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hausofwoo · 6 months ago

Text

graphic | mark lee

pairing: mark lee x afab reader

word count: 6.6K

summary: stuck in the monotony of your job at the mall, every day feels the same: opening the store, sitting behind the register, and counting the hours til close. you've even memorized the routines of the stores around you. but when a new guy starts at the comic book store across the way, you realize your predictable days may soon change.

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, comic book store employee!mark, retail employee!reader, really cute and fluffy until it's not, public sex (public space but no one is there), unprotected piv (DONT DO THIS), mark throws u around like a lil play thing, oral (fem recieving), fingering, use of a petname (baby), lmk if i forgot anything!

author's note: this one took forever yall i know its been a while! been going thru some shit irl but things are settling and i was deadset on finishing this bc it's so cute :'-) thank u to T and @hausofmingi for being my beta readers ( ˘ ³˘)♡

working at a mall can be really tiring, but it’s not so bad when you have a crush.

you’ve been working at a retail store at your local mall for a few months now. it’s boring, there’s too many people on the weekends, and you have the worst hours. you found yourself working open to close for far too many shifts. but at the end of the day, at least it keeps the bills paid.

on slow days during the week, you’re always sat at the register, scrolling through your phone or twiddling your thumbs, counting down the seconds til closing time. sometimes you would even stare off into space, watching people pass by all day long.

you went to work always knowing exactly how the day would go; set up shop, maybe help some customers, and do fucking nothing for 8 to 10 hours. maybe a wave to the employees at the stores surrounding you, but sadly, that was usually the most interesting part of your day. you became accustomed to the monotony though, watching the same employees open up their shops next to yours.

the store directly across from yours is a comic book store. you know the few people that worked there, usually just saying “good morning” and going on with your day. you swear, you have this store memorized, knowing when the employees take their breaks, who’s working, what they’re working on that day. you didn’t really mean to, but when all you have to do is daydream, you kinda picked up on the routine there.

so when you arrive in the morning for yet another brutal open-to-close shift, you expect to just roll up the security shutters and sit back at the register all day. but there’s something different today; or rather, someone different.

sitting at the register at the comic book store is a man you’ve never seen before. his hair is perfectly messy and his glasses framed his eyes, which are focused on reading a comic. he’s working all by himself, which is surprising to you since you’re certain he’s new. you catch yourself staring and try to brush it off. he’s a new guy, so what?

you try your best to go about your day as normal, but you can’t help stealing glances over at the man at the store across from you. he has a captivating energy, and it makes you want to know more about him. he seems charismatic, being friendly with customers and earning smiles, then resuming his doodling once they leave. you notice that when he looks really focused, he bites the corner of his lip gently.

you gotta stop staring, or he will definitely notice. you decide to actually work on something for once, organizing the stock and straightening the shelves. soon enough, closing time creeps up on you. you do all of your closing duties and grab your things from the back. you close the security shutters, looking behind you quickly to see that the man is doing the same. he notices your gaze, so you kindly wave at him. instead of a wave back, blush forms on his face with a shy smile. and with that, he walks away.

the interaction was unreadable. he seemed to be so extroverted with customers, having no issue having casual conversations with them. why is he getting all shy now?

you started to pick up on the new routine at the comic book store. from what you could tell, the man worked similar hours to you, often opening and closing too. he rarely worked with anyone else, so the majority of the time you glanced over, he was reading comics, manga, or doodling in his notepad.

you never really got into comic books like that, and only dabbled with reading manga, but the growing interest in this man made you curious about learning more on what he was reading. maybe it wouldn’t hurt to check out the selection? perhaps get some recommendations? you just finished a short shift today so now was the perfect opportunity.

after grabbing your things and saying goodbye to your coworker, you make your way over to the comic book store. you approach the man, who’s sitting at the register as usual, reading. you see his name tag on his chest; a cute red pin with a spider-man drawing next to his name, “mark.”

“hi,” you say, pulling his attention away from reading.

“oh, hi,” he says, placing his comic down. “sorry, i didn’t see you come in.”

“it’s okay,” you reply, looking around at the goodies at the register. “i was wondering if you have any recommendations for a beginner at reading comics?”

“oh for sure,” he says, eyes lighting up. “marvel has tons of great ones. you could start with an ironman one, or maybe captain america? i personally like spider-man, but i’m definitely biased.”

“i’ll try spider-man,” you say after a beat.

mark gives you a nod with a warm smile before leaving the register to grab your comic. he searches through the spider-man section until he finds the first issue. he returns to the register, ringing you up.

“i think you’ll like it, it’s really good,” mark says, handing your receipt to you.

“i’m definitely looking forward to see what all the hype is about,” you chuckle. the conversation pauses for moment, clearly indicating that the interaction is pretty much over with. but you don’t want the conversation to end there, so you find something to keep talking about. “you’re new here, aren’t you? like you just started working here?”

“yeah, sort of,” he says, sitting back in his seat at the register. “i used to work here a while ago and i just came back ‘cause they needed someone.”

“oh nice,” you reply. “welcome back i guess?”

“haha, i guess,” he smiles, rubbing his hand on his neck. “it’s chill here, but it gets kinda boring.”

“tell me about it,” you chuckle. “it’s so slow during the week. i usually have nothing to do.”

“yeah, i just read or draw to pass the time,” mark says, pointing at his notepad on the counter.

“you like to draw?” you ask, curious.

“yeah,” he places a hand on the notepad, grabbing it. you can tell he’s getting shy again. “it’s just doodles.”

“you’ll have to show me some of those ‘doodles’ sometime,” you say with a sweet smile. you check your phone for the time. it’s getting closer to dinnertime and you’re starved. “i guess i’ll get out of here.”

“okay,” he stands again. “well, let me know what you think of the comic.”

“i will,” you say, turning to leave, then flipping back to look at him. “mark, right?”

he nods, asking for your name as well. he beams at you. “it’s nice to meet you. see you tomorrow?”

“see you tomorrow,” you say with a wave, walking out.

for the next week, you find yourself aching to talk to mark again. you read the comic he gave you, and it provided a little bit of insight into him… that he’s a bit of a nerd. definitely not a bad thing. it’s actually really endearing to you, knowing his life basically revolves around superheroes, free time and work alike. that he probably draws little comics in his notepad, and has sweet dreams about being superhuman. why is that so fucking cute?

you have a reason to talk to him again, of course: the next issue of spider-man. the problem is building up the courage again, which is ridiculous because he’s just a guy. a nerdy one at that, and you know that he would be putty in your hands if you really wanted him to be. but the longing you developed for him during those long hours of your shift, seeing him across the way, looking so cute in his round glasses… it’s making you nervous in a way that is difficult to explain.

you’ve been putting off going back to his store at this point. wouldn’t someone that wanted to get into superhero comics come back for the next edition? why aren’t you using your excuse to talk to him? not only that, but he even said he wanted you to come tell him what you thought of the comic. you’re just overthinking things.

you have another short shift one day, and decide today is the day. you gather your things and walk to the neighboring store, feeling the familiar butterflies you felt the first time you approached mark at the register. he’s drawing this time, crouched down and focused. he hears you walk in, lifting his head to meet your eyes. maybe you’re crazy, but it looks like his eyes light up.

“hey,” he says, closing the notepad in front of him. you present the spider-man comic to him, and he flashes a smile at you. “what’d you think?”

you chuckle, holding the comic close to your chest. “it was good, but too short. there’s another issue, right?” you joke, hoping it lands.

he lets out a giggle, “yeah, there definitely is. i’ll grab the next one for you.”

he walks over to a section near the front of the store, flipping through the excess of papers before he finds the 2nd issue. “if you liked that one, you’ll like this one even more.” he returns to the register with the issue, placing it on the counter for you.

“duel to the death with the vulture?” you read from the page. “i haven’t seen any of the movies recently so correct me if i’m wrong, but i don’t remember there being a vulture.”

“oh yeah, he’s in one of the later movies actually,” mark starts. “but you got a long way to go til you finally meet one of the iconic villians like the green goblin, or even the love interests gwen stacy or mary jane. it’ll be so worth the wait though.”

“how much do i owe you?” you ask, already pulling out your wallet.

“you can borrow it if you want,” he says.

“but this one belongs to the store, won’t you get in trouble?” you ask.

“just bring it back and it’s like it never happened,” he whispers, faking a shhh at you. “let’s just say it’s mall employee perk.”

you smile and accept it.

your new routine feels like a nice change of pace. every second of every day used to drag by, and yet at the same time, when you got home, everything that happened was so unbelievably boring that it all felt like a blur. nothing really significant happened to you. but something about trying something new, learning about a brand new niche interest, and even developing a crush… it’s finally something exciting.

you looked forward to the next time you got a new issue. not just that, but the next time you got to talk to mark. he has this charm about him that piqued your interest. it feels so easy to talk to him, as if you’ve already known each other for a long time and it isn’t just a budding friendship. you’d find yourself stopping by the comic book store a few times a week, anticipating the next comic and the underlying tension between you and mark.

like today, when you finally got off of work after a long shift. you were able to close up shop quickly and now you’re walking over to the comic book store, attempting to run in before mark locked up.

“hey, is it cool if i get the next issue real quick?” you ask, popping your head in the store.

“yeah, one sec,” he says, looking up from counting the cash in the register. “lemme just finish closing up the register.”

“are you implying that you’re gonna let me borrow another comic?” you ask, a flirty tone floating beneath.

“well of course,” he says, swiftly closing the cash drawer. “unless you want to start collecting, which by the way, SUPER expensive.”

“i think i’ll stick to being a casual reader for now,” you joke, approaching mark at the register.

“i don’t know, you might change your mind after this one,” he says, grabbing a comic from his bag. he holds it out to you, you grabbing it with your fingers briefly brushing past his. the motion makes you feel a little dizzy, and you can feel heat rising to your cheeks.

you shake your head, realizing this one doesn’t belong to the store. “wait, is this your own personal comic?”

“yeah, it’s one of my favorites,” he says, half focusing as he’s writing something on a sticky note at the counter. “i brought it in so you can borrow it.” you can see the corner of his mouth turning up, as if he’s trying to hold back a smile.

“you didn’t have to do that—”

“i wanted to,” he says, lifting his head up to hand you the sticky note he was writing on. “just treat it with care.”

you take the note, which is pale blue with a cartoon spider-man in the corner. in the middle of the note is a scrawled out phone number. you look up to see mark rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“if you want to tell me what you think?” he says, almost like a question.

“or maybe when i get bored during my shift?” you ask, chuckling.

“i’d like that a lot actually,” he smiles, his previous nervousness quickly washing away.

“you’ll regret it though,” you say, sticking the note on the front page of the comic. “because i get bored here a lot.”

“don’t worry,” mark laughs, shaking his head. “i don’t think i’ll get sick of you anytime soon.”

you finally reached issue #14 of spider-man, the one mark is lending to you. you grab it out of your bag at the beginning of your shift, sitting back in your chair behind the register and getting comfortable. you realize what it’s about and immediately text mark.

sent 10:17 am omg wait i didn’t realize this issue is the first appearance of the green goblin

you look across the way, seeing mark pick up his phone and smiling.

sent 10:18 am mark: oh yeah, he’s fuckin sick mark: you’re gonna love it

you click your phone off with a soft sigh, flipping back to your comic. you go about your shift switching from helping customers and checking them out, and reading. every once and a while, you’ll message mark with your comments and he would always reply with enthusiasm.

the end of your shift approaches quickly, and soon enough you’re closing the security shutters. you look behind you to see mark locking the doors and then doing the same. he must’ve felt your eyes on him, because he turns and flashes his famous smile to you. you walk over to him with the comic in hand.

“you were right,” you say, handing it him. “green goblin is super sick.”

“i told you,” he says, reaching for it, and your hands momentarily touching like last time. he gets flustered. “uh, i can give you the next one tomorrow if you’re working.”

“i am, yeah,” you reply, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “i am so curious though—when the hell does gwen stacy show up?”

“oh,” he giggles to himself. “you’re like, halfway there to finally seeing her.”

“i didn’t realize how extensive this series is,” you chuckle. “not that i’m complaining. i’m actually surprised by how much i like it.”

“i’m glad,” he says sweetly. “well, just come by tomorrow and i’ll give you the next issue.”

“i will.”

the following weeks, you became overtaken by superhero comics and stupid-fucking-adorable mark. you would read an issue of spider-man at work, and text mark with your reactions to certain scenes. at first you thought it might be annoying to him, but he actually seemed to encourage it, asking for your opinions on the characters and storyline.

it doesn’t help that every time you see mark, you get butterflies in your stomach. and it seemed to only be getting worse; you keep finding yourself smiling when his name pops up on your phone. you wake up excited to go to work, because you know you’ll probably have another interaction with him. sometimes, mark would even catch you staring at him and give a little nod with a smile. but what made things exponentially worse was when you catch him gazing at you too, catching you off guard but making a smile spread across your lips. you are smitten, and if anyone else was concerned, mark is probably smitten too. the issue is getting him to finally take the hint and making a real move on you.

he may get a little flustered around you, but he’s not exactly shy. after all, he did give you his number unprompted. but after weeks of going back and forth strictly talking about comics and work, you started to lose hope. you just want him. he must want you back just as bad.

after another closing shift, you watch the mall-goers pass by and file out of the building. the mall is basically empty now, most of the neighboring stores already closed and employees leaving for the day. you had to stay a little bit late, cleaning up a huge mess in the store from some rude customers. you thought you would have time to stop by to see mark, but with the amount of things you have to put away, your chances are looking slim.

you shuffle around the store, placing items back on the shelves and organizing the tables of merchandise. you eyes shift over to the comic book store, expecting to see it dark and locked up. but it isn’t; mark is still in there, half the lights still on, with him unboxing comics from their latest shipment. you already knew it was restock day for them (god you have way too much free time), but you didn’t realize how many boxes they got in.

you open the front door of your store, whisper-yelling through the security shutters. “mark!”

mark’s head turns to look at you and flashes a grin at you. “yo, you’re still here too?”

you nod, leaning on the glass door. you hold up a few of the displaced items in your hands. “go-backs,” you shrug.

he points at the pile of boxes in front of him, “restock. we got a lot of shit in early for christmas.”

“don’t say christmas please, i don’t want to think about it yet,” you say with a laugh.

you turn away to get back to work, putting all the merchandise back to their assigned spots. you don’t know what the hell got into people today; messing up all your organization you’ve done and putting things in all the wrong places. it didn’t help that you had to deal with some assholes with returns today too. you always theorize it’s from a full moon or mercury retrograde or something; those things must be the reason people start acting up.

after about an hour of cleaning, you finish up and can finally call it a day. you close up shop and turn to see mark still working on stocking at his store. you approach the security gate of the store, with its front door still propped open.

“i still need my next issue by the way,” you say to mark, who stands from his crouching position in front of an open box. he walks up to the gate and pushes it up, just enough for you to come through. you look hesitant.

“come in, it’s okay,” he says, motioning you in. you duck under the security gate, slipping into the store. “how was your day? looks like you had a lot to do.”

“yeah, the store was a mess,” you say, following him to the register. “i’ve never had to stay so late after close.”

“it’s only gonna get worse the closer it gets to christmas,” mark says while weaving around the boxes with you.

“what did i say about christmas?” you joke, nudging his shoulder softly.

“sorry, sorry,” he laugh, putting his hands up. you wait patiently for him as he kneels behind the register, looking for your comic. he pops back up with a stumped look on his face. “i swear i thought i put it up here to give to you but i can’t find it. i’m gonna go check the back.”

he starts walking to the back room, and looks back at you. “feel free to sit if you want. our stockroom is a wreck, this might take a sec.”

you nod to him, squeezing past the tower of boxes to sit in the chair at the register. it feels kinda funny to sit back here, like you’re seeing the store from a different perspective, from mark’s perspective. you look around behind the counter, seeing the little notes and cute super-hero knick knacks gathered around.

there’s a mini batman funko pop positioned in the corner, with a sticky note placed under his feet reading “no drinks at the register.” you look over to see a large iced coffee with mark’s name in sharpie. well, we all bend the rules a bit. his name tag is placed on the counter by a stack of comics. you grab it to take a closer look. it’s a plastic red pin with a white pop-art bubble. in the corner is a small piece of paper stuck on it, attached with office tape. on the paper is a spider-man doodle, made with red and blue marker and pen ink.

you’re sure this must’ve been drawn by mark. you have yet to see any of his drawings (despite your prying), so maybe seeing this one up close will give you a sneak peek into his style. it’s a little messy, with scratchy lines and colors bleeding outside the borders. despite that, it has a distinct style that you’re fond of. it’s not perfect, let alone does it look like the super-heroes you’ve been reading in your comics. but it has a quality to it that feels less polished and flat. it has character. the messiness makes it feel more… real.

you set his name tag down, placing it back next to the large stack of comics. these must be his go-backs. he’s been so wrapped up with his shipment he probably hasn’t had time to put them away. you think maybe it would be nice to help a bit. he’s been nice enough to let you borrow comics from the store, and you’re just waiting around after all.

you pick up the stack of comics, situating them into your arms, when you look down and see that under the stack is mark’s notepad. it’s not closed like you’re used to seeing it, opened to a clean white page with a drawing covering up a majority of it. it’s in a comic book style, you’re not surprised. but it has the same quality that his name tag doodle does; scrawly and messy, with no real precise lines. the colors are splashed across the page, with blotches of scribbled colored marker decorating it. then realize what it is—who it is.

it’s you.

the whole image captures you and a little bit of your surroundings. positioned at your normal spot at the register, you’re looking down at a comic with your fingers playing with the ends of your hair. but it has a dream-like feel to it, with the pages of the comic illuminating your face as if a source of power is emanating from it. and then the best part: the wings. placed behind your shoulders are pair of feathered wings, outstretched in a sketched black ink. it’s beautiful.

it’s beautiful and it’s you. mark drew you.

“yo, sorry that took so long,” mark says while emerging from the back, eyes still focused on the comic in his hands. “i finally found it, but dude i had to do some digging—”

mark’s words are cut short when he notices you holding his notepad, comics that were placed atop abandoned on the counter by you. he visibly gulps.

“mark…” you start, not moving your eyes from the drawing. “what’s this?” without a response for a few moments, you tear your eyes away to see mark with blush on his cheeks, mouth open but unable to let any words out. “did you… did you draw me?”

“look, it gets really slow during the day, i just did a little sketch to pass time—”

“mark, this isn’t just a sketch,” you say, looking back down at the notepad. “this is amazing.”

“y-you like it?” mark says, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“of course i like it,” you say.

“you don’t think it’s weird that i drew you without telling you?” mark asks, nervousness radiating from him.

“i don’t think it’s weird at all,” you say. “i actually love it. i like that you drew me as a superhero too, and one with wings at that.”

mark stays quiet, looking at his feet and probably overthinking everything right now. you look back up at him, tension building in your stomach as you ask what you already know the answer to. “you like me, don’t you?”

mark lifts his head to meet your eyes. he bites his lip anxiously as he nods slowly.

a streak of courage overtakes you as you grab his arm to pull him closer, him tripping over his own feet and crashing into your chest. you’re leaned against the counter, with mark’s arm behind you and hand placed flat on the surface. your faces are close, and you can feel his breath. his eyes are glued onto your lips, and he swallows thickly.

“mark, just kiss me,” you mumble, aching for him.

he wastes no time, leaning in to slot his lips between yours. he snakes an arm around your waist, holding you as close as he can. you melt into him, goosebumps floating across your skin in all-consuming desire. you move your hand to hold his cheek, thumb swiping on his smooth skin and fingers tangled in his soft, messy hair.

he pulls away, breath still shaky. “i’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long…” he trails off before leaning in and kissing you again, this time with more passion. he swipes his tongue between your lips, with you willingly accepting him. his hands trail up and down your sides, then finally places a firm grip on your waist and lifting you to sit on the counter. he slots between your legs, his body pressed close to yours. your fingers card through his hair, earning a sweet hum from him.

his hands trail down to your ass, pushing you closer against him to where you feel the bulge forming in his jeans. he can’t even hold back his moan, it being muffled by your lips. he pulls away again, this time kissing from your cheek down to your neck. he sucks at the expanse of skin while he caresses the other side of your throat. you let out a soft hum in pleasure, savoring every bite and lick—

“fuck, you sound so hot too,” he says in between kisses. he moves a hand down to your breast, kneading it roughly. you throw your head back, soaking in the pleasure from just his hands alone. his beautiful fucking hands, the ones that drew you. his lips feel so good on you, but his hands feel even better. it’s as if he’s been waiting for this moment for eternity and he doesn’t want to let you go. almost as if holding you, touching you is the only thing keeping him grounded in reality. it doesn’t feel real to you either; that mark, the cute boy you’ve had a crush on for weeks and weeks is kissing you, holding you, and yearning for you all the same.

you feel so wrapped up in the moment that you almost forget that you’re in public. sure, there’s no one left in the mall and the only people left are probably mall security, but the risk of being seen is still there. it just feels too good to stop.

“mark,” you say, giving in to the anxiety. “are we really doing this? right here, right now?”

he pulls back to look at you, still holding you close. “it’s just us here, and if it’s okay with you, i don’t think i can wait any longer.”

“i don’t think i can either,” you respond.

suddenly mark is ripping your clothes off, all while pulling you both behind one of the comic display cases. it’s your turn to take his clothes off, and you’re yanking his jacket off and pulling up his graphic tee and discarding them both on the floor. the exchange is a jumbled mess of constant touching of skin and clothes flying in every direction, a true testament to how desperate you both want each other. he’s kissing you all the while, taking every opportunity to peck at you between the tugging of clothes.

he leans you against the display bookshelf full of comics, completely unbothered when an issue or two falls off. your hand travels down into this jeans, feeling him hard and pulsing against your palm. you stroke his length slowly, focusing most of the stimulation on his dripping head. he lifts one of your legs slightly to get better access to you under your skirt, then looks at you as if he’s asking for permission.

you nod your head profusely before leaning in to kiss him deeply. it doesn’t last long, because suddenly he’s pushing inside you and you’re gasping at the stretch—

“you’re so—fuck—so fucking tight,” he hisses, attempting to push in as slowly as he can. your mouth is fully agape in bliss as he finally bottoms out, reaching deep inside of you. he catches your eyes, lust filled in his own as he slowly starts to move.

he’s slow at first, knowing that his size is stretching you out to the point where it’s nearly painful. but it feels so fucking good, his cock dragging in and out of your tight walls. you can tell he wants to pick up the pace, with his breath shuddering with each stroke. you take the opportunity to kiss him again, wanting to taste his soft lips as he gradually begins to pound into you.

he’s groaning against your lips, and your moans are muffled against his. you’re trying to salvage any sort of public decency by holding back your sounds the best you can. it’s when he grabs your legs and lifts you to press you against the display shelf that you realize that that shred of awareness of your surroundings is about to be long fucking gone.

he’s holding you up by gripping your ass, pistoning into you at a pace that you can only describe as brutal. it’s no use trying to stifle your moans anymore, with him hitting your cervix over and over and making you see stars at each stroke—

“mark, it feels so fucking good,” you can only whine out to him, wrapping your arms around his neck tighter, tugging at his hair—

“you feel so fucking good, jesus,” he groans against your neck, heaving breaths tickling at your throat.

his pace is wild, but the force in which he’s pounding into you begins to cause the comic books around you to tumble off the shelves, creating a pile at mark’s feet. he doesn’t seem to care though. that is, until a comic book falls from a shelf above you and hits him on the head.

“ah!” he exclaims, realizing what happened. he stops his movements to look at you, holding back a smile.

you can’t hold back your laugh, giggling profusely at the ridiculousness of the situation. he laughs too, shaking his head and letting out a sigh.

“this is crazy,” he says, resting his forehead on yours.

“i know,” you reply, still giggling. with one last laugh, he leans in and kisses you tenderly, smile still formed on his lips. you melt into him, ruffling your fingers through his hair as he begins to pick back up the roll of his hips into you.

it feels like a sweet moment, the fact that you can be doing such a scandalous act and still giggle with him. the tenderness doesn’t last for long, however, when he hits that perfect spot inside you that forces you to release a sharp moan.

“mark, oh my god,” you whimper, attempting to roll your hips down onto him. “keep doing that, please—”

“fuuuck,” he groans, feeling your core clenching around his length. “you take me so well, baby.”

all you can do now is nod, whimpering and whining on him. you can’t believe that this man that has always been so endearing, so kind and lovable has this completely different side to him that you’re only now getting to experience. it brings a different sort of intrigue to him; that he’s more than just a cute boy that works at a mall. he’s complex. he’s a fucking man. he’s a fucking. sex. god.

his breathing starts to become irregular, and his pace is back to merciless. his groans, fuck, his moaning. he’s bouncing you on his cock in the perfect way to where your moans are matching his. you can feel his dick pulsing inside you—

“i’m gonna cum,” he can only breathe out, burying his head into the crook of your neck. “can i?”

“yes mark, please,” you whine, tugging at the ends of his hair. all the while you’re clenching around his cock, bringing him closer and closer to his release.

with a low groan, his hips stutter and you feel his seed spilling into you, completely filling you up. the rocking of his hips stall, and he’s finally letting you down and kissing you sweetly, caressing your cheek with his hand.

“god, you are fucking perfect,” he whispers to you. you let out a giggle, leaning your forehead against his. “hey, i’m not done with you yet.”

he quickly moves you to the glass display counter, lifting you to sit you on it. he pushes your thighs open, lifting your skirt up to get a better look at you. he looks enamored, like he’s starving and the only thing to appease his hunger is by having you on his mouth.

he dives in, licking a stripe up your core with a groan. he repeats this action, as if he’s savoring every drop of your essence mixed with his release that’s slowly dripping out of you—

“so fucking hot,” he hums, releasing a hand from your thigh to tease at your entrance.

“mark, please,” you beg. “stop teasing—”

he attaches his mouth to your clit, swirling his tongue around in smooth, controlled circles. your hands fly to his head, body already twitching from stimulation. his finger is still prodding at your hole, wanting to enter but not just yet. he instead continues to ravage at your sensitive bud, intentional movements making your head spin. he knows what he’s doing and he knows he’s good, especially with the shaking of your thighs and high pitched moans escaping your lips egging him on.

he looks up at you, flattening his tongue out and doing long, drawn out licks. the eye contact is insane, the lust filled in them only making it that much hotter. he’s enjoying every second of this, seeing you shake and begging him to keep going. he loves the taste of you too, so sweet and almost addictive. he could die like this.

his teasing finger finally starts to deepen inside you, slowly at first. he can feel every pulse of your core around his finger, and it’s so hot that he can feel himself getting hard again. and you’re so wet, oh my god, so fucking wet. your arousal is dripping down his chin and his hand, making a sticky mess. when you start to roll your hips onto his face, he swears he’s in heaven.

he inserts another finger, feeling that tightness grip around them. it’s only getting more erratic now, clenching around him with each grind of your hips. he curls his fingers to prod at that sensitive spot, causing you to moan out his name—

“mark, don’t stop,” you whine, looking down at him basically making out with your pussy.

he continues the same movements, repeatedly hitting your g spot and swirling his dripping tongue on your clit. your back arches and legs unintentionally close around his head, making him push them back open with his free hand.

and then he starts humming against you. the vibrations send a shock wave through your body, that mixed with his fingers, his tongue, his hand gripping tightly against your thigh… it feels so intense and so so good. you cum on his tongue, with him desperately holding your hips down and he helps you ride out your high. he doesn’t stop until you’re shaking, and you have to grab his head and lift it.

“oh my god,” you gasp, slowly coming down.

he smirks up at you with arousal-coated lips. “yeah, oh my god.” he stands up, immediately going to kiss you and you accepting him, wrapping your arms around him. he pulls away and leans his head against yours.

“i can’t believe we just did that,” he says, sighing out an exasperated laugh.

“i know, what the fuck, right?” you giggle.

“are you- are you doing anything right now?” he asks. “like, do you wanna get food or something?”

“are you asking me on a date?” you ask teasingly.

“don’t tell me you decided you’re creeped out by the drawing now,” he laughs.

“yeah. suuuper creeped out,” you joke, leaning in for another kiss. you hear a noise behind you, and look out through the security shutters to see a mall security guard passing by, scrolling through his phone.

“looks like he just missed the show,” mark says, causing you both to try and hold back your fit of giggles.

a/n: thank u guys for reading! i rly enjoyed this one hehe :-) please leave feedback as i'm new to writing, and reblog to support me! it motivates me to write more!

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#mark lee #mark lee smut #nct mark smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #nct x reader #mark smut #mark lee x reader #nct imagines #nct hard thoughts #mark x reader

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chrrybbmb · 16 days ago

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idk if you take request but if you do maybe a drabble of dumb baby where jk ends up eating her p ssy and she rides her nose ?

ps : your spidey fic was so well written and i loved their dynamic 💕

STARRING ... J. JUNGKOOK X BIMBO!READER

A/N ... thank you sooo much for liking heartweave!! <3 apologies for how long it took me to get to this, but as per your request, here's a smutty lil drabble

NOTES/WARNINGS ... smut (18+/MDNI), munch!kook, porn without plot, face sitting, orgasm denial, jungkook does not play about making his girl feel good, after care. if i forgot anything let me know.

...

your focus is elsewhere, eyes glued to your phone, mindlessly scrolling as you rest comfortably on jungkook’s lap. his hands are on your waist, warm and familiar, thumbs rubbing slow circles against your skin where your shirt has ridden up.

he’s been quiet for a few minutes now, but you don’t think much of it. not until his grip tightens just slightly, fingers flexing like he’s holding himself back.

“wanna try something,” he says suddenly, voice low.

you hum absentmindedly, still scrolling. “mm? like what?”

his fingers slip lower, squeezing at your hips, a slow smirk creeping onto his lips. “wanna have you sit on my face.”

your fingers freeze mid-scroll. your phone slips from your grasp, landing somewhere on the bed, suddenly forgotten as your stomach does a little flip. blinking, you look down at him, finding those dark, expectant eyes staring up at you, his expression nothing short of mischievous.

“what?” you squeak, heat rushing straight to your cheeks.

he grins, tilting his head. “you heard me, baby.”

your lips part, but no words come out, your mind struggling to keep up with the sudden shift in atmosphere. jungkook just watches you, clearly enjoying your reaction, his hands kneading at your waist, pulling you just a little closer.

“c’mon,” he murmurs, voice dropping, all smooth and coaxing. “let me take care of you.”

your breath catches, fingers tightening around the hem of your shirt. “koo—”

he hums, leaning up, lips brushing against your jaw, your cheek, whispering against your skin. “be good for me, yeah?”

your breath is shaky, your fingers curling into the sheets as jungkook watches you, his eyes dark, unwavering.

his hands slide up, fingertips dragging along your sides, slow and deliberate. “you think i don’t want it?” he murmurs, tilting his head, gaze locked onto yours. “think i don’t wanna have you above me, making a mess all over my face?”

your stomach flips, warmth pooling between your thighs at the way he says it, like he’s already imagining how you’ll fall apart above him.

you press your lips together, nervous, hesitant, but jungkook sees right through you. his hands squeeze your hips, grounding, reassuring.

“jump off,” he says, voice smooth, calm, but there’s an edge to it, something commanding beneath the sweetness.

you hesitate for half a second, and then you move, shifting off of him so he can lay down properly, arms stretching above his head before settling comfortably against the pillows. he looks up at you, smirking just a little, his hands reaching for you instantly, urging you forward.

your heart is pounding, a mix of excitement and uncertainty swirling inside you, but jungkook is patient, his grip firm but gentle as he tugs you closer, guiding you over him.

his fingers hook into your underwear, sliding the fabric down your thighs, slow, deliberate, teasing. you shiver, watching as he helps you out of them completely, tossing them somewhere onto the bed like they don’t even matter.

you swallow hard, kneeling beside him, your body heating under his gaze.

“come here,” he murmurs, voice rough, hands wrapping around your thighs, tugging you forward.

you hesitate again, just for a second, but he soothes you with a slow stroke of his thumbs.

“trust me, baby,” he whispers, eyes half-lidded, lips slightly parted as he waits, patient and wanting. “lemme make you feel good.”

your breath hitches, your fingers digging into the sheets. then, slowly, you let him guide you up, positioning yourself above his face, thighs trembling just slightly as his grip tightens, holding you in place.

and the second you settle, his eyes flicker up, dark and full of something dangerous. “good girl,” he breathes, lips brushing against the heat of your skin, his grip firm on your thighs as he keeps you in place, hovering just above his mouth.

his breath is warm, teasing, the anticipation making your whole body shudder. you barely have a second to process before his tongue flicks out, pressing against your clit and dragging a long stripe up through your folds.

your whole body jolts, a shaky gasp tumbling from your lips, fingers instantly gripping the headboard for support.

“fuck—” your voice is barely above a whisper, thighs twitching as jungkook hums beneath you, pleased.

his tongue moves again, licking up through your slickness, savoring the taste of you like he has all the time in the world. your breath catches, a high-pitched whimper escaping as you tremble above him, your hips twitching forward before you can stop yourself.

jungkook groans, low and deep, the vibration shooting straight through you, making your whole body tingle. his hands flex on your thighs, pulling you closer, encouraging you to move, to grind down against his mouth.

“that’s it,” he murmurs against you, his voice muffled, lost in the mess he’s already making of you. “use me, baby.” his tongue plunges lower, hot and wet, licking into your cunt, the sensation making you jolt.

“oh—oh my god,” you gasp, fingers tightening in his hair now, holding onto him for dear life.

he growls, his grip tightening, keeping you pressed down as his tongue delves deeper, licking into you with messy, sloppy strokes, his face completely buried between your thighs.

your whole body trembles as he moves, flicking, and thrusting his tongue in and out of you, wet sounds filling the air as he works you open greedily, his hands gripping your thighs so tight you know you’ll feel it tomorrow.

you’re losing yourself, completely. your thighs are trembling, your hips rolling forward without even thinking, chasing every flick, every movement of his tongue.

“so messy, baby,” jungkook groans against you, his voice husky, drenched in arousal. “so fucking sweet.”

your breath is ragged, sharp little cries slipping from your lips, your mind hazy, floating. your stomach tightening, coiling, ready to snap.

jungkook knows it, too. he feels the way your thighs start to tremble, the way your hips stutter, struggling to keep up with the desperate rhythm you’ve set against his mouth.

he pulls away.

your entire body jerks, the loss of contact so sudden that your breath catches in your throat, a desperate whimper breaking free.

“w-wait—” your voice is barely there, weak and broken, hands flying to his hair, trying to push yourself back onto his mouth. but jungkook’s grip on your thighs is firm, unyielding, holding you in place just far enough that his lips hover over you, but not touching.

“nah, baby,” he breathes, voice dark, dripping with amusement, his fingers stroking up and down your skin in slow, soothing patterns, like he isn’t being absolutely cruel. “not yet.”

your head falls back, frustration bubbling in your chest, tears pricking at your eyes.

“koo—” you whine, voice high, breathless, your entire body aching, throbbing from how close you’d been. he smirks, watching the way you squirm, how your fingers tremble in his hair as you try to urge him closer.

“you were gonna cum, weren’t you?” he muses, tilting his head, his breath still hot against your soaked skin, sending little shocks through your oversensitive nerves.

you nod frantically, your hips jerking slightly, your desperation obvious. “yes, yes, i was—”

“too bad.”

his grip tightens, nails pressing just slightly into the soft flesh of your thighs as he drags his tongue along you, slow and lazy, teasing, but not giving you enough, not enough to build it back up, not enough to push you over the edge.

your stomach tenses, frustration bubbling higher, making you gasp as he continues. light licks, soft kisses, nothing close to what you need.

“please,” you sob, hands fisting in his hair, begging.

and jungkook—cruel, teasing, relentless jungkook—finally decides to give you what you want.

his grip on your thighs tightens, holding you in place as he leans in again, tongue eagerly lapping greedily at your dripping cunt.

you jolt, a sharp gasp escaping, your body immediately reacting to the sudden return of sensation.

he doesn’t start slow this time. no more teasing, no more light flick. he sucks you into his mouth, tongue circling your clit in quick, deliberate motions.

your back arches, a strangled moan slipping from your lips as the pleasure slams into you all at once. “f-fuck, jungkook—”

he moans in response, the sound sending vibrations straight through you, making your legs shake. his hand slides down, fingers trailing between your folds, slick and soaked from how long he’s been working you up, how much he’s denied you.

then he pushes in. one finger, then another, stretching you, filling you up slow, and deep, curling just right to kiss against that special spot inside of you.

your breath stutters, hands shaking, nails digging into his scalp as you cling to him, helpless against the pleasure that slams through you.

“oh my god—” you cry, hips bucking against his face, and jungkook growls, gripping your thighs tighter, keeping you still as he fucks you open with his fingers, matching the pace of his tongue.

his fingers press deeper, curling up, rubbing against that spot over and over. his tongue is unrelenting against you, flicking, sucking, messy and desperate.

your thighs are trembling, stomach coiling tight, pleasure building too fast, too hard, too overwhelming. you’re gonna break.

“that’s it,” jungkook groans against you, voice dark and full of hunger, fingers thrusting deep, tongue working you over with fast, filthy strokes. “gimme one, baby. wanna feel you cum on my tongue.”

and the second he crooks his fingers just right, mouth closing around your clit with one last hot, messy suck, you snap.

the pleasure crashes into you like a tidal wave, hot and overwhelming, your entire body locking up before unravelling all at once. a choked sob rips from your throat, sharp and broken, turning into a high-pitched moan that sounds downright obscene.

your hips jerk, grinding against jungkook’s face, chasing every last aftershock of pleasure, unable to stop yourself from riding it out.

he groans beneath you, voice low and wrecked, encouraging, letting you take what you need. his hands hold you tight, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs, keeping you right where he wants you as you move, letting him lick up everything you give him.

“oh fuck...” you gasp, body shuddering, vision going hazy from how hard you’re cumming, the pleasure so intense it borders on too much.

jungkook doesn’t stop. doesn’t even slow down.

his tongue is still lapping at you, messy, sloppy, dragging out every little pulse, every last tremor of your high, addicted to the way you taste.

your thighs twitch, your hands shaking as you try to push him away, whimpering from the overstimulation, but he just groans, mouth still locked onto you, still devouring you like he hasn’t had enough.

“too much, koo—” you sob, legs trembling, but he only tightens his grip, moaning into you, his tongue flicking over your oversensitive pussy, making you cry out again.

he doesn’t care. doesn’t care that you’re twitching, that your body is going limp, that you’re whimpering, sobbing, struggling to breathe. he just keeps going, working you through it, chasing another one.

his nose brushes against your clit, pressing just right, and your breath stutters, your whole body locking up for a second before instinct kicks in. you start to move again, grinding down, rolling your hips in slow, shaky circles.

jungkook groans, low and guttural. his fingers flex against your thighs, helping you move, guiding your rhythm, his tongue still flicking up against your entrance, letting you use him exactly how you need.

you’re whimpering now, high-pitched, desperate, the pleasure overwhelming, too much and not enough all at once.

his nose presses against you with every roll of your hips, the pressure perfect, sharp little bursts of pleasure making your stomach coil tight again, building too fast.

“fuck—koo, i—” you gasp, nails digging into his scalp, your whole body tense, right on the edge again.

he knows. he feels it. the way your thighs are quivering, the way your moans get higher, the way your movements start to stutter. with one last sharp roll of your hips, one last stroke of his tongue, you shatter.

your vision whites out, your whole body locking up before shaking violently as your second ogasm rips through you, stronger than the first.

a loud, broken moan tears from your throat, your thighs squeezing around his head as you grind against his face, drawing out every last wave of pleasure until you can’t take anymore.

your limbs go weak, completely spent, trembling, your body sagging forward as the aftershocks pulse through you. jungkook is still licking at you, slower now, not wanting to let you go just yet.

“koo, stop,” you sob, barely able to form words, your whole body shaking as you try to pull away, too sensitive, too much.

he groans in protest, but finally lets you go.

his grip on your thighs loosens, and you all but collapse, sliding off him and onto the bed, your body boneless, completely spent. your breathing is ragged, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your thighs still trembling.

jungkook licks his lips, smirking, looking at you through heavy-lidded eyes. his face is a mess, completely soaked in you.

“so fucking pretty when you fall apart for me,” he murmurs, voice thick and lazy, his fingers still stroking slow circles against your shaking thighs.

you can’t even respond, can’t even think. just lay there, panting, completely and utterly ruined.

his hands move before he even thinks about it. gentle now, sliding up to your waist as he tugs you closer, shifting you onto him. “c’mere, baby,” he murmurs, voice soft.

you barely register the movement, letting him pull you into his chest, your body molding into his like it’s second nature.

his arms wrap around you, firm but tender, hands rubbing slow, lazy circles against your back. he kisses the top of your head, soft and lingering. “did so good for me,” he whispers against your hair, voice thick with something warm, something adoring.

you make a small noise, barely more than a hum, nuzzling into his chest, your fingers weakly gripping at the fabric of his hoodie like you need to hold onto something.

jungkook chuckles, low and affectionate, his hand smoothing over your back before moving up to cradle the back of your head, tucking you in even closer. “s’that all i get?” he teases lightly, fingers playing with the ends of your hair. “no words, baby?”

you pout against his chest, but it’s weak, sleepy. “too tired,” you mumble.

he grins, shifting just enough to press another kiss against your temple, long and lingering, like he can’t help himself. “yeah? wore you out that bad?”

you nod, letting yourself melt into his warmth. your body already starts to relax, the last bits of tension ebbing away under his touch.

he holds you like that for a while, just rubbing circles into your back, pressing little kisses to your hair, letting you come down at your own pace.

“let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmurs after a moment, his lips brushing your forehead. “then we can nap, yeah?”

you hum, nodding against his chest, but make no move to get up, completely content to stay wrapped up in him for a little longer.

he laughs softly, squeezing you one last time before finally shifting, his hands never leaving your skin. “i love you, baby.”

#jeon jungkook x fem!reader #jeon jungkook x reader smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook #bts x fem!reader #bts x reader #bts smut

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bytemee · 2 months ago

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can u write a oneshot where mean!sorority!karina x loser!g!p!reader and reader goes out of town for a lego convention or some nerd shit and karina's like "ok lol" barely replying to their texts

but then reader sends selfies looking kinda good and suddenly karina's not so mean anymore (but she's acting like she doesn't care) and later she's in bed lowkey staring at reader's pics when reader calls and starts yapping about legos all excited while karina listens way too hard. somehow this leads to phone sex 🫣

CYBER SEX — YU JIMIN.

"wish you were here right now, all of the things i'd do."

synopsis. karina swears she doesn’t miss you. not even a little. if her puppy wants to ditch her for some dumb lego convention, that’s your loss. okay...maybe letting you leave was a mistake… but at least she can have some fun making you miss her.

pairing. mean!sorority!karina x loser!gp!reader

warning(s). 18+ (smut), phone sex (duhhhh), g!p reader, pet names (karina calling u puppy ofc), bad writing, and let me know if there's more!

words. 2k

authors note. mean!sorority!karina is so awesome sauce man. i also forgot my own schedule dates.. i apologize.

navigation. main masterlist. series masterlist. prev. next.

karina wasn't mad. she wasn't.

so what if her puppy had ditched town for some stupid lego convention? it wasn't like she cared. she had better things to do than think about you running around, geeking out over plastic blocks.

her sorority sisters, however, were testing her patience.

"she didn't even tell you until last minute?" giselle smirked over her drink.

"sounds like someone got ditched," winter added.

"i didn't get ditched." karina rolled her eyes, scrolling through her messages. your last text had been two hours ago—a simple just got here! it's so cool, you'd love it if you gave it a chance :( to which she had responded with a dry, doubt it.

and that was it. that was all you were getting from her. if you wanted to act like a loser, that was your problem.

"didn't get ditched," winter mocked under her breath, earning a laugh from ningning.karina threw them a glare before pushing up from the couch, phone clutched in her hand. "i'm going to bed."

she ignored their knowing smirks as she stormed up the stairs to her room, locking the door behind her.

her phone buzzed just as she flopped onto her bed, and against her better judgment, she checked it immediately.

puppy: look!! isn't it so cute?? :D

attached were three selfies of you grinning with some ridiculously detailed lego set in the background. your glasses were slightly askew, your hoodie a little too big, and your excitement was practically radiating off the screen.

karina clicked on one of the pictures, zooming in just a little. not because she missed you. not because she thought you looked cute. just... because.

another text popped up.

puppy: there's this one panel tomorrow about rare discontinued sets, you think i should go?

she bit her lip, hesitating before replying.

karina: do whatever you want.

she stared at her screen for a moment before sighing and tossing her phone onto her pillow.

she wasn't jealous. she wasn't annoyed. she wasn't—

her phone buzzed again.

puppy: you're so mean ;(

a smirk twitched at her lips.

before she could respond, her phone started ringing. you.

she exhaled sharply before answering, keeping her voice bored. "what?"

"okay, so—listen." your voice came through, breathless with excitement. "i got to see so many cool sets today. like, there was this one display of the millennium falcon that was massive, and i swear, if i had the money, i'd—"

she hummed, pretending to listen as you rambled on about your day. but she was listening. more than she wanted to admit. she could practically picture you, pacing in your hotel room, waving your hands around as you talked a mile a minute.

"like i said, you'd think it's cool if you were here," you muttered, and she could hear the pout in your voice.

"don’t think so."

you groaned. "you're impossible."

she smirked. "and you're a nerd."

"i am not—"

she could hear the shuffle of you moving around, probably flopping onto your bed. then, a pause. your voice was quieter when you spoke again. "you miss me?"

karina rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. she could lie. she could say no. but instead, she muttered, "not really."

you laughed, soft and knowing. "liar."

she closed her eyes, gripping her phone tighter. maybe she was. but she'd never admit it.

not yet, anyway.

karina sighed, rolling onto her side as she let your voice fill the quiet of her room. it was late, and she should have been asleep already, but instead, she was still listening to you ramble about legos of all things—like some lovesick idiot.

not that she was one.

"i swear, some of these sets were insane," you continued, voice slightly muffled like you were getting comfortable. "there was this one star wars display with over ten thousand pieces. can you imagine? ten thousand."

"hm," she hummed, only half-listening now. she was too busy staring at the selfies you'd sent earlier, swiping through them like she hadn't already memorized every detail.

she could hear you shifting again, the sound of fabric rustling against fabric, a small sigh escaping your lips. "kinda wish you were here, though. feels weird without you making fun of me."

karina smirked, rolling onto her back. "i'd make fun of you either way, puppy."

you laughed, soft and breathy. "i know. but still."

a beat of silence stretched between you, comfortable but charged. karina exhaled slowly, her fingers tracing idle circles against her stomach.

"so..." your voice had dropped slightly, quieter, more hesitant. "what are you doing?"

"lying down," she murmured. "thinking."

"about?"

she bit her lip, debating. she could keep playing it cool, keep pretending she wasn't fazed by you being miles away. but she was tired, and her walls were lower than usual, and you sounded so damn cute on the other end of the line.

"...you."

you inhaled sharply. "oh."

a smirk pulled at her lips. she could hear the way you tensed up, the way your breath hitched, and it sent a slow wave of satisfaction through her.

"what, puppy?" she teased, her voice dropping into something lower, something smug. "cat got your tongue?"

you swallowed audibly. "no, i just—"

she hummed, tilting her head back against the pillow. "you're cute when you're flustered, you know that?"

another pause. a shaky exhale.

"karina..."her smirk deepened, fingers idly tracing patterns against her skin. "what's wrong, puppy? you miss me that bad?"

you made a small, frustrated noise on the other end, and karina chuckled, knowing exactly where this was heading.

maybe letting you leave town had been a mistake. but at least now, she could have a little fun reminding you exactly who you belonged to. she bit her lip as she slipped her hand into her shorts, trailing her fingers between her thighs.

her voice dropped lower, more sultry, more teasing. "use your words, puppy. tell me how much you miss me."

she could hear your breathing pick up, ragged and uneven. "i-i miss you. god, i miss you so much."

a small hum of satisfaction escaped her. you gulped at the sound, your shaky hands fumbling to unbutton your jeans. "i want you," you whined, your voice dropping to a whisper. "i wanna be back there with you."

"yeah?" she asked, a smile pulling at her lips. "and what would you do if you were here?"

she knew the answer, of course, but she wanted to hear you say it. she wanted to hear the way your voice would waver and crack as you finally gave in, finally told her exactly what you wanted.

you whimpered, your hands wrapping around yourself as you imagined her touch. "i'd kiss you," you admitted, your breath hitching.

karina's smirk deepened, her fingers sliding through her own slick. "where?"

"everywhere," you breathed.

she bit her lip, heat coiling in her stomach. she wanted to tell you to get your ass back here, to come crawling on your knees, to beg her to forgive you for leaving her alone like this. but she knew she was too prideful for that, and besides, she couldn't help but find a bit of amusement in the fact that you were getting yourself off, miles away, just to the sound of her voice.

“you touching yourself, puppy?" she asked, her voice low and teasing.

"mhm," you nodded weakly, even though she couldn't see you. you were breathing hard, your hand moving faster, your chest heaving as you lost yourself in the sound of her voice.

karina could hear the way your breath hitched with each stroke, could hear the way your voice went shaky each time she spoke. she loved it, and not in the usual possessive sense you'd expect from her. no, there was something almost tender in the way she teased you, in the way she kept you wanting.

"god, you're so easy," she murmured.

"please," you whimpered, your voice cracking slightly. "i-i wanna hear you."

karina tilted her head back, her breath catching in her throat. you were always so needy, so desperate for her, and god, she loved it. she loved hearing the way your voice would get hoarse and strained, loved the way you'd beg and plead with her to give you more.

"puppy..." she moaned, "you sound so fucking good." a finger slipped into her heat, curling up and dragging along her walls.

"please," you whimpered again, your hand moving faster. "i need to hear you. need to know if you're touching yourself too."

you could hear her gasp on the other end of the line, and you pictured her, eyes closed, back arched as she pressed down into the touch of her own fingers. you let out a jagged exhale, your whole body trembling with the effort of holding back. she was so gorgeous, and even if you weren't there with her, just hearing her like this was enough to drive you crazy.

"are you?" you asked again, a little more desperately this time.

"fuck, yes," she breathed. "i am."

"fuck." your grip tightened around your phone. "i-i bet you look so pretty right now. bet you feel so good."

"so fucking good, puppy." she was moaning openly now, another finger slipping into her slick heat. karina imagined what it would be like to have you back here, on top of her, inside of her, fucking her so hard that all she could do was cry out your name.

she wanted you so badly, and as her fingers sped up, as the heat built in her stomach, she felt herself getting closer to that edge, closer to falling apart for you. "god, i-i miss you so much," she breathed. her body was on fire with desire, her mind consumed by thoughts of you.

if she wasn't fingers deep inside herself right now, she would have cringed so hard at herself that she'd turn to stone. but her head was swimming with pleasure, and her tongue was loose with it, and god, she wished you were here so she could take out her pent-up frustration on your body.

"s-shit, puppy," she breathed. "you're mine. all mine."

"yes," you whimpered. "only yours."

her fingers curled against her walls, pressing deep into her slick heat, and fuck, she was close, so close, and—

"k-karina," you moaned, your voice going hoarse. "i-i'm gonna cum. please, please, i—"

"fuck, me too." her voice was a low growl, her body trembling as she felt her orgasm building. she wanted to tell you, wanted to make sure you knew, but all that came out was a series of broken moans. she could hear the way your breaths were coming quicker now, could hear the way they turned into choked gasps.

and god, if it wasn't the hottest thing.

you were hers, and you were coming undone for her.she was getting close too, and when her hand finally started to ache, and she couldn't bring herself to stop, couldn't bring herself to do anything but press her fingers deeper and deeper until her walls finally clenched around them.

"g-gonna—" you cried out, your body shaking as your release finally took over, spilling out of you in waves of pleasure. karina's body followed soon after, her fingers curling deep inside her slick heat, her muscles clenching around them. she shuddered, gasping, her legs trembling as the waves of pleasure rippled through her.

for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing, the aftershocks still rolling through your body, your skin flushed with heat. the only thing grounding you was the faint static of the phone pressed against your ear.

karina was the first to break the silence, her voice quieter now, almost lazy. "...when are you coming back home?"

you swallowed, still trying to catch your breath. "why?"

"just wondering," she murmured, voice dripping with something that made your stomach twist.

you exhaled slowly, shifting against the sheets. "tomorrow night."

"good."

she didn't elaborate, but you didn't need her to. the implication was clear—she wanted you back.

you smirked, voice teasing as you asked, "miss me that much?"

karina let out a soft scoff, but it lacked any real bite. "shut up."

you chuckled, but before you could push her further, she spoke again, quieter this time.

"...you'll come straight to me, right?"

the words caught you off guard.

for someone who usually kept her emotions so close to her chest, it was unusual for her to ask for something so blatantly. she must be feeling vulnerable. but it wasn't unwelcome. in fact, it sent a wave of affection through you, made your heartbeat a little faster.

you smiled, the words leaving you without a second thought. "of course, i will."

the line was silent for a beat, and then another, and for a moment, you wondered if she was already asleep.

"okay," she whispered.

taglist - @brocoliisscared @spidrgamer @kimminjiissosjdirbidnsjje

navigation. main masterlist. series masterlist. prev. next.

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leighsartworks216 · 7 months ago

Text

Sweet Tooth

Sylus x gn!Reader

I was nodding off while writing this cuz 1. I need a nap so bad and 2. It's just so peaceful the vibes of this fic are really nice

Edit: fixed some minor phrasing

Warnings: biting, kissing, established relationship, fluff, food/baking

Word Count: 1,771

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

No matter how long you spend with Sylus in the N109 Zone, your sleep schedule remains persistent. Sure, you stay up as late as you can to spend the night with him while he’s up and about, but the darkness, warm ambiance, and your body’s own internal clock turn against you sooner or later.

Sylus does the same for you, too. He grumbles about it, but he does enjoy spending the morning with you when you’re extra cuddly, searching for the last vestiges of your sleep before you have to get up. He’s better at staying awake, but you catch him dozing a lot, head tilted back and eyes closed as he lounges in a chair near you. It’s adorable. You love the effort you both put into trying to maximize your time together.

But today, Sylus is conked out. He was gone for most of the night and came back worn and weary. He didn’t have any visible injuries, but when you cupped his cheek and used your Evol, you could feel how drained his own was. He nearly fell asleep right there, eyes closing dangerously as he leaned into your touch and the soothing warmth of your ability. You dragged him to his bedroom, kissed his forehead, and told him to sleep. He mumbled vague threats about you waking him up, but they fell into silence before he finished any of them.

With the mansion to yourself for the day, you have to find ways to occupy yourself.

The twins and you play Kitty Cards for a bit, but they cheat so horrendously and tease you for losing, so that’s out until Sylus can sit behind you and glare at them any time their fingers try to slip more than one card from the draw pile.

You go through his books. A few are interesting; texts about Protocores and Evols stealing your attention for a time. But they have you yawning and wanting to crawl into bed with Sylus.

You even go to his dedicated exercise space, but without a partner to spar with, you don’t even work up a sweat before leaving.

Normally, you aren’t so restless. Any other time you had to spend the day with yourself, you were able to settle on something for long stretches of time, even into the night if you weren’t careful. Now, you can’t sit still for 30 minutes.

You check the time. 9:56. It’s not even 10 yet and you’re already struggling to come up with things to do. You fall into a couch in one of the lounge rooms with a humph, pulling out your phone and preparing to fall into a doomscroll through old Moments posts.

Fortunately, one of the first few posts is the perfect motivator not to: a recipe promising to be the number 1 rated chocolate chip recipe. You click on the article and scroll through until you reach the comments.

These are the best cookies I’ve ever had!!!

mmmnn wanna eat the dough raw its sooo gooooood

Tossing my store-bought cookies out rn I will only be making these from now on

It seems promising enough… You look at all the ingredients you need. It also seems simple enough for you to manage without burning the place down. You’d be surprised if the kitchen wasn’t already stocked with everything listed. But just in case…

You head down to the kitchen where the chef is coming up with meal suggestions for dinner. He’s jovial, always red in the cheeks and bright eyed. You wonder how he got hired on. You ask for help gathering the ingredients you need, and he’s happy to bounce from cabinet to fridge getting everything. Once they’re all laid out on the counter, you thank him and ask if you can have the kitchen to yourself. He bows and tells you to have fun, going over his list of notes as he leaves.

You turn the oven on, setting it to the correct temperature and letting it preheat. You forgot to ask the chef about bowls and measuring cups, but you find them easily and set them on the counter with the ingredients. Once you have music playing (quietly) on your phone, it’s easy to lose yourself in the process.

The world hones in on each step. You measure out the flour and sugars, mixing them together with a whisk. Without any preplanning, you have to soften the butter in the microwave before you can add it. Eggs are cracked against the countertop, calcium-rich shells scraping quietly as you set them aside to throw away later. A dash of vanilla, and a generous amount of chocolate chips, and the dough is ready.

You find a couple baking sheets and line them with parchment paper. As you roll small amounts of dough in your hands, you bounce on your feet, excited to taste your sweet treats in just 15 short minutes. You pinch off a little extra from one dough-ball and pop it into your mouth. If this was a preview for the finished product… You hurry to get them into the oven and set a timer.

To distract yourself from constantly checking the time, you clean up your mess. You put away what you remember the designated locations of, and set the rest aside for somebody else to deal with.

Hm, you should probably leave some for the chef, as a thank you for letting you borrow the space. And save a few for Luke and Kieran, or else they’d bug you for “forgetting” them for the rest of your days.

You open up cabinets until you find plates. There’s a set, the perfect size to divide the batch of cookies between three parties. You reach for it, stretching to be on your tip-toes. You gasp as a hand comes into your vision. When you try to back up, you hit a wall of muscle. A clingy wall of muscle, if the way his arm wraps around your waist and holds you there is any indicator. He grabs a plate from the stack.

“Ah, I need three,” you quickly tell him. He sighs, but does as you say, bringing down three plates and setting them on the counter. As soon as his hand is free, you’re being fully embraced by Sylus, both arms holding you close to him as he presses his face into your neck. You reach up to run your fingers through his hair. “Did I wake you up?”

It doesn’t seem like he’ll answer for a moment, until he breathes in deeply and presses a soft kiss along your shoulder. “No. I could smell whatever you’re making through the whole mansion.” His voice is quiet and rough, affected by his slumber.

You smile and turn your head to kiss his forehead. “I’m making cookies,” you say. “They’ll be done soon. I was gonna leave some for the chef and the twins. But most of them will be just for us.”

You glance at the timer, anxious to know how much time is left, but you still have several minutes before you need to worry about it. You tap his arms and he reluctantly loosens his hold, enough for you to turn around and hug him back. His arms tighten once more.

“You’re clingy when you’re tired, you know that?”

He huffs a laugh against your skin. “As if you haven’t insisted on having me carry you around everywhere before because you were, quote, ‘too tired to walk anymore.’”

You tug playfully at his hair. He groans and bites your neck. It’s not harsh, but it does sting. You’re sure it’ll leave a mark regardless.

“Now you’re just being mean,” he growls.

You laugh and kiss his cheek. “Only a little. I think it’s cute.”

He doesn’t answer. His teeth nibble lightly along an invisible path, interspersed with light kisses. One of your hands combs through his soft hair, scratching his scalp lightly as you pet him. The other trails slowly along his back, side, and around to his stomach, searching for injuries hidden beneath his clothes. He notices, but he says nothing.

“Are you okay?” you whisper to him.

He pulls his mouth from your skin, finally lifting his head to look down at you with half-lidded eyes. The striking red of his irises seem softer right now, like the delicate plumage of a cardinal. “I’m alright.”

You study his face, as if you’d know if he was lying to you. But you believe him. So you nod and press a feather-light kiss to his lips. He sighs at the contact, like he’d never been touched so sweetly for hundreds of years. It’s such a beautiful sound.

The oven’s alarm startles you out of the moment. Sylus groans with a frown, letting you go and stepping away until his back hits the kitchen island. Your hand squeezes his side apologetically before you pull away.

You don a couple of oven mitts and open the oven door. The cookies are all aligned on the baking sheets, golden brown and slightly oozy from the overkill of chocolate you added. You excitedly pull each pan out and set them on the stovetop, before turning off the oven.

The recipe says to let them cool for five minutes… but you don’t have the patience for that today. You grab one of the plates from the counter and a spatula from a drawer, and carefully deposit some cookies onto the plate. You’re positively beaming when you bring them over to Sylus, holding the plate up to him.

“Want one?”

He hums. “Yes, but…” He takes the plate from you and sets it behind him. “You’ll burn your mouth if you eat one now.”

You half-heartedly glare up at him. “C’mon, Sy, I’ll be careful. I worked hard on these!”

“And you can stand to wait a few more minutes to taste the fruits of your labor, sweetie.”

“You just want more cuddles, don’t you?”

“Of course.” He grins. “Is there any better way to pass the time?”

You sigh, long and dramatic. But you wrap your arms around him, resting your head on his chest, right over his erratic heartbeat. He tangles a hand in your hair this time, cupping the back of your neck to hold you in place.

He feels the exact moment you go to reach for the plate and snatches your hand away from it, holding it captive by intertwining your fingers together. “Sneaky, but I’m not tired enough to pull that trick, kitten.”

You chuckle and press your nose against his septum. “It was worth a shot.”

#fanfic #fanfiction #sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads #lads x reader #lnds #lnds x reader #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader

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0omillo0 · 4 months ago

Note

sooo saying this with as much love and respect as i possibly can but you are really totally utterly amazing at writing and your angst is part of the top tier community 🖤

if you’re up to writing this then 😍 and if not then it’s completely okay! but i was thinking of an angsty but hopeful? comfort ending of where chan/hyunjin/han/felix (i couldn’t decide 😫) forgets y/n bday completely, despite having plans. y/n is sad yes but expects it, so she hangs with her friends & visits her fam etc. the chosen member will either see an ig post where it’s said oh happy birthday or smth or someone asks him about it, he will try to get to y/n but she’s out and about. when she finally gets back to her apartment then you know grovelling, apologising, flowers and so on.

what do you think?🖤☺️

Hyunjin x Reader 황현진 angst/comfort

He forgets your birthday

a/n: first of all, your kind words almost made me cry, made my day fr 🥹 thank you so much for appreciating my work <3 it means the world to me. i hope this is what you wanted! lmk what you think <3

Today was your birthday.

You were never one to make a big deal out of your birthday, but everything changed when Hyunjin came into your life. From the moment he became your boyfriend, he made it his mission to ensure your special day was as cherished and unforgettable as the love he had for you.

He succeded…

until today.

The day began quietly. You woke up, the morning sunlight filtering through the curtains of your shared bedroom. You stretched your arms and turned to find the other side of the bed empty—Hyunjin’s warmth long gone. Confused, you rubbed your eyes and noticed a small piece of paper resting on the pillow beside you. It read:

“Sorry baby, Chan called me. I had to run. Love you.”

You stared at the note, your heart sinking. No “Happy Birthday,” no reminder of the day that was supposed to be special. A lump formed in your throat as you folded the note and placed it on the nightstand.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t anticipated this. Hyunjin had been so busy lately, barely having time for himself, let alone anything else. But deep down, you had held onto the hope that today would be different, that he would remember.

Unable to hold back the wave of disappointment, you reached for your phone. You opened the messages between you and Hyunjin, scrolling through previous conversations where his affection and thoughtfulness had always shone. But today, there was nothing—no text, no missed call. It hit you like a punch to the gut.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you dialed your best friend. The moment she picked up, her cheery tone only made the pain worse.

“Hey, birthday girl!” she greeted. “What’s up? Are you and Hyunjin doing something special today?”

That was it. The dam broke. A sob escaped your lips, and the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“Hyunjin forgot,” you choked out, tears streaming down your face. “He forgot my birthday.”

“What?!” your friend exclaimed, the shock evident in her voice. “Y/N, no way. Are you serious?”

You sniffled, your voice trembling. “I woke up, and he was gone. He left a note saying Chan called him, but… but nothing about my birthday. Not even a text, nothing. I feel so stupid for expecting anything.”

Another voice chimed in—it was one of your other close friends, who had been with her. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. That’s awful. Are you sure he didn’t plan something later?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice breaking again. “I don’t think so. He’s been so busy lately. I just—” You stopped, unable to form the words as another sob wracked your chest. “It hurts. It feels like… like I don’t matter enough to be remembered lately.”

“Don’t say that,” your first friend said gently, her tone laced with sympathy. “You matter so much, Y/N. I know Hyunjin loves you like crazy. Maybe he’s just overwhelmed, but I can’t believe he’d forget on purpose.”

“Even if it’s not on purpose, it still hurts,” you whispered, wiping at your cheeks. “I don’t even want to talk to him right now. I just need to turn my phone off and forget about it.”

There was a pause before your friend spoke again. “Okay. You can spend the day with us, alright? Forget about him for now. We’ll celebrate you because you deserve it.”

You nodded, even though she couldn’t see it. “Thank you. I’ll be there soon.”

Later that morning, you met your friends at a cozy café. They greeted you with hugs and warm smiles, trying their best to lift your spirits. You forced yourself to smile back, but the weight of Hyunjin’s absence lingered.

As you sipped your coffee, one of your friends leaned closer. “How are you feeling now?”

“Still hurt,” you admitted quietly. “I keep telling myself not to care, but I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s like… how could he forget something like this? We’ve been together for years. He knows how much birthdays mean to me.”

Your other friend reached across the table to squeeze your hand. “You’re allowed to feel hurt, Y/N. Don’t bottle it up. But knowing Hyunjin, he’ll realize sooner or later and feel awful about it.”

You nodded but stayed silent, the sadness still gnawing at you. After a while, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, and though you appreciated their efforts, you couldn’t fully shake the disappointment.

Meanwhile, Hyunjin was at the studio, oblivious to the emotional turmoil he had caused. It wasn’t until he took a break and opened Instagram that everything clicked.

His heart dropped when he saw a post from your friend—a picture of you laughing at the café, the caption reading:

“Happy Birthday to the sweetest soul! Love you, @Y/N 💕🎉”

Hyunjin froze. “Birthday? No… it can’t be today.” But as he checked the date on his phone, reality hit him like a freight train.

He scrambled to open your messages, his fingers trembling as he typed.

“Y/N, baby, I’m so sorry. I just realized. Please call me.”

“Y/N, where are you? Please, I need to talk to you.”

“Baby, I messed up. I’m so sorry. Please answer me.”

But none of the messages went through. They were marked undelivered, a clear sign that you had turned your phone off. Panic surged through him.

“How could I forget?!” he muttered to himself, pacing the studio. Without wasting another second, he called his manager to clear his schedule and rushed home to make things right.

Back at the apartment, Hyunjin worked tirelessly to create a heartfelt surprise. He decorated the living room with string lights, candles and his paintings, filled a vase with your favorite flowers, and placed a small velvet box containing a delicate necklace on the coffee table.

He also booked a table at an upscale restaurant and bought you a gorgeous Versace dress, imagining how radiant you would look in it. Every detail was perfect—except for the sinking guilt in his chest.

When you finally returned home that evening, your face was streaked with dried tears, and your eyes were red and puffy. As you unlocked the door and stepped inside, you froze. The warm glow of fairy lights illuminated the room, and Hyunjin stood in the center, his face etched with guilt and love.

“Y/N…” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

You stood there, too emotionally drained to respond. Your gaze shifted to the flowers, the candles, and the neatly wrapped dress on the couch.

“What is all this?” you asked, your voice hoarse.

Hyunjin took a hesitant step closer. “It’s my way of saying I’m sorry. I forgot your birthday, and I can’t tell you how much I regret it. I have no excuse, Y/N. I was so caught up in everything else that I forgot the one person who matters most to me.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, they were fueled by the sincerity in his voice. “Do you know how hurt I was, Hyunjin? I woke up thinking today would be special, but you weren’t even here. I felt so… forgotten.”

You took a small break and sighed. “You… you were the only one who didn’t make me feel this way—“

Hyunjin’s eyes filled with tears as he listened. “Please don’t use the past. I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. But I swear, it wasn’t because I don’t care. You’re everything to me, Y/N. Please, let me make it up to you.”

He gestured to the dress and added, “I planned a special dinner for us tonight. And this…” He picked up the necklace from the table. “This is for you. I know it doesn’t erase the pain I caused, but I hope it shows how much you mean to me.”

Your heart softened as his words sank in. Despite the hurt, you could see how deeply he regretted his mistake. Slowly, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, letting his warmth melt the lingering sadness.

“I forgive you,” you whispered against his chest. “Just… don’t let it happen again.”

“Never,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Happy Birthday, my love.”

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loulou-land · 1 month ago

Text

8x10 coda

bucktommy fix-it (sort of), emotional hurt/comfort, hopeful ending | cw: angst, dissociation, mild descriptions of a panic attack | 1.5k words

(Buck’s face at the end of that episode got me in the feels and I had to get these words out of me. Thank you @fuselsstuff for making me feel better about my writing and my endings 😘❤️)

As Buck watches Eddie drive away, something inside him crumbles, another piece lost to the wreckage that has come to be his life. He stands frozen in front of what used to be Eddie’s house—his house now, technically—but the words don't sit right.

His house.

They feel foreign, misplaced. Like a title handed to someone else by mistake. He knows he chose it, knows the reason why he did it, yet what seemed like a good idea at first now feels like a crushing weight around his shoulders.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there. Staring at nothing. His head filled with static noise. All feeling draining out of him, until emptiness is all that surrounds him. Distantly he’s aware of his clothes progressively getting soaked as the gentle drizzle grows into a steady downpour. But he can’t seem to make himself move, staying rooted to the spot.

Eventually, however, the cold seeps so deep into his bones that it forces him into movement. Buck turns, steps inside and shuts the door behind him. And is promptly at a loss. He feels like he took a wrong turn somewhere and forgot where home was. It’s a disconcerting feeling.

Buck makes his way to the bathroom, peels his wet clothes off and steps into the shower, turning the heat up as high as it’ll go. It skalds his skin, but even then, he’s still cold. It’s like it’s burrowed deep inside and refuses to let go. He pulls on a hoodie, refusing to think about whose it is and why he picked that particular one.

By the time he stumbles into bed, his limbs feel heavy, weighted down by something vast and shapeless. His mind is scarily blank. Whatever thoughts flicker into his mind are gone too fast to take hold of. Maddie almost died. Eddie’s gone. And, why won’t they listen to me? Why can’t they see I’m drowning? Everyone has something, someone. And what do I have? What am I left with?

Nothing. It’s always nothing.

I am nothing.

For once, the thought doesn’t hurt. It barely registers at all. It’s just a fact—objective and empty. He notes the detachment like he’s reading about someone else’s life. It should scare him, but he doesn’t feel much of anything right now. I don’t like this, Buck thinks distantly, I don’t like this at all.

He sees his hands move as though from far away, outside his body. His fingers close around his phone. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to focus, to process the screen in front of him. He scrolls through his contacts, searching for Dr. Copeland. That’s who he meant to call. That was the hazy plan he’d formed in his head.

But somehow, Tommy’s name is the one he presses.

The phone rings. One. Two. Three times.

The sound should make his heart pound with anxiety. Instead, he finds himself being soothed by the repetitive sound. His mind latches onto the rhythm, following it like a thread in the dark. The longer it rings, he starts to fill each pause with a thought. Of course. He won’t pick up. You don’t matter to anyone. He didn’t want you.

And then—

“Evan?”

A pause, a quiet breath. Then softer, “you okay?”

It shatters something in Buck. The numbness that had settled in him disappears. The concern, the familiarity, the way Tommy has never been anything but honest with him—hearing it now, when everything else has started unraveling In him, it’s too much.

His breath is knocked out of his chest. His throat closes up. He feels a tingling in his hands as his heart rate picks up. He wants to speak, to explain, to say something, but all that makes it out is a choked, heart-wrenching sob that feels like it’s been ripped right out of him.

“Sweetheart,” Tommy says, instantly alert. “Evan. Talk to me. What’s wrong? Where are you?”

Buck tries to breathe, tries to push the words out, but they’re trapped behind his lips. He can’t speak and that drags him deeper into desperation. He clutches his shirt, as though if he grips it tightly enough, he’ll be able to keep himself together and he’ll remember how to use his words again.

His whole body shakes with the force of it, and it’s humiliating, it’s embarrassing, it’s—

“Okay, okay. I’m on my way,” Tommy says, voice steady but urgent beneath it. Buck hears the sound of an engine turning on, the rush of movement on the other end. “Just breathe for me, baby.”

“Eddie’s,” Buck finally manages to croak out.

“What?” Tommy asks, slightly distracted. Buck hears car horns and the shift of gears.

“I’m at Eddie’s.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” The words come quick, sure, no hesitation.

And Buck appreciates that Tommy doesn’t ask any more questions. He just keeps talking, filling the silence with warmth. You’re okay. I’m here. Breathe for me, sweetheart. Just like that. You’re doing good. You’re so good. Just hold on, I’m almost there.

Buck clings to every word like a lifeline, tucks them inside himself. He tries to believe them. After all, Tommy doesn’t lie to him.

His sobbing has slowed, but now something worse is creeping in—the weight of reality pressing back down. He called Tommy. He’s on the phone with him right now. He’s crying like a fucking baby.

“I’m sorry.” Buck rasps, voice raw. “I—I shouldn’t have called you. Shit. I’m sorry.”

“Evan.” Tommy says his name like it’s a prayer, like it’s something precious. Like it means more than Buck ever let himself believe. Like it means love.

Buck inhales sharply, stomach twisting in knots. He’d missed that. God, he’d missed hearing his name spilling from Tommy’s mouth.

Tommy’s voice softens. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. It’s okay. Whatever it is…I’m here for you.”

He can’t accept that. “No—no, I…you were probably busy.” Buck’s voice cracks. “I didn’t mean to pull you away from anything important.”

“I wasn’t doing anything,” Tommy says, simple and reassuring. Then, quieter, “And, even if I was…I’d still come.”

Buck should feel comforted. Instead, it makes something ugly rise in his chest. A sick, gnawing pit of self-hatred. Sharp and precise.

Why does he always do this? Always need too much? He feels everything so loudly, and then drags people into the mess of him, makes them carry it when they shouldn’t have to.

He lets out a dry, broken laugh. “There I go again,” he mutters, bitter. “Bucking it up. Making it all about me.”

Tommy exhales roughly through the line. And then, firm but gentle, “Evan. I don’t know what’s going on, but it's okay to feel things. And you’re more than allowed to be upset and want to talk about it. It’s okay to need people.”

Buck closes his eyes. His whole body hurts. He wants to argue. He wants to tell Tommy he’s wrong. That everyone else thinks he’s too much. That Buck’s needs are a burden.

But before he can—

“I’m here. Can you open the door for me, sweetheart?

Buck manages to drag himself out of bed and down the hall. His breath hitches once he reaches the front door, hands trembling slightly, his mind still caught between panic and exhaustion.

He opens the door.

And there’s Tommy.

Standing on the other side, rain-damp and breathless. There’s concern written into every tense line of his body. His shoulders are squared, his jaw set, like he’s ready to take on every single one of Buck’s battles without hesitation.

Buck swallows hard. “Tommy.”

So much weight in a name, in a single word.

Tommy doesn’t say anything. He just opens his arms.

And Buck simply falls into them. No second-guessing or uncertainty. He clings to Tommy like he’s a safe haven, fists gripping at the fabric of his hoodie, pressing in close until there’s no space left between them. And still, Buck wishes he could crawl inside Tommy, just to be even closer. His mind quiets, the storm inside him calms into a single thought, repeated over and over again.

Tommy. Tommy. Tommy.

He breaths him in, the familiar scent anchoring him. Slowly, he matches his breathing to Tommy’s. And, in that moment Buck is entirely convinced their hearts are beating in sync. As one.

Tommy holds him just as tightly, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other cradled protectively against his spine. He starts to run soothing circles up and down Buck’s back, murmuring lowly in his ear.

“Shh, I got you. I’m here.”

Then, gently, hesitantly, Tommy presses a kiss to the side of Buck’s head. Soft. Careful. Like he’s afraid he’s not allowed to touch Buck like that, but still feels compelled to, needs to do it.

Buck lets out a shaky sigh, melting further into his arms.

He knows eventually they’ll have to talk. About the break up, about them. About what had set Buck off.

He’ll have to untangle the mess inside him, sort through everything he’s buried deep. There will be therapy. There will be hard conversations.

But not right now.

Right now, he lets himself believe Tommy—that he’s here, that he means it—and decides to go from there.

“Can I come in?”

“Will you stay?”

They speak at the same time.

And then—

Yes.

For the first time that day, Buck feels a genuine smile break across his face.

It won’t be easy.

But he thinks that maybe—just maybe— things will be okay.

#911 spoilers #bucktommy #fix it of sorts #911 8x10 #911 8x10 coda #evan buckley #tommy kinard #tw: dissociation #tw: panic attack #hopeful ending #angst #hurt/comfort #my fics

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coqhee · 8 days ago

Text

﹙✧﹚ㅤㅤ TO THE MOON AND BACK, I LOVE YOU

ALT ✷ you never liked astronomy until you met han taesan, your crush since freshman year. in an attempt to get closer with him, why not drag along the boy that's been there all along? ∘ ∘ ∘ catalogue \ romance told

西村力 x f!r ―ㅤ fluffㅤ comedyㅤ &&ㅤ f2lㅤ ⨯ㅤ 3533

em's note ★ yay!! first romance: told fic out!! it only took this long!!! hope the anon who requested it enjoyed :3 btw I've never been to a planetarium lawl...

─── ♡

when you found out that your crush, han taesan, was taking astronomy for an elective in senior year, you immediately put that down instead of your originally planned “late arrival”. a free point five elective credit AND a chance to see your crush one last time? hell yeah. but then came the realization—you had no idea who else was in the class, and the last thing you wanted was to be stuck alone with a bunch of people you barely talked to.

so, naturally, you turned to nishimura riki. the weird boy that you had always been friends with since before you could even fathom.

“riki, please take astronomy with me,” you had begged, practically hanging off his arm.

“absolutely not,” he had deadpanned, barely looking up from his phone. “i’m not trading MY late arrival so you can go the tan haesan.”

“it’s han taesan, but whatever. don’t leave me alone.” you had whined, poking his shoulder. “what if everyone sucks? what if i end up next to some weird freshie who smells like expired milk?”

“then don’t take a class that would have freshmen in it?”

"but jungwon is taking it," you pointed out, as if that was all the reasoning he needed.

riki sighed, finally glancing up from his phone. “so? what does that have to do with me?” riki hates to admit it but he knew he would already be talking to his counselor the next day to swap out his cherished sleep period.

you huffed, dramatically slumping against his shoulder. “because I don’t want to suffer alone,” you mumbled. “i need my best friend with me.”

at that, riki stiffened for just a second before rolling his eyes. “you’re so annoying,” he muttered, but you caught the way his lips twitched—like he was already considering it.

“please?” you dragged out the word, gripping his sleeve and giving him the best pleading look you could manage.

“fine,” he grumbled, shoving his phone into his pocket

you beamed, throwing your arms around him in excitement. “i knew you loved me.”

“yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but his ears burned a little red.

he made it sound like a hassle, like you had dragged him into it against his will. but really, it wasn’t like he needed much convincing. if there was anyone he’d willingly lose his late arrival period for, it was you.

─── ♡

on the first day of the new year after summer break had ended, you walked into period 1 to see taesan already sitting in the middle row, scrolling through his phone. your heart did that stupid little flip it always did when you saw him, and for a split second, you forgot riki was even behind you.

“oh my god, you’re so obvious,” riki muttered, elbowing you in the side as he followed your line of sight.

“shut up,” you hissed, shoving him back before making your way toward an empty seat behind where taesan was sitting.

before you and riki could bicker further like you always did, class started to your dismay and it was finally starting to settle in that the two of you were in for a class, neither of you cared about.

riki let out an exaggerated sigh as he slumped in his seat. “this is your fault,” he whispered, tapping his pencil mindlessly against the desk. “we could be in bed right now.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “oh please, you would’ve just spent that extra hour playing video games.”

“exactly,” he grumbled. “prime gaming time, wasted on stars.”

before you could retort, the teacher started going over the syllabus, droning on about assignments, projects, and participation. you tried to pay attention, but your gaze kept flickering to the back of taesan’s head, watching the way he absentmindedly spun his pen between his fingers.

riki caught you staring and groaned. “this is painful to watch.”

“then don’t watch,” you shot back, crossing your arms.

he gave you a deadpan look. “i have to. it’s like witnessing a car crash in slow motion.”

you stifled a laugh, “shut up and take notes.” shoving his hand back to his paper, away from doodling on your fresh blue, 70 page, college rule notebook.

“uh huh”

you shook your head, turning your attention back to the front just in time to hear the teacher announcing partner assignments for the semester-long project.

“please let me be with riki,” you whispered under your breath, fingers crossed beneath the desk.

riki hummed in agreement. “i swear if i end up with some guy who doesn’t know the difference between a planet and a star, i’m dropping this class.”

but, of course, fate had other plans.

“y/n l/n and han taesan.”

your stomach flipped. riki turned to you slowly, horror written all over his face.

“no way,” he whispered.

but there was no taking it back now. taesan turned slightly in his seat, a small smile tugging at his lips. “guess we’re partners,” he said, voice smooth and easygoing.

“yeah,” you breathed, hoping you sounded normal and not like your brain had short-circuited.

riki gagged dramatically beside you.

“nishimura riki… you’ll be working with…oh, looks like we have an odd number, you can join y/n and taesan,” the teacher called.

riki perked up instantly, all traces of his previous horror vanishing. “oh, sick,” he muttered under his breath, shooting you a victorious smirk.

you, on the other hand, were caught between relief and something dangerously close to disappointment. you weren’t even sure why—you wanted riki to be your partner, didn’t you? but now, instead of getting to work one-on-one with taesan, riki was right there in the middle, like a human buffer.

taesan didn’t seem fazed, though. he turned back to you both with a nod. “works for me.”

riki leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “yeah, totally. wouldn’t want my best friend suffering alone.”

you elbowed him under the desk.

the teacher moved on, and taesan shifted slightly to face you. “do you guys wanna meet after school to start planning?”

“sure,” you answered at the same time riki groaned.

the rest of class went by in a blur, the lecture on introductory astronomy terms barely registering in your brain. every so often, your gaze would flicker to taesan, watching the way he twirled his pen, the way his lips pursed ever so slightly when he was concentrating. it wasn’t fair how effortlessly cool he looked doing the most mundane things.

“you’re doing it again,” riki muttered beside you, barely moving his lips.

“doing what?” you whispered back, eyes still locked on the front of the classroom.

“staring at him like he hung the stars in the sky.”

─── ♡

riki had been enduring your hopeless crush on han taesan for seven full days now, and, frankly, he was over it.

“you know, i really just don’t get what you like so much about him. he’s just a guy,” riki muttered, barely dodging the kick you sent his way from across the library table.

“oh my god, shut up,” you whispered harshly, glancing around to make sure no one had overheard. “and just a guy? you make it sound like i’m drooling over some random dude.”

riki raised an eyebrow. “you are drooling over some random dude.”

you ignored him, instead recalling your advances towards taesan, convincing yourself that it was going just great.

on the second day of class, and you had strategically chosen to sit beside taesan instead of riki, much to the latter’s dismay. you figured starting small was the way to go—nothing too forward, just a simple, friendly compliment.

“i like your hoodie,” you had said, giving him what you hoped was a casual but cute smile.

taesan barely glanced up from his laptop. “thanks, my mom got it for me.”

…that was it. no follow-up, no return compliment, no you’d look good in one too—nothing. you had expected something to work with, but instead, he had gone right back to typing like you hadn’t even spoken.

gosh, it was like he wasn’t even interested in you.

on the fourth day of class when you figured you were going to make another attempt to talk to him.

“oh, i saw that you listened to understand by keshi on your story” you had mentioned casually as you slid into your seat beside him. “such a good song.”

taesan had nodded. “oh yeah, it’s good.”

you had stared at him for a moment, waiting for anything more, before finally just pulling out your own notebook in defeat.

and of course, riki, from his seat across the room, had been watching the entire thing unfold, shaking his head in barely concealed amusement. riki had been patient—far more patient than he normally was—but after an entire week of watching you fumble through failed attempts at flirting, he had reached his limit.

"alright," he announced, slamming his notebook shut. "i can’t take this anymore."

you blinked at him, caught off guard. "what?"

"this," he gestured wildly between you and the table, "this pathetic, one-sided crush. you’re driving me insane."

you scowled. "wow, thanks for the support, best friend."

he ignored you, leaning forward with an exasperated sigh. "look, it’s not happening. you’ve tried, like, four different approaches, and taesan has given you nothing to work with. it’s time to move on."

"i can’t just move on," you grumbled, crossing your arms. "it’s not that simple."

"oh, it’s that simple," riki countered, standing up and grabbing his bag. "and you know what? i’m gonna help you."

you eyed him warily. "help me how?"

he smirked. "by showing you what it’s like to actually have fun with someone who does pay attention to you. plus i already bought tickets to the studio ghibli movie fest for tonight and the rest of next week, so you’re going.”

“you’re joking,” you gasped with excitement, jumping up and down, loud enough for the two of you to get kicked out of the library. but who cares when you could go see ponyo tonight, howls moving castle tomorrow and every other ghibli movie for the rest of the week.

he shook his head with that familiar, comforting smile, "this is already more fun than whatever you thought you had going on with taesan," he said, nudging your temple with his knuckles.

you sighed, leaning into his side for a moment. "yeah," you admitted, and for the first time in a week, you actually believed it.

─── ♡

throughout the week, you still found yourself looking for taesan, but not nearly as much as you used to.

by the third night of the ghibli fest, you had almost forgotten why you had been so fixated on han taesan in the first place. between sneaking in your own snacks, debating over which ghibli protagonist had the best character arc, and riki dramatically reenacting scenes on the way home, your mind was too occupied to obsess over every little interaction with taesan.

but that didn’t mean you never looked for him.

in class, your eyes still wandered toward his seat before you could stop yourself, scanning for any hint that maybe he had started to notice you back. but taesan was always the same—calm, polite, distant.

“you’re doing it again,” riki muttered under his breath, flipping his pen between his fingers.

“doing what?” you asked, even though you knew exactly what.

you shot him a glare. “i’m not staring.”

riki gave you a pointed look.

“…i was just glancing,” you clarified, sinking into your seat.

he snorted. “whatever helps you sleep at night.”

but the thing was, riki was right.

taesan was never rude—if anything, he was nice in that effortless, detached way that made it impossible to tell whether he actually cared about your presence or was just being polite. he answered your questions, acknowledged your comments, but never extended the conversation past necessity.

and after a week of being around riki—who never once let a moment fall flat, who filled every second with banter, laughter, and the kind of easygoing energy that made everything feel lighter—you were starting to realize just how dull it was trying to get taesan’s attention.

“hey,” riki nudged your arm, bringing you back to the present. “movie’s at seven tonight. spirited away. we’re going, no excuses.”

you sighed, but you couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at your lips. “yeah, okay.”

maybe looking for taesan wasn’t worth it anymore.

on the final night of the ghibli fest, you and riki found yourselves in your usual seats—middle row, slightly to the left, close enough to the screen without being too close. you had gotten used to this routine by now: sneaking in snacks, arguing over who got to hold the drinks, riki making dramatic commentary under his breath just to annoy you.

but something about tonight felt different.

it could’ve been the way that he already had bought your entire movie theater snack order before you even arrived, the way your heart skipped when he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "if this movie makes you cry like you always do, i won’t judge,”

“i never cry at movies,” you shot back, ignoring the way your face felt weirdly warm.

“uh-huh,” riki smirked. “that’s what you said during my neighbor totoro, and yet—”

“i had something in my eye,” you interrupted quickly, shoving a handful of popcorn into your mouth to avoid further discussion.

it felt like it could’ve been normal, but the air between the two of you had shifted, and part of you didn’t want to jump to a conclusion or even admit that it had shifted to begin with by any means.

he just chuckled, settling back into his seat. but his arm stayed where it was, fingers still lightly tapping against your shoulder. while you should’ve been focused on the movie, every fiber of you wasn’t. instead you were focused riki, taking a second longer glance everytime the two of you leaned over to make some dumb and stupid comment.

when the movie was over and riki had teased you for how you cried once again, you rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag and following him out into the cool night air. but as you walked side by side down the quiet street, the warmth of his arm against yours lingering like an unspoken thought, you couldn’t help but wonder—

when did everything start feeling like this?

since when did your heart start beating so fast, pumping so much blood it felt exhilarating just being around riki.

you didn’t know when it started.

you just knew that it had.

─── ♡

the next day in class, you found yourself sliding back to the seat next to riki as usual, all of a sudden not finding the back of taesan’s head that interesting.

you were doodling on your page listening to your teacher explain the moon’s orbit in relation to earth, then somehow get onto a tangent about the moon’s symbolization in cultures.

before you could zone out completely, the teacher clapped their hands together, bringing the class to attention.

“alright, everyone! before we continue, i have an announcement—next friday, we’ll be taking a class field trip to the planetarium.”

your head perked up at that.

“you’ll need to complete a small assignment while we’re there,” the teacher added over the mix of groans and excited whispers. “but other than that, you’ll have plenty of time to explore.”

immediately, you turned to riki, already knowing he’d be your partner. he was grinning, kicking your foot under the desk. “guess that means we get a free pass to mess around.”

“or,” you corrected, “we could actually pay attention.”

he snorted. “we both know that’s not happening.”

you just rolled your eyes, shifting back in your seat as the teacher dimmed the lights to play a video about the moon’s phases.

a few minutes in, riki nudged your elbow. when you glanced over, he was pointing at his notebook, where he’d drawn a very questionable-looking moon with a lopsided smile.

you bit back a laugh. “what is that?”

“the moon,” he whispered, as if it were obvious. “but, like, happier.”

you shook your head, flipping to a new page in your notebook. with a few quick strokes, you sketched out your own version—a smoother crescent with little stars around it. riki peeked at it and scoffed. “show-off.”

you grinned, flipping your pencil in your fingers. “you’re just mad mine looks better.”

“whatever,” he muttered, turning his attention back to the video—but not before sneaking one last glance at your drawing.

toward the end of class, as you were packing up, taesan passed by and nodded toward your desk. “what were you two so focused on?”

before you could answer, riki shoved his notebook under his arm, grinning. “just academic excellence.”

you snorted, and taesan just gave a small, amused nod before heading out. once he was gone, you turned to riki with a knowing look.

“academic excellence?”

“obviously,” he said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “what else would it be?”

you just laughed, shaking your head as you fell into step beside him.

─── ♡

the planetarium was dim, lit mostly by the soft glow of the exhibit lights, casting shadows across riki’s face as he stood beside you. the hum of other students echoed faintly in the background, but you hardly noticed.

the two of you took your seats underneath the large screen and gazed up into the above, admiring the way the stars swirled in the galaxy.

just how small the two of you were in the giant universe, yet here this moment existed for just the two of you to remember.

you smiled softly to yourself. there was something comforting about it all. something warm and endless and beautiful.

but you didn’t notice the way riki never looked up.

while you sat there, eyes wide with wonder, his gaze never left you. not even for a second.

he watched the way your lips parted just slightly in awe, the way your eyes shone under the artificial starlight. how still you became when you were lost in something you loved. and maybe it was dramatic—maybe it was just the darkness, or the quiet, or the closeness—but in that moment, you looked more magical than any of the stars above.

“the earth and the moon: an eternal dance. though nearly 400,000 kilometers apart, the moon’s pull shapes the tides of the earth. it never strays far, always orbiting—faithful, constant. even in darkness, it reflects light. it stays.” the narration continued on,.

you smiled faintly and pointed up. next to you, riki followed your gaze, then tilted his head.

“sounds kind of dramatic,” he murmured, nudging your elbow. “like some tragic love story.”

you continued looking at the spherical projected figure, amused. “i think it’s kind of sweet. the moon never leaves.”

riki hummed in response. then, so quietly you almost missed it, he said, “i’d stay, too.”

your breath caught in your throat.

you tried to play it off with a gentle nudge to his side. “stop being weird.”

you finally looked down, ready to say something about the way the moon was just so pretty.

riki was already looking at you.

and he wasn’t embarrassed about it. he didn’t look away, didn’t pretend to be interested in the show you’d both come to see.

his eyes were soft, unblinking. like you were the one he had come for.

“you’re not even watching,” you whispered, voice shaky, heart louder than it should’ve been.

riki tilted his head, lips curving into the smallest smile.

“i am,” he said quietly. “just not the stars. or the moon for that matter.”

you froze, breath caught somewhere between your chest and your throat. he didn’t look away. not even for a second.

“you know,” riki continued, voice just low enough for only you to hear, “if the moon really is 400,000 kilometers away, i think i love you to the moon and back,”

“riki…” you whispered, unsure what you meant to say next. you felt breathless, like the words were still catching up to the moment.

but he only leaned back slightly in his seat, his shoulder brushing yours. “you don’t have to say anything,” he said, softer now. “i just… i wanted you to know.”

your fingers twisted in your lap, eyes flickering back up to the stars for just a second, like they might tell you what to do next. they didn’t. they just kept spinning silently across the domed ceiling, beautiful and endless.

you turned to him again. “i think,” you said slowly, “that maybe… maybe i’ve been looking in the wrong direction.”

he looked at you then—not surprised, but quietly hopeful. like he’d been waiting for you to realize it.

“yeah?” he asked, voice steady but a little too careful.

you nodded. “yeah.”

suddenly, the stars or the moon weren’t the brightest thing in the room anymore.

and somewhere above you, the moon kept orbiting the earth. steady. constant. never fully leaving the planet’s side.

247 notes · View notes

chanelrolls · 6 days ago

Note

heyy hope you’re doing fine!

I saw this hc of Xavier I wanted to know if you could write something about it? (only if you want tho no pressure)

He has a fever and calls MC to like watch out for him, give him medicine and all BUT he gets freaky and then things happens between them

Lovesick | Xavier

synopsis. xavier isn't just in a fever, he's in heat. and he wants you to take care of him.

tags. mdni, nsfw, mature content, mutual pining, tension, so much tension, yearning!xavier, t!t-pleasing, f!ngering during a phone call, etc.

wc. approximately 3.5k

the coffee machine whirred behind you, steaming with the usual early evening chaos. customers murmured by the counter, some tapping impatient fingers, others scrolling on their phones. you were halfway through wiping down a table when your phone buzzed inside your apron.

you shouldn’t have checked it. you weren’t supposed to have phones out, but something about the timing made you glance.

xavier (7:46 PM): You free?

you blinked. the message was simple. no teasing, there were no smartass remarks. simple two words, coming from xavier, and that was practically a cry for help.

you typed back quickly.

: at work. why?

there was a pause. then three dots from his chathead. then nothing.

you hesitated, peeking out at the line of customers forming by the register. your coworker was mid-order, so you ducked into the stockroom and pressed the call button.

he answered after the first ring.

"hey," he said, voice hoarse, lower than usual, softer too.

“xavier? what’s going on?” you asked, keeping your voice down.

“i think i’m dying.”

you rolled your eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. “what kind of dying are we talking about here?”

“i’m... sick,” he muttered. “probably a fever. my head’s spinning. i didn’t eat anything all day.”

you leaned against the shelves, sighing. “did you take anything? medicine?”

“nope.”

“water?”

“forgot.”

“xavier.”

“i—” he paused. “didn’t want to be alone. so i called you.”

that silenced you for a moment. you could hear rustling on the other end, the faint sound of a blanket being dragged over him. you could almost picture it—xavier, curled up in bed, hair a mess, hoodie probably pulled over half his face, looking pitiful in that annoyingly charming way of his.

“i’m at work,” you said softly. “i can’t leave.”

“i know.”

“but i’ll come after.”

“...you will?”

you sighed once more, adjusting your apron. “yeah. just... stay alive until then, okay?”

“noted,” he replied, voice tired but teasing now. and just like that, he hung up.

you stared at your phone for a second longer, then stuffed it back into your apron and headed out to take the next order. but your mind was already somewhere else. or rather, with someone else.

your shift ended later than expected. the rush hour crowd had dragged on, and you'd stayed behind to help close up. by the time you made it to xavier’s apartment, your limbs were sore and your feet were screaming, but the moment you stood in front of his door, all of that faded.

you didn’t even have to knock. he'd texted you his spare keycode months ago, something about “just in case i pass out drunk or dead,” typical xavier. and for the first time, you were grateful for his melodrama.

the door creaked open. complete silence.

you stepped inside quietly, toeing off your shoes. the living room was dimly lit by the city lights bleeding in through the window blinds. his cardigan was tossed over the back of the couch, and the faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air.

you didn’t call out. he was probably asleep, and you didn’t want to wake him.

instead, you headed to the kitchen.

you knew his cabinets by heart. he always left the mug you gave him on the second shelf. the rice cooker blinked on standby. you moved automatically; washed your hands, checked the fridge, started cooking something simple.

that’s when you noticed it.

a small table nearby, and a box of tissues aloft.

and right next to it—your photo. not the one from high school graduation, or from a group hangout. no, it was a candid shot you barely remembered anyone taking. you were laughing, head turned slightly, sunlight catching your cheek. you didn’t even think you looked particularly good in it.

you froze.

for a moment, the quiet of the apartment felt heavier. like it knew something you didn’t.

why would he keep that photo? why would it be out like that, with tissues beside it? was he… crying? no, could it be...?

you were just reading into it again, like you always did.

you swallowed, turning back to the stove, but your hands moved slower now. more uncertain, more careful.

he always called you first, since the prologue of your childhood friendship. and you've had the biggest crush on him for a while, and yet his ambiguity made it difficult for you to open that up.

and that photo... maybe it was just the flu.

you nudged the bedroom door open with your elbow, careful not to spill the bowl of porridge balanced in your hands.

he was buried beneath his blanket, cocooned like a child. the tip of his hair stuck out from the edge, tousled and damp with sweat. you couldn’t even tell if he knew you were there yet. the room smelled faintly of mint and something warmer, muskier. like heat.

you set the tray on his desk and turned on your heel to grab the small bucket of warm water you’d prepared from the kitchen. a washcloth dangled from the edge. he probably needed help wiping down his face, he always got annoyingly dramatic when he was sick.

but when you walked back in, your breath caught in your throat.

he was awake.

sitting up.

and staring right at you.

his blanket was slung low around his hips, exposing the cut of his collarbones, the slight sheen of sweat across his neck, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. his eyes were glazed, feverish, but locked on you like you were something he hadn’t decided what to do with yet. hungry, almost?

you clutched the bucket tighter.

“you’re awake,” you said, suddenly very aware of the silence. “i—i made you something. porridge. you haven’t eaten, right?”

still, he said nothing. he just watched, before flickering his gaze down the floor, like he was contemplating something.

it made your skin feel tight, like his gaze was unraveling something you didn’t know how to hide. “...you okay?” you asked again, gently this time, your voice just above a whisper.

something in the way he looked at you made your chest twist. he was beautiful. even like this—flushed, messy, and sick. too beautiful for your own good. and you had no idea what was going through his head.

you dipped the washcloth into the warm water, watching steam rise gently before wringing it out with a practiced hand. the room was utterly silent, save for the quiet drip of water and the soft hum of the air conditioner.

when you turned to wipe his face, you almost froze.

xavier was propped up slightly against the headboard. the blanket was haphazardly draped over his hips, his chest rising and falling with a slow, heavy rhythm, still staring at you.

but not at your face at least.

his gaze had dipped lower, fixated somewhere near your collarbone, unmoving. lips parted, his breathing uneven.

you cleared your throat and brought the cloth to his forehead, gently wiping along his temple.

“you’re burning up,” you murmured.

he let out a breath, shaky. almost a whimper. “I know…”

you frowned at the sound he made. “xavier?”

he blinked once, sluggishly, then finally looked up at your face. “i heard you come in,” he said, voice low and distant. "knew it was you."

“mmh, didn’t know you were awake.”

he didn’t answer right away. his gaze dropped again, this time to your thighs as you sat beside the bed. “you wore that... last week.”

you blinked. “what?”

“those jeans,” he said flatly, though there was a tremble at the end. “i remember—” a second whimper slipped out, barely controlled.

that’s when you started to notice it. his jaw was clenched too tightly, fingers gripping the sheets, and flexing rhythmically. his pupils were a little too blown despite the half-lidded gaze.

and when you leaned closer, the scent of something—not just sweat—hung in the air.

your hand stopped mid-wipe. “xavier, are you… are you sure this is just a fever?”

he didn’t respond right away. he just took the time to breathe slower. then finally, with a near-broken edge in his voice: “i didn’t want to call you... but i couldn’t- couldn’t think straight.”

he sounded desperate with that strained voice of his. like his body was at war with him.

and for the first time since stepping into this apartment, you realized—this wasn’t just sickness. something else was happening to him. and you were the one he called first.

you kept your hand steady, even though your pulse had picked up. you continued wiping his cheeks, temples, and neck with slow, deliberate strokes, trying not to react. trying not to notice how his eyes traced every movement of your fingers like it hurt him to look, but worse to look away.

he was quiet now, except for the occasional unsteady breath and soft, involuntary whimpers—small, bitten-off sounds like he was trying to hold them back. it was subtle, but enough to startle you. you glanced at him from the corner of your eye.

his skin was flushed deeper now. jaw tight. his chest rose and fell faster.

still, you didn’t say anything.

you just dipped the cloth again and moved on.

until you heard him speak, barely above a whisper. “…it’s worse when you’re close.”

you froze mid-motion. “what?”

xavier’s eyes slid shut, like it took effort just to keep them open. his hand gripped the blanket tighter near his abdomen. “i didn’t want to make this your problem,” he said, voice hoarse. “i just wanted to hear you. thought maybe it’d help if i heard you.”

you didn’t respond. because your heart was hammering too loud in your chest now. and you were beginning to understand.

this was his body asking—no, begging—for relief from something else entirely. and the fact that it was you he called, of all people, said more than his trembling lips could.

still, you swallowed it down, wrapped it up in a calm voice.

“i made you some food. you should eat before it gets cold,” you said softly, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. you stood up slowly, brushing off your jeans, carefully reaching for the tray on the side table. but before your fingers could curl around the handle, a firm grip closed around your wrist.

“xavier…?”

his grip wasn’t painful, but it was strong. his hand was burning hot around your skin. when you turned back to face him, his eyes were already on you, heavy-lidded and desperate.

“i said it’s worse when you’re close,” he mumbled, “but i didn’t tell you to move away.”

“xavier—”

before you could even take a breath, he tugged. you stumbled forward, catching yourself with your free hand against the mattress just beside his hip.

“wait—”

he shifted, his body rising slightly despite the clear strain on him, and in one fluid motion, he guided you down onto the bed, your back hitting the sheets with a soft thud. his palm pressed against the mattress beside your head, caging you in, while the other still held your wrist against his chest.

your heart practically stopped.

he hovered there, breathing heavily above you, eyes scanning your face like it grounded him. “…i’m sorry,” he muttered, leaning closer. “i just… i can’t pretend i don’t need you right now.”

you could feel every bit of his warmth. every bit of restraint teetering on the edge of collapse. and despite everything—your confusion, the unspoken history between you—you didn’t push him away.

his eyes flicked down, just for a second.

not at your face.

lower.

and he didn’t even try to hide it.

still hovering over you, his breath warm against your skin, he let out a shaky exhale and muttered, “you shouldn’t wear stuff like that when you’re around me…”

there was a tension in his jaw, like he was biting back more than just words. his hand that had been holding your wrist slowly loosened, fingers trailing down the length of your arm in a way that felt both deliberate and unsure.

then, his voice came again, this time, laced with a strange, monotonous rhythm. “…you smell too nice.” a pause. “it’s hard to think.”

he whimpered quietly, like it escaped him without permission. you saw his brows furrow as if frustrated with himself, his knuckles turning pale where they gripped the blanket beside you.

“damn it…” he whispered, and another shaky sound followed—half-breath, half-moan.

you wandered your eyes beyond his stare, afraid to prolong the tension in the eye-fucking you've been doing since earlier. but the presence just above you made it impossible to keep your eyes anywhere but on his.

“…say something,” he whispered, almost pleading. “before i- before i stop thinking straight.”

you watched as xavier's adam's apple bobbed with a hard swallow. you could see the internal struggle playing out behind his eyes, the war between his self-control and the primal instincts screaming at him to take you, to claim you as his own.

"xavier... i.." you couldn't even form anything coherent.

he leaned into you for a brief moment before catching himself and pulling away, shaking his head. "i need you to go. now."

despite his words, he made no move to leave, instead staying rooted in place, his eyes still drinking in every detail of your face, your body, like a man starved. you could see the outline of his hardening length straining against his sweatpants, impossible to hide in such close proximity.

"xavier..." you breathed out, your own heart beginning to race as you realized the true nature of his condition. "you're not fine. you're in... heat."

you said the words gently, almost hesitantly, not wanting to believe it yourself. but the evidence was undeniable, from the feverish look in his eyes to the prominent bulge in his pants. he was fighting it, fighting you, and he was losing control fast.

suddenly, xavier's eyes flicked down to your chest, lingering on the swell of your breasts straining against your shirt. he swallowed hard, his tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips.

"can i... can i see your chest?" he asked, his gaze still locked onto your breasts. then he looked up at you, his eyes pleading and filled with a hunger you'd never seen before.

you hesitated, knowing that giving in would be crossing a line. but the desperation in his eyes, the way his body trembled with need, made it impossible to say no. with a reluctant nod, you slowly began to unbutton your shirt, your fingers shaking slightly as you exposed more and more of your soft skin.

it wouldn't hurt to try, right?

xavier watched, his eyes following the path of each button until your shirt fell open completely. he let out a shaky exhale as he took in the sight of your lace-clad breasts, his gaze darkening with lust.

"beautiful," he whispered, his voice low and rough. "you're so beautiful."

his hands clenched at his sides, as if he was fighting the urge to reach out and touch you. after a long moment, he looked up at you, then— "can i touch them?"

you hesitated for only a second before nodding, your heart pounding in your chest. xavier didn't waste any time, reaching out to cup your breasts in his large hands. he grunted at the feeling of your soft flesh yielding beneath his touch, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples through the thin lace.

but that wasn't enough for him. so he leaned down and pressed his mouth against your tits, his lips brushing over the sensitive peak of your nipple. you gasped at the sudden contact, your back arching slightly as a jolt of pleasure raced through your body.

xavier seemed to take that as permission, his mouth opening to draw your nipple between his lips. he suckled hard, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as he ate at your breast. his hands kneaded the soft flesh, squeezing and groping.

you could only moan in response, your fingers tangling in his hair while he worshipped your breasts. the sight of him, face buried in your chest as he suckled and licked at your nipples, was almost too much to bear. you could already feel the heat building between your legs, your core aching with a need that demanded to be filled.

xavier seemed just as affected, his hips rocking forward and grinding his hard length against your thigh. you could feel the damp spot of pre-cum soaking through his sweatpants, the evidence of his arousal impossible to hide.

when the moon called for unfortune, the shrill ring of your phone pierced the charged air, startling you both. xavier glared at the offending device, a hiss of frustration escaping his lips. you reached for it, answering the call and trying to maintain some semblance of composure.

"h-hello?" you managed to say, your voice only slightly breathless.

xavier watched you intently, his eyes dark with lust and a hint of mischief. as you tried to focus on the conversation, you felt his fingers at the waistband of your jeans. with a deft movement, he undid the button and zipper, his hand slipping inside to cup you through your panties.

you had to bite back a moan, your hips instinctively canting into his touch. "y-yeah, I'm still here," you struggled, trying to keep your voice steady as xavier's fingers began to move, rubbing your clothed slit with a growing pressure.

the person on the other end of the line seemed to sense something was off, asking if everything was alright. "i'm fine," you assured them, even as xavier's fingers pushed your panties aside, his bare digits brushing against your slick folds.

you could feel the wetness gathering at your core, your body responding eagerly to xavier's bold touches. he explored your slick heat, fingers teasing your entrance before dipping inside, just barely, a shallow thrust that made you clench around him.

"okay, i'll... i'll see you soon," you said, struggling to keep your voice even while xavier began to pump his fingers in and out of you, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight circles around the sensitive nub. with a muffled moan, you hung up the phone, tossing it aside carelessly.

xavier imperceptibly smirked at your reaction, "all alone now," he murmured, "and all mine." with that, he crashed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, his fingers never ceasing their movements between your thighs. you could only moan in response, still feeling uncertain despite the overwhelming pleasure that tugged at you. but one thing was for sure, you wouldn't stop xavier until you both reached the peak of this night. you wouldn't stop him from claiming what he craves for tonight.

#lnds #lnds x reader #love and deepspace #lads headcanon #xavier love and deepspace #lnds xavier #lads xavier #xavier x reader #xavier x mc #xavier x you #xavier x y/n #sylus love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #zayne love and deepspace

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greensagephase · 28 days ago

Text

Flores Amarillas

pairing: husband!miguel o'hara x spouse!reader wc: 713 summary: You always daydreamed about receiving yellow flowers (work's title) on the start of spring. warnings: some Spanish; established relationship note: for more info regarding this work; check the ask!

[lyrics below from the song listed;]

Ella sabía que él sabía [She knew that he knew]

Que algún día pasaría [one day it would happen]

Que vendría a buscarla [That he’d come look for her]

Con sus flores amarillas [With her yellow flowers]

-♡-

You were just a kid when you were already thinking of him. You daydreamed and innocently fantasized about meeting him one day.

He had no name, nor did he have a face.

Yet, you dreamed about him and of yellow flowers.

To be specific, you dreamed of one day receiving yellow flowers from a man who you imagined would be close to a prince charming.

You’d listen to the song “Flores Amarillas” from the famous telenovela and sing it to the best of your ability, daydreaming about having that experience one day; of receiving yellow flowers as a romantic gesture from the love of your life.

Even in your teenage years, this illusion followed you. The unhealthy number of telenovelas you consumed growing up with your parents along with being a hopeless romantic didn't help. During those years, you waited, illusioned that that person would come along. With a pure golden heart, you imagined running one day into him; a man who would be waiting for you with a yellow flower, who would notice the shine in your pupils. You imagined the sun would be out, casting its gentle yellow as you finally crossed paths with that special man.

As time went on, you realized that purely daydreaming about it wouldn't automatically manifest it and you eventually let it go, even when you saw others experience what your child and teenager self yearn so much for.

-♡-

Outside, you hear the birds chirping. Earlier, you noted the blooming flowers in your garden. A gentle yellow, pollen, covers surfaces, inciting spring allergies for many, yet helping the flowers and bees.

You sit on your couch, now many years older amd established, when you rediscover the song while scrolling through your social media. Listening to it, you realize you still remember every word. It almost feels like running into an old friend who you haven't seen in a long, long, long time.

En ese bar tan desierto nos esperaba el encuentro [in that bar so deserted the meet up waited for us]

Ella llegó en limusina amarilla por supuesto [she arrived in a yellow limousine of course]

Él se acercó de repente la miro tan de frente [he approached suddenly looking at her straight ahead]

Toda una vida soñada y no pudo decir nada [an entire life dreamed of and he couldn't say anything]

The scent of his cologne reaches you first before you feel a soft kiss pressed to your cheek. It automatically brings a smile to your face, pulling you away from your thoughts. Still smiling, you look up and meet that warm gaze, warm like yellow and deep like coffee.

“Ella sabía que él sabía, que algún día pasaría [she knew he knew, one day it would happen],” Miguel sings softly with a warm smile.

“Que vendría a buscarla, con sus flores amarillas [That he’d come look for her with her yellow flowers],” you say, finishing that part of the song.

“I remember when that song was so popular,” Miguel comments, gently cupping your face.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. You want to know something, mi vida [my life]?” Miguel asks. “I forgot all about that song until today. It came up on my feed this morning and remembered I once used to imagine, as a kid, finding a beautiful and sweet individual to gift yellow flowers to.”

Chuckling, you caress Miguel’s forearms as he continues to cup your face. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” Miguel answers before leaning forward. He presses a sweet and gentle kiss to your forehead, smiling at you before releasing your face. He reaches behind you to retrieve something, still smiling. “Unas flores amarillas para ti, mi amor [yellows flowers for you, my love],” Miguel murmurs, handing you a beautiful bouquet of yellow flowers. “For the most beautiful, sweetest, kindest person in the whole world.”

The sight and scent of the cheerful flowers brightens your day, but Miguel’s words brighten it even more. You accept the flowers, your heart blooming with love and appreciation for the man that you now have the privilege of calling your husband.

You chuckle softly, admiring them while feeling the love from Miguel.

"I knew one day I'd find you," you murmur, finally looking at him again. "After daydreaming of you for so long."

"Y yo por ti [and I about you]," your husband replies, his illusion of gifting flowers to the love of his life, finally accomplished.

Thank you @ashnelyi for the ask!

Thank you so much for reading!

Alondra❤️

divider credit: @enchanthings-a

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #atsv #Spotify #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfiction #fluff #miguel o'hara fluff

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leaderwonim · 1 year ago

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SEASONS

⤻ pairing. popular!sunghoon x shy!reader (ft nishimura riki and hanni from nwjns)

⤻ genre. fluff, hints of angst, brother’s best friend to lovers trope (reader is heeseung’s sister) forbidden love kinda

⤻ synopsis. park sunghoon, the notorious playboy who just so happens to be your brother’s best friend, was off limits. heeseung had made it clear to you during your freshman year of high school, and the rule still hasn’t changed even when entering your senior year. but what lee heeseung doesn’t know won’t hurt him right?

author’s note: wrote this out of boredom after listening to seasons by wave to earth 🥹 i love that song with all my heart. riki is so unserious lmao i love him. COMMENTS & REBLOGS are always appreciated 🤞

“he’s off limits,” heeseung says as he swings by your desk, watching as you scrolled through your Instagram feed, a post of sunghoon’s passing by. “i saw you stalk him, you know.”

“i wasn’t stalking him.” you say, shooing your older brother away. “geez, have you gotten crazier since you’ve left for stanford?”

“first of all, i’m not crazy.” he flicks your forehead, deciding to be the annoying older brother he was and rummage through your things. “and i’d like to see you get into stanford yn, i really would. instead of being boy crazy with your psychotic friends.”

you roll your eyes at this, placing your phone down to look at your brother. “my friends are not psychotic. plus, your stupid rule about sunghoon started in freshman year of high school, can’t you let it go?”

“never.” heeseung steps off your bed. “i know him, yn. you don’t, you don’t know what he’s capable of.”

you blow the threat from your brother. if there’s one thing you’ve learned from living with lee heeseung your entire life was that ignoring him was easier than trying to pick a fight with him. he was stubborn as a bull.

heeseung and sunghoon became friends in the fifth grade after your family had moved, and he ignored your presence up until junior year of high school, where he ruffled your hair when you congratulated him on his graduation.

“thanks little lee,” he says, and it’s all park sunghoon has spoke to you, which hurt knowing that you’ve practically tried everything since middle school for him to acknowledge your existence.

“YN!” your mother calls from the kitchen. “oh gosh, i forgot to pack heeseung his lunch! can you drive to the university?”

your cheeks puff out, which makes riki who was currently on your phone screen, laugh.

“yah, listen to your mother lee yn,” riki snickers. “i’ll come with. i need to get out of my house anyway.”

you roll your eyes at his self invitation, hanging up as you quickly run down to grab heeseung’s lunch from your mom and your keys.

yn on top☝️

be ready in 5 nishimura, im omw

nishishi

ok.

yn on top ☝️

dry ass

“get in loser!” you call out. nishimura riki pulls his black shades down, eyebrows furrowed.

“the hell you call me?” he jokes, opening your passenger car door.

he starts to buckle his seatbelt as you drive, taking a sip from your stanley. “so why are you so excited? wait—i know why. you get to see park sunghoon in action!”

“yah!” you slap his shoulder with your free hand, turning the music a bit louder so you couldn’t hear him.

“oh don’t turn up the music because you can’t handle the truth. you just wanna see your brother’s hot best friend.”

“can you blame a girl?” you say, lips out in a pout. “maybe now that i’m 18, they’ll take me seriously.”

“nobody takes you seriously, y/n.”

“nishimura riki, you have 5 minutes to get out my car.”

turns out, nishimura riki did not get outside of your car. for a boy who was on the varsity track and swim team of your high school, he refused to walk the 3 miles that was left to go to the university.

“you almost forgot his lunch idiot,” riki laughs, handing heeseung’s lunch to you. “imagine you approach sunghoon thinking you’re all cool and then he asks why you’re here and you don’t even have your brothers lunch to defend you.”

“do you always wish death upon me?” you give him the stink eye, pulling him by his hands.

“little lee, did not expect to see you here.”

you knew that voice from anywhere, and you were almost afraid to turn around to face the owner of it.

“yah little lee, i’m talking to you.” it was park sunghoon in all his glory, his hair sitting all nice and pretty as he waits for your response.

“oh! uh—where’s heeseung?”

“ouch,” sunghoon places a hand over his chest. “i greet you and the first thing you ask is where’s your brother.”

riki cackles loudly, so loud that you want to slam his mouth shut and pretend you don’t know him.

“hi park sunghoon,” he greets, extending his hand.

although sunghoon finds the tall boy a bit of a cutie by his baby face, the way he was holding onto your hand made him already seem like a threat, so sunghoon’s expression is pursed into a poker face.

“heeseung is down at the corridor,” sunghoon says, turning back to you. “do you want me to give him that?”

you nod shyly, handing the lunch to sunghoon who smiles. “aish, the kid got into stanford and he’s still making his mom make his lunch?”

you could feel riki’s hand loosen from yours, his attention caught on two students who were currently dancing on the other side of campus.

“be right back!” he exclaims, running off to watch them.

“this jerk,” you whisper underneath your breath, smiling when you make eye contact with sunghoon again.

“he’s quite the character, isn’t he?” sunghoon questions. “who is he?”

he says that in such a bitter taste that makes your stomach flip, wondering why he was suddenly upset.

“nishimura riki, he transferred to hybe high from japan just this year. he’s really sweet but very chaotic.”

“ah,” sunghoon clicks his tongue. “is he your boyfriend?”

your words almost get caught in your throat, obviously shocked by sunghoon’s straightforward question. “what?! no!”

“oh,” he smiles. “that’s good little lee.”

“you should just call me y/n,” you groan. “little lee sounds so stupid.”

“it’s not stupid,” sunghoon says, flicking his hand. “it’s cute.”

“really?”

“like you.”

before you could even process it, riki’s already running back to the two of you, excitedly telling you about the amazing dance program stanford has to offer.

“let’s go! i have to go home and submit an application to stanford!”

sunghoon raises an eyebrow at the excited tall boy who was currently grabbing you, sending you a small wave and smirk when your eyes plead for him to rescue you.

“see you soon little lee.”

“YAH! ARE YOU AN IDIOT?”

“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU IT WAS AN ACCIDENT?!”

you were currently scolding the japanese boy for ruining your chances with sunghoon earlier.

“it is not my fault lee yn!” he says, puffing out his chest. “plus, the dancers say there’s a party this weekend at stanford and they’ll sneak us in. we have to go, you can see sunghoon hyung again and i can see them!”

you pursed your mouth into a thin line, riki awaiting anxiously for your answer.

“let’s say i do wanna go, heeseung would never let me go to a college party, especially not with a boy like you!”

riki clasps his hand over his chest and pretends to fall over in pain on your bed. “how could you say that?! i’m a great guy. cmon yn, you can’t let your older brother dictate your entire life, you’re 18 now!”

although riki has said a million of stupid things, he was right about this. you were eighteen, and you didn’t need your older brother ruining your chances of getting a boyfriend.

“okay,” you say, watching as riki’s eyes lit up. “let’s go. who are your dancer friends?”

the weekend had came by quicker than you thought, and you waited until heeseung said his goodbyes to you so you could get dressed and do your makeup.

although you didn’t want to go overboard with the whole thing, you still wanted to impress sunghoon, because after all, there would be a bunch of prettier college girls at the party that were smarter than you in everything.

“wow.” nishimura riki’s mouth drops as he sees your dress and face. “you clean up nice lee yn!”

“thanks ri,” you ruffle his hair, which he swats away in annoyance. “let’s go, heeseung’s already there.”

“great, so are my dancer friends!”

the two of you blended in easily, riki’s height doing both of you a favor as you held hands and made your way through the crowd of dancing and drinking college students.

“little lee?” your face bumps into sunghoon’s chest, and you almost gulp when you look up at his height. “what the hell are you doing here?”

“well that’s my queue to leave!” riki chuckles nervously, throwing you a lazy thumbs up as he runs to the drink cooler.

“never will understand that kid.” sunghoon mutters under his breath. “but seriously y/n, it can be dangerous, why are you here?”

it’s the first time in forever that he’s addressed you by your first name, and you can’t help but feel giddy.

overconfident by the drinks you had pregamed with riki previously, you find yourself leaning closer to park sunghoon. “i came here for you.”

he blinks.

“here..” he states, glancing around the party. “for me?”

the confidence wore off in a second. you were now starting to get embarrassed, cursing yourself for saying such things in front of sunghoon who probably didn’t even like you.

“that’s sweet little lee,” he says, eyes crinkling. “but you could get into a lot of trouble if your brother finds you, you know? he already freaks about you enough, finding you at a party at his college at night will kill him at the spot.”

park sunghoon was right, your brother would absolutely rage if he had found out you snuck out to go to a party. in some ways, he was even more strict than your mom.

“hoonie!” the voice of a girl interrupts the both of you as she makes her way over, placing a sloppy kiss against sunghoon’s cheek. she hasn’t said anything to you and you were already starting to see red.

“oh hi! i didn’t see you there!” she extends her hand, grinning from ear to ear. “i’m hanni, president of the pi beta thi sorority!”

you notice sunghoon’s hands finding themselves around her waist. although he’s probably only doing that to stabilize her, you find yourself too jealous to speak.

“hanni, this is lee y/n, heeseung’s sister.”

“oh!” the girl gasps. “oh my gosh, i’ve heard just so much about you! you’re prettier in real life! what are you doing at a college party?”

now you can’t really keep being mad at her because she seems so genuine when she’s complimenting you.

“oh, my friend riki has dancer friends who invited us.” you say awkwardly, watching as sunghoon whispers something in hanni’s ear.

“well that’s awesome, i hope i’m gonna see you here next year!” hanni then waves her hands, parting away from sunghoon. “i’m gonna go say hi to your brother, toodles!”

you watch as she makes her way towards the outside, most likely to the pool. at least you knew where your brother was so you know how to avoid him.

“hanni is really sweet,” sunghoon says as you turn back to face him. “met her a few months ago.”

“oh really,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek. “is she your girlfriend?”

sunghoon laughs as if it’s the funniest thing in the world. “what? no—of course not. she’s just touchy when she’s drunk. she’s dating one of my frat friends, his name is yang jungwon.”

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, happy that sunghoon was still single. after all, hanni was a pretty and nice girl, you wouldn’t be surprised if she was able to pull him.

the two of you stand in silence for a bit, sunghoon staring into your eyes with his dazed eyes. you almost want to pull him in, close the gaps between yours and his lips.

“am i stupid?” he suddenly asks, eyes still in contact with yours.

“no, why would you say that sunghoon?”

“i still like you after all this time. even when i got to college and promised myself i’d find a girlfriend and move on, you’re always still at the back of my mind.”

his confession makes you wonder if you were hallucinating, not believing that the park sunghoon who you’ve been inlove with since childhood was currently telling you he liked you.

“i..” he doesn’t let you say anything else, choosing to lean in and kiss you instead.

it’s all great and feels magical until you’re pulled back harshly, the sound of your brother’s yelling filling your ears.

“LEE Y/N? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING AT A COLLEGE PARTY, AT NIGHT? KISSING SUNGHOON OF ALL PEOPLE? WE’RE GOING HOME!”

you want to cry in embarrassment when you realize everyone has turned their eyes to look at you, and sunghoon throws you a look of guilt and pity when he sees heeseung dragging you away.

“stop it, you’re embarrassing me.” you cry as you’re outside the party.

“me, embarrassing you?” heeseung scoffs, looking up into the sky before looking down at you. “do you know how much you’ve disappointed me tonight? first, you dress up in barely any clothes, then you sneak into a party with some japanese male exchange student, and then you KISSED MY BEST FRIEND?” you close your eyes at heeseung’s yelling, wishing for the earth to swallow you whole.

“what will i do with you?” he grumbles as he drives the two of you home. “you’re lucky mom is out of town for two days. if i drove you home like this, she would kill you. and is that fucking alcohol i smell on you lee y/n?”

you gulp, knowing full well that you probably reeked of alcohol and sunghoon’s cologne at that moment.

“i told you he was a bad influence.” heeseung says as a red light comes up, turning to you as his hands were still on the steering wheel. “he’s going to break your heart and crush it beneath his feet, and who are you gonna come crying to? me. i’ve seen it so many times before y/n, my own girl friends at college have got with sunghoon and all he’s done is crush their souls and spirits. you think you’re any different because he said a few sweet things and kissed you?”

“stop it.” you say, wiping your tears away. “you’re being mean, heeseung.”

“men like him don’t change, y/n. sure, he’s my best friend, but he’s not a good boyfriend. he’ll drop you the second he feels like you’re inconvenient.”

you let out your first sob at night as your brother pulls into your driveway. although he’s still fuming mad at you for going against all his rules, he pulls you into his chest, letting you cry it out as he rubs your back comfortingly.

“are you okay?” is the first thing nishimura riki says when he sees you at school, frowning at your bloodshot eyes. “i saw you get dragged away by heeseung hyung yesterday night. it was really loud.”

“gee, thanks.” you scowl at him, making him raise his hands in surrender.

“if it makes you feel better, sunghoon wanted to speak to you.”

your head suddenly peeks up at this, and riki almost laughs by how easily he could change your mood.

“really? even after last night?”

“mhm.” riki stabs a fork into his mashed potatoes. “but he didn’t look so happy, so if you end up crying after, i have ice cream at my house.”

you let out a laugh at the boy’s words, silently thanking the world for giving you such an unserious best friend.

and just like riki had said earlier, park sunghoon was waiting in front of your house by the time you got home.

“hey.” he says, hands in pocket.

“hey.”

“about last night,” he seems to be looking everywhere but you. “i’m really sorry about your brother.”

“it’s fine.” you say, shrugging. “he was just being overprotective as usual.”

“yeah.” sunghoon steps closer cautiously. “i meant what i said, you know. about me liking you.”

“sunghoon, i like you too.”

he nods slowly, expression still glum. “that’s the problem though. we cant be together, y/n, you know that, right?”

“why?” you breathe out. “because you want to keep playing girls at your college?”

his eyebrows furrow deeply. “what? no? i’m just—i can’t be with you!” he steps backwards. “i’ll ruin your life, you said it yourself, i play girls at stanford. what’s to say i wont do the same to you?”

“i have known you since you were 10 sunghoon!” you say, throwing up your hands exasperated. “i know you can change for the better. i won’t let you go away this easily, not when i’ve spent my entire life loving you.”

“really?” sunghoon whispers, eyes teary. “you’ve spent your entire life loving me?”

“i have.” you walk up to sunghoon, cupping his face into your hands. “and i’ll love you for my next life if i have to.”

he laughs quietly, head tilting as he admired your face.

“little lee,” he says softly. “you really are a gem, aren’t you?”

park sunghoon being park sunghoon doesn’t let you reply to his words, instead shutting you up with a long kiss on the lips.

“wow.” you say as you pull away, making the older boy giggle. “lee heeseung is so gonna kill the both of us after the life lecture he gave me last night.”

“can’t kill me if i move away to antarctica.” sunghoon smirks, watching as your expression changes in a millisecond.

“YAH PARK SUNGHOON! YOU ARE NOT MOVING ANTARCTICA AFTER JUST CONFESSING TO ME!”

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chenlezip · 5 days ago

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.⊹˖ᯓ★. ݁₊ love at first like | a mark lee smau

004: the soft launch.

꒰ annas note: ꒱ i know this took forever for me to get out but i truly hope you guys enjoy the chapter :( i kept having to rewrite so much of it because I DONT LIKE THE WAY IVE WROTE THIS but it will have to do (i hate disappointing because everyone was super excited and i don’t want to let you guys down T_T).

it was finally (dreadfully) the next day and you almost forgot that you and mark had to go on a fake date until you awoke to your phone buzzing. wondering who it was bothering you, you turn to your side and grab your phone, mark showing up on the screen.

[9:00AM] mark nct: dude are you awake? 🤔

[9:05AM] mark nct: its our fake date today, come on

[9:30AM] mark nct: i'm waiting outside ur dorm, take ur time to get dressed and things. i have something believable planned if ur comfortable? hopefully? just hurry.. please..

you get up out of your comfy bed, ripping the duvet from around your waist with a heavy sigh. "why today?" you groan to yourself as you quickly get dressed into something nice. as soon as you leave your dorm, you see mark dressed in a red jumper, some beige pants and docs.

“you look smart for our ‘date’, don’t you?” you ask with a small laugh as he looked up, his throat drying a little at what you were clad in. wow. you looked great. obviously, he didn’t want to say that out loud so with a small fake cough and an arm moving to his nape, he asked if you were ready to go and you said yes.

as you both start walking, mark seems.. oddly very quiet so you decide to speak up, startling him in the process. “you’re quiet, what’s on your mind?” “huh? oh, just- i don’t know.. i want this to be realistic, you know?” you chuckle and shake your head at his words. why was he panicking trying to make it realistic?

“whatever you’ve picked out, i’m sure it will be good, well i hope anyway because we need to pull it off..”

and.. when you arrive at the destination, you suppose he did a pretty damn good job at it. a beautiful fountain nearby with grass surrounding it. a pink plaid blanket on the grass, wine bottle and two glasses in a picnic basket, delicious snacks placed onto it too. “wow..” you mumble softly as you take in the sight, it was scenic.

you both sat together, getting to know one another more, soft laughs shared between and small whispers as you tried to perfect the photos you were taking of the area and one another.

“ah, can i post this one?” mark asked you and you look up to see a photo of the scenery, your arm just in the corner with your hair, making it definitely look like a soft launch. you smile and nod, “sure. it looks good, you’re good at taking photos. who taught you? i know you learnt from someone.” you joke and he chuckled, shaking his head, “definitely wasn’t the best before but jaemin, i don’t know if you know him, but he’s the best photographer i know and i got some tips from him just for this..”

he got tips from his friend (and fellow member) just to get some photos of you for a fake date? damn, he’s committed alright.

by the end of the day, mark drops you off back at your dorm and blurted out, “for a fake date, that was pretty real, wasn’t it? i hope you enjoyed it.. i- uh, tried my best to make sure you did and that you were comfortable throughout the whole thing.”

“i did mark, and don’t worry. i was comfortable.. hey, let’s try something a little more open next time. if you’re up for it?” you ask and his eyes lit up, “yo, for real? i’ll figure something out and i’ll be in touch. anyway though, i best get going, goodnight yn. be safe.” and that was it, bidding goodbye and then you got comfortable for bed after doing your nightly routine.

you lay under the covers, sighing softly as you scroll through socials, seeing all the talk about you and marks stories today. you let out a soft giggle at some reactions, were people always this dramatic about their favourite idols? you suppose you understood it, you felt that way about your celebrity crush.

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tags: @polarisjisung @luvmrk @finewinesixtynine @bbyjjunie @multifandomania @jenocity23 @iluv7tn @sungbites @haluenx @222brainrot @iluvkyo @ayukas @mmjhh1998 @skibidihan @f6llsun @florihaei @kiszjuli @cloudmrk @cigsaftersuh @i06hae @neozon3nha @urlocalbeaner5 @sunghoonsgfreal @nasasungs @mbella607 @desssss-0 @prettymoles @haechsworld @mejaemin @yizhrt @fullmoon0606 @n0hyuck @dilflover44 @nctdreamchaser @stuckonmark @bananinhazz @luvs4haechan @tynlvr @remgeolli @jae-n0 @blondemrk @lukeys-giggle @mimi894 @haechyuckan @jakiki94 @sacdepixie @bluedbliss @yoyomul @nctrawberries @hoeingthefuckup @joneborder (if i forget to tag anyone plspls let me know!!)

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dare-writes · 2 months ago

Text

Messy Kissing

Tom has a photoshoot idea.

Aaron's Masterlist

tom ryder x female reader

genre: fluff, nsfw implication (paragraph starts with The photoshoot went great until Tom decided a ‘Lunch Break’ was necessary.)

WC: 2.0k

sexual content warnings: referenced m!receiving oral

warnings: reader gets hate from Tom's fans (mentioned), kissing, publicly... Tom is your #1 fan, Reader is a Tom Tamer!, reader fixed him????, established relationship, Tom loves love, and Tom hates haters, Tom is lowkey just always hot and bothered over you

Inspired by my ‘Tom Ryder, who got that as an approved photoshoot concept but only allowed you to kiss him. (He got you to do a few down his abs (alternating sides because “isn’t that cool?!”)and one kiss mark just at the waistband of the pants/boxers he wore)’

im so back (im exhausted this was meant to be done weeks ago im sorry chat)

If there were some things everyone should know about Tom, it would be 1) He loves you, 2) No, he doesn’t plan to leave, and 3) He is a chronic social media scroller. If he’s between roles, he’s lounging in his Beverly Hills house in The Flats, either tanning or rotting while scrolling through various secret social media accounts he had.

More often than not, he saw comments about you. Most were cute, some were funny, and few were rancid. It made Tom coil in irritation. Managing to find a lover outside of the film industry was the greatest thing to happen to him. Hell, a lover outside the industry got him sober, makes him happy, and most importantly to him? She supports him endlessly but keeps him humble.

The first time you visited the set, Tom insulted a crew member, and you were immediately on his tail.

“Tom, did you insult her for getting a coffee order wrong? She’s not even your PA.”

“No, Tom, that isn’t okay! She’s a part of sound, not everyone who works for you.”

“You didn’t just say that—Thomas Ryder! You’re going to drive me insane! Working with you, they work with you! Not for you!”

It took a few months of those conversations to get Tom to listen. Of course, he still has his moments. Thankfully, he’s gotten better. It’s like Tom entirely forgot about the little devil he always listened to on his shoulder, preferring the little angel holding his hand.

Tom hated seeing distasteful comments about you, so he often mass-reported them. Sometimes, he would get reported for his… distasteful response to nasty comments, but no one hurts his angel!

Your social media was rarely used, especially since it was a private account. It wasn’t hard to avoid hateful comments if you weren't active on the apps. Twitter was never somewhere you chose to be because of hurtful language.

Tom noticed that all your social media apps were offloaded on your phone while cuddling against your chest one day. You never knew Tom to be so observant. He knew your cafe/Starbucks orders and your go-to food places, but you would never expect the guy with his walls covered in sticky notes to notice something as small as this. That's when he began planning his next shoot with a creative director he worked closely with at the beginning of his career.

Months before Valentine’s Day, he was scheduled for a themed shoot. The company worked closely with Tom to make the concept, and Tom made it for them when he heard the ideal release would be just before February 14th.

The studio wanted sexy. Tom wanted dedication to you. So they compromised.

“Tom, I never come to your shoots, ‘sides I have the quarterly report coming up soon.”

“I know, baby, but please! I need your support!” Tom said, tugging you along into the studio. “Besides, you’re going out tonight with Lucky, Malina, and Gina?”

You furrowed your eyebrows and stopped following him. His arm tried to tug you further, but you didn’t relent. He sighed and stood before you, waiting for the elevator. “Yeah, but that’s at like 7? It’s 8 in the morning, Tom.”

Tom pouted and grabbed your other hand, “They can do your makeup; I’ll work my T.Ryder Magic! Please, baby, I want you to be there.”

“Really?” You asked skeptically. He loved your cinched eyebrows when you questioned him, even if it was slightly in doubt.

“Really,” Tom nodded. You sighed as the elevator dinged its presence. “Fine.”

Tom childishly pumped his fist and pulled you into a kiss, murmuring against you. “Good.”

It was a protracted fiasco, pulling you into costumes and makeup. The costumes weren’t bad, and Tom tried everything on while you watched. He was like a puppy, waiting for your approval for each outfit. And approval he got, each mostly dark in concept. Most also wore open shirts and praised his toned body one way or another. He tried them all on before getting pinned up for sizing to tailor.

Soon enough, Tom was dragging you off to a new room. A few colorful backdrops, a bustling assistant, the photographer, and the digital technician were testing the camera and monitor, and a creative director was waving Tom over.

“Stay here,” Tom mumbled before kissing your forehead. He took off his clothes, hair, and makeup, which were splendid. The director nodded at his appearance, approving his more straightforward outfits.

During the photo shoot, his clothing slowly shed, and you paid no mind. He had done plenty of scenes and photo shoots that were considered more risqué than this. As much as Tom loves his acting, he personally hates romance-related scenes. He wanted thrill and action, not slow, passionate romances. He got enough with you and was more than satisfied with you.

White flashes have become customary to you; you are slightly used to them now. Despite that, Tom doesn’t ever want flash photography while down red carpets or any other flashy event. He tries to be considerate, even if he doesn’t seem like it. (Yes, there are instances of Tom yelling at the paparazzi for their overly white blinding flashes. It was a viral ‘issue’ that he spoke against .)

Amid the white, a makeup artist rounded to your side. At some point, the creative director joined the MUA and, and various swatches of reds and pinks littered your now chapped lips. The occasional swipe of a random lip hydrates while they attack your drying lips with new lip colors.

Tom’s smile towards you was unknown to you; he liked watching the pampering and the unusual expression on your face. It was dumb early in the morning, your confused tilt and breathy sighs between new swipes of lip colors on you. Tom rarely got to see you dazed and confused, only getting that look from you after a very blazing night of messy kisses, heated whispers, and arousal swirling in the air. Tom would avoid looking at you as often as possible. He did his best only because he refused to get a stiffy in the middle of the photoshoot.

Lilian, the makeup artist, finally settled. After hundreds of lip swatches, thin papers are applied to the lips to create prints for kiss marks.

Tom wandered over finally, barely in anything now. His low-rise jeans and the elastic band of his briefs peaked out. His overly defined pelvic bones pointed directly where his privates were. A pretty dark red painted across your lips. He looked back at the creative director for a moment, who nodded.

Before you could look up at him, he leaned down to your lips and kissed you chastely. Instinctively, you leaned into the kiss. Then he moved his face to make you connect your lips to his right cheekbone. You audibly gasped when he pulled away, a well-placed dark kiss spot left on his cheekbone.

“Tom!”

“It’s fine,” he said, waving his hands. You tried to stand and reach his cheek to smear the red away, but he stopped—a simple soft hold on your wrist before he kissed it softly.

“It’s a part of the shoot.”

His response fell on deaf ears. “Tom, we have to get your makeup redone-“

Lilian handed you a paper. The small Ariel print in the corner told you everything you needed.

TRYDER_VDAY25_CONCEPT_SHOOT

Photoshopped kiss marks on Tom’s pre-shoot from a couple of weeks ago. He is in the same clothing from the initial fitting, dark red kiss marks littering his cheek, neck, and chest, and a few scandalous ones you can see peeking from beneath the waistband (it was half erased on the image to give that look).

The photo shoot was a whirlwind to begin with. Now, it was just making your head spin. You sighed in relief, the paper falling to your side with your other hand no longer scrunching your hair messily. The hairstylist groaned quietly in the corner underneath Tom’s coming sentence.

“Happy Valentine’s Day?” Tom questioned with a cocky smile.

“That’s over a month away.”

“I know! But it was a surprise! For you! And between you and me?” Tom leaned in, kissing your temple softly before wrapping an arm around you. “I wanted to rub it in people's faces, and I’ve got a wonderful partner who loves me at all times.”

Your lips unknowingly pouted as you looked up to meet his eyes. He winked back and pressed another kiss to your temple. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Tom said against your skin.

“Shall we get started again?” The director asked. Tom looked back at him with a nod. “Ready.”

—

The photoshoot went great until Tom decided a ‘Lunch Break’ was necessary. He even bought a ton of food to get you stolen away to his private room for the time being. There wasn’t a lot of eating to be done, but a dark red lip stain around the base of his cock and your slightly tearful eyes said enough.

He returned all the favor, saying he would do the same to you if he had lipstick ready. You said absolutely not.

When the photos were released, people obviously had mixed reactions. Most people speculated they were edited. Plenty of people assumed it was just a Valentine’s Day thing. His haters were not pleased to see you in the interview behind-the-scenes videos.

A steady camera recorded you smiling and talking with a creative director. The male director even leaned in to kiss Tom’s neck a few times to decide where it would look good on him.

There are a few other clips of just Tom and a strangely weird close-up of you and Tom. It cut right to you just applying lipstick, your finger holding down on the next target spot to kiss. Following was of you leaning to kiss his collarbone.

It was easy to understand why it was put in. Tom leaned down to kiss your head while you kissed his collarbone.

Another was of Tom winking at the camera while you kissed down every opposite ab, left down right, right down left. “Isn’t that cool?” Tom said, pointing down at his girlfriend kissing his stomach.

With a click of your tongue, you stood up. With a glare lacking real hatred, you walked beside the creative director. Watching Tom pose for the next few minutes was hypnotizing.

Tom, in his element, was never disappointing, and honestly, his attitude was deserved at the beginning of his career before it inflated his big head. If you weren't working your office job, you would find a way to watch Tom work, whether it was interviews, filming movies, or just these photoshoots. Part of you wished you were apart of this world instead of the stuffy business world you got stuck into.

Watching the video with Tom was even funnier, until the worst clip came to your disbelief.

Tom laughed maniacally as the director pointed you two into the shame corner. There was a single curtain and a full-length mirror for Tom to check his appearance. The camera zoomed in on you with your face hidden in your hand, and Tom dragged you in with a smile.

The worst clip of all was when the creative director said you and Tom had to do the kiss stains beneath his waistband. It took about 10 minutes to find the right angle so that the kiss was visible. After those 10 minutes, Tom was finally pulling his briefs and jeans back up.

The entire fiasco of planning a photo shoot to make haters revel in his love was worth it. Tom didn't care too much about the toxic people filling his DM requests; they weren't worth the time he could spend on you.

He was more than delighted to post you daily rather than scroll through comments from those who groveled over him.

It was even better to have Tom post a picture of you and him with a sloppy mess of dark red lipstick at midnight for Valentine’s Day that year after the photos were released. The outfits you two wore were the same as in the behind-the-scenes video.

At exactly 11:58 on February 14th, 2025, before the night ended, Tom posted another three stories about you. One is you guys on a real Valentine’s Day date from that day. You dolled up across the table from him, sporting the same dark-colored lipstick from that photoshoot.

Another was of you and him, red lipstick smeared across each of your lips again to mirror the original picture from the photo shoot.

Tom also had to make the caption Happy Messy Kissing Day, everyone!

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javierpenaismyhusband · 2 months ago

Text

This Was A Mistake

Javier Pena x m!reader

Summary: I never thought I’d fall for my tutor, Javier Peña, but here I was, sitting in his bar after a year of avoiding him, talking and drinking like it was nothing. Who could’ve predicted that the same night I’d finally confess how I felt about him, he’d do the same? It was crazy, unexpected, and intense, but in that moment, everything felt right.

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, MDNI, huge age gap,virgin (not mantion), tutor x student, mother mantion and talk, blowjob, anal, unprotective p in a, a lot of drama (i dont know if i have put everyting)

Notes: "Hi there! This is a quick one-shot. It's not perfect, but I think it's good enough. I hope you enjoy reading it, and if you like it, please like or reblog!"

As I walked toward my old tutor’s bar, a familiar pull settled in my chest—something between nostalgia and longing.

For years, he had been a constant in my life. Every week, he sat across from me at my parents’ dining table, his deep voice patient as he guided me through lessons I barely cared about. But it wasn’t the schoolwork that held my attention. It was him.

Javier Peña.

I had been drawn to him for as long as I could remember. The way he carried himself—effortlessly confident, sharp but never unkind. The way he’d run a hand through his dark hair when he was thinking or the way his lips would twitch in amusement when I said something clever. He was intoxicating in a way I never admitted out loud. But I never acted on it. How could I? He was my parents’ friend, older, and—worst of all—taken. So, I kept my mouth shut, played the part of the obedient student, and buried the feelings that refused to fade.

Then high school ended, and life pulled me in a different direction. Work became my priority, and before I knew it, I stopped visiting. Not intentionally, but the excuses piled up until the distance between us felt permanent.

And yet, I never really forgot him.

Today, though, was different. I had a rare day off—no responsibilities, no distractions. Maybe that was why my feet carried me here. Maybe I was just looking for an excuse.

Either way, I was about to see him again.

And I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a terrible idea.

I pushed open the door, and the familiar scent of whiskey and aged wood greeted me. The place wasn’t too busy—barely a handful of people scattered across the dimly lit bar. And there he was, the first thing I saw.

Javier Peña.

He was leaning against the counter, his eyes fixed on his phone, probably scrolling out of boredom since it didn’t seem like today was a busy shift. For a second, I just stood there, taking him in—the same sharp features, the slight furrow in his brow, the way he always looked like he was half-distracted but still in control of everything around him.

Then he looked up.

The moment his gaze landed on me, a slow, easy smile spread across his face. "Hey, what’s up?" he said, his voice carrying that familiar warmth—like I hadn’t been gone for as long as I had.

I walked over to the bar, shrugging off my jacket as I leaned against the counter. "Hey," I said, trying to ignore the way my pulse picked up just from seeing him again.

"What can I get you?" he asked, his voice as casual as ever.

"A small beer would be amazing," I said, sliding onto the barstool.

Javier smirked, grabbing a glass and pouring my drink with effortless ease. I watched him—every movement, every shift of his body, the way his forearms flexed as he worked. It was almost hypnotic.

He placed the beer in front of me, leaning against the counter. "So, how’s work?" he asked.

I raised a brow. "How do you know I started working?"

Javier let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "Come on, kid, your mother comes around here all the time."

Of course, she did.

I took a slow sip of my beer, letting the cool bitterness settle in my chest. "Work’s not great, but that’s life, I guess."

Javier huffed a quiet chuckle, wiping his hands on a bar towel before leaning his forearms against the counter. His sleeves were rolled up just enough to reveal the veins in his arms, the slight flex of muscle as he shifted his weight. He had always carried himself like this—effortlessly confident, like nothing ever truly rattled him.

"Yeah, tell me about it," he said, shaking his head. "What are you doing, anyway?"

I took a slow sip of my beer, letting the cool bitterness settle in my chest. "Work’s not great, but that’s life, I guess."

"Yeah, tell me about it," he said, shaking his head. "What are you doing, anyway?"

"I work as a barista in a coffee shop."

Javier raised a brow, smirking. "You? Serving people overpriced lattes?"

I rolled my eyes. "Hey, it’s a job. Not exactly my dream, but it pays the bills."

He let out a short chuckle, his deep voice settling into something warm. "Still... never figured you for the type."

"What type?"

"The one with patience for early-morning customers." His smirk grew. "Bet you give them hell."

I grinned despite myself. "You have no idea. The number of times I’ve wanted to throw a cup at someone’s head…" I shook my head. "But yeah, it’s fine. Just… not what I thought I’d be doing with my life."

Javier’s smirk faded slightly. He tilted his head, studying me like he was trying to read between the lines. "You ever think about doing something else?"

I exhaled, running my finger along the rim of my glass. "Sometimes. But I don’t know. Feels like I’m just stuck, you know?"

His gaze lingered on me, dark and unreadable. For a second, it was like we weren’t in a bar, weren’t just two people catching up. The air between us thickened—something unspoken settling into the space between words.

"Yeah," he murmured after a beat. "I get that."

The silence stretched, not awkward, but heavy. Like there was something else waiting beneath it, something neither of us was willing to reach for just yet.

I looked at him then—really looked at him. His hair was a little shorter than I remembered, but the few strands of gray at his temples suited him. His jaw was still sharp, his lips still distracting in a way they had no business being. But there was something else, too. A tiredness around his eyes, the weight of years pressed into the lines on his face. He had always seemed larger than life to me—untouchable, unreachable. But sitting here, watching him pour me another drink, he felt… closer.

Too close.

"You want another beer?" he asked, his voice smooth, easy—like the moment hadn’t just swallowed us whole.

I smirked, trying to shake the feeling off. "Trying to get me drunk, Peña?"

That earned me a quiet laugh, low and rich, the kind that settled in my chest and stayed there. "Please. I’ve seen you drink before. One beer won’t do shit."

I grinned, tilting my glass up to finish the rest. "In that case, yeah, I’ll take another."

As he grabbed a fresh glass and started pouring, I let myself watch him again—this time without looking away.

God, I’d missed this.

Missed him.

And now that I was here, sitting across from him after all these years, I couldn’t tell if it was a mistake.

"You should stick around for a while," he said eventually. "I’m closing up in an hour."

My fingers tightened around my drink. Was that an invitation? Or just something he said to be polite?

I forced a chuckle, playing it off. "Guess I’ll have to pace myself, then."

Javier smirked, shaking his head. "Guess you will."

I took another sip, trying to ignore the way my stomach twisted.

This was fine. Normal. Just two people catching up after years apart.

So why did it feel like something was pressing down on my chest, making it harder to breathe?

So I did. I stayed.

I watched him move, the way he carried himself—steady, purposeful, like he had a rhythm to everything. The sound of the mop swishing against the wooden floor filled the quiet between us, and for a moment, it felt like I wasn’t really here but just watching from a distance, like I used to when I was younger.

Back then, he was just Javier, my tutor. My parents’ friend. The man who sat across from me at the kitchen table, explaining history with that same easy confidence he carried everywhere. Back then, he belonged in my house, in my world—but always just out of reach. Untouchable.

Now, he was here, cleaning his own bar, sleeves rolled up, sweat glistening at his temple, and I was still watching. But this time, it felt different.

I sat in silence as he finished the floors, wiping down each table with slow, methodical movements. He was avoiding looking at me—I could tell. There was something almost restless about the way he worked, like he needed to keep his hands busy, like if he stopped, he’d have to acknowledge that I was still here, watching him.

When he moved behind the bar again, gathering up glasses and running the tap, I finally spoke.

"You always close up alone?" My voice came out more strained than I intended.

Javier didn’t turn around. "Most nights," he said over the sound of running water. "It’s easier that way."

Easier.

I nodded to myself, fingers tightening around my half-empty beer glass.

I wanted to ask him something—something real. But the words sat heavy in my throat, stuck beneath the weight of everything we weren’t saying.

Instead, I just watched. The way his broad shoulders tensed, the way his jaw set as he scrubbed at a stubborn stain on a glass, like he was focused on anything but the fact that I was still here.

Then, without a word, he shut off the water, dried his hands, and reached for a bottle of whiskey from the shelf. Two glasses clinked against the counter as he made his way around the bar, coming to sit beside me.

I felt it the second he sat down—that shift in the air, like something settling between us. Or maybe something unsettling.

He poured the whiskey slowly, the amber liquid swirling under the dim light.

"Figured you could use something stronger," he muttered. His voice was lower now, quieter, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted me to hear him or not.

I exhaled, shaking my head. "That obvious?"

Javier didn’t smile, didn’t tease me like he usually would. He just slid a glass toward me, his fingers grazing mine for half a second before pulling away. That touch—barely there, but enough to make my pulse stutter.

"Yeah," he murmured.

I stared down at the drink, feeling his eyes on me, heavy and unreadable.

For a moment, it felt like time folded in on itself—like we were sitting across from each other again at my parents’ table, books spread out between us, the scent of his cologne clinging to the pages as he leaned in to explain something I wasn’t paying attention to. But we weren’t there anymore. We hadn’t been there for a long time.

Javier lifted his glass slightly. "To old habits," he said, his voice calm, steady.

I hesitated.

Was that what this was? Just an old habit? Something comfortable and familiar, nothing more?

I forced a smirk, lifting my glass. "To old habits."

We drank.

The whiskey burned, spreading warmth through my chest, but it didn’t ease the tension coiling in my stomach.

Javier set his glass down with a quiet clink, his fingers tapping against the rim. His eyes flickered toward me, and for a split second, I swore I saw something there—hesitation, maybe. A question he wasn’t asking.

I swallowed hard, setting my own glass down, mirroring his movements.

I should leave. I should say something easy, something casual, and walk out before this got too complicated.

But I didn’t move.

Neither did he.

And in that silence, in the weight of everything we weren’t saying, I realized something.

I had spent years trying to forget the way I felt about him.

And now, sitting here in the dim glow of his bar, with the taste of whiskey on my tongue and his eyes lingering just a second too long.

I tilted my glass slightly, watching the last of the whiskey swirl at the bottom before looking up at him. “So, what’s up with you?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual, like this was just any other conversation.

Javier let out a slow breath, leaning back against the barstool. “Nuhh… nothing new,” he muttered, rolling the glass between his fingers. “My life’s pretty boring.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Boring? You own a bar. You meet people every day.”

He smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, and most of them just want cheap drinks and to complain about their problems. Not exactly thrilling.”

I hummed in response, glancing at him over my glass before taking another sip. The whiskey burned just enough to make me feel warm, but not enough to shake the feeling creeping up my spine—the feeling that something was off.

The air between us had changed.

It wasn’t just the whiskey dulling the edges of reality or the low hum of the bar lights overhead. It was him. The way he sat, the way his shoulders carried something heavy, something unseen.

I let the silence stretch between us for a moment before I spoke again, the words slipping out before I could think better of them.

“How’s your girlfriend doing?”

I regretted the question the second it left my mouth.

Javier stiffened, just barely, but enough that I noticed. He brought his drink to his lips, taking a slow sip before setting the glass down with a dull thud. His fingers curled loosely around it, his thumb brushing the rim as if considering his next words carefully.

“We broke up some weeks ago,” he finally said. His voice was calm—too calm. Like he had rehearsed saying it enough times that it no longer cut the same way.

My stomach twisted.

“Oh,” I said, my voice coming out quieter than I intended.

Something about the way he looked at his glass made my throat dry.

I shouldn’t care. That was the rational part of my brain speaking, the one that reminded me over and over again that I was just the kid who used to sit at his kitchen table for tutoring sessions, the one whose parents trusted him, the one who was never supposed to be looking at him like this.

But I did care.

And maybe that was the worst part.

I shifted in my seat, suddenly unsure of what to say.

“Didn’t work out?” I asked, trying to sound neutral, but I could hear the edge of something else in my own voice.

Javier exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Guess not.”

His tone was even, but I saw the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers tapped once against the bar before going still.

I should drop it. I should let the conversation slip into safer territory, talk about work, about the weather, about anything that wouldn’t make my pulse quicken like this.

But my mouth worked faster than my common sense.

“Was it bad?” I asked, tilting my head slightly.

Javier’s eyes flicked up to mine. There was a split second where he hesitated, like he was deciding how much to say—how much to give me.

“No,” he said eventually. “Just… wasn’t right.”

Something in the way he said it made my skin prickle.

“Guess that means more time for cheap drinks and people’s problems, huh?” I joked, my voice light, an attempt to break whatever this was.

Javier huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he took another sip of his whiskey.

“Yeah,” he said. “Something like that.”

But neither of us smiled.

Because we both knew there was something unspoken sitting between us, heavy and impossible to ignore.

And for the first time since walking through that door, I felt like maybe, just maybe—he knew exactly what I was thinking.

And worse?

I didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

I watched him, my fingers idly tracing the condensation on my glass. The bar was quiet, just the faint hum of music in the background, the occasional clink of glass against wood.

“How are you?” I asked, my voice steady, but something about the way he looked tonight made my chest feel tight.

Javier lifted his gaze to me, his expression unreadable. For a second, I thought he wouldn’t answer. He just studied me, as if trying to figure out why I was asking in the first place.

When I didn’t look away, he exhaled through his nose, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a cigarette. The flick of his lighter was the only sound between us. The small flame cast a glow on his face, sharp and fleeting, before he snapped the lighter shut.

He took a slow drag, the ember burning bright, then let the smoke curl from his lips.

I swallowed.

“How do you feel?” I asked again, softer this time.

Javier tapped the ash into the tray, taking his time before answering. His fingers curled loosely around the cigarette, but there was a tension in them, like he was holding something back.

Finally, he took another long drag, exhaling toward the ceiling.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, voice rough, worn at the edges. “Like I should feel something, but I don’t.”

His words hung between us, heavier than the smoke.

I watched him carefully—the way his jaw tightened, the way his eyes flicked somewhere past me, like he was seeing something I couldn’t.

Something about the way he said it made my stomach twist.

“Nothing at all?” I asked, my voice quieter, but I knew he heard me.

He let out a low, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Maybe I’m just tired.”

It didn’t sound like the truth.

I should’ve let it go. I should’ve let him sit in his silence, let him drink and smoke and pretend like he was fine.

But I couldn’t.

Because he wasn’t.

And maybe I wasn’t either.

I didn’t say anything. Just lifted my glass and took a slow sip, letting the burn of whiskey settle in my chest. The silence between us wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it wasn’t easy either. It was heavy, thick with things left unsaid.

Javier brought the cigarette to his lips again, exhaling smoke in a slow, practiced motion. His eyes flicked toward me, but he didn’t say anything.

On impulse, I reached forward and plucked the cigarette from his fingers.

He raised a brow, watching as I brought it to my lips and took a drag. The taste was sharp, bitter, nothing like the smooth burn of whiskey.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice low, curious.

I exhaled slowly, watching the smoke dissipate between us before meeting his gaze.

“Mmm… I don’t know,” I muttered, rolling the cigarette between my fingers.

Javier huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head like he wasn’t sure what to make of me. But he didn’t take the cigarette back.

Instead, I grabbed the whiskey bottle, pouring another drink for myself before refilling his glass. The amber liquid sloshed slightly, catching the dim light of the bar.

He eyed me, amused. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

His voice held the same teasing tone I’d used earlier, throwing my own words back at me.

I smirked, lifting my glass in a mock toast. “Maybe.”

He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head before picking up his drink.

And just like that, something in the air shifted—subtle, but noticeable.

The tension didn’t disappear, but it changed.

Javier swirled the whiskey in his glass, watching the amber liquid catch the dim light. His voice was casual when he asked, “So… are you seeing anyone?”

I huffed a quiet laugh, tipping my head back slightly as the alcohol buzzed warmly through my veins. “No, I don’t do that kind of stuff.” My words slurred just a little, the whiskey working its way through me.

He raised a brow, intrigued. “Why not?”

I hesitated, running my finger along the rim of my glass, debating whether I should even say it. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the way the room felt smaller, more intimate, but I found myself answering honestly.

“Because the person I want doesn’t want me back,” I muttered, my voice quieter now. “And I’m not the type to start dating just to forget.”

Javier let out a low hum, studying me for a second before smirking. “Who’s the girl that broke your heart?” His voice had a teasing edge, like he was trying to keep things light.

I turned my head, meeting his gaze.

“Who said it was a girl?” I asked.

The teasing faded from his face instantly. His fingers tightened slightly around his glass, but he recovered quickly, schooling his expression into something unreadable.

“Oh,” he said, his voice softer now. “Sorry… I didn’t know.”

I shrugged, taking another slow sip of my drink, though I could still feel his eyes on me.

“So… who is he?” Javier asked again, his voice quieter this time, more careful.

The question made my chest tighten. My grip on the glass faltered for just a second before I steadied myself, but I knew he noticed.

What was I supposed to say? That it was him? That I had spent years trying to push this feeling down, burying it under excuses, under logic, under the simple fact that he was my parents’ friend, that he had always been off-limits?

That every time I looked at him, it was like something inside me ached in a way I wasn’t sure I’d ever recover from?

Javier was watching me now, really watching me. His expression was unreadable, but his gaze was sharp, searching.

I stared down at my drink, as if the answer could be found in the swirling whiskey. My throat felt tight, like speaking would give away too much.

Then I felt it.

His hand, warm and steady, landing on my shoulder.

My breath hitched.

“It’s fine,” he murmured, voice softer now, almost gentle. “You can tell me.”

I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But I couldn’t.

I forced a weak laugh, shaking my head as I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I can’t,” I said, barely above a whisper.

Javier let out a slow breath, rubbing his thumb absently over my shirt before pulling his hand away. The loss of contact was immediate, like stepping out into the cold after being wrapped in warmth.

“I’m not gonna tell your parents,” Javier said, like he thought that was the problem. “I promise.”

I let out a dry, humorless laugh. If only he knew.

“It’s not that,” I muttered, my voice quieter now, barely above a whisper.

Javier’s eyes narrowed slightly, his focus sharpening like he could sense something was off. “Then what is it?”

My pulse pounded against my ribs, the weight of his attention suffocating and intoxicating all at once. My hands felt restless, twitchy. I needed to move. The air in the bar felt thick, like it had been sucked out of the room and replaced with something heavier—something I had no choice but to breathe in.

I pushed back from the bar, standing too quickly. The sudden motion made my head spin, the whiskey settling deep in my veins. I raked a hand through my hair, gripping it at the roots, exhaling hard. My back was to him now, but I could still feel him watching me.

Javier never missed a damn thing.

"Tell me," he pressed again, voice steady, patient.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, trying to force down the lump in my throat. But the words were already there, already climbing their way up, like they had been waiting for this moment.

I let out a shaky breath. Then, finally—

“Because it’s you.”

Silence.

My chest tightened, but there was no stopping now.

“It’s always been you,” I said, voice raw, unsteady. “From the first day you started teaching me.”

The confession sat heavy in the air between us, thick and unspoken for too damn long.

I didn’t turn. I couldn’t.

Years of restraint, of keeping this locked away, of pushing it down because it was wrong, because he was my parents’ friend, because he was older, because he had always been untouchable—gone in an instant.

I waited for him to say something. To laugh it off. To tell me I was out of my damn mind.

But he didn’t.

Instead, I heard the quiet scrape of a chair, the soft rustle of fabric as he stood.

I swallowed hard, my heart slamming against my ribs. He was leaving. He had to be.

But then—

Warmth.

Close.

The faint scent of whiskey, leather, and smoke wrapped around me before I even felt him.

His presence was right there, heat radiating against my back.

Then, a breath—soft, slow, deliberate—brushed against the back of my neck.

A shiver crawled down my spine.

And in a voice so low, so steady it sent something twisting deep inside me, he whispered—

“What if I told you that I feel the same way?”

I froze.

My breath stalled in my throat, my body refusing to move, as if the weight of his words had paralyzed me.

What if I tell you that I feel the same way?

I must have misheard him. That had to be it. He couldn’t have meant what I thought he did. Not Javier Peña. Not the man I’d spent years longing for, hoping for, knowing deep down that it would never happen.

But then I turned to him—slowly, hesitantly, like I was afraid that if I moved too fast, I’d wake up from a dream.

And he was there, standing close, watching me.

His dark eyes weren’t teasing. They weren’t mocking. They held something heavier, something dangerous.

Something I had only let myself imagine in the late hours of the night, when my mind wandered into places it shouldn’t.

Before I could say a word, before I could even breathe, he moved.

His hands cupped my face, firm but not rough, like he needed to make sure I was real. And then—he kissed me.

A slow inhale rushed through my nose as his lips pressed against mine, warm, steady, and deliberate. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was like he was savoring the moment, like he had been holding himself back for too long and finally let go.

My mind went blank.

I had imagined this—countless times. I had dreamed of it, thought about it in quiet moments when I let my guard down. But nothing, nothing, compared to the way it actually felt.

The soft drag of his lips, the lingering taste of whiskey, the heat radiating from his skin—it made my head spin.

And then he pulled away, just enough to look at me.

His eyes were darker now, pupils blown wide, a fire flickering behind them that sent a shiver down my spine.

I exhaled shakily, my lips still tingling, my pulse erratic.

I could have stepped back. I could have laughed it off, acted like the alcohol had made us both reckless. But I didn’t.

I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate.

I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him back in, crashing my lips onto his.

This kiss was different.

There was no hesitation, no restraint.

It was hunger. Years of suppressed feelings breaking free all at once.

His hands found my waist, gripping firmly, pulling me against him. I let out a quiet noise, a mix of surprise and need, and that was all it took.

I felt him lose control.

His hands slid up my back, fingers pressing into me, like he needed to feel every inch of me. His lips parted against mine, his tongue teasing along my bottom lip, asking—no, demanding—entry.

I let him in.

A low groan rumbled in Javier’s chest as our tongues met, the taste of whiskey mixing between us. My fingers tangled in his hair, my entire body burning with something unfamiliar—something terrifying and exhilarating all at once. I could feel my heartbeat everywhere. In my throat, in my fingertips, in the space between us that was disappearing fast. I didn’t want to stop. Not now. Not ever.

Javier pulled me closer, until there wasn’t a single inch left between us, his hands roaming, gripping, claiming. “Fuck, Javi,” I whispered as we broke apart, my breath ragged. My forehead rested against his chest, my hands still gripping his shirt like I needed something to hold onto. His heartbeat was fast—just as fast as mine.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice low, husky, and way too damn calm for what had just happened.

I swallowed hard, my face burning. I squeezed my eyes shut for a second before forcing myself to say it. “Fuck... I want you.”

The words tasted like a confession, heavy and raw.

His hands, still firm on my waist, tensed. I felt him inhale sharply, like he was holding himself back. Like he needed to make sure he had heard me right. “Then have me,” he murmured, his voice dipping into something darker, something that sent a shiver straight through me.

I lifted my head, meeting his gaze. His eyes were dark, filled with something I couldn’t quite name—a mix of desire and something softer, something that made my chest ache. He didn’t say anything else, just stepped back and started closing the blinds, one by one. The room, already dimly lit, grew darker, more intimate. The sound of the lock clicking into place echoed in the quiet space.

When he turned back to me, his expression was unreadable, but the way he moved—slow, deliberate—made my breath catch. He closed the distance between us in a few strides, his hands finding my face, tilting it up to his. His kiss was slow, almost torturous, as if he was savoring every second. I melted into him, my hands finding his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my palm.

His hands slid down to my hips, gripping them tightly as he walked me backward until the edge of the counter pressed into the small of my back. He broke the kiss, his lips grazing my jaw, my neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath hot against my skin.

I nodded, my voice failing me.

He paused for a moment, his hands still gripping my hips, his forehead pressed against mine. “Look at me,” he said softly, his voice steady. I did, and the intensity in his gaze took my breath away. “If at any point you want to stop, you tell me. Okay?”

“Okay,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

He kissed me again, this time deeper, more urgent. His hands moved to the hem of my shirt, tugging it over my head and tossing it aside. His lips found my collarbone, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, making me gasp. His hands roamed my body, leaving trails of heat wherever they touched. I felt exposed, vulnerable, but also safe in a way I couldn’t explain.

He stepped back for a moment, his eyes raking over me, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He pulled his own shirt off, revealing the toned muscles of his chest and abdomen. I reached out, my fingers tracing the lines of his body, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my touch.

He stepped closer again, his hands finding the button of my jeans. He undid it slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, before sliding them down my legs. I stepped out of them, feeling completely exposed now, but he didn’t let me feel self-conscious for long. His lips found mine again, his hands exploring my body with a kind of reverence that made my head spin.

He broke the kiss again, his hands moving to my thighs, lifting me up onto the counter. I felt the cold surface against my skin, but it was quickly forgotten as he stepped between my legs, his hands sliding up my thighs, pushing them apart. His lips found my neck again, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, making me moan. His hands moved higher, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, making me shiver.

He paused for a moment, his breath hot against my skin. “Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

I nodded, my breath hitching in my throat. His fingers found my entrance, slowly, carefully, probing, testing. I gasped at the sensation, my hands gripping the edge of the counter. He moved slowly, carefully, giving me time to adjust, his eyes never leaving mine. “You’re doing so good, baby,” he murmured, his voice soft, reassuring.

His fingers moved deeper, stretching me, preparing me. The sensation was overwhelming, but not unpleasant. I could feel myself relaxing, letting him in, even as my breath came in short, uneven gasps. He added a second finger, moving them slowly, carefully, making sure I was ready. “You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “So tight, so perfect.”

I moaned, my head falling back as he continued to work me open, his fingers moving deeper, faster. I could feel the pressure building, the pleasure coiling in my stomach. He added a third finger, stretching me further, making me gasp. He leaned in, capturing my lips in a deep, passionate kiss as he continued to prepare me.

When he finally pulled his fingers away, I felt empty, aching for him. He stepped back for a moment, undoing his jeans and sliding them down his legs. I could see the hard length of him, and the sight made my breath catch in my throat. He stepped closer again, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me closer to the edge of the counter.

His eyes met mine, his gaze intense. “Are you sure?” he asked again, his voice low, husky.

“Yes,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

The counter was cold against my back, but the heat radiating from Javier’s body was enough to make me forget the chill. His hands were everywhere—tracing my thighs, gripping my hips, sliding up my chest as if he was mapping every inch of me. His breath was hot against my neck, his lips brushing my skin in a way that made me shiver.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire. His eyes met mine, searching for any sign of hesitation.

I nodded, my voice caught in my throat. God, yes. More than okay. I wanted to tell him to never stop, to keep touching me like this, to keep making me feel like I was the only thing that mattered in the world. But all I could manage was a breathless, “Yes.”

His lips curved into a small smile, and he leaned down to capture my mouth in another kiss. This one was deeper, hungrier, as if he was trying to devour me. I moaned into his mouth, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. The taste of whiskey lingered on his tongue, mixing with the heat of our desire.

“Relax, baby,” he whispered, his voice soft but firm. His hands moved to my thighs, spreading them wider. “Just relax for me.”

I tried to do as he said, to let my body go loose and pliant beneath him. But the tension was still there, coiled tightly in my stomach. Javier leaned down, pressing a kiss to my inner thigh, his tongue tracing a path up to the sensitive skin where I needed him most. I gasped, my hips jerking involuntarily at the sensation.

“Javi,” I moaned, my voice trembling. “Please…”

He didn’t make me wait. His mouth was on me in an instant, hot and wet, and I cried out at the intensity of it. His tongue dipped inside me, teasing and probing, making my body quake with pleasure. My hands gripped the edge of the counter, my knuckles white with the force of it.

“Oh god, Javi,” I gasped, my head falling back. “That’s—oh fuck, that’s so good.”

He hummed against me, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through my body. His hands gripped my hips, holding me in place as he worked me over with his mouth. I could feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter until I was sure I was going to explode.

“Javi, I—I’m gonna—”

He pulled back before I could finish, his lips slick and swollen from the effort. He looked up at me, his eyes dark with desire. “Not yet, baby,” he murmured, his voice rough. “I want you to come when I’m inside you.”

I whimpered at the thought, my body aching with need. Javier straightened up, his hands moving to my hips as he positioned himself at my entrance. I could feel the tip of him pressing against me, and my breath hitched in anticipation.

“You ready?” he asked, his voice soft but firm.

I nodded, my heart racing. “Yes. I’m ready.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing mine as he pushed inside me. I gasped at the sensation, my body stretching to accommodate him. Javier was careful, slow, giving me time to adjust. His hands moved to my face, his thumbs brushing my cheeks as he looked into my eyes.

“You feel so good, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “So tight, so perfect.”

I moaned, my hands gripping his shoulders as he began to move. The pleasure was building, coiling in my stomach, spreading through my body. I could hear the sound of our bodies coming together, the sound of our breathing, the sound of our moans. It was overwhelming, but I didn’t want it to stop.

“Javi,” I gasped, my voice trembling as I felt the pleasure building, spreading through my body. He moved faster, deeper, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me closer, driving into me with a kind of intensity that made my head spin. “Javi, fuck, don’t stop.”

“I won’t, baby,” he murmured, his voice low, husky. “I’ve got you.”

His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming harder, more insistent. I could feel the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter, threatening to burst. My hands moved to his back, my nails digging into his skin as I held on for dear life.

“Javi,” I moaned, my voice shaking. “I’m so close…”

“Come for me, baby,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. “Let go.”

His words were like a trigger, and I felt myself shatter, the pleasure ripping through me with such intensity that I cried out his name. My body convulsed, waves of pleasure crashing over me as Javier continued to thrust into me, chasing his own release.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice rough with need. “So tight, so perfect.”

I could feel him inside me, his movements becoming more frantic as he neared his own climax. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me closer, driving into me with a kind of desperation that made my head spin.

“Javi,” I gasped, my voice trembling. “I—oh god—”

He kissed me, swallowing my moans as he thrust into me one last time, his body shuddering with the force of his release. I could feel him pulsing inside me, the sensation sending another wave of pleasure through my body.

For a long moment, neither of us moved. Our chests rose and fell in unison, the air thick with heat. I could feel the coolness of the counter beneath me and the heat of Javi’s body against mine, and for a brief moment, everything outside of this room, this bar, faded away.

Javi let out a shaky breath and rested his forehead against mine, his fingers tracing slow, calming patterns on my bare chest as we both tried to catch our breaths. I closed my eyes, unwilling to break the moment.

But soon, the reality of it all crept in, and Javi pulled back, gently lifting himself off me. He stepped back, a brief pause between us as I tried to steady my racing heart. He disappeared behind the bar, and I could hear him rummaging through something.

When he returned, he was holding a damp towel. He knelt in front of me with a quiet tenderness that made my chest tighten, and without a word, he began to clean me up, his movements careful and slow. His touch was the perfect contrast to what had just happened—gentle and considerate, as if he was trying to reassure me without saying a word.

I closed my eyes again, letting the moment linger, the feeling of his hands on me bringing a sense of calm I didn’t know I needed.

Once he was done, he tossed the towel aside and stood up, his back turned as he returned to the bar, pouring himself a drink. I watched him, feeling the weight of the silence between us.

I quickly got dressed, the motions automatic but my mind still reeling. I pulled my clothes on with shaky hands, unsure of how to handle the new space between us.

Javi took a slow sip of his whiskey, not looking at me as he leaned against the counter. The distance between us felt suffocating now, and my throat tightened as I tried to figure out what to say.

What happens now?

My mouth opened, but no words came.

Javi didn’t seem to rush it, though. He just took another sip of his drink, watching me over the rim of his glass, waiting for me to say something.

I had no idea what that something was.

"Javi, is everything okay?" I asked, my voice shaky, the knot in my stomach tightening.

He didn’t answer right away. The silence hung between us, thick and suffocating. Then, finally, he looked at me—his eyes dark, his expression unreadable.

"This was a mistake," he said, his voice almost a whisper.

I froze, my heart plummeting to my stomach. The tears welled up before I could stop them. I blinked rapidly, trying to hold it together, but it was useless. "What do you mean?" I asked, my voice cracking. "Just moments ago, you were... you were fucking me. You called me baby, and now you're telling me it was a mistake?"

The words felt like a slap, each one stinging more than the last. I couldn’t understand it.

He stood there, not meeting my gaze. His hands were clenched, his jaw tight. "I'm sorry, but this was wrong," he said, still avoiding my eyes.

I could feel the tears threatening to spill, but I couldn’t let them fall. Not yet. Not in front of him. "Why? Why was it wrong?" I demanded, my voice barely more than a whisper. "What the hell happened between then and now?"

He finally looked at me, his face contorted with guilt. "Because I’m a friend of your parents. I’ve known you since you were a kid, and this... this was so wrong."

His words hit like a physical blow. The sting of them was almost too much to bear. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but I couldn’t find the words. I felt like I was suffocating, drowning in everything I hadn’t been prepared for.

Javi looked away again, rubbing the back of his neck. "I never meant for this to happen," he muttered, his voice strained. "But it did, and now I—"

I couldn't hear it anymore. The tears I’d been holding back finally spilled over. It wasn’t just the anger or the hurt—it was the disappointment. The crushing realization that this thing we shared, this moment, might have never meant as much to him as it did to me.

I wanted to scream, to lash out, but all I could do was stand there, staring at the man who’d just made me feel like everything I wanted could never be more than a mistake.

"I hate you," I whispered, my voice breaking as I stepped toward him. The words felt foreign on my tongue, but they were the only thing that could match the fury and heartbreak crashing through me.

Javi didn't move. He didn’t say a word. He just stood there, his eyes full of regret but devoid of any real defense.

I didn’t know what I wanted from him anymore. I didn’t know if I wanted an apology or for him to hurt the way I did. All I knew was that the emptiness inside me was too much to bear.

"I hate you," I repeated, louder this time, my chest tightening with every word. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

With that, I reached out and slammed my fist against his chest, the force of it leaving my knuckles aching. I wanted to hurt him, make him feel something—anything—because I was drowning in my own pain. My breath hitched with every sob that wracked my body, my vision blurring with tears.

Javi didn't react. He didn’t move to stop me. He just took it, standing there like he was expecting it, like he knew I needed to break.

The anger, the hurt, everything came pouring out of me as I hit him again and again, but no matter how hard I tried, it didn’t make the emptiness go away.

Finally, my hands dropped to my sides, exhausted from the futile attempt to make him understand, to make him care.

I turned away from him, shaking with emotion, and stumbled toward the door. I fumbled with the lock, my hands trembling so badly I almost couldn’t get it open.

And when I finally did, I bolted.

I didn’t look back.

I didn’t want to see the look on his face. I didn’t want to see the regret or the confusion or the guilt. I just wanted to get as far away from him as possible.

The cold air hit me as soon as I stepped outside, but I didn’t care. I was numb.

I ran.

I ran as fast as I could, my breath coming in sharp gasps as the world blurred around me. The pounding of my heart in my chest was all I could hear, and each step felt like it was pushing me further away from him. I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t slow down.

When I finally reached home, I didn’t even glance at my mom, who was sitting on the couch. She called out to me, but I ignored it, my legs moving on their own as I stormed past her, my mind a haze of pain and anger.

I didn’t care to explain. I didn’t care to answer. I just needed to be alone.

Slamming my bedroom door behind me, I locked it without even thinking. The click of the lock was like a final barrier between me and the world outside—between me and the mess that had been made.

I collapsed onto my bed, the weight of everything crashing down on me all at once. I buried my face in my pillow, unable to hold back the tears any longer. My chest heaved with each sob, my body wracked with the kind of pain that felt like it might swallow me whole.

I couldn’t stop thinking about him—his words, his touch, the look in his eyes. I couldn’t stop replaying the way he’d kissed me, the way he’d pulled away as if everything we’d shared meant nothing.

But most of all, I couldn’t stop hating myself for wanting him so much.

I cried until I could cry no more, until my eyes were swollen and my body ached. Then, exhausted, I finally drifted into an uneasy sleep, the remnants of my tears staining the pillow beneath me.

The next morning, I woke up with the weight of last night still pressing on my chest. My head was pounding, and I felt like I hadn't slept at all, even though I'd spent hours in bed. I unlocked my door, avoiding the mirror as I stumbled into the bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face, hoping it would wake me up, but it didn’t erase the lingering pain from the night before.

I did what I needed to do, then walked back to my room, feeling the exhaustion in every step. I didn’t care about anything at that moment. Not my mom’s questions, not the world outside my room.

As I walked past her in the hallway, she caught sight of me, her brow furrowing with concern.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice gentle but filled with worry.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Instead, I walked straight to my bed, ignoring her. I flopped down and grabbed my phone, half-hoping for a message from Javi. Something that would make me believe he didn’t mean what he said. Something that would make everything okay again.

But no message came. The silence from him was deafening. I couldn't help but feel like he was confirming everything I feared—he didn’t care.

The entire week felt like a blur. Waking up early for work, going through the motions, but nothing really sinking in. Every day I dragged myself through, wishing I could just escape the ache in my chest.

When I got home that evening, my mom was waiting for me, standing by the kitchen counter with a note in her hand.

"Javi's bar is hosting a party tomorrow night," she said, glancing at me. "I was thinking of going. Would you like to come with me?"

Her voice was casual, like everything was normal, but I could hear the underlying hope in her words. She didn’t know what had happened, of course. She didn’t know how badly Javi had hurt me.

I looked at her for a long moment, the question hanging in the air. Part of me wanted to go, to face him, to find out if any of this was real. But another part of me just... couldn’t.

"I’ll think about it," I said, my voice flat, trying to mask the turmoil inside me.

But deep down, I knew what I really wanted: answers.

As the day of the party came, I stayed locked in my room. I was dressed up, ready to go, but I couldn’t bring myself to actually leave. My mother had already left a couple of hours ago for the party. She sent me a text asking if I was coming, adding that Javi had asked about me too. I stared at the message, my finger hovering over the keyboard, but I couldn’t bring myself to reply. What was there to say? What was there left to say?

I sighed, a heaviness settling in my chest. "I’ll go, just to show him I don’t care," I muttered to myself. It felt like a lie, but I didn’t want to admit that it was my pride—my heart—that was keeping me from staying away.

With a shaky breath, I got up from my bed and walked toward the door, feeling the weight of every step. The last thing I wanted was to walk into that bar, to see him, but I knew I had to face him. At least, that’s what I told myself.

When I walked into the bar, the familiar hum of the music and chatter filled the air. My mom was already with a group of friends, chatting away, and for a moment, I felt like I could blend into the background. But the moment I walked in, my eyes immediately went to the bar where I knew he’d be. And there he was.

Javi didn’t look the same as before. He wasn’t the confident, charismatic guy I’d seen all these years—today, he seemed distant, distracted. He wasn’t the guy I had kissed with so much fire, the man who had held me like I was the only thing that mattered. No, this version of Javi felt... lost. His usual smirk was absent, his posture slumped in a way that made him seem smaller, somehow.

Our eyes met across the room, and I couldn’t help it. A pang shot through my chest. I quickly looked away, trying to bury the hurt, but I could still feel his gaze on me, like a weight on my skin. He didn’t move toward me, didn’t try to say anything. I wasn’t sure if I even wanted him to.

I made my way to my mom and her friends, trying to act normal, to act like I wasn’t on the verge of breaking down. I asked my mom for a drink, and she gladly went to fetch it for me. I needed something to numb the ache that was quickly turning into something unbearable.

As I stood there, talking with a friend, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Javi was watching me from across the room. The air between us was thick with unspoken words, with what had happened—what hadn’t happened. His presence loomed over me, but I couldn’t bring myself to acknowledge it. Not yet.

The music was thumping, the bass reverberating through the floor beneath me as the crowd swirled around in a haze of lights and movement. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed or how many drinks I had downed. I just knew I was floating in this fog, trying to numb whatever I felt—whatever he made me feel.

My mother had long since disappeared into the sea of people, lost in her own conversations, leaving me to get lost in mine. My friends were beside me, laughing, dancing, but all I could focus on was the knot in my stomach, the way my heart still beat a little too fast whenever I thought about Javi.

I wasn’t sure when the guy had appeared—whether he had come out of nowhere or if I’d been too lost in my thoughts to notice—but he was there, moving with me, his hands brushing against mine as we danced. He leaned in close, a sly smile playing on his lips as he whispered something I couldn’t hear over the music, but it didn’t matter. I was too far gone to care.

I didn’t even realize how much I was flirting back until I felt his breath on my neck, his body pressing closer. A strange, disorienting sense of detachment washed over me. I wasn’t sure what I was doing. Was this some kind of defense mechanism? A way to forget? Was I doing this just to make Javi feel something?

And then, out of nowhere, the guy’s lips were on mine.

I froze for a moment, my body going stiff. I didn’t kiss him back—not at first. I wasn’t sure how to react, my thoughts clouded with the image of Javi’s face, his eyes dark with something I couldn’t name. But then, from the corner of my eye, I saw him.

Javi.

He was standing at the edge of the crowd, his arms crossed, his jaw clenched. His gaze was burning into me, full of anger, of frustration. The expression on his face twisted something deep in my gut.

Without thinking, I responded. I kissed the guy back.

It was like a reflex—something to make the moment feel real, something to make Javi feel something. The guy deepened the kiss, but it was hollow, the taste of alcohol and cigarette smoke in my mouth. The more I kissed him, the more I felt like I was doing this for the wrong reasons, not because I wanted it but because I needed to see Javi react. I needed to know if he still cared, if it bothered him.

I could still see him—Javi—his face hardening, his fists tightening at his sides. His eyes locked on mine, filled with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. But he didn’t move. He didn’t come over. He just stood there, watching.

I felt like I was spiraling, caught in a whirlwind of emotions I couldn’t make sense of. Part of me wanted to run to him, to say everything I couldn’t say before. The other part of me, the part that was trying to protect itself, wanted to push him away and keep him at arm’s length.

Out of nowhere, Javi appeared in front of us, pushing the guy away with a force that made him stumble back. The music around us seemed to blur out, like everything paused in that moment, and all I could focus on was him—his anger, his presence.

The guy, clearly shocked, staggered backward but quickly regained his composure. “What do you want, old man?” he spat, his tone laced with annoyance.

Javi didn’t flinch, his gaze cold and unyielding. His jaw was clenched, his posture rigid, like he was fighting to keep himself in check. He didn’t care that the guy had thrown words at him; he didn’t even look bothered. Instead, his voice was low, like a growl.

“Leave, or I’ll fucking end you,” he said, his tone calm but dangerous.

The guy took a hesitant step back, not sure if Javi was serious or not, but he didn’t challenge him. He muttered something under his breath and disappeared into the crowd, leaving the two of us standing there in the tension-filled silence.

I stood there, staring at Javi as my chest tightened, my heart hammering painfully. What right did he have to just come in and control everything?

“What do you want, Javi?” I finally asked, my voice shaking, but not with fear—more with frustration. “What the hell is this?”

Javi’s jaw clenched, his grip tightening around my arm. I could see the frustration and guilt flicker in his eyes, but it didn’t make me feel any better. If anything, it only made me more angry.

“You don’t get it, do you?” I spat, pulling my arm out of his grasp. “You don’t get to just walk into my life, make me feel all this—this fire—and then treat me like it was nothing. Like I’m just some fucking mistake you regret. And now you’re acting like you have the right to control me?”

The words slipped out before I could stop them, and I immediately regretted it, but it was too late. They hung between us, sharp and raw.

Javi's expression faltered for a split second, his face softening, but then he closed off, like a wall slamming down. He was silent for a long moment, staring at me like he didn’t know how to respond.

“You think I don’t regret what happened?” His voice was lower, rougher than I expected, and he stepped closer to me, his hand still gripping my arm. “I was trying to protect you. Trying to do the right thing, even if it meant hurting myself.”

I shook my head, anger bubbling up inside me again. “Protect me? You hurt me, Javi. You kissed me, made me think it was real, and then... then you turned it into nothing. You said it was a mistake.”

“I never said it didn’t mean anything!” His voice cracked, his eyes filled with frustration and guilt. He wasn’t looking at me, though. He was looking at the ground, like he couldn’t bear to face me. “I wanted you—god, I wanted you more than I could even handle. But I’m older than you. I know what happens when you get caught up in something like this. I wasn’t thinking straight, but that doesn’t mean it was a mistake.”

I scoffed, my heart pounding in my chest. “Then why did you push me away? Why did you tell me it was all a mistake if it wasn’t? I still don’t get it.”

He closed his eyes, his jaw tight as he took a slow breath. When he opened them again, they were full of something I couldn’t quite decipher—regret, maybe, or fear. “Because I couldn’t give you what you needed. I couldn’t be the one to ruin your future. You deserve better than someone like me, someone who can’t even get his own shit together.”

I yanked my arm away from him, pushing past him to get to the bar. The last thing I needed right now was his pity.

“Don’t talk like that,” I said, my voice shaking slightly as I turned back to him. “You’re just scared of what this is. Of what we could be. And I’m tired of you running away from it.”

Javi’s face twitched, his mouth opening like he was about to argue, but instead, he closed it again, looking at me with such intensity it felt like he could burn me with just a stare.

“You think I’m scared?” His voice dropped to a whisper, and for the first time, he sounded vulnerable, like he was finally admitting something he’d been hiding from both of us. “I’m terrified of what I feel for you. You have no idea how hard it is to want someone this badly and know that you’re not good enough for them. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, but I’m too fucked up to give you what you need.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Instead, all I could do was stare at him, trying to process the mess of emotions swirling between us.

I finally spoke, but my voice was quieter, softer. “Then don’t push me away. Don’t keep pretending like this is some mistake. Because it’s not. Not for me.”

Javi swallowed hard, his eyes flickering between mine, conflicted, torn. His hand hovered near me, like he wanted to touch me, but was scared to.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he muttered, his gaze dropping again, ashamed. “I never did.”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, then I stepped closer to him. “Then show me. Show me that it’s not too late. Show me that this—us—wasn’t just some stupid mistake.”

He looked at me for a long moment, then his face softened, the walls crumbling just enough for him to take a step toward me. But before he could say anything, a voice broke through the tension.

My mother came.

Javi immediately stiffened, his hand twitching like he wanted to reach for me again but stopped himself. His jaw clenched, and I could see the flicker of hesitation in his eyes before he schooled his expression into something unreadable.

I turned sharply, forcing a neutral look onto my face as I met my mother’s gaze. She stood a few feet away, arms crossed, her eyes flicking between me and Javi with thinly veiled suspicion.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

"Yeah," I said too quickly. "Fine."

She didn’t look convinced. Her eyes narrowed, lingering on Javi, who had shoved his hands into his pockets and was looking off to the side like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

"You sure?" she pressed.

Javi finally spoke, his voice tight. "Everything’s good."

She hesitated for another second before nodding slowly. "Alright," she said, but her tone made it clear she wasn’t buying it. "I’ll be with the others if you need me."

I waited until she disappeared into the crowd before whipping back around to Javi. "You were about to say something," I reminded him, stepping closer.

He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. "I don’t know what you want me to say."

I scoffed. "Oh, I don’t know, maybe the truth for once?" I shoved at his chest. "You push me away, tell me it was a mistake, and then you don’t let me move on either. What the hell do you want from me, Javi?"

Javi didn’t answer, didn’t even look at me, so I turned my back and started to leave. My hands were shaking, my chest burning with everything I wanted to scream at him. But before I could take another step, his hand grabbed my arm, yanking me back with just enough force to make me stumble.

Before I knew what was happening, his lips crashed against mine.

It wasn’t soft, wasn’t hesitant. It was desperate, claiming, full of everything he had refused to say. And it wasn’t just us this time—it was in front of everyone. My mother. My friends. His friends. The whole damn bar.

For a moment, everything stopped. The music, the chatter, the world around us—it all blurred into nothing. His grip on me was tight, almost trembling, like he was terrified to let go.

Then, just as suddenly as it started, he pulled away. His forehead rested against mine, his breath warm and uneven.

"That's the truth," he murmured, his voice low but firm.

I stared at him, trying to process what the fuck had just happened. My heart was hammering so hard I swore everyone in the room could hear it. My lips were still tingling, swollen from the force of his kiss.

"What the hell am I looking at right now?"

I tensed and turned. My mother stood a few feet away, arms crossed, an unreadable expression on her face.

Javi didn’t let go of me. He straightened, squared his shoulders, and looked her in the eye. "I kissed him," he said, voice steady. "Because I love him."

A long silence stretched between us. Not from the whole bar—people were still drinking, dancing, laughing—but in this small space, it felt like the world had come to a halt.

My mother blinked, like she hadn’t expected that answer. Her eyes flicked to me. "And you?" she asked, quieter this time. "Is this what you want?"

Javi's hand was still gripping mine, firm but not forceful. Just enough to let me know he wasn’t about to run again.

I swallowed, steadied my breath. "Yeah," I said, my voice even. "It is."

She exhaled through her nose, rubbing her forehead. "Jesus Christ," she muttered. "You couldn’t have warned me before shoving your tongue down each other’s throats?"

That startled a small laugh out of me, tension breaking just slightly.

Javi, though, was still watching her like she might change her mind and drag me out of here by force.

My mother sighed and looked at him again. "You better not screw this up," she said, pointing a finger at his chest. "Because I swear to God, Javi, if you hurt him again—"

"I won’t," Javi said immediately, his voice firm.

She studied him for a long moment, then rolled her eyes and waved a hand. "Whatever. I'm getting another drink," she muttered before walking off.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

Javi looked at me, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t look like he was about to run.

I turned to look at Javi after my mother left, my heart still racing from everything that had just happened. My lips tingled from his kiss, the weight of his confession still settling in my chest.

"You love me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, like saying it too loud might make the moment shatter.

Javi scoffed, shaking his head, but there was no frustration in it this time. Just something softer, something real. “What do you think, stupid?”

I let out a breathless laugh, the tension between us shifting, turning into something lighter, something almost teasing. But beneath it, I could still feel the intensity in his gaze, the unspoken words lingering between us.

“Did my mother just cockblock us?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Javi exhaled sharply, a smirk tugging at his lips despite himself. “Looks like it.”

For a moment, we just stood there, the noise of the bar fading into the background. People had gone back to their drinks, their conversations, their dancing, but for me, the world had narrowed down to just him. The way he was looking at me—like he was still trying to figure out how we got here, like he wanted to say a thousand things but didn’t know where to start.

He reached up, ran a hand through his hair, then looked at me again, more sure this time. “Wanna head out?”

I tilted my head, pretending to think about it, though we both knew my answer the second he asked. I didn’t want to be anywhere else. Not tonight. Not after this.

I nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Javi walked over to his friend, leaning in close to say something. I couldn’t hear what, but after a nod and a pat on the back, his friend grabbed the keys from behind the bar, signaling he’d take care of closing up. Javi muttered a quick thanks, then grabbed his jacket and backpack before heading back toward me.

The night air was cool against my skin as we stepped outside, the distant hum of the city filling the quiet between us. We walked for a little while, the sound of our footsteps mixing with the occasional laugh or shout from people still lingering outside bars and restaurants.

Then, Javi reached into his pocket, pulling out a key. He held it up before glancing at me with a small smirk. “Ever been on a motorcycle before?”

I eyed the bike parked a few feet away, sleek and bigger than anything I’d ever imagined riding. “Not one this big,” I admitted, looking back at him.

Javi chuckled, shaking his head as he stepped forward and unlocked it. Without hesitation, he swung his leg over and settled onto the seat, adjusting himself before glancing at me expectantly. “Get on.”

I hesitated for half a second before stepping forward, my fingers grazing against his shoulder for balance as I climbed on behind him.

“Hold on,” he instructed.

“To what?” I asked, but I already knew the answer.

Javi didn’t respond—he just reached back, grabbed my hands, and pulled them around his waist, securing them in place. My chest pressed against his back, and for a moment, all I could focus on was the warmth of him, the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

“Like this,” he murmured, voice lower, softer.

I nodded against his shoulder, tightening my grip. “Got it.”

Javi started the engine, the deep rumble vibrating through me, through both of us. And as he took off down the empty street, wind rushing past, the city lights blurring around us, I closed my eyes and let myself hold onto him just a little bit tighter.

The ride was nothing but open roads, wind whipping past us, the city lights fading as we left the busy streets behind. I clung to Javi, my arms wrapped tightly around his waist, feeling the way his body moved with the bike, steady and confident. It was impossible not to feel safe with him like this.

After about thirty minutes, we pulled up in front of his house—a modest place, tucked away on a quiet street. Javi killed the engine, the sudden silence making my ears ring. He got off first, locking the bike with a swift motion before turning toward the door.

I followed, watching as he unlocked it, pushing it open and then stepping aside, waiting for me to enter. I hesitated for just a second before stepping inside, the warm air of his home replacing the cool night breeze outside.

The door clicked shut behind me. Javi tossed his backpack onto the couch, his jacket landing beside it in a careless heap. Before I could take in the space, before I could say anything, he was on me.

Strong hands gripped my waist, pulling me in as his lips crashed against mine. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing—just heat, raw and urgent. His fingers dug into my sides as he pushed me back against the door, his body pressing into mine, as if he was afraid I’d slip away if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

I melted into him, my hands sliding up his chest, gripping at the fabric of his shirt as I kissed him back just as hard. Every bottled-up emotion, every moment of tension between us, every unsaid word—it was all there, in the way he kissed me, in the way his breath hitched when I pulled him closer.

Javi broke away just enough to rest his forehead against mine, his breathing heavy. “I shouldn't want you this much,” he muttered, almost like he was angry at himself.

I let out a breathless laugh, my fingers still tangled in his shirt. “Then stop.”

His grip on me tightened. “I don’t fucking want to.”

Javi didn’t let go of me, not for a second. His lips stayed on mine, his hands firm on my waist as he slowly walked me backward, guiding me through the dimly lit space.

I barely registered the layout of his home—just fleeting glimpses of dark furniture, the soft glow of a lamp somewhere, the faint scent of leather and cologne that clung to everything. None of it mattered. The only thing I could focus on was him.

His hands roamed up my back, fingertips pressing just enough to make me shiver as he deepened the kiss. My breath hitched when my legs hit the edge of a bed.

Javi pulled away just enough to look at me, his dark eyes burning with something unreadable. His thumb traced my jawline, his breathing uneven. “You sure about this?”

I swallowed, my heart pounding. There was no hesitation. “Yeah.”

His lips curled into a small, almost relieved smile before he kissed me again—slow this time, deliberate, like he wanted to take his time memorizing every second.

Javi’s hands moved with a steady confidence, his fingers tugging at my belt as his lips dragged along my neck. Heat coiled in my stomach at the slow, deliberate way he moved—like he had all the time in the world to undo me piece by piece.

His teeth scraped against my skin, and I let out a shaky breath, my fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer. The soft clink of my belt coming undone sent a thrill through me, the weight of his body against mine making my head spin.

Javi didn’t rush. He moved like he was claiming me, like he needed me as much as I needed him. His breath was warm against my skin, his hands steady as they slid lower, guiding me back step by step until my legs hit the bed. Then, with one last lingering kiss against my jaw, he pushed me down, following right after.

As we fell onto the bed, I straddled Javi, my hands immediately moving to undo the buttons of his shirt. My fingers worked quickly, pushing the fabric off his shoulders, revealing the broad expanse of his chest. My eyes traced over him, drinking him in, before I moved lower, my hands already going for his belt.

Javi just watched me, his breathing heavier now, his hands gripping my waist like he was grounding himself. When I finally got his jeans off, my gaze dropped, and I swallowed hard. His cock was thick and hard, standing proudly against his stomach.

"Fuck," I muttered, dragging my thumb over my lips as I took in the sight of him.

A low chuckle left Javi’s throat, his hands sliding up my back. "You gonna keep staring, or you gonna do something about it?"

I smirked, leaning down until our lips nearly touched. "You’re impatient," I teased, my fingers already trailing lower.

His eyes darkened with desire, and he gripped my hips tighter, pulling me flush against him. "Only when it comes to you," he murmured, his voice rough with need.

I couldn't help but smile, feeling a rush of power and anticipation. I let my fingers dance over his skin, teasing him with light touches that made him shiver. His breath hitched as I finally wrapped my hand around his cock, feeling his heat and hardness.

Javi's head fell back against the pillow, a low groan escaping his lips. "God, you're killing me," he whispered, his hips lifting slightly to meet my touch.

I leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his chest before trailing more kisses down his stomach. His muscles tensed under my lips, and I could feel the restraint in his body, the way he was holding back.

"Let go," I whispered against his skin, looking up at him through my lashes. "I want you to feel this."

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, there was a raw vulnerability in his gaze. Then he nodded, his hands sliding into my hair as I took him into my mouth.

The sound that tore from his throat was primal, and it sent a wave of heat through me. I moved slowly, savoring every reaction, every tremble of his body. His fingers tightened in my hair, guiding me, urging me on. I took him deeper, feeling his cock hit the back of my throat. The taste of him, the scent of him, it was intoxicating.

But Javi had other plans. Suddenly, he grabbed me and turned me around, pushing me onto my hands and knees. I gasped in surprise, my heart racing with excitement. His hands were firm on my hips, holding me in place as he leaned down, his breath hot against my ass.

"Fuck, you're so sexy like this," he growled, his voice thick with lust.

I shivered, anticipation coursing through me. His fingers traced the curve of my ass, teasing me, making me squirm. Then, without warning, he spread me open and his tongue was on me, licking and teasing my hole.

"Oh god," I moaned, my fingers gripping the sheets tightly. The sensation was overwhelming, electric. His tongue was relentless, swirling and probing, making me wet and ready for him.

Javi's fingers joined his tongue, gently circling my entrance before slowly pushing in. I gasped, the intrusion sending waves of pleasure through me. He took his time, stretching me, preparing me, his fingers moving in and out in a steady rhythm.

"You feel so good," he murmured, his voice husky. "So tight."

I could only moan in response, my body on fire with need. His fingers curled inside me, hitting that spot that made me see stars. I pushed back against him, desperate for more.

"Javi, please," I begged, my voice ragged. "I need you."

He chuckled softly, his fingers slipping out of me. I heard the sound of the lube bottle, and then he was there, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice gentle despite the urgency in his touch.

I nodded, my breath hitching as he slowly pushed into me. The burn was intense, but the pleasure was even more so. I gasped, my body stretching to accommodate him. He stilled for a moment, giving me time to adjust, before he began to move.

Each thrust was deep and deliberate, filling me completely. I met his rhythm, pushing back against him, our bodies moving in perfect sync. The room filled with the sounds of our breaths, our moans, the slap of skin against skin.

Javi's hands gripped my hips tightly, his fingers digging into my flesh as he picked up the pace. His cock hit that spot inside me over and over, sending waves of pleasure crashing through me. I could feel the tension building, the coil of heat tightening with each thrust.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Javi groaned, his voice strained with effort. "So tight, so perfect."

His words sent me over the edge. My body tensed, and I cried out, my orgasm ripping through me with an intensity that left me breathless. Javi followed soon after, his body shaking as he came, his cock pulsing inside me.

We collapsed onto the bed, our bodies slick with sweat, our breaths coming in ragged gasps. Javi pulled me into his arms, his heart pounding against my back. I could feel the steady beat of his heart, the warmth of his body against mine.

In the silence that followed, the chaos of the night faded into the background, replaced by a quiet, unspoken understanding between us. His fingers lightly traced the curves of my skin, not out of desire, but with a tenderness that made everything feel real, almost too real.

I closed my eyes, letting myself melt into his embrace, not wanting to break the fragile peace we had found in each other. It wasn’t about the rush of the moments before, or the undeniable attraction—it was something deeper, something quieter, something that felt like it had always been meant to happen.

My voice broke the silence, soft and uncertain, “This isn’t a mistake, is it?”

Javi turned his head, meeting my gaze with a mixture of fear and certainty. “No. It wasn’t.”

I nodded slowly, as if i needed to hear that from him to make sense of everything. He pressed a kiss to my forehead, the kind that held more meaning than words could ever convey.

And for the first time, I allowed myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, we could make it through this. Together.

The night settled around us, and I let myself fall asleep in his arms, knowing that we were more than just the heat of the moment—we were something real, something that might just survive.

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