickering over whose major has more long-term debt attached to it (his argument: “You can’t put a price on revolutionizing orbital propulsion”), it hits you how easy this is.
And more dangerously—how fun. You can’t remember the last time someone made you feel this keyed-in without even trying. Like your brains are constantly sparking against each other like flint and steel.
Then he says something offhanded. Something completely innocent. He’s explaining something about a propulsion system prototype—specifically, fluid resistance and force ratios.
“It’s all about tension and release,” he says, absently adjusting his sleeves as he walks. “That’s how you maintain velocity without risking collapse.”
You glance at him sideways, smile sinisterly curling at the corners. “Mm. I’ve got some tension I’m sure you could release.”
He stops. Stops walking. Like his operating system just force-quit.
“…What?”
You keep walking a few paces before turning to look back at him, mock-innocent. “What? I’m just being honest. You should be more careful with that mouth of yours, Ishigami. You’ll feed into the online delusions.”
He blinks once. Twice. Visibly buffering. You can see it—like the gears in his big science brain just misfired, unable to reconcile engineering terminology with whatever the hell that was. His ears go a little pink—barely there, but enough to clock if you’re looking for it. Which, obviously, you are.
He clears his throat, and mutters something under his breath about “not being responsible for your interpretations.”
But he keeps talking after that. He can't help it now. Neither of you can. The conversation never drops again, not even as you split off at the corner of campus, your fingers still curled around your phone like it's holding the rest of the evening in its little glowing blue-light screen.
You go home buzzing. Not from the caffeine. Not even from the TikTok you’re already editing. But from him.
Because if there’s one thing that’s true about you—it’s that once you start liking someone?
Oh, they never get to rest.
Extra notes time again! || Sorry I really didn't feel like writing out the trend and like the comments and stuff again… I physically cant think like that anymore
Anyway! Both your respective fans go crazy when the initial collab drops
Comments and dm’s begging you guys to post together more—and I mean, who are you to deny the fans?
You make appearances in all of his videos where he “needs” an extra pair of hands
And he’s always seen in your “what i do in a day” videos or weekly vlogs
The tension on camera is undeniable and everyone is always asking if there's something going on, but neither of you ever respond.
⋆.⌬ ˚𒉭 ⋆
After that, you two just… keep hanging out. Off campus, mostly. Call them dates, call them… whatever—no one’s really labeling it, but they keep happening. Even in a group, you and Senku have your own orbit. It starts with subtle things. Shared glances, half-smirks, a sarcastic “oh really?” muttered under your breath every time he says something too smug. He always responds with a coy, “Don’t look at me like that unless you want something,” and you always raise a brow and say, “Maybe I do.”
You’re both like that.
Witty. Sharp. Teasing.
During stargazing, you’re lying side-by-side on a scratchy old blanket, staring up at the sky when he starts pointing out constellations, spouting off facts like an open textbook. You interrupt mid-sentence with, “Is this your way of seducing me? Because it’s working.”
He glances at you sideways. Doesn’t even pause. “You’re the one lying next to me under the stars. I’d say the seduction’s mutual.”
And at the beach? The energy’s dialed up even more.
You’re in a bikini under his oversized button-up, hair still damp from taking a dunk in the ocean, when you say something cheeky like, “You’ve been watching me all day. Just admit it.”
He doesn’t even blink, much less looks at you. “I’m studying gravitational pull in action.”
“Oh?” you hum sweetly. “Like, my body’s gravitational pull?”
“I meant the tide,” he deadpans. “But your ego has its own orbit, so sure.”
You throw a handful of sand at him. He dodges. Barely. And then throws a precise, infuriatingly accurate clump right at your ankle.
Even when your schedules are packed, you somehow always find time to circle back to each other.
There’s never been a conversation about what it is between you, but neither of you need one. You’ve both carved a little space into each other’s lives now—distinct, irreplaceable, and entirely yours. No one else quite fits the shape.
So it’s no surprise that you spend a lot of time in each other’s dorm—or in this case, Senku’s off-campus apartment. Sometimes for studying when the library’s full, but mostly just to hang out in the comfort of each other's presence.
You’re dressed in low-rise sweats and a tank top, now buried beneath one of Senku’s old sweaters. The one he threw at your head earlier after you started loudly complaining about the cold. The sleeves cover your hands, and the collar’s stretched from years of wear. It smells like detergent and something vaguely medicinal—like tea tree or menthol or maybe him.
He’s at his desk, deep into some spreadsheet or CAD model, muttering to himself about air resistance. You’re flat on his bed, legs swinging, phone held above your face as you scroll through TikTok with the sound barely audible. Every now and then you giggle. Sometimes you send him one. Sometimes he looks away from his screen to actually watch it.
The silence isn’t awkward. It never is with him. Just the quiet clack of his keyboard, the soft hum of his laptop fan, and whatever sound bytes your phone decides to throw at you next. It’s routine by now. Domestic, in a weird way.
He leans back in his chair eventually, spinning halfway to glance at you. “Hey,” he says, like he didn’t just finish modeling an entire turbine blade. “In class the other day—when Takahashi brought up reward pathways—you didn’t say anything. You disagree with the textbook stuff?”
You glance over your phone, one brow raised. “What, the dopamine bit?”
He nods. “And the serotonin model. You looked like you were biting your tongue.”
You shift onto your side, propping yourself up on your elbow. “I mean, yeah. Kinda. The textbook oversimplifies it. Dopamine’s not just a ‘pleasure’ chemical. It’s tied to motivation, reinforcement, emotional memory—like, the anticipation of reward, not just the reward itself.”
He’s still watching you. “Go on.”
And that’s all the permission you need. You sit up straighter, words spilling out like second nature. You talk with your hands, tangents spiraling into other tangents—sliding effortlessly into a topic you’ve buried yourself in for years. Limbic circuitry, behavioral loops, cortisol inhibition. You explain how physical touch spikes oxytocin and drops heart rate variability, how endorphins are natural painkillers, how the brain is wired to crave proximity.
Senku’s not even pretending to work anymore. His laptop’s still open, screen glowing against the side of his face, but his eyes are all on you—sharp, focused, borderline amused.
He hums. “So… theoretically,” he says, tapping his pen against his lip, “if someone were, say, stressed. Touch could help regulate that.”
“Yeah,” you nod, without hesitation. “That’s why hugging works. Holding hands, even brief skin contact; it’s all connected to emotional regulation. Even something like—”
You pause. Shouldn’t say it. But do anyway.
“—making out.”
There’s a pause. One beat. Two.
You glance at him. He’s still watching you, face unreadable. “Making out?” he repeats slowly.
You shrug, casual. “I’m just saying. High dopamine, high oxytocin, a little adrenaline from the novelty? Basically a neurochemical cocktail.”
His head tilts, expression unreadable. Then, like it’s the most normal thing in the world:
“Wanna try it?”
Your brain blanks. “What?”
“You’re the one who brought it up.” He says it flatly. Almost like he’s bored. But there’s a twitch at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes haven’t moved from yours once. “For science. Of course.”
You stare at him. “You’re not serious.”
He shifts to stand, lazy and unbothered. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
And then he’s walking over, bracing a knee on the mattress beside you. You stay frozen. Your heart is in your throat. Or maybe your stomach. It’s hard to tell with the way it’s pounding. He leans in just enough that you can feel his breath, hovering, giving you a chance to pull away.
You don’t.
And that’s all it takes.
The kiss is warm. Careful at first. Testing. You breathe out against his mouth, one hand finding the front of his hoodie and fisting it without thinking. He shifts, deeper into it, his weight pressing into the mattress as he moves over you. Still careful, but less hesitant now. Focused. Like he's calculating every angle, and still surprised by the result.
His hand finds your waist. Yours slide up to his neck.
You’re not sure when it stopped feeling like a joke. But it doesn’t feel like one now.
He shifts again, weight fully settling over you, a knee anchoring beside your hip as he deepens the kiss. His hands are warm—calloused in the way only someone who spends too long with tools and lab equipment can be—sliding up beneath the hem of his own sweater draped over you. Fingers brushing your bare skin tentatively, like he’s cataloging each reaction, each hitch in your breath.
Your arms move to curl up around his neck, pulling him closer, and your fingers find his hair. Tugging gently, then a little harder. He exhales into your mouth like it startled him.
You smile into the kiss—just a little. And he kisses you harder.
There’s something methodical in the way he touches you, like he’s studying even now. Testing reactions. Adjusting accordingly. But it’s not the detached, cold type of analyzing. It’s quiet intention, attentive hunger. The kind that says he doesn’t let himself want things often. But he wants this.
Wants you.
The sweater slips slightly off your shoulder. His palm follows the curve of your spine like it’s a path he’s memorizing. You’re already pulling him back down the moment he shifts to rise, needing more—needing him. He goes willingly. He always does.
His lips hover near your neck, and when he finally presses them there, it’s with purpose. A mark, claiming. You feel the heat it brings you all the way down to your core.
“You react so easily,” he murmurs, voice low and smooth, like he’s more fascinated than surprised. “Like your body’s just waiting for me to touch it.”
You hate how right he is. Or maybe you don’t. Not when his hands are gliding down, lower and lower, caressing the skin of your ribs to your hips.
⋆.⌬ ˚𒉭 ⋆
Senku almost feels bad for baiting you with that question earlier. Almost. If it weren't for the way you were staring up at him, all teary eyed, lips swollen and neck marked—courtesy of him, of course—he’d probably apologize. But he has you exactly where he's been wanting you, and you’re definitely not complaining, if the way you're squeezing around his fingers have any say in the matter.
“Fuck… you're tightening up. Are you close already?” he’s cooing down at you, eyes gleaming with a sort of sadistic look, his lips curled into a smirk.
You can't even respond, it's pathetic really, your brain is already turned to mush and he's barely even touched you. You tear your gaze away from him. Your legs are shaking, twitching uselessly at your sides, and you can feel just how wet you are, can hear it every time his fingers sink deeper into you.
Why did he have to be so good at this?
“You’re really that sensitive, huh?” he mummers, dragging his thumb just barely over your clit and he chuckles when your body jerks forward. Your thighs try to close but he’s already in between them, his other hand prying them open, keeping you exposed and needy under his touch.
He’s transfixed on the sight of you. Watching every twitch of your hips, every spasm in your thighs, every time your walls clench around his fingers, the way your eyes roll back when his fingers prod at a particularly sensitive spot. And, of course, the way you bite down on the back of your hand in an attempt to muffle the sounds spilling out of your mouth.
God, it turned him on in more ways than he possibly imagined.
Senku leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, just to watch the way you squirm. “C'mon,” he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper, “don’t hide from me. I want to hear everything.”
You whimper at that—a soft, choked sound, and he feels it all the way down. His cock throbs in his pants, neglected, untouched, but he doesn’t care about that right now. Now when this is happening. Not when you’re this responsive, this wrecked just from his fingers. And so… Senku moans. Deep and guttural like your reaction does something to him. Like watching you get off is more satisfying than touching himself could ever be.
The way your body moves against his hand is erratic now, your hips shifting up to match the pace of his thrusts, trembling on the edge. He can feel it in the way your walls flutter around him, can see it in the way your lashes are soaked with tears, the way you jerk with each slow curl of his fingers.
You’re close. So, so close.
So he gives it to you—just the right rhythm, the right amount of pressure, and that voice again, like a switch flipped inside of him:
“Go on, baby, it’s okay. Be a good girl and come for me.”
And you do. Practically sobbing into the sheets as your body shudders around him. Your muscles tighten,back arching off the bed, and breath hitching in your throat before it spills out in a loud, desperate moan. And Senku swears he almost loses it just watching you. Watching what he did to you.
“Fuck, that's it… just like that.” He’s a little breathless now, still working you through it, fingers moving gently as you shake and throb beneath him, blissed-out and absolutely ruined. Even as he pulls his digits out, and licks them clean, your body still hasn't stopped twitching.
You're sprawled out beneath him, brain soft and heavy, your thighs sticky, your chest heaving. There's a buzz under your skin you can't seem to shake—like your body hasn't figured out the comedown yet. Like you're still coiled tight, waiting to snap again.
Senku's still above you, propped on one elbow, eyes dragging slowly over your face like he's trying to memorize the exact expression you're wearing—ruined, flushed, lips parted, still trying to catch your breath.
And when he speaks again, his voice is low and rough, the edge of smugness barely masking the heat beneath it. "You should see yourself right now." He leans closer, nose brushing yours, lips just barely hovering. "You came so hard, baby."
You should roll your eyes. Should say something back. But instead, you kiss him. It's clumsy at first—your hands reaching for him, fisting into the front of his shirt, dragging him down with more desperation than you meant to show. But he goes down willingly, groaning into your mouth like he's been waiting for it, like he's starving for you.
His lips are warm and soft, and when his tongue brushes against yours, something in you snaps. You moan into it, tugging him down even closer, legs shifting to wrap around him until he’s fully on top of you, pressed chest to chest.
The kiss turns filthy fast. Sloppy. Hungry. You taste yourself on his tongue, feel his teeth graze your bottom lip, and when you break apart for air, there's a thin string of saliva still connecting the two of you.
Senku stares down at you, his lips pink and wet, eyes dark with an unmistakable desire. But you don’t say anything. You just drag him back down and kiss him again. And this time, you take control.
You find the strength to gently shove his shoulder. A silent request for him to switch positions, this time with you on top. Your hands slip between your bodies, fingers tugging at his waistband, undoing buttons and zippers with trembling precision. You don't rush it, you don’t even speak. You just stare down at him, eyes locked on his, and you let your palm glide over the front of his boxers—feel how hard he is. How long he’s been holding back.
"You didn't touch yourself," you whispered against his jaw, lips ghosting down to his neck. You kiss the column of his throat. You can feel his adam's apple bob under your mouth. "You just... watched me."
Senku shudders, eyes fluttering shut as he hisses through his teeth. "Of course I did," he says, voice low, breath hitching when your hand dips beneath the fabric and wraps around him. "You think I could look away from you like that?"
You smile into his skin, lips dragging over his pulse point, before licking a small stripe against it, warm and possessive. "Then you're gonna let me return the favor."
He tries to say something, probably a snarky comment, or some teasing remark, but it dies in his throat the second you stroke him. Thumb pressing over the tip, spreading the pre-cum, watching his face go soft and slack and honest. His cock twitches in your hand, and he groans-deep and low, like he's trying to keep quiet and failing.
"You're so responsive,” you murmur, voice dipped in faux sweetness. "Bet I could make you come just like this—barely even touching you."
His head rolls back as he nods.
"You'd let me?"
"F-fuck," he breathes, biting down on a groan as your pace picks up, "I'd let you do anything right now."
And there it is-that crack in his composure. The unraveling. You've got him now, pinned under you. Your hands, your voice, your mouth ghosting back up to kiss him again while you work him with steady, torturous strokes. And you swear he looks like he's about to lose it just from that.
"You're close," you whisper, forehead pressed to his, your hand never stopping. "Aren't you?"
He nods again, faster this time, eyes wide, and dazed. You find him beautiful like this.
“it’s okay,” you whisper, kissing the corner of his mouth, “Come for me, and don't look away."
He doesn't.
You watch each other the whole time-while his body tenses, his breath catches, and he spills into your hand with a whine—it’s with your name on his lips. And even after, when he's still trembling, breath ragged, forehead resting against yours, he kisses you again.
It’s softer now. Slower, more sensual. Like he’s trying to catch up to everything that just happened.
You climb up to adjust your position, shifting in his lap to properly straddle him, and feel him twitch beneath you. The air thickens again. You start to move—slow, subtle grind that makes both of you gasp.
“Is this okay?” you murmur, lips brushing his. “We don’t have to…”
His hands find your hips, tentative, but firm enough to tell you he doesn’t want you to stop. “Y-yeah,” he swallows hard. “Just—condom. They’re in the nightstand.” he adds, voice barely above a rasp.
You pause, looking down at him, your hair falling into his face as your lips curl in a slow, nervous smile. “I kind of just want to feel you,” you say softly. “Just you.”
His breath catches, and his grip on your hips tighten. “You’re gonna ruin me,” he mutters, tone somewhere between a joke and the truth.
“I’m on the pill,” you say, brushing your thumb along his cheek. “And I haven’t been with anyone. Not since we started hanging out…”
His gaze locks with yours—surprised, a little shy. “Me neither.”
There’s a beat. Neither of you says it—what this means, or where it’s going—but you don’t need to. Not right now.
You lean in and kiss him again, deeper this time, while he lets you settle over him fully. And when he finally lets go of whatever he’s been holding back, it’s not a fall. It’s a full body surrender.
You shift your hips, sliding your hand between your bodies. Senku watches you, wide eyed and panting, as your fingers wrap around him once more. He’s still hard, heavy and warm in your hand, and the sound he makes when you stroke him again makes your head spin.
His hands tense on your thighs. "God," he whispers, barely holding on. "You-you don't have to—"
"I know," you say softly, guiding him to where you want him. "I want to."
You angle yourself, breath catching as you line him up. He sucks in a sharp breath, eyes locked on where your bodies meet, like he can't believe this is happening.
And when you start to sink down—inch by inch, taking your time—his head falls back against the pillow, lips parted, throat working like he's trying to remember how to breathe.
You stop halfway, adjusting your hips, one hand braced against his chest. He feels so good stretching you open like this. You look down at him.
He nods, frantic, his voice almost breaking.
"Yeah. Just—don't stop. Please."
You don't.
You ease down the rest of the way, and when you're fully seated, hips flush to his, both of you just stay there for a second, gasping, trembling, overwhelmed. And when you finally start to move; the slow, steady rolls of your hips—his hands come up to grip your waist like he's afraid he might actually fall apart under you.
At first, it’s easy to stay in control. You set the pace, savor the friction, chase the tension building in your belly.
But it doesn’t last.
Your thighs start to burn, trembling with the effort, barely cooperating anymore. Every bounce turns sluggish, your movements dragged down by the growing heat in your limbs—but you're still moving. Still trying. Because he's looking at you like that.
Senku's laid out beneath you, hair a mess, lips kiss-bitten, and pupils blown so wide there’s barely a sliver of red left. And he’s watching you. His gaze is steady, and intense—like he sees everything. Like he’s not the one unraveling here. You are.
And through the fog in your head, it hits you that he’s smiling.
Not mockingly, just this small, breathless grin, like you’re an experiment he doesn’t want to stop testing. And the way he says your name, low, and rough, like he’s been holding in his mouth for months, sends heat crashing right through your core.
You try to keep moving, but your body stutters. Your breath shudders.
He doesn’t move. He doesn’t have to.
He just says, “You're falling apart, aren’t you?”
You don’t answer. You can’t. And then he speaks again, a little more sure this time.
"That's it, baby. You're doing so good for me... just like that."
His voice—God, his voice. It's low and thick and soaked in wonder, like he can’t believe this is real. Like he can’t believe it’s you. You nearly fold right there.
The noise you make is somewhere between a sob and a moan, your hands scrambling against his chest like you need something to anchor you, or maybe just him. Your whole body pulses at his words like they hit deeper than anything else, heat unraveling inside you faster than you can hold it together.
"F-Fuck, Senku..." you whimper, blinking through tears, hips faltering as you try to keep the rhythm. "I c-can't—"
"Yes, you can," he murmurs, fingers tightening just a little on your thighs, just enough to remind you he's there, guiding you, grounding. Not pushing—never pushing. Just wanting. "You're already doing it.”
His voice dips again, breathless. “Look at you..."
It’s awe. Pure, undiluted pleasure. Every word that falls from his lips sounds like it’s unraveling him as much as it is you. And somehow, that’s what undoes you more than anything
You bury your face into his neck, because if you look at him again you'll crumble-and maybe that's the point. Maybe that's what he wants. To break you down, piece by piece, until you're too far gone to think about anything but how good he makes you feel.
And God, he is breaking you.
He drags one hand up your back, fingers threading through your hair, just to keep you close. He needs you close. Needs you to feel how much he's coming apart beneath you. He's grounding you, ruining you, worshipping you with every tremble in his touch.
"Just one more," he whispers, lips brushing your ear. His voice is strained, like he's barely holding on. “Just give me one more…”
He's losing control fast. Your soft, whiny little sounds are killing him. Every breathy moan, every gasp, every whimper—you're driving him insane, and maybe, just maybe, that's what gives him away.
The way his voice breaks when he speaks again.
"God-you feel so good," he chokes out, hips stuttering beneath you. "You're so—fuck, you're perfect around me, I can't—"
He whines-actually whines—a raw, desperate sound ripped straight from his throat, like he doesn't know how to hold it back anymore.
"I c-can't stop," he breathes, hips twitching up into you without rhythm now. "You're—you're making me crazy—how are you so fucking—tight—?”
You make another sound—desperate and broken—and he feels it. The way you clench around him, the way your whole body answers before your mind can even catch up.
And then, softer-almost pleading:
"Let me hear you when you come, yeah?"
You whine—God, you whine—and he groans, like the sound physically does something to him. His hands are shaking now, trying to hold you steady while everything inside him unravels.
The way you look, the way you sound, the way you're still trying to ride it out, still trying to give him what he wants even as you fall apart on top of him. It's too much.
And he wants more.
Your name falls from his lips again-raw, reverent, broken at the edges-and it hits you deeper than anything else has all night.
You try to keep moving, but your body betrays you. Your hips falter, your thighs tremble, and your forehead presses against his collarbone, like hiding might save you—but it doesn't. He's still looking right at you, and God, he's still talking.
"Just like that... you're so—fuck, you're so perfect like this."
His voice is breathless, thick with disbelief and need. "I can feel you... every time you move, I-shit—"
And maybe you don't mean to do it. Maybe you're just grabbing onto something—anything—to stay grounded. But your fingers slide up into his hair, tugging just a little. And he moans.
Full-bodied. High-pitched, desperate, absolutely shameless. His eyes slam shut. His hips jerk up into you with no rhythm, just want. "Shit–do that again—" he gasps, voice cracking. "Please–fuck—!"
So you do.
You fist your hand in the mess of his pale strands and pull.
He falls apart.
"God—I'm–fuck, I'm coming—" The words are slurred, ruined, his face pressed into your hair as he bucks into you once, twice, and then spills inside you with a choked-off moan. His hands fly to your hips, gripping tight, like he's trying to keep you locked to him, like if he lets go for even a second he'll die.
You're already shaking, breath stolen out of your lungs, your own release crashing through you. You sob into his hair, overwhelmed, while he trembles beneath you, hands still gripping, body still twitching.
When you finally still, everything is quiet. Just your breathing, his heartbeat, frantic against your chest. Your fingers are still tangled in his hair. And he hasn't stopped shaking.
You don’t move for a long moment. You just melt into him, limp and boneless, your forehead pressed to his shoulder, your chest rising and falling against his. He’s still inside you, still warm, still twitching faintly with aftershocks. And even though your muscles are shaking and your skin is flushed and sticky, all you can do is breathe.
Senku doesn’t speak right away either. He wraps his arms around you, his hold is loose at first—like he’s not sure he’s allowed—and then tighter, like he can’t help it. Like letting go now would undo him. His voice is hoarse when he finally whispers, “You okay?”
You nod into his neck, barely moving. “Yeah. You?”
He lets out a shaky breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. “I think I’m still alive.” He says. “But barely.”
You smile, eyes closed, cheek pressed to his skin. “Was that…?”
“Yes,” he says instantly, like you needing to ask the question is absurd. “Don’t even finish that sentence.”
You laugh softly and feel him grin against your temple. There’s a pause—comfortable, heavy with the weight of what just happened—and then he shifts, brushing your hair gently away from your face.
“I didn’t… hurt you, or anything?”
“No,” you murmur. “You were perfect. Seriously.”
You finally lift your head, just enough to look at him. His hair’s a mess, his cheeks are still flushed, and his eyes are glassy—but he’s smiling. Soft. Uncertain. Happy. And for a moment, he’s not the genius, not the scientist, not the voice behind a screen.
He’s just a boy, flushed and messy, still a little out of breath, and completely, irreversibly gone for you.
You lean down and kiss him once—just a press of lips. Nothing more. Then you collapse on top of him again with a soft groan.
“We should probably clean up,” you mumble into his chest.
He hums. “Eventually.”
Neither of you moves.
⋆.⌬ ˚𒉭 ⋆
Later, you do get up—clean up, change, all that boring post-mindblowing-sex routine—but it’s quiet. Natural. And once you're both back in bed, it’s like gravity pulls you together again without even trying.
The room’s quiet, warm, filled with the soft hum of your joined breathing. Your legs are tangled beneath the sheets, and your head is tucked under his chin, chest rising and falling against his.
Senku’s still. His hand hasn’t moved from your back, fingers lazily tracing the curve of your spine like he doesn’t know how to not be touching you now.
And then, without looking at you, he says quietly:
“…So is this the part where we pretend that never happened?”
You blink. “…Do you want to pretend that never happened?”
He’s silent for a moment too long.
“No,” he admits. “Not even a little.”
You shift just enough to look up at him. His hair’s still messy, cheeks still faintly pink,and there's a light trace of sweat on his temple, but his eyes are sharp, focused on you now in a way that makes your breath hitch.
“I’m not exactly…” He hesitates, frowning slightly. “Good at this stuff.”
You smile. “Sex?”
“No. Well—” His ears go red. “That too. But I meant… this. Whatever this is. Relationships. Wanting someone this much. Letting them in.”
You don’t say anything right away. Just reach up, gently brushing some of his hair out of his face.
“Senku,” you murmur, soft and certain, “you don’t have to be good at it. We’re figuring it out together.”
He swallows, throat tight. “…You’re not gonna run when you realize I’m not exactly the most conventional partner?”
You blink, lips twitching. “After what just happened? I’m definitely not running. I can barely walk.”
He huffs—almost a laugh. Then finally, finally, he meets your eyes again. Really meets them.
“And besides,” you add softly, “I knew how you were before all of this. I’m your friend first, always. I love you just the way you are.”
“I didn’t mean to fall for you,” he says, blunt in that way only Senku can be. You were just… there. Constant. Loud. Infuriatingly smart. Always messing with my things, always in my space.”
You raise an eyebrow. “You’re digging a really deep hole right now.”
He exhales—short, almost a laugh. “Yeah, well. Then one day I realized I didn’t want any of it to stop. I didn’t want you to stop. I think that scared me more than anything.”
Your lips twitch. “You call that romantic?”
“I’m a scientist,” he deadpans. “Not a poet.”
You grin, pushing up slightly so you can lean over him, your hands braced on either side of his head.
“Well,” you murmur, eyes soft, “guess I’ll have to be the romantic one.”
His eyes flicker to your lips, then back to your gaze.
“You always were.”
You lean in and kiss him—slow, like it’s not a first or a second or a tenth, but something you’ve always had the right to do. He kisses back like he’s finally letting himself want you out loud. When you pull away, you rest your forehead against his again, noses brushing. His hands drift to your waist under the blanket, not trying anything, just holding.
“…So,” you say softly. “What do we call this now?”
He hums thoughtfully. “An unplanned but highly successful chemical reaction?”
You snort. “Try again, scientist.”
His mouth quirks. “Girlfriend acquired?”
You blink. “Did you just say that like you unlocked an achievement?”
“I say that every time I make something new in the lab,” he says, matter-of-factly. “Why would this be any different?”
You roll your eyes, but your heart is doing dangerous things in your chest. “God, you’re such a dork.”He shrugs under you. “Yeah. But I’m your dork now. Apparently.”
Ignore the lowk OOC last line… genuinely couldn't find another way to end this quickly
ANYWAY BACK TO THE EXTRA NOTES!
You guys both go kind of MIA for a while; one second you’re posting like normal, sometimes popping up on each other's page, then just… radio silence.
Fans lost their minds, and during your time away, they start making these crazy long theories trying to explain what they think happened to the both of you to fill the void.
Literally ranging from, "He's secretly a serial killer and she was the last victim so he deleted his digital footprint to evade capture.”
“They eloped in the mountains. She’s pregnant. They’re living off the grid with goats.”
“She accidentally killed him during an experiment and is covering it up.”
All of these are objectively incorrect.
In reality? You’re working through your first relationship, and when you’re ready, you’ll both be back.
an: can't blame anyone but yk I gotta be rude to my kitten whiskers bella... already tagged her though so sigh... anyways this was supposed be DAYS ago but I kept adding more stuff. this is the cycle of my life , I can not shut up for the life of me.
I also haven't written smut in a while (can you tell?) so if its bad.. yeah, I tried my best fr. lowk a closeted freak ONG do not leave me in a room with Senku he WILL end up pregnant.
Series Summary: Originally from the United States, beloved spouse of Captain Stanley Snyder and Dr. Xeno Wingfield was in Tokyo, Japan at the time of the petrification. Awakening on their own in the stone world, they find themselves stumbling upon a new and budding civilization- The Kingdom of Science- a group of young scientists, warriors, and more, that will soon become like family to them.
With one goal in mind- finding and reviving their husbands on the other side of the world- what will happen when the fledgling science troupe finds themselves in America and find it's already settled?
Part Summary: The night before leaving for America, you find a quiet spot to think about what this journey will bring. Your hope for a few moments alone is squandered by a certain mentalist.
TW: None :3
Word Count: 2,535
A/N: Genuinely I can't believe the love this series has gotten so far :') Thank you all for your support, and being patient with me!! I have certain parts of this planned out, but I'm mostly just flying by the seat of my pants haha
I included a lil flashback moment in here for y'all to give some actually StanXeno x Reader content :3
Enjoy!!
There was a sharp chill in the night air, the feeling of late fall. You had wandered away from the settlement, everyone else having turned in for the night, and had settled in a clearing atop a small hill- looking up at the night sky, out on the expansive forest, and the tents and buildings of the Kingdom of Science. You had just returned from Treasure Island. The trip was a whirlwind, and terrifying at times, but you had secured the platinum you had gone looking for. Everything was in full swing to prepare for your voyage to America- the Persues was to set sail in the morning. You had fully invested yourself in every part of this project, in your journey to the island, and in preparations for the next leg of your voyage- eager to help in any way you could. Eager to continue to be a pillar of strength and wisdom for the (mostly) adolescent crew.
In the silence, your mind wandered. You thought about what would happen next. You knew where the ship was heading. Soon, you would be heading to America. You would be heading back home. It had been two years since you had broken out of the stone. So much had happened since then, you had changed so much. And yet, your end goal never altered. Your stomach tied itself in knots thinking of the possibilities. What was it like there? Was there any semblance of truth in Senku and Gen’s bluff against the Tsukasa Empire? Would America be back up and running already? If so, how long would it have been like that?
You had everything to lose there. You were terrified of what you would find. Or, what scared you the most, what you wouldn’t find. With the negative thoughts flooding your head, you, for the very first time since being revived in the stone world, let yourself cry. Away from curious eyes, eyes that depended on your strength, you let the fear and emotions escape from you. Your mind wandered back. Back to the last morning you had with your husbands- a morning 3,722 years ago.
You struggled against Stanley’s iron grip holding you firmly on his lap on the couch. You were stuck in a burst of giggles, trying to pry his arms from around your waist.
“Stan,” You struggled to get his name out through your laughter, “Stan, please. I need to leave. If I miss my flight because of you I swear-” His grip on you loosened, and you finally thought you had broken free. Just as you were getting up, he changed his hold on you, turning you around to straddle his lap. You groaned in feigned annoyance as he pulled you in and attempted to press kisses all over your face. You blocked his attempts with a hand on his forehead.
“Stanley Snyder,” you said, your tone firm, but a dopey grin plastered on your face, “if you get that lipstick all over me right before I’m about to leave, you are going to be down one spouse.” He laughed, and pulled himself back.
“Is it really so awful to want to love on my doll before they go on a big long trip?” He brought his hands to your face, gently cupping your cheeks.
“It’s not so awful,” you leaned forward, pressing a firm kiss to his lips, “but, I do have to go.” You frowned, “You have to get your ass to work, too, babe.” He gave you another kiss, grip still firm around your waist. Xeno stepped out of your shared bedroom, dressed for work with a coffee cup in hand. He walked up to you and Stanely, wrapping an arm around your shoulders with his free hand. He placed a kiss to the top of your head.
“Stanley, dear, contain yourself. Our darling has an important flight to catch.” Xeno mused. Stanley groaned, and finally dropped his hold on you. Xeno offered his hand to help you stand. You smiled and grabbed his chin, gently pulling him in for a kiss. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket. You pulled it out and frowned.
“Okay, boys. My car is pulling up. I really do have to go,” you gave Xeno another kiss, and turned to Stanley as he stood up, placing a kiss on his lips as well, “I love you both. Behave while I’m gone,” you pointed at both of them, getting a chuckle out of them both.
“No promises,” Stanley said. He grabbed your bags from in front of the door, “I’ll walk you out.”
“I will do my best to keep him in line, darling,” Xeno teased. “Safe travels, my dear, we will see you in a week. I love you.”
Stanley opened the front door for you, and you both walked out. Your ride pulled up as you stepped off the front porch. He loaded your bags in the back of the car and opened the back door for you. He stopped you with a hand on your shoulder before you climbed into the car.
“Stay safe, baby. Keep us updated as much as you can.”
You nodded in response, “I will, Stan. I’ll be home soon. Don’t worry about me too much, drama queen.” You teased and placed another kiss to his lips, and climbed into the car.
“Love you, doll.”
“I love you, too, Stan. See you soon.”
With that, he shut the door and the car drove off.
That was the last memory you had of your husbands. “See you soon” had turned into millenia. Tears fell freely down your face the more you thought about it. Your chest ached with the feeling of missing them, of longing to be in your house with them again. You would give anything to be trapped in Stan’s arms again, to have him leaving purple lipstick marks all over your face. You would give anything to feel Xeno’s gentle touch, his kind and adoring kisses, to listen to him talk through his work at you while you fixed dinner.
Through your sniffles, and lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear the footsteps of the person sitting down next to you.
“Now, what brings you all the way out here on this fine night, hm, dear Y/N?” You could see Gen settling down next to you. Fuck, you thought to yourself, there’s no getting out of this one.
“Just enjoying the peace and quiet. It’s a beautiful night.” You managed to get the words out with minimal shaking in your voice. You tried to wipe the tears streaming down your cheeks away as subtly as possible, hoping the darkness of the night would cover for you.
From the moment you arrived, Gen had gladly seated himself right in your business. In the beginning, he acted as your translator as you slowly started to learn Japanese (and even teach a little English to the Kingdom of Science). Now, he acted as the pain in your ass. You meant that with the most love in the world. Despite the near decade age gap between you two, you had formed quite the friendship with the young mentalist. But, damn, you could not keep a secret around him. Which included right now. He chucked as you spoke.
“I thought you would have figured it out by now- but, you can’t lie to me, Y/N. Especially not after two years of ostively-pay delightful friendship.” He teased, but you could hear the care in his tone. He turned his head to look at you, seeing the reflection of tears on your face in the moonlight.
“Now tell me, dear Y/N, what’s troubling you?” His voice softened. You felt like his gaze was boring holes into you. You thought for a moment about if you really wanted to get into this now. And, then, you thought that you didn’t really have a choice. Gen could, to your dismay, read you like a book. You knew he already had it figured out, he just wanted you to say it.
“I’m scared, Gen. Really scared.” Your voice quivered as you spoke, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill from your eyes.
He hummed in response. “About the voyage? About going back to the States?” You nodded. “I had a feeling that was it. This is an important and exciting journey for the rest of us, but it’s very personal to you.” He watched your face, reading your expression. He wanted you to talk about it, to get your feelings out, but he didn’t want to overstep. When your face remained unchanging, he continued, “You were married in the old world, right?”
You closed your eyes, those tears from before freely flowing down your face. You nodded again. “I was. My husbands and I lived in California at the time of the petrification. All I can think about is if their statues are still intact. God, I hope I can find them.”
There was a pause before Gen spoke up, “I’m sorry, did you say husbands? As in, more than one?” There was genuine surprise in his voice, but no judgement. You hadn't spoken about your personal life in the old world much since depetrifying. There was no time, and it pained you to think about it too hard. Gen’s question did break a short laugh out of you.
“Yes, I had two.” You wiped the tears from your cheeks. “Well, legally, I had one husband. But a marriage certificate really isn’t anything but a piece of paper. We only got legally married because he was in the military. He was, uhm, very high ranking, and was often sent on deployments. So, we figured it would be smart to have the legal safety net. Survivor’s benefits, you know. Just in case…” You trailed off, realizing you had begun to ramble. “But, yes, to answer your question. Two husbands.”
Gen nodded, “So, a wildlife biologist, a soldier… What did your other husband do?”
“He’s a scientist, too. Aerospace engineering. He worked for NASA.” You brought your knees up to your chest, resting your head on them, still looking out into the distance. “I hope I’ll get the opportunity to introduce Senku to him.” you stare at the stars, a small smile on your lips. “They have… Conflicting views on science, to say the least.” You laugh, “But, I know those two would talk each other’s ears off for hours. I think Senku could teach my husband just as much as he could teach Senku.”
Gen groaned dramatically, “You’re telling me there’s a possibility there’s going to be two of them?” He fell backwards, throwing his arms up in the air in mock defeat. You laughed at his showmanship, feeling much of the tension you carried from before falling away. You still felt the pit of anxiety in your stomach.
“Lucky for you, I think our chances of that happening soon are slim to none. They were in Pinnacles National Park, for an expo that I was actually supposed to be at but you know… Got stuck here with work…” You frowned. You didn’t regret your time with the Kingdom of Science, and you considered them family now. You couldn’t imagine a future where you didn’t know them. But still, the fantasies of being with your beloved husbands during the petrification, of being revived together, and not aging without them lived at the forefront of your mind.
“Pinnacles is a two hour drive from the nearest beach. Even if we drop anchor there, the logistics of it feel so out of reach. It would take four days, minimum, round trip, and that’s not including the time it might take to find them… If there’s anything left to find.” You sighed, feeling the tears well up in your eyes again. “We have important work to do over there, and we’ll have limited time. I don’t want to risk ruining everything for a selfish endeavor like that. We all have people that we back. I wouldn’t feel right taking the time and resources just for something that only I wanted.”
“Well, they certainly sound like they have desirable skills. I mean, a trained combat expert and a rocket scientist? You do recall that our end goal is a trip to the moon, right? We could use people like them on our team. Even if they wouldn’t be idiculous-ray assets to the team, I think you’ve put in more than enough work to deserve to be a little selfish.” He turned to look at you. You looked back at him and quickly broke your gaze, trying to find anything else to look at.
“Yeah… I guess that makes sense. Yeah, maybe.” Your voice softened, almost a mutter.
“You’re trying to avoid it, Y/N. Why?” His tone was curt. Straight to the point. You shifted nervously.
“I’m scared, Gen. Terrified. There are a million possible outcomes, and so many of them are bad. What if their statues are broken and we can’t fix them? What if we can’t find them? What if they’re so buried under almost 4,000 years of geographical change that they’re never found again? I know they stayed conscious- I know it. It was torture for 3,700 years, imagine that for eternity.” Your voice broke as tears once again began to stream down your cheeks. “Or what if the rest of the world never turned to stone, or the rest of the world got back up and running hundreds or thousands of years ago and they grew old and died without me? I don’t want to do the rest of this without them, Gen. I don’t know if I can. We grew up together. For so long, it was just the three of us. We only had each other. They are the loves of my life, my everything. The only thing that’s gotten me through the last two years is the hope that I get to see them again. What if I can’t get them back?”
“You’ll paralyze yourself with indecision if you keep thinking like that, Y/N. You won’t know unless you look for yourself. You need to face this, but you know you don’t have to do it alone, right? You don’t have to carry all the weight by yourself.” He placed a hand on your back, and stood up. “It’s late, Y/N. We should head back and get some rest.”
You shook your head, “I’m going to stay out here a while longer. Thanks for listening to me, Gen.”
He smiled down at you, “Any time, dear Y/N. You give everybody else a great deal of your love and hard work. You deserve that same kind of care in return.” And with that, he was off back towards the settlement. Once again leaving you alone with your thoughts.
The Perseus was setting sail in the morning. You didn’t have long before you had to face your fears head on. You were terrified, but soon enough, you wouldn’t have a choice. For now, all you could do was hold on to the crumb of hope that you managed to hold on to.
I hope you enjoyed this part! I personally really love the little flashback I put in, and loved getting the chance to expand on one of the reader's relationships in the KoS :) I luv Gen
Also, every time I was reading through this to edit, the "now, he acted as the pain in your ass" line made me laugh out loud. I think I'm way funnier than I actually am.
Part 4 is pretty much finished, and should be out soon! I also want to keep writing for my little StanXeno series I have going on- so hopefully I'll be able to get that out soon, as well! AND, I need to start working on some requests lol. God help me
Tag List: @pandash @eyllwz @weponxwrites @im-lovely-stfu @i-need-sleep-bitch @night-shadowblood-writes2
Fanfic idea(s) for Stanley Snyder x Reader (or OC it's up in the air atm) —btw, all these are AU ideas an have nothing to do with Dr Stone canon proper
Idea 1:
Stanley is the stable boy turned personal Knight for the princess that he caught feelings for because she has always treated him like an equal, and isn't afraid to hang around the stables with him as he takes care of the horses. Turns out Stanley is the lost prince of a neighboring kingdom.
Idea 2:
Dragon Prince!Stanley Snyder who is also Supreme Commander of the Royal Army who is tired of being told to take a mate from the selection of High Rank dragon families, as none of the women has ever caught his attention— Xeno, his trusted advisor, childhood friend, and Head of Draconian Research simply tells Stanley he has high standards. As such, Stanley sneaks out of the Palace and visits the lower districts in his full humanoid form and visits the Pubs so he can smoke and play pool with the "lowly humans", only to meet a fiesty human woman who challenges him at every turn— be it pool, darts, or even drinking. Her scent is alluring and makes his dragon side purr, and he swears he's smelled it before. Turns out his fiesty human is his highly capable, yet mysterious, personal maid the wears scent blockers while at the Palace due to past experiences with dragons bullying humans. Unfortunately she caught the Prince's attention, and when Stanley Snyder sets his eyes on something, he will get it by any means necessary.
which idea do you guys like better?
stable boy turned knight!Stanley Snyder x princess!Reader/OC
I ended up making a header for the Dragon Prince!Stanley's idea >_> which I’m heavily favoring cause I might have an idea on how to make it StanXeno x maid!Reader/OC :3c
Edit: You did not see the spelling error in the original header. Nope, not at all... I feel like I should’ve made it bigger.
I did, in fact, make it bigger. And the “signature” is my AO3 username >_>
Summary: The reader is the childhood friend of the prodigy scientist before the petrification had happened. They both found their feelings while thinking how to bring back the whole civilization back from stone, meanwhile fighting against the other scientist from the other side of the globe, in America, and the enigmatic Why-Man that's awaiting for them in the moon.
general warnings: minor used of y/n, mechanic!reader, reader!insert in the original story (anime/manga), slow burn, childhood friends, slow romance, fluff, senku's really bad at feelings, reader's oblivious, probably some bad mechanical & science knowledge.
some warnings depend on the chapter!
𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈𖥸┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸
Chapters:
it happened quiet
dust in the wind
crazy little thing called love
pleasexanny
my sails are set
holding out for a hero
cardiac arrest
i'm still standing
cooler than me
everybody wants to rule the world
happy nation
fallen star
tbd | soon
Summary: You were part of Snyder's team, but now he was petrified and Dr. Xeno gave you the order to protect the man you just shot to kill, Senku Ishigami. What happens when feelings get involved?
warnings: military!reader, senku's bad at feelings, a little tiny bit of angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, yearning, manga/anime spoilers.
𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈𖥸┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸
Chapters
If not today
A new order is entrusted to you, will you be able to fulfill it?
then must be tomorrow
Time passes, the glances linger, and the mission to the moon draws near.
Stanley Snyder X Reader
SYNOPSIS: After successfully driving away twelve bodyguards, you found yourself horrified when your father’s latest solution was his most capable soldier, Stanley Snyder, a security trap disguised as a husband. Assigned to protect you for an entire year, what began as an arrangement evolved into something unexpected as danger lurked around, and the line between duty and devotion began to blur.
WARNINGS: she fell first, he fell HARDER, short-term enemies, late-night baking sessions, ordering stan around, kidnapping in later chapters, man went feral when they took his wife, angst, fluff, crack, everything in between, happy ending? Who knows, mwhaha. More tags to add along the way.
STATUS: Ongoing
SERIES SOUNDTRACK
Prologue
Chapter 1: Father, I Don't Want This Marriage!
Chapter 2: Breakfast Wars and Truce
Chapter 3.1: The Art of Annoying Him
Chapter 3.2: When It Began to Blur
Chapter 4: Mission Creep
tba
IMPORTANT REMINDERS:
-I do NOT own any Dr. Stone characters (except the OCs that are needed for the sake of the story)
-This is purely fictional and for the sake of my entertainment and my readers’. Please do not take anything far too seriously. I will try my best to make facts as accurate as I can.
-English isn't my first language, so I apologize if there are any mistakes that I couldn't spot.
That's all, enjoy reading!
Summary:
Featuring: one accidental marriage proposal, one delighted old craftsman, multiple secret construction projects, and two pairs of life-changing glasses.
Chapter 3 – Given and Gained
The sunshine wakes you up, again.
This world needs curtains. And alarm clocks.
Sighing, you slip out of the hut, careful to not wake anybody up.
Back at your little breakfast spot, it's time to prepare some food. The last bit of rice, some broth and fish.
That should be decent.
Movement catches your eye. A bit too early for anyone else to be awake.
Your head snaps to the side, trying to assess the situation at hand.
Gen.
It's just Gen.
.
.
.
Wait?!
He's trying his hardest to be silent. Feet raising high in the air, hesitating there before stepping onto debris-free ground.
You scramble up off the ground, whisper-shouting. "Where are you going?"
Gen flinches, going still as a board. He slowly turns, mostly his head, turning his body only as much as he absolutely needs to. A guilty smile on his face.
"To Tsukasa-chan."
His words fill you with a sense of unease. So, you take a moment to look him over.
Injuries look better now, more so bruises and a few scrapes. Nothing major. The swelling that looked worrying yesterday has completely disappeared.
His eyes tell you the rest of what you want to know.
No pity, nor any other negative emotion that might set off alarms.
Good. He's going through with his decision.
"Do you want breakfast before that?"
He looks bewildered for a second, his signature small smile replacing it quickly.
"I think it might be better if I go back hungry."
That...yeah, that might make more sense.
You nod, raising a hand to wave at him. He raises a hand giving a tiny wave, before turning and walking into the forest.
You stare at his back, watching his figure disappear between the trees.
Back to cooking, you crouch by the small fire you made. Slowly boiling a broth over it and skewering fish to grill next to it.
The delicious scents spill into the air. It doesn't take long after that for the others to start waking up. All enticed by the prospect of food.
Chrome climbs out of the hut, drawn in by the smells. He looks around, seeing only you, food, and nature. For a moment, everything is alright maybe even better than that.
Then it clicks.
The amount of people in the hut, the amount outside.
The missing number.
Missing Gen.
Chaos should erupt, by all means, but you and Senku are calm. Way too calm for the situation at hand.
Chrome is freaking out about being betrayed, Kohaku is ready to bolt after the escapee only to be stopped by Senku.
Suika has huddled up next to you, following the battle between calm and chaos from a safe distance. You reward her with bits of food and pats on the head.
Soon enough, calm wins. Though, that means work, and you would prefer not to after yesterday. A heavy weight settles on your shoulders. The incoming crash is making itself comfortable as your adrenaline is finally subsiding after god knows how long.
You can feel someone staring. Out of the corner of your eye, you find out that the culprit is Senku. An analytical sweep over your posture, the probably very visible bags under your eyes. If you look even a fraction as bad as you feel, he might force you back to bed.
"I need to take a look around with Chrome today." Senku declares for everyone, but his attention is mostly on you. "That means the rest of you are free to do whatever. Except-" he points at you. "For you. Go back to bed."
You sigh, already knowing what's coming.
"The craft team needs to be in top shape." Senku continues, eyes slightly widening with each word you say at the same time.
"The craft team needs to be in top shape." You almost sarcastically parrot, having heard this so many times before. His favorite argument when you've pushed yourself.
"Glad we're on the same page, now shoo."
You get up slowly, joints popping causing Chrome, Kohaku, and Suika to look at you in horror.
"You sound like you're going to fall apart..."
"Sounds like the old people around the village."
"Are you alright?"
You sigh, waving them off.
"It's fine, I just like pretending to be a glowstick."
That doesn't make anything better as their faces twist in even more obvious confusion. They turn to Senku, who gladly begins explaining.
You continue inside, falling back onto your bedroll.
Dreamless sleep claims you in a matter of seconds.
Afternoon is already turning into the evening when you wake up. Despite the hours of sleep, you feel only marginally better.
Outside, Chrome and Senku seem to be discussing something. Both completely covered in dirt and dust, standing in front of the furnace with a pile of something next to them.
You get up, still completely sluggish, and make your way to them.
"What's up?"
Senku turns, not even greeting you back, just scanning you from head to toe. He clicks his tongue.
Jerk.
"Did you sleep good?" Chrome asks.
Finally, someone with manners.
You raise your hand, tilting it to say 'so-so'. Saying it out loud when Chrome raises his eyebrows.
"Anyway, this is good timing. We need to discuss something."
The way Senku says it makes it clear that you won't like whatever comes out of his mouth next. Even Chrome looks a little panicked, taking a few steps back to kind of hide behind Senku.
"We need to adjust the sleeping arrangements. You take the hut, we'll sleep out-"
"Absolutely not."
"-side. Too bad, this is how it will be now."
"You said nothing when Gen was here!"
"We needed to know he wouldn't try anything, being all together kept chances of that to zero."
Still, that's not enough to shut you up.
"So, now that he's gone, but there is a maniac on the loose, I'm okay to sleep alone?"
"We'll be the first in line, he probably doesn't even know you're here."
You click your tongue, hating that he's right.
"Even if he returns, he will likely go for us. So you being up there reduces the chances of you being dragged into it."
"I still think the three of us would have better chances against him."
Senku's smug look drops for a moment before he switches tactics.
"And sleeping in the same room as two men? Your marriage prospects will be gone!"
He dramatizes for a moment, while having a smirk on his lips the whole time. He thinks he got you. Well, about that...
"Or I could marry one of you two."
It lands quietly, for a second nothing happens. Then it explodes as the words finally register.
Chrome takes a step back, face red as a tomato. Eyes wide and looking anywhere but at you.
Senku stands there, unmoved, looking unaffected. If you didn't know him. His ears turn pink, eyes widen slightly and his mouth drops slightly open.
His eyes never leave yours.
You stare right back. Holding his gaze despite the warmth rising in your own cheeks.
It takes him a moment to do anything. He clears his throat, looking away from you at Chrome.
"You staying safe, means I don't lose my entire craft team. I can't risk that happening."
Completely ignoring the previous argument.
And unfortunately, he's right. Senku can create, though the results tend to be… inadequate.
He and Chrome can't run away, and whoever the attacker is, they know about them. Senku probably has a plan, but still... he's banking on surviving more so than staying unharmed.
This is frustrating.
You can only sigh, no matter what you will say, he's dead set on this.
"Fine..."
At that, Chrome and Senku look smug... For about five seconds.
The unhappiness that was clearly showing on your face before, has been replaced by something else.
"Why don't the two of you go wash up now?" The suggestion is nice, your voice sweet, but the smile on your face spells trouble.
The boys take a step back, suddenly more than happy to leave you alone.
You watch their figures retreat, smile still plastered on, until you can no longer see them. The smile drops and so does most of your body. But despite the heaviness of your limbs, it's time to get started.
With what?
Payback, of course!
Since they insisted on being fine outside, you will make sure they actually will be. Meaning, a place for them to sleep and not get sick.
A house would be the best, but there is no way to build one in an hour. Your Bob the builder powers don't include speed building.
A campsite will have to do.
Two lean-tos and a solid campfire. That's the plan.
And that means one thing – grinding.
You sigh, already regretting choosing to be nice.
Still, you get to it.
Three piles: sticks, stones, dry foliage. They unevenly grow in the matter of minutes. Once you are satisfied with the amounts, it's time to gather the last materials – tree trunks. Not the big ones, but the young ones. Long and thin.
As soon as the last one hits the ground of the clearing, so do you.
Air feels sharp, dry as you breathe it in. Big gulps that hurt, yet you can't stop.
Your fingers tingle around the axe handle.
Time ticks by, precious seconds lost. You get up, not really ready to do anything, but there is no time to waste, not if you want to be able to surprise them.
The lean-tos come together quickly. Frames first, then insulation, and lastly the bed.
The campfire is even quicker, as soon as the stone border is down muscle memory takes over. Dry foliage, sticks and leftover logs turned firewood.
The fire flickers to life easily, blazing through the pile of materials.
Finally, you stand back up. A successfully built campsite in front of you.
Something warm swells in your chest. It keeps you up despite the weight trying to drag you back down.
You breathe out. Now, you can rest. And hopefully, so will the boys.
It doesn't take long for you to hear them coming. The rustling scaring you for a second. But the distinct sounds of a pair of footsteps is enough to slow down your frantic heartbeat.
"-lass, right?"
Chrome's voice carries out of the forest, you wonder if he has adjustable volume.
"Huh?"
"What the-?"
You stand proud, hands on your hips, a smirk on your lips. And suddenly, the one who is smug, is you.
Their faces can be read like a book. The brows raise, eyes going wide. Their mouths opening, then snapping shut. No words out of either.
Senku is the first to snap out of it.
He smirks before bending over and chuckling.
"I should have known."
Chrome looks to him, still lost, but now even more because of Senku. So he focuses on you, itching for answers.
"How? But we were gone only... How?"
Senku takes the initiative and walks towards the camp. He inspects the lean-tos, pushing against the frame but only getting a miniscule amount of movement from it. He whistles to himself, a pleased tune.
"These will do great, the insulation is even and soft. The angle is nice, we shouldn't get soaked if it rains. Kukuku, the craft team really is the best."
His words leave you feeling warm, relaxing the last bits of tension you held in your shoulders. A tiny flicker of pride and happiness fill your heart at the mention of the craft team. Senku definitely has ulterior motives for your skill sets. But you take comfort in the fact that Yuzuriha will eventually be here to share the burden.
Unfortunately, Senku will most likely take advantage of that knowledge. On the other hand, at least it won't get boring.
In the meantime, Chrome seems to have regained his bearings. He looks over his new sleeping space, feeling the nice warmth coming from the fire. His eyes scan everything, greedily drinking in the sights.
"This is amazing..."
His words are almost too quiet for you to hear. Almost. And somehow, they hit you slightly more than Senku's praise did.
The genuine appreciation. The way you see in his posture when he notices the deliberate choices you made when building and how they affect things.
It worms its way under your skin, tickling, reaching straight for your heart.
Your nose stings.
Damn it...
You turn away as your vision blurs at the edges. All of it being too much of what you're not used to.
It used to be a fact to anyone who knew you, so seeing someone discover your attention to detail for the first time? To gain respect from it? With no ulterior motives no less?
Yeah... it's a lot to process. You need to get out of here. Without turning, you raise your hand in a wave.
"It's a thanks for leaving the hut to me. I hope it feels better than the ground."
You don't wait for them to respond, already moving towards your own bedroll.
"Goodnight."
But when you do lay down, eyes closed and ready to fall asleep. That's the moment your brain becomes a traitor. Again.
Ideas swarm your brain. Blueprints and models fly in front of your closed eyelids like a slideshow.
A house. Well, two to be exact. One for the boys, one for you.
Oh right, can't forget about Gen.
So the house has to have three bedrooms and a common room.
And I could make a separate one as a kitchen!
Sleep claims you in the middle of designing the house. Though dreams help you finish the design.
Morning light streams in through the open door, hitting your eyes and thus waking you up. With the memory still lingering, you draft up a blueprint quickly.
But one blueprint turns into two, three, and way more than you will ever be able to complete. A full redesign of the entire clearing.
A kitchen, houses, a smithing area, the inevitable lab. Even a possible well, because you are sick and tired of having to go to the river constantly. And the most ambitious one, the bathhouse. With heated water. But you would need Senku's help with the logistics of that one.
Well, if you ever show those to him, or anyone.
There is likely not enough time for you to mess around with any of this.
Except for the houses and the lab.
And you could always start on the house, working on it in spare time. You smile, a small giggle escaping you and sounding a little manic.
If you build them a house, not only will you have more peace. They will also be indebtedto you.
Hands move together, rubbing over one another without you even noticing.
A villain in the making.
The time came that very same day.
"Nothing?"
"Yeah, nothing. Anyway, you should still rest. There will be plenty of work soon."
You stare dumbly at Senku as he walks off. Free time is truly unexpected. Mainly when there is so much to do...
Welp, time for some personal projects.
The blueprints are nice, a layout with approximate measurements. Materials written down, now only to be gathered. The big issue here are tools, or rather, the lack of them.
There is no way you'll spend time making nails, too time consuming and not rewarding enough. So the only other choice is Japanese wood jointing.
The issue with that lies in the lack of the main tool you need for that – a chisel.
A grin stretches on your face, wide and utterly maniacal.
This village is the answer.
The toys you've seen in children's hands. The architecture all around.
They have a carpenter.
And if they truly like their work, you have something to give them.
"Your face looks strange."
A tiny voice says.
Suika. Perfect.
You school the expression into a more gentle smile.
"Sorry about that. But now that you're here, do you think you could help me with something Suika?"
She perks up at that.
"Help? With what?"
"I need to meet someone from the village, the one who builds all of the buildings and furniture."
After she agrees, Suika is off. Her little legs carrying her into the village.
You sit down, expecting a bit of wait. Surprisingly, it's just a matter of minutes before you hear her approaching again.
"Here, this is the person who wanted to meet you!"
Her little finger points at you. A small, old man stands beside her. While clearly displeased at meeting an outsider, or perhaps being dragged out here, he stays.
A quick look over tells you this guy is the real deal. Despite his age, his hands are steady, no tremors. His eyes scan things quickly, spotting things that need repair before anything else.
Amazing, this is a real master.
"Hello there." You start off with introducing yourself, keeping everything polite. Thankfully, he responds in kind, introducing himself as Kaseki.
"Now, what is it that you brought me out here for?"
"Oh right, I apologize for dragging you all the way out here. I would like to propose a deal."
He looks you over, the same way you did to him. Then finally his eyes land on the paper in your hands.
"I'm not building anything, not for that outsider that destroyed my beautiful bridge!"
His tone is stubborn. The set of his brows is too. His hands cross over his chest.
"Oh no, I'm not asking you to build anything. I would just like to ask for some spare tools?"
You reply, quickly setting the record straight before he decides to leave.
"Spare tools? For what?"
"I'll be building something, but I lack the tools to do so. If you would be so kind to lend me at least something to carve finer details into wood I would be willing to part with a trade secret of mine."
He looks at you, scoffing slightly.
"What could you possibly know that I don't?"
"I can show you."
That piques his interest. Even Suika shuffles closer.
You lay out the blueprints, specifically the ones on the jointing.
"This is the way to build homes out of wood instead of sticks."
Silence takes over... only for a moment.
Strange sounds, like labored breaths, come from Kaseki.
Worry starts creeping in.
Maybe this was too much excitement for the old guy?
Kaseki jumps up, tearing at his clothes until he rips them off his chest.
You squeal, watching as the fabric tears more and more. Then before he can completely uncover himself, you grab Suika and turn.
"This is amazing! This could be...I could..."
Kaseki seems really pleased with this revelation. Probably already full of new ideas and plans – just like you.
A sense of the same crafting spirit lets you carelessly turn back.
Immediate regret.
You squeak and cover your eyes.
"Put some clothes on!!"
It takes a few minutes, apologies from Kaseki spread throughout the whole time, and one very fast trip of him running to get new clothes, before you're both sitting on the ground. Papers spread between the two of you.
"If you do it as a frame, then that's all you need. But if you want to build it up, you might need something like this..."
You follow the words with a quick sketch. Kaseki leans closer in with an excited noise.
"I see, so I use this as a frame, I can pack it in with clay. I will get more stability than we have now. And we could add on to the building way easier than now."
He holds his chin with one hand, the other holding his own charcoal.
"Yeah! And you could even make preparations in advance, even if the expanding isn't decided yet."
The craft circle continues for a while, small exchanges of ideas passing back and forth. By the end you also get the tools, more than what was asked for. It's also decided that this will be regular, you and Kaseki meeting up, talking about ideas, exchanging techniques.
It has been a while since you felt this excited. It feels like electricity running along your skin, this invigorating feeling that won't let you rest. Calling out for something to do with your hands, to create.
So, you start.
First up, a fenced area you will be building the house in. There are two reasons for this: it's supposed to be a surprise for the boys and you don't need someone injuring themselves if they stumble in at the wrong time.
Sticks line the perimeter, giving you plenty of space to build and hoard materials at the same time. Next, you cover over them with pine branches, giving you the needed privacy.
There were of course objections and questions.
"What the hell? Why are you...We might need this area!"
Senku tried, but one look from you shut him up. This is the hill you're willing to die on, and he isn't. He takes a step back on instinct while trying to argue a bit more before his mouth closes and he ends up looking defeated.
"What is this supposed to be? Will you be making something?"
Chrome kept buzzing around the fence. He quickly shut up when you shot him a look too. This one said 'keep asking and there'll be trouble'.
Only Suika got some answers from you.
"Can I look inside?"
"Of course, but you have to keep quiet about what you see in there."
Even if the only thing there is a blueprint Suika can't read.
"What will you be making?"
You look at the boys standing nearby, quickly sticking a tongue out at them before turning back to Suika.
"It's a secret." Then quieter, making a show of covering your mouth on the side where the boys are clearly trying to listen in. "A gift for the boys."
"Ohhh."
Suika seems almost as excited as you about it.
"Oh, come on!" Chrome whines, giving up and slumping onto the ground. "Why won't you tell us?"
You take a look at him, silently contemplating if you should throw them a bone or not.
"You'll see soon enough."
There isn't much more you can give them without Senku figuring it out, though you think he has a good guess already.
That evening something begins, something that none of you present realize will shape the bonds between everyone.
The fire flickers, everyone sits in a circle around it. Even Kinro and Ginro are here.
Suika is sitting on Kohaku's lap, nodding off slowly. Soon it will be time to go to sleep.
"Now that we've gathered the sand, we will start making glass."
Senku lays out the plan, while Chrome occasionally chimes in with a question. It's quite easy, the glass can be melted in the furnace for now, there'll be a need for some molds and a sanding station similar to the cutter created for the generator's copper sheets.
"I think the first thing to create should be glasses for Suika."
A ripple of murmurs start after Senku's words.
"What are glasses?"
"Is he making something for someone out of the goodness of his heart?"
"What's the catch?"
"Why does Suika need these glasses?"
All pretty valid questions if you say so yourself.
The next morning, Senku begins with the commands. He and Chrome start on melting the glass and repurposing the copper cutter.
You manage to quickly put together a few molds for the glass before rushing back to your own project.
Even Kohaku is focusing on her own task, whipping the brotherly duo into shape for the tournament.
You start with gathering all the materials. Choosing not to stray far in case your help is needed. That means chopping down nearby trees.
Before you're even done with the first one, you are already making a plan to request metal tools from Senku.
Though thankfully, you don't need big trees. There is a perfect width you'll need for the walls, so you focus on finding logs you don't need to shape too much. Any shortcut you can get to having this done quicker.
The sun has already started its descent when you hear someone call for you. By now you've managed to cut a few logs, dragging them to the work area.
Senku stands on the other side of the fence, begrudgingly respecting the boundary.
"Need you to show Suika something."
He gives nothing else, already making his way back. You follow without question.
Chrome is standing by the new sander, a glass oval held delicately between his fingers. He's still marveling over the crystal clear material. It makes a fond smile rise on your lips before you even realize.
When you do realize, you decide there's no reason to stop. It might be better to just let it show.
Suika stands nearby, head moving side to side. Clearly looking out of place.
"I drew a basic Snellen chart. I need you to show Suika how this is going to work."
"Why me? Couldn't you have done it yourself?"
"Don't ask questions, just do it."
You huff, confused and annoyed. But you do it.
Grabbing the glass, you put it in front of your eye, closing the other.
"You need to close one eye, holding the glass in front of the open one. Then Senku will point at the shapes and you will say out loud what you see. If you can't see what it is, just say so."
Senku grabs a stick and starts pointing to the shapes, always waiting for you to say one in response. After a bit of a back and forth, Senku drops the stick.
"Your eyesight is still shit."
"Well yeah, smartass. As if my eyes magically healed. Didn't you see me squinting all the time?"
"I thought that was just your face."
You squawk, then crouch to grab the first stick you can find. You stand up, hurling it at Senku with all your might.
It smacks him straight in the face.
You burst out laughing at his expression. Eyes wide with surprise, eyebrows raised almost up to his hairline. Mouth wide open before closing.
But as soon he shows it, it's gone, replaced with irritation.
Out of the corner of your eye you can see Chrome desperately holding back his laughter as Senku turns to glare at him next.
It takes a moment for everyone to gain back their composure, mainly Chrome who keeps snickering when he looks at Senku.
It's Kohaku's arrival that fully calms things down.
Despite your protests, Senku makes you stay, switching between Suika and you with the eye test.
But all you can think about is what needs to be done next. Hands itching to do more.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity Senku sets you free.
"Both eyes?"
"Uh-huh." You hum the response, not really paying attention. Almost jumping out of your seat at the prospect of freedom.
"Fine, go. I'll call you back later."
You jump out of the chair, hands pumping into the air.
"Dobby is free!"
You run. All three Stone Agers look confused.
"What?"
"Who?"
"Do-what?"
Senku facepalms as everything around him descends into chaos because of one sentence. Everybody distracted from the task at hand.
"Get to work!"
You hear as you continue to skip over to your spot, grabbing an axe and continuing into the woods.
The rest of the day is spent out there, gathering logs and dragging them to the building site. And the evening continues with more work.
After finding your friend and other people. Creating something then gaining a new crafting buddy. Now working on multiple side projects, yeah, the dopamine rush from it all is amazing.
Sitting with Senku, Chrome, Kohaku and Suika around the campfire, your hands move quickly. Yarn in your lap, the crochet hook in your hand.
Silence has reigned over the group for a while now. Most of them watching your deft movements, seeing something grow right in front of their eyes, even if they don't know what.
Chrome is the first to break the silence.
"Hey, uh, I wanted to ask you something."
You look up, pausing your work for a second.
"What is it?"
"Oh, well... about what you're wearing and using there?" he points to the ball of yarn.
"This?" You pick up the yarn, letting Chrome look at it from up close. His hands reach out and stop, as if asking permission first.
You nod.
He picks it up slowly, carefully.
"It's yarn."
"Huh?"
"Like wool, or even plant matter."
You can see Senku opening his mouth, but this is your expertise, no way will you let him take over your fun.
"So, to explain. Take your own hair for example. It grows and then it falls out over and over. If you took all of that fallen hair, and you had it from more people, you would have a pretty decent pile."
Senku groans halfheartedly. His eyes roll but then focus back on you.
"Here we go..." He drawls, acting as if annoyed, but the small unguarded smile on his face says otherwise.
You rake a hand through your hair, pulling it away from your face and holding onto any strands that stayed in your hand.
Then, after quickly rummaging through the backpack, you take out the spindle.
"With this, you could take all that hair and spin it into yarn. It would tie here, then you'd spin the whole thing"
You carefully show him with the little bit of hair strands that had fallen out. It makes a very thin, short yarn. More like a thread for sewing.
"Normally, you want it to turn into what you're holding. And using that little hook, or-" You pull out the knitting needles. "These, you can make things out of it. Like my clothes."
You pass the yarn, unfinished work and tools around. Even the aloof Kohaku takes a closer look, her gaze softening slightly.
Suika looks at it all sparkly eyed. "It feels nice and warm. Can anyone learn this?"
When it comes back to Chrome, his hands keep touching everything, as if trying to memorize it all.
"Wow, that's amazing. Is this also science?" Chrome holds the half-finished pillow in his hands, thumb dragging over the expanse of the material.
"I wouldn't call it that. It's more of a handiwork, like woodworking. Or pottery." You say. "I don't need any scientific materials really. Just a bit of fur or wool and something to work it with."
Chrome still looks completely enchanted. Then he spots something peeking out of your backpack. "What's that?"
"Oh these? They're sweaters, to keep warm when it gets cold."
"All three of them? But they look so different from each other!"
You chuckle. "Yeah, different technique gives different results." Chrome comes closer, checking between the three pieces.
"What do you use to create these-you called them sweaters?" You nod and point at the hook and needles.
"Like I said, these. Specifically, this one is used alone, and these two belong together." He looks at the sticks with reverence. You also point out the yarn again. "And this used to be fur."
"This feels like actual sorcery." He whispers so quietly you almost don't hear. When his words register, you burst out laughing. "Yeah, to beginners it usually does."
But it makes you wonder. Maybe the villagers could learn, but you will need some wooly animal. Perhaps you might have a reason to go back for your serow friends!
You turn your attention to the de facto leader. "Senku, think it might be worth teaching the villagers how to knit and crochet?" He looks up lazily, already thinking through the benefits. It looks like his eyes sparkled at the idea, but it's gone as soon as you blink.
"Yeah. That might be worth it. Kohaku, how does your village handle the winter."
The blonde in front of him thinks for a moment. "Well, other than to fish, we mostly stay inside. It gets cold to the point that fur doesn't help so we have to huddle together."
Yeah, these guys need as much help as possible.
Senku looks back up at you and nods. "What would you need?"
"Wool, fur, anything to use as a yarn."
"That might be tough... How did you get yarn?"
"Found goats."
Silence.
"You found goats?"
You nod quickly. "Yeah, well... Serow, but still. They must have bred with goats over the years."
Senku thinks it over. "And you were near Nagano you said." Another nod. "Well, was there anything else we could get from making the trek that way?"
"I don't really know what you already have. Like, I have the rice? It grew there like weeds, but I would think some would be here. Also apples? Like small sour ones but still? Some grapes, those were surprisingly good." You ramble.
"Maybe we should spare some time later to gather some of that."
Chrome pops up beside you. "Anything on the way we should look out for?" It's a good question, almost innocent, but it brings back flashes of the past.
Ugly and painful. The smell. The sound.
You breathe in. Shaking the thoughts off.
"Not that I came across. But it's possible there could be something. It also depends which way we go."
Kohaku looks up. "Which way we go? There are more options?"
"Yeah, if you look at mt. Fuji."
"Fu-ji?" Chrome and Kohaku look at you as if you spoke alien.
They don't know...
"...Senku?"
"Hmm?"
"They don't know mt. Fuji?"
"I guess not."
What the hell?!
"Okay...I guess it's time for a lesson in geography." You grab a stick from the ground, leaning forward to draw in the dirt.
"This," you draw a point up, "is mt. Fuji. If you look up and that way." The stick points directly at the towering peak in the distance. "You can see it with your own eyes."
"Wow."
"So it had a name."
"Now. This is basically where we are now." You draw a little dent toward yourself, south-east of Fuji, marking a small X there.
"And I was here." Another X, this time north-west of Fuji. "There are two ways we can make it from here, to there."
You draw a snaking line to represent the Chikuma river and a few mountains to represent the range you refused to walk through.
"This is technically the shorter way, but it's over mountains." You point the closer path, on the right of Fuji. "On the other hand, this one might take longer, but it's mostly through valleys and next to water most of the way." The stick traces the path you took.
"If we pace ourselves right, it might take us a bit over two weeks to get there and back."
You say proudly.
"Unlike you." Senku snickers.
"As if you will survive just the way there. You will fall over and break something the first day of the trek." You point out, half joking, half serious. He grimaces slightly before shrugging.
"Well, we can't go now. There is too much to do. But if we find a bit of time, we should be able to go in Summer or the beginning of Fall." Senku concludes.
His words build up an anticipation for the future that makes it hard to fall asleep that night.
You spend the next day doing more gathering, stopping only when Senku calls you.
"C'mon, time to show Suika the world."
His words make your heart skip a beat. Despite what he might claim, it's moments like these that give him away.
You smile, talking with Suika the whole way as the boys lead you all somewhere. And it soon becomes clear where and why there.
The field of warm yellow. Flowers as tall as Suika, some stretching even up to your waist.
Sunflowers.
It's beautiful.
Chrome and Senku take Suika further in, surrounding themselves with the blooms.
You lag behind, moving closer to one flower. Letting the fuzzy details sharpen with proximity.
The air is slightly sweet, pollen saturating it.
After one final look, you take a deep breath, letting it all settle inside of you. Then you quickly follow after the others.
"What can you see Suika?" Senku asks, voice softer than he probably meant.
As she tries to focus, her entire face scrunches up.
"They're just sunflowers. It's not like I can't see at all, you know."
Senku shoves her melon helmet – now equipped with glasses – onto her head.
For a moment, only the sound of the breeze passes between you all.
Then, you can hear Suika's breath hitch and a smile spreads on your face. Even Senku and Chrome are smiling wide.
Suika stands frozen for a moment longer, taking in the sight right in front of her. The sunflowers that she can actually see now.
She turns to look at you three, droplets of tears falling from underneath the melon helmet.
"Thank you."
Suika throws herself at Senku, then slowly hugs Chrome and you.
Next thing you know, Suika is running back towards the village. Laughter follows her as she keeps looking everywhere. Her little doggy running beside her.
Chrome bolts after her, unwilling to let her out of sight even if she can see now.
It's just you and Senku now. Standing in the middle of a giant sunflower field.
"Think we could harvest these? Once they're ready of course."
You ask, leaning to properly see the flowers.
"Of course you'd think of how to use them. How about you just enjoy the sight?"
"Well, I can't se-"
You turn to face him, stopping in your tracks as a pair of glasses, frames and all, is suddenly brought in front of you. They almost look like your old pair, as much as can be replicated now.
"Wha-"
"Put them on."
Your hands shake as you take the glasses from him. The anticipation makes your eyes close as you put them on.
"Oh come on, I made them so you could see, but you need to open your eyes."
And you do.
The world is bright, sharp. In focus.
The field stretches all around, framed by a forest.
Then everything blurs at the edges, your nose burns. But you bite your lip hard, unwilling to lose what you've just gained even for a second.
You turn to Senku, once again seeing his features properly, and smile. Wide, unguarded. Truly happy.
Chapter 1 - Spite
Chapter 2 - A meal
Chapter 3 - Arts and crafts
Chapter 4 - Herd
Chapter 5 - Moving forward
Chapter 6 – The beach episode
Chapter 7 – Home Sweet Home (Please Don’t Be Haunted)
Chapter 8 – Preparing for winter, pretending not to see
Chapter 9 – The Shape of the Fear
Chapter 10 – After the Blood Dries
Chapter 11 – The Stars Were Made for Falling
Chapter 12 – Elsewhere, At the Same Time
End note
Not so lonely survivors:
Chapter 1 - Detective on Duty
Chapter 2 – First Light
Chapter 3 – Given and Gained
Legend of zelda - Link x reader
Skyward Sword
The sun and the song
Chapter 1 - Before the Fall
Chapter 2 - Falling Skies
Chapter 3 – Whispers of the Earth
Chapter 4 – Threads Through the Trees
Chapter 5 – Another Dawn
Chapter 6 – Echoes of What Hasn’t Happened
Chapter 7 – Quiet Days Don’t Last
Chapter 8 – Toward the Ruins
Chapter 9 – When Waiting Is No Longer an Option
Chapter 10 – Traces of the Spirit Maiden
Chapter 11 – Between Sky and Dust
Chapter 12 – Shifting Sands
Chapter 13 – Shifting Paths
Chapter 14 – Actions and consequences
Tags: Rivals to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, angst, some crack.
Synopsis: You go insane when you stay at the KoS without Gen. Senku took it as a sign to be a bitch.
Notes: Lmk if my writing style is ass, I'm still struggling with writing in English. Thank you @taigumii for beta-reading this!!
Chapter 7: Switch-ups.
Previous chapter:
#6: Recovery and Tensions.
“This is bad! Gen's gone, he vanished somehow!”
It was the start of a bright new day, and Chrome's screams immediately harassed everyone's ears uninvitedly.
“Ah, it looks like he's going back to Tsukasa.” Senku picked his ear in boredom.
“Shouldn't we do something?! He's going to tell him that Senku's still alive!” Kohaku turned to prepare to chase him, but a figure leaped forward to her with a spear in hand. The tip of it was held in front of her face, preventing her from moving any further.
“Y/N?! Seriously out of all the times, this is where you decide to finally attack us for real?!”
“I'm not attacking you, I'm keeping you in your place. Nobody is chasing anybody.” Your words hold no space for any argument.
“You can't-”
“I said it firmly last night, I'm Tsukasa's spy. I have the right to keep you from ruining our mission.”
“She's stubborn and determined, Lionness. There's no point at convincing her.” Senku interrupted before she could respond.
“But Senku, that bastard is going to snitch. You're going to die at this rate!”
He simply placed a hand at her shoulder and moved closer to her, whispering unknown words into her ear. She only reacted with a huff and backed away from you.
“I'm sorry, but I have to keep you away from him, I hope you understand. To compensate, I'll still help you guys train for the tournament soon, for now I need to wash up at the river.” You walked away from them curtly, going deep into the forest. The dark greenery slowly consumed your figure, and eventually you were out of sight.
Senku sighed in relief as soon as you departed. “Kukuku, looks like I don't have to worry about her eavesdropping on us.”
“Eavesdropping?” Kohaku gave him a perplexed stare.
“You couldn't tell, huh? That mentalist will clearly give Tsukasa a fake report. It's obvious since he's been helping us earlier and refused to let Y/N leave with him.”
“So, Gen is actually on our side?”
“Ten billion percent, he's going to convince that primate that I'm dead for real.”
“But what about her? She's not gonna like it knowing that Gen became a traitor.”
Senku cracked his neck and waved dismissively in the air. “That's not our problem, it doesn't affect us by a millimeter. Now let's put ourselves to good use, we'll be making him an icy cold cola. He's a shallow man, we need to give him one thing to prevent him from switching up again.”
…
Hours passed and the sun peaked in the middle, its rays much more blinding than before. Ever since you left the KoS you've felt something weighing in your chest. Your body sat nearby the river, completely slumped on the grassy area, gaze locked at the river and looking at it like it personally betrayed you. You finished cleaning up long ago, but a part of you refused to go back for some reason.
Your hand drifted towards the cool water, feeling the soft currents moving against your fingers. ‘Why am I like this? It's pointless to mope around. But why am I feeling like shit?’ Thoughts were clouded with negativity, making the world around go mute.
It doesn't make sense, is there something you don't know? Why do you feel like everything is going to go wrong soon?
You shook your head violently from the thought, it was eating your mind up. With a harsh groan, you reluctantly stood up from the ground, wiping away the stray drops of water on your hand.
“I guess it's time to go back. Wonder what they're up to.” You mumbled to yourself as you grabbed your only stone weapon that was left forgotten at the side. When you're making your way back, you start to think about how Gen is doing with his report to Tsukasa.
‘Hopefully he doesn't mess it up. We need to get over this as soon as possible.’
…
(At Gen's side):
He ran away frantically, his hands shook aggressively in the air. Even through the occasionally stumbling on tree roots and small stones, it barely did anything to stop him. He was panting greedily, a burning sensation on his legs were rising high — threatening to give out any time soon.
Fortunately, it wasn't too long when he finally arrived at the Tsukasa Empire, looking like he lost a fight to a bear. He dashed to the entrance of a dark cave and jerked when an arrow nearly landed on his bare foot.
“Wait Tsukasa it's me!” He called out, words echoing on the walls of the cave. His chest heaved and his hands fell onto his knees as he grasped for more air to refill his weak lungs.
“Me and Y/N-chan found a village full of primitives! They attacked us both, but she allowed me to flee while she distracted them on her own.” He explained between heavy breaths. “As for Senku-chan, he was gone. No trace of him anywhere.”
He snapped his fingers as he shifted into his usual sing-song voice. “There's no doubt that the man is dead! And I forgot to mention that Y/N-chan insisted on spying on them as soon as she calmed their nerves down. So there's no need to worry about our fierce goddess who's unfortunately not by my side.”
“Gen, you and Y/N didn't actually see his body. If he's somehow still alive, he'll find the village and turn it into a Kingdom of Science.” Tsukasa gave him a look of something dangerous and unshakable. “Unfortunately, I failed to mention to her that if she does manage to find him, she should kill him immediately. So, we'll build an army as soon as possible, and we'll take over the village alongside her.”
“Of course~! Expanding the empire is important for the Stone World.” Gen exclaimed in his foolish voice to disguise his internal immense dread about the situation. ‘Senku-chan is so screwed!’
…
The KoS was starting to become visible in your field of vision as you walked closer and closer, your horrible leather shoes crunched against the ground softly. It didn't take long for Kohaku to see you thanks to her 20/20 vision.
“You came back really late.” She puffed with her arms crossed as she ambled towards you.
“I was washing up.”
“Until it's practically noon?”
“The dirt was such an ass.”
She sighed from your answers, it was way more simple and blunt than Senku's. “Whatever you say girl.”
“Anyway, what's up with this place? Where are the others?” Only the sounds from clashing sticks from the battlefield and the crackling fire from the furnace were heard around the vicinity. It indicated that the presence of some special people are missing because usually there would be chatter about experiments.
“Ha! You finally noticed. Senku and Chrome left with Suika to test out her glasses.” She pointed with her thumb to where the scientists went.
“Ah, she couldn't see well. That explains why she wears that helmet, I'm guessing it's something about the pinhole effect.” You pondered.
“How did you know that? Senku explained that earlier. I didn't know you're a scientist either.”
“Used to be a decent one, but I only became one to compete with Ishigami.”
“Ishigami? Isn't that the village name?”
A confused expression was visible on your face. You looked at her as if she said that pigs can fly. “What are you talking about? God you know what, nevermind.” You immediately dismissed your own question when it escaped, not wanting to be bothered with lore that has a chance that he's the main focus of it. “I meant to say.. Senku.” You feel mentally disgusted at using his first name for the first time ever.
“Oh I see. Wait, why aren't you competing with him now?” Her questions were beginning to annoy you slightly.
“Academic competition in the Stone World? I'll pass. Survival is much more necessary than chemical play.” You responded with little irritation.
“Then this means you're okay with Senku since your science fight stopped right?”
You grumbled weakly when she asked more, still, you replied with no hesitation. “It doesn't mean I stopped disliking him. He's still an asshole, I'll never be fond of that guy even if thousands of years passed again.”
“You modern people are so complicated. What's the point of holding a grudge?” Her shoulders sagged from how ridiculous your relationship is with Senku. You responded to it by rolling your eyes, it's way too hard not to when you clearly hate talking about him.
And speaking of the devil, the said person that was the topic of your conversation walked out of the forest with Chrome and Suika beside him.
“Kukuku, look who's finally here.”
“You're the one that came back.”
“You left hours earlier for who knows why. A bath doesn't take approximately 3 hours when you don't have the hygiene products that contribute to that hellish time.”
You clicked your tongue at how well thought out his argument is. “Screw you, you don't have the right to be curious about what to do with my life. What are you, my boyfriend?”
“You're ten billion percent delusional. It just doesn't make any sense dumbass.” He didn't deny it, but you didn't put much thought into it when your attention moved to Suika's helmet which changed a little from the glasses.
“Suika, you can see better now right?” You intentionally ignored Senku out of spite.
“Yep! Detective Suika can help easily now!” She beamed with her arms stretched in the air.
“That's great to hear!” Your sudden change of demeanor made the others look at you like you're a totally different person.
She nodded happily at your comment. “And Suika can see your face clearly. You look so beautiful!”
A slight blush appeared at your cheeks warmly from her innocent compliment. “Oh, I appreciate it a lot.” From the outside, you were composed enough to give her reasonable gratitude. But internally? You're screaming and crying thanks to the girl's sweetest words. Sure, your classmates back in the 21st Century admired your looks as well, however it didn't hit hard enough for your heart to beat a millisecond faster. Children are an easy exception for that, you know they are always honest just about everything.
“You broke her capability to speak after that sweet lie, well done Suika.” Senku interrupts your thoughts in which your mood goes upside-down quickly.
“I'm gonna throw you off a cliff.” You bit back.
‘There it goes again! Her insane mood swings!’ Is what the rest shouted in their heads in unison by chance.
“Do that and in exchange you help these primitives evolve their scientific progress-”
“No.”
…
(Huge timeskip)
Several days have passed since Gen's report. He still hasn't come back, you assumed he's planning an attack on the village with Tsukasa. It's not like you want that possibility, but this village is one step closer to rebuilding the old world, it's going to be necessary.
You're sitting at a boulder nearby, watching the members of the KoS finish up at recreating chemical compounds in their makeshift laboratory, it almost felt nostalgic. Almost.
“Y/N, are you a bad guy ‘cause you didn't help us in the lab?” Suika skipped towards you.
“I'm not a bad guy per se, but I don't help just because. If I were one, I would've killed Senku myself, and since I'm not, I'm just observing you guys.”
“I don't understand why you're spying on us though.”
You chuckled at her innocence. “I'm just doing my job, that's all.”
“Tch, job my ass. You just don't have the guts to kill me.” Senku walked over to your conversation with a sly grin when he wasn't even mentioned.
“My job was to protect Gen, which recently changed to keeping watch of you idiots. Nobody said that I should take your life.” You retorted.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, kukuku.” His teasing reply makes your temple throb in rapid pulses. You've been stuck in this kingdom for far too long in your opinion, one more day with this bastard you'll explode into smithereens.
“Don't you have more dangerous ingredients to bring back?”
“Nah, I need alcohol for the rest, dummy. It won't be a problem soon because the Grand Bout will be starting in a few moments. Our chances of getting it have increased since I'm joining it to shit on the rules of it.” He shrugged casually.
“Of course you would. You don't care about being fair when you see the advantage it gives you.” Your eyes narrowed at his scummy strategy.
“Obviously, it's ten billion percent more efficient this way!” He grinned like an average Disney villain and you cringe at his stupid look.
“You're so childish.”
“You're boring.”
“Your explanations are worse.”
“Guys can you shut up for one second? Despite being together for days, your relationship is still bad!” Chrome yelled out in frustration. “It's about to start! We need to go!”
“Yeah sure, go gather everyone else. We're going to get that alcohol and save your precious Ruri.” Senku dug a finger in his ear. “You coming or what? We can use another set of hands with us.” He turned his head back to you, expecting you would say no but it doesn't hurt to try. A trump card can turn the tides.
“No chance. I'm staying.” You denied quickly; the bar of his luck is still in the depths of hell.
“Your stubbornness is almost admirable. Oi team! Let's move out already, I can't wait another second to step foot in the village for the first time ever.” He called out to his teammates and walked away to the village's bridge, leaving you sitting alone in boredom.
“And I can't wait to get out of here.” You mumbled to yourself.
“Don't worry Y/N-chan~ it'll be soon enough.”
“Hopefully.” You froze when you realized what you just heard and said. Turning your head to the direction of the voice slowly, a dark but familiar figure starts to emerge from the shadows of the trees in the far side.
“Long time no see,
Y/N-chan!”
I hope nobody notices the mistake I made with the duration of making Suika's glasses. It should've been a day but I wrote it as 3 hours for the sake of the plot. So if this inaccuracy is bothering you, well get used to it this is canon divergent it's not guaranteed I will follow the anime properly. 😝 @yukonoo @rotten-despair
You and Satoru Gojo - your best friend since grade school - had just one night, a bad break up, a bunch of drinks, but you promised to not let it ruin your friendship. That is, until a couple months later, when telltale lines show - you're pregnant with your best friend's baby! Panicked, you find Satoru is not nearly as upset as you thought - in fact, he is supportive and sweet. Just what you need, but the tension is there, and you don't know what is 'as a friend' or 'helping out' or what is more.
pairings - best friend! gojo x f! reader
warnings - mdni, oral, fingering, pregnancy, squirting, creampie, a bunch of fluff, friends to lovers, pregnant sex, oral fixation, soooo cute, nerdy/sweet and soft Satoru, mentions of insecurities w/reader, tension, mutual pining, happy ever after - wc- 8.1k
this won the poll hehe, late father's day oneshots - ty to my bb @lizatonix for proofreading againnn <3 Art by @mango on x
You're fucking pregnant.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Staring at that stick, your hands are trembling, gasping and dropping it as you look right at those two tell-tale lines, of the one and only time you and your best friend had sex. A terrible night where you were both broken up with, where you all had agreed just once, to take care of each other, to feel better.
Where the best friend you've had your entire life had rutted his cock into your needy cunt, and pressed your face down into the plush of your mattress. Where you'd arched up and he'd sucked in a breath when that damn condom broke, cursing as he pulled back.
The night you all didn't have another one– and you told him -
Fuck me.
Just fuck me and pull out… please?
The night he did just that - you know he had pulled out, especially when you had felt those sticky ropes of cum up your skin, painting your back with white. You had already been squirting right before, so sensitive, he'd rubbed his tip up and down your slit to get you to do it again, and again, before cleaning you up.
The night you had lost yourself, both of you tipsy, giggling and fumbling until he hit you with those mean fucking strokes, the ones that had you breathless. The night that plays over and over in your head on repeat, and won't stop, but you'd gone back to normal - stayed best friends, kept that agreement.
Until you felt sick two months later, dizzy from one little drink, your nipples aching.
And now...
The phone rings and you jump, looking and seeing his name, fingers trembling as you look from the phone to the stick, over and over.
How do you tell your best friend that he knocked you up!?
“Um.. hi?”
“Hey,” Satoru’s rubbing the back of his neck, pacing back and forth. Since that night a couple months ago you’ve barely hung out – he wants to say it’s because college is over, because you both have your own lives.
Yet he worries he fucked it all up that night.
But how could he not give you his cock, fuck into your needy, wet little cunt? How could he not have you cum all over him, ass arching so fucking pretty, god it looked like a heart from that angle. He has it in his head as he jerks it to you – feeling like the worst friend on the planet.
He’d beg to have you again, but he knows he can’t – he knows he needs to stay distant, to be your friend. One night where he let down his guard and whimpered an “I love you” was enough – you both were tipsy, and you were cummin’ too hard to hear it, the little confession.
The next day you were back to normal, but he’d felt you quiver around him, he’d watched you drool as he drilled his cock mean into your hole – tip bruising that cute cervix. Pulling out was a tragedy – but he was happy that fucking condom snapped, sadistic as it was for sweet, nerdy Satoru Gojo.
He wished he could have filled you with all those creampies.
“I made everything weird, yeah? That night-”
“No! No, no, it’s not that. I just…” You trail off, and he feels his heart hammering, pulse racing with nerves. “I need to tell you something.”
“Is anything wrong!?”
“No, yes – well…” You sigh again. “I’m coming over if that’s okay.”
“Of course.”
“Maybe um, smoke some weed first? Have a drink?”
Satoru pauses. “How bad is the news?”
“Just get… relaxed first.”
*****
“You’re… pregnant?” He manages to ask, eyes locked onto you as you pace back and forth in his living room. “You’re sure?”
“I need an official test, but yes,” you keep pacing now, shaking your head, sighing. “I was ovulating, I should have known better. Ugh! And now… Toru, you don’t have to help if I keep it, okay? I don’t want you thinking I like did this to get something, like because you’re rich or-”
“Excuse me?” He stands now, walking to you, gripping your shoulders gently, turning you to face him. “When would I ever think that about you?”
“But so many women would fucking do that to you,” you whisper, eyes full of tears. “And I know you’re scared of that. I know it’s why you’re cautious with dating anyone.”
That’s part of it.
The other part is he compares them all to you.
“I know it’s an accident, fuck I’m just as responsible, I was more than happy to fuck you without one,” you flush then, and he clears his throat. “Sorry, I know we aren’t supposed to bring it up.”
“Hard not to, now,” you sigh, letting him cup your face. “I’m so sorry. Really, I know you have so much on your plate, and-”
“Stop apologizing.”
“You’re taking this way better than I thought,” you admit softly, letting him hug you, sinking against his warmth. “I thought you’d panic, or worse… hate me.”
“I’d never hate you,” he whispers, his mind rushing a million miles a minute – of course it’s scary, and of course he has no clue about kids at all. He doesn’t even know what you’ll wanna do, but fuck if he won’t support his best friend – the girl he’s been pining for secretly for years.
He sure couldn’t bring any of that up now, not when you need support, when you need him to just be there.
“We need to make a doctor’s appointment, yeah?”
“I already did,” you sniffle, and he swipes your tears. “Do you wanna come with me?”
“Of course I do,” his brows draw together. “You’ve known me since we were babies almost, you really think I’d let you do this alone?”
“I knew you wouldn’t, but to resent me,” you trail off now, emotions burning in your throat. “I really always wanted one. Not now, but, I did.”
“Yeah, me too,” you blink a bit. “Didn’t know that?”
“You never talked about it to me,” you sniffle again, nausea suddenly hitting you, making you sway a bit. “Fuck.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m gonna…” you rush off then to one of his bathrooms, not one of your finer moments, and as a best friend always does, he holds your hair while you’re sick – it’s not like he hasn’t done it at high school keg parties, or the beginning of college for you – but it’s been a while since you’ve needed it. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, please,” he sighs now, standing. “I’ll get you something for your tummy, you have a toothbrush you can use under the sink, okay?”
“Thank you, Toru,” you hang your head as he walks out, soon you’re on his couch with your legs over his thighs, you all frequently sit like that – but now everything is different. He’s got you nibbling on saltines, and a ginger ale – he’d door dashed them so fast you were surprised.
Then you found out it wasn’t doordash – it was just Ijichi.
Poor Ijichi, really, but you suppose he’s paid well to be at Gojo’s beck and call all the time.
“I’ll throw it up again.” You nibble, little teeth marks on the cracker as you try to chew it a bit. “I keep getting sick.”
“How will you grow a baby if you don’t eat, hmm?” His words hit hard, the sweetness in them, the way he’s looking right at you. “Chew.”
“Yes sir,” you mumble, chewing again.
“Swallow.”
“Don’t say that!?” You’re choking almost on that cracker now as he snorts, smirking just a bit and leaning close.
“Oh, why not? Mind somewhere?” He teases, as if it’s just another day, and watches you get all flustered, playfully shoving him. “Perv.”
“Me!? You got me pregnant!”
“Well, you told me to keep going.”
“You little shit,” he shoves the ginger ale can in your hand again, narrowing those baby blues.
“Drink.”
“Just don’t say swallow, god,” he snorts and rolls his eyes a bit, leaning back on the couch, you see it’s getting dark outside now. “I need to head back soon.”
“Just stay,” it was normal to stay, before that night, before you knew how good his lips felt on your shoulders, his teeth sinking into the nape of your neck, cock railing your cunt from behind.
It was not normal anymore.
You look at his lips, wondering what it would be like to press yours on them, they were soft on your skin, but things were so hasty you both didn’t do that. Probably for the best, they were too plump and glossy, unfairly pretty like all of Satoru Gojo was, really, best you don’t even think of it.
“I should go,” you finally manage to say, and Satoru frowns. “I really have a lot to do tomorrow with work.”
Work.
He forgets you have your summer job, concern hitting his features then. “In your condition?”
“I’m barely pregnant, silly,” you playfully push him again, standing now. “I will see you at the appointment?”
“Of course,” he hugs you a little too long at the door, he can tell you’re fucking terrified as you hug him back, but…
Satoru’s not upset, at all actually.
Instead, he orders anything and everything a baby could need, and a million baby books, studying everything there was to know, picturing it all.
No, he was…
Excited.
Terrified but fucking excited to think of it – of the one girl he’s always loved carrying his baby, but he tries to rein it all in, the last thing he needs to do is pressure you either way with any decision. So instead, when you text him the details and a little good night with a heart, he simply writes back –
See you then. Night, sweetheart
Before studying again like a little psycho all night – by the time your visit comes, Satoru Gojo is an entire fucking expert on everything pregnancy related, in fact. What else was a best friend for, really, if not to support you with everything?
And if in the next week he jerks it hopelessly to the thought of fucking you and cumming in you, well…
He can’t really help that.
*****
The next week
The gel is cold against your skin as the doctor spreads it across your stomach with the little wand, your shirt slid up to your chest, showing a tummy still mostly flat.. Gojo sits beside you, his hand clenched in yours, his face paler than usual despite how supportive he is being.
You've both been quiet since arriving at the doctor, even in the back of his car as his driver brought you, there was not much said. He tried to lighten the mood by showing you videos of dumb things, but when it didn’t work, and he knew you needed the quiet? He gave you it, just keeping a hand touching your thigh the entire ride.
Comforting, he was comforting you – as the reality of this situation was sinking deeper with each passing moment.
A baby.
Would you have it? Would you keep it? Part of you has always loved kids, but you never expected to be a mother yet, especially not being married or at least with someone. Not your best friend – and was he still going to be that? Would he resent you for your decision, would-
"Alright, let's see what we can find," the doctor says, moving the wand across your belly and thankfully cutting off your thoughts. “Hmm… let’s try here.”
You stare at the screen as he delves lower, pressing a bit on your pelvis – your heart is pounding so quickly you can hear the blood rushing in your ears. There's just static for some time, and you feel yourself getting sick as Satoru watches with you, seeing the shape of your uterus right on the screen.
Fuck - what if something’s wrong!? What if…
“Hey,” Satoru smiles at you, feeling your panic – he’s always known you so fucking well, and now is no different. He runs his thumb across your knuckles softly. “Hear that?”
“No I…” There it is.
A flicker. A tiny, rapid fluttering on the screen, and the sounds, little whooshes quickly echoing in the room, it’s so fast, you can’t take what it does to you in that moment, feeling tears in your eyes. “See?”
“A heartbeat…” You whisper, he grins all big, his teeth white and bright, that smile fucking ruining you.
Another pregnancy symptom?
Apparently being too fucking horny – and being around Gojo made everything a million times worse. Did he have to be so attractive? Did he have to smell so damn good? Did he have to hold your hand like this with his pretty blue eyes glittering, like he’s got it all together when you don’t?
How were you ever just his friend before, you always had something for him, sure. High school crush, college crush, puppy love – but through it all you always knew that friendship was the most important thing. Yet now you know what it’s like for him to grip your hips, to hold you, to bend you over and break you apart on him. To have his body on top of you.
How could you forget it when you’ll be seeing him constantly for years?
"That's the heartbeat," the doctor says with a smile, shaking you out of your heated thoughts. "Strong and healthy. Looks like you're about ten weeks along."
Tears spring to your eyes as you turn to look at Satoru, seeing his own are affixed now to the screen, his lips slightly parted. He looks from the screen to your stomach, then back again, his expression one of pure awe.
"Is that… that’s the baby?”
“Yes, it’s hard to see this early,” the doctor takes a few pictures, it’s a tiny, moving little thing, so small it’s hard to tell.
“That's our baby,” you whisper, then curse softly. “I mean…”
“Shh,” Satoru murmurs, his own heart hammering so fast he almost feels faint. He was of course nervous, but seeing it and seeing you – the girl he’s loved as long as he can remember? He can’t help his dopey fucking grin. “It is.”
“Yeah,” you murmur, all pretty, flushed cheeks, blushing when Satoru offers to clean the gel off your tummy and you sit up, it squishes just a bit, making you curse. “Ugh, already.”
“You look perfect,” he says it before he can stop himself, his hand moving gently to wipe your skin clean, you look down, thighs pressing together, as his eyes flick to yours. “You’ll be pretty, all pregnant.”
“No way, my mom got huge and I will too!”
“So? It’s part of that,” you frown again. “Hey.”
“Yeah?” He tilts your chin as you slide your shirt down.
“What’s going on in your mind right now?”
“That I’m selfish, self centered to think of my body,” you pout a bit. “Stretch marks, titties getting so big, tummy huge. God, my ankles will too! My friends have all been so miserable, ugh. And I should worry less about that, and more about how I’ll raise this damn baby. Am I…”
“Shh,” he kisses your temple now, and you lean against him, eyes fluttering shut. “You’re in your early twenties, pretty normal to be worried about your body changing, I don’t think that’s selfish. Okay?”
“You always make me feel better,” you snuggle against him, loving this too fucking much, inhaling his scent, feeling his warmth.
“What are friends for? Besides… getting you pregnant I mean.”
“Satoru!”
“Well…” You snort and shove at him, shaking your head. “When’s the next appointment?”
“Two weeks for a physical type check… do you…”
“I’ll be there.”
*****
The next physical went great, and Satoru’s been reading even more baby books – you’d decided to keep it and had let him know it was his choice, of course, if he wanted to be involved. Because this was both your choices.
Of course Satoru did.
There was no world he’d ever let you do this alone and not support you – though he doesn’t tell you exactly how excited he really is, he is so nervous in these moments, especially knowing how scared you still are. So he tries to be comforting, reassuring, there for you.
He was right there on time, taking you there, and fuck he looked good. He had on this sweater that was so soft you wanted to snuggle against it, that cologne in your senses, almost making you salivate.
Fuck.
As if you didn’t want him before, at three months pregnant it was worse than ovulation, it was like you needed to cum constantly. You’d played with your pussy every day to avoid this, to hope that you could act normal with him, but when he’d brushed this tiny stretch mark on your skin and smiled?
When he’d murmured cute.
When he held the door open for you, sliding in and talking about everything he’s researched on babies? Well, that’s when it’s almost fucking impossible to control, thighs pressed together with your hands between them, as if you can keep yourself from touching him somehow on the drive back.
You're impossibly quiet in the back seat of his sleek black car, Ijichi drives Gojo everywhere, you’re not even sure Satoru can drive – there’s no point really though. You don’t blame him one bit, but it was always pretty fucking cool in school to get those rides home with him – memories twist and blur just a bit as he brushes a lock of your hair back, smiling at you.
You shift uncomfortably, trying to discreetly press your thighs together even more, to not just straight up whine out from the friction, but it's no use. You're so horny it hurts, your panties soaked to all hell, your clit pulsing with need, literally twitching from his proximity.
What sort of pregnancy thing was this? This wasn’t in a book.
"You okay, sweetheart?” Satoru asks softly now, glancing over at you. "You've been squirming, are you uncomfy? I think cramps can still happen – and your back can hurt from it. I can rub it?"
“No! I mean!? No!? I mean…” You curse, shaking your head. "I'm fine is all I meant!”
“Fine?” You nod quickly, making him sigh. “Am I being too touchy with you? Offering to-”
“No, no. God I appreciate you so much, never,” you mumble, shaking your head. “It’s not that at all.”
“Okay…” He exhales now.
“You thought that?”
“You’re so tense around me,” he brushes his hand against your thigh softly. “Like you’re clenched up, I worried I…”
“No… I’m just… not okay.”
"What's wrong?" he asks, brows furrowing just a bit. "Are you in any pain or anything? I need to know if you are."
"Not exactly," you admit, your cheeks flushing, burning fucking hot, god is this car just hot!? Is his skin burning!? "It's just... I'm really... uncomfortable."
"Uncomfortable how? I can turn up the AC, and you can lean on me?”
You hesitate a bit, he’s being so fucking sweet, and you feel like a deviant right now. Your brain is on nothing but how long his fingers are, how good they’d feel inside you, fuck when you’d been together you’re not sure he touched you much. He had slipped them in for a moment but you were so needy you had begged him to put it in.
Oh and that stretch.
But they’re long, and they’re thick, thumb brushing your thigh. You sigh, shutting your eyes again.
“You know you can tell me anything, yeah? Known you since the fucking fifth grade, now is not time to get shy.”
“Right…” You take a shaky breath. “It’s embarrassing."
“Okay, how?”
"I'm horny," you blurt it out, watching his own blush, cursing a bit. "Like, painfully horny. I feel like I will jump you, straddle you, fuck your hands are so big and… Satoru, were they always this big!?”
“Were they…” He laughs nervously. “What?
“Were they always this big – and why do you smell like that?” He blushes brighter as you lean forward, your hand covering his. “I’m going to lose it, I can’t act like this, but it’s like I’m going to die if I don’t cum. I’m wet from nothing.”
Oh fuck.
He can’t take that, looking at you as you lean forward, your tits are right in his view, that sleeve falling off your off shoulder sweater, showing too much of your pretty skin. He swallows nervously, it takes everything not to just drag you on his lap and pump you full of cum.
God, what would your nipples look like dripping milk? How big and full would your tits get? He feels like he’s the pervert, and you’re over here worrying, he can see it as you pull back just a bit.
"Oh. That's... that's a thing? With pregnancy?” He tries to act calm, cock throbbing.
"Apparently," you mutter, shifting again. "And it's fucking awful right now, I am not trying to be… distant, okay? I…”
The car hits a bump and you whine out.
“Ugh!” You cover your face, Satoru is quiet for a moment, then clears his throat, taking your hands down slowly, making you look at him. “This is embarrassing!"
“Nah, it’s… just…” He swallows a bit, nervous as his fingers wrap around your delicate wrists. "I could... I mean, if it would help... I could help you out. As a friend if you um… want? As… a baby daddy… friend or-"
You blink then. "What?"
"Just... to take the edge off I could help you feel better," he murmurs, his cheeks still slightly flushed, eyes dark. "I helped you get in this state, I could at least help you with this, to make you cum, hmm?”
“Make me cum?” You’re trembling a bit at that. “Like and… it’s fine with you?”
“Is it fine with me,” he laughs a bit, shaking his head, tilting your chin up. “You askin’ if I have a problem making you cum for me?”
“I just,” you bury your face against his chest, his hand slipping up your thigh achingly slow. “Make me cum how?”
“You keep staring at my hands, do you want my fingers inside you?” You suck in a breath, burying your face again, feeling his thumb brushing your skin. “What else is your best friend for, hmm?"
“Satoru,” you laugh softly, biting down on your lip, peeking over at the partition. “Would he hear?”
“You were loud,” you gasp and playfully shove at him. “I’m kidding… kind of. You really were.”
“I’ll be a little quiet,” you whisper. “You were loud too.”
“Brat, tch,” you giggle, and it feels perfect.
Satoru is your best friend.
Satoru got you pregnant.
Now Satoru Gojo’s fingers are sliding up your thighs, his fingertips tugging at the waistband of those leggings, you love wearing them lately, with your body already changing just a bit. “Are you sure you want me to?”
“Yes,” you whisper, a hand slipping up his chest, shaky just a bit as his fingertips slip lower. “Helping me as my friend.”
“Best friend.”
“Best ever,” you whisper – delusional – nodding so he has the okay, his fingers are just a bit hesitant at first, gently tracing the edge of your panties before slipping underneath, finding you. “Mnh!”
You gasp as his fingers brush against your folds, already slick with arousal, embarrassingly so in fact – so wet the squelch is loud as he darts it up your slit, Satoru moans softly, looking into your eyes and slipping lower. His fingertip dips in, and even more slick drips out, your panties already sticky, he lets out a little hum, running them up, studying you.
You shake your head in response, spreading your thighs wide for his fingers to explore you, he finds your clit easily, circling it gently and all teasing, making you whine out in frustration before applying more pressure, drawing patterns like he had that night months ago.
“Satoru!” You whisper it, trying to keep quiet as you arch against his hand, a desperate whine escaping your lips again, hands gripping at his sweater too tightly.
"Like that?" he asks, his voice soft, god does he have to sound like that? You’re trying to keep it together, but the faster his fingers rub your twitchy lil clit, the worse.
"Yes, y-yes like that I…. mhm!”
He knows your body, he has no problem sliding two in deep, curving up and letting the heel of his palm graze your needy clit, squishing noises even louder as he watches you, waiting for you to fall apart for him.
“So wet,” he murmurs, moving faster. “You’re close, hmm?”
You nod quickly, letting him lean forward – as if he may kiss you, just hovering a centimeter away as he works your cunt, lifting his chin and looking down at you, eyes hungry and bright blue.
“Then cum, let go,” he whispers, and you do it like on command, earning his soft, murmured praise, orgasm rushing through you until you’re high from it, resting your face against his neck.
“Toru,” you breathe out, eyes shutting, the orgasm so much better than what you can do yourself.
"Better?" he asks softly, pulling his fingers back just a bit, eyeing that slick and moaning. “Fuck…”
"Much better,” you mumble, seeing that amount of slickness and panicking. “Oh god sorry…”
“For what? Being soaked?” He smirks a bit. “No need.”
“I um…” He sucks your cunt off his fingers, making your lips part at the filthy little act, something you’ve never seen with any other partner.
He just tasted your cunt, his cheeks hollowing.
“I um… you uh…” Words. Use words. “I… th-thhank you?"
"Anytime," he says with a small smile, chuckling a bit as your flavor hits his tastebuds. “What sort of friend would I be if I let you hurt like that?”
“Right, you’re winning the best friend – baby daddy award,” he snorts, and the two of you act fine, act as if this was just that.
You’re both too fucking scared to admit what it really is.
*****
A month later
You're staying over at Gojo's place again – it's become more frequent since the pregnancy was confirmed. The two of you spend a lot of time together, preparing a bit or just enjoying each other’s company. You had to tell your families, which was not an easy conversation, especially with Satoru’s parents.
They’d been appalled quite frankly, Satoru was supposed to marry who they wanted him to, they were anything if not distant and terrible as long as you knew him. You’d held his hand that night during that dinner, and asked if he wanted you to stay over again, quiet as you both drove home.
“You don’t have to,” he murmured softly, shaking his head. “I’ll be fine, I expected much worse.”
“I still want to,” you had said, kissing his cheek, your eyes fluttering shut, his hand had instinctively touched your tummy, getting rounder now, something so intimate and sweet it almost broke you.
You hated going home alone.
There were plenty of rooms – but tonight you couldn’t just sleep in one, tossing and turning until you got up in the middle of the night, peeking to see Satoru asleep, sprawled across his bed with his lankly limbs – the sheets tangled around his waist. You watch him for a moment, you’ve seen him asleep countless times, but everything lately has felt so different.
“Toru?”
“Hmm?” He opens his eye and turns, peeking at you. “Yeah, sweetheart?”
His voice is all raspy with sleep, making your heart flutter. God he’s even cuter, leaning up in the dark, brushing a hand through his hair with a sleepy smile. “Could I sleep in your bed?”
“You want the comfiest one, hmm?” He teases, holding up the blanket for you to crawl in beside him. “Come closer.”
“You sure?” He nods, tugging you against him and sighing, burying his face in your neck. “Will it be too much?”
“No, not at all,” he feels so good, he’s so warm, his body against yours. “Get some sleep.”
But sleep still eludes you, you instead can’t stop thinking of how badly you crave not any kind of food or drink like a normal pregnant girl.
You’re craving Satoru.
God, thinking of that hardness pressing against you in your mouth, to taste him for once, feel him harden on your tongue and pulse. Swallow him down, suck him till he’s whimpering, cumming over and over?
“Whatcha thinkin’ about, hmm?” He teases you again. “I feel your brain whirling over there.
“I’m having an odd craving,” you mumble, turning over to him now, he raises a brow at you, yawning.
“I’ll order whatever, what is it?”
“You can’t order it,” you bite your lip now, and he laughs.
“You want me to make you cum again?”
“No.”
“No?” You slide down the bed, gently pulling back the sheets a bit, and his breath catches in his throat. He's only wearing boxers, and you can already see the outline of his cock, thick and growing, a little dark spot where pre is slipping. “Oh you… you’re craving…”
“I really want your cock in my mouth.”
Is Satoru fucking dreaming!?
He wonders as he blinks rapidly at you, your fingertips trailing his abdomen, making them tense. “You want my cock in your mouth?”
“Yeah, that sounds insane. I want…” You sigh. “Cum.”
“Cum!? Is that even safe!?”
“I don’t know, that’s not in a book!” You pull back now, sighing. “God I’m so sorry.”
“No, no, don’t go,” he catches your wrist quickly, tugging you against him. “I would never turn down your mouth, you fuckin’ kidding?”
“You sure?”
“Am I sure,” he shuts his eyes, trying not to act as eager as he really is, and completely failing. “In what world does anyone turn that down? Especially from you.”
“You want it then?” You whisper, reaching out to trace the length of him through the soft fabric, he whimpers just a bit, the sound making you ache.
“You really wanna suck me till I cum? You don’t want like… ice cream with pickles or something?” You laugh softly, shaking your head, and he tugs you more, your hair falling against his skin, brushing his thigh. “Yeah, go ahead then, sweetheart. You can suck me any time you need.”
“Oh can I?” His hand brushes your hair back reverently as he tugs his cock out, he’s close to telling you he’s in love just when you kiss his flushed tip, tongue lapping to grab a little bit of white.
“Anytime,”he murmurs again instead, watching as you gently take the tip of him into your mouth, hot and wet. “Fuck…”
“Mnh,” you’re aching as you eye him, and his hand entangles gently into your hair, easing your head down so you can taste him – clean and slightly salty with the white coating your tastebuds. You moan softly as you take more of him in, your tongue swirling around to hit his frenum, making his hips buck up.
“God… so this is really your pregnancy craving?"
You hum around him in response, which makes him groan, thickening in your mouth as you move up and down, reaching for your pussy and touching it, letting him fuck into your throat, pausing then.
“Is it too much?”
You pull back with a messy pop, shaking your head. “I want it.”
“Fuck you’re pretty like this,” he whispers, his hand gentle but firm on the back of your head as you work him with your mouth, taking him deeper with each pass until he's hitting the back of your throat, and you’re gagging on him. “Takin’ me like that? So fucking good, doin’ s’good I…”
He’s mumbling, stuttering as he fucks your throat – just like you were dying for, making you suck harder, aching to taste all of him. Him whispering your name as you drool down his balls, his tip gliding past your uvula, while your fingers fuck in and out of your needy cunt.
“You’re touching her?” He asks softly, you hum in response, he’s lost at how good your throat feels, how tight with every little gasp. “Sucking me has you that needy, hmm?”
“Mhm,” you suck even harder, and he fears he won’t last long, not when you’re cumming, shaking and your throat is contracting, his thick length stretching it so good.
“Want all of that cum in your throat?” He whispers hoarsely, you moan again, eyes looking up under your lashes as he holds your hair in a ponytail. “I’ll give you all of it, then, sweetheart.”
He is not quiet when he cums, no, Satoru Gojo moans – husky and fucking loutd as his hips buck up, and he’s busting his creamy release. It’s spilling down your throat, and you greedily swallow every drop, slurping it all as he gently fucks your throat a few more times, whining out, sensitive.
You take your fingers of your cunt, slick and messy, sucking him up and down, still semi hard, eyes locked on his.
You just sucked Satoru Gojo’s cock.
Your friend since fifth grade.
You pull off, a thick string of saliva and cum dissolving from your licks, as your little pink tongue then gently licks him clean.
“You’re so perfect I…” He trails off, swallowing nervously and then tugging you up. “C’mere.”
You gasp as you land on his chest, and he wraps an arm around you, kissing your lips, tasting his own cum right off you.
You haven’t even kissed Satoru yet.
That’s what’s insane, you’ve gotten pregnant, you’ve fucked him, came on his fingers, but it was as if you both knew the kiss would ruin you, and it does, desperate, needy and sweet. How his hand tangles in your hair, and his lips move, plump and soft against yours.
That’s when the inevitable fact hits your heart – you didn’t just crave cum in your mouth, you wanted to make him feel good, wanted him to fall apart for you, his tongue glides on yours and you can’t help but sigh into his mouth. You lean up a bit, hands on his chest, a smile so big and goofy on his face you melt.
“So, was that just a craving?”
“Were your fingers just helping a friend out?” You ask, he laughs and shakes his head, cupping your face.
“What do you think?” You bury your face nervously, letting him hold you against his body, your heart racing.
“I think everything is insane. And scary and… I don’t ever, ever want to lose you, Satoru.”
“You won’t,” he whispers, kissing gently across your cheek, to your temple, but the words still don’t make it from his lips.
I love you.
It’s like they’re stuck, until you’re fast asleep, and he murmurs them like he did that night you conceived your baby.
*****
It goes on like that, sucking Satoru for your oral fixation, and fuck he’s not complaining, but soon it’s not enough, neither is you letting him finger you when you’re aching. You’re so sexy with your tummy swelling, and your tits so full, your face is glowing and your goddamn eyes are glittering.
You are sinking to your knees after work at your place when he halts you, shaking his head, making you pause.
“Oh um, not today?”
“You stand here,” he says instead, kneeling and making you blush, looking up at you under his snowy lashes. “I want to taste you this time.”
“Toru, you c-can’t… I’m getting big already and-”
“You’re perfect,” you melt when he gently slides up your dress, groaning when he sees your slick, pretty pussy. “Call it my pregnancy craving.”
“You got ‘em too, hmm?” he laughs softly, tickling your skin.
“Why don’t you sit down and spread your thighs,” you obey him – how can you not – sitting at the edge of the bed, eyeing the reflection of you both in your mirror for just a moment, the sight as filthy as it is sweet, worshipping you when he kisses up your inner thigh. “Good girl.”
“You can’t just say that, Toru,” he doesn’t know what it does until this very moment, when he spreads your plump lips, watching the slick pool down, so fucking pretty. His hand brushes up the curve of your tummy, tongue gathering that mess and drinking it with a greedy bob of his Adam's apple. “Mnh!”
“Fuck,” Satoru’s lost now – hand adjusting his straining erection, his other slipping higher, squishing a tit, feeling the weight of it in his palm as he looks up at your body, your face, head falling back.
You’re too pretty pregnant.
All he can think is how he’s almost glad you are right now, he knows it was an ‘accident’ but he’s so fucking happy, having you with him all the time, having your touch, your nearness. Seeing all the changes and knowing in this way the two of you are connected, a toxic little thought nagging at him that he’d love to do it again, next time on purpose.
Maybe he’s very happy pulling out didn’t work, and that the condom broke, when his fingers press into your thighs, and he’s greedily slurping at your cunt now. All gentleness lost as your flavors hit, ones he’s had little hints of at best, watching you suck him was amazing, but Satoru thinks he loves this just as much if not more, drinking your cunt up as you tremble, as you fall apart.
“I’m c-close, fuck I’m…” You’re pressing your thighs on either side, he pulls back, your wetness making his face glisten.
“Hold ‘em open,” he murmurs softly, you prop your feet up on the bed as he sinks further onto the plush of your rug. “Just like that.”
“I’m spread wide though…”
“And you were when I got you this way,” he grins as you blush. “You wouldn’t let me touch you, it was just – in me.”
“Well I wanna say it again,” you admit softly. “But also…”
You tug his hair, bringing his face against you, his moans vibrating on your messy, sensitive clit. Satoru slides two fingers in and fucks them in your hole, slick and drooling onto the carpet with every thrust, his mouth sucking your little clit inside it. A few more flicks and hums, and you’re shattering, cumming so hard you squirt all over him, soaking his shirt.
“Fuck…” He looks at you in wonder, you gasp, covering your face.
“Oh god!? I’ve never…”
“Good,” he is possessive then, as he stands up, sliding your dress until it’s off you completely, leaning forward and kissing your lips. “I’m glad if I made you first.”
“Are you getting possessive of your ‘friend’?” You tease – you both know the word is nonsense at this point, but you’re also scared to say more.
That you’re in love with him.
“Maybe I am…” He admits, his voice breathy and sensual, as you taste yourself, the sweetness from his mouth mixing with your own flavor, addictive. “Maybe I wanna pump you full of me, hmm? Maybe I’ve been wanting to.”
“Then do it,” you whisper, eagerly tugging down his zipper, seeing just how hard and thick he is. “Cum in me.”
“Fuck, seriously!?” You giggle a bit at that, nodding. “What position though? Can you… be on your back? Can you…”
“You didn’t read that part, hmm?” You tease him then, laying back and seeing how his eyes darken, his pretty tip leaking. “I can, but no weight on the tummy at this point so…”
“Got it,” he whispers, hands on your hips, standing between you as you lay there, thighs wide, your mess dripping in rivulets still from your thighs, when his tip hits your slit you both take a breath.
“Ah!” You’re so sensitive during this stage of pregnancy, you almost cum from a rub, embarrassing as it was to squirt on his damn face, you can still see where you soaked his shirt as he leans down, careful not to put weight on you. “Sensitive…”
“Yeah, are you, baby?” You nod quickly, he keeps rubbing it, like to torture you, kissing you while holding himself up and standing, achingly sweet even as his fat cockhead is going faster between your folds. “Yeah you are – gonna cum like this, hmm? Like that night?”
“You r-remember?” You mumble, losing control of your senses, clinging to his biceps, nails pressing over his shirt, Satoru sighs, kissing you again, as you feel your body tense up.
“Of course I remember,” your eyes meet, and you can’t help but shatter with another glide of his tip against your slit, impossibly more squirt spraying him. “God you’re wetter than before. Is that even possible?”
“In me, fuck… stop teasin’ me…” You are already cockdrunk from his tip, and he knows it – smirk on his handsome face. “Toru!”
“Lemme take my time, know how long I’ve waited?” You can’t answer, not when he glides his cock in, careful when in three thrusts he bottoms out, waiting for you to adjust. “Feel so fuckin’ good… you’re soaked…”
“Mhm,” your thighs tremble, he is easing back, his hands trailing down your changing body in a way that should make you nervous.
But you just want more.
“Beautiful…” He whispers, easing back and looking at the mess with every slow stroke, how your puffy lips are moving around his thickness, coated his raised veins till they’re glittery. “Look at you, sweetheart. These tits, so full, I can’t wait till there’s milk dripping.”
You whine out then, eyes rolling back as he begins to move, standing and lifting you just slightly, angling your hips so his cock can rub right on your sweet spot, hitting the little sponginess of it over and over in sweet little kisses. You shatter again, and again, cumming so much you get dizzy, your ears ringing, his cock filling you and stretching you more than you thought you could take.
He’s whispering your name in a way that’s nothing like ‘a friend’ or even a baby daddy, the way he says your name as he rests a hand on your ribcage, the other on your hip, fucking into you? It’s filthy, it’s loving, it’s everything and anything but how he’s said it your whole life, and yet…
It’s still the way he said it the day he met you.
When he first learned your name, the two of you became friends, and he shared his lunch with you because you forgot to make your own. The way when he took you home after school, and when he’d hold open that umbrella, the two Satoru Gojos meld – that one, and this one, a man fucking you up, holding you, his shirt half slid up from your hands.
“Off, off,” you tug impatiently and he laughs, doing just that, letting you touch his abdomen, his chest, gripping his obliques when he starts to move faster. “Ah!”
“Y-you okay, sweetheart?” He manages, pausing then. “Am I too…”
“I’ll give you anything when you ask so sweet,” he eases out and you gasp, scowling at him. “I’m just going to make you more comfy, don’t you glare at me.”
“I said more and you… oh…” He’s gently putting a little pillow underneath your hips now, and you sigh, lashes fluttering. “That is better.”
“Mhm, impatient girl,” he glides back in, hitting your spot even better, every drag of his tip having you closer and closer. “You sure you want my cum? You wanna be so full of me it drips out all day?”
“Yes,” it’s automatic, your answer, Satoru whines out then, his cheeks all flushed, his eyes lidded and heavy – you feel him pulsing inside, he’s so big in your slick, messy walls. “Please… cum inside I… mnh!”
“Fuck,” Satoru gives you just that – all his milky cum, coating your walls in white, trembling as you milk him for every drop.
Oh, and when he sees that mess pouring from your pretty cunt? Well he can’t help but fuck it back inside, but this time with you on your knees, your head resting on the bed as he holds your body up. Watching the thick coating of his own white release slipping down his cock, his balls heavy again.
He gives you more of it – more of him, desperately whimpering in your ear, cum getting fucked back inside, whispering those treacherous words that you didn’t hear last time. But this time you do, you turn your head, drool spilling, eyes all fucked out – Satoru swipes your drool as he busts his load deep in you again, three now just getting fucked deeper, slipping from the mess you both are.
“You l-love me?” You mumble, brows drawn together. “Is that like… just talk during it or…”
“I love you,” he whispers again, a little louder, seeing your eyes glimmer. “Not just because I’m buried inside you and pussy drunk, no. I do love you. God I do.”
“I love you too, Toru,” you whisper, letting him kiss you, drinking his sighs and moans in as he gently rocks his still hard cock inside, in the stuffed full, creamy mess he’s made of you. “I love you too.”
It’s whispered over and over, when he’s showering you, helping you shave, being so gentle and sweet – like he wasn’t just railing your pussy, like he wasn’t fingering his cum back in. No, it’s perfect, the way you can finally not call Satoru Gojo just your friend anymore.
*****
You had a baby with your best friend by accident – but it’s anything but a mistake, in fact when you’re holding her in your arms and smiling at her, seeing the same blue eyes you’ve loved your whole life? When Satoru’s making a bottle downstairs and you’re rocking in the chair in the nursery he had made?
When she’s all milk drunk later in your arms and Satoru is laughing at her little face, brushing her cheek with his thumb? You know it was all for some reason, even if it’s a little too soon, and even if you’re not fully ready yet – you know it’s perfect here, having him kiss your head, sighing and looking at her.
“She’s so cute like this,” he says softly, brushing some of her downy hair that’s forming, you ease the bottle and she is still sucking. “She needs a binky?”
“Mhm,” he hands you one, and you slip it in her mouth, grinning all big up at Satoru now. “She looks so much like you. I’m not sure my genetics tried.”
“Well, I do have Gojo genes,” he’s all puffing his chest, you can’t help but giggle, before wincing a bit at the pain. “You okay, sweetheart?”
“Still sore,” you admit, he gently takes her and places her in the pretty little bassinet, swaddling her up tightly before coming to you, helping you up. “Thank you… Toru, thank you for everything. I was scared at first, but…”
“I was too,” he admits, peeking down at you – still so beautiful, but the strain of having her has taken it’s toll. You’ve got dark circles, and your color isn’t all back yet, he picks you up before you can stop him.
“Toru!”
“You’re taking a nap.”
“I can walk!”
“I know,” he holds you anyway, you yawn and bury your face against his neck, lashes tickling his skin. “I love her so much.”
“I do too,” you admit, giggling. “So much I almost want another.”
“Another, hmm?’
“Not any time soon!” He just grins as he lays you down. “You deviant, don’t even think about it for at least two years!”
“Sure, I wasn't thinking about it at all,” he sighs as he sees your nipples dripping though, thumb brushing over one, tasting it. “Oh it’s sweet.”
“You little freak,” you tease, but you let him have just a taste, a little flick of his tongue before he tugs up your top. “Take a nap with me.”
“All right,” he is tired too, just trying to keep wide awake for you, but when he cuddles you to him, and feels you against him, he can’t stop his grin.
He got his best friend pregnant by accident – but the next time will absolutely be on purpose.
the issue with growing up in the 2000s and 2010s was like there was this really big push toward "accepting your weirdness" overall but they meant like idk wearing mismatched socks or something not being tangibly beyond the norm in any way shape or form
