#shes a bit slow rn
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astralsi · 2 months ago
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corp goth caught in the matrix
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creatively-cosmic · 9 months ago
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I HATE THIS PERSON
JUST BECAUSE THE ONE I LIKE LIKES HIM
I’VE BEEN PLAYING THE TOTAL GOOD GIRL ALL MY LIFE
AND I DON'T WANT TO STOP.
GOING ALONG WITH A CRAZY FUTURE
MY RESISTANCE HAS ENDED!
BETTER TO JUST KEEP YOUR EYES CLOSED
CUTTING REFRESHMENT, EATING DESTRUCTION
KNOWING REGRET, THE DESIRED VICTORY
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snailpilled-and-based · 2 months ago
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Sadly this isn't a Woodrow drawing...it's just one of my ocs (drawn by memory) 🗣️ Her name is President Sad or just President. She has like a bunch of other names and I have a shit ton of lore written about her, but I'm not gonna info dump 😭
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izzy-b-hands · 6 months ago
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I noped out of the family plans for today (originally to see a certain famous musician's restaurant out in NJ, tho somehow Mum and her bf didn't listen to us when we said it would be like. three hours both ways, but that also it sounded like a perfectly fine/fun vacation thing to do so the travel would be worth it)
\so I'm at home catching up on chores and resting the aching joints bc it's been lovely being outside so much and doing stuff, but also. So much walking. The joints have Opinions abt that lmaoooo
The only thing is that I've slightly underestimated all I had to catch up on here, so now the dishes are done, one of Housemate's things that needed cleaning is in an alcohol bath (in one of my old mugs bc I realised the genius of using an old one for this, so there's a handle to move it around lol), and I don't necessarily have anything else I need to do, which has me feeling guilty for not going out with Mum and the bf but...
At the same time, it's nice not feeling so on the go constantly. I've been having a lot of conflicted Big Feelings abt her being out here, her going back at the end of the week, how her bf has been acting/talking (that's a whole other fucking post itself tbh), how I've been responding to them/how well I've been doing or not re: using my old therapist's coping methods and boundary setting tricks and tips (number one being: actually fucking try to set them lmao)
And not being horribly Go Go Go is both helping me slow down and parse more of it/how I need to work on this going forward, but also I keep randomly falling to pieces and crying so. Maybe I'll go work on WIPs as distraction/metaphor for my adult relationship with my mother being a work in progress too
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stateofgracetaylorsversion · 7 months ago
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i’m absolutely not complaining about ttpd as an album, i love it even more than i thought i would, but i do kind of wish she would’ve waited to release it until after the eras tour was over so it could’ve gotten its own tour :/ like the visuals and the stage design and the outfits are just sooo good and not only is it being cut down into only seven songs so it can fit into an already massive setlist, but everyone who went to the shows in the us, mexico, south america, asia, and australia — aka a huge portion of the tour dates — didn’t get to see any of it live. like it’s so impressive that taylor was able to add the ttpd section into the existing setlist but i can't help but feel disappointed bc this means we likely won't get a ttpd tour, which is something i would kill to see </3
#i know so many people demand new content from her constantly but with everything she’s been doing we didn’t NEED this album so soon yk#i personally would’ve been fine waiting another year or even longer if it meant ttpd could get its own era#bc it’s kind of impossible for it to fully have that when she’s already a year into this huge tour#she’s already had to cut so many songs to fit everything (not even everything bc there’s no debut set)#with lover/folklore/evermore not getting their own tours bc of covid it makes sense why she did the eras tour instead of a midnights tour#but now that touring is an option again it would’ve been nice for her to slow down her releases a bit to really focus on new albums more#idk maybe this is a hot take bc ofc the eras tour is incredible and i do feel so lucky to have gotten to go at all#but i just really wish i could see ttpd songs live and it seems like i won’t get that chance until the next tour#which will likely be years from now and who knows how many albums she’ll have put out by then#rn all i can do is hope that she’ll add another us leg or something so i can see eras again with the new setlist#but that’s very unlikely since she’s already added shows in miami/indy/etc none of which i can afford travel for let alone resale tickets#no one’s gonna even see this but if anyone does i hope it’s not taken the wrong way bc she’s given us so much in the past few years#sorry for the essay i just love ttpd and i want to see it live </3#lj speaks now
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ionozoned · 10 months ago
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"ELLO ELLO, HOLA, CIAO AND BONJOUR on today's irl stream I'mma be rejecting suitors LIVE ON CAMERA!!! Type !Bingo in chat to generate your bingo board for today's BRUTAL event. First three winners will get 50% off on allllllll my merch for the next week. (Shipping and handling fees not included.) AWRIGHT who's ready to see me make some suckers CRY????"
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wereh0gz · 2 years ago
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feeling vibes. not sure what kind of vibes but they sure are vibes
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neverendingford · 18 days ago
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#tag talk#had another great interaction today at work.#a customer called in and was like “I. have. a. brain. injury. so. I. speak. really. slowly. and. I. need. you. to. speak. slowly. as. well.”#so anyway we had a nice and slow conversation about what she needed and she went off on tangents about her story and injury#and about how it had affected her life and how her family was really shitty about the disability and super invalidating about it#and anyway it brightened my day cause the kind of disability empathy I've learned on here came into play even just in our conversation#idk. I love making connections with people and I love communication and the empathy links that we naturally form between people#ultimately it was a net zero in terms of her actual issue and she was planning on coming in person anyway#but I'm glad I got to have that interaction and get to know her even just a little bit.#not giving too much information because even though I'm not in healthcare rn hipaa is still wired into my brain#and part of maintaining and respecting dignity is not sharing someone else's information#but it was a joy to talk to her and she seemed to really appreciate it as well.#rip the rest of my department cause we got a line right as I hopped on the phone and it was a half hour conversation so they got slammed#but I had a good time at least.#it reminds me that I really want to get back into healthcare because that's the kind of thing that really makes me happy.#taking care of people and being there when they need to talk and be heard.#I also had a phone call where my dept. supervisor didn't handle it well and she ended up crying and needing to go take a break#and the customer called in again and I got her and like. idk what it is but I just disarm angry customers really easily.#so she was very aggressive at first but ended up being very pleasant with me by the end.#idk what it is but a coworker even mentioned it because we were talking about getting bad customers#and I was like what are you guys talking about all my customers are really nice even the grumpy ones are nice to me#and she was like “I don't know what it is but mean customers turn nice when you deal with them”#and that's just so validating. having someone else comment on my ability to communicate to even angry people.#my ability to bring someone else over to my way of thinking. the ability to go over to someone else's way of thought and then work with them#conflict resolution is collaborative. it's not just a battle of wills. it's about explanation and compromise and bending not breaking#I love people. they're beautiful and stupid and charming and everyone has their own divine spark.#idk. I'm a hopeless optimist even when I'm depressed and angry I can't help but love people.#anyway. thanks for being the void I yell into.
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endlessfuckup · 3 months ago
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Are you okay?
Not really :/
Constantly dealing with one traumatic/chaotic event after another
#moms in the hospital again#we are not on good terms at all honestly she was and is a terrible person to me#but its almost always preventable shit#2nd time in a year that I've had to call 911 for her#because she refused to deal with very easily treatable infections before they became life threatening#she now has terminal cancer for the same reason#she was very obviously sick for nearly 2 years before she finally had to be taken to the ER#rn she has multiple infections and brain swelling+potential sepsis (again) because she refused to go to the hospital for the past week or so#its not that she cannot care for herself at all#she is physically and mentally capable of caring for herself in many ways#at least enough to care for herself on a basic level#but she just refuses to do so#the only reason shes been doing chemo for the past 3 years is so she can smoke more cigarettes#she has been smoking 2-3 packs a day for as long as I have been alive#she hasn't slowed down even a little bit#she has talked/asked/argued with me about cigarettes several times since shes been in the hospital (3 days)#she is the worst addict I have ever known and my whole family was/is filled with all different kinds of addicts#pills alcohol heroin pcp meth#anything you can think of someone in my family is addicted to it/has died from it#her addiction to cigarettes is by far the worst out of everyone#worst addict I have ever met#she could be in a house fire and she would use the flames to light a cigarette before thinking about calling 911#If I could leave I would#I have no way out at the moment#I dont make enough to save up because I am financially supporting 2 people and I make too much for social security to help me#i am also completely alone dealing with all of this shit#i have no friends family only involves themselves when its life or death and i haven't even thought about dating#i don't want to even make friends/date rn because i dont want to bring people around any of this it will ruin any budding friendship anyways#its incredibly fucking isolating#just want to be taken care of sometimes too yknow?
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numberone-wifeguy · 8 months ago
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05/07/24
#joy of joys!!!!#we're back to sleeping under five hours from the anxiety!!!!#fanTAStic.#my stomach feels like pure boiling acid.#maybe i should talk to her again.#tell her I'm trying and i appreciate her apology#but I'm too deeply hurt to just move past it so quickly.#not only is that honest [which is Good and Correct behavior that will get me Doing Relationship Right points]#but it'll also help me determine where we stand.#will she be able to respect that? if so for how long?#will she be able to give me time and space? how long will she be able to maintain restraint regarding new/temporary boundaries?#a test of sorts#[admittedly less Good Relationship Behavior. but can you blame me?]#ugh. at least i have therapy on Thursday. R will know what to do.#And I'm getting high again on Wednesday night.#Which will be the third week in a row. I'm actually following the general consensus pretty strictly but angel is...#shall we say a bit squirrelly. I'm so sure she's eventually going to express concern or anxiety about it.#that will also be a good opportunity for a test of my safety level rn.#how will she respond to me disagreeing with her outright?#''a considerably low dose of a very low-risk drug once a week is not some crazy out of control behavior.#i'm well researched and well within the parameters of safest practices. i think I'm fine.''#genuinely though i want to keep going i think mayyyybe two more times after this weekend#to get a feel for my personal reactions and metabolism.#i want to try a higher dose at a later date. i was going to skip this weekend to do it next week but!!#I don't think that's a good idea yet. i think I need to keep taking it slow.#not that dex is PHYSICALLY addictive but. given my track record.#i make finding ways to turn literally anything into an unhealthy dependency an Olympic sport.#so i think forcing myself to gain experience and to think carefully and pay attention#is a good move here if i want to escalate for soul-searching self-medicating internal-exploration etc purposes.#entry//
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callixton · 9 months ago
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i really need everybody to chill out tbh i don’t like drama and you people are causing more genuinely stupid issues than i’ve ever been involved with before. and i’m involved in that it’s my friends and people i like and i want them to stop treating each other bad but it feels like either this is going to chill out in the next week or just continually keep blowing up in peoples faces more and more. final verdict: CALM DOWN AND DONT LIE TO EACH OTHER AND BE NICE
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crow-caller · 25 days ago
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man... I forgot to mention.
you know how lightlark has gods, but has never once named how many gods there are, what they are gods of, how religion works... it just uses the word 'gods' and there's inexplicably an abbey in the first book?
well, in skyshade we finally learn about gods. Not the gods of lightlark, the gods of the otherworld (if they are the same or related concept, it is not stated)
anyway the gods of the otherworld are um.
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Sky, dirt, and below.
(The sky is a place. Dirt is an object. Below is a direction. These three fit together as well as Helios, Urn, and Enya as a trio)
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Getting a suspicion this book isn't very good
Lightlark3 is somehow. How do I put this. Worse. The prose is really, really bad, and Aster operates on a baseline of having 'pretty bad prose'
Gee, I wonder if writing and releasing skyshade, plus writing her new adult book, plus a new bonus lightlark book and the 4th due next year... might be resulting in even less editing?
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possession1981-moving · 1 year ago
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alygator77 · 5 months ago
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ᰔᩚ motherhood and matrimony I ch 2 ᰔᩚ
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ꨄ︎ pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader
ꨄ summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoru’s father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.
ꨄ︎ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, fake marriage, slow burn, smut, fluff, bit of angst, reader is single mom who recently broke off her engagement, satoru being a cute step dad, naoya is your crappy ex » 【note, there is physical & emotional intimidation in this chapter (from naoya not satoru), this is a form of domestic abuse, reader discretion advised】
ꨄ words: 12.5k
ꨄ a/n. firstly, wow thank you so much for all your kind words on ch 1 :") secondly, this series may be more than 3 chapters (maybe more like 4 or 5?) idk i'm still working out the pacing rn bc i really want the relationship to feel fluid and natural. this chapter ended up being much longer than i anticipated 😅 but as always, i would love to hear your thoughts and hope you enjoy ♡
ꨄ taglist: closed (ao3)
♬ playlist
series masterlist ꨄ︎ previous chapter ꨄ︎ next chapter →
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ch 2 // under the spotlight
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Becoming a mother makes you realize you can do almost anything one-handed—though honestly, sometimes you wish you had an abundance of limbs.  
Especially now. Your apartment is a whirlwind of activity – scattered toys, half packed bags and the remnants of breakfast still on the table. You’re in the middle of prepping your daughter’s essentials, trying to make sure you don’t forget anything important. Her preferred snacks, extra clothes, diapers, and a few of her favorite toys all stuffed into a bag.
“Mama, mama, look!”
Haru’s innocent voice rings out like a melody amidst your morning clamor. Halting your frantic movements, you’re drawn to her face, lit up with pure joy as she holds up her beloved Pikachu plushie. The bright yellow toy bounces in her hands as she makes it dance.
Her innocence provides a brief, much-needed, calm to the storm of nerves brewing inside of you. After all, today’s the day you’re meeting with Satoru and his lawyer to finalize the marriage contract. Your marriage—weird.
It feels odd saying it, the word foreign on your tongue. Marriage is a concept you never thought you’d be rushing into, especially not like this.
Once upon a time, you thought you’d marry Naoya Zenin.
Back then, you were so in love with his charm, his confidence, and the way he seemed to have everything figured out. But reality had a way of shattering those illusions.
His charm turned to arrogance, his confidence to control. It wasn’t long before you realized he cared more about owning you than loving you, and now you’re left with nothing but heartache and a broken family.
But amidst your turmoil you found a precious gift—Haru.
Her infectious giggle is a stark contrast to the chaos within your mind—it always manages to pull you back from your whirlwind of worries.
You’ll do anything in your power to keep her smiling, even if that means marrying Satoru Gojo, the man who is guilty for an abundance of your headaches.
With a deep breath, you zip up your duffle bag and turn to Haru who is lovably babbling to Pikachu.
“Come here, sweetie,” you say, kneeling down with her small jacket in your hand.
She toddles over to you, clutching her comforting plushie, eyes wide and curious.
Easing her tiny arms into the sleeves, you gently help Haru into her jacket.
“We’re going to meet some new friends today,” you tell her softly, fastening the buttons with care. “One of them is named Mr. Gojo.”
“Mr. Gojo?” she echoes, face scrunching up in concentration.
Truth be told, you weren't planning on bringing Haru to this meeting, but you’re faced with a lack of options, especially since technically, you’re fired.
Well… temporarily.
Until Satoru rehires you, paying the nanny isn’t feasible with your already stretched finances, Utahime, your ever-reliable friend, is unavailable. Your neighbor, who sometimes steps in to help, is out of town, and your mom is… your mom – as undependable as ever.
At this point you'd rather be caught dead than call Naoya again.
Calling him yesterday, when your nanny bailed, was a moment of pure desperation, a lapse in judgment driven by the chaos of the day and the fear of getting fired. Not your proudest moment.
It’s no surprise he’ll likely use it against you—hold it over your head like a weapon. It’s a pattern you’re all too familiar with.
But today marks the beginning of a new chapter, one that you’re determined to make the best of for both you and your daughter—once this marriage is finalized, you’ll be back to earning a steady income again.
A sigh escapes your lips as you focus back on Haru, her innocent eyes look up at you expectantly.
“Yes, Mr. Gojo,” you repeat, giving her a reassuring smile as you reach down to tie her shoelaces. “We’re going on an adventure today, just you and Mommy.”
“An adventure!” Haru cheers, clapping her hands in unbridled excitement.
Just as you pull the last loop tight, a knock reverberates through the front door, startling you. It’s unexpected, you weren’t anticipating any visitors.
With a deep breath, you twist the handle and pull the door open. The sight that greets you sends a cold wave of dread crashing over you, your heart pounding in your chest.
Speak of the devil—Naoya.
He has an uncanny knack for impeccable timing, always appearing when he’s least wanted.
His presence is as imposing as ever—a smirk crowned on his lips, posture relaxed, hands in his pockets—exuding an air of ownership over everything that’s around him.
As if he owns you.
Damn it. You really can’t deal with this right now; you don’t have the time. Satoru is expecting you, and you need to get moving.
Leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe, he surveys you with that annoyingly smug expression plastered upon his face.
"Well, well, if it isn't my two favorite girls," he drawls, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
The frustration you feel from Naoya is vastly different from what you experience with Satoru. With Satoru, it's harmless—like dealing with a mischievous child. But with Naoya, every sight of him makes you want to flee, as if each encounter is a battle you barely survive. He reopens old wounds that never truly healed, leaving you raw and exposed.
Every fiber of your being screams in protest at the sight of him, but you force yourself to maintain composure—refusing to let him see the effect he has on you.
"What do you want, Naoya? I really don’t have time for this today."
Turning away from him, you begin gathering the last of Haru’s things with brisk, precise movements, making it clear you have no intention of prolonging this interaction.
He steps inside, smirk widening with satisfaction and tone laced with mock concern.
"Just thought I'd drop by and see how you're managing. Got your message. Heard you were looking for a babysitter yesterday.”
As expected—you’re really kicking yourself for calling him. His false sympathy only heightens your irritation, grating on your nerves as the condescension drips from his words like venom.
If you weren’t already leaving, you would slam the door right in his smug face.
Gritting your teeth, you attempt to keep your tone steady, for no one other than Haru.
"We're fine, Naoya. We don’t need your help."
In hopes to end this conversation quickly, you grasp Haru’s hand and attempt to brush past him. But he sidesteps, effectively forbidding your path to the door, looming like an unwanted shadow.
"Still as stubborn as ever, I see. How’s that working out for you?” he scowls as he peers through your apartment, “This place is a mess. And you don’t look like you’re dressed for work. Lost your job already?”
His words hit a nerve, you feel your cheeks flush with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.
"We are managing just fine. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have somewhere to be."
But he wasn’t going to let you go so easily. His expression darkens, and as you repeatedly try to step past him, he halts you yet again, blocking your way like an insurmountable wall.
"And where exactly are you going? Shouldn't you be at work today?"
"That's none of your business. I really need to go," you retort, lifting your chin assertively as you force your way past him. Your shoulder brushes against his in a deliberate act of defiance.
The moment you cast him aside, he immediately pursues after—but choosing to ignore him, you close the door behind you, turning the lock with a decisive click.
As you start leading Haru towards the elevator, you adopt a brisk pace in hopes to put as much distance between you and Naoya as possible.
But he raises an eyebrow, smirk widening as he traverses after you. You hear his footsteps echoing down the hallway of your apartment complex.
"Oh, I think it is my business. Especially when it concerns my daughter."
Oh, please.
It’s painfully ironic how he pretends to care about Haru only when it suits him.
After you served him child support papers, he had the audacity to demand a DNA test, claiming he needed ‘proof’ that Haru was his. Of course, something like that takes time for the judge to arrange.
He knew that damn well—it was just another ploy to delay the process further.
As anger bubbles up within you, a scoff escapes your lips, teetering on the edge of a bitter laugh.
"Oh, so she’s yours when it’s convenient for you. Don't pretend you care about Haru now. You’ve done nothing but make our lives difficult."
Your movements are sharp and frantic until you finally halt in front of the elevator. Just as you press the button to descend, Naoya’s presence descends over you—suffocating like a dark cloud, his face twisting into a menacing scowl.
"Maybe if you weren’t so damn stubborn, things wouldn’t be so difficult. You know, if you ever need help, all you have to do is ask," the insincerity in his voice makes your skin crawl—as his words slither into your ears, each syllable is laced with a condescending edge.
You scoff, jabbing the button over and over again with mounting urgency. Can this damn elevator come any faster?
"Help? From you? I'd rather figure things out on my own than rely on your 'help'."
He steps closer, making you feel small and cornered. It’s a familiar tactic he would use to get his way—the accustomed sense of intimidation he used to exert over you returns, chilling your spine.
"Suit yourself. Just remember, you can’t keep this up forever. Sooner or later, you’ll realize you need me again,” his voice drops to a low, threatening whisper, the underlying menace making it clear that he relishes the control he still believes he has over you.
Suddenly, you feel small tiny hands gripping tightly onto your leg. Haru’s wide eyes dart between the two of you, her innocent face reflecting a nervous unease that she can’t fully understand—but you do.
Fuck it. Enough is enough. You can't let this continue any longer—screw the elevator.
With a determined breath, you scoop Haru into your arms, feeling her trembling slightly against you. "Come on, sweetie," you say softly.
Her tiny heart beats against your chest, mirroring your own anxiety. Holding her close, you immediately head towards the stairway, your stride quickening.
But Naoya's presence lingers, his footsteps echoing ominously after you.
“Really, Naoya?”
Oh, this is it. Your patience is wearing thin—he’s like a growth you can’t get rid of.
You feel Haru’s grip tighten around your neck as she buries her face into your shoulder. You have been trying desperately not to yell, for Haru’s sake, but at this point, Naoya is overstepping your boundaries.
“Just go away. The only thing I need from you is to hurry up and finish that damn DNA test,” you shout, refusing to look back as you head towards the stairs. “There was no reason for that bullshit; you know Haru is yours. I know you’re just trying to stall our court date,” you snap, your voice trembling with frustration and anger.
Naoya’s eyes gleam with a cold amusement, and the corners of his mouth curl up into a mocking smile.
"Stalling? Hardly. You’re insane, I just want to be thorough. You should understand that, being so meticulous yourself," he sneers, tone derisively sweet.
Finally, you reach the stairway—beginning your descent, Haru clings tightly to you as Pikachu dangles precariously from each hurried step.
"This conversation is over, Naoya,” your voice echoes in the narrow space. “Stay out of our lives. I only want to see you in court."
Naoya contemplates following you, lowering himself a few steps before abruptly stopping. As his voice reverberates through the stairwell, his unsettling demand bounces off the cold concrete walls, chilling you to your core.
"For now, y/n. But remember, this isn’t over. Not by a long shot. You always come crawling back to me one way or another. You’re incapable of anything without me."
There was a time when you believed those words, but you will not fall back into that same vicious cycle.
Choosing not to respond, your resolve is sharpened with one clear goal, getting Haru and yourself out of this building as quickly as possible.
The moment you clear through the lobby door, a shaky sigh escapes your lips. This day is already starting off with a bang—hopefully it goes much better at Satoru’s.
Forcing a smile for your frightened daughter, you try to mask the tears welling up in your eyes—the tremor in your voice quaking.
“Come on honey, let’s go meet Mr. Gojo.”
Time to get this marriage finalized.
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You had expectations of what Satoru’s house would be like, but even those couldn’t hold a light to the real thing—it’s a stark contrast to the modest apartment you call home.
The meticulously manicured lawn, the pristine arcadian, and the large, ornate door all showcase opulence.
It’s far more luxurious than you had imagined, making you feel distinctly out of place as you step out of your car in your worn jeans and t-shirt, hair pulled up in a lazy bun.
Wait…should you have come dressed businesslike?
But you have Haru—was this supposed to be a professional meeting? Fuck.
On top of everything else, you’re already a few minutes late. Tardiness has become a tiresome trend in your life, one that exhausts you to your very core.
Traversing the entryway, Haru grips your hand tightly as you walk through the stone pathway. Her fingers tremble slightly, perhaps from the unsettling encounter with Naoya, or perhaps from the overwhelming new environment.
Nerves simmer through you once you approach the doorway, but you resolve to mask them. You weren’t going to let Naoya ruin your day—this meeting is your chance to retake control of your life.
As you reach out and press the doorbell, a soft melodic chime resonates, echoing through the spacious foyer beyond.
Within moments, the door swings open, revealing Satoru.
You immediately feel a sense of relief as you observe him dressed surprisingly casual—a fitted blue t-shirt that accentuates his broad shoulders and lean frame, paired with dark jeans that hug his long legs. His snowy hair remains tousled in that effortlessly stylish way, framing his strikingly handsome face.
It’s impossible to advert your eyes as he greets you with that familiarly confident smile curling upon his lips, and those vivid blue eyes, enchanting you with an intriguing glint.
“Hm, late again, I see,” Satoru teases, dramatically placing a hand over his heart as if wounded with an exaggerated sigh. “I was starting to worry you wouldn’t show up. Here I was, thinking you might divorce me before we even get married—” he stops, lifting his brow as his gaze shifts to the small figure peeking out from behind your legs.
“Well, well, and who is this?”
Haru’s wide eyes are filled with curiosity and apprehension. She peeps out nervously, clutching her plushie’s worn, familiar fabric for comfort.
Satoru’s smile softens as he looks at the little girl, but a twinge of uncertainty tugs at him internally. Children were a mystery to him, their emotions and reactions unpredictable.
What should he say? How should he act?
A flicker of fear crosses his mind—what if he says the wrong thing and makes her cry?
Oh God…
The thought of dealing with a child's tears makes him feel out of his depth, a sensation he’s not accustomed to. Satoru finds himself in unfamiliar territory. He’s used to commanding rooms and negotiating high-stake deals, not interacting with shy children clutching stuffed toys.
But faking confidence has always worked in the business world, and he is determined to make a good impression now.
As you notice Haru’s uncertainty, you gently caress her head, delicately coaxing her out from behind your legs.
"It’s okay, sweetie. This is Mr. Gojo, can you say hi?"
There is an air about you—the gentle ease in your voice, the way you instinctively know how to comfort Haru. It stirs something within Satoru, something he can’t quite place.
All he knows it that now he really doesn’t want to fuck this up.
"I’m really sorry for bringing her along," you begin, tone earnest as you meet Satoru with an apologetic gaze. "I hope it’s okay. I just didn’t have anyone who could watch her today. But she’ll keep to herself during our meeting, I promise."
Satoru’s expression softens further as he looks at Haru, his uncertainty momentarily forgotten. She is so fragile, so docile. In her delicate features, he sees an uncanny resemblance to you—a small reflection of your strength and vulnerability intertwined.
“Oh, it’s no problem at all,” he reassures softly. Crouching down to her level, his toothy smile is warm and inviting. “Hi there, I’m Satoru. What’s your name?”
Haru looks up at you for reassurance, her small hand tightening around your leg. Encouraged by your nod, she turns back to Satoru and whispers tentatively—
“Haru.”
Satoru grins, captivated by the softness and delicacy of Haru's voice. Though he is uncertain how to connect with a child. His mind races—
What do kids like?
What should he say next?
While his thoughts scramble, a spark of an idea forms the moment he observes Haru clutching Pikachu.
“Nice to meet you, Haru. Do you like Pokémon?”
Haru nods, her grip on the plushie relaxing slightly. There is a subtle warmth behind the apprehension in her eyes as she holds up her Pikachu toy to show Satoru.
“Yes, Pikachu.”
“Pikachu is pretty cool,” he lets out a contemplative hum as he tries to find common ground. A faint nostalgic smile plays on his features. “But you know, Digimon is even better. Have you ever heard of Agumon?”
Haru’s eyes widen with curiosity as she shakes her head, her interest clearly piqued.
Satoru’s inner child shines through—eyes sparkling with a genuine enthusiasm as his lips curl up into a grin. This is his chance to bridge the gap between them.
“Tell ya what, maybe we can watch some Digimon together sometime. How’s that sound?”
You feel Haru’s grip loosen on your leg. A faint smile touches her lips and a quiet giggle escapes as her initial shyness begins to slowly fade.
“Okay.”
There are many thoughts that come to your mind as you watch this interaction play out—the foremost being how unexpectedly gentle Satoru can be with kids. Something about him, that overconfident and sometimes arrogant man you’ve worked beside, feels different now. Almost likable.
Charming, even
But what you really can’t fathom the most is the image of a sophisticated billionaire engrossed in a kids’ cartoon. That concept alone is enough to make you suppress a laugh.
“You’re a fan of Digimon?” you raise an eyebrow.
Satoru stands up, brushing off his knees with a nonchalant shrug and a crooked smile.
“I used to watch it all the time growing up. Please, come in,” he ushers you inside the building, leading you down the grand hall.
Your breath hitches at the sight of the expansive foyer. The high ceiling, polished marble floors, and impressive chandelier casting a warm glow leave you speechless.
Following behind him, you find yourself studying Satoru’s confident strides—the movement of his back, his broad shoulders and the effortless air of authority he exudes. It’s a stark contrast to what you just witnessed moments ago with Haru.
But that alone makes him even more intriguing to you. Satoru can feel a bit like a wild card. Glimpses of tenderness hidden behind feigned aloofness—subtle playfulness followed by an exacting seriousness.
He keeps surprising you.
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Digimon fan,” you remark as you follow behind him.
Satoru chuckles, scratching the back of his head.
“Guilty as charged.”
You can’t help but notice the way he avoids your gaze—is he perhaps being… bashful?
Oh, this is rich.
You really would need an abundance of limbs to count on your hands the amount of times Satoru has given you shit—making your life a daily torture is his specialty after all. Perhaps that is why you couldn’t resist letting this opportunity pass up.
“Next thing you’ll tell me is that you have a secret stash of Digimon cards somewhere,” you snort.
Satoru lets out a contemplative hum.
“Well, I did have a pretty impressive collection back in the day. Who knows, maybe I still have them tucked away in a drawer somewhere.”
“Seriously?” you are unable to hide the amusement in your voice. “You, with a collection of Digimon cards? That’s something I’d pay to see.”
He rolls his eyes with a pout tugging on his lips.
“You’re enjoying this too much. Maybe I’ll dig them out for you one day. But only if you’re nice.”
You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief.
“Me, nice to you? That’s a tall order.”
A faint chuckle leaves Satoru’s lips as the spacious foyer transitions into a grand hallway. Haru skips beside you, glancing up at Satoru with a newfound admiration.
The moment you reach a large set of intricately carved wooden doors, he pauses, turning to you with a reassuring smile before pushing them open.
Inside, a cozy yet sophisticated study awaits—shelves lined with books and a large mahogany desk dominating the room.
“Yo, Suguru,” he waves flippantly, “this is y/n and her daughter, Haru.”
Your eyes are met with a man seated behind the desk—a calm and composed air about him. He is strikingly beautiful, raven hair tied back into a bun with louse tousles framing his face. As he looks up from a stack of papers, his sharp yet gentle eyes focus on you and Haru. He rises, extending a hand with a polite smile.
“Pleasure to meet you both. I’m Suguru Geto.”
“Nice to meet you as well,” you shake his hand with a subtle nod.
The presence of another stranger causes Haru’s shyness to return as she hides behind your legs again—you kneel down, smoothing her hair gently.
“Haru,” you pull out a small bag of her favorite toys from your duffle bag, “why don’t you take a seat over there and play with your toys while Mommy talks with Mr. Gojo and Mr. Geto?”
With a light nod, Haru takes the bag and settles into a comfortable armchair in the corner of the room—spreading out her treasures with a look of concentration.
You take a seat across from Suguru, with Satoru sinking into the chair beside you—posture relaxed and seemingly indifferent.
“Alright, let’s get down to business,” Suguru leans forward, “I’ve drafted the marriage contract based on the discussions I’ve had with Satoru. I’ll walk you through the main points.”
Referencing the document upon the desk, he begins.
“Firstly, as you both know, the purpose of this marriage is strictly business-related with no romantic implications. Both parties agree to maintain the appearance of a committed relationship in public and professional settings.”
Okay, easy—right?
You nod, but in the corner of your eye you can see Satoru lounging back in his chair. The mild disinterest on his face and the nonchalant way he twirls a pen between his fingers makes you grit your teeth.
He carries a casual attitude—one you shouldn’t be surprised with at this point because it’s the same infuriating aura he brings to every business meeting. But in this case, it’s a stark contrast to the gravity of this conversation. Here you are, discussing marriage and he’s sitting here as if you’re determining what to eat for lunch.
Yup, nothing’s changed. He still aggravates the hell out of you.
“Next, the duration of the marriage is set for one year, starting from the date of signing,” Suguru continues. “There are provisions for extending or terminating the marriage early, should both parties agree.”
You absorb every word as you listen intently, but Satoru seems to be in his own world. It takes all your self-control not to roll your eyes as you catch him leaning back further into his chair, now balancing it on two legs. He taps his pen against his lip thoughtfully—an indifferent expression plastered across his face.
Is he even listening?
Here you are, about to commit to a fake marriage for the sake of your job and your daughter, and Satoru looks like a bored child.
You shoot him a sideways glance, silently willing him to take this more seriously, but the moment he catches your eye he simply offers a lazy wink, making your blood boil even more.
Suguru, unfazed by Satoru's demeanor, continues outlining the contract.
“The financial arrangements are next…Satoru will include a monthly allowance to you, y/n, to cover personal and household expenses. Both parties will maintain separate bank accounts, and any joint financial decisions require mutual consent.”
You blink in surprise. A monthly allowance?
Though you had asked Satoru to cover child care, you weren’t expecting this level of financial support. Isn’t that a bit excessive?
“Wait, what?” you blurt out, unable to hide your astonishment. “A monthly allowance? For personal and household expenses?”
Satoru’s chair drops back onto all four legs with a soft thud as he leans forward, finally showing a hint of interest. He raises an eyebrow at your reaction, a lazy smile curling his lips.
“We wouldn’t want you or Haru to struggle, now, would we?”
His words sound almost considerate, but it’s the casual way he says them that makes you question his sincerity.
“Some might see you being my secretary as a conflict of interest now. You’ll still work beside me, but I can’t give you a formal salary for that role. Doing it this way ensures that all you have to worry about is playing your part. Besides,” he adds, a hint of amusement creeping back into his voice, “what kind of husband would I be if I didn’t support my wife?”
Raising an eyebrow, you shoot him a wary look, trying to gauge his true intentions. It makes sense… but is he mocking you, or is this his way of showing genuine concern? With Satoru, it’s always hard to tell.
Suguru clears his throat, drawing your attention back to the contract.
“Moving on to the living arrangements, you will both reside in the marital home here.”
Satoru interrupts, tone almost too nonchalant as he leans back in his chair and lazily stretches, “I’ve already arranged for a moving company to pack your things in a few days. They’ll handle everything.”
You blink, the suddenness of it all sinking in.
“Huh?”
“Problem, sweetheart?”
“I... I didn’t realize I’d be moving in so… soon. What about my apartment? I have a lease, and breaking it will incur a penalty.”
He waves off your concern with a dismissive hand, leaning back further with hands casually behind his head.
“I’ll pay it. Consider it handled. No point in you staying there when you’re supposed to be living here.”
Your eyes widen, taken aback by his insouciant dismissal of what, to you, is a significant expense.
“You’re sure?”
“Of course. We need to make this look legitimate, and that means living together. Consider it part of the arrangement.”
To him, solving problems with money seamed effortless.
To you, this isn’t just a contract; it’s a complete upheaval of your life.
You’re starting to really feel the difference in your two worlds.
The abruptness is a bit overwhelming, and yet, Satoru seems to handle it with the same ease he applies to all his business dealings.
It’s a bit unnerving. It’s not that you aren’t grateful, but you can’t help but wonder…does he pity you? See you as a charity act?
Suguru, sensing your hesitation, interjects your thoughts with a soothing tone,
“It’s important for appearances that you both share a residence. It solidifies the arrangement in the eyes of your colleagues and the public.”
You take a deep breath, nodding again. “Right, I understand.”
Suguru nods, making a note on the document.
“Good. Now, let’s move on to the responsibilities and obligations. You’re both expected to attend public and social functions, maintaining the façade of a loving marriage.”
Satoru who still remains leaned in his chair, now has his head tilted back, looking up towards the ceiling.
"Oh, and by the way," he begins, eyes flicking to you while his posture remains unmoved, "we'll be getting married at the courthouse tomorrow to make things official on paper. Our public ceremony will be a grand affair, but it will come later to keep the media satisfied and appease everyone."
Tomorrow?
You give a hesitant nod, absorbing the rapid pace at which your life is changing.
“Alright…tomorrow.”
Suguru flips to the next page, “In terms of termination, either party can initiate it with a 30-day notice. Grounds for early termination include breach of contract or mutual consent. Upon termination, Satoru will provide a one-time settlement payment to you, y/n.”
You blink as Suguru pushes the contract towards you, the settlement amount highlighted in bold. Did Satoru add a few extra zeros by mistake? That number can’t be correct, right?
You glance up at Satoru, who is now inspecting his nails with a look of utter boredom.
“Is this…correct?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.
Satoru looks up, meeting your eyes with a casual shrug.
“Yeah, it’s correct. Consider it a thank you for playing along.”
You shake your head slightly, trying to wrap your mind around the figure. This settlement could change your life, secure Haru’s future, and give you the stability you’ve been desperately seeking.
You could pay off your medical bills for the childbirth, could go back to school. Hell, you could be free of Naoya, you wouldn’t need him or his money.
You narrow your eyes, suspicious of his sudden generosity.
"And what’s the catch?”
Satoru chuckles, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he leans forward, resting his chin in his hand.
"Come on now, sweetheart. Just think of it as me taking care of my...business partner."
Suguru clears his throat, glancing between the two of you.
“Well, there is one additional detail, y/n. The settlement is contingent on maintaining a favorable public image. Any actions or behaviors that damage Satoru’s reputation would result in the forfeiture of all financial support and settlement funds.”
You blink, the implications dawning on you. Ah, of course there would be a condition—you knew better than to think he was just being generous.
“So… I’m responsible for upholding your image? What does that even mean?”
Satoru’s crooked grin widens.
“It means no scandals, no controversies. You play the part of the perfect spouse, attend events, smile for the cameras, and keep any...personal indiscretions out of the spotlight. Simple enough, right?”
Your stomach churns as you realize the depth of his control—you thought you were escaping Naoya’s grasp, but it seems control is still a prevalent force in your life.
This isn’t just a marriage of convenience; it’s a binding agreement that keeps you in line with his public persona, ensuring that any slip-up on your part will have dire financial consequences.
A part of you can’t blame him, though. It makes sense for him to take extra precautions. The Gojos have always been in the public eye, and there have been countless rumors about Satoru's refusal to settle down.
“What if something happens that’s out of my control? What if someone tries to smear my name?”
Satoru’s eyes harden slightly, though his smile remains.
“We’ll handle that on a case-by-case basis. But let’s just say I have ways of managing the media. You just need to play your part, nothing more.”
The calculated control in his tone, juxtaposed with his unwavering smile, makes your skin prickle with unease. The room feels suddenly colder, and a knot tightens in your stomach. You thought you were stepping into a partnership, but now it feels like a performance where one wrong move could cost you dearly.
Suguru interjects, his tone professional.
“This clause is essential for protecting both your interests and Satoru’s. Maintaining a positive public image is crucial for the success of this arrangement and for avoiding any complications that could arise from negative publicity.”
You take a deep breath—this was a gamble. The settlement would secure Haru’s future, your future, but your every move would be scrutinized, and any misstep could strip away the stability you desperately needed.
Your eyes wander to Haru, quietly and innocently playing with her toys. For her sake, you were willing to play Satoru’s game, even if it meant living under the constant pressure of his expectations.
“Alright,” you say firmly. “I agree to the terms.”
Satoru’s eyes flicker with satisfaction and Suguru leans forward sliding a pen towards you both.
“Good. If you both agree to these terms, we can proceed with the signing.”
You observe Satoru as he reaches for the pen—he is back to that usual air of nonchalance; it is almost unsettling. He signs the document with a flourish, barely glancing at the terms, and you envy his composure.
When he hands you the pen, meeting your eyes with a confident smile, you hesitate for a second—then, with a determined snatch, you take the pen from his delicate hand.
Holding your breath, you press the pen to paper and sign your name in one fell swoop. Each stroke of the pen feels heavy, final, but also strangely empowering.
No turning back now.
ꨄ︎
The courthouse ceremony was as brief and impersonal as you expected.
Something about Haru witnessing you legally enter into a fake marriage just didn’t feel right—so you opted to leave her with Satoru’s nanny.
Standing in front of the judge, reciting vows, and signing the official documents felt more like a business transaction than a wedding.
Glancing at Satoru, you couldn't help but feel a bit solemn as you observed him, his expression as indifferent as ever.
This wasn't the fairy tale wedding you once dreamed of. There was no crowd, no rings, no romantic gestures—just a legal agreement with a pen on paper, binding you to him for the next year.
But then again, you knew that coming into this—it was never about romance or dreams; it was about survival and securing a future for Haru.
It was over as quickly as it began—just like that, the judge declared you husband and wife, immediately leaving you alone with Satoru right after.
Noticing your serious expression, Satoru leans in slightly as you gather the official documents.
"You look like you're attending a funeral, not a wedding Mrs. Gojo," his voice drips with playful mockery.
Hearing him call you ‘Mrs. Gojo’ sends a shiver down your spine. That was going to take some getting used to.
“And you look like you’re at a board meeting, not your wedding, Mr. Gojo,” you retort, unable to hide the underlying bite in your voice as your fingers shuffle through the pages.
A deep chuckle reverberates through the otherwise solemn atmosphere. Once you tuck the documents under your arm, you begin to make your way towards the exit. Satoru immediately falls into step beside you.
“Touché. But really, lighten up sweetheart. Gonna need to work harder to convince everyone you’re head over heels in love with me,” there’s a playful challenge in his voice.
Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh.
“Well, forgive me for not swooning over this magical moment. You know, this isn't exactly how I pictured my wedding day," you mutter, trying to mask the internal melancholy whirling within you.
When you reach for the door, Satoru beats you to it, holding it open with a flourish.
"Oh? And how did you picture it?” he raises an eyebrow as his eyes gleam in amusement, “Let me guess, lots of flowers, a big white dress, and some poor guy professing his undying love for you?"
Okay, screw him. He was really not making this any better. You feel the heat rise to your face as a scoff escapes your lips—the only response you will give him.
Brushing past him, your heels click against the polished floors through the marble halls of the courthouse. As you glance to the tall, ornate windows lining the corridor, the sunlight streams through, casting intricate patterns.
“Hmm, think I guessed right,” he chuckles as he saunters after you.
“And what if you did?” you snap, voice echoing in the grand space. “Is it so weird for me to want a normal family for my daughter?”
The teasing glint in his eyes dim as his expression softens slightly. Once you reach the elevator, Satoru presses the button—the two of you wait in an awkward silence.
The moment the elevator door slides open, you both step inside, the quiet hum of the machinery enveloping you.
“No, it’s not weird. It’s just... different from what I’ve ever thought about,” he says while he presses the button to the lobby.
You huff, crossing your arms as you lean against the back of the elevator.
“What, Mr. Perfect never thought about settling down?”
Satoru's gaze drifts for a moment as he considers your question. The elevator begins its descent, the soft whirl filling the silence.
“Honestly? No, I never did. My father used to pressure me about it all the time. Wanted me to marry someone who could... 'enhance' our family’s status.” He was contemplative, and the echoes of old frustrations are clear in his voice.
You raise an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden openness.
The rumors about Satoru had always painted him as a carefree bachelor, uninterested in the constraints of marriage.
Some said he was too focused on his career, while others whispered that he enjoyed his freedom too much to settle down. There were even speculations that he had a hidden lover, or perhaps he was waiting for the perfect match to come along, someone who could stand by his side both in business and in life.
“…and you never found anyone who fit the bill?”
He chuckles, a hint of bitterness in his voice.
“Plenty of candidates. None that I wanted to spend my life with. Plus, all those ‘suitable matches’ were just women trying to get their hands on the Gojo fortune. Most people just see the money and power. They don't see the person behind it.”
The vulnerability in his eyes is fleeting, and you realize that his father’s expectations must have weighed heavily on him. The pressure to find someone was not about love or companionship—it was about maintaining an image, a legacy. In a way, you both have been victims to control your entire lives.
As the depth of his frustrations become more apparent, you feel a pang of sympathy. It’s enough to make you wonder about the real Satoru. The elevator continues its descent, and you find yourself lingering on his words.
“That sounds... difficult. So why did you go through with this then? With me?”
His gaze softens; his expression thoughtful as he watches the numbers descending the floor levels. He tilts his head slightly, meeting your gaze with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.
“Because you’re different. You didn’t come to me looking for wealth or status. You needed help, and I needed a solution. It’s honest, in a way. No hidden agendas, no false pretenses.”
A nervous flutter dances in your stomach, your fingers fidgeting with the folder of documents in your hands. The softness in his words catch you off guard, and you find it difficult to maintain eye contact.
A small, rueful smile tugs at the corner of his lips.
“In a world where everyone wants something from me, I find your straightforwardness refreshing.”
Your heart skips as a warm blush creeps up your cheeks.
“I never thought you’d see it that way. I just... I wanted to do what was best for Haru.”
“And that’s what makes you different,” he replies softly. “You’re doing this for her, not for yourself. That’s why I agreed to this. Because I believe you’re sincere.”
The elevator chimes softly as it reaches the ground floor and the doors slide open to reveal the bustling courthouse lobby.
The weight of the conversation settles between you, a rare moment of vulnerability that made you see Satoru in a new light—a glimpse into his inner world.
The moment you near the courthouse door, you and Satoru push it open in an attempt to exit, but are immediately greeted by a barrage of flashing cameras and shouted questions. Paparazzi swarm around you, seeming to have materialized out of nowhere—how did they even know where to find you both?
Satoru, ever the master of public appearances, wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. His touch is warm and firm, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart through his suit.
The sensation of his hand resting securely on your hip sends a tingle through your body, a fluttering in your stomach—you realize now that this is the first time he has touched you.
“Smile for the cameras, Mrs. Gojo,” he whispers into your ear, breath tickling your skin.
You blink, heat rising to your face as you’re momentarily caught off guard by the sudden display of affection. But you quickly compose yourself, remembering the role you have to play.
Leaning into him slightly, you offer a shy smile to the cameras. The flashes intensify and the questions grow louder.
“Mr. Gojo why are you in a courthouse?”
“Mr. Gojo, what is the status of Gojo Corporation?”
“Who is this woman Mr. Gojo?”
“What is your statement on your father’s passing?”
As the paparazzi continue to snap photos and shout questions, Satoru leans down and presses a quick, gentle kiss to your temple. His lips were soft, and the warmth of his breath burned your skin. The gesture, though small, sends a shiver down your spine.
It was all for show, you reminded yourself. Just part of the act.
Yet, the unexpected intimacy lingered, making it hard to ignore the way your heart raced at his touch.
Satoru’s kiss had worked perfectly, fueling the media frenzy. The paparazzi went wild at the tender action—camera flashes intensifying and voices growing louder. They call out more questions, desperate to capture every angle of the seemingly affectionate moment. You feel the eyes of the crowd boring into you.
“Let’s get out of here,” Satoru murmurs, voice low and soothing amidst the chaos.
He reaches out, hand warm and firm as he interlocks his fingers with yours, gently guiding you through the throng of reporters towards the waiting car. His other arm subtly shields you from the crowd.
As you finally break free from the mass of flashing cameras and shouting voices, you slide into the car, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as Satoru slides beside you immediately after.
Glancing back at the courthouse, the reality of your new life begins to sink in. Once the car pulls away, a breath escapes you—one you didn’t realize you had been holding in.
“That was... intense.”
Satoru chuckles, arm resting behind your shoulder. He tilts his head slightly, allowing a few tousles of white hair to fall into his eyes. Through the soft strands, his gaze meets yours, a mix of amusement and seriousness dancing in his striking blue eyes.
“Welcome to my world," he murmurs. "Better get used to it, sweetheart. This is just the beginning.”
ꨄ︎
The following day, a moving company arrived at your apartment as promised—they packed up your belongings with swift efficiency, leaving you feeling like a spectator in your own life.
Watching your life be boxed up and loaded into trucks was bittersweet—as your small apartment, with its familiar creaks and cracks, had been your safe haven.
Everything was arranged, down to the smallest detail. By mid-afternoon, you found yourself standing in the grand foyer of Satoru’s mansion once again, this time with all your worldly possessions.
Haru, wide-eyed and excited, clung to your side, her tiny fingers wrapped around your hand.
"Welcome to your new home," Satoru says with a grin.
It felt more like stepping into a palace than a home.
He reaches down and grabs one of your suitcases, lifting it effortlessly,
"Let me show you to our room."
You feel your face heat up instantly.
"Our room?" you stammer. "Why would we need to share a room when no one is here to watch this charade?"
Satoru's grin widens, clearly enjoying your discomfort.
"Relax, I'm just teasing you. You have your own room. I just wanted to see your reaction."
You shoot him a glare, feeling a mix of relief and annoyance.
“You're impossible," you mutter, trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks.
He chuckles, leading you up the grand staircase, and Haru follows closely, her eyes darting around in awe at the luxurious decor. The polished marble steps feel cool underneath you, and the ornate banisters gleam under the soft lighting.
"Come on, let me show you around." Satoru says as he leads the way down a long corridor.
The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries and framed artwork, each piece more exquisite than the last.
Eventually, Satoru stops in front of a set of double doors, turning to you with a small, satisfied smile.
"Here we are."
He pushes them open to reveal a spacious bedroom. The room beautifully furnished, with a large bed, elegant drapes, and a balcony overlooking the manicured gardens below.
"This is your room," he announces, setting your suitcase down gently.
"Wow," you breathe.
It feels a bit overwhelming the moment you step foot inside. Haru, on the other hand, darts past you, exploring every nook and cranny with a delighted giggle. It was easily twice the size of your old apartment.
"This is beautiful... and a lot."
Satoru leans against the doorframe, arms casually crossing over his chest.
The soft light from the chandelier above casts a gentle glow on his features, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the curve of his lips. His white hair, tousled just enough to seem effortlessly stylish, frames his face perfectly.
"Only the best for my... business partner," he says, tone light yet carrying a hint of something deeper.
You offer a simple, "Thanks," but your voice is softer than you intended. Your eyes betray you, lingering on him for a moment longer than necessary.
Satoru's eyes hold yours with a softness that catches you off guard—a striking shade of blue that seems almost ethereal. In that moment, you couldn't help but notice the intensity and warmth in his gaze, it’s almost tender, making you feel like anything but just a ‘business partner’.
Was he always this beautiful?
You can’t help but wonder, feeling a warmth spread through you as the silence stretches on. The moment feels strangely intimate, a connection forming that neither of you expected.
Crap. What are you thinking?
Haru’s giggle breaks the spell as she jumps on your bed.
"Oh, and just so you know," he adds with a playful glint in his eye, "my room is right next door. We share the bathroom, so try not to hog all the hot water."
You blink, surprised. "We have to share a bathroom?"
Curiosity getting the better of you, you open the bathroom door and peer inside.
It was equally impressive, with a large tub and walk-in shower, all in pristine condition. The fixtures gleam, and the marble countertop adds a touch of luxury. There was another door leading directly to Satoru’s room, a constant reminder of his proximity.
"Yep. Just think of it as our first test of marital bliss. Can we survive sharing a bathroom?" Satoru's voice was suddenly closer.
You turn to find him standing right behind you, having moved from his previous spot at the doorframe. The idea of sharing such a personal space with him was a bit unnerving. An awkwardly intimate setup for such a detached relationship, but you didn't have much of a choice.
"…I suppose I'll manage.”
Satoru laughs softly.
"That's the spirit. And don't worry, Haru's room is right across from us. She's got the best room in the house actually," he adds, tilting his head to the side as a cue for you to follow him.
Haru trails excitedly behind as you walk through the luxurious hallway, her giggles echo off the walls. Opening the door, you peek inside and are struck by the sheer extravagance of it.
The room was a child’s dream—decorated in soft pastel colors, with a canopy bed draped in delicate lace, plush toys neatly arranged on shelves, and even a small play area complete with a dollhouse and a set of building blocks. The walls were adorned with whimsical murals of fairies and woodland creatures, creating a magical atmosphere that seemed straight out of a storybook.
Haru's delighted squeals bring a smile to your face, easing the last of your worries.
It was clear that Satoru had spared no expense in making her feel welcome. Each detail spoke of thoughtfulness and care, from the cozy reading nook to the vibrant rainbow-colored rug that added a playful touch to the room. How on earth did he pull all this off so quickly?
“Wow, look, Mama!” she exclaims, her eyes lighting up with joy, running inside to inspect her new haven.
A sense of relief washes over you as a tender smile forms upon your lips. At least Haru would be happy here. The sight of her so animated and cheerful makes the transition a bit easier to bear. Satoru stands beside you.
“I wanted her to feel at home," he says softly, eyes reflecting a rare sincerity.
“You've done more than that. She's ecstatic," you reply, watching Haru dive into a pile of stuffed animals with a gleeful laugh.
Satoru clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck, the gesture uncharacteristically awkward. He glances at the clock on the wall, as if searching for an excuse to end the moment.
"Well, I'll leave you to it," his tone is gentle and almost hesitant. "Let me know if you need anything. Dinner will be ready soon, see you down there?”
His usual confidence is somewhat muted—you wonder, is it you? Haru?
"Yeah,” you nod, “I’m going to put a few of my things away and then we’ll meet you downstairs."
“Right. Take your time. There's no rush."
You can’t help but replay the interaction in your mind as you unpack the essentials from your suitcase. The awkwardness between you and Satoru would pass, you hope. For now, it was enough to know that Haru is happy and safe.
Haru’s laughter echoes from her room, a sound that brings a smile to your face. She seemed to be adjusting much faster than expected, her innocent joy undiminished by the upheaval.
And to you, her laughter solidified it—marrying Satoru, this was the right call.
ꨄ︎
The past few days living with Satoru had been a whirlwind of adjustments—it wasn’t without its challenges. The mansion, with its sprawling rooms and luxurious decor, is more like a museum than a home.
The sheer size makes you feel small and out of place at times, and the constant presence of staff make it difficult to find a moment of privacy.
Satoru, however, had been surprisingly considerate. He’s a constant reminder of the delicate balance you need to maintain—attentive yet reserved, playful yet serious, a paradox that kept you on edge.
Your interactions with Satoru had settled into a routine of polite, if somewhat distant, cohabitation. There were moments of unexpected tenderness, like when he had found you struggling to open a jar in the kitchen and had stepped in to help with a playful grin.
Another time, you had been overwhelmed while trying to assemble a new toy for Haru, and Satoru had quietly taken a seat beside you, helping to figure out the instructions without a word.
Yet despite these moments, there was always an underlying tension, a reminder of the unusual circumstances that had brought you together.
As the days passed, the impending charity gala loomed larger in your mind—the first public event you would attend together as a married couple.
Satoru had taken the time to sit down with you and discuss how you would present yourselves, a task that seemed daunting but necessary.
You agreed on the basics: stay close, exchange subtle touches, and share occasional whispers to create an air of intimacy. The plan was straightforward, but the execution would be another matter entirely.
He emphasized the importance of appearing united, offering tips on how to handle the media and the probing questions that were sure to come. His confidence and ease in handling the media was something you were learning to lean on, though the pressure of maintaining the charade weighed heavily on you.
“What about Haru?” you asked, concern evident in your voice.
“We’ll leave her out of the spotlight,” Satoru replied gently. “I don’t want to overwhelm her. She takes no part in this agreement beyond being your daughter. She’ll stay here with the nanny during the event.”
Amidst all this, your phone had been buzzing constantly with missed calls from Naoya. You hadn't answered any of them—maybe you should just call off the court case?
You did just go through a life changing event, marriage, and that often interferes with the legal process anyways. The judge would need to take into consideration your new source of income for the child support payments.
Honestly, you don’t need Naoya’s support anymore.
You’ll take care of that after the gala though—right now you already have too much on your plate, spending hours with Satoru, fabricating shared experiences and finding common ground to make your relationship believable.
The task of memorizing details about his likes and dislikes, his habits, and his quirks was daunting, but you found yourself surprised at the small details you were beginning to remember about him—the way he took his coffee, his favorite late-night snack, the way his eyes crinkled just slightly when he found something genuinely funny, or how he would absentmindedly run a hand through his tousled white hair when deep in thought.
As the days slipped by in a blur of preparations and rehearsed smiles, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this carefully constructed façade was starting to take on a life of its own. Each shared glance and each moment of unexpected kindness blurred the lines between reality and pretense, leaving you wondering just how deep this charade would go.
ꨄ︎
Standing in front of your bathroom mirror, you adjust the luxurious dress Satoru had picked out for you. A deep, elegant blue fabric clings to your curves in all the right places, and the V-shaped open back that rests above your hips adds a touch of allure.
Loose cascading waves frame your face perfectly, and the professional makeup artist gave you a look that is both subtle and glamorous, enhancing your features in a way the felt natural yet striking.
You barely recognize yourself.
The transformation was astonishing, turning you from a frazzled single mother into a vision of sophistication and grace.
Was it too much? You feel out of sorts, like you’re wearing someone else's skin. The elegant image in the mirror is both thrilling and unnerving.
As you try to steady your racing heart, a knock on the bathroom door makes you jump slightly—Satoru’s door.
“Y/n you ready?” his voice calls out.
With a deep breath, you take one last look in the mirror. As you open the door, Satoru’s frame leans casually against the entryway.
The sleek black tuxedo he is adorned in highlights his broad shoulder and lean frame. His white hair is perfectly styled, contrasting sharply with the dark fabric.
He meets you with a stunned silence—eyes widening slightly as he takes you in. The cool blue of his irises seem more vibrant, gleaming with anticipation as they trace over your form.
You had never seen his eyes linger across your figure like this before—the intensity of his gaze makes your stomach flutter. Feeling a bit self-conscious, you fear what will come out of his mouth.
Does he think it’s too much?
“Wow,” he breathes, voice almost reverent. “You look... stunning.”
A blush creeps up your cheeks at his unexpected compliment, and you find yourself unable to meet his gaze.
"Thank you," you say softly, smoothing down the fabric of your dress.
Satoru steps closer, eyes locked on you. He reaches out and gently lifts your chin, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.
“Seriously, you look amazing. I knew the dress would look good on you, but this... you’re going to be the star of the gala,” a slow smile spreads across his lips. “Ready to knock them dead?”
You nod, trying to ignore the fluttering sensation in your stomach.
“As ready as I’ll ever be…hopefully I can live up to the part.”
“You will,” offering you his arm, he adds, “Just be yourself, and stay by my side, we’re in this together."
ꨄ︎
The ride to the gala is filled with a comfortable silence.
The city lights blur outside the window as the car smoothly navigates through the streets. You find yourself stealing glances at Satoru, admiring the way his profile looks in the dim light.
Strange.
The usually insufferable man seemed different tonight—steadfast, dependable, almost... comforting? Perhaps it’s the nerves.
His arm rests casually behind you, fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder, and you’re surprised yourself how it does not bother you—in fact, it’s actually quite soothing.
Once you arrive, the grand ballroom is a stunning sight. Chandeliers hang from the high ceiling, casting a soft, golden glow over the elegantly dressed crowd.
The room is filled with the city’s elite—a sea of luxurious gowns and tailored suits mingling and exchanging pleasantries. The sight of you and Satoru together was enough to turn heads, drawing curious and admiring glances.
But the sheer number of people, the pressure of playing your part, and the countless eyes watching your every move—it’s all a bit overwhelming. You really felt out of place here.
Sensing your unease, Satoru leans in close, breath warm against your ear.
“Remember, just follow my lead.”
Guiding you with ease, his hand rests lightly on the small of your back as you voyage through the attendees—the warm gentle touch is electric against your bare skin.
Your eyes skim through the herd of people and land on a waiter balancing a tray of champagne glasses. Perhaps a drink would ease your nerves? You don’t hesitate to grab a glass as you navigate the crowd.
Satoru, ever the socialite, seamlessly traverses the room, introducing you to important figures and engaging in small talk that you struggle to follow.
Discussions ranged from market trends and corporate mergers, to the latest charity galas and art exhibitions. Trying to keep up, you nod and smile at the appropriate moments.
It’s clear that Satoru is in his element—his charm, effortless. You find yourself admiring how easy he makes it all look.
As you cling to him, the pride in his eyes when he looks at you makes you feel like you belong, even if you are just playing a part in this elaborate charade.
The evening flowed smoothly enough, with your glass of champagne acting as a steady companion. The warmth of the alcohol helps you mingle with guests, exchange polite conversations, and stay close to Satoru, all as planned. But each interaction was a delicate dance—your smiles and nods masking the nerves simmering beneath the surface.
Honestly, your mind was elsewhere—there is an undercurrent of anxiety as you anticipate Satoru’s announcement on stage, where he would publicly acknowledge your marriage during his donation speech.
When the moment you had been dreading finally arrives, you settle into a chair near the front, heart pounding in your chest.
Satoru takes the stage with a natural grace, and as the spotlight illuminates his striking figure, his presence commands the attention of everyone in the room.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he begins, his voice resonating with a confident authority. “I want to thank you all for being here tonight. Your generosity and support make events like this possible.”
His words flow smoothly as he speaks eloquently about the cause and significance of the charity, each sentence perfectly crafted to engage and inspire—you marveled at his ability to enthrall people.
Pressing your champagne glass to your lips, you desperately hope the cool liquid can help to steady your nerves a bit more.
Then, the moment came.
“I will be donating ten million dollars to this charity,” Satoru announces, his voice carrying a conviction.
The amount causes a ripple of excitement and murmurs to spread through the crowd—you nearly choked on your champagne in shock.
Ten million?
You couldn’t even fathom having that much money, let alone donating it. The magnitude of Satoru’s status is staggering.
A smile tugs at Satoru’s lips—a genuine warmth mingling with the mischievous glint in his eyes. He pauses, letting the impact of his words settle, then lifts a finger to tap his chin contemplatively, as if he just remembered something.
“Or should I say, we will be donating—me and my lovely wife.”
Satoru gestures in your direction as a spotlight beams upon you. The crowd erupts into an enthusiastic applause, causing your heart to race the moment all eyes instantly turn to you.
There is a rush of heat that rises to your cheeks, mixing with the warmth of the alcohol. The weight of the crowd’s gaze makes your vision a bit blurry.
Beckoning you to join him on stage, Satoru extends his hand and offers a comforting smile. Though, the moment you stand, the room spins slightly—perhaps it’s from the champagne, or perhaps it’s the sheer pressure.
You can’t fuck this up.
With as much grace as you can muster, you make your way to the platform.
Satoru wraps an arm around your waist the moment you are at his side, pulling you close and steadying your trembling figure. He looks down into your eyes with a genuine look of endearment.
“Everyone, please welcome my beautiful wife, y/n,” he says softly in the microphone, his voice filled with a gentle pride.
The applause swells, and you manage a smile, trying to focus on Satoru while ignoring the spotlight’s heat and the intense gazes of attendees.
Leaning in, his lips brush against your ear as he whispers, “You’re doing great.”
Despite the orchestrated nature of your relationship, in this moment, his genuine reassurance means everything. His presence is a steady anchor in the sea of faces and flashing cameras, the only thing holding you together right now.
When the applause dies down, Satoru continues his speech, the warmth of his hand remaining on your waist as his thumb traces soft circles.
You can barely focus on his words, the dizzying reality of where you’re standing feels both exhilarating and terrifying.
The moment Satoru’s speech concludes, the soft hum of conversation mingling and the delicate notes of the live orchestra begin to fill the air yet again. Satoru leads you off the stage, his hand never leaving your side.
Almost immediately after you descend to the floor, Satoru is approached by a business associate, his demeanor shifting effortlessly into that of a seasoned negotiator as they exchange discussions of market trends, potential collaborations, and strategic ventures.
Your heart is still pounding—public speaking was never your strong suit. Despite not needing to speak, being on that stage stirred something within you.
You recall a particularly disastrous presentation in college where you accidentally knocked over the projector, sending your notes flying across the room. The laughter from the audience still haunts you, and since then, you’ve always dreaded being the center of attention.
With Satoru engrossed in conversation, you seize the opportunity to make your way to the bar—seeking a moment of reprieve. Another drink wouldn’t hurt, right?
The gleaming rows of crystal glasses and various bottles of wine and spirits catch your eye. You scan the selection, your gaze lingering on a particularly rich, deep red wine.
Deciding it’s exactly what you need to steady your nerves, you signal the bartender and opt for a glass of the robust vintage, savoring the thought of its smooth, calming flavor.
One glass turned into two—your nerves finally beginning to settle as the soothing effects of the alcohol take over your senses.
Realizing you’ve been away from Satoru for quite some time, you prepare to rejoin him—but just as you start to rise, a familiar, unwelcome voice interrupts your thoughts.
“Well, well, look who we have here,” Naoya sneers, leaning against the bar beside you, a glass of scotch swirling in his hand. “Didn’t expect to see you here, mingling with the high society.”
A chill runs down your spine and you heart drops. No amount of alcohol could have prepared you for this moment.
“Naoya,” you stiffen, clutching your wine glass tighter. “What are you doing here?”
He takes a swig of his scotch, emptying the glass and placing it down on the counter with a loud clink. Leaning closer into your space, his eyes narrow—a cold, cynical stare boring into you.
“I could ask you the same thing. This doesn’t seem like your usual scene. What’s your angle?”
Your breath quickens and you feel your pulse hammering in your chest. Adverting your gaze, your fingers brush against the rim of your wine glass.
“I’m sure you heard, I’m here with my husband, if you must know. Not that it’s any of your business.”
The sneer he meets you with makes the room suddenly feel smaller, as if his presence is suffocating you.
“Husband, huh?” his eyes rake over you with contempt suspicion, “Quite the leap from where you were a few weeks ago. Is this some kind of game to you?”
Summoning your courage, you straighten your back and meet his gaze head-on.
“Not a game, Naoya. It’s called moving on. You should try it sometime. My life is no longer any of your concern.”
Taking a step closer, he looms over you—his voice lowering to a menacing whisper.
“I don’t buy it. This whole charade… you think I don’t know what you’re trying to pull?”
For a moment, you are frozen in place, the fear and control Naoya exerts paralyzing you. Your mind races, the implications of his words sinking in.
What if he exposes you?
What if this carefully constructed facade comes crashing down?
Before you can respond, you feel an arm slip around your waist, pulling you with practiced ease out of Naoya’s bubble and right beside Satoru.
“There you are, darling. Everything alright?”
His voice is smooth and warm, and his gaze flicks between you and Naoya, narrowing as he surveys the situation. The look on your face unsettles him—something feels off.
Naoya straightens himself, leaning against the bar with a supercilious smirk as he crosses his arms.
“Just catching up with an old friend. No harm in that, right?”
“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” Satoru’s tone was light but laced with an underlying steel, “I’m y/n’s husband, Satoru Gojo.”
A scoff escapes Naoya as his eyes flash with irritation, but an unnerving smile remains upon his lips.
“Yes, I’ve heard. You certainly move fast, don’t you, y/n?”
Naoya can see right through you—you fell a flash of panic. Turning to Satoru, your eyes meet his with a silent plea for support. His expression softens and he gives you a reassuring nod while tightening his grip upon your waist.
“Well, when you know, you know,” Satoru says with a charming smile, “and we knew.”
Naoya snickers, running his hand through his hair in disbelief.
“Come on y/n. How did someone like you end up with someone like him? Seems... unlikely. You don’t belong here.”
Heat rises to your face and the sudden urge to shrink away overwhelms you—your heart dropping at the sting of Naoya’s words.
Suddenly, Satoru steps closer, creating a protective barrier between you and Naoya—the playful glint in his eyes gone, replaced with a cold, steely determination.
“Watch your mouth, you don’t get to talk to my wife like that.”
“I’m just stating the obvious,” Naoya shrugs, meeting Satoru’s glare with an indifference as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “She’s out of her league here.”
Satoru’s jaw tightens, his voice low and dangerously calm.
“If you think she’s out of her league, then you clearly don’t know her at all. You’re out of line. Y/n belongs here more than anyone. So, unless you have something worthwhile to say, I suggest you move along.”
“Is that so?” Naoya raises an eyebrow. “You’ll have to forgive me if I’m a bit skeptical. After all, you’ve always been a bit of a lone wolf, Satoru Gojo.”
Panic seizes you as Naoya’s observation hangs in the air. The last thing you need is for him to start spreading rumors or causing trouble. You realize you have to do something, and fast. Your mind races, desperately searching for a way to convince Naoya of your authenticity.
Summoning all the courage you can muster, you step forward, threading your arms around Satoru’s neck as you rest your forehead against his own. Your words are addressed to Naoya, but your eyes remain on Satoru the entire time, drawing strength from his steady gaze and the warmth of his touch.
“Satoru and I... we chose each other for reasons that go beyond what you see. We may have our differences, but we’re stronger together, and we have a connection that you can’t comprehend.”
Satoru’s eyes soften, reflecting a silent understanding and a shared resolve—his breath mingling with yours.
Feeling Naoya’s probing gaze, you know he won’t be easily convinced, and so, acting on impulse, you pull Satoru closer and crash your lips against his.
For a moment, Satoru seemed caught off guard. His eyes widened in surprise before they fluttered closed, his hands moving to rest on your hips. The world around you seemed to fade away as the kiss lingered, heat pooling in your stomach.
It was supposed to be a quick peck, just enough to sell the act. But the moment your lips met his, something shifted.
Perhaps you were emboldened by the alcohol, perhaps it was the need to be convincing, perhaps it was the way Satoru stood up for you—without thinking, you deepen the kiss, parting your lips and slipping your tongue into his mouth, making things more intimate than you originally intended.
You can feel Satoru tense for a moment, his surprise evident. But then, with a soft hum against your mouth he melts into the kiss, a hand moving to cup your face as he returns the intimacy with unexpected fervor—his other hand encircling around your waist, pulling you closer against him.
Your fingers thread through Satoru’s hair and the world around you seems to fade away—the only thing that mattered now was the heat radiating off of Satoru’s body, the warmth of his lips against yours, and the lingering sweet taste of the gala’s chocolate cake mingling with the wine on your tongue.
It was a moment that felt both incredibly real and utterly surreal.
When you finally pull back, you are both breathless. As you catch a flicker of something unreadable in Satoru’s half lidded eyes, for a brief moment, you forget about Naoya completely, about the act, about everything except the electric connection between you both.
Satoru's thumb gently caresses your cheek, his gaze softening.
Pulling yourself back to reality, you peer over to Naoya—his smug expression had vanished, replaced by a look of genuine surprise and irritation.
“As you can see, we’re very happy together,” you say sweetly, rubbing your nose against Satoru’s.
"Didn't think you were the type to move on so quickly," Naoya sneers.
A wave of exhilaration and embarrassment course through you as Naoya retreats back into the crowd. The kiss had done its job, but it had also left you with a lingering sense of uncertainty. Satoru’s touch is still warm on your skin—you can still taste him on your lips.
"You okay?" he asks softly, his concern genuine.
The question pulls you out of your thoughts, but his gaze does the opposite—your face flushes and it feels like your heart is going to pound out of your chest.
"Yeah. I... I just needed to convince him.."
Satoru studies you momentarily—knowing there is more to the story with Naoya. But he also knows now isn’t the time to pry.
He chuckles softly, his hand lingering on your waist.
“Well, I think you succeeded. That was... unexpected. You really went for it there,” he murmurs.
For a moment, it felt like you were playing a role, but the feelings stirring inside you were anything but fake.
"I'm sorry," you swallow hard, face flushing with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to..."
“I didn’t mind,” he interjects, thumb brushing against your lower lip, sending a shiver down your spine. “Just so you know, you did great. Better than I expected,” his voice low and husky.
Fuck.
You blink—Naoya is gone, but here Satoru is, still holding you so intimately, so intently.
The way he looks at you, the warmth in his touch, the tone of his voice—it makes you question the lines between reality and pretense.
“Didn’t know you had it in you.” Satoru hums, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. He leans in, his breath dancing on your lips, tantalizingly close. “But next time, let’s save the tongue for when we’re really alone, hm?”
What is he saying?
Your mind races, trying to decipher his words, his intentions. Was he still in character, or was there a hint of genuine desire in his eyes?
The electricity in the air was undeniable, and you find yourself lost in the intensity of his gaze—the crowd around you fading, their murmurs and whispers becoming a distant hum.
Satoru’s eyes held secrets you were desperate to uncover.
As you struggle to formulate your thoughts, Satoru’s hand gently cups your cheek, his thumb tracing a soft line along you jaw.
"Relax," he murmurs, "We're just putting on a show, remember?"
You nod, though your heart betrays you with its rapid pace.
“Right,” you whisper, forcing a smile. “Just a show.”
But deep down, you can’t shake the feeling that there was more to this act than either of you were willing to admit.
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ahh i really enjoyed writing this chapter. okay, i was snickering at satoru's internal turmoil when he met haru for the first time. i couldn't resist with the digimon 🤭 my daughter is currently obsessed with pikachu so that's where that inspiration came from lol. also, this kiss was one of my favs to write 🥰 lemme know if you guys are interested in me making this a longer series. as always, thanks for reading 🫶🏻 → on to the next chapter ꨄ
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1K notes · View notes
moechies · 8 months ago
Text
asking the jjk boys to hold your hand ꒱₊˚⊹ nsfw
trying something different , more head cannon-like because i find i’m more motivated to write smaller pieces . . am cooking in my drafts rn . please bare with me !
♡。゚。
gojo satoru ꒱
sooo much teasing . makes you ask for his hand over and over , until you admit his cock is just too much, and too deep, and you need something to wrap your hand around. he’s so cocky, but will definitely give it to you. presses gentle kisses on your knuckles when his huge hand envelops yours, and holds it down below, into the fluff of your sheets.
“ha— hand, please, satoru—“
“what’s that sweet girl ? w’na hold my hand ?”
“yes ! p-please !”
“why, what’s wrong?” he simpers, gentle fingers pushing your stray hairs away.
you huff, inpatient now. “j-jus’ wanna feel you, satoru.! please!”
“aww , sweet girl. course i’ll hold my baby’s hand.”
getou suguru ꒱
so tender with his baby. will give in the second you ask for it, he actually wanted it first. but in the mist of your perfect cunny gripping him so well , he forgot to :( once he gets ahold of your hand he brings it down to your tummy, and glides your fingers where his cock bulges. grins and presses soft kisses all over you when you’re unable to answer his dirty questions , but his pretty baby will always answer if she knows what’s good for her. <3
“feel my cock here, honey?” a sly grin spreads across his face when you’re only capable of replying with a wanton moan, slowing his thrusts.
“w-wait , no..! i— feel it , please, want more s-sugu!”
it’s so dirty , and suguru loves it.
“yeah ? askin’ f’me to hold your hand so sweetly but you’re being so filthy little girl ..”
“m s-sorry.! ju— love it .. love it s’ much.!”
“know you do princess. be good now, lay still.”
toji fushiguro ꒱
thinks it’s funny at first, but really he wanted it just as much as you do. you cannot tell me otherwise , toji is such a lover. really , he’s sort of shocked that you asked for something so intimate, so small, only realizing that he hadn’t been holding your hand in the first place. teases you only sometimes, because he wants to feel you just as bad as you do. such a sweet man ♡
you reach down, intertwining your fingers into his bigger ones; a light squeeze to your hand when he understands your intention;
“hmm, what’s this princess?” he gloats ,
“wan’ hold your h-hand, toji . m-missed you s’much t-today.” you admit, followed with a sweet moan.
“s’cute.” he chuckles, pressing a kiss on the back of your hand before continuing with his heavy thrusts.
“missed you too princess. missed your perfect face ‘nd sweet cunt . s-shittt.. love you darling .”
sukuna ryomen ꒱
isn’t doing it unless you ask for it. will be like ??? because he’s like , you hold hands during sex too ? and you’re like ??? you’ve never done that before? so clueless but a bit flustered , really tries to act like he hates it but really, he think he likes it; he likes when you hold his hand. only never done it because he’s only been with concubines before you, and would never think of doing something so intimate himself.
“what’re you doin’ brat?”
“i just— w’na hold your hand ryo..”
“during sex ?”
“ do you think that’s w-weird ?”
he scoffs, not wanting to admit that he liked it. his hand slithers above yours, thumb pressing into the apple of your palm.
nanamin kento ꒱
already holding your hand . ♡
3K notes · View notes
caitlinbueckers · 8 months ago
Text
baby daddy.
paige bueckers x reader
3.2k
like guys . I don’t even know what to say rn . this is PURE fucking filth like yas there is some exposition in the beginning and its dialogue heavy but like ✋✋ just know this is fucking porn . So sorry for anon if this isn’t up to par but the wormz took over my brain and this is all i have to show for it . Love u so much for the idea tho <3
ANYWAYZZZ !!!! you and paige buy a strap. filth ensues.
MAJOR 18+ WARNING!!!!
“babe.”
it’s deadpan, borderline exasperated as you turn your head, meeting a wildly unimpressed expression from paige that makes you snort out loud, hand coming up to cover your mouth.
in your girlfriends hand, dangling from her fingers, is a dildo of some sorts, shaped horrifically in the form of an anatomically incorrect fist, and it’s almost impossible to keep your surprised laughter from bubbling out, taking a step closer with a look of awe.
“dude, you’re kidding,”
“babe, why are we even here? like, deadass i have two hands and ten fingers, this is so extra.”
to be fair, she had a point— those two hands and ten fingers had never done you wrong in the slightest, but this was simply an act of impulse, deciding just that morning after you guys had spent the time with each others hands down each others pants, you’d declared in a sudden rush of post-nut clarity, that you simply had to see paige in a strap.
which, was met with a bit of intrigue and then, obviously, because paige bueckers is competitive in anything she can consider herself good at, couldn’t help but interrogate you in outright disbelief.
‘so, what i’m hearing is that i’m not enough?” it was said in the tone she uses when her sarcasm is over the top, and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you, slapping her arm.
‘baby, stop being so dramatic, oh my god.”
you’d kissed her to silence her delusions as to why you’d even brought it up in the first place, before explaining ever so gently that it was never a matter of what paige couldn’t do, and more so about the capabilities of what she could do, and that you promised it would be fun.
truly, she was on board after you’d told her that for some girls it was hard to use, so that, ‘if she couldn’t handle it, she could give up’ — of course paige would never back down from a challenge.
“you do have two hands, and i love them just the same. i just wanna try it, okay? is that okay?” you say it in your quiet, softest voice, and maybe you’re kinda being a brat because you know paige could never say no to you when you talk like that, or when you walk up to her, tracing a thumb against her cheek before pulling her down to peck her nose.
it’s immediate the way she chases your lips, presses a quick one to your mouth before she’s rolling her eyes, “anything for my baby, i guess.” but, she’s smiling, and that feels like more progress than before.
in the end, you guys end up picking something pretty beginner level— it’s only six inches, has a dual ended pleasure vibrator nestled in the crotch for the one wearing it and due to paige’s prompt request, it is in fact purple, which only makes you laugh at the excited shimmy she does as you both walk out, hand in hand, the black privacy sack swinging between her fingers.
“thought you were so against the idea?” you couldn’t help but tease her once you guys are in the car, music already blasting— you know all her music without really knowing it, but it’s definitely something by brent faiyaz.
“yeah,” she shrugs, “until i thought about getting to fuck you with it.” she says coyly, glancing over at you with a raised eyebrow before she’s pulling out of the lot, hand secured on your thigh.
you guys don’t really get to it that night, or the next day— instead settling for the slow, tired morning sex that you guys indulge in before her practice and then after, the languid, loving type of sex you both revel in for the evening when she’s back at the dorms.
no, for some reason, it isn’t until a week or so later that it suddenly comes up— and even then, you weren’t necessarily thinking about it too hard, not until the teams all at dinner. you, paige, KK, and aubrey all sit together, and it’s really in moments like these that you love to actually participate in conversations with the team— KK and aubrey had been one of the first to welcome you in with open arms after you and paige had begun dating, so you really felt most at ease with them, even if they could be complete idiots.
not like paige was any better.
it had started with someone making a tiktok, going around asking who they’d never let their son or daughter date— resoundingly, enough people said paige, which was both parts hilarious for you, and astounding for paige.
“bro! literally i’m like, the best girlfriend, that’s some bull.” she couldn’t help but scoff, even if she’s smiling just a little, “baby, i’m a good girlfriend, right?”
you purposely take a minute to answer, pretending to think about it until she grasps your thigh beneath the table, making you snicker as she squeezes, and suddenly, you know exactly the angle she’s playing.
“girl, i don’t trust you,“ KK snorts, making a face, “you’d probably get my kid pregnant or somethin’, like—“
KK’s words make paige snort, shrugging a bit, “shoot, i mean, no wonder they call me baby daddy.” she sticks her tongue out, entirely too immature for the setting of the restaurant, but it makes you warm all over anyway— you love her, even when she’s being childish, which is pretty much most of the time.
the conversation continues after that, and though you pay attention, laugh when it’s funny and answer when you need to, you can’t quite get that out of your head— baby daddy.
it makes you think.
it’s late by the time you guys get home, and true to paige’s fashion, the door is only shut and locked for a second before she’s behind you, pressing kisses to your neck and sliding hands up your shirt, humming quietly— “i’m a good girlfriend, yeah?”
it’s not often that paige asks for reassurance, mostly because she usually already knows, but it’s why it makes it extra special when she does.
“duh.” you whisper out, tilting your head back to grant her more access while she sneaks a hand into your jeans, forgoing the button entirely. her fingers are prodding against your clit when you let out a soft moan, your fluttering eyes only opening for half a second before they spot the black sack from across the room, your own hand gently grasping her wrist to still its movements.
“baby, why don’t we…?” your tilt your head in the direction, leaning your head sideways to try and capture her reaction.
surprisingly, she looks just as interested.
it’s comes out quietly, pressed to your temple, “get on the bed then.”
you don’t waste much time, stepping out of your jeans and your top until there’s nothing left but the black, simple thong that rests against your hips, crawling back against her purple sheets with an inquisitive look on your face while she pulled the thing from its plastic package.
“remember what you said earlier?” you say offhandedly as you watch paige’s muscles flex and tighten, looping the belt around her before she glances up at you, “which part?”
“baby daddy,” you can’t help but grin, tossing your head back against the bed, “just wanted to see how true that is.”
paige scoffs, and it’s obvious she likes that, plays into it even as she crawls onto the bed, looking down at you with a narrowed glance, “how true what is? that i could get you pregnant?”
it’s almost immediate the way your body flushes at that, the subconscious squeeze of your thighs together as you look up at her through lidded eyes, “mhm. is that bad?”
“i mean,” she’s smirking though, and her hand wraps around the strap on slowly, as if simulating it to be an extension of herself— it’s really fucking hot, “it’s sexy that you even thought about it like that,” she whispers, and you can practically see the confidence rising within her at the prospect, before her eyes flicker up at you. “wanna suck me off, ma?”
it makes something within you go haywire, and your mouth practically fills with saliva as if to prepare for it before you nod slowly, propping yourself up on your elbows before you stick your tongue out, paige’s blue orbs never leaving you for one second, before she’s sighing, hard under her breath, “fuuuck.”
she gets up on her knees, running her hands through your hair to gently guide your mouth down to the tip, her teeth teasing the bottom of her lip as you slowly slid the length into your mouth. it felt foreign, heavy on the tongue, but the texture was so lifelike, it almost felt like it was attached to paige.
“shit, baby,” she sounds out of breath as she thumbs your hair from your eyes, wanting to catch every dirty look you send up to her, mouth full and eyes watering, “god, you’re such… a slut.”
it must’ve been the strap or something, that had the endless string of dirty talk spilling from paige’s mouth, not entirely too uncommon and yet it had shifted the atmosphere completely. it felt lavacious, provocative, tantalizing even.
still, it makes the arousal pool between your legs, making you practically squeeze your thighs together again and again, chasing the feeling of some type of friction as paige pushed her hips up slightly, the tip only then touching the back of your throat and eliciting the first drop of a tear from your eye.
she notices, because she doesn’t miss a thing, and is slow as she pulls it from your mouth, eyes lingering on the string of saliva that connected your bottom lip from the tip of the strap.
she’s breathing heavy, blonde strands falling into her face, loose from the usual braid she kept her front pieces in as she grasps your jaw, “does that hurt?”
it doesn’t, but it makes you smirk that she even asks, shaking your head before you lean back now, head hitting the mattress as you open your thighs, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.
“you can make it hurt,” you suggest, and paige lets out a slow exhale, a teasing grin on her smile as she grasps it by the hilt, “you’re driving me fucking crazy, y’know that?” the words are hissed down at you, spoken between her lips, chapped from how hard she’d been breathing as she rubs the tip of the now warmed, messily lubricated length against your cunt, eyes narrowed and focused as she drags it up, then down.
“you’re so wet,” it sighs out of paige as if she doesn’t even realize that she’d said it, a whine puffing past your lips involuntarily, ready to spit some type of urgency towards her, until she pushes in, finally, and you fucking gasp.
it was unlike what you’d really ever felt before— especially having never been with men or experimenting with penetration on this degree. it’s thicker than you expect, thicker than paige’s fingers combined, and your back arches upwards off the bed, right as paige grasps your hip to keep you right in place. “shh, shh— fuck, you’re so good, baby.”
“ohhh- oh fuck, paige—“ the words come out in a mess of noises, as you fling an arm over your face to try and focus on the comforting rub of paige’s thumb, the smell of her cologne, instead of the stretching, hot pressure that’s collected between your legs.
it only takes a couple moments before it doesn’t completely hurt, but the second that it does, you can finally blink your watery eyes open, letting out a soft moan at the furrowed eyebrows on paige’s face, her own lips parted as she carefully gives a shallow thrust into you, the subsequent friction of the dull, now audible buzzing of the vibrator on the other end of the dildo against her clit and it’s obvious.
it’s in the way she grunts, tongue darting out to seek attention to her bottom lip. “s’that feel good?” she’s panting already, and it makes your stomach swirl in arousal, nodding quickly as she gives another slow, but shallow thrust that sends immediate shivers up your spine, a rush of rampant pleasure up your stomach as you let out a groan, “more?”
it doesn’t take long for paige to find a rhythm— surprising considering her dancing abilities— and once she does, you can practically sense the confidence that radiates off of her. it’s in the way she wraps an arm around your thigh to hoist your leg up, higher, higher, until your cunt is on full display, and she’s leaning atop you, pressing wet kisses to your breasts as she drags her hips into you, each push making you both shudder out a moan.
“shit, baby— so fucking— so fucking wet. wan’me to fuck a baby into you, huh?” paige always has a habit of going on these fuck-drunk tangents, ones that usually send you careening over the edge in due time, but this— it makes you mewl into her ear, the thick, heavy weight of the strap punching into you, deeper than you or paige could ever reach, and it makes your hips jerk upwards, wanting more of it, all of it.
for half a second, you hoped, by some weird anatomical technique, she could get you pregnant.
“ohhh— fuck! paige, paige— pleasepleaseplease—“ what you’re begging for, even you can’t decipher, but it’s really just to make sure that she rocks into you like that again.
and she does— again and again, drool collecting in the corner of your mouth from how long your lips have been parted, and paige looks at you, delirious and flushed as she drags her thumb over your mouth, wipes away the spit and reaches between you two.
before you can figure it out, you feel her finger tracing the outside of your stretched cunt, the wetness that’s collected there as she lets out a wanton sigh, something more high pitched than what paige usually grunts out, “stretching you s’good, baby— fucking- take it, jus’ like that— fuck, wanna fuck you stupid, baby.”
it’s almost too much. your head presses hard against the comforter as paige’s hips push flush against your own, the final stab of the length being inside of you makes your head swim, your body acting upon it’s own accord as your thighs, shaking, squeeze around paige’s hips, your stomach flexing and jumping as paige gives up whatever bit of composure or control she has left, before she’s quick to fuck into you without a single strand of resistance.
it’s hot, heady, and the sweat that collects on the surface of your skin is almost like a sense of accomplishment as her face falls into your neck, your thighs pushed impossibly high to give her the best angle, as she ruts into you. the slight curve of the dildo somehow gives a direct angle to your g-spot, and it punches a shout out of you, one that’s followed with a crying whine that even you knew was bound to get you both caught.
“fffuck— shhh- shut the fuck up—“ her mouth is on your neck in an instant, other hand quick to clamp over your mouth, but the friction against paige’s clit has her bottom lip quivering, struggling to close as each of her gravelly, breathy moans launch right into your ear, and it’s clear that she’s being greedy, grinding the strap into your cunt for the effort of chasing her own high, and it’s fucking sexy.
this deep, you can almost feel the fucking vibrator, and it reduces you into nothing— fingers twine into paige’s hair, sweaty and sticky, as she fucks into you with reckless abandon, the bed frame squeaking in protest, your cunt wet enough that you can fucking hear it, can feel it drip onto the bed below, feel it coating the sheets and paige’s thighs and you think she’s about to orgasm with how quick her breath has gotten, how shaky her hips are with each incessant thrust, like an earthquake pulsing through your body and it makes you sob, because it feels so fucking good, and paige is so deep, you can feel her everywhere.
“wanna cum inside of’you— ohmyfuck- please, wanna fuck my babies into you— iloveyou, so, fucking- so fu-ucking sexy, baby, fuck.”
it’s all gibberish really, a promise that makes you turn into a pile of mush, because you can feel your cunt tighten around it— delusionally, you imagine paige can feel it too— because even her declaration of love is enough to send you flying over the edge as your legs tighten around her hips, the vibrator nestled deep against paige’s clit until she’s coming too, and it’s a glorious thing to hear— ripping from her throat in a cacophony of throaty groans and whines that mimic yours, only deeper, grittier.
she thrusts into you, sloppy and out of control until you can feel her release on your cunt, spread against your thighs, the dull vibration now pressing hot and wet against you, so much so that it makes your body flood in aftershock, pleasure wracking through you in earnest as your body twitches and jumps, every embarrassingly high pitched noise ripping from your throat, as paige’s go muddled and unintelligible against your neck.
it’s like a cathartic release of sorts, leaving you feeling boneless and jellied in the wake as you slowly return to your senses, fucked out and exhausted as you try to experimentally move your hips, but the soreness between your legs is almost unfathomable.
“shit—“ you hiss as paige finally lifts her head, her own hand slow to guide the strap from your abused cunt, and it’s clear by, not only the tired, almost loopy smirk on her face, but the redness in her eyes, the wetness coating her lashes, that she’d enjoyed herself as much as you had— and while sex between you had always been mutual, it wasn’t often you got to see her fully release like that.
“was that good, hm? did i do okay?” she’s always quick to look for approval, her hand coming up to brush the tears from your face, to pepper a light array of kisses against your lips, chapped and puffy, as you let out a tired laugh, “fucking duh, that shit was… so hot,” you trace her blonde strands, plastered to her forehead, away from her face, “don’t think i’ve ever heard you sound like that.”
it makes her cheeks red, eyes rolling with a scoff, as she lets out a quiet laugh, already trying to play it off as cocky instead of flushed, “well- yeah, ‘cause, i was watching you take my dick.” you slap her arm weakly with a snort, wincing at her usage of words, “ew, you’re so gross.”
“and you’re so pretty,” she counters, before pressing a quick kiss to your mouth.
you both don’t really try to address the fact that there was probably no way you’d both been quiet enough to not at least alert one of the girls, but you ignore it anyway.
besides, it’s only KK that ends up putting you both in a group message the next morning, sending a string of angry emojis and a text that says, ‘bye. im moving rooms’.
you both laugh, because you know she’s not, and more so, you all three know it wasn’t the first time and definitely not the last.
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