#okay i'm being dramatic it was a fun challenge

[avephelis]

evil artstyle chippy if i have to touch another gradient in the next week i'm throwing hands

[justwonder113]

Showering Hyunjin with affection

Bang Chan; Lee Know; Changbin; Han; Felix; Seungmin; IN;

Summary: you just had to show your drama queen of a boyfriend how much you love him. word count:2.5k

Warning: lot's of kissing, reader is gender neutral, both of them are whipped, appearance of 3racha, predebut Han almost making an entrance, Hyunjin is drunk and a drama queen, overall soft stuff. Please tell me if I missed something

A/N- I'm back with another fic, this took me a while but I'm kinda really satisfied with it, I really hope you all like it. I will try to write the next part as soon as I can. I wanna finish these series as soon as I can, first of all because I'm all excited and can't wait, also I'm excited to try out new tropes, I was thinking of challenging one bed trope after this, with various different dynamics. The requests are open, if you want me to write something I'll gladly accept the challenge. Also feel free to share your thoughts with me, I absolutely adore interacting with y'all.

After sighing for the nth time you finally forced yourself to turn off the shitty netflix show you were watching to spend time. You had nothing to do and were bored out of your mind, but not to that context to sit through another minute of this. It was almost 3 am and any normal person would be asleep by now, but here you were wide awake, feeling nothing remotely close to sleepiness.

You sat up straight after laying for couple of hours and boy you regretted it. The dizzy spell you got was nothing to joke with, maybe you should check your iron levels. Also your poor muscles felt so sore you would surely feel all stiff tomorrow. Your back was killing you, and, not to be dramatic but, you would marry anyone on the spot if they managed to massage the knots out. It was safe to say, you desperately needed some good spa day.

Speaking of marriage and partners, you were curious on how Hyunjin was doing. Even a mere thought of your amazing boyfriend bought a smile to your face. You couldn't believe you two were actually dating after pining over him for so many years. You sure were lucky tho, to have a sweetheart like him as your boyfriend. Your one year annivercary was coming soon and you couldn't surprise wait to surprise him. You've been planning everything for weeks now and you made sure everything would be perfect. Well you had to share some of your plans with him, so that you could plan your day together but you still had major card up your sleeve and you were sure he would lose his mind when you showed it to him. Two days, you only had to wait for two days.

You couldn't help but sigh, you missed him so much. Even though you saw him two days ago it felt like centuries had passed. This boy made you feel so many so foreign emotions you were never sure you would get to or actually could experience. He always went above and beyond to make you feel like the most special and cherished person, and the fact that he also did so even before you two started dating each other. He was always so sweet and gentle with you. You always felt like a hero of a romance novel. Also you adored how being with him was so fun and exciting but at the same time bought peace to your heart and mind. You might be rushing into things but day by day, second by second you were convinced he was your soulmate, your other half.

A sudden buzzing of your phone startled you out of your daydream, you were curious who in their right mind was calling you at this hour.

Seeing the contact name had you even more confused. Why would Chan be calling you at 3 am? You knew the boys were out having fun night for themselves. Did something happen? You hoped he called you for other reasons, because it would really suck if their rare chance of having fun got ruined by something unplanned. You sure hoped everything was okay tho. Quickly as you could you grabbed your phone and answered it mentaly preparing yourself to hear anything Chan had to say.

Chan's call of your name bought you down to reality from another spiral of unnescesary thoughts.

"Hey Chan what's up?" You tried to sound as calm as you could.

Chan cleared his throat, "I'm sorry, did I wake you up?" You quickly denied it," no I'm awake, what's up? Is everything okay?"

Chan chuckled and it made you relax a little, so nothing bad had happened, "yeah, yeah everything's fine , nothing to worry about, it's just your boyfriend is getting a bit fussy." You couldn't help but mirror the last word, you heard Chan chuckle. "Yeah alcohol must've got to him. We were about to go home, but he refuses to cooperate. He says he wants to go at yours because he as he quotes "misses his baby so much he can't take it anymore!" He dragged the words mimicking your boyfriend, you couldn't help but chuckle.

"Where are you guys, I can come pick him up." You suggested while searching for your keys with your eyes.

"No, no it's okay, we can bring him at yours. Binnie and Han are with me too so I don't think it will be much trouble. I just couldn't knock some sense into him, I told him to call you but he said his phone died. At some point he even ran towards your house or that's what he thought I had to tackle him before he could get lost. I don't think he can tell left from right in this state" He paused for a second, you heard someone talking but you couldn't hear anything, " I'm getting off track sorry, so it's good to bring him at yours?" You were full on chuckling now, what a silly little man.

"Yeah, it's totally fine. I'm sorry he's being trouble."

"No it's fine, it's kinda endearing to see him this whipped. All he talked about was you and how amazing you are." Your cheeks hurt from smiling this wide, God, you loved that idiot. "Okay I won't bore you anymore, we'll be at yours soon."

"Okay I'm waiting."

After finishing the call you made sure you looked decent enough for your taste and that your apartment looked neat. You also prepared clothes for Hyunjin to change into from his drawer and some water and painkillers for tomorrow.

It didn't even take 20 minutes for the boys to arrive. The second you opened your door Hyunjin tackled you into a hug, almost knocking you over, thankfully Changbin and Chan caught you two before you could manage and break your necks. You giggled at your boyfriends eagerness, before frowning when you saw how swollen and red his eyes were. "What happened baby?" You cooed at him and moved his hair out of his face. Hyunjin sighed and hugged you again, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You heard collective sigh of boys and turned your attention to them, looking at them with confused eyes, hoping they would tell you what was up.

Han decided to break the silence-"don't worry he was just bawling his eyes the whole ride, crying how amazing and perfect you were and how there is no one like you." He said and rolled his eyes, you huffed out a laugh, you knew he had nothing against you, but he must have had enough of this. Hyunjin frowned and glanced at him, his hold on you tightened, you were not sure if he felt possesive or just couldn't keep himself straight. "You're just bitter cuz you're single!" Hearing your boyfriends grumble Han's eyes widened and for a second you were afraid predebut Han would return. "Oh I'm gonna beat his ass!" Han leaned in but Changbin held him back by his collar, Changbins gaze then turned to you and you noticed how tired he seemed. "Good luck, he's your headache now."

Chan looked at you" Do you need any help with anything?" You smiled at him and shook your head. "I can handle him. Do you guys wanna come in tho? Do you want something to drink?" After hearing the last word you could see all three of them shiver.

"We're fine. It's late too we better head home." Chan reassured you after glancing at Changbin and Han for their opinion.

"Okay, thanks again for bringin him. Tell me when you're home, it's really late."

You said your goodbyes and turned to hyunjin who looked at you with dazed, sparkling eyes. "Let's get you settled pretty boy." You took his hand and started leading him towards your bedroom. Hyunjin eagerly followed you, you were amazed how pliant he was being, usually he loved being a brat but he must have been too tired now to act so.

After helping Hyunjin get ready for bed, you quickly got changed too and got in bed next to him. turning to him you noticed that he looked at you with wide eyes, nowhere near sleepy now. You leaned in and removed hair from his forehead, "I thought you were sleepy baby." Hyunjin looked at you for a second or two and opened his arms, "wanna cuddle." His words were slurred but you still got what he meant, you smiled and immediately snuggled next to him his arms finding solace around you. Based on how content he looked, if he could he would start purring any second now. How was he so cute and lovable? You knew you were whipped for him but you could swear he looked extra yummy right now.

You spent couple of minutes like this, and based on his even breathing you were sure he was asleep now, but you were proved wrong when he huffed while glaring at you and then changed sides so that you were now facing his back. To be honest you were a bit dumbfounded.

"What's wrong sweetie?" You couldn't help but pry, you had no idea what could've brought this behavior from him. Hyunjin just huffed. You sighed for yourself, you had got to use the big guns. You leaned in closer, amused at how he tried to get away from your touch, as if he had much space to run off to, and soon, not really to your surprise you had him trapped in the corner of your bed. You wrapped your hand around his stiff body and leaned in closer so that you could sweetly whisper against his ear. " Please tell me what's wrong my love" you dragged his nickname as sweetly as you could knowing it made him weak in the knees, and it did break through him. Hyunjin sighed and laid on his back, you glued next to him, his lips were pouted and his eyes a little bit glossy, you rubbed his side to ease him into talking .

"You don't love me" he whined quietly, you expected to hear anything but this from him if you were honest. You blinked at him confused, trying to gather your thoughts, you were both perplexed and also hollering from laughter inside. He was so ridiculous sometimes. You took a deep breath and moved your fingers to play with his soft locks, Hyunjin immediately leaned into the touch.

"My love, I love you so much I don't think you can even comprehend it! What brought this up?" Your voice was soft, you wanted him to know how sincere you were. Hyunjin sighed and put his hand on your waist, successfully bringing you closer to him, your fingers migrated and now were gently scratching his nape. Hyunjin hid his face in the crook of your neck and quietly grumbled "you didn't kiss me even once since I got here, we haven't seen each other in a while tho." No matter how hard you tried you couldn't hold it in and started cackling, this adorable as hell drama Queen! He had you worried for nothing! You even thought for a second you did something wrong.

Noticing your shaking figure, Hyunjin looked up at you with doe eyes, and his pout deepened when he saw you that you were wholeheartedly laughing. "Stop laughing I'm talking from my heart here!" His comment made you laugh even harder. "I should've gone home, you hates me" noticing how sad he sounded you got reminded that he was drunk as hell and was feeling more fragile, you wondered tho if he would remember any of this in the morning? Was it too late to grab a camera? Pouty Hyunjin was adorable.

"I'm sorry my love, you know I love you the most." Hyunjin rolled his eyes, and you knew he was playing with you, his eyes glimmered with mischief, well, two could play this game. You lowered your voice so you sounded almost sultry "Why don't you let me prove my sincerity to you then? Are you gonna let me?" You carefully watched as Hyunjin's eyes widened for a second, the big gulp and careful nod of his head.

This was all the permission you needed, you leaned in and carefully sealed your lips together, your boyfriend basically melted against you. You just loved how soft and pillowy his lips were, you always felt like you could kiss him for eternity.

The kiss started out soft, with you gently caressing his lips, his hand firm on your waist, holding you as if you were going to go away. Everything went quiet, you could only see, smell, taste, feel, hear him and so much more, he was the center of your universe. It was just you two right now, you didn't care about anything else. You had one goal only and you were dedicated. Everything about him was driving you crazy, you were sure he couldn't even grasp what, or how much you were feeling.

Your kisses quickly deepened and apart from gasping for air from time to time you two were inseparable, like two magnets pulling on each other.

The second Hyunjin leaned back for a second for some air, you decided to continue your little attack on his jaw, then his cheeks, absolutely loving the feel of his soft skin on your lips, then came his forehead, his eyelids, his beautiful nose, his chin, his neck... You wanted to cover every inch of him in kisses, to show appreciation to whichever god or gods crafted him, to show appreciation that this walking perfection was yours, his soft sighs and whines making you go even crazier.

You littered every part of skin you could reach with kisses until your lips were so numb and buzzing you got afraid they would fall off. Although, it didn't sound that bad, knowing the last thing they did was to kiss the Hwang Hyunjin senseless.

Looking at him, he looked at you with so much love and adoration, his face and neck all flushed, his breathing was quick and shallow,his hair all disheveled, his beautiful hands held you so tightly, your heart started fluttering all over again. He looked absolutely breathtaking, you wished you could engrave this moment into your mind for eternity. You smiled at him and softly grazed his cheek. "Are you satisfied with my answer my precious?" Your voice was soft, Hyunjin gleamed at you and eagerly nodded his head, and the next thing you knew you were on your back on the bed, Hyunjin above you, hugging you as tight as he could, his lips softly kissing your collarbone. "Absolutely, I love you so much beautiful, you have no idea" he pressed another kiss on your neck and then your lips with so much love and passion you just knew your feelings were returned with the same passion and vigor.

[gothcsz]

Imperfect For You | Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | ~10k wc | Part 4 of the Fantasize series | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: The night Javier proposes.

Tags: established relationship, semi-public sex, jealous!javi, but also sweet nervous javi that might be a little ooc but irdgaf, oral (f&m receiving), a smidge of degradation, light breath play, dirty talk, unprotected p in v sex (practice safe sex pls), facial, pwp, porn with feelings, some physical descriptions but overall it's pretty vague, javier can pick reader up, no use of Y/N, reader is a badass photojournalist, reader speaks spanish, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: did not expect to write another part in this world so fast, but the idea for it came to me in a dream and my mind kinda just took it from there, lol. i hope you guys like it, pls feel free to come bother me about this, okay?! in the wise words of queen bey: i'm swerving on that, swerving, swerving on that big body been servin' all this swerve, surfin' all in this good-good 😋🙂‍↕️

DIVIDERS CREDIT: saradika

Navigating your relationship with Javier stateside was definitely an experience.

When the highs hit, they were nothing short of breathtaking.

That summer was a whirlwind of sweet moments. You spent your days with him and his dad on their family ranch, immersing yourself in the rustic life— learning about the animals, how to care for them, and getting your hands dirty in a way that was surprisingly fulfilling.

Nights were filled with fun adventures, like hitting up those grimy dive bars Javier loved so much, only to find yourselves tangled up in the back of his pickup in some dusty parking lot.

There were times that felt straight out of a fairytale—picnics in sun-drenched fields, soft, sleepy sex in his childhood bedroom followed by breakfast in bed with the morning light streaming in.

But as the summer drew to a close, reality set in. Javier decided to stay in Texas to help his pops with the ranch, while you had to move to New York for work.

It made sense, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Saying goodbye was like tearing a piece of your heart out. Your relationship, still so fresh, was suddenly thrust into the challenges of long-distance, and that brought its own set of struggles.

The lows were devastatingly low.

At first, it was really hard, and you feared that the thrill of your kinky and dramatic beginnings had worn off, exposing you both to the harsh realities of dating.

You started seeing sides of each other that had remained hidden until they weren’t.

Javier’s hot-headedness and tendency to react without thinking, your own habit of micromanaging and being passive aggressive— these flaws clashed in ways that neither of you had anticipated.

Javier, who had never been good at relationships to begin with, struggled to navigate this terrain all over again, while you, having not been in a serious relationship since your freshman year of undergrad, found yourself unsure of how to handle the rough patches.

These were challenges you hadn’t faced since you didn’t really have the time to. 

He was preoccupied with taking down dangerous drug traffickers and you were caught up in the whirlwind of keeping up with him.

It made you wonder if the idea of you two only ever really existed in Colombia.

The distance didn’t help matters. Seeing each other so rarely made the relationship feel strained, like you were constantly trying to hold onto something that was constantly slipping through your fingers.

You tried to convince him to move to the city with you, but every time the topic came up, it ended the same way— with you in tears and him abruptly hanging up.

“I can’t just leave him here to run this place by himself. He’s not getting any younger.” “He has other ranch hands, Javi. You said you’d try this with me.” “This is me trying. Why are you being so selfish?”

The conversations would spiral into bickering, pointless arguments that left you both emotionally and physically drained.

There was even a time when it all fell apart— a breakup that lasted an entire month, neither of you speaking, the silence as heavy as the miles between you.

It wasn’t until Javier finally came to his senses, flying out to New York to win you back, that things started to feel right again.

The reunion was explosive, leading to the most fervid, passionate makeup sex that left the both of you out of commission for the rest of that weekend.

After that rough patch, everything began to fall into place, and it was pretty much smooth sailing from there.

The two of you had weathered the storms of long distance, misunderstandings, and inevitable growing pains of a serious relationship, and you had come out stronger on the other side.

Javier eventually made the decision to move into your apartment, a choice that felt like a natural progression rather than the point of contention it had once been.

You found yourself building a life together, and the city became the backdrop for your blossoming relationship.

He found work at a private security company nearby, a job that kept him engaged but wasn’t nearly as all-consuming as his previous work with the DEA. 

Your own career was thriving as well, your time in South America propelling you forward, and Javier was your biggest supporter. He admired your passion and dedication, often marveling at the way you captured the world through your lens.

Gone were the days of petty arguments and the anxiety of being so far apart. 

Javier’s fiery temperament mellowed in the warmth of your affection, and your once-passive tendencies faded as you grew more confident and assured in his unwavering support.

You learned to communicate more openly, and trust replaced the insecurities that had once threatened to pull you apart.

Now, your life together is a beautiful blend of routine and spontaneity. Whether it’s quiet mornings spent sipping coffee and reading the news together, or weekends exploring the city and its surroundings, everything is finally okay.

It’s much better than anything you could have ever thought up of those late nights in Bogotá, where all you did was dream of being his.

The gallery is abuzz with the energy of admiration and praise, the walls lined with your photographs— snapshots of life that tell stories far beyond the frames they’re bound by.

It’s your night, a celebration of your burgeoning career, and as you move through the room, mingling with friends, colleagues, and mutual acquaintances, your confidence shines brightly.

The alcohol is flowing, the murmur of conversation blending with the soft music that plays throughout the space.

Javier stands near the edge of the room, keeping to the periphery and staying out of the way, but his eyes never leave you and how you glow in the spotlight.

Tonight you’re the center of attention, and rightfully so. You’ve worked your ass off trying to make this exhibit happen and you managed to pull it off seamlessly. But, there’s something else on his mind— something that has him a bit shaken.

The small velvet box tucked securely in his pocket feels heavier with every passing moment.

He plans to propose to you here, a decision he’s been turning over in his mind for well over a year now. Despite the certainty in his heart— that he loves you more than he ever thought possible— there’s a ghost from his past that won’t let him be.

The memory of Lorraine, his ex-fiancée, looms like a shadow, stirring anxieties he thought he’d left behind.

He never imagined himself getting engaged again after that failed relationship, and the fears that haunted him then seem to be creeping back now, whispering doubts even though he knows that what he has with you is completely different.

He takes another careful sip of his drink. Your friends have reassured him that everything will be fine, that you’ll say yes without hesitation.

But still, he can’t shake the apprehension that has him locked in place, keeping him rooted to this spot, while everything moves like a blur around him.

To make himself feel better, Javier allows himself to imagine what it will be like— to see the surprise and joy in your eyes when he gets down on one knee, to feel your arms wrap around him as you say yes, to know that you’re his, officially and forever.

You look so radiant, your cheeks flushed with excitement and champagne, and the sight fills him with a warmth that momentarily drowns out the worry gnawing at his insides.

And that cocktail dress you have on— Christ, it makes you look so sexy. Fitting your silhouette like a glove, accentuating all the curves that make him delirious. He’s half tempted to pull you somewhere more private, fall to his knees, and bury his tongue inside you.

You wouldn’t mind it one bit.

Then, from the corner of your eye, you spot him—your rock, your steady presence, the man who has stood by you through every twist and turn. Even amidst the buzz of the crowd, you can sense his wary disposition, the tension in his stance.

You excuse yourself politely from the conversation you’re in, your steps slightly swaying from all the alcohol you’ve had, and make your way over to where he’s standing.

“Found the life of the party right here,” you tease as you step up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. It’s soft, affectionate, and you taste the liquor on his breath; a reminder that no matter where you are or who’s around, he’s the one you’re always drawn to.

Javier’s heart skips a beat as your lips meet his, and he can’t help but smile down at you, even as the nerves twist in his gut.  “You’re the star tonight, mi amor. I’m just here to admire.” He murmurs, his voice low and warm, his free hand instinctively finding your waist.

“And I’m so glad you are,” you giggle softly, “But something’s on your mind. You okay?” You know him too well, and even through the vignette of champagne, you sense the unease beneath his calm exterior. 

“Yeah, just… taking it all in. Letting you do you,” he replies, his thumb rubbing small circles against your waist which has you exhaling shakily. He tries to sound casual, but there’s a tightness in his chest that won’t go away.

You see right through it, of course. After two years together, you’ve learned to read him like one of your photographs— capturing every subtle shift, every unspoken word. You tilt your head slightly, studying him with that sharp intuition of yours. “You sure?”

He hesitates, his thoughts racing.

He could drop to one knee right now, right here. But the weight of the past holds him back, just for a second longer.

“Just proud of you,” he finally answers, deflecting, but his brown eyes give him away. There’s more he wants to say, the words just catch in his throat.

Your smile softens, and you reach up to stroke his cheek. “Thank you, baby.” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him again, slower this time, as if to reassure him that whatever’s on his mind, it’ll be alright. 

A soft throat clearing from behind you interrupts the intimate bubble you’ve momentarily retreated into.

You roll your eyes playfully, earning a knowing smirk from him before you reluctantly turn on your heel.

Standing there with an expectant look is your best friend, arms crossed and eyebrows raised in mock impatience.

“Sorry to break up the PDA,” she teases, tone laced with humor, “but you’re needed elsewhere.”

You shoot her a faux-glare, but the corners of your mouth twitch upward into a smile.

“Duty calls,” Javier murmurs in your ear. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to the crown of your hair, the simple gesture making you feel tingly all over. You close your eyes briefly, savoring the moment before letting out a soft sigh.

With a resigned smile, you reach for his almost-empty glass, still held loosely in his hand. Without breaking eye contact, you tilt it back and drain the remaining contents in one swift motion, the smoky burn a small, satisfying feeling that warms up your blood.

Your friend snorts at your display, a grin tugging at her lips. “Cute. You’ve got her shooting whiskey now.”

You hand the empty glass back to Javier, who’s watching you with a specific glint in his eyes that you can’t quite put your finger on, and you wonder what it is that’s got him behaving like this.

“Go do what you have to do,” he tells you softly, fingers brushing against yours as he takes the glass. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”

You nod, giving him one last peck before turning to follow her to where you’re needed. As you walk away, you can feel his eyes on you, so you sway your hips exaggeratedly. 

She nudges you playfully as you weave through the crowd. “You two are disgustingly cute, you know that?”

You can’t help but snicker, “I really lucked out with him,” you reply and she nods, understanding how much he means to you and vice versa. “He’s been acting really weird all night. Don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

She pokes her tongue against her cheek, trying her damndest not to spoil the big surprise even though she’s so excited for your reaction. “He’s so used to having you all to himself that he can’t stand sharing you with the rest of the world.” 

Now you nudge her, catching the sarcasm in her voice.

There’s a flutter in your chest telling you it’s more than that. There isn’t much you can do at the moment so you just drop it all together, a large grin on your face as you get pulled back into the social whirl.

You’re standing on the far side of the room, engaged in a lively conversation with the professor who had suggested you for the position in Bogotá. The conversation is light and familiar, filled with nostalgic anecdotes and her telling you she knew that you were perfect for the job.

Then, you hear someone softly call your name from behind.

You turn to face a man who appears slightly older than you, with sharp, handsome features and an air of pretentiousness that’s impossible to ignore. His perfectly tailored suit and calculated smile speak volumes before he even opens his mouth.

You bid farewell with your professor and shift your attention to the man before you.

“Peter Andrews,” he introduces himself smoothly, extending a hand which you shake. “Fellow reporter, currently working on a piece about the rising individuals in the field. I was hoping I could steal a few moments of your time for a quick interview.”

His eyes rake over you shamelessly, tongue wetting his lips, and then he adds, “I have to say, you’re even more beautiful in person.”

And there it is— the not-so-subtle flirtation, wrapped in a thin veneer of professionalism. You catch it instantly but choose to brush it off with a sweet, practiced smile, hand returning to your side. “Thank you,” you reply politely, already calculating how to keep the conversation on track.

You walk a little further down and he gestures toward the collection of pictures displayed on the wall opposite you, the ones capturing your time in Colombia. “Impressive work,” he remarks, eyes lingering on the images. “I’m particularly surprised you managed to get Javier Peña to talk.”

You recall that weekend spent in the Hamptons with Javier, where the goal had been to wrap up the project. Instead, it had been repeatedly delayed, thanks to his inability to keep his hands off you. The memory makes you smile inwardly, but you keep your expression neutral, curiosity piqued by his comment.

Your brows knit together as you question him, “Why do you say that?”

He exhales heavily, as if what he’s about to say is common knowledge. “I’ve just heard the guy is kind of an asshole.”

You suppress a laugh, realizing he has no idea that the so-called “asshole” he’s referring to is actually your boyfriend. Deciding to keep that detail to yourself for now, you feign interest, wanting to hear more of what’s being said about the former agent.

“Really?”

He hums, shifting his weight on his feet, eyes moving between you and the framed photos, “Yup. It’s a bit astounding that he wasn’t thrown in jail for, well, you know.” He motions vaguely and your eyes narrow, “Bringing him back was definitely… a move. A criminal going after criminals. Guess it’s the only way to catch ‘em, right? Takes one to know one type of situation.”

You bite down on your tongue harshly, hating the way he’s talking about Javier. He doesn’t know the half of it and if he did, he wouldn’t be so fucking judgemental.

“Criminals going after criminals,” you echo his words back to him with an edge, “Sounds like every other government man,” you add and he lets out a haughty laugh, the sound grating on your nerves. 

His arrogance makes your stomach twist, but you hide your distaste, bowing your head slightly as if to smooth out your dress, masking the grimace that threatens to surface.

The conversation with Peter continues with a few more back-and-forth questions. Nothing particularly groundbreaking. You answer with ease, maintaining the courteous smile you’ve perfected over the years.

Meanwhile, Javier has been searching for you, his brows drawn together in a deep scowl. He stops your friend and asks where you might be. She points him toward the more deserted side of the room, where he spots you engaged in conversation with another man.

Javier knows he has nothing to worry about��� he’s secure in himself and in your relationship. But still, a sharp surge of jealousy courses through him as he takes in the scene.

The man, with his taller frame towering over yours, is standing just a little too close for Javier’s liking. His hand twitches at his side, as if he’s holding himself back from reaching out to touch you, and that’s enough to set your boyfriend on edge.

Before his brain can fully process it, his feet are already moving, carrying him across the room at a faster pace than he intended. He stops when he’s close enough to overhear your conversation but not to let himself be seen, keeping a watchful eye while trying to gauge the situation.

Neither you nor Peter notice his presence, too absorbed in your exchange to sense him nearby.

Not that it matters much— Javier can tell from your body language that you’re wrapping things up, and that small observation helps ease the tension in his chest. Still, he remains alert, listening intently while his gaze never wavers from you.

“So, where’s the after party?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you respond, “No after party. I’m looking forward to going home with my boyfriend.”

Javier, still watching from a distance, feels a swell of pride in his chest. Hell yeah, gatita, let that fucker know you’re taken.

Peter’s eyebrows lift slightly in surprise. “You’re in a relationship?”

“Yes,” you confirm, your voice steady. A server passes by with a tray of champagne, and you take a flute, thanking him before sipping from it to maintain your composure, though your thoughts are far less polite than your demeanor.

“Happily?” Peter presses, his boldness catching you off guard. You raise your brows in amusement, nearly choking on your drink at the audacity of his question.

Javier’s jaw tightens, and he’s on the verge of stepping in, ready to make his presence known to the man who’s clearly trying to make a move on you.

“Very,” you reply firmly, tone leaving no room for doubt.

“So I shouldn’t invite you back to my hotel room for a nightcap,” Peter murmurs, his tone dripping with suggestion.

You suddenly realize just how close he’s gotten, his breath warm against your ear. His hand has somehow found its way to your waist, fingers grazing your hip in a way that makes your skin crawl.

That’s the last straw for Javier. Without hesitation, he steps out from his spot, his voice cutting through the tension. “There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

The way Peter jumps back from you is almost comical, his eyes wide with surprise as he scrambles to put some distance between you both. It’s like that self-assured, cocky attitude was completely dissipated by Javier’s presence. 

Relief floods through you as your boyfriend steps closer, putting you at ease. An arm snakes around your waist, pulling you firmly against his side, and the warmth of his touch melts away any lingering discomfort.

“Sorry,” you say, definitely feeling the drinks in your system. “Peter here pulled me aside for an interview. He was shocked to find out that you actually sat down to talk to me about your time in Colombia. Apparently, you’ve got a reputation for being kind of an asshole.”

Javier chuckles dryly, his grip on your waist tightening protectively as he looks the other man dead in the eye. “Is that so?” he drawls, his tone calm but with an unmistakable edge. “Well, I guess everyone’s entitled to their opinion.”

Peter, clearly flustered, forces a laugh, his previous confidence now shaken. “Oh, you know how rumors are,” he stammers, taking a step back. “It’s just what I’ve heard.”

“Good thing I don’t put much stock in rumors,” Javier replies, leaving no doubt that he’s marking his territory.

You nestle closer into Javier’s embrace, smelling his cologne, feeling a sense of satisfaction as Peter fumbles for words. The dynamic has shifted, and it’s clear who holds the power in this situation.

“Besides,” he adds with a pointed look, “I am an asshole.”

You grin and bite down on your lip as he presses a kiss to your temple. Peter finally decides to retreat, mumbling something about taking a ‘very important phone call’. As he scurries off, you can’t help but feel a surge of pride for the man by your side—strong, vigilant, and completely yours.

Once he is out of sight, you turn to Javier, a twinkle in your stare. “You really do know how to make an entrance,” you tease, leaning up to kiss him softly.

“Just making sure no one forgets who you belong to,” he murmurs against your lips, the possessiveness in his tone unmistakable. It’s so hot.

“As if I could ever forget.”

Somehow, you’ve found yourselves in a secluded enough corner for Javier to let his hand slide down from your waist to cup your ass, his fingers squeezing firmly over the fabric of your dress. The touch draws a soft gasp from your lips as you lean into him.

“Me estás volviendo loco con este vestido, amor,” he mutters in a low growl, indicating his growing need for you. “Wanna take you home and rip it right off you.”

You bite down on your lip, the idea swirling in your mind with a dangerous allure.

The thought of leaving this event—your event—early, just to be alone with him, is tempting, more than you’d like to admit.

But even as the desire flares between you, you know it’s not the most graceful move to make, disappearing from your own celebration just to satisfy your hunger for each other.

“Soon, Javi,” you whisper, trying to be the voice of reason in the building suspense, even as you try to maintain some semblance of composure.

But Javier’s hands have a mind of their own, growing bolder as they firmly grip your ass, pulling your hips to his.

The heat between you is tangible, and the restraint slowly slips away as his touch becomes more insistent.

Sensing that things are about to get dangerously out of hand, you quickly reach down to grip his wrists, gently but firmly stopping him before the moment escalates beyond your control, or worse, you’re caught.

“C’mon, sneak off to the bathroom with me. I’ll be quick,” Javier whispers, his voice thick as he leans in to nip at your earlobe. It sends a jolt of heat straight to the apex of your thighs, and you have to bite back a moan.

You tilt your head slightly, eyes scanning the room to make sure no one’s paying attention.

That no one’s searching for you.

When you’re sure it’s safe, you grab his large hand, heart pounding with excitement as you begin to pull him toward the back area of the building.

He’s sporting a triumph smirk that tempts you into kissing it right off his annoyingly handsome face.

Skipping the public restrooms, you guide him to the more secluded one for employees, knowing it’s the only place where you’re least likely to be interrupted.

The door barely clicks shut before he’s spinning you around, pressing your back firmly against it. His lips crash onto yours with an urgency that feels almost desperate, like kissing you is the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

His hands roam over your body, fingers digging into your hips as he pins you against the door, his mouth moving hungrily against yours. It’s unrestrained, filled with a need that borders on primal.

Your hands find their way to his hair, tugging him closer as your tongues tangle. The confined space only heightens the anticipation, the thrill of being caught shouldn’t feel this exhilarating. 

But amidst the whirlwind of passion, you manage to break the kiss, pulling back just enough to gasp for air. “I need to go back out there soon,” you whisper, your voice shaky, lips swollen and glistening.

Javier groans in protest, a deep, throaty sound that reverberates through your very core. In one swift motion, he maneuvers you over to the countertop by the sink, lifting you effortlessly to perch on top of the cool marble surface.

His hands are already working, sneaky fingers rucking your dress up until it’s bunched around your waist, revealing the silky barrier of your underwear. His gaze drops, taking in the sight of your exposed thighs, the delicate fabric already damp with anticipation.

A wicked smirk plays on his lips as he lowers to his knees before you, hooking a finger around your panties, tugging them aside to unveil your glistening folds.

The cool air brushes against your scorching skin, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips. Javier’s eyes dart up, meeting yours, the smoldering intensity making your breath hitch.

He leans in, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh. The first touch of his tongue is agonizingly gentle, a teasing glide along your slit that has your hips bucking forward, seeking more.

He obliges, flattening his tongue to deliver a languid, thorough lick from your entrance up to your clit, collecting your arousal with a groan of appreciation.

A tremor runs through you, your fingers instinctively weaving into his hair, anchoring him closer. He chuckles softly against your pussy, igniting sparks in your veins.

His hands grip your thighs, thumbs stroking soothing patterns as he delves deeper, his tongue exploring every ridge and contour with meticulous attention.

When he finally wraps his lips around your swollen clit, sucking with just the right amount of pressure, a strangled moan escapes you.

Your thighs clamp around his head, the feeling so overwhelming, but Javier seems unfazed, his focus solely on drawing out every ounce of bliss he can from you. His tongue flicks and circles, alternating between gentle laps and fervent suckles, each movement pushing you closer to the precipice.

Your back arches involuntarily, head falling back against the mirror with a gentle thud but you’re too overwhelmed with how good he’s making you feel to notice the dull ache.

The room fades away, party outside muted, leaving only the slick sounds of Javier’s ministrations and your ragged breaths.

“Javi,” you pant, your voice barely above a whisper, laden with need. He grumbles, the sound sending a fresh surge of wetness to leak from your cunt.

His pace quickens, tongue and lips working in tandem to push you over the edge, his mustache scratching against you so delightfully.

The coil in your belly tightens, every nerve ending alight, and with a final, expertly placed suck, you shatter, pleasure washing over you in relentless waves.

Your vision blurs, stars dancing behind your closed eyelids as you ride out your climax, Javier’s tongue continuing its gentle caresses, guiding you back down.

As the aftershocks subside, you release your grip on his hair, fingers numb and trembling.

Javier pries your legs apart, placing a few more wet kisses on your pussy before nipping your thighs and standing to tower over you, kissing you roughly.

You can taste yourself on him, the heady flavor with the spicy liquor he’s been sipping on all night is an inebriating combination.

Pulling back, he rests his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily, faces heated. “Okay, we can go back now.” he teases, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You laugh softly, still reeling from how quickly he got you off.

This man has a fucking mouth on him.

“You’re insatiable,” you murmur, affection lacing your tone as you bring your thumb up to smooth down his mustache, collecting some of your cum and feeding it between his lips.

He bites down on it gently after licking it clean. “Have you seen yourself? Hard not to be.” He responds, stealing another quick kiss before helping you straighten your dress, fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary which has you reprimanding him playfully.

You both compose yourselves, cleaning up and ready to return to the world outside, but he hangs back.

“You go first. I’ll be out there in a minute.” You nod with a small smile, leaning in to kiss him one last time before leaving him alone.

As the door closes behind you, Javier checks the silver watch on his wrist, noting the time. He exhales a heavy breath, the moment settling on his shoulders. “Okay,” he mutters to his reflection, the image of himself staring back with a mixture of anticipation and nerves. “This is it.”

He talks some confidence into himself, squaring his shoulders as the weight of the small box in his pocket becomes palpable.

It feels impossibly heavy, but it’s a weight he knows he’s ready to carry. This is what he wants— he wants you in every sense imaginable, and he’s ready to make that commitment.

With a deep breath, he adjusts his clothes, smoothing out any wrinkles and straightening his tie. His hands move to his hair, fixing the tousled strands left by your eager fingers, a small smile playing at his lips as he thinks of you.

A quick once-over in the mirror confirms he’s presentable, and with one final, steadying breath, he steps out to follow you, the decision already made and the path ahead clearer than ever.

You stare at Javier quizzically as he silences the room with a simple gesture, the murmur of conversations fading away as all eyes turn toward the two of you. He steps closer, his expression serious but softened by the warmth in his eyes.

You hadn’t expected him to make a speech— he’s not usually one for public displays— but the idea of him surprising you with one fills your chest with a rush of affection. A happy, almost nervous smile tugs at your lips as you gaze up at him.

Javier clears his throat, his gaze never leaving yours, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. “I’m proud of you,” he begins steadily, “Proud of the woman you are, the things you’ve accomplished, how you handle everything life throws at you with grace and determination.”

Your heart swells with adoration. Even though he tells you these things all the time when it’s just the two of you, having him declare it out loud to the rest of the world really pulls at your heartstrings.

“You’ve made me a better man,” he admits as he reaches out to take your hand. “You’ve shown me what it truly means to love someone unconditionally, to stand by their side even at their worst. I know I’ve given you plenty of reasons to walk away, and God knows I haven’t made it easy. But you’ve stayed, through all my shit, and that’s something I’ll never take for granted.”

His words hang in the air, the room is utterly silent now, every person captivated by the honesty in his voice. You can feel the love radiating from him, the deep, unwavering affection that has only grown stronger with time.

“From the moment we met, nothing about our relationship has ever been conventional,” Javier continues, his voice steady despite the nerves you can sense in the clamminess of his palm. You give his hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze, hoping to ease some of his tension.

“We’ve faced challenges and obstacles in the strangest sequence. And that’s why I love what we’ve built together so damn much— it’s real, it’s raw, and it’s ours. Two stubborn, complicated people who somehow found a way to make it work.”

You’re hit with a wave of emotion, and you feel your eyes begin to glisten as you hold his stare. He carries a sincerity that touches something deep within you, a reminder of just how far you’ve come together.

Javier takes a deep breath, brown eyes never leaving yours. He releases your hand to reach into his pocket, pulling out the small velvet box that has been weighing on his mind all night.

The room collectively holds its breath, and you can hear a few gasps as he drops to one knee, eyes still on yours, nervousness and absolute certainty in his expression.

Your stomach bottoms out and you’re half tempted to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming. You look around to find your best friend, who just flashes you an encouraging smile, in tears herself.

“Gatita,” he begins, the pet name bringing you back to him, “I never thought I’d find someone like you. You’ve changed my life in ways I never imagined, and I can’t picture my future without you in it.”

He opens the box, revealing a beautiful, sparkling ring that catches the light and seems to shine just as brightly as the love in his eyes.

You gasp, recognizing the large diamond that sits at the center of it. 

Javier had Frankenstein’d his mother’s ring and the one you purchased in that antique shop back in Colombia. With Chucho’s permission, of course, he replaced the diamond on his mother’s ring and put yours in its place, just slightly altering the original band to fit your finger.

It’s truly the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen, and okay sure— maybe you’re biased because it’s being offered to you by the man of your dreams.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Javier declares as steadily as he can, despite the emotion thickening his words. “Will you marry me?”

Tears blur your vision, the reality of the moment sinking in. You look down at the man you love, the man who has been your partner in every sense of the word.

Your agent.

You nod, unable to find the words but knowing he can see the answer in your eyes.

“Yes, Javi,” you manage to choke out, voice trembling. “Yes, a thousand times yes, I’ll marry you.”

The room erupts in applause and cheers, but all you can focus on is the radiant smile on Javier’s face as he slips the ring onto your finger. The kiss you share is filled with all the love, passion, and promise of the future you’ll continue to build together, a future that’s just as unconventional, just as perfect as the journey that brought you together.

The rest of the evening is a whirlwind of joy and excitement, your engagement ring sparking endless conversations as you gush about it to everyone who crosses your path. Javier stays close by your side, his earlier nerves replaced with a relaxed and happy demeanor.

The gratification in his eyes is unmistakable as he watches you share your happiness with those around you.

The night winds down on a perfect note, and with your apartment just a short walk from the gallery, the two of you stumble through the city streets, your laughter and drunken smiles lighting up the night.

In the elevator of your building, you make out like horny teenagers. This time, it’s you who takes control, pressing Javier up against the railing that lines the small space. Your hand trails down to rub his erection over his pants. He groans against your mouth, the sound full of want.

When the elevator dings open, you grab his tie and pull him down the hallway, both of you struggling to keep your hands off each other as you fumble with the keys. After a few failed attempts at unlocking the door, you finally manage to get inside the apartment.

You break away from him, your breath coming in quick, excited bursts as you tug the loosened tie from around his neck. “Wait for me in the living room.”

He stares down at you, dark eyes revealing the hunger he has for you and yours reflect the same sentiment tenth fold. 

He nods, relinquishing his hold, but not before delivering a sharp smack to your ass as you walk away toward the bedroom. “Don’t take too long. I’m trying to fuck my fiancée.”

You shoot him a playful, heated look over your shoulder before closing the door behind you. Leaning against it for a moment, you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

So many good things have happened tonight, and adrenaline surges through your veins, leaving you in a euphoric high.

You walk over to your closet, rummaging through it, until you find what you’re looking for. The familiar mask comes into view, and a slow smile spreads across your lips as you trace the pointed ears with fondness.

You don’t wear it as often as you used to, reserving it for special occasions or when Javier has had an especially rough day at work— nights when you know he needs to let go.

Tonight seems like an appropriate time to bring out again.

In the bathroom, you strip out of your dress, letting the fabric pool at your feet. After freshening up, you slip the mask over your face, feeling a thrill as it settles into place.

Now, you’re completely naked except for your heels, the engagement ring sparkling on your finger, and the expensive necklace Javier gifted you on your two year anniversary. 

Grabbing his tie, you stumble slightly as you make your way back to him, pausing in the hallway to flick the lights off. You hang back, just before crossing the threshold into the living room, your heart pounding in your ears.

“You in there?” you call out playfully.

“Yes, ma’am,” comes his reply, followed by the soft clink of ice in a glass.

Peeking around the corner, you spot him sitting on the couch, his broad back facing you. Quietly, you slip into the room, your movements light as you come up behind him.

“Hello, agent,” you purr, words dripping with seduction as you place your hands over his eyes.

His body tenses briefly, a deep, carnal rumble vibrating in his chest as he catches on to your game. A half smile tugs at his lips, one that makes your heart skip a beat. “Hola, gatita.”

You giggle mischievously, the sound light as you lean in to lick the back of his ear, savoring the way he shivers at your touch. Then, with deliberate care, you bring the silk tie over his eyes, tying it securely behind his head.

“Just so you don’t get tempted to look.”

You round the couch slowly, each purposeful click of your heels against the flooring teasing him. His ears seem to twitch at the sound, and he brings the glass to his lips, sipping lazily.

“You won’t believe what happened tonight,” you come to a stop in front of him, right between his spread legs.

“Yeah? What’s that?” he asks, his tone casual but tinged with the same eagerness that pulses throughout you.

“I got engaged.”

Javier’s tongue slowly rolls over his lips, an arrogant smirk replacing his lopsided smile.

The sight of him, shirt half undone, his strong chest peeking through, a pronounced tent in his pants where his hard cock strains against the fabric, has your core throbbing. The way he looks, blinded by the tie, relaxed but clearly aroused, is nothing short of irresistible.

He lets out a low whistle. “Lucky man. Think he can handle you?”

You lean forward, pressing your hands onto his thighs, your grip firm as you let the hard tip of your kitten mask just barely graze his nose, teasing him with your closeness. “Oh, I’m positive he can.”

Javier licks across his teeth, the simper deepening as he suavely finishes off his drink. He hands the glass to you without a word, and you take it, placing it on the table next to the couch then turning your attention back to him.

“I should be the one playing with you, preciosa. Tonight’s all about you,” Javier murmurs as he reaches for you. But before his hands can make contact, you pull back, leaving him grasping at the air. He frowns.

“And what I want,” you counter, your voice dropping to a sexy whisper, “is to mount my man and ride the daylights out of him.”

The words hit him like a punch, his hands balling into fists as he curses under his breath. The sight of his restraint, of how much he wants you, brings a satisfied grin to your lips.

You’ve got him exactly where you want him.

You step back to him slowly, your fingers deftly undoing his belt and popping open his pants. His breathing quickens as you slip your hand inside, wrapping your fingers around his velvety length, stroking him with gentle, baiting movements. “Already so hard,” you coo, tightening your grip on his dick ever so slightly, “You want this gatita so bad, don’t you, agent?”

He nods, muttering expletives as his head falls back against the edge of the couch. The sensation of your hand working him over is pure bliss, each stroke sending a lustful charge up his spine.

You lean in closer, your lips trailing kisses and nips along the thick column of his neck, your teeth grazing his throat in a way that makes him tremble. When you reach the birthmark on his neck, you plant a sweet, lingering kiss there, knowing exactly how sensitive he is in that spot.

Javier’s senses are heightened, the alcohol and adrenaline from the proposal amplifying every touch. The tie covering his eyes only sharpens his awareness of you, of the way your hand moves expertly over his cock, coaxing it to twitch.

The combination of your softness, your scent, and your whispered words has him on the edge, his body stiff, every nerve alive and burning for you.

“All the time,” he grunts, “Let me touch you, baby, please.”

There’s that slight whine in his tone, the one only you know he’s capable of making. He doesn’t even realize you’re naked yet and you know that’s going to set him off.

“Not yet,” you whisper in a tantalizing promise. You swipe your thumb over the slit of his cock, smearing the slick precum along his shaft, making him shudder. After a few more languid strokes, you pull your hand away, ignoring the low groan of protest that escapes him.

You tug his bottoms down just enough to free his swollen cock and heavy balls, it’s always a delight to see him hard and ready for you.

“Tan guapo,” you murmur appreciatively, your nails lightly scratching at his thighs, leaving a trail of tingling heat in their wake as you move up his beautifully tanned torso. His skin ripples with goosebumps at the light touches, aching for more.

You undo the remaining buttons of his shirt, sliding the fabric off his broad shoulders, exposing more of his skin to your eager hands. As you straddle his lap, he inhales sharply, the realization hitting him all at once— you’re completely bare and dripping wet for him.

It has the need to touch you growing unbearable.

Your hands glide to his shoulders, massaging the tight muscles there, and he sighs contentedly, tension slowly easing from his body under your soothing fingers.

He’s so close to losing control, and you revel in it, knowing that you’re the one who can drive him to the edge and pull him back just as easily.

“Wanna know a secret?” you whisper, leaning in closer, your soft tits pressing against his heated chest, mouth hovering just over his ear.

Javier tilts his chin up in response, a silent invitation for you to continue. As you lower yourself on his lap, his cock slides between your slick, sticky folds, and your hips begin to move in a slow, deliberate grind, coating him with your wetness.

“I’d been in your apartment back in Colombia before that night I blew you,” you confess in a sultry murmur, the words slipping from your lips so sinfully.

His head tilts slightly, curiosity piqued, and when he speaks, his voice drops to that smooth, dangerously seductive tone that sends shivers down your spine— he’d make a killing as a sex phone operator. “What do you mean?”

You’ve never told him about your little Goldilocks moment, that sneaky visit to his apartment when he wasn’t home. But tonight, with your bodies entwined and his cock teasing your entrance, it feels like a good time to reveal it.

“You went to Cali to catch Gilberto Rodríguez, leaving your place empty for me to explore. It was so exhilarating, all the little things I learned about you by snooping around.” A needy whine escapes your lips as the thick head of his cock brushes against your clit. Your pussy clenches around nothing, begging for more, desperate for him to finally slip inside you.

His brows furrow, intrigue and lust clouding his expression, and you can feel the strain tightening his body as you pick up the pace, grinding down harder against him.

“I couldn’t help myself,” you continue, slurring your words, “I was so turned on by the smell of your cologne lingering on the pillows… and my mind… well, se puso un poco imaginativa al pensar en que rico te sentirías jodiéndome.”

His fists clench at his sides, knuckles white as they twitch with the urge to touch you. “¿Qué hiciste, gatita?” 

You let the heavy pause linger between you, suspense hanging, before finally biting your lip and confessing, “I fucked myself on your pillow.”

Javier’s reaction is immediate, a growl rumbling deep in his throat as the image of you humping against his pillow while he was away seizes his thoughts. His teeth bare into a snarl, the thought of you pleasuring yourself in his space while he was gone intensifies his arousal.

“It felt amazing,” you purr, “I screamed your name when I came. Best solo orgasm I’ve ever had. All thanks to you, agent.”

The guttural sound he lets out has your thighs tensing as he bucks his hips up, adding more friction to the slick heat of your pussy. “Jesus Christ, you’re a naughty fucking thing, aren’t you?”

“Only for you,” you whisper, your tongue darting out to lick along his jawline, your breath hitching as the pressure builds within you, your movements against his now drenched cock growing more frantic.

“Show me,” he pants out, rough and demanding. “Show me how you did it.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Gripping his broad shoulders for support, you adjust your angle as you begin to replicate the way you rode his pillow that night. You lose yourself in it entirely, going absolutely feral on his cock. 

The coarse hairs at the base of him brush against your sensitive cunt, adding a delicious juxtaposition that makes your toes curl.

You rut against him with purpose, your slick folds gliding over his length, hips rolling in a rhythm that has him cursing under his breath. His cock twitches with each movement, a symphony of your shared, ragged breaths and the wet, erotic friction between you filling the space.

As you move, you can feel the traction in your core winding tighter and tighter, his body responding to every little thing you do.

You sigh his name out, your voice wavering with the approach of your orgasm. You’re so close, teetering on the edge, and he can sense it. His husky voice cuts through the haze of pleasure, a dark, encouraging sneer that prickles at your skin.

“That’s right, gatita, come all over this cock, my perverted little bitch.”

That delicious line of degradation is the final push you need. You lock up, figure glistening with sweat as you shatter around him, your juices soaking him as your hips stutter out of control. Pathetic, broken moans escape your lips, your mind absolutely lost.

Javier’s had enough of not being able to touch you. As you ride out the last waves of your orgasm, he wraps his strong arms around you, effortlessly repositioning you so that he’s on top while keeping you nestled in his lap.

With a swift motion, he rips the blindfold from his eyes and takes your heels off, drinking in the sight of your figure beneath him. The darkened room only heightens his need, your sexy silhouette and the kitten mask driving him up the fucking wall.

He moves quickly, grabbing his thick shaft at the base and slapping it against your sensitive clit a few times, watching with satisfaction as you quiver from the sharp, teasing sensation.

His palm spreads at your lower back, steadying you, then with a grunt, he sheathes himself inside your pussy.

“Fuck,” he drawls the curse word out, clenching his jaw. The sweet burn of him stretching you out has your skin buzzing, your nerves on fire, and he’s lost in the way your tight, wet pussy grips him perfectly, just as it always does.

“You’re so big, Javi. Feels so good,” you whimper breathlessly as you tighten your arms around him, pulling him closer.

The praise spurs him on, and with a rough groan, he sucks a nipple into his mouth, biting down just enough to make you gasp.

Your reaction drives him wild, and he snaps his hips sharply against yours, filling you to the hilt in one powerful thrust.

Your yelp of satisfaction echoes in the room as he starts to fuck you hard and fast, the pace relentless, designed to push you both toward that blissful release.

Your hand reaches back to steady yourself further against the couch, fingers digging into the cushions as he drives into you with urgency.

The rhythm he sets is maddening, your hips meeting his with equal fervor. Your lips find his in a messy, desperate kiss, neither of you caring that your mask is in the way. It’s something you’ve gotten used to by now.

“Taking it so good, gatita,” your pussy clenches around him, “Soy el unico que te lo puede dar asi, don’t you fucking forget it.”

The memory of that other man, his wandering eyes and bold advances, has all but faded.

Jealousy has awakened something so primal and attractive in Javier, a fierceness that makes your pulse race. You love it when he’s like this— unyielding, dominant, marking you as his own.

Each ragged breath he takes fuels the rough rhythm of his body against yours, leaving you aching in the best way, a deep satisfaction blossoming alongside the lingering soreness.

“R-Remind me, then,” you whisper, barely audible, caught between a plea and a challenge.

He responds with a brutal thrust, stilling once he’s buried balls deep inside, his thick cock filling your needy cunt.

Javier’s hands are unrelenting as he pushes you flat against the couch, his broad figure hovering over you. One hand snakes down to your throat, his fingers pressing into your soft skin, cutting off just enough air to make you gasp and your vision to blur.

“You need a reminder?” His voice is dangerously low, the mocking tone has your clit throbbing almost painfully as his grip tightens, pulling you closer. “That fucking ring on your finger not enough?”

You move your hips against him, desperate for more, but his hand flies down to your waist, fingers digging in roughly to halt your movements. A pitiful whimper escapes you, your need for his cock all consuming.

His hold around your neck loosens just enough for you to draw in a shuddering breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “P-Please, Javi.”

He answers with a cruel smirk, slamming you back down, his hips pulling away until only the swollen head remains inside you. Then, without warning, he plunges back in, forcing a scream of his name from your lips as he begins to fuck you, each stroke filling you completely as he gives you exactly what you’ve been pleading for.

The air is thick with the sounds of your desperate, mingled moans, your bodies slick with sweat as you move together like wild animals in heat. 

His hand remains firm on your throat, keeping you pinned beneath his weight as he shifts your legs higher on his waist, opening you up even more. The other hand moves to your breasts, his palm cracking against one and then the other, sending them bouncing with each slap.

Your acrylics scratch at the wrist of the hand that’s around your neck, the engagement ring glinting in the moonlight that floods the space, casting a silver sheen over the heated scene.

His eyes hone in on the jewelry, the grip on you unbending. “You’re mine,” he growls, each word punctuated by a harsh thrust that makes your eyes roll back, your body helpless against his claim. “Say it.”

“I—” Your voice falters, the words choked off by the sudden, electrifying pinch of his fingers on your clit. You find yourself chasing more of that feeling.

“Fucking say it,” he demands again, this time more gruffly, as if not hearing you declare yourself to him is painful. His fingers slap your bundle of nerves, and you jerk, back arching taut off the couch.

“I’m yours, Javi, fuck, I’m yours,” you cry out, the confession spilling from your lips as you writh beneath him. “I only want you— your cock, your mouth, your touch— everything. Oh,” you moan, your voice breaking as his relentless pounding has your cunt pulsating around his length.

“So close, baby, I’m about to come, please don’t stop.” The overwhelming pleasure builds to a fever pitch, leaving you quivering and completely at his mercy. 

Your desperate words satisfy him, a dark hunger finally sated as he leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. 

Your fleshy walls tighten around his cock as you shatter completely, coming undone. You pant and moan into his mouth, and he drinks in every tremor of your climax.

After a moment, he pulls back just enough to let you catch your breath. “On your knees, gatita.”

His voice is all hoarse and authoritative, leaving no room for hesitation. 

Although your body is still shaking, you obey, sluggishly slipping to your knees with a slow, dazed blink.

He towers above you, all dominating and manly, as he reaches down, pinching your chin between his fingers. He tilts your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze, the intensity in his eyes making you whimper.

His cock hovers before you, and you can’t help but admire the mess you’ve made on him. Without a word, he guides it between your swollen lips, and you eagerly accept him, your tongue swirling around the tip before you wrap your lips around him. Sucking your cheeks tight as you move, he groans, his large hand at the back of your neck.

The taste of yourself mixed with his musk is addicting as you slide him deeper into your hot mouth, inch by inch, until he’s buried completely down your throat, a wet gag sounding out as you struggle to take all of him. Your hands grip his thighs for support while you work to clean him off.

“Shit,” he grunts, pulling you off his throbbing cock and jerking himself furiously over your open mouth. You stick your tongue out, pretty eyes locking onto his, heavy-lidded and filled with lust. “Gonna look so pretty with my cum all over you,” he rasps. It’s all the warning you get before he groans low in his throat, his hips jerking as spurts of his hot, milky load shoot from his swollen slit.

The warm fluid lands everywhere— on your tongue, splattering across your kitten mask, dripping down your chin. Some of it trickles onto the diamonds that gleam around your neck, and the sight of you like this is so fucking perfect, it sends a surge of possessive pride straight to his heart.

With the little energy he has left, he mumbles, “Stay just like that,” before quickly walking over to the entertainment center. He grabs the Polaroid camera, turning to you as he snaps a photo, capturing the erotic moment.

There you are— naked with your face covered in his seed, a sultry glint in your eyes, the kitten mask perched prettily on your face.

“Hermosa,” he breathes, admiring his work, his gaze worshipful as he lowers the camera.

Once he’s got your photo, you curl your tongue back into your mouth, the saltiness making you hum at how yummy he tastes.

Your fingers delicately collect the remnants from your chin, your neck, and even your mask, before slipping them into your mouth to savor every last drop. The way you devour it makes his breath hitch all over again.

Javier smiles down at you, his gaze softening as he gently helps you up from your knees. He reaches for the edge of your mask and slowly lifts it from your face and tosses it aside, wanting nothing between you as he leans in for a kiss.

His lips meet yours with a gentleness that makes your heart flutter, the exhiliration of your fucking melting into something far sweeter.

“I love you,” he murmurs, those three little words filled with a depth of emotion that makes you feel like you’re floating. The tenderness in his voice, the way he holds you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world, makes your heart swell, your body and soul wrapped up in the love you have for him.

“I love you more,” you whisper back warmly, giving him a final, sweet peck. The avidity of the night begins to ebb, leaving the two of you in a serene, exhausted state.

Javier gathers you into his strong arms, holding you close as he carries you to the bathroom. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest is comforting, and you nuzzle into his neck, feeling completely at peace.

Once inside, he sets you down carefully, his hands never straying far from you as he begins to run a hot shower. The sound of the water cascading down is soothing, steam filling the room. He steps behind you, unclasping your necklace and setting it on the counter.

He steps into the shower with you, standing together under the droplets. His hands move over your figure lovingly, lathering you up in that soap of yours that he loves the scent of.

He’s playful in his affection, cheekily cupping your breasts before sliding his hands down to your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze, making you laugh softly as he finishes rinsing you off. 

You return the favor, your fingers tracing the contours of his toned figure, memorizing every inch of the man you’re about to marry. It still doesn’t even feel real.

After you finish your respective night routines, Javier tugs you toward the bed, and you follow willingly. The cool sheets feel like a welcome embrace as you slip under them, and he immediately pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you, your bodies fitting together perfectly.

You look up at him, a surge of pure love and endearment welling up inside you.

“You make me so happy, Javi,” you murmur, your fingers caressing the damp curls at his forehead. The sincerity in your voice is unmistakable, and you see the way it touches him deeply. “I can’t wait to be your wife. Just saying it makes me all giddy.” You giggle, and his mouth quirks up into that familiar half-smile you adore so much, tilting his head to place a kiss against the diamond of your ring.

“I can’t wait either,” he replies, his thumb lazily stroking your cheek as he gazes down into your eyes. “You’ve given me everything I never knew I needed. You have no idea how happy you make me, corazón. I’m the luckiest fucker in the world.”

You lean in, pressing your lips to his in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s a kiss that conveys everything words can’t— the depth of your love, the excitement for your future, the joy of knowing you’ve found your forever.

[shadowdaddies]

Could you do a Rhys x reader where people always thought she was more masculine until she mated with Rhys where she started to become and feel more comfortable being feminine and just being herself.

It’s like the saying where if the woman feels safe enough and comfortable in the relationship, she allows herself to be more feminine and starts to relax little by little.

It’s also like that trend going around on TikTok where it’s like when you’re by yourself, you double check everything and you are hyper aware of everything around you, but the second your husband is there, you can relax and just turn off your brain and not worry about anything lol

Hopefully I explained this well enough. My dyslexic ass is having a rough time today 😀

okay tbh I'm not the most familiar with this but a special thank you to @lidiacerv0s for the help + showing me the TikTok trend. I hope you enjoy this, it was fun to write🤗💜

The Archer

Rhysand x fem!Reader fluff

warnings: this gets very suggestive towards the end, I couldn't help it 🤷‍♀️

With a final sweep of black coal to your eyes, you stepped back from the mirror, taking in your finished look. You kept the makeup simple but dark, to match the all-black tailored suit you’d donned for today’s meetings. Smoothing down the sides of your hair - neatly pulled back in a tight bun - you sighed, already tired of the facade you were building.

Rhys was busy with matters in Windhaven, leaving you in charge of the meeting with the Lords in the Hewn City today. It was doomed to be a day full of males challenging you and people looking to you for direction, something that always exhausted you.

A knock on your door distracted you from those thoughts, and you took one last look in the mirror at the severe female staring back at you before striding towards the door, head held high and chest out as you wore the mask of confidence you relied on as part of your role of High Lady.

The click of your heels echoed through the obsidian stone hallways, announcing your approach to the counsel room. The set of double doors were opened for you, your unamused gaze sweeping the room as you assessed the varying levels of nerves each Lord exuded in your presence. 

With a cruel smile, you looked to Keir, the Lord immediately straightening in his seat at your piercing gaze. You let out a dramatic sigh, long nails idly tapping against the long table as you relaxed in your chair. 

“Report,” you ordered, smooth voice cutting through the room like a knife as everyone grew impossibly silent. Keir rambled about problems in the Court of Nightmares, status of the Darkbringers. Complaint after complaint from each incompetent male at the table. All problems and no solutions. 

As Lord Thanatos began to complain about his daughter and the behavior of the young women in the court for the thousandth time, you cut him off, letting the dark look in your eyes convey the thinly veiled threat that lurked beneath your words like a shark in the water.

“I will be sure to check on your daughter, as well as all the females in this Court soon. Any threats that we find will be dealt with at the hands of the Shadowsinger.” You looked pointedly at Thanatos with those words, your lips curving upwards as the scent of his fear permeated the air. 

“Now that you all have your agendas, this meeting is adjourned.” You stood from your chair, chin high as you strode towards the doors that were already being opened for you. 

With a glance over your shoulder, you flashed a feline grin at the males, each of them shrunk into the seat of their chairs as they stared at you, wide-eyed like the helpless children they were inside. “Do not disappoint me,” you purred, a final warning before you disappeared from their sight.

You barely held your composure, forcing yourself to keep a leisured pace until you were away from everyone. Closing the door to your room, you nearly collapsed against the wood as you finally let the mask slip. 

An inviting tug on the bond nearly brought tears to your eyes - Rhys was home. Without a second thought, you winnowed back to Velaris, kicking off your heels as you ran to where Rhys stood, stirring something that smelled incredible over the stove.

“You’re home,” you cried, running towards him. Rhys set down the ladle, fully turning towards you as he wrapped you in his arms, allowing you to sink into his comforting warmth. 

Pressing a kiss to your head, Rhys tilted your chin up to look at him. “You are so beautiful, darling,” he whispered, capturing your lips in his in a hungry kiss. You collapsed into his hold, back arched as you allowed yourself to be swept away from your worries as he swept your feet off the ground.

“Are you making dinner?” you murmured against his lips, admiring the way Rhys’s violet eyes twinkled as he looked down at you, playfully bumping his nose against yours. 

“Mhm,” he hummed. “I’m trying a new recipe that I think you’ll love.” Tears threatened to spill as relief washed over you, this magnificent male who would always care for you, look out for your needs.

“Thank you, my love,” you whispered, allowing Rhys to set your feet back on the ground as he prepared plates for the two of you. 

“Come here,” Rhys purred, patting his leg as he took a seat at the table, both plates in front of him. You practically squealed with delight as you dashed to claim your seat in your mate’s lap. Relaxing against his warm chest, you sighed as Rhys slid an arm around your waist, rubbing soothing circles against your skin as he cut your food for you. 

“Here, darling,” Rhys whispered, pressing a kiss to your neck as he brought the fork to your lips. You moaned at the flavors, head leaning back against Rhys as you murmured praises for his cooking. 

“I am so lucky to have you,” you whispered, kissing his cheek as Rhys grabbed another forkful of food for you. 

He simply chuckled, his hand squeezing your waist affectionately. “And I you, my love.”

Once you were content, a full meal resting in your stomach, you began to gather the plates to clean up. “No you don’t. Let me do that. Why don’t you go take a bath, change into something more comfortable?” Rhys teased, his eyes darkening with barely controlled desire.

You responded with a smirk, pulling your hair from its updo as you let the hair fall over your shoulders in waves. “I can do that. But I want to bake you something for dessert after,” you countered. 

Rhys swallowed thickly as he watched you ascend the staircase, his eyes trained on your form with each step. You stepped into the bathroom, a content sigh slipping from your lips as you breathed in the floral scents wafting from the already-filled bathtub. 

Peeling off the offensive suit, an unabashed moan left you at the feeling of the warm water on your muscles. Allowing yourself to soak for a short while, you scrubbed the memories of the day from your skin before stepping out of the tub. 

A devious grin graced your lips at the idea that came to mind as you stared in your wardrobe, pulling the lacy pink lingerie from the drawer. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help the bright smile that took over your features as the real you smiled back. 

You strode down the stairs, the confidence you exhibited real this time as you locked eyes with your mate. Rhys watched you, enchanted, from the other side of the room, admiring your free-flowing hair and the way the lace of your lingerie framed your curves.

“What are you doing?” he choked out, his knuckles white as they clutched the countertop.

Bending over, you gave your mate a view of the cheeky panties you wore (if they could even be called that) as you pulled ingredients from the cabinet. “I’ve had to deal with those incompetent males, wear awful restrictive clothing all day... I just want to spend some time with my mate, wearing something that’s a bit more... me,” you finished with a giggle, flipping your hair over your shoulder as you cracked an egg in the bowl.

Rhys prowled to stand behind you, his hands roving over every part of you he could touch. Playfully swatting away his hand, you shook your head as you scolded him.

“If you would like to help with the baking, you are welcome to. We can play later,” you whispered, lifting up on your toes to give a playful tug to his earlobe. Rhys shivered, but nodded as he stepped back slightly. 

“I would always like to do whatever serves my lady,” he responded, his finger lightly grazing your arm. “What can I do for you?” 

You hummed thoughtfully, swaying your hips as you whisked. “I would love if you would taste this for me,” you declared, scooping a bit of the chocolate batter on your pointer finger. Violet eyes darkened further as Rhys gripped your wrist in his large hand, drawing your finger into his mouth. 

You could see the moment he scented your arousal, his tongue flicking against the digit as his eyes remained locked on yours. “Delicious, as always,” he moaned, smirking as you pulled away with a blush.

“Alright then, let me get this into the baking pan then,” you whispered. Before you could reach for the pan, Rhys already had it in his hand, reaching for the bowl as he poured the remaining batter. 

Rhys held you in his lap, playing with your hair as you told him about your day, and listened about his while the brownies baked. 

“You are an incredible female,” your mate murmured, his sweet words interrupted by the timer signaling that dessert was ready. You leapt from Rhys’s lap, enjoying the feeling of his eyes on your body as you plated dessert for the each of you and returning to your spot on his lap. Pleased moans left the both of you at the rich taste of dessert, and you settled into Rhys’s arms, deep contentment settling over you. 

Rhys scooped you up bridal style, carrying you over to the couch where he wrapped himself around you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as his hands idly wandered your body. 

“What else do you want to do tonight?” Rhys whispered, dipping his head to pepper kisses along your neck.

A content sigh left you at the comfort and care he was giving you, a vibrant contrast to the dark role you played earlier today. “Nothing tonight. I just want to spend time with you, my perfect mate,” you responded, pressing a lingering kiss above his heart as you settled into him.

“Well, how about tomorrow I take you shopping? And then we could get dressed up, go to a nice dinner?” Rhys questioned, his playful tone a show of exactly how well he knew you. 

“I could be convinced to do that, I suppose,” you retorted, unable to hold in the joyous laugh that escaped you. 

Rhys flipped you over, his onyx locks falling in his eyes as he caged you in underneath him. “Good, because I’m not done with dessert. And these,” Rhys emphasized with a snap against the band of your panties, “will need to be replaced,” he purred as you heard the fabric rip.

[mychlapci]

My favourite headcanon of TFA megop is basically the ‘battle husbands’ dynamic :3

Like someone is antagonizing Optimus to the point of a fight, and instead of getting protective or angry Megatron’s just like “I’ll hold your glass sweetie, go kick his ass!”

And when Megatron gets challenged to a fight for leadership (hes been getting them at least once a week since he allied himself with the Autobots), Optimus is like “what, you expect me to get upset? My husband is the strongest around, im not worried.” And cheers him on as the Decepticon leader demolishes the wannabe traitor.

And on the battle field, the two are back to back and give a quick kiss for good luck before going back to the fighting.

I just love the idea of them being equals and respecting the hell out of eachother when they start dating, even if they technically aren’t the same rank.

(Since I’ve been submitting more asks, I’ll go by “nameless anon” if that isn’t already taken 🙂)

- Nameless Anon

YESSS battle husbands!! i'm biased because i actually kind of think that their tfa iterations are kind of really really cool, you know? I think there's something really fun about them earning each other's respect through hard work and excessively more dramatic displays on the battlefield.

That, and I love the comedy potential of people constantly trying to mess with Megatron's tiny little autobot husband, not expecting to get their ass kicked so hard they're hospitalized. Like, WOw, okay, this is why lord Megatron likes him. That makes sense

[avengersassemble123]

Gift of remembrance

Pairing: Sanzu Haruchiyo x reader (Bonten arc - slight spoilers ahead)

Genre: Fluff, Heartwarming, (Bonten Sanzu behaviour ig)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Im also planning to gift him the video game he had always wanted and maybe hold a surprise date night for him." Your best friend explained, as she talked about surprising her husband on their anniversary. "Aww (y/bf), thats so sweet. I'm sure your husband would love it." you complimented as we chatted and hung out for a while.

By evening you had returned home as you made way into the bathroom to get freshened up. You then changed into a new pair of clothes, as you went into the kitchen to reheat the food, when you heard your house's door open, signalling your significant other's arrival.

"I'm home." You heard your boyfriend speak, before some amount of shuffling and some moments of silence, before you felt arms wrap around your waist, "Hey baby." you acknowledged as Sanzu buried his face into your neck, as his muffled voice spoke, "Hey babe, missed you" You chuckled, as you tried to wriggle yourself out of his grip, "Had a long day? Go take a shower and tell me about it because you stink of sweat and i just freshened up."

"What if i don't want to?"

"Ill drag you there myself."

"Aww you're no fun, you wound me baby"

You rolled your eyes before pushing him towards you two's room, as he cackled on his way. After he freshened up, you both sat on the living room couch with your dinner, talking about each other's day and today's gossips from both of yours' workplaces, before the topic of your best friend came up.

"-and that's how she plans to surprise him."You finished explaining, as you finish off your food with the last bite, while your boyfriend listened patiently, before a sly grin appeared on his face,

"Well I've done a lot of romantic things for you. How come you've never done anything romantic for me?" Sanzu asked teasingly, poking your waist.

"'i do." You defended, as you whined dramatically.

"Oh yea? Name one."

" I can name a few-"

"Sex doesn't count."

"Oh"

You visible deflated, as you squinted your eyes, thinking what romantic thing have you done for him.

"Well what about the bed and breakfast you had in the beach house you rented from Rindou?"

"Well, technically i took you there, all you did-"

"Yea i know what i did." I stopped him mid sentence, as i slightly felt my face warm, but realising it was not exactly a romantic gesture without 'engagement of bodies'.

"I bet Rindou had to throw out that rocking chair." Sanzu snorted, giggling shamelessly, while you kicked him slightly, embarrassed.

"Hey I can be romantic when i want to." You defended.

"Fine." Sanzu shrugged, "But also not true" Sanzu retorted, teasing you slightly, making you roll your eyes.

"Okay, just you wait and see. I will romance your freaking ass off." you challenged, while Sanzu snorted.

"Hmm, i wonder how a baby like you would actually manage to romance a high profile yakuza member like your sexy partner." Sanzu bullied you, as he got up the couch to wash his plate in the sink, while you gave him the middle finger.

---------

"Well i know its unlikely for me to call you, but thank you so much for taking some time off from your schedule and coming over." You said, as you invited your guest over into the house.

"Well you called the right person fortunately, plus its a real surprise when a person like you is trying to 'seduce' a freak of a being like Sanzu." Kokonoi explained, as he walked in and invited himself over your couch.

"Ok so I've been really struggling with this, and you are the only closest person i know who knows Sanzu well, and has somewhat of an idea on the choices of gifts, than the rest of my options. You know what i mean." I said, as Kokonoi stoically nodded, as he seated himself on the couch, crossing his legs, his arms over it, holding one phone. He brushed his white hair back before continuing,

"Well the quickest way to a man's heart like Sanzu's is thr-"

"Pants. But Sanzu said sex doesn't count." I answered, as i got glasses of wine for both of us.

Kokonoi, looked at you blinking, his lips pursed, before taking a glass from your hand, "Aww you poor thing. You had one arrow in your quiver and you just can't use it." He nodded his head in understanding, while you replied back with a deflated nod.

"Well how about trying to cook something for him?" Well, its kind of hard for both of us to be present at home itself most of the time due to our works, and i wanted to do something different."

Kokonoi breathed out a deep sigh, "If this was some ordinary person, either this would've been easy to give advises, or i wouldn't have bothered showing up in the first place. But this is Sanzu, we are talking about. Nothing is normal with him, making me still hard to imagine that you managed to end up with him of all the people available in the whole of Japan, let alone the world. " Kokonoi sipped the wine, before continuing, "And i also want to see how this surprise and Sanzu's reaction turns out, and if the 'rapid dog' himself is capable of expressing emotions other than for our boss"

"Kokonoi.." i spoke out his name, making him raise his hands in surrender, "No offense sweetie. Anyways back to the topic."

"(NAME), if you truly want to be romantic, then this stuff need to come from withing you."

"I know, but its just so hard, I don't know why."

"I guess its probably because you never had to do this stuff because you're young and beautiful, and men, including Sanzu, must've thrown themselves at you." Kokonoi replied.

You pursed my lips, nodding in understanding before speaking up, "Yea I'm trying to feel sad about it, but i just can't."

"Thought so." Kokonoi rubbed his fingers at the bridge of his nose, "I can see why you two go well together."

---------

You and Sanzu were having a candle light dinner at your place itself, as you both chatted. "Have to say, i didn't expect you to manage this surprise without me knowing. And its coming from you of all people" Sanzu teased.

"Well, only learned from the best, and of course, i didn't forget my promise." You replied back.

As you both finished your dinner, you pointed your fork at him, "Alright Mr. Haruchiyo. Get ready because a crap storm of romance is coming your way."

Haruchiyo dramatically gasped, as he held his chest by one hand, "More romance? Stop it, you're gonna make me cry, sweet cheeks."

You stood up, as you smiled slyly, before walking towards the counter, picking up a small weaved basked.

"Sanzu smirked, as laid back on the chair, man spreading, his one hand on the table, while the other holding his face, rubbing his chin, squinting his eyes at you amused. "You seem pretty confident."

"Oh I am."

You then started dropping rose petals from the basket to the floor, making a path, "Maybe if you'll follow this trail, you'll know why."

"Ohh rose petals. Well now I'm just more excited for my girl's surprise." Sanzu said, whistling, slightly impressed, as he stood up and started following you.

As you led him towards both yours bedroom, he was met with a candle lit decorated room, "Wow baby, you really are pulling all the strings today."

You then set down the basket before picking up the wrapped gift placed on the bed, before gesturing it towards him, "Ok so i gave this a lot of thought, and i found something that might show you how much I love you."

Sanzu took the gift from your hands, before tearing the wrapper off and seeing the content inside it. His eyebrows slightly furrowed for a second before returning back normal, "Oh wow.."

"Its the ring which you had been eyeing for a while when you had spotted it randomly while you were out on a mission, and had told me about it that day, and i know how you like these kind of stuff, so i just thought maybe i could gift you something like this." You said with a smile, while you waited excitedly for his reaction.

Sanzu raised his eyebrows as he nodded and opened his mouth for a few seconds, before looking at you and giving you a smile, "I-its great. Thank you baby." He said, as kept on smiling, and looking at his gift.

You looked at him with confusion, as you had known him long enough to know something was wrong with his reaction. Even if Sanzu was Bonten's No.2, only few people could figure him out enough, if not all, and that included his boss Mikey, his brother Takeomi, and now you. His reaction could fool anyone, but you had dated and known him long enough to know.

Your smile deflated, before your hands fell to your side, as your tone changed, "What?"

"Nothing. I love it sweet cheeks." Sanzu said, as he held the gift in his one hand, while he wrapped his other hand around your waist, his face nearing yours, as he gave you a seductive smile. But you knew him better.

"No. Something's going on." You said, as you looked towards the gift, "Whats wrong with it. I remember you saying how you liked the ring when you had spotted your target wearing it, and that it would look better on you."

"You're right. I did say that. And here I am loving it. Especially since its a gift from you." Sanzu replied, not wavering from his stance and his usual demeanor, but then you felt him slightly furrow his eyebrows, pursing his lips, "...And that when i was returning to the headquarters a few weeks later, i spotted the same exact model in a jewellery shop...and i bought it."

You closed your eyes and faced the ceiling, groaning in frustration, as you let yourself out of his grasp and sitting on the bed dejectedly, "Oh my god...I'm the worst."

"Hey no baby, its really thoughtful." Sanzu said as he quickly set the gift beside and and reached towards you.

"No its not." You said, as you felt guilt fill you inside, "I mean, whats thoughtful is that everything you do for me." I said, my voice slightly quivering, as Sanzu sighed, as he knelt down on his knees, facing you, as he cupped your face with his one hand, while the other held your hand. "Its true baby, i did like your gift, and I'm glad that there is actually a person who cares for me like this in the whole world."

"No, its not better. Even if you work for such a dangerous organization, you still do things for me, while here I am, not even worth it, You know what, here-" You say as you stood up and went towards the closet, as Sanzu stood up.

You removed a box from your closet as you set it down on the bed, as you picked up one thing after the other. "Look here it is, here's the plane tickets you bought me when i was too poor to fly back home to visit my family, here's a necklace you got me before we were dating, and the rose you left in my windshield..just because-"

Sanzu looked at you, as you kept on ranting, as he stared between you and the box which contained all the gifts he had given you, even before and after dating.

"A-and here's the letter which you wrote me to confess your feelings after visiting me numerous times in the coffee shop i frequented regularly, all the pages of it."

Sanzu silently looked at you, too serious for his usual demeanor, matching the attitude he would have when he would be sober and in meetings with the bonten executives.

As you held and looked through the pages, Sanzu silently spoke up lowly, "I can't believe you saved all of this stuff.."

You looked up, as you looked at him in slight surprise, "Of course i did...Its you."

Sanzu stared at you for a few seconds, before reaching towards you and hugging you tightly, before kissing you lovingly, which you reciprocated with the same intensity, before breaking the kiss and hugging tightly.

"That is the most beautiful and thoughtful thing anyone has done for me, and it means a lot for me." Sanzu said, as he kissed your shoulders, still hugging you tightly while you chuckled.

You both stayed like this for a while, basking in each other's presence and warmth, before separating a while later.

Sanzu's eyes gazed at the box, a tint of smile on his scarred lips, before looking at an object in confusion, "Is that a pregnancy test?"

"Oh yea, just the first one. I didn't save them all." I shrugged, making Sanzu shrug in agreement, before diving for a kiss again, making you both fall onto the bed backwards.

[wemustgatekeepwooyoung]

Don’t be a stranger, stranger.

synopsis: after being all closed up in the mole hole you call home for weeks, you decided, even though you declined your best friends’ (Choi San, Song Mingi) invitation some hours ago, to go out all by yourself for a drink. You in fact did not stay alone that night, as Jung Wooyoung, a complete stranger caught you in his eye. Two weeks after you still thought about the man that kissed you so nastily in the bar’s bathroom stalls and ,unluckily for you ,you did not have his number to repurchase anything. Unfortunately though, people are people and people know people so nobody’s a complete stranger in the end.

genre: romance (strangers to lovers?), fluff, smut, a bit of angst*

pairing: Jung Wooyoung (non idol) x Fem Reader

word count: 7,7k

content/warnings: *mentions of reader going through a tough period, pet names (dove,darling,beautiful,baby,lovebug...), alcohol consumption, switch!wooyoung/reader, oral sex (face riding-f receiving), bondage, sort of love confession?

author’s note: HELLO THERE! God this took me longer than I first expected, sorry about that! I had covid while writing most of it and I had to take a better look at it once I felt better :P I still am not sure if I like it, my friend made me post it as I kept ranting about it lol. Sorry again if there are any grammar mistakes as eng is not my first language! ALSO, as I posted some days ago already, I have many fic ideas that I haven't even started preparing yet. Truth is, I'm trying to get myself in uni, so it's exam season for me and I don't have the time nor the mental capacity to process anything. In addition, I won't be that active! Requests are still open and will probably stay open as it's a new challenge for me. Hope you enjoy this one, bye bye <3

“Oh come on Y/N! Stop fooling yourself by thinking that you’re having fun doing nothing all day and end up rotting in bed. You’re too pretty and young for that anyway. Come out with us instead! We’re best friends us three and we haven’t hang out for two full weeks for fuck’s sake ”

“Thanks Mingi but I’d rather rot in my own bed than be around anyone right now. Or at least around anyone I know and anyone that knows me. I get your frustration and I’m sorry. I promise I’ll make up for it to both you and San.”

“Okay, I won’t push you. I just hope this method you’re using is actually useful to you and that you don’t end up choking on your own misery again”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. Have fun and drive carefully okay?”

“Okay. See you around, hopefully” Mingi commented and you couldn’t help it but laugh at his temper.

“Okay, bye then”

“Bye!” he said in a charming voice and you hung up

You’ve been going through it all lately, absorbing pressure from everything. Work’s been shitty and you keep grieving for your unaccomplished goals in life. Your parents still making a fuss about you not being a responsible adult, which you of course are, at the age of twenty two! If you weren’t you wouldn’t have been able to survive alone in this reality.

It is what it is and that’s been your motto for the past… Wait, how long has it been since you last went out? You don’t have a single clue. Did Mingi say two full weeks? Shit. You really do need to charge your social battery.

But what will it be? Charging your social battery or relaxing in the comforts your beloved bed provides you with? ‘Why’s life so hard?’, you thought and then you felt stupid that you felt that way over a stupid dilemma.

You’ve always been like that though. Always the dramatic one. Even in your friendship with Song Mingi and Choi San all these years. You’re like their little mature baby, as they’re both two years older than you. But you being mature generally doesn’t mean that you won’t make your own life feel like a kdrama series and ,like Mingi said, choke on your own misery to feel something.

You really do need to feel something though. Something other than tiredness from overworking yourself, other than empathy for the wrong people and to top it off, something definitely other than this big bulge in your heart caused by loneliness.

Mingi was right. You do need to go out and clear your head a bit. Maybe you should give him a call, they’re probably still out at your usual spot.

It’s been two hours since you thought about going out and you’re still clenching on the possibility of you doing it, instead of actually doing it. Why’s it so hard for you anyway?! You used to be every party’s favourite party animal, along with the other two of course. But why’s it so hard now? Is it because it’s late or because you’re just too bored to even get up?

And then, right when you thought that you’d never get up, you started missing it’s taste on your tongue. All you need right now is a very serious and dirty Martini. It’s just what will do the job perfectly and hopefully help you get yourself off.

So, now looking like a 90s elegant goddess with your plump lips, your slightly curly hair and your silky black dress, you called a cab and decided to be a bit extra with everything.

The bar you wanted to sit at is a bit too wild today but you won’t let that ruin your night as you already made too many compromises with yourself to get here. So, what you did was wander around in Seoul's streets for some time, searching for a new promising spot. The music was what led you to this specific one that you decided to enter right away.

After doing so, everyone started checking you out immediately. That didn’t annoy you one bit ,as it would normally, even though you absolutely hate those horndogs living around you. That’s probably because all your remaining mind space is covered with images of your order ready to be swallowed right in front of you.

Isn’t your lust for alcohol kind of sexual? Is our little dove horny other than lonely, or is it that your horniness was beclouded by the banner of ‘loneliness’ from the start? Damn, you really want to get dicked down, don’t you?

“Move! Let the lady sit!” a drunk man shouted and emptied a barstool for you to sit on, even though the one beside it was already unoccupied.

You thanked him with a smile and turned over to the barman that was already checking you out by the moment your eyes met his.

“What can I get you sunshine?”

“I’m not sure about the sunshine part, but I’d really like a Martini.”

“What kind?” he tried to specify as there are indeed many ways to enjoy a Martini.

“Well, there’s only one option to meet up with such hour’s demands, right?”

“Dirty it is then” he understood your statement and began the process of preparing it for you.

During that one minute that made up your order’s preparation time, you took your chance and started browsing the place. You never thought you’d ever visit a place like this in Seoul. It’s classy and really close to your taste in hang-out spots. It’s a nice jazz bar, filled with people your age and older dancing around, laughing, cheering and making toasts on their future which is something you and your two best friends always do.

You’ve missed them but you know they totally understand that where you stand now is only temporary. They both really respect and trust you and that’s two things that you can feel for certain when you’re with them.

But now is the time to relax and enjoy your time alone without having to rot in bed, exactly like Mingi said on the phone earlier. It’s your time to shine like the brightest color in this bar, just you and the company of your tasty dirty little friend.

“Here you go beautiful. Your beloved Martini’s on the guy over- Where’d he-“ the barman claimed and started looking for the man that spent money on your drink

Not even five seconds later, the barstool next to you got occupied by this stunning man and his sexy eyebrow piercing. He fixed his leather jacket and smiled at the barman before turning to look at you.

“Your drink and all the possible following are on me. Hope I didn’t scare ya”

“You didn't scare me at all. Thanks for the offer, I’m having this one today and no other.”

“Whatever pleases you” he said and took a delicate sip from his glass, what looks like to contain plain whiskey. Hot. “I liked the choice you made with it” he said and gave your glass a look-over.

“Really? I think it’s pretty ordinary”

“You can never go wrong with ordinary, right?”

“That’s right!...”

“You’re making it seem rare though cause I haven’t seen the combination of a good dirty martini and a pretty girl like you here before”

He does have a way with words, you can give him that. And he’s gorgeous too. His features are elegant and precise, just how you like it. He might even be the prettiest guy you’ve ever talked to, objectively speaking.

Maybe that's because of the bar’s lighting choice that seems to expose the uniqueness of his nose and the brightness of the sparkle in his cute button eyes. Or maybe it’s his charming smile that makes everything else feel blurry in this tight space you’re sitting and enjoying your night out.

“Well, you’re right. I haven’t been here before and dare I say I’ll surely come again.”

“How come? Your aura fits this place perfectly”

“My what? Can’t hear you well sorry!” you said and made him chuckle softly

Your heart almost skipped a beat by how close to you he got so that he made sure you heard him the second time.

“Your aura darling.”

“Oh! What about it?”

“It’s catchy” he said and made a cute little shake with his hands

“Catchy?” you wondered almost bursting in laughter after repeating his exact movement

“Yeah, you caught my eye from all the way back there and I can't even see that well without my glasses. You're glowing” he bluntly confessed and increased the tension in your eye contact.

''Do you say this to every girl you meet?''

''Almost, yeah. But the aura thing is the new adaptation I made just now on my usual script'' he affirmed your point and readjusted his sunglasses to hold back his front hair strands better

''Tell me about the next victim's reaction to it when you have it proposed for the first time, yeah?''

''So, you want to meet again?'' he asked and made you laugh while you were swallowing the slightly bitter sip you took from your drink

''I can’t say that that confidently but it depends.”

''On what?'' he asked and leaned closer to you, his elbow flat on the counter and his hand balancing the weight of his head.

''On how quickly you get me on my last nerve''

''And what if I manage not to?''

''Then we'll both enjoy our time together. Perhaps.''

''Sounds good to me! So, tell me more about you.''

''What is it that you want to know, Mr.-''

''It's Wooyoung''

''Fine.'' you said with a sigh, '' What is it that you want to know Mr. Wooyoung?''

''Just Wooyoung is fine. You didn't tell me your name though''

''I'll think about telling you when I assure your business with me, is that okay?''

''Sure thing, whatever has you feeling more comfortable''

''Right... So what'd you wanna know? If you don't answer this time either, I'm going to assume it was about getting my name on your list''

''That was one part of it but there is also another. Are you waiting for somebody?''

''No, luckily for you and unluckily for me that just wanted to enjoy my Martini alone, I'm not waiting and don't need to wait for anybody''

''Okay, I shall leave you alone then-'' he said confidently and stood up, ready to actually respect your solo night out, an action which made you see your interest in him clearer.

''Shouldn't you test my patience first since you took your chance already? Unless you want to give up on me that easily'' you suggested like you were pitying him but instead you were pitying your desperately horny self.

He smiled and sat back down before removing his jacket, all left with a plain black t-shirt covering his muscular torso. Once he carefully hang it on the side rail of his chair, you noticed the exposed and veiny skin on his arms. Shit, who is this man and how is he so good looking? Are you seriously thirsting over a stranger? Since when could you not resist your touch deprivation nor your imagination?

You closed your eyes and shook your head negatively, trying to control your hormones and hopefully shake them off too. You must not fuck with someone that you met just this night, you know that's not you! But you can't help but want to, I mean, who would judge you? Mingi and San would probably agree with you on the matter of Wooyoung being the most fuckable man you've ever held a conversation with. But holding just a convo with him isn't enough for you right now. You want him to hold you against the wall and ruin you like the little slut you are. You don't want to know about him nor him to know anything about you. Fuck actual words, you just want to speak in body language. What you also don't want on the other hand, is him getting your comfirmation to 'hit it' right away. You want to test him.

''Am I getting to you?''

''I wouldn't say that. I'm a hard person to please'' you said and you did not lie. You are a very hard person to please. Mingi and San have arranged several dates for you these past two weeks just to get you off your mind and finally out of your house. Numerous guys are head over heels for you but you always refuse the deal or never show up. And now? What the heck is happening to you now? Why's this random guy, Wooyoung, and his pretty little mole under his left eye so irresistible?

''Then guide me through it''

Oh he definetly knows what he's doing and you're letting him. Girl get your shit together and go play bunnies already. Besides from letting him, you're also making it clear that you're enjoying his boldness, even if that boldness has a taste of indirection in it, making the whole situation ironic. You're both dirty talking at this point but choose to go sideways. Maybe you like the tease and the slowburn, what can one say!?

''Why? Aren't you confident in your own skills?''

''You think I have skills?''

''I never said that but I don't doubt it either. I'm a physical learner''

''I thought so''

''So glad we're both making assumptions about each other in these fifteen minutes of talking.'' you said and took another sip of your martini

''Mhm, glad we're mutually glad about the thing you said you're glad about. Moreover, I have an interesting ,I'd say, proposal to make.''

''What could that be?'' you asked while staring at the ceilling, mocking Wooyoung that way. The familiar sound of his laughter followed your mockery and made you look at him, somewhat invested.

''It involves us two, voicing our assumptions out loud''

''Where?'' you clearly misunderstood what he had just said, lost in your own dirty thoughts.

A devilish smile was formed on his face, along with an eyebrow raise and a slight head tilt.

''Wow sugar, I thought you being hard to please would make this take longer but if you insist-''

''I didn't insist pfff- what was it again? Your name?''

''Wooyoung''

''Oh right that's the one! You think you have a way of getting things go your way but you're not the only brat in this bar, there's another one sitting right in front of you''

''Hm, someone will have to back down sooner or later though, won't he?''

''You're right on the male pronoun. I'm not familiar with backing down''

''What about bending down? Are you familiar with that?''

''Let's not go down that path right away. You haven't even finished your whiskey yet'' you teased and in just a blink of an eye, the remaining whiskey in his glass was consumed. He drank it all at once with a big swallow making his eyes tear a bit. Cute, you thought. He's as desperate for some pussy as you are for him to fuck you. That makes the situation more ideal and fair than it was before.

''Okay. What's the first assumption you made about me?'' he asked with a grin on his face, still wanting to give you the message that he's the one in charge of the wheel

''Hm, let's see. If I consider the fact that you're confident, a natural entertainer and that you value freedom and can’t stand being tied down, I'd assume and I think I'm rather correct, that you're a Sagittarius'' you said and ate the olive that had been soaking in your drink for so long without breaking eye contact

He got shy and scrached his nape in shock.

''You're right about all of it. Almost all of it”

''Oh my! Are you a Taurus?''

''No, you made no mistake in the zodiac part.''

''Then where was I in error?''

''Your error was found in the false fact considering me not enjoying being tied down''

''Oh c'mon! Do you really have to make everything sexual?''

''What can I say sweetheart, it's in my nature! And I think that's another thing we share''

''Maybe we do, I guess we won't be finding out soon as it's your turn to bring your first assumption about me to the table''

''I knew you'd like this game! Kinky. Mine was not as clever as yours was, I guess it was filled with more realism than cleverness. You see, what I assumed of you when I first saw your pretty figure from all the way back there, was that you surely had a partner. I still can't get my head wrapped around the fact that you're single''

''Single by choice!'' you exclaimed, surprising yourself

''I don't want to push you into saying something really personal. I'm sure you have your reasons to have acted this way. I'm also sure that there's also a reason behind you not wanting to get to know me personally, cause you haven't asked me a single question about myself yet. Again, there's no pressure, I'm really enjoying your company and our time together, we don't need to have it continue if you don't want to''

Damn. Did this man really figure your emotions out after knowing you for so little and with no content of you and your life at all? And that's when you realised... This is all you've been searching for since the night started! Someone to make the effort to understand you and actually do. What a miracle he is, truly. Is he majoring in psychology maybe? Are you suddently into getting to know more about him and his personal life or is one tripping?

''Another assumption I had about you was that you are a player and that you enjoy wilding out with random girls at bars. I don't think that's true anymore. What are you actually like Woo?'' you finally decided to be open about your interest in him and ask him a direct and personal question. You acting bratty-like isn't fit for all circumstances anyway.

His face lit up and he let out a big sigh that turned out forming into a loud chuckle.

''I'm honored by your question, really. I'm a simple guy, I enjoy making people laugh and I also love dancing''

''Do you make people laugh with your dance moves?'' you joked and he teased you by touching your nose gently

''You'd be surprised by my moves. Everyone loves Jung Wooyoung, the sexy performer.''

''I'll have to assess that myself, can't trust other people's opinions''

''Agreed, I'd also like to know about your opinion on 'em''

''Then what are you waiting for? Show me”

''Right now? I too had a question to ask y’know!''

''Save it for later then'' you said, implying that you're down for a 'get together' after today's night is over.

He smirked in understandment, got up, looked at you like he was about to devour you any moment and grabbed your hand. You laughed as he made you run your way to the bathroom stalls, making it easy for you to comprehend how badly he wanted you.

Once you reached the bathroom's doorstep and crossed it's border, he placed his hands directly on your hips and pushed a door open before attacking your lips.

Oh my! He's nasty! He surely know his ways around a woman and you're not God's strongest soldier. Of course you're mad he's stolen the wheel right from your claim, but his kisses have you so weak that you might as well let him keep it. You want him to keep it.

Another thing about him that you're now experiencing for the first time, is that him being bold is also shown in his sexual interactions. He's not shy to envelop the whole room with his filthy sounds and you absolutely love the melody they produce in conjunction with yours.

His embrace on your hips started to tighten before he reached his left hand behind and to lock the door. You broke the kiss to catch your breaths and both smiled while having your foreheads connected.

''May I?'' he asked while holding onto both your dress' shoulder straps. You nodded in agreement and he pushed them down right away, exposing your bare tits and having your dress fall on the ground, leaving you just with your pretty panties.

''Love the no bra look'' he joked and started to squeeze them, bringing your own beautiful moans on stage for him to welcome

''Slow down they'll hear us''

''Is there anyone you know out there?''

''No''

''Anyone you care about perhaps?''

''No''

''Then let's give them the concert of their lives baby, what do you say?'' he said and pinched your nipple, causing your volume to rise a couple of scales.

He pushed you further into the stall so that you were all helplessly stuck in it's corner, pressing onto you even more while sucking hard on your already aroused nipples. He got all the assurance he wanted by the way you told him how good it was in between your vocal escapisms. He then reached for your lower pleasure-seeking parts, therefore you felt his fingers trace your wet cunt above your soaked panties.

''I knew I got you good'' he said making you roll your eyes in disbelief of his still increasing confidence.

The worst part is that he has every right being confident, even on such a level. Nobody's ever made you that sexually frustrated before. It might just be that you possibly are under the Martini's spell ,but c’mon now, lying to yourself won’t work again.

You’re under Wooyoung's spell and you know it without minding at all, nor wanting him to stop. You're actually glad it's him and not some dude San and Mingi tried to hook you up with. And why is that? Because even though you trust them, you know that there's no other better judge of people than you. You were hesitant at first but now here you are not wanting to hesitate no more and wanting him to totally unravel you.

He rubbed steady circles on your clit, making it hard for you to hold still on your own. You wrapped one arm around his nape, pulling on his hair a bit, while the other slipped under his black t-shirt wanting to finally feel his muscles.

You both moaned, you on the feeling of his soft skin and his fingers pressing you harder down there and him with the way your pretty hands traced down his torso and went over to his waistline, ready to unbuckle his belt single handedly.

With a quick motion, he stopped everything he was doing and trapped both your hands momentarily in order to stop your incoming action. You looked at him full of confusion and his face got serious. He began to unbuckle his belt on his own, wrapped it around his hands and tightened it with his teeth. Finally, he sat down on the floor, head falling back on the toilet's closed seat.

He looks so pretty and slutty that you want to take a picture and keep it among your most precious jewelry. You smiled and put your hair behind your ears before bursting into laughter.

''What a good boy you are all tied up and sweeping the floor with your clothed ass! What for?''

''Sit on my face baby. Please''

Hold on. Have the tables turned already? Anyone would think that that's the case, he's begging for you to choke him with your pussy lips after all, how can it not be that?

''Please baby I need to taste you. Sit on it'' he repeated, looking absolutely stunning with his hands tied up like this and with the veins on his neck and arms becoming even more visible.

How could you say no to that nose? You absolutely adore that nose. You might as well have fallen deeply in love with it and the way it hits your clit while he sucks all your wetness off before reproducing it.

''Oh my god Wooyoung! Don't stop! So good-'' you managed to make up your sentence in between your loud moans and trying not to crush him under you, even though that's what he wants most.

His erection cannot be denied any longer if it ever could have been to begin with. His dick's so hard that it's now noticable ,not just on it's own but also by the way Woo's making slow and passionate thrusts in plain air.

It doesn't seem to cause a problem though, as his main goal is for you to cum on his face, tremble around him and choke him with your wet thighs that he so desperately wants to lay slaps on. Too bad he didn't think about it when he was tying himself up like the poor rope bunny he is.

Once he stopped tongue fucking you for a moment to catch his breath, you wrapped your fingers tightly on his hair and repositioned him, causing his glasses to fall from his head.

You're grinding on him, completely out of this world. His high pitched moans, his warm breath beneath you and his kitten licks while you're getting yourself off on him by rocking your hips in a slow and passionate rhythm, sends shivers down your spine and makes Wooyoung see stars. He's about to cum in his pants, untouched, just completely pussy drunk.

He didn't want to cum alone though, he wanted to share the experience, so he sped up the pace of his tongue on your clit. Your grip on his hair tightened, giving him the confirmation he needed that you were so close to finally letting go and reaching your highest with the stranger that paid for your Martini.

And that confirmation became a happening, an explosive one to be more precise. He twitched in his pants as you painted his ethereal face with your sweet liquids he so enjoyed devouring these past few minutes. You were both so high on pleasure that you didn't even notice the barman knocking on your bathroom stall's door.

''Hey there lovebirds, sorry to interrupt but the cops are to arrive soon due to the music being too loud apparently. I'll have to call it a night before they get here so-'' he said and placed Wooyoung's jacket on the door handle from outside ''Goodnight''

And on that note, he left and went back to his post. You looked at each other, both breathless, fucked up and dizzy.

Once you almost stabilized your system, you helped him up and freed him from his own enslavement. In return, he slapped your ass instinctively as you bent down to pick your dress.

''Holy fuck, I wanted to do that for some time now''

''Too bad you tied yourself, even though it was a pretty good sight''

''Glad you enjoyed it'' he said and smiled while helping you put your dress on.

When you crossed the bathroom's border for the second and last time this night, the barman blinked at the sight of you two and started applauding before waving goodbye. You bowed in reply and left the bar with Wooyoung accompanying you, contrary to how you first got there.

''So, I still got those questions I have to get answers out of you.''

''Yeah, I want to think of some questions to ask you too''

''I'll treat you to dinner, what do you say?'' he proposed, eyes focused on your lips again.

''I'd rather we prepared it together at my place. I'll send you the address''

''Yeah that sounds more convenient. See you around then beautiful'' he added his final line of the night and pecked your lips goodbye. “WAIT” he shouted abruptly breaking the street’s silence which almost made you piss yourself.

“Yeah?”

“What’s your name?”

“Oh. You’re right. It’s Y/N!”

“Okay! Goodnight Y/N”

“Goodnight Wooyoung.''

...

When you reached your appartment, it was like reality struck you down again. When you were accompanied by Wooyoung, all your problems seemed to have had drifted away.

“But now, looking back on the mountain of cigarette butts on my ashtray, I’m reminded that I can’t just keep avoiding all my problems. Instead, I have to take action and face them somehow. That’s what I’ll do starting from tomorrow!” you proudly announced and placed yet another such butt on that mountain.

“Good for you! But now that you’ve got all that figured out, will you finally let me, your favorite mountain, take some rest? It’s 5 a.m, how are you that energetic?” San let out his frustration in between sighs, since you woke him up just to state your philosophical thoughts on how life basically works.

“I’ll tell you another time. Goodnight sleepyhead, see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, that might happen if you stop clenching on your door handle”

“I will dummy, don’t worry. Sleep well” you said and he hung up without saying anything. You’re happy he even did you the favor and answered so you don’t mind at all. You need to get some sleep as well. It’s not an easy trip visiting and returning back from your highest point, heaven, anyway.

…

“Did your hair get longer?” Mingi looked at you surprised before sitting back down on his chair and handed your coffees over to you and San.

“Oh stop it you! Just because you haven’t seen me for a month doesn’t mean I changed that much!- Did I though? Is it bad?!”

“No, you’re the same small baby we love and cherish” San said and squeezed your cheek

“The same small SHITTY baby you mean” Mingi added in between coughs and received a death stare by San

“So… Any news?” San broke the ice and both you and Mingi laughed. For different reasons but you still laughed.

“How could she have any news to present when she was rotting in bed all day, going out only to empty her trashcan?”

“Actually… I’d like to talk about a certain topic…”

“Does it have to do with what you told me that night on the phone?” San remembered the conversation you had held two weeks ago, the night you last saw him.

It pains you and it’s been fucking your mood up for the past two weeks that you’ve had no contact at all. How could you have had any though, he didn’t even ask for your number! You really fooled yourself thinking you had saved it somewhere, that’s why you proposed dinner at your place that day. But he never tried sneaking it in your purse nor simply giving it to you directly.

You’ve been devastated and you couldn’t search for him as you don’t even know his last name. There were zero possibilities of you finding him and you thought that talking it through with your two favourite people would help you develop your new coping mechanism.

“Sort of”

“Are you going to fill me in? I have no idea what you’re talking about” Mingi said and took a disguising sip from his coffee cup, sharing a very loud noise with everyone sitting at the coffeeshop.

“Alright, remember that night you wanted to fuck that red head and then you found out that she was a lesbian?” San explained the timeline to Mingi based on their side of the story and Mingi nodded so that San would continue “Well, Y/N called me in the middle of that same night and woke me up to tell me about her remarkable life philosophies!”

“Wow! Y/N, I hate to break it to you but that that philosophical outburst wasn’t your ‘mc moment’. We all have those from time to time”

“Guys, my life philosophies are not what I want to talk to you about! Something else happened that night! Someone, to be completely honest”

“DID YOU CALL YOUR EX AGAIN?” they both shouted and stood up, forgetting about the fact that you’re having this conversation in public.

“Calm down! I did not call anyone. That’s the problem. I didn’t get his number”

“Whose number?! Do you have an imaginary boyfriend again? Are you in need of a prescription? Did loneliness turn you completely mad?!” Mingi asked angry and worried to the core but he didn’t even let you explain!

“Gosh Mingi, will you shut up and let me tell you about it?! If you want to be angry then go be angry by yourself, San will listen”

“San always listens” San said with a complaint hiding behind his wide smile

“Okay, go on. I will zip it”

“So, after I cancelled on you guys, I decided to go out by myself and I fucked this guy-“

“YOU FUCKED A GUY?!”

“She’s not a lesbian San, not everyone’s a lesbian. Only the girls I like apparently. Go on little one, I’m invested in your gossip”

You let a small sigh and got caught off guard by the waitress picking up your ashtray and emptying it in the plastic bag she was holding. You gave her a soft smile and when you turned back to look at your friends to continue your speech, you were greeted by a so greatly-missed choice of styling.

Fuck, you missed that eyebrow piercing so much as if it is your alleged husband coming back home from the military. He was already hugging San when you caught your eye on him. Thus, he had exceeded your notice on him right away, wasting no time to stare at you with that beautiful smile you rode like a total slut two weeks ago.

He was wearing the shop’s uniform and had his long hair tied in a small low ponytail, his strands falling in front of his face causing a problem for him again. Too bad he doesn’t have his glasses to hold them behind this time.You laughed at the plot line of your thoughts, catching all three’s attention. You two broke contact only to just reconnect it even stronger than it was before. The other two took turns in towards who to look at.

With a deep shy and some steps to get closer to you, he decided to speak up.

“How’s the coffee?”

“Tasty” you affirmed his currently questioning disposition “Did you make it?”

“That’s right. I would’ve been more artistic in it’s making if I knew that you’d be the one having it.”

“That’s okay, just the fact that you took the energy to make it does the job for me”

“Glad you’re enjoying it” he teasingly said, repeating his own words that had you stunned that night, right after his face riding session. On that note, he turned around and went back inside as his duties as a humanised coffee machine are calling him.

San and Mingi’s jaws were dropped on the floor because they could feel you two’s tension, without being updated on the context yet.

“Y/N honey, can you explain one thing to me?” Mingi’s face got all serious as he placed both hands on the table “How do you and my beloved mate Jung Wooyoung know each other?”

That's it! That’s His full name!

“Well… I kinda sat on his face two weeks ago in that bar’s bathroom stall...” you said bluntly and San’s laugh could probably be heard from really far away

“Of course you did” Mingi said trying to cope with this amusing new information he just received

“Well, I would too. Never had the chance to” San supported your horniness’ random spike, receiving wide stares from you and your other bestie because of it “What? I’m just being honest, he’s always been hot. So what now? What are you thinking of doing now?”

“Well, I don’t know.”

“Go ask him to fuck during his break time. He’ll be more than pleased to”

“What? Why’d you think I’d want to fuck him again Mr. Song? And why now of all times?”

“Well, I talked about both of you, not just about you Y/N. You two seemed like you were ready to ruin each other right in front of us, right San?”

“That’s right” San added and crossed his legs “You have to get his number this time”

“I can’t just go and disturb him while he’s working to ask for his number! Besides, I’m sure you two can just give it to me. He’s your friend, isn’t he?”

“No. You’re not having it that easy! I’m sure he’ll give it to you without question. Just go and take it!”

“San, I haven’t seen him in two weeks and we were both drunk that night. We had just met too! It’ll look weird if I just go and ask for his number”

“So you riding his face with the view of a fucking bathroom stall isn’t weird? You passed through that phase I’m sure you can pass this one too and go fuck somewhere. Moreover, it’ll be a chance to get you out of your dump again” Mingi played dirty with that one

“Agreed.”

“Fuck stop getting me unnumbered guys!”

“What can I say, it’s duty calling us to help you get your shit together. Go claim your man before anyone else does” Mingi said and put his jacket on

You looked at San but he just gave you a little supportive push towards the door. You can’t go back now and lose this opportunity right? It’s the moment you’ve been looking forward to happening. He’s right here and you can use it to your advantage! What could possibly go wrong?

You’re just stressing over the possibility of him not have given you his number on purpose that day. Cause, how could he forget? How could he forget after leading you on so well? Were his intentions simply for a ‘one night stand’? Why’d he ensure you continuity though?

Nah, he’s not having it. You deserve an explanation, a really good one. He can’t just go and hit on you on a random Saturday, grab his portion and then not pay the deserved way.

With that on your mind, you walked towards him, watching his every move carefully as you approached his aspect.

“Missed me?” he said without even looking at you. He just so gently wiped a cup dry, your eyes focused on his grip.

Unbelievable. You’re unbelievable, so desperate for his attention that it’s making you angry. ‘He’s just another man, get your shit together Y/N’, you thought to yourself. But is he just ‘another man’ to you?

“Won’t you say anything? Not gonna ask me how I’ve been?”

“There’d be no reason to do that If you’d given me your number!” you mumbled

“What was that?” he said and finally did you the favour to look into your eyes

He completely melted in those five seconds of eye contact. He was ready to leave everything behind, grab your hand and go spend time with you, anywhere you told him to. But you, you were taken over by anger. You could feel the frustration caused by his absence drive you insane. You wanted to slap him for being so unbothered but you knew that’d turn both of you on. So what can you do?

“Huh?” he asked again as you seemed distracted and forgot to reply to his question or rather chose not to.

“Oh forget it Wooyoung. Good day” you said and sprang out of the cafeteria

Right when the air hit your hair, Mingi and San knew by the look on your face that something didn’t go according to plan. They ran after you only to be greeted goodbye as all you wanted then was to be alone and try to ‘fix yourself’ as you said.

You’re disappointed. Totally disappointed. Why? Oh, the answer’s simple. It’s that you should’ve accepted the fact that the acting in a movie is still acting, no matter how real it comes out. It’s not really life. So, what felt like a movie to you that night was fake from the start.

Hypocrisy was what bonded you and Jung Wooyoung together in your little head. What you do want is was felt real but isn’t. He was never really interested in getting to know you, he didn’t even look at you until you seemed frustrated! He just asked all these questions that day to light up the mood, that’s why he was sexualising everything. Wouldn’t he want to look at you if he’d truly missed you? You were the one who couldn’t take your eyes off of him, how could he not put the slightest effort after declaring his statement that time, that including him being so into you?

‘It’s just another man, you’ll be fine’, you thought to yourself again. On the other hand, there’s still this other part of you in your little head that keeps telling you to go back and ask him straight away, ‘Did you just want to have it served to you once and never again?’ but you won’t be doing that. Your ego’s too high to go this low with your actions.

You began to walk faster than before as you slapped yourself hard enough with your thoughts to want to have them erased.

You can’t believe it. How could he? No, the true question is ‘How could you Y/N?’. How could you let yet another man play with your feelings when you knew his intentions from the start? This one’s different. No, all he wanted was to get his portion and leave the rest to the table to rot. Fuck, how could I’ve been so stupid?

Footsteps and footsteps and footsteps and footsteps and-

“Fuck, why’d you run off like that? Do you not care about my lungs nor our situation at all??” he asked with his hand on your shoulder, breathless and with sweat dripping down his forehead.

You removed his hand from your shoulder and you turned around to do what you’ve been doing for the past five minutes, walking and avoiding your feelings.

“Oh c’mon Y/N! Are you really that apathetic?”

“Sorry? I was right there, you didn’t even look at me once and I’m the one called out for being apathetic? Please-“ you said and tried to walk away again before he sprang in front of you, stoping your motion “Will you please stop whatever you’re doing? Stop acting like you care so much to the point that you’ll get yourself in trouble, cause you don’t “

“How’d you come to that conclusion?”

“You’ve made it very clear Woo. You didn’t try to keep in touch, you just wanted your dose and that’s where you put your period when you got it.“

“I didn’t get my dose though”

“Oh, I see. Let’s blame the neighbours for calling the cops and interruptinh our private session now, that’s all we have left to blame and do anyway”

“No, we haven’t done everything yet. I haven’t asked you what I meant to ask you. That’s why I ran all this way, putting myself in trouble for doing so. I might lose my job for this but I don’t care. But for you, I do care. So, why’d you not give me your number since I didn’t? That’s the real question”

He’s got a great point there. Not once did you think about it, why’d you not do it? Were you scared? Were you humiliated? Were you anxious? Were you-

“I simply thought we’d exchanged it already”

“So how could you have the right to forget about it and forget about me so easily? I went mad all these days, waiting for you, at the bar. You never showed up. Why’d you not show up?”

You then could recognise the purity in his eyes that you fell in love with that night. That excessive desperation that made your insides tangle. You know you fell hard for him, that’s why you let it slide, that’s why he’s not in fact ‘just another man’ to you. How could one be mad at him?

“I don’t know… After thinking I’d never see you again, I got closed up in my house once more. I didn’t want to go out and meet someone else. I didn’t want to meet anyone to be completely honest.”

“You shouldn’t do that! You’re too pretty to be hiding yourself in there. It’s also unhealthy.“ he said and made you smile, finally. He looks so proud and relaxed, like he was waiting for this moment. Just seeing you smile felt like the sun finally showing up after being hidden in the clouds. In other words, you’re that small sparkle that brightened his shitty day. It worked as a confirmation for him, your smile, as he understood how much you actually lovestruck him.

“So it wasn’t just a ‘one time thing’ for you?”

“Do you think I’d sweat that much If it was just a ‘one time thing’ for me? My legs don’t work well, fuck, I have to exercise more frequently” and yet came another laugh that sounded like melody to his ears “Oh, by the way- This is for you” he said and put a small and cutely folded paper in your back pocket.

What a tease he truly is and how you love it.

“Was that our receipt?” you teased back while approaching him closer than you already were.

“It’s a surprise. I’ll tell you about it when we have that cooking session we talked about yeah?”

“Okay, I’ll call you. I promise.” you said as you knew exactly what that little billet doux contained.

“Okay lovebug, I’ll be waiting” he said and let himself completely loose once he felt your touch on his cheek, before your lips met in a tender kiss.

He really can’t control himself around you. Same problem as on your first encounter. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close, not seeming like he wanted to let go.

“I’m so glad I found you again Y/N. Would you have came to the bar to find me? Did you think about it?”

“I did but didn’t have the courage to. I’d probably meet you through Mingi and San though someday. I wish I knew sooner so that I’d keep in touch”

“Yeah, but we will now!”

“That’s right but for now, you need to go back. You’ll lose your job”

“Shit, I totally forgot about that.” he said and panicked. You smiled as he kissed your hand after hugging you. “So… I’ll be going now okay?”

“Of course.” you replied and waved him goodbye, him too.

You got lost in your own thoughts again, which this time were formed with his not probable urges. Your mindset is now set in a new theme, under the name ‘Jung Wooyoung’. Wow, you really are a lucky girl.

“Don’t be a stranger, stranger!” he shouted, blowed you kisses from afar and began to run towards the cafeteria’s direction.

[sp1rit-realm]

༻¨*:· 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐓 ·:*¨༺

༻¨*:· summary ·:*¨༺ you hate remus lupin, and he hates you. what happens when you get stuck in a lift together?

༻¨*:· notes ·:*¨༺ 𖦹 hour one!!!!! 𖦹 enemies to ?? 𖦹 forced proximity 𖦹 fem!reader 𖦹 i did not proofread this bc i'm lazy ⎝(ˊᗜˋ)⎠

༻¨*:· word count ·:*¨༺ 𖦹 184

prologue << pt. 2 -- hour 1 >> hour 2

༻¨*:· 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝟏 ·:*¨༺

You both silently stand in the lift. Then, the lights flicker. You flinch, and Remus laughs. You glare at him, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing." He replies, still wearing a grin.

You scoff and roll your eyes.

The lights flicker again, and your anxiety spikes.

What if the lift is breaking? What if we get trapped in here? What if we die? What if—

And then it happens. The lift shakes and comes to a halt. Remus seems to be amused by the situation—Cheshire Cat grin spread across his face. You wonder if he's excited that you are so obviously in distress.

"What's so amusing, Lupin?"

"Nothing." He repeats.

"No," You challenge, "I think you find something funny. What is it?"

"You get scared so easily. 'S pathetic, frankly."

You gawp at him, "Sorry that I'm not a fan of being stuck in a lift!"

"Pft," He scoffs, "You think we're actually stuck?" 

"Remus, we are not moving. Yes, I think we're stuck!"

You push the emergency button, and a voice comes through the speaker, "Hello?"

"Hi, um, so we're stuck in this lift."

"Okay…" You hear the clack of a keyboard, "I'll call maintenance." And he's gone.

"You have a funny customer service voice." Remus observes.

"Customer service voice?" You ask.

"Yeah. The voice you put on when talking to strangers, you know? Hello, how are you today?" He says in a chipper tone.

"Oh. Yeah."

You're not sure why he's making small talk—he hates you. And then it dawns on you; he's making fun of you, and you vow to give him the silent treatment.

You stay silent for roughly three minutes.

"I don't understand why you feel the need to make fun of me."

"Make fun of you?"

You irritably sigh, "Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about."

"Maybe it's because you're insufferable. Ever thought about that?"

it goes straight to your heart.

He puts his finger in the air, "And don't act like you don't do the same thing."

"I only do it because you do it first."

"God!" He dramatically folds at the waist, slumping his shoulders, "You're so petulant!"

"You're the one whining!" You spit back.

me when i like what i write🤯🤯

lmk if u wanna b tagged!

@queerpumpkinnn @ay0nha @knaveism @whennyxfallsinlove @freezing-my-brain @starlit-epiphany @inkluvs @t3rritorial-piss1ngs

[kyleoreillylover]

Keep my Hands to Myself

Jey Uso x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jey just can't seem to keep his hands off of you.

Warnings: typical wrestling violence, allusions to smut but no actual smut written, etc.

A/N: In my Jey mood again, can’t get enough of him. Hope you guys enjoy!

You sat in front of the mirror, your Smackdown Women’s Championship shining on top of your vanity as you put the finishing touches on your makeup. You were laser focused on getting ready for your match against Liv Morgan. The two of you have been in a heated feud for months, but tonight would be the night she’d challenge for your title. But after you humiliate and embarrass her, you were sure it would be the last time.

You were so into your thoughts, you didn’t even notice Jey come into your locker room until you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around you from behind. You turned your head to see him giving you a soft smile, your heart melting at the look he was giving you; like just being around you was all he ever wanted to do. And it couldn't be closer to the truth. He could never stay away from you, the way you carried yourself, your beauty, the sexy ass confidence radiating from you - it was magnetic.

"You look amazing, champ," he whispered into your ear, voice as soft as honey as he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, making you giggle and lean into his touch. No matter how touchy Jey was, and he was very touchy, you could never get enough of him no matter how many times you were wrapped up in his arms.

"You like my new gear?" His eyes lingering on the shimmering blue design and how it showed off your form already gave you your answer.

He pulled you closer, his fingers tracing the patterns on your gear. "It looks too good on you. Makes me wanna take it off." You shivered at his husky tone as he pressed a soft kiss to the side of your neck, turning around when his hands skimmed a little lower.

"Hands to yourself, lover boy." You tried to move away from his arms, laughing when he pouted and refused to let you go.

"Can't we have fun before your match, baby?" His lips met yours, and you couldn't help but melt into him, his hand gripping your waist and pulling you flush against him. The kiss was soft and slow, like you had all the time in the world to worship each other. He teased your bottom lip with his tongue before slipping it inside your mouth, and you let out a small moan before pulling away from him and escaping his grip before you could fall under his spell.

"Not now, Jey. I won't be long baby, I promise." You rolled your eyes playfully when he yanked you back into his arms again, your arms on his shoulders as he began to kiss your neck.

"Can you just stay a little bit longer, baby?" He begged, giving you those cute puppy dog eyes and laying soft kisses on your neck. You giggle at his neediness, teasingly poking his chest. " Baby, Liv is light work, you know that. I'll be quick, and I promise I'll make it up to you, okay?"

He sighed dramatically, giving you a cute pout. "Alright, alright. Just one more," he pleaded, capturing your lips in a lingering kiss.

When you finally broke away, you chuckled. "You're lucky I love your clingy ass."

He grinned, trailing a finger down your arm. "That's all I need, sweetheart." He finally let you go, waiting for you grab your title and giving you an annoyingly charming smile as he opened the door for you. "You better come back to me in one piece, or I'm gonna have some words with Liv."

You rolled your eyes, playfully pushing at his chest. "I'll be fine, you big baby. You worry too much." You kissed his cheek and dragged him out of the room before he could make you reconsider giving him an attitude. He accompanied you to the ring, heart fluttering at the soft smile you gave him when he held open the ropes for you.

Liv soon made her away to the ring, her eyes glaring daggers at you as you held your title up with a cocky smirk. Jey gave you a quick hug and kiss before getting out of the ring and making his way to the commentary table, joining Michael Cole and Pat McAfee.

The match was intense, the crowd on their feet and the both of you pulling anything and everything out of your arsenal. You were tired out, but she was as well and that thought kept you going. At one point, Liv tried to hit a codebreaker on you but you caught her midair and power bombed her onto the steel steps, much to Jey's delight.

"You see that, Michael? That's my girl out there, the champ," Jey boasted, pointing towards you dragging a lifeless Liv Morgan into the ring. "She's bout to show Liv what real competition looks like. Ain't nobody steps up to my girl and walks away a champ."

Liv put up a great fight, but you fought even harder, you were the top women in WWE for a reason. Before you knew it, you were hitting your finisher on her, leaving Liv sprawled out in the ring. You quickly went in for the pin, the referee's hand slapping the mat three times.

"1... 2... 3!" The bell rang, and the crowd erupted. You pushed away from Liv, a cocky smirk on your face as you watched her retreat. You were still catching your breath when Jey slid into the ring, your title in hand and a triumphant grin on his face as he pushed the ref aside, sweeping you off your feet and lifting you up into his strong arms.

“That’s what I’m talking bout, baby!” He shouted excitedly, holding you to his side as you tightened your grip around his neck, laughing at his enthusiasm. Your man was too adorable.

"Told you she would be light work, babe." You grinned up at him, the lights shining down from the arena were nothing in comparison to the glimmer in his eyes as he smiled down at you with pride. He set you down and handed you your title, watching you stand on the turnbuckle and raise it up high, letting you have your moment.

Once the two of you made your way up the ramp and back to your locker room, you grabbed his face and pulled him in for a searing kiss, Jey's warm and soft lips against yours, his hands finding their way to your cheeks, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss.

Eventually, the need for air overpowered your need for each other, and you pulled away from him, He rested his forehead against yours, the both of you panting and out of breath. “What was that for, babe?”

“Didn’t I tell you I’d make it up to you?” You gave him a devilish smile that made his knees weak as you walked in the locker room, dropping your title on the couch and making a beeline for the bathroom.

“The valet is gonna be here in 15 minutes, and I’ma shower. We could have some fun before it’s here.”

You winked at him, going inside the bathroom and beginning to strip off your gear. You chuckled when you heard him running behind you. “You better cancel that valet! Cause ain’t no way we gon’ be done in just 15 minutes, baby.” Jey opened the door, seeing your back turned to him, ass fully on display as you were still taking off your clothes. You turned to him and smirked at the way his hungry gaze; he wanted to just eat you up.

“You mind helping me?” You asked him, a cheeky grin on his face as he shed off his clothes, and you forced yourself look in his eyes instead of his body that had your mouth watering as he made his way toward you, leaning down until you could feel his hot breath against your ear. “As long as you don’t mind not being able to walk for the next few days." He nibbled your ear, making you groan and lean into him, feeling his lips turn into a smug grin on your neck as be clasping your gear and tugging it off of you.

You yelped when he suddenly picked you up, lifting you up by your ass and bringing the both of you in the shower. Your back hit the wall as he brought himself closer to you, your heart rate picking up as his lips hovered dangerously over your own, his eyes dark with the thoughts of what he was going to do to you.

He crashed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, internally smug as you moaned against him, every touch he gave you and every kiss he left leaving your skin burning and your mind turning into radio static and the only thing you could think about was Jey, Jey Jey. You didn’t know what he was planning, but you did know one thing.

Tonight was going to be a long night.

[batsplat]

if you were to direct a motogp movie (or make a one season of television) what season or rivalry would you make it about? and more interesting what artistic liberties would you take? it doesn’t have to be a straight up biopic bc imo those are often boring, instead it could be something like velvet goldmine (1998) aka fictional characters whose real life counterparts are pretty obvious, veering in like rpf territory. anyways👀

did you know. one time this guy put a curse on this other guy. and he never won a race again

anyway, look, I do feel like by this point that's the BORING answer from me, but obviously it's where my mind first went. I'm not sure I'd actually want it out there in film form because by now it's badly enough remembered that it's like, my cute little niche story, and I think there's something fun about the Wider World even within the motogp fandom not exactly getting how bonkers the whole thing was. (I know other humans have canonically watched motogp 2004 but I swear even journalists have forgotten some key key details and it's kinda annoying but also fun.) bold words from someone who's been blogging about it!! weird gatekeep-y instinct. but basically my job here is done as far as outreach is concerned - I wrote a very long post, now I get asks about it twice a week that allow me to think about it some more with the four other people who care, perfect balance. that rivalry doesn't need to go mainstream!! the whole point of it is that it's kinda cruel but narratively pleasing that it's gone under the radar, because it's another sign valentino won. but obviously, I cannot literally make a film about this, so the hypothetical repercussions I think maybe we can put aside for a moment here

okay I came back to this bit of the post after I increasingly got into of the spirit of coming up with dumb ideas, but it did make me flesh out what I'd even WANT from something like that. I'm with you anon, a lot of biopics are boring!! if you want to just know what happened, please just literally go and 'watch the races' and 'read books' like what are we actually getting here. you kinda want to give it a purpose for existing, right, a way of portraying real/mildly fictionalised events in a manner that is also taking some kind of stance on the material AND is doing stuff you can't do 'in real life'. thing is, look, you could make 2006 into a film, and I'm sure it'd be perfectly nice because it's fundamentally a solid underdog story (well, inherently winning a title with repsol honda is NOT being an underdog but you can write it that way), but also what are you doing beyond just telling people what happened? I feel like that generally about single seasons, they're not really doing anything for me. I was also turning around the biaggi/valentino rivalry in my head in part because that's the one valentino gave as his answer for 'rivalry he would turn into a film' (marc big wet eyes sitting right next to him), but like. a film about that rivalry from valentino's pov is fundamentally not something I'm interested in. you have all these isolated very memorable moments that make it work as a rivalry, like you can absolutely spin them into a dramatic yarn that goes through the genesis of their conflict to middle finger gate to punching gate to assen + donington + sachsenring + phillip island 2001 and it's basically *insert rousing music* successful coming of age. at most you can lean into the fact valentino became successful at being a dick. like idk it's fine but also what's the point? valentino is challenged in a sports context by biaggi, he's challenged because he realises his words have consequence and the press actually reports the words he says to journalists (the horror), but he is fundamentally not challenged on a personal level. that's the entire point, right? it's the ultimate comfort zone rivalry - biaggi is a dick who it is quite easy to hate and also reacts poorly to valentino's initial provocation. the animosity escalates and it is inherently fun to beat him. valentino is mean to him, but it's not like he even really crosses any lines to beat him. like you can make it into a film, and if you twisted the material a little bit you could make it satisfying, but I don't want to!

now the way the writing process of this post worked was that I was going to breeze through a bunch of non-sete/valentino rivalries and explain why I think some of them don't work for our purposes here, but then I ended up writing myself into changing my mind. so my take on the biaggi rivalry is that actually, you CAN make it work but it has to be from biaggi's perspective. basically, I think you've got to amadeus it (a web weave I have been thinking of making at some point btw). so,,, it's a meditation on talent and how unfair it all is, maybe minus the bit where salieri poisons amadeus (I know that doesn't happen in the film) or dresses up as amadeus' father to, y'know, make him write a requiem on his death bed. and it's not amadeus in that HERE, the clown prince gets a happy ending! but it's more like, in thematic terms, I think you have to zero in on this bit. biaggi didn't have parents who shoved him on a bike when he was three years old, he didn't have parents who were invested in his motorcycling career (or even necessarily particularly invested in him), he started the sport late and discovered that, yes, he did have a prodigious amount of skill in it - but one that he started honing far later than valentino did. he approached his career with a sort of grim resolve, surly and irascible and not interested in making friends with any of his competitors but very, very good. he goes away from the race track and dates all these models, he irritates fellow riders, he's not part of the gang and he's happy about it. he's very successful! four 250cc titles, wins his first ever race in 500cc at a time when doohan was very much winning everything. he's also just like,,,, an interesting and spiky enough character it's not hard to make him come alive

but then of course you have this gradual emergence of the amadeus character, the one who challenges his established position in the court of,, well... motorcycle racing, and also as the guy italians rooted for! and valentino's obviously, y'know, in so many ways the exact opposite from biaggi, and he's super young and cheerful and lively and is doing all his silly celebrations and is being a bit camp and goofy and treats motorcycle racing as a party (you really want to lean into the culture clash here, like in amadeus it's because you have stuffy austrian court vibes but here it's because everyone is having their bones broken every two minutes and just how... kinda grim a lot of motorcycle racing was). and he's also this innocent! yes, he insults biaggi, and yes, in retrospect we know valentino is kinda evil, but at the time he was a kid with a big mouth who was a little taken aback by how that biaggi feud sort of escalated beyond what he'd actually intended it to do! and biaggi just, hates him. and I think, sorry to the real man max biaggi here, but you've got to play with how once they're actually competing with each other, it's miserable how there's just this unbreachable gulf in talent. like, whatever biaggi does he cannot win! he isn't going to defeat valentino over the course of a full season! which is depressing and horrible and CRUEL, because there's this inevitability to the whole thing... and also! because valentino doesn't DESERVE it. and you don't have to go full salieri pleading with god to explain how god could give this CLOWN all this talent, but it's kinda the same vibe! how is it valentino, who is constantly just having a laff and canonically maybe wasn't the biggest gym-goer in the paddock and is just generally seen as, y'know, a bit of a dandy, this foppish clown who everyone loves and who doesn't have to work hard to be good - how is he the one who is winning so much!! it's miserable and unjust... and I think how you portray this is that you really emphasise the kinda, repetitive nature of the defeat. like, I think you probably want to make this into a non-linear narrative where all this biaggi backstory is communicated somehow but you don't just start it when he was born or whatever - you start it in 2001 when they're competing for a title and already hate each other. and then you heavy on the time loop vibes. the whole cinematic language and all that other shit should emphasise how all these weekends are structured in exactly the same way and if you're losing to this one guy, all these different weekends can start feeling the same. it bleeds into each other, it feels inescapable, you're trapped in this narrative you can't change... worst of all, you even return to the same places again and again - like play with that! biaggi keeps coming back to where they had the fist fight, to where valentino first insulted him all those years back. you play up the disorientation and the misery of it all, plus biaggi canonically gives us all this kinda messy freudian shit to play with like how he was dating 'valentina' and his relationship with her was falling apart because of how miserable valentino was making him. it's all there!!

ANYWAYS the way you conclude this story is!! welkom 2004!! so again we can artistic license this a little bit and, uh, ignore sete (though I do also think it's fun if you lean into biaggi being displaced as a rival and staring at them being friendly and happy with each other from the outside) - but the key bit is that valentino is finally making the big error. biaggi wasn't winning titles on a yamaha, since he left yamaha has gotten worse, now valentino is making this big mistake out of his own hubris. language of cinema that shit and make everything brighter and more hopeful.... the time loop is finally over, biaggi has escaped, this year will be different!!!! everyone in his circle agrees, valentino is fucked. step off the plane at welkom (pre season testing didn't happen in this universe) and it's literal dawn of a new day... staring out at the sun and finally, biaggi can move on, can live a new and different life. anyway. obviously we all know what's coming next - you have this big dramatic climactic race where biaggi throws himself at valentino again and again and again and he comes so close to winning it... but he doesn't. and you have valentino living his best life, being delighted, but the film is focusing on how like,,, we're bleaching the joy back out of biaggi's life, how actually he's returning to what he already knew. and it ends on the podium, with the camera focusing on biaggi on that fucking second step or zooming in or whatever (idk how cinema works) and it just finishes on this shot of biaggi dead-eyed in a bleak world, trapped again for eternity aka until the end of the 2005 season. done!! I'm not sure this is quite what valentino had in mind, but. well. that's how I'd do it

this is from the pushkin play from 1832 not the 1984 film but like. low key pushkin already kinda nailed the essence of sports rivalries in the 1830s and we just have to acknowledge that sometimes

right. so the casey rivalry is where I'm going to go completely off the wall. skip this bit to get to the slightly saner stuff. this is also one I fully admit to sometimes playing around with in my mind anyway, but. uh. I'm gonna be taking this one in just. well. places. I do have a vision here but I also don't quite know how to explain it in a way that doesn't make me sound like I've lost my mind, but well if you're still reading this then that's on you. so lemme get this out of the way: the classic sports biopic formula would work well with casey. if I had to point to a single rider I would sports biopic-ify, it's casey. so you have all this kinda,, obvious adversity that's easy to get across, and it's a narrative you can follow chronologically without too much trouble. you've got all the childhood stuff, the australian racing club not letting him join them, the move to britain, the rising through the ranks, it's also this very biopic-friendly 'nobody ever believed in him apart from like three people' stuff. and the premier class is also narratively satisfying, from the rocky rookie season to the kinda shock success to then all the lows of 2008 and 2009 and the physical ailments and the anxiety and then the switch to honda and the title and then him deciding to retire... that's all good stuff! you can absolutely biopic-ify it! gun to my head and sure, I can walk you through exactly what bits of his life I'd focus on and put in what order and so on, and I think ultimately you could make a very good sports biopic from that

[some mild gore to follow in this next section]

but also. thing is. that's fine. it's just not where I want to go here, because again I feel like at that point you can also pick up his autobiography and just read it - because what you're basically doing here is just filming that. and I get how this stuff works, you're bringing the story to a wider audience, you can show stuff in a different way in that medium etc etc, and that's all great but also I don't care about bringing stuff to a wider audience. I care about doing fun stuff in my brain. so what I'd actually do here is just, basically, go in the exact opposite direction and ditch all the realism. genuinely, ditch the live action stuff, we're going animated - what I'm interested in here is stuff where we need to be able to fully suspend our disbelief and lean into some surreal shit. I'm not going to bury the lede here: my idea is that you take that thing where casey said he hated how ducati was ruining the bike by letting valentino's yellow encroach on it and, basically,, just go all in on that bit. like come on, that is so singularly visually evocative, it truly captures a lot of what's going on thematically in that rivalry. (see also x and x for the most relevant casey posts.) casey sees valentino as the malevolent force, this infection! he associates him strongly with a specific colour, one that can be sickly or unnatural or just... evil. malignant, malicious, malevolent, all the m words. to casey, valentino is a personification of everything that is wrong with the sport. valentino is literally the walking manifestation for so many of his issues, from the dangerous riding to the lack of respect to the lying to the cult of personality to the obsession with image and the media to the backroom games to the politics to the injustice of how different riders are treated differently, like!! he's literally all of that! this is a topic for another post, but this plays out in a lot of kinda, weird and funky ways where it's a two way street and sometimes when casey talks about motogp you go 'actually I think that's just valentino?' (btw he also does this about 'europe' right I don't think those are europeans you hate casey that's literally just valentino) and sometimes when he talks about valentino it's kinda? this feels like it's about a little more than the bloke himself? and basically, right, I think you need to take this to its natural conclusion where casey used to admire him and look up to him and want to emulate him on track and then gets disillusioned when valentino's worshippers turn against casey and casey is the one to bring valentino down to earth and... listen, I think you need to play around with valentino being a literal god. and I think you need to have casey stab him to cover up the yellow on the ducati with blood

okay. look. the idea here, right, is that we're basically making the subtext text, and just digging into that process of 'bringing valentino back to earth', of taking on a god and having the audacity to succeed, and also treating valentino as this sort of. infection in his own mind. the bike is literally being infected!! casey may have left the ducati but he STILL has some fidelity and love for this project, those were his people he worked with, and now valentino is coming in and just twisting everything around himself!! but also I think how this functions is that, okay, so you have all this normal stuff that's the actual 'plot' in the 'real world', but the ISSUE with the real world is that there's a lot of stuff that just. isn't possible there. like the thing casey wants in that rivalry but is never going to have is... a captive audience. a big problem casey has in that rivalry is that he doesn't get the chance to actually say a lot of stuff to valentino. he starts using the media more and more and plays the game on valentino's level, but there's still this disconnect where mr straight talking is the valentino rival who valentino never really blanks or freezes out like... there's a disconnect! there's valentino the person, who casey never quite figures out how to just straight up hate, and then there's valentino the character, the racer, the rider, the god who casey DESPISES. but when they're doing small talk at pressers and podiums, casey doesn't get to talk to that version of valentino! he just talks to valentino the person, who obviously isn't literally a different person but is also not going to explain to casey where he's coming from, is he, and also isn't someone who casey can explain to where HE is coming from. and that gulf... it does bother casey. I don't think he can quite verbalise why either, but there's just... this creeping tension. I think it'd be easier for casey if valentino really were more of a caricature, just kinda a dick in all walks of life. and there's just these canonical hints of that... the way casey talks about how he's sure valentino as a guy is fine, but he never knew valentino like that, the whole 'I'd like to go with valentino for dinner to tell him where I was coming from in that rivalry' thing, like!! it's there

so basically EYE think what you should be doing is using the wonders of storytelling to actually. embrace that element. and just leave realism behind now and again. valentino is a god, he is literally worshipped, he's part of this pantheon that casey is trekking to reach. casey is brave enough to take him on in combat, he is the first one who is truly able to draw blood. he sees how valentino isn't just a god of joy or battles or speed or the SUN or any of that other stuff - he's a disease, an illness, a god who is also a false prophet... the worship never quite goes away, because who ever truly gets rid of their valentino rossi complex, but casey eventually is given the chance to face a chained valentino and kinda,,, ritualistically publicly humiliate him using the ducati as both this sick thing that has to be 'cured' and this symbol of valentino's failure. I'm sorry, visual language goes brr here, like chain him up, do weirdly eroticised torture idc!! (psst psst valentino's fucked up shoulder also extremely goes brr here, casey low key a teensy bit weird about valentino's injuries? his thing after the 2010 leg break where he goes 'why's everyone making such a big deal about this other people break their limbs too' and then after 2011 jerez immediately asking whether valentino's shoulder is okay in just a very obviously passive aggressive way. literally he opens with that, valentino isn't using it as an excuse or anything, for some reason it's already on casey's mind and I would politely contest it was out of genuine concern for valentino's wellbeing!! it's just kinda? I'm so compelled by it? I suppose it is kinda about how valentino's suffering gets taken more seriously than his own? how those absences are received differently by the motogp world? idk I find this fun because casey does know this is one thing valentino can't really be blamed for himself, so it just slips out a bit? but yeah, casey + valentino's injuries, nobody's talking about it but I sure will, let casey get weird and mean and a teensy bit sadistic about valentino's injuries in an artistic manner.) crucially I like animation as a medium here because I think it's easier to lean into surrealism when you don't have to hand hold the audience so much through the suspension of realism, also there's just some imagery you can do in cooler ways through animation where in live action it may just look. weird. (I think you can also do one of those things where you have a live action film with only those specific bits animated but also... why? it just feels like in live action you need more 'justifications' for things, like am I saying casey is having some weird hallucinations and is losing his mind? no I just want to have weird vision sequences ffs.) the colour stuff!! valentino/casey is big on the colour coding as a rivalry, to the extent casey is even, y'know, drawing attention to it in the literal text!! yellow and red are banger colours, valentino is big on imagery himself with all his sun + moon motifs, it's kind of all there to make the easy next step to kinda zany surreal imagery. ritualistic stabbing works better in animation, you can kinda get the blood to like. drip down and overwhelm the yellow illness that's slithered out across the bike

and. AND of course what this entire set up allows you to do is.... give them an opportunity to talk. they can't talk in real life! casey CAN'T give him his real thoughts on anything, and fundamentally valentino can't either. they're opponents. they're strangers who chat sometimes. it's not just that they aren't friends, it's that fundamentally they cannot be friends - because their ability to do their actual jobs depends on a certain level of professional distance. valentino of course does have a decent read on casey, and vice versa, because when you're figuring out how to defeat someone then (if you're valentino) you're looking to play the rider too. valentino's entire approach depends on focusing in on his rivals and attempting to throw them off, to make them unravel. he's watching casey closely!! the entire journey of casey's first three seasons in the premier class essentially becomes like, this god of their world focusing in on him. figuring him out. trying to gnaw away at him. obviously, animation also allows you to go big on the panopticon-y imagery which is kinda fundamental to their rivalry, because of their fundamentally oppositional stances to 'performing' for the ever present cameras where there IS a little bit of common ground in they have both struggled with it. but valentino isn't going to ever say that to casey! casey isn't going to open up to valentino! so if you give them,, you know, a different arena to express themselves, where casey actually has this external figure to talk to (as he's like, cutting him open I guess) whereas valentino actually is put in a position where he's allowed to respond, where he can taunt casey a little bit, where he can interrogate casey's approach and also the similarities between the two of them and how casey has been forced to become a little more like valentino to challenge him... because the thing is, right, valentino is so big on message discipline with his rivals and has completely stopped talking about that rivalry post mid 2013 that, first of all, you have this complete imbalance in who's been telling this story for the past decade, but second of all you kinda don't have a sense of what valentino would respond? idk!! I think this is mainly fun as a thought exercise for me specifically but also I do think it's kinda, digging into some of the bits that make this narratively work as a rivalry, how valentino in this rivalry is actually just kinda... removed. like he's not really emotional about it!! at most he's a bit bitchy, but even that just feels about The Game. it's the most extreme in this regard followed by jorge - but with valentino's other feuds you kinda... see a bit more an unguarded moment, see something a little more real there. the casey rivalry feels so uncomfortable precisely because valentino is a little... inhuman in this one. I mean, if you want to have valentino as some kind of cross between a deity and a monster in any of his feuds, this is the one. casey's just an obstacle to him. idk don't you think casey kinda wants to chain valentino down and stab him and make him see casey a little more... well, I think he should want it and I think it'd be fun to see and get them to talk to each other. ugh and also all the implications of making the faith vs non-believer elements more literal... casey the heretic!!!

there's some obvious stuff here you'd have to figure out, like 'how do you make this work as a narrative even to people who aren't familiar with casey stoner at all' and 'who the fuck do you think the target audience is here' and 'you do know this is not the kind of thing that would ever be made, right, go back to the casey stoner sports biopic like a sane person' but!! I do think it's material you can make work if you're just,,, efficient and smart in how you're actually telling the 'real life' version of the rivalry. also in my head this is. idk. an animated limited series not a film, which then brings in other stuff like 'episodic structure' because I'm fundamentally opposed to tv shows that think they're films. and look, I'm not going to write an entire film script treatment here, I just think a good writer can figure this stuff out. blood on the ducati is the framing device for everything else, simple. lots of animated floating eyes I reckon, first casey is watching valentino and then valentino is watching casey and the whole world is watching them... and it does bleed into real life just a little, where you're wondering whether casey is actually imagining/dreaming this stuff or valentino is or if they both know it somehow... you can get away with more ambiguity in animation. anyway, if you do want more thoughts on this one specifically for whatever reason, let me know because this one I do actually have more on

also laguna 2008 is a bit tortoise and the hare coded if you really think about it

[end of gore]

so. on to jorge. hm. the thing about jorge is that he was kinda writing a coming of age film in his own head, so like - yes, that's what you do go for? you can play it straight and follow how jorge has cast his rivals, or you can pin the whole narrative on the fact that jorge has cast them - the kinda artificiality of the narrative, the way jorge is this storyteller who isn't being recognised as much as he thinks he should be, isnt adequately appreciated. the way there's this three way discourse between what jorge thinks the story is and what the public thinks the story is and actual. you know. reality. I think this is a bit more light-hearted, like you know how the best stories about teenagers take their emotions seriously but also let them be kinda silly? because young people are silly! jorge was silly! he's got a lot of CHARM because he's so cocky and naive and full on and intense and awkward and kinda off-putting and tactless and a bit all over the place and so painfully, painfully young, like he's a good protagonist because that's a KID. but also, obviously there's also a lot of extremely not light-hearted bits of his story - everything about his father, his manager... idk this one's another one where, I don't just want to make it a generic sports biopic, and I'm trying to figure out the clear narrative arc here? I mean, you can point to the end of 2010 and really lean into him choosing victory on-track over popularity off it. the problem with 2010 is that it does not work as a dramatic season, yeah sure with the magic of biopics you can hack at it to shit but also. idk. what are we getting out of it. I think for narrative purposes you want to maybe narrow in, and end it at the end of 2008, with the switching of the numbers this kind of moment of emancipation? but also! this feels like we're straying a bit too far away from the fun sports elements and I don't want to REALLY suggest all the ways in which you could mine jorge's personal trauma in a jokey tumblr post, so I'm gonna move on from this one

the problem is 2015 just straight up doesn't work as a jorge-centric narrative, except in a very kinda comic way that leans into how absurd his role in that season was. 2012 as a season is a bit... y'know, it's fine. okay it's mostly terrible, but that's fine too. but it doesn't have a great narrative hook. which kinda leads you to the problem that I do think the valentino rivalry is more... juicy from jorge's pov, because for valentino, jorge is just kinda? an obstacle? idk he's more normal about it, it's just his job to destroy the guy, you know how it is. but also 2009 does work better narratively from valentino's pov, like it's the build up to catalunya specifically you can dramaticise... idk though, I do love catalunya but my heart isn't really in this exercise because I think valentino isn't really being... challenged here? it's a title fight where he's fundamentally using a set of tools he's already perfected, to beat a guy he doesn't really give a shit about. when the italian press is down on him pre catalunya, it doesn't spark any genuine self-doubt - it's just a handy source of extra motivation. there's no epic highs or lows that season, not real ones. and yes I know I was talking about making valentino who gets stabbed repeatedly to cover up an infection a moment ago, but that reflected real EMOTIONAL truths!! I'm committed to thematic fidelity more than I am to literal fidelity

genuinely I think the best way to tackle jorge is with the jorge/dani parallel journeys... what, film? tv show? maybe show actually - you don't have one coherent narrative Statement per se but you're constantly charting those journeys in reference to each other, really rooting it in their respective points of views, no neutral detached cinematic language like I want everything to be very much written to be from their eyes!! going from one to the other and back again. and you're charting these different journeys, right, and how they both captured different flavours of like... emotional successes and failures. I think it's actually about failure, yeah, about having to accept there's something you can't have and might never be able to get - whether that's universal love or a premier class title or whatever - but Actually, that might not be the end of the world. and during this process, they go from being enemies to tentative friends!! guys who realise they can maybe actually understand each other better than they thought!! this real moment of interpersonal connection. you have all these media narratives and the managers and so on and the fact they're competitors as these built in reasons why they've just been pitted against each other from the start... but y'know, again, it is also just a bit about maturing, about being able to set that aside, about making your peace with defeat and failure as an element of growing up. you can't win everything, maybe there's something you really really really want and you're just not going to get it, but at the end of the day it's kinda... yeah. self-acceptance. idk this is the nice one

so with marc you can go several different ways here I guess, and again he's also perfectly decent sports biopic material, probably second to casey in that category like yeah sure do the comeback story. but also, we do already have a very good self-produced documentary about what he thinks the narratives of his career are? idk this is also just a personal taste thing, I'll leave him to doing all the injury stuff himself, I don't have much to add there. we'll get to the obvious one in a second, but I was trying to figure out if there were other places I massively felt like you need the cinematic touch. and, again, the 2013 season is obviously very exciting!! but also, you have it covered in.,,,, multiple documentaries, I don't feel I have a take their either? his rivalries with dani and jorge aren't really substantive enough to sustain a bit of cinema. dovi... I mean, what are you saying there? what's the arc? I feel like if I tackled dovi, I'd go somewhere else and really go all in with the ducati stuff, and make it a bit more... you know, stark, stripped back, basically just the emotional component of how much he gave to that project and how he managed to beat away one rival after the next and how it all ended up falling apart in a kind of anti-climactic way? he's also good sports biopic material, but in a way I think the marc rivalry is the bit of his story I have the least to say on. so eg, 2017 is a dramatic season, but he's also kinda fine after it? he always knew it was a long shot, he tried his best and he got really close and then he lost. you can't amadeus it because dovi isn't (fictional) salieri. basically, I think what I'm saying here is that dovi is too well-adjusted to feature in this post. though I'd totally watch a film about his 250cc seasons, like it's a bit annoying because HE is the underdog who loses both title fights to jorge, but it'd still be kinda fun idk. I wouldn't really know what to do with the material but if someone made the film I'd absolutely watch it

right then. the thing about sepang 2015 is... yeah, sure, of course you can do it, it already exists as a narrative but... yeah, what are you adding!! idk I always think when you're adapting something, you kinda need to have a reason for it? I mean, what are you doing that's not already there in the footage? idk maybe this is just a sign of having been a fan of this sport for one too many years but to me the idea of sepang 2015 can get a bit boring (or maybe just repetitive) where I need a new TAKE on it to really get into the idea of fictionalising it. like where's the auteur's touch y'know, what can I still add to this!! but it also needs to WORK for someone who is new to the story, which kinda just makes you want to tell the story straight.... y'know the story is strong enough and COMPLICATED enough to stand on its own and it IS good but I don't really have anything interesting to say beyond 'yeah sure that'e be neat'. I can't tell you why, but I also don't think the casey approach quite works here? the idea of providing a framing device with which valentino and marc can actually talk to each other... eh. don't like that. hm. okay wait actually I just turned it around in my head for... a while and I think I've got an idea to make the worst motorcycle racing film of all time. so, my central stupid film-making gimmick here is just. centring the fact we're completely reliant on a few guys and what they're telling us in making up our minds, and our removal from that story and the imperfection of their perceptions and so on. so I think you kinda make a point of... not actually showing the motorcycle racing? like, you always show it by showing other people watching it, you're showing the tv screen rather than the actual racing. even in the cinematic medium, you're centring the theatrical aspects, where you drill it down to just a few characters. valentino. marc. uccio. marc's fuck ass manager. maybe a crew chief or two. keep it limited though, all the others are kept at a distance - you're constantly focusing in on the same few characters. and very early on you basically just like... get them to fourth wall break by telling you, the viewer, with their actual words how racing works for them, what meaning they take out of it - and again it's this remove because we're never allowed to actually feel the racing for ourselves (no helmet cams), and it sets up that as the tragedy unfolds, again and again we're just hearing from them what happened. it's all zoomed in on how claustrophobic the entire situation is, like doing the race direction room after the sepang 2015 is perfect for that kind of thing, and crucially they're only ever addressing the audience because they can't address each other. but fourth wall breaks also obviously draw attention to artificiality! I realise they are very much like, lame gimmick central, but also are these men not inherently about lame gimmicks... idk it's basically the same story but at least it feels like a kinda interesting way of telling it. kinda trite, but cinema allows you to get to the point and let valentino actually play with the camera... so literally take it into his own hands and lead it around and tell the story from his point of view. and you can play with how they do both change in what stories they think they're telling, how they're constantly revising their own stories, how their stories completely clash with each other... like. make them literal narrators. that's my pitch

so. one interesting pattern that has come up with my approaches to these rivalries is that with the exception maybe of the 2015 stuff, I feel like I'm more naturally inclined to treat valentino as a narrative device and centre his rivals. a big part of this is that valentino is a fantastic narrative device. he's kinda. this looming presence in every narrative in this sport where you can just sort of use him as a sort of way to poke away at all these other riders. the monster everyone loves who you are trapped with. BOO!! he's gonna eat you! which is fun! but ALSO, crucially, several of these rivalries aren't that emotionally challenging for him!! again, with casey right, he wants to beat him, but he's not having a crisis of faith over losing to casey. he thinks casey is annoying, he wants to beat him because he wants to win. valentino is casey's foil, but casey is not valentino's. valentino makes for an excellent personal antagonist to casey, but the reverse just isn't true. casey isn't forcing valentino to reexamine his approach except 'ramping up the levels of being a dick on-track' - like, yes, that's a serious competitive challenge, but also valentino is very comfortable in his own skin in that rivalry. sure, you could have valentino have some kind of massive revelation about the casey rivalry, but like. he doesn't in canon. he changes his behaviour towards casey in pretty predictable ways depending on what the relationship demands from his perspective at any given time. there's nothing more there

now, obviously you know where I'm going here. there IS a rivalry where you can make the argument he changes as a result of it, there IS a rivalry that tips him over the line and makes him to do stuff he hadn't done before that, there IS a rivalry that happens to coincide with a period of his competitive life that challenges him both personally and professionally. now, look, I have already talked about the sete rivalry. you know what I think about this rivalry - and if you don't, I really already have told the story here and here and here and here and also here. I think this works perfectly well as a narrative in its own right, and it's one you can tell from either perspective... but you kinda need both. I think again you probably naturally lean towards starting it from sete's perspective and that first proper meeting (I mean, idk if it is their first actual meeting, but it's the logical obvious place you start this story) with sete giving valentino advice during his first 500cc test and valentino just, y'know, ignoring him and being a cocky shit and then crashing. so you get to see sete being kinda exasperated by the whole thing. also, obviously ibiza is like, a key framing device here, like it's the most obvious in-your-face way of tracking their relationship with each other. I don't actually know how often they partied there together, but it must have been at least twice and if the commentators are to be believed it must have included 2003. artistic license and you can add one or two more times, but mainly you want to focus in on 2003 onwards right. so you've got this 2002 one where it's, y'know, high point of their friendship and in the name of narrative efficiency, you establish here that sete is looking to make the honda switch. the emphasis is on how valentino has been winning everything but on the flip side you're getting the first insight into his discontent. and there's a bit of a vibe of, what could you possibly have to complain about? like you are winning so much? so it's late one night where they've had this slightly unguarded alcohol-fuelled moment of genuine vulnerability but in the end it's actually characterised by how... unsubstantial the link between them is, because they wouldn't talk about this kind of thing with each other and they might both be similar in some ways but also don't gettttttt each other. it means you can return there as a location in 2003, where you've just had sachsenring and valentino's dramatic loss but they're still partying together and it's like. obviously In The Air that not everything is quite right... their relationship is already gradually altered and twisted because you're introducing this element of actual stakes and competition (obviously in 2004 they do NOT spend that time together, as far as we know anyway, and you can show them being very much not together at ibiza as a very obvious Oooh Things Will Fall Apart and maybe already haveeee)

and I do think basically I've already said what I think the themes here are,,,, several times by this point, so I'm not going to belabour the point. I think all of this fundamentally works as a narrative with like, minimal massaging and rearranging of the elements for dramatic effect. it's all there already, everything from sete's arc with the [insert non-tasteless way of covering a real life tragedy that fundamentally alters the course of sete's career] and how that leads to sete becoming the challenger and how he does want to win and his eventual downfall. with valentino, you have the element of liberation and self-discovery and... well, growing into your own but also kinda having the narrative drawing attention to how 'growing into your own' can involve becoming a fully realised character who is essentially quite cruel? you have this kind of... build up, right, towards this moment of revelation, where you lay bare who these two people actually ARE at sepang 2004, and then again at jerez 2005. valentino has gone his own way, he has freed himself from the chains of honda, he has embraced individualism and the chance to define himself and his own legacy and stand on his own two feet and not rely on the strongest bike or all this stuff within honda where they chose him as their flag bearer, for better or for worse... like he comes to his own here! he takes the step from 'great rider' to 'legend' because he gets to this dramatic moment of stepping into the unknown, he takes this massive risk that could have cost him so much, and it ends up elevating him. but it also puts him under duress, and in that moment he reveals himself - whatever sete did or did not do at qatar 2004, EVEN IF sete did all that shit, what you are left with is valentino vowing to ruin this man. valentino uses sete to make himself 'better', to fuel himself as a competitor. valentino turns sete into a tool in his own story. and again, thematically you've got all this stuff about how sete was managing the image of the rivalry and how valentino took advantage of that - how sete needed it to remain respectful and valentino was completely willing to abandon that. like, you have two protagonists who really are similar in quite a few ways, who think they have this shared understanding with each other, but when it comes down to it? they end up being super painfully different

now I can go on about this and how to play it straight, basically, you can just do that rivalry and I think it'd be cool and fun and very easy to arrange in a good narrative way. BUT I've kind of already. done that. like I don't want to suggest a film that is basically a nicer version of my tumblr posts. so I want to take this in a slightly different direction, and I think what we need to consider with this rivalry is this: what if you made the curse literal? basically, what's always kinda charmed me about this rivalry is that the curse should not work and all the misfortune that befalls sete after that is so comical that it's kinda... what do you do with that? and the answer is you just lean all the way in. my pitch is this: what if valentino sells his soul to the devil?

so, you know faust, right, and you know the bit at the start of goethe's faust where god and mephistopheles are basically making a wager over how corruptible this one human is. and faust is like... he's kinda disillusioned, he feels that everything he's dedicated his life to in academia is fundamentally hollow, gets very close to committing suicide. and faust has gone a bit new age-y, gotten into all this mystical shit and he's got this pentagram that ends up preventing mephistopheles from leaving his presence in their first meeting... and basically what the devil can give him is like, the chance to attain some true pleasure, and for that faust is willing to bet everything - so if faust can just have that, then maybe eternal damnation is worth it. and look, I'm not going to summarise the entire plot of faust here and it does go off the wall a bit with all the gretchen stuff, but the point is you have this version of the devil who is fundamentally a cynic and is attempting to win an argument with god by making this human succumb to his own nihilism. and what faust basically does is like, abandon his normal life where he's trying to live by normal virtues and goes off on this journey with the devil. and there's this little moment where mephistopheles,,, pretends to be faust and takes on the role of an academic adviser (you know how it is) and seduces this random student away from the word of god and sends him down a wretched path, which ends with this bit:

like, a big part of faust's tragedy is supposed to be about... well, hubris, of the relationship of god to man, of no longer being afraid of the devil... and obviously, this is all framed very much in terms of religion, but at the end of the day it's also about, you know, having purpose - faust is living a life that no longer has any meaning to him, all of his knowledge and studies now no longer fill the void inside himself. his nihilism opens the door for mephistopheles, and is what makes him willing to accept the devil's terms. now, and I am so very sorry to goethe here, I think we have some material we can use here to explore the valentino/sete rivalry. obviously, you can't do a one-to-one, you need to get rid of some of like, the depression and all that - there were times when valentino was feeling 'a bit low' in 2003, but not 'faust thinking everything he'd done in his entire life was pointless' low, yeah? also, unless you want to do a real long view here and even then it can't really be justified, there obviously isn't really a 'tragedy' here from valentino's perspective. like, he wins! this isn't valentino's tragedy, it's sete's! I was being a bit facetious when I said he was 'selling his soul to the devil', and you can kinda parse mephistopheles' motivations in different ways depending on what flavour and what interpretation of him you're dealing with here. you don't 'damn' valentino, you essentially just turn him into a tool of the devil!

so, this is how this works out in my head: the devil works more broadly as the manifestation of competitive impulses, the kind of 'how far would you go to win' question as a bloke who shows up and literally talks to the characters about it (magic of cinema). he's also engaging with valentino feeling like his victories no longer having meaning, with being disconnected from honda and from the entire culture there and just feeling like he's going through the motions. there's this element of like... opening the door to what is essentially a journey of self-actualisation, bringing him closer to being a 'god' but also allowing him to fully come into his own and become himself. to win on his own terms. I reckon ibiza is my preferred narrative device where the devil talks both to sete and valentino there (separately), first literally as a mysterious stranger and then... maybe not? he's talking to them at times of their lives when they're not at ibiza and it's not happening there in the physical world and they both end up kinda having to confront they're dealing with some potentially malevolent supernatural entity. but the important elements of the devil is that a) he's not going to do anything the humans don't actually ask for themselves, and b) everyone knows he's following his own agenda and you should be careful of the requests you make of him. so it's kinda like... essentially, the backdrop of this rivalry unfolding is they're constantly being challenged to decide what lines they're willing to cross. which culminates at qatar... and maybe you do have sete making like. a teensy mistake. a teensy error in judgement, one that is both real and deliberate but he could not have known would get that reaction and instantly regrets. and valentino, who is I think inherently sceptical of the devil coming to offer to help him and maybe does crank out the pentagrams (remember, the whole point of faust is that he was too arrogant to be scared of the devil, or one of the points anyway), in a moment of fury does decide - no, actually. I will take that step. I will curse sete. now the thing is, dramatically this is a teensy bit tricky because when you're talking about being damned by the devil, usually the consequences are a bit more severe than 'not winning a motorcycle race again' (yes, you can get into how sete did also seem genuinely cursed after that, cf his ambulance/bus crash situation, but again we are flirting with being in poor taste in this tumblr post). but the thing is, right, you have to lean into the silliness here! qatar 2004 is inherently silly, a CURSE is inherently silly, like real life is already silly here! you have to engage with the people where they are, and for these athletes all this shit is so heightened that the emotions are full on. like, valentino would've sold that guy to the devil! and to him not winning another race is basically the worst thing that can happen

so, obviously, you get to do the actual curse stuff. curses are inherently campy fun, the devil doing curses is campy fun, getting valentino rossi to crank out the pentagrams is inherently campy fun. you get to play around with this, right, like you know that bit in the brno 2005 race commentary where the commentators are talking about how valentino might as well have a little radio to talk into sete's helmet to remind him of how sete had fucked up at the sachsenring. OBVIOUSLY obviously obviously it is just so... idk scrunchy and fun to have this idea of valentino becoming a malevolent enough force to literally do that.... like damn the commentators did kinda eat with that?? ughhhhhh do you ever think about sete leading the qatar 2005 race for most of the way???? like that's SO fucked up because you literally have articles from about the race going 'hey maybe sete can break his curse' and then the commentators are talking about curses having one year expiration dates but obviously they!! do not!!!!! there's one race where sete goes off track and the commentators are talking about how valentino will surely have smiled into his helmet like that's so fucked!! it's so fucked!! but idk I think basically you have all this creeping curse-y stuff and devil stuff and then you get this twist and then it just becomes misery zone for sete until you sort of. compress the timeline and have him retire without getting into what happened at the end of 2006. and valentino just relishing in all his very worst emotions. and you've got sete who was the better man after jerez 2005, who took the high ground again and again and again and it did NOTHING for him.... and then he's cursed and his career is finished and the devil has had his fun getting mixed in with mid noughties motogp. and now obviously this is inherently kinda dumb and corny and silly but it's the devil!! mephistopheles to me is allowed to get up to dumb shit sometimes, let him have some fun!! idk I like curses being literal idc

I think the obvious critique here is 'this doesn't really feel like it gets the message of faust'. which, yes, is true - and obviously the way narratives are structured, a satisfying resolution isn't 'well selling your soul kinda slaps, actually'. and my statement to respond to this argument is as follows:

this is essentially canonically what happened. valentino DID do something kinda evil and it DID work out 100% for him and it DID kinda slap. at least when you add in the devil, you're making explicit the bit where it is a little bit bad. also, is sports not inherently about selling your soul for success... the story of valentino and sete is essentially about how we are twisted by competition, how pretending that we don't wish ill to our opponents is inherently dishonest. it is about lifting a facade for something that is already inherently there in the souls of men. this is obviously inherently a deeply cynical stance, but this is also a deeply cynical story beyond all the fun battles and camp dramatics. the devil is a cynic and he is basically the point of view character of goethe's faust - he's the one who is positioned closest to the audience. sports is all about living out some of humanity's worst instincts in a relatively low stakes setting, which means we get a free pass to have fun with a deeply cynical story that goes 'maybe selling your soul to the devil is fine, actually'

do I stand by this stance? not really, but the whole fun of storytelling is that sometimes you can just be kinda mean. I think goethe would get it... you can tell which character he enjoyed writing the most

the OTHER way you can do this is centre everything around qatar 2004 as like,,, the mystery box element...... okay look I have now made two posts that go WAY too deep on the 'what really happened' element but I do loveeeeee the whole thing like I would just make a film about that very end of the season and we show it from all these different angles as different characters narrate what happened... like fuck all the riders I want to hear from whichever mechanic used the scooter... the gresini mechanic who gave evidence to race direction.... various honda higher ups the crew chiefs like this is jb vs juan martinez it's war!!! obviously you still have the same emotional/thematic hooks as the general rivalry does but idk I would have a LOT of fun figuring out how to structure that, I loveeee mysteries... maybe I'd write it as a mockumentary yeah..... this one's just fun

anyway. a lot of stuff going on in this post, huh! you can probably tell I didn't edit this much. my classic tell when I edit my tumblr posts is I remember how 'paragraphs' work. unfortunately all I have energy for are like. a bunch of rants about things in my brain. I think when tumblr tells you that you've reached the maximum number of characters per paragraph and you need to figure out where to put a break, it's probably a bad thing? on the whole, my stance is I don't have anything AGAINST mildly fictionalised versions, but for me I'm always more of a.... well I want to take advantage of the full specificity of the events as they happened or just come up with a completely original story. kind of person. I know this ask probably wasn't looking for my 'what if you bled out valentino as he's strung up above a red motorcycle' vision but yeah. with a lot of biopics I'm always a bit 'well you could just read about this couldn't you' like I need stuff to take some kind of a stance on the material it's using... all my stuff takes a stance. that's all I've got. obviously all these stances mean that basically none of these things could ever be made. and I know what I said above but if they called me up to write the casey stoner biopic script treatment, I would also do that. if you've actually read to this point, give me a shout - you're a real one and I love you

[obsessedwithpedritoofc]

Wᴇᴀᴋɴᴇss (Dɪɴ Dᴊᴀʀɪɴ)

ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Din Djarin × Male/GN Reader.

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 4,2 k.

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: You had barely managed to survive that night with Grogu. You really didn't think he would give you much trouble, but damn he did. Luckily for you, Din was back to get him as soon as he had said he would. And luckily for you, he didn't just take Grogu with him.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: idontknowifitcanbecountedas light violence, awkwardness, grogu making a mess (multiple times), teeth rotting fluff, mentions of alcohol, slight descriptions of smut, allusion to din being top and reader bottom, angst, no physical descriptions of reader, no use of Y/N. (lmk if i missed any).

𝔸/ℕ: why tf do i love writing angst so much HAHAHA im sorry for yall. anyway, i did like writing this especially the angsty part im so evil mwahaha. ahem, enjoy <3

𝕡𝕥 𝕚 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣

𝕡𝕥 𝕚𝕚 𝕨𝕖𝕒𝕜𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤

𝕡𝕥 𝕚𝕚𝕚 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕕

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You almost didn't make it through the night.

Let's be honest, you could handle any type of kid. Well, almost any type. It's not like you had taken Din's advice too seriously either. What bad would a cute little green creature like Grogu cause?

Oh, you were so wrong.

You spent the whole evening hoping and praying for Din to get back as soon as possible. Not only so you could see him again, but so he could take that goddamn kid off your hands. He had said he would be back first thing in the morning. You hoped he was safe and that he'd keep his promise on coming back soon.

When you finally got Grogu to fall asleep, you tidied everything up as well as you could. You knew he would probably make a mess of it again as soon as he woke up, but at least you'd be able to get some sleep yourself. You could barely enjoy some hours of it until the kid was putting it all upside down first thing in the morning. Luckily for you, Din was back early enough to keep his promise.

He knocked at your door when the sun was just starting to rise. You screamed a quick "In a minute" as you were running after Grogu and trying to grab him so he would stop making everything float, like he did with your cup the first time you saw him and Din. When you finally got to put him in your arms, you walked to the door and opened.

"Hi", you could almost feel Din's smile, even with his helmet on.

"Oh, hi!", you gave him a wide smile. Having him finally there with you made you forget about how difficult the previous night had been for you, trying to take care of the green child. As soon as you saw him standing in front of you, your eyelids stopped feeling heavy. "How did it go?".

"I reckon better than you with him", he tilted his head to look inside your place, seeing an identical mess than the one you'd had to deal with the previous night.

"Oh, that", you looked inside for a moment as well. "He did give me some trouble, but nothing I couldn't handle", you forced a smile. You weren't going to deny you wanted to impress him.

"Sure...", he grabbed Grogu from your arms. You felt a huge weight lifting off your shoulders. "Your eyes say otherwise".

"Yeah, well", you cleared your throat, trying to keep it cool. "Nothing I couldn't handle, but it kept me awake for a while", you crossed your arms and leaned on the doorframe. "Bet he's way more tired", you gave the kid an evil smirk. He stuck your tongue out to you.

"I'm sorry, I really had no one to leave him with. I know he's not usually good to people that aren't me or—".

"Hey, it's okay. I had fun", you smiled up at the Mandalorian. "It was a new challenge. Now I've grown stronger as a kid caretaker", you said in a dramatic tone. Din laughed.

Oh, you had missed that sound.

"Well, I'm glad your time with him was useful. I'll make sure to leave him to you more often".

"Oh, no need!", you almost didn't let him finish. "Take your time, you enjoy your time with him", you let out a nervous chuckle. Din laughed again. "Oh, d'you want to come in? Maybe I can give you something to drink, and I can tell you more about the trouble this little one gave me", you patted Grogu's head. He smiled and squealed. It almost looked as if he had forgotten about that last night.

"Well, I won't say no", Din sounded like he was smiling again. You stepped aside to let him in. "Thank you. For taking care of him, I mean. Well... And inviting me in", he sounded nervous, too. You felt relieved to not be the only one.

"My pleasure", you smiled at him. "Uh... Sit wherever you can...", your face heated up in embarrassment. "I'll try to leave it as decent as it was before", you let out a heavy sigh. "You weren't supposed to see this place like this...", you whispered the last part to yourself.

You put some water to boil while you tidied it all up —again. Behind you, Din was whispering something to Grogu as they both sat on your couch. His distorted voice sounded soothing in the background as you did your things. When the water was ready, you put a glass on the table along with some spices jars so he could choose what to put in it. You smiled at Din before getting back to fixing Grogu's mess.

A sudden noise made you turn back around. The first thing you saw was pieces of ceramic spread all over the floor. You looked up to Din a second too early to see part of his chin uncovered. That second was enough for you to take note of his short stubble, barely covering any of the tan skin under it. You were left unspoken, knowing it would give you something to fantasize about that night.

"Dank farrik", he whispered, taking you back to reality. He took Grogu and put him up away from the broken ceramic pieces. "I'm s—".

"I didn't see anything", you spoke involuntarily, fast as a speeder. Din cleared his throat.

"Sorry, he doesn't usually do these things", he kept talking as if nothing had happened. You tried to do so as well.

"Don't worry", you tried to keep the conversation on, despite the uneasy tone you both had.

He helped you clean the mess Grogu had —once more— caused. Both of you kept an eye on him as he stayed away from it all, seeming focused on keeping a little piece of food afloat.

"How can he do that?", you whispered to Din.

"I don't exactly know", he whispered back. "His race seems to have a strong connection to a natural force that allows him to do that", he turned his head slightly in your direction. "Sorry about it, by the way. I know it's pretty uncomfortable to deal with a child with such... abilities".

You laughed at the word.

"It's not your fault, you don't have to apologize", you smiled at him. He sighed as if he also did. "I already knew what I was in for when I told you I'd take care of him, and I didn't really take your warning too seriously. Many parents give me those, but all of their children end up being little angels", you smiled to yourself this time. "Guess not yours...".

"I suppose it was your fault, then", Din cleared his throat. "And I suppose I also owe you one for the messes he made. How about I pay you something to eat? You still have to tell me how did he manage to keep you awake for that long".

Right. With that other mess, you hadn't had time to relate yours and Grogu's adventures from that last night. And he was inviting you out to eat —the very Mandalorian Din Djarin himself—, how could you say no?

"Alright", you got up from the couch. He followed suit after you. "You better pay me the best meal in all of Nevarro".

"Don't get too ahead of yourself", he chuckled lowly.

He grabbed Grogu and exited the house so you could close the door. You walked through the streets, just following Din to wherever it was that he wanted to take you for that meal. The child spent the entire walk giving you murdering looks every time Din wasn't looking. You just decided to play along and stick your tongue out when he gave you those looks. Deep, very deep inside you, you did like that kid, despite all the trouble he had been giving you the previous hours.

You started telling Din everything about it as soon as you took a seat and started eating. With everything you said, he looked down as his kid and gave him the same murdering looks the little one had been giving you all the way to the canteen. He was also trying to excuse his manners, telling you Grogu didn't usually like people he had recently met, and people not close to him and Din, in general. His abilities were just his way of blowing steam.

"I'm sure he didn't want to make such a mess at your place", Din said. "He was just overwhelmed and uneasy in a new place with someone he'd just met".

"Yeah", this time, you were the one to give the kid a murdering look. You still hoped Din wouldn't notice. "I'm sure he didn't", you forced a smile.

It was already late afternoon when you finished your food. Of course, you thanked Din for paying it himself, and for having freed you from Grogu's caretaking. When you came to realize, the green kid was sleeping in his father's arms. For the first time in all the hours you had spent with him, you felt tenderness towards him. Your heart swelled with the same love a parent feels for their kid. You smiled at the feeling, suddenly remembering why you liked children.

You walked Din home to make sure he and his kid were safe —"How gentlemanly of you", he said. It was a long walk, but at last it gave you more time to talk with the Mandalorian. He also invited you in when you got to his place. You couldn't reject it either, since it made things technically equal for the both of you. Then, he told you to get comfortable as he put Grogu to sleep on his room. And then he brought a drink.

"I don't think I should—".

"Come on", he interrupted you, sitting beside you on the floor. "It's my way to repay you. I'm too much of a womp rat as to pay you with credits", you heard him chuckle. For the first time in the two days you had known him, you could feel he was calm and relaxed. Maybe it was because he had finally gotten home —his home—, with his kid safe.

"Next time you leave him with me, I'm not letting you pay me in any way", you gave him a dissatisfied look.

"Fair enough", he shrugged.

He served a glass for each other. You didn't cheer for anything in particular, you just clinked your glasses and gulped it down. Well, at least you did. Din stayed still and silent for a moment, thinking.

Oh, right, the helmet.

"It's okay, I won't look", you said before turning around and giving him your back. You heard him sigh, as if he was smiling again.

"Thanks", was his answer. Then you heard him swallow. "I'm done".

You turned back around. None of you said anything, and he didn't serve more of the drink for any of you. The air was suddenly feeling tense, and you could tell the situation was now uncomfortable.

"Hey, about this morning...", you started. "I meant what I said, I didn't see anything", you stopped to think for a moment. "Well, I saw one bit, but... it wasn't that bad, if I might say", you couldn't help the smirk that formed on your lips, though you tried not to look at him.

"Huh", he let out the beginning of a chuckle. "Thank you... I guess".

A weight seem to be lifted from you both. Din poured more alcohol in each of your glasses. You clinked again. He made you turn around every time he had to drink, but you kept talking with as much enthusiasm as if you were looking into each other's eyes all the time. You were already a few drinks in when he served another one and you, as the previous times, turned to look at the wall behind you. Unexpectedly for you, he grabbed your shoulder and made you face him.

"You already saw this one bit, right?", was the only thing he said before lifting his helmet just enough for his mouth to show, and he gulped down his drink. Then, he put the helmet back in place.

You didn't say a word. Your mind was too busy thinking of the way his lips enveloped the edge of the glass and pursed when he swallowed. When you became aware of how your jaw was dropped mid-air, you shut your mouth with a dark blush, embarrassment being evident on your face. You tried to keep it cool, so you took a sip from your own drink. Still, your eyes didn't leave his helmet —specifically the downer part of it, as if you were expecting to see his mouth again. A hoarse chuckle roamed from the bottom if his throat, then he served more drinks for the two of you. He grabbed his glass again, and lifted his helmet to gulp the alcohol down. Even when he was done with drink, though, it stayed in place.

And then, he took it off.

You barely had time to process what was going on before you found yourself mesmerized by his appearance —again. The small stubble and mustache you had seen that morning looked even better in that dim light, the small gray hairs in between the brown ones making your insides flutter. His lips looked more delicious than any meal you had tasted before —full, pink, tanned like the rest of his skin, and that smile sent you straight to the skies. His nose was perfectly shaped —well, everything in him was— despite the small scar on it, so much that it made you want to run your fingers through it all. His hair did, too. Even disheveled as it was, you had never seen such perfect, beautiful locks. His brown orbs were looking into yours —no, they were staring into your soul. It was all a mix that resulted in a serious expression. 

He had taken his helmet off.

You then understood that it wasn't easy for him to do so. The fact that Mandalorians like him were supposed to never show his face to anybody hit you harder than you had expected when you realized that he was looking directly at you, and with no visor in between you two. He probably hadn't showed a bit of his skin to anyone in years —you wondered if Grogu had seen him the way you were seeing him now.

He cleared his throat involuntarily, making you jump in your seat and taking you back to the real world. He noticed immediately and lifted his hands up in an apologizing way, his expression shifting to one of slight concern.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...", he paused to search the correct words. "I know I'm... not too—".

"You're so beautiful", you whispered before he could say anything else. It had been an automatic sentence, involuntary like most of your actions now. The alcohol was starting to get to your head, and to his, you figured.

He didn't answer back. You could see how he was blushing now, his skin going from tan to red. You tried to hold back your smile as well as you could. Instead, you approached him and grabbed his hands. You heard him swallow hard.

One of your hands went up to his face, cupping his cheek as softly as your shaking fingers allowed you to. Din sighed and closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. The feeling of his breath on the inside of your wrist turned your heart into mush.

You had definitely fallen hard for this man.

As soon as his eyes opened again, you almost jumped over him in an attempt to kiss him. A little peck was all you got, but you didn't want to push it too far. He was the one to kiss you back, for longer. He didn't really wait for you to pull fully back, he just went right in as another automatic answer to your previous action.

What happened next went too fast and too slow at the same time. You didn't have much time to process the fact that Din was leading you to his room and taking his armor off. As soon as alcohol allowed you to catch up to him, you started taking your own clothes off. When you were finally naked, he threw you onto the bed and climbed on top of you.

He touched you like no one had done it before, fucked you like no one had done it before. He was soft, slow, patient with you —even though he wasn't in reality, but he did it, for you—, and still he went all rough and hard when you asked him to. He wanted to make you comfortable about it, tried to make you like every part of it, reaching all the right places in just the right time. And it felt so good.

He left you exhausted. You slept straight through the night, feeling safe in his arms. For the first time in years, you felt full, contented, your heart swelling with happiness. It seemed like you had finally found your place with the right person for you.

Din, on the other hand, didn't have it that clear.

He had revealed his face to you. It didn't sound that bad when he said it that way, but then he started thinking more and more about it. For him, the only thing you had done was taking care of his son. You hadn't even known each other for more than two days! How could he have done that?

How could you have done so much to him in such a short time?

It didn't make any sense. He wasn't supposed to be falling in love with someone like you. He wasn't supposed to be falling in love with someone at all. And yet there he was, arms wrapped around you in the dead of night after giving you the best orgasms of your life. He hadn't felt so confused since the Armorer told him he wasn't a Mandalorian anymore, all because he had taken his helmet off voluntarily for someone else to see.

Did that mean he wasn't a Mandalorian anymore as well?

He pulled away from you and got up from the bed. He went to check on Grogu, who was still sleeping soundly in his room. It looked like he was even more tired than you, after making such a mess back at your place. It made Din smile for a moment, then he remembered you were in his bed.

He walked to the living room, where you'd had the beginning of your encounter the previous night. He grabbed the glasses and put them in the sink, throwing the bottle of alcohol into the trashcan. Din stood still, looking at it in complete rage. That damn bottle had been the cause of his troubles at the moment. He told himself that, after what'd happened, he wouldn't drink a drop of alcohol in a long, long time. Especially not with anyone else, especially not with you.

He put on his armor as fast as he could. The windows let the first rays of the morning sunlight come through and bathe the room. Din sighed, knowing what was going to come later on. He then sat on the floor by the table in the center of the room and waited for you to wake up, as he thought of what he would say to you.

The rays of sunlight danced on your eyelids when you rolled on the bed. You almost didn't wake up, your body too comfortable on the bed of the man that had given you the best day in a long time. A smile played on your lips when you remembered the previous night's events.

You turned back around to wrap your arms around him, but instead you found an empty spot next to you on the bed. You frowned in confusion.

You got up and stretched as well as you could. Your legs were still a bit stiff, but they let you walk.

You found Din sitting on the floor by the living room. He was already dressed, even with his helmet on. You would have thought he was asleep if he hadn't lifted his head up to look at you when he noticed your presence.

"Good morning to you, too", you chuckled and walked in his direction. "It's still early. Maybe we can go back to bed", you grabbed his helmet, ready to take it off. It shocked you that he grabbed your wrists with such strength you thought he would break them right there. "Hey!", you frowned again, pulling your hands away in a quick move. "What's wrong with you?", you made sure to sound upset.

"We have to talk", he said with stern tone.

You feared the worst.

"Don't you dare", was your only answer. You fought as hard as you could to not let the tears escape your eyes.

"Get dressed", he almost sound like he was giving you an order. You knew better than to go against him, so you just did what he had asked you to. "What happened last night can't be repeated", he didn't even wait for you to be seated in front of him.

"Seriously?", you dropped your weight on the floor. "Not even one day?", you scoffed. "I know, maybe it was a bit soon, but we still could've—".

"It's not that", his voice echoed in the room, distorted by the helmet but still sounding angry. "It can't be repeated".

You stayed silent for a moment. Then, you let out a sarcastic laugh.

"So what?", you kept your ironic smile displayed on your lips. "We're going to pretend this didn't happen?", you threw your hands up. "Because I'm not forgetting it easily".

"You should", Din stood up. "It's what I'm going to do".

"Oh, right", another sarcastic chuckle left your mouth as you got up, too. "I forgot you're one of those lonely Mandalorians who can't get close to anyone because whoever it is they love gets hurt", you paused to grab some air. "Or maybe you think you could repay my babysitter services with a special night with Din", you said the last part with a high-pitched voice. 

"Could you be a bit less loud? You're going to wake Grogu u—".

"What if I don't wanna take care of him anymore?".

Silence ruled between the two of you for a little while. Then, Din was the one to laugh in a sarcastic tone.

"Okay, you're just acting like a child now".

"Oh, me?", you huffed. "And it's so mature to tell me to go fuck off because you think you're gonna hurt me if I stay by your side for too long—".

"I told you it's not that—".

"Then what is it?!".

A distant squeal interrupted your conversation. You were so desperate trying to understand why Din was pushing you away like that and you didn't realize you were talking a bit too loud.

Din walked towards Grogu's room. You heard him talking as the kid squealed again. You needed nothing but his absence to walk out of the house as fast as your legs let you move. You looked back many times, waiting for him to, at least, come out and look as you walked away —you didn't even care that he wouldn't say a word. But he didn't. He was way too proud and full of his Mandalorian bullshit to feel any kind of empathy towards you anymore, you thought. After a while of cursing yourself for letting all of that happen despite knowing how Mandalorians were all the same, you stopped looking back and tried to focus on how to get back to your place . You knew it was a long walk, so you had time to think and cry.

But you didn't.

You wouldn't let one single of your tears be wasted to cry for someone like Din. Not after he had taken all of you and then thrown you into the trash as if you were just that —trash. Not after you had opened not only your house, but your heart, to him —and his son—, and he had still treated you like that. You should have known it would happen. Because you did know better than to trust a Mandalorian enough to develop feelings for him. You just happened to be wrong, thinking Din might be different.

He had heard you walking out. He knew it would happen, and he let it be. He knew you were mad at him, and to be honest, he was also mad at himself. For letting all of that happen, for letting you see his face, for letting you get into his heart. And he wanted to go after you and tell you he was sorry —for letting you be his weakness.

But he let you go, and didn't dare to look as you did.

He thought it was the best for you, both of you. But deep, deep inside him, he knew he hadn't done well. Deep, deep inside him, he wanted to go and tell you to come back, that he was wrong and you were right. But he was too proud —and full of his Mandalorian bullshit— to even take a step in your direction. And even being as Mandalorian as he was, he still wanted to go after you and tell you he was sorry. 

Because you really were his weakness, but he didn't want to admit it out loud.

[epilogue-and-prologue]

Treasure - Captain Hook x Reader

Ship: Captain Hook x Reader

Trope: Love at first sight (Smut)

Warnings: Kidnapping, somewhat manhandling, abandon and boredom.

Note: This was nothing short of a challenge. But it was fun, honestly. I got to explore something I never did before with writing for an animated character and not one I would have thought about if I'm being honest. Hope you like it @disney-girl67 :).

The salt in the air lingered, the sun’s heat relentless against your skin, while you were watching people played around in the water. It was becoming traditional by now. At the end of spring, when the pools were opening again, you would always go to the beach. It dated back to a time in high school. That time when you had wanted to run away from adults and teens alike. Just jump in the water and hope it would take you somewhere else.

Your life was blatantly boring. It was a limitless horizon of disappointment and no expectations or responsibilities on your mind. Just a manageable job, and manageable dreams. The sea was long gone. Even so, the tempest it was lighting up in your heart resisted to be extinguished.

“Come on! The water’s warm!”

A wet hand grabbed yours and dragged you down the beach towards the water. Sharon had been a close friend of yours since kindergarten. She was the one who brought you to the beach back in high school. She splashed your face with the lukewarm water and it made you laugh.

“You look like you’ve seen the love of your life die. Tell me. What’s got you in that mood again?

-Always for the dramatics, huh?

-Don’t divert the discussion. Spill the beans.”

Just like the heat, she would not let you go that easily. You loved her for it and - sometimes - could even be grateful for it.

“I… I want to go. Travel. See the world, live on a boat and eat coconuts for a week. I don’t know, okay! I just… I feel lost here.

-Could it be the fact that Carter has dumped you that is influencing this?”

You both walked back to your towels and dropped in a huff.

“No. Well, maybe. I just… He was nice and sweet. I thought it could be enough but he said I didn’t pull my weight in the relationship anymore. He was right, that’s the worst part.

-Hey, if you could not pull it, there must have been a good reason for that and he didn’t dwell on that part did he?”

Your chuckle was drowned by the cries of some passersby, pointing to the horizon. Somehow, a boat - and a big one at that - was entering the bay you were in. Yet, there was no docks for the crew to accost. Oddly, a thrill ran through you when the ship got closer and you could see distinctively a flag with a skull on it. Could this be… a pirate ship? No. There would be no need for a pirates’ ship to come this close to the shore. They would be more interested in the open waters. Right?

“Sharon, what do you think this boat is doing here?

-I have no clue. But I have no intentions of staying to find that out. Let’s get back to the car, okay?”

You felt yourself nod quickly, but while she was gathering her stuff your gaze was drawn back to the shifting silhouette on the horizon. Another thrill ran through you, when Sharon grabbed your hand and all but dragged you towards the parking lot along with the rest of the people there.

Meanwhile, on the boat, the crew was pretty much just as bewildered as you were. “Smee! Smee!

-Y-yes, captain?

-What is this?”

The hook narrowingly missed Smee’s nose, pointing at the shore in front of them.

“I-I don’t know Captain… We followed your instructions to the letter…

Well, you must have followed them wrong, because this does not look like an island and even less like a treasure island does it?!”

Even though he knew deep down the question to be rhetorical, Smee could not help but answer. “No, it doesn’t sir.”

The captain ran a hand down his face, visibly exasperated by his second in command.

“Go and clean the deck with the toothbrush, maybe that’ll teach you exactitude!” Hook reached the upper deck and addressed the rest of his crew in a commanding tone. Even if half of them were still under the influence of rum and half sleeping standing up.

“Everyone to their posts! I want the ship cleaner than it ever was. You can thank Smee for the disaster this treasure hunt is going to be!”

Barely looking behind him, he turned around towards the sea. They were coming closer and there was no sight of a docking area. There were a few silhouettes running away from the beach. Some onlookers who probably got scared at his arrival. Good. His reputation must have followed him to these unknown territories. Hook’s hand reached inside his jacket, retrieving a map, a compass losing its north, and his loyal spyglass. He settled on a makeshift desk he had Smee built for him. As usual the man did a horrid job at it, but he did it and that was better than nothing.

“Let’s see…”

They had gone to a fairy on Neverland. She had promised him a treasure more valuable than anything he had known before. He only pretended to believe her. Not that she had no credits but he was always wary of the people of Neverland. Such as that tiresome boy. He clenched his teeth and focused on the map once more. Since last night it would not stop moving, the lines and rivers melting together, the seas drowning the coasts. He did not recognize any of the lands and would not be telling anyone any time soon. His mustache twitched before he settled himself, gripping and breaking the edges of Smee’s desk. Horrid work, indeed. He glanced back at the beach and noticed that one of the silhouettes was still there, as if watching - almost waiting - for them to arrive. He grabbed his spyglass and what he saw cut his breath right out of his throat. A woman. Her eyes shining as sea-pearls in the dark, the wind wiping her hair out in a wave, an air about her he did not recognize as being of this world. His mouth ran dry. Never before could he have sworn that his heart was going to beat out of his chest in agony. He had to know her. He had to be with her, to breathe the same air, to make her laugh, oh her laugh had to be extraordinary, and her eyes on him could only be described as hungry, as if she was seeing right through him, past the hook and the bravado and the handsome face. A deep desire took flight inside of him. There would be no return from this. Damn the treasure, damn the promised gold. He had to have you with him.

Before he could give any orders, another young woman grabbed your hand and drove you away. He swore out loud.

“How dare she?”

Licking his lips, he intently followed her movements, knowing deep in him that you did not want to leave. He would have you. You were his and he had to take you before that the other one reached her goal.

“Smee! Find us a docking point! I’m going alone with the craft, this could be dangerous business. You are to remain on the ship and take care of everything. Believe me, if my ship isn’t whole when I come back, you’re losing your head!

-Ye-Yes, captain!”

Poor Smee was panicked, yet Hook could not bring himself to care. He was in love.

* You had already reached the car when you realized your keys had fallen behind on the beach.

“Fuck.

-What’s going on?

-My keys, I… They must have fallen off… I have to go back.”

Sharon gestured to you. “Do you want me to go with you?” She was already on the phone with emergency services, trying to figure out what they could do. It appeared they were as clueless as everyone else on this beach.

“No need. I’ll do it quick.” You ran as fast as you could and reached the beach, already seeing the glint of metal buried in the sand. As you were about to pick it up, you felt a presence. A man, tall, slender and eyes the deepest dark you’d ever seen was looking at you as if he was seeing another human being for the first time. You fell on your back. Somehow, his presence was more surprising than threatening. He was dressed in a historical attire, looking out of place on this 21st century beach. You felt under-dressed, with your bathing suit and a makeshift skirt. His stare was starting to make you feel that. His hand reached out to you, yet your instinct made you recoil. He had a hook. Gleaming in the sunlight, sharp edged. That made you feel more and more threatened. You were heaving, eyes locked with his as in trance. It felt so very bizarre. You knew he would would not hurt you. How you knew that, was a mystery.

“Who are you?”

It seemed to snap him out of his trance. You got up on your feet, finally meeting on equal foot. Or so to speak, the man was really, really tall. Your chest tightened at the thought, bringing you a step closer to the stranger, hypnotized.

“You do not know of me? The great captain Hook? Chaser of treasure and defeater of the Neverland crocodile?! This land is indeed odder than I’d imagined…”

You tried to hide a widening smile. He was weird. You liked it. In a childlike manner, your hand brushed against his cheek, making him go stiff, his whole body almost snapping. You traced his face as if a delicacy, fingertips gracing his features and leaving him breathless. Hook closed his eyes under the sudden care. He was shaking, you could see it. He grabbed your waist and drew you in. So close, you could feel the tension in his shoulders under your palms, the smell of leather and salt and wood hitting you, his fingers digging in your skin in a delicious pain. Before you could process that train of thought, he dipped his head in your neck, close to your ear. His teeth grazed the delicate skin there, in a an almost but not quite kiss. All you heard was “Mine” in his ushered voice, possessive and down right enticing. Then, you were hauled up in a small craft and the shore disappeared in the blink of an eye.

*

Boarding the ship had not been the hardest part.

The hardest part had been to keep the crew at bay.

“Who is this?” “A woman on board? We’re all cursed!” And other expletives you were very willing to forget.

Luckily, night had fallen rather quickly. Hook kept you in his chambers, to keep you safe. He did not want any of his fellow men to attempt anything ungentlemanly. As if kidnapping you was what a gentleman would do in the first place. Although, you had always had a thing for villains.

After the thrill and adrenaline had worn off, the fact that they were pirates - and apparently good ones at that otherwise that kidnapping could have gone very much sideways - hit you like a freight train. The most unbelievable part being the fact that they came from Neverland. Could they really be straight out of the Peter Pan’s book? You would not dare ask the question. If they were, then you were likely never to see those shores again. If they weren’t you were very likely to meet your end in these very same shores. You knew which option you preferred, even if completely unbelievable.

“Milady.”

Hook’s entrance made you jump. He closed the door behind him, after a deep curtsy. He brought food. You hesitated for a minute, before throwing yourself at it. You were starving. Not minding you one bit, the captain walked past you, putting his jacket and hat away. When you finally looked at him, the boat was swaying softly with the waves underneath you, and the man before you was merely covered by a thin shirt and heavy pants. Like that he almost looked harmless. Almost.

“Why did you take me?”

He smirked, toying with his hook. His steps were measured, slow. For each one he took, you took one back. Hence, you found yourself caged against the wooden wall behind you, food completely abandoned. Eyes boring into you, you would not look at him. In doing so, you were subjecting yourself to another kind of sight. The open linen. The beginning of the throat. The Adam’s apple, bobbing as if in anticipation.

The hook was cold against your chin, pushing your face up to meet his. A breath away, he stood his ground, chest to chest, his hand naturally molding itself on your hip. You could not find it in yourself to stop him.

“Don’t you know?”

Every breath you took, every movement you made, he felt. It was intoxicating. And captain Hook was not known for his restraint. He did not wait for your answer. Instead, his lips met your neck, harshly pulling on the skin, surely leaving a purple mark. The pain shot through you, your hand about to push him off when you heard it.

“Mine… All mine.”

His nose nuzzled the side of your face, his hot breath against the shell of your ear. You wanted not to believe him. You wanted not to follow him down that path. It was too late. If you had not wanted him to take you in the first place, you could have jumped and swam back to shore. Yet, it had never even crossed your mind, for you were not afraid with him. You were under a spell. Could it be a spell or just you being bored? Still, you were not willing to break it. You were bewitched. And he called you his. How could you resist that?

So you let him. You let him snap the straps of your bathing suit, one after the other. You let him grab your breast in his hand, the hook grazing down your chest, him sucking on your nipple like a man starving. No words could form in your mouth, only moans and lip bitten cries. Finally, he pulled the remainder of your clothing down your legs. You felt exposed and shy, but willed your legs apart when his hand caressed your inner thighs. His fingertips were spreading goosebumps up and down your body when he stopped.

He tossed his shirt over his head, hunger in his eyes as he sat down on the edge of the bed, and a wide mischievous smile drew on his face. Without breaking eye contact, he spread his legs wide a suave light burning in his eyes. The captain was watching you intently. You were standing still, against the wall, fearing you might fall if you took any step forward. The desire was dampening your skin, leaking through you. He licked his lip and your whole body tensed under his full blown pupils.

“Come here”

It was not a request, but a demand. You yielded easily. Heavy breaths after each step, he drew the hook out at the last one, bringing your wrist and your whole body to him. He pushed a piece of hair out of your face, the cold metal of the hook dragged down the length of your throat to the top of your breasts. The heated skin of his shoulders under your palms was not enough. A whine escaped you. He smirked and chuckled.

“Now, kneel”

You did. You were positively drooling as he undid his pants and threw them somewhere in the room. You could not care less as you were now facing the length of his shaft, the velvety skin already meeting your tongue for you would not wait a minute longer. Hook was taken by surprise, leading him to let out a moan that had you whimper. All too soon he regained control and put his hand behind your head. You took the tip of his dick inside your mouth, easing yourself around him. He would have none of it, putting your mouth to good use and pushing himself deeper down your throat. You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with every stroke he pushed in your mouth. Your nose was getting crushed against his pelvis, his hair’s scent imprinting itself in your mind. Despite his resistance to it, he could not help the sinful noises escaping him, the heavy sighs or the marvel in his eyes when he saw how good you could take him.

“Good… Mine…Yes… Yes…Just like…”

Your hands ran from his tone thighs to his ass, looking for a way to hold on to something. The movement made him even harder in your mouth and before any of you could stop, he bottomed out in you. You swallowed it whole, and you could have sworn he twitched when you did. Finally he pulled out, sweat-beads all over his scarred torso, a fond wicked smile across his face. He bunched his shirt in his fist and used it to clean your mouth. You let yourself nuzzle against his hand as he did so. He helped you up before pushing you down on the bed, so hard you yelped.

“What…?

-Shush now little mouse. Let me…”

The words stopped in his throat. He was parting your legs and could already see, smell, and soon feel the luxurious wet mound waiting for him. He gathered some on his tongue and moaned at the taste.

“All of this for me? You shouldn’t have, darling…”

Your back curved into an impossible crescent, he pushed down on your stomach to stop you from writhing so much. But how could you not? His mouth sucking hickeys up the length of your thighs, meeting your clitoris with that much hunger and thirst? You were trashing around well before he finally started licking you. You were shivering in fever as he kept sucking, licking and biting. The coil in you was only growing stronger and stronger with each new touch of his tongue, when he pulled your lips apart with his hook. The new sensation threw you in for a new loop. He applied gentle pressure against your clit, painting the metal with the waters you were delivering him with. Once satisfied he started licking it himself, leaving you plenty of time to catch your breath and ogle him while he did. All the while, not noticing his hand finally coming to rest on your mound, before he pushed two fingers in. The pain was exquisite. He did not move, leaving you to clamp around him in agony, sweating and begging for release.

“Please, please, please fuck me, please I’ll be good, please…

-Well, when it’s asked so nicely…”

The dark tone in his voice made you shiver. He pulled out completely, towering over you. You did not have time to think as he turned you around face first in the mattress, ass up in the air. His patience was running thin, yet he still took the time to squeeze your ass cheeks, tracing invisible lines up and down your skin. All of a sudden, he pushed inside you and your toes curled. From then on, he was relentless, his rhythm merciless and strong, while the echoes of your cries were filling the room. His dick was swallowing all your thoughts and fears, hitting a spot in you you didn’t even knew existed. If this was a dream, it was the best one you’d ever had. Hook sneaked his hand between your thighs to your clitoris, controlling the peaks of pleasure in you still going at you, screaming your pleasure, weakening your voice with each thrusts, all the while keeping you down at his will. Soon enough, your release coated the sheets and his trickled down your thighs. Breathless and high on sex, you let yourself be guided under the covers, the room dampened by the heavy air. Before you could act, a swift salted breeze blew past you, a pleasant chill running through your bones. The captain had opened a small window, letting the outside winds in.

He joined you, his skin scorching hot under your fingers. It did nothing to stop you from touching him. Only then did he asked for your name.

“I shall treasure it with all my heart.”

Only then, as you gave it, did he realize he had missed something. The fairy had never mentioned a physical treasure of gold and jewelries. She had hardly mentioned anything at all if he could recall.

You were his treasure. How he could have missed it, well that was probably - most assuredly - Smee’s fault as usual. He let his palm up your arm and settled on your neck, making you look at him through the haze you were still in.

“Hook…

-James.”

You smiled at him, understanding his meaning immediately. Definitively the best dream. Alas, one which had to end.

“James, I have to go back.

-No, you don’t.

-My friend is waiting for me, she’s probably afraid and…

-No. You won’t go back.”

His tone left no place for question. He pushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear. You wanted to stay. Desperately. Your life was not worth it. It was not worth abandoning something - someone - that felt this good. Reason was telling you to leave. Your heart, to stay. Even if this was indeed a dream, staying in it longer than what was needed could not hurt anyone. You knew it wasn’t, coming to terms with the fact that this was indeed real and alive and there for the taking. You could write letters to Sharon. And your family. They would understand. Hopefully.

A nod was all it took. As if he thought you would refuse again, he let out a not so discreet sigh. For the first time, he called your name. He called your name, silently, hoping you would not disappear. The look of utter awe you gave him was enough. He pushed a little closer, bringing his leg around yours, his lips finally meeting yours. You faced him fully, bringing your body impossibly closer to him. Never before had you felt this kind of connexion to someone. The kiss was heated, barely breathing, exchanging nips on each other’s lip, leaving both of you wanting more.

“What now, Captain?”

He smiled a devilish grin, his hand sneaking behind your head, his thumb caressing your bottom lip. It thrilled you.

“Keep calling me Captain, until you can not speak anymore.”

The order was followed through, to the letter.

[e1i-neverrests]

A Rowdy Raven And A Daring Dog

A silly lighthearted drabble for Vesuvia Weekly prompt “Date With Disaster” featuring Lys, Julian, and a little bit of Asra! Takes place post-main game. Alternatively titled “Two idiots walk into a bar”

A/N: The date itself was platonic, because who doesn't like taking your friends out for a few drinks? (I wouldn't know, I'm not allowed to drink yet)

May get a drawing, we’ll have to see

“What in the world happened to you two?” Asra asks in utter bafflement at the state of his friend and lover, the latter being unceremoniously dropped from the former’s arms and onto the doorstep. One is covered in dirt, the other sustaining a few bruises, and both entirely too drunk.

“Nothing the palace can prove!” Julian pipes up just a bit too loud, his usual roguish grin more askew than it ought to be. The sober magician just stares incredulously. “Is that meant to be reassuring..?”

“No no no, here, if you really want to know, it all starts,,, okay, just- just listen- it all…” The other magician interjecting from his spot on the floor, trailing off as he tries to support himself against the doorframe and hauling himself upright.

Julian interjects Lys’ interjection with his own less slurred speech, jumping into his explanation. “What he means to say is it all started earlier this very eve!”

[OooOoo flashback SFX]

Lys and Julian enter the Rowdy Raven, a sea of unfamiliar and unfriendly faces swivel towards them. Immediately, a pair of dastardly ne'er do wells come up and-

“That’s not what happened, don't listen to him!” Lys sways on his feet, now holding onto the Doctor instead of the door. He pats his hand on the taller man's cheek. “This… This malpracticing fiend embellishes far too much. Here, let- lemme tell you instead!” “Hey, I do not commit malpractice!”

[oOoooO more flashback SFX]

The two walk into the Rowdy Raven, a few of the regulars immediately recognising Julian. They beckon the pair over, immediately posing a challenge. “20 coins says the short one drinks you under the table!” “I'll bet 5 on the magician!” “No way, Devorak will win for sure! 50 coins!”

Never one to back down from a friendly competition, Lys is happy to take the bet. Julian, confident in his own abilities, is also on-board. Soon the whole tavern is circled around the bar, bets placed and breaths held. The count-down begins, and they're off!

“None other than yours truly came out victorious.” Julian beams, as though this were an achievement to be proud of. “Uh huh, but at what cost?” Lys cuts in, snickering. “People were upset I lost —apparently a lot of them bet on me?— so a fight broke out.”

“Those fiends attacked me for winning! The scoundrels! Dare I say… The audacity!” The doctor brings a hand to his chest, turning his head away as if he couldn't bear the memory of it.“That part is true, mhm. Buut, dear Devorak here forgot the most important part where-”

“Where a dashing magician swooped to my rescue!” Julian interrupts, his eye somehow sparkling at the heroic memory. The magician in question just rolls his eyes. “I… Well, I guess, technically yes. But after that, I was having trouble walking and fell, but we… we’re- were being chased, so he picked me up, and, well, uh, here we are!”

Asra cannot believe what they've heard. Actually, no, they entirely believe it, they just wish they didn't. But it sounds like they had fun, and that's what matters most. “So long as you're both okay now. Just… Remind me to never let you two go unsupervised for too long.”

Faust pokes her head out from Asra's collar, leveling herself with Julian. Squeeze? She tilts her head in request. Except, as soon as he sees her purple snake self, he's backing away from the door and out of Lys' reach. Which does cause the shorter man to stumble with his main support being yanked away

“I believe that's my cue! Farewell, friends!” The drunken doctor bows dramatically as he walks backwards away from the shop, nearly tripping over himself in the process. He slips off into the night with as much grace as he can muster. The two magicians and one familiar watch him go with amusement.

“Bye bye Julian!!” Lys waves him off, then turns to his white haired companion, currently holding him upright. “And… Hello you.”

“Hello to you too, sweetheart. Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?”

[yunalinwrites]

kids on christmas eve | gojo satoru x reader

available on wattpad

cover by me

summary: you learn about what happened with geto suguru and make him talk to you about it

about reader: gender neutral, relationship to gojo is unclear but they're close, on a first name basis + implied to be romantic

warnings: sad (if i did my job right), mild cursing, spoilers for jjk 0 + gojo's past/hidden inventory/star plasma vessel arc

notes: i know this is really out of season bc christmas has long passed but its for the plot lol as u prob know dec 24th is an important date

anyways i prob could've edited more but tbh i just wanted to post it already lmao hope its not cringe cuz i didn't shower to finish it (avg jjk degenerate) also im angry this was correctly formatted in google docs but tumblr ruined it and i cant b bothered to reread it under the new formatting so srry if theres smth wrong

"Gojo-sensei, that's not fair!"

Itadori had his bottom lip stuck out, his arms crossed tightly and his feet stomping against the snow.

"Yeah, come on!" Kugisaki agreed, mitten-clad hands full of the cold ammunition. "Turn it off, will you?"

You looked over to where Satoru stood. The snowballs that floated around him made it a little hard to see, but you could still tell his face was like it always was: smiling, the only deviation from its usual state being the pink on his pale nose. The rosy shade was just like his tongue when he stuck it out. 

"Come and make me," he taunted.

"Why, you little..." Kugisaki grumbled. "Okay, Itadori, Formation B!"

"Roger!" Itadori yelled back.

The pair performed a number of flashy poses--as if they were trying to imitate something they'd seen in a cartoon--and before you knew it, they were charging at Satoru from two sides, arms fully loaded and wound back with mounds of snow. But it seemed Satoru knew it before you, because he just tsked--didn't even bother catching the snowballs, just let them fall apart against his forcefield.

"Gojo-sensei!" the two groaned in unison.

"You're no fun!" Itadori complained.

"It's not supposed to be fun," Satoru countered with a playful shrug. "Just because it's a snow day doesn't mean you can stop training."

"But... but... But what about...!" Kugisaki sputtered, a vein popping out of her forehead as she struggled to come up with an argument. You could almost see the lightbulb pop up above her head as she pounded her fist in her palm. "But what about global warming?"

"Yeah!" Itadori followed, not thinking. "What about--Wait, what?" Scratching his head, he tilted his head at Kugisaki.

"It could totally be the last day it ever snows, you know," she claimed matter-of-factly, her hands on her hips. "And I would so hate you forever."

Itadori's mouth formed a silent "Oh!" as Kugisaki elaborated. Nodding his head in accord, he added on: "Yeah, Gojo-sensei. I don't think I could respect you after that."

Satoru put on a dramatic pout at that last sentence, but he soon returned to a smile and gave in with a sigh. "Alright, just this once."

You could see the two students loudly jumping for joy from behind him as he made his way towards where you were sitting. You smiled warmly at the sight.

"They really are something," you commented.

"Tell me about it," Fushiguro grumbled, leaning boredly against the wooden armrest of the park bench. He observed quietly as his friends built a snowman in the distance until Satoru's towering shadow prompted him to look up.

"Megumi!" Satoru called, his voice high-pitched and sing-song. "Go play with the others."

The boy scowled in response. "I'm too old for that stuff."

"You think you're old?" Satoru challenged. He pointed at his hair, at the white color it's always been. "What does that make me?" He hunched over and put his hand on his lower spine, feigning back pain. "C'mon, listen to your teacher. Let me sit next to Y/N."

Fushiguro squinted at him for a moment before finally getting up."Gross."

You chuckled, watching the boy begrudgingly drag his feet through the snow towards his classmates, but your laughter hitched as you felt something push against you. Turning to your right, you saw his lanky teacher. At first the sensation didn’t make sense, considering that there was a considerable amount of distance between the two of you, but you soon recalled his defense measures and the complaints they had garnered. 

Not noticing your discomfort, he stared up at the cloudy sky for a moment before turning to you. 

"Are you cold?" he asked.

You shook your head. "I should be asking you," you replied, referencing his lack of winter wear. "Why didn't you wear a coat?"

"Well, it would ruin my outfit, of course," he stated perkily. He wore a confident smirk on his face, but looking closer you could tell he was shivering beneath the thin fabric of his uniform.

Taking a deep breath in disapproval, you reached for your scarf. "Here," you offered, unraveling the knot you’d made earlier. But when you reached to wrap it around his neck, you felt the resistance of his invisible force.

His smile eased. "It's okay," he obliged, sniffling. "Thank you, though."

You hesitated before tying your scarf back around yourself, the garment's chunky knit giving it enough volume to nearly cover your mouth and even your ears, but you could still hear his teeth chatter. You searched your surroundings, looking past the dead snow-adorned trees and following the wet pavement until you spotted something in the distance: a cafe, just down the street from where you were.

"I'll get you some hot chocolate," you decided, standing up and brushing the snowflakes off your coat.

"You don't--"

"Shh!" You pointed your finger threateningly at him before turning around to begin your walk. "Somehow you've bent logic so far that you'll end up sick if you don't drink it. So just take this as an excuse to have more sweets, alright?"

You were just about to make your first step away from the bench, but then you felt a firm grip wrap around your arm. "Wait, Y/N--"

Before he could finish his protest, he was cut off by a particularly firmly packed snowball striking him right in the middle of his face, highlighting his nose with the sparkling white powder and dislodging his blindfold. With his cerulean eyes now exposed, he turned his head and saw the three of them: Itadori pointing and cackling on the left, Kugisaki doing the same keeled over in the middle, and even Fushiguro, on the right, had the ends of his mouth perked up as he shook his head hopelessly.

You saw Satoru grin at the picture, but it was contradictory to what you were feeling. He had let go of your arm, but not by relaxing his hand--you felt him, as if brick by brick, build that invisible wall right back up between you, seemingly stronger than ever. You could still feel it, even as he walked away towards the trio, tying his blindfold back on. Sighing, you sat back down and watched him make snow angels with the others, his head blending right in with the scene as he drowned himself in the blinding whiteness. With his blindfold now fully on, you could only imagine what it was like when he smiled with his eyes.

***

"I can't feel my toes."

Twirling her brown hair between her fingers, Shoko spun around in her chair to face the doorway.

She darted her eyes between you and Satoru for a second before a calm, amused expression painted her face. Despite knowing it was his voice she heard--though it was more nasal than usual--she directed her question at you: "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I told him to wear thicker socks!" you exclaimed, your arms crossed in frustration. "But look! Show her."

Rolling his eyes behind his blindfold, Satoru pulled the fabric on his thighs, lifting the hems of his pants so that they revealed his ankles. They were barely covered by the cheap red and green striped polyester; it was the kind of thing you'd spot on sale in packs at the checkouts during Christmas season.

“So I forgot… Big deal!”

“I could fill a library with all the things you forgot,’” you complained. “I mean, what are you, a fish?”

Unfazed, Shoko chuckled. "You're telling me the strongest--the one powerful enough to rival the King of Curses--was defeated by a case of frostbite?"

The both of you responded simultaneously: "Exactly." "No!"

"I was not defeated," he insisted, earning a glare from you. "Barely a scratch. She's just being dramatic."

"I am not--"

"Is there a reason you can't heal yourself?" Shoko interrupted, now turned to Satoru.

He pointed his thumb in your direction accusingly. "She wanted to come here, not me."

"Wait," you interjected. "You can heal yourself?”

“Of course, duh.”

“Since when?"

"High school," he answered dismissively, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "See, look!"

He pointed down to his shoes--through the leather of his dress boots, you could see the movement of his wriggling toes. 

You held your hands up to hide his feet from your sight. “Ew, stop that--" you grimaced. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged, smirking smugly. "My talent should go without saying."

You sighed. “Your talent to bewilder me?”

"You know it,” he asserted proudly. "But anyways–Can I go now?"

Before you could even answer, you could sense him already moving in your peripheral vision.

"Satoru, wait--"

"If you don't believe I'm fine, I'll show you my toes," he threatened, halfway out the door.

"Satoru--!"

"Go on, catch me if you can!"

You listened, trying to grab onto him but, once again, his Infinity blocked you, making you stumble into Shoko's arms as it pushed you backwards. By the time you regained your balance and rushed into the hallway, his long strides and newly healed feet had already carried him beyond your sight.

You sighed and re-entered the room, brushing yourself off. "Do you have anything for a cold?" you asked.

"I should," Shoko replied, opening up one of her medicine cabinets. "Why, are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, no, it's for him," you explained. "He's had a runny nose all week. I told him not to go out in the snow with the kids, but... You know how he is."

She hummed in acknowledgement with an understated smile, picking out a bottle of Acetaminophen capsules. Making her way over to you, she held up the container.

"I have these," she told you, but she didn't hand them to you; she just kept holding it up as she continued, "but, in my professional opinion, I don't think he has a cold."

"What do you mean?" you asked, your brow raised.

"Y/N, do you know what tomorrow is?"

"It's... the 24th."

"Mhm."

"So... Christmas Eve?"

She looked down at the floor, placing the bottle on a nearby counter and leaning back against it, getting comfortable. She stayed quiet for a moment, biting her lip in deep thought as she continued to stare at the floor with her arms crossed. But then, finally, she sighed, and reached into her coat pocket for a cigarette.

"Would you like one?" she offered, flicking the lighter at the end of the stick

"Um... No thank you..."

"Have a seat." She gestured to the metal seat against the wall.

Still thoroughly confused, you did as you were told. You felt as if your parents were about to have a stern "talk" with you--as if you had broken a vase or--arguably worse--it was time for you to understand the birds and the bees. That thought, along with the cold steel beneath you, sent chills up your body.

In an attempt to quell your anxiety, you beat her to the punch and spoke up: "You went to high school together, didn't you?"

She blew out a lengthy tangle of smoke strings. "That's right," she answered.

You shifted in your seat. "Has he always been... like this?"

"No,” she chuckled, bringing the cigarette back to her lips. "He used to wear glasses."

Your eyebrows shot up as you leaned forward in shock. "Seriously?"

She reached into her coat pocket again, this time producing a small print of a photo. 

You took the glossy sheet from her hands and studied it, your mouth agape. Sure enough, there he was, on Shoko's right, smiling widely with his hair down and a pair of round sunglasses, both of them holding up peace signs. But, while Shoko's arm was clearly holding up the camera for the selfie, one of Satoru’s arms appeared to be wrapped around the shoulders of a black-haired man you didn't recognize.

Your brows furrowed at the sight. "Who's the one on the left?"

The scent of the nicotine got stronger as she took her time to ponder her answer, staring blankly into the back of the photo beneath your thumbs.

"That's Geto Suguru,” she finally told you.

You scanned his portrait meticulously. The man wore a grumpy expression with dark bags under his eyes and, contrary to the cheerful pose of the other two, he was flipping off the camera.

“Was he an upperclassman?” you asked.

She shook her head. “He was our classmate.” She gestured towards the photo with her cigarette. “We were all second-years there.”

“No way…” Holding the photo closer, you could have sworn you saw the outline of ear gauges behind Shoko’s head. “He looks so much older.”

You returned the photo to her and she slipped it back in her pocket, not taking even a glance at it as she did. She just spoke plainly: “He’s Satoru’s best friend.”

You tilted your head to the side. “Really? I wonder why I haven’t heard of him, then."

She took another puff, turning her face away from you as she let it out. “Tomorrow is his death anniversary.”

Your eyes widened before falling to the floor. “Oh… I see…”

You fell into a solemn trance, not knowing what you should or shouldn’t say and, consequently, opting to stay quiet out of respect. But, suddenly, you were interrupted by the sound of light laughter. 

“Even if he were still with us, I doubt you would’ve been able to tell. They bickered so much you’d think they hated each other.”

She walked around to the other side of the counter, leaning forward on it as she rested her hand on her palm.

“Who could get to class faster… Who could shoot more hoops in a minute… Who could make a bigger crater in the courtyard…”

You tried to imagine the pair wreaking havoc on an older version of the Jujutsu Tech Campus, but while it was easy to fit Satoru’s cheeky grin into all of these scenarios, it was hard to see such a mature-looking person as Geto doing these childish things.

“Ah, but you know, Y/N,” she started, looking up at you with a smile. “I think you would have been able to tell that Suguru was actually younger.”

“What?” you gasped, surprised at both the fact that he was younger and that Shoko thought that would be clear to you. “There’s no way…”

“Well, for starters, Suguru is shorter, if you put them side-by-side,” she argued. “And… Hm…”

She stopped to contemplate how to put together her next sentence–or if she should even do so at all. But in the end, she brought her cigarette back to her lips and exhaled: “I think you would have agreed with me that he’s the more immature one.”

Your brows furrowed as you scoffed in disbelief. “That's impossible… Satoru could be ten-feet tall and not a single thing on this planet could make him seem more mature than another person.”

She chuckled, though you could sense a sadness behind the sound, and you realized that your comment might’ve come off as insensitive. Clearing your throat, awkwardly, you granted her the floor: “What makes you say that?”

She took another inhale and sighed out a long cloud. Looking out the window of her office, she saw the faint glow of the multicolored lights that decorated it on the outside. She took in the sight for a quiet moment before sinking into her swivel chair, puffing once more.

“I still don’t know much about his childhood,” she began. “I never asked, and I never got to meet his parents. But I can tell you for certain that Suguru was the sort of kid who threw a tantrum when he didn’t get what he wanted for Christmas.

“I’m sure he had wishlists a mile long, but he wouldn’t be the kind to write even a single letter about it to Santa. Of course, that’d make it difficult for his family, and maybe they could've tried harder to figure it out–but he just wouldn't understand why what he wanted wasn't obvious to everyone.

“I can imagine one day someone told him the truth about Santa, and he was probably absolutely devastated. But, to him, it wouldn't be about the presents. It would be about the people around him: his mom, his dad, his teachers, his neighbors, everyone–the people who had been deceiving him his whole life.

“I don't think he ever forgave anyone for that, all the way up until he found himself as a seventeen-year-old at Jujutsu High.”

The air became thick–suffocatingly so–and your spine no longer fit right against the back of the bench.

“What exactly… did he do?” 

She rolled her chair towards her desk and put out her cigarette, pushing and twisting it into the ashtray by her desk calendar.

“In a single night, he killed one hundred and twelve civilians–non-sorcerers–including his parents. He wanted to create a world where only sorcerers exist.”

“O-oh my God…” Your hand rose up to cover your gaping mouth. “Wh.. Why?!”

“By killing non-sorcerers, you stop curses from the source.”

“But you can't just–” You cut yourself off, thousands of words rushing and racing to your mouth. “Didn't anyone try to stop him?”

“Maybe Satoru could've. If Suguru decided to tell him, that is.”

Your face was wound up in concern. “That's horrible…”

“I know, right?” she casually agreed.  “To want to be understood, but never willing to understand… Isn't it childish?” She even laughed. “Though, I suppose he was just a kid.”

“Just a kid?!” You stuck your head out in disbelief. “No, no… Satoru is childish. But that–that’s… inhumane!

You pointed to the door. “Satoru was a kid.”

You pointed to her. “You were a kid.”

Lowering your hand, you scrunched the hem of your shirt. “I might not have known you then, but I know you never would have done that.”

“To be fair, I'm not the strongest,” she defended plainly. “I'm just a doctor.”

The crease between your eyebrows deepened as you threw your arms up. “Okay–then Satoru! Satoru would never do something like that! And he… he's still a kid!”

“Satoru killed his best friend–his one and only.” She clasped her hands together on her desk. “A kid wouldn't do that, would they?”

You froze at the edge of your seat, blinking rapidly as you pieced together the puzzle.

“He… killed…?” you trailed off.

Shoko stared grimly at her hands as she tightened her grip on herself. “A kid wouldn’t have understood.”

You bore your eyes into her, waiting, begging for her to continue, to elaborate, to make it make sense, but she just stayed quiet, kept to herself.

You directed your eyes to the freshly polished floor tiles. As you stared into the blurry reflection of yourself, you tried imagining it again: Satoru, tall and white haired, and this kid grumpy little kid he called Suguru, wreaking havoc on the old campus of Jujutsu High: walking to class together, dribbling a basketball between each other, meeting up in the courtyard with one another.

 “That…” you began hesitantly. “That still doesn't excuse what happened.”

Shoko looked up at you, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, and though she wasn’t as contented as she had been before your conversation, her expression was no longer grave; she seemed satisfied. Slowly, she put her palms on her desk and pushed herself up from her seat.

“To answer your question from earlier–properly,” she started, making her way over to you. “I think that Satoru has always been that way–the way Gojo Satoru has to be.”

“But if there were ever a time that he weren’t,” she interjected, sliding her hand into her coat pocket.

“It would have been thanks to him.”

***

Your footsteps echoed down the empty hallway, stopping every once in a while to slide open one of the stiff doors only to struggle to shut it a moment later. You increased the reach of your steps, and the thump of your shoes against the wood planks competed with the hooting owl perched on the snow covered roof.

Suddenly, you heard a new noise: a honking, like that of a goose, coming from the end of the hall and slightly to the left. Now picking up to a jog, you made a beeline for the door and jerked it open.

“Well, if it isn’t my long-awaited Christmas present!” he exclaimed. “Looks like Santa’s early this year.”

He rested against the corner of one of the student’s desks, already facing you with his hands in his pocket. From behind him, you could just barely see the white crumpled-up balls of tissue that scattered the surface.

“I guess some people do gifts on Christmas Eve though, right?” he considered, putting a finger to his chin. “But, ah… choosing gifts is so hard. I need all the time I can get.”

He didn’t acknowledge your entrance at all; his Six Eyes had seen it coming miles away, allowing him enough time to get into position to pick up wherever you’d last left off. You didn’t acknowledge him either, keeping a stone face as you stepped into the room.

“What’s with the face, hm? Did you not like your presents?”

“Satoru,” you said sternly.

“Did you ask Santa for anything this year?” he went on, continuing to pay you no mind.

You sighed. You couldn’t help but let the ends of your lips pick up, but you kept your eyes down at the dirtied pattern of the floor.

“I don’t celebrate Christmas,” you admit.

“What? Why not?” he questioned astonishedly, forming a pout. “Does that mean you didn’t get me a present?”

You shook your head lightly, making your way over to him. “I’ve always thought it was sort of weird. To celebrate the birth of a martyr.”

“Hm,” he sounded. “Well that’s no fun.”

Planting his hands on the surface, he hoisted himself up onto his desk. “Santa probably wouldn’t give anything other than coal to a non-believer,” he noted. “But since I’m so nice, I’ll get you something. Just tell me–what is it that you want for Christmas?”

His smile stayed in place as you darted your pupils around his visage, your own face beginning to fall. You took slow steps towards the desk next to him, getting as close as you could before you felt his Infinity push back

“Satoru, can you do me a favor?” you requested gently.

“Depends on what the favor is,” he chirped back.

Reaching your hand out, you traced your forefinger on the edge of the invisible barrier before applying pressure into it, testing the shield’s strength. You pushed with all your might, but all it did was whiten your finger tip and make your knuckles concave.

You retracted, looking back into his eyes. “Can you take it down?”

You could see the movement of his eyebrows raising beneath his blindfold. “You tryna kill me?”

Again, you shook your head, still solemn. 

He crossed his arms and squinted at you, biting his cheek. Leaning back, he put his weight onto his hands behind him, loosely grabbing the edge of his desk, his expression becoming relaxed. “Alright. Here you go.”

You took another small step into the newfound space until you were only inches apart. Slowly, you extended both your hands towards his face, but then suddenly reeled them back into a hesitant fist in disbelief, the lack of resistance uncomfortably foreign.

You inhaled deeply through your nose and exhaled the air shakily through your mouth, trying hard to slow the rapid beating in your chest. Ignoring the smirk on his face, you tried to reach out to him, one final time.

Letting your arms wrap around his head, your hands searched his silky hair for the knot that held up his eye covering. When you finally felt the bump, you took your time digging your nails into where the fabric held onto itself, carefully pulling apart its loops.

As the blindfold fell to his neckline, his signature grin stayed plastered on his face, but just about every other feature of his seemed to change completely when the white wisps came down to frame them. His azure eyes, for example, glimmered under the faint moonlight coming through the window, but not in the way that they usually did. They were shining like lacquer, but it was as if, from underneath that, their batteries had been taken out. In their dullness, you could see the reflection of the long white lashes resting on the eyelids above, forming sharp, unnatural shapes as they clumped together unevenly. Pink waterlines painted the bottom of his irises, and a faint red was seemingly airbrushed around the surrounding puffy skin.

You trailed your hands down the back of his head until they cupped his jawline, holding his face as you explored its entirety. Moving from his eyes to his flushed, leaking nose, his smirk grew when your gaze landed on his lips.

“Are you sure you want to use your gift on this?” he teased. “Kind of a waste, in my opinion–you could’ve just found a mistletoe.”

“Satoru.”

“Hmm?”

“I want you to stop smiling.”

For a moment, he listened to you: his mouth fell open, but then it fell back into its previous position as he flashed his teeth at you. “My bad. I didn’t mean to blind you.”

“Please?”

He kept still while your thumb gently stroked his powder-smooth cheek. He jolted slightly as his lungs forced out a nervous chuckle, but he trailed off as your touch continued on him. Realizing your relentlessness, he sucked in his lips and clamped them together with his teeth as if he was trying to stop any further laughter.

He stayed like this for a moment, waiting for you to let go, but your tender movements showed no signs of stopping–you only slowed down when your eyes flitted up to meet his. He tried his best to return your stare, but eventually, he accepted defeat in the contest. And so, little by little, he let his lips roll out and the muscles to dispose into a resting state.

His voice became low, a near whisper. “Is… everything okay?”

Finally removing your hands from him, you nodded. Returning them to yourself, you glided one into the back pocket of your pants.

Taking a step back, you held up the sheet of glossy photo paper side-by-side with his face. You could name a number of differences: the neckline of the teacher’s uniform was looser and higher, his bangs now were longer and a bit thicker, and, of course, he wasn’t wearing glasses, and he wasn’t smiling. But, somehow, now more than ever, you could see the resemblance.

“What have you got there?”

Moving towards him again, you handed him the photo. It felt strange, witnessing the rare sight of his pupils’ every rapid move. And in addition to that, ever so slightly, you could see his swollen under eyes rise as the softest of smiles pushed up his cheeks. It was nothing like the sickeningly-sweet beamings you were used to seeing from him, though; it was subdued, raw like the cacao in dark chocolate, undiluted by sugar or milk.

“Where did you get this?” he asked, incredulous.

“Like you said, Santa came early,” you joked mildly.

“No, really,” he persisted, his tone reaching a bass you’d never heard from him before. “Where did you get this?”

You sat yourself on the desk next to him. “Shoko,” you admitted.

“What did she tell you?”

Your shrug was subtle.  “As much as she could.”

He continued to scrutinize the photo in his hands, his brows drawing together.

“Satoru,” you proceeded, hushed. “If it’s okay… I’d like it if you told me about it.”

He lowered the photo so that it no longer obstructed his view of you, but he didn’t take advantage of the space he gave himself; he kept staring at the photo as he spoke: “There’s not much to tell about. I was the strongest then and I’m the strongest now.”

You rested your hands on your lap and exhaled deeply. “That’s not what I mean,” you contested. 

It was as if he couldn’t hear you, continuing to stare vapidly into the photo as if somehow your sentence didn’t make it to his ears. But that was impossible; you’d said what you said, and the room was dead silent.

“I… I want you to tell me about him,” you clarified.

He shifted in his seat, finally looking away from the photo and up at you. “You mean… Geto Suguru?” he asked, as if there were any other ‘him’ in that photo. 

“Well… he’s the worst of all curse users,” he offered. He then shoved the photo back in your direction, a sudden grin straining itself on his face. “But it’s okay. He’s gone now.”

Ignoring his move, you asked, “Is it really okay?”

“I made sure of it,” he affirmed, impatiently nudging the paper at you.

He resumed his usual playful lilt. “Are you doubting me?” he tested.

“I don’t doubt you for a second–not in that sense. You’ve always been strong,” you reassured him. “But that’s exactly why I doubt you know how to be weak.”

He scoffed. “You think Gojo Satoru would know how to be weak?”

“No, I don’t. That’s my whole point,” you upheld firmly.

He folded his arms across his chest, his mocking tone sharpening: “Why would anyone want to know how to be weak?”

“Because even Gojo Satoru needs to realize he can’t just smile and laugh all the time,” you challenged, feeling heat rise up your neck.

His eyes darkened, seemingly into a navy blue, and his inflection further condescended: “There are a lot of things you don’t understand.”

“Satoru, how on earth am I supposed to understand?!” 

As your tone cut through, just as abruptly you pushed the desk behind you and dropped heavily to your feet.

“You’re right, I don't understand you,” you confessed frustratedly, pointing to yourself. “I don’t understand you at all. Because how could I possibly understand you? I can’t see your eyes, I can’t even get near you, and I’ve never seen you not smile.”

Your voice made gaps as your vocal cords threatened sobs. “And sure, I call you by your first name, and I laugh and I smile at all your dumb jokes and… and the idiotic games you play…

“But it’s–it’s… scary, Satoru. Creepy, even. How you know just about everything there is to know about me and yet… It's like I don’t even know who you are. You’re just a toy in the corner, watching everyone come in and out of the room, but I can never make you say or be or feel anything.”

“Feelings are what made him into who he was,” he stated coldly, his eyes fixed on the grimy floor. “It’s important for sorcerers to have a hold on their emotions.”

“So you know what happens, then,” you argued firmly, your shoes coming into his view as you stepped closer. “You know what it’s like to be shut out from them.”

You pushed his chin up, forcing him to witness the way you were holding on desperately to the tears that bordered your lower waterline.

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Do you always get Sprite?” he’d asked, looking down as his friend retrieved his drink from the bottom of the machine.

“I mean… yeah, I guess,” Suguru replied plainly. “Why?”

A pit formed in his stomach as he heard the crack of the can opening.

“Shit. I’ve been getting you Coke this whole time,” he’d mumbled. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Suguru shrugged, beginning to head in the direction of the classroom. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Dude, are you good?”

Suguru jolted awake, sitting up from the plush back of the couch and nearly spilling the bowl of popcorn in his lap.

“Do you wanna watch something else?” he’d suggested, but Suguru just shook his head.

“I thought you liked Digimon,” Suguru objected.

“Well yeah, but…”

The only lighting came from the flashing screen, but it was enough for him to see his friend yawn, making his eyes water, dark bags underneath them.

“You can turn it up if you want,” was all Suguru had to say, but even after doing what Suguru said, he couldn’t focus on his favorite TV show.

“I know you said you didn’t want anything,” he started, reaching into his bag. “But here.”

“What’s this?” Suguru questioned.

“Your Christmas present, duh.”

“But it’s Christmas Eve,” Suguru pointed out. “And I told you–”

“I know! But just open it.”

He watched as Suguru lifted the lid of the small gray box, revealing a small pair of white gauges.

“I didn’t really know what size to get… But I think they’d look cool on you.”

“Thanks, Satoru.”

He lit up, thinking that he’d finally done something right by his friend, but the way that Suguru looked up at him, the way Suguru smiled insincerely, told him he should’ve waited for Christmas Day.

The tears were warm as they rolled down his face, past his trembling lip and blooming into the blindfold that rested loosely around his neck.

“I just don't understand why he didn’t talk to me.”

You pulled him into a hug, carding your fingers in his hair as you rested his head on your shoulder.

“He thought I hated him,” he told you shakily, finding himself clutching onto your shirt. “I didn’t see him for ten years and… and that whole time he thought I hated him.”

He inhaled a sharp sniffle. “I… I don’t hate him,” he whimpered, his pitch jumping and his body beginning to tremble. “I don’t hate him, Y/N, I don’t, I don’t, I never, ever did.”

“I know,” you whispered, stroking his hair, holding him tighter as he jerked with sobs.

He placed his head on your shoulder, staring at the blindfold that had unraveled itself and fallen between you. “I hate myself.”

You pulled back, cupping his jawline and holding it in front of you.

“Don’t say that…”

“But he was my best friend, Y/N,” he insisted, gripping desperately onto your shoulders. “I saw him every single day… every single day, all of that was running through his head and I… I didn’t even know… I just watched and… and I made him think I hated him. I was supposed to be his best friend.”

“You did everything you could, Satoru.”

“It was all my fault.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why did it happen?” he whined. “It had to have been for a reason–It can't just hurt and be for no reason. That wouldn’t be fair.”

“It’s not,” you told him, shaking your head gently and looking deeply into his eyes. “It’s not fair at all.”

Indicating the breaking of a dam, a deafening, siren-like wail pierced the air. His face was red and scrunched up, his nose was dripping with snot, and his hands were coming up to swipe desperately at the tears on his cheeks.

You pulled him close to you again as he kept hiccuping and sniffling into the crook of your neck. His loud weeping wet your shirt with both the fluids from his eyes and nose, but you didn’t care; you just rubbed his back, caressing him tenderly.

His voice was suddenly clearer as he took deep breaths to try and recuperate himself: “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Why are you sorry?” you asked, stiffening your hold on him.

“I just… I don’t know. I hate crying. I’m not a kid anymore, you know?” he tried laughing.

“Satoru,” you whispered delicately, turning your head so your words rested right by his ear. “You were never a kid.”

Gently, you pressed his head into you, stopping him from moving his lips in any way. “I want you to be one right now.”

You let him stay in your arms for a while until his tears subsided and his breathing steadied. You had moved to the floor at some point, allowing him to comfortably lean on you as you embraced him, his previous quivering replaced now by the calm rhythm of his rising and falling figure.

He hadn’t talked in a while, so you assumed he’d fallen asleep, but then, among his mellow breathing, a mumble came up right by your ear:

“Thank you,” he’d said.

Hugging him tighter, you patted him on the back softly. “Of course.”

As one hand traveled to intertwine its fingers in his hair, you reached for your phone with your other one.

You pressed the power button on its side, and flinched backward, squinting at the brightness your phone screen emitted. Despite your sudden movement, Satoru didn’t show any sort of reaction; he’d fallen asleep, for sure now.

You continued to comb through his white locks, a little more consciously now, as you made note of the time and date your phone’s clock displayed, changing right before your eyes:

December 25th, 00:00

You smiled, dragging your coat up to cover the both of you as you laid your head on his shoulder.

“Merry Christmas, Satoru.”

***

might do a toji x megumi's teacher reader if u wanna follow

[goodboyaudios]

Hello! My name is Grim, and I fancy myself a bit of a researcher. Now, this is not for anything important or extremely serious. Instead, this is mostly for my own pure enjoyment and something I have in the works that is to be posted on Tumblr. You are not obligated to answer any or all of these questions I have posed. I know it’s a bit much. Take your time, but don’t feel obligated to do anything. Feel free to add any additional input! Thanks for your consideration!

1. How different do you think your work would be, in terms of getting across a point, in a different medium thats not Audio RP?

2. How do you think your work would be different if it more reflected main stream industry forms of storytelling where you as a creator would be more separate? (ex. movies, tv shows, games, etc.)

3. How important do you find the voice acting in your work?

4. You are the primary voice of your works. Would you consider taking a step back from voice acting in your work to focus on narrative work?

5. Do you believe your own individual ability to voice characters enhances the story overall?

6. Do you enjoy the idea of a “Listener character” or would you better prefer to not have one?

7. As a writer, how does the writing of the Listener take you out of your comfort zone? (ie their effect in relationships, plot movements, etc.)

8. Is Audio RP your favored form of art?

9. How do you believe Audio RP differs from main stream forms of art/entertainment?

10. Do you believe that your work has over arching themes that relate to you personally? (very optional)

Sure! I'm happy to answer some questions!

I think with the addition of a visual medium it would most definitely be significantly easier, yes.

Well, I can't say for sure. I could explain for hours about how mainstream media forces a creative to conform their work within often-times hostile parameters. Nevertheless, I'd be blessed with the opportunity to try. That being said, I have a lot more creative freedom here on Youtube than anywhere else, at least by my standards.

I think it's very important. Conveying enough emotion without the added visuals means that it is ALL DOWN to vocal performance.

I am typically the primary voice, yes, but I must admit this is a very difficult question. I love to write stories of scifi and fantasy, I love to take concepts and ideas, pieces of dialogue and conveyed emotion and put them into an all expansive list of things to try, but I personally love bringing those emotions and ideas out myself. I find it fun! I suppose...I wouldn't! Writing is fun, don't get me wrong, but being able to perform it is part of my joy in creating what I make. If I stopped doing one, I'd have to find it elsewhere and that would take me away from doing the other thing.

I like to believe that, yes. It only makes sense that the writer knows the exact feeling to convey in a script, but you could call me vain for that if you like lol!

Listener characters are the bane of my existence lol! Okay, that was too dramatic. It's very difficult to write a character that doesn't talk, but represents...basically everyone! How do you compensate for that? And echoing dialogue is not something people do on a regular basis. No one talks like that, but we need to in order to get across what the listener is thinking at any given time, because if you don't, everyone is confused. It's quite frustrating and a hell of a dilemma in the scripting process.

Well, like I said earlier, I have to try and accommodate for everyone which is a challenge all on its own. It's VERY easy for the listener to become a talking head and I try my best to avoid it. Alas, I imagine even the greatest xlistener writer has fallen into that trap lol

No, it is not. I like 2D animation and RPGs.

Money? Budget? A lot more emphasis on visuals? When you start out as a content creator, you start with nothing and are tasked with making something, but with mainstream media, the network hands you a budget to make something. Granted those things might not be great given the parameters of the network, but hey! At least you can say you made something!

Very much so, yes. Zed is directly related to my insecurities and fears of not being enough as a person. Makkaro is related to my need for a work/life balance so that I might enjoy the little things while still giving my all. Albus is a toxic form of what I wanted to be when I grew up, a man who can fight through anything, but inside is deeply broken. Yargwynn is my running away from my problems in hopes that it'll all just go away. Mortallous is those problems always chasing me, always catching up. One day, I will tell a story of Zed realizing who he wants to be. That story will show that the man I really want to be, is myself. I will no longer be Good Boy Audios, but Good Man Audios. Yeah, it's cheesy as fuck, but hey, I like cheese.

Thank you for your questions. I really appreciate the time you took to ask me them. And I hope you enjoy my stories moving forward too!

[thisapplepielife]

5 Words Fic Challenge

Thanks for the tag, @hbyrde36!

The rules as follows:

1- generate 5 random words using this generator and then write something using those words! 2- tag 5 (or however many you want) mutuals to challenge!

(If you don’t like the five words you got, re-roll them. This is meant to be a fun little challenge, not something to stress over. Have fun!)

My words were:

Catechetical, incoordination, guitarfish, spilt, & acoustic.

Catechetical was the thorn in my side. Even spellcheck hates it, lol. Is that the first word I'd use? Or that thousandth? No. Does it make absolute sense? Questionable. Go with it. 😂

____

FIC: Steddie, fluff, flirting & innuendo, 2,108 words.

“Okay, Harrington, listen up. We’re gonna do this all catechetical-like,” Eddie bosses, putting Dragon Slayer, his acoustic guitar, in Steve’s hands. 

“I don’t even know what that means,” Steve says, sitting on the floor, his long legs stretched out. Eddie notices that he's holding onto the guitar awkwardly, the picture of utter incoordination. 

Eddie knows Steve Harrington isn’t uncoordinated. Not in the slightest, he’s just nervous.

“Questions and answers, keep up,” Eddie says, “now you ask, and I answer. Me teacher, you student.”

“Do you have a ruler to swat my hand with?” Steve asks playfully, reaching up for the beer in Eddie’s hand. Eddie hands it over, and Steve takes a swig before handing it back.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Eddie taunts, and then adds, “I'm not sure if I can rustle up a ruler. But I do have a set of handcuffs handy,” he says, nodding his head towards the pair hanging on the wall. “So be a good little student, or else."

Steve rolls his eyes. 

“Okay…” Steve trails off, seemingly unsure about this, “first question though, how will I know what questions to ask?”

“Good point,” Eddie says, “well, first things first, if you’re gonna be a guitar god, you’re gonna need a cool name. Like Corroded Coffin. Or Eddie the Banished.”

“That’s really the first thing? You sure about that? Wouldn’t actually knowing how to play the guitar be a more important first step?” Steve asks, looking up at him, suspicious.

“No way, never underestimate what a good stage name can do for you,” Eddie assures, waving his hands around dramatically.

“Fine. I don’t care, you can name me,” Steve says, looking down at Dragon Slayer laying across his chest. Eddie thinks it looks good there. Really good.

“Guitarfish!” Eddie shouts loudly, slightly unhinged, but sure of his choice. Sometimes you have to go with your gut, and his gut is saying Guitarfish.

Steve rolls his eyes, “Why Guitarfish?”

“Because you used to, you know, swim. Like a fish.”

“That doesn't even make sense. I’m not being called Guitarfish. It sounds stupid, dickhead.”

“Sorry, you shoulda named yourself then. Send all complaints to the complaint department. I hear the guy running it is pretty cool though, he might listen to reason.”

“He’s you, isn’t he?” Steve banters dryly, looking down at the strings and giving them a little pluck. It doesn’t sound great, but Eddie’s definitely heard worse. He tried to teach Gareth to play the guitar once, and never again. No fucking way. This can’t go that bad. Nothing can go that bad.

Of course, Eddie wasn’t interested in being this close to Gareth, either. He’s definitely got ulterior motives today. And he’s about to make good use of those motives, right now.

Eddie gets down on the floor behind Steve, and scoots forward until he has bracketed Steve’s body with his own. Is it a requirement to teach him to play the guitar? Probably not, but he’s doing it anyway. 

Eddie puts his beer down, steadying it, and then he hooks his chin over Steve’s shoulder, “Okay, we’re starting with an E minor chord. All the action is here on the second fret,” Eddie says, moving Steve’s fingers to the second fret, counting down from the top, “one, two. Okay, put your index finger on the fifth string, and your middle finger on the fourth string.” Eddie says, counting up from the bottom string, the thinnest one, and up to the top, the thickest. Then he adjusts Steve’s fingers to be in the right place on the guitar, “The fourth, the fifth.”

“The minor fall, the major lift,” Steve says absentmindedly, and now Eddie is the baffled king. 

“You know Leonard Cohen?” Eddie asks, shocked at this development. 

“Robin,” Steve says, by way of explanation.

“Robin. Robin, she of Madonna, Blondie, Bowie, and Beatles fame? That Robin?” 

“That’s the one,” Steve laughs, “she is a complex woman, who won’t be judged for her varied and vast array of interests by a dingus like me.”

“And you’re a parrot,” Eddie teases, and Steve laughs, “because that sounded just like Robin was in the room with me.”

Steve grins.

“Okay, middle finger there,” Eddie says, getting back to the teaching.

“I know where I’d like to put my middle finger,” Steve grumbles, and Eddie grins behind his back, but otherwise ignores him.

It looks uncomfortable, with Steve’s large hands, so Eddie makes a slight adjustment, “Try this instead,” Eddie says, and he has him use his middle and ring fingers instead. He definitely has long enough fingers to make that work, Eddie knows from experience. But that’s neither here nor there, right this second.

Later, maybe. 

“Does that feel more natural?” Eddie asks, looking at his finger placement.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one asking the questions?” Steve teases, and Eddie smiles.

“Smartass.”

“It does,” Steve finally answers, and Eddie nods.

“Okay then,” Eddie says, “now strum,” and he gets ahold of Steve’s right hand, and gets him to strum with the pick, and then lets go so Steve can do it on his own.

“This might be easier if you’d just tell me what I’m trying to play,” Steve grouches. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Eddie says, and he’s gonna keep torturing him a little longer. It’s too much fun. Annoying Steve is his favorite pastime these days. Well, second favorite, maybe.

Steve grouches, but strums the chord and it sounds good, it sounds right. Now he just needs to make the switch to the second chord, and they’ll be home free. Sort of. 

“Okay, now move your top finger up to the sixth string, and your ring finger down to the third,” Eddie says, and moves Steve’s fingers to do exactly that. 

Steve does it.

“Okay, strum,” and Steve does.

“Good, switch back,” Eddie instructs, and Steve fumbles a little, and Eddie knows that it’s awkward trying to get your fingers to do new things. “Go up with the top finger, and down with the bottom. Then back together, meet in the middle. And apart.”

“Feels like I’m stretching,” Steve says, lewdly.

And Eddie laughs, "You've got a dirty mind, Harrington." 

“Excuse me? I'm positive that what I said was innocent. You're the one that made it about something else." 

“Yes, you’re totally an innocent bystander here,” Eddie says, leaning his head against Steve’s.

Steve keeps up the switching, as Eddie talks him through it, right against his ear,  “And switch, and strum. Switch, strum. Switch, strum,” Eddie says in time with what he has in mind, rhymically. “That’s it, good.”

“Good seems unlikely,” Steve grumbles, but he keeps switching and strumming. 

“Keep doing that, right there, just like that, yes,” Eddie says.

“Now, that sounds dirty,” Steve sasses, and Eddie bites him on the neck. Steve jerks, yanking his elbow backwards, suddenly, making an ugly noise on the guitar strings. 

In all the flailing, Steve hits their shared bottle of beer, sending it skittering off the overturned red milk crate Eddie was using as a table. 

“Fuck, sorry!” Steve yells, and Eddie can tell he’s embarrassed.

“It’s fine. No reason to cry over spilt milk, er, beer in this case, I guess,” Eddie assures, hurrying and crawling over towards the foaming, shooting mess, trying to minimize the spray zone. He grabs a dirty shirt off the floor, and mops up what he can, before tossing the shirt in the vague direction of his dirty clothes hamper. “See? Fine.”

“Yeah, if you like the smell of beer in your bedroom,” Steve grumbles.

“Well, it has smelled of worse things before,” Eddie says, and he laughs when Steve wrinkles his nose. 

Eddie scoots back behind him, and kisses him on the neck this time, and Steve leans into the touch instead of jumping out of his skin.

“Put your fingers back where they were,” Eddie instructs, and Steve gets the right strings, but the wrong fret. “Up one fret,” he says, and he helps slide Steve’s fingers back up where they should be. 

“And a one and a two,” Eddie teases singsongingly, but Steve starts strumming and switching between the chords with more ease than before. “That’s really good, sweetheart. Now you’re cooking with gas,” Eddie says, and smiles to himself. Now he just sounds like Uncle Wayne always did while he was teaching Eddie all manner of things over the years. Guitar, cooking, how to change a flat tire.

Steve does it, his strumming hand eventually loosening up a little, and Eddie leans his face close to Steve’s.

“Okay, now for the actual strumming pattern,” Eddie says, “put your fingers on that first chord,” and Steve does it. “Great. It’s one, two, three and four. Do an up strum on the ands,” Eddie says, and he takes Steve’s hand to guide the pick across the strings, manipulating him into doing exactly what he wants him to. And then he whispers, “And switch,” and Steve does, so he says, “and switch,” again, and Steve does it, again. “And switch.”

“Stop that, you’re making me horny,” Steve says, laughing at him.

“Just now? I’ve been horny since we started,” Eddie says, pressing his whole body harder all along Steve’s back.

Steve laughs, and lulls back into Eddie, and Eddie kisses his cheek.

“Can you play that now? I’ll count.”

Steve nods, and sits up straighter again, and he fucking does. It’s stilted, and a little awkward, and fucking America, but it’s a song. The bare bones of one, but still music. This is music. He taught Steve Harrington how to play a song, and that’s still pretty wild to ponder.

“One…two…three, and…four, switch,” Eddie says softly, then repeats it when Steve switches from the E minor to the D6/9 chord, and back again. He seems to get it, so Eddie moves to the real strumming pattern.

“First chord: Down, down, up, down, up, down, up, switch,” Eddie instructs, and Steve does it, “Down, up, up, up, down, up,” and it’s a little clumsy. 

“No, I think it’s up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, select, start,” Steve sasses, and Eddie laughs out loud. 

Steve misses a few of the downs and ups, but he keeps repeating it, and Steve keeps strumming until he's doing it better, more reliably.

And then Eddie gets him up to full speed, increasing the pace of his instructions. Steve’s fingers aren’t totally on board, not yet, but he’s doing a pretty great fucking job for a total beginner.

“Really emphasize and feel that, up, up, up strumming on the D6/9,” Eddie suggests, and Steve does.

Then Steve stops abruptly, “Is this A Horse With No Name?” he asks, “Is that what the fuck I’m playing right now?”

Eddie cackles with delight, “It is! And you recognized it! So, you must have an excellent teacher.” 

Steve laughs, and starts playing it again, better now that his ear is involved and he knows what it's supposed to sound like. 

So, this time, Eddie sings in his ear instead of counting. He’s not sure he knows all the lyrics, but he makes up what he doesn’t know, and just adds a lot of la la las to fill in the blanks. It’s not exact, and there are more than a few missteps. Steve’s fingers don’t quite have this mastered yet, but he’s playing a fucking song, that’s for damn sure. So, it’s not perfect. Not at all. Not from either of them. 

But it's absolutely recognizable.

It sounds fucking great to Eddie, but he knows he might be just a little bit biased.

When the song is over, Steve turns his head to look at Eddie, and Eddie leans forward to kiss him. Steve kisses him back.

He kisses him like he hasn't done it in weeks, months, and Eddie loves him for it. He loves him. 

When they finally break apart, Eddie hugs him around his waist, tight.

“Look at that, my boyfriend plays the guitar now.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but says, “Okay, enough guitar lessons, time for bed.”

And Eddie’s not gonna argue with that suggestion, no way, no how.

After, when they are tangled together in Eddie’s sheets, in his room that now smells faintly of beer, Steve mutters, “That fucking song is stuck in my head, now. So, thanks a lot.”

And Eddie rolls into him, laughing uncontrollably, brushing his hand through Steve's mussed hair, pushing it back off his forehead, just like Steve likes. 

The damn song is stuck in his head, too, but that’s a small price to pay. For this. For this laughter. 

For this love. 

I'm sure the Eddie teaches Steve to play guitar trope has been done to death, but when you're given acoustic, guitarfish and incoordination, that seems like an obvious leap to make, lol. (And a shout out to the several YouTube guitar tutorials I mashed this together from!)

Absolutely no pressure tags: @dreamwatch, @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe, @designatedgrape, @wynnyfryd & @penny00dreadful and anyone else that wants to do it! It was pretty dang fun.

And if you now want the same earworm Eddie saddled them both with, enjoy! It's good thing nobody can see what I'm listening to on Spotify, I'm sure this on repeat only alternating with Hallelujah, makes me look slightly unhinged. 🤣