Mimi

Fanfics

Primping and pruning by yours truly ✩°˖ Hanami x GN!Reader

Terrorising by @cursedkisss ✩°˖ Mahito x GN!Reader

Sweet surprise by @gojosbigboobies ✩°˖ Mahito x F!Reader

In a Field of Flowers with You by @queenmimi2817 ✩°˖ Hanami x GN!Reader

Hey, catch my heart by @mononijikayu ✩°˖ Shoko x F!Reader

Fic name pending by @suganoms ✩°˖ Kirara or Hakari

Fic name pending by @claryeverlarkf ✩°˖ Mahito x GN!Reader

Fic name pending by @getorade ✩°˖ Shoko

The Witch and I by @lunulatalux ✩°˖ Hanami x GN!Reader

Fic name pending by @jiyuspassion ✩°˖ Hanami, Yorozu, Kenjaku

Fic name pending by @yoonsucks ✩°˖ John Kaisen x GN!Reader

Fic name pending by @yoonsucks ✩°˖ Todo x GN!Reader

Fic name pending by @augennn ✩°˖ Uraume

Fic name pending by @caramelluxe ✩°˖ Noritoshi, Yuki or Shoko

Fic name pending by @Kcandy-flosz ✩°˖ Hanami or Mahito

Fic name pending by @lilithkleia ✩°˖ Hakari x GN!Reader x Kirara

Fic name pending by @rosiestrudel ✩°˖ Kenjaku

Art

It honestly reminds you of talking to long-distance friends… well, you can’t even really call them friends. Most of the people you’ve added are either family or other people who you’ve met for quests.

Now that you think about it, every time you had to do a quest with someone else, whether it be a duo, a trio or just a whole group quest, your interface glitched; not in the way it normally does, but in the way that it just wouldn’t load, or wouldn’t display the quest. One time it had even convinced you that you didn’t have a quest—which might’ve just been it trying to sabotage you.

If you learned anything, it’s that the interface is very possessive over you. Which feels weird to say, not only because it isn’t supposed to be sentient, but also because it’s supposed to be yours. You’re the user, and it’s your interface. But with the way it talks, it really does think it’s a being, rather than what it actually is—an interface made to help an user.

It talks about its own inventory—which you’ve always referred to as your inventory, considering… well it is supposed to be yours.

Sure, it seems sweet if anything, but that doesn’t mean this isn’t weird. Never in your life would you have thought that the thing you’ve interacted with your entire life would be sentient—hell, it has admitted to feeling your touch, which creeped you out a little at first.

The fact that you would sometimes mumble to yourself and your interface just… seemed to know what you wanted without you actively having to touch it—all because it actually heard you. There have also been times where it just knew what you wanted, even without you mumbling to yourself. One such thing is the potions being in your hands, cork unscrewed so you could get your health back even sooner.

So here you are, trying to light a fire at the temporary camp you’ve set up in the middle of nowhere, luscious green grass with wildflowers swaying gently in the wind, leaves rustling as tree tops moved, and the occasional wildlife peeking out at you before sprinting away when they notice your gaze on them.

Once the fire crackles to life, you go to sit down, head titled towards the sky that’s starting to get darker and darker by the minute. The sun settles down in a golden glow, before it disappears behind the mountains further north.

Closing your eyes for a second, you just breathe. Let yourself feel everything you weren’t letting yourself feel, and for the first time today, even your UI is silent; no more constant ping! ping! ping! in your ears, just pure silence.

You soak it up for a second—the birdsong, trees rustling, the low breeze that settles over the meadow as the chill is starting to steep in.

There’s sudden weight on your shoulders, fuzzy and warm. Material that wasn’t there just a second ago. You jolt slightly as your eyes open, head snapping down to your shoulders. You’re met with a throw blanket—one you got from a quest way back in the day when you thought you were going to settle down for a few years. A nice older man gave you the blanket when he heard about it.

Obviously it never got used the way it was supposed to, considering you never settled down long enough to stay somewhere. But sometimes, when it was just too warm for a normal blanket, just a bit too cold to go without, you’d get it out of your inventory and snuggle up with it.

But how did it get on your shoulders?

Looking up, you see the blue screen blinking down at you, message already typed out. It almost sounds sheepish when you read it over.

‘I thought you were cold.’

That’s… sweet, honestly. Obviously you knew it could give you items, but you didn’t realise it could also directly determine where the items went. The blanket is draped over your shoulders perfectly, almost as if someone actually stood behind you to carefully place it over them.

“Thanks,” you mumble out, pulling the blanket a bit closer to yourself, preventing the breeze from creeping in. The fire still crackles in front of you, a stray ember almost landing on the blanket before it gets gently blown away—only this time not because of the breeze.

“Okay now how did you do that,” you vaguely motion towards where the ember got blown away into the grass. Eyes locking onto the beautiful, beautiful blue screen. The kaleidoscope of hues shifting in the low, amber lighting from the campfire. It dances across the floating screen as a new message is being typed out.

‘There’s this… field around you that I can manipulate.’

Your brows shoot up your face, eyes widening significantly. It can what now? That honestly sounds creepy as hell, and you voice as much to the interface. “You’re aware that sounds so creepy, right?”

The screen flinches a little, almost as if it is wincing when it realises just how it sounded. ‘Right, right. Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that I can choose where to put stuff on you—like the time you wanted to put on the straw hat, it immediately appeared on your head!’

Thinking back on it, it does always appear wherever you want it—though it only works with equippables and not actual clothes. You actually never thought of it before, but whenever you wanted to put on a hat of a bag or something, it would appear on you already, whereas people normally got their stuff teleported into their hands and had to put it on themselves.

There really are a lot of things your interface has been doing for you without you even realising, huh?

And here you went to reset it a couple of months ago because you thought you were hacked. Instead it was just that your interface actually told you it was in love with you. There’s a slight pang in your chest when you think back on it. The poor thing must’ve been panicking so much.

Does it still remember the time before the factory reset, or did it fall in love with you again after seeing you for the first time?

Well that’s something for another time, right now you’re just looking at the way the screen is blinking down at you, almost like it’s actually blinking. That’s… weird, but nothing too unusual, you guess.

Right, right, you should probably reply to it. “I just… thought that was normal. It has always been like that, so I didn’t even think about the fact that there could be a different reason. I mean, I have never even heard of sentient interfaces before.”

It almost feels stupid, talking to said interface like this. It’s almost like you made an algorithm that could reply to you, like you downloaded a dating sim from a sketchy seller that’s most likely a virus. Luckily that isn’t this.

‘I’ll always be at your service,’ there’s a hint of white flashing through the hues of blues, almost like it’s smiling down at you, before it’s gone again.

“Thank you… what should I even call you?” You realise you never even asked it if it had a name, and all of this time you’ve just been talking to it like it’s real. Well, it is, but… whatever you get it.

The hud glitches a few times, text glitching as the kaleidoscope of blue stutters, swirling faster and faster, until it’s all one color.

Panicking, you throw the blanket off your shoulders while quickly standing up. Your fingers drag over the screen, tapping against it as you try to get it to work. “Hey, hey— what’s going on?”

This is something you’ve never seen before. Sure, text and items have glitched before, but it was only when you skimmed your fingers over it, and by the information you’ve gathered, it was because of the fact that it could feel the pads of your fingers, the pressure you put on the screen.

But never in your life have you seen it do this. Text is glitching outside of the screen, flashing red and white again, the blues muddle together until it’s just one, bright blue; so bright in fact, you have to shield your eyes slightly as the light illuminates your skin.

Hissing under your breath, you try to peek through your lashes to see if you can do anything, but there’s no little ‘X’ button on the hud, only clean lines and glitching text.

Fucking shit.

The only thing you can do is stand back a little and look at how your interface is practically destroying itself. After a few more seconds, the glitching finally stops, glow dimming significantly until you can finally look at it again.

Blinking a few times, you try to get rid of the spots in your vision. Only after a few seconds can you see the screen again, this time the blues are back, swirling in pretty spirals. The text, however, is still glitching. It has changed from the last message to ‘error’, but it’s not blinking red any longer.

Clearing your throat, you try to speak up again. “Hey… you there?”

Honestly, it feels fucking stupid talking to your interface after it crashed, because that’s what it did, didn’t it?

The text keeps glitching, but more letters get added. It almost looks like a soup of letters, and you have to squint to properly see them. And there, in the middle, you can make out something that looks like a name.

“Satoru Gojo…?” you mumble, still trying to see if there’s anything else the UI is trying to tell you, but the moment those words—that name—leaves your lips, the screen closes.

…Well, okay then. Weird as fuck. Maybe you’re just tired. Yeah… yeah, that’s it. You’re just tired, and a little lonely, and are making things up. Inhaled too much smoke as you sat too close to the fire, low ember light illuminating your silhouette.

You try to open your inventory, wanting to put back the throw blanket for the night—the moon has fully peeked out already, stars dancing across the night sky twinkling down at you as the last embers of the fire go out—only to not be able to open it.

Trying again, you wait for a few seconds, only to stare blankly ahead at one of the flowers a bit further down the meadow. When you try to open your avatar, the same thing happens.

…Shit.

Looking around, you note for a second time that you’re really in the middle of nowhere. There’s not even a hint of civilisation to be found—which you thought was a good idea. …Why did you think this was a good idea again?

Oh well, it doesn’t matter right now considering the fact that it’s night and that you can’t really venture out to go somewhere in case you get attacked by a monster; since you can’t open your inventory and get a weapon, you’d be dead meat.

Huffing, you put out the fire and go to your little set-up (and aren’t you grateful for your earlier-day self for having set up everything already). With a sigh you go to lay down, knowing you’ll need to go to the nearest town to get your UI fixed—wherever that may be.

A small ding! wakes you from your slumber. Groggily, you open your eyes. It must be no later than six am, considering the sun hasn’t come up yet, and the birds haven’t started chirping.

Rubbing your eye with the back of your hand, you look up, and sure enough, there it is—a floating blue hud. Your brain has to catch up as to why it randomly booted up again, but once you remember the error of last night, your eyes pretty much fly open.

‘I like it when you call me Satoru.’ Furrowing your brows, you look at it for a few seconds. Ah, right. Its name is Gojo Satoru.

“That’s what you start with after crashing?” you croak out, voice still hoarse from sleep. In an instant, a small bottle of water is teleported into your hands. With a small smile you quickly down some of the drink before the bottle magically disappears again.

‘Well duh, it was the last thing I heard before everything went black.’ it quickly types out.

“This is honestly so stupid, it’s like I’m talking to long distance friends whose faces I’ve forgotten because I haven’t talked to them in so long,” you groan.

In a way it’s like talking to someone you used to know, but forgot everything about, but they remember everything about you. It makes you feel sad considering the fact that you don’t know anything about the interface.

… Is there even anything to know about it?

‘You don’t have any friends.’ Well fucking ouch. What a dickhead, honestly. Sure you might not really socialise with others enough to call them friends, but this was just purely uncalled for. “Now why would you say that?”

‘I prefer it that way, anyway.’ Okay… possessive much. You already saw some of that possessiveness a few days ago with the farmer after he called you darling—which was totally normal, and Gojo was just freaking out about nothing, honestly.

“Still, this is fucking stupid. Why can’t you just talk. There are so many things you can do. Like, you’re a whole ass inventory—which you sort, don’t think I haven’t noticed it lately—and you can put equippables directly on me. Oh! oh, and well you’re an UI, so you can do everything that can, plus a little more. And then the fact that you can just… give me skins and avatar decorations that no one else can get.”

You’re still rambling on when a small ding! grabs your attention. ‘I also change your stats.’

Blinking a few times, you open your mouth, only to close it again. Sure, you always, always, wake up with 0 fatigue. “…I’m choosing to ignore that, because that’s cheating the system in ways I don’t even wanna think about.”

The text disappears, instead a small smiling emoji appearing. Rolling your eyes at that, you just think about how annoying this is gonna be. You have to read if you want to know what Gojo is saying, and you just can’t be bothered, honestly.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m gonna make a text-to-speech system. Besides, how hard can it actually be?”

Turns out coding a text-to-speech system from scratch is extremely hard—especially when you don’t even know what you’re doing in the first place. Sure, there’s the web and forums that can help, but you haven’t actually seen people explain how to make a TTS system, which you honestly didn’t think would be on there anyway.

You’ve spent weeks on learning the basis of coding, just enough to get you by—with the help of Satoru, yes he has asked you to call him Satoru instead of Gojo, who scoured the internet for you and compiled all the useful information.

When you’d asked him why he couldn’t code it himself, considering the fact that he could literally connect to the internet and such, he told you that something in his base program forbade him from doing so—the same way he crashed after you’d asked him his name.

That’s something you still can’t wrap your head around; the fact that he had to use word soup to get his name out was mere insanity to you.

But anyway, when he had told you he couldn’t code it himself, nor give you hints about the process, you’d merely rolled your eyes and told him you’d get it done in no time. Two weeks tops!

Yeah, you’ve definitely swallowed those words considering you’re nowhere near done with the system—something Gojo isn’t letting you forget, either. Every time a new message pops up, it is something teasing about the fact that you still haven’t completed it yet.

But there’s something underneath that text, a sort of sadness you can’t seem to properly place—considering Gojo isn’t exactly human… neither are you, but there’s an obvious difference between the two of you, primarily the fact that you are made of flesh and bone and he’s a floating screen that’s connected to you.

He has stopped teasing you as much, that was the first indicator that something was wrong. The initial excitement he had was slowly beginning to fade, leaving behind less enthusiastic messages.

That, however, doesn’t mean that he doesn’t talk to you any longer, or compliments or even flirts with you—no he does that plenty, so much so that you’ve told him to stop. He has yet to actually stop, but maybe you don’t mind it as much.

What you do mind is the constant ding! whenever he types something new. Look you like his company, though you’ve definitely seen some strange looks from people when you hiss at Satoru when he makes yet another comment, but he can be a bit much at times.

The two of you, or well, technically you, went back to the nearest town after a few weeks of you camping out in the meadow. Whenever you got frustrated, you took a walk, went to see the beautiful flowers that grew all around the green lands, lighten up your mood, before you went back to the grueling task of making a text-to-speech system for your UI.

It was insane to think about, actually. The fact that you were making something so intricate from scratch just because you wanted to hear his voice the dings! to stop every time he wrote a new message, is simply insanity.

While the meadow was absolutely great, there was a problem with your food supplies. It had honestly lasted longer than you thought it would—to which you later found out was because Satoru kept messing with your hunger meter—but eventually all supplies ran out and you were forced to go back to civilisation.

It has been… good so far, but you haven’t made any progress on the coding considering you had accepted yet another quest—you really don’t mind helping people, but Satoru was whining constantly about it—because the town was actually waiting on their food supplies as well.

After completing the quest and getting some rewards for it, you had started asking around if there was anyone who had at least a bit of coding skills that could possibly help you out.

Turns out that coding is a really uncommon thing, most people not having heard of it. So that went down the drain pretty quickly.

Satoru had tried to cheer you up by giving you flowers—technically they were flowers that you’d collected before, so he was really giving you your own flowers back—which was really sweet, but not something that helped you get out of this funk you were in.

You’d sulked for a good day before you finally started on your coding journey again. This time you were staying at an inn, the bed beneath you wasn’t soft, but it was better than sleeping on the ground, which you’d been doing back in the meadow.

It creaks under you as you shift around to get comfortable. Satoru already pulled up your latest logs and forums that might be useful for you right now. With a sigh you start looking through it, fingers skimming against the blue screen, pads of your fingers having softened now that you haven’t actually touched your weapons in what feels like ages.

The screen buffers slightly, text glitching as you try to read one of the more important parts which you keep getting stuck on. With a huff, you narrow your eyes at Satoru, who only tells you it isn’t his fault that your touch makes him glitch!

When he said that out loud (typed), your own mind seemed to buffer for a second. The words sounded so wrong without context—hell, with context it wasn’t much better.

When he saw your expression on your face, he had to quickly clarify that it was moreso considered like getting butterflies rather than… whatever you were thinking of. To which you had responded that you weren’t thinking about anything. At all.

The flush on your cheeks and the elevated heart rate—which he all can see—really did paint a different story. But luckily he let it go.

So here you are again, fingers typing, tapping against the screen that’s Satoru. The tap tap tap sounds were mere background noises by now. You were so used to them that you didn’t even notice them anymore.

Minutes turned into hours turned into days,and you eventually had to leave the inn, otherwise you’d drain your funds too much. You honestly hadn’t planned on staying there for so long, but you were in this weird flow state, so you didn’t really move much.

Significant progress had been made by the time you got yourself enough supplies to last you at least two months. And with a bit of help from Satoru, you’re sure it could be something more along the lines of three months before you actually had to go back and do quests for funds again.

So there you went, once again setting foot to god knows where. All you know is that you hope you can get the system to work soon.

Eyes feeling droopy, you keep nodding off. Your head falls forward, before you snap back up, rubbing your eyes to complete this part of the code, trying to see if you can get it running.

Satoru can’t help but feel that you look adorable like this—all bleary-eyed, small yawns escaping every now and then, hair ruffled from where you’ve been threading your fingers through it.

However, he also thinks you should just get some rest. Sure, he loves the fact that you work day in day out for him to be able to talk to you, but he hates the fact that you’re not taking ample breaks, constantly waving him off when he sends another concerned text about you needing a break. ‘Just five more minutes’ is your normal answer, but those five normally turn into ten, turn into twenty, thirty, an hour—the fact is that you don’t take a damn break.

Something he hates even more is the fact that he can’t code the system himself, he’s known how to do it since he scoured the internet. Sure, there would be bugs, and it wouldn’t all work at once, but it would’ve been so much faster if he could just do it.

And then there’s the fact that his own code… being? doesn’t let him help you out, either. The only hints he can give you are internet links and forums, and he can write down what you’ve learned so far while you try to get little snippets of code running.

you try to run it again, press the last semi-colon before your head tips forward, forehead resting against the keyboard that’s basically Gojo. He quickly gets rid of the keys so it doesn’t mess up your code. Then he drapes a blanket—the same one as months ago—over your shoulders.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispers, fondness clear in his voice. And god, doesn’t he wish he could just kiss your forehead.

You shift a little under the blanket, a sleepy, “Goodnight, Satoru,” falling from your own lips before sleep fully takes you under, not realising what just happened.

©CursedKisss do not copy, steal, plagiarize, or feed my works into AI. I will send Mahito after you if you do.

Tags: @etheralpanic @yoonsucks @lilithkleia @dollieadored @starsforvia @iinvivible @saniiaa @sweethearticism @marisacosm @tojiphoria @mousedit @sugurusbadhabit @cactusvolumes @satorusdollie @kcandy-flosz @secretsofchance @lilslovesaizawa @mimuju @vinsushi @coveexxx

you tend to keep your job and your school life separate, but on last nights livestream you had promised your viewers you would keep one of your lace blindfolds down your pants all day so you could make a few extra bucks.

exactly why you can’t be bothered listening to the man up the front of the lecture hall blabber on any longer, if the cash stays coming in at the rate it is now you won’t need a fancy degree to live the life you want to live.

could probably pick up a part time job somewhere where you could laze around, go home, make some content and still have more than enough to keep you afloat.

that could be beneficial.. semi-public at work could get you a lot of donations.

a few words is all it takes to redirect your mind from the fantasy of living the simple life back to reality.

“group project.”

“30% of your grade this semester.”

oh..

oh!

for a second that sounded bad. projects that counted as a portion of your grade tend to annoy you.

there usually isn’t a direct marking scheme to look over, nor clear directions, it ends up being viewed as a creativity contest more than anything.

but who wins that creativity contest every time?

satoru gojo. you’ve never interacted with him outside of class, the two of you sit on two opposite sides of the room so there isn’t much chatting going on there either—you think you asked him for notes once.. maybe.. was that it?

doesn’t matter, you need to snatch him up before anyone else does.

satoru is strangely good at physics, word went around that he’s got medals and trophies stacked in his house.

perfect, you won’t have to rack your brain coming up with any ideas or doing any calculations.

he’s also not the insufferable type of smart from what you can tell. he’s friends with all of the “known” guys on campus but still keeps to himself most of the time, he’s nice to look at too.

a loud clap comes from the front, “i want you all seated beside your partner within the next two minutes so i can jot your pairs down.”

hearing those words you leap up out of your chair and practically sprint toward him, papers flying from your notepad in the process.

his eyes widen upon seeing you approach his desk so suddenly, heart dropping to his stomach.

why is he so nervous?

why are his palms so sweaty all of a sudden?

why does his face feel so hot?

ohhh.. maybe cause he fists his cock to you every night.

yeah that could be it.

even though you cover your face with a blindfold on film, it’s not nearly enough to hide your identity.

sure the average joe on the street wouldn’t recognise you, but when you’re taking the same college course? no question.

it still took him a while to realise, but by the time he did he had already grown obsessed with you.

FEBRUARY 15TH - 1:16 PM

his day was no different than any other, he sat at his usual table eating his usual lunch—a strawberry cheesecake from the nearby bakery.

satoru preferred to eat on campus in a quiet corner just outside the library, the bakery was too crowded and the cafeteria too noisy.

for once the man didn’t have his laptop open skimming over notes or working on some assignment—this was the result of his favourite camgirl going all out for the lonely people on valentine’s day.

it was a special day so you she streamed for way longer than usual, even decorating her room and nipples with hearts for the holiday. he had ‘paid tribute’ to her one too many times the night prior and his laptop wouldn’t turn on anymore.

it was only a slight inconvenience for him, he had physical notes of course.

rooting through his bag with the cheesecake still balancing on his lap, a voice takes his attention away from his search—a voice he recognises but can’t quite place.

“excuse me? you dropped something.”

it’s like when you watch a movie and you know you’ve seen an actors face in something else before, and your mind won’t let it go until you find out—that’s exactly what his brain is going through.

“umm.. your papers..? dunno if you were just littering or…” you chuckle nervously.

oh. oh my god. that’s it.

that’s the same laugh—albeit a little more superficial than the one he hears replying to his comments he attaches to donations, but it’s definitely hers.

skimming his eyes over your body only confirms his suspicions. you have the same hair, same body type, same lips, same.. same…shit. he’s been staring too long.

“you alright?”

he stands up in a flash, forgetting the cheesecake on his lap. you watch it roll over to your feet, the container cracking open just enough for half of it to touch the gravel beneath you.

“sorry—oh shit..sorry..” there goes his lunch and any capability to talk to a woman.

can you blame him? he’s just found out the girl who wears the tiniest of bra’s and thongs is the same one he sees coming to class in sweats everyday, and he’s never noticed. never noticed that the same eyes he’s been dying to get a peek at were right in front of him the entire time.

-

he’s been looking through you for an uncomfortable ten seconds now and you’re wondering if he’s hard of hearing or just being a dick. “hello..? hellooooo….?”

“sorry.. my mind was—the group project? me.. and.. you?” he seems to be processing it out loud.

“yeah, i don’t really have any friends in this class and i thought we could pair up? if you already have someone in mind that’s fine.”

it is totally not fine. if he doesn’t say yes you’ll be stuck with some airhead.

thankfully someone up there must’ve heard your pleas because he starts nodding.

“yeah. yeah thats fine.”

he’s trying incredibly hard to play it cool and not grow a boner at the chance of being in your bed for ‘project work.’ the same bed he’s seen you squirt all over countless times.

thoughts of all sorts of possibilities run through his head—would he be able to steal one of your toys? you have a lot.. surely you wouldn’t notice if one happened to go missing.

or better yet, one of those blindfolds. he could wrap it around his cock—

he’s getting distracted again.

you’ve scooted a nearby chair closer to his, and unlike him your mind is completely empty. something about this feels strangely awkward.

of course talking to new people is hard, you’ve never been an extremely outgoing type, but you feel like theres more to it than unfamiliarity.

it’s probably nothing. striking up a conversation should ease the tension, right?

“so, any ideas?” you ask.

god help the man. he can’t even talk to you in his current state, the words are there but they won’t come out of his mouth. “aa— uhm— aa” is all that does.

“guess not.” you try and lighten the mood by making a joke out of it all but it seems like it’s having the opposite effect. he appears to have taken your words with ill intent seeing as he doesn’t respond—just starts writing on a piece of paper.

said piece of paper gets placed on your desk, “i’m not feeling well, sorry..” he says, scurrying out of his seat and up the stairs—he feels as though the only thing he’s done is apologise to you over and over.

he truly does make it up to you.. in a different way.

-

“hello, hello, hellooo!! as usual we’re just waiting on our lovely crowd to come in, while you early birds wait you can vote on the poll for today’s show.” satoru’s screen displays your bed decorated with dozens of throw pillows and a ‘safety blanket’.

and of course, you; wearing your signature lace blindfold that starts just above your eyebrows and goes down to the tip of your nose. it’s sheer enough to see through on your end but not his or anyone else’s.

thankfully he doesn’t have to guess what’s behind it.

9 on the dot is when you begin, but he’s been spamming that refresh button since 8:55 impatiently waiting to see you again.

satoru stumbled upon your account when you only had a few hundred viewers, but you’ve grown in popularity since then and he doesn’t like that one bit.

he wants to stand out in the sea of anonymous comments and be sure you’ll remember him when you log off for the night, and with your viewer count now in the thousands it’s hard to be sure his donations are enough to keep him—or rather his alias, floating through your mind.

so he has to be the first.

L1M1TL3SS DONATED $10.00 - missed ur face :)

the ‘BLIINGG!’ sound makes you perk up immediately, “awh, thank you for the dono and for your kind words limitless!”

the way you talk to him so sweetly always gets him going before the ‘show’ has even started, if he were to just listen to you simply talk about your day he could cum.

there’s always a small pang in his heart when you move on so quickly to whoever in the chat donates next, that green monster in his head kicks at his brain and pushes him to keep on spending just to talk to you.

L1M1TL3SS DONATED $10.00 - every time u smile my dick jumps loll

L1M1TL3SS DONATED $15.00 - what size do u think is best

L1M1TL3SS DONATED $16.90 - would u ever do a collab ??

“hmmm.. a collab.. that’s a good question! dunno what you guys would wanna see so we’ll do a poll next stream—but for now lets look at the results of today’s.. “

your chat had voted on guided masturbation—and it won by a long way, due to satoru’s manipulation.

people could donate $2.00 for an extra vote, who cares if you’re being fair? you need to eat.

and eat you did, the ‘fun’ hadn’t even began and you’ve already made over $200 in donations—36% of which were from ‘L1M1TL3SS’. top right hand corner of the stream, his username displayed in big bold letters above ‘KN1234’ and ‘2COCKBANDIT’, indicating he was the top donor.

he got nothing special for this—other than you recognising and thanking him, but it made him feel as if he was better than everybody else watching.

like he had a chance.

“mmm, you see how my pussy wraps around this dildo? want you to be good and squeeze your hand like that for me..”

he listens to your sultry voice over the continuous ‘BLIIING!’ of donation sounds, teasing the pink tip of his cock while watching you ease the dildo iiiiinnnn and oouuuutt slowly.

he learned you smell almost like strawberries the day he pieced together it was you, and ever since he’s gone through 3 bottles of strawberry scented lube.

was it you or the cheesecake?

let’s not ruin his fantasies.

the rhythm of wet “shlap!” “shlap!” noises match yours as he picks up the speed of his fist to be in tune with the dildo, pretending its his cock fucking your pretty pussy.

he keeps edging and edging his sensitive tip, and it’s as though your watching him judging by your words.

“a little longer—haaah!-i-if you want me to be happy? dooont you want thaat?”

the events that took place today have him even more worked up, he watches you pull your bottom lip between your teeth as your cunt stretches around the dildo and wonders if he could ever be so lucky as to replace it.

entranced with you, he doesn’t want his high to end. he keeps himself on the edge for as long as possible, with tears beginning to well up in his eyes he leans over and types another message to you with shaky fingers.

L1M1TL3SS DONATED $200.00 - need 2b inside u

‘BLIING!’ ‘BLIING!’ ‘CHA-CHING!’

‘DONATION GOAL REACHED!’

“ngh!—want all your cum as the next donation!”

$20.00 is what he intended to give out, but the thought to double check never occurs to a man teetering over the edge—not like the nepo baby hasn’t got the money to spare anyways.

he’ll give you anything you want, which is why his creamy white seed spurts out onto his flexed strong thighs, the rest of it dribbling down his fist and making a mess as he keeps pumping his dick, mouth agape and eyes glued to the screen watching you.

-

the lace blindfold you had on lies somewhere on the floor of your bedroom as you lay in your bed trying to decode what’s written on the piece of paper satoru had given you earlier that day.

with your eyes glossy and tired from ‘work’, the already messy handwriting blurs together and you can only make out a few numbers, it’s too late to call but you figured you should try and save his contact information anyways.

guessing half the digits, you type what you assume to be his number into your phone.

aaand accidentally hit call.

oh well. if he doesn’t pick up he doesn’t pick up, if you woke him up then.. sorry?

“hellloo?” he answers in a sing song tone, sounding nothing like you remember.

wasn’t he shy and awkward? maybe it really was a bad day.. “hey, you gave me your number for the project?”

“oh yeah!”

oh. yeah. it’s you.

a large gulp can be heard coming from his end, “so what uhh.. what is it?”

“just checking in, maybe you’ve thought of something? i’ve tried but i can’t really get anything concrete.”

if masturbation counts as brainstorming then you did a lot of that. so did he.

the next few words leave his mouth all too quickly, “yeahyeahyeah, no i haven’t either—i mean i tried to think of something but i couldn’t—not that i haven’t thought at all.”

he slaps a hand over his forehead and curses his brain for not being able to think properly, usually making conversation and being charming comes easy to him, but you’re somewhat of an outlier.

“you wanna try and work on it together sometime?”

“…suUre..” his voice cracks as if he’s going through puberty all over again—he presses the mute button to clear his throat and also take a second to breathe.

“if you don’t mind coming over im free this weekend.”

thoughts that could make a pornstar blush run through his head, but he pulls himself together and manages to squeeze out something along the lines of “yes that’s fine.”

he’s over the moon—dick pointed towards it even.

-

the scheduled date and time rolls around quicker than you anticipated, so you’re taken by surprise when there’s a knock at your door.

rushing over in fluffy slippers and a cotton pajama set, you open it to find your project partner—who you had completely forgotten about, stood infront of your door with a stack of textbooks and laptop in hand.

when he sees you he’s completely taken aback, somehow he finds this sexier than the tiny lingerie sets that could barely even count as clothes.

you also come to the sudden realisation that what you’re wearing isn’t necessarily appropriate for project work with a guy you’ve barely spoken to and begin to apologise,

“sorry, come in—one second i’ll throw on a hoodie..!” after locking the door, you rush over to your room and open your closet.

dozens of lacy items fall all over the floor from when you couldn’t be bothered to put your ‘work attire’ away neatly, you pray he’s still waiting in the hallway.

this time, your prayers were ignored and shoved into the deepest parts of hells asshole—because you look up to find him standing in your doorway like a deer in headlights, unmoving, eyes wide.

figures, all you do is sin.

more and more crumble from inside of the closet as you scurry to shove all sorts of things he should not be seeing back in, after a few seconds of this torture you do what you can and sit on the pile, “just—wait in the living room for me. second door on the right..”

how mortifying.. best case scenario he thinks your some sort of vintage collector—although a fluffy christmas themed bodysuit with a hole in the crotch isn’t exactly what you’d call vintage..

maybe you could say you starred in a mean girls musical?

he won’t ask. he better not. you pull out a hoodie, shove the items deeper in and shut the closet—standing still for a second to make sure it doesn’t burst open.

your best bet is to pretend like nothing happened, so that’s exactly what you do.

you walk out to the living room where he sits and simply plop down on the couch next to him, he’s still got his laptop open and textbooks resting on his lap and it’s like his body is forbidding him from making eye contact with you.

what you don’t know is that his dick is raising those books a few inches.

on top of that, you too aren’t aware of the fact he showed up late because of the need to pump his cock so this didn’t happen.

not like you were expecting him anyways, “where do you wanna start?”

hold on.

what is that logo his home page?

are you seeing things?

is that what you think it is?

“hawt..chicks..go..live.com?” you lean your face closer into the laptop and read the words out slowly, looking back at him with a devilish smile on your face.

“huh?! what—nononono i don’t know what that is!”

too late, if you’ve been embarrassed today he has to be too, “really? you don’t know what that big ass icon is doing on your browser home page?”

“is that some kind of jerk-mate sitee? you like watching chicks masturbate?” you cackle as if you aren’t said chick masturbating.

he frantically mumbles out an excuse, “really, i don’t know what that is! i pirated a game a few days ago and it’s—it’s probably a virus!”

“oh yeah? what game? bet its got big 2D boobs in it.” maybe you’re taking it a little far—but anything to save face. pretty funny how red he’s gone too, it is sooo not a virus.

and then another thing catches your eye, underneath the domain it reads;

“SIGN IN - L1M1TL3SS”

he’s about to blurt out something stupid again when his gaze catches your frozen face, eyes pinned to the icon.

and everything clicks at once, for the two of you—you know who he is and he knows who you are.

-

“hello, hello, helloo! we’re doing something a little different today as you can see..” you adjust the camera to have satoru fully in view, hands cuffed to the bedframe with a black lace blindfold covering his eyes.

there was no need for the cuffs since he had agreed to this, but you didn’t want any interruptions. “this is top donor limitless, keep donating and you could end up like him—in my bed!”

USELESSCOCK527 DONATED $5.00 - YO WTFFF

IHEARTB00BZ DONATED $15.00 - ME NEXT

YEARSOFBALLTORTURE DONATED $7.00 - look at his dick its twitching in her presence

the bed creaks under your weight as you position yourself ontop of his right thighs, back arched and tongue darting out to taste the precum beaded at his tip.

when he feels the wet muscle come into contact with the sensitive head of his cock he lets out a breathy moan, interrupted by another donation.

TITTYTYPHOON27 DONATED $10.00 - im not gay but anyone got the link to his stuff??

you puff your lips out and open your mouth, a large glob of spit falling onto his aching dick—you waste no time before starting to give him what he’s been dying for.

the palm of your hand glides uuup and dowwn the long shaft as he bucks his hips up into your touch wanting more and you make sure to reprimand him for it,

“patience. you of all people should know this isn’t some low quality 2 minute porno, right?”

the sweat dripping from his forehead causes the blindfold to stick to his face, “mhm! yeaah—yes..!” he breathes out, but his body contradicts his words and his back arches up.

you use your unnocupied hand to push him back down flat onto the bed, “he’s not listening, what should we do to him?” you turn to the camera.

it takes not even half a second for the messages to start coming in.

C_K10 DONATED $21.00 - milk him so dry there wont be cum for centuries

2COCKBANDIT DONATED $6.99 - torture .

one of those sounds more plausible than the other, so you do exactly as requested.

jug one spurts out and paints your tits, it would have gotten in your eye if not for the blindfold.

continuous cries of your name follow as you don’t make an effort to give him a chance to come down from his high—fist still tightly gripping his cock.

jug two has him squirming, has his thighs flexing, has him taking heavy and sharp breaths, has him releasing more pornographic moans that are louder than the sound of the donations.

all this has got you thinking that he could make good money from this if he were to start streaming on the site.

seems like he’s got a fanbase waiting for him already, so why not?

you start to lap up the mess you’ve made, your tongue licks long stripes from his balls to the flushed pink head and your throat swallows all of his creamy seed down, but this isn’t the last of it.

PUSSYGONECRAZY3 DONATED $30.00 - ONE MORE JUG!!

“please.. i can’t..” he whimpers, his hands frantically try and break out of the cuffs but its no use.

“you will.”

jug three isn’t so much of a jug of ‘milk’.. rather a fountain of sorts, that squirts a long stream onto the bed and soils your bedsheets.

he’s gone limp by this point, eyes that you can’t see have rolled to the back of his head and the handcuffs attached to the bed are carrying the entire weight of his arms.

2COCKBANDIT DONATED $19.00 - i think she killed him

“nnnnooppee.. stiill.. here.” he creaks out, voice strained from all of the animalistic noises that came from him.

you pout at him with mock sympathy,“what’s wrong? i thought you wanted this.. all those dono messages were lies then?”

“nno.. neeverr.. wan’ more..” he says with a limp dick.

KN1234 DONATED $50.00 - carry on while he does his project work

project work? you never mentioned any project work..

PROFESSOR NANAMI?!

a/n : apologies for this lazy ass ending.. and for my writers block having me in a chokehold i hope this makes any sort of sense im afraid to proofread

Despite the usually well manicured, plush, and decorated crew cabin quarters of the Heart Pirate’s first mate, Bepo’s linen bedsheets looked like they had been mauled and destroyed by a vicious animal loose and feral on deck. Feathers clung to Bepo’s teeth, his pillows completely destroyed while his body mounted any surface it could find to grind his pointed red-tipped cock against. 

“Mnnnghh-!” Bepo managed to exhale a more mink-like moan amongst the feral huffing through his nose. His body responded by catching the tapered end of his cock against his bedsheets and painted them in glossy drops of precum that never seemed to end. Every moment his body chased the end closer, the further his bliss seemed to be from reaching its final climax. The bear-mink’s tears cascaded down his cheeks while he tried to find a foothold on his own ecstasy, only managing to topple off the bed and bring his duvet down and on his lap. 

“No,” he whimpered, grinding the blankets on his cock while on his back, “No, please!” His cock caught on the indented welts of cotton-sewn ripples, only for his cries of bliss to turn into sobs of frustration. He rolled the material and his body onto the side and attempted to both grind and buck his body against the material, biting his lip and sobbing while nuzzling his muzzle into the material to hide his face. 

Bepo’s cock continued to pulse around the bone extending from his mink cock and swelling the knot at his base to a firm and shiny bulb. All he could do was keep trying until his body would finally respond. His embarrassment as one of the decorated officers aboard the ship had him not seeking out the captain - the doctor - and his closest confidant. He was meant to do better, be better, than this. 

“Please, please, please,” Bepo panted into the blankets, “I need-!” Bepo’s hips turned more feral as he rut into the blanket with a returned vigorous and desperate intent. His cock dribbled, but that swollen knot still begged to fill a body and lock it in place while he bit their neck and claimed them as his. His sob ended in a thick yelp as his body continued to disappoint itself in its tireless and relentless pace ending in nothing but a whisper of relief dangling like a carrot on the end of a stick. 

The longer the polar bear-mink continued, the longer he came to realize that there was no end for him in sight. His lips were curled over his darkened gums and his voice was no longer remotely humanoid. His body shifted into a state closer to his form on the full moon, and yet his mind continued to attempt to plead with itself to sate its hunger into the linens instead of inflicting the madness on anyone else on the ship. 

Least of all you.

As soon as his mind even thought about you, his body jolted with an animalistic need further into the blankets until his lips began chanting your name between a call, a growl, and a cry for help. 

“I need you.” 

Washing your body of the petals and sticky residue of the plant matter you and Bepo managed to topple into on your away mission, you shook away a burning sensation wrapping around your heart and dampening your briefs. You shook away that feeling and fought a heated flush from pooling in your cheeks at the thought. 

“I must be ovulating or something,” you spoke to yourself while lathering up your hands in the soaps and rinsing them off. 

“Impossible,” you heard the voice of your captain crack through the silence like a whip. You jumped in place and shot him an accusatory stare at invading your privacy at the medical bay sink, only which spurred him on to shrug, “You’re somewhere within the follicular phase.” He turned the page of his notes and narrowed his eyes on a word before writing his own notes down beside it, “I track all of the crew to ensure you’re all at the peak of your health at all times. I also track Bepo’s cycle with the lunar calendar to dictate how long we can remain submerged for.” 

“That’s a huge invasion of privacy, captain,” you chuckled while drying your hands on the coarse, paper towel, “Why track menstruation? Like, for real?” Law shook his head and stood from his desk while gazing down at the plant specimen in the jar you’d collected with Bepo. 

“Because I’m your doctor, I’m your captain, and I’m your friend,” he tapped the jar with the end of his pen, “And I care a great deal about the lot of you. And this,” he tapped it once more, watching as the leaves and inner flowers released a golden-like dusting from the middle of the flower, “This is an aphrodisiac. I should go and check on Bepo. He might be responding to it a little differently than you just getting wet.”

“Hey, uncalled for, Captain,” you warned him, pointing your finger at his face and fighting back your laugh, “That’s not fair. Did you know what it was before you-?”

“Captain! We need you on the main deck!” the commlink speakers screamed with Penguin’s voice over the call, “Emergency!” Law sighed and closed his notes before rolling his head on his shoulders and exhaling sharply. 

“Can you check on Bepo for me?” he asked gently, “He might just be sleeping. Mink-Folk are a little more immune to this stuff than humans, so he should be fine. If not, call me, okay?” Law put his hat back on his head and straightened himself up as you let out a, “You got it, boss,” with a polite nod. As he left the office, you followed the well-trodden and memorized path to Bepo’s quarters while you shifted on your feet uncomfortably. 

Bracing yourself against the door outside, you pressed your thighs awkwardly together to adjust yourself beneath the cream-colored boiler suit. You still felt that small amount of arousal sticking your briefs to your core, but ignored it for the sake of following orders. You mentally made a list of everything to do after checking on Bepo: ‘Make sure he’s tucked in and safe, give him a little forehead kiss to make sure he has good dreams, try not to think about how much you like him while going back to your quarters, lock your door, get out your bullet vibe, knotted monster dildo, and enjoy your evening, wash up, go to sleep.’ 

As you turned the door handle into Bepo’s quarters, your well thought out plan immediately fell into the soupy quicksand of your shock. The debauchery you witnessed in the usually sweetly decorated room was enough to have you slam the door shut behind you and lock the door, trapping both you and your friend inside to avoid anyone else walking in. Bepo’s hips were rolling and grinding into a destroyed duvet enough that you could see the red tip poking out from the other side. Your briefs immediately soaked themselves at witnessing his feral grunting and howling into the sheets, something you would come to punish yourself for later. 

“Bepo?” you call quietly, trying to avoid looking anywhere other than the way his hips sloppily continued rolling into the material, “It’s me. Just me, big guy.” You stepped closer, keeping your hand extended enough to reach down onto the floor and find his muzzle hidden within the top of the blankets. Bepo’s face was hot, his eyes were red and as they would normally be in the lunar peak, but his lips quivered softly while you cupped his face. The softest call of your name whispered through his lips like a secret he wasn’t giving himself permission to tell.

“I can’t stop,” he confessed, “I can’t stop. What’s happening to me?” You moved your head down and pressed your forehead to his, closing your eyes and cupping his jowls against your face in a well-practiced embrace between the two of you. 

“The mission we went on to the island, the plant-...” you explained while the polar bear mink rolled onto all fours while in your embrace, “...It was an aphrodisiac. Did you wash it off, honey bear?” Bepo nodded into your touch, his face still sweet beneath its larger and more feral growth. His extended canines were enough to strike fear into the heart of those who didn’t know him, but you knew him better. Bepo’s paws moved to your hips, dragging you down closer to his form while his nostrils flared while learning your scent. 

“It affected you too,” his voice growled, “I can smell it on you.” His claws embedded in your boiler suit and punctured the material, “I c-can’t stop myself. I need y-you.” You nodded and moved your hands from his face to the zipper at your collar, gliding the zip down your torso and ending it at the bottom of your belly. Bepo helped as much as he could to remove the material from your smaller form, but his enormity hindered more than it helped. 

“I washed it off me, but it… I…” your face grew hot while your body continued to wallow in the arousal manufactured by the pollen on your skin and that feral tint in your friend’s eyes, “...I think I’m still… It…” You couldn’t focus on your words as your layers were peeled away from your skin. 

Immediately, as soon as your bare cunt was exposed, Bepo’s face was positioned right at your pelvis and lapping at your arousal like it was ambrosia from the gods. His muzzle huffed your scent while his lengthy tongue curled its way around your body. His hips never stopped rolling into the bedding, only now he focussed on your bliss as his anchor rather than finding it himself. Your peak was pummelled from your body almost immediately, causing your eyes to fearfully gaze down at Bepo while your lips contorted in a choked, whimpering moan. 

And as hastily as it came to you.

It fled from your body before it had a chance to topple over. 

“What’s happening!” you cried in frustration while your hips slowly began rocking into Bepo’s face. Your arousal painted your thighs and mixed with his saliva, all of which stuck to your cunt in stringy strands of glossy heat. Bepo continued to lap at you before he pushed himself away from you and licked a thick trail from your cunt up to your chest. 

“I know. I know, I know, I know. I'm sorry,” he whispered in a soft whimper, “I’ve been trying this as soon as I got back. I-I-I can’t seem to get there.” His cock found your leg and slowly scraped your skin until his tip lined up with your core, “C-Can I p-put it in? Just the-... Just the tip? I don’t want to hurt you, b-but I can’t shift back fr-from this shape to m-make it… Smaller.” You whined and moved your hips down, slowly trying to sink yourself down onto his cock despite your position beneath him. 

Bepo growled and moved his head up to your shoulder, grounding himself by sniffing along your skin to mark your scent to memory. He brushed his collar up against you, the longer fur tickling your skin while his red tip slowly attempted to push its way inside you. You couldn’t find the words to speak, only feeling your friend and long time crush lose more of his sweet nature and focus it entirely on his restraint. 

“Bepo, please,” you whimpered while hooking your arms around his shoulders and legs around his hips, “I can take it. I can, I promise. I can, I can, I can.” You attempted to move down his cock, only halting as Bepo flipped you easily onto your belly and pushed your thighs together while straddling your body from behind, "I've been practicing by myself. I promise I can take it." He slowly pressed his red tip between your glossy folds while your head turned to the side. His hands moved from your hips to grapple each arm and hold them both in a firm grip at the small of your back in one hand. 

Bepo couldn’t stop now. His cock pressed in, the thick bone in his monstrous cock firming around the swelling muscle and forcing it to remain stiff while he slid it into your heat. As he pushed in, you felt your body scream while accommodating his large girth. The sweet man you fell for was absent, and in its place was a beast holding you firm as if he was going to have you ripped away from him at any moment. 

As he bottomed out, the swollen knot at his base kissed your slit. He set a pace slow but firm enough to force the air out of your body at every in thrust. As he continued rutting into you, your body ignited in a heat you hadn’t felt before. Not with another partner, not with your hands or your mechanisms, but the heat of something that felt as if he was made for you. Your body molded to his shape, arousal coating you and him thickly while he continued to steadily grow his pace. 

Bepo’s breathing turned into feral, guttural panting while you angled your hips up enough to feel his cock slide behind your cervix in a way that accommodated for him in a way that almost seemed practiced. His muzzle moved to your neck and bit at you, causing your cunt to grip him and lips to curl into a soft ‘O’. He moved harder, faster, and in a rhythm that spurred him to that peak that alluded him so much earlier. 

“B-Bepo, bite me,” you cried softly, “Bite me. I need you to bite me. Claim me, I'm yours,” Your body knit its belly in a coiled spool while you felt his knot punching at your slit like a landlord with rent overdue for payment. Bepo’s teeth grazed your neck and slowly sank down into your flesh while you moved your hips back onto his knot. As the bulbous mass slowly slid inside your cunt, your walls gripped him like a vice that immediately had both of you toppling over the edge. 

Bepo roared your name in a muffled growl while he bounced your body on his knot. His body flooded you in creamy ropes of viscous ecstasy, painting you in patterns of his own artistic design. Your eyes rolled into your head and jaw locked in a permanent, contorted scream that held no sound: just pleasure. Your body had never felt so full in its life, and your soul felt as if it was melting and forming into something new at every frothy pummel of Bepo’s cock filling you. 

‘It’s just the aphrodisiac,’ you told yourself while coming down from your high, ‘This wouldn’t be happening if you both weren’t affected by the aphrodisiac.’ You felt Bepo shift behind you, his body melting away from its larger form and shrinking into his usual self. His knot remained swollen inside you, moving you both onto your sides and slowly, languidly lapping at the bite on your shoulder. 

Before you could stop it from happening, the doubt coaxed a choked sob in the afterglow - one Bepo didn’t seem to miss. He couldn’t tell what you were thinking, or how you were feeling after he fucked his knot inside you, so he immediately moved into the defensive. His hand moved to your belly, feeling the tip of his cock still swollen inside your gut while his knot remained solid and inflated. He stroked your belly with his thumb and began kissing and licking at your skin. 

Your sobs became soft sniffles and a gentle smile the longer Bepo sweetly took care of you within the feathery mess of his ruined crew quarters. Before either of you knew what was happening, the hand that was on your belly moved down to between your legs and slowly slid between your glossy folds to find your clit. 

“I had a crush on you for the longest time,” he admitted bashfully while his fingers located your clitoral hood and pearly bud with expert precision, “I’ve been w-wanting to ask you out for a while.” Your body arched into his back, still full of his cock while his fingers slowly drew circles against your clit. “I was going to ask you out when we were on our away mission together, but… We kind of… Fell… I-Into the banks and found what we were looking for before that happened.” 

“I-It did h-happen quite fast, oh fuck,” you whined, parting your legs a little more to give him more exposure to your core, “Y-You don’t have to do this. It’s o-okay. I finished, and so di-... shit… You. So did you.” Bepo giggled into your neck and continued lapping at you while his fingers met their mark. 

“I want to have you as me. I want to make you cum as me,” he admitted softly, “Not as what I was before. Just while we wait for the knot to go down.” He shifted from rolling your clit to an up and down movement, one that felt more intense than that gentle shudder. You felt euphoria begin to build, all while Bepo continued gently cooing at you from behind. He managed to bounce you a little on what motion he had of his cock hooked inside you, all while his fingers shifted to chase that pitched whine you wailed for him in a way he liked.

“B-Bepo I’m going t-to-! You’re going to make me-! I can’t-!” you cried, thick tears moving down your cheeks while Bepo continued building your intensity as easily as breathing. He moved his teeth over the mark he dented into your skin, casting a mold over them with his teeth now blunter than before, but no less threatening. He bit you, your body responding immediately by arching into his arms and gushing with ecstasy seeping through your pores. 

“I love you,” he muffled, “I love you so much. You’re so beautiful. Please be my mate. I’ll treat you so well, I promise.” His confession fell on deaf ears while your body was navigated through the second largest orgasm of your life, the first being the one you shared with him moments prior. Despite it being lesser than the one you just experienced, your body began to shake in his arms while your toes curled by Bepo’s side. 

Bepo chuckled while you slowly came down from your high and grew limp in his arms. He moved his hand away from your cunt and back to your belly above the bulge. Kissing you softly on the cheek, he nuzzled his body against you while the effects of the aphrodisiac completely left him. Although you couldn’t confess in return to him, he felt your love in the way you simply melted into his arms. 

Cradling you against his body and waited for his knot to go down before he ensured you were comfortable enough in his pile of mess, moving you to what was left of his bed and snuggling against you. His love was showcased in his care for you, and in the way his eyes gazed at you as if you held all of the answers to the universe. He loved you, and when you both woke in the morning, you ensured he knew just how much you loved him in return. 

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @mermaniaa @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @jadeddangel @thesunxwentblack @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @yujo-nishimura @sunnyferr @floufli @pumpk1nn-patch @artemis162534