#Who should we be hiring right now? Tell me.“

[blueishspace]

Hero, Villain God 17

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*Scar's pov*

Poultryman leaves quickly but you can't help but keep feeling suspicious. Nothing concrete and his explanation does make sense but you can't help but feel that It was weird for him to just be there like that...

He said he heard of it but ... How did he do so quickly? And why was he just standing there...menacingly?

You don't get the time to think about it further and quickly forget about it as Cub messages you, the hero association wants to talk to you for some reason and that means something is wrong...

...You are a bit worried.

...

You uh... don't really know what to do, your fight and flight is going off in a way only a council of business people can make it go off.

The council is staring at you, you thought they wanted to tell you something not look at you with... judgement in their eyes for like ten minutes straight.

You try to break the tension by initiating the conversation yourself.

"H-hello?"

...

"You wanted to speak with me?"

They are still silent? Did you say something wrong? You literally just said hi-

"Indeed, a decision has been talen that we believe you should be informed of."

Ok, not silent anymore, that's good... Wait decision? They aren't demoting you or something, right?

"Did something happen?"

They look to eachother...ok...even more worrying. It's fine everything is fine, you are totally calm and chill and not anxious at all.

"No, but something will."

"O-ok?"

Points for being ominous for no reason.

"Hotguy, you cannot continue to work alone. The stakes are growing, it is becoming too dangerous.."

"Oh!"

Oh! Are they making a hero team? You always wanted one of those-

"We are not going to waste heroes on a team"

And just like that your hopes are dashed and crushed. Why are you still here...just to suffer?

"But then-"

"Hotguy, how would you feel about a sidekick?"

A... Sidekick? You don't know how to feel, superheroes are supposed to have them though so It must be a good idea!...Wait.

"W-who's going to be my sidekick? You said you weren't going to waste heroes."

"That has not yet bern decided, we plan to start an hiring process of sorts soon.""

Hiring? What's this? An office job?"

"Do not question us, Hotguy. It is thanks to us you are even here to begin with"

"Right! I am sorry."

"... This is where you come in"

"Huh?"

"A sidekick should not only be capable but should also work well with the hero, you'll have to be the final judge of character "

"Oh that makes sense... So I'll interview the candidates?"

"Not directly, we cannot risk that, you'll just have to prepare some questions for them to answer"

"Oh... Alright! I'll do it"

*Mumbo's pov*

You are in your apartment, Grian is off... somewhere. You have stopped questioning him around the time you walked on him peeling grapes ... You just hope he doesn't randomly die or something, that would be quite unfortunate.

You turn on the tv, not something you do often but it's a good way to pass the time when you aren't working on something which is thinking about it...very rarely. Surely today has been uneventful.

The mayor was kidnapping by his own office and Hotguy is randomly hiring a sidekick.

What in the world has happened today??

*Grian's pov*

So Hotguy is searching for a sidekick, what interesting timing.

Well, you cannot waste this opportunity to have fun, can you.

You prepare an outfit, you even have a perfect name for this.

Cuteguy.

...

You might have too many personas now... nah.

End of Chapter 4

[batcavescolony]

One thing about me is that I HATE the New 52. Who decided that was a good idea?

[carcarrot]

well that was a shortlived good feeling about my job

[pomefioredove]

Can we have more of snuggles for hire please?! > <

YES always. I need more cuddle content

part one (leona, tweels, vil)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ snuggles for hire (encore)

summary: first years try helping you out with your touch-starved problem type of post: blurbs characters: rook, idia, silver additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, rook is rook as usual

"Really? That's it?" Ace scoffs.

"So, they haven't been hugged in a while. Okay? Neither has Deuce,"

Deuce glares. It's almost menacing. "That's not true, and you know it! I get lots of hugs every time I visit home!"

"I do, too. But that's just the thing, though, ain't it?" Epel says. "They don't have no home to get hugs from."

The huddle of first years goes quiet. Some days, you become such a part of their world, they forget you're really not from it.

"...Okay, point taken," Ace sighs. "But they have Grim! And he only stinks like, half the time!"

"If memory serves, Grim usually sleeps on the floor..." Epel says. "Poor prefect, all lonely. Now even their sleep is suffering 'cause of it!"

Jack rubs the back of his neck. "It must be tough, not having anything to look forward to,"

Another melancholy silence. Finally, Ace stands, hands on his hips.

"Well, let's do something about it, then. There are tons of boys at this school- one of them should be willing to help,"

You were slouched over your desk, dozing off over an essay you hadn't even started yet, when your door flies open.

"Prefect!" Epel shouts, his eyes wide with panic. Immediately, dread sets in. Had someone else overblotted? Was Grim in trouble?

"I'm sorry! I was looking for Vil, but he found me first!"

Huh? "What do you mean b-"

"Oh, Trickster~!"

That question answers itself. In a blink, Epel is gone, bolting before he could get dragged into this. Rook lets himself in, smiling as if he'd just won a million thaumarks.

"Ah, there you are~! I have been waiting for your call!"

You blink. "...Hi, Rook. What?"

He slides his hands under your arms, and lifts you like a cat. You remind yourself that he's much stronger than he looks.

"How my heart ached, watching you suffer! But I had to be patient- I had to wait for your call, Trickster! And when I heard Monsieur Pommette was looking for someone to come to your aid... I knew it had to be me!"

Rook sits you in his lap, squeezing you as if you were a small, cute animal. Which, to him, you sort of were. "Now, rest. I will comfort you!"

"Rook," you say, smothered in his arms, "This really isn't necessary."

"For your health, it is," he boops your nose. "Bonne nuit, mon ange."

With the way he's cooing and cuddling you so closely to him, you know there's no getting out of this.

...Not that you're complaining. He's right, after all. And you're really just grateful that he decided to break in while you were awake.

You're still going to have to kick Epel's butt for it, anyway.

"I already told you, I don't have a problem,"

Ortho Shroud beeps at you. "Incorrect. Your hormonal levels and kinesics indicate you've been sleeping poorly," he says. "...And the other first years were talking about it."

Of course, you sigh. Ace and Deuce. "It's not that bad,"

"Then perhaps you would be interested in solving another problem?"

He brings you down a long, cold hallway, and stops at a door. You hadn't been inside Ignihyde before, but with all the tech stuff, you figure there's some kind of freaky sleep machine in there.

You raise an eyebrow. "I dunno. The technology here is pretty weird,"

"Not that kind of problem!" Ortho opens the door with a giggle. "Idia, look who's here!"

To your surprise (horror? delight?) there's no sleep machine. Just one wide-eyed, blushing, terrified Idia Shroud.

By the look on his face, you can tell he knows just as much about this as you do. He and Ortho exchange glances, having an entire silent conversation while you awkwardly stand in the doorway.

Finally, Ortho looks at you: "Idy has been having similar troubles with sleeping,"

"Ortho-"

"I thought you might be able to help each other!"

Idia looks about ready to crawl under his bed and hide. You look between the two.

"Is he okay?"

"Oh, don't worry! He always gets nervous around pretty people!"

He makes a noise like a deflating balloon. Ortho giggles. "I'll see you later!"

He leaves, and a whir and a thump follow him. You stare. "He took the door knob,"

Despite all the awkward staring and blushing and groaning, you end up in the same bed, anyway, lost in a tangle of limbs that is somehow both awkward and comfortable. Idia is a lot warmer than he looks. And a very, very clingy sleeper.

You'll both lament about how terrible it was to Ortho in the morning, and you'll both leave out the fact that if it really were so terrible, one of you could've just slept on the floor.

But... you didn't. And you won't tomorrow night, either.

When you told your friends you'd been summoned to Diasomnia, they looked at you as if you'd just said your exact time and place of death.

Ace and Deuce whisper-shouted something about "not telling him", but you didn't ask. You weren't worried about Malleus, after all.

...Except that the person waiting for you in the lounge isn't Malleus.

"Oh... hey, Silver. Did you...?"

You hold up the summons, and he nods. The way he's avoiding your eyes is almost... shy. Bashful.

"Sebek came back from class yesterday yelling about you... he made it sound like you were dying," Silver says, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

"...But if it's just insomnia, I can help."

You blink. "Oh... I appreciate it, but..."

...You can't bring yourself to finish that sentence. He just looks... tense. This isn't exactly an offer he makes to most, after all.

You're just special.

And you need that.

You sit beside him in comfortable silence. The lights in the Diasomnia lounge are already dim, and it's as quiet and solemn as ever. Silver guides you into a soft position against him, your head on his shoulder, his head on yours, his arm around you, and he falls asleep.

Maybe it's just the exhaustion finally catching up to you, but it's surprisingly easy to follow his lead and fall asleep against him.

You dream of him that night.

[endzithefangirl]

"I'm gong to put 'being a WAG' on my CV"

Authors note: Here's a little Max Verstappen x TechCEO!Reader. Bet you didn't see that comng. Anyway, got the idea for this a few days ago, and I guess my love of Italian food made me finish this

Summary: Max's new relatioship causes a social media stir, but the new couple couldn't care less whilst in Italy.

Warnings: English isn't my first language, no use of Y/N, female reader, famous reader

Word count: 2k

You understood it, to a degree. Max had just broken off a three-year-long relationship right before summer break, and now suddenly he was spending the summer with you. Now you’re at the paddock... No wonder people thought there was some crossover.

The truth? You two met last New Year's at a party for some sporting event. You, being one of the sponsors for your country's national sports committee, were invited, and Max... well, Max was Max Verstappen. You hit it off, exchanged numbers, showed him around your company a few times, and took him to all of your favorite restaurants in NYC. But you knew he had a girlfriend; everyone knew. And he was taking care of her kid too.

That breakup was hard on him. He had stopped loving her, but he couldn't just kick a woman and her kid out of his house. Max waited for them to have a huge fight, and then they just... broke up. And to your surprise, he was in New York the next day, saying that he needed someone to talk to. Bullshit. You knew he liked you. Otherwise, he wouldn't have come all the way here 'just to talk.'

But here you were, in Italy, spending time with him before Monza. You were currently typing away on your phone, trying to make peace in the finance department. Max glanced up from his phone every so often, stealing peeks at you while grinning.

He had never quite been so into someone like you. You were smart, funny, talented, pretty, and on top of all that - you were also rich. But you were also the most challenging girl to flirt with Max had ever met.

"You look like you could use a break," he said, after watching you tap away at your work laptop for a few minutes.

"Probably. What's the point of having interns if they don't do anything?"

"Then you should consider hiring me; I'm pretty good at helping out," Max teased, looking up from his phone and sending you a cheeky smile. He loved a woman who was in power, who knew what she was doing, and he could tell you were used to being the boss. "Come on, take a break. You know you deserve it," Max encouraged, resting his hand on top of yours to stop you from working some more.

"I guess I could eat…" You say, closing your laptop. "I saw on Google Maps that there’s a nice pizza place down the road. We can go if you’re hungry.”

Max smiled and nodded. “Yes, I’m starving; let’s go,” he said, reaching for the car keys.

“No, it’s okay, let’s walk,” you stop him. He turned towards you, slightly confused. Usually, women would give anything to drive around with Max Verstappen. Maybe that’s just what makes you special.

The two of you walked out of the hotel, your bodyguard Lenny standing outside the door. The tall, muscular man just nodded as the two of you entered the elevator. Max found it funny that you preferred Lenny guard your stuff more than you. Especially the laptop. He sometimes wondered what you kept in there...

“Is Pierre gonna be at the race?” you asked as you exited the building, breaking the silence.

Max’s head snapped towards you, and he raised his brow. “Uh, yes, of course he is… Why?”

“Because I want to see Kika.”

“Oh, so she’s your secret F1 crush, eh?” Max said, relaxing.

You laughed. “Pierre is a solid seven with a better haircut. Kika is a twelve on a bad day.”

As you got to the bigger streets, you started to understand why Max drove everywhere. Unlike you, who were a chiller and niche celebrity, despite being incredibly rich, Max was a real superstar. Your short walk to the pizza shop became a fan meet and greet, with people coming up to you every three seconds and asking for photos.

“Is this your girlfriend?” one of the people asking for a picture asked. As you finished taking the photo, you noticed Max’s slightly flustered face as he heard the question. He stumbled, but you answered with a simple “Yeah.”

As you arrived at the restaurant, you noticed that Max was staring at you. He seemed… surprised. You laughed at his facial expression. The sound of your laugh calmed him instantly, his heartbeat beginning to return to normal. Max cursed himself in his head; he was better than this. He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Is it something I said?"

Max ran a hand through his hair, feeling his cheeks heating up slightly. "No, no... Not really," he reassured you, trying to sound casual. "I was just... thinking."

"Okay, well I'm thinking about the food. I think a Vesuvius sounds great right now."

Max chuckled and quickly glanced down at the menu to hide his embarrassment. "Vesuvius? What the hell is a Vesuvius?" he asked, though his eyes scanned down the menu, searching for it.

"It's a type of pizza," you teased. "It's been like three minutes; have you not even skimmed the menu?"

Max fidgeted under your gaze, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks again. "What?" he asked with a nervous chuckle. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You tell me. Why are you staring?" Max shook his head, glancing up at you questioningly. He had no idea what you were thinking about. "No... What are you thinking about?" he asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

"There are pots from 4000 years ago found in ancient Egypt that are made out of an incredibly difficult to manage material and are cut to such perfection that they balance on their round bottom."

Max's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He was expecting something totally different. Something that had at least a little bit to do with him. He chuckled, still somewhat surprised as he studied your face. "Where did that come from?" he asked incredulously.

"The Egyptians. They were like, cooking pots and stuff. Royal cooking pots probably, but still," you teased.

Max chuckled again, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're thinking about cooking pots, and here I am, just trying to figure out what I did to make you say that we're together so casually."

"What do you mean? Are we not together?"

"Well, of course we're together," Max said, his voice taking on a more serious tone now. He glanced around the restaurant briefly, making sure no one was listening in on their conversation. "I just... I didn't expect you to say it so casually," he said, his eyes meeting yours again.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't know we were keeping it a secret. I mean, I was at the paddock and all last time, and I took days off work to come to this race—"

Max shook his head, realizing you completely misunderstood what he was saying. "No, no, it's not that... I just..." he began, struggling to find the right words. He took a deep breath, his fingers fidgeting in his lap. "It's just... you're so casual about it... and I'm... a bit too flustered for my own good," he admitted, a tinge of embarrassment in his voice.

You softened up a bit. "Oh, okay, I get it. It was just a bit too shocking for you... Yeah, sorry."

Max felt his heartbeat a little faster when you softened, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, it was a bit... unexpected for me," he chuckled, feeling somewhat silly for being so flustered. "But it's fine, honestly."

"Do you think my stomach is gonna have space for gelato later? There's a really good gelateria; I can see it from the window... They make the ones with the macarons..."

Max chuckled, loving how you were so excited about the gelato. "Well, based on the amount of pizza you usually eat," he teased, a smirk on his face. "I'd say you're probably fine."

"No, they put the macarons on the gelato."

"On the gelato?" Max repeated, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"I've never heard of such a thing," he said, leaning forward to get a better look out the window at the gelateria you were talking about. "Well, in that case," he said with a grin, "we're definitely going there for dessert."

After eating so much that your belts barely held, you came back to the hotel, Lenny greeting you at the door as usual. Max's stomach was stuffed to the brim, but he was in such a good mood from the good food and even better company, he didn't even care. He walked back into the hotel together with you, his hand still holding yours. Lenny greeted the two of you as usual, but Max couldn't help but notice the way Lenny looked at you, like he was analyzing you.

"All good, Len. You go to your room for the night," you said to Lenny. He nodded, smiled at the both of you, and then went off. Max watched as Lenny walked off, then turned to you, a small frown on his face.

"He was looking at you funny," he said, a protective edge to his voice.

"He thinks it's funny. That I'm dating a Formula 1 driver."

"What's so funny about that?" he protested, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. "He just... I don't know, he's a big fan of yours I don't think he's processed it yet". Max's frown relaxed as you explained it, his ego immediately soothed a bit. Of course he was a big fan of his, who wasn't?

"Oh, so he's a big fan?" he teased, a hint of pride and cockiness in his voice.

You take your shoes off and lay on the bed, your stomach bloated from all the good food "Yeah. Talk to him a bit, I think it'll make him happy" You let out groan as you move "I hate you Italy. You has so much good food... I love it though"

Max chuckled, watching as you dramatically threw yourself onto the bed, your stomach protesting the amount of food you just had. "You're such a drama queen sometimes," he teased, grinning as he took off his shoes as well and joined you on the bed. He lays down beside you, running a hand over your bloated stomach. "You'll be fine," he said, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Oh, you know what I saw on TikTok?"

Max raised an eyebrow in curiosity, his hand now resting on your stomach. He didn't typically pay too much attention to TikTok, but he was more than happy to listen to you.

"What did you see?" he asked, turning his head to look at you.

"Well first of all, I'm a WAG now. Thank you for that, I will be putting that on my CV. But second, they liked that I was wearing Red Bull merch. I thought they wouldn't like it, but they did"

Max chuckled as you spoke, amused by how casually you mentioned being a WAG, and how seriously you were taking the fact that you were wearing Red Bull merchandise. "Well, of course they liked it," he said with a smirk. "You were wearing the merch of the best team out there."

He gave you a smug look, his hand moving up and tracing a lazy pattern on your stomach. "Not to mention the merch of the best driver out there."

[bighitfics]

jeon jungkook fanfics you should definitely watch before he comes back from the military.

(because girl you need it!) ୨୧ ‧₊˚

Trapped ୨ৎ by @jasminefics

— billionaire jungkook with serious anger issues, unrequited love (not really), forced proximity, marriage of convenience.

(the bgm alongside the writing is just topnotch, this author portrays jungkook as a grey character so wonderfully, you will find yourself confused but equally enthralled because you don’t know if you’re supposed to hate him or lowkey understand where he comes from)

One Night Stand With A Wanted Criminal ༄ by @bangtanff

— criminal jungkook, enemies to lovers, she fell first he fell harder kinda trope, smut, angst.

(this is a mini web series at this point, the one that deserves to air on netflix or amazon prime, the visual quality of this fanfic is unrivalled, the playlist is so convincing you’ll think its an album originally made for this series only, the best jungkook fanfic on youtube (in terms of quality)

Some Little Things Called Love ୭˚. ᵎᵎ by @.dreamers

— strangers to lovers, drama, angst, slice of life.

(it took me a while to get over this series, because I couldn’t stop crying my heart out for them, trust me when i tell you that my entire perspective on life changed after i finished watching it, some kdrama script writers need to take notes or hire her because the storyline is so impactful, we need more of such genres)

The Other Man ٠࣪⭑ by @hwangguemfictions

— love triangle, slowburn, depressed oc, simp jungkook (who fell first, and harder everytime)

(you might feel a little pissed at the beginning but every character is right at their own places, you can’t really judge or despise anyone, i love this fic with all my arteries)

From Now, Forever. 𓍯 by @hwangguemfictions

— whole kdrama feels, strangers to lovers, ill and sick oc, toxic delulu jungkook.

(I could feel the pain over the screen ya’ll, the endings really bittersweet!)

Stalker ୨ৎ by @starkofwinterfall

— stalker jungkook, university au, kidnapping, found family.

(this is so good omg! takes me back in time 😫🤚🏽 had me screaming, blushing, sliding down the door!!! the plot twist will blow your mind girlies)

have a good watch sweet cheeks ཻུ۪۪♡.

[luvsupa]

ceo!gojo hires you as his new secretary, thrilled by the impression you made during your interview.

ceo!gojo who abandons his important paperwork and flirts with you every day when you’re trying to do your job.

“let’s go get lunch. i’m bored,” gojo purrs, leaning over your desk as you’re on the phone, planning his business meeting.

“sir, i’m kinda doing my job right now…” you politely decline his offer. he pouts, but you shift your attention back to the call. he doesn’t move, growing irritated, and leans over to end the call, cutting you off mid conversation.

“sir! that was a very important—” you stop yourself as you see him laughing and walking back to his office.

ceo!gojo who wakes you up every morning at 3 am to talk to you while at the club, not caring that you have work in a few hours.

“hello…?” you say groggily, abruptly woken from your sleep.

“you would not believe who i just saw,” gojo says. you huff in annoyance, thinking this time it was some kind of emergency. “sir, it’s three in the morning…” you trail off, looking at your alarm clock on your nightstand.

“can you stop calling me ‘sir’? anyways, i saw my ex at the club,” he exclaims. you rest your phone beside your pillow and slowly drift back to sleep as he continues to ramble on.

ceo!gojo who informs you about his impulsive purchases, this one being a ten million dollar yacht.

“suguru dared me to buy it. it’s really beautiful—you should join me when i have a party.” he whispers excitedly. you try to ignore him as you focus on his meeting.

“mr. gojo, could you please pay attention? we really need your input on this,” one of the angry businessmen says. gojo rolls his eyes in annoyance.

“my gorgeous secretary will answer for me,” he says, and you hide your smile at his words.

ceo!gojo who almost throws a tantrum when you tell him you’re quitting from lack of sleep (because of him), sleeping on the job, and messing up paperwork.

“okay, i won’t call you after work hours,” he whines, unable to believe you’re leaving him to find another job. you giggle at his words, knowing damn well he wouldn’t stop.

“i’m sorry, sir. it’s for the best. you’ll find someone better,” you reassure him as he groans loudly.

“but i don’t want anybody but you—what do you want? a new car? a house? i’ll triple your salary!” he offers many things to keep you, but despite his special adjustments to your salary, you cannot keep working for him.

ceo!gojo who contacts every single company you apply to. hell, he even pays them to reject your application.

ceo!gojo who grins widely as he sees you walking into his office a few weeks later, your anger evident as you approach his desk.

“my favorite ex-secretary! what brings you back here?” he says, cheering inside because all the jobs you applied to rejected you.

“satoru, i know you called the companies i applied to,” you say, getting straight to the point. he laughs loudly.

“what? how could you blame me?” he says sarcastically, knowing he thinks this is some game.

“do you want your job back? i’ll triple your—”

“yes.”

[gojorgeous]

"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?”

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[impactrueno]

Beetlejuice clearly wasn't interested in Lydia when they met, so when do you think he actually fell for her? Was he so impressed by Lydia defeating him that he developed a little crush?

i think this might be the biggest thing i've been turning around in my head since the sequel dropped. how did bro get to this point. i need to know. you weren't like this where we left off, what happened during that huge time gap????

this is where canon ends and conjecture begins, you just have to theorize and fill in the gaps yourself with whatever makes the most sense to you, which is what i've been trying to do this whole time. so please bear with me here.

i don't know how much i want share or save for my comics because i don't know how much he would actually reveal about this but whatever we ball

edit: ok so i scrolled back up to this after finishing writing this and as it turns out i have no self control and i ended up sharing everything that crossed my mind. craziest stream of consciousness i've ever written down. strap on and keep your limbs inside the ride at all times. whatever. we BALL.

let's review their first encounter from his point of view:

you're hired to scare the deetzes, right? so you do just that. excellently you might add. just when you're about to terrorize their teenage daughter, barbara banishes you and the party is over. what fucking losers right? you get the sense that adam and barbara care about this girl so you make some remark about her and it pisses them off. haha. also whoa where did this place come from? damn adam, who could've guessed he had it in him. you forget about everything else and dance your way to dante's inferno room.

after spending a respectably tasteful evening with those ladies, you're chill now. relaxing under your little sun lamp to work on your tan.

someone walks in looking for adam and barbara. don't they know they're dead?

"are you a ghost too?"

"i'm the ghost with the most, babe."

hold on a sec, who's even—

...well hey. it's the girl.

the girl who can see ghosts, and she's talking to you.

target acquired. this one's your ticket out of this hellhole.

"you look like somebody i can relate to," you tell her. relate how? doesn't matter. you're ensnaring her with your affable demeanor like you always do, make people feel like you're pals with them first and foremost. she seems like a nice girl, so this should be easy. you tell her upfront that you want to get out of there and you need her help to do so.

"i want to get in," she says.

whoa there.

what? she wants to get in? she says that in response to you saying that you wanted out. she really has no idea what it's like on the other side, huh. but shit, that kinda stops you in your tracks a bit. this girl wants to die. this young? that's not right. makes no sense.

"...why?"

she just looks at you and says nothing. jesus. ok maybe it's none of your business so let's back it up. you're losing control of the conversation and you're on a mission here. you figure if she helps you get out, you might as well talk her off that ledge or show her how shitty it is on the other side or somethin'. frankly, you can't afford to care right now. you're not entirely sure why she thinks things would be better on the side you're so desperate to get out of, but alright. doesn't matter, right now you gotta get her to summon you. so you begin your little game of charades.

after she correctly guesses your name and almost says it a third time, she recognizes you as the snake that terrorized her family. god fucking dammit. you're losing her. you're getting impatient. your affable act is over. "nah...i want to talk to barbara," she says and now she's REALLY getting on your nerves because fuck barbara, fuck adam, you're SO CLOSE to getting out and you're not gonna let this go now, go go GO GO SAY IIIIIIITTTTTTT

adam and barbara walk in because of course they do. womp womp

ok well that didn't work, but you're not gonna give up so easily. sooner or later another opportunity will come and soon you will be free.

wait why are they moving the model— where are they taking it—

ooohhhhh. business meeting. get a load of these yuppies, trying to turn winter river into a town-sized Ripley's Believe it or Not. a talking marcel marceau statue? and you thought you were a con man. no wonder the deetz girl wants to die, it's bleak as hell here too. but if you get out...you can fix that. hell, you can fix anything.

these bozos are here to see some ghosts, but the girl says they're not going to show up unless the fleshbags stop making a mockery out of the whole thing and that maybe they can all live happy together in the house. ain't that sweet.

of course no one's taking her seriously. she's a kid, what does she know, right? they'd rather listen to the most obnoxious guy in the room (besides yourself) who has no idea what the fuck he's talking about, but somehow, he's got his hands on the handbook.

the girl panics, then immediately says completely deadpan "wait, what am i even worried about, otho, you can't even change a tire" and you're surprised they didn't hear how hard you cackled at that.

despite all that, they seem to have started a séance with their old wedding clothes. bad news for the maitlands. they're about to be dead-dead. the girl cries for them to stop, and these guys are just sitting there scared shitless. you're hearing everything. you knew a new opportunity would arise, so you wait, because this is the part where people remember how good at your job you are. they always do.

she knows you can help. you're the only one who can help. so here she comes. those wedding clothes give you an idea. plan B is now in motion.

well well well.

look who came crawling back.

she asks for your help, and you're happy to oblige, under one condition of course. after all, you don't do anything for free, and she's the only one who can help you with your problem. how serendipitous.

once again, you lay it on her, straight up. you want out. and a way to do it (thanks adam and barbara for the reminder) is through marriage with a fleshbag. you need to get married. a green card marriage, if you will.

she's immediately disgusted by the idea. you don't take that personally, of course, because it doesn't matter. she's just a kid and it's not a real marriage. she just happens to be unlucky enough to be the only one around who can assist you with this, the poor girl. it's a marriage of convenience—or rather, inconvenience—and you're not planning on sticking around because you will get the hell out of there as soon as you can. so there shouldn't be a problem, right? besides, does she know how many women would kill to be in that position? she gets to brag about it to her friends, what's not to like? it's a totally even deal.

the clock is ticking and the maitlands aren't getting any younger. she agrees to the deal. you win, at last.

she already knows what to do, so you sit there patiently with a shit-eating grin on your face, awaiting the three little B words. gloating.

Beetlejuice........Beetlejuice...........Beetlejuice.

it's showtime.

this is your favorite part. you love a dramatic entrance. you decide to show the deetzes and their greedy friends the circus they so wanted to turn this town into. horrible as you are, you're also pretty damn good at calling out other people's horribleness, and you do love an ironic karmic way of dealing with someone. for example tubby here thinks he can escape, but not before you change his sleek black suit into a tacky white leisure suit. the horror! this is why you're a professional at this.

you effortlessly end the exorcism and the maitlands are saved. a little pruney right now but they'll be fine. everything is taken care of, you have fulfilled your end of the deal like you promised. only one thing left to do.

"shall we?"

there's really no need to make a whole show out of this, but you're a showman first and foremost and as a 𝒥𝓊𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓊𝓂 you'll be damned if you're not gonna let yourself have a little fun with this. everyone looks terrified. this is why you're a professional at this.

witnesses and reverend in place, you can finally begin the ceremony. you're having fun, yes, but let's try to pick up the pace a bit, okay? the closer you get to your goal, the more impatient you get. the girl isn't finding any of this very funny at all and she protests. the maitlands butt in and are now kind of twisting your arm a bit, but you deal with them harmlessly, until they get on your last nerve so you send adam to the model and barbara to saturn. all of this after you honorably fulfilled your end of the bargain and saved the day. jesus christ, are you the only one with some integrity around here or what.

you forget the stupid ring. shit. you're pretty sure you have it on you somewhere, ever since you chopped up delores into pieces for poisoning you. you kept her ring finger as a trophy and as a reminder to never get married again, and yet here you are, but desperate times call for desperate measures. finally, you find the ring (still on her severed finger) and hastily tell your new bride-to-be that delores meant nothing to you. in case she even cares. she doesn't seem to. not even a chuckle? oh well.

almost done with the ceremony. almost there. you're holding the girl's hand with an iron grip to keep her in place as you're about to put that ring on her finger. "i now pronounce you, man and—"

a tiny car crashes against your foot and it catches on fire. you scream. a fucking sandworm crashes into the room through the ceiling. everyone screams. you scream LOUDER.

you're sent back to the afterlife waiting room.

not your first rodeo with a sandworm, but that doesn't make the experience any less shitty. the real annoying part is being in the waiting room again. this could take ages. you're number 9,998,383,750,000 and they're serving number 3 right now. you trick the guy next to you and steal his ticket (number 4) but he's not too pleased about that, so that didn't work.

a long time sitting here it is, then.

movie ends, credits roll.

for reference, that was 1988. winona ryder was 15 when they were filming in 1987 so while lydia doesn't have a confirmed age, i think we can safely assume that she was the same age as winona at the time.

36 years later, it's 2024. or 34 years later, it's 2022. we don't know the exact year because while bob's in memoriam credits scene says 2024 and all the interviews talk about how 36 years have passed in universe as well, there's this other one tiny detail.

jeremy's death passport says he died on march 11, 1999. jane butterfield says he died "23 years ago," putting the movie in 2022. they did film it in 2022 so the math is mathing correctly there. given that the in memoriam scene was more of a joke and jeremy's passport is a canon prop in the movie, i'd say 2022 is the canon year the movie is set in. (small sidenote; the passport also has the roman numerals DCLXVI which is 666. cute detail i loved it)

in the sequel, beetlejuice says lydia has been ignoring him for 30 years. i always thought that was curious because outside of this claim, they always specify how many years exactly have passed since. he doesn't say 34 or 36, he says 30. and for his degree of obsession (and the fact that he remembers exactly how many times he's watched The Exorcist) i think he would be counting even the days so i think he did really mean 30 years. so this would mean at least 4 years passed between getting sent back to the waiting room and the beginning of his stalking.

AND NOW that we established all that, we are finally getting to the answer to the question, "when and how did this all start?"

so okay, he spent a while in the waiting room. a lot of time to think. probably replaying the events at the deetzes' in his head over and over, how he got here, where he fucked up, what's he gonna do once he gets out. cursing the maitlands for ruining his plan when he was soooo fucking close. wondering what ever happened to lydia deetz.

lydia deetz, the young girl who told him she wanted to die.

...

is she alright?

i don't think he's capable of feeling guilt, but we can probably argue that he's not entirely heartless. what she said about how she wanted to "get in" must've stuck with him from the way he reacted when she dropped that bomb. she never showed up in the waiting room so he knows she didn't follow through with that. still, he used a vulnerable young girl for his own selfish gain. ironically enough, he knows exactly how that feels, because he also got tricked into marriage and got used for someone else's gain. the difference being that he dealt with that shit with an axe.

much much much to think about for mr. juice.

after years of ruminating in that waiting room, he's finally out and back to the regular day to day afterlife. definitely gets chewed out by juno, maybe forced to do community service or labor or what have you, he basically just needs to clean up his act now. this freelancing shit is becoming more trouble than it's worth anyway.

he's still wondering about lydia deetz. should he check in on her? maybe he should, he's too curious now.

at this point, lydia is now about 19-21 and in college. maybe he manages to sneak into the model one time she's back home for the holidays or something. and oh my god would you look at that, what a beautiful young woman she's grown into. she's radiant. she's happy. she's no longer that gloomy suicidal kid he met in the attic. seems like what she said about the deetzes and the maitlands sharing the house did come true after all.

that's nice. very sweet. good to know.

maybe he wonders if she remembers him and tries to get her attention somehow, give her a little scare for old times sake or whatever. for a brief moment it seems like she saw something and her expression changes, but she shrugs it off and continues on chatting with her two sets of parents. no such luck.

oh well. curiosity sated! and beetlejuice goes back home and doesn't return.

until the next time he returns.

and he keeps coming back to check in on her, telling himself he's just making sure that she hasn't killed herself or something. and he's not above admitting that with every year that passes, she keeps getting more beautiful. and to think they almost got married, huh.

he constantly tries to get her to notice him somehow, and sometimes she almost does, but ultimately he never really succeeds beyond making her do a double take. very rarely she does catch a glimpse of him. he's seen her mutter to herself that she's just seeing things and she seems a bit frightened every time this happens, but there's nothing to fear, honey, it's just good ol' beetlejuice. he won't lie, he gets a bit of a rush every time and it makes his dead heart beat faintly. he's gotten this far, he can't just stop now. in his mind, this has become their little private game of cat and mouse, where the mouse ignores the cat. but aren't they cute? he thinks they're cute. this is not creepy at all!

before he realizes, he's already learned everything about her. he knows about richard and even watched their wedding from afar like a loser. he knows she gave birth to a healthy baby girl named astrid. he knows they have a blast on halloween. halloween is lydia's favorite holiday, and his too. sometimes he can't help but see the three of them happy together and think it could've totally been him. even if he and richard are nothing alike (in fact could not be more opposite) and the circumstances of their unholy wedding were nothing short of grim and a farce. but in his mind, he's starting to convince himself otherwise.

maybe it's his jealousy speaking, but lydia doesn't seem to be that happy with richard despite everything. even though richard is like, the perfect guy. then one day his suspicions are proven correct: neither of them knows why it happened, but after having a long and emotional talk (that he watched with a bucket of popcorn) they decide to get a divorce. he pumps his fist, feeling victorious for some reason. sure he's a little sadistic at times, but why is this giving him so much glee?

the divorce is hard on lydia's kid, who was always more attached to her father, but they still spend a lot of time together. sometimes the three of them, since richard and lydia kept things amicable after the divorce. lydia tries to move on and see other people, but each relationship fails before it even starts. mostly because she keeps holding back and so fails to connect with anyone else, but also sometimes because, well, he can't help himself but to scare them away from her from time to time. it's fun. in his mind, he's just being protective of her, as a gentleman should for a lady.

then richard dies. fell into a piranha infested river from the looks of it (he saw him at immigration one day, don't ask what he was doing around there, force of habit after constantly making sure lydia hasn't killed herself yet.) it's devastating for both lydia and astrid, straining their relationship even more for the next few years as they both try to cope with the loss. the shock proves to be too much for lydia, so she goes to a survivors retreat to work through her trauma, both from richard's death and "unresolved feelings."

then lydia, at her most vulnerable, meets rory.

beetlejuice was able to clock him immediately. a textbook manipulative opportunist, he himself knows the tactics very well. swoop in to "help" someone in a vulnerable position, pull the wool over their eyes and begin taking control so you can get what you want out of that person.

he wouldn't admit it, but this really irks beetlejuice. you know when you see someone who reminds you of the worst parts of yourself, so you despise them? yeah. he's been there, and he's also been him.

but rory is somehow even worse than beetlejuice. see, rory is her manager, and boy does he manage to get on his nerves. he takes her phone. he controls what medication she takes. he blames and guilt trips her about every mishap that HE causes, making himself look like her benevolent savior and making her feel like she would be lost without him, confusing her with his psychobabble. on top of all that, he's forcing her to do this hacky show called Ghost House where she "hunts ghosts" or whatever. the houses he's been helping newly-deads with in his day job as a bio-exorcist (now with a fleet of employees,) she's "hunting" those ghosts now. it's so dumb. it never works. beetlejuice doesn't even know what the hell she's doing, she's phoning it in most of the time and she knows she's become a sellout. what happened to that "strange and unusual" girl who stood up for her ghost friends when those suits wanted to profit off of them back in winter river?

he needs to bring that back. he's the only one who can.

in his mind, beetlejuice has already rewritten the events that transpired. in his mind, lydia has been his wife this entire time, it's just, y'know, one of those open long distance relationships and she doesn't always remember him, but that's okay. in his mind, they share a psychic bond that allows her to sense his presence or see him in her dreams from time to time. he's got nothing to be jealous about, because other men can't compare. no one else can match what they have.

sure, part of him knows he's lying to himself a little bit. but he's already clung to this idea; these past 30 years wouldn't make sense otherwise. he's in love with lydia deetz. this isn't insane of him to say at all. and if it is, well, you know what they say, love makes you do batshit crazy things.

it's not that complicated, no matter what they say you'll never meet another me it's not that difficult to get my head around i'll never meet another you

the end

don't trick me into writing a fanfic again

[thebearer]

follow me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: the bear needs a social media rebrand. sydney hired you, and carmen gets more than just followers after meeting you.

an: bad descript i'm sorry lol. basically you're a social media manager and carmen likes you lol or how you and carmen meet <3 also thinking this will be a part 1???? lmk if you want a part 2!!!

contains: reader is a social media manager. language. carmen denying himself happiness ofc. mentions of mikey. fluff, fluff, fluff!!!

“What the hell is this?” Sydney’s voice raised, brow raised even higher to heighten her suspicions. Maybe her disgust. 

After Carmen looked at the snarl on her face, he decided it was definitely disgust. 

“What?” Carmen shrugged, looking at the screen in front of him. “It’s the, uh, The Beef’s old Instagram.” 

“Right.” Sydney said slowly, blinking at Carmen obviously. “The Beef, and we are not that anymore. We are The Bear.” She scrolled for a moment. “They also haven’t posted since twenty-twenty, which is-” 

“-Well, Mikey ran it, alright?” Carmen huffed, glaring at Sydney with annoyance. “I just found the fuckin’ password on a fucking gum wrapper in a folder labeled ‘important shit’ so I don’t know what to tell you.” 

Sydney nodded slowly, looking back at the phone, before sighing deeply. “I know what you should do.” She said, typing on her phone. Carmen grunted, still looking at the piles of order forms for produce in front of him. “You need a social media manager, because Carm, this? It's not gonna work.” 

“Social media what?” Carmen’s brows creased, shaking his head. “I don’t- no, I don’t need to do that. I’ll just, I’ll get Gary or fuckin’ Sweeps or Fak to run-”

“No, no, Carmen, seriously? Look at this. There’s- oh my God- there’s a thing here that says bring your own plate and you’ll get a free drink, Carmen… What the fuck?” Sydney sighed, shaking her head at him. 

Carmen nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I-I’m thinking that was a, uh, a Mikey special.” He muttered, pinching his eyes shut. “I can’t afford to hire someone on the payroll for that long, ok? Not when I could hire another hostess or-or a runner.” 

“They only come in to revamp and get it started. Just a little kick start for now. To get us started.” Sydney explained, clicking on her screen. “Look, I have a mutual friend with this girl who’s really fuckin’ good, ok? She did Lobo’s that pizza place? Got them from two hundred to eighteen thousand followers in like two or three months.” 

Carmen’s eyes flashed, looking at Sydney with a raised brow. “Seriously? Fuck…” Carmen looked at the screen, the crisp photos, videos, fun and trendy- vibrant and alluring. He hated to admit it, but it was good. 

“Look, Carm, it’s free advertising, ok? You catch the influencers if it goes viral. Could really put this place out there.” Sydney countered. “It’d be a lot cheaper than paying for some shitty advertisement on the news that no one watches anyways. Could bring in a lot of business and attention.” 

Carmen’s fingers drummed against the counter, sighing sharply. “Fine, whatever, see if you can get her in and just… Just tell me how much I need to put aside, alright? I’ll push the new glasses until then.” 

Sydney smiled triumphantly, nodding at Carmen. “Yes, Chef.” She saluted, walking out of the office. 

Three days later, you were standing outside of The Bear, newly opened, freshly renovated, and steady but not booming. “Uh, excuse me?” You waved through the window at the man in the beanie, looking at you carefully. 

“Hey, we’re closed until dinner, alright? But you can-” 

“Oh, no. I, uh, I’m not here for eating.” You cringed, shaking your head. “I’m looking for Sydney? Or Carmen? I’m the new social media person?” 

“Social media?” The man repeated, pushing the door open further. “Oh, shit! You’re the girl who does the, uh, Lobo and Avec!” 

“Yeah, I am.” You blushed, walking into the restaurant. 

“I love watching those reels of the asmr cutting the bread. Ugh, I watch it every night before going to bed.” The guy laughed, locking the door behind you. “Oh, I’m Marcus by the way.” 

You took his extended hand, introducing yourself, while you took in the fixtures on the wall, the art, the overall ambiance. “I am going to get Carmen, but you can stay right here if you want.” Marcus grinned, pushing the sliding doors open. 

You set your things down, pulling out your notebook, and looking around the restaurant. You knew that this was once The Beef, Sydney had sent you a few things about Carmen’s credentials and you looked up the rest. Impressed was an understatement, a guy your age that had ran the best restaurant in the world? Quite possibly was the best chef in the world or at least Chicago and needed your help? You were nervous, to say the least. 

Marcus called your name, making you jump slightly as you turned around. “Uh, so this is Carmen. He’s the owner, the head chef.” 

“Hi,” You were met with piercing blue eyes, hidden under a stray blonde lock of hair. Carmen’s hand reached for yours. “Nice to meet you. Sydney, uh, she couldn’t stop tellin’ me about your work. Thank you for helpin’ us out.” 

“No, no, thank you.” You reached for his hand, strong, a little rough, trying not to stare at his inked fingers. “It’s a pleasure to work with you. She told me a little about you, about the restaurant. It’s very impressive. Surprised you needed me.” You grinned. 

Carmen bit back a smile, looking down to hide his blush. Fuck, Sydney said you were good at your job, she failed to mention that you were so fuckin’ pretty too. Carmen could feel his heart fluttering in his chest, taking flight like he was a middle schooler again with a school yard crush. 

“So, if you have time, I want to go over some goals with you?” You say, gripping your notebook tightly. 

“Goals. Right, uh,” Carmen looked through the back doors. “Sydney is on her break, and-and my sister, Sugar- well, her name is Natalie, she’s like our manager. Richie too, uh, shit- I’m sorry that’s a lot of people, I know.” Carmen shook his head, an anxious laugh pealing out from his lips. “Those are the people you need to talk to, basically. I can grab them, just-” 

“-But you’re the owner, right?” You asked, lifting a brow gently. 

“No, I mean, yeah, I am.” Carmen stuttered. 

“Then I need to talk to you, too.” You gave him a small smile. “I mean, you know this place better than anyone, right? All the ins and outs? And from what Sydney told me, you redid this entire place. Right?” 

“Yeah, I did.” Carmen nodded. Fuck, he kept staring at your lips, he didn’t mean to, he was just… he was distracted. 

“So, we can all meet if you want, or I can do it one at a time.” You pulled your pen out of your notebook, looking at him with a gentle smile. It had Carmen’s heart racing. “I just have a few questions about the vision.” 

“The vision?” Carmen repeated, swallowing around the growing lump in his throat. 

“Yeah, the vision.” You smiled. “Just… tell me about this place. Tell me about you.” You slid into the chair across from him. 

Carmen wiped his hands on his pants, turning to look at the doors, hoping someone would come to his rescue. He wasn’t good at talking, especially not to pretty girls, especially about himself. Still, he couldn’t leave you sitting there. He’d hired you after all, and you were here to help him. So he sat down across from you, hoping you didn’t see the way his knee bounced under the table, hoping you couldn’t hear how his heart pounded. 

“So, Carmen Berzatto,” You grinned, every syllable of his name rolling off your tongue so sweetly, Carmen was sure he was going to faint. “Tell me about The Bear. Why did you start it?”

“Well, it was The Beef before. And-And my parents owned it, then my brother Mikey did…” Carmen started, watching the way you scribbled, eyes flickering to him with a small smile.

“Hello!” You called, pushing through the back door. They’d given you the code a week ago, so you didn’t have to wait or pound on the front door until someone took mercy and let you in. “It’s content day!” You sang, cheery and bright. 

Carmen could hear the pretty trill of your voice, trickling down the hall and into the kitchen. Tina smirked, watching the way he stopped, turning to look at you, blush rising under his white shirt. “Hey, Jeff,” Tina smirked, his head snapping to her. “Your girl’s here.” 

The staff had been teasing Carmen relentlessly about how smitten he was with you. Something he’d been so reluctant to do, he now looked forward to. Carmen swore it was because of your work. You had taken them from the measly six hundred followers they’d had since they started the account in twenty-eleven to six thousand, strategic posts and tags and tagging a few buzz accounts that were Chicago foodies. Business had gone up, reservations filling slowly. Followers poured in from TikTok, from the reels, from the posts. One tag from a micro Chicago influencer had brought in a good chunk and was still, all because of a photo with the pretty light features and the dessert. 

“Where’s the Bear?” You grinned, passing Sydney, camera in hand, bag slung over your shoulder. You pushed open Carmen’s office, dropping your bag in there. He’d told you that you could keep your things in there, since you didn’t have a locker, of course- and not at all because that meant he’d see you before you left. 

“He’s in here, baby!” Tina called, smirking at Carmen. 

“C’mon,” Carmen shook his head, a deep breath to keep him from looking so flushed. It worked for a moment, of course, until you rounded the corner. All bright smiles and fuck, you smelled so good. Camren wanted to drown himself in your perfume. “Good morning, Bear.” You beamed. 

Carmen grinned, cheeks heating with every step you took forward. “Mornin’.” He muttered, looking at the clock. 

“It’s content day.” You grinned, shaking your camera lightly. “Tell me you got something good for me, Chef. What's the special this week?” 

“A lamb tenderloin with a gorgonzola sauce served over pasta- house made, of course.” Carmen answered. 

“Of course.” You repeated with a tiny grin. You turned on your camera, taking a test shot, before you looked at Carmen carefully. “Ready whenever you are, Chef.” 

Carmen bit back his own grin, clearing his throat lightly. “How do I start it? The same as last time?” 

“Yep.” You nodded, pressing the camera to your eyes. “Tell me your name, name of the restaurant, and then just this week's special.” 

“On your mark.” Carmen nodded, picking up his clean utensil. 

“On yours.” You laughed. “I’m already recording.” 

Carmen spoke to the camera easily, trying to stay trained on the lens and not at you. How you’d grin and nod encouragingly at him, zooming in closer as he chopped, seasoned, pulled the already prepared and finished product out of the oven. 

Richie crossed his arms, leaning against the wall next to Sugar, lips pursed knowingly. “I know you’re thinkin’ the same shit as me.” 

Sugar hummed. “That Carmen’s into her?” 

“Way fuckin’ into her.” Richie grinned, watching as Carmen blushed, grinning back at you, genuine and a little shy at your compliment. 

“Fifty bucks says he doesn’t make a move.” Sugar looked at Richie. 

Richie snorted, scoffing with a shake of his head. “Alright. I’ll take your bet. I say he does.” 

“Get ready to be out of fifty dollars, Cousin.” Sugar said smugly. “This is Carmy we’re talking about. Not Mikey. Carmen’s not gonna make a move on her.” 

“Eh, not so quick, my dear, Natalie. Carmen’s changed a little since this place.” Since the horrendous freezer incident with Claire. “He really likes her too, look at ‘em.” Richie nodded, watching as Carmen held the spoon out for you, blushing when your hand touched his to take it, groaning before smothering him in compliments. Tina looked at Richie, amused and grinning from across the room. 

“Carmen will seal the deal. It’ll be last fuckin’ minute and it will be a mess, because it’s fuckin’ Carmen, but… I believe in him.” Richie nodded. 

Natalie snorted. “I genuinely hope you’re right, Cousin.” She looked at Carmen with a small smile, watching the way he looked at you, eyes cutting like he was being so cool about keeping his feelings underwraps. “I really do.” 

That night, Carmen lied in bed, scrolling through his footage from the day, seeing the video pop up from @/thebearchicago. Set to classical music, snobby and dramatic, the cuts, Carmen’s voice laid over describing the meal for the week, and a particularly good close up of his hands cutting the onions fiercely. Carmen was shocked to see the number of likes… the number of comments flooding in. 

“the cameraman knew exactly what they were doing lmao”

“New necklace available!!!” 

“I will give you my vital organs and let you chop them up like that if you let me watch chef please” 

“What the fuck?” Carmen snorted lightly, shaking his head, scrolling through the comments. He clicked to the main page of the restaurant, seeing you were just a few away from ten thousand followers. Fuck… Sydney was fucking right. You were good. 

Carmen’s face fell, mind racing and screaming with the reminder that you were only there for a few more days. He’d only hired your for two months- two glorious fucking months. You seemed… permanent now. Like he couldn’t imagine you not coming in on Tuesdays and Thursdays and after three on Fridays. You were a staple there. The staff loved you, you were good, and-

And Carmen really liked you. Liked having you around. Looked forward to talking to you. To get the chance to lean over your shoulder as an excuse to touch you when you showed him a preview of a post. Or when you’d send him cute text messages, a funny comment attached, your text reading: “you’re a hit, bear! they love you!” 

It was like you could read his mind, your contact flashing across the screen at him. 

To: Carmen 

‘told you this would be a good one! the fans love you berzatto!!!’ 

Carmen grinned, the faint twinge of a blush on his face. He could feel his heart racing, fingers dancing over the keyboard, and worst of all- he could hear Mikey’s fucking voice in the back of his head. A nagging tone repeating over and over and over, “Let it rip, Bear! Don’t be such a pussy! Ask her out!” 

Carmen looked at his screen, fingers typing out the message, a short, less than smooth invite to make you a special thank you dinner and his place- a date. He hoped you picked up on it. Heat hammering in his chest, he could feel his chest tighten, ribs knitting together uncomfortably, stomach twisting in the worst way. 

So, Carmen did what he always did. 

From: Carmen 

‘Never doubted you. Thank you. The video was great.’ 

He watched as the blue sent, the delivered turning into seen, and followed by your thumbs up over the text. Carmen put his phone on the table, lying back on his pillow, but he couldn’t sleep. His stomach still turned, unsettled with regret. 

“Oh! Marcus stop!” You gasped, Carmen’s head turning at the sound of your voice. “You didn’t need to do all of this!” 

“Yeah, I did.” Marcus beamed. Carmen turned the corner, seeing a beautifully piped cake there, candles and icing cursive that read “thank you!” in the middle of the buttercream. “You’re cool and you got us on the map, girl. Plus, we’re gonna miss you.” 

“Yeah,” Sydney nodded, holding a small balloon that said that exact phrase on it. “We will miss you.” 

“I’ll miss you guys.” You grinned, hugging them both tightly. “This has been my favorite job so far. You guys have been so nice. Way nicer than a lot of these assholes around here.” You grinned. 

Richie stood on the wall, foot tapping, eyes darting back from you to Carmen. He could see his cousin’s stuttering movements, hesitant and careful, before retreating back into himself. C’mon, Carm, fuckin’ do it, Richie thought, shaking his head. Carmen wouldn’t though, wouldn’t let himself be happy. Richie took a deep breath, head shaking with annoyance. 

“Goddammit, Berzatto,” Richie muttered, pushing off the wall. “You know, sweetheart, it’s been so great having you. Seriously, you blew us all away.” Richie said, walking towards you. 

You smiled. “Thanks, Richie. I really appreciate it.” 

“And you know what, we want to really show how much we appreciate you.” Richie’s eyes cut to Natalie, a silent plea to help him out. “I had a cancellation for this evening, and I would love for you to come instead. Let us really cook for you, give you the whole experience. No bill, of course. All on the house, for you, my dear.” 

“Oh, I-I couldn’t let you guys do that.” You shook your head politely, eyes cutting to Carmen’s. 

“No-No, please.” Carmen nodded, finally speaking. Richie sighed silently in relief. “It would be great actually. Please?” 

You felt your heart melt, nodding softly. Before you could even reply, Richie was stepping up again. “And you know what? You gotta do one last post for us, right? The big chef spotlight one. The, uh, c’mon, Sydney what am I lookin’ for here?” 

“Oh, the one about the staff spotlights?” Sydney asked. 

“That’s the one. See, that’s it. And you’ve done everyone except the big boss.” Richie pointed at Carmen, ignoring the way the younger man’s face fell. 

“I didn’t get one-” Fak started, Richie shoving him out of the way. 

“You gotta end with Carmy, and it's funny because it’s gonna be real slow tonight anyways. Wednesday, ya know? And I think what better way to experience the night, really craft that staff spotlight thing, than with Carmen. The two of you, have dinner and get to talk.” Richie knew it was rocky, not at all smooth, but it was the best he could do. 

“What? Cousin, what are you-” 

“-No, you’re right, Richie.” Sugar added, stepping towards Carmen, and cutting him off. “And Carm, you were saying you wanted to see everything in action for yourself. You do the customer experience so you make sure everything’s good, and we’ll serve you both dinner. All the stops.” 

“How’s that sound?” Richie clapped his hands together, nodding at Tina, who grinned. 

“Jeff, it would be really nice to make sure we can work without your instructions. A good night for it too.” Tina added. 

“Yeah, and Sydney’s got it.” Richie nudged the girl beside him. 

“Totally, Carm- uh, Chef. I’ve got it.” Sydney nodded, catching on to Richie’s glare at her. 

Carmen felt like he could melt into the floor, face red and palms sweaty. His ears were ringing, tongue swelled thick in his mouth. You looked over at him with a small smile. “I mean, that does sound really nice. If-If it’s ok with you guys, you don’t have to-” 

“-Oh no,” Richie shook his head, walking over to Carmen to clap him on the shoulders. “We insist, don’t we, cousin?” Richie laughed, leaning down to Carmen. “Don’t fuckin’ stand there like a jagoff, say somethin’.” He whispered. 

“Yeah.” Carmen said, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat. “It’s, uh, yeah. That-That sounds great.” 

“Wonderful.” Richie beamed. “Six o’clock sounds good for you kids? Give you enough time to get it together.” Richie looked from you to Carmen. “Maybe for some of us to take a shower.” 

Carmen could feel the heat rise from his neck to his cheeks, covering him in a furious blush. You giggled. “Definitely gives me time to get a blow out.” You laugh. “See you at six then?” 

“It’s a date.” Natalie added, practically bouncing on her toes behind Carmen. 

Carmen glared at her, before turning back to you. “Yeah, I-I’ll see you then.” 

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#387

“Hey Michael, do we really need to go through all this? You know why you are here, right?… Yeah you are here to be an intern, but did your dad tell you what you would be doing?… Jesus! He didn’t! Well shit! I’m just going to be blunt; there’s no reason to be coy here….

“Do you recognize me?… We met a few years ago at the company Fourth of July picnic. Yeah, I’m the Chief Security Officer of the company your dad works for. When your dad was in my office, going over this very last-minute two-week business trip to Vegas, he was saying that he was worried about you being alone for all that time. I reminded him that you are of age and should be responsible to be alone. He started going on and on that he was worried about you getting in with the wrong crowd. I laughed and said you spend most of your afternoons in the back theater of Ruby’s bookstore taking dick after dick and that the wrong crowd would be all the tradies who work the docks.

“Ha ha. If your dad didn’t know you were a sperm burper, he does now. The panicked look on your face says that you didn’t tell him. Oh well not my problem. He didn’t seem too phased by it though.

“A bit later we were talking about the expansion of our sites in Amsterdam and Munich. He started dropping hints that he wanted a promotion. I started to laugh. I told him that the Executive team, especially the CEO, Bryce Mullins, doesn’t think he’s upper management material. Your dad asked what he could do to change Bryce’s mind. I told him point blank, ‘Offer Bryce your son to fuck.’

“Oh yeah, we were talking about you. I bet he didn’t tell you all that when he said you that you could get an internship with us, now did he?… I didn’t think so. Yeah, if your dad allowed the CEO of the company to breed your cute little ass, he might just get that promotion and raise.

“And it’s not just Bryce, but me too…. What? You think I would conduct an interview for a legitimate intern at my private residence wearing a pair of swimming trunks?… Seriously, you would think that? Bryce and I go back decades to when we were both in the Corps. We would pick up a faggot like you just off base and take him to our motel room and fuck that cunt good. After the Corps, we met Ben Tutwiler who shares our affinity of using and abusing boys like you. The three of us formed this company. He’s the Chief Operating Officer, and he’s going to fuck you this week as well. Although, it will probably just a few times. He’s grown closer to his own faggot.

“Yeah, our company is founded by three fag fuckers. About five or six years ago we brought on our fourth fag fucking executive, our Chief Financial Officer Gary Roberts. Now you probably don’t realize this, but he’s already fucked you a few times. He’s a frequent patron of the same Ruby’s bookstore as you. How do you think we first heard about you being a cum dump whore? In case you were wondering, he’s the one who holds you head firmly in place while he instructs the men to back their asses onto your tongue.

“…Oh that got a smile out of you. You know who he is, hunh? Good. The four of us have specific tastes in our faggots. And each one of us will… interview you.

“We start now. Get naked faggot.

“…You can instantly follow orders. That’s good. Should you get hired as our intern, you won’t be wearing much around here. Come to think about it, you won’t have many possessions.

“Hell, like any other intern you work for free. Don’t worry, we’ll pay off your debts, which isn’t much.

“Nice body. You shaved? That’s a bonus. You will be kept hairless; Bryce will insist on it. Nice ass. Bend over and show me your cunt. Goddamned! You’re wearing a plug? I love it. Shit it out….

“Oh wait a moment, you’re loaded up! When was the last time you got fucked?… Lunchtime? At Ruby’s? How many loads are in you now? You don’t know!

“HA! I fucking love it. You come to what you think is a legitimate job interview, with your cunt loaded and plugged up. That’s fucking great. Take it out but clamp down. I want those loads to ferment in you a little longer…. Good. Good. That’s an interesting plug. It’s very stumpy. Perfect size for it to go in your mouth. You do realize that anything that comes out of your cunt should be cleaned off in your mouth? No, don’t lick it, just hold it in place.

“Follow me. Here let me give you something to look at, my ass. I may be fifty-nine, but my ass is still beefy like a 30-year-old who works out three hours a day. I don’t see you, but I know you are thinking about eating it. Don’t worry, like Gary, I love getting tongue fucked. You will be licking my shithole several times a day along with every other sweaty part of my body.

“OK. This pool house will be where you are going to be for the next couple weeks. I purchased this estate because of it. I put a lot of money into this space so that the four of us have a place to go to use faggots however and whenever we want. Mostly it will be you. Sometimes on game day, Ben will bring his boy over and both of you will serve and service us. It usually ends with a fuck fest of four on two.

“The two bedrooms are converted into a play space and a gym. You’ll sleep in the walk-in closet on a cot. The closet also doubles as a sling room when needed.

“Don’t be intimidated by all the sex furniture we have in here. Most of the time it goes unused, except for parties. The fuck bench is probably what you will spend most of your time on. Gary will definitely have you under the rimseat here or there’s another one in the bathroom. Ben will have you on the St. Andrew’s cross. That cupboard over there is nothing but various ropes, chains, leather restraints, plastic ties, rubber, and so on. If there’s a way to tie you up, Ben has it here.

“Speaking of which, here help me put these wrist and ankle cuffs on. You’ll have these on the entire time. It’ll make securing you into different positions easier. Ben likes to see them on the faggots we have here. He has had them on his boy for as long as they have been together. Here, let me put the padlocks on; we will be the ones to control when they come off…. Good. You’ll get to try them out on the St. Andrew’s cross over there.

“On your knees and lean forward. While Ben will like tie you down, Bryce likes to control you. This collar symbolizes that. When a faggot cunt is collared, it knows that it is not in charge, that it is owned, and that it is merely an object for real men to use. And that click of the lock now cements everything.

“I can see you are excited about this. Your pecker is leaking. You know what? So is mine. Look at it. I want you to beat off. This will be the first and last time you are cumming while here. So make it good. A pecker cage will be going on after you shoot.

“Then I’m gonna use your cum as my lube. Get your knees spread wide. Fuck this is beautiful. I have a faggot to play with for the next few weeks, maybe longer. Three of my best buds will share in your holes. You really have me leaking back here. I’m enjoying the view of your ass and back, thinking how good my arm would look going up your cunt.

“But I need to do this first. Hold your head still. This is a strap that will hold that plug in your mouth.

“Damn! That arm is going a mile a minute. Somehow let me know when you are close to cumming. I want to know the exact moment.

“Just think about your time here. You will be serving four men pretty much non-stop. Other men will be brought by. We may work you at the same time, but more often than not it’s done one-on-one.

“I want to fuck that cunt of yours, but I want your load first. So hurry the fuck up. My cock is ready to explode.

“From you grunts, you about to cum?… Good. Remember to collect it in your hand. I want you to cum on the count of five. One… Two… Three… Get ready. Four… And FIVE! Shoot!

“…Ha Ha Ha! You weren’t expecting that ball kick from behind, were ya? You faggots never do. Did you get any cum in your hand?… No? That sucks for you.

“What’s wrong? Your neck? Ohhhh. I forgot to mention. That collar is wired up. We can deliver painful shocks to you at any time. In case you were wondering, the shock was probably delivered by Bryce who is also in Vegas. This place is wired up with over one hundred cameras with microphones. Like any one of us, he has the ability of watching and probably was. I’m surprised he hasn’t said anything; the speaker system can broadcast orders to you, from anywhere in the world, and from any one of us.

“Roll over on your stomach and get your ass up in the air. I don’t give a shit that you are in pain from my ball kick and a shock from your collar. I want your cunt. You know what? I need a spreader bar first…. This one will do.

“I have nearly forty years in security and surveillance. There are sensors all over my property. You are to stay here or the pool area unless I give you permission. The collar will not allow you to go any further than this building, the pool, and the sauna hut. Oh, and that collar is waterproof. When I need you up in the main building, I’ll have the sensors turned off for that area.

“Monitoring faggots is so easy these days. I have been surveilling you for the past couple of months. Oh yeah, I know everywhere you went since Gary first connected with a bookstore cum dump whore, one that just happened to be the son of one of our employees. I ran a full background on you. I was able to hack into your phone, and I observed. I know the older men you try to connect with on Grindr and Scruff. I see the porn you watch. And you watch a lot of daddy porn, cruising porn, gang bang porn, ass eating porn, and so on.

“I know where you go. You hit the bookstore at lunchtime on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. On Fridays you stay back there to hit the after-work crowd. On Mondays and Wednesdays, on your way back from your community college, you hit the rest area.

“During this time, I did an extensive background check on your dad just as I did on you. Your dad has some issues with workplace security that are being addressed today by Bryce in Vegas. Trust me, your dad will not interfere in your internship. This was all planned, faggot. Every moment you thought you had a choice, we chose it for you.

“Now the spreader bar is in place set to painfully wide. Since you didn’t catch your load, I’m going in dry.

“With your wrists clipped behind your back, you aren’t going anywhere.

“Are you crying? You are. And you look panicked! Feel like you have no control over anything? Good!

“Fuck it’s not going to take me long to cum. I’m ready to burst.

“Jesus! You are loose! And sloppy! The cum stew feels good. Oh man.

“Not going to take long at all…. Oh faggot, you are made to be a cum dump faggot whore. This cunt belongs to me.

“Get ready. Get ready. Here I cum. Fuck! Fuck! Fuuuuccccckkkkk!

“Shit! That was good. You got my load added to the cum stew you’re brewing.

“Your gaping hole could be tightened up. Clamp down on me…. That’s it? We’ll need to start cunt training on you. Get those pussy muscles back to providing pleasure.

“Hold still. I got to piss…. Oh man. Does this feel good. It feels right. You are a natural toilet. Gary said he pissed down your throat a few times. Toilet service will be expected of you. Mostly Gary and I are into it, but Bryce and Ben will use your mouth on game day.

“I’m gonna pull out. You need to keep this slop in you. Clamp down. It’s going to be tough, but do not spill one single drop. You do, you will regret disobeying me.

“You are a sight. I’m gonna lift up the spreader bar to the motorized pulley. Suspended upside down should keep that sludge in. The butt plug gag needs to come out. My cock needs to be cleaned off, and your mouth is at the right height.

“That’s it. Swirl your tongue around. Just like that. Faggot, you’re going to do fine here.

“Ok. I got to do some paperwork in the main house. I’ll be back in a while. If you need to be let down, respectfully call out. If one of us is watching you, we can let you down remotely.”

This story continues in Story #389, Story #394, and Story #400

[kbspangler]

This is the public statement from @alepresser and myself which went up at Webtoons tonight.

Now for some ranting. Just from me, not from Ale—she's innocent of the art crimes I've committed in the past, and boy howdy have I committed art crimes.

This is the first page of my first webcomic, A Girl and Her Fed. I started this thing back in 2006. (I don't actually need a head count of those reading this who weren't yet born in 2006. I'm sure you're delightful and I wish you well in college.)

And this is the last page I drew in early 2020 before I turned art duties over to Dr. Beer. It's better, right?

Well, these days, A Girl and Her Fed has pages like this:

I drew this comic for fourteen fucking years because it's a story I wanted to tell, and I thought webcomics were the perfect format for it. I didn't know how to draw. I got better through sheer obstinate perseverance and sticking to deadlines as best I could for, again, fourteen fucking years. I sought out a replacement artist when I ran into time constraints and couldn't do art plus writing anymore; I'm a much better writer than an artist, so I had no problems whatsoever kicking art to the curb.

The first time Ale sent me art that would go up on the website—art I hadn't needed to draw myself—I literally cried in relief because I had been grinding myself down for, yet again, fourteen fucking years.

So when I read comments from people who say they want to make a webcomic but can't draw themselves and therefore need to resort to AI, that little line between my eyes gets dangerously deep.

This isn't like I'm some old dude who's bitching over student loans getting cancelled after making regular payments. This is me, someone who threw raw art onto the internet like a monkey hurling fresh poo, because I wanted to make a webcomic and the art is part of the process of storytelling via webcomics! I could've (arguably should've) hired an artist right out of the gate, and that would've been part of the process of making comics, too: a partnership between an artist and a writer is also something which grows and develops over time.

For example, after Dr. Beer and I spent two years working on AGAHF, we decided we enjoyed our partnership so much that we set out to make another webcomic! It's great! It's got wonderful art and consistent storytelling! You should read it!

But turning art duties over to unaltered images generated by AI because you want to make a webcomic but "just can't draw" is, frankly, a bullshit excuse. I'm not talking about persons who are physically unable to draw due to disability—I'm talking about people who say they want to make webcomics but simply don't wanna do the art part.

Friends, if you don't want to show your entire ass in front of God and country, you don't actually want to make a webcomic.

Do the thing yourself.

If you're scared, don't be. Take the plunge. Set a goal of twenty strips and do the thing yourself. If you can already draw but can't write? Great! Write twenty strips, write forty panels, etc. You might surprise yourself. If you can write but can't draw? Great! Draw twenty panels and see what happens.

Whatever comes out of it, it's a thing you've done yourself. It's something new you've given to the world, no matter how big or small. Be proud of that. And if you need to partner with someone else to make your comic dreams work? You can do that, too! It's still a thing you've done yourself, and many projects are stronger when done together.

...but maaaaaaaaaybe hire that partner before you've busted your own ass for fourteen fucking years. That one's on me.

[kentoxo]

friction | reader (f) x crush!nanami pt. 8

pairing: reader (f) x crush!nanami

synopsis: [AU] you have always had a crush on nanami. since the day you were hired as his personal assistant, you've been right at his side combating numbers and making money within the finance department for the company you two worked for. but, things take a turn when nanami catches wind of your feelings, and rejects you. little did he know the weight of his mistake.

warnings: angst, heartbreak, sexual tension, jealousy (future smut)

a/n: AHHH im so sorry i was gone for so long! work and school and i got sick again. my luck lately has been quite poor, but here's the next part!! i dont think its quite well written but i hope you all think its good! thank u again for ur support, kindness, and patience :) (sorry i say thank you so much, cant help myself!)

all parts: pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6, pt.7,

December | Tokyo, Japan | Wednesday

You should have worn more lotion. 

The unkind cold and threatening winds made your trek to work excruciatingly more difficult. Surely you made it, but had to get blind by the flurries of snow in the process. You take your time in the lobby, stomping aggressively down at the weather mats to remove all the snow and ice from your boots. You shake yourself like a wet dog to get the snow off your coat, too. The lobby men chuckle at you, and you couldn’t help but smile. 

It’s been rough to do so, after all. Considering you got rejected twice by the same man, you needed all the serotonin you could get. You spent hours crying, which only halted when you finally passed out. The heartbreak exhausted you, given how dark your eyes were, and how hollow your chest has felt since then. The worst part about all of it is that despite everything, you still had Nanami’s coffee in mind. 

It floated in your mind to go to the cafe and get him a cup. But you have to remember that he has other assistants who know his coffee order now. You were now one of few who knew it. 

To have your relationship seen as just boss/assistant by the other participant felt like punishment. A large sigh left your lips when you exited the elevator on your floor. Shivers tickled your body as you begrudgingly walked over to your desk. It was warm in the office, enough for you to take solace in. 

You begin to turn on your computer and prepare your desk, before being interrupted by two hands slamming down your desk. You look up to find a panting (and exhausted) Haibara. “Yu?” You whisper worriedly. “Is everything okay?”

“He lost the flashdrive,” Haibara lets out. “The presentation… it’s missing.” 

Your eyes widen, “Nanami? But… how?” Of all people, Nanami was never one to lack in anything, especially in organization. He was always sharp and aware of where all his things were. You never had to concern yourself with assignments getting lost because Nanami is too diligent.

“We– we um, drank last night…?” Haibara reluctantly confesses. “We both got home quite late… he might not have his whole head on.”

Without another word, you swiftly leave your desk and rush over to Nanami’s office, with Haibara following closely behind. On your way towards his office, you see all of Takada’s assistants outside of his office, their expressions full of concern. You make your way through them and knock on his door gently. 

“What?” Nanami’s annoyed tone rang through the door. 

“It’s Y/N,” you reply, ignoring his attitude. 

Quick shifting was sound behind the door before the doorknob began to turn. The door opens to reveal a disheveled Nanami. Despite his usually refined features, his unkempt hair and unbutton shirt was quite distracting. The shadows line his collarbone and the darkness under his eyes add to the intensity in his struggling, hazel eyes. He leaned against the door frame, his eyes slightly lighting up from your presence. There was some sort of relief in his eyes, but it was still drowned out by anxiety. 

“Please, please tell me you have a copy?” Nanami practically begs.  

You feel a lump in your throat from seeing his desperation. Not even you can be dismissive to his plea. “I–I was instructed not to keep an extra copy. It’s confidential, so I didn’t…” 

Nanami let out a quiet ‘fuck,’ retreating slowly back towards his desk. “Don’t worry, I’m not upset with you. I’m upset with myself because you’re right and I’m simply irresponsible…” He leans back against his desk, defeatedly holding himself up with his hands firmly down on the desk behind him. He looks distantly to the floor, a sight you never thought you’d ever see. 

The confident, sharp Nanami was now at his wits’ end. 

“Do you remember when you last had it?” You ask quietly. 

“I had it in my coat pocket on my way here,” he recalls quietly, “I still had it when I got off the train, so it must be outside around the area.” 

“But with all that snow…” Haibara begins, the defeat clearly on his tongue. 

You let out a sigh, emitting a calm apology before dismissing yourself. Once you were out of sight, you ran towards the elevator, practically beating the button until it arrived to you. You impatiently wait as you descend, your body already feeling the cold from outside. Even maintenance couldn’t believe their eyes as they watched you run out from the lobby, and into the harsh weather. 

It was a bit embarrassing for you. You were always there to fix Nanami’s scarce mistakes, or prevent them. Even after he broke your heart twice, here you are, outside in the freezing cold, without any garments to protect you from it. You could feel your body beginning to go numb from the seconds you were outside. 

Your exposed legs were inches deep in the snow, your frigid hands sifting desperately through the snow. Why? You asked yourself. Why, why, why? You were freezing, the weather was harsh, and this flash drive is as small as a roach. Why were you doing all of this? 

As you shoveled through the snow, you were finally able to feel how you were feeling after facing Nanami again. You were able to keep yourself from crying, but you wanted to cry profusely. Your boss, your crush, was stressed out over a mistake he made, and it didn’t even make you feel better. Unfortunately, your feelings were too weaved into his, and you felt the stress he is feeling. 

It bothered you to see him stressed. So much so, your body moved on its own and now it was in the cold, looking for the solution to Nanami’s problem. You didn’t even stay idle for a moment while in his office. Perhaps, the reason why you were helping him was because since you met Nanami, he has always been someone to work for his team. 

But you know for sure part of it was that you never want to see him like that again.

Taking on projects on his own to keep his other colleagues working in low piles. Working with clients he personally isn’t a fan of to make sure the company grows. Providing breakfast and lunch when important meetings arise to make sure everyone at least eats well before torturous work. He was strict, but never a mean person. And to that end might explain why you still felt the way you did. 

However, 

Your respect for him goes above your feelings. A hard piece of plastic was barely felt between your fingers, but they were able to hold onto it firmly. The small flash drive, covered in a bit of snow, still glowed green when you pushed up to reveal the USB. You promptly make your way back in, the warmth barely penetrating the cold you developed while being outside. 

I’m gonna get sick, you thought to yourself. As you passed through the lobby, you noticed Nanami’s clients getting checked in at the lobby. You hurry to the elevator, pushing aggressively at the close button so they didn’t have a chance to get there at the same time you did. You move your legs in place, attempting to regain some warmth. While you ascended, you purposely pushed the buttons of the floors you passed to delay their arrival. Finally reaching your level, you rush out to go to the other free elevator. As you did, you were met with a concerned Haibara. 

“H-hey!” Haibara calls to you, but you ignore him and shove the flash drive into his hand. But as you did, he noticed that you were frozen and kept his hands around yours. “You… found it? Did you go outside? Without a coat? Y/N, you’re freezing!” 

Oh, how you wished you fell for Haibara instead. You pull away your hand, quickly entering the other elevator and slamming your hands on the buttons. You look up at Haibara, your bottom lip blue and quivering. “Take it to Nanami,” you say roughly, your voice hoarse from the little warmth in your body. “Your clients. They’re downstairs. Hurry up.”

Haibara holds onto your arms, noticing that you could barely keep yourself up, “yeah, fuck the clients. You look like you’re going to pass out.”

“Please,” you look up at him desperately, tears welling in your eyes. It was already enough that you felt stupid for even looking for the flashdrive in this state. But even Haibara couldn’t push away the hurt and stress in your own eyes. “I’ll be fine… please help Nanami finish this.” 

“Let me at least walk you to your desk–” 

“I got her!” You both look over to see Tae run over, his apron dancing left and right from not being properly tied in the back. He quickly takes hold of you, looking up at Haibara to give him a curt nod in replacement of a proper bow. “Resume your work, Haibara-sama. I can tend to her.” 

Tae held you close enough that you could feel his warmth. It was intoxicating almost, the solace of his heat and the scent of pine needles emanating from his body. The fresh scent of linen coming from his black sweatshirt made you feel a little nostalgic but uneasy. You could still feel the cold taking you over, your entire body shivering. His hands firmly held you without squeezing you tightly. 

Haibara looks down skeptically, but you wave at him. “Please go,” you croak, coughs finally leaving your throat. “I’ll be fine.” You could see that you didn’t quite persuade him, but for the sake of Nanami, he nodded. 

He eyes Tae, a rare serious aura surrounding him, “get her to a doctor if she needs it. I’ll be back as soon as the presentation ends. Please make her something hot, like hot cocoa or soup.” Tae nods, allowing Haibara to run back towards Nanami, who was probably drowning in his own anxiety. 

“‘m sorry to inconvenience you like this, Tae,” you whisper, your body still shaking and twitching from the cold. “But thank you for that.” 

“No worries, please don’t exert yourself,” Tae softly warns. He tightens his hold on you before slowly walking you over to the cafe. Though you didn’t have enough trust to close your eyes, you did have enough to hold his sweater, confident that he won’t let you fall. “Let me help you. After all, you helped me first. Come, the cafe is just around the corner.” 

The relief on Nanami’s face was truly meant to be displayed in a museum. 

He held onto the flashdrive tightly, mentally scolding himself from ever dropping it in the first place. He forces it into the projector, and everything was set up for the clients to come in moments. He noticed that the flash drive was not only still cold, but slightly wet. “Was it outside in the snow?” 

Haibara nods as he fixes up the conference table a bit. It was ornate with drinks, snacks, and notetaking items for their clients to use and enjoy. “The snow is really growing by the inch out there. This winter is brutal.” 

“It truly is unkind out there,” Nanami sighs, his eyes looking through the window. “I hope you grabbed your coat before going out there.” 

Haibara shakes his head, “it wasn’t me who found the flashdrive; it was Y/N. I caught her at the elevator, and she was the one who handed it to me.” 

Nanami slightly perks up at your name, “did she really?” 

“She left straight from your office to go find it,” Haibara says quietly, “but she didn’t even bring a sweater. She was completely frozen when I saw her.” 

This left a pit in Nanami’s stomach. “Why did she not bring a coat? She’s more rational than that.” 

Haibara lets out a sigh, “who’s to say, Kento. Y/N works very hard to do right by you and this company. I think she’d do whatever it takes in order to make sure you and this department shines.” 

“Disregarding her health is not why she’s here,” Nanami huffs strictly. “Where is she?” 

“I left her with the barista you hired,” Haibara informs, “my guess is he took her to the cafe to warm her up.” 

Nanami’s eyes cut over to Haibara, burning through his soul. Despite this, Haibara still didn’t see his eyes. “You left her with a stranger?” 

“A stranger you hired,” Haibara clarifies. “Anyways, Y/N insisted I come help you. I’d probably make her feel worse if I didn’t.” 

There was a rare annoyance that Nanami never felt. You were always conscious of yourself, and others. Nanami always noticed when you would help someone with a large pile of papers, or when you applied bandages to blisters due to your heels. But more times than not, you never shied away from a challenge, and never hesitated to help someone whether they asked or not. 

But now you were far from him, and he couldn’t do anything to help you. He had this stupid presentation to do, rather than be by your side and tend to you. After all, you truly were the reason behind his success. The reason for his reduced stress, and a direct asset to his department. You did so much for him, only to be given a shred of that effort. He was feeling guilty, not only for being unaware of his feelings towards you, but the immense disregard he had for your own feelings and effort in this company. 

You were his dear assistant, and he was breaking you. 

“I’ll be back,” Nanami hums, rushing out of the conference room. Haibara looks back and follows right behind him, surprised by his sudden dash. 

Nanami, the meeting!” Haibara calls out to him, “you can’t do this right now!” 

His response was silence as he reached the corner towards the cafe. As he appears in the opening, his hazel eyes relentlessly looked for you. But when he stumbled upon you, his concern and annoyance skyrocketed. 

You were lying on one of the couches at the cafe, surrounded by a few of the baristas there. They all comforted you, as you lay under a few blankets. But Nanami noticed that below all of that, you were covered by a large, black crewneck. On your head, a beanie as well. And sat on a stool right in front of you with a hot coffee cup was Tae, the barista he hired. Nanami noticed the warmth in his eyes when he looked down at you, with a free hand out to you. Your boss felt a lump in his throat when he saw you take his hand, helping you sit up to take the cup from him. Tae kept his hand on the bottom of the cup while you sipped it cautiously. 

His chest felt like someone was pushing it down, his breath was limited. His heart, at the same time, was punching against it as well, almost as if it was going through a two-front war. He looks down at his hands, adjusting the sleeves at both of his wrists. He needed to reach you– sooner rather than later. And now looked like the perfect opportunity. 

But before he could take another step, the elevator behind him opened, and the entourage of clients he was expecting stood before him, all smiles. Haibara catches up and pats Nanami’s back, forcing him to turn around as they both curtly bow in greeting. A vein protruded Nanami’s temple, and Haibara looked back to see what he was looking at. 

What he saw made him crack a small smile, his energy returning to him as he led the clients and an annoyed Nanami towards the conference room. 

Taglist: [Now Closed]

@blossomedfloweroflove @numblytemporary @everyoneandtheirmothers @animechick555 @inthedarkshadows000

@m-arj-1 @julk4e @hadassery @swoozleee @angxlsatvrn

@v1x3n @s-witch-bitch @furgusonn @watyousayin @thechaoticarchivist

@simp-manhwa @5sos-wdw @ffyona1214 @phantombaby @evangel44xxcds

@ukiyodestiny @jasminelee324 @eurydxceorphxus @moonlightazriel @s3rp3ntsssc0ve

@dusty-dweller @wifenanami @bokuatsubro @ayesayman @starry-eyed--dreamer

[thepersonnamedsam]

vacation 🏝️🌊🐚☀️

pairing: the genz!driver x 23!grid

summary: the grid enjoys the summer break together on a nice holiday

warnings: none :)

note: let’s all be delulu and think it’s not gonna take a month until we all see our fav people again

masterlist / taglist

yninsta

Maldives

liked by charles_leclerc, sebastianvettel and 638‘738 others

yninsta the groupchat holiday finally made it out of the groupchat - happy summerbreak y‘all

view all 293‘267 comments

username1 who are the cones?!!! i need to know

username2 probably carlos, lando and danny

yninsta actually it’s me, oscar and danny, so 1/3 right

username3 shooketh that they finally did a group holiday

username4 probably took y/n to convince them to all hangout outside the paddock

username5 yes, she’s probably the connection point between them all, so cute

sebastianvettel looks fun!

yninsta it is! u should come visit us, pls seb

charles_leclerc we all miss you, sebastian

lewishamilton please seb, i need help parenting some young lady

yninsta hope u don’t mean me :/

username6 i love the dynamic, ahhhhwjejejkwjw

username7 i wish to be her, so i could receive all this attention of the drivers

username7 what does a girl need to do?!?3! tell me

username8 sigh, i keep trying to find the key

lewishamilton

Maldives

liked by shakira, yninsta and 1‘378‘728 others

lewishamilton maldives treating me well

view all 927‘209 comments

yninsta ohh, look who’s all fancy now

yninsta where are the photo credits?!? huh?

lewishamilton here

yninsta thanks :)

username9 he’s so hot

username10 what’s gonna happen now?

unsername11 hopefully xavi gets fired

username12 wasn’t he fired already? what did i miss

username11 idk, honestly

username12 ugh, how came one be so hot

yninsta posted on their story!

lando.jpg

liked by yninsta, danielricciardo and 827‘628 others

lando.jpg party rock is in the house tonight

view all 368‘263 comments

username13 this looks like a hangover on the next day kind of night

username14 lando looks so good in the second pic

username15 swooning, i can’t

username16 estie bestie made a rare occurrence

yninsta how can nando smoke a cigar in a club?

fernandoalo_official Because I am cool

yninsta if u still type with capital letters, no you’re not

fernandoalo_official HEY

username17 oh, the old man is mad

daniel3.jpg posted on their story!

yninsta

liked by username18, lewishamilton and 722‘263 others

yninsta enjoying the time off

view all 372‘118 comments

username19 it’s so beautiful there

usermame20 wish to be there rn

username21 ugh, how does danny look this good?!

username22 who’s the one surfing?

yninsta our beloved carlitos

username22 really? he can surf?

carlossainz55 don’t underestimate my skills

yninsta posted on their story!

pierregasly

Maldives

liked by yninsta, yukitsunoda0511 and 373‘638

pierregasly we went ziplining and yninsta kind of went overhead, not because of me tho…

view all 32‘727 comments

yninsta IT WAS TOTALLY BC OF U

pierregasly NO

yninsta YES

landonorris i saw it

username23 was it pierre’s fault?!3

landonorris yes

pierregasly NO IT WAS NOT

yukitsunoda0511 why am i not in this dump?

pierregasly bc you are in japan right now?

username24 poor yuki is not on vacay with them

yninsta he didn’t want to :(

yninsta and is still complaining

yukitsunoda0511 i wanted to see my family

pierregasly wE ARE YPIR FAMILY

yninsta

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 937‘268 others

yninsta the ferrari and the mclaren boyzzzzz

view all 103‘629 comments

scuderiaferrari y/n, you can take our job as pr manager now

mclaren no, she’s already hired by us

yninsta how about i am my own teams pr manager?

mclaren no..?

oscarpiastri i don’t look good in that pic

landonorris haha, thats true

yninsta don’t insult oscar, laNDI

username25 they all look so good

username26 y/n is old enough to drINK? when did she grow up?

fernandoalo_official Barely

yninsta not true, i am actually old enough to drink

yninsta and it was delicious

carlossainz55 yea, bc there is no alcohol in this

yninsta yes it was, what are u talking about

charles_leclerc no, i ordered you a virgin aperol, that’s why it’s so light coloured

yninsta hey, now i’m sad :(

username27 oh i wish to be her

°°°

taglist: @ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @biglittlesecret, @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah , @iloveyou3000morgan , @angelwithoutmywings , @elleeeee21 , @youkissedareaderinthedark , @mikauraur , @thybulleric , @lpab , @fdl305 , @mellowarcadefun , @teti-menchon0604 , @vildetry06 , @bibissparkles , @aurora-maria , @lunnnix , @sya-skies , @Buckywifeyy , @dakotali , @rechtrecht , @noncannonships , @1eclerc16 , @pitlanebabe , @sopheeg , @whatthefuckerr , @avengersheart , @thatsadsmallchild , @peachiicherries , @idkiwantchocolatee , @callsign-scully , @mehrmonga

[fluentmoviequoter]

Tastes of Home and Cake

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!baker!reader

Summary: You own a popular bakery frequented by celebrities, but when the Mid-Wilshire police station hires you for a luncheon, you go out of your way to make cakes, cupcakes, and favourites to make the day special.

Warnings: fluff, Tim bring grumpy toward everyone except his wife who makes him a softie

Word Count: 2.0k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules

“The cast of Rings of Power will be here at 10:00 tomorrow instead of 10:15, is that okay?” your assistant, Kasey, asks.

“Of course,” you respond as you spin a tart pan to remove an air bubble from the filling. “Did you hear back from the Scuderia Ferrari people?”

“Oh, yes. I fit Charles and Lewis in for a lunch and tasting five days before the Las Vegas Grand Prix in November of next year.”

“Perfect!”

You pass the tart to one of your bakery sous chefs before you follow Kasey out of the kitchen. The small dining area of your bakery is full, and the door has been closed and locked to give your clients a private meal.

“Good afternoon,” you greet after removing your apron and straightening your outfit. “It’s a pleasure you have you here, and I hope you enjoy everything.”

After several minutes of speaking to your customers and promising to fit them into your booked schedule when they finish filming in several months, you return to Kasey’s side.

“How do you keep your cool talking to celebrities every day?” she inquires. “I talk to their agents on the phone and get a little starstruck.”

“Well, he’s one of the nicest people on the planet,” you point out, referring to Pedro Pascal sitting behind you. “And, at the end of the day, they’re still people. Well-known and sometimes really mean, but they’re customers, just like the small population of Los Angeles that we serve for a few hours every morning.”

“Speaking of that, I need to get back to the people in the LA Times about the feature they want to do on the bakery. Do you want to do it?”

You stop by a tray of cookies and sigh. “I don’t know. Part of me says yes, but then the side that isn’t caught up in the business wonders if it’s worth it to get longer lines and higher wait times.”

“Did you talk to your super-secret boyfriend about it?”

“I did. He wasn’t much help, basically said to do what I thought was right. Just… tell them not right now. If they take that as a no, that’s fine.”

Kasey nods and jots a note in her always-present journal before she notices the whiteboard where you make plans for tastings and events.

“Is all of that for the LAPD luncheon you’re catering?” she inquires, wide-eyed at the quantity and quality of items. “You know they’re paying a flat rate, right?”

“Kasey, I’m going to tell you a secret,” you reply as you slip your apron over your head. “My ‘super-secret boyfriend’ that you constantly ask about… He’s a cop. And my husband.”

“That explains the Madagascan vanilla shortbread cookies,” she mumbles. “Wait, can I meet him?”

“Me first!” one of your regular celebrities yells from the dining area.

You roll your eyes in amusement and then begin working on the croissants for the sandwiches and the dulce de leche cake for Mid-Wilshire’s annual officer appreciation party.

“This is Officer Thorsen,” Kasey introduces as you exit your car at the police station.

“Aaron,” you greet, welcoming his hug.

“Please tell me the department sprung for my favourite,” he replies.

“I might have thrown in a few goodies.”

“You are the best. I was honestly surprised when I heard they’d chosen your bakery.”

You shake your head at Kasey to remind her not to say anything. To her surprise, they didn’t contract with you because your husband works here, just because of your reputation in Los Angeles. The people working in this station don’t even know you have a relationship with one of their own, so your expanded menu should appear to be a nice surprise, showing your appreciation for the brave men and women who keep you and your city safe.

“This is my watch commander, Wade Grey,” Aaron introduces.

“Nice to meet you,” you offer as you shake his hand.

“You, too. My wife has been wanting to visit your bakery, but we never seem to make it in time,” he replies.

“I’ve got some extras packed away in the van if you’d like to take her something. It’s the least I can do.”

“Baker to the stars… how do you like dealing with so many high profile people every day?”

“Most of them are great, just looking for a place to eat some carbs without the paparazzi. There are a few that I try not to have availability for, of course, but it’s the baking that I really love. My assistant handles most of the people side of things.”

“Well, we can’t thank you, and Kasey, of course, enough for fitting us into your schedule. We’ve been looking forward to it for a while.”

“Of course. I hope you don’t mind but I did throw in some free treats, just my way of saying thank you.”

“That’s incredibly kind of you. Let me know if you need any help setting up or finding anything.”

“Thank you, Sergeant Grey.”

After he returns to his duties, you try to let Aaron return to work, but he insists on helping you set up. Thirty minutes later, the bullpen has been turned into a space of food, appreciation, and more cakes and cupcakes than you remember making.

“I thought you said a few freebies?” Aaron murmurs. “Did you leave anything in the bakery?”

“I hope so. Ryan Reynolds will be a little disappointed if I didn’t,” you respond lightly. “I think I’m done here. Thanks for your help, Aaron.”

“Of course- I’m sorry, Ryan Reynolds?”

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

Someone gasps, and a moment later, Officer Chen runs up to Aaron’s side and smiles as she says your name.

“I watched the Food Network special on your bakery,” she exclaims. “I’ve never been more excited to eat in my life.”

“I hope you enjoy it,” you reply. “Thank you for all you do.”

“You might want to get food now, Lucy. It looks like a lot but it won’t last forever,” Aaron suggests.

“Precisely my plan,” Wade agrees as he exits his office. “It looks great.”

Standing back, you watch officers come in, chat with one another, and get plates of food and treats.

“That’s a lot of cake,” someone says behind you.

“It’s like you’re trying to set up the joke, Tim,” you respond without turning.

His fingers dance across your back before he moves to stand beside you.

“Too much?” you ask.

“No. I for one appreciate it. I’m glad my getting shot at equals roughly that much cake.”

You lean sideways to hit Tim with your shoulder, and he smiles as he rights himself. He moves away from you when he sees several officers walking toward you with cake and cookies on their plates.

“This is by far the most delicious cake I’ve ever had,” one says. “My mother-in-law is throwing me and my husband an anniversary party and if I have this cake, I’ll actually go.”

“She’s booked through spring of 2027,” Tim interjects. “So, unless you want to get on the waiting list for a tenth anniversary cake, it’s not gonna happen. Tell Mrs. Evers you can’t make it.”

“2027?” the woman beside her muses. “Good for you.”

“Thank you,” you answer. “You all have much more important jobs than me, though. Maybe my assistant can fit you in, so you don’t have to miss your own party.”

“See, Timothy? That’s what being nice gets you,” Angela taunts.

“Well, he’s actually the reason I even brought that cake,” you point out.

Angela cocks her head slightly, her fork halfway between her plate and her mouth as she looks from Tim back to you. The woman beside her, who you assume is Nyla Harper based on Tim’s detailed stories, watches you with similar interest.

“It’s not even my favourite,” Tim grumbles.

“Don’t start with me, Bradford.”

“You made me taste test a bunch of stuff last weekend and I told you it’s good but not Malibu Rum cake good. There is no Malibu Rum cake.”

“Tim, she brought way more than we expected,” Lucy says as she joins your small circle. “Be nice.”

Tim sees your smile and rolls his eyes. Kasey walks by, on the phone with assumably another agent, and passes you three small boxes.

“For you,” you tell Tim. “Though I’m not sure you deserve it now.”

He sees your writing on the corner above the clear plastic top, Malibu Rum <3, and tugs your belt loop to reach a plastic fork on the table behind you.

“Officer Chen, this is for you,” you say, passing her a box. “And this one is for Aaron, who-“

“I’m here. Don’t give it away,” Aaron says, seeming to appear out of nowhere to take the box of his favourite cake with a new cookie.

“Maybe I should get on your waiting list,” Angela muses as she finishes her slice of cake.

“You can jump the line,” you promise.

“What do I do to get Bradford’s taste testing position?” Nyla inquires. “Because if everything you make is a quarter as good as that Pumpkin Maple Biscotti cupcake was, I’ll do anything.”

“I think that privilege is limited to marriage,” you explain with a frown. “But next time I make an entire test batch, I’ll bring some by.”

Sergeant Grey stops behind the three silent women standing before you. They watch you, ignoring Tim as he enjoys his cake.

“So…” Angela begins before shaking her head.

“You bake for celebrities, and you’re married to Tim Bradford?” Lucy inquires.

“You turned down my proposals for him?” Aaron interjects, his brows furrowed together as he returns with a croissant sandwich (after his cake, you notice and make a mental note to tell his mom to watch his reaction).

“One, you proposed just because you like the way a caramel apple souffle tasted, and two, I was already married to Tim,” you reply. “Which seems to be very surprising for some reason.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when I said I wanted to hire her for this?” Wade asks Tim.

Tim shrugs and says, “I didn’t think she’d work you in regardless. Kasey and I told her to charge double.”

“Hypothetically,” Nyla begins, “if I invite you over for dinner and ask for your help, would you cook like this?”

“She wouldn’t help,” Tim answers. You elbow him gently and say, “Of course. It’s the only way I can cook, I think. I prefer baking though.”

“I have so many questions,” Angela murmurs.

“Me too,” Lucy agrees. “Like where’s the farthest place someone has come from to eat at your bakery? Are you allowed to say names?”

“Most of the time I can, after they’ve left, of course. And I think Chris Hemsworth coming from Australia was the farthest.”

“I can’t believe we didn’t know Tim was married,” Nyla points out.

“Yeah, yeah, you can ask questions later,” Tim interrupts.

“We can?” Lucy asks excitedly.

“You can ask, didn’t say I’d answer.”

Tim takes your hand and pulls you away from them, but you wave over your shoulder and thank them once more before you’re in the privacy of a hallway.

“I could fit Angela in,” you tell him.

“Don’t really care,” he admits – honest and blunt as ever – before he kisses you.

“You taste like cake,” you whisper as you pull back.

“What time will you be home tonight?”

“Probably before you. I’ve got an appointment at three and then I’m done. You?”

“Around six. I’ll bring dinner?”

“You’ve got a deal, Mr. Bradford.”

“And you want me to give Angela and Lucy your number,” he guesses, squeezing your waist playfully.

“Smart and handsome! Yes, please, oh and Nyla and Wade. I need to make sure his wife gets to come in, apparently she’s been trying.”

“Isn’t this Kasey’s job?”

“Kasey is mad that I didn’t tell her I was married, and you have to see them all the time. Be nice and help me out and I’ll bring more of the rum cake home.”

Tim kisses you once more before you leave the station to prepare for your next celebrity visit. His subsequent interrogation at the station makes him more eager to get home to you. When he finally walks in with your favourite takeout, welcomed by the smell of brown sugar and butter, Tim knows he’s home.

[simplyholl]

Truly Desperate

Summary: When you can’t get off, you go to your enemy on the team for help.

Pairing: Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI.

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Why did you have the worst luck out of everyone in the world? You had such a great start to your day. Your date had went so well, you invited him back to your room at the Avengers’ Compound. You hadn’t slept with anyone in months. He was so handsome, just your type. Dark, curly hair with light eyes, you were instantly drawn to him when you met him.

Things took a wrong turn as soon as you shut the door behind you. He made himself comfortable on your bed while you went to freshen up. You picked out your favorite black, lacy lingerie set covering it with a silky robe. Then someone pounded on your door loud enough to wake the dead.

“Lady Y/N! Come quickly, I need assistance.” Thor’s voice boomed from the hallway. You apologized to your date, and answered the door. “This better be life threatening.” You whisper, shutting the door behind you. He looks at you sheepishly, hiding something behind his back. “Never mind, I will find someone else...”

You reach behind him, revealing a jar of peanut butter. “What’s this?” You ask, getting madder by the second. “I need help opening this most delicious of treats, and everyone else is gone or asleep.” You close your eyes, taking a deep breath before you do something drastic like choke him.

“You can’t open this?” You point to the small jar in his hands. He shakes his head no. You grab it, twisting the lid. It pops off so easily, you’re sure he didn’t even try. Without a word, you turn around, entering your room again. “I’m so sorry.” You apologize to your date, as he interrupts you. “Was that Thor? He’s my favorite! This is so cool!”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll show you why I should be your favorite Avenger.” You quip, pushing him on his back. Loud banging on your door interrupts you once more. You jump up, flinging the door open. “Thor I will shove that jar down your throat if you interrupt me again!” You shout, expecting to see him. Instead you’re met with Loki, smirking as leans against your doorframe. “Always so violent.” He shakes his head.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but we have an urgent mission. Stark says you and I are to go immediately.” He looks down at your barely dressed body. “Like what you see, perv?” You smack his arm. Loki is your least favorite on the team. He’s always arguing with you over the smallest stuff. He ruined your birthday this year by hiring geriatric strippers. He ate the last cookie from your favorite bakery without asking. He always insulted your choice on movie night. Tony liked to pair you together so he could laugh about it later. So it shouldn’t be a surprise that he was the one standing here.

You want to scream. Of course, some bad guy is hell bent on destroying the world when you are in desperate need of some dick. “Alright, just let me change before we go.” You turn back towards your room, Loki grabs your wrist. “There’s no time. We must hurry.” You look apologetically at your date who is awe struck from seeing Loki. “It’s okay, I understand.” He says as he walks around the two of you to leave.

You follow Loki to the Helicarrier, cursing under your breath. When you arrive, no one is there to brief you. Usually Tony or Steve will meet you there before your mission to tell you what to expect. You look at Loki confused. “Where’s Tony?” You ask, placing your hand on your silk covered hips. “About that…” Loki starts. “Are you serious? You ruined my date for nothing?” You push passed him, to the doorway to type in the code to leave.

His obscenely large, veiny hand blocks the keypad. You’ve never noticed how long his fingers were until now. What would they feel like inside you? They could probably reach spots that the men you’ve slept with couldn’t reach with their dicks. Where did that come from?! You need to stop thinking about Loki’s hands right now. The guy is an asshole who always torments you. Not to mention, he just cockblocked you.

“I saved you.” Loki tells you, smiling as if you should thank him. “Saved me? Loki, if that guy tried anything, I could’ve kicked his ass faster than I could have called for help.” Loki shakes his head, “He went out with Natasha last week. You saw how excited he looked to be near me, and I am America’s least favorite Avenger. You weren’t special. He was using you.”

You look at him incredulously. “Loki, I don’t need some random man to make me feel special. I just wanted to have meaningless sex with a hot guy.” He finally lets you type in the code, following you out as the doors open. “I could help you with that.” His blue eyes hungrily trace every curve your little robe accentuates.

You laugh, “No offense, but we don’t even like each other.” “Exactly my point, darling. It would be the very definition of meaningless.” You consider his offer. It has been a long time since a man got you off. But, he just sent the one date you had that seemed normal away to protect you. It was so unlike him. “No thanks, I’ll just stick with my vibrator.” You turn around to stick your tongue out at him, before sprinting ahead of him back to your room.

You open your bedside drawer, holding your vibrator in your hand. You were so worked up, you could probably get off from just looking at it. But, you go through the motions anyway. You close your eyes as you dip your hand under your bra to play with one of your nipples. You let your imagination run wild. It’s not you rolling your nipples, but your date. His dark hair fans across your chest as he takes one between his lips.

You pull your panties down, putting the vibrator in place. It whirls to life, as you imagine him kissing down your stomach to between your legs. He gently bites the inside of your thigh. “Loki!” You moan as the man looks up at you. Instead of your date, it’s Loki smirking at you knowingly. You jump, throwing your vibrator across the room. It hits the wall with a loud thud. What’s the matter with you? Your date was so hot and you were imagining Loki?

You went to retrieve your toy, turning it back on. It buzzed for a brief second before twirling one last time. Come on! You press all the buttons, hoping for a miracle. It’s no use, you broke it when you threw it. You lay back on your bed, having to resort back to medieval times when women had to use their hands to get off.

You close your eyes again, trying to picture your date. Instead Loki’s hands on the keypad, forever ingrained in your memory, appear. You groan, frustrated beyond belief. If thinking about a coworker was going to help you get off, there were plenty to choose from. You imagine Bucky choking you with his metal arm as you work your fingers, but you feel nothing. Steve on his knees for you - nothing. Bruce fucking you on top of all his paperwork? Nope. Boning Tony midair in the Iron Man suit? Nothing. Sam taking you against the wall - not even a stir. Thor and his hammer - dry as the desert.

You stop, your hand will get a cramp and it will all be for nothing. “I could help you with that.” You imitate Loki in a mocking voice. You pull your panties up, and slip your robe back on. Your feet seem to have a mind of their own as they carry you out of your room, down the long hallway to Loki’s room.

You knock quickly, hoping he will open the door before someone sees you out here. He opens it, leaving no room between himself and the door. You try to push passed him, but he stops you. “What’s this about?” You want to smack the smirk right off his face. You look around the deserted hallway praying Thor was right about everyone being out or asleep.

“Let me in before someone sees us.” You plead, walking into his solid body once more. “My sweet girl, you must be truly desperate to come to me. I thought you were going to be satisfied with your silicone cock. Isn’t that what you said when you left me behind earlier?” You roll your eyes. He really was insufferable.

“It broke.” You motion to his doorway, but he doesn’t budge. “I knew you would give in. You couldn’t stop thinking about me could you? I saw you drooling over my hands back there.” You place a hand on your forehead, letting out the biggest sigh. “Loki, can we please talk inside?” You look around again just to make sure no one was watching. “What’s the rush, little one? We have all night.” You hear one of the doors creak open down the hall, Sam walks towards you with his head down.

He makes eye contact as he gets closer. “Just borrowing a phone charger.” You lie, pulling your revealing robe closed. Sam looks between you and Loki, smiling as the realization hits. “I didn’t see shit and I don’t know shit.” He says, laughing as he walks to the elevator. “Loki, let me in. Sam saw us, isn’t that enough?”

“I need you to do one thing for me before I let you come in.” You think about leaving right now, but you’re too horny. You have to get off, and Loki is hot, even though you would never admit that to him. “Beg for it.” “Right here?” You shake your head, he’s unbelievable. You really should leave, but you had heard stories from the people that stayed the night with him. They would come into the kitchen with just fucked hair to make coffee before leaving. You were an early riser, so unfortunately you ran into most of them.

They all gushed about how good he was in bed. You really needed this. So you clasped your hands together, looking him in the eyes as you beg him. “Please Loki, give me that godly Asgardian dick?” You fight the laughter bubbling in the back of your throat as you say the silly words. Satisfied, he finally moves out of the way. You rush inside, sitting on his bed.

“I think we should have rules.” You tell him as he saunters toward you. “Like what? You Midgardians complicate everything, even sex.” “Well I don’t think we should kiss for starters.” You start to pace in front of his bed, suddenly feeling nervous. “We should undress ourselves. And you can’t cum inside me.”

Loki smiles, “Afraid you’ll fall in love with me?” You laugh at his audacity. “No I’m afraid you’ll fall in love with me. Guys get obsessed once they’ve had a taste.” He rolls his eyes at that. “I don’t even like you. Besides, I’ve never been in love in 1,054 years. It won’t happen now.” He starts shedding his clothes as you loosen the tie on your robe. You both pile your clothes together in the floor until there’s nothing left.

“This means nothing.” You stick your pinky out for him to seal the deal with a pinky promise. “Couldn’t agree more.” His finger locks with yours briefly. He picks you up, pinning you against the wall. His head dips as his sharp teeth nip along your neck. Your hands travel the length of his muscular back. All that nonsense in the hall was worth it, even if this was all you got.

Loki continues biting a trail from your collarbone to your jaw, earning a whimper from you. Your legs feel like jelly and he hadn’t really done anything. His skilled hands find your breasts, cupping them as his thumbs roll against your nipples. You gently kiss his chest, feeling his toned stomach against your soft skin. You lick his nipple, causing him to moan against your neck.

He stops to carry you back to his bed, placing you at the top. He follows, crawling between your legs. He shoots you a wicked smile that makes you feel like you’re about to be eaten alive. Loki drags his tongue up your soaked center. The heat of his mouth as his firm, velvet tongue swirls around you sends your head spinning. Silver tongue? More like magic tongue.

Every movement is designed to drive you crazy. Every flick makes your legs shake. His head rocks between your thighs, messy curls shaking as he traces your clit with the tip of his tongue. He strokes you with his talented muscle, working you into a frenzy. Needy moans of his name mix with the wet sound of him drinking you down. His lips suction around your clit, you pull his curls, needing him closer. He whimpers, the vibration from his voice along with the perfect pressure of his lips send you spiraling. He lets you ride out your orgasm, before lining himself up between your legs.

Loki sinks into you and you curse yourself for not doing this sooner. It’s like he was made for you. You’re entranced with every thrust. He really does have a godly dick and he was showing you he knows exactly how to use it. One hand caresses your cheek, “Did you think about how my cock would feel inside you while you used your pathetic toy?” You whine as he snaps his hips, hitting deeper.

Your nipples brush against his hard chest, you wrap your legs tighter around him. You love how strong he is, how big he feels compared to you. He could crush you with one hand if he wanted to. His forehead connects with yours, and he looks down at you trembling with pleasure underneath him. His lips curl in cocky satisfaction. His eyes lock onto yours, watching intensely as he fucks into you. You’re suddenly afraid he’s going to kiss you, so you turn your head.

His mouth latches onto your exposed neck, sucking hard enough to bruise, claiming you. You buck your hips against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. Suddenly he stops, flipping you over so that you’re on top. His hands dig into your hips as he lifts you up and down on him. The new angle hits spots you didn’t even know you had. You move your hips faster, as he fucks you, matching his rhythm.

“I’m close.” He warns you, giving you time to get off of him. You lay on the bed, mouth opened wide as he strokes himself over you. His hot cum lands on your tongue, chin, and breasts. You swallow what lands in your mouth. Loki watches in awe, running a long finger over your chest, gathering a good portion before bringing it to your lips. You swirl your tongue around him, loving the salty, sweet taste of him. He continues the process until you’re mostly clean.

“Would you like to watch a film?” He asks as you use one of his towels to clean what he couldn’t off you. “No, Loki. I don’t even like you.” You state matter of factly, wrapping your silk robe around you before leaving. You run into Thor in the hall, walking fast so he wouldn’t notice you leaving Loki’s room. Loki walks out, greeting Thor. “Do you have what you promised?” Thor asks, watching to make sure you went inside your room. Loki hands him a bag of chocolates, “Thank you, brother for interrupting her date earlier.” Thor rips the bag open, putting six chocolates in his mouth at once. “I hope your interference was worth it.” Thor says between bites. “Indeed, it was.”

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