#I know there's Pocket on Twitter... but... who else? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gojorgeous · 1 year ago

Text

"sure thing"

pairing: target!gojo x assassin!fem!reader summary: you've been hired to kill the satoru gojo. how will you pull it off... and what will you do when he figures it out? content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, darkish content (all is well in the end), no established relationship, assassins/organized crime, blackmail, mention of a “suicide mission”, attempted murder (uhhhh), hidden identity, intended use of sex as a means to an end, mating press, unprotected sex, p->v, creampie, oral (fem!receiving), praise, pet names (gorgeous/sweetheart/baby), slight aftercare. a/n: me 🤝 describing gojo as having dimples welcome to my second 1k followers event fic! At this rate tho i’m going to hit 2k before i finish the 1k event LMAO. not that i'm complaining hehe. thank you for being patient and for all the support on my recent works! i really appreciate every ask, comment, follow, reblog, everything. they mean the world to me. check out the rest of my 1k event here. enjoy and remember that ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! creds: twitter template by @cafekitsune wc: 7.8k

“Who?!”

No fucking way. There’s no way he just said what you think he said.

“You heard me,” he scowls. He glares at you from across the desk. His seat is one of those cushy little office chairs, of course. Yours is plastic– cold and hard.

“Are you fucking insane?” you hiss. There’s no other explanation for what he’s asking you to do. He’s lost his fucking mind.

“We have a client willing to pay big money for this. Big money for just an attempt,” he answers.

You laugh, but there’s absolutely nothing funny about this conversation. “Oh, I’m sure you do. Probably because he’s practically invincible. I’ll never even lay a hand on him.”

Your “boss”, for lack of a better term, only scowls harder, the wrinkles forming near his eyes etching deeper in his skin. “Well, you’d best find a way to make it work. You’re taking this job. That’s final.” You scoff. Maybe you should recommend he see someone… “No. There’s no way. I’m not doing this.” You stand, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Get someone else to go on your suicide mission.” You take a couple strides toward the door before two very large men move to block your path.

“Not so fast,” your boss calls. You pause, eyeing up your competition. You could definitely take them if you needed to. You sense only a very faint amount of cursed energy coming from each of them– not even enough to make you blink– but something in your boss’s tone makes you turn back.

“Yes?” You cross your arms over your chest, fingering a blade hidden in your breast pocket.

He fiddles around in his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up right there in his office. You don’t try to hide the way your nose scrunches up. “You want to do this job.”

Your eyes narrow. Something tells you you’re not going to like what comes next. “And why’s that?”

He takes a long puff, letting the smoke flowing out of his lungs with a slow exhale. “Because otherwise that little brother of yours is gonna be…” he pauses to give you a smile that makes your stomach churn. “Hmm… a lot smaller, shall we say? Maybe in several limb sized pieces?”

You think your heart stops. Time halts as ice runs through your veins. Nobody knows about your brother. At least, they didn’t.

Your boss’s smile grows even wider. In all your time as an assassin, you’ve never wanted to kill someone more. But you know you can’t. Just an attempt on his life will end your brother’s.

“Don’t worry. He’s all tucked away and safe at home where you left him.” Just a tiny piece of your heart thaws with relief. “But try to run with him, or run yourself, and he won’t be safe much longer.” Your pulse pounds so viciously you’re sure everyone can hear. A bead of sweat rolls down your neck. “Now, will you accept the assignment?”

Your jaw clenches. He got you. In all these years of working for him you’ve been careful, meticulous about hiding every piece of your personal life to avoid situations just like this. But he still got you. He got you.

“Yes,” you breathe. You have no choice. You will either kill Satoru Gojo or you will die trying.

“Good,” is all he says, and then you’re being escorted out of the office wondering where the hell you went wrong.

It’s been three weeks since that fateful meeting with your boss. True to his word, your brother has remained unharmed, but you see his lackeys lurking around every corner. Neither you nor your brother are truly safe and you never will be again unless you can pull this off and then put together some plan to escape your boss’s clutches.

You’ll fail. You know you will. The thought eats you up inside with every waking moment.

You’ve done your best to learn every possible piece of information about Satoru Gojo in the past two weeks. You know you can’t tail him closely– he’d pick up on your cursed energy and notice your incessant presence, so you’ve had to study from a distance with only minimal moments of proximity. You know where he works, who he works with, what restaurants, bars, and clubs he frequents and what days of the week he tends to visit. You know what his order is at his favorite ramen restaurant, where he lives, what time he wakes up. Hell, you know what fucking brand of dish soap he uses. He lives a surprisingly… predictable lifestyle. He makes no attempt to switch up his schedule or cover his tracks. In any other situation he’d be every assassin’s dream, but this is Satoru Gojo and Satoru Gojo doesn’t need to worry about assassins– assassins need to worry about him.

It took you the first week to come up with a plan. You had no clue how you were going to get close to him, much less kill him, and his infinity technique was going to prove particularly problematic. How were you supposed to kill him when you couldn’t even touch him? You had to get him in a situation in which he would willingly let his guard down for you.

You’d been on the subway when it hit you. Sex. You’d get him to have sex with you. If you could get him to take you home, he’d have to turn infinity off for at least a short time. That would be your time to strike.

You’d spent the next two weeks primping yourself. You’d bought the most expensive dress you’d ever owned, got a mani-pedi, whitened your teeth, and spent a small fortune on makeup. Considering your circumstances, you thought your plan was quite a good one. You knew when he’d go out to the bar with his friends, which bar he’d go to, how long he’d stay, how he’d get a taxi home. You also knew when you’d arrive, how long you’d stay, and how you’d get a taxi with him– everything planned perfectly to best catch his attention. But for all your planning, there was still one thing you didn’t know. What kind of woman did Satoru Gojo go for? Someone submissive? Teasing? Aggressive? Playful? In all your time tracking him you’d never seen him take somebody home. It struck you as… odd. He was Satoru Gojo, renowned for his power, wealth, and good looks– surely he had women falling at his feet. Maybe he was just a little more… selective. If that was the case you’d have to be even quicker on your feet when you finally met him. And that time is now.

You’re in your bathroom, checking your makeup one last time before heading out the door. Your brother sleeps soundly in the room down the hall, safe for the time being. You’ve contacted a friend, one who is at least willing to try to get him out if– when– you fail. You doubt it will be enough.

You make your way to his room. A quick peek inside reveals he’s snuggled up with a plushie elephant that he carries around like they’re attached at the hip. You creep inside, a sad smile on your lips. This may very well be the last time you see him. You brush a stray lock of hair from his eyes and press a kiss to the crown of his head. With one last whispered ‘I love you’, you’re out the door. If you linger, you won’t be able to go– and you have to. For him.

The streets of Tokyo are cold tonight, like the weather knows what you’re about to attempt, like it’s preparing for death, for failure. For your failure.

The club you arrive at is upscale, and one where you’ve already tipped off the bouncer to let you bypass the line. You hear a few groans from the people behind you as you saunter straight inside.

You’re conscious of every little move from the second you step inside. At any moment, he could see you and it could make or break your entire plan.

You press your shoulders back. You have a plan– stick to it.

You make your way over to the bar, weaving your way between groups of people who are somewhere between giggling a little too loudly and tripping over their own feet.

You find a free space at the bar and lean up onto your elbows, your eyes screening the bartenders. You smile when you see a familiar face.

“Hey, Dean,” you call.

He turns and the sight of his friendly green eyes sets you a little more at ease.

“Oh, shit. Hey!” He slings a towel over his shoulder and comes to stand across from you. “You’re back,” he says. You nod and smile softly. Ever since you’d determined this would be the place you’d been coming periodically, chatting up the bartenders. The last thing you needed was to stand around in a corner alone with seemingly no friends. That wouldn’t attract anyone, much less Satoru Gojo.

Out of all the bartenders, Dean was your favorite– and you’d been oh so happy to learn that his schedule put him on every Friday night.

“Yeah. Long day at work.”

A smile pulls at his lips, but there’s a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “The usual, then?”

You nod solemnly. “That’d be great. Thanks.”

You watch him prepare the drink for you, feeling a little bad that it’s all a lie. There’s no bad day at work, you didn’t just happen to come in here one day and strike up a conversation with him. All of this is premeditated, planned, and it feels… lonely. It feels lonely to know that on what is probably your last night on earth you are surrounded by people who only think they know you.

“So, anything new happening?” Dean drops your drink in front of you and you have a feeling it’s filled with a little more vodka than he’s supposed to put in there.

Your eyes shift around the bar as subtly as you can manage. As much as you want to seem like you fit in, you also need to find Gojo. It’s a fine balance.

You shrug. “Yeah, I guess I just feel like a lot of things are going to be changing for me pretty soon.”

His brows pull together and the look he gives you is one of genuine interest and concern. It makes your heart wrench. “How so?”

You swallow. “Dunno. Just… everything.”

There’s a moment of silence and then the tapping of a finger on your glass. “Damn, girl. Drink up. You need it.”

You can’t help but smile. You have a feeling that Dean would have been a good friend of yours in another life.

You take his advice, though, and bring your drink to your lips and force a smile. You can’t be moping– not tonight.

The next twenty minutes are spent with Dean. Even when he’s making other drinks he’s still chatting with you, still being a good… friend. You dread leaving your little haven at the bar. The time is coming when you’ll have to seek out your target.

You’re shocked when it’s the other way around.

“Hey, gorgeous.” There’s a light brush on your shoulder and you turn. It takes all you have to keep your features schooled and calm. Satoru fucking Gojo just tapped your shoulder.

Nothing prepared you for how handsome he is up close. All those days of research, of tracking and tailing– none of it does the real thing justice. Even with those stupid sunglasses inside… he’s fucking beautiful. “I’ll pay for all of your drinks tonight if you let me skip this hideous line,” he whines.

You give yourself no more than a second to recover. You school your features into a smirk. You glance at Dean with an ‘is this okay?’ look. He just smiles and shrugs.

You turn back to Gojo, bracing yourself this time for the beauty you’re about to face. You meet his gaze and know you could get lost in it. “Be my guest.”

His smile nearly blinds you and his dimples nearly make you pass out. Still, you keep your cool.

“Yesssss!” He looks like a puppy just offered a bone.

He spills his drink order to Dean and it’s far more than could possibly be just for him. He’s here with his friends, then. Probably the blonde man who always looks too tired to be here and the girl with the brown hair who always seems like she’s just along for the ride.

You bite your lip to hide a laugh when he orders himself two strawberry daiquiris. Somehow you still catch his attention.

“What?” he pouts. You can’t help but feel a small stirring of surprise in your gut. He’s far more… relaxed than you’d expected him to be. He’s almost… childish?

You press your lips together and shake your head. You’ve reached the point where your research can’t take you any further. From this point on, it’s up to you to discover what Satoru Gojo likes in a woman.

You debate how to answer. Play coy? Tease him? Stay silent? Any option could be as correct as the next. You didn’t know where to start… so maybe you’d just start by being yourself.

“Just, um… not the order I was expecting,” you laugh. It’s halfway genuine. With the way he’s acting, it’s hard to remember that he’s the most powerful man alive.

His pout only intensifies. “Well, what’s your order?”

His question is answered when Dean sets another cosmopolitan in front of you. You laugh. “Never said I was judging, just that it wasn’t what I expected.”

Another smile tugs at his lips and something stirs in your gut that you try your very hardest to ignore. This was a job. There was no room for actually enjoying it. This man was probably going to kill you later, in a matter of hours.

There’s a beat of silence, and then a slight shift in his demeanor. He leans closer and you see a twitch of his lips. Your heart jumps.

“You’re a sorcerer,” he says.

You hold back an exhale of relief. You thought he might be onto you. If he is, he’s choosing not to reveal it yet.

You nod and take what you hope is a casual sip of your drink. “And you’re Satoru Gojo.”

A brow arches high enough for you to see it over his sunglasses. “You know who I am?”

You force a chuckle, smirking despite the pounding of your heart. “Who doesn’t?”

You’d decided long ago to tell him that you knew exactly who he was. It would seem more suspicious for a fellow sorcerer to have no idea what the Satoru Gojo looked like.

He flashes you a smile full of white and stupidly fucking perfect teeth. “That’s true, heh.” You press your lips together to avoid a smile. Not too humble, then…

“So, what’s your technique”

You shoot him a glance that questions his sanity. Asking a sorcerer what their technique is… is personal. It’s not information you give out to a rando at the bar– even if it is Satoru Gojo.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You take another sip of your drink, trying your hardest to remain somewhere on the border or interested and casual.

“Bet I could find out.”

That makes you turn fully, angling your body toward his. “Oh yeah? You challenging me to a fight?” You smirk and shake your head. “I’ll pass.”

He pouts again, but you see a hint of a smile peeking through. “Aw, come on. That’s no fun…”

You chuckle and take another sip of your drink. You’re not sure you’re sipping just for appearances anymore. You think you probably just need a little liquid courage to see this thing through. “Sorry. I value my life.”

You watch as he slides his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, just enough for you to get a glimpse of what’s behind. You nearly choke again and this time you don’t manage to hide your nervous swallow when he smirks.

“You’re so sure you’d lose?” His voice is teasing now and you hate that it’s actually having an effect on you. Job, job, job, just a job…

You clear your throat. “I like to think I’m not stupid enough to think that I could win.”

His eyes are blue– so fucking blue– and you feel like he’s seeing straight into your soul. Can he see? Can he see your filthy intentions? Your plotting? The rottenness of what you’re going to do? “What if I promise to take it real easy on you?”

Your drink is forgotten now. You’re lost in what he’s saying– in him. “No thanks.” Your voice is growing lower and you feel like there’s some magnet forcing you to lean into him, to seek his warmth.

“So you like it rough, then.” The trance is broken and your blood runs hot. Holy shit. This man is flirting with you and you hardly even had to try. He's trying to take you home. Little does he know, you’re a sure thing.

You watch as he throws back the rest of his strawberry daiquiri with a pleased “ahhh” at the end. When he turns back to you his eyes have a certain spark in them that makes your thighs press together. “You wanna dance with me?”

Fuck. This is going too well to be real. But you’re not about to pass up a good deal.

“What about your friends?” you ask and eye the several untouched drinks still left on the bar. It’s risky– giving him an out, but you can’t seem too eager.

He follows your gaze only to bounce his eyes straight back to you. “I’m sure they’ll get a look at ya and understand.”

The smirk he’s giving you is making electricity shoot straight between your legs. Damn. You really wish you didn’t have to kill him– or at least try to.

When he extends his hand you only hesitate for a second. Your heart leaps when you feel his skin on yours, knowing he’s let infinity down. He pulls you onto the dancefloor and it’s not long before he’s running his hands all over you– groping your ass, pinching your thighs, nipping at your neck. Pretty soon the dancefloor evolves to a dark corner of the club with his lips on yours and goddamn he’s a good kisser. You’ve got your fingers in his hair and his hand way too close to your boobs when he whispers those fateful words– “let’s get out of here.”

You can only hide your swallow and nod before he’s pulling you through the crowd, leaving the club behind. He hauls you both into the backseat of a taxi and the door’s barely closed before he’s all over you again. You think you hear the taxi driver mutter something about ‘staining the seats’ but you’re too far gone to give a shit.

Fuck, he feels good. He’s kisses you like he’s starved and your lips are the fountain of fucking life, like he’s never felt something so good and now he can’t get enough. And, god, he’s handsy. You’re forever grateful to your past self for discreetly hiding your blade in your bra– he would have felt a holster on your thigh at least ten times over by now.

He groans when you arrive at what you know is his apartment building, though you don’t let on that you recognize the place in the slightest. The look on his face makes you think he’s feeling actual physical pain at the prospect of having to peel away from you for even a second. Nonetheless, he tosses a wad of cash at the taxi driver and pulls you straight inside.

He can’t even wait for the elevator to come, groping your waist right there in the lobby and then when the elevator finally does come, shoving you up against the metal wall a licking stripe across your collarbone.

You can’t deny how nice it feels to be so desperately… wanted. Never once has a man made you feel this way– so consumed by him, him, him. Once again you curse the universe that you’re here with a mission other than getting laid.

You find yourself giggling when he pulls you out of the elevator and presses his palm to a fucking scanner to get into his apartment. You try to pull yourself together, but when he laughs with you, you can’t help but melt into him a little more.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind you, he’s got you up against another wall with your legs wrapped around his waist and his face buried in your neck. His sunglasses are long gone and you pull at his shirt, popping the buttons straight off the fabric until you slide the shirt down his shoulders and onto the floor.

“That was Versace,” he whines.

You plaster your lips to his. “I don’t care.” All he does is chuckle.

“So gorgeous…” he breathes and your head slumps back against the wall, giving him better access to the soft skin of your neck. Any minute now. Any minute he’s going to start stripping your clothes off and you’re going to have to let this charade crumble. You don’t want to. He’s practically worshiping you. It’s perfect, it’s amazing, and you don’t want it to end.

His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass and suddenly you’re moving again– moving, moving, moving until your back is bouncing against the softness of a mattress and you’re fucking giggling again like a lovesick idiot. Maybe you’d had a few too many sips of those cosmopolitans.

He’s smiling as he crawls over you and the sight makes your heart flutter with both lust and terror. Lust because he’s so fucking beautiful and terror because you know that any moment now you’re going to attempt to end that beauty forever.

A lump forms in your throat and you try unsuccessfully to swallow it. You have to do this, have to try. There’s no other way, no other option. Not for you.

Your thoughts must not have been as perfectly concealed as you’d thought because he quirks a brow. “Something goin’ on up here?” His lips slide across your temple in a touch that feels far too tender for a hookup. “Don’t worry, baby. It’ll fit.” He snickers at his own joke before burying himself in your neck. His hand slides down your side, pressing you up into him until you can feel every curve and cut of his muscles.

You bite your lip. You’ve already slipped enough for him to notice your nerves– you can’t let it happen again. You have to do it soon. Now. As soon as you see an opportunity you have to strike. You have to.

You arch up into him, scratching your fingers down his back, trying to seem as invested in the moment as you can. He gets greedier, leaving open-mouthed kiss down your neck, across your collarbone. You nearly freeze up when he kisses low into the valley of your breasts– as low as your dress allows. Then he moves over your clothes, kissing down your stomach as his hands rub your thighs.

Now. Now, while he’s not looking.

You slide a hand into his hair and another up to your chest, trying to play it off like you’re touching yourself. You sneak your fingers into your bra, feeling the cool metal of your blade glide across your thumb. Now.

You fist your fingers in his hair, holding his head down as best you can while you arc the blade toward his neck. Just one good hit, please…

You think you’re going to strike true– you’re so close– and then a firm hand wraps around your wrist, stalling your attack just as it was about to land.

Fuck.

He doesn’t look up right away, but you hear him sigh, feel his hot breath fanning over your thighs and stomach. When he finally does look up it’s with the eyes of a teacher who’s disappointed his student didn’t do their homework.

“Come on now, baby. I was really hoping you’d forget about all this and we could just have a good night together…” He’s pouting, whining, like a child who’s been told he can’t have dessert before dinner. Your shock stills you long enough that he easily maneuvers the blade from your hand, throwing it with a thwack into the wall to his right. It lands perfectly.

This is it. You’re going to die now. But not without a fight.

You spring up from the bed, kicking him a couple times in the process. You’ve missed your only chance. Now, if there’s even the slightest chance of escape, you have to take it.

You bare feet hit the carpet. No time to find your shoes. You dart for the door and hear him groan behind you. For a second you think you might actually make it, but you should know better.

He appears in front of you, straight out of fucking thin air, and his pout has transformed into something a little more sinister. “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s talk it out, yeah?”

You take a shaky step back, but you know it’s no use. He’s got you. It’s over.

You swallow and lift your chin– you at least want to die with a little dignity. “Just make it quick. Please.”

He sighs again and slides his hands in his fucking pockets, like this is just a stroll down the street. He stalks toward you, forcing you back until you’re pressed up against another wall. This motherfucker really likes walls.

His pout shifts to a smirk that borders far too closely on a grin. “Oh, no. I’ve always had a thing for taking it slow.”

You nearly snort. He certainly hadn’t had a thing for taking it slow just a minute ago. His arms cage you and your world grows infinitely smaller until it’s just him and those blue-ass eyes staring you down. Some distant part of you thinks you might not mind if it’s the last thing you ever see.

“Damn, I really thought you might give it up and just let me fuck you,” his pout returns. “So disappointing…” he sighs.

Your lips part. “You knew?”

That lights his face up like a Christmas tree. “Sensed you tailing me these past few weeks. Started on theeeee– 21st, no?”

Fuck. You’d been so careful. You’d only tailed him in public spaces, where your energy would be more diluted by the crowds. You’d stayed far enough away that he should only have caught mere glimpses of you, even suppressed your energy. He should not have been able to sense you. But he was Satoru Gojo– things people were not supposed to be able to do came easily to him.

But you have one thing on him.

“The 18th,” you whisper. “Started on the 18th.”

There’s a beat of silence and then his smile is growing wider, wider, wider, until it’s practically blinding you. “Well, shit,” he laughs. “You’re pretty good.”

You let a tiny smile slip through your terror. “I try.”

His eyes travel up and down your body, his pout slipping away to a frown. “What to do with you… hmm…” You lift your chin, taking shallow little breaths through your nose. You’re looking death in the face, but you’d never thought it would be so beautiful. He sighs. “I guess I could let you go.”

You freeze. He notices.

He quirks a brow, another smirk sliding across his lips. “What? Didn’t think that was an option?” You stay silent. No way he’ll let you go. It’s a bluff. A cruel trick. “It’s not like you could try again, gorgeous. I know your energy now and what you look like. Sorry, but your chance is gone.” That was fine by you. Your breaths come a little heavier, hope pulsing in your veins. “But–” shit. “Letting you go is so… boring. Especially after where we left off, yeah?”

Your jaw drops. “You cannot seriously be suggesting that we–”

He cuts you off with a kiss, one that makes your toes curl in the carpet and your stomach clench in anticipation.

“Oh, yes I am,” he chuckles. You feel his hand sliding down your hip, cool and calculating. “I know you weren’t faking the whole thing, gorgeous. Nobody makes out like that when they’re faking it.” You feel your cheeks heat. “And nobody gets this wet-” his fingers snake beneath your skirt, pressing to the wet patch on your panties. “When they’re faking it.” You gasp and reach out, hands clasping onto his shoulders for support. He only chuckles. “No worries, gorgeous. No need for any more faking tonight. I’ll make sure it’s all real.”

Somehow you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist again and you’re headed to the bedroom– again. It’s like a replay– a redo.

“Let’s keep it less killy this time, yeah?”

Your back hits the mattress, your body bouncing lightly on its softness before he’s crawling after you. It’s simultaneously the best and worst deja vu you’ve ever experienced.

His hands slide down your body again, fingertips hooking beneath the hem of your skirt and shimmying it up your thighs until your panties are on full display.

“Shit,” you breathe. He’s moving so fast, like he’s desperate to go further, to get his greedy hands all over your bare skin.

You can’t say you blame him. You feel the same.

His thumbs hook under the fabric of your panties and you know it’s over for you. You can feel his warm breath skating across your thighs, feel the calluses on his hands scraping against your skin. You reach a hand down, tangling it in his hair, and you nearly faint when he smirks and looks up at you with those blue fucking eyes.

“I think I’ve seen this film before, sweetheart.” He tilts his head, resting his cheek on the plush of your thigh. “No more knives hiding anywhere, yeah?”

You clench your jaw, trying to control your pounding heart. You can’t believe you’re doing this. Why are you doing this? You wish you had a better answer than he’s beautiful and sexy and just a glance at him makes you want to rip his clothes off and climb him like a tree.

“Silent, hm? Guess I’ll just have to check myself…”

He’s pressing up the hem up your skirt, more, more, more, until he’s pulling your dress straight up over your arms and running his hands down your bare sides.

“None there…” His fingers cup your breast and you gasp, unable to contain your shock and the jolt that just rushed through you. He traces the outline of your bra. “You had the last one in here, no?” Your chest heaves under his touch, pressing the flesh of your breast up into his fingers. He smirks. “Best check again.” You feel an arm slide beneath you back and then your bra loosens before it’s completely gone.

There’s a beat of silence, of admiration. He gazes down on you and you see his snark falter for just a moment, replaced by a sparkle in his eyes. It makes your skin heat. His fingers brush the swell of your breasts, thumb trailing down over a nipple. You arch and gasp again.

“Fuck. Quit teasing so much.”

He chuckles and the sound washes over you until it settles in your bones. “Sush. I’m not done checking for weapons yet.”

You scowl but before you can even move to open your mouth he’s sliding your panties down your legs, hooking them around your ankles and tossing them somewhere on the floor.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you watch him settle himself down between your thighs, eyes never once leaving your center. “Don’t see any knives here, either, but maybe I should double-check…” he breathes.

He hooks your legs over his shoulders and you shudder, your breaths shaky. Fuck. You were supposed to kill him tonight but if he keeps going like this you’ll be the one deceased.

He meets your eyes when he takes the first long lick along your folds. You swear he’s smirking.

Your head rolls back and a pathetic sounding groan slips past your lips. You hadn’t realized how much he’d worked you up. Just the slightest touch feels like heaven.

His tongue nudges at your clits and your legs clench, tightening around his head. He laughs into your cunt and his warm breath skates up and over your tummy. Your fingernails scrape his scalp.

“I think you like this, gorgeous.”

Each word sends little puffs of air against your folds. It’s driving you crazy. You stare down at him, letting a smirk pull at your lips. Your eyes dart over his mouth, wet with your slick, and you don’t fail to notice the way he’s struggling to hold your gaze, eyes flickering back down to your cunt every second. Your smirk grows. “I think you’re liking this, too.”

He licks another stripe, from you pulsing hole to your throbbing clit, and this time he’s the one groaning. “Damn right I am.”

He eats you out like he kisses you– like a starved man, like he’ll die if he stops for just one second, like he can’t live without your juices on his tongue.

You whine and bury both hands in his hair, tugging desperately when his lips wrap around you clit and suck. It’s so much, too much, and yet it’s just right.

Your hips buck and squirm, but he’s got his fingers pressed deep into your flesh, holding you down to take whatever he gives. You think you see heaven when he slides two fingers into your walls, curling them into that gummy spot that has an unbearable heat building deep inside you.

“S-Satoru-” you stutter and you hear him moan and mutter into your cunt like he’s unwilling to leave it for even a second.

“Fuck, yes. Say my name, sweetheart.” Who are you to deny him? You whisper, whine, and whimper his name with every thrust of his fingers, every lick of his tongue. It’s delicious. Every so often he swaps his mouth and hand, thrusting his tongue as deep inside you as he can while his fingers rub dangerous little circles on your clit. Whenever things get a little too filthy he laps his tongue across your entire cunt and along your inner thighs, cleaning up every stray drop. You don’t know how much longer you can last under such a complete and total assault.

“S-Satoru, ‘m gonna-” He licks a thick stripe through your folds that makes your sentence end in a whine, his lips settling to suckle on your clit again.

God, it’s messy. It’s fucking disgusting. His whole chin is covered in spit and slick– and you love it. “Cum for me, baby,” he breathes.

You don’t need to hear much more. You let the heat inside you release with a whine, thighs trembling on his shoulders. Your walls pulse and throb around his fingers, sucking him in and never wanting him to leave. His tongue continues to rub lazy circles around your clit, working you through your high and making it last so long you think you might pass out.

Warmth spreads from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and your muscles tense and clench with each pulsing throb. You swear to god you see fucking stars.

It seems to go on forever, leaving you limp and shaking when the last waves finally slip away.

He presses a final kiss to your clit, one that makes your hips jolt from the overstimulation before he’s lifting himself up. “Wow. That looked like a big one,” he chuckles. He runs a soothing hand along your thigh and you don’t even have the energy to give him some sort of snarky reply. There’s hardly even a pause before something shifts in his eyes. “Let’s see if we can get one that’s even bigger, yeah?”

Before you can even process what he’s said you feel strong hands slide under your thighs, pressing them tightly to your chest as he settles himself close to you

You grasp at the sheets, hearing the clinking of a belt buckle and then the familiar pitch of a zipper being undone.

“Fuck,” you mutter. He’s big. Long and pretty and with a perfectly flushed tip. Your eyes are rolling back just thinking about having him inside you.

A strong hand smooths along your thighs, folding you in a way that feels more vulnerable and exposing than anything you’ve ever done before. He pauses for a beat, just staring down at you silently.

“Gorgeous,” he finally mutters, and something in your heart squeezes. His hand grips your hip firmly, holding you in place and you gasp when you feel him prodding at your entrance. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. Big bad assassin turned simpering little bitch over some good Gojo dick.

“Just relaxxxxx, baby.” His hand rubs soothing little circles into your side and it’s so divinely distracting that it catches you by surprise when he starts pushing into you. You gasp and he only chuckles. Asshole.

He’s big– really big – and the stretch is somehow both painful and perfect. You groan into the air, struggling to take him. Every inch feels like it must be the last, but then there’s more. Your walls clench around him on instinct, trying to force him out.

“Fuck, baby. What did I say about relaxing?” You hiss when his hand skates down your tummy to rub messy circles on your clit. The relief is instant and you moan when you feel him slide in a little further. “There we go. Good girl.”

He continues feeding his dick into you, inch by inch, until his hips finally press to yours and you think you can feel him in your fucking throat. You hear him exhale, like it’s a relief to finally be fully inside you, like he’s been waiting for ages.

You expect him to not hold back, to let himself go and pound into you relentlessly, but he doesn’t. He only leans down closer to you, settling in when he starts a pace of slow, sensual thrusts. His brows pinch, his eyes hardened in concentration.

“Ah, fuck. You’re so tight.”

You want to shoot something back at him, but you’re hardly remembering to breathe with how deep he’s sliding into you. Instead, you just end up holding him tighter, your eyes fluttering shut.

Lips dust across your cheeks, just below your lashes. “Keep your eyes open, gorgeous. Wanna see you.”

You blink, thinking that it’s a notion that feels a little too intimate for a hookup. Regardless, you do as he wants, opening your eyes and holding his gaze.

A smile splits his lips and he presses his forehead to yours, picking up the pace of his thrusts. It’s not long before the sound of skin on skin fills the room and you’re both panting. His breath skates across your skin, hot and heavy, hitching with the groans and whines that spill from his chest. You can’t help but pull him closer, raking your nails down his back hard enough to leave marks. The action makes him emit a noise you can only describe as a desperate whimper. “Fuck, baby. Yes.”

His lips press to yours in a kiss that’s all desperation and teeth and tongue. You kiss him back with equal intensity, your body rocking with each heavy thrust. He’s pounding into you now, frantic for more, more, more of you. You want him to take it, take all of you.

A familiar heat pinches in your stomach and you know it won’t be long before he’s pushing you to another release. His dick drags in and out of you, prodding at the gummy spot inside you with every thrust and brushing so deliciously against your cervix that you can’t stop the moans spilling from your lips. It has you seeing stars again, has you clawing at him and panting into his mouth.

“Satoru… harder,” you breathe. You need more– more of everything, of him.

He groans. “You got it, gorgeous.”

His hips slam into you and it’s so perfect that you can’t help but whimper beneath him. It only gets worse when you feel his fingers on your clit again, hand pressed between your bodies. “Cum on my dick, baby.” Your eyes roll back, that coil inside you rolling tighter. You feel his muscles tensing and shaking above you and you know he’s close, too. “Where do you want it?” he asks, and from the pinched look on his face you can tell exactly where he wants it. You know you’re an idiot for feeling the same.

“Inside,” you breathe. He groans so loudly it rattles in your ears.

“That’s my girl,” he says, but it’s nearly a whisper with how strained it is. His hand continues at your clit, rubbing perfect little circles that make your legs tremble where they’re pressed against your chest. Your jaw hangs open, but you don’t dare close your eyes. Satoru is still holding your gaze intently, desperately, like he needs to see you. The thought throws you over the edge.

You cry his name, clawing at his shoulder and shaking like a leaf as you feel yourself gush and pulse all over his dick. For the second time that evening you feel the heat inside you swell and burst, washing through you in waves that nearly consume you whole. It’s a struggle to hold his eyes, to not let them roll back into your skull and give into the pure ecstasy of your high– especially when he’s cumming, too. You can hear him moaning in your ear, feel him twitching inside you, feel his hot cum coating your walls and there’s just so fucking much of it. You swear he cums for a minute straight before he slumps down onto you, burying his face in your neck as you pant.

You’re shaking and so is he, breaths heaving in and out. Reality slowly starts to seep back in, even with his dick still softening inside you and his cum leaking down your thighs.

You tried to kill him. You failed. You had sex. Now what? Would he really let you go like he’d said he would? You wanted to believe it, but life hadn’t taught you to be that trusting. You should move, untangle yourself from him and escape before he has time to change his mind.

“You assassins are always thinking so hard,” He mumbles into the curve of your neck. “Maybe you should try to relax for once.”

You swallow when you feel him pressing his lips to your throat, trailing up to your jaw. It’s… tender, gentle, and it feels so nice. You can’t help the way you melt into the touch a bit. You feel him smile into your skin. “There we go.”

His hand settles on your waist, rubbing soothing little circles that send a jolt of urgency up your spine. No. You’re enjoying this– being close to him, laying here with him, breathing him in. That’s not what this is supposed to be.

You tense again, shifting to get away from him, but he only sighs and presses his weight onto you.

“Come on, gorgeous. No need to leave so soon. Just stay for a bit, yeah?” He nibbles at your jaw, but it doesn’t work this time. You have to go. You’ve failed your mission. You don’t know what that means for your brother. You’d never thought this would have an ending besides your death.

“I have to go,” you mutter, pushing at his chest.

He chuckles, but you don’t miss the strain and… hurt? “Got something more important than trying to kill me?”

You clench your teeth, trying once again to shove him away. “Yes, actually.”

He finally pulls back to meet your gaze, brows slightly pinched. “Like what?”

You push in earnest now, anger and panic rising in your gut. You have to go, have to check on your brother, have to figure out what you’re going to do. “That’s really none of your business,” you seethe.

You go for another shove, but strong hands clasp around your wrists, pinning them to the bed. His expression has gone flat now, serious. “Actually, I think it’s completely my business. You going to report your failure? Should I expect another assassin soon?”

You scowl, tugging at his grasp and trying to free yourself. “Yeah, probably. He’s an insufferable idiot. I told him it wouldn’t work and it didn’t, but I don’t doubt he’ll send another.”

His face cracks, his brows pulling together again. “If you knew it wouldn’t work then why’d you take the job?”

You struggle again, less angry and more desperate now. “Because he’s got my fucking brother at gunpoint and I’ve got to figure out how the fuck I’m going to save him!” you shout.

There’s silence for a long moment– a long, uncomfortable beat of it– and then his expression softens into something… tender. It sends a chill up your spine. Satoru Gojo was never supposed to be tender with you, and that’s all he’s been.

“I’ll save him,” he says. Your heart jumps and his grip on your wrists loosens, allowing you to slip free.

“What?” you breathe. He sits back, allowing you to prop yourself up into a slightly less vulnerable position.

He exhales slowly, but you don’t miss the way his hand settles on your bare thigh, a comforting weight. “I’ll save your brother and then I’ll take care of your boss.” A smirk creeps across his lips. “What? Don’t think I can do it?”

You stare blankly, lips parted. There’s no doubt he can do it, but that’s not the question swirling in your mind.

“Why would you help me?” You’d tried to kill the man. You couldn’t make heads or tails of a reason why he’d go out of his way to help you.

He chuckles. “Well, in case you didn’t know, I’m a hero of sorts.” You have to fight not to roll your eyes. “And… there’s something I want from you.”

There it is– the catch. He wants something. You have no idea what you could possibly have to give him, but you’re willing for it to be just about anything. You narrow your eyes. “What?”

He grins, but you can see the glint of mischief in his gaze. His hand slides further up your thigh, up your side, over your shoulder, until it rests at the nape of your neck and his face is only inches from your own. “What’s your number, gorgeous?”

taglist (dm me or send an ask to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina, @fushironi, @enchantedsylveon, @keiva1000, @complexivelovely, @httpstoyosi, @bbyxxm, @6kabuki.

link: 1k followers event

please consider leaving a comment, sending an ask, or reblogging! interacting with authors is the best way to support them! thanks for reading ♡

3K notes · View notes

pearlywritings · 22 days ago

Note

Balalaika ifa 👉👈

That was so much fun to write! And I can't wait for my man to be playable (am I back into my simping era???)

Chill, dude

pairing: Ifa x reader

prompt: cuteness aggression

word count: 1.1+ words

~ The Music of the Night event ~

“Oh dear! Oh dear!”

“How can you be so adorable!?” You cry out, bouncing the small body of the peach-feathered Qucusaurus between your palms, rubbing your nose against his beak. It takes all of your will-power to be gentle, to the point you are vibrating, and buzzing, and an ugly squeal is stuck in the back of your throat. “You are the softest, you are the prettiest, you are the babiest, you are the cutest, I literally want to eat you!”

Cacucu chirps, happily bobbing to match your energetic tossing of his form within your hands’ grasp. The ball-shaped saurian flaps his wings, quite enjoying all the attention you are giving him at the moment - he loves it when you visit him and his human companion, and always basks in your peculiar kind of affection. It feels like attacking, and had it been anyone else, Cacucu would’ve already angrily pecked them whenever he could’ve reached. You, however, do all that squeezing, face-pressing into him, pretending to want to mouth at him and many more weirdly kind things with such care and a ton of compliments, that the saurian can’t help but preen.

“Wow, bro! You a real one, bro! I like you, bro!”

“Aaawwwwmhmheheenamwahmwahmwah!”

The sounds of smooching join the bird twittering, making the lounge room in the veterinarian’s house even more vibrant than before. The Qucusaurus just accepts his fate to be smothered, even if not really kissed, falling backwards against your palms and tucking his legs close to his body.

“I could honestly eat you! Why snack-shaped if not edible?? Oh! Oh! Or I could put you in my pocket and bring you everywhere with m-”

“Chill, dude.”

You abruptly shut up, staring down at the quite content feathered baby in your hands. The saurian only blinks up at you and then turns his head towards the room’s entrance. You follow his example.

There, leaning on the doorframe, with arms crossed and the signature hat pushed off to rest on his back, stands Ifa. A knowing smile appears on his chapped lips, when he takes in the scene before him, looking from you to Cacucu and back.

Meanwhile you are staring at him incredulously, eyes slightly widened and mouth ajar. What did he just say?

“...did you just call me dude?”

“No way, bro!” The saurian seems to be on your side, jumping up on his feet and taking off in the air above your palms. This little show of support makes you feel justified, and now you are crossing your own arms, huffing in displeasure.

“Ifa, really? Me? Your partner? The love of your life?”

The white-haired male raises his brow, the corner of his mouth lifts too. His laid-off attitude is accentuated even more with the way he tilts his head and crosses one leg, still supporting the wall with his shoulder. Moreso there is a challenging look now in his eyes, boring into you with charming curiosity. Damn your lover for looking so effortlessly sexy!

But wait. You can totally make it his problem and also get your revenge.

Sure, pouring all your hardly-concealed love and adoration on Cacucu was nice and all, but there are still limits set by his small and fragile body. With a tall, toned man, however, you can stop holding back and even tackle him to the ground if you wanted to!

Oh-ho-ho, now you have a real case of cuteness aggression.

You quickly exchange looks with your soon-to-become partner-in-crime and need but a second to see that he is in complete agreement with you.

“Cacucu, get him.”

“Woah, woah, wait-”

Ifa bolts into the room obliquely when you jump towards him with the Qucusaurus swooping down from air. Grabbing the doorframe, you turn sharply, quickly locating your boyfriend, who’s just hopped over the backrest of the sofa and is now staring at you from behind the impromptu barricade.

“When I catch you, Ifa,” you threaten him, and your fingers twitch. You must squeeze this man.

“Okay, alright, babe, I was wrong,” the man puts one hand in front of him in a conciliatory gesture and uses the other to put the hat back on his head, simultaneously dodging his saurian companion’s aerial attacks.

“Too late, bro,” you grin rapaciously, slowly inching towards the two, and, once the vet is distracted, throw yourself at him full force, making you both fall onto the sofa, with him underneath you.

“Too late, bro, too late, bro!” Cacucu cheerfully repeats, flapping his wings above you.

The man squeezes his eyes shut from the impact his back makes with the cushions, and his arm instinctively flies to wrap around your waist. That’s his first mistake, because his embrace provokes the surge of affection on your part, and you wiggle your arms under his back. The air is knocked out of the man, when your hold tightens.

His second mistake is being hot once disheveled, with the hat falling over his forehead and the shirt opening wider due to two buttons undone, and you don’t deny yourself desire to latch onto his skin.

Ifa groans when he feels your teeth ghosting over his collarbones, lifting his free hand to adjust his hat and finally popping one eye open. His cheeks puff with air from held back laughter, when he sees how you rub your nose between his pecs with funny noises, mumbling something about wanting to bite him. He gasps when you indeed lightly bite him.

“Babe, chill, it’s still early in the afternoon.”

“It’s never too early to bother your boyfriend,” you snicker into his chest, scratching the small of his back with your nails, close to the sides. The man jolts and throws his head back with a sharp intake of breath.

“Archons, you are a menace.”

You hum happily and decide to have mercy, wiggling both arms from under his body. In a few seconds you are already straddling his thighs, reaching for his hat and taking it off. Cacucu, about whom you almost forgot, swoops down, latching his claws onto the brim, and zooms out of the room.

“Welp, good luck to me getting it back, I guess,” Ifa laughs, settling his palms on your hips, drawing circles with his thumbs. His gaze is warm when he looks up at you, and an eye-crinkling smile graces his handsome features.

“You’ll manage,” rolling your eyes, you cup his cheeks and bring your face closer, bumping your nose against his. “Besides… I like it when you are hatless. It means I can do… this!”

Somehow your fingers are in his hair already and you start messing with light mint locks, peppering his face with kisses.

And Ifa?

Ifa turns into a puddle underneath you.

#the music of the night event #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #ifa x reader #genshin impact ifa #genshin impact fluff

260 notes · View notes

spider-mancan · 3 months ago

Text

norman is a controlling piece of shit but harry was Peter's friend when no one else would be. seeing Harry's health decline so suddenly leaves such a sour taste in Peter's -- almost as sour as the way norman osborn's unwanted compliments. you're such a smart boy, Peter. so hardworking, so motivated, so healthy. not like harry. he never recovered after his mother died, mentally. lost a piece of himself.

privately, Peter thinks harry lost a part of himself a long time ago, and it's something norman cut away and keeps in his bedside drawer like a trophy.

when Norman gives Peter an ultimatum, Peter can't say he's surprised. what's surprising is the terms.

seduce Tony Stark. beautiful boy like you, just like he likes. You can do it. might even get a bag out of it, too. i know things are tough. speaking of, how is May doing, lately? just make Tony loose enough to spill a secret or two, and maybe harry will just...miraculously recover.

and Peter does it. he flutters his eyelashes and lets Tony fuck him in a public bathroom at some fancy event. he lets Tony cover him in diamonds. he sleeps in Tony's bed. he kisses Tony, laughs with him, feeds him. sneaks files on a flashdrive and then lets Tony fuck him over the kitchen counter.

he feels dirty and horrible. he thinks Tony might be the best man he's ever met, and he tells him so.

Tony tells him he doesn't seem the sort to be a sugar baby. peter doesn't tell him he lost his virginity in a public bathroom at a fancy event.

peter tells norman about the repulser and suddenly Harry is more lucid than he's been in months. Tony buries himself in Peter's body and Peter pets his hair and shakes himself to pieces.

"i love you."

I'm sorry. I love you.

Peter is sloppy, tips his hand. he's escorted off the premises by security. the last thing he sees is Tony, impassive and impressive in his three piece suit, hands in his pockets, jaw clenched. then the doors of stark tower slide shut and Peter is as free as he's going to be.

harry gets worse. Norman sends him away to Europe for treatment that won't work, but maybe harry will be happier. Norman can't blackmail Peter with something that's already public, and Tony doesn't press charges even as Peter waits for the sirens outside his door.

three months later, Peter works for Norman like a dog and Tony shows up at his door like a whirlwind, all wild eyes. he wants to know why Peter did it. he wants to know if any of it was real.

peter closes the door in his face.

Tony keeps talking to the door, because he knows Peter is standing on the other side trying to make himself walk away. why, how, who. who was it that was in my bed? was he real, even a little? it doesn't make sense. None of it makes sense.

Tony stays for over an hour. Norman seems particularly smug when Peter brings him his coffee in the morning. maybe he just likes the idea of Tony Stark on his knees. maybe he likes that he's the reason Peter left Tony on the doorsteps. he never liked Harry and he likes Peter too much. Peter thinks Norman might be the worst person he's ever met, and he has to look himself in the mirror everyday.

harry likes Europe, at least.

when news breaks that norman osborn has been running inhumane studies and fishing his books, that he killed his wife, that he is well on his way to killing his son, that he's mentally unwell...Peter is on the subway. some of the biggest news of his life, and he finds out accidentally reading Twitter over someone's shoulder on the orange.

Tony is waiting for him when he gets out of the station. he's not sure how Tony knew where to find him. peter doesn't even remember where he had been going.

"i didn't want to."

I'm sorry. I love you.

Tony opens his arms and Peter is there before he understands what precious sort of thing is being offered. he's there before he realizes he started crying ten minutes before, still in the subway car. Tony is just there. he's there and he's forgiving Peter and Peter doesn't deserve it. not at all.

I'm sorry. I love you.

I love you. I love you.

"I love you, too." Tony might as well tell the whole world, the way he whispers it into Peter's hair. "God, kid. They gutted me when they took you away."

peter doesn't think he's been a full person in years. he shakes under the weight of it. like feeling gravity for the first time. "i don't know how to do this."

"a relationship? me, neither." Tony grins, his chin digging into the top of Peter's head. he won't let go, even a little, while the subway rush floods out onto the sidewalk. "can't be harder than corporate espionage."

peter laughs so hard he chokes, and Tony spins him around like he doesn't care about anything else, and Peter is horrible and human and he's okay, he'll be okay. he's free.

he's as free as he's ever been, and he's in love.

#starker #ironspider #tnpt #considers #starker fic #brain worms

166 notes · View notes

juyeoz · 3 months ago

Text

˙ㅤ۪ 𓂋⠀FOR THE PLOT — AN 02z SMAU

011 ┆ MONTHLY REUNION (0.4k words)

“So, what’s up with you lately?” Yena asked while taking a sip of her Mango smoothie as you two walked around the amusement park.

“Well, do you remember Jake?” You asked, referring to the boy from your middle school.

“Sim Jake? Of course I do! What about him?” Yena replied.

“We started talking again.”

“Seriously?! That’s great! You two were so close back then.” She said, a smile appearing on her lips.

“I mean, yeah, but it gets worse…” You said, causing her to pause.

What did you mean by that?

“I think I might be developing feelings for Sunghoon as well…”

“Okay…” She mumbled.

“So far, my feelings for Jake haven't fully returned yet… I just think he’s fine—very fine.” You explained and sighed.

“Oh wow… Is that everything?” Yena questioned, slowly bringing her straw to her lips.

“No, unfortunately. I was deep cleaning my room the other day and guess what I found!”

“Your 3rd grade halloween costume?” She teased.

“No! Luckily not.” You smiled at her joke. It was a terrible costume, one that you never wanted to remember.

“Then what was it?”

“The panda keychains I gave Jongseong on the fourth day of junior kindergarten.”

She laughed at what you said. Nothing could have prepared her for that.

“There’s no way. Like, senior kindergarten Jongseong?” Yena was in disbelief.

“Yes… Who else do we know named Jongseong?” You said with another sigh.

“Isn’t his name like Jay now? I think he goes to my art school.”

“Seriously? I mean, I didn’t see him after he graduated in Sunghoon’s class.” You replied. Yena reached into her coat pocket, pulling out her phone.

“Look,” she said while looking up Jongseong’s new Twitter account.

It was true, he went by Jay now.

“He does a baking co-op?” You asked after reading his bio.

“Yeah, I rarely see him in the hallways nowadays. We had one cooking class during my freshman year since I was able to take a 10th grade course, but that was it. We didn’t talk at all.”

You nodded at her words and scrolled down his account on her phone.

“Wait, is that him now?” You asked while pointing at the recent selfie from a week ago.

“Yeah, why?”

“He looks so much different. He definitely got a glow up.” You said, geeking over the photo. He was more finer than he was in middle school. Good lord, it was so over for you.

PREVIOUS MASTERLIST NEXT

NOTE — a full jay mention this chapter meaning……

ENHYPEN PERM TAGLIST — @miumura @macapunoz @ch4c0nnenh4 @ancnymcnzjy @i03jae @en-dream @firstclassjaylee @sunoo-bby @wensurr

FTP TAGLIST — @enhypenlovre @love-lee @ikeulove @mnhpuppy @httpenhoon @yeonmuse @modanisgf @wilonevys @starry-eyed-bimbo @immelissaaa @woniefull @mymelodyfanatic @hollxe1 @rikiiisoob @parkjjongswifey @coqhee @heirdollies @domfikeluva @miszes @eyesonlybutterflies @suhwife @yuniesluv @right-person-wrong-time @haechsworld @butterflywonz @leehsngs @ddolleri @multifandomlovers-posts @t1iqaa @itsactuallylina @bbsantc @sunghxxnie @mariwasneverthere @claumbeju @janjoonty @jvngw0nlvr @korikeu

125 notes · View notes

mrsholmesreid · 3 months ago

Text

WEDDING DAY | spencer reid x reader

summary: you and spencer reid dated for a couple of years before having a daughter, lily. now that lily is three, the two of you can finally get married!

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

word count: 1,7k

content warnings: fluff

author's note: this one shot was based on a character ai bot me and iru (@ireid here and @/spookyrydel on twitter) wrote together. here's the link to it:

The guests had all settled into their seats, the soft hum of anticipation filling the air. The altar was framed by delicate flowers, the evening sun casting a golden glow over everything. Spencer stood at the aisle, his hands clasped together, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat.

He wasn’t nervous—not in the way people expected. He was just overwhelmed. Overwhelmed with love, with the sheer enormity of this moment. He was about to marry the love of his life, the person who had given him everything, including their little girl.

Beside him, Morgan nudged his arm, smirking. "Hey, kid," he murmured, pulling something from his pocket. "Your wife-to-be and babygirl sent you something."

Spencer blinked, confused, as Derek pulled out his phone and pressed play.

Then he heard your voice.

"Spence," you began, your voice warm and full of love. "Right now, you’re probably standing at the altar, fidgeting with your tie, maybe pushing your hair back like you do when you're overwhelmed. And I just want you to know… I love you. I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love someone. Today, I get to marry you, but you've been my home long before this day."

Spencer let out a shaky breath, his eyes already misting over.

Then a smaller, higher voice chimed in.

"Daddy!" Lily’s giggle filled the speakers. "Mommy says today is a big day! You look sooooo handsome, I just know it! I love you, Daddy! I love you lots and lots and lots—"

There was a tiny shuffle, like she was moving too close to the mic.

"I can't wait to dance with you! And eat cake!"

Derek chuckled under his breath as Spencer pressed his lips together, his vision blurring.

"So, we’ll see you soon, okay?" your voice returned, soft and full of emotion. "Take a deep breath, baby. We’re almost there."

The message ended.

Spencer exhaled, his shoulders shaking. His hands came up to wipe at his eyes, but it was useless—he was full-on sobbing.

Never in his life had he felt this much happiness, this much love.

Then the music started.

Everyone turned as the wedding march played, and when Spencer finally lifted his gaze, there you were.

Walking toward him, arm in arm with your father, your dress flowing around you like something out of a dream. And right beside you, tiny hands clutching a basket of petals, was Lily—beaming, waving at him like she hadn’t just talked to him minutes ago.

Spencer had already been crying, but now? Now he was absolutely gone.

Because this was it. His forever. His family. His everything.

As you walked down the aisle, Spencer felt like the world had slowed. The music swelled around him, but all he could hear was the pounding of his heart, the distant echo of Lily’s voice still ringing in his ears. “Daddy, I love you lots and lots and lots.”

His eyes flickered from her to you—your smile radiant, eyes shimmering with unshed tears as you looked at him like he was the only person in the world. And to him, you were. Nothing else existed at that moment. Just you and him.

His breath hitched when Lily let go of your father’s hand for a moment, running ahead on her tiny legs to reach him first. The guests chuckled softly as she stopped just short of stepping onto the altar.

“Daddy,” she whispered, her big, round eyes full of excitement and a bit of concern for her father. “You’re crying!”

Spencer let out a watery laugh, crouching down to her level despite the weight of his overwhelming emotions. “I know, sweetheart,” he whispered, brushing a hand through her soft curls. “I’m just really happy.”

Lily giggled, reaching out with her small hands to pat at the tears on his face, like she could wipe them all away. “No more crying, Daddy. It’s your wedding day! But you and Mommy keep crying, you should be laughing!”

His chest ached with so much love he could hardly breathe. The guests chuckled softly at Lily's adorableness.

“I know sweetheart, I know,” he patted her head, sniffing his tears.

Then, as if she knew she had stolen enough attention, Lily spun on her heel and hurried back to your father’s side, her little basket swinging with each step. The guests let out a collective sigh of adoration, but Spencer—he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

You were almost there now, just a few steps away.

He straightened, trying to blink away his tears, but it was impossible.

When you reached him, your father gently kissed your cheek before taking a step back, his own eyes a little misty.

Spencer barely had time to whisper, “You look beautiful,” before you reached out, catching his hand in yours, squeezing it.

His grip tightened, his thumb brushing against your skin like he was grounding himself in this moment, making sure it was real.

“I meant every word,” you whispered, your voice meant just for him.

Spencer swallowed, overwhelmed, his lips parting like he wanted to say something—anything—but he couldn’t. All he could do was look at you, heart in his throat, knowing that in just moments, you’d be his wife.

And for the first time in his life, everything felt perfect.

The officiant began speaking, but Spencer barely registered the words. His world had shrunk down to just you—the warmth of your hand in his, the way your eyes shimmered with love, the soft rise and fall of your breath.

Lily had settled in her seat beside Derek, swinging her legs excitedly, still beaming from her tiny moment of importance. Morgan played with her, holding her hand and telling her to pay attention. Spencer could feel her gaze on him, could hear the small giggle she let out every time he sniffled and wiped at his tears.

“This is real,” he thought. “This is my family. This is my entire life, my whole future until the day I die. Good god, I couldn't have been luckier.”

When the officiant asked you to exchange vows, Spencer let out a breath, trying to steady himself, but his hands were trembling as he pulled out the small card he had written them on, as if he needed to read it to remember the words. He had it memorized front to back; but this day was so important to him that he couldn't help but want to make sure this wouldn't be the first time his eidetic memory would fail him. But of course, it didn't. Barely glancing at the notes, his voice wavered as he spoke.

"From the moment I met you, my world changed. You have given me the kind of love I never thought I deserved, the kind that makes every day feel like coming home. Home. You taught me the meaning of that word. You make me feel things I never thought possible, a kind of safety, of love, that not even in my best dreams I could've pictured. And Lily—our Lily—she is the most precious gift we have ever created together. The way you love her, the way you love me… I can’t imagine a life without you. I don’t want to. Today, I promise to do everything in my power to always be the best husband I can be, the best father, the best partner. I promise to love you through everything, to be your safe place, always. Today, you give me the honor of vowing to spend the rest of my days trying to make you feel the way you make me feel. So that means today is not only the most important day of my life, it is also the beginning of my dream. This is what I asked for, baby. You and Lily and this beautiful family we're building together… There's nothing in the world I wished for more than this. I love you with every fiber of my being, today, tomorrow, and forever."

You reached up, brushing a tear from his cheek. “I love you,” you whispered, your tone drenched with emotion.

The officiant turned to you, and as you recited your vows, Spencer felt like his heart might actually burst.

“Spencer, from the moment our lives intertwined—first as friends, then as partners, and now with the light of our lives that is Lily—you have filled my days with laughter, solace, and unexpected joy. I’ve watched you overcome pain and fear, and in your quiet strength, I’ve found my courage. I promise to stand beside you, to support you through every challenge, and to celebrate every tender moment we share. I may not have all the answers, but I know that with you, I’ve found home. I choose you today, tomorrow, and every day after, with all my heart. I love you and the family we're building together more than anything in the world, and the care you put in everything that you do for us overwhelms me with gratitude and pride. You’re my everything.”

The way you spoke about him, about your life together, about the family you had already built—it was overwhelming. He had never, in his entire life, felt more wanted, more cherished.

And then came the moment—the moment he had waited for.

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Spencer barely heard the words before he was pulling you in, his hands cradling your face as he kissed you—soft and deep, filled with all the love he had been holding inside.

The guests erupted into cheers, but the loudest sound of all came from Lily.

“Yay! Daddy kissed Mommy!” she squealed, clapping her hands together, kicking her legs excitedly.

Laughter rippled through the crowd as Spencer pulled away just enough to laugh against your lips. “We did it,” he whispered.

You grinned. “We did it.”

Then, as if she couldn’t stand waiting any longer, Lily came running toward you both, her arms stretched high. “Mommy! Daddy!”

Spencer bent down, scooping her up in his arms, holding her between you.

And in that moment, with his wife in one arm and his daughter in the other, Spencer Reid knew he had everything he had ever dreamed of. Everything he would ever need.

author's note 2: this one shot was shorter, but i still had a lot of fun wiriting it, like i always do with iru!! let us know what you think <3

find me on other socials!

twitter: @/mrsholmesreid character ai: @/mrsholmesreid insta: @/mrsholmesreid (inactive but can be used for dms)

p.s.: i take requests, dm me!

#criminal minds x reader #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid one shot #dr reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #wedding #criminal minds fanfiction #fluff

133 notes · View notes

sturnioz · 4 months ago

Note

We need more ps!chris

FEED US PLEASEEEEE

what about how it all started, I mean, how Chris decided to start as a pornstar

— how pornstar!chris started ! [i made a mistake btw. he should be called onlyfans!chris cos he only posts on twitter and onlyfans. but im dumb so]

☆ chris was in extreme need of money. the job he had as a waiter was barely putting any money into his pocket even though he was taking on other peoples shifts and asking for more hours. he had enough to pay for rent and groceries, which truthfully is more important than anything else, but he still wanted to treat himself like any other human being would.

☆ he was aware of twitter porn, and he was very much aware of onlyfans. he never really thought to put himself out there like that until he came across a post on tiktok listening to someone talk about how much money they had made posting... and that got his brain thinking.

☆ chris didn't post straight away. he thought about it for awhile, weighing the pros and cons. he knows he's attractive and he knows he's hung in a humble way, he definitely has the assets to make at least a few bucks. but the cons of people finding out who he is — for his family and his restaurant job to find out — that scared him a lot.

☆ it took chris over a month and a half to work up the courage to do it. he was desperate. so he decided to make an account on onlyfans and twitter, at first only posting videos below the chest. he wouldn't speak or show his face, only letting out a few subtle grunts and moans whenever he touched himself.

☆ he found it awkward at first because cumming in front of a camera was a lot difficult than he originally thought. he watched porn to get himself hard before setting up the camera and doing his thing, but he ended up getting camera shy a few times and stuffed the failed videos into a hidden folder on his computer.

☆ however, despite a few mishaps, chris made so much money. more money than he'd ever seen in his life. people were getting off to faceless videos of him? they were paying him for more content? he became a favourite so quick on twitter, and the number of followers/subscribers continued to rise day by day.

☆ due to being so entirely grateful for his following, chris started kissing the camera. he would still hide his face, only showing a brief few second clip of his lips as he kissed the lens — that immediately became a favourite, so he made sure to continuously kiss the camera right before the video ended.

☆ it took chris a few more months to actually speak. murmuring soft praises, telling his viewers how close he was to cumming, how he's doing all this for them. but unfortunately a co-worker of his at the restaurant recognised his voice, and they immediately cornered him at work the next day.

☆ surprisingly, chris wasn't as embarrassed as he thought he'd be, and the co-worker did promise to keep it a secret from everyone — but chris didn't really want to take that risk. so he quit his job. he was fortunate to have the money to do so.

☆ he did end up explaining to his brothers when they questioned him about why he quit his job over dinner (which was funny because nick screamed 'WHAT' and matt choked on his drink) but they were supportive of their brother !! and they had zero problems with it, only telling him to be safe.

☆ chris got more and more comfortable over time, and that's when he started showing his face... and of course, that got him even more recognition for his attractive appearance. a few people noticed who he was though, that was a given, and he did have a few side eyes and interesting paragraphed texts from people he knew. but more importantly, his family supported him, and thats all he really cared about.

#ᯓ꒰asks꒱#ᯓ꒰anon꒱#☆ pornstar!chris #꒰ pornstar!chris prompt ꒱

135 notes · View notes

louisisalarrie · 19 days ago

Note

Hi!

Is it possible that this long break was planned way before it even started? Not just because H might’ve asked for it for his own well-being, but also because it’s a strategy other artists have used after going through a period of major public and media overexposure.

Plus, I don’t think there’s been any real sign that H changed record labels or management. He was seen with Sony’s CEO back in March last year, and the Azoffs are still using his name for promo. And there have been a lot of rumours he's coming back this summer.

hello anonnnn, and welcome to the show! (second one in a couple of days… we so back)

Rumours aside of dropping a single/coming back in July (these Twitter “insider” accounts have been changing months for when it’s coming for like over a year now, and also if one writes July the others are going to as well to make it look more real lol), this shit is business. It’s his job, right? But it’s more complex than having a shitty boss/team at an office/hospo job and moving on and cutting all ties because they were assholes. You can start fresh with a new company. The music industry is too intertwined and he’s working with the very top bosses - he’s not gonna cut all professional relationships with them, whether he’s still working for them or not.

I think it’s quite a common misconception about H, that he’d cut all ties and never speak to these idiots again when he finishes his contract. That’s simply not how it works. It’s in his very best interest for his career to keep them in his back pocket, and that’s where they’d like to stay too. Even if he leaves/has left them, unless he outs their shit to the world (in which will seriously negotiate the longevity of his career since these assholes own so much of the industry), they’re gonna stay on professional and friendly terms, regardless of whether he comes back at all. It’s all work, and they can offer him just about everything.

Rob, Azoffs, etc. are all gonna wanna be very nice to him to entice him to come back. They’re gonna offer him more money, more freedom, anything they possibly can to keep him because he is such a huge moneymaker for them. Of course they don’t want him to leave, but also, he’s quite isolated at the same time. It’s not that easy to jump ship when you’re at the level he is.

Everyone wants a piece of Harry, and I cannot imagine how frustrating that must be for him. He’s treated as subhuman, a product, a commodity, and I doubt any other managers can offer him more than they can, so he may not be attached to them for now but he has them to come back to if he wants. He could be in the midst of negotiation, he could be entirely out of a contract, but with his level of fame… those are unfortunately the guys he’s gonna be tied to unless he outs them and loses pretty much any chance of continuing on a highly successful career.

This industry is entirely to do with relationships and networking. It’s who you know. He could go to UMG and start over there with Capitol too (UMG have a larger market share and global recorded music revenue compared to Sony and WME), but that also involves potentially dissolving his own Erskine Records, and politics and there’s just sooooo much tied into this… it’s simply not that easy. Also, Mr Azoff has his fingers a little bit in the UMG pie too.

If he entirely leaves the Azoffs and Sony, there’s a good chance he’d be fine with UMG, but not if he speaks out publicly about how Sony has treated him. He becomes a problem then, and no one is gonna touch him because then what happens if he comes out and talks shit about UMG? The Azoffs and Sony and everyone else are gonna be like “nooooo we wouldn’t do that!!! we love our artists!!!!” and if he doesn’t speak out but moves to UMG quietly, Sony still looks kinda bad and they’re all intertwined and anyway it’s one big shit show. Azoff and WME are not friends though, at all, so if he went there… he’s fracturing relationships pretty intensely. And these relationships are so, so fragile.

The long of the short of it is, him speaking out and throwing all these losers under the bus, will throw away all the hard work he’s done and all his professional (and personal) relationships with these people. I want him to speak out, 100%, but he can’t do what he does without a big management team and label behind him. It would essentially cut his ties with Live Nation too, so he’d have to move on to AEG (who are like the second biggest promoter and strongly connected to UMG), which is fine but having Live Nation in your pocket is still more valuable in the long run. However, if he leaves quietly to UMG, he’s still gonna uphold those relationships in Sony/Azoffs/Stringer the best he can in the case that everything goes to shit. Even if signed to a diff manager. But it’s just very hard for him to leave.

And that’s why I think the contract has expired and he’s staying out of it until he figures out what to do/gets what he wants. And he might sign with them again, sure, but it’s all politics and networking and until he does a tell all, he’s gonna be seen upholding good relationships and playing nice for his own sake of continuing on a career at his level. I don’t think it was planned. I could consider it being planned if it was like a year, because you’re right, the overexposure etc are all factors, but it’s been so long I just don’t think he’s still with them for now.

Sorry this is a bit of a mess I should’ve broken it down more in sections of mgmt vs label but I hope you get what I mean and I apologise that im a bit all over the shop today

#anon #answered #louisisalarrie chats

91 notes · View notes

dyellogin · 13 days ago

Note

Heyyyy! I have a question about the au: Do they still have the same interests as they do in the comics? Or are their interests completely different?

Yap incoming, lolol

The OGs and the Gen Z have different interests due to the eras they grew up in.

Growing up in the 90s, the OG likely discovered their passions through friends talking about it or visiting comic book shops. That's why they're into mostly nerdy stuff. Back then, the internet wasn't as big, so word-of-mouth and local shops were the main ways to learn about dominant media, and god knows how pretentious those starwars and Marvel fans back then were.

Gen Z, on the other hand, were introduced to the world through the internet from a young age. This exposed them to different "sections" or categories of interests. The web has made it easier than ever to find information on any topic imaginable, so their tastes are more diverse.

Back when YouTube was just taking off, the content was much more niche and community-focused. People mostly uploaded personal vlogs, funny skits, gossip, and hobby-related content. During that time, I feel Bill's a big fan of Pewdiepie in his teen years, I know he's more popular as a gaming channel but he's also an anime fan, i remmembered he does fanfics reading, so Pewdiepie is probably the one that introduces Bill to shounen anime and fanfics reading. Then, it branches to Bill checking out opinionated channels, anime reviews, and #dramaalert. (Micro yap. Not only this, but ofc he's into forums, trolling, and negative sides of internet)

Pete doesn't really get or care much about fandom stuff, mainly because he comes from a big, mostly offline family. Chances are, he'd feel embarrassed if his brothers caught him watching to something like a Konata Kirby remix. Growing up, cartoons and anime were often seen as shows for weird kids, so Pete avoided them to fit in. Instead, he kept up with celebrity gossip and drama, saving stuff to brag the things he found. Like, leaked contents of some popular people to his big brothers to look cool and edgy. He'd probably check websites like Perez Hilton or StickyDrama. The more borderline illegal they are, the better (Micro yap... StickyDrama was such a hellhole of those popular bitchy emo teens, yknow how looks are just everything? I feel like this is how he develops interest in anorexic people). Bonus points on sites where he can interact with big guys and creators in real time.

These days, when something big happens, like Kanye West abandoned his pills for the week and post those Twitter tweets, Pete and Bill definitely immediately talk about it. They probably live stream calls on Discord and chuckle about it.

Joshie was an autistic child (still autistic tho) who has intense hyperfixation with kid's cartoons, books, and art. (Micro yap.. . .. . She also develops interest in warrior cats, homestuck, etc) She spends countless hours indulging in these media and creating her own fanwork (fanfictions mostly, she's not confident in her artworks) inspired by it. When she first gets online, she's mostly active on platforms like DeviantArt and Tumblr. She doesn't care about much else beyond these websites and forums. Joshie's knowledge is limited to the politics and discussions happening within these online spaces; shipping wars, diversity debates, and some conversations about mental health. She can talk for hours about these topics but struggles to name more than a few U.S. presidents.

Jerry is into anime, shows, and enjoys drawing in his free time. While he has these interests, he doesn't let them consume his life or take things too seriously. Jerry stays well-informed about what's happening in the world. He's not some shut-in or recluse. Jerry is about as socially normal and well-adjusted as they come. One thing he really loves is memes and hanging out with out-of-pocket eccentric people who keep him entertained in his dull life.

#i keep accedantly fucking deleting shit #and the text coloring stuff is so ass #whatever i hope its readable #gzeltingville #bill dickey #pete dinunzio #josh levy #jerry stokes #yap

118 notes · View notes

bratzkoo · 24 days ago

Text

WGM episode 1 | dk

episode 1: the first date

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: seokmin x reader Genre: fluff Rating: PG-13 Word count: 1.6k~ Warnings/note: fluff, fake marriage, and real feelings. cursing, seokmin curses a lot in his head.

summary: WE GOT MARRIED is back. Seokmin and Y/N pairs up to shoot 10 episodes for a special. Turns out, there are more things happenings off-camera than what meets the eye.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @ateez-atiny380 , @aeerio . @vernons-wifey12 , @odevote118

requests are close, but you can just say hi! | masterlist series masterlist | previous episode | next episode

Seokmin arrived at the baseball stadium thirty minutes early, because of course he did. What else was he supposed to do? Show up on time like a normal, non-desperate person? Ha!

He paced outside the main entrance, checking his reflection in his phone camera every forty-five seconds. Is this jersey too much? Not enough? Should I have worn the home team colors instead? Why didn't I consult Minghao about this?

His phone kept buzzing with texts from the members, who had apparently formed a task force dedicated solely to his dating life:

Hoshi: FIGHTING!!! Remember everything I told you about baseball metaphors!!

Jeonghan: If you don't hold her hand at least once, you're sleeping in the practice room for a week

Joshua: Just be yourself. But maybe 20% less loud.

Mingyu: I bet Wonwoo 50,000 won that you'll spill something on yourself within the first hour

Vernon: Just breathe, hyung

Seungkwan: I PREPARED A SONG LIST FOR ROMANTIC MOMENTS PLEASE CHECK YOUR EMAIL

Seokmin was about to text back a series of increasingly panicked emojis when he spotted her walking toward the entrance.

Oh.

Oh no.

She looks PRETTY pretty.

Y/N was wearing a white sundress with a denim jacket and sneakers, her hair slightly tousled by the spring breeze. Seokmin's brain immediately emptied of all thoughts except one: If I mess this up, I will never forgive myself.

He shoved his phone in his pocket, completely forgetting his members' existence. The cameras were following at a discreet distance, but for once, he wasn't thinking about them.

"Hi," he managed, desperately trying to remember how normal humans greet each other. "You look nice."

Nice? NICE? That's the best you can do? She looks like a literal angel descended from heaven to grace this sweaty baseball stadium with her presence, and you said NICE?

Y/N tucked her hair behind her ear in that way that made his heart do a weird flippy thing. "Thanks. Is this okay for baseball? I wasn't sure what to wear."

"It's perfect," he said too quickly, then remembered the gift. "Oh! I got you something."

He pulled out the team cap he'd spent forty-five minutes selecting last night, trying to find one that would look cute on her without being too small or too big or too anything. "Every fan needs one."

"Does that make us officially a couple? Matching hats?" She took it with a smile that Seokmin felt in his soul.

"That's the first step," he confirmed, slipping into his performer persona because it was either that or spontaneously combust. "Next would be matching phone cases, then matching hoodies, and eventually matching gravestones."

She laughed, and the sound made Seokmin mentally high-five himself. YOU MADE HER LAUGH. POINT FOR TEAM SEOKMIN.

"Quite the commitment trajectory," she said.

"I don't make the rules of Korean couples culture," he shrugged, feeling a tiny bit more like himself. "I just follow them religiously."

She put the cap on, adjusting it slightly. "How do I look?"

Like everything I didn't know I wanted. Like the answer to a question I hadn't thought to ask. Like someone I'm going to embarrass myself over repeatedly for the next ten episodes.

"Very sporty," he said instead, the understatement of the century. "Ready to learn about America's favorite pastime?"

"I thought that was complaining on Twitter."

Seokmin burst out laughing, genuine and unfiltered. Is she always this witty? How am I supposed to survive this?

"Second favorite, then," he managed.

---

Inside the stadium, Seokmin's chaotic energy went into overdrive. The camera crew was setting up around them, but all he could focus on was how close they were sitting. Their elbows could touch. That's practically third base, right? WAIT, BAD BASEBALL METAPHOR. Erase that thought immediately.

"So, rule number one," he began, desperate to seem knowledgeable about something, anything, "you have to eat stadium food. It's mandatory."

"Is that an official baseball rule or a Seokmin rule?" Y/N asked, eyes twinkling in a way that made his stomach do gymnastics.

"Both," he declared, committing fully to the bit. "It's in the official rulebook: 'All spectators must consume their body weight in overpriced food to maintain the economic ecosystem of professional sports.'"

"Well, we can't break the rules on our first date," she agreed solemnly.

First date. She called it a date. IT'S JUST FOR THE SHOW, SEOKMIN. GET A GRIP.

He signaled to a vendor with perhaps too much enthusiasm. "Two of everything, please."

"I was joking!" Y/N protested, laughing.

"I wasn't," he insisted. "You need the full experience."

Soon their seats were surrounded by enough food to feed the entire team. The camera zoomed in on the spread, then on Y/N's wide eyes.

"This is ridiculous," she said, but she was smiling.

"Welcome to marriage," Seokmin replied, handing her a hotdog and trying not to think about how their fingers brushed. "Sharing calories is the foundation of any good relationship."

When she took a bite and a tiny bit of ketchup appeared at the corner of her mouth, Seokmin experienced what could only be described as a gay panic, except heterosexual. He fumbled for a napkin so violently he knocked over his soda, barely catching it before it spilled everywhere.

Great. Now Mingyu was 50,000 won richer.

---

As the game began, Seokmin tried to explain the rules while simultaneously:

1. Not staring at Y/N too much

2. Not sounding like a know-it-all

3. Not accidentally touching her

4. Not spilling anything else

5. Remembering how baseball works

It was a lot.

"So the pitcher throws the ball, and the batter tries to hit it," he explained, pointing to the field. "If they hit it, they run to the bases—first, second, third, and home."

"Like a relationship," Y/N observed. "You go through different stages before coming home."

Seokmin nearly choked on his pretzel. Is she flirting? Is this what flirting feels like? I'm dying.

"Exactly," he wheezed. "Baseball is just a metaphor for love. That's why they call it America's pastime."

"What's a strike then?" she asked, leaning slightly closer to hear over the crowd noise.

THE PROXIMITY. HANDLE THE PROXIMITY.

"When you say something stupid and your partner gives you that look," he replied automatically, pantomiming a withering glare.

Y/N laughed again, and Seokmin felt like he'd just hit a home run.

The first few innings passed with Seokmin gradually relaxing, falling into an easy rhythm of explanation and banter. He was just starting to feel confident when the stadium's giant screen suddenly displayed a heart-shaped frame with "KISS CAM" blaring across the top.

And there they were, in high-definition glory.

Oh god oh god oh god oh god.

Y/N looked equally startled, her eyes wide as the crowd began to cheer.

"We don't have to—" Seokmin started to say, but the noise was too loud. His brain short-circuited completely, all systems failing simultaneously.

In a moment of pure panic, he yanked off his own baseball cap and placed it over his face, then leaned toward her with his face completely covered.

The crowd roared with laughter. When he peeked out from behind the cap, Y/N was doubled over, shoulders shaking with mirth.

"That," she gasped between laughs, "was the smoothest avoidance maneuver I've ever seen."

"I panicked," he admitted, ears burning hot enough to power a small city.

"It was perfect," she assured him, placing a hand briefly on his arm.

PHYSICAL CONTACT. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. REMAIN CALM.

His phone buzzed. Thirty new messages, all variations of keyboard smashing from the members who were undoubtedly watching the live game broadcast.

---

By the seventh-inning stretch, Seokmin had:

1. Explained the entire history of Korean baseball

2. Told three embarrassing stories about himself unprompted

3. Memorized the exact sound of Y/N's laugh

4. Developed seven new heart palpitations

5. Caught himself staring no fewer than twelve times

6. Not spilled anything else (A MIRACLE)

During the crowd wave, their hands accidentally brushed, and Seokmin felt it like an electric shock. When Y/N didn't pull away immediately, he wondered if she felt it too.

Don't read into it. It's for the cameras. It's for the show. It doesn't mean anything.

But when the home team hit a home run and everyone jumped to their feet cheering, Y/N impulsively hugged him in celebration, and for just a moment, with her arms around him and the roar of the crowd surrounding them, Seokmin forgot about the cameras completely.

---

As they walked out of the stadium after the game, Y/N still wearing the cap he'd given her, Seokmin gathered his courage.

"Did you have fun? Even though we lost?"

"Are you kidding? It was the most fun I've had in ages," she said, and he desperately wanted to believe it wasn't just for the show.

"So, for our next... episode," he began carefully, "would you be up for something I plan? Since Hoshi picked this one."

"I'd like that," she said, smiling that smile again. "Surprise me."

The production director called a wrap for the day, and the cameras finally turned off. There was a moment of awkward silence as reality reasserted itself.

"Can I walk you to your car?" Seokmin offered.

"Sure," Y/N said, falling into step beside him.

As they walked, Seokmin quietly slipped the game ticket stub into his pocket. A souvenir of something that wasn't real, but felt like it could be.

Later that night, after enduring an hour of teasing from the members about his kiss cam panic, he received a text:

Y/N: Thanks for today. I actually had a great time. You're a good teacher. :)

Seokmin smiled at his phone like an idiot for a full minute before replying:

Seokmin: Anytime. Looking forward to our next "date." Sleep well, fake wife.

As he set his phone down, he tried not to think about how much he was looking forward to episode two. Or how the word "fake" was already starting to feel like a lie.

135 notes · View notes

lemonlover1110 · 2 years ago

Text

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 12] Appropriate Behavior

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

*hope this makes y'all feel better

Your date progresses as smoothly as it can after Satoru leaves. You try to joke around and completely ignore the fact that Satoru is in the restaurant– It’s hard to do when both of you constantly glance his way to see what he’s doing, to see if he’s looking over at you. You don’t catch Satoru staring your way, but Suguru does. Of course, Suguru isn’t going to comment on it.

Suguru suggests getting dessert elsewhere because the dessert at that restaurant sucks; it isn’t true, Satoru took you there once years ago, and it was delicious but you agree. Neither of you want to stay there while Satoru is there. You get ice cream at a nearby place, and you feel like everything is going like it was at the very beginning of the date. The laughter isn’t as forced and conversation feels more natural.

Your night must come to an end though, and you stand in the front of your apartment a little too early for your liking, but there’s nothing else for you to do. You don’t feel like the date can go any further, even though you had many more plans for tonight. It just feels like everything went south after Satoru walked to your table.

“So…” Suguru awkwardly stands with his hands in his pockets. He hates first dates because he has no idea how to end them. You sweetly smile at him, and he smiles back. “We should do this again.”

“We should.” You answer. And you awkwardly stand outside for a moment or so, before you muster up the courage to kiss his cheek. You unlock the door to your apartment and you wave at him, “We’ll keep in touch then.”

He tries his best to not smile like a fool while he waves back. You enter your apartment, and try to quietly shut the door, believing your son is asleep. But he isn’t. He’s on the couch watching a movie with his grandma who passed out right beside him. You walk over to them, grabbing the remote control and turning off the television. Unlike his father at that age, Ren doesn’t throw a tantrum. His eyes go directly towards you and he runs your way, and you pick him up from the floor. You kiss his forehead.

“Did you have fun?” You ask, and he nods in response. He then looks at his grandmother who is fast asleep. He points at her and you chuckle in response. “What do you say, should we wake her or let her sleep on the couch?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, and you raise your brows.

“Well, is the couch comfortable enough to sleep on?” And maybe you shouldn’t have asked because Ren finds any surface comfortable to sleep on, so of course he nods his head in response. You kiss his little face over and over again, and you ask, “You wanna sleep with mommy tonight?”

“Yeah.” He answers, and you put him down on the floor.

“Will you get ready for bed and then go to my room while I wake up grandma?” You ask him, and he slowly nods his head. His tiredness gets to him, his eyelids getting heavier and heavier which makes it hard for him to keep his eyes open. He walks away and you attempt to wake your mom up.

“Mom.” You half whisper, patting her shoulder to wake her up. You have to do so a couple of times before she finally opens her eyes. She takes a moment to gain consciousness and when she does, she frantically looks around. You laugh, and you’re glad that it’s something that you can laugh about since Ren is fine. “Ren is okay.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey. I was so tired and he wore me down.” Your mother apologizes and you assure her that it’s okay; Ren is fine, there’s nothing you can reprimand her about. Sure, it’s dangerous to leave him unsupervised but Ren is a smart boy and she didn’t fall asleep on purpose. “How was your date?”

“Guess who we bumped into?” You respond and she ends up sighing. Maybe she should’ve warned you against dating Satoru, but since she watched you two grow up together, she thought that maybe things would work out. But they didn’t, and Satoru is entitled. He grew up spoiled, how could he not be? “It’s fine. He walked away without saying a word anyway. I don’t think he’ll do much.”

“Hopefully he doesn’t.” Your mother says, although she doubts it. She watched the boy grow up, and while she’s not sure if Satoru still cares about you or not, she knows that Satoru doesn’t like when people use his old toys. She yawns before saying, “I’m going to bed. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

When you get to work on Monday, you’re mentally prepared to deal with a bitchy Satoru. You’re ready for him to act the same way he did when you first started working together. However, he isn’t. He isn’t quite nice either, he’s silent. He doesn’t say anything to you when he walks past you. You don’t know what to say to him either, so you don’t greet him.

For an entire day, you work well without anything personal getting in the way. You hate to say that you like this arrangement better because he’s not the same cold boss, but he isn’t the one that’s trying to joke around with you. He simply does his job and you couldn’t be more grateful. Him seeing you with Suguru was the final push that was needed. Whether you’re okay with each other or not, the fact of the matter is that business comes first.

You’re working late once again, and he’s asking a million questions. The charity event that’s coming up has to be perfect, it’s the first big event that’s hosted with Satoru in charge, and he can��t afford to screw that up. You keep yawning with every passing second since you’ve been here since the morning, and you’re sure that it’s almost midnight.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, and you shake your head even though your stomach growls. The last time you ate was more than eight hours ago. You don’t want to waste more time, you simply want to get home and go to sleep since you doubt your baby boy is still awake. “I am. You should order some food.”

You glare at him but regardless do what he says because you have no other option but to. He’s still your boss. “What do you want?”

“Whatever you want.” He responds, and you’re about to argue that you don’t want to eat, but you do want to eat. You know you’ll end up wasting your time and energy by arguing that you’re not hungry. Getting something to eat is two taps on your phone screen, and then you can focus back on work. But it doesn’t seem like he wants to. You try to talk to him about the topic at hand but he doesn’t say anything. When you don’t get a response, you repeat yourself, but he replies with, “I’m too hungry to work right now.”

“I don’t see the point in continuing this. We can always start early tomorrow.” You say. It’s not like you can leave when you just ordered food. Satoru raises his eyebrows but instead of agreeing or disagreeing with you, he says,

“Contact the front desk, tell them you’re expecting a food delivery.” And you do as he says. Since he doesn’t want to continue working while you wait, you stand up from your chair and you begin to walk out of the office. You plan on calling your mom (who took after the nanny when the sun began to go down), talking to your son, and then playing some stupid game when Ren gets tired of talking to you. But Satoru speaks up, making you stop in your tracks. It’s a question that has been on his mind the entire day, “How was your date with my best friend?”

“Are you two still best friends?” You ask, turning to look at him. He crosses his arms, leaning back on his chair. You feel your face get warm as you realize you’re the last person that should probably ask that question. “It was fine. I don’t think that’s an appropriate question though.”

“Hmm… I don’t think you dating my best friend is appropriate.” He responds, and you roll your eyes. He stands up from his chair and begins to walk over to you.

“Why not?” You reply. He stands right in front of you, his hands in his pockets. He purses his lips together, wondering if you really asked that question. He opens his mouth to speak but you speak before him, “You’re really the last person that’s allowed to tell me what isn’t appropriate. I hate to remind you that months within our break up you were married to another woman.”

“Well, we were broken up. Not like I was cheating on you.” He argues, making you scoff. Right, just because he wasn’t cheating on you everything is good. The whole situation stops being fucked up. He stopped being your lifelong friend, cutting off all contact with you and getting married, but it’s all fine because at least he wasn’t cheating. “That’s my friend who you’re trying to get with.”

“The same friend who had a crush on me? Didn’t you get with me knowing that Suguru had a crush on me?” You point out, making him clench his jaw. “You’re really no friend, Satoru.”

“Mr. Gojo. We’re in a professional environment, don’t talk to me like you’re my friend when we’re not.” He corrects you out of spite, and you roll your eyes at him. He says through gritted teeth, “Would you have chosen him over me?”

“Didn’t you just say that we’re in a professional environment? Why are you asking me this question, Mr. Gojo?” You laugh in disbelief. He bites his tongue and you sigh in response before nodding, “I would have chosen him over you. Suguru has never and will never treat me the way you treat me. Do you remember why you stopped being friends with me when we were preteens? Because you didn’t want to be friends with the poor girl. Suguru never thought of me as less than, but you– You’ve always managed to make me feel inferior even when you weren’t meaning to.”

It’s all lies. Given the option you would choose Satoru over and over again.

“You’re basing your answer off something that happened when we were twelve?” He asks, and you nod your head in response. You won’t elaborate further about all the instances. It doesn’t matter anyway.

“This isn’t something that we should discuss. It doesn’t matter now anyway, what’s done is done.” You say. “You’re married. Why does it matter if I had chosen you or Suguru? We don’t end up together anyway.”

“Because it hurts me.” He’s honest, and you puff out a breath. You inhale and think of what to say next. You’re definitely not getting out of work after dinner so you might as well try to make things less awkward for the night.

“Let’s get even then. If we were eighteen again and Sayo was friends with you, would you have chosen me or her?” You ask, and you feel your heart get heavy. Maybe you understand why he feels hurt because knowing that a man you loved so dearly for so many years, wouldn’t choose you if he had the chance to go back in time. But it’s not your fault. He chose to leave you. He takes two steps closer to you, dangerously getting closer to you. “Would you have chosen me or Sayo?”

“You. I would’ve chosen you.” Satoru’s hands cup your face and you watch his face creep closer to yours. You watch him, and maybe you should push him away but you’re too dumbfounded to say anything. Before you can even say anything, Satoru’s soft lips press against your own.

Your eyes are wide open as you feel his lips on yours. Should you push him away? What the actual hell is he doing? He’s married– He’s fucking married and he said he would’ve chosen you. He’s a piece of shit. He’s a fucking jerk kissing another woman that isn’t his wife.

You aren’t proud as you shut your eyes, your hands going behind his head and pulling him closer.

#[changes]#gojo saturo #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x you #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo angst #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo fanfic

1K notes · View notes