Sylus: *poking The Grumpy Crow Plushie She’s Cuddling* I Thought This Thing Resided In Your Apartment?

Canon that sukuna is THIS dramatic

Sukuna wants to kill himself every time you make fish for dinner. Why? It all started from the moment you moved in with Sukuna.

You two decided unanimously that you would be the cook in the apartment. I mean, the only food Sukuna would be cooking up would be Kraft macaroni and cheese.

One night, after wandering into the kitchen and spotting the dishes on the counter, Sukuna asked, "We're eating fish?"

You hummed, "It's good for the brain; you of all people need it the most."

". . .Dude."

Anyways, Little Yuuji was always a pretty picky eater, and the first time he tried tuna was when you, his older brother's girlfriend, served it to him for dinner.

From that night on, Yuuji starts calling his brother "Kuna Tuna", and I'll have you know, Yuuji does not stop for at least a week.

It drives Sukuna to the brink of insanity, and every time he smells you cooking fish in the kitchen, or even if you ordered seafood, his eye starts twitching and his hands start shaking and there's suddenly a lump in his throat.

The delulu truly went off. Imagine Peekaboo being traumatized by finding his dad with Romeo in bed LMAO

*DO NOT REPOST*

Okay due to popular demand no one asked me to do this at all:

Kawaiifies your ghouls to the absolute extreme 🫵

I have a breeding kink and I'm proud of it.

it’s Me again… back with another breeding kink fic.

anonymous asked: Can you do another breeding kink Bucky??😭😩💞

His hips stutter with wild jerks, lurching your bed and its frame into the wall. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chokes, cheeks flushed and jaw clenched. “You can’t say shit like that, baby.” His hands dig into your skin bruisingly, an animalistic fire he’s resisting alight in his dilated pupils. “‘Cause I will. With the way your tight pussy is squeezing me, I’ll fill you up until you’re dripping for days after, and there’s no doubt you’re knocked up with my kid.” 

in which you beg bucky to cum inside you. (includes breeding kink, dirty talk, unprotected sex.)

—

As it turns out, the sperm of a super soldier is especially potent. Which means regular ‘ole birth control doesn’t work like it’s supposed to, and for that, specially modified treatment has been given to you.

Yes, the very serious and dangerous S.H.I.E.L.D agency has created a shot so that you’re able to fuck your superhero bareback without the threat of a child. The only catch is re-upping; it lasts a year, but there’s a month needed before you can get your next one, something about needing to give your reproductive system a break from the chemical.

It’s a difficult month, becoming harder and harder as the weeks wined down.

Of course, you use condoms but there’s a mutual disdain for the material. Plus, it’s not the same—that barrier between you, unable to be as close as possible with him, the emptiness of not being filled until you’re dripping. But, thankfully, both of you have made it through and there’s only a few days left.

However, for good measure in the last week, you’ve been staying with Wanda and Natasha. Speaking of who, the couple are throwing a housewarming, no longer compound-bound, and his attendance is iffy. It’s understandable considering just thinking about him has you ready to explode.

Not to mention, it’s a pool party, and you’re wearing a saucy bikini.

“So when are you and Barnes gonna pop one out?” Natasha speaks casually, a wine glass between her fingers, curled up with her girlfriend on a lounge chair where they both watch you help set up. “Something tells me you won’t want to wait a whole year. Him, especially.”

That’s an understatement. Your man has chronic baby fever but in a respectfully adorable way. In the past, you’ve been apprehensive about offspring but he’s so optimistic and supportive you’ve definitely come around to the idea. “Soon, actually. Banner apparently has created a six month shot,” you tell her, absentmindedly folding a complimentary towel.

“Oh, yeah. How are you two doing on that front? You have a couple of days left before you can shack up again, right?” Nat’s eyebrow arches when your hands fumble and drop a towel at a mere reference to sex.

“Yes,” you answer after a steady breath, and you bend over to retrieve the textured cloth. “Seventy-two hours. It’s good he isn’t coming to your little thing ‘cause I think he’d maul me and vice versa…”

“Oh, Bucky,” Wanda’s pointed, mildly amused voice sets your spine rigid. “Hey! How’s it—”

At your fiancé’s name, you abruptly straighten up and spin on your heels. In a blink of an instance, he’s closed the distance—six foot form towering and determined, and the ravenous look in his eyes tells you what he’s going to do.

Your eyes widen, and you point sternly at him, uncoordinated steps backward. “Wait, wait—!” you try but his arms are latched onto your waist and hoisting you over his shoulder. Everything is upside down: a smiling Wanda and waving Natasha fades as he strides into the house.

Keep reading

I love tony

Go ahead and cry, little girl.

 (TONY STARK SMUT)

Run-through: You were furious and offended at the Avenger’s leader, Tony Stark. Because being a new addition to the team, he didn’t believe that you were strong enough yet to fight alongside the others during important missions. And when you went to give him a piece of your mind, things…didn’t really go as planned.

Themes: smut, age gap, language, wee bit of angst, just a wee bit.

a/n: i’ll be glad to hear your thoughts! :)

    To say that you were currently pissed off at Tony Stark would be an understatement. You were way beyond being just mad at the man, you were furious.

Why? Because despite the fact that he recruited you himself, he can’t seem to trust you enough. And he definitely doesn’t believe that you are fitting to accompany the rest of the avengers on a mission.

He always made lame excuses every time you asked him why he wasn’t letting you go. He would say stuff like,

“This one is way too dangerous, you can go on the next one”

“I’m not sure you can handle it, I mean, you do need more training”

“No, we can’t all go, someone has to stay back at the compound”

These were his lame excuses, and you were sick of it. You planned on giving him a piece of your mind, you would tell him that if he can’t bring himself to trust you, then you were leaving to go find your own place to do your own thing.

But you had to wait for him to come back. Why? Because the entire team was out on a mission and they left you alone, with only FRIDAY the AI to keep you company.

Keep reading

I saw this one idea from an acc and i LOVED IT. Bluelock boys x football player reader?? Thank uuu

“𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐟 > 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦”

a/n: soccer is such a hot sport

ft. itoshi rin, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae, isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, tabito karasu, otoya eita, yukimiya kenyu

𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐫𝐢𝐧

rin doesn’t do loud cheering. no standing ovations or dramatic fist pumps. nah, he’s the type to sit in the stands with his arms crossed, expression blank, looking like he doesn’t even care. but anyone with half a brain could tell by the way his eyes are locked on you, laser-sharp and focused, that he cares more than anyone else in the stadium. when you score, his lips twitch into the tiniest smirk, and he barely nods, but his fingers tighten around his phone, snapping a photo of you mid-goal. and when you jog over to the sidelines for a water break, he casually offers you his bottle with a deadpan, “good shot.” but the way he holds it out, already uncapped, like he was waiting for you? yeah, he’s been holding that bottle for the last ten minutes, just in case. 

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐲𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐢

you know shidou’s the type of bf who yells your name like he’s front row at a concert. “THAT’S MY GIRL, BABY! YEAH, SHOW ‘EM WHO’S BOSS!” he’s practically hanging over the railing, shirt half unbuttoned, hair wild from how many times he’s run his fingers through it in excitement. the man is hoarse by halftime from screaming praise at you. when you land a perfect corner kick, he turns to the random dude next to him and slaps his shoulder. “DID YOU SEE THAT? THAT’S MY GIRLFRIEND. LIKE, ACTUALLY. I’M DATING HER.” post-game, he practically tackles you with a hug, sweaty jersey be damned. he grins like a maniac, pressing wet, obnoxious kisses all over your face. “fuck, you were insane out there. mvp. the whole field was yours.”

𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐬𝐚𝐞

sae acts like it’s no big deal. like, whatever, you’re just a pro soccer player, no big deal. but he cannot help himself. whenever someone even vaguely mentions soccer, he casually slips your name into the convo like it’s nothing. “yeah, my girlfriend scored twice in her last match. no big deal.” except he says it so smugly that people have to ask. and oh, does he love when they ask. his voice is flat, but the glimmer in his eyes is unmistakable as he shows them a highlight reel of you absolutely cooking defenders. and when you spot him watching from the sidelines during your game? he’ll give you the laziest little wave, like he’s totally unbothered, but the way his lips twitch ever so slightly when you look his way? yeah, he’s so proud. 

𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢 𝐲𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢

isagi is basically your personal hype man. he knows all your stats by heart – goals, assists, minutes played – and he’s ready to recite them at a moment’s notice. before your match, he’s pacing by the tunnel, hyping you up like a coach. “you’ve got this. you’ve been nailing your shots in practice. just play your game, baby.” and when you score? oh, he loses it. he’s standing, hands in his hair, eyes wide with disbelief like he just watched you score the winning world cup goal. “holy crap, that was insane!” he’s clapping so hard his palms are probably red. post-game, he hugs you so tight you can barely breathe, grinning like a fool. “i’m so proud of you. like, ridiculously proud.”

𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

bachira is a menace on the sidelines. he’s doing little soccer tricks with a stray ball while you play, calling out your name every chance he gets. “go get ‘em, baby! woooo!” when you nutmeg an opponent, he full-on sprints down the sideline like a deranged golden retriever, yelling, “MEGURU’S GIRL, MEGURU’S GIRL!!!” when you win, he storms the field, despite the officials yelling at him to stay back. he picks you up and spins you around, planting kisses all over your face. “you were sooo cool! did you see yourself? wait, of course you did, you were right there! but still!! you were SO COOL.” and yes, he absolutely posts 30 blurry photos of you with captions like, “my goat gf 🐐💖.”

𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐨

reo buys box seats just so he can get a better view of you. he’s wearing designer sunglasses even though he’s indoors, and he sips his expensive sparkling water all casually, acting totally chill. but the second you make a play, he drops the rich guy act. suddenly, he’s standing, clapping loudly and shouting, “YES, BABY! THAT’S MY GIRL!” he’s the type to bring an entire bouquet of roses to your post-game interview and place them dramatically in your arms with a grin. “for the most talented player on the field.” and if the cameras catch it? good. he wants the world to see how proud he is of you. 

𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐢 𝐬𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨

nagi might seem lazy about everything else in life, but when it comes to your games? he’s fully locked in. he shows up wearing your jersey, hair still messy from a nap, but his eyes are glued to you the entire time. he may not be the loudest cheerer, but his voice is the one you hear the most clearly. every time you make a play, he leans forward and mumbles, “so cool…” under his breath, a small smile tugging at his lips. when you win, he’s the first one to greet you, still half-sleepy but grinning ear to ear. he loops his arms around your waist and leans into you like he’s about to fall asleep. “mmm… you’re my mvp. carry me home?” (bro’s gonna break your back)

𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐨

karasu cannot shut up about you. he’s straight-up posting memes like, “my gf could outplay your entire team.” at your game, he’s the guy standing by the railing with his arms spread wide like, “did you guys see that?!?!” if you score, he’s turning to random strangers like, “that’s my girl. mine. you see that? yeah, i go home to her.” when you walk off the field, he greets you with the cockiest grin. “pfft. that was light work for you. wasn’t even a challenge.” but then he softens, brushing some hair out of your face. “seriously, though… you were unreal out there. my little soccer star.”

𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐲𝐚 𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐚

otoya is leaning against the stadium railing like a walking thirst trap, winking at you every time your eyes meet. “hey, number ten, you single?” he calls out dramatically, earning glares from nearby fans. when you land a perfect free kick, he lets out an exaggerated, impressed whistle. “damn, babe. you always this sexy when you destroy your opponents?” post-game, he slinks over with that flirty grin, resting his arm around your shoulders. “you were so hot out there. i think i need a private post-game interview with you. maybe in my hotel room?”

𝐲𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐮

yukimiya is all soft smiles and heart eyes. he watches you like you hung the moon, his hands clasped together as if he’s witnessing a miracle. when you score, he exhales softly, eyes filled with admiration. he’s not the type to shout, but you can feel the warmth in his applause. post-game, he greets you with open arms, pressing the softest kiss to your temple. “you were incredible,” he murmurs, voice full of awe. he gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes glimmering with so much pride it makes your chest ache. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

In the mood for angst

Your relationship with Sukuna was on its last legs. You tried to make things work, but he was as difficult as it could get, and mean. After a particularly terrible fight, the two of you made up, and you began to hope again. Later that night, his friends called, inviting him to the club. You told him you weren’t comfortable with it. He agreed to stay, even tucking you into bed.

But once you fell asleep, he snuck out.

Things went downhill from there.

Sukuna and his friends drank heavily, and soon he was caught up in the chaos—laughing, dancing, and losing control. While you slept, his friends began posting videos online: Sukuna receiving a lap dance, drunk and kissing another girl, clearly high and out of his mind.

When you woke up, you reached over to find his side of the bed cold and empty. You thought he had left early for work. But then your phone started blowing up with messages from friends and strangers alike. Your heart pounded as you unlocked it and opened Instagram, only to see the posts.

One after another, each post felt like a knife to your chest—Sukuna smiling lazily, his hands on another woman, his lips brushing hers. You could see the flashing lights, hear the blaring music, and feel the sting of betrayal in every picture and clip. Your fingers trembled, and your vision blurred with tears as you watched in disbelief.

The room felt like it was spinning. You tried to steady yourself, but the weight of it all was crushing. How could he do this to you, especially after you had been so open, so vulnerable about your feelings? After he had promised to stay?

You had told him, in the heat of making up, that this was his last chance. You were clear: if he messed up again, you were packing your things and going back to the States. He had looked you in the eyes and promised. And yet, he still went and did this.

Meanwhile, Sukuna was still sleeping, his head pounding and the room spinning. He didn’t remember a damned thing the night before. He remembered sneaking out, thinking he’d make it back before sunrise, slip back into bed, and act like nothing happened. You were just being too dramatic, he thought. You’d told him how you didn’t like his friends, that they hated you and were trying to break the two of you up. He’d laughed it off as paranoia. Crazy talk.

He vaguely remembered drinking a shot—just one—and after that, things got hazy. He didn’t believe for a second that his friends would spike his drink.

No, they’d never do that… right?

But now, as he blinked his eyes open, he realized something was very wrong. Next to him was a woman he didn’t recognize, definitely not you. The sunlight was streaming through the window, and panic shot through his body like a jolt of electricity. His heart raced as he sat up, the events of the night before still a foggy blur.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered under his breath, his mind starting to piece together the fragments. You two had just made up—how could he have been so reckless?

Sukuna fumbled for his phone, his hands shaking. The screen lit up, showing the time: 12:46. His heart sank even further. He really had messed up this time. The battery was about to die, a thin red line warning him he had little time left. He glanced around, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar room.

What confused him most was that he was still in his clothes from the night before. A small relief—at least he hadn’t slept with the woman next to him. But that didn’t matter much, did it? He was still in bed with another woman, a stranger, and that alone was enough to shatter whatever trust you had left in him.

His head throbbed with a dull, pounding pain, a mix of alcohol and regret. He desperately needed water, but his feet felt glued to the floor. As he forced himself to sit up, the room seemed to spin around him. He rubbed his temples, trying to shake off the fog of the hangover, but his mind remained a jumbled mess.

He checked his phone again, scrolling through the flood of messages, but your name wasn’t among them. No missed calls, no texts, no messages. Just silence.

It took you two hours to get yourself to function properly. When something traumatic happened, you had this tendency to just shut down. No crying, no shouting—just silence. You couldn’t even talk right now. You sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall, your mind numb. The pain was so immense that it felt like nothing at all, a hollow void where your heart should be.

Slowly, you got up, moving like you were underwater, every step heavy and disjointed. You made your way to the bedroom closet and grabbed a suitcase, your hands moving on autopilot. You began packing everything you owned in this place, methodically folding clothes, stacking books, gathering small, personal items that had once made this space feel like home. Now, every object felt like a weight dragging you down.

You didn’t remember much from those moments, only flashes of despair and confusion. Your mind was clouded, a fog of grief settling over you. All you knew was that you wanted to disappear, to somehow escape the unbearable ache in your chest.

How could this happen? Why? The questions repeated in your mind, over and over, like a broken record. Were you not enough? Was he cheating this whole time?

Your thoughts spiraled into a dark place, each one more suffocating than the last. The silence of the room pressed in around you, amplifying every doubt, every fear. You felt lost in a sea of uncertainty, desperately searching for something to hold onto, but finding nothing but emptiness.

You paused for a moment, standing still in the middle of the room, clutching a shirt to your chest. You wanted to scream, to cry, to do anything, but no sound came out. All that filled you was a deep, aching void that left you feeling more alone than ever before.

Just as you finished packing, the door opened, but you didn't flinch. Your fingers continued scrolling through your phone, searching for flight tickets. You didn’t care where it would take you—anywhere but here.

Sukuna stepped inside, his expression a mix of confusion and panic. You didn’t look up. Your face remained calm, almost eerily so, as if you were in a trance. You kept scrolling, your focus entirely on the screen, like it was the only thing anchoring you to reality.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice tight with panic. But you said nothing.

Your face was expressionless, your eyes fixed on your phone. He moved closer, desperate now. “Please,” he continued, “can’t we just… talk?”

Finally, you paused, letting out a slow, controlled breath. But you didn’t look at him. Your silence was deafening, more unnerving than any yelling or screaming could have been.

He swallowed hard, sensing the change, feeling the weight of your silence pressing down on him. “I… I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he tried again. "I don’t even remember what happened. I think I was drugged or something..." His voice grew softer, almost pleading now.

You continued to tap the screen, the sound of your fingers the only noise in the room. You found a flight and pressed "book," moving methodically, as if this was just another task on a list. Your calmness was unnerving, like the quiet before a storm.

“Y/N… please,” Sukuna whispered, taking another step forward, but your detachment made him falter.

You finally glanced up at him, your expression unreadable, your voice steady and calm. “I'm leaving,” you said quietly, as if stating a simple fact.

He blinked, stunned by the flatness of your tone. There was no anger, no emotion—just a cold, stark finality. “But… we can work this out,” he stammered, “right?”

You looked back at your phone, as if he were no longer even there. You were done listening, done hoping, done believing. His words were just noise now, meaningless in the face of everything he had broken.

Sukuna was a big man, another reason you had fallen in love with him. Being with him had made you feel so safe, so happy. But when you reached for your suitcase, he finally broke.

He snatched it out of your hand. "No, no, you're not leaving me," he insisted, his voice frantic. "Look, please just listen. I know I lied to you and snuck out, but I swear I would never cheat on you."

You stood still, watching him, his large frame towering over you, his eyes wide with fear and desperation. But your heart felt like ice. You could see the panic in his eyes, hear the tremor in his voice, but it didn’t matter. Not anymore.

His hands gripped the suitcase so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "Please," he begged again, "just… don’t go."

For a moment, you almost felt something—a flicker of the love you used to feel. But it was gone as quickly as it came. “Let go,” your voice is calm and steady.

“No, look, I would do anything,” he blurted out, his voice rising with desperation. “Okay, I see now why you don’t like my friends. I’ll cut them out. I won’t ever talk to another girl again. Just… anything. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Please.”

He was a mess, still hungover, his head pounding, his hands trembling. His breath came in ragged gasps as he struggled to keep it together, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He looked so close to breaking down completely.

Why did he make this mistake? Why did he let himself slip up so badly? You had given him a chance, and he had blown it in mere hours. The realization seemed to dawn on him, his face twisting with guilt and regret. His shoulders sagged, and his voice broke. "I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered, his tone raw with fear.

But it didn’t matter anymore. Whatever he was offering now felt hollow, too little, too late. Your heart felt heavy, but your mind was made up.

"Let go," you repeated, firmer this time, your eyes locking onto his.

Sukuna's hand fell away from the suitcase as if it weighed a ton, his breath hitching. He wanted to fight, to argue, but the defeat in your eyes left him lost. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, his voice almost inaudible, choking on his own words.

But all you did was nod, a small, almost imperceptible nod, and turn toward the door.

He stood there, his whole world crumbling, as you walked away.

I really need more twilight x avengers. Ultimate team up bro.

Its a family name.

This is a fun little story I created when my friend reminded me that Carlisle Cullen is richer than Tony Stark. Anything that doesn't make sense for either fandom plotline just ignore it this is for fun.

I just imagine Tony one day coming across a BuzzFeed Top 10 richest men article and feeling so smug until he sees he's like just behind some random ass doctor from Washington and he spends weeks complaining to the rest of the team about it like,

Come on guys, something is clearly up with that family they have 7 kids and one working parent?? No doctor is that good, no offence Strange, but seriously Washington isn't even that long a flight

and they're just so fucking over it like,

Tony leave them alone their a normal civilian family living their lives let them be.

Then the Cullens are there at the same time fighting the newborn army setting that shit on fire.

Tony then googles their family tree cause we know that man wouldn't drop it, and he sees a trail of money going from account to account every 60 years or so for like centuries under the name Carlisle Cullen. Eventually, he flies to Washington and confronts them and the Cullens obviously know he's coming i mean they've got Alice and Edward on that immediately and Tony is like

So, Adams family, what's the deal.

Carlisle is just like, yeah man it's a family name Idk what to tell you. he points to jasper or someone and is like, this is my kid Carlisle. And hands him some fake birth certificate cause he's a doctor he could and tony can't find anything wrong with it so he just gives up and leaves.

Years later, the Avengers are about to fight Thanos or whoever and Nick Fury comes in saying he called in a favour with some old friends and before they come in he tells the team about the existence of vampires and werewolves and everyone is shocked af and tony has long forgotten the Cullens until they walk in and Carlisle is like,

Yeah, sure we can help but we're gonna need someone to look after my granddaughter.

They bring out their freaky little toddler looking baby and Clint is like, oh cute I have kids too, what's her name? and Carlisle looks Tony right in the eye and says

Carlisle, Carlisle Cullen. It's a family name.

texting not so nice! nanami 🍓

making smaus make me shy so i'm just going to add this to my queue and forget about this 🤞❤️ (7/05/024)

I love being an alien

Finders Keepers

Summary: in which alien!reader crash lands right in front of Gojo and your story with him begins Word Count: 1k (just trialing a new concept so it's a quick opening) Warnings: a little cursing, allusions to experimentation and alien warfare, reader is naked but not in a sexual manner

“I can’t believe aliens actually exist,” Satoru mutters to himself. 

This has been an incredibly wild evening. 

When he stepped out of his apartment to throw the bins out, he hadn’t expected to see a blinding flash of light zoom past him and explode in the parking lot. Thank goodness for his infinity, otherwise he would not have fared as well as the minivan you landed on. 

Yes. 

You.

The woman who came straight from the sky and fell on top of a car, missing him by just two metres.

At first, he thought it was a curse; these things get pretty weird sometimes, after all. But using his Six Eyes, he could tell you were different. Sure, you looked like any other person, with arms and legs and a head. But you had a unique aura to you, positively otherworldly. 

If he was any other kind of man, he would have just left you there and pretended nothing happened — ignorance is bliss and whatnot — but what kind of Honoured One would he be if he didn’t do his duty and helped you out?

So, he slides down the massive crater you made (boy is that going to be a pain for maintenance to clean up) and carefully cradles your naked body in his arms, carefully so as to not touch bits and pieces no gentleman has a business looking at. Why are you naked anyways? 

Sensing people making their way down the stairs to inspect the commotion, he teleports back into his apartment quick as a flash before anyone could think to look through their windows. 

He throws a blanket at you and leaves you on the sofa as he paces the length of his living room and ponders what to do. On one hand, he could call the police and leave it up to them to deal with you. The government would know best about how to deal about falling space women, right? But then, don’t all the sci-fi movies talk about inhumane experimentation, weaponizing alien technology, and Area 51? 

That wouldn’t be a very nice thing to do, at all. 

And on the other hand, he could just take care of you himself. He has the means to, that’s for sure. You really don’t look any different from everyone else — surely, you need the same things he does: food, water, shelter and warmth.

Right?

Just as he’s about to pick up the phone to call his doctor friend, you begin rousing from sleep. Your eyes flutter open and they’re a normal colour, which freaks him out more if he’s going to be perfectly honest. 

“Uh,” Satoru scratches the back of his neck, shuffling on his feet a little, “hey? I’m Gojo Satoru. You can just call me Satoru, though. If you want, or can, I guess.”

You tilt your head, scanning his body, and you open your mouth. What comes out is definitely an alien language. Or maybe he needs to travel more. But he certainly does not comprehend a single thing that you say. 

Clearing his throat, he tries to smile comfortingly. “Okay, so I didn’t understand what you said. Sorry. But uh, do you need anything? Like, do you know where you are? Yeah, you definitely don’t know what I’m saying either, do you?”

You tilt your head again. 

“What is wrong with me? Seriously. What was I thinking bringing you home? You may have fallen from the sky but I’m the one that clearly hit my head. I really am an idiot.”

Glancing around the room, you don’t look any bit as frazzled and panicked as he is. Actually, you’re as cool as a cucumber, and there isn’t a hint of shame or embarrassment on your face when you push yourself off the sofa, blanket sliding down your body. 

“Woah! Woah!”

Satoru presses his hands to his eyes and leaves them there for a second or two before realising that does absolutely nothing and when he pulls them down, he doesn’t flinch when you’re standing before him, inquisitive eyes meeting his. 

His infinity is on and he’s ready to subdue you if you prove to be a threat, but so far, he’s simply letting you reorient yourself, getting used to your surroundings and giving you the opportunity to decide he’s not a bad guy. 

That being said, however, he’s still deciding whether to keep you or not. He doesn’t want you to be poked and prodded — that wouldn’t be a very cool welcome to planet Earth and he doesn’t need you to go around telling your alien friends humans suck, though they do. But he also doesn’t know if that’s the best decision. 

You could be a danger to jujitsu society, to his students, to the world. What if, right at this very moment, you’re leaking deadly radiation? And what if his infinity can’t keep it out? Can’t keep you out?

Gosh, there are so many things that could go wrong. 

It’s entirely possible too that you’re a blood sucking monster intent on wringing him dry for all he’s worth. Maybe you’re not even an alien. Maybe you’re a special kind of curse, the kind that can bypass his Six Eyes, though he’s fairly confident that’s not the case (there’s no one stronger than him, after all). 

What if this is Kenjaku all over again?

Yeah, on second thought, he should definitely call the police. Or Ijichi, or the Prime Minister of Japan, or whoever will believe him when he says there’s a naked, alien lady in his home, and no, he’s not a pervert playing out some sick fantasy.

But just as he’s lifting his phone, you lift your hand the same time he does and cover your eyes. 

Then you say his name in perfect Japanese with a sweet, soft voice, not a hint of hesitation or unsteadiness. You smile, eyes still obscured, and he feels himself mirroring your gleeful expression. 

“That’s right. I’m Satoru. It’s nice to meet you.”

He decides, there and then, to hell with radiation, alien armies, and the deadly risk you pose to everything he knows or cares about. The military, conspiracy theorists, and scientists be damned.

He’s going to keep you.