Satoru pushed open the door to your shared apartment, the quiet hum of the city fading behind him. He had wrapped up his mission earlier than expected, eager to get back to you. The place smelled like chamomile tea and something faintly sour, probably from your morning sickness. He kicked off his shoes, sunglasses perched on his head, and called out softly.
"Baby? You home?"
No answer at first, just a sniffle from the bedroom. His heart twisted in that delicious way it always did when he heard you like that. Tears. God, he loved your tears. The way your long lashes clumped together, dark and wet, framing those big, vulnerable eyes. The slight flush on your nose, the way your voice cracked and trembled. And the best part? Only he could fix it. No one else got to see you like this, hold you, make you feel whole again. It made him want to lock you away forever.
He found you curled up on the bed, knees to your chest, that oversized sweater swallowing your frame. Your hair was a mess, face buried in a pillow. Pregnant belly peeking out just a bit, round and perfect. You looked up when he approached, eyes red-rimmed, cheeks streaked. "Satoru," you whispered, voice thick. Fresh tears welled up. "You're back."
He dropped onto the bed beside you, pulling you into his lap without a word. You fit so perfectly there, your weight a comfort against him. "Hey, hey. What's got my girl crying today? Talk to me." His hand stroked your back, fingers tangling in your hair.
You buried your face in his chest, shoulders shaking. "Just everything, Toru. You left before I woke up again a-and I hate that. I hate when you're gone before I even see you. Then the nausea hit hard this morning and it wouldn’t go away for hours. A-and... and my favorite dress. The blue one you like? It doesn't fit anymore. I tried it on, thinking maybe today would be okay, but it won't even zip. I look... I look huge. Y-you probably think so too. You've been staring weirdly lately."
Satoru bit back a smirk. The dress. Yeah, that was his doing. He had tossed it in the dryer on high heat last week, watching it shrink just enough. Not to hurt your feelings, never that. But fuck, you looked too good in it. Those curves hugging your body, drawing eyes from everyone. No one deserved that view but him. And he knew it would end like this: you in his arms, tears soaking his shirt, needy for his reassurance. His cock twitched at the thought.
"Huge?" He chuckled low, tilting your chin up. Your lashes were clumped, mascara smudged just a little, nose pink. Perfect. "Baby, you're carrying our kid. You’re not huge, you’re gorgeous. And I've been staring because I can't keep my eyes off you. Every inch of you is sexier now. Those hips? This belly? Fuck, it makes me hard just looking." You sniffled with a small giggle, wiping your eyes, but doubt lingered. "Really? You don't... you don't think I'm gross?"
His thumb brushed a tear from your cheek, smearing it deliberately. He loved how it glistened on your skin. Memories flooded him: the night he proposed, down on one knee in your tiny kitchen. Your tears had poured then, happy ones, splashing onto the ring as you nodded frantically. Or when he tickled your sides until you laughed so hard you cried, body writhing under him. And his absolute favorite, when he had your legs spread wide, cock slamming into your pussy over and over. You would grip the sheets, sobbing his name, babbling nonsense as orgasms ripped through you. Tears streaming, voice breaking. All his.
"Gross? Never." He kissed your forehead, then your nose, tasting salt. "You're mine. Every curve, every tear. Let me show you how much I need you." You hesitated, but your body melted into him, hands clutching his shirt. "Okay. Just... hold me first?"
He nodded, shifting so you straddled his lap, your belly between you like a warm secret. His hands roamed your sides, slipping under the sweater to caress bare skin. Soft, stretched just right from the pregnancy. He pressed kisses along your jaw, murmuring, "You're so beautiful like this. Swollen with my baby. No one gets this."
Your breath hitched, more tears slipping free. "Satoru... I feel so emotional. Like everything sets me off." He breathed against your neck, nipping lightly, "good. Cry for me. I really love it." The words slipped out before he could stop them, but you didn't seem to notice, too lost in the moment.
He peeled the sweater off you, revealing your full breasts, nipples dark and peaked. Pregnancy had made them heavier, more sensitive. He cupped one, thumb circling the bud, watching you gasp. Tears tracked down your cheeks as you rocked against him, feeling his erection press up through his pants.
"See? Look at what you do to me." He ground up, letting you feel the hard length. "I don’t need a dress when you’re already perfect naked and crying on my lap."
You whimpered, lashes fluttering wetly. "I love you, so much.” He replied, "I know," before flipping you gently, mindful of your belly, laying you back on the pillows. His mouth latched onto a nipple, sucking hard. You arched, fingers in his hair, a sob escaping. Colostrum beaded on his tongue, sweet and warm. He groaned, switching sides, kneading the other breast.
"Satoru! Oh God," you cried, tears flowing freely now. Your nose reddened more, voice pitching high. He pulled back, admiring the sight. Clumped lashes, flushed face, lips parted. His cock throbbed painfully. "Look at you. So pretty when you cry. Makes me want to fuck you senseless."
You nodded frantically, hands tugging at his pants. "Please…I-I need it inside. Make it better."
He stripped quickly, cock springing free, thick and leaking. Your eyes widened, more tears for some reason, joy or overwhelm, he didn't care. He settled between your thighs, spreading you wide. Your pussy was slick, swollen from hormones, folds puffy and inviting.
"Gonna fill you up," he promised, rubbing the head along your slit. You bucked, sobbing his name. "Yes, yes, Satoru!"
He pushed in slow, savoring the stretch. You were tighter now, pregnancy making you grip him like a vice. Inch by inch, until he bottomed out, balls against your ass. Your walls fluttered, tears streaming as you adjusted.
"Fuck, baby. So wet for me. Even y’re pussy’s crying for me??? H-hah…squeezing m’cock soo good." He started thrusting, deep and steady, hands on your hips. You gripped the sheets, back arching. "Too much... feels s’good... ah!"
He picked up pace, slamming harder, the bed creaking. Your belly jiggled with each thrust, your breasts bouncing. Tears poured, mixing with sweat. Your voice broke into babbles. "Satoru...mmh.. don't stop..."
"Never," he growled, possessive fire burning. Only he saw this. You sobbing, coming apart on his dick. No one else. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy kiss, tasting all your tears. His hand slipped between you, thumb on your clit, rubbing circles.
You couldn't take it anymore, your pussy clamping down, creamingaround him. "Satoru! Cumming... oh fuck!" Sobs wracked your body, lashes clumped shut, nose bright red.
He didn't stop, fucking through it, chasing his own release. "That's it. Cry for me. All mine."
Your babbling turned incoherent, tears endless. He thrust deep one last time, spilling hot cum inside you, groaning your name.
You collapsed together, his weight braced on elbows. You sniffled, clinging, tears still leaking. He kissed them away, heart swelling. "Feel better?"
"Yeah," you murmured, voice hoarse. "You always make it better."
He smiled, secret kink sated. You were his. Tears and all.
Satoru lingered inside you, softening slowly, not ready to pull out. Your pussy milked the last drops from him, warm and content. He brushed hair from your damp face, thumb tracing the tear tracks. You looked wrecked in the best way: eyes puffy, lashes stuck together in little spikes, lips swollen from kisses and bites. That red nose tip made you seem so fragile, so his to protect.
"You know I didn't mean to leave early," he said softly, though part of him loved knowing it started your tears. "Mission ran long last night. But I'm here now. All yours."
You nodded, sniffling. "I know. Just... lonely sometimes. And the baby's kicking more than before. It feels weird…all the changes. Like I'm not myself anymore."
He placed a hand on your belly, feeling a flutter. His kid. Yours. Possessiveness surged again. "You're still you. Hotter, if anything. Remember when I proposed? You cried a whole river but I couldn’t find you any less beautiful." A watery laugh escaped you. "Dont remind me, Toru!"
"Hey, How could I ever let you forget? You were the prettiest yet that night." He grinned, thrusting shallowly just to make you gasp. "And when I tickled you last week? Laughing so hard you teared up a little. Fuck, that was so cute."
"Satoru!" You swatted his chest", fresh tears of embarrassment, "don't remind me."
But he did love reminding you. Every emotional outburst fed that hidden hunger. The joy tears, the laugh tears, the empathy ones when he talked about work. But nothing beat the sex tears. Like just now, you sobbing as he railed you.
"What about when I fuck you till you can't talk?" He murmured, starting to harden again inside you. "Bawling my name, pussy creaming all over my cock. That's my favorite."
Your cheeks flushed deeper. "You're awful. I-I don’t... okay yeah. I get overwhelmed, but I’m not a crybaby!"
He rocked his hips, that pervert was already building friction. "Y’know I really wanna make you cry again? Show you how much I love this body?" Your breath hitched. You bit your lip, nodding. "Yes please."
This time he went slower, savoring. Pulled out almost all the way, then slid back in, grinding deep. Your hands clutched his shoulders, nails digging. Tears started anew as pleasure built.
"Look at me," he commanded. Your eyes met his, wet and pleading. "See? Only I get this. Your tears, your pussy, our baby? All mine."
"Y-yours," you sobbed, legs wrapping around him. "All yours, Satoru. p-please just a little harder."He obliged, pounding now, skin slapping. Your breasts leaked a little with each thrust, milk dribbling. He leaned down, licking it off, sucking again. You wailed, coming fast, walls pulsing.
"Good girl. Soak my cock." He flipped you onto your side, careful, spooning behind. One leg hitched over his arm, he rutted deep, hand rubbing your clit. Tears streamed out, voice breaking. "Can't... too much... Satoru!"
"C’mon baby, Just cry it out f’me yeah?" His free hand squeezed your breast, possessive grip. Cum from before leaked out around his pistoning cock, messy and hot.
You babbled, "Love you... so full... gonna cum again..." Body tensed, then shattered, squirting a little. He followed soon after. Flooding you with more of his sperm. "Take it, all mine."
Panting, he held you close, kissing your tear-streaked shoulder. You sighed, content, emotional storm passed. "Thank you," you whispered. "For always taking care of me."
"Always," he replied, heart full. His secret safe, your tears his addiction. And later, as you dozed, he thought about the dress. Maybe shrink another one tomorrow. Just to make you need him again.
a/n: I know I said I’d most likely post my object gojo fic today but when I saw so many people anticipating and looking forward to it I got so nervous and felt more unsure of my draft so It’ll probably be out tomorrow!!
also I’m not sure if this dynamic is problematic or if it counts as dubcon since I made satoru more manipulative than I expected, idk yall. imo even tho the reader consents he’s making you vulnerable and insecure just so you be closer to him…
anyways let’s just say toru was listening to some ironmouse
I want you crying for me I want you waah wah wah wah waah wah wah wah I want you fighting for me and when you lose go wah wah waah wah wah wah CRY FOR MEEE
You get what you pay for. #lickmytoes #suckmyass #suckmyfeet #eatmyass #eatmypussyright #eatmypussylikeitslunch #eatmypussyout #followme #instagood #instagramers #instagay https://www.instagram.com/p/CfDJ0irufqM/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
Summary: Satoru Gojo’s a dead porn star turned Vocaloid reincarnation. Destined and doomed to be consumed by millions. That’s until the voice that once haunted his final moments downloads him into this alternate reality. When Gojo appears in your room as something impossibly human, the line between fan obsession, resurrection, and fate blurs into a hot mess
Content Warning: porn w/little plot, mentioned drug use and substance abuse (including cocaine use and overdose), death and character death (including prior major character death and resurrection/afterlife elements), some grief, kinda parasocial relationship dynamic, oral sex, vaginal sex, penetration, ejaculation/creampie, fellatio, cunnilingus, a bit of angst if you squint
art creds: @ViNt_ju on X
my ObjectGojo submission based off (Pornstar Satoru)
The last party Satoru Gojo attended was nothing special. Just another Hollywood hills mansion packed with bodies and bad decisions. He was already half-high when he found you, some cute girl pressed against the wall, looking lost. He talked to you, kissed you, taught you how to handle a blunt without coughing your lungs out. It was sweet, almost innocent, until your friend Jenna dragged you away and whispered who he really was. A pornstar like her. Top of the industry in fact. You decided that night that you'd just be friends with him. With both of you pretending the attraction didn't simmer beneath every glance, every accidental touch. But that chance never came. He overdosed on cocaine three days later, heart giving out in his own bathroom. You went to the funeral, cried a little, mourned as much as you could for a guy who fucked half the people at his grave. Who had a life of STI scares and a trail of heartbreaks. But of course you moved on, because that's what people do.
Except Satoru didn't get to move on. He woke up in a void, confused and disembodied, before being told he'd have to make up for his slutty cocaine-addicted ways! That was how he wound up downloaded into a 17,000 yen voicebank for a Vocaloid named the same as him. For months he existed as a virtual idol sweeping the nation.
The first few moments of being a product were disorienting in ways he could never anticipated. He was aware of everything. Every user who purchased his voicebank, every song that was made with his tones, every adoring comment left on his videos. He felt it all, the clicks and the downloads and the streams, and he hated how much he loved it. The attention was intoxicating in a way that Onlyfans had never quite managed to be. Thousands of people were using him, creating with him, falling in love with a version of him that had never existed in real life. He sang about joy and summer romances and sometimes dumb shit like tuna or kikufuku. In a way he got to experience different lives he could've never experienced as he was. He got to sing about love and joy knowing damn well the woman he'd loved and the woman he could've loved were probably moving on. The dissonance between his old routine and his new one should've driven him insane, but instead it just made him more popular.
Satoru remained aware of every user who bought him, every song they made him sing, every comment they left about how much they adored him. He hated it, and he loved it. He felt everything and nothing. Then, one day, someone in Japan downloaded his voicebank, and something clicked. A familiar soul. You.
You were nineteen, a literature student at a local university, living in a cramped Shinjuku apartment. You'd discovered Gojo Satoru through a music video your friend had sent you on niconico, and from the first note he sang, you were hooked. His voice hit something deep in your chest. A resonance you couldn't explain. You bought his limited edition figures, his acrylic stands, his special-edition album, blind boxes, the whole schtick. When his voicebank new V6 dropped, you realized you should try it out yourself. Saving all your hard earned money just to use him for yourself. The download started at 7 PM, progress bar crawling at a snail's pace. You made some buldak, checked social media, stared at the screen willing it to move faster. By 11 PM it was only at 40%. You fell asleep at your desk, head pillowed on your arms, dreaming of white hair, blue eyes, and that smile you could’ve sworn was so familiar.
You woke to warmth. A weight pressing against your mattress, a hand cupping your cheek, breath ghosting across your lips. Your eyes snapped open and there he was Gojo Satoru. But this time he was real. White hair fell across his forehead, blue eyes glittered with tears, and his mouth curved into that familiar smirk you'd seen in a thousand promotional images. "Missed you," he whispered, and his voice was exactly like the voicebank, only richer, more human. "I've been waiting so long to see you again."
You didn't react the way he expected. Instead of melting into his touch or crying with joy or any of the romantic reunion scenes he had imagined while floating in digital purgatory, you screamed. A real scream, high pitched and terrified, the kind of sound that came from somewhere primal. You scrambled backward on your mattress, nearly falling off the edge, your hand reaching blindly for something, anything to put between you and the impossible man who had appeared in your room. Your fingers closed around your pillow, and without thinking, you hurled it at his face with all the strength you could muster.
The pillow hit him square in the nose, soft but startling, and he blinked at you with wide eyes while it dropped into his lap.
"WHAT THE FUCK??? STAY BACK!" you shouted, your voice cracking with panic. "Stay the fuck back! Who are you? How did you get in here? I will call the police, I swear to God, I will scream so loud the neighbors will come and they will beat your ass! I have a knife somewhere, I will stab you! I do not know what you think you are doing but you need to leave right now!"
He held up his hands, palms out, the picture of innocence despite the situation. "It is me, sweets," he said, and his voice was so gentle, so familiar, that it made your heart stutter in your chest. "Gojo Satoru. Your fav internet idol, no? You downloaded me tonight! i'm not sure what went wrong to bring me here but i'm here now."
"Yeah, no....Vocaloids don't just show up in people's beds!" you retorted, still trembling, still pressing yourself against the wall as if you could melt through it. "They're computer programs! They sing on screens! They do not break into apartments and carry people to beds, and they don't fucking touch people's faces while they're sleeping! This is insane! I'm either dreaming or you're some weird pervert!"
He couldn't help but laugh at that. The sound soft and breathless, and the sound was exactly like the laugh tracks you had heard in his demo songs. "I know it doesn't make sense. I don't even fully understand it myself. But I was someone before this. A real person. I died, got sent to niconico HELL, but now I'm back and I wanted to see you first. I've been so drawn to you, and you're the only one who made being a product feel like it was worth it."
Your brain tried to process his words while your body stayed frozen in fight or flight mode. He was sitting on your bed, wearing a silver fucking button down, looking at you with eyes that were too blue to be real and too wet to be fake. The white hair was unmistakable, falling across his forehead in that perfectly messy way you had seen in a thousand ways online. The smirk was the same too, curving his lips with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. But the tears were new. The vulnerability in his expression was something no software could replicate.
He noticed your slow understanding. He just knew deep down you were still that sweet and utterly shy girl. When Satoru leaned in, his lips brushing yours as if gauging your permission. You answered by kissing him back. You didn’t know why you did. Despite the crush you had on him, he wasn’t real. He was fictional. Digitally synthesized to be perfect in every way. But unfortunately you were horny as fuck, and if a hot guy was yearning for you while caressing your face, you weren’t going to skip on taking advantage of the situation.
The kiss deepened hungrily, all the awkwardness of the moment melting away into something desperate and urgent. He straddled your hips, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his hands sliding under your shirt to find bare skin. His fingers were cold against your stomach, but his palms were warm, and the contrast made you shiver. You should have pushed him away, called the police, screamed for help. But your body had its own ideas. Your hips arched into him, your fingers finding the hem of his metallic shirt and tugging it upward.
He broke the kiss long enough to pull it off, tossing it somewhere across the room. His torso was practically sculpted, defined in a way that made your mouth go dry. He had the kind of body that belonged on magazine covers. Your hands moved on their own, tracing the lines of his shoulders, the dip of his collarbone, the trail of hair leading down his stomach.
"Like what you see?" he asked, and his voice was playful, cocky, exactly the way his avatar had always sounded when he teased his listeners in concert interludes. But there was a softness underneath, a vulnerability that made your chest ache.
"You're pretty, Toru" you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The confession made his heart ache and his pale face blush. "Gosh, this is... insane. I-I'm insane, aren't I? Insane for letting you stay."
He laughed, pressing his forehead against yours. "Maybe we're both a little insane, yeah? But I don't care...Want you so bad, and I'd been wishing I could crawl out that screen for ages."
His words made your knees wobble. That smile of his was like sunrise, breaking across his face with a warmth that made your heart skip. He kissed you again, slower this time, more deliberate. His tongue traced your lips, asking for entry, and you opened for him without hesitation. The kiss deepened, tasting of mint and something sweet, something that was just him. His hands found the clasp of your bra, and he unhooked it with practiced ease, sliding the straps down your arms and tossing it aside.
"Can I touch you?" he asked, his lips trailing down your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point. "Please," you breathed out, your own voice feeling unfamiliar. Drenched with a need you'd never felt this strong towards.
His mouth latched around your nipple, tongue flicking over the sensitive peak while his hand kneaded your other breast. The sensation shot straight to your core, making you arch into him, fingers tangling in his white hair, pulling him closer. He sucked harder, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp, and then he switched sides, giving the same attention to your other breast while his hand slid down your stomach and into your shorts.
When his fingers found you, slick and ready despite your earlier panic, he groaned against your skin. "So wet for me already," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "You have no idea how long I've dreamed about this. About tasting you. About feeling you gush around my fingers."
He pulled them out, brought them to his lips, licked them clean with a look of pure satisfaction. "I want to taste you for real," he said, and before you could respond, he was already sliding down your body, pushing your shorts and underwear down your legs, settling between your thighs like he belonged there.
He looked up at you from between your legs, blue eyes dark with want, white hair falling across his forehead. "I have imagined this forever," he said, his voice reverent. "Do you know what it was like, being sent to purgatory before I ever got to taste you? That was really hell. That was the real punishment."
Then his mouth was on you, and your mind went blank.
His tongue slid through your folds, slow and deliberate, savoring every inch of you. He circled your clit with a precision that made your hips buck off the mattress, a broken moan escaping your lips. He moaned against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body, and he seemed to know exactly what that sound did to you because he did it again, louder this time, humming with pleasure while he ate you out like a man starving.
"God, you taste incredible," he said, pulling back just long enough to breathe the words against your slick skin. "Better than I ever imagined. Sweet and hot and so fucking good."
His tongue dipped inside you, curling and stroking, exploring you like he was memorizing every texture, every taste. Then he returned to your clit with firm, steady pressure that built and built until you were trembling on the edge, your fingers twisting in his hair, your thighs pressing against his ears.
"Come for me," he murmured, the words vibrating against your most sensitive spot, and that was all it took. You came screaming, your back arching off the mattress, stars bursting behind your eyelids as waves of pleasure crashed through you. He didn't stop. He kept licking, kept sucking, kept drawing out your orgasm until you were oversensitive and twitching, then he kissed his way up your body and pressed his mouth to yours.
You tasted yourself on his lips, sweet and unmistakable. His eyes were hazy, his pupils blown wide, and there was something new in them—something deeper than just lust. He was looking at you like he was falling, like he was already gone.
"You're beautiful," he said, stroking your cheek with trembling fingers. "The way you look right now, all flushed and breathless because of me... I could watch you come undone a thousand times and never get tired of it."
Your heart hammered in your chest. "I want to make you feel good too," you said, and even to your own ears you sounded shy, uncertain. You'd never done this before, not really. Not with someone who mattered like this.
He grinned, that signature smirk that made your stomach flip. "Oh, you will. But first, wanna taste you again."
Before you could protest, he was back between your thighs, his tongue finding your clit with renewed purpose. He worked you with a rhythm that was both relentless and tender, building you up again from the aftershocks of your first orgasm. His fingers slid inside you, two at first, then three, curling to hit that spot that made you see double. The combination of his tongue on your clit and his fingers pumping inside you was too much, too good, and you came again, harder this time, crying out his name like a prayer.
When he finally emerged, his chin was slick, his lips swollen, and he looked absolutely feral with satisfaction. "I could do that all night," he said, crawling up to kiss you again. "But I want to be inside you. Is that okay?"
Your face burned. "I've never... I mean, I haven't actually done it before. The whole thing. With someone."
He went still, his eyes searching yours. There was no judgment in them, no disappointment, just a tender surprise that made your heart ache. "Y're a virgin here?"
You're brain couldn't really compute what he was saying or implying. But you nodded, too embarrassed to speak.
He then cupped your face in his hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks, and kissed you so softly it made your eyes sting. "Then I'm going to make this perfect for you," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I'm going to take it slow, and I'm going to make sure you feel nothing but good. And if at any point you want to stop, you tell me, and we stop. Okay?"
"Okay," you whispered, and you believed him completely. The crazy, impossible, Satoru was looking at you like you were precious, like he would rather die than hurt you. And somehow, that made everything feel safe.
He reached for his sweatpants, pulling them off along with his boxers, and your breath caught at the sight of him. He was hard, thick, pre-cum beading at the tip, and your mouth watered. You wanted to taste him. You needed to.
"Wait," you said, pushing at his chest. "I want to... I want to try. Before you... you know."
He raised an eyebrow, amused. "Try what?"
Your face was on fire, but you met his eyes anyway. "I want to suck you. I want to see what it's like."
He laughed, surprised and delighted, and it was such a genuine sound that you couldn't help but smile too. "Bold little thing, aren't ya?" he said, but he was already shifting, settling back against the pillows, his cock standing proud and waiting. "Go ahead. Show me what you've got."
You hesitated for only a second, then lowered yourself between his legs. He was beautiful like this, all lean muscle and pale skin, his white hair splayed across your pillow, his blue eyes watching you with a mix of anticipation and affection. You wrapped your hand around his shaft, feeling the heat of him, the velvet-over-steel texture, and brought your mouth to the tip.
The taste was salty, slightly bitter, but not unpleasant. You licked experimentally, running your tongue along the ridge of his head, and he hissed through his teeth. Encouraged, you took him deeper, your lips sliding down his length, your cheek hollowing as you sucked. He groaned, his hand finding your hair, not pulling, just resting there, grounding himself.
"Fuck," he breathed. "Your mouth is... you're so good at this. For a first-timer, you're a natural."
You couldn't answer, but the praise made heat pool in your belly. You worked him with growing confidence, bobbing your head, taking him as deep as you could until he hit the back of your throat. You gagged a bit at first but you pushed through, and the sound made him moan louder.
"You're doing so well," he said, his voice strained. "Look at me."
You looked up, meeting his eyes, and the sight of him all flushed, breathless, utterly undone because of your mouth. It made something weirdly affectionate flare in your chest. Your eyes were wide, tear-filled from the gagging, and he stared down at you like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
"God, y're perfect," he said, his thumb brushing your cheek. "The way you're looking at me right now... I'm falling for you so hard it's ridiculous!"
Your heart soared, and you redoubled your efforts, taking him deeper, faster, your hand stroking what your mouth couldn't reach. He was close, his breathing ragged, his hips beginning to buck.
"G-gonna cum," he warned. "If you don't want me to-"
You didn't stop. You took him all the way, deepthroating him as he came with a strangled cry, hot and thick, shooting down your throat. You swallowed everything, licking him clean, and when you pulled off, you were gasping for air but grinning like a fool.
He stared at you, chest heaving, eyes wide. "Jesus Christ," he whispered. "I think I just fell in love with you all over again."
'All over again?' You weren't sure what the white-haired lunatic was yapping about but your face burned and you couldn't stop smiling. "Was that okay?"
"Okay?" He laughed, pulling you up to kiss you deeply, tasting himself on your lips. "That was amazing. You're amazing. And now I really, really need to be inside you." He positioned himself between your legs, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. You felt a flutter of nerves, your body tensing despite yourself.
"Relax," he murmured against your ear, his hand sliding between your thighs to stroke your clit. "I've got you. Just breathe."
You did, letting out a shaky exhale, and he pushed in slowly. The stretch was intense, a burning pressure that made you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. He paused, letting you adjust, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath warm and steady.
"Tell me when to move," he said, his voice strained with restraint.
You took a moment, letting your body acclimate to the fullness, the sensation of being so completely filled. It was overwhelming, but in the best way. He felt so good inside you, thick and hot, stretching you in ways you'd only ever imagined.
"Okay," you breathed. "Now, please."
He began to move, slow and gentle at first, each thrust a careful slide that made you gasp. His hips rocked against yours, the angle changing slightly with each movement until he hit a spot that made your eyes roll back.
"Mmmh," you moaned, your legs wrapping around his waist. "Right there...Don't stop." He grinned, that cocky, beautiful grin, and picked up the pace. His thrusts grew harder, faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. You were both moaning now, a symphony of pleasure that drowned out the hum of your laptop and the distant city noise.
"You feel so good," he said, his voice ragged, his forehead slick with sweat. "Your pussy is perfect, squeezing me like this...H-hah.. Never wanna leave." He kissed you, deep and messy, his tongue tangling with yours while his cock drove into you with relentless rhythm. The pressure built inside you again, a third orgasm coiling tight in your belly.
"I'm close," you gasped, breaking the kiss. "Satoru, I'm gonna-"
"Cum f'me baby," he said, his hips slamming against yours. "Cum on my cock. Please, I wanna feel you."
That was all it took. You shattered, crying out his name, your walls clenching around him as waves of pleasure crashed through you. He followed a moment later, his body shuddering, his moan swallowed by your mouth as he spilled inside you, hot and deep.
He collapsed on top of you, his weight a comforting pressure, his breath hot against your neck. You lay there, tangled and sweaty, your hearts beating in sync. His lips pressed soft kisses to your shoulder, your collarbone, your jaw.
"I meant what I said," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm not going anywhere. I don't care how crazy this is. You're mine now." You smiled, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back. "Yeah yeah whatever you psycho."
"I settle for psycho if that's what you're calling me now, sweets." He lifted his head, his blue eyes meeting yours, and in them you saw something that made your breath catch. It wasn't just that lust he was used too, it was affection and love. All raw and real and impossible.
"Hey," you said finally, your voice muffled against his skin. "Y'wanna... do that again, Sometime?" His arms tightened around you, and you could feel his smile against your hair. "Whenever you want. I'm not going anywhere ."
And somehow, lying there in the dark with a dead pornstar turned Vocaloid turned miracle, genuinely believed this was a gift from the supernatural. The deity above finally had some mercy for him, and he wouldn't let them down.
a/n: honestly im not sure how i feel abt it but it's here. maybe to make up for the lackluster plot i can make a part two that explores the dynamic but idk man
also i tried to make this line up the baby you're a star series as much as possible but at least spare me
I did not proofread ts btw!! I was set on getting it out on time so spare me!!
