#Button was written on a whim

[6sakusa]

𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

Content: FWB relationship, missionary, fingering, mating press, creampie, riding, jealous!eren, him just being soft tbh.

A/N: Not proof read and written on a whim sorry not sorry.

Summary: Eren Jaeger is genuinely incapable of doing friends with benefits, he always seems to have problems with the ‘no strings attached’ part of it all.

You knew some of Eren’s friends and he was pretty renowned around campus, so the day you met him you can believe that you were pleasantly surprised to say he lived up to the hype and more in terms of his gorgeous face. Surprisingly he took quite an interest in you, the pretty girl with Jean’s arm slinged around her shoulders? Oh he’s got to know more. When he got your number he was elated and as expected, it didn’t take more than a few text exchanges before getting you in his bed but something about this was different. Maybe he was just pussy-whipped but he genuinely, for the life of him, couldn’t stop fucking you.

“T-Too much.” You manage to get out through your moans, it’s practically incoherent but by the way you’re clawing at his back while he’s balls deep inside, hammering you in missionary while he presses light kisses to your collarbone even has him surprised. He pulls away from you, slightly, just slightly to your earlobe where he whispers, “You can take it for me, can’t you?”

And of course you do, but the strangest part is that even when Eren fills up the condom he can’t stop, pushing your legs against your chest and fucking you in all kinds of devious angles that have you falling apart in seconds. “Fuck I can’t stop, can’t believe I wasn’t in this pussy sooner.” He whines out against your ear, pushing the both of you into overstimulation countless times.

It’s safe to say you were spent after that but to his your surprise and his, the next day he’s calling you again, asking if you wanted to come over. There was one rule that Eren Jaeger lived by, never fuck the same girl twice. It was simply because he didn’t want to give them the wrong impression, he wasn’t looking for anything serious, anything along the lines of a relationship was an absolute no-go, so he thought it was best to avoid any remnants of that all together. But yet he’d somehow convinced himself there wasn’t any harm in going at it with you again, you were his best afterall.

By the third time he told himself it would be the last time, that was a lie. As hard as he tried to get you off of his mind it wasn’t possible, sex with any other girl felt mediocre after you which left him with only one choice: Running back to you.

“So what do you think about us making this a thing?” He stops halfway through unbuttoning your top, he’s got you trapped underneath him, pupils blown out from your makeout session from just seconds ago.

“A thing?” You raise your eyebrow, a light chuckle escapes your lips in amusement from such cryptic language and for some reason it pulls at Eren’s heartstrings. What was this overwhelming urge to hear you do it again suddenly?

“Yeah a thing.” He repeats, “Like we fuck, no strings attached.” He asks nervously, fumbling with the next button on your shirt a little nervously.

“Are you asking for friends with benefits?” Your expression contorts into one of disbelief, for a second he thinks he’s messed this up and he’s about to lose the best sex he’s had in his entire life until he hears another laugh escape from your lips. “Okay, no strings attached.”

And just like that his lips are back on yours again.

Turns out you really do become friends, you talk constantly on the phone which though, does usually lead to sexting over the following weeks you become closer and closer to one another. The next time Eren tries to get with a new girl his mind wanders back to you, your pretty face, your gorgeous body, your cute little laugh. And the moment he gets his cock out to fuck her it won’t get hard, like physically it can’t. That was definitely one of the most embarrassing experiences of his life, not only was his mind being stupid but now he couldn’t even control his dick when it wasn’t about to be inside of you. That day he left that girl very disappointed, a huge blow to his ego and perhaps reputation but for some reason he finds himself outside your door instead of his own dorm he was planning on going home to.

And surprise surprise, the moment he sees your face, peering up at him with your head cocked into the side in confusion as to why he’s showed up without a word at this time, oh he’s rock solid. Naturally, to make up for such an intrusion he fucks you crazy, enough that it takes twenty minutes for you to regain your ability to speak afterwards. He’s convinced he’s in a slump right now, soon enough he’ll get over this and be back to getting around with whatever women he wants and then he’ll be able to end your agreement once and for all. Yep, that was the plan.

“How are you gonna get home?” You raise an eyebrow, walking out of the bathroom with a toothbrush in your mouth. He can’t help but laugh at you, no one would’ve known how hard you were getting fucked just an hour prior. “You didn’t drive here right? So you left your car.”

“I can walk.” He pulls up his sweats back up, looking at you in a manner that he probably shouldn’t be.

“You can stay the night if you’d like.” You wave him off, wandering back into the bathroom to finish off. It takes him much longer than he should to respond but he does, eventually.

“Here?”

“What?” You laugh, cocking your head to the side. “You don’t like my place?”

“The beds a little small.” He jokes, peering down at the same thing you just fucked on. You roll your eyes, grabbing yourself some fresh pyjamas from your wardrobe. “Well I’m sorry that it wasn’t designed for a six foot four man.”

“Don’t do that, you’ll boost my ego.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Through all the jokes between the two of you his head is screaming at him that this isn’t a good idea, but when you show him your favourite blanket that he wouldn’t be allowed to use he’s convinced of two things. You’re way too cute to say no to, and the fact that you won’t share your things with him is a good sign. This isn’t intimate, it’s nothing but a good friend doing him a favour.

There just wasn’t one thing he’d anticipated, how much he would love cuddling you in your bed. This was detrimental for him because now he craved it after sex. The next time he was finished with you he opened his arms out once you’d cleaned yourself up, albeit awkwardly considering he’s never consciously done this before.

“What?” You look at him with confusion, your expression only deepens when he frowns, “You hungry or something? We can order food.”

“Yeah.. what are you up for?” He mutters out, closing his arms instantly. That was the last time he decided to not have the courage to ask you to cuddle because he felt strangely empty afterwards.

Obviously, you’re a bit surprised when the emerald eyed devil in all his six foot glory stutters when mumbling, “C-Can we cuddle?”

“Huh? You wanna cuddle?” You almost snort, Eren had obviously avoided anything on any lines of being intimate, the second the two of you had a conversation unrelated to sex and he realised that he would waste zero time throwing an inappropriate joke in. Just a reminder of what your relationship with eachother entailed, nothing more.

“Why are you saying it like that?” He pouts, rubbing his temple with two of his fingers lightly. You seemed surprised and he definitely felt embarrassed.

“I just didn’t expect it from you.” Your furrow your eyebrows, realising that oh, Eren Jaeger was actually being serious when he was asking you to cuddle right now. You seemed reluctant and that’s when he knew that you were in deep in this agreement as he was. Fuck, you might even be worse. You’ve never proposed to do anything intimate and now you even looked like you were about to flatly reject his proposition, how had he let it come to this. There was only one solution, pull out the big guns and guilt trip you out of his embarrassment, “I thought we were friends with benefits, don’t humans need physical touch to survive? That sounds like a benefit to me.” He folds over his arms, all whiny with pink littering his cheeks.

“Okay okay.” You scoff, rolling your eyes, knowing that he could go on until tomorrow if you didn’t stop him. You make your way over to him on the bed, allowing him to engulf you in his arms. He relishes in his victory with a smug expression on his face for a few minutes until you randomly say. “I can’t believe you like this.”

“What? You don’t?” There’s an overwhelming feeling of worry in his chest that he can’t quite discern, the feeling that you may not like him past being friends. But why did he care about that? He shouldn’t, he didn’t like you past being friends? Right? So why had he still not fucked another girl in months? Why was he finding it so hard to get it up without you? He pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind and does what he does best, makes it into a game. Now he was on a mission to get you to fall in love with cuddling, he had his arms around you every chance he could get. Especially after sex until it became a routine with the two of you and you couldn’t fall asleep in his arms otherwise. It was nothing more than mission accomplished he told himself.

At that point the dynamic of your friendship started to change, he couldn’t help the urge to want to see you more often which meant that he invited you out with his friends as much as he could. And he couldn’t regret something more because now Jean had you wrapped around his stupid finger, laughing at all his jokes while you brushed your hands on his chest. God, it made Eren sick.

What was worse it when Jean started sneaking into your sex life, that was his final straw.

Ren: Wanna come over? I’ve got your favourite cookies

You: Extremely tempting offer but im out right now, save them for me?

Ren: Where?

You: Jean’s place

Ren: You never told me you were going there lmao

You: ?

You: Was I supposed to? You don’t tell me when your with other girls

Except he was never with other girls these days. So the next time he saw you he asked straight up if you and Jean had sex. You gave him a strange glance but nodded reluctantly, not knowing if that was actually any of his business or not.

“Oh.” He responds, playing with his fingers, an excuse to do anything but focus his gaze on your pretty eyes.

“Is that.. a problem?” You raise an eyebrow.

“No.” He says so quickly that you’re almost shocked, like he’s so sure of his answer that he doesn’t even question it. “We’re not exclusive so do whatever you want.” He scoffs, it’s more of a reminder to him than it is to you but you can’t help but wince at his harsh tone. It’s just like Eren to cause an argument because he doesn’t have it in him to convey his real feelings. So the next thing you know he’s rambling about STDs, how you having multiple sexual partners isn’t safe for him and how the two of you should break off your agreement. None of it made any sense considering Jean was the only guy you’d fucked in months other than Eren and you knew nothing about what Eren got up to sexually either. Anyway, it was safe to say you stormed out of his place that day in tears and fuck did he feel so bad that he wanted to cry himself. Especially when he finds out that the first place you went after that was to Jean’s house. God he was so mad at himself.

After some time when he finally builds the courage, and albeit after a drink or two he turns up at your door step, it’s a heinous time to be banging down your door, he knows. Of course, your roommate isn’t happy about it either but when he’s telling you how sorry he is and how much he misses sex with you it only takes a few more sweet, yet filthy words to get you writhing under him once more in your bed.

“So sorry baby.” He reminds you as his hands pull your lace panties down a little, he really did miss this so much, missed you too, such a pretty sight. “Want me to show you how sorry I am?” He asks teasingly, running his fingertips up and down your sensitive thighs.

You nod slowly, your breath hitching as he sports you his signature grin. You haven’t seen that in a while and you know exactly what it means. He wastes no time sticking his finger inside of you, he’s memorised your body by now, the way you like to be touched, your little reactions to what he does, the exact angle that his finger needs to hit to get you to cum in under a minute. “Shit.” You fist his top, pulling him down into a messy kiss.

“You like that?” He asks against your lips, his fingers continue to work magic on you. “Did you miss me?” He asks, pulling away slightly while he begins to work into you much quicker than before, it’s enough to have you moaning under his touch. “Tell me how much you missed me.”

“Missed you so much.” You breathe out, he rewards you by pressing his thumb to your clit, rubbing it in circles while his fingers pump in and out of you. You’re falling a part so quickly and you’re easily reminded that no one can make you feel as good as Eren can.

“Yeah?” He breathes, “You gonna show me? Gonna show me how much you missed me?”

You nod and he makes a negative sound, completely unsatisfied with your answer. “Gotta say it gorgeous.” He whispers against your earlobe, “You know how I am, wanna hear you speak.”

“I’ll show you.” You manage to say between moans, your name is on the tip of his tongue and the familiar feeling is in your stomach once more but he doesn’t let you cum, slowing down once he recognises the way your cunt feels when you’re about to spill over the edge.

“Not yet.” He laughs, “Tell me, how are you going to show me?”

“Gonna let you fuck me, I’ll let you fuck me as hard as you want.” You whine, grabbing onto his toned arms in protest, hoping that it will be enough to get him to let you cum.

“You promise?”

“I promise ‘Ren.” You nod, he pulls his fingers out of you and stuffs them in your mouth before putting them in his own. It’s filthy really, no one would ever believe the two of you were anything more than fuck buddies but you loved it, you loved that out of all people Eren could be your dirty little secret.

The next second he has his hands pressing your knees against your chest, you practically yelp in surprise when he pushes his cock inside of you without warning. “Then take this fucking dick like a good girl, can you do that for me?” He doesn’t give you any time to adjust to his pace, he’s pounding into your mercilessly enough so that lewd sounds are filling the air that can’t even be disguised with either of your moans. “Don’t need to prep you properly right? Considering you’ve been fucking other guys.”

You tighten around him at his words, he’s being so mean and you hate when Eren’s mean to you, except in the bedroom, God is it a turn-on. “Oh you like that? Fucking slut.” It was becoming more and more obvious that Eren was in fact mad about you and Jean, this entire thing was a jealousy fuck put simply and my was he putting on his best performance.

The kiss he pulls you into the next second is such a contrast to his dominating demeanour, it’s so gentle and sweet, the type that you give to someone you love and for some reason you can’t help but reciprocate it. He leaves light kisses on your neck, knowing that you would never let him mark you, trust him, he’s tried. The second his lips pull away from your body he’s back to being mean again, picking up the pace even more than before. “Eren— fuck.” You can’t even get out your words.

“Feels good?” He asks, usually he doesn’t like it when you only give him a nod but he knows that right now he’s fucking you absolutely stupid and there’s nothing else you can do. “Who else can make you feel this good huh?” He slows down his strokes, wanting a genuine answer from you as he wraps his hand around your throat. “Tell me, who else?”

“No one.” You whine as tears prick your eyes, he has no mercy for you, not a care in the world as the headboard of your bed slams against your wall. You’d have to apologise to your roommate later. “That’s right, no one.” His thumb brushes your cheek lighty. “So whose pussy is this?”

“Yours!”

“Correct, mine.” He grins smugly, he knows it doesn’t really count considering he can get you to say anything as long as he’s balls deep inside but still, for some reason the sentiment means a lot to him. "You're being so good for me, you wanna cum?"

"Y-Yes please." His expression darkens for a second and he's worried that the time away between the two of you has meant that you'd forgotten the rules of the bedroom.

"Yes please, what?"

"Yes please daddy." You correct yourself instantly and he grins with satisfaction, being nice enough to press his thumb against your clit one more. Rubbing it in soft circles while he bucks into you faster until you're clamping down against him.

“Fuck missed this pussy so much, missed you so much." He says in pure ectcasy as he throws his head back. And for someone who was banging on about safe sex the last time you saw him it's surprising that he had zero reserves about fucking you raw and then cumming inside.

He releases spurts of cum into you and it's almost shocking how much he fills you up, when you were first fondling with his balls tonight you told him how heavy they felt while grinding on his thigh. You'd figured he hadn't fucked anyone in a while, now you could confirm that with the way white thickness was trailing out of you. For the first time, Eren does all the things he never used to before and you can't help but think it's so gentleman-like. The way he rushes to clean you up, not leaving you to do it yourself, the bath he runs for the two of you, the way he changes your bedsheets and for once how he isn't running off home the second he's nutted. Instead he has you in his arms and even more shockingly stays the night.

One thing he hadn't anticipated with all your time away was how much your relationship with Jean had progressed. It was only when he woke up the next morning, seeing you in your pretty little dress and face full of makeup that he wanted to ruin so badly that he realised. "Oh finally, you're awake." You spin your legs in his direction from the chair you sat on opposite your vanity table.

"Nice treat to wake up to." His eyes trail your body shamelessly, and his hoarse morning voice only has your blood rushing south. Eren looks gorgeous in the mornings too, he always does.

But there was something about his hair down against the pillow, the light pink littering his cheeks when he's realised that he's engaged in something intimate last night, his pretty eyelashes when he gazes at you. And don't get started on the way half of his abs are visible through the bedsheets considering he's so adamant on sleeping shirtless.

"You going somewhere?" He asks, propping himself up a little with his elbows. "I thought that maybe we could grab breakfast or something." He continues with a little frown on your face. Eren has never proposed grabbing breakfast before, like ever.

"Sorry." You say, grabbing your bag, double checking that you had everything you needed.

Your perfume fills his nose and he has to bite back a smile, he's so glad to be back. "I've got a date but feel free to help yourself to breakfast here."

"A date?" He practically erases the last part of ot your sentence from his mind, "With who?" He raises an eyebrow, fully sitting up now.

"Jean." You give him a look that reminds him to watch his words considering how he spoke to you the last time he came up.

"Oh.." It felt like that was the only thing Eren knew how to say when it came to you with another man, he was speechless. The time away made him realise he liked you, of course he fucking liked you. What he hadn't yet realised is that he loved you, all those months together meant that you were the girl that had captured his heart and now knowing after last night you'd be off with Jean?

Oh he felt sick. "So you guys are getting pretty serious then?"

"I mean I guess." You shrug, "But we're not exclusive yet."

"So what does that mean for us?" He asks, you've never seen such hurt in Eren's eyes the way you were seeing it right now. The words were almost taken from your mouth but you were doing what was best for you. When you'd first started your arrangement with Eren you were warned by your you were warned by your friends about him. You didn't listen, the sex was too great for you to bother. Over time you realised you'd started developing feels for him and if there was one thing about Eren Jaeger it was that he was allergic to the word intimacy. You'd never have what you truly wanted out of him. So when Jean came around with all the affection in the world your friends convinced you that was what you deserved so naturally, you made an effort.

"Us?" You raise an eyebrow, "Well I guess we'd have to stop what we're doing. obviously." You point between the two of you, hopeful that he wasn't about to suggest cheating if you and Jean did get together.

"Right." He responds plainly, it's extremely blunt, why wouldn't it be? He's got nothing else to say. "We can still be friends though."

Oh that one really hurt. "Yeah.. friends."

"Look I'm already really late, l've got to go but l'll see you later okay?" You don't give him anytime to respond before rushing out of the door, the air was so suffocating in there and you could feel the awkward unspoken tension that you didn't have it in you to face. It takes a lot considering his heart has just been broken but eventually Eren gathers the strength to stand up, waltzing into your kitchen for said breakfast to see you roommate Sasha giving him a scowl. He wasn’t sure if it was because she didn’t like him or if it was because the two of you were too loud last night. Either way he wasn’t interested in that, he was much more fixated on the freshly bloomed vase of flowers that were now on your kitchen island that he’d never seen before. He figured they were Sasha’s, he knew she had a boyfriend because you’d told him.

“Nice, did Niccolo get these for you?” He raises an eyebrow, hoping that it would be enough to dissipate the awkward silence between the two of you.

“Actually…” She turns around with a smug expression, “Jean got them for y/n.” She shrugs, going back to whatever cereal she was pouring. Fuck, he was beginning to doubt himself. Jean seemed like the perfect guy for you, he’s been taking you out on dates, getting you flowers and now he knew the two of you were sleeping together, it was only a matter of time.

The next time he texts you is a few days later, he makes the highest effort possible to not bring any form of sexual speak into the conversation. He was determined to show you how much he cared about solely you and your day. Imagine his surprise when you told him that you and Jean had a date planned tomorrow.

You: Honestly I think he’s finally going to ask me to be his girlfriend

Ren: About time

You: Tell me about it

Ren: If that was me I wouldn’t have ever waited that long

You: Stop being a flirt

Ren: Come on, you know me

You: Yeah I do

You: Kinda gonna miss you ig

Ren: Kinda?

You: Yeah just a little

Ren: I’ll miss you less

You: Just a couple days ago you were in bed whining about how you missed me so much though?

Ren: Low blow

You: Come on, you know me

Ren: Not funny when you do it

You: Shut up you love it

Ren: Yeah unfortunately I do

You: Hey wanna come over? One last time for old times sake

Ren: Fucking you before you become someones girlfriend? How romantic

You: Is that a yes?

Ren: You know it is

And now that he was back in your bedroom, legs spread out while you bounced on his cock because he was adamant on the fact that he did all the work 90% of the time during your FWB relationship, he realised how much he simply cannot let you go. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact your pussy had his head going foggy but once he felt you gripping around his cock, he could only tilt his head back while using his hands to lift your body weight up and down his shaft. The moment he was cumming he slipped into confessions that he probably shouldn’t have, “Fuck baby I don’t want you to leave me, I love you, I love you so fucking much you don’t even know.” He moans against your ear while filling you up.

You can hardly process his words until you’ve come down from your high and you’ve got your arms around his neck while he rubs your back soothingly. You’re so out of breath from riding but he presses a kiss to your temple and it’s enough to calm you down, “You did such a good job, you always do.”

Seconds later your eyes widen, remembering what he just said. You pull away from him, a shocked expression on his face as your eyes search his for any indication that he’s realised what he’s said. “You what?”

He pouts, “Don’t make me repeat it please, it took everything in me to admit it already.”

“Adm— You mean that? Like actually?”

“Of course I do.” He sighs, running one hand up and down your waist slowly while the other cups your face. “I know I’ve been a dick for a long time and I never really had the courage to say anything but I like you more than you know. Fuck that, I love you, everything about you. The way you laugh when I tell you the stupidest joke, your pretty face and these eyes when you’re about to scold me for something, every inch of your body that you’ve let me explore, all these little beauty marks that you have, especially this one here.” He places his hand on the small of your back.

“I have a beauty mark there?” You try to turn around but of course, you can’t see it.

“Yeah you do.” He laughs, “And it’s perfect, just like you.” For a moment he pauses with a sigh, “I know Jean is going to ask you to be his girlfriend tomorrow but—“ He gulps, “But I don’t want you to be his girlfriend! You said you were mine and I don’t want things between us to end, I don’t want you to leave me!” He begins whining.

You fall into his chest and for a moment he thinks he’s said the wrong thing before you start— laughing? “What?” He raises an eyebrow.

“I would’ve never expected you to say something so.. pathetic.” You shake your head with a laugh, “That’s so like you.” You whisper.

“I’m pouring out my heart here.” He deadpans.

“Sorry.” You shake your head, “Please continue, I love hearing it.” You say, placing a light kiss on his lips.

“If you feel anything for me..” He begins again nervously, “Anything at all then don’t be with Jean, I’ll treat you so much better and we can do all the things you want like go on dates and I’ll get you flowers—“

“What are you suggesting?” You finally ask.

“I have a proposition.” He smiles, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Another one?” You laugh.

“Yeah, how about we make this a thing?” He points between the two of you before resting his hands on your waist once again.

“A thing?”

"Yeah, me and you, boyfriend and girlfriend, a thing."

Thank you for reading, if you enjoyed likes and reblogs are appreciated & requests for Eren Jaeger are open for more <3

[astralnymphh]

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate before reading. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

jackson!ellie who makes the first move? kiss–wise. cause okay— we've got the scene from the actual game where dina locks in that first kiss, a drunken whim, and whatnot, but what about ellie doing so? allow me to conjure a picture up; that freckled, mellow–eyed portrait leveled to your face, her lips pinched to a demure crease— tense enough on the corners to hollow her dimples, the fat auburn worms above her eyes tweaking alongside a nod to your wisping words that enlighten her very eager brain right now, arms slack to wrap your waist and frisky warm upon the sacral of your spine with palms overlaid, waddling in a legato and sluggish manner to each pace of song. your lips are consistently ashift, lacing over every honeyed vowel that kept this silly little girl christened ellie— too attentive. eyes unto your lips, pupils enlarge and bedim all color to her organ–throbbing crush on you, a feeling, fennels and columbines a manifestation inside her flattered eyes watching you speak, "y'know, i just think that everybody on patrol is a dumb cunt, n' can't shoot for shit. maria needs to reassign." and, my. how words of curses and a rigid, shit–talking nature blow from your throat like a damn aria, on and on rambling, contract some balled sensation in ellie's gut to burst open a thousand angels serenading— their feathers a silken uncomfortableness in her guts. how it pushed her, made her spine shiver, made her face slowly tilt in, made her brows flinch sunken into the sea of her skin, and a little voice compelled her when you spoke, "totally should assign you and i—" mmmph. two mouths sealed as one. ellie, who was already a magnet, reached voice to voice and consumed the trails of your speech, flesh chapped yet somewhat plump and velvety of a 'sorry' she could not push into vocals rolled over the knoll of yours, pursing her top lip inside as her mouth steals your bottom one, an ample pressure on your inner–cheek that smushes her cute button nose as it pokes, and releases when she departs your consumption of that sudden kiss. her face lingers, still slanted, eyes darting across your face maddenly for any ounce of a reaction written in flesh, unsure on whether to sanction you some breathing room or to mention boldly about it— but you're too damn pretty to fleet away, so she decides to act somewhere balanced upon that spectrum gently, "did i do okay?" not 'was that okay?' nor 'fuck, m'sorry.' but those foolproof words, yet the look of a lost puppy was most pitiful on her features. you chuckle dry, and her palms flock to your waist— gripping, narrowing the answer out of you so timid, you have to chuckle the reply out as well, "more than okay," and you soften, bored of the blurry, obnoxious string lights a mere background to her big head, "very okay, williams." and shut the scene to nothing, pulling her rosy heat on your lips, once more.

sorry gays, idk what came over me. fluffy hours

(gif from nramvv on pinterest)

[shogunish]

𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗶𝘀.

synopsis. “you made me feel like i was a threat to you.”

contents. a bit of angst, comfort, miscommunication/lack of communication, implied friends-to-lovers, soft! satoru, takes place after the star plasma vessel incident, satoru's trauma response, unedited, something i whipped up on a whim lmao

wc. 1.3k

note. had a sudden urge to write this when i watched dazai edits and i hope i'll find more inspiration to write like..i just wanna be consistent for once 🥲

comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! <3

the inverted spear of heaven was no more.

the star plasma vessel incident — mainly toji fushiguro — had carved its mark into satoru’s flesh. after satoru had killed the man, he had made sure to destroy the cursed tool until not even ashes remained of the sharp blade that used to spill the blood of innocents.

it was almost like the sorcerer wanted to destroy the things that could destroy him.

however, he failed to notice how he had almost destroyed his relationship with you, too.

no longer did satoru wrap you up in his bear hugs. no longer did he let you rest your head on his shoulder on movie night. no longer were you welcome in his space.

always were you kept at an arm’s length. satoru was close enough to admire but so far out of reach like the constellation of stars dotting the night sky. what you thought was no more than a phase turned out to be so much more until, in the safety of your bedroom and underneath your blankets, your vision blurred with tears.

if the sun wasn't there, the moon would remain hidden in the vast void of space. and without satoru, you couldn't shine, either. in fact, your smile dimmed until it was almost extinguished by the pain satoru put you through — but it wasn’t his fault. or so you'd like to tell yourself.

satoru had danced with death when he was meant to only protect a girl.

you couldn't possibly blame him.

after all, you could neutralize the only thing that kept him safe.

the ability to nullify any cursed technique upon touch was as convenient as it was, literally, cursed. with zero offensive abilities, you always relied on satoru or suguru to cover for you in case your plans didn't work out. one miscalculation and your head would roll — that much you knew.

among every student attending jujutsu high, you were the weakest while satoru was the strongest.

it was enough to tie your fate to satoru, weaving a web of complicated feelings which usually tasted like those sugary gummy bears the sorcerer carried with him. it was sweet and warm like his embrace, but the blade of toji fushiguro had effortlessly cut through the fine webs. nothing but a cold void remained where laughter and silly inside jokes about digimon danced along the velvety threads.

almost like a black hole that swallowed the constellation in the skies, leaving behind broken galaxies and lonely stars that swallowed moons to fill the loss of their companions.

“he's so stupid,” you muttered to yourself, threw the teddy bear in your arms into the corner of your bed and sat up to blow your nose.

the teddy bear was a polar bear adorned with button eyes and a red bow tied around its fluffy neck. it looks like you, you had mindlessly said during last year's summer festival. satoru had spent the entire evening shooting little rubber ducks to earn enough points to win the silly bear, but it was worth it for your eyes lit up like the fireworks that followed soon after.

the clock read two am when you poured boiling hot water into a cup of instant ramen, ripped open the package of spice and stirred the meal with disinterest written all over your face. not even the scent of cheap cup noodles made your tummy growl anymore. how could it when it was so full of dread, guilt and worry for the sorcerer who stole your heart and refused to give it back? it was an unfair bargain, really.

just a moment later, you heard a knock on your door. you considered ignoring it and pretending to be asleep, but alas, the lights were on and likely snuck through underneath the crack of the door to your dorm. what kind of idiot knocked on your door at two am?

satoru — the only idiot who'd knock on your door in the middle of the night and look like a kicked puppy.

“satoru? it's two am..,” you spoke first, standing between him and the warmth of your dorm.

satoru didn't look like satoru. even through the pitch black glasses of his shades could you see the storm brewing in those sky-blues of his. with a sigh, he rubbed his neck. “why does everyone keep telling me how late it is? ah, no matter.”

you wanted to ask, but decided against it.

“look, i know it's late, but i can't help but think you've been avoiding me for the last couple of what? weeks? months?” satoru shifted his weight from one fuzzy slipper to the other. “was it something i said?”

in that very moment, you realized you were doing the same things as he was. as soon as class was over, you'd go home alone. you'd have lunch alone. you'd spend your weekends alone. all those things once were shared with satoru in your space, but as soon as he avoided you..you avoided him, too out of fear of getting hurt.

“satoru..don't you realize that you've been avoiding me first?” your voice was quiet as you hugged your middle. “ever since the incident and the destruction of that cursed tool, you always kept me at arm's length. you no longer let me get any closer nor do you spar with me anymore. nothing..”

“you made me feel like i was a threat to you.”

a painful epiphany coiled in satoru's stomach like a snake. was he so busy destroying the devil's tools and refining his technique that he..forgot about about you? the person who'd steal his fries and snore on his shoulder on movie night? no, no way. he would never see you as a threat even though your touch could dissolve his infinity like sugar when it touched water.

“[name], that's not..” the words got stuck in his throat. for the first time in his life, he was speechless. “you are anything but a threat.”

“then why..” tears brimmed your eyes until they overflowed, ran down the apples of your cheeks and met the warmth of satoru’s thumb. it was not his stupid infinity wiping the tears away, but satoru himself.

to be touched by satoru felt like the first sunrays of spring gracing your skin. warm, familiar and hinting at the end of a long, unforgiving winter that had taken root in your belly. soft sobs bubbled in the back of your throat, rocking your shoulders and interrupting every word you wanted to say; how stupid he was, how much you missed him, how much you needed him.

“shh..say no more,” satoru whispered and took you in his strong arms so you could sob into his chest all you wanted.

satoru didn't care about the tears or snot wetting his shirt. all that mattered was the feeling of you in his arms, and even though it pained him to know that he caused those tears, this was better than receiving your cold shoulder and dismissive smiles.

quietly, you and satoru went back inside the warmth of your dorm where both of you shared some cheap cup ramen which satoru spiced up with some peppers, egg and a conversation which neither of you would remember in the morning to come. no amount of time seemed to have passed between you as you both laughed, bickered and exchanged glances like lovers-to-be would.

“what are you doing?,” you asked, long comfortable underneath the sheets of your bed — or you would be if satoru didn't hold them up and almost looked offended by your words.

“sleeping with you, duh,” he said like it was the most normal thing in the world and maybe it was.

ignoring your protests and pouts, satoru crammed himself into bed with you, one arm around your waist and the other one underneath your head. his broad chest gently pressed against your back, his warmth enveloped you like a blanket.

“you're stupid,” you smiled to yourself while a blush as red as roses crept up your cheeks.

“and you're lucky i love you,” satoru grumbled underneath his breath, blowing some strands of your hair away from his nose and mouth so he wouldn't suffocate while holding you so tight.

taglist. @torusmochi, @cinnamonmon

[venusandsaturnsrings]

The school year finally ended... I hate college SO much :( but I am alive!! I beg for some crumbs of thoughts on Sunday... -chubby darling anon who is very much alive and finally got a mitsuri scale figure <3

putting all of my other fics, blurbs, and asks on PAUSE for this!! congrats!! no more school foorrr… 3ish months!! after dropping out of uni, i’ve been finally considering going back myself for phlebotomy!! canadas health situation is lack lustre rn and the course is less than one year + paid practicum + immediate job placement which is kinda sweet… CONGRATS ON THE FIGURE TOO!! i recently (like a month and a half ago) procured the hatsune miku jirai kei subculture fashion figure and i cannot stress how pretty she is <3 sits on my pc right now bc my shelves are full… ANYWAYS… love you!!

includes: silly sunday hcs, potential story spoilers, maybe ooc im still feeling him out, praise, degradation, riding crops, his hands…, and gender neutral reader!!

very poignantly the hopeless romantic type. he’s always functioned as a ‘singularity’ of sorts and over the years developed a certain fondness of it, even if it hurts. it’s worth noting he vividly reminds me of the line ‘i miss the comfort in being sad,’ from nirvanas ‘Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge on Seattle.’ he’s the type of partner to always be stuck in that self-absorbed martyr mindset a little bit.

pragmatic to a fault. Sunday is deeply a skeptic, take his departure from the harmony in favour of the order, as an example. it’s cool because it means you’ll never have to worry about any technicalities but it also means he has a hard time letting go of control or being spontaneous.

very into more subtle romantic gestures and an absolute gentleman. you’ll have flowers at your door at least once a week and he makes sure to take all of your preferences into consideration when planning dates (he will be the one planning). keeps his hand on your lower back most of the time, the waist is far too scandalous!!

not a big texter. he prefers speaking face to face and will call if he can’t come see you. that said, he’ll make sure to like or respond to all of the silly pictures and messages you send, even if it’s a dry ‘haha’ or just a heart. occasionally, you’ll find that he’s sent you a letter, ask about and he’ll shrug and say he simply wanted something more heartfelt if he’s to communicate written. he’s got a special stamp to seal the ones he sends you.

grabs your phone when you go to show him something. no explanation i just feel it in my bones.

although he’s no singer, he’s still a classically trained musician. i imagine he was taught the violin but went on to learn his preferred instrument, the harp, himself. he’s a bit shy about playing so rather than asking, just wait until he thinks it’s late and you’re not around to hear; he’s got quite the set of fingers.

…speaking of fingers, my bread and butter, he’s beyond skilled with playing you. while he enjoys getting down to business, getting to leisurely spread you open and thrum against all your nerves gets him going. could spend hours having you laid out, in his lap, on the floor, wherever, just gently coaxing you open, wet, and pliant for himself.

off of that, he likes you best worn down to soft edges and weak desperation. getting to play the saviour, making you come undone, has him stiff in his pants.

lots of sweet praise and subtle degradation. things like, “you want to be good for me, don’t you my sweet?,” or, “now, now, don’t get greedy on me. be patient, silly thing, and i’ll appease all of your foolish whims,” annddd, “come now, you’ve been so well for me, angel, don’t ruin that with any useless whines.”

he’s not one for being too harsh against you but push the right buttons and you’ll get a ‘dumb’ or ‘stupid’ here and there. Sunday doesn’t curse but he knows his way around how to make you feel inferior and looked down upon.

he likes the power play of staying fully and pristinely clothed while your completely nude, save for maybe a pretty collar he’s got you belled with. if you’re real trouble, say maybe a no good criminal causing problems on Penacony and once arrested you’re at his disposal and oh so pretty, he’ll find a nice muzzle to fix you with.

strikes, no pun intended, me as the type to have an affinity for riding crops over anything else for punishments. you’ll get the same sugarcoated degradation while he comments on how you’re not even good enough to be so close to his gloved hand that he just must use the crop!! (he likes the pretty bruises it leaves).

[tcfactory]

Silly idea of the day: Shen Qingqiu grills the System for answers about how to avoid the whole Abyss scenario and save his little cabbage favorite disciple until the System very reluctantly offers up the option to transfer the protagonist halo - and all the trials that come with it - to someone else if he pays literally all his points. It's a risky endeavor, but he doesn't see any other way to save Binghe from his suffering/blackening, so he decides to take the risk. After some deliberation he decides to transfer the protagonist halo to Mobei-jun. Based on his memories of PIDW, Mobei-jun isn't the type to be interested in world domination and Shen Qingqiu figures if any kind of wild plot is going to happen to the ice demon, it will be limited to the demon world + maybe Huan Hua Palace and that's it.

The System checks in with Shang Qinghua about what kind of story he would have written for Mobei-jun if he had the choice (SQH is vary of the System and answers 'found family and slowburn romance, maybe with a touch of a coming of age plot' because there's no way the System can make something horrible from that, right?) and accepts Mobei-jun as an alternative.

The protagonist halo is transferred with the click of a button; Luo Binghe loses that special spark that designated him for greatness, but at the same time, he is free of the weight of his fate as well. He's destined to live a life as ordinary as a half-demon cultivator's ever gets.

However, Shen Qingqiu is not required for the new story and keeping a 'troublesome' transmigrator around is too risky for the System, so it decides to swap Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu back. There is a high chance of Shen Jiu dying of qi deviation when he's shoved unceremoniously back into his body (his soul has been fragmented and damaged when the System replaced him with Shen Yuan) which would be the best outcome, as far as the System is concerned, because it would be a natural-looking death that nobody would bother to investigate. It's pure luck that Liu Qingge is lurking around, looking for a chance to thank Shen Qingqiu for saving his life in the caves, and can step in and stabilize Shen Jiu.

At the same time Mobei-jun, in the first hour of being the new protagonist, stumbles into a patch of very specific magic weeds and passes out.

Shen Jiu now knows of the System and has some vague awareness of the person who, as far as he can tell from the incoherent hints the System gave him, was kidnapped against their will and showed into his body and fate for the sake of raising some prophecised emperor of the three realms to power, a plan that was foiled by Shen Jiu's return. He doesn't know why this person acted so strange while in Shen Qingqiu's role (coddling those brats, especially that brat?! What was the stranger thinking??), but the System's remarks make something clear: the stranger knows something about the prophecy and did his best to avoid it, much to the System's displeasure.

So clearly the best course of action is to get them back and question them, somehow. But first Shen Qingqiu is going to Yue Qingyuan and shakes him until he confesses why he left Shen Jiu behind, because if he has to deal with a demon (?) or being that can erase him from existence at a whim, then he wants to know the reason. He's facing almost certain death here, it's the least he's owed!!

While Shen Qingqiu is grilling his soon-to-be-beloved-again brother and trying to come up with a way to keep being a decent teacher despite himself, just in case, on Qian Cao a young, amnesiac rogue cultivator wakes up. He was found in the borderlands, almost ripped to shreds by a herd of man-eating boars. He doesn't remember his name or his past or even his cultivation, but Mu Qingfang estimates him to be in his twenties. He has a very well-developed fire root and a sunny complexion, but he is haunted by dreams of ice, so they decide to call him Beilun (悖论 - paradox) for the time being. When Beilun recovers he asks to stay in the sect so he can learn proper cultivation again and after some rigorous testing - a balanced nature between physical and spiritual cultivation, not much of a head for arts, but excellent instincts for politics, trade and strategy - Yue Qingyuan snatches him up as a personal, soon-to-be head disciple (also maybe brand new adopted little brother, because Yue Qi can't help himself). Shen Qingqiu is initially unhappy about having to share Yue Qingyuan's brotherly affection with someone new, but soon warms up to Beilun himself when he realizes how ruthless the young man can be. Second big brother acquired!

Time passes. Shang Qinghua privately mourns for Mobei-jun when word gets back to Cang Qiong that the Northern prince has been missing so long that they wrote him off. His mourning is tinted by guilt, because he keeps getting distracted by the handsome new Qiong Ding head disciple. Yue Beilun is tall and suntanned and scarred, even years later still not fully recovered from whatever befall him on the edge of the demon realm, but every time he smiles at Shang Qinghua it feels like the world comes to a standstill.

So for one there's the glacially slow falling in love between Shang Qinghua and definitely-not-Mobei-jun. There's the forming adopted family with the two disasters in charge + still-absolutely-not-Mobei-jun. There are Shen Qingqiu's persistent attempts at being a good teacher and a better martial brother (with inconsistent degrees of success, but Liu Qingge is discovering a lot of new things about himself as the primary audience of Shen Qingqiu's self-improvement). There's the long search for ways to get Shen Yuan back from the System, which leads to a whole, wacky side-adventure when they learn the truth about Tianlang-jun and set him free while they are there to get the mushrooms.

Of course this New Plot can't happen without some drama. Beilun is accompanying the masters to the Immortal Alliance conference when the Endless Abyss opens up. Luo Binghe almost succumbs to a sever qi deviation when his seal breaks and Beilun rushes in to fight off the monsters attacking the disciples and falls into the Abyss - which is just the thing needed to break the curse on him...

So Cang Qiong is in mourning over the loss of Yue Beilun who many of them assumed will be the next sect leader based on Yue Qingyuan's strong attachment. Luo Binghe is confined to Qian Cao, half under treatment and half under house arrest on account of being half-demon until they can figure out what to do with him. At least the System has relinquished Shen Yuan, now that the mushroom body is grown enough, and after learning how young he is, he becomes the new replacement little brother of the sect leader and the (ex) scum villain, which is weird and confusing, but not in a bad way.

Meanwhile in the demon realm Mobei-jun makes his return (as far as people know he was training all these years in the Endless Abyss and he is monstrously stronger for it), takes over as Northern King and starts solidifying his power base with Tianlang-jun's help (rumors have it that he was the one who broke the Junshang out of his prison, a feat everyone thought impossible). After all, only a fool goes courting when their court is in disarray and now that he remembers all the things Qinghua has done for him, he has eyes for nobody else.

All the while the Old Palace Master watches the shifts in the demon realm and plots a new war against the demons. With such a cold and ruthless rising Northern King looming on the horizon, not to mention the vengeful Tianlang-jun, it shouldn't be difficult to whip the cultivators up into preparing for conflict...

[navybrat817]

Is our lumberjack nervous to be a dad?

A little bit, nonnie.

Prepping the Nursery

Pairing: Lumberjack!Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Summary: Steve reflects as he readies the nursery.

Word Count: Almost 900

Warnings: Fluff, ki-ssing pregnancy, slight feels (it's me), canon divergent, Steve Rogers (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Set in Into the Woods AU. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was a warm and sunny day when Steve decided to paint the nursery. After testing a few colors and picking a theme, he wanted to get to work. You wanted to help, of course. He requested that you wore a mask, even though he had the window open the fumes wouldn't overwhelm you. He also asked you not to climb on the ladder.

"Hope you don't mind me using this," you said, putting on one of his old shirts before you joined him. You didn't button it though, keeping your bump exposed.

Still look better in my shirts than I ever do.

"Don't mind at all. Just stay off the ladder. That's an order," he half teased.

"You do remember I'm a perfectly capable human being who can take care of herself. I had a whole career as a writer before I met you and still do," you teased softly, observing one of the walls. He knew the room was going to be beautiful. "Between you and Bucky, I swear."

"Between the two of us, what?" he asked.

Bucky already proclaimed himself as an "uncle" and expected Steve to be the same to his baby. He couldn't believe both of you got pregnant around the same time. Maybe fate was trying to give them more of the happiness they deserved.

"The baby proofing. The restrictions. It's just a shock you don't have bubble wrap around me."

The sheepish smile on his face along with his mumbled apology made you laugh away your exasperated expression. You insisted on sticking with your routine, even on your tired days, and you wouldn't push yourself more than necessary. It was in his nature though to be protective of those he cared about. You were no exception and neither was your precious cargo. And if anything happened to you or your baby, he'd-

"Steve?" you asked.

He didn't answer as he set his paintbrush down and guided his hand to your stomach. He'd never forget the pure, unbridled joy he felt when he learned he was going to be a father. He may have shed a happy tear once he wore you out with celebration sex. It was a dream come true.

There was also an exposure of fear when all he wanted to do was wrap himself around you and keep you both safe from harm. Physically, he was now more than strong enough to keep you both safe. But with the ailments he had from his childhood, would any of those pass on? Would the serum wipe those chances out?

He just wanted his baby to be healthy.

You had enough to worry about being attached to the former Captain America. It made it easier to walk away from missions completely for the time being with a baby on the way. He had seen enough of the horrors of the world and felt the blood on his hands. He didn't want that on his doorstep.

"Steve," you said again, your eyes filled with understanding. "I'm teasing you, okay? If it makes you feel better to keep an extra eye on me within reason or be a little protective, that's more than fine."

You weren't just saying that to placate him and that alone made him relax. "Thank you. I appreciate that," he said, kissing your temple.

One of the things Steve cherished about your relationship was the give and take. You didn't cave to his whims without a second thought and he didn't enforce rules just to stay in control. Balance and communication made your bond stronger.

"And, peanut, your mama really is a strong, perfectly capable human being. A brilliant writer and a loving woman," he smiled, rubbing your stomach. The best person he knew. "I just can't help myself and I'm very lucky she puts up with me."

"We're the lucky ones, Beefcake," you said, placing your hand over his. He knew you were smiling behind the mask.

"I just want to do right by both of you," he said.

He wanted to be a hero in both of your eyes by simply loving you.

"Peanut will hear all sorts of stories about you one day and wonder how he got so lucky to have you as a dad," you said. From the moment you found out you were pregnant, you thought you were having a boy and he wasn't going to argue with your instincts. "You'll be his whole world."

You two are my world.

"Not as lucky as he'll be to have you as a mom," he said, tugging the mask down to give you a proper kiss.

You moaned a little as his beard scraped against your face. "Are we going to get any painting done?"

"You come in here wearing my shirt and saying sweet things and you expect me not to take advantage of that?" he smirked, pulling you close by your hips.

"Oh, no you don't. You said I have to wear my mask," you teased, trying to cover your mouth again. "That was an order."

"Fuck the orders," he half growled, kissing you again.

The two of you eventually got the nursery painted and he couldn't have been prouder with how it turned out. The room represented love and a new beginning. And he couldn't wait for the day his baby made his home complete.

Steve and Bucky will both be amazing fathers. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[wardenparker]

Win a Date with Javi G, part 1

Javi Gutierrez x female reader x Jack Daniels Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 15.9k   Warnings: Cursing. Food/alcohol. Pure fluff and flirting. A little dirty talk/dirty flirting toward the end. Summary: You and your best friend are huge fans of Spanish pop star Javi G, and she managed to convince you to enter a contest to win a date with the singer himself. No one is more surprised than you when you actually win. ✨🎶🥰 Notes: Hey Guys! It's my birthday! To celebrate, Keri and I conceived of this little one shot that turned into a smutty, kinky, fluffy two-parter and I hope you love it as much as we do. For all the folx out there who remember the movie "Win a Date with Tad Hamilton", you'll recognize the inspiration right away -- and reader's hometown is inspired by the waterfront town from "Bob's Burgers". We're all over the map here! Special shouts also to my darling @julesonrecord for imaging how much glitter Eurovision Pop Star Javi G would actually be covered in at every show.

Your eyes are on the verge of crossing when the phone rings, books spread out on your desk in your home office and countless tabs open on your laptop as you try to piece together this bit of research to send off to your bosses on deadline. You almost let the call go to voicemail, too absorbed in this odd passage from an even odder book, but something inexplicable tells you to answer it. The call is Private, the word splashed across your screen as it continues to ring, and your cat meows curiously when she jumps up into your lap as you hit the green button to accept. “Hello?”

Jack tilts the handset for his desk phone against his shoulder and enjoys the sound of the voice on the other end. It sounds attractive, being in the business long enough, you can tell by a voice if the person is gonna be a looker. “Howdy ma’am.” He greets you and then says your name. “Is it a convenient time for a talk?”

Howdy? You make a face instinctively, wondering why you've got a cowboy calling you in the middle of the day. Probably a telemarketer, but what the hell. You've got time. Your cat meows again and you sit back in your chair to let her settle into your lap to be pet while you're on the phone. "Sure," you say after a moment. "What can I do for you?"

“Jack Daniels ma’am.” He introduces himself with a grin as he twists in his ergonomic chair and looks at the poster that is plastered up on his wall for the upcoming world tour. “I’m the CEO of Statesman Talent Agency.” He hums. “And I’m callin’ concerning a little contest that you entered. ‘Win a Date with Javi G’? Does that ring a bell?”

"Oh!" Shooting up straight in your chair almost tips your sweet cat onto the floor but you manage to recover and hold onto her. "Uh–yeah, yes. Of course." Entering the contest had been a whim. A decision made after too much wine and giggling with your best friend. Spain's Eurovision winner Javi G was trying to break out in America and you had loved the album he released - as well as everything he had put out in Spain that you had hunted down on the internet. Your best friend had been able to talk you into entering after about the millionth watching of his winning Eurovision performance. You definitely didn't think you would actually get a call about it though.

“Good, good,” Jack chuckles as he takes his boots off his desk and leans forwards. “I’m tickled pink to inform you that you have won our little contest.” He tells you. “You will be flown out to L.A. to accompany Javi to the Grammys as well as the Universal Music Group after party.” He rambles. “Hotel and your dress will be provided of course.”

"I—"You almost hiccup, the disbelieving laughter coming out of you right away. "Seriously?"

“Now ma’am, my momma would whoop me if I was leadin’ a young lady on.” Jack grins at your reaction, imagining you are about to start dancing. “We do need to be discussin’ some of the particulars. The NDA and the legal-ese stuff the blaster lawyers like to prattle on about.” He hums. “Plus we need to film your ‘official’ win for the announcement. Are you gonna be free next week?”

"I–um–yes, sir, I am." There's no fucking reason in the world to have called him sir, but the cowboy thing just sinks into your brain and the manners pop out by accident. "I work from home and my availability can be made flexible." Having a conventional job for unconventional employers has its benefits.

“Good, that’s good, darlin’.” Jack might get shit for his sometimes seemingly sexist way of speaking, but it’s not often. “I’ve got your information right here in front of me and will be sendin’ you an email.” He promises. “Congratulations.”

"Thank you very much, Mr. Daniels." There, that's more appropriate. It doesn't help that you're nearly vibrating in your chair and about three seconds away from laughing so hard you scream. "I look forward to hearing from you."

“Real soon, darlin’” Jack hangs up the phone and hums, your social media account pulled up and he’s looking at a picture of you. “She’s gonna be perfect.” He predicts with a grin.

As soon as you hang up the phone you're a giggling mess, hugging your cat and giving her all the scratches in the world as she looks at you with distinct concern. Immediately pulling up your best friend’s contact info to call her, you're not taking no for an answer – tonight is going to be takeout and a bottle of wine and celebrating. For a girl who has never won anything before, this is a very big first.

******

Four days later, Jack sighs as he walks down the stairs of the G5 he had flown to your closest airport. Squinting at the light, he’s delighted to find the car waiting for him. The little perks of having an international talent agency often outweighed the long hours and constant ass kissing.

“Thirty minute drive, Mr. Daniels.” The driver tells him when he opens the rear door to let the man climb into the nondescript black SUV. “Not much traffic this time of day.”

“Is there a lot a traffic…ever?” Jack asks, far too used to L.A.’s horrendous traffic in the years he has spent living there. It makes a normal town seem positively quaint.

“People still have to get to and from work.” The driver shrugs and closes the door, only opening his mouth again when he climbs behind the wheel. “Town’s Art Crawl is this weekend, so it’ll get busy fast.”

“Art Crawl?” Jack would normally be on his phone, answering emails but the driver has piqued his curiosity. “What is that?”

“The restaurants and businesses down on the wharf by the theme park all display art by local artists,” the man explains as he heads for the highway. The address he was given is an apartment on Ocean Avenue, so he isn’t worried about finding it. That’s just downtown. “It’s a fundraiser for I-dunno-what. People buy the art and can donate to whatever the cause is at raffles and things. Always brings in the crowds, though.”

Jack hums. “Interesting.”

“Town’s got a lot of good stuff goin’ on.” The driver continues. Having a captive audience suits him. “Just had a big party at town hall for New Years. Community theater is opening a show this weekend. More Art Crawl stuff.”

“Hmmmm.” Jack reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out his phone. Maybe Seymour’s Bay isn’t quite as small town U.S.A as he had imagined it to be. “Sounds like this place has some culture.” He says, opening his mail. “You like Javi G?”

The driver glances in his rear view mirror. He was given a name, a time, and an address and nothing else. Now this guy in a Stetson is asking him about some pretty boy pop singer? “Can’t say I’ve heard much,” he says with a shrug. “That’s the kind of stuff my fifteen-year-old daughter listens to.” 

“He is going to be touring in the U.S. in the next three months.” Jack tells him, glancing up from his email for a moment. “Tickets go on sale next Monday.” If there’s anything that Jack Daniel’s excels at, it’s promoting his clients. Even if it’s to his driver for the day.

“Yeah?” The man makes a huffing sound, like the wheels in his head needed some extra oomph to get moving. “It’s her birthday soon…”

“Nothing better than tickets for her and her two closest friends to see the concert of the year.” He reaches into his pocket and and pulls out a card. “If you want to really impress her, call that number and my secretary can set you up with VIP passes for a fair price. Meet and greets.”

The rest of the car ride passes with some grateful squawking from the driver and the usual questions about what it’s like to work for celebrities, and by the time the man pulls the car up in front of the big brick building on Ocean Avenue that houses a florist shop on street level and an apartment up above, he probably should have talked himself silly. Instead he pulls the back door open with a beaming smile and waits for this client to exit. “This is it,” he says, excited for whatever is happening that he doesn’t know about. But excited nonetheless.

“Thank you.” Jack nods as he looks at the neat, well kept building. He steps out of the back of the vehicle and reaches for his briefcase, filled with the paperwork that would serve as the agreement for the contest.

The agent’s arrival time was listed in the email you got last night, and you have been hustling all week long to make sure that your apartment is spotless for his arrival. Putting way too much thought into everything as usual, there are tons of drink choices in the fridge, an entire painstakingly assembled charcuterie platter to offer, and a box of macarons from the bakery down the street that makes the best sweets in the entire world. Even Pyewacket is behaving, just lazing happily in a patch of sun on the arm of your leather sofa. You’re dressed decently, styled like an actual adult, everything is perfect. So when the buzzer for your door sounds, you take a deep breath before you answer without panicking. “Coming!” You chirp through the speaker and head straight downstairs.

He waits, looking around the street and peers into the shop to see the bouquets that are on display. They are beautiful, someone with a skilled hand put them together. It’s ideal honestly and he can already see how the promo’s for the advertisement for Javi’s tour will go.

When the back door to the building opens and you step out, you have to hold back a small giggle at first. There’s a man in a Stetson with a Burt Reynolds mustache peering in the shop window right beside your beaten up little car and you clear your throat politely. “Mr. Daniels?”

Seeing you in person, it's even better than your social media page. Your smile is bright, almost irresistible. He reaches up and sweeps his hat off his head and smiles his most charming smile while he says your name. "It is surely a pleasure to meet you."

The features that you noticed from a distance are the least consequential as the man turns to greet you and aims a smile at you that’s brighter than the sun. Oh god, he’s handsome… “It’s really nice to meet you, too.” You put your hand out automatically, meaning to be polite, and motion to the shop beside you. “Beautiful, right? My sister does great work.”

"It’s your sister's shop?" He asks, glancing back over to the window and then back to you. When you nod, Jack grins and straightens up. "Fine work," he praises. "Probably better that most shops that I've seen charge a thousand dollars a setting."

“She ships long distance and does all kinds of special arrangements.” You tell him, puffed up with pride for your hardworking big sister. “I have her card upstairs, and you should pop in before you leave town. Bring something back to your wife or whoever’s at home.”

"No wife." He shakes his head and winks at you. "Yet." He doubts he would ever marry, his life not exactly conducive to having a little lady putter around the house. "But I know that I send flowers all the time to clients and associates."

“I’ll make sure you leave with Kate’s card, then.” Nodding toward the building, you can’t avoid the little shiver that wink gave you, as silly as it is. “Would you like to come up?”

"I never turn down a pretty lady inviting me upstairs." Jack hums, enjoying the way you seem to fluster. You will look amazing on Javi's arm at the Grammys but that doesn't mean that he couldn't flirt with you and pay you a compliment or ten.

It’s just one flight of stairs that opens into your little place, but the meowing is immediate when your black cat pops out of nowhere and starts inspecting the new arrival. “Pyewacket, be nice to Mr. Daniels,” you instruct, giving her fur a ruffle on your way through the living room. “Can I offer you a drink? Something to eat?”

Jack eyes the fluffy black cat as if he might get attacked and edges past it. Never been a cat man, although it seems to be staring at him judgmentally. "I'm good with a drink." He accepts with a nod and looks at the small dining room table. "Perhaps we can go over the contracts and disclosures here?" He asks.

“Of course.” After going through the drink options you end up pouring two glasses of iced tea and setting them down on the clean table. “I understand the basics. Don’t talk about private things that I might see or hear, and to make sure I actually show up at the appointed time and place or legal action can be taken against me.”

"Right." Jack grins, reaching into his briefcase to pull out the paperwork. "There's also a little disclaimer that any and all sexual activity happens with consent of both parties." He winks at you again and shrugs. "Just in case."

“I—um—okay, that’s…” You look at him curiously. “Is that…something that happens? With these things?” It would be the first you’ve ever heard of anything like it — but then again there is also an NDA on your table right now. 

"If you and Javi wanted it to." He admits with a small grin. "Animal attraction and all. This just states that neither you nor Javi are required to provide intimate acts and if any transpire that it is of your own free will."

“It seems way more likely that I’ll overhear something, but I get it. You have to protect your client.” And since absolutely fucking nothing is happening without your consent - thank you self defense classes - you nod and pick up a pen. “So what happens? I arrive at some decent but inexpensive hotel, stylist dresses me so I look halfway decent, and I walk down the red carpet with him then get sent back to the hotel? Quick and dirty, as they say?”

Jack snorts and shakes his head. "Oh no." He hums, sending you a cocky smirk. "You will have a suite at the Biltmore Los Angeles and the stylists will be measuring you the day you arrive to make sure the gowns they pull for you to choose from are your size. We have artists come in to do your hair and makeup following a full spa day." 

“Oh.” That’s a hell of a lot more than you expected, and you can’t help but feel a little special and a lot flustered. “That’s a hell of a way to make a girl feel special, Mr. Daniels.”

"This is a once in a lifetime event, darlin'." Jack admits with a charming grin. "Javi's startin' off his U.S. tour with a bang."

“Yeah, I—um…my best friend and I actually pre-ordered our tickets the day the email went out.” You look down into your iced tea sheepishly, but you entered a damn contest for a date. They already know you’re a fan. “Fan Club early access tickets…”

"Fan club, huh?" Jack chuckles and he bites his lip. "Well, we'll just have to upgrade our contest winner to VIP tickets." He decides. "Can't have the woman who goes to the Grammys with Javi G watching his concert from anywhere but front row."

Sure you could demure and say it isn’t necessary, but you’re not at all going to turn down that kind of offer. The nearest big concert venue to you is a decent drive away and you and your best friend had already planned on having to get a hotel room for the night on top of everything else. It is going to be an extra big deal now. “I’m very happy to be extra positive publicity for you,” you tell him instead, knowing that that is probably his biggest and main concern. It doesn’t bother you one bit. 

"Good." He smiles and nods. "Not necessary but we will take all the social media coverage we can get." He does level you a serious look. "Before the winner is announced...you should probably make security changes to your accounts." He warns. "Just in case."

“What do you mean?” The ink is on the page now, your signature on the dotted line of the contract appointing you the winner of the contest, so you sit up to pay attention.

"Sometimes fans can be...invasive." He's sure he doesn't have to tell you about it if you are part of the fan club but he does want to warn you. "Make sure that you aren't getting random DMs and that you accept friends. I'm sure that as soon as it is announced, you will find you have thousands of new followers overnight."

“It will be a very busy weekend, then, I guess.” The email that had been sent to you said the announcement was coming within days of your contract being signed, so that can only be soon. After all, the Grammys are in three weeks. “I’ll change my passwords and privacy settings and all of that. Lock it down. Thanks for the tip.”

"Don't want this experience to be anything but magical." Jack winks again and snaps his fingers. "Oh! Damn near forgot, Javi recorded you a message."

“Oh, that’s—that’s so sweet.” So what if it was in his contract? Or if it was just a thing he would have done for any person who won the contest? It’s still nice.

Nodding, he pulls out his phone and opens up the video. "I'll send it to you, it's going to be posted on the official Javi G tour site after the announcement of your win as well."

The message pops up on your phone right away while you begin to read the NDA, glad to have just a tiny bit of legal knowledge from this and that over time. This one looks nearly identical to one that you signed for a work event some time ago so you sign it without fear. The last piece is the paper listing sexual activity as unattached to the contest and of the own free will of its participants and you shake your head all over again. How many people really just fall into bed with celebrities just because they’re famous? It seems so silly.

Javier Gutierrez, known as Javi G to his fans, pops up on the screen and he flashes the sweet smile that has melted men and women's hearts across Spain and Europe. Now destined to become a major success in the United States. "Buenos dias!" He waves and says your name. "I cannot tell you how I am looking forward to our date." He seemingly speaks to you, making eye contact with the camera. "Perhaps you will make me not so nervous." He chuckles nervously as he says that and continues on. "We will have a wonderful time at the Grammys and who knows?" He shrugs. "You might inspire a new song, cariño." He blows a kiss to the camera. "See you soon."

“He always seems so sweet.” Who knows if it’s a character or not, but even in his little Instagram posts or things like that, he always seems completely earnest and giddy. Like he can’t believe his good luck or something. “Is there anything else I should know? Before the day, I mean?”

"Javi has requested a brunch, or lunch, depending on how hungover the two of you might be." Jack smirks because he knows that is very likely. "Something simple, low key with no social media. His way of thanking you." 

“No dressers for that, I’m assuming?” You tease because it’s in your nature, but you make a mental note to pack your favourite dress to have brunch in. “I can definitely do brunch. Best meal ever invented.”

“L.A. is the city to have it in then.” Jack sweeps up all the signed paperwork and nods. “You will be sent an electronic version of these papers as well. We just like having physical copies.”

“Sure. Makes sense.” Another nod, as you wonder why this agent came all the way out here himself. “Do you…need anything else from me? Clothing sizes, probably?” There had been no request for physical indicators of any kind in the contest entry, so it’s not like he has them on file unless he’s a creeper.

Jack shakes his head. “The stylist will measure you when you land in L.A.” He explains. “Women’s sizes are so varied from brand to brand.”

“Okay.” Nervous again, you shrug your shoulders and take the last sip of your iced tea. “So is that it? I really have no idea how this works. Obviously.”

“Well…yeah.” Jack frowns slightly and picks up his tea again. “The ticket will be sent to you, we are flying you out two days before the Grammys, then back home two days after.” He shrugs slightly. “What questions do ya got for me?”

“Wait, it’s four days?” You almost startle at that news, but manage to shut your mouth after a few seconds. “Okay, uh…what arrangements do I have to make for myself? Hotel for the other nights? Flight home? Obviously you guys aren’t buying my meals or anything.”

Jack frowns. “Darlin’, I’m sorry, I guess you didn’t read the fine print.” He tuts, shaking his head. “Everything is included. There and back. You are not going to pay for a thing. At least I hope the $300 a day spending money for meals is enough.” They had wanted to make this contest as popular as possible, garnering attention and excitement for Javi G’s tour and it seems as though you didn’t even know what you were getting. 

The disbelieving laugh that that news earns him bursts out of you like an explosion and you end up giggling nervously. “I…had had a lot of wine that night,” you admit. “And I never went back to reread the contest information because I didn’t figure there was any chance I would win.”

“Surprise.” He chuckles and tilts his head. “The prize includes first class flights to L.A. and back, the entire stay at the Biltmore and twelve hundred dollars to be spent at your discretion for food. For four days. And the room service in the hotel is included with the room.”

“I’ll grab a city map and a rental car when I land and I’ll be good to go.” Sitting back in your chair, you blow out a breath and laugh again. “This is a hell of a contest, Mr. Daniels. It’s really a very impressive prize.”

He sighs and rolls his eyes. “I knew there was something they forgot.” He hisses, shaking his head. “We will make sure there’s a car at the hotel.”

“Oh no, that’s not—!” You bite your lip and hope you haven’t gotten some poor office lackey in trouble. “It’s very generous of you.”

“Convertible okay?” He wants to make sure he smooths over this oversight so you are happy as a pig in the mud when you post your stories online. “Drive down Hollywood Boulevard Marilyn style?”

Nearly choking on the first sip of a new glass of tea, your eyes go wide when you look up at him again. “I—that car? The broken down piece of crap you were standing next to downstairs? That’s been my car for seven years and she has been that bad the whole time I’ve had her. A convertible is insane.”

“Then the videos you post – safely – of you driving it with the wind blowing through your hair will be spectacular.” Jack winks.

“Very safely.” You can promise him that with your hand on your heart.

“It’s gonna be a great trip, darlin’.” Jack predicts. “Javi’s gonna love you and you’re gonna feel like a star.”

“I’m very excited.” It felt like a dream to begin with, but now all this? It’s incredible. It’s a fairy tale.

“Perfect.” Jack thinks you’re beautiful and if he didn’t have this contest that needed to be fulfilled, he would be hitting on you. “Only three weeks until you will be in L.A. and posing with Javi on the red carpet.”

******

The first two days in LA are like a whirlwind, posting things to your social media in between sending texts back to your best friend and your sister, doing as many touristy things as you can manage and eating some of the best food you've ever had in your life. This city is like nothing you've ever experienced before and you're enjoying every second of it. The day of the Grammys is an all-day spa treatment for you until you head back to your hotel room. Room service is waiting for you there, and the team of stylists arrive very soon after. The army of dresses that they have with them are all so stunning that you can barely get a good look at one before you're sighing over the next, and they are ready and excited to get to work.

“Knock knock.” Javi can hear the chattering and laughter inside as he stands outside the hotel room with his suit. His hair is already carefully styled and the stylist that is working with you right now is going to finish his look here in your room. Jack had wanted candid photos of you and him getting ready together.

"Oh my god." Sitting at the vanity in the hotel room in your robe and slippers, you swear you nearly fall over right in your chair. "It's you!"

“It’s me.” The door had been left open, due to the people coming in and out of your suite, so he pushes the door open and pops his head inside. “Can I come in?”

"O–of course!" Making sure you're covered by your robe, you get up to offer him your hand and find the smile on your face is even broader than you thought it would be. He's even more handsome in person...how is that possible?

The stylist quickly takes the suit from Javi, leaving him free to take your hand and pull you in for a hug. “Are you excited? I am excited. What a thrilling night!” He rambles, squeezing you tight and pulling back to beam at you, “Jack was right, but he always is.” 

"Jack was right you'd be excited?" He smells amazing despite it probably just being soap, and he's so warm that it radiates through you like you're hugging a ball of pure energy in the form of a man. Or maybe the form of a Golden Retriever Man.

“Jack was right that you are even more beautiful than your picture.” Javi corrects with a shy smile.

"I..." What the hell do you even say to that, when it's being said by the most attractive man you've ever seen in real life? "Thank you." Lame. "You're–I mean–you're incredibly sweet." Thank god you stopped yourself before you told him that he is beautiful, too. That would have been a hell of a way to start the night.

Javi frowns slightly as he panics slightly. “I did not mean to offend.” He hastily corrects, biting his lip. “I– I messed it up, didn’t I? Now you are uncomfortable and will not want to attend the Grammys with me.”

"Javi..." Surprising both of you, you reach out and put your hand on his arm. "I got tongue tied. I was about to tell you that you look beautiful instead of saying handsome. It's...you did nothing wrong. I'm just excited and very nervous."

He swallows, taking a deep breath and sighing out softly. “I–I’m sorry.” He apologizes. “Normally I can pretend to be more collected but I am nervous.” He admits.

"It's okay." Both of you end up laughing a little, and you step back to let him further into the room. "We were about to have a great debate over which gown to put me in. Do you want to weigh in?"

“You have not chosen yet?” He is surprised but delighted. “Have you tried any on yet?”

"They took my measurements when I got into the city two days ago and now I get to try stuff on and pretend to be a model." It's completely surreal and you're enjoying every second of it, if you're honest with yourself. The fact that people have whole lives like this is insane.

“You will look incredible.” Javi has no problem slipping into the chair that you had just vacated and he taps his chin as he thinks. “Is there a dress that matches my suit?” He asks the stylist. “Or should we not coordinate?”

The woman tips her head at Javi for a moment before nodding slightly and pulling away to sift through the garment bags that she brought. "We can make your accessories match," she tells him confidently. "You have pearl and gold cufflinks and gold horsebit on velvet loafers. For her," she nods to you while she talks. "I have two velvet gowns. Both will work with gold and pearl accessories." One gown is lush black velvet and the other is seductive red, both in vintage cuts. "How about one of these?"

Javi looks to you for your opinion. You will be wearing the dress after all. “What do you think?” He asks, genuinely wanting your input. “If you would rather something else, that is perfectly fine too.”

"Velvet is great. I'm not upset about that option." You're not upset about any of this, and you step toward the stylist with the dorkiest thumbs up known to man. "Let's try both on and see which one looks better."

Javi chuckles and nods. “That sounds like a perfect plan. Shall we have some champagne?”

Champagne. On Grammy night. With your favourite singer of all time. While you try on designer gowns. If you could go back in time and tell Little You about all this you'd never believe yourself. "Absolutely. Let's do it. You pour and I'll be right back."

Javi knows that the bucket of champagne is going to arrive soon. Jack had assured him that he was ordering one for when you were meeting him. Knowing that some champagne would calm him down.

Disappearing for the time it takes to wiggle into the red dress, you glimpse yourself in the mirror long enough that you almost sigh. It's stunning. Reminiscent of old Hollywood, it fits and flares in all the right places and the back hangs low enough to show off a whole lot of skin. Unfortunately, you note as you step out for Javi to see the dress on you, it's a little hard to walk in because it is so form fitting.

Immediately, Javi frowns when he sees your lips pinched together in concentration. “What is wrong with it?” He asks, leaning forward. It’s stunning, to be sure, but he will not have you uncomfortable for the entire night.

Biting your lip just gives you away even further, and you shrug a little helplessly. "I'm not very good at being elegant, I guess," you have to laugh to not be embarrassed. "It's a little hard to walk in."

Javi nods seriously, his brows pinching together. You look sexy in the dress and he knows it is flattering, but if you aren’t comfortable, it’s not the dress for you. “No.” He decides, shaking his head. “I wish for you to be comfortable.” He flashes a grin with a roll of his eyes. “As comfortable as you can get in a formal dress.”

The horror stories of being sewn into red carpet gowns, not being able to breathe, or walking in one specific way all night are thankfully not in your future, and you smile gratefully. “Okay. I’ll put on the other one. Be right back.”

“It is beautiful though!” Javi calls after you, watching you toddle out of the room into the bedroom of your suite.

He’s right, obviously. It’s a stunning gown and gorgeously made, but the one and only time you ever walk a red carpet is not going to be a night you have to hold your breath and tiptoe in order to exist. The black velvet dress is slightly shorter, the silhouette is much more comfortable, and the intricate pattern in the material is accented by an off-the -shoulder neckline that makes you feel elegant without being too exposed. It’s perfect, and you know the second you walk out that the difference is immediate.

Javi sits up straight in his chair, captivated by both the dress on your body and the shy smile that lights up your face. You feel good in this dress and that makes you even more stunning. “Estás preciosa. Impresionante.” He murmurs as he stands. “Yes, this is – it is beautiful.”

“It’s so comfortable,” you barely stifle a giggle, gleeful and unable to really wrap your head around your own good luck. “You, um…you like it?” As surreal as it is to have this monumentally talented international star sitting there gauging your appearance in red carpet fashion, you don’t feel as nervous as you thought you would. As you did right when he came in. He just had such a positive energy about him that it puts you right at ease.

“It’s is perfect, no?” Javi bobbles his head enthusiastically as he looks at the stylist for some back up. “She looks like she is a celebrity herself.”

“She will be after tonight.” The stylist hums her approval. “Sit down, honey. Have a drink, chat, whatever you like. Just don’t move your head a lot while we’re putting your look together, okay?” 

“Drink. Chat. Don’t move,” you laugh lightly at the directions and sit back down again, delighting when Javi himself hands you a glass of champagne. The last two days have been surreal, and this has just leveled up to crazy.

“It is easy to do once you remember not to look at everyone.” Javi assures you, sitting down in the chair that has been set up next to yours for last minute touch ups. It will allow him to chat with you and get to know you before the red carpet. “Are you looking forward to the awards?”

“Yeah, absolutely!” It’s such a once in a lifetime chance for you, what’s not to love? “I have no idea what to really expect, though.” A laugh comes easily but you have to remind yourself not to shrug. “I watch it on TV like most other people, but I have a feeling that a lot of stuff happens that isn’t shown on the broadcast.”

“We will find out together.” Javi admits with a giddy grin. It will be his first American Grammy Awards show and he is looking forward to it. “But we will have fun. I am sure of it.”

“We absolutely will.” Looking at him in the mirror as the stylists go to work on both of you, the whole thing is just…it’s perfect. It’s the story you’ll tell for the rest of your life. That time you reached Peak Awesome by winning a contest.

“And then we have the after parties.” He chuckles with an excited grin. “Sharing a drink with all my favorite artists.”

“Are we supposed to go to certain ones?” You had re-read the contract and contest rules over the last few weeks and there was a lot you had missed in your wine haze when you had entered.

“We will make an appearance for Jack. The main party….” He snaps his fingers, unable to think of the name. “Then we can choose where we would go.”

“Universal Music Group.” You remember that one, considering it’s such a big deal. “Jack did a really amazing job setting all of this up.”

“Jack is wonderful at everything he does.” Javi assures you with a small smile. “He has guaranteed my success in the States.”

“Well,” the smile you aim at him in the mirror is shy. “I already have my ticket for the tour. Jack, um…upgraded it. To VIP. So tonight won’t be the only time you see me, it seems.”

“Wonderful!” Javi lights up happily. “I might have to pull you up on stage with me.” He teases with a small wink. “Croon a few songs while you are there and make everyone in the stadium jealous.”

This man just does not do things by half, does he? It makes you wish you had about three more glasses of champagne to justify this bubbly feeling. “Well…he also put me and my best friend in the front row…so if you wanted to, we’ll be right there.”

“Your best friend? Is she a fan as well?” He asks, his eyes wide and sincere. “Or are you dragging her along for someone to attend with you?”

“She’s a fan, too.” You assure him, watching in the mirror as the stylist carefully sets the curls in his hair. “We watch Eurovision together every year, and the first time you performed for Spain…three years ago? You absolutely should have won, by the way, but we’ve both been fans ever since.”

“Thank you.” Javi still has a hard time accepting compliments, even as long as he has been performing, so a blush darkens his tanned features. “I am grateful that you think so. That is what matters to me, people enjoy my music.”

"There are a lot of us out there." If you thought he was sweet before, now you just want to wrap him up in cuddles and protect him with everything you've got. He's just a nice man who wants people to connect to him, and he's so endearing that it makes you ache. "You have a huge community of fans out there. All over the world."

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” He ducks his head, causing his stylist to huff and remind him about staying still. “Oh! Sorry.” He catches your eyes in the mirror and winces, although he is grinning slightly.

"I promise, you do." Considering you're a member of that community, you would know. But either way, you beam his smile back at him in the mirror. "There are a lot of people in the States who are very excited to see you come over here. It's going to be great."

“I hope so.” He gushes. “I have always dreamed of coming over to American music billboards. ‘Crossing over’.”

His excitement is so sweet and pure, and you can't help the way your smile spreads and spreads the more you talk to him. "I don't know anything about distribution or profits or tours or any of that. But as a fan? There are so many of us who are so excited about this. I think it's going to go really well for you."

“Fingers crossed as the saying goes.” Javi is grateful that you seem to be such an encouraging person and his eyes light up. “We should call your friend!”

"Would you mind it?" Your phone is out on the vanity in front of you and you had thirty seconds worth of forethought this morning to change your lockscreen from a picture of Javi to one of you and your friend and your sister in her florist shop so that when he nods and you pick up your phone it isn't a cringeworthy moment.

“Not at all. You should FaceTime her!” He insists, eyes sparkling with the excitement of surprising your friend.

"Her name is Esme." You're practically giggling as you tap your phone screen, and grateful when the stylists move him slightly closer to you while they work so that you can both be seen in the small screen. "She's going to absolutely lose her mind. So...just be warned."

“That is okay.” He grins as he leans over a bit more to smoosh his face next to yours in the screen as you try to connect to your friend.

The phone rings twice before she picks up, but Esme is currently cat sitting for you and it's Pyewacket's face that greets you instead of your best friend's. "Hey Pye!" You coo at your cat, who looks confused as hell to see you in a little window instead of all in front of her. "Es...put the cat down and say hello," you giggle, still making faces at your cat.

“Aren’t you calling for a Pye check in?” Esme laughs as the feline jumps down and she turns the camera towards her face. “So how is it–” Her eyes widen and she starts to squeal. “OH MY GOD, Oh my god! Javi G!”

"I'm calling to say hi," you cackle, nearly keeling over in your chair to the dismay of your stylist. "Javi thought we should give you a call."

“Oh my god, oh my god, hiiiiiiiiiii.” She gasps out, nearly about to pass out from not taking a breath yet. “I can’t believe that I’m talking to you!”

"I told you," you smirk to the man beside you, but it's all good natured. Everyone deserves a little love and encouragement, right? His just comes from fans. "Es, you have to breathe, babe," you remind her over the camera.

“I’m so sorry.” She looks stricken for a moment. Embarrassed that she might be embarrassing Javi G. 

“Hello.” Javi finally has a moment to speak and he smiles indulgently into the camera. “Do not be sorry. I am happy to meet you Esme. You have a beautiful name.”

“Y-you’re beautiful,” she giggles, like she isn’t a grown ass woman of thirty. “I mean— ah, my friend is the smart one. I’m okay with that. You’re meeting her, she’s the smart one.” 

“Oh, you’re going to lose it even harder at the concert in a couple of months,” you can’t help but laugh, really. Esme wears her heart on her sleeve and doesn’t apologize for it.

“I will send your friend home with an autograph for you. Is that okay?” Javi asks, raising his brows in question.

“That would be amazing!” Esme squeaks. She would be clapping her hands with glee if she didn’t also have to be holding up her phone. “I’m gonna record the whole thing on your DVR tonight, babe,” she promises you eagerly. “You’ll have it to watch over and over.”

“I will talk to you again before she leaves.” Javi promises before kissing his hand. “Ciao Esme!” He knows they can’t keep talking, needing to finish getting ready and there needs to be behind the scenes photos taken. 

“I love you, honey, I’ll call you later!” You promise her before having to end the call. The clock is ticking and it’s almost time to go. “That was incredibly sweet of you. I know she’ll never forget that in a million years.”

“It was a small thing.” He shrugs one shoulder and gives you an embarrassed grin. “We will have to call during brunch so you can talk longer.”

“Jack said the brunch was your idea?” You ask, setting your phone back on the vanity. “I think it’s absolutely perfect. Brunch is absolutely my favorite meal.”

“I figured that even though the Grammys are exciting, we won’t get a lot of time to talk.” Javi reasons. “But brunch? Brunch is perfect for talking.”

As if to prove his point, the stylists move over to do a full face of makeup on you and just a few small touches on him - bits of eyeliner and glitter that the naked eye would hardly perceive but that enhances his look so much.

Javi grins in the mirror as you open your mouth so the lipstick can be painted on the interior of them far beyond what women normally do. “It should withstand any eating or drinking,” the stylist tells you when she is done, and she puts the tube down next to your phone. “But keep it with you for touch ups just in case.”

“I am glad I do not have to wear that.” Javi hums.

“It’s not so bad.” Lipstick always feels glamorous to you, adding to that elegant celebrity vibe that tonight is giving you, especially after spending all day at the spa. “Besides,” you grin and it wrinkles your nose. “You have more glitter on than I do.”

“To make me sparkle on camera.” He rolls his eyes but he knows the effect will look good on film.

“It’s cute,” you promise him easily. The jewelry and accessories have come out now – the very last thing before you are ready to get into the car to head to the red carpet.

Javi stands and smiles at you. "Now I must put on my own suit to match your beauty."

The whole thing takes less time than you would think, but by the time you’re ready to take pre-show pictures the stylist who is snapping them for you is making silly jokes about adult prom while he does his tie and you check your purse one last time to make sure you have everything. The night is going to be absolutely incredible and you’re starting to vibrate with excitement.

"I must confess." He takes your hand and leans close. "I have been so nervous for tonight that I have not eaten anything." He whispers. "Have you?"

“I’m the opposite.” His hands seem almost twice the size of yours, enveloping yours and keeping you close. “I’ve been nibbling all day to try to take my mind off being nervous.”

"So you would not want a pit stop by In & Out?" He asks, almost pouting at the idea. "I have a wish for their fries and American Coke."

“Well, I think we have to.” You’ve been nibbling today, picking at fruit and cheese, charcuterie and spiced nuts at the spa. As much tea as you could drink. The room service tray was delicious but definitely picked over. But fast food with a pop star is way better than some of the things you had on your proverbial Bingo card for tonight. “I’ve never had In & Out. We don’t have them where I’m from.”

"We can have the driver swing through the drive through on the way." He grins mischievously and nods. "We can experience it together."

“It will make a very silly story in an interview one day. I think it’s an excellent idea.” His phone goes off on the table again, flashing as it sits beside yours, and you see Jack’s name pop up on the screen. “I think you might have some instructions, or hopefully some encouragements, incoming.”

Javi picks up his phone, his face lighting up when he hears his agent's voice. “Rey,” he hums, grinning at you as he speaks. “We are just about to leave.”

“Está bien, zorro.” Jack’s voice on the other end is pleased and honeyed. “Y’all got everythin’ you need? Clothes fit, stylists done their duty? Car should be downstairs waiting for you.”

“Sí.” Javi bobble his head even if Jack cannot see him. His hand reaches up for the necklace around his neck. “We have already taken some pictures, rey. They are fantastico. She is more beautiful that I imagined.”

“I knew you’d like her.” Jack seems satisfied at the choice, and his voice pitches low for a moment. “Now you two behave and I’ll see you at the party. Buena suerte esta noche.” Good luck tonight.

“Sí.” He hums warmly, smiling as he pulls the phone away to look back at you. “Jack will be joining us at the party.”

“Then we better make sure we have fun before that.” Boldly putting out your hand to him, you nod to the door of the suite. “So we can have plenty to tell him.”

He takes your hand and grins. “Are you enjoying your prize so far?”

“It’s absolutely amazing.” And why does holding his hand feel like the sweetest, giddiest thing in the world? Esme’s going to be hearing about this forever, she really is. You could just melt over it. “I still have two more days here after tonight and I just…it’s more than I ever thought it could be. Going home is going to be such a bummer.”

"Where are you from?" Jack had told him the town, but he couldn't remember off the top of his head. You both are out the door and striding down the hallway with the stylists snapping photos of you. Jack probably told them to do that.

“Seymour’s Bay, New Jersey.” It’s a small town that almost no one has ever heard of, and you shrug a little. “We’re a ninety minute drive from New York City, and we have an old style amusement park. Those are about the only notable things from my town.”

"I see." He nods and once you are on the elevator, he squeezes your hand. "So what do you do, Belleza?"

“It’s…kind of weird.” You admit, feeling very schoolgirl in your beautiful dress while the man of your dreams holds your hands on the way to a very fancy party. “I’m a researcher for a podcast. True crime, a lot of history, some supernatural stuff. Sometimes we talk about movies made about true events and what they got right or wrong. It’s basically me and my cat and a whole lot of books.” 

"Interesting." Javi doesn't think it's weird, but he frowns slightly. "Do you do the podcast? Or do you just research for it?"

"I research for it." The frown makes you certain that you've completely weirded him out or made him uncomfortable, and you shrug again. "I studied to be a librarian, but through a series of random events, I ended up becoming a researcher instead. My bosses are great, though, and I can work from home. So it's way better than a lot of other jobs based on just that."

"That is unfortunate." Javi shakes his head. "I think you would be good at the podcast." He smiles. "You have a beautiful voice and I was hoping I could listen to you sometime."

"Anytime you want to hear it, you just give me a call," you joke, never thinking for a million years that he would actually do such a thing.

Javi nods seriously, making a note to himself that he needs to have Jack give him your number. The elevator starts to slow down and he sighs, squeezing your still joined hands. "The car should already be waiting for us."

It is, just as Jack had promised, and the crowd of fans and paparazzi outside that had gotten wind of where he would be are held at bay as you and Javi are ushered quickly into the backseat. More luxurious than any sedan but not quite a limousine, you're glad all over again to be wearing the less cumbersome dress of what you tried on. There is plenty of room to stretch out and be comfortable as the driver pulls quickly away from the hotel entrance.

"I didn't think that there would be so many outside." His eyes widen and he looks back at the crowd that gathered and was still snapping pics as you drive away. "That's crazy."

"Some members of your fandom are...a little more zealous than others." No one was overtly rude or acted out or anything like that, which was fortunate, but it's a very good thing that the car's windows are tinted. The further you get from the group, the harder it will be to pick out your nondescript car from all the other black cars with tinted windows in LA.

Javi scoots forward so he can tap on the the divider between the driver and the you. When the window rolls down, he shoots the driver a grin. "Can we stop by In & Out?" He asks. "We want to grab some food and drinks before the red carpet."

The driver chuckles, obviously having heard this request before, and he nods. "Sure thing, Mr. Gutierrez. There's also some drinks in the cooler built into the seat between you, if you want them. Not sure what Mr. Daniels put in."

"I'm sure Jack put in all my favorites." He grins and nods before he sits back. "Jack stocked the drink cooler in here." He tells you before he reaches for the pull down for the seat.

"He seems to think of everything." When Javi pulls the cooler open there are half bottles of Spanish cava from a vineyard on his home island along with a plethora of canned cocktails in every flavour imaginable and, of course, water bottles. You have to admit to being impressed. Jack seems to be an incredibly thorough man. And that thought turns dirty very quickly.

"He does." Javi nods as he pulls out a bottle of the cava and starts to twist to the wire off the cork to open it. "Shall we share a drink before our fries?" He offers.

"Wine and French fries is actually a combination I've done before," you roll your eyes at yourself. "Because I'm clearly the classiest person you know. But yes, absolutely let's celebrate."

"Cava and papas fritas are a match made in Heaven." Javi insists, popping open the bottle and taking a swig directly from it before offering it to you. "I can open your own if you do not wish to share."

"I'm not fussy." He's charmingly normal, and yet also you don't think you've ever met anyone like him before in your life. He is simultaneously vibrating like an overexcited chihuahua and as laid back as any housecat. When he offers you the bottle you take it, enjoying the heady buzz of more bubbly in your system. Nowhere near even tipsy, you're simply relaxed.

"I must confess." He turns towards you with an earnest expression and leans in close. "I am surprised by how normal you are." His eyes widen, realizing how horrible that sounds. "I mean, how normal you are taking all of this" He rushes out, cursing himself for insulting you. "I would be about to jump out of my skin and you are so cool and composed."

"It's partly the bubbly," you admit with a guilty grin. "But..." Pressing your lips together when you move the bottle away from them makes you look even guiltier, but you can't help it. "I'm just trying really really hard not to weird you out. Like Esme's reaction when we called? I've been doing that on the inside for the entire time."

"Do you want to know a secret?" Javi asks, his eyes widening and he leans in closer to you.

"Very much." And you will keep it secret and safe for as long as you live, just glad to have these memories to hold on to.

"I feel like that all the time." His eyes widen in seriousness and he bites his lip. "I am always anxiously bouncing off the walls and wondering if everyone around me thinks I am crazy."

"How many people have ever referred to you as a puppy to your face?" You ask with a grin, knowing that the majority of the American fandom refers to him as a 'golden retriever boyfriend' with maximum affection. His brow furrows in confusion and he tilts his head to the side as he looks at you. Trying to figure out what you mean by that. "It means you're excitable and sweet and you have really positive energy." The last thing you want is for him to think that you're covertly taking a dig at him or something, because it's completely the opposite. "Your happiness is infectious."

"Oh." Javi nods as he smiles at you, understanding what you are saying now. "Then it is a good thing."

"It absolutely is." You would never have said it otherwise, but you feel a little hazy from how close he is. His presence really is intoxicating.

"I look like a puppy, hm?" He asks, leaning in a little more. "A cute puppy?"

It's criminal the way your heart leaps in your chest, but you're flustering before you can even blink. "I think the agreed upon term is...'Golden Retriever Boyfriend'," you admit sheepishly.

"Golden...Retriever...boyfriend..." He says it slowly, letting the words roll on his tongue. Biting his lip again as he thinks about the nickname that he is apparently known by. "Do a lot of people call me that?"

"I–" You could lie. You could. Or play it off. But you just sort of giggle as he passes the bottle back to you to sip from again. "...yeah. At least, in America they do."

"Maybe I should get a dog." He thinks with a grin. "They have such loving little faces and always love you."

"You should do what makes you happy." It's good advice that you can never seem to follow for yourself, but he absolutely deserves all the good things in the world.

"Do you have any pets?" He asks, feeling the car slow down and turn. He looks out the window and grins when he sees the iconic sign for the west coast fast food joint. 

"The cat in the phone call?" You grin at the excited look on his face. "She's mine. Pyewacket...like the cat from Bell, Book, and Candle."

"Ohhhh, she was pretty." He nods, grinning. "Sleek looking, have you had her long?"

"She's two now and I've had her since she was twelve weeks old." That beautiful black cat is your favourite roommate and only child, and you love having her. "Someday maybe I'll get her a puppy sibling. But the apartment I live in is a little too small for that right now."

"Mr. G." The driver clears his throat. "We are nearing the window. "What would you and your guest like to eat?" He asks politely.

The two of you collaborate on an order in the backseat just in time for the driver to order at the speaker, and only a few minutes later you have a bag between you and Javi's craving for American Coke is being fulfilled. "Should have enough of a drive to enjoy your snack before we get there," the driver tells you, fully amused before he puts up the separator again.

"I'm so excited." Javi confesses, even as he starts opening napkins to start draping over your lap to protect your dress. "I have heard so many good things about this and have not had time to try it before now."

"Are you that busy getting ready for your tour?" It must be an immense amount of work, but you don't really have any bearing on what goes into it. Not really.

"Rehearsals are normally fifteen hour days." He admits with a rueful grin. "Another reason I have been looking forward to the Grammys. It's a break."

"Fifteen?" That sounds like torture, and you immediately offer him some French fries like an apology. "Please tell me you have all kinds of people whose literal job it is to take care of you, because that's insane."

"Jack makes sure that I am well rested." He assures you, smiling at how thoughtful you are to worry about him. "It will get better. Hard work now to insure that the tour is perfect."

"It will be perfect." Of that you have no doubt. He's an amazing performer with incredible talent and dedication. "And I'm glad you have someone to look out for you. I know...people always say that being famous is lonely, and you're too sweet for that."

"It– it can be lonely." He admits, frowning slightly and reaching for his Coke to take a sip of it. "I do not have many friends." He shouldn't admit this to you. Opening up too much, you could tell people even though there is a NDA that protects him.

"Well that's shitty." Turning to face him completely in the back of the car, you decide that the frown on his face is completely unacceptable and you shake your head. "You have one more. If you want to, I mean. You want to talk to somebody, or vent about your day, or whatever, you just drop me a line, okay? And if you ever want to see the lamest town in New Jersey sometime, I'll take you to the broken-down amusement park for the probably-unsafe rides and rigged carnival games."

"Really?" He asks, surprised by the offer. People often want to be close to him, to get things from him, but it's never an offer to just listen. "That is– that is very nice of you." He chokes out, emotional from the gesture.

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it." In a moment that might qualify as juvenile if it didn't feel so honest and pure, you stick out your pinky finger to him and grin. "Pinky promise. Jack has my number and my email, but I'll give it all to you at brunch tomorrow if you really want it. Friends shouldn't be hard to come by for somebody as nice as you are."

His grin lights up his face and he eagerly hooks his finger around yours. "I know it seems silly to not have friends." He admits. "My family kept me isolated. Practicing to become famous was more important than friends."

"My family put pressure on me in other ways. And I know I don't have any kind of demanding career like you do, but I get it. When they decide they know what's best for you they never let go." Squeezing his finger gently in yours, the two of you are back to your snack in no time. "I do shifts in my sister's flower shop to keep them quiet. The whole family are all florists except me."

"Florists?" His brows shoot up and he hums. "They create beauty and they can't understand why it doesn't fulfill you."

"I am...not very artistic," you admit, picking up another French fry. It's official. In & Out is amazing. "I can appreciate beauty, and music, and art, and theater, and all of it. But I'm not good at making it myself. So sometimes I run the cash register for my sister on busy days or help with shipments. But arrangements? Esme and Kate do all that."

"There is nothing wrong with that." He shoves some fries into his mouth and follows it up immediately with a sip of Coke, moaning at the taste of it combined. "You have to have a sip of Coke with your fries."

It's not exotic for you at all, but he is so excited that you lean over and accept a sip of Coke without a second thought. There really is something so fantastically satisfying about simple, greasy fast food while you're all dressed up that is so much fun. "So are you right back to rehearsals tomorrow after brunch, or do you still have time to relax?"

"I will start back rehearsals next week." He tells you with a grin. "The last week before the tour starts. They don't want me to be too tired at the start of the tour." One more week of practice and then the last week before the kickoff will be spent relaxing. 

"So you have time to relax and enjoy yourself." That makes you nod with authority you definitely don't have. "Good. You should do things with your time that make you happy. Collect lots of memories. You never know where inspiration can strike, right?"

"I am hoping to." He smiles although there is a hint of secrecy in the curve of his lips as he says it. "There are a lot of things that I wish to experience. Especially if I am going to make the move to America permanent."

"Are you?" That rumor hasn't even hit the most in the know members of the fandom as far as you can tell, and you make the motion of an ‘x’ over your chest. "I signed the NDA, Javi. I won't say a word, I swear. But that's so exciting!"

He flushes again, realizing he has misspoken and yet with your hand reaching out to take his, he relaxes slightly. "I shouldn't have said that, but I'm glad someone knows." He admits, knowing that only his people, Jack, know of his plans.

“And hey.” You squeeze his hand gently, a moron he seems to find reassuring. “Even if I hadn’t signed it? We’re friends now. Friends get excited and keep secrets for each other. It’s part of the deal.”

"Thank you." The last few fries are gone quickly and he carefully starts to wipe his fingers free of salt and grease before he checks his suit for any dropped grains.

“Here.” There’s just a few specks of salt on his lapel but you lift them off in the curve of one of the fake nails that the manicurist at the salon gave you earlier today. “There.” There is no stain or mark left behind. No one would ever know you’ve been naughty. “Perfect.”

“Thank you.” He smiles, reaching up to brush a fry crumb from the corner of your lip. “You still look beautiful. And that was delicious.”

“I should check my lipstick, since it’s the one thing the stylists sent with me.” Having him call you beautiful makes you shy. You’re just a normal girl from a normal little town. Not someone Javi G should be calling beautiful.

“Yes.” Javi nods seriously and picks up your purse to hand you, “I will hold anything you need.”

The ride took less time than you thought, and you’re putting away your lipstick and mirror as the car enters the line to deposit you and Javi on the red carpet. “Don’t be nervous,” you encourage, taking his hand briefly. “You’re going to be amazing. I know it.”

"It is show time." He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment. Clinging to your hand when you try to pull it away and flashes you an apologetic grin when the moment passes. "Sorry." He hums.

“Sorry.” You instinctively apologize at the same time, and the two of you end up feeling silly but thankfully not too awkward. “If you need to grab my hand on the carpet, go for it,” you tell him, right before the car door opens. You’re not going to be mad if there is a picture out there in the world of him sweetly holding onto you for support. Just a nice man being nice to his fan.

Javi slides out of the SUV, adopting a charming smile and lifting an arm and waving to the first wave of fans and photographers, buttoning his jacket and turning to help you out of the car. While there are porters to help guests out of the cars but he wants to do it himself. Flashing you a smile as he reaches for your hand.

What you see on tv is so different from what is happening the second that Javi helps you out of the car. It’s so much louder than you expected and with so many more people everywhere. Red carpet interviews and photos give you the impression that things are all very organized and to some degree they are, but there are far more people milling about than you ever would have guessed. The two of you are ferried into a sort of arrivals line - as you make it down the carpet there will be certain places to stop for photo ops and for interviews, and there are handlers to make sure that you go where you need to. But the sheer scale of the event is so much greater than you had ever thought watching it from home.

"Here we go." Javi murmurs under his breath as he smiles and starts to wave again. It's big and loud and reminds him of stadium tours while he was in Europe. You are new to this and he keeps your hand curled around his and when he drops his hand down, he pats your hand and looks at you. "Are you okay?"

“I’m great,” you admit, thoroughly surprising both of you. The whole thing is massively exciting and you’re just soaking it up. “How are you doing? Nerves okay?”

Surprisingly good. He is normally way more nervous about things like this but you are calming him down with your down to earth friendliness and happiness. "I'm good." He insists with a smile, leaning in and kissing your cheek before his hand drifts up to touch his necklace again.

The crowd apparently loves this moment, fans nearby cheering loudly to see something so sweet in front of them. “They’re loving every second of you,” you promise him, grinning from ear to ear.

He smiles shyly, biting his lip as he looks at you soulfully. "I should have asked if that was okay." He murmurs, hoping you didn't mind it too bad.

“More than okay.” Hell, for all you care the guy can stick his tongue down your throat in the middle of the red carpet. Fuck…that’s a thought that is going to fester…

He smiles and nods, kissing your cheek again and this time he doesn't flush when he pulls back. The permission gives him confidence and he sends you a small wink before an event coordinator comes over to guide you down the carpet.

For the first real time tonight, that sheet of paper you signed concerning the possibility of sex pops back into your mind. Not because a kiss on the cheek is inherently sexual but because the nearness of him is so intoxicating.

The first few stops fly by. Charming and vivacious, Javi manages to win them over with a smile and his enthusiastic love of everything American and the joy of being here. He displays you just as much as he can, gushing over how he is enjoying being here with you and pushing you to talk as well.

The first reporter to not know anything about the contest is the first one to ask him to introduce his girlfriend to the world. He looks eager to hear all about it, thinking he might be getting a scoop, but despite the hand holding you both shake your head politely.

"She is my date." Javi clarifies, leaning in. "But she is beautiful, no?" He asks, looking back at you. "Won a contest and inspired the next song. I swear."

“I’ll be very excited to hear that song when it comes out.” He surely doesn’t mean it, but it’s still a nice thought to have. “I’m honestly just having the best time in the world.”

"We are planning to make sure we enjoy everything." Javi beams, happy you are enjoying yourself and he hopes that you mean that. You are inspiring his next song. He's already come up with the hook in his head and actually cannot wait to jot it down.

“What kind of everything are you enjoying?” Disappointed to not have unearthed gossip, the reporter digs for more. You’re clearly smitten, even if you are just a fan.

“The show, the parties after.” Javi flashes you a grin. “Tomorrow, we will nurse our hangovers with a delicious west coast brunch.”

“You’ll never want to leave LA after this.” The man chuckles to you, and you can’t shrug or risk looking weird. 

“I already don’t want to leave,” you admit with a blinding smile. This moment is supposed to be for you and yet all you want to do is make it good for Javi. He chuckles and the two of you move down to the next reporter. Smiling as he grips your hand tightly. “He wanted us to give something away so badly,” you grin guiltily.

“He did. Secret relationships are always titillating.” Javi hums, reaching up and touching his necklace again to calm himself.

“Too bad for them.” Still holding his hand, You flash him the same smile that you had the reporter to hopefully reassure him. “Everything’s going great.”

“Let me know if that changes.” He asks softly, wanting you to enjoy this entire experience. “Although they are going to be jealous of me standing beside someone as beautiful as you are.”

"When you write your song, put that in the lyrics," you tease affectionately. "It will be my favorite forever."

“I will.” Javi nods seriously. “The hook is already written. ‘No star shines as bright as your smile’” He sings softly.

"I—I thought you were just...saying that." The flash of a camera isn't as dramatic as a wasted bulb anymore, but there is now one photographer in the world with an picture of you looking at Javi with soft astonishment written all over your expressive face. "It's...it's beautiful," you murmur back, feeling your cheeks heat up so much you might become your own sun.

“You are beautiful.” Javi counters, unraveling your hand from his arm to kiss the back of it. “Inspiration struck, thanks to you.”

******

If he was enjoying himself before the awards, Javi is ecstatic afterward and you are powerless but to roll along with his excitement at the afterparty. His award for Best Global Performance will be delivered to his LA residence and the adrenaline from his win might never wear off. Happiness looks so well on him, though, and he's all but glowing when you walk into the party together.

"I can't believe I won!" He gushes for about the five thousandth time. It's incredible and he's nearly overwhelmed with how many people, famous artists, came up to congratulate him. "Can you believe that I won?"

"I absolutely can," you assure him just like every time before. He's a brilliant entertainer and it isn't the first award he's ever won, but his desire to break America means that winning a Grammy holds enormous importance for him. "You more than deserve it."

"Is that..." His eyes widen and he cranes his neck over the crowd and then ducks down and around The Weeknd to see better. "Is that Gloria Estefan?" He asks in a near reverent whisper. "Oh my god, it is." He hisses, looking back at you almost panicked. "It's Gloria Estefan!"

"You should say hello." He is very near to a kid in a candy store at this party, and while you are just sort of absorbing the glitz, glimmering chaos around the top of you, he has transformed into a fanboy. It's actually reassuring to see – the way he is acting on the outside is very much how you felt on the inside when he walked into your suite tonight.

"No!" He shakes his head and straightens up, looking back at you like you had suggested he spit in her drink. "I could not possibly. She is...she is iconic. I cannot bother her."

"Did it bother you to meet me?" The question is posed as entirely theoretical, and the hint of a smile on your lips tells him you aren't judging him in the least. "Having someone who admires you tell you that you mean something to them is wonderful, Javi. Don't be afraid."

Javi shakes his head, still too starstruck and he looks back at you, “Maybe after a drink, sí?” He asks, raising his brows at you.

"Well, let's get you a drink, then." There are waiters passing by with trays in every direction and a full bar against the far wall, so getting him whatever drink he wants will not be a problem whatsoever.

“How do you feel? Are you still having fun?” He asks, wanting to make sure that he’s not boring you or you wish you were back in your suite.

"The answer to that will always be yes," you promise him. The two of you have gotten used to walking hand in hand tonight, and now it is natural to put your hand in his as you walk to the bar. "What are we drinking to celebrate your victory?"

“Tell me your favorite drink.” He begs, turning those puppy dog eyes as you call them on you and smiles.

"Usually just wine," you admit, albeit a little sheepishly. "Sparkling or even sangria if there's a party. "But I am absolutely open to trying anything." A rule which goes for more than just cocktails, but he doesn't really need to know that.

“Should we try some of the signature cocktails?” He asks, pointing to the placard with a list of yummy sounding drinks. “Jack should be here soon.”

“Absolutely.” The only way to survive winning this contest has been to go with the flow, so you’re just going to roll with that a while longer. People are already starting to drink and dance, catching snacks from passing trays of hors d’oeuvres or from the long buffet of sumptuous offerings along the wall adjacent to the bar. Tables for chatting and resting sit ready but most people seem ready to party. At the bar, a half dozen specialty cocktails are listed with cheeky names and full descriptions. Some are fruity, some are smokey, some sound downright dangerous. It’s all a matter of taste.

"Award Winning Whiskey Sour." Javi decides, looking at the menu. "I think I will start with that." He looks over at you and waits for your decision.

“The Sweet Victory Raspberry Limoncello Cooler sounds like my speed,” you decide with a grin. An open bar with a reason to celebrate always means trying something wonderful.

"Then that's what you will have." He winks at you and darts off to grab the drinks. It doesn't matter that he is the award winner, he is going to treat you like the star since you are with him.

“Javi!” There is a crowd forming and you end up losing the fast-moving Spaniard in the thick of it, but you just laugh and hang back. You’ll stay where you are and he will find you again. In the meantime, this party is incredible and a few covert pictures won’t hurt anything.

At the bar, Javi orders the drinks, smiling at the bartender and he reaches up to touch his necklace as he looks around the crowd, searching for a Stetson.

“Lookin’ for somebody?” Jack’s voice comes from behind his left shoulder, the warm smirk of amusement evident in his honeyed tone.

"Jack!" Javi lights up again, delighted to see him and he lunges forward to hug his agent. "Can you believe I won?" He knows that Jack had kept tabs on the awards ceremony, even if he had been working while he was watching so he could attend the party.

"Of course I can believe it." He had no doubts about it, but he's glad to see Javi happy. Jack pats his star on the back and looks around before raising an eyebrow at Javi. "Where'd our girl get off to? Run away to powder her nose?"

"I left her..." Javi bites his lip and looks around the crowd before he spots you. "Just there." The bartender brings over the drinks and Javi shoves a generous bill into the man's hands. "Can we also get a glass of whiskey?" He asks, nodding towards Jack. "For my friend."

"Enjoying your night?" Jack asks him, honestly wondering if the sweet shows of companionship he saw during the broadcast were real or if Javi was learning how to charm Americans along with everyone else in the world.

"She is wonderful." Javi confides with a small grin, leaning in closely. "Just like you said she would be. I like her, rey. I really like her."

"I thought you would." That news pleases Jack, who presses a bill into the bartender's hand when he comes back with his whiskey. "She signed on the dotted line, ya know," he reminds Javi under his breath. "Could be a well-deserved way to celebrate."

"Does she know?" Javi asks under his breath, reaching up and touching his necklace again. "What that entails?"

"Not yet." Jack shakes his head and picks up his drink, holding it to his lips a moment and considering the next course of action before he drinks. "If you'd like to tell her, we can. But I'd say let's see how she dances before we go invitin' her to the rodeo."

"No." Jack's idea makes sense and Javi nods. "I want to see her dance. Plus I need to deliver her drink."

"Then lead the way, zorro," Jack murmurs quietly, a smirk gracing his lips.

Javi smiles as he moves through the crowd of people, nodding and slightly awestruck by some of the people who greet him by name. He doesn't stop, eager to get back to you with the drinks and with Jack.

You get one more discreet picture in on your phone before you see Javi reappear with a distinct Stetson-wearing mustachioed cowboy behind him, and you quickly pull up your text messages to fire one off to Esme to cover up the fact that you were being an absolute fangirl for the five minutes he was gone.

"Jack is here." Javi rushes out with a happy smile on his face as if the man's presence behind him isn't announcement enough.

Murmured thanks to Javi for delivering your drink come with a broad smile, and you are right back to beaming when you turn to Jack. "You must be very proud tonight."

"Pleased as punch, darlin'." Jack hums, sending you a small wink. "Only a few things that I can think of that would make me happier and it wouldn't be polite to speak about that in public." He winks again and takes a sip of his whiskey.

When your smile turns shy it seems to please the cowboy even further, and you take a sip of your drink with a happy hum before looking back to Javi. Not that Jack isn't damn fun to look at, but it's Javi's night. "What are you thinking, Javi? Grab something to eat? Get on the dance floor?"

"Dancing." Javi sneaks a look over at Jack before back to you. "I wish to see how you move." He smirks, taking a sip of his whiskey sour and biting his lip.

Well damn. Get a couple of drinks and an award win into Javi Gutierrez and suddenly he's all but purring at you in front of his agent. While a prouder woman might have played it off or demurred, you have reached a point in the night where not caring anymore is a virtue. There are no paparazzi inside this party. No fans to speak of other than you or a few other lucky guests. So Jack is here? Fuck it. Jack's a flirt, too. "Well, come on, then," you toss him a grin after taking a long drink of your cocktail. "I'm sure Jack won't mind guarding our drinks for a few minutes."

Jack chuckles and takes your drink from you, making sure that his fingers linger over yours and he practically coos at you. "Enjoy yourself now, darlin'." He encourages, grinning at you like he's the cat that is edging closer to the canary.

"I'll try to keep up," you tease Javi as he leads you out onto the dance floor. Considering how many of his performances you've seen on television, you know how well he can move. It really will be trying to keep up with a pro tonight.

Jack watches with interest as Javi pulls you into his arms and starts to move. It's obvious that you are infatuated with Javi and he doesn't blame you. It's a part of his charm, his ability to draw people in.

The song has a beat to move to, thank god – something hip hop and Latinx that makes for fantastic party music at the beginning of a night. There are no speeches here, no cameras to pose for, only people enjoying themselves, so that is exactly what you decide to do when you put both arms around Javi's neck. When are you ever going to get a chance like this again in your life? Never is when, so you're damn well going to enjoy every second of it for everything it's worth.

Javi laughs breathlessly as he twirls you around and dips you. Happy that your dress allows for you to move so easily. He wouldn't have been able to dance with you like this if you had worn the red dress. And it would be a shame to not get to press his body to yours like this.

"I think we picked the right dress," you laugh breathlessly, obviously having the same thought as him at this moment. This fairy tale - your fairy tale - keeps getting better and better at every turn.

"Depends on how it looks on the floor." Javi teases, pulling you closer and flashing you a grin.

"I–" The shock on your face is abundantly evident. For all the teasing, or flirtatiousness, or even the fleeting sweet moments you've shared tonight? Neither of you has been as bold as to make that kind of comment or make any intentions known. On your end it seemed utterly ridiculous to even think he would be interested, assuming his gestures to simply be those of a sweet man with good manners. But maybe it is actually more than that? "Now that is a very interesting question," you admit, lips curling up into a grin.

"Sí?" He asks, eyes widening slightly in shock as if he is surprised that the line actually worked. Jack's presence has given him confidence that he normally does not possess or represses because of his poor self esteem, but the grin on your face captivates him. "You would like to find out? With me?"

Thinking about it for a second, you end up surprising yourself and laugh a little right out loud. "You know..." you shake your head in amusement. "I was really about to say that I was only serious if you were actually interested in me for me and not in some wish fulfillment thing about fucking a fan. But honestly? I don't really care what the motivation is. I'm one hundred percent on board. We'll dance, we'll drink, we'll go back to the hotel and have a night. Why the hell not?"

If you had told him that he was the world wide star, top of the charts for all the countries, he couldn't have looked any happier about your agreement. "Yes!" He crows happily and pulls you even closer to kiss your cheek. Since you are in public, he would not cause a scene.

He is nearly crushing you to him as he revels in your agreement, and you have to admit - this whole contest, this trip, this night, all of it - it's so surreal that why shouldn't it include sleeping with an internationally known musician that you've had a crush on for literal years? That's completely tracks with the tone of the whole thing. Esme and Kate are never going to believe half of what actually happened even before this.

When the song ends, Javi pulls away and he searches your eyes. "Do you want to stay?" He asks. "Or do you want to go?"

"Jack won't be upset if we don't stay longer?" After all, you had really only been here for what feels like a few minutes. Perhaps it was as long as a whole half hour, who knows. And Jack seems like a man who prefers to do things 'right'.

"Why don't we see what he wants to do?" Javi asks, taking your hand and leading you off the dance floor. "I need my drink anyway!"

There is definitely something you're missing here, unless Javi is about to ask his agent's permission to take you back to the hotel, but since you're already decided to just roll with it you let him drag you back to the table where Jack is waiting and gratefully accept your drink from the tall, dark, and handsome Southerner when he offers it back to you.

Javi is nearly bouncing on his toes with anticipation, grinning as he takes his drink from Jack and tosses it back quickly. “I would like to go back to the house, rey.” He tells Jack before he turns to you. “Unless you would be more comfortable in your hotel room, of course.”

"It's where my stuff is," you point out needlessly. "But nobody ever died because they were embarrassed about a walk of shame."

“There’s no shame in that walk, darlin’.” Jack smirks, taking a sip of his whiskey. “Maybe a little hitch in your step dependin’ on how hard you’ve been ridden is all.”

"Traditionally is it not the lady who does the riding?" Throwing caution to the wind, you have another sip of your drink and tilt your head at Jack. "What's the song? Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy?"

“Oh you are perfect, darlin’.” He chuckles, leaning in and chucking your chin with his fingers. “How’d you like to find out?”

For a second you freeze, not sure that you've understood him correctly, and you look between the two men to find Javi looking just on the edge of nervousness and Jack smirking confidently. Well that's a surprise... But really, is it a bad one? Hell no. Cowboy Burt Reynolds is a look you didn't know you were into until a month ago when Jack Daniel's showed up at your apartment, and you're just going to throw up your hands and go with the flow. "Ya know what?" You toss back the end of your drink, enjoying the way the bubbles go straight to your head - you're making the decision with a clear head but you might be a little floaty by the time you get back to wherever you're going if you have another. "Sure. Let's go find out."

“Really?” Javi’s eyes widen happily and he reaches for your hand, “You know he is talking about…” He looks around and lowers his voice to a whisper. “Both of us, sí?”

"I understood that part," you promise him, squeezing his hand just as you have every other time that he has been nervous tonight. "And I've got no clue why you're asking, or why you're asking me, but since I'm never going to get an offer like this again?" You shrug again and end up laughing a little. "Let's go."

“You will not regret it.” He promises you, turning and beaming at Jack. “I want you to know that you have the most exquisite taste, rey.” He hums. “I feel relaxed already.”

"Okay." Setting your glass down on the table beside you and picking up your evening bag instead, you look between them curiously. "I thought your name was Jack?" You ask quietly. "Not Ray?"

Javi flushes and he ducks his head in embarrassment, reaching up and touching his necklace. Jack chuckles and decides to answer for him. He sets down his whiskey after he drains it. “Not ‘Ray’ like ‘Howdy my name’s Ray’.” He explains. “‘Rey’.” He exaggerates the punctuations slightly. “My little zorro named me his king the first night he skipped a step or ten on his own walk of shame.” 

"Zorro?" As far as you know, that's just a guy in a mask with a sword running around Mexico in the movies, but clearly it means something different. Whatever it means, though, one thing seems to be growing clearer: Jack is much more than just Javi's agent.

“Fox.” Jack smirks, reaching out to run his finger down Javi’s smooth jaw with tender affection. “He’s my sexy fox, isn’t he?” He asks, looking up at you. “Or foxy?”

The absolute hard right into unbelievable that an already crazy night has taken makes your whole body feel like it's been instantly set on fire and like your system has been flooded with instant arousal all at once. Jack is his dom...that makes so much sense... "He's been very good tonight," you tell Jack, humming a little to see how Javi lights up at the praise. "He should definitely be rewarded for it."

“That’s good.” Jack coos, smirk growing wider when he sees that you understand the dynamic and are either intrigued or approving. “I bet his cock is aching for some attention, isn’t it, zorro?”

"Por favor, mi rey," Javi turns his wide eyes on Jack, the very same ones he has used on you multiple times tonight. The party is so raucous all around you that barely anyone has even noticed you, and the three of you seem to have entered your own little world anyway.

“Now that you know this…” Jack turns his dark gaze on you. “Are you still willing to go home with us? The agreement doesn’t cover me. But a good old fashioned verbal consent will do.”

"I thought it was a little weird when that page was in with the others, but...anything can happen in the world, right?" You smirk at Jack, feeling far bolder than you ever thought you could. "Now I see you were just being thorough for your man. That's very considerate, Jack. And...I think that deserves a reward, too."

Jack arches a brow and a slow smirk rides across his face. “What kind of reward are we talkin’ about, darlin’?” He asks, interested in see what you think is a reward.

Cheeks on fire, your eyes slide away for a second to compose yourself so you can look back at him. "I was really hoping you'd just be impressed that I was being cheeky and I'd have the car ride to think up something creative," you admit sheepishly. "Called my bluff."

He tosses his head back and laughs. A deep, belly laugh that rolls through his body. Javi squirms slightly, his own grin on his face and Jack finally looks back at you with pure admiration in his expression. “Good for you, darlin’.” He chortles, reaching out and pulling you close so he can whisper in your ear. “Might have to spank you for that, but only if you want me to.”

There’s no way he can know that he’s offering you something that you very much enjoy, but he’ll most likely be able to figure it out by the way you reflexively shiver a little at the suggestion. “We should get going,” you tell them most, nodding with as much authority as you can. “Sounds like our own party is going to be far more fun.”

“Oh it will be, darlin’.” Javi whimpers in agreement with Jack and he takes your hand, squeezing it gently. “You don't seem surprised.” He murmurs as Jack guides you both towards the exit.

"I decided about ten minutes ago to just throw up my hands tonight and go with the flow, so I'm just leaving all of my confusion and surprise for tomorrow when I think about what happened." You lace your fingers through Javi's and offer him a smile. "I basically have decided that all of this is just an amazing dream and so anything can happen."

"That is a good way to look at things." Jack hums, his hand sliding to your back as he leans close. "I thought I was dreaming the first time Javi begged to suck my cock, now I hope to never wake up." He teases. "Why don't we go see what kind of fevered dream we can cook up for you?"

______

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[taintedbenevolence]

Yandere! Gojo Satoru x fem! reader | Yandere! Inumaki Toge x fem! reader

! MINORS DNI !

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄             𝔾𝕆𝕁𝕆 𝕊𝔸𝕋𝕆ℝ𝕌 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕀ℕ𝕌𝕄𝔸𝕂𝕀 𝕋𝕆𝔾𝔼 𝕩 𝕗𝕖𝕞!𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣                   ( INDIVIDUAL PAIRING PER CHARACTER )

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐘            ℍ𝔼𝔸𝔻ℂ𝔸ℕ𝕆ℕ𝕊

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ( + HEAVILY IMPLIED NSFW FOR GOJO ) 𝕀𝕄ℙ𝕃𝕀𝔼𝔻 𝕊𝕋𝔸𝕃𝕂𝕀ℕ𝔾, 𝕄𝕌ℝ𝔻𝔼ℝ, 𝕂𝕀𝔻ℕ𝔸ℙℙ𝕀ℕ𝔾, ℕ𝕆ℕ-ℂ𝕆ℕ 𝔸𝔽𝔽𝔼ℂ𝕋𝕀𝕆ℕ, 𝔻ℝ𝕌𝔾𝔾𝕀ℕ𝔾, 𝕄𝔸ℕ𝕀ℙ𝕌𝕃𝔸𝕋𝕀𝕆ℕ, 𝕌ℕℍ𝔼𝔸𝕃𝕋ℍ𝕐 𝔹𝔼ℍ𝔸𝕍𝕀𝕆ℝ

GOJO SATORU

- ENTP - 28 y/o - He/him - December 7 - Jealous + Clingy + Self-indulgent Yandere

Gojo.. is a complicated one. By this I mean he isn't easy to pin down as a yandere type in itself. He has several traits that lead to different yandere categorizations, but I think that the best way to categorize him is as a jealous, clingy, and self-indulgent yandere.

JEALOUS - FIERCELY PROTECTIVE OR VIGILANT OF ONE'S RIGHTS OR POSSESSIONS

CLINGY - TO ACT NEEDY, DEPENDENT, JEALOUS, AND/OR OBSESSIVE

SELF-INDULGENT - EXCESSIVE OR UNRESTRAINED GRATIFICATION OF ONE'S OWN APPETITES, DESIRES, OR WHIMS

Gojo is generally someone charismatic with an open persona. He's the type of person who can either get along with everyone or be an asshole. Or both, even. That's just the type of person Gojo is, really.

However, when it comes to you, his energy goes out of bounds. He's someone very cheerful whose charisma will know no bounds when with you. He'll talk to you whenever he can, visit you whenever he can, shower you with random, spontaneous gifts whenever he can, and they might not even have the sender written on them.

It's on a degree, affectionate and cute, and also a little bit off-putting. He'll be all over you, asking you all sorts of questions.

How have you been? What have you been doing? What's your favorite time of the day? Why were you not at home at the usual time? With whom have you been spending time with? Do you like anyone in some sort of way? Do you love anyone? Do you love me?Do you hate me?

It's all sweet, but he's genuinely trying to catch your attention. Please, darling, can't you spare a second of your busy schedule and pay attention to him?

Will he have to fight for your attention and start removing any sort of obstacles that may be interfering, or will you finally look at him?

He's going to be stalking you anyways, so why bother trying ignore him?

Gojo's advances are paced and quick. He makes it clear from the start that he likes being around you and would not hesitate to be with you should he be granted the chance. If you're interested in him, that makes it all the better, and you're definitely in for some fun and a wild ride.

He'll show you all sorts of good and crazy things that come with being in a relationship with him. This may range from going on random trips to faraway places all the way to a nice cuddling moment during morning hours or late evening.

If you don't really like him, though, he won't care. You don't love him? He'll take it as a challenge, one that he welcomes entirely. He'll spend his time trying to charm his way to your heart, doing small favors all the way to more direct approaches to his intent.

When (and if) he sees that his attempts have not worked, he'll start to assume things. Are you with someone else? Is that why you don't want to be with him? Seriously, what does anyone else have that he doesn't? He could do so much better than whoever you're with.

Or maybe, you just are in denial. You're in denial, and you say you don't love him but you really do. How endearing! It's fine darling, just tell him! He won't judge you. He'll love you, hold you, protect you, care for you, what's there to lose?

He's going to push your every and individual button until you really show him what you feel. When he sees that all his doubts of why you're avoiding his advances are cleared and nothing works, he resorts to the worst.

Kidnapping you.

He has several ways of doing this. He could either right away nab you to his place and tie you up, or just knock you out. He could also just use a chloroform rag if he's feeling particularly lazy that day, but it might not be entirely efficient should you fight back and have good reflexes on how to act (it'd be a waste of resources and money).

He'll most likely just wait until you fall asleep, then take you quickly enough to his place, and if you still happen to be asleep, he'll tie you up, probably to a bed so you'll be comfortable, and place a blindfold around your head so that you can't see, and then place a rag on your mouth. It won't be deep enough to choke you, but it's just a cloth to make sure that if you scream, you won't be heard by anyone but him.

The second you wake up, you'll see nothing. Your first instinct then, is to scream, and then you'll hear Gojo's voice sounding again as he walks closer to you. He expected you to wake up later, but he doesn't mind this at all. He welcomes the surprise.

He takes off your blindfold, and for the first time in a while, you see him without his own, your eyes meeting his vibrant, blue hues. They're rather beautiful, and he knows that as enchanting as they are, they're also rather off-putting in this situation.

He'll hold you, whisper sweet nothings in your ear as he cuddles you, not really caring about how scared you might feel. He'll try to assure you that everything's fine and that you're safe here with him, but your mind and heart tell you otherwise.

Oh, and don't even dream about escaping. It's impossible. And even if you do somehow manage to escape, the second you leave, he'll know, and before you know it, you'll be back with even more restraints. It would take him less than five minutes to locate you. Whatever privileges you had before, you've lost them, and now you're trapped inside infinitely.

He's not really happy you tried to escape, but at the same time, it amuses him that you thought you could escape. He toys with the idea of a cat-and-mouse chase. He'd love to chase you down for the mere fun of it. He'd even have his usual, relaxed smile while he does it.

Now, what really pisses him off is if you reject any and all sorts of affection he tries to offer you. You try to get out of cuddling? Maybe he accepts it the first time, you're still getting used to this after all. He can understand that. Wipe off his kisses? Please, don't do that. He's trying. Avoid his gaze and look anywhere but him? Keep quiet and don't say a single word no matter what?

What the fuck is your problem?

He's not happy. Come on, can't you comply just once?

He's trying to understand just why it is you're acting in such a way. He can't comprehend why you would be like this, and he's not satisfied with it at all. He wants to know how to deal with it. And a behavior like this would require punishment.

Gojo isn't necessarily lenient. He might just starve you, or leave you alone entirely for days on end until he knows that you won't be able to stand it. He's going to drive you to tipping insanity until you become more and more dependent on him.

"Go on, darling. Beg.                 Beg me. Beg me to stay. Beg for my love."

That sweet act he had that he needed you? Please. You're the one who needs him. He wants you to be dependent on him, to depend on him for your needs.

Normally, this is supposed to be something healthy if balanced equally on both ends, but he takes it to the extreme, making it something unhealthy rather than helpful. He wants you solely depend on him for everything. He loves how helpless he can make you.

This will also show during more intimate aspects of your love life. Whenever he's holding you tight, his digits moving inside of you at a sufficient pace, he'll whisper words coated in honey as to wash you away in a fantasy. He'll fuck you through and through, and all while he holds you tight, smothering you in kisses.

In this moment, he wants this to be something special. He doesn't want you thinking about anything else other than him while he fills you up. He'll comfort you, straddle you, and hold you, whispering alluring and sweet words as the night passes by unending. This is meant to be something special, and he'll make it special.

After all, you're his, aren't you?

"That's right, darling..             there's no need to worry about anything else.                    I'm right here. I'm all you need to think about."

TOGE INUMAKI

- INTP - 17 y/o - He/him - October 23 - Caring + Protective Yandere

Much like Gojo, I had a hard time pinpointing what kind of yandere Inumaki would be. However, it was slightly more difficult than Gojo. It's not because he matches for several types, rather, I couldn't find any category to fully (and accurately) represent him. I decided to categorize him as a caring and overprotective yandere, given it's what I thought would fit best.

"Inumaki is a Cursed Speech user. He speaks in                     rice ball ingredients to not curse others."

Inumaki doesn't fall easily. He's not like some yandere types that tend to fall head over heels at first sight of their darling. It will take him time before he falls in love. This is to say, he'll become friends first, then develop interest, and then try to figure out how to deal with his feelings like a normal person.

The only small detail is that the more he grows attached to you, or the more time he spends with you, a small feeling to protect you grows too. It's not that he views you as weak either. He just thinks that he should be there to help protect you. A matter of concern for your well-being, the way he sees it.

And contrary to what most would think, Inumaki's an easy yandere to navigate and deal with should you not make any wrong moves. It could well turn out to be a relatively functional relationship so long as it's done well. To detail further, once Inumaki assesses his feelings for you, he'll realize it's not just love he's feeling, it's also obsession.

He'll know it's not exactly healthy, but will still try to show it in a healthy manner, as to not scare you off. When it comes to confessing, he'll most likely just write you a letter. He won't do it in person, unless he's confronted about his feelings directly by you, to which he'll then attempt to answer.

Something to note; Inumaki, regardless of your answer, is still protective of you and cares for you. His Yandere typing Caring and Overprotective show particularly when he believes that you're around a bad influence. He won't try to manipulate you into thinking that true friends you have are bad people, nor will he turn others against you so that you're all his, because he knows just how hard it is to have other people to truly care for you and have your back.

He cares for you very strongly, and thereby, grows incredibly protective of you when he thinks you're doing something irrational that could harm you or be detrimental to your health. This could be hanging around people that could hurt you, overworking yourself, unhealthy coping mechanisms and/or habits.

He's going to be there to offer you solutions to your problems, even if he's not exactly the best at communicating or showing that he does care and feel concern for you. He'll be there to help you out, if it makes you feel any better.

As for confessions...

If you reject how he feels, he's definitely going to feel heartbroken, but he'll get over that glum sentiment relatively quickly. After that, his obsession, instead of going away, grows more than his love for you, and starts to affect him more than before.

If you accept how he feels, it will work out better, and while it's certainly going to take a while to be able to learn how to communicate fluently with a lack of words, it will actually be a rather sweet relationship that ought to last.

When it comes to acting on his obsession, Inumaki would not exactly... kill for you, but he would most certainly fight for you, much like Itadori. Inumaki is not "willing to kill," because it goes against what he does for a living, and it's a waste of his time. Rather, cursing the person and then exorcising them is more in his favor, because it amounts to the masses of curses he already exorcises regularly.

Inumaki would try to convince you to stay with him if you ever realize that he's more deranged than he lets on. If it doesn't work, he'll use Cursed Speech, as much as he wishes not to. Just the words "Don't leave," are enough for you to freeze in your tracks. And from that point an on, you realize that whatever relationship you have him with him is not a colorful daydream.

He's kind, yes, but he's not exactly willing to let you leave either. He still does want you, after all, and even if you don't exactly love him back, he won't let you go. He will use his Cursed Speech to his advantage, even if his original plan was to not coerce you into this.

However, if push comes to shove... he'll do it anyways. He's willing to put his feelings of care and concern aside to achieve his goal if it means keeping you to himself. He's not against putting you in your place if it means he'll get to keep you within range.

Don't get the wrong idea; Inumaki wants what's best for you. He wants the two of you to have a functional, healthy relationship that can lead to a wonderful life, though that by now is much more like a dream-like delusion rather than a reality. He just hopes you can see that. He doesn't want to hurt you. But he also doesn't want to lose you.

Unlike other yandere types who say "I want what's best for you," for nothing more than a source for manipulation, Inumaki says such a statement truthfully and as a lie, so both as reassurance and manipulation. He uses it in both ways, depending which turns to his advantage.

This would, preferably, lead you to slightly become a bit more trusting of him. The way he views it, the more trust he gains from you, the better and easier it will be to have you believe his side of the story when it comes to explaining more serious matters regarding his feelings. And given his inability to actually speak in fluent, whole sentences normally without cursing others, it gives him a bigger opportunity to have you try and understand and open up to him.

Now, in the case that you don't want to be with him and you try to escape him? Inumaki won't take it lightly. He's not the type to take you back immediately as soon as he spots you, though. He observes you for a while. He lets you believe you've gotten away for a long while. He'll entertain this fake fantasy you have of being able to run away from him.

Even if he hates the mere idea of it.

He'll see that you're "happy" and running about, doing your usual, and meanwhile, he's just been preparing a perfect way to ensure you won't run away when he captures you. Last time, he just had you in his room, but maybe now, he'll have to strap you to a chair with ropes and other restraints to restrict you furthermore.

It won't even stop there, and all that he's done in the few days he's been tracking you after your "successful" escape. Maybe around three days, once you're back at your own room or house, he'll shut off the power and take you back.

You'll hear footsteps, and right before you manage to run again, you'll be hearing that chilling, cold voice that you thought you'd lost again; a simple command that'll keep you right in place.

"Don't move."

[kazimakuwabara]

I Like You Jealous: (rated T) Written for @sanusoweek . Sanji get's jealous... and Usopp kinda likes it. (about 1k)

***

Sanji was kissing Usopp.

He had stormed into Usopp's workshop, scared Usopp enough to make him scream, and then kissed him.

Was still kissing him.

And what a kiss!

Usopp clung to the man as he pushed him against his workbench, his mouth firm and seeking. His tongue had slipped through Usopp's lips and was tracing against his tongue guiding Usopp into the kiss. Usopp clung to Sanji's shirt, wrinkling the crisp pressed button-up with his intense tugging. When Usopp, as unpracticed as he was, slid his tongue against Sanji's, Sanji groaned and drew Usopp closer, slotting his legs between Usopp's shaking knees. A moan burst from Usopp's mouth and Sanji ate, and savored the cry, before he too moaned into Usopp's mouth.

Usopp pulled away, his lips making a wet sound as he pulled himself from Sanji's mouth so he could take in a much needed breath of fresh air.

Sanji sank his teeth and tongue against Usopp's throat in place of plundering Usopp's mouth, and Usopp arched against Sanji, who snuck his greedy hands to Usopp's buttocks and pulled him fiercely to him. Usopp gasped as Sanji breathed him in, and tasted him, his hands roaming up and down his body as he took his time to memorize Sanji. And all Usopp could do was gasp, and surrender to Sanji's whims, relishing in the touches and desperate kisses.

It was when Sanji pressed his hips into his, and ground something hard against Usopp's own stiffening organ, that the Sniper gasped, "What are you doing!?"

"I can't stand it!" Sanji hissed, clinging to Usopp and holding him tight against him, "I can't stand it."

"Sanji?! Can't stand what?! What is... what?" Usopp fumbled, his heart in his throat as Sanji traced gentled fingers against the baby curls of the back of his neck.

"Letters. The letters!" Sanji growled, kissing Usopp's throat, and then his jaw. "Whoever is sending them, whoever is wooing you, I can't stand it! I can't! I can't keep it to myself anymore!"

"Sanji-"

Sanji grabbed Usopp's face, and he looked him in the eye as he confessed, "I love you Usopp."

Usopp's mouth opened as much as Sanji would allow, considering the firm grip on his chin.

"I love you. I've loved you since... I can't remember when. I think it was sometime when we were on Sky Island, and you looked so scared, but you still came with me to get Nami back from that... that Enel... lightning creep!" Sanji rambled waving a frantic hand as he tried to grasp for details. He sank that hand in into the root of Usopp's hair, and pulled him closer as he rasped in desperation, "It frightened me. Every tender feeling I had, frightened me. But I had them. I had them... and it got worse and worse every day. But I was a coward. And I've been ready to tell you since... since Sabaody at least... but I wanted a perfect time. Flowers, a dinner, a private moment-I don't know... but something!

"But I am a coward. A coward and an idiot, and I've seen you get a letter decorated in hearts every day since docking on this island. And you keep smiling at them, and I can't lose you. I can't lose you before I try. So please... only me. Choose me. Love me. I will make it up to you for delaying telling you in any way possible... just please Usopp. I love you. Please tell me I'm not too late, or that it's not pointless."

Sanji kissed Usopp's mouth, licking against Usopp's lips, and Usopp opened to him. How could he not? Usopp had only fantasized about this for... he couldn't remember when it started. But Usopp had spent many a night thinking of Sanji just touching him... there was no way he'd stop Sanji from kissing him.

"Sanji," Usopp gasped against soft lips, and cupped the chef's face in his hands, "Sanji, look at me."

Like a sad dog, Sanji turned wide blue eyes up at him, his face flushed and his hair a mess. Usopp grinned at Sanji and kissed the brim of his nose.

"Sanji... I love you too... I must if I let you grab me like this! Your hands all over me is really nice, but could have been really creepy if I didn't have feelings for you, you know!" Usopp giggled, his heart light as he lightly lectured Sanji.

Sanji hefted Usopp up and sat him on his workbench. Sanji then slid between Usopp's legs and held him tight. In a pathetic voice, he muttered, "I'm a cad and a pervert... I know. But if I didn't kiss you or touch you or tell you how I felt... I thought I would lose it all."

Usopp chuckled and wrapped his arms and legs around Sanji, bringing him in for a breathless hug. He grinned and nuzzled into Sanji's hair as he softly chided, "I wouldn't choose someone over you. I've loved you for too long."

"How long?" Sanji whispered, sounding awed.

"Mmm... A long time. A long... long... time," Usopp murmured peppering Sanji's face with gentle kisses. Usopp giggled, "I can't believe you getting jealous brought us together!"

"Don't change the subject! When?!" Sanji asked, clearly pouting.

Rather than answering Usopp hummed and sighed, "And all over silly love letters..."

"Silly love letters?!"

"...From a seven-year-old."

A beat of silence passed, and then Sanji pulled back from Usopp's embrace, to shout, "What?!"

Usopp threw back his head and laughed. When he calmed, he cupped Sanji's face, and in a sweet voice explained, "I tried to say before... the letters are from a little girl named Mira. I sewed up the hem of her doll's dress, and she's been giving me letters as a thank you. The letters have heart stickers on them, because she's seven, and kids love stickers."

Sanji's whole face turned bright red. "Can we forget this terrible confession I gave?!"

"Never!" Usopp gasped, pulling Sanji closer with his legs, and securing his arms around Sanji's neck.

The show of strength did something to Sanji. His pupils dilated, and his expression stiffened. Usppp smiled coyly at him, and whispered, "I'm never going to forget this. I'll never forget when you were jealous... for me."

"U-Usopp," Sanji whispered nervously as Usopp tugged him closer for a kiss, "When did you... when did your feelings for me-"

"Shhh... if you're good. Maybe I'll tell you," Usopp lied, before he pressed a searing kiss into Sanji's mouth, the chef practically going boneless in his embrace.

Usopp was a little too embarrassed to admit, that on Cactus island, when the two of them had gotten roaring drunk, and fallen asleep next to each other in a tipsy reverie, Usopp in a half-asleep state had looked at the blond man drooling on his shoulder, and fallen head over heels. Not a terribly romantic way of falling in love, but the truth, and with any luck, and some teasing, maybe Usopp would never have to tell Sanji.

"Mmm Sanji," Usopp whispered nibbling on the chef's ear.

The chef seemed bewildered and delighted, pleasantly surprised by Usopp's boldness. "Hmm?"

"I like you jealous."

[kth1]

Office Santa (M) [JJK]

Office Santa [Jungkook x Female Reader]

⟶ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader ⟶ Genre: Office!Au, Holiday Party!Au, Christmas!Au, PWP, One-Shot, 18+ ⟶ WC: 7.4k+ ⟶ Warnings: alcohol, swearing, oral (m), fingering, small tit-play, unprotected sex, etc ⟶ Summary: On the verge of leaving the office Christmas party, you find a reason to stay just a little bit longer. ⟶ Author’s Note: This came to me on a whim. It’s been a long while since I’ve written for Jungkook, so I’m happy I finally could muster something for you readers! Currently I have not gotten a beta, please excuse any grammar mistakes. If you see something, kindly message me and help your girl out. Other than that, please enjoy this little fic!

Masterlist ⁂ Mail Box 

It’s your typical, over the top, annual Christmas office party. Suffering at the hands of HTU Tech’s lame excuse to extend congratulations to their employees for pouring endless hours of their life to keep the company on the ground. Being a lead systems engineer isn’t exactly what you wanted for yourself, but it comes easy when you surpass all your education with flying colors. It immediately landed you a career with one of the most renowned internet companies, and shortly after being hired you moved up the rankings.

But enough about you. You can care less about going on with your achievements as you aimlessly sip your dry martini. The olive speared stirrer gives you entertainment as you pretend to listen to your coworkers speak among another. Your true entertainment lands on the male standing across the busy room with his blonde hair teased and tucked behind a jeweled ear – showing off the dark undercut that hides beneath. The color is toned and perfectly compliments his gorgeous skin shade; you’ve always had thoughts of asking him who his hairdresser is. 

He wears all black. A silk button up with sleeves rolled up his forearms and tucked in at the waist, secured with a belt with a gold chape. Drawings of black ink tattooed into his skin peek out on his right forearm — you have never once seen them all in their full beauty or how deliciously far up they roam on his body. But you would give a thousand hours, maybe more, of your precious time to find out.

He’s your supervisor, Jeon Jungkook. At the ripe age of 30, he is the youngest chief technical officer known to the area. His father, the CEO of the company is to thank for his current status. But from all you know of Jungkook, he’s a perfectionist at heart. If he couldn’t handle the stresses of a CTO, he probably wouldn’t be placed in such a position.

You have no complaints on the matter. Month in and month out, you’re greeted with his presence. And boy, do you have a massive crush on this stallion of a male. The funny thing is, you don’t need to admit such admiration out in the open. Jungkook surely knows simply by the way you interact with him. With hopeless eyes and kind gestures of doing nearly everything he asks of you, he has you eating right out of the palms of his hands without even trying.

Jungkook entertains it – your crush. With subtle glints of flirtations and constantly blessing you with his attendance in your office. You would even dare to say he enjoys a good venting session. You’ve become something like an open ear for him, someone he can just speak with during work.

It’s only stayed within work too – the contact. Not once have you and Jungkook interacted outside these building walls. Neither one of you attempted to do so. And perhaps that’s best.

Because as the crowded office continues to fill with 200 of HTU Tech employees, you realize how large the world is. How many obstacles and potential roadblocks there can be if you even attempted to speak to Jungkook outside of a work occasion. The safety of finding out more of him would only be the times in your office while you diligently type away at your computer and hack and create codings.

Your martini disappears over the course of time as you continue to glance over at Jungkook who casually sips from his whiskey glass. It’s filled with scotch and an orange slice – called a Rusty Nail. You reckon he’s been tipping those back for hours now. All the while the party continues to exist and expand, stretching into the colder hours of the night.

Jungkook catches your eyes a few times. It always sends heat to your body and your heart begins racing. You want to blame the alcohol or the infuriating holiday lights gleaming down brightly, but you know the truth.

Even when you are never given a real sign of Jungkook’s interest in you, nothing concrete, you still hope there can be something. You cling onto the idea of him maybe one day slipping like when one steps on black ice. Hidden and deadly. Where your feet take out from under you and you land straight on your ass. That’s what you secretly crave and pray for.

A waiter comes over with a tray and another dry martini for you and you happily grab at the thin glass stem, bringing the liquid to your lips as you touch the rim. You’re not drinking your sorrows away, you’re just trying to enjoy the rest of the party before you depart back to your lonely apartment.

“And you still choose not to dance,” one of your closer coworkers, Jessi, comments. Her lips are pursed in displeasure.

“I’m not much of a dancer,” you reply with a shrug.

The subtle heat burning down your throat from the alcohol is preferred in comparison to the pain your heels would endure if you danced the night away. Who wants their feet to be achy?

Jessi places a hand on your shoulder to give you an encouraging nudge, “I’m sure you’re lying.”

“It will be a secret you’ll never find out,” you stubbornly sit firm. You give her a brief warning look through the corner of your eyes, hoping she understands to not press you on the matter. “Besides, I’ll be heading out soon anyways. I’m getting uncomfortable being here longer than I need to be.”

A scoff resounds next to you, Jessi rolling her eyes while she admits defeat. She tosses her hair over her shoulder, leaning back into her chair as her eyes scan the dancefloor. It’s not that she needs you to go out there and enjoy herself, she’s perfectly fine on her own. But seeing her office buddy do nothing after dolling herself up is a bitter disappointment.

“I’m sure you’d catch the eye of you-know-who if you were out there.”

You shove yourself from the table, your chair protests with a skidding sound against the tiled floor below you. Your eyes snap to Jessi as you stand, gathering your minibag under your arm.

“I don’t need to dance to get his attention. I can easily have a conversation with him if I cared to. And I don’t,” you lie.

There’s a chime that rings from your cell phone. As you gather your coat from the back of your seat, you spy the notorious name on the bright screen in the palm of your hand. A small smirk grows on your lips before you chug the rest of your martini, letting the base of the glass on the table with a thud.

“See ya,” Jessi doesn’t spare you another glance. Already moved on to newer interests as her hand slides around the arm of the man sitting next to her. She knows she has lost you for the night, but unbothered by your quick withdrawal.

You gather yourself, walking away from the bulk of the party towards the stairs. With your nose in your phone, you walk your way towards your office one step at a time. Grinning ear to ear at the flutter of texts that gained your desperate attention.

[Superior J]: Where are you heading to?

[You]: Mind your business

[Superior J]: Is that any way to speak to your boss?

[You]: I didn’t realize I was texting the CEO…

[Superior J]: 🙄

[Superior J]: I’m still above you

[Superior J]: The gift exchange hasn’t happened yet

[You]: I know. 

[You]: I’m just grabbing my gift from my office and heading out after 👍

Your feet have brought you straight to the frame of your office door, distant from the busy gathering. Quiet. A white board with writing and magnets hang on the outside, notes and random drawings are littered across its expanse. Your freshly manicured fingers press into the keypad that unlocks your door with a special code – 0711 – and with the click of the door closing behind you you step further into your personal office.

Inside, you flick on a small light after you place your belongings on top of your desk. Aimless papers are scattered around, loads of your hard work on full display as you piece everything together like a diagram. The mess only makes sense to you; if any prying eyes dare to decipher what you have riddled all across your entire office, they’d be stuck in here all week.

One of your filing cabinets – the one decorated like a snowman made out of office supplies – holds the gift for your Secret Santa. You placed it here because it was easy to remember.

A bluetooth speaker and small flowering bonsai plant kit. It blossoms a blush toned flower during the spring and even during the fall with proper care. The wireless speaker is just an added bonus to the gift. You tied red and green ribbons around each of them, a bit lazy on your end but still maintained your festive requirements. You’re positive that your office-buddy, Namjoon — the one in the HR department, would enjoy these given his love for soft instrumental music and plant-life.

Two taps hit the other side of your office door. From the blurred glass you can see the silhouette of a person who shifts on their heels. You step up to the door, swinging it open to reveal a tall and handsome Jungkook, standing there with two empty glasses secured between his fingers and a highly expensive bottle of red wine in the other. He holds them up with a toothy grin on his face. Jungkook’s jaw slackens as he slowly eyes you up and down, running his tongue along his pearly whites. Your heart skips a beat when his gaze jumps to lock eyes with yours. You can clearly see the powerful, hungered vigor brewing in those deep brown irises that glint with mischief. One single eyebrow raise and you already lose any leverage you thought you could have on him.

There is a weakness you have towards a man who looks fine in a dress shirt and pants. Even more of a weakness with someone who has styled locks, a sharp jawline, determined nature, and an alternative edge to their appearance.

Almost like a bad boy who dresses up far too nicely. Where blacks, grays, and the occasional tans are his color pallet. Form fitting to his toned body which you can only guess he must have based on how the clothes fit on him.

You sigh in defeat, opening up a way for Jungkook to waltz right past you and into your office as if he owns the place. He settles the bottle and glasses on an open space on your desk, already twisting the top off and pouring the sinful liquid equally between the two full-bodied wine glasses. The bottle reads 1990 Chateau Petrus; the name alone sends a chill down the base of your spine.

“Not too much,” you refer to the glass half full. Your office door closes behind you as you walk towards the desk. “I’ve had plenty enough to drink tonight.”

Jungkook lifts your glass toward you, his ring clad fingers draw your sight instantly. “It’s expensive, I requested this one personally when we hired the open bar,” he announces. “You’ll enjoy it.”

You give him a sly look as you narrow your eyes at him, holding up the glass to your nose to inhale a quick whiff. To label the smell – it smells expressive and sophisticated, like a ripe fruit mixed with vanilla aromas. 

Almost like how you can describe the man who is standing in front of you.

He grins to himself as he waits to clink his glass with yours, a nonverbal cheer between the two of you – but for what? You don’t know. The dark red wine tastes extremely silky and mixed with a superb flavor concentration. Muscular but refined and toned. 

Almost just like how you think he must be under those black clothes.

The two of you tilt back a delicious portion of the liquid and each settle with a coquettish moan. An unnecessary sound for both of your ears, but neither one of you protest the act.

“Not bad,” you state as your eyes watch the liquid swirl in your glass.

“Better than those dry martinis you enjoyed yourself with,” Jungkook teases. He decides to sit in your chair as he lounges back to find himself in a comfortable position. His free hand begins to flick through random pieces of paper among your desk while avoiding the coat and purse you have plopped on the surface.

“Probably better than that pathetic excuse of that scotch you favor so much.”

You see how the playful bluntness fuels Jungkook to another level. It stirs something inside him and possibly that is why he confines in you more often than so.

“Want to tell me what these papers are all about?” He points a few packets stapled together. “Important or just brainstorming?”

“Brainstorming is important,” you admit. You snatch a clump of papers up with one hand, placing them to the side in a bin and away from Jungkook’s prying eyes. “You wouldn’t have a chance of understanding this. It’s all disorganized right now. Besides, we’re not working right now. So unless you want to pay me for discussing work-related things, then I suggest you change the topic.”

You watch as Jungkook refuses to look up at you as his eyes remain busy looking at your etchings and symbols written on your desk. His tongue prods the inside of his cheek ever-so-slightly, just enough to know you’re winding him up. The lines in his cheeks stand out when he sucks in. You would be stuck there for ages just staring at how attractive it is until the shine of his earrings catches your attention, glinting in the low lighted room.

“Fair enough,” he speaks. His wine glass is emptied into his mouth before placing it to the side. Finally, he is ready to give you his undivided attention. “Then talk to me about your choice of attire for tonight,” his hand points as he nods at you. “This,” — he smiles with his eyes as they trail you from head to toe — “Has nothing to do with work.”

A crushed burgundy velvet dress stretches around each curve of your body all the way down to your ankles. It’s cut from spaghetti straps, dipping low enough to tease any eye of your upper chest. Personally, you love the feeling of the fabric as you run your hands across it. Not only does it feel great, but it also tames your nerves whenever they act up — coaxing you calm. To match the lovely piece, you paired a black leather jacket with shiny silver buckles. Your heels help you stand taller, strapped around the front of your foot with a classy rounded toe, sparkling with silver.

Of course this is not your typical work clothes; it is a holiday party after all. And you surely are not the only one who is ‘dressed up’ for the occasion. Even Jungkook wears a franicer brand of clothes. He’s just not entertaining the spirit with reds or greens.

Typically in a work environment, everything — and you do mean everything — is strictly business. There’s no foolish nonsense or slacking off in this office. When your superior, Jungkook, wants something he expects to receive it in a timely manner. Sure he plays around with the ideas of certain phrases or words that will leave a lingering thought in your head. Teasing you with lighthearted flirtation; that’s just how Jungkook communicates.

But the way he looks at you right now, as if you are a meal he wants to devour, ignites something deep inside of you, causing a wave of arousal to flood your senses. It’s nearly haunting with his hooded eyes hiding the lust that pools in them. It’s a different look than you’re used to and it’s turning you on, making your insides turn and do flips with excitement.

“It’s a holiday party,” you remind him of the obvious. Heat sparks inside your body, “It’s a perfect excuse to dress up. Do you like it?”

Jungkook contemplates his response with pursed lips. He gives you a questionable look, one that looks like he’ll ask you “are you serious?”

“Of course.” His words come out clean and smooth. There is no hesitation with the truth dripping from his lips. He announces his likeness with confidence as his eyes remain glued to you. “It’s different from what I normally see you in, even the make-up,” he states the obvious, “Maybe we should change the dress code.”

You laugh with a scoff, shaking your head as you favor another sip of your wine. “I don’t think most of the staff can handle dressing up to this extent every day for work.”

Jungkook leans forward in the chair to rest his elbows on his knees. He engages his direction at you, tilting his head to the left as bleached strands of hair carelessly fall flat against his face. You can tell he’s ran his hands through his golden mane at least a hundred times tonight with the lack of styled gel or hairspray — making his usual upkept style look disarrayed and messy. It’s so inviting to you, creating images in your head as if you were the one to run your fingers through it and fist it. Under the low light of your office you also still notice his black roots that protrude so dominantly from the blonde. It’s like a bright, beautiful sunshine trying to hide the darkness and failing to do so.

“I was talking about now,” he admits with a quick wiggle to his eyebrows.

You don’t take the hint at first. Thinking immediately how this can just be another trick up his sleeve to get you flustered. How your soft pining for months on end has only ever been a fun game for Jungkook and teasing and toying with you; you assume this is just another occasion. 

So it’s no surprise to him when you still yourself in place, freezing under the pressure of a possible ‘what if' solution. The glass tightens in your hold as your mind washes over with endless thoughts of Jungook’s suggestive approach.

“Excuse me?” The words come out panicked, you don’t mean for it to.

Jungkook gives you that cheeky smile — the one that you know he’s satisfied with a good joke or when he first tastes a well made grilled pork belly (you can thank all the group office lunches for knowing this one). He stands suddenly, angling his body enough to lean his lower half against the edge of your desk. His movement makes you take a quick step back, but as you see him comfortably making himself a spot you ease up on the tension building inside of you.

He opens up his palm toward you and offers his hand to take. A clear cut sign that he’s requesting you. He moves his fingers in a come-hither motion, beckoning you to step in front of him.

“I’m saying you look absolutely stunning tonight, Y/n, and I want to see what you’re hiding underneath all that.”

The pounding of your heart only gets louder as it practically bursts out of your chest. You pray that Jungkook doesn’t hear it beating so rapidly. There’s a delay with your step, but you slowly reach out with your free hand nonetheless.

Jungkook pulls you in softly when his fingers hook around your palm, enclosing your hand with his. You slot perfectly right between his legs that act as a shield, caging you inside a smaller area and closing the space between the two of you. The warmth of his thick thighs barely touch either side of you, it sets a blaze within your body.

Tentatively, Jungkook caresses your wrist, guiding his hand up the underside of your arm to your elbow and soon to your waist. His fingers fiddle with the velvety smooth material of your dress, sketching small circles into the crushed pattern.

Heat takes over your body, you can feel it like flames are engulfing you. You’re far beyond a melting point. You’re being burned by the impressions his body is leaving on you, branding the memory and physical feeling to your skin. The ghost of Jungkook’s touch will now and forever come to your wake, reminding you how dangerously deadly he truly is to your well being.

“Don’t be shy,” he whispers as he politely takes the wine glass from your hold and places it aside. 

Jungkook licks his lips when the palm of his hand wraps around the small of your back. He nudges you even closer, making your thighs squeeze between his. You’re face to face with Jungkook as your hands begin to clam up and pussy begins to drip onto your panties. You can feel your nerves messing with your body, shaking your hands when you gently slide them to his upper chest, feeling the way his pectorals flex under the first contact. Even through a silk material, you can tell he’s fully defined — ripped and plump. The tips of his nipples stand out as they harden because of you, roaming your digits across his full chest.

Oh, you’re such a whore for a good rack on a man. Even more of a whore for him with his strong shoulders that sit relaxed with muscle, high and mighty, stretching the black material painfully tight around them. The most sinful of whores when those are paired with long lengthy legs that are defined by the Gods themselves, in which your supervisor just so happens to have. 

Jeon Jungkook is completely unfair to you. He quite literally hits all the check marks of what you find attractive in a man. And here he is, reeling you in like a fish caught on a line of his rod.

Speaking of that… You swallow thickly as you fight to look past his handsome chiseled features and toward his pelvis. Seeing how his dress pants bunch up from the angle of his legs but also from a hardening cock that is in the beginnings of straining against the material. That’s when you release a deep exhale of realization. Where you know this isn’t some game and what Jungkook is doing to you is because he is affected by you too.

“J-Jungkook?” you question with shock. The anxiety of fever courses through your body like race cars speeding on their track, running laps around in circles. You’re quite ready to burst like how a balloon does when too much air fills it up.

“Shh,” he attempts to hush you. He keeps his voice calm and low, maintaining confidence. His head leans towards you, slotting it dangerously close to the nook of your neck. Jungkook catches a whiff of your perfume as his nose runs up your skin. “I want to give you this if you let me.”

You shiver with a light moan escaping your throat. The contact alone makes your nipples rise and legs squeeze together. Your fists tighten on his shirt, accidentally pulling out the top button in the jist of the action.

“Give me what?” You dare ask.

Jungkook’s mouth hovers over your neck. Hot, heated breath fanning out. Your nails threaten to scratch over the fabric, talons coming to grip onto reality. He smiles with a hum, his eyes shutting as he nuzzles his face. His lips press into your pulsepoint, peppering small kisses up and down. You barely can feel the light sensation of the tip of his tongue leaving a line of saliva on your skin.

“My dick,” he states. “We don’t have too much time. They’re beginning to give out gifts downstairs.”

You gasp when Jungkook’s teeth scrap over you, pulling at the taut skin of your neck. He grins to himself when he hears your reaction and feels when you wiggle in his grasp. You can go weak at the knees in an instant from his touch, his heedy flattery. The one thing he doesn’t read from your body language or voice is any form of protest. And he takes it as a green light, to continue his pursuit to you.

“We shouldn’t,” you gulp. “What if someone is looking for us?”

“Nobody will be looking for you” – he kisses your jawline – “Because I’m your Secret Santa and I’ve already found you.”

You feel his fingers grip your jaw as Jungkook leans back just enough to stare up at you through lust filled eyes. He wears a lopsided grin. His beautiful brown eyes are trained on your lipstick covered lips and he can’t help but wonder how they look over his cock. With your sharp tongue and blunt responses he fully believes you can do wonders with this beautiful mouth of yours.

“Fuck,” you curse with an angered whine. You’re completely lost when you gaze over his features. Admiring the few and far speckled moles and freckles that decorate his caramel skin. “You’re infuriating, do you know that?” Your inflamed anger – anguish – takes over. The rage within you is not true fury. It’s the annoyance of how easily you become such a little vexed slut for him. Aggravated because you simply cannot say no to this man. “You’re so annoying!”

“You like me,” he teases. He raises his eyebrows to taunt you as well. “I could ask you to jump and you’ll say “How high?”.”

“You’re right,” you declare. To give him the satisfaction of being right. Your hands run up to hook around his sturdy neck, feeling the buzzed undercut on the tips of your fingers. “And you love it,” you throw shade back to him. Giving him a taste of his own medicine.

“I loved it the moment I realized how easy it is for me to get under your skin. Having such an obedient body underneath my guidance. Listening intentionally to each of my words.”

You know he’s referencing work, but he purposely uses certain phrases and sayings to draw your imagination to another realm. A different, dirtier, dimension.

Jungkook runs his hands along the sides of your body, crunching up pieces of your dress with his fists. He pulls you flatter against him, closing any proximity between the two of you, and finally you feel it. A hardened cock right against your front, caged inside the barricades of his pants. He holds you there, waiting for your move.

And you give in so easily. Pulling his face towards you as you lock your lips onto his, nearly smashing into another from all the months of pining and longing for his touch. You taste him the second he sneaks his tongue out, licking at the seam of your lips and prodding inside of your mouth. His hand reaches around to cup an asscheek, squeezing the bulk of it tightly.

You run your fingers up the base of his scalp, grooming his precious locks and messing them up further. Jungkook continues to push you onto him as you’re happily willing to lean your entire body. Pressing yourself further into the clutches of your supervisor.

“I want to suck you off,” you mumble against his lips. You hear the rattling of his belt buckle loosening up along his waist – Jungkook clearly would like that very much. “Right now!”

It’s all in a haste with the time constraints going against the two of you, so you waste no seconds in between. Dropping quickly to your knees as you assist Jungkook with releasing his cock from the obstacle of his zipper.

As it finally reveals, you don’t spare a moment to appreciate for all it’s worth. The length, the girth, the beautiful round of his mushroom cockhead – not even the beautiful protruding veins from the underside of his shaft.

None of that matters right now. You gobble down a mouthful before he’s able to shove the material of his pants down his thighs. Lips latching around the circumference of his cock as you stick your tongue out while sliding down further. You lather him up with your spit, making the glide of your mouth smoother as you coat him. He tastes a little salty, probably from a long day's use, but you like it. It’s almost hinted with a powdery musk that reminds you of sandalwood and rose petals – or maybe that’s just the alcohol confusing you. Whichever it may be, you fully devour the length of Jungkook with eagerness. Sliding his whole extent inside of your mouth and down your throat.

It reaches past the opening of your throat, stretching it wide to accommodate as much as possible. Your nose presses right into the trimmed pubes on his pelvis as you settle there to acknowledge and value the sweet, sweet soft whines escaping from Jungkook. His hand, running hot from how heated he’s become, places itself on the back of your head. Guiding you up and down on his shaft.

You’re slobbering all over him, using your fingers to pull his briefs and the elastic of his pants further down to not dirty them with your saliva.

Jungkook quickly becomes a mess of light tenor whines. It fuels your ambitions toward him, knowing you’re causing such an approving feeling of pleasure for him. He sounds amazing, even tastes amazing as you flatten out your tongue and lick right up his shaft.

But suddenly you rip away from his cock, pulsating with how close and desperate his orgasm is. He leans there, jaw-slackened and in a trance of betrayal from having pleasure ripped right out from under him and a fading climax.

Turning around, you tease the idea of your body as you raise your dress slowly. You look over your shoulder as you wiggle your hips, with the full intent to provoke Jungkook, to make him snap out of his daze. You use the high slit in your dress to reveal more of your upper thigh, showing Jungkook how easy of an access he can have. All he needs to do is come and get it.

Jungkook’s hands shoot out to grab at your elbows, pulling you back against him. Ass flat against the seat of his lap, molding you against him. You arch your back just enough to make your ass stick out more prominently, nudging right onto his slickened cock.

“Lift,” he pushes the material of your dress up. His hands roam greedily across your front, one dipping between the junction of your thighs to feel the sheer thong you wear and the other groping one of your boobs. Jungkook can feel how wet you are for him, using his rough fingertips to run along the slit of your folds, pressing the material of your panties into you. “You’re so dirty. So wet. I can’t wait to fuck you onto my dick.”

“C-Condom?,” you choke out a moan. He pinches at your nipple as his skillful fingers pull your panties aside and dips two of them into your leaking cunt. Jungkook’s face presses into your shoulder as he breathes out heavily, trying to draw your last breath out of you to make you breathless. “Jungkook! Condom!”

“I have one just for you,” he says with gruff. He plunges two fingers inside of your entrance, curling them sinfully once he hits the second knuckle. A sigh emits from his mouth, “Right in my wallet. Downstairs in my jacket.” He grasps your tit greedily, making it near to painful as he vigorously finger-fucks you. “Whoops,” he laughs sarcastically. Jungkook spreads his fingers in a scissoring motion, rotating them to spread your walls open. A sobbing moan leaves your throat as your legs begin to shake. 

You clench around his fingers and dirty words – how carelessly he just so happened to forget a condom. But his mouth is not making love to the shoulder of your skin as the strap of your dress falls down your shoulder, his fingers spellbind you and coax your mind into thinking that being irresponsible is better tasting than sugar.

“You’re kidding me,” you laugh. You’re slickening up his fingers with your arousal, making it easier for him to shove another one in. You spread open your legs wider, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder.

“Will you let me fuck you like this?” He whispers against your shoulder. Lips tormenting you as he sucks against a piece of flesh. “Raw?”

His bewitching capability with his hands along makes you fall harder for the idea. It twists the thoughts into your mind and floods your senses with only wanting one thing – which is pleasure.

“Or,” he huffs, “Shall I finger you until you’re right on the brink of cumming into my hand. Then tear away that chance just how you did me? I can draw it out for hours, making your body ache with tense muscles and a teased pussy. Would you like that?”

“We’re in a time crunch,” you remind him. “There’s no hours here to have.”

“Then decide fast,” he bites. His fingers dive deeper into your pussy, producing an obscenely loud squelching noise.

Your mouth goes dry with how you desperately breathe. You need him. You want him.

“Fuck it. Make it fast,” you surrender.

Jungkook traps your body immediately under him, swapping your bodies and twisting you around to press you against the desk. He feels heavy and blazing warm, tension rising as his own desperation comes pouring out of him. 

His hand collects the train of your dress and lifts it high above your ass as his hand presses you down against the top of all your scattered papers and coat. Jungkook grips his large hand around the naked base of his cock, tugging at it and squeezing every time it throbs in his hold. His fingers that were once inside your cunt now spreads your arousal over his cock, brushing the engorged head of his dick between your lubricous lips. The sensation itself is maddening enough to have you pushing your hips eagerly back to feel him. Wanting him to spear right into your walls.

“I knew you’d say yes,” he practically growls with a carnal rumble inside his chest. He places a hand on your hip; you can feel his nail digging deeply into your dress and surely will cause crescent indents on your skin.

“I said make it – Oh!”

You bite back your curses when Jungkook’s hips stutter forward on your impatient request, his length and girth starts entering you at a quick pace. Your lungs hurt from the excessive gasp you intake as shaky whimpers tumble from your lips. His enlarged dick, fully aroused and stiff, finally gets to explore the slipper velvet interior of your hot core.

Jungkook could care less with a slow adjustment for you, especially how you declared the needed pace of events. He refuses to go anything but fast, sinking himself to the hilt as you grit your teeth in an attempt to make it easier to endure.

“Shit,” you both simultaneously speak into the air.

Inch by tasty inch, he fills you to the brim with his cock. Pushing snug against your cervix and balls resting against your pussy lips. Jungkook drags his cock partly back out of your sobbing hole, a fresh coat of your glistening arousal casts a beautiful clear sheen on his raging erection. The sight makes him salivate, a mouth-watering and utmost beautiful scene he has ever seen. Just when you think you can breathe a breath of comfort, he sheaths himself back inside of you with a sigh of pure relief.

You crane your neck to look back at him, seeking the sight of Jungkook’s concentrating face and biting harshly down on his bottom lip. With a hand still tight on your hip, the other rests on your shoulder – using it to slink you back onto his pelvis as he runs full-blown assault on your cunt. Fucking into you hard, having your legs bang into the desk as you drool over your papers. His relentless thrusts hardly let up. His eyes glance over to yours briefly, seeing how they plead with a need.

He complies to you, knowing exactly how you want his lips on yours. Jungkook leans down, rolling his hips into you at a constant pace but pulls you up just a bit with his hand around your neck. Your body melts into his touch soon enough as his soft lips mold into yours, tense muscles relaxing as he calms you down with a languid kiss.

“I’m s-so close,” you whisper into his moistened lips. Soft whines already start to slip from your tongue. His pace quickens, knowing he, too, is also close to his release. “Jungkook,” you warn as your eyes shut with impending bliss.

Jungkook’s breath comes out quiet yet rugged. His rough hips continue to snap against your ass and increasingly becomes harder upon receiving your words. All those thoughts of seeing you wiggling underneath his body, all the times he’s pondered how your body feels against his fuels his imagination up until this point.

“Where do you want it?” He questions as his pelvis pounds into you.

You, on the last shred of your own sanity, dangle on a thin string. Your eyes shut tight, gleeful tears break the edges of your eyes and leak down your make-up. Your arousal builds with every heavy drag of his length against your insides. What stirs you the most crazy is hearing, and basking in full on glory, of the beautiful vocalization of Jungkook’s increasing pleasure. The sweet sounds of his lupine moans and guttural grunts as he loses himself inside you. It sounds like a sinful song and causes that tightening coil of tension in the pit of your stomach to snap open at any given moment.

Jungkook’s hold on your neck tightens as harsh trusts slam into you, each releasing an angry huff from his nose. He presses you into your desk, shifting the piece of furniture slightly with his strength. Your pussy flutters around his cock, arousal dripping down your inner thighs as you do nothing but wriggle under him.

“I d-don’t care,” you moan. You’re diving nose first into an ocean of pure bliss as your climax hits you so hard that your vision blurs. A loud sob falls from your lips and babbling curses soon follow. “Holy shit!”

“Look at you go,” Jungkook praises you proudly, kissing your cheek to your neck. “I’m going to bury myself in you,” he states. Smiling against your skin, “I hope you’re ready.”

And surely you are. Even though your pussy is spent from his onslaught, you continue to back yourself into him until he is ready to slip into madness. Make his entire body shudder before he vehemently plows his cock into you at least a dozen more times in sporadic, faltering thrusts. Jungkook’s eyes screw shut, hands gripping on either side of your hips and squeezing your flesh helplessly. Your walls continue to clench with excitement around his bulky shaft, making it his tipping point. Where he falls into himself and unloads everything inside of you as he holds you impaled on his pulsating cock. Spurting an abundant amount of his hot cum into every nook and cranny of your silky core, making sure not a single spot is left unpainted. His orgasm lasts for several moments as he stills, a strains growl resounding from his chest and a melodic whine slipping out of his pink lips. Drops of his sticky off-white fluid starts to trickle down your folds from bursting out the seams.

The two of you stay in that position for minutes until you’re drawn back to reality. Heavenly relief washes over the both of you as sensations that run through your body relax. You begin taking in your surroundings for the first time since you have both lost any notion of space and time, forgetting you’re in the middle of your closed off office, at work, where a holiday party continues to roar down the stairs. Your desk has shifted a good foot from its original resting place, papers have fallen or crumpled from your fist, and a mess has been made of your pussy.

Jungkook pants behind you, forehead resting on your back as he catches his breath, sweat dripping off the side of his face.

“Y/n,” he rasps, trying to recollect himself. “Are you good?”

You nod, a soft smile curling your lips. You wait for him to lean up and pull out until you stand up straight. Your hands feel around your hair, making sure everything is still in place. You pull up the straps of your dress and situate the body and skirt. Lastly, you cup your sex with your hand as you search for a solution of the mixture of both of your cum’s falling so freely from you. The nearest bathroom is down the hall, you can make it as long as there is nobody else around.

“I’m great.”

“Good,” he hums. 

Jungkook tucks himself away and fixes his shirt and pants. In the low lighting you spy a small red scratch along his chest before he buttons it back up, knowing very well you have caused that mark on him.

He stands there as he watches you contemplate what you want to say. To break the silence, he clears his throat to gain your attention.

“So, I think I need to let you know something.”

Oh god, you think. What on earth does he have to say? What don’t you know? Potential bad possibilities immediately run through your mind as you glance at him, gripping your coat and purse quickly from the desk.

Does he have a partner? Is there something going on in the office? Will he ask you to not speak of this – not like you would risk that anyways. Will he say he realized he fucked up? Messing around with your own worker is frowned upon, office romances are not allowed. What does he have to say?

As you stand there waiting for him to speak, like a knife held above your heart, you expect to endure any pain coming your way. Mentally preparing to brush it off, forget about it and move on.

“I’m…” he begins. Jungkook takes a step closer, “I’m not really your Secret Santa. I just used that as an excuse to get you to stay a little longer before you left for the holiday.”

“Oh?” You blink. Your eyes scatter around your office as if you’re searching for an answer. Why lie about it. “Ok, so then who is?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “I don’t really care either. But I'm sure whoever has gifts for us, they’ll be waiting for us downstairs.” His hand comes to grab yours, playing loosely with your fingers when he gets a hold of them. “I just wanted to give you a personal gift. I’m assuming you like it.”

You hold your coat tighter towards your body, “I do. And don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul.”

“I wasn’t worried,” he smirks. His other hand comes up to place his fingers under your chin, “You got a bit of drool…”

You narrow your eyes at him, but allow him to touch you. The trickling wetness from between your legs reminds you that you need to clean up and fast. So you take it as a cue to break contact with your boss, but you make sure to throw him a little remark back.

“And you have a bit of lipstick on your face,” you smile with fulfillment. “Might need to wash that off before heading downstairs.”

The two of you stand there smirking. Your deadly game of flirtations have stepped deeper into a new territory. Where the sex card now has come into play. How everything that may linger between the two of you can in fact become dangerous if you keep entertaining new domains. But neither one of you want to resist that temptation. This is exciting and new.

Before you can gather up Namjoon’s gift, Jungkook pulls you in for one last, chast, kiss on the lips. A parting goodbye for now. But a promising note for you to remember for the next time.

A reassuring reminder that tells you he is ready to play this game with you.

© 2022 All rights reserved under @kth1​ - do not copy, repost, modify, edit, or translate any of my work without my direct consent. This TUMBLR and AO3 are the ONLY places my fics are posted.

[meiieiri]

hii could you please write about how the jjk men's social media would look like, like what would they post, how often, what socials they would have? sorry if this is 2 specific!!

HOW THEIR INSTAGRAM PAGES WOULD LOOK LIKE [FT. JUJUTSU KAISEN]

❁—CHARACTERS: nanami kento, yuta okkotsu, gojo satoru (toji isn’t here bc the only online platform he’s on is onlyfans)

a/n: hey hey~ no worries! i love making stuff like these anyway, thanks for this btw, had a lot of fun making these. i only made ig as their socials as of rn because i don’t have twitter so i don’t rlly know how that works ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

༊*·˚ NANAMI KENTO

↬ nanami’s instagram would have really warm, vibrant tones to accentuate each and every mundane detail of his life into something that looks so euphoric and almost utopian-like which isn’t at all surprising seeing as this man has seen so much pain and suffering for a good majority of his life.

↬ i think he’d pick up photography as a hobby, maybe he’ll dabble into playing around with the settings on adobe lightroom or maybe secretly attend saturday workshops, on his way home from his bakery run, where he gets to learn all the fundamentals on photography composition. he eventually learns about instagram and he downloads the app on a whim when he gets bored at work. he appreciates the user friendly interface and gets the hang of it pretty quickly. he usually posts thrice a month, more if his schedule allows.

↬ now the thing with kento is he doesn’t usually put captions on his photos other than single emojis like: “🐱” or “🥐”. an exception to this is when he posts your birthday photos. he lovingly spares a few words for you that are minimal, at best, only containing a short birthday greeting. but hey, it’s written in pretty font, sooo~~

kento watches you from the couch situated near your home’s screen door leading to the pocket garden the two of you set up when you first moved in together. a small smile plays at his lips when you momentarily jump in surprise as your cat rubs herself against your legs finally ending your little game of hide and seek. “there you are,” you crouch down to scratch her ears. the loving scene of domesticity unfolds before him like a record tape from the nineties, complete with subdued hues of yellow and rose. “sweetheart, could you look here for a bit?” he calls as he fumbles with his phone. you look up confused and that’s when he decides to snap the picture. “hey! i wasn’t ready,” you protest. but he’s already posting the picture on his instagram with the caption: “💕”.

༊*·˚ YUTA OKKOTSU

↬ yuta has a fascination with sunsets. there’s just something so alluring and somewhat sorrowful about the last flicker of sunlight waging a war against her opponent, the night sky and her stars, to keep its dominion over the sky. yuta has always struggled with the notion of impermanence — he finds change to be downright terrifying which is why he took it upon himself to confront this fear by taking pictures of the setting sun, a form of change that is ironically as unchanging as his love for a certain someone, hehe.

↬ he normally uses his instagram as a digital journal of sorts. he’s always away owing to the many missions he’s now been assigned as a sorcerer second only to gojo satoru. he writes down entries, as much as possible, on a weekly basis to properly process the many emotions he’s felt that day.

↬ naturally, you’re always the first to view the pictures ergo press the heart button which always makes him turn a bright shade of pink despite the many years you’ve been together. AND, even though you’ve already technically seen the pictures, yuta will ALWAYS show it to you again when he gets home from work and regale you with all the amazing details about his recent trip.

yuta practically melted into your arms when he came in through the front door. “missed you,” he murmurs. you crane your head back to get a good look at him and you heave a sigh of blissful relief when you neither find a single scratch nor bruise on him. “are you alright, my love?” he asks, head tilted to the right, his eyes wide with curiosity at your silence. “yeah, fine,” you shake your head, playfully pinching his unscathed cheek earning a whistle-like chortle from the young sorcerer. “you know,” he says thoughtfully when his laughter dies down. “i never realized how beautiful the hida mountains are,” he recounts the wondrous things he’d seen and taken photos of from the sleepy lake town they took refuge in, to the mighty mountain river he and gojo had crossed on their way to the summit, to the towering willow trees with branches so ancient they could practically block out the sun, and finally to the mysterious abandoned forest shrine that only showed itself to an honored few, emerging from the haze like a ghostly apparition. he continues to ramble on for a substantial amount of time, scrolling through his phone gallery, not knowing that you’d dozed off. “2:48 AM,” the clock read. yuta sighs at your sleeping form, hearts practically swarming in his eyes. he lifts the blankets to cover your forms. “guess we’ll just have to go together someday,” he says, pecking your cheek before shifting ever so carefully to turn off the nightlight.

༊*·˚ GOJO SATORU

↬ posts low contrast pictures with low brightness because he’s cool that way. if not for the fact that he mostly shares memes, his feed actually looks pretty good, it’s subtle but appealing in many ways and it looks glorious on dark mode, it kinda reminds you of those pinterest or twitter moodboards. he knows his way around setting a moody vibe on his feed, and to think almost all of his pictures were shot on his old iphone. satoru gojo, the strongest sorcerer of his generation, much to the surprise of many, is actually quite talented. who would’ve thought?

↬ but please PLEASE someone get instagram away from this man, the world is not ready for his genius. now unlike the others, satoru uses instagram purely for fun. and yes, he posts dumb shit like they’re scripture. he got in trouble with the community once when he posted a picture of dixie (depicted above) from the teletubbies with the caption: “bake those cookies dixie”. you had to help him submit an incident report to the community moderators and a promissory note stating that he’ll never post such lewd things again. and he didn’t (thank god). for a full week, that is. he relapsed almost immediately.

↬ on the bright side, though, his followers always find it cute whenever he posts pictures of the two of you on your dates, even the ever-stoic nanami couldn’t resist the urge to smile whenever he comes across a picture of his senior having the time of his life with you. god knows how much gojo satoru deserves to love and be loved in return, even if he once thought it to be the most repulsive of curses.

gojo watches you from the other end of the table, a tipsy simper on his features when he notices your eyelids drooping, your head bobbing in your drunken stupor, your lips slightly open as your breathing evens out. “you drunk, baby?” he slurs as he polishes off the last of the yakiniku set you ordered, the oily, sweet and salty grilled meat seemingly simmering down the effect of the alcohol. you were the only ones left in the izakaya, at this point, the owner has half a mind to throw the both of you out so they could close for the night. “nooooo,” you sniffle before a tiny hiccup rips through your throat. cute, satoru stares at you with lovestruck eyes. “stop that,” you look at him through your blurred vision. “stop what?” satoru asks, his head resting on the hardwood table as his hand searches his jeans for his phone. he had to capture this moment before he blacks out. “looking at me like i’m the most beautiful girl in the room,” you scowl disapprovingly. he manages to find his iphone just before he nods off to sleep, snapping a picture of the both of you. empty plates and half-finished shot glasses are strewn about your table and the night’s festivities are perfectly captured in the frame. the two of you looked absolutely hammered — your normally tidy hair was disheveled, and his face looked like a cross between a sore thumb and a ripe tomato — but still, you looked happy. and to satoru, that’s all that really matters. “but you are, baby,” he pats you on the head before finally passing out. “you are.”

[cevansbrat0007]

The Ache

Summary: You decide to tease Andy on FaceTime during your evening bubble bath.

Warnings: Smut, Needy Andrew Barber, Bubbles, Cursing, Light Masturbation, Phone Sex, Oral Sex (fem receiving), Thigh Slapping, Minors DNI

A/N: Request courtesy of an anonymous reader. Hope it's okay. Part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

___

You slowly sink into the tub with a sigh, reveling in the feel of the warm water as it envelops your tired body. After a long day of juggling presentation after presentation for your increasingly organized boss. If you were being honest, it was starting to become a real concern. Especially now that it was affecting your ability to see your man. 

To be fair, it had only been two days since you’d seen each other last. And you certainly talked every night. 

But there was just something about that damned Andrew Barber. He’d managed to get under your skin in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Frankly, you could spend hours doing a deep dive trying to examine the hows and whys of it all. Or you could just accept it for how it was. You’d gone and fallen hard for the man.

And it had all happened without your fucking permission.

A smile forms on your lips, something that always happens when you think about your Andy Bear. On a whim, you reach for your phone sitting next to your wine so that you can reread the texts you two had exchanged earlier in the day. You scroll through messages, chuckling at the photo he’d sent of him supposedly languishing away at his desk with the caption “thinking of you” written underneath. 

You’d been in the middle of working on updating your media calendar when his text had come through, so you hadn’t had time to respond. But now that you’re alone and buzzing from your last glass of wine…

You open the camera app and flip the screen so that you can snap a picture of your knees peeking out from beneath the bubbles. You allow your thumb to hover over the button for a fraction of a second before finally hitting send, only to follow it up with the words: thinking of you too. 

And then you wait, biding your time as you take a sip of your drink. You hadn’t really done much sexting in the past, having always preferred to play it safe. But you also felt like you could trust Andy with this part of you. 

Besides, it was just your knees along with a hint of thigh. Not exactly material for revenge porn, you know?

You jump when your phone begins vibrating in your hand. Of course it’s Andy…and he apparently wants to FaceTime. Oh God! Squealing softly, you briefly debate whether or not you should answer even as you swipe accept. 

“Hey, baby girl.” Andy purrs. “I was just thinking about you.” 

Just to recap, you were currently sitting naked in the tub, mid-bubble bath, on a FaceTime call with your boyfriend. No big deal, right? Not really. Except that you had never done anything like this before. And certainly not with him!

“Why you got me facing the ceiling? I’d much rather be looking at you, gorgeous. Especially after you sent me such a pretty picture.”

“Hi, honey.” You whisper. Sitting up a little straighter, you adjust the angle of your phone so that he’s looking at your face instead.

“There you are.” He smiles and takes a sip of his beer. 

“Yep…here I am.” This whole situation has you understandably nervous, and more than a little turned on. You felt so…naughty like this; talking to your man while enjoying a deliciously warm bubble bath. “What are you up to?” Your free hand snakes out to grab your glass of merlot.

“I think a better question is…what are you up to?” Andy winks at you then, catching his bottom lip between his perfect teeth as he leans into the camera. Almost as if he’s trying to get a better view of you in all of your sudsy glory.

“Mm…just relaxing with the help of some wine and a little music...”

“And a nice, hot bubble bath, huh?” Your man eagerly finishes for you. “Can’t go and leave out the best part.”

Ooh, here we go. You think as a delicate blush creeps its way across your cheeks. 

“Mmhm. Gotta do something to relieve all this tension.” You playfully crinkle your nose as the words come tumbling past your lips. “Especially since someone isn’t around to take care of it for me.” 

“Now that’s just – ugh! Baby, you’re not even playing fair.” He grumbles, scrubbing a hand over his chiseled jaw. “Let me see you.”

“I’m right here.” Instead of complying, you toss him a little wave. Paying special attention to the way his eyes darken as he watches the water drip from your fingers.

“You know what I mean.” 

“Do I?” Feeling bashful, you look away from the screen. And then you flip it, gifting him with a glimpse of your newly polished toes. “How’s that? You like the color?”

“Love it. Now let me see the rest of you.” Andy growls low in his throat, his voice pitched to arouse.

“I think you’ve seen enough, Andrew. Now, tell me about your day.” You try to sound serious, but it’s hard when he’s looking at you like…well, like that.

Like he’s going to spontaneously combust any second if you don’t give him what he wants. 

“It just got a hundred times better five minutes ago.” You roll your eyes, silently letting him know that that was so not what you meant. 

“Fine.” He grunts, looking every bit as impatient as he sounds. “I drank too much coffee this morning. The chili dog I had for lunch gave me heartburn. And now my dick is hard as diamond watching you splash around in the tub like a fucking mermaid, while I'm stuck here on my couch halfway across town.” He takes a deep pull from the bottle in his hand. “That descriptive enough for you, sweetness?”

“Not bad.” You offer up a delicate shrug. “I give it a solid seven out of ten.” 

“C’mon…” Andy groans, dragging his long fingers through his already tousled brown locks. “Swear you’ve got me dying over here. Lemme see you.”

Heaving a playful sigh, you finally decide to give him what he wants. Not much, mind you. Just a little somethin’ to tide him over until you saw each other next. Which would hopefully be tomorrow.   

You angle the camera down, allowing him a brief glimpse of your bare breasts. Giggling, you lightly splash the water onto your chest, loving the strangled moan that rumbles from somewhere deep in his throat. 

“Like what you see, Big Man?” You purr as you slowly slide your wet fingers down your body, past your navel, and into the water below. A whimper escapes as you stroke between your folds, gently parting your lips to caress the swollen bundle of nerves currently begging for your attention.  

“That’s right, baby.” Your boyfriend rasps as he leans in for an even better view. “Touch yourself for me. Pretend it's me playing with that sweet pussy.”

“But you’re n-not.” You tell him as your hips begin to rock, sending water sluicing this way and that.  “Doesn’t feel as good as - as…” Your words trail off as you swirl the soft pads of your fingers over your needy clit, trying your best to soothe the growing ache. “Ooh…”

“I know, baby. I know. But don’t stop…” Off screen, you hear the distinct click of a belt buckle, followed by the quiet undoing of a zipper. “Not yet.”

Biting your lip, you give him a small shake of your head before removing your fingers and sucking them into your mouth. “Mmm…so good.” You tell him, noting the way Andy’s blue eyes simmer with desire and a hint of jealousy.

“You taste divine, baby. But I don’t recall giving you permission to stop yet.” Comes Andy’s husky growl, his tone filled with unbridled need.

“But I’m done. And the water’s getting cold so…” You raise a hand to toy with the messy bun adorning the top of your head, lightly twirling the kinky curly strands. “Guess it’s time to say goodnight.” 

“Now hang on a sec, sweet girl –” Andy pleads. 

 “Sweet Dreams, Andrew.” You tell him with a saucy wink. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Don’t you dare –” You end the call before he can finish before setting aside to finish your bath. After reheating the water, you take your time to exfoliate using your favorite body scrub, all the while still grinning like a fiend. 

You knew that you shouldn’t have teased your poor Andy Bear like that. But you couldn’t bring yourself to feel too bad. You’d be sure to make it all better whenever you saw him next. Which would hopefully be sooner rather than later.  

___

Two hours later…

“Fuck!” You hiss before rolling over and punching your pillow for what had to be the umpteenth time. You’d been tossing and turning for easily over an hour, but try as you might you just could not fall asleep. “Hate this shit.” Frustrated, you flop onto your back and stare at ceiling.

Yeah, you’d tried to make some magic happen after you’d finished getting ready for bed, but you just couldn’t seem to get yourself there. But it certainly hadn't been for lack of trying. And then when you’d gone to bust out the big guns, your favorite vibrator had decided to die on you approximately thirty seconds after turning it on. 

You had even briefly entertained the idea of calling Andy again. Deep down, you knew he would take pity on you, even after your little stunt back there in the bath.

But he would definitely make you work for it. 

Of course he had tried to call you again after you’d hung up on him – twice, actually. And while you hadn’t answered, you may or may not have shot him another picture of yourself wearing a bikini top made out of bubbles. 

All you’d received in return was a simple text calling you a little fucking brat.

So, you’d messaged him another photo. This time of you blowing him a kiss. Which also happened to consist of bubbles. Had to keep with the theme, you know?

If you were being honest, and you were, you’d brought this on yourself. And now you were being made to suffer. Meanwhile, your sweet Andy Bear was probably at home fast asleep dreaming of...

Your thoughts are interrupted by what sounds like a knock at your front door. Sitting up, you spare a glance at the clock, revealing that it was well after 1:00am. Who the fuck could that be at this hour?

You hear the knock again as you climb out of bed and scamper into the hall, hurriedly throwing on your silk robe as you go. Rising on your tiptoes, you go to peek out the peephole. Only to be surprised when you see your boyfriend standing on the other side.

“C’mon, baby girl.” Andy mutters to himself as he prepares to knock once more. “Open up already.” Confused, you make quick work of undoing the locks before wrenching open the door. 

 “Andrew…it’s the middle of the night.” You breathe, drinking in every inch of his sexily rumbled form. “Is – is  everything okay?”

“No.” He grunts, his tone gruff as he rakes both hands through his hair. “Couldn’t fucking sleep.”

Andy pushes his way inside your apartment, forcing you to take several steps back. “Every time I closed my eyes, I had this fucking vision of you all wet and covered in those damned bubbles.” He kicks the door shut before reaching behind him to click the lock into place.

Appearing every inch the predator, Andy slowly advances on you, backing you into a nearby wall. “Kept fuckin’ teasing me. Couldn’t get you outta my head.” He pins you against the cool surface, holding you hostage as his brawny arms come to rest on either side of your head. 

“Look what you did to me, baby…” His head dips as his mouth crashes down on yours, making you whimper. His tongue sweeps past your lips as he buries his big hands in your hair, his fingers deftly massaging your scalp before removing the tie and freeing the wild strands. 

“Oh God...” You moan into the kiss, arching your back as he dominates your body with each demanding flick of his tongue, each sinful nip of his sharp teeth. “Andy, I – fuck!”

He picks you up by your ass, walking you further down the hall and into your living room. Hot, wet kisses rain their way down your throat as he begins to fight with your clothes – tearing off your robe and casting it to the side. It catches the edge of a lamp, sending it crashing to the floor. 

Not that you care. Your man’s got you so wound up that you barely even flinch at the sound of it shattering into pieces.

“I’ll buy you another one.” Andy growls as you both tumble on the couch in a flurry of tangled limbs. 

“Who gives a fuck?” You hiss, tugging at the lobe of his ear with your teeth as you go to remove your cami, accidentally hitting him in the face with it.

“I need you, baby girl.” He rasps against your throat, sucking on the tender flesh. “So bad that I fuckin’ ache.” He presses your hand to the impressive outline of his cock. You squeeze him through the thin fabric of his sweats, loving the thick feel of him as he grinds against your palm. And then he pulls away, eliciting a small whine from you.

Standing, he seductively peels the shirt from his body. Your mouth waters as the glow of the moonlight washes over him, drawing your attention to his taut, defined abs. 

“Need you to fix it, baby.” Andy purrs after he kicks his pants aside. His head tips back as he fists a hand around his girth, slowly pumping up and down. “Fix me.” Groaning, he increases the speed of his strokes.

His lust-filled eyes find yours, watching your fingers as they skim beneath your cotton boyshorts to play with your pulsing clit. “Please?” He murmurs, his soft plea filling the room as he towers over you – his hard cock level with your hungry gaze. 

“Yes, Andy.” You nod, swallowing thickly. “I - I’ll fix it.” He sinks to his knees in front of you, his slightly calloused palms coming to rest on your thighs. “However you need me to." 

“Thank you, sweet girl. Thank you.” Your man presses an open mouthed kiss to the sensitive skin just behind your knee. “Always so good to me.” He settles in, draping your leg over his shoulder.

“What are you –?” You gasp, your small hands gripping his head as his luscious mouth descends towards your pussy. Pulling your panties to the side, he buries his face between your thighs, nuzzling the sensitive nub with his nose. 

“Oh yeah.” He growls as he does it again before gently lashing at your bud with his eager tongue. “Can feel myself getting better already.”

“I thought you wanted me to – to…ungh!” You cry out when he smacks your hip. Once. Twice. You knew without a doubt that you were going to be covered in his marks by the night’s end. 

“You promised to help me however I needed.” Andy hums as he continues to feast on your most intimate flesh, his beard scraping against your inner thigh. “So shut up and take it.” His tone comes out gruff, even though he’s clearly reveling in every sweet, breathy moan and whine that leaves your lips.

Instead of ripping your panties in two like he normally would, your Andy Bear forces you to hold them to the side so he can concentrate on the meal you’ve so generously set before him.

“You’ve got a lot of healing to do, baby girl.” Two thick, talented fingers find their way inside you, searching for that special spot that was guaranteed to drive you wild. You feel your hips buck on their own accord as your toes start to curl. “Hope you’re ready for a long night.” 

Andy sucks your clit into his mouth, shaking his head as his fingers continue to pump in and out of you. You thrash against his hold as you feel the coil in your belly tighten as it threatens to snap, sending you plummeting over the edge into bliss.  

“Because we’re only just getting started.”

END

[steddieasitgoes]

Written for @eddiemonth Day 11 Prompt: Pirate read on ao3 | link to my ao3 Eddie Month series

There are a lot of challenges that come with being a parent: dealing with tantrums, having to be responsible, cooking all the time, making friends with other parents (thank God Steve’s a people person because Eddie would rather stab himself in the eye with a fork than listen to Brenda brag about her kids — Newsflash Brenda, all our kids shit in the toilet, it’s not an accomplishment!) Fortunately, Eddie’s conquered them all, mostly. What he hasn’t conquered, though, is the biggest parenting challenge of all: saying no to their little girl.

But, like, can anyone even blame him? How is he supposed to look at Rosie with her big, brown eyes behind her purple round glasses and her lush, springy curls and tell her no? He’s not, that’s how. It’s even worse now that she’s learned how to wobble her lower lip and bat her eyelashes (Dustin and Erica are on babysitting probation for that one.)

It’s a move she’s already perfected and has been pulling all day to keep Eddie from doing any of his actual parenting duties while Steve’s held up at school in a marathon of parent-teacher conferences. But it’s fine. Better than fine if he’s straight with himself. There’s nothing Eddie loves more than some quality make-believe time with his daughter. Brings him right back to his Hellfire days. And once Eddie commits to a story, he’s in it until they reach the end (or until Rosie gets bored — whichever comes first).

He takes world-building just as seriously, which is why their living room has been transformed into a pirate ship. The long couch stands in as the main dock. An assortment of cardboard boxes from their latest Costco run stacked in a chaotic way on the front and the end, making up the stern and bow. A once-white pillowcase is now stained with purple marker — a Rosie original drawn in the middle — and hanging from the broom shoved into the couch cushions. (Steve’s not going to be happy about that one, but he’ll level with him later.)

Rosie is dressed in her favorite pirate costume. One of Steve’s button-up shirts and her favorite black leggings. Her feet (and most of her legs) are shoved into a pair of Eddie’s old black boots and the left lens in her glasses is covered in black duct tape (fuck, he hopes it doesn’t scratch them). The store-bought pirate hat disappeared weeks ago so in its place is one of Eddie’s old bandanas. Thankfully, the store-bought sword they bought her last year hasn’t gone missing (he’s pretty sure his streak of saying yes would have to end if she demanded access to the kitchen knives). Oh, yeah, and she’s refusing to answer to her name — responding to Eddie only when he refers to her as Cap’n Skittle.

“It’s time you walk the plank, traitor!” she shouts, hoisting a well-loved Garfield stuffed animal over her head. Hopping on the couch cushions, she glances at Eddie over her shoulder. “One-arm Gravy, prepare the plank.”

“Ay, Ay, captain,” Eddie says, saluting with the hand that isn’t pulled through the sleeve of his shirt and resting on his stomach. Rosie really made him commit to the whole one-arm thing, and he’s not about to suppress her creative whims.

With a careful step into the middle of the couch, Eddie reaches for one of their custom decorative pillows. It takes a few tries, but eventually, he manages to get one end of the throw pillow balanced on the edge of the couch while the rest hangs off.

“The plank is ready, Cap’n Skittle.”

“Time to meet your end, Garfield!”

Without a moment of hesitation, Rosie chucks the Garfield stuffed animal off of the couch, sending it flying across the room and into the bookshelf against the other wall. Thankfully, nothing breaks or falls over. Explaining to Steve why Rosie isn’t in bed yet is easy. Explaining how his mint condition replica of the Beamer broke, not so much.

“See you never traitor,” she cackles, far more sinister than a six-year-old should sound.

On second thought, maybe suppressing her creative whims is a good idea, Eddie thinks for a moment before shaking his head. Nah, Wayne let me do whatever I wanted, and I turned out fine.

“It’s time to celebrate!” She gathers the rest of the stuffed animal-turned-crew mates as she skips her way back to Eddie. Hoisting and swaying her sword high up in the sky in celebration.

“Not so fast,” Eddie says, shoving his arm back through the sleeve of his shirt. He peels off the paper mustache Rosie demanded he wear and yanks out a sword he’s been hiding in the waistband of his pajama pants.

Rosie screams, lowering her own sword in preparation for a duel. “Not Cap’n No Moosetach! I killed you.”

“You tried to be a hero Cap’n Skittle, but you failed to remember the most important thing about being a pirate captain,” Eddie says, voice an octave lower than usual. He takes a tentative step forward on the couch and then another and another until Rosie’s trapped between him and the armrest. He holds his sword up to her chin, not touching, but close enough for her eyes to go a little crossed as she stares at it. “We never die before we get our treasure.”

Eddie swings his sword, but Rosie’s quick, swinging hers back at him. It’s the beginning of an epic sword battle that has both of them doing the most. Rosie leaps at him, wrapping her arms and legs around his middle until they’re both toppling over onto the couch. She quickly gets to her feet, shoving her sword in Eddie’s face for a moment before he rolls off the couch and into the “waters” below.

“You’ll never get the da’blooms,” she shouts. Glancing over her shoulder at the hoard of stuffed animals on the couch, she shouts, “Man the cannons!”

Eddie barely has time to shield his head before she’s throwing pillow after pillow at him. Shouting orders left and right to her “crew mates.” Hoisting himself up, Eddie gets back on the couch and engages in another battle with Rosie. Swords clinking against each other as Eddie hums a made-up soundtrack for their battles. He gets lost in the humming and has no time to defend himself when Rosie jabs her bony elbow into his ribs.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he groans, massaging over the spot. “That hurt Rosie.”

“Who is this Rosie you speak of?” she growls, threatening him with her sword. “I don’t know any Rosies!”

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek to keep from snorting. She may not biologically be his daughter, but oh man, does she make up for it in her quirks and personalities. After all, no one commits to a fantasy role more than a Munson.

The battle continues with both of them taking turns being the winners and losers until the front door knob starts to jingle.

“Avast Ye,” Eddie says, pulling Rosie in close. “A landlubber approaches.”

“Aye,” Rosie nods. “We can take him together.”

“A truce, you say? Only if you give me half of your Doubloons.”

“I’ll give you three.”

This time, Eddie does snort, earning a fierce glare from Rosie before the front door opens. Steve steps in, looking more exhausted than ever before. His lucky striped tie is pulled loose, his blazer slung casually over his shoulder.

“Aye, it’s the wealthy merchant Sir Steven of Stevensburg.”

Despite the pure exhaustion on his face and in his bones, Steve cocks his head to the side and arches his brow. “Sir Steve of Stevensburg? That’s the best you can come up with?” He toes off his work loafers and pads his sock-covered feet further into the mess of the living room.

“Hey,” Eddie whines, voice returning to normal. “Cut me some slack; we’ve been at this for hours.”

“Shush you landlubber!” Rosie says, leaping off the couch and into Steve’s arm. “If you want our Da’blooms, you have to fight me and Cap’n No Moosetach.”

“Da’blooms? I don’t need your da’blooms.”

“Then why are you braving these here seas, Sir Steven?” Eddie asks as he steps down from the couch, eager to get his hands on his clearly exhausted boyfriend.

“Well, I am a Prince in search of a fair maiden. A princess, actually,” he says, nuzzling his face into Rosie’s neck. She squeals in delight before squirming out of his arms and dropping to the floor. “Do you know of any princesses around here?” Steve cups his hands over his eyes, turning them into binoculars, as he glances around the room.

“Me! Me!” Rosie shouts, jumping up and down. “M’a princess! The prettiest princess in all the land.”

Steve crouches down to Rosie’s height. Hands on his hips and tired eyes squinted in a focused manner as he studies her pirate costume. “Hmm, I don’t know,” he puzzles, dramatically tapping his chin.

Eddie watches Steve take on the role of a Prince. When Rosie first started getting into make-believe, Steve struggled with the “yes and-ing” that comes with improvised play. It took a while for him to come out of his shell and allow himself to actually be goofy. If Eddie ever gets his hangs on the Harringtons he swears he’s going to ring their neck for stifling Steve’s creativity. Because dammit, his Steve is creative! Weaving epic adventure stories like it is second nature. Sometimes even better than Eddie can.

Eddie absolutely adores it when Steve gets like this. When the pressures of being an adult fade away all that matters is the story and Rosie’s imagination. It totally works for him too.

“You look like a pirate to me,” Steve says, finally, before standing up to his full height as he looks down on Rosie.

“Cap’n Skittle, to be exact,” Eddie says, saddling up next to Rosie with his sword outstretched in Steve’s direction. “The most vicious pirate to ever pirate the seas.”

“No, no,” Rosie shouts, yanking the sword from Eddie’s hands and tossing it aside, “‘M Cap’n Skittle now, but if you kiss me, I’ll turn into a princess! Kiss me, you’ll see!”

There’s a beat where Eddie and Steve share a fourth-wall-breaking glance. A silent should we be worried about this? and eh, it’s probably fine in return. They’re caught up in their half-concern, half-amused state that neither one realizes Rosie is moving until it’s too late. She throws herself at Steve, scaling her way up his legs and into his arms.

“Kiss me! Kiss me! Kiss me!”

With a laugh, Steve dramatically dips Rosie in his arms before planting a kiss on her lips. He pulls away with a loud smooching sound that has Rosie giggling and then rips the bandana off of her head. “Be still, my beating heart. You are a Princess!”

“Told ya so,” Rosie says before quickly switching to her new Princess role. “Tis I Princess Buttercup and you’re Prince Peanut. Together we’re Prince and Princess Peanut Buttercup!”

Damn candy commercials, Eddie thinks, hiding a smile behind a lock of hair. Glancing at the clock, Eddie realizes it’s way past Rosie’s bedtime. A fact Steve also picks up on based on the look he’s giving Eddie. A raised brow followed by a dramatic wink. He can practically hear Steve saying, watch this — forever the expert at getting Rosie to bed.

“What say thee, Princess Buttercup? Shall we retire to our room for a royal slumber?”

“But m’not tired,” she pouts.

“Ah, but Princess Buttercup. You must sleep so tomorrow we can defeat the evil Lord Munsington.”

“Munsington? Really?” Eddie laughs, shaking his head.

“We’re not talking to you, Lord Munsington,” Rosie scolds, shooing Eddie away with her hand. “We’re going to need lots of sleep to defeat him, Prince Buttercup.”

“Well, then, we better get started,” Steve muses, carrying Rosies toward her bedroom.

Eddie doesn’t follow, letting Steve get some quality time in with Rosie before she falls asleep. Besides, Eddie’s all storied out after hours and hours of playing pirates and witches and fairy tea parties. He collapses on the couch instead, letting his own eyes shut until he hears Steve’s feet padding their way to him.

“Missed you,” Steve says, kissing the top of Eddie’s head before sinking into the couch cushion beside him. He’s already stripped out of his work clothes, clad now in a pair of worn sweatpants.

“Missed you too,” Eddie says, snuggling up to Steve’s side. His warm shirtless body feels relaxing on Eddie’s aching bones. Especially his ribs which are already bruising from Rosie’s brutal hit earlier.

“Looks like I missed a good storytelling day.”

Eddie hums. “Well, we lost the plot at the end there, but yeah, it was a good storytelling day.”

“Worth the mess of our living room?” Steve asks, glancing around at the cardboard boxes, stuffed animal graveyard, and pillows littering the floor.

“I’ll clean it up in the morning, promise,” Eddie says through a yawn. “Right now, Lord Munsington needs his sleep.”

“Come on then,” Steve huffs, hot air fluttering the unruly tendrils of Eddie’s hair. Heaving Eddie off of him, he stands to his feet before extending a hand out. “Prince Peanut is feeling generous and will allow Lord Munsington to sleep in his bed.”

“Will cuddling be allowed?” Eddie asks, slapping his hand into Steve’s.

With a swift yank, Eddie’s on his feet and being propelled into Steve’s awaiting arms. He wraps his own around Steve’s neck, fingers kneading at the knots in his neck. Steve groans in pleasure before his own arms wrap around Eddie’s middle, squeezing.

“Cuddles are always allowed.”

Untangling himself from Steve, he moves his right hand until it rests on the small of Steve’s back. “Then let’s get a move on it,” Eddie says, guiding them towards their bedroom.

[unique-high]

More Hearts Than Mine | Namjoon x Blk Fem reader.

Summary: Your heart wasn't the only one he broke.

A/N: The song lyrics will be written into the ff. Wrote this on a whim because I really love this song and couldn't help but think of Namjoon for this. Sorry for any mistakes.

BEFORE: “I can't wait to show you where I grew up.” You tell Namjoon one night. This will be his first time meeting your family, and seeing where you grew up that made you into the woman you are today. You were going to show him your favorite places and take him to all the best spots. You'll walk Namjoon around the foothills of your town. After hearing you talking about your hometown for six months now; It's like Namjoon has been there before. Walked the asphalt streets, tasted the local foods, and saw the landmarks. He wanted a real feel of it, though. He'll fall in love with your hometown and your family like he has with you.

It's the morning of your trip to your hometown. You and Namjoon are packing.

“We'll probably have to sleep in separate bedrooms.” You tell him as you move around him to get to your suitcase. He doesn't mind the separate bedrooms. You have told him the kind of people your parents are and he respects that. He'd asked you question about your mama, then your dad, and then your little sister.

“You think they'll like me?” Namjoon asks.

“Yes. I told them so much about you and they can't wait to meet the guy who has taken good care of my heart.” You smiled at Namjoon. You would spend all night on the phone with your little sister telling her how great of a guy Namjoon was until your mama told her it's time for her to get to bed.

You look over the clothes that Namjoon has in his suitcase. “Pack a shirt for church because we'll go.”

He has a nice black button-down that he packs. You sit on the bed next to Namjoon's suitcase. Bringing home someone new was nerve-wracking. You rub the palm of your hands on your blue jeans.

“Uh, Listen.” You said. “I'm not trying to scare you off, but I thought we should talk a few things out. Before we hit the road.”

Namjoon moves his suitcase over on the bed and sits next to you. His pinky finger resting on top of yours. His way of saying I won't be scared off.

You rest your head on his shoulder as you talk to him.

First, you warned him about how quickly your mama falls in love a little faster than you do. She would immediately pull Namjoon into a warm welcoming hug that'll make him feel like he was home. She'll make him a big home-cooked meal with her favorite recipes that's been passed down from generation to generation.

Then you warned him about your dad. How he would check the tires on Namjoon's car and make sure the engine sounds good. You told Namjoon your dad will pour him whiskey over ice and want to hear his views about the current events of the world. Then he'll take Namjoon fishing and pretend that he doesn't like him.

Of course, you told Namjoon that if he ever broke up with you, he wouldn't be just breaking your heart but theirs too.

Then there was your little sister you really had to warn him about. How she would ask him a million questions, say anything she can to turn him red. She'll ask if he's going to marry you while she paints his nails fuchsia pink.

Then you warned him about your high school friends. They'll buy him drinks and fill him in on the crazy nights you can't outlive. And how they'll get him to play truth or dare to initiate him into the friend group.

AFTER: It was only two months later when you showed up back in your hometown, standing on the steps of your childhood home without Namjoon this time. When your mama opened the front door, the first thing you did was hug her and breakdown in her arms. She knew without you even telling her. Your mama felt every heartache you've ever been through. So she understands when mangle sobs push their way up your throat into the warm air of the house. Namjoon had been the one. So you thought. There were forevers and forevers in his words, yet forever meant nothing to him.

Then there was your dad who hated seeing his little girl all broken up over some guy. He'll pour you whiskey over ice and He'll tell a lie and say Namjoon ever really liked you. But your dad could see how that boy looked at you like you were the stars shining in his world. Of course, your dad couldn't hate him, and neither could your mama.

Then there was your little sister who curled into your side, wiping your tears. While saying something like: “He really did love you, Y/n. But you know, love can scare people away sometimes, especially when they never experience true love, so they run because it feels like a lie, like all the other love they had before. Maybe that's Namjoon's reason.”

He broke their hearts more than yours.

[allthatmay]

Okay, look, I literally couldn't stop myself. (I just tripped and fell into my keyboard?) Here's the unpolished intro to the Sugar Baby Ace fic I may or may not be writing...

Ace creates the profile as a joke, partly—or, so he tells himself, anyway. It’s easy enough to pick a nice picture of himself with his face partially hidden by his signature hat, and fill in the relevant details: aged 20, gardener by day, bar worker by night. When it asks his sexuality, he puts, “As gay as the day is long,” and cackles about it for an unreasonable length of time, undoubtedly brought on by the undiluted tequila sitting in his stomach.

“This is stupid,” he says to himself, hiccuping, and then throws his laptop into the empty space beside him. Sighing, he lays down, eyes heavy, gaze swimming, and reconsiders his entire life. Then, remembering the contents of his bank account, he sits back up. “I'll at least have a look...”

As it turns out, scrolling through the profiles of rich, privileged men is not something Ace cares for. Plenty of them are handsome enough—some of them he even considers with desire—but none of them truly catch his attention. He spends ten minutes scrolling, scoffing, sighing. However, moments before he’s about to give up, he hits upon a really interesting profile.

“Shanks…?”

Saying the name aloud does not dispel the illusion: Ace is looking at a profile of Shanks, his brother’s distant but cherished role model. Luffy has admired Shanks ever since they met by happenstance over a decade ago. What the hell is he doing on a site that connects sugar babies with daddies?

On a whim, Ace clicks on Shanks’ profile. It’s one of the nicer one’s he’s seen; Shanks has chosen a handful of handsome photos of himself. One particular photo of him half-naked at the beach has Ace staring for a long, embarrassing minute as he admires the shape of the sunbeams across Shanks’ bare chest. He swallows the unknowable feeling in his throat, then returns to reading Shanks’ profile. For a man so loquacious, he’s written very little about himself.

I don’t take myself seriously. You’re a different story.

Something about its simplicity has Ace chewing on his bottom lip, contemplating the idea of reaching out.

“This is insane,” he says; it’s easier to parse his inebriated thoughts aloud. “Fuck, what am I thinking?”

Of course, looking back at Shanks’ profile doesn’t help. The man has an irritatingly eye-catching and infectious smile, and his gaze pierces through Ace, even though he’s nothing but an image on a screen. Ace considers what Shanks might say if he adds him, but draws a blank; he’s only met Shanks a handful of times, and he’s always been surprised by the man’s countenance.

That thought, in the end, is what has Ace pressing the “Send Friend Request” button. The deed done, he closes his laptop and puts it on the floor, dragging himself drunkenly under the bedsheets for a night of dreamless sleep.

[hasumilvr]

☆⠀𓈒⠀Arashi N. - And yet, they still shine like jewels.⠀⠀꒱⠀⠀ 🌷

୨୧ Wc: i have no idea

SORRY IM BACK AND SORRY THIS IS THE FIRST thing I drop in 918172 years after choosing to ignore all texts messages all assignments and all the requests in my inbox. Word vomit Angst Written in under 10 minutes by your truly

Arashi’s eyes reflected a room.

A rather empty one, she thought, with a clock whims purpose was solely to tell the time and not the minutes and hours you spent together. She could also see a teddy bear, and as she picked it up it’s eyes no longer glimmered and pearls, but just dark dull grey buttons. The scarf on it’s neck was purple, the colour of her eyes.

And oh, how she wishes she could wrap her arms around your waist again and push your heads together as she slowly melts in you — she felt safe when you were in her arms. A silent promise was exchanged to never leave or escape, and the sweet scent of cocktail piano slowly diffused in the air in within the room, as if the air was also gasping over the arrival over a queen and her beloved.

But that promise was no more. No one backed out, yes, but fate was… rather harsh. Arashi could feel her heart shatter into bits once again when she heard a photo frame demolishing into a million bits, the glass all over the picture of a once loving couple, now no more. An elegant crash, and now, no more.

Arashi, reluctant to admit that the shattering of the frame that you once treasured so dearly was because of her sudden rage. The teddy bear was used as the weapon and was also lying lifelessly on the chilly floor.

She blinked. Once. Twice. As if she could still hear your footsteps, and feel your touch — feel your fingers  intertwining, your lips, your cheeks, your everything.

And she stood up, and looked into the mirror. There was a photo, pinned against the wall. ‘Twas a photo of you, smiling at the camera oh-so-brightly, and your eyes, oh those eyes, Arashi gasped —

After you vanished without a trace, after she could not longer see you again —

And yet, they still shine like jewels.

Her favourite jewel stone.