#Someone pls make this a gif for me ✨ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gothcsz · 9 days ago

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Summary: A lot of firsts with Javi.

Tags: smut, slight angst, nipple play, dry humping, lots of making out, alcohol consumption, dirty talk, jealousy, edging, overstimulation, use of sex toys (vibrator), oral (f receiving), cum eating, unprotected p in v sex (finally), javi is clipped (not mentioned), babe wake up pornstar!javi lore just dropped, no use of y/n, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx.

A/N: i attempted to make this chapter a little longer, definitely filthier, and above all: satisfying. shoutout to my bestie hermosa @persephone-girl for reading over part of this and quelling all the second thoughts i had in the middle of writing it out 🖤 love you guys, enjoyyyy ✨

You purse your lips at your reflection, tilting your head as if a new angle will make everything click. The phone is wedged between your shoulder and ear, and Connie’s voice crackles over the line, keeping you company.

“Since when do you care so much about getting dolled up?” she teases, picking up on the way you’re fussing.

You tug the hem of the dress down a bit, “That’s not even the issue here,” you counter, a little more defensively than you meant. “It’s just… what do you even wear on a date with someone like Javier?”

Connie lets out a sly laugh. “Well, if I knew more about him, maybe I’d be able to help you out here.”

You huff, rolling your eyes even though she can’t see it, leaning closer to the mirror as you swipe at the mascara wand. “You’re still on that?”

“It’s not every day that my friend leaves with a man like that at the end of her shift, only to find out he’s some annoyingly hot coworker she didn’t even bother mentioning—”

“There was nothing to mention,” you cut in quickly.

“Nothing to mention?” she repeats, scandalized. “He ate you out in an elevator, you talked an orgasm out of him, and you let him slip the tip of his dick inside—”

“Okay!” You cut her off again, voice a bit higher than intended. “Shouldn’t you be out saving lives or something?”

“Currently on day two, hour nine, of my three-twelves.” Her sigh fills your ear. “I’m exhausted. Let me live through your smokin’ sex life so I don’t tear my hair out.”

“Steve not doing it for you anymore?” you tease, rubbing away a bit of lipstick that smudged onto your teeth.

“Oh, he is, but after three overnight shifts? Even the thought of sex is exhausting,” she admits, a laugh edging her words.

You get it; distinctively thinking about the last spring break week where you worked non-stop, running from shoots all day to the bar all night on three hours of sleep.

That was definitely the week you aged five years in one go.

“Now, back to you,” she snaps you out of your memories. “What did you finally decide on?”

“The black dress.” You say it like it’s the only logical choice.

She groans, dragging it out for dramatic effect. “No. You wear that thing out all the time.”

“I bought it for a reason. To wear it.”

“Oh, come on. I think you should switch it up a little. Make it more fun.”

“Fun?” you echo, skeptical, glancing over at your closet.

“Fun,” she confirms, “like that mini skirt with the flowy fabric. Makes your ass look so good and shows just enough cheek to leave him hanging,” she says all playfully, “Just throw on a top that shows the girls off and you’ll be set. It’s flirty and hot… exactly like your little boy toy and way fresher than a black dress.”

You snort, feeling a little flutter at the mention of Javier being your boy toy. “A classic date-night outfit is classic for a reason, you know?”

“Mhmm, so classic I’m falling asleep. Go grab the skirt and thank me later,” she presses.

You grumble out a fine, deciding to humor her. Maybe you will like it better than the dress.

Rummaging through your closet is a little difficult with the corded phone in your hand but you manage, finally spotting the garment under the mountain of clothes that you’ve just thrown in here and pretended weren’t your problem.

“Where’s he taking you, anyways?”

“No idea, which makes the getting ready process even more difficult. I’m putting you down,” you warn her, setting down the receiver on your dresser.

You toss aside a few ‘not quite’ options before finding a top cute enough for this flirty and hot vision she’s painting. The deep color of it has your skin glowing, the cut of the neckline making your tits look enticing.

The snug skirt teases just enough at your thighs and you do a half turn, glancing back at the mirror to check your own ass out—and damn if she wasn’t on the money.

“Okay, I’m back.”

“And?”

You pause, smiling as you take in your reflection. “I look hot.”

There’s a sharp, delighted squeal on her end. “See? I told you! That’s what friends are for—giving you advice you don’t listen to until you’re basically forced to.”

Her laugh makes you grin, but then you hear a muffle as she talks to someone else in the background. She comes back, tone rushed but still playful. “Alright, I’m being called back onto the floor. But seriously, have fun. Don’t put out unless you want to, and please, please, don’t wait months to fill me in, okay?”

“I won’t,” you chuckle, her instructions making you feel like you’re back in high school. “Thanks, Con.”

“Go get him, you vixen,” she teases, and the line goes dead, leaving you with your thoughts.

You’ve been doing everything possible not to spiral into overthinking, trying to act normal about this date. Part of you still can’t believe it’s actually happening.

You’ve fought him, resisted him, silently judged others for falling for his charms—yet somehow still managed to give in.

If someone had told you months ago that you’d be in this position, you would’ve straight up laughed in their face.

The whole trajectory of it feels warped. You can’t help but wonder if this is all some elaborate game, a long con to get you in his bed.

But then, the doubts don’t quite hold up, not with how much effort he’s put into just getting your attention. If it were about sex, he wouldn’t need all this—he could walk outside, flash that lazy, dimpled grin, and probably have someone falling for him within seconds.

Hell, he could call one of his co-stars and make it that much easier on himself.

Yet, he keeps choosing you, showing up with this sincerity that’s completely messed with your head, confessing feelings and sticking around like he’s actually serious. He’s taken over your mind, lingering there like a sexy, infuriating ghost.

At least you’ve given yourself an ultimatum: if this goes south, you’ll walk away and he’ll leave you alone.

You still remember how low you felt after things with Frankie, and that was amicably ended.

With Javier, it would sting worse if he turned out to be the arrogant womanizer you’d pegged him as after all the shit that’s transpired between the two of you.

You finish getting ready and head into the kitchenette, grabbing a shot glass. You pour yourself a quick splash of Fireball, hoping it’ll help you feel a little more mellow, maybe a little less wound-up. You toss it back, letting the burn calm the nerves that won’t stop buzzing as the minutes drag by.

Then, you hear the familiar creak of the stairs, the soft shuffle of footsteps, followed by a knock at the door. Your heart skips a beat.

With a deep breath, you slip on a light jacket and grab your purse before unlocking the door and swinging it open.

The sight that greets you could knock the air right from your lungs.

His typical black leather jacket stretches across his broad shoulders, a flushed blue shirt underneath, his neck on full display while the top of his chest teases you beneath the few undone buttons.

His jeans fit him perfectly, hugging his narrow waist and leading down to a pair of well-worn leather boots. But what really catches your attention is the single peony he holds delicately in his hand.

“Hey,” you greet, trying to keep it casual, as if your heart isn’t pounding just from seeing him stand there. He is so damn handsome, it almost feels unfair.

His gaze roams over you, like he doesn’t know where to look, definitely lingering on your legs then your cleavage before his warm, brown eyes meet yours. “You look good, nena.” He leaves you feeling like he’s undressing you with just that look.

You bite back a smile and raise an eyebrow, opting to tease him. “Thanks, Javi. You look… exactly how you always do.”

He chuckles, a lazy smile spreading across his face, and you catch a little dimple on his cheek. “Damn. And here I thought I put in more effort tonight.” He licks his lips, then holds out the flower. “This is for you. I might’ve mentioned our night out to my neighbor, and she clipped this from her garden. Thought it was less on the nose than a red rose.”

You take it from him, its soft petals brushing against your fingers, and bring it to your nose. The sweet, fresh scent makes you sigh a little.

He’s doing the bare minimum, bringing you a fucking flower, and you’re already feeling all warm and mushy. You’ll just blame the one shot of whisky for that. “Talking me up already?”

He chuckles, his eyes appreciating the way your makeup highlights each feature.

“Let’s just say I bum cigarettes off her in exchange for a little company. You just happened to come up.”

“Well now I have to know what you said.”

“Maybe one day.”

This moment already feels charged for no reason.

“I’m going to hold you to that” you warn him playfully. “Thank her for me. And tell her she’s got good taste in flowers.”

He gives you a nod, eyes softening. “I will. You ready?”

“Mhm,” you hum, stepping out to lock the door behind you.

As you turn, you realize how close he’s standing, and the scent of mint and cologne hits you in an instant, making your head spin. He smells fucking incredible.

“So,” you start, trying to ignore the fact that you can practically feel the heat radiating from his skin. “Where are we going?”

He falls into step beside you as you both head down the stairs. “To the best food truck in the city.”

“Really?” You raise an eyebrow, both amused and a little charmed by the casual choice.

He nods, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It’s by Lake Hollywood Park, which is convenient ‘cause we’ll end our night around there.”

It seems like he has an actual plan for this date, which surprises you, but then again he’s been full of fucking surprises since the moment you met him. “Sounds like fun. Better not be shit though,” you say, adjusting your bag strap on your shoulder, twirling the flower between your fingers.

“I think I’ve lived in L.A. long enough now to know what’s good and what isn’t.”

So he’s not native to this city, which was kind of obvious with the slight twang some of his words seem to have. You wonder where he’s actually from.

As you reach the sidewalk, Javier surprises you by sliding his hand into yours, smooth and confident. The gesture catches you off guard, and you can feel heat pooling at your cheeks. He’s annoyingly charming, and he knows it.

His hand is so much bigger than yours, rough skin brushing against your softer palm in a way that feels—well, it feels like it fits.

Your mind doesn’t miss a beat, leaping straight to the memory of his fingers pressed inside you, knuckle deep, his tongue flicking at your clit as you unraveled for him.

You bite the inside of your lip, willing yourself to stay cool, but damn, those hands could do a lot of things.

How you even fit two of his fingers remains a mystery, but it’s one you’re more than willing to solve again.

“This okay?” he asks, glancing down with a glint of mischief in his eyes, catching you right in the middle of your little lustful trance.

“Perfectly fine,” you reply, squeezing his hand, that glint pulling you in deeper, and you let it.

“Okay, I think I have a little more faith in your spot now that we’re here.” You settle across from Javier at the picnic table you managed to snag nearby, eyeing the food as he sets it out between you.

He smirks, raising an eyebrow. “You doubted me?”

“Just a little.” You pinch your thumb and finger together with a playful grin, scrunching your nose as you laugh. His lopsided smile makes an appearance, sending your heart into a flutter.

“Then I’ll let the food do the talking. Let that be my ‘I told you so.’”

“Oh, please, I don’t need to hear that twice in one day.”

As you stick your straw into your cup of hibiscus agua fresca, the sweet flavor hits you instantly, and you let out a delighted little hum without even thinking.

His gaze snaps to you, amusement lighting up his eyes. “Someone’s already beaten me to it?”

“Connie,” you confess, dragging your tray of tacos closer and inhaling the smell that makes your stomach practically growl. “She helped me pick this outfit, you know, since someone here was pretty vague on the details.”

He chuckles, reaching for the salsa verde and giving his tacos a generous drizzle before handing the bottle over. “I told you we’d be outside. I thought that’d be enough.”

You take it from him, fingers brushing together, and damn if your skin doesn’t actually tingle. “Honestly, I was expecting more of a steakhouse vibe.”

He gives a soft scoff, looking amused. “That’s not really my style. I’d feel like a total fraud…” he pauses, studying your expression, “unless that’s what you wanted. I could do it if that’s what you’re into.”

Your tongue darts over your lower lip as you take in his thoughtfulness. “Nah. This is...perfect, actually.”

A light sparks in his eyes at your word choice. “Perfect, huh?”

You playfully roll your eyes, “Uh huh, don’t get a big head over it.”

“So, I owe Connie for getting you in that skirt?” His voice is smooth, that teasing lilt unmistakable.

Heat climbs up your neck, pooling at your cheeks. “You like it?”

His eyes narrow slightly, that look dark and appreciative. “I think it’s sexy as hell, yeah. But in an effort to be more...gentlemanly—Te ves hermosa. Like always.”

Normally, you’d roll your eyes at him laying it on thick, but right now? You don’t mind it at all.

The attention feels genuine, his words dipping straight between your legs rather than floating on his usual bravado.

“Sweet talk me all you want,” you say, trying to rein yourself in, “but the real test of this date’s success? It all lies in this meal.”

He chuckles, and you’re grateful for the little shift, picking up a taco and clinking it with his, like a toast. The first bite is practically life-changing—the smoky, spicy flavors somehow better than you’d even anticipated.

“Oh wow,” you say, chewing slowly with a hand hovering over your mouth. “Not bad, Peña. This is actually delicious.”

His grin is smug, triumphant, and as he takes another bite, you’re momentarily distracted by the way his jaw flexes, muscles taut as he chews. And damn, if you don’t notice every bit of him in that damn leather jacket, his dark hair slightly tousled and looking as if he were some walking sex deity.

You mentally curse yourself for already feeling way too into him.

You chat lightly, going over the usual first-date questions. Somehow, even the simple stuff feels easy and natural with him—there’s something in the way he responds that keeps you drawn in, even if the questions themselves aren’t all that thrilling.

What’s your favorite color? When’s your birthday? Where are you from?

“Texas. And you?” he answers, swiping the napkin over his lips before balling it up, tossing it into his now empty tray.

So he’s a southern boy. That detail definitely adds to his charm. You tell him the name of your hometown, and then, after a beat, add, “Bit far from home, huh? Got family here?”

He shakes his head, reaching into his jacket for a pack of gum. He pulls out two pieces, offering you one.

Okay, another bare minimum act that’s got you all fucking blushy.

“Nah,” he says, chewing his own piece of gum. “It’s just me out here.”

“Your family must be thrilled about what you do…wait, do they know?” you ask, unwrapping the stick and glancing at him.

He sighs, scratching at his jaw. “My pops knows. My mom…” He pauses, a shadow of something crosses his face. “She passed when I was in high school.”

Your heart squeezes, a flicker of guilt making you wince. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t sweat it,” he interrupts gently, waving it off casually. “It gets tiring hearing it. But yeah, my pops and the rest of them…they don’t exactly jump for joy when it comes to my job. Guess it’s a good thing I stopped giving a fuck about what they think.”

The reality of it sinks in as you watch him across the table, his eyes distant for a moment. You’d never really thought about how it all might affect him (or any of the other stars, honestly) outside of sets and studios.

The world sees sex work as some kind of sordid choice, casting assumptions.

Sure, it’s got its problematic aspects just like any other industry, but with the puritan culture that’s plagued society since the beginning of time, really, it’s seen as such a devious thing when in reality; it could be something so beautiful. A celebration of the human body, of the unity between two people.

Whether you’re a woman or a man—you bear the weight of every stereotype, every judgment, and, especially, the stigma that comes with it.

You hesitate, but your curiosity gets the best of you. “Are you close with them?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he absently smooths his mustache with his thumb and forefinger, eyes thoughtful. “Yes and no.”

Something in his tone tells you this isn’t a thread to pull on right now. So, you pivot the conversation, deciding to leave that part of him for another night.

You glance at your tray, grinning. “This might actually be the best meal I’ve had in a long time. And I’m not bullshitting you.”

His eyes light up, that charming, lazy smile sliding back into place. “I’ll refrain from saying I told you so.”

You laugh, throwing a crumpled napkin at him, which he catches without missing a beat.

He leans in, his voice low. “So, now that I’ve won your approval in the food department, I’ve gotta finish on a strong note so I don’t mess it all up, right?”

You feel your pulse quicken “Sure do. Got anything up your sleeve, or is this where the gentlemanly plan ends?”

“I’ve got plans.” His voice dips, his eyes tracing over you, wetting his lips and that thudding begins to thrum faintly between your thighs. “Thought we’d take a walk, keep getting to know each other…” The suggestive way in which he’s speaking definitely gives his words a double meaning, “Then head to my favorite lookout spot. Best view in the city, hands down.Whatever happens to feel right can unfold after that.”

“Sounds like you’re anticipating something unfolding.”

“Can you blame me? You’re walkin’ around lookin’ good enough to eat.”

You feel a thrill dancing up your spine at his bluntness, “Boundaries still stand, Javi. I’m not sleeping with you.”

He chuckles, a low, knowing sound that sends your stomach into a twist. “That’s fine. I think I’ve shown we can have plenty of fun without crossing that line.”

Every electrifying sexual encounter hits you all at once, and as much as you’d hate to admit it, he’s right.

No one has ever gotten under your skin or tangled your senses like he does. With Javier, the tension builds until it’s all-consuming—whether it’s the way his hands map every inch of your skin or his mouth works you over. It’s maddening, how easily he pulls you apart and leaves you craving more.

“And If I remember correctly, I wasn’t the one begging for more.”

A hot flash sweeps through you. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

He grins, not missing a beat. “Admit it, you like it.”

And as you share an amused glance, you can’t help but think… yeah, maybe you do.

The two of you walk side by side under the soft glow of the street lights lining the park. He flicks open his lighter, cigarette wedged between his lips, and you watch the quick flame as it lights up his face for a second before fading out.

You would usually mind the smoke, but somehow, with him, it’s just… fitting. A small indulgence that somehow suits his edges.

“Favorite music genre?” you ask, breaking the quiet.

“Would it be a cop-out to say a little bit of everything?”

“Oh absolutely.”

Javier pauses, a thoughtful look in his eyes as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. “Alright, alright. Probably rap. Used to be all about rock—my pops had me hooked young. But out here? My taste has gotten a little West Coast.”

“A Texan boy gone Cali,” you say, feigning surprise. “You love to see it.”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling as he glances at you, then flips the question back. “What about you?”

“R&B. Lauryn Hill and Destiny’s Child have provided the soundtracks to some very pivotal moments in my life.”

He nods, and for a while, the conversation flows smoothly from one topic to another—favorite childhood memories, the dumb stuff you did as teenagers, and random things you never imagined you’d share with him.

Javi raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I bet you were a teacher’s pet.”

“Teacher’s pet? No way. I was a bit of a know-it-all, but I had this rebellious streak,” you admit, “Got in trouble more than once for talking back. I just couldn’t help it.”

“Figures. You’ve got that fire.”

Eventually, he flicks his cigarette to the ground, stamping it out before looking at you with a curious glint in his eye. “I gotta ask you something,” he says, his voice dipping just a bit. “And be honest. Why didn’t you like me?”

It’s not the first time he’s asked you this, but now that you’re seeing him in a different light, the answer comes easily, less defensive. “Okay,” you start, meeting his gaze. “I wasn’t a fan of how you... got around. And the way you’d micromanage every move during shoots, like your way was always best. Or how you’d just use your dick to get whatever you wanted.”

His silence stretches, and he takes out another piece of gum, nodding slowly as he listens. “And when we met, you were already trying to charm your way into my pants like I was one of your groupies,” you add, “Made it feel like you were always angling for something. I guess I just didn’t want to be another name on your list.”

He exhales, scratching at his jaw. “Fair enough,” he declares. “I didn’t always used to be like this. The whole showboating thing, it’s sort of… a front, I guess. When I started, I had to become a different version of myself. This cocky asshole who had his shit together because… fuck, I didn’t know what else to do. After the bullshit back home, I needed the distance. I needed to prove something.”

There’s something in his tone that pulls at you, but you don’t press. You’re surprised he’s even sharing this much.

“The women, the confidence—all of it. Figured that’s who I had to be to make it. And it worked up until you left… when I realized just how fucked things had gotten for me. After walkin’ out on Robbie, I’ve been trying to be more careful with the jobs I take but fuck, it’s hard.”

This man—this smooth, confident guy you thought you had all figured out—carries more than his rugged allure and that killer smile.

Sympathy blossoms, the kind that grows for someone who’s managed to build walls without even meaning to.

The details remain unsaid, and though curiosity simmers, you let the silence hang.

“You’ll figure it out, Javi. Life has a funny way of kicking you when you’re down, but somehow, things start falling into place eventually. Might sound like a bad fortune cookie, but it’s true.”

His gaze intense and warm under the park lights, brown eyes looking softer, shadows dancing across his face. The way he looks at you makes your legs shake.

You can’t help the small, vulnerable smile that plays at your lips as you wonder if maybe, just maybe, this moment is worth disregarding your own rules for.

His eyes flicker down to your mouth almost on instinct, and you’re caught in a breath, almost tempted to close the space and feel those lips on yours.

But instead, you let the moment breathe between you, keeping the tension electric, and he’s the one who finally breaks the silence. “Thanks nena. Here’s to hopin’ I don’t have to make a trip down to the unemployment office.” He jokes with a laugh that pulls one out of you too, “Let’s head back. Got one more thing to show you.”

As you both turn back towards his truck, he reaches for your hand again, his fingers curling around yours, gentle and reassuring. You lean into him, resting your head on his arm as you walk. It feels natural, like you’re both finally seeing each other, piece by piece, without all the defenses.

A gentle breeze passes through as you lean against the hood of Javier’s truck, taking in the iconic view.

The twinkling city lights are sprawled out in front of you, while the Hollywood sign looms large and proud in the background. You’ve avoided tourist traps since you moved to LA. Dealing with the general public and pornstars on sets on a daily basis already felt like a big enough dose of Hollywood.

Tonight, though, there’s some kind of magic in being here and you can see why people find themselves drawn to it. Maybe it has something to do with the handsome man beside you.

“You bring all your dates here?” you ask, teasingly.

Javier rubs his lips together, a quiet smile flickering at the edges. “I don’t go on many dates, believe it or not.” He inches a little closer, draping his arm around your shoulder.

“Oh wow, Peña. So smooth.” You roll your eyes, but you can’t ignore the steady, intoxicating scent of him, the one that’s been teasing you all night, and how it engulfs you entirely.

There’s a warmth that reaches from his body to yours, one you can’t help but lean into as your hand finds his, fingers lacing loosely.

Resting your head just near his chest, you feel the gentle rise and fall of his breath, solid and steady.

“Can’t let this night end without you knowin’ what my intentions are.” He pauses, then adds, “I want to keep seeing you.” His words melt into the night as he dips his head to press a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his face nuzzling softly into your hair.

Your breath catches for just a moment, and he feels it too, the faint hesitation creeping in.

Because the truth is, you’re not sure exactly what you want from this. A relationship? A fling? Could you handle being with someone whose job meant fucking other people—even if emotions are fully detatched?

You draw away slightly, positioning yourself to stand between his legs now as he leans against the truck, watching you, a question in his eyes.

“Tonight was wonderful. Better than a lot of first dates I’ve been on…” you trail off, and he quirks an eyebrow, a hint of concern already flashing in his eyes.

“But…?” he prompts, his voice soft but wary.

“Look, I have the utmost respect for what you do. I know what it takes, if anyone can understand what you actors go through, it’s me and all the other crews out there. I’ve seen shit hit the fan more times than I can count.” You twist your fingers, feeling the tension between wanting him and feeling hesitant. “But dating someone in the industry… I don’t know if I’m cut out for that.”

His shoulders drop a little, and he sighs. “Yeah… I figured.” He lets out a rough laugh, though it’s clear he’s disappointed. “Not the first time this has happened, or the last, probably. I just… I guess I was hopin’ this would be different.”

“It’s not about you, or… or the work. I don’t care that you’re in porn.” you say gently. “It’s just the idea of dating someone who—well, you know.”

He lets out a sigh, a heavy, defeated sound, and his eyes meet yours. “I know, nena, trust me. It’s a lot. I’m not holding it against you.” His hand runs over his face, frustration tightening his jaw. “It’s just…disappointing as fuck, but I get it.”

Before he can sink too deeply into the regret, of thinking he’s wasted a night taking you out, you reach out, catching his wrists and gently pulling his hands down. You’re close enough now to feel his breath brush across your cheek, and you hold his gaze, fierce and a little daring.

You’d be fucking stupid to walk away from all this without knowing what it feels like to kiss him, the man who’s wound you up so tight and left you as breathless as he has conflicted.

Slowly, you place his hands on your waist, leaning in until your lips barely touch his, your breath mingling together. You can practically feel his heart beating against his chest.

“Kiss me, Javi,” you murmur.

There’s no hesitation. His mouth meets yours, warm and certain, sending a spark through every nerve. His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer, and you lose yourself in him.

Javier’s mouth moves against yours like he’s savoring every second, his lips plush and gentle, taking his time.

It’s all so new, so beautifully unhurried.

You meet his pace, moving your lips softly, feeling the slight press and release. When he parts from you slightly, you’re already missing the taste of his mouth, chasing after him.

Then he tilts his head and leans in again, deepening the kiss, his lips fitting against yours with more purpose. He presses closer, his body warm and solid, and you feel his tongue swipe slowly across your lower lip.

A shiver runs through you as you part your lips for him, and the moment his tongue dips into your mouth, a soft moan escapes you, helpless against the sensation.

The sound seems to set something off inside him. Suddenly, the kiss grows hot and urgent, his hands gripping your hips as if he’s afraid to let go, kneading the flesh there while his mouth moves against yours with a new hunger.

Your own hands find their way to his jaw, your fingers sliding up to frame his face, desperate to bring him closer, needing the taste of him to linger.

The feel of his mustache brushes against your sensitive skin adds an edge that only heightens every sensation he’s bestowing on you.

Your tongue meets his, every glide and stroke of it fueling an ache that spreads through you, heat pooling as your teeth clash slightly, both of you pouring months of pent-up desire and frustration into this kiss.

His hold on your waist tightens as your hands slide up to tangle in his hair, tugging at it, and he lets out a low, guttural grunt that gets your bones vibrating.

In one swift movement, Javier maneuvers you, switching positions so that your back is pressed against the hood of his truck.

The cool metal beneath you contrasts with the heat of his body, and one of his hands slides from your waist, strong and possessive, until it grips the plushness of your thigh, hitching it over his hip and pulling your core against his.

The friction, the way his body aligns so perfectly with yours, ignites every nerve in your body.

You gasp against his mouth when his hard length presses against your clothed cunt, right where you need him most. The pressure sends a surge of arousal pooling low in your belly, and you arch into him, craving his intensity.

Your own hands roam, sliding to his jaw, feeling the scratch of his stubble against your palm, then his back, his shoulders, reveling in the feel of him. His mouth moves from your lips to your jaw, tracing a slow, wet line down to your neck, where he leaves a trail of heated kisses that have you gasping for air.

The burn in your lungs is nothing compared to the ache building between your legs, an ache that only grows sharper every time he ruts his hips against yours.

“Gonna make me cum in my pants kissin’ me like that,” he mumbles against your neck..

He drags his lips back up, brushing his nose against yours, coaxing you into another kiss—this one softer, more controlled, yet no less potent.

You’re breathless when you part again, but it’s as though your body doesn’t care, desperate to keep feeling him against you.

When he reaches the curve of your breasts, he pauses, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses over the swells, grazing the sensitive skin with his teeth just enough to make you shiver.

“Please, Javi,” you murmur, though you’re not even sure what you’re asking for. All you know is that you’re floating in this thick haze of desire, utterly lost in him, the feel of his lips, the intoxicating drag of his teeth against your skin.

His mouth curls into a smirk against your collarbone, and he lifts his head slightly, his hand sliding over the fabric of your top, shifting it down until your breasts are bared to the cool night air.

You gasp, eyes widening, instinctively sitting up straighter, a half-laugh, half-nervous glance flicking around your surroundings, instinctively pulling him closer to shield you.

His dark eyes meet your gaze, a flicker of mischief swirling with the lust there.

“Here? What if someone sees us?” you breathe, heart thudding in your chest as the chill hardens your nipples to sensitive peaks.

“No one’s gonna bother us, nena, te lo prometo.” Before you can respond, his mouth is on your neck, placing a soft, slow kiss there, licking a stripe and tasting your perfume.

His hands find your breasts, fingers curling around the supple skin, his thumbs brushing your nipples in languid circles that have you melting against him, your breath catching with each teasing stroke.

It’s impossible to focus on anything when Javier’s so in tune with every inch of your body, instinctively reading each gasp and shiver.

His hands are so skilled, cupping, squeezing, until one trails along your waist, playing with your pretty skirt with a firm, claiming touch.

It's the perfect push and pull that floods your senses with him, until you’re completely lost.

His scent fills your lungs, his taste lingers on your tongue, feeling his perfect fucking body against you, hearing his subtle grunts, your vision glazed over with tears of pleasure from how he’s making you feel.

He watches your reactions, eyes dark and filled with a simmering hunger as you lean flat against the hood of the truck, giving him access.

His mouth descends again, and he looks up at you when he’s reached your breasts. “Not gonna fuck you, since I’m bein’ a gentleman and all,” he murmurs, the words hot against your skin, “but I am gonna get you off just by playin’ with your tits.”

The whimper you let out is animalistic, your legs wrapping around his waist, pressing him closer.

Javier’s mouth is unrelenting, lips wrapping around your nipple with a hot, wet pressure that sends electric jolts straight to your cunt.

His tongue swirls over the sensitive peak, teasing it, as his teeth scrape the aching bud ever so lightly, making you gasp. Then he shifts, sinking his mouth lower to nip, to suck harder, his fingers coming up to twist your other nipple roughly, pinching and tugging at it, making you cry and writhe beneath him.

“Oh fuck that feels so good.” You can’t help but be so vocal and he loves it, the sound of your voice doing just as much to get him off in the same way that his mouth doesn’t let up on your tits.

His other hand is no less demanding, gripping your thigh and ass with rough squeezes, the heat of his touch spreading through the thin barrier of your skirt. When he smacks your flesh, the jolt arches your back off the hood of the truck, pulling a breathy moan from your lips that has him smirking against your chest.

You’re soaked, and he can feel it, his cock pressing insistently against the heat of your clothed pussy as your hips grind down onto him, building a rhythm that he matches with his mouth.

His tongue circles, flicks, and finally he pulls at the hard peak with his teeth, sending another shockwave through your body that has you rolling your hips, more wildly against him.

He pulls back just enough, a string of saliva still connecting him to you as he murmurs, “Baby, just with the way you’re movin’ your hips, I can tell you ride cock like a fuckin’ champ.”

His praise lights you up, fueling your need. Your fingers tangle in his hair as you pull him back to your chest.

He groans, his mouth latching onto your other breast with fervor, tongue flicking over your nipple rapidly before he pulls it into his mouth, the wet sounds of his lips smacking against your flesh, working your sensitive and pert nipples is filthy and obscene in the best way possible.

“So good, Javi… I’m so close,” you manage, the words spilling out unbidden.

He lets out a low groan as he adjusts the angle of your hips, pressing you firmly against his erection. The new angle grinds perfectly against your clit, drawing you deeper into the pleasure until it’s all-consuming, each nerve tuned only to him.

“Oh, god… Javi,” you gasp, feeling the familiar coil of pleasure tighten, your orgasm creeping closer with every pull, every flick, every grind.

Your body is on fire, trembling as you near the edge, your breaths coming in gasps as you hump him, completely lost to the intensity building.

Javier’s mouth alternates between your breasts, each suck and bite tugging moans out of you until you feel like you might lose it.

When his lips finally find yours again, his fingers replace his mouth on your chest, rough and insistent as they pinch and twist your sensitive nipples.

His tongue sweeps into your mouth, deepening the kiss while your body trembles, your jaw slack as you melt into him, moaning his name into his mouth as your orgasm breaks over you in a helpless wave of bliss.

Your body locks up, head canting back and hitting the material beneath you with a gentle thump as you wail his name out into the night.

“That's right, baby, just like that,” he murmurs, his praise and gentle kisses softening the overstimulation into something even more intoxicating.

His mouth trails over your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, every kiss pressing into your flushed skin while spots of pleasure blur your vision.

As you go limp against the cool hood, Javier’s touch softens on your chest, his fingers now gently kneading the sensitive flesh while he eases you back down, his lips trailing tender kisses over each swell before pulling your top back into place.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his deep inhale followed by warm, nipping kisses, his mustache scratching your skin just enough to bring out a fresh shiver from you.

“Javi,” you whimper, barely catching your breath, utterly wrecked and starstruck, amazed that he brought you so much pleasure by just teasing your breasts and rutting against you.

“Yeah?” His voice is a husky rasp, a hint of satisfaction at his lips.

You giggle, breathless, “I… don’t even know…” You laugh again, and he joins in, that low laugh rumbling in his chest as he cups your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“You enjoy that?” He tilts his head to the side, smugly grinning down at you.

“What do you think?” you tease back, still panting, eyes half-lidded.

You can’t help but admire how sexy he looks with his swollen lips and mussed hair.

“Wait you didn't finish—” You murmur, beginning to reach down to toy with his belt, but he catches your hand gently.

“Don’t worry about me, nena.” His gravelly voice reassures you. “Seein’ you like this is enough for me.”

You frown, feeling like you should do something for him, but before you can argue, he’s leaning down to kiss you again, over and over, until you’re both sinking into another slow, heated makeout session under the open sky, everything else fading away.

You’re standing in front of your door, the glow of your porch light casting soft shadows over the two of you. “Thanks for tonight; I had a great time,” you say, though your legs still feel shaky from what happened earlier.

Javier’s eyes linger on you, “Thank you for letting me take you out,” he says, his tone soft. “Even if… things aren’t ending the way I’d hoped.”

A frown flickers on your face, but you keep your tone light, forcing a gentle laugh.“We can still be friends, you know? That’s one hell of an improvement from where we started.”

But your attempt to ease the tension doesn’t reach him; his expression remains fixed, serious.

“I don’t think I can just be friends with you.”

Then he goes and says something stupid like that.

“So, what now?” you ask, voice sharper than you meant, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. “We just… go our separate ways? Pretend none of this ever happened?”

He looks down, his jaw tense, and the silence that follows is thick, each second feeling like an eternity. His eyes meet yours and he sighs.

“I guess so.”

You release a bitter huff, shaking your head as you turn away, rummaging in your purse for your keys.

Fine. Fine. If that’s the way he wants it, you’ll let it be.

He calls your name, his voice slipping through your defenses like a last-ditch plea, making your shoulders tense. You ignore him, wrestling down the tide of frustration and vulnerability clawing its way back up.

You’d told yourself you didn’t want to get involved with him from the start, and now it feels like you should have stuck to your guns. Would have been easier to just tell him to kiss your ass that day he came into the bar, seducing you in your apartment, then asking you out on a date that ultimately meant nothing.

You find your keys and jam them into the lock, refusing to look back.

The second time he says your name, it’s firmer, and you whirl around to face him.

“Javier, listen—before tonight, I didn’t think there was a chance in hell I’d ever be into you. But I gave you a shot, and turns out, you’re not that bad. You’re actually pretty fucking sweet,” you confess, half-laughing, but it’s tinged with the bitterness that you feel. “And maybe if things were different, I could see us together. But things aren’t different. They’re the same as they always have been, and I won’t make you choose between me and your job.”

“I could quit—”

You let out a laugh, loud and unfiltered. “And do what? You’re damn good at what you do, Javi. I’ve seen it firsthand, and yeah, most of the time it’s some pretty raunchy shit, but there’s something almost… artistic in it, and I’d feel selfish as hell if I was the reason you gave that up.”

He places his hands on his hips, shifting his weight, exasperation written in every taut line of his body. “Do I need to remind you that I’m a grown-ass man who can make his own decisions? I’m starting to hate this job, and I want you. I don’t care if I have to work a hundred side gigs. If that’s what it takes for you to be mine, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

The weight of his confession makes your grip on the doorknob tighten, his words sinking deeper than you want them to.

“Javi, please, think this through—”

“You sound like my agent,” he interrupts with a dry laugh, flexing his jaw. “I’ve thought about it. It’s all I can think about. I can’t even keep my cock hard enough to fuck the girls on set anymore, and like I told you before—I’m not taking pills for that shit.”

He steps closer, and you feel a pang in your chest as his hand brushes yours, his gaze desperate, pleading with you to see him the way he sees you.

But it’s messy and it’s hard, and even if it’s everything you didn’t know you wanted, you’re terrified it might be everything you don’t know how to hold onto.

His hands slide up, fingers splaying gently over your cheeks, holding you as if he’s anchoring himself. “Please stop fighting me on this,” he murmurs insistently. “I know what I want, and it’s you.”

The intensity in his eyes roots you in place, brown and warm and so damn certain it’s almost overwhelming. You’re taken aback by the softness in his touch, by how steady his hands feel against your face.

He’s usually much braver in action than in words, and yet here he is, unwavering.

“And you’re sure?” you whisper, not sure you can even trust yourself to hold up your guard.

“Si, nena.” There’s no hesitation, no doubt, just a rock-solid conviction that somehow soothes your racing heart.

“You’re not gonna regret this down the line? Not even a little?”

“Absolutely not.” His answer is quick and firm, like he’s spent every minute leading up to this one, getting ready to say it.

Oh, fuck. With him looking at you like that, you know you don’t really have any other choice but to give Javier Peña a shot at being your boyfriend.

“Okay… okay, Javi, fine. We’ll see where this goes, but if you start having even one doubt—”

He doesn’t let you finish, cutting you off with his mouth on yours, pulling you close in a kiss that’s somehow even more intense than you were expecting.

It’s deep and consuming, worlds away from anything you’ve ever felt, like he’s pouring everything he has into it, and you can’t help but lose yourself in him like you have been since the moment things shifted in your dynamic.

When you finally come up for air, foreheads resting against each other, you’re both a little breathless, eyes shining with adoration.

“So...we’re doing this?” he asks, a crooked smile on his face that makes him look boyish and so damn pretty.

“I guess we are.”

“Does that mean I can come inside?” And with the way his lips quirk up into a cocky smile, you know exactly what this motherfucker means.

“Nope, we’re taking things slow… and I’m not fucking you until you get tested.”

He shrugs nonchalantly, “Fair enough. I can work with that.”

You kiss again, his mouth soft and so damn inviting that it takes all your willpower to pull yourself back before you’re tempted to give in right here, in the doorway. “Alright, Javi,” you murmur, feeling his breath linger against your lips as he bites playfully at your lower lip before letting you go. “Goodnight.”

He’s grinning, and it’s that smile that has a way of melting everything inside you. “Goodnight, nena. I’ll call you, set up our second date. Soon.”

The giddiness hits you hard—like back when Frankie was all about pursuing you, only it’s different this time and you don’t know why.

‘“I’ll be waiting.”

He quirks a brow. “I won’t make you wait too long.”

One last, lingering kiss and he’s gone, leaving you at the door, flushed, breathless, and completely jumbled in the best way possible.

“It feels weird being on this side of the bar,” you say, settling onto a barstool across from Connie. Javier slides into the stool next to you, immediately pulling you closer, his hand warm and possessive on your thigh.

“If you’re here to flaunt your relationship, you should start charging for it—I know I’d pay to see it,” Connie teases with a wink, already preparing your usual drink and turning to Javier. “And what about you?”

“Whiskey. Neat,” he answers, then leans into you, his voice a murmur by your ear, his hand slipping higher up your thigh, sneaking under the hem of your dress. “She does have a point, though.”

You smirk, pretending to ignore the way his fingers are trailing dangerously close to your panties. “Not sure I’d be any good on camera. Not like you, anyway.”

He chuckles and you can feel the heat between you two, that ever-present hum of lust you’ve been riding since the night he first kissed you.

It’s been blissful a month of dating Javier, and being with him is like no relationship you’ve had before.

You’ve found so much joy in the simplest moments with him—like when he fixes the little issues around your apartment that your landlord could care less about, or, the lively debates you have in the grocery store aisles, passionately debating which brand of coffee is better.

Sure, you still haven’t officially slept with him, but that hasn’t stopped either of you from exploring each other. He’s kept his promise to make you feel amazing, finding delicious ways to learn your body without actually crossing that line.

It has only made everything feel deeper, sweeter. The way you make out like teenagers, unraveling each other in all the ways that matter, has been more than enough.

It wasn’t until a few days ago that you finally returned the favor, slipping into the shower with him and blowing his mind in every sense of the word, until he was helplessly spilling down your throat. Your jaw’s still a little sore from how eagerly you’d gone down on him, the memory of his breathless groans seared in your mind.

Tonight, he’d asked you to be his girlfriend, officially. He’d planned this whole evening at a rooftop restaurant, it was a little too fancy, but he looked at you like he couldn’t believe his luck.

The restaurant itself was overpriced and borderline ridiculous, but you two had made a game of it, teasing and laughing over the small portions and the pretentious plating.

He even surprised you with a beautiful pair of earrings that you immediately put on, and he looked so damn proud when you showed them off.

Now you’re here at Lucky’s, both of you a bit overdressed, not ready to call it a night yet.

You can feel Javier’s gaze on you, intense and unwavering. “Baby, you’d be a fucking sight,” he says, teeth grazing your earlobe before he bites down gently, his warm breath tickling your skin and sending a shiver through you. You can’t help but giggle, feeling breathless and flushed as he plants a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Why are you two all dressed up?” Connie asks, setting your drinks down with a raised brow.

“Went out for dinner at the most overpriced spot I’ve ever set foot in. Easily spent my entire Friday night’s tips, and I’m still hungry.”

“Not only does that sound like a waste of time, but it’s definitely not your style.”

Javier leans back, one arm draped over your barstool. “To clarify: she didn’t spend a damn dime,” he interjects, “I had to take her somewhere special to ask her to be my girl,” he says, voice dripping with smooth confidence as he raises his glass for a sip.

Connie’s eyes light up, and your cheeks flush. “Consistent dick is the ultimate antidepressant. Trust me, I’d know,” she says with a wink.

You laugh at her bluntness, and fall into an easy rhythm of conversation, her giving updates on things with Steve, then gushing over the earrings Javier had gifted you earlier.

Just as you’re leaning in to admire them together, you notice a figure approaching. A woman, older and stunningly beautiful, glides up to the bar—her gaze fixed squarely on Javier.

“Javier, is that you?” Her voice is low, sultry, every word dripping with familiarity as she slides up beside him, her gaze unmistakably hungry. “Dios mío, mira qué guapo te has puesto, mi amor.”

Your head snaps up, conversation with Connie dissolving as Javier stands, greeting her with a hug that makes you do a double take.

You share a look with Connie, her expression mirroring the curious frown you feel. She raises her brows, silently mouthing, Who is that?

I don’t know, you mouth back, jealousy twisting in your stomach as you glance back at them.

They part, but her hands linger a moment too long on his chest, her manicured fingers trailing down. Javier very politely but firmly moves them away, a small frown creeping onto her face.

“Judy, long time no see.” His tone is courteous but distant. “This is my girlfriend,” he says, his voice warm as he makes the introduction, stepping back to your side, positioning you squarely in her line of sight.

You’re about to revel in the term girlfriend rolling so easily off his tongue, but her eyes lock onto you with a chill that runs down your spine. Standing your ground, you straighten, meeting her gaze head-on.

She’s stunning, her hair tastefully graying in elegant streaks against her rich brunette, her makeup precise and expensive. The smile lines around her mouth only enhance her aging beauty and if it weren’t for the absolute diabolical vibes you’re getting from her, you would have complimented how good she looks.

The tailored outfit, chunky gold bracelets, diamond-studded earrings and matching necklace leave no question—she has money.

What she’s doing at a dive bar like Lucky’s is beyond you, but maybe LA has its fill of pretentious types everywhere.

“Encantada,” she purrs, a fake smile flashing across her face before her focus shifts back to Javier. “¿Tienes novia? No lo puedo creer, Javiercito. Nunca me lo imaginé de ti.¿Sigues actuando?”

Her words drip with disbelief, her eyes giving you a nasty once over, and you catch enough Spanish to know she’s making a point to speak only to him. It’s like you’re just a side note, something to size up and dismiss.

Javier shifts, catching the tension in your posture, but she’s unrelenting. He responds curtly, “No, not with others. More solo work now.”

She scoffs, a haughty tsk of disapproval as she tilts her head.“No me digas que tu noviecita no te deja.” A mocking pout twists her lips. “Mija, if you’re going to date a pornstar, you’re going to have to deal with the baggage that comes with it. You don’t just get to benefit from him, from what I taught him.”

A flush of fury burns through you, and you’re on the verge of standing up, ready to beat her ass for her audacity. But Javier senses it and steps in, fingers pressing gently but firmly against your thigh, silently calming you down before you do something that’ll make him have to bail you out.

“It was my choice. Gig isn’t fun anymore,” he says firmly, a hint of irritation finally creeping into his tone. “We’re actually in the middle of a date, so if you wouldn’t mind leaving us to it…”

She glances between the two of you, clearly displeased at being dismissed but not quite willing to push her luck. Her smile turns syrupy, and you roll your eyes, signaling Connie for another drink. She’s failing miserably at pretending like she’s not listening in.

“Of course,” she says in a sugary tone, eyes lingering on him.“Provecho. Si cambias tu mente, sabes donde encontrarme, Javi. We used to have so much fun together.” Her fingers trace down his arm a little too slowly, and she practically purrs, “Enjoy your date, sweetheart,” as she struts off, hips swinging with exaggerated flair.

But his eyes don’t follow, they turn to you.

Once she’s out of earshot, you raise a brow, waiting for some explanation. “So… who was that?” you ask as he sits back beside you, tossing back the last of his drink.

“An old colleague,” he says flatly.

You feel another surge of jealousy, and the second your drink arrives, you’re downing it in one go.

“Woah, nena, take it easy—”

“Is that normal for you?” you ask, unable to hide the irritation bubbling up. “Having fans… ‘colleagues’ just approach you out of nowhere, all of them ready to fuck?” You know your tone’s more annoyed than you intended, but the image of her hands all over him pisses you off.

He studies you, cautious, as if measuring his words. “Honestly? Yes. I’m very popular, baby,” he says with a crooked smirk, trying to lighten the mood. “I thought you knew that.”

You let out a sigh, guilt creeping in for directing your irritation at him. “I know… I do. There’s just a difference between knowing and actually experiencing it.” You try to keep the bite out of your tone. “It’s not like she was being subtle either. Looked like she was two seconds away from spreading herself out for you right here.”

There’s definitely an adjustment that still needs to be made in terms of dating a pornstar.

“I’ll be better about shutting them down,” he murmurs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Even if you do look hot when you’re jealous.”

You try to suppress a smile, rolling your eyes as he leans closer, brushing his lips along your bare shoulder, then trailing up to your neck, melting your frustration just a bit. He’s too good at this.

“I wasn’t jealous,” you lie, glancing sideways at him. “Also didn’t peg you as an ‘older women’ guy. I’ve only ever seen you with the younger girls.” Saying it even makes you cringe.

As if on cue, Connie, ever the observant bartender, swoops in with replacement drinks, eyebrows raised knowingly. “Everything good over here? I don’t need to call an ambulance or anything, right?”

You snort out a laugh, shaking your head. “No, Con, we’re fine.”

“Even though I wouldn’t mind seeing her kick some ass.” Javier teases.

She laughs, nodding at you. “Oh, you want to see her fight? Be here during a major sports event. Last year during March Madness, she gave this guy a black eye ‘cause he called her a cunt when she accidentally changed the channel, then ended up going toe-to-toe with his girlfriend.”

Javier raises his brows at you. “Seriously?”

You shrug, unfazed. “They asked for it.”

As Connie gets pulled away by some patrons at the other end of the bar, Javier turns to you, his expression shadowed and a bit more serious than before.

“When I first started, my confidence was shot. I’m talkin’ nonexistent,” he admits, his voice low.

You arch a brow, struggling to picture a less-than-assured Javier Peña. “Really? I’m having a hard time imagining that.”

“Yeah, well…” He lets out a rough sigh, “When your fiancée gets knocked up and leaves you at the altar for the guy she’s been cheating on you with, that tends to happen.”

You choke on your drink, and your hand flies to your chest, eyes wide. He glances at you, his concern slipping past his own discomfort for a second. You wave him off as you try to get it together, the words still rattling around in your mind.

“Sorry—what?” you finally manage, hardly believing what you just heard.

“Didn’t mean to dump it on you like that,” he says, leaning on the bar, his fingers tapping a slow, rhythmic beat on the counter, his gaze cast downward.

“Hold up. You were engaged?” You can’t help but lean in, your curiosity clawing to the surface. “And she left you?” You’re struggling to piece it all together, mind spinning through images of the man sitting next to you, younger and heartbroken.

“Yeah,” his jaw twitches. “Her name was Lorraine. We were high school sweethearts—whole ‘marry your first love’ thing.” There’s a hard edge in his voice now, his fingers gripping the glass a bit tighter. “Thought I’d have the life, fill a house with kids, do the whole all-American family bullshit.” His words are bitter, the resentment so clear you almost feel it yourself.

He takes a breath, rubbing the back of his neck before continuing. “Wedding day comes around and she’s gone. Left some half-assed note saying she ‘couldn’t do it,’ and her sister finally broke down and told me what was really going on. She’d been screwing her boss. He got her pregnant.”

There’s a crash behind the bar as a glass shatters. You glance over to see Connie, her face red, scrambling to clean it up with an embarrassed apology. You can’t blame her for listening in—you’re feeling a similar gut punch.

You knew there was something that happened that made him jump the gun and move to California, now, you know what it is. An ain’t shit ex.

“Javi, that’s fucked. I can’t even begin to imagine how much that must have hurt.”

He gives a small nod, lifting his glass and taking a slow sip.

From where you’re sitting, you can see his profile in the low light—his strong nose, the gentle curve of his cheekbones, those lips that naturally form a pout when he’s deep in thought.

"I tried to keep it together, but that town became… suffocating. The looks I got…” Javier’s voice trails off as he shakes his head. “So I packed my shit, said goodbye to my pops, and just started driving. Stopped in all sorts of places, did some sightseeing, trying to figure things out.” A hint of a smile plays on his lips. “Ended up here, and Steve was the first friend I made. That asshole’s the one who got me into porn.”

Your brows shoot up, surprised yet again by his story’s unexpected turns. “Steve? Oh god, don’t tell me he used to do it too.”

Javier smirks, amusement dancing in his eyes. “He did a few flicks. Nothing groundbreaking like me.” He says all cheekily, and you can’t help but nudge him. “So, yeah, I started out for a few bucks. Wasn’t so hot in the beginning—and then I met Judy.”

At the mention of her, your face twists involuntarily, and he notices but ignores your reaction.

“She taught me most of what I know, and we shot a lot of projects together. People liked what they saw, and after a while, I started getting paired with older co-stars. That kinda became my thing. MILFs and cougars,” he says, his gaze tracing your features to gauge your response.

You’re still reeling from everything he’s told you so far, marveling at the many lives this man has lived before finding his way to you. “That explains a lot, actually,” you say, your thoughts slipping out with your words.

It now makes sense why he’s so damn good at foreplay. Skills like his? They’re honed under women who know exactly what the fuck they’re talking about, who aren’t shy to take what they need.

Suddenly, your own insecurities begin to simmer and you wonder if you’ll ever amount to the women before you.

He raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Yeah? Like what?”

You glance up, unflinching. “Like the fact that you can fuck.” Your bluntness pulls a laugh out of both of you—his full of mischief, yours tinged with nerves.

“Not a problem, is it?” he asks, that signature smirk softened, yet curious.

It’s a loaded question, so you take a sip, buying a little time before answering. “What, that you can fuck?”

He laughs again, more genuine this time, a sound that melts some of the tension inside you.

“No, nena,” he replies, still grinning. “Everything else.”

The laughter fades, and for a moment, you sit in the quiet, watching tiny droplets slide down the condensation on your glass.

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for honesty. “It’s not a problem, Javi. But… if I’m being real with you, I don’t feel up to par with what you’re used to.”

You can tell from the way his face falls into a scowl that he doesn’t like how you’ve phrased it. “What I have with you is different, cariño. Not something scripted for a camera.”

“I know that, but still. You’re used to professionals—people who know exactly what to do, how to look, how to please. Me?” You let out a shaky laugh, grimacing at your self deprecation, and your gaze falls to the drink in your hand. “You’re lucky if I even get on top.”

As the last word falls, your cheeks flush with embarrassment, feeling raw and exposed at a fucking dive bar.

Before you can turn further away, Javier leans in close, gently catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His expression is nothing but tender, his dark eyes soft.

“Hey, stop that,” he murmurs, his voice so gentle it’s almost a whisper. “You’re more than enough. Trust me.” His fingers stroke softly along your jaw, lingering. “I wasn’t looking for a waxed-up, camera-ready professional. I wanted something real and I found you.”

Your heart stirs at the depth in his voice. He lets out a small breath, his thumb brushing the curve of your cheek. “I know you’ve got your hang-ups, and I get it. I’ve been there. It’s… hard to feel like you’re enough when you’re constantly comparing yourself to people who don’t even matter. But I’m tellin’ you, baby, it shouldn’t be like that with us.”

He shifts a little closer, his gaze earnest. “I’ll help you feel more confident the way someone once did for me. But the difference? I’m givin’ you everything. Not just sex, not just some half-hearted attempt. I’m here—all in.”

You swallow the mix of emotions he’s just poured into you—gratitude, desire, and a newfound trust that fills the spaces where your insecurities had settled.

Your eyes search his, words catching in your throat as you try to express everything you’re feeling. But instead of speaking, you reach for the hand at your face, your stare steady as you quietly murmur, “Let’s go upstairs.”

You stumble through the door, bodies pressed close as you and Javier crash into the walls of your apartment, lips never parting for more than a heartbeat.

Your hands roam each other’s bodies, his fingers tracing down your spine, your own tugging eagerly at his shirt, popping buttons until it falls open, greedily feeling up on his warm and toned chest.

His belt follows, clinking to the floor, and as you kick off your heels, you barely register the sound of them hitting the ground—lost in the heavy rhythm of your pulse, the taste of his mouth, the roughness of his scruff.

He sinks down onto the edge of your bed, and you move to straddle him, but he catches you just in time, leaning back a bit with a smirk. “Take your dress off…” he orders, his voice gravelly as his eyes travel hungrily over you, biting his lower lip.

Your heart races as you take a few steps back, antsy fingers reaching for the zipper at your side.

“Slowly,” he adds, and you slow down, teasing him as you draw the zipper down until your dress is loose against your skin.

Holding it to your chest with one hand, you turn around, letting it slip and fall in a gentle whisper to the floor, leaving you standing in just your underwear.

His satisfied hum makes you shiver, and you feel his gaze burn down your back, over the curve of your hips, your thighs.

Looking over your shoulder with a flirty smile, you catch his eye, and he grins in return.

“Turn around, baby, let me see you.”

You turn to face him, nerves quieted by the way he’s looking at you—as if he’s seeing you naked for the first time.

He lets out a soft, almost reverent groan, then extends his hands, urging you closer. You step forward, your hands finding his shoulders as you finally straddle his lap, his warmth searing through you.

His mouth captures yours, rough hands sliding up to cup your breasts, teasing your nipples until you’re trembling, gasping against his lips as you remember what happened the last time he toyed with you like this.

“Javi…” you whisper his name, your voice barely a breath as you pull away just enough to speak, eyes meeting his. “I want you. All of you.” You lean in to kiss him again, fervent, moving to trail your lips along his jaw, nipping lightly.

“I want you to fuck me.” You say it firmly, leaving no room for doubt, wanting him to understand exactly what you need.

He groans deeply, his hands dropping to grip your ass and pull you closer. “Are you sure?” his nose brushes along your neck, his breath hot against your skin as you continue kissing along his jaw.

“Yes, Javi,” you breathe out, voice thick with need, “I need you so bad.”

With practiced ease, Javier shifts you onto your back, stretching out beneath him as he hovers close, his touch claiming every inch of exposed skin. His hands trail over you, hot and lingering, and you feel like you’re melting beneath him, completely under his control.

When he finally pulls away to slip out of his remaining clothes, you see his gaze wander, fixated on something by your bedside table.

Following his line of sight, you realize he’s locked onto the purple vibrator you’d left out after using it the other night when he wasn’t around, leaving you to fend for yourself.

A sly smile tugs at his lips as he reaches over, picking it up and turning it over in his hand. “This little thing gets you off?” he teases, holding it up as though he’s sizing up the competition.

You roll your eyes, wrapping your legs around him to pull him closer, but he resists, firmly planted just out of reach.“When I’m in a pinch, yes. Haven’t exactly needed it much lately, thanks to you.”

A thoughtful hum escapes him as he glances between you and the toy, as if weighing his options. Then, moving back over you, he kneels between your thighs, one hand gripping your hip possessively, teasing the band of your panties, while the other holds the vibrator with a wicked gleam. “I think we could put this to good use tonight.”

The spark of excitement floods through you, making your thighs tense instinctively, hips lifting slightly in response. Javier notices, his smirk widening as he lets the band of your panties snap back against your skin, making you gasp.

His eyes darken as he watches you writhe, clearly savoring your every little movement.

“Oh, yeah?” you manage to ask, your voice breathy with anticipation. “How?”

Instead of answering, he switches the toy on, and the low, steady hum fills the room. His eyes never leave you as he drags it lightly over your pelvis, nowhere close to where you ache for him, but enough to make your breath hitch, a soft moan slipping out as you arch into his touch.

His grip on your hip tightens. “Stay still,” he commands, using that sexy bedroom voice of his that’s even more gravelly and deeper than his usual cadence.

Obediently, you settle back, watching him with bated breath. He keeps the toy hovering just above your soaked panties, tantalizingly close to where you need him most.

When he finally presses it down on your clothed pussy, just enough to tease, you let out a low, pleading whimper, your hands gripping the sheets as he works you over in slow, cruel strokes.

His stare holds yours, a silent promise that tonight, he’s going to take his time, making sure you feel every single second of it.

Your breaths come out heavy and uneven, your whole body tensing as you fight the urge to grind up against it, trying to maintain some composure while he has you pinned down beneath that slow, teasing rhythm.

Javier moves the toy in tight, deliberate circles, dragging it excruciatingly slow over your needy clit, the first setting absolute torture.

He’s in no hurry, watching with intense focus as you tremble, his eyes tracing every twitch, every bead of arousal that weeps from your cunt, dampening the thin fabric even more.

He keeps that maddening pace, and as the vibrations ripple through you, you feel the familiar tightening in your belly, an orgasm coiling dangerously tight, ready to snap.

Your nails dig into the duvet, a strangled moan spilling from your lips. “Oh, fuck, Javi—I’m… I’m gonna come—”

But just as you reach that edge, he pulls the toy away and turns it off, leaving you gasping, the sensation dissipating as quickly as it built. Your eyes snap open and you sit up slightly, desperate and hazy, locking onto him. “What the fuck?”

“Shh,” he hushes you, though there’s no denying the look of satisfaction on his face. Javi brushes his lips over the corner of your mouth, calming you with a soft, feather-light kiss. “Just trust me, okay? You know I always take care of you.”

You do know. This man has pulled so many orgasms right out of your body without even fucking you with his dick. That reassurance melts away your frustration from being pulled back from the precipice. You nod, swallowing hard. “Okay.”

Your lips meet in a kiss that’s so intoxicating, tongues sliding against each other, his hand skipping down your side to the band of your panties.

Slowly, he drags the fabric down, his fingers gliding over your skin, leaving a blazing trail as they go.

When he finally discards your underwear, you’re left bare beneath him, exposed and aching, while he still wears that unbuttoned dress shirt, his slacks riding low on his hips, half undone.

It’s annoying how good he looks—just dressed enough to drive you wild with impatience.

He taps your knee, urging you to spread wider, his gaze fixed on you with unrestrained desire. And the way he looks at you—like you’re all he’s ever wanted—banishes every flicker of self-doubt, every whisper of insecurity.

You let yourself open up to him completely, your sticky, swollen pussy on full display, pulsing in anticipation, needing him more than words can say.

His eyes rake over you with reverence, dark and smoldering as he drinks in every inch of yourself that you’re offering to him, his chest rising and falling a little heavier.

“Always so fuckin’ pretty,” he murmurs, pressing a slow kiss to your knee before settling back between your legs.

The vibrator flicks on again, and he traces it up your inner thighs, letting you tremble beneath his touch. You bite down hard on your lip, trying to hold back the urge to shout at him to stop playing around, to just give it to you.

Javier trails the toy along your slick lips, his gaze dark and hungry as your arousal drips out of your cunt, every inch of your body clenching with need. When he finally presses the vibrator to your clit, a shudder ripples through you, your back arching off the bed.

He groans low and deep, clearly savoring your reaction.

“Javi,” you moan, hips already grinding against the pressure as he keeps the vibrator in place, turning up the intensity to make you gasp, your body moving to meet it, demanding more.

“Feel good, baby?” he murmurs, his voice like smoke.

“Uh-huh,” you manage to get out, nodding feverishly, your eyes squeezed shut as you let the pleasure wash over you, helplessly rocking against him.

But just as you’re about to tip over the edge, he pulls it away.

Over and over, he teases, edging you with that relentless, maddening rhythm, each denial more tortuous than the last.

He alternates between fucking the toy inside you, pressing it against the fleshy cleft of your clit, and peppering soft, almost loving kisses down your body: your neck, your jaw, the valley between your breasts. His tongue traces your nipple in slow circles, flicking it just enough to drive you wild, until you’re a trembling, teary mess beneath him, desperate for release.

“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” he coos, stroking your cheek as he sets the vibrator to its highest setting, plunging it inside you. The wet, obscene sounds of your pussy crying around it only fuel his hunger as he watches your face.

You feel his fingers cup your jaw, firm and unyielding, his eyes blazing into yours as you cling to his touch, mascara running down your cheeks, feeling so utterly wrecked.

“Please, Javi… please let me come,” you beg, your voice ragged. But he just tightens his hold, fingers digging into the skin of your cheeks, pressing the toy in deep as his thumb circles your clit, leaving you breathless.

“Just when you think you can let go… it’s snatched from you,” he whispers, ignoring your pleas, dragging you to the brink only to pull the vibrator away once again, leaving you a shaking, furious mess.

A strangled sound escapes your throat, torn between anger and need, barely feeling like yourself.

Javier chuckles, bending down to nip at your chin, his teeth grazing your skin before his tongue traces a line up your jaw. “That’s how you’ve been making me feel for months now, nena,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “Driving me fuckin’ crazy. It’s only fair that I make you feel even a fraction of it.”

“Y-You’re an asshole,” you try to retort, but your voice comes out barely above a whisper, your tone more a helpless whine than any real protest.

He grins, mocking your pout with one of his own, voice dripping with feigned sympathy. “Don’t say that, baby. You’re breakin’ my heart.” He brushes one last kiss against your lips, pulling back just as you lean into him, already aching to feel him close again, his warmth a cruel tease.

He undresses fully, and your mouth literally waters as your gaze traces the sculpted lines of his stomach, following the trail of hair that leads down to his thick, throbbing cock.

The head is swollen and red, already dripping with precome, and you can’t help the moan that slips from your lips, your hips shifting instinctively, every nerve ending primed and desperate for him. You’ve been dreaming about this moment for so long, craving it with every fiber of your being.

You need to fuck this man.

As he climbs back over you, his hands reach to pull you closer, your legs wrapping around his waist as if they belong there, your hands clutching at the solid warmth of his shoulders.

You pull him down to you, your bare breasts pressed to the hard plane of his chest, as he balances himself with both hands planted beside your head, his eyes burning into yours.

“You okay?” he asks, voice soft, and you nod, kissing the corner of his mouth before tangling your fingers in the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Mhm,” you breathe, staring up at him, completely wrecked and totally ready. “I’m just ready to take you, Javi. Need it so bad.”

He groans, the heat in his eyes darkening as he adjusts his hips, hovering right there, just out of reach. “Go ahead, baby, take it. Put it in.”

His words are like gasoline to a fire, and a shiver runs through you at the sheer, visceral need in his command.

Reaching down, your fingers wrap around his length, both of you gasping as you feel the heat and hardness of him pulsing in your hand. You squeeze gently, stroking him slowly, and he hisses, rolling his hips into your grip.

You swirl your thumb over the head, spreading the bead of precome across his skin, the silky-slick texture making you dizzy with anticipation.

Drunk on him, on everything he evokes in you, you guide the head of his cock to your soaked, swollen entrance, rubbing it slowly against your aching slit.

The sensation has you trembling, but when he finally pushes forward, easing himself into you, you let out a loud, breathless whine. The stretch of him is so perfect, so utterly fulfilling that your back arches, your toes curling as your head falls back into the sheets.

“Oh, fuck—Javier, you feel so good,” you gasp, your walls clenching around him, holding him deep as your body adjusts to every thick, pulsing inch. It’s even better than you ever imagined.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and uneven as he thrusts forward, filling you to the hilt. “Nena,” he grunts, voice ragged, “I’m not gonna last—shit.” He sounds as wrecked as you feel, his hips pressing flush against yours as he sinks in deep, your inner walls gripping him as if you’ll never let him go.

“Please,” you whimper, grinding your hips up to meet him, urging him on. He sinks his teeth into the delicate skin of your neck, sucking until he’s left a mark, his mouth hot and relentless as he peppers kisses and bites along your throat.

He’s holding himself back, giving you a second to catch up, but every inch of you craves him.

“Give me, fuck, gimme a second,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your collarbone. He starts to move, his thrusts slow and controlled, his mouth capturing yours in a heated kiss, your bodies locked together as he builds a rhythm, deeper and more intense with every movement.

Your fingers clutch at his shoulders, nails digging in as he grinds just right, the coarse hairs of his cock rubbing against your swollen clit, making you babble helplessly against his parted lips, your own pleasure climbing higher with each thrust. “Right there, Javi, right there—I’m so close, please…”

He speeds up, his strokes hard and unrestrained, driving you to the edge. But even as he tries to keep his control, you feel him faltering, his body tensing as the pleasure becomes too much.

“Fuck—puta madre, nenita—you feel so good—” His voice breaks, and he gives one, two, three hard thrusts, burying himself deep as his release finally takes over, his warm, pulsing release spilling into you as he groans loudly, hips grinding as he rides out the last waves of his orgasm.

Your chest heaves with every breath, your body still humming with tension. As much as you’re flattered by his performance, you’re left tingling, unfinished, after all the edging and teasing he put you through.

“Javi…” You murmur softly, your hands sliding from his tousled hair down his shoulders, the heat radiating off his skin.

He responds with a low grunt, still draped over you, his weight grounding you.

“Javier,” you say again, a bit more insistently this time, and he lifts his head, eyes heavy and glazed, looking at you as if you’ve just broken him in the best way possible.

You’ve never seen him look this wrecked, his breath still uneven and his face flushed—all because of you. Fighting the urge to smirk, you can’t help but revel in the sight of him.

Men can be sensitive about finishing quickly, but he looks nothing but smug.

“Pussy’s too damn good, baby. Fuckin’ Christ,” he groans, a grin tugging at his lips, his words breathy and awed.

Now you let yourself smirk, feeling the flush of satisfaction. He nuzzles his nose against yours, murmuring, “Gotta make up for that.”

You raise a brow, intrigued. And then he’s moving, slowly pulling out of you, making you hum as the absence of him sends a small flutter through your sensitive cunt, his warm, milky cum trickling out and coating your thighs.

With determination in his gaze, he begins his descent, his mouth trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your sternum, his breath a delicious tease against your skin until he’s nestled between your legs.

His broad shoulders press your thighs open, and then he throws them over his shoulders, eyes locked on yours, his look nothing short of ravenous.

Javi nips and kisses along your inner thighs, each bite and lick sending sparks straight to your core. When he finally reaches your swollen, aching pussy, his thumbs slide over your folds, parting them to reveal the slick mess he left behind.

Then, you feel the first swipe of his tongue, warm and slow, tasting you both. His groan is deep and low, the sound vibrating against you as he begins to devour you, licking and slurping at your mixed arousal with a hunger that’s overwhelming.

You can’t hold back—you’re too wound up, too sensitive, and you grab at his hair, your fingers twisting and tugging as your release crashes through you, every wave building on all the ones denied before.

You’re left gasping, body arched and taut, thighs clamping around his head as you scream his name, mindlessly babbling through the pleasure.

“Javi! Fuck—fuck, yes, oh god—”

He growls against you, mouth working as he drinks in every pulse, his tongue relentless as he wrings every last aftershock from your shaking body.

It’s beyond anything you’ve felt before, overwhelming and intense, leaving you utterly spent as you finally start to come down, your body melting beneath him, weak and utterly satisfied.

As he finishes devouring you between your thighs, you barely have a moment to catch your breath before he’s thrusting into you again, harder and deeper this time, with a fierce intensity that rips a loud, shameless cry from you.

Right, he’s got that pornstar stamina.

His hands grip your hips, pulling you up with him as he sits up, his brows knitted in concentration, his tongue peeking out as he watches you completely unravel around him.

“That’s right, baby,” he growls, “Gonna give me one more on my cock, show me how bad you wanted it.”

You used to roll your eyes at the exaggerated moans you’d hear on set, doubting anyone could actually be that good.

But he is that good. Beyond that good. He’s better.

Now here you are, body trembling, head thrown back, moaning his name so loudly it might echo through the whole building. Every hard thrust feels like it’s driving into the core of you, filling you so perfectly that the room spins.

His grip tightens, hands splayed across your hips as he finds a rhythm that sends shocks of pleasure coursing through you. The thick drag of his cock hits every spot, and he knows just how to read every gasp, every shudder, adjusting his pace and angle to push you higher and higher.

He pulls your legs up, folding them against your chest, his hips angled to grind against that one perfect spot that has stars dancing across your vision. You’re lost to him, mimicking those moans you used to scoff at, now higher and even more desperate as he laughs, deep and husky.

“Got you singin’ like a fuckin’ bird, nenita,” he teases, his laugh tapering off into a low groan. “And to think you didn’t want this. Now look at you—all fucked out and creamin’ on my cock”

Your bed creaks with every hard thrust, the scent of sex thick in the air, but all you can focus on is him—his rough hands, the way he looks down at you, utterly in control.

He’s all you can feel, all you can breathe, and as he digs his nails into the plush skin of your thighs, you know you’re on the edge, your pussy clenching tightly around him.

Your gaze meets his, and somehow you manage a blissful, shaky smile, a small act of defiance just before he pushes you over.

“There she is,” he murmurs, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Come on, baby—let me feel it.”

“Javi… oh my fuck, I’m coming!” The words are a gasp, strangled and desperate, as your body locks around him, your orgasm crashing through you in waves that leave you breathless, gushing around his cock as every muscle in your body clenches tight.

It feels like you’ve drifted to the heavens, like he’s drawn out every last ounce of strength from you.

You’re dazed, floating, but he’s still there, whispering to you, “Good girl, that’s it. I’ve got you,” his voice a warm balm as he slows his movements, matching the rhythm of your aftershocks, soothing you with each gentle thrust as he holds you close.

Your body shudders, tiny jolts of overstimulation sparking through you as he stays with you, coaxing you back down from the edge, until you’re nothing but a soft, sated mess in his arms.

He gently eases your legs down, pulling out of you with a slow, tender touch before settling by your side.

His arms wrap around you, drawing you in close as you both lie there, utterly spent, skin warm and sticky from sweat and the lingering traces of your wild fucking.

His lips press a soft kiss to your forehead, and you let out a contented sigh, burrowing into his chest. You crave the solid weight of his body, the grounding warmth of him as you slowly come back to reality.

“You’re not real,” you mumble into his chest, your voice muffled but laced with awe. His chuckle vibrates against your cheek, a low, comforting sound that makes you smile even wider.

“I’m very real, and very yours, nena,” Javi replies, his hand drifting lazily up and down your back in gentle strokes that make you melt even further. The warmth of his words seeps into you, and your heart flutters.

You lift your head, resting your chin on his chest, and take a moment to really admire him: the deep brown of his eyes, the dark sweep of his lashes, the fullness of his mustache, and that defined jaw you love tracing your fingers along.

Your hands wander, tracing faint shapes on his shoulders, running over the hard lines of his triceps, relishing the feel of him beneath your fingers.

“I need a shower. And to change these sheets,” you murmur, glancing around at the disheveled bed.

“Yeah, someone made quite the mess,” he teases, pinching your ass, which makes you yelp and swat his chest with a playful smack.

“Asshole,” you grumble, but he just laughs, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss that’s softer, and you melt into him all over again.

“I’ll go start the shower for you, then change the sheets while you’re in there.”

“Catering to my every whim already? I just became your girlfriend,” you tease.

“Yeah, and I’m trying to keep it that way for the foreseeable future,” he says, brushing a quick, sweet kiss on the tip of your nose before slipping away from you.

You can’t help the little pout that forms as he sits up, rolling his shoulders back, his muscles jolting, which makes you weak in the knees.

You watch him as he moves throughout your room then into your bathroom, your eyes trailing over every muscle, every line of his body, unable to resist biting your lip.

He really is gorgeous—so damn hot—and he’s all yours.

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spidybaby · 8 days ago

Note

Ladyyyy✨ You can't just leave us like that after that amazing angst😭😭😭 can you do a part 2, pls? Like what happens after that? How does he react? What about Aurora and his family? Can we see Reader moving on? They end up being strangers? Reader can't forgive that😭😭😭

Take care of yourself, hope you have a great day!🌻🫶��

Seat 332 | Part Two

Summary: The time apart and the difference between his past life and his present makes Gavi realize that he lost.

Warnings: cursing.

Part one

That was your seat. He knows it, his family knows it, and even his friends. Why was she in your seat?

Pablo's eyes move from you and to Antonella and back to you. He even stopped clapping. You are looking at the back of Antonella's head.

He asked Aurora to keep that seat empty in case you came to see him. Anto was waving at him with a smile on her face.

"Venga Gavi!" Balde says, smiling at him at hugging him. "Vamoooos!" He yells.

Gavi is being moved by Cubarsi and Balde, who grab his arms and pull him to the chanting group of fans.

He turns for a few seconds, smiling at the feeling of being back. Soon, that's overturned by the feeling of worry when he doesn't see you standing at the entrance of the palco.

"Wait, guys." He tries to free himself. "Wait, I need to go."

He pulls stronger and free himself. He walks quickly to the entrance, but in the way he finds Iñigo's arms.

"Venga, Chaval!" Iñigo smiles as he grabs Gavi in his arms. He's strong enough to carry Gavi back into the chanting group.

"Madridista el que no salte." They all yell in catalan, jumping and being happy.

Gavi gives up, he won't be able to free himself from his friends. He will call you as soon as he's done with it.

The celebration goes on for a few minutes. The social media team asks for him to greet his family and friends on the field for content on his docuseries on the new barca app.

He can't help but miss you during that greeting. You were a complementary piece on his recovery. You were the missing piece now.

He's awkward when he's with Anto. If someone had told him that he would be giving empty kisses to the girl he promised himself to be different. He wouldn't have believed it.

Once he is back in the dressing room, he takes the pictures the social media girl asks for. He showers quickly and runs to where his family is waiting for him.

"I just need to make a call, go on, and go back to my place." He says to his parents. "Here's the key. Just give me a couple minutes."

"I'll wait with you." Antonella says.

"No!" Lift his head up. "I mean, you don't have to wait. Help me with everything at home, please." He smiles.

She nods, going back to his parents and telling them that she will help them at home while Aurora stays with Gavi.

"Me cago en la puta." He says, not finding his phone.

"Pablo, what are you doing?" Aurora asks, watching him being all desperate.

He throws his toiletry bag on the seat of his car. He's stressed. "Give me your phone." He orders.

Aurora shakes her head no. Crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Aurora, I'm not playing." He says. "Give me the damn phone."

"What for?" She asks, mad at his brother's attitude. "Who's that important for you to be acting this way?"

"I need to call Y/n." He whines. "Please."

Aurora sighs. "Pablo, let's go home. Antonella and everybody else is waiting."

"Qué me importa un cajaro, Aurora." He yells. "I need to call her."

Aurora knows that if he does that, then it will become a big problem. Pablo will need to explain why he was with Antonella and you at the same time.

"Why don't you calm down and call her tomorrow?" She asks. "She's mad, and she won't answer like that."

He knows that you won't answer him in that state, but he also wants to know you are okay. He needs to explain to you that he did save the seat for you.

That's your seat.

Antonella didn't have any business seating there.

"Fine." He says, getting in the car.

Even if he wants to, his mind is full of worry about you. He can't focus on the conversations without disassociate after a few words.

Aurora excused him, saying it was just him being tired and that he had run out of battery after waiting for this game for so long.

The night wasn't easy. Aurora took his phone and asked him to wait. He needs to respect the fact that Antonella was in the house.

He asked Antonella to join Aurora in her room for the night. He was tired and didn't feel like talking or being with anyone.

He looked over at the clock every five minutes. The hours felt eternal. Why can't the time go faster?

You usually wake up at seven to go to the club and play tennis. He wants to call you before that. He tried to call you, and the first two calls went to voice mail.

The third time is a charm, he thinks, but it hit him with a message. He frowns. Did your phone die?

He googles what that message means because you had a voice recording for your voice mail. He sweats cold when he discovers that you blocked his number for calls and texts.

He wakes up, finding Aurora in the kitchen. "Hey, I need your phone." He says, not wanting to waste time.

"Pablo, what for?" She asks, still a little bit sleepy.

"Y/n is not answering my calls, I need to call her from your phone."

Aurora roll her eyes, she's tired of all this hit and run you two have. If it's not you complaining that Pablo is ghosting you, it's him complaining that you don't answer.

"No!" She says, passing away from him.

Pablo is quick and grabs his arm. "What do you mean no?"

She removes Gavi's arm. Looking at him like he's asking something crazy. "Pablo, I'm done with this situation. You tell me that you want to be with Antonella, but then you tell me that you need to contact Y/n. What are you playing, Gavi?"

She's not wrong, Gavi told her that he's done with Y/n, ask Aurora to help him with Antonella. Then he goes and says he needs you and that he needs to help her reconnect with you.

"I'm done with this stupid situation you got yourself into." She says. "If you want to call Y/n, then find other ways, but my phone is not up for use."

Pablo is left alone in the kitchen. The question that Aurora made him is still ringing in his head.

"What game are you playing, Gavi?"

fcbarcelona

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fcbarcelona Everybody stay calm, it's happening 😱

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aurorapaezg ❤️

antogmz 🥺❤️

gavixpedri tell me it's all a lie 😭😭😭

gavirafan06 @gavixpedri what's happening? 🤨

gavixpedri @gavirafan06 barca admin posted a video of gavi and this girl kissing 🙃

gavimylover so he's not y/n's boyfriend?

barcam3ssi10 I would have swear they were together 🤨 people on x were saying they saw them holding hand in Barcelona

Pedri Bienvenido hermano 💪🏻

randomuser1 I come to the comments and see his fans fighting over who's the girlfriend and who's the other girl 😭😭😭 why are we so unserious?

randomuser2 like fr who tf is hotter? That's the winner

- A month after Gavi's return -

fcbarcelona

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fcbarcelona Another day, another Gavi pic 📸

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antogmz ❤️💪🏻

randomuser83 I wonder if she's the responsible one for him and his ex gf break up🤔

antoxgavi @randomuser83 she's not, that girl was Gavi's friend

ansucheesefan but Y/n follows her, so I don't think they are beefing if they follow each others

gavirafan06 he has the girlfriend glow up 🤩

antofan1 he definitely has that glow 🥺🥰

pedrimasiafan I think it's sweat 👀

randomuser1 why are his fans fighting in the comments over his love life again 😭😭😭 we are so unserious I can't

- Two months after Gavi's return -

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yourusername ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

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aurorapaezg I miss you so much 🥺❤️

camihdz Miss you 🙃

yourusername open the door 👀❤️

gavifan2 why don't you answer Aurora's comment?

aurorafan1 I miss you and Aurora 😔💔

mario_rzs send me the pics maybe?

yourusername sir, I don't know you 😔

aurorapaezfan why is she answering everybody's comment but Aurora's? 😭😭😭

- Three months after Gavi's return -

yourusername

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yourusername I'm working late, cause I have finals (send help)

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aurorabelen9 Te extraño, mi niña❤️ liked by author

aurorafan1 I can't 😭 she's the only Gavira that Y/n follows

gavimylover miss seeing y/n with the paez gavira family 😔💔

antoxgavi why did you unfollow Anto and Aurora? You just create drama by doing that

pedrixgavifan stop asking her about Gavi or his family 😒 if she's not friends with them, then it's her business liked by author

antoxgavi @pedrixgavifan well she used to post a ton with them and now she expects people to not care?

lamasiafan6 what college is she on? Cause why are the skeletons on the gym? 💀

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"Let's go play some tennis." You say to your friend Camila.

You two walk to the tennis field, preparing the balls and everything for the small match. You missed playing tennis.

Since you stopped having contact with Gavi, you started doing the activities you left behind. You only had time to play tennis early in the morning because he always came after training and you needed to be there for him.

You stopped going out with your friends because he was over at your house and you wanted to spend all night with him.

Then, with his injury, you became a big help to his parents. When they needed to go back to Sevilla, you took care of Pablo.

Only leaving his side to go to class or to study for your tests. You were there for him in every step of the way.

You can't really put the blame on Pablo. He was right, he never asked you to do all that.

He never asked you to stop going out.

He never asked you to stop playing your favorite sport.

He never asked you to play nurse Nancy and help him.

He never asked you to help him with his recovery exercise.

You did it all by heart.

And that was something you won't regret. You did it without looking for a reward or a prize. You did it because you loved him, and you prioritized him when he needed you the most.

You were slowly recovering your life. You didn't depend on anyone, you don't wait on others, you care about yourself and other but always putting you first.

You can't deny that the fact that your so called friends decided to take sides on the situation between Pablo and you, it hurted you.

You noticed that only Mario was your friend. He told you that he wasn't going to take sides and that he was there for you whenever you needed to.

You are grateful Camila never left you. She knew Pablo since school, but she was your friend. Even tho if Pablo comes to her, she wouldn't ignore it.

What hurt you the most was that Aurora lied to you. She could have told you the truth, even if that was going to hurt you.

You asked her, and she chose to act like nothing happened. She expected you to go to the dinner and see for yourself that he was with someone.

You didn't fight. You didn't argue. You just left her alone. She commented on your posts and answered your Insta stories.

You didn't even open her past messages. You made it silently clear that you weren't going to engage on anything that had to do with her.

Belen and Pablo sir were other story. They called you and asked you if you were okay because you didn't come to the game.

You explain to them that you and Pablo weren't together anymore and that you don't want his girlfriend to feel weird about your presence.

They told you that no matter if you and Pablo were together, you were welcome to come and visit them, to come for lunch, dinner, or any kind of meal you want.

Belen asked you if you were coming to see her, you did. When Gavi was training and Aurora was in Sevilla. You visit her, telling her that you will be one call away.

You miss them. They were the closest thing to a family. And you'll miss having them around, hearing their jokes, their company.

You can't change what Gavi did. Nor you want to do it. You just hate to lose so much as a consequence of him.

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You noticed Aurora send you a dm. You open it just because.

You close the app, leaving her on read. You want to answer her and make things they way they used to, but you hate liars, and she was one.

It took you a lot of mind and thinking to finally come around the idea of losing the life you thought you'll always have.

It was your fault for thinking that something with no label would end up in a fairy tale story with a happy ending.

"Hey, let's go get sushi. It's on me." You smile at Cami.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

"Do you want to see a movie?" Antonella asks Pablo.

They were coming back from a "date night" as she called. But to Gavi, it was more like another dinner he spent watching his phone and hearing about Antonella's friends.

"I want to see this movie that's on Netflix." She smiles. "It's called Bride Wars."

Pablo turns his head to her. He knows that movie, maybe a little too well.

"I mean, if you want." He shrugged, laying down on the couch.

Anto takes the opportunity and lays down with him. He moves a little, uncomfortable with the closeness.

He likes the movie, he can't even deny it. It's your favorite movie. You two would watch it a lot during his recovery.

You know the funny parts, you quote the dialogue and even once mentioned that you would throw him a party like the Bachelorette party they have.

"You don't alter the Vera Wang to fit you. You alter yourself to fit Vera." He says, chuckling at that part.

"Do you know the movie?" Antonella says, pausing it.

He nods. "I mean, it's a movie." He says like it's obvious.

"Oh, I know." She giggles. "But it's a girls movie."

He frowns, not understanding what she meant. "No, it's not." He scuffs. "Plus, it's funny because she was eating butter from all around the world."

"It's a romcom, Gavi." She says, obnoxious tone. "Romcoms are for girls. Just like fast and furious is for boys."

He rolls his eyes at her. Grabbing the remote and pressing play again. He is going to enjoy the rest of it.

Antonella knows she fucked up. When Gavi sees or she does something he doesn't like. He gives her the silent treatment.

That makes her nervous, because all she wants is for him to be fine and happy with her. "Do you want me to make dinner?" She asks.

Gavi doesn't answer, he keeps watching the movie. She waits a few minutes and asks again.

"I can make you a sandwich, would you like that?"

He sighs, looking at her. "Can you make me a grilled cheese?" He asks.

Antonella nods excited, she gets up and walks to the kitchen, ready to prepare his sandwich. If only she knew that it was because of him that he had asked that.

< "Pablo, please calm down." You say, trying to find a way of calming him down.

Pablo was having a panic attack from the pain he's feeling. Even if his surgery was two weeks ago, he made a bad move with his leg and provoked a strong pain.

"I don't want to feel this way anymore." He says, sobbing. "Make it stop." He yells.

You don't know what to do. Aurora and Belen were outside, and you don't know how to deal with this alone. You never had one nor did any close friend or family member, so you are lost.

"Pablito, mirame." You grab his wet cheeks. "Can you breathe with me?" You press a little more onto his cheeks to get his attention.

You began doing these breathing exercises. Counting for him to breathe and exhale. You do different rounds of this in order for him to calm down.

Once he's calmer, you grab his pain meds and pass him the water. "Drink this, vida." You say, grabbing the glass of water and grabbing the straw, placing it to his lips.

His puffy eyes and red cheeks make him look like a kid. He's trying not to cry again. The effects of the strong medicine were quick to ease the pain he was feeling.

"I'm sorry, Pablo." You say, leaving the glass back on the nightstand, combing his hair. "I don't know how to take your pain away." You confess. "But I'm here for you, and I won't leave you alone."

He grabs your hand, placing it against his hot cheek. You know it his way of saying thank you. He's not the best at expressing his emotions, and this little acts of love are for him a way of showing that he's thankful when words are not coming out.

You spend another moment combing his hair. You were quiet, listening to the sobs that he still makes from how hard he was crying.

You bring your intertwine hands to your mouth, leaving a kiss on his skin. He smiles a little. "Don't cry, mi amor." You say sweetly. It's like talking to a little child. "I'm going to bring you your favorite pasta. Your mom made it for you because she knows that with a little bit, you would feel good." You tell him.

He shakes his head no, the grip on your hand becomes stronger. He pouts while looking at you with those puppy eyes you can't say no to.

"Amor, you need your medicine." You explain to him. "I'll just grab us a plate of pasta, and I'll be back. Five minutes."

"I-" He tries to say, being interrupted by a sob. "I don't want pasta."

You smile at him. "Do you want me to make you a sandwich?" You ask, knowing that he has to take another dosis of medicine and that he needs to eat before doing so. "I can you make an amazing grilled cheese."

He looks at you with doubt, but after a moment, he agrees. Kissing your hand and letting it go. You promise that you will be as quick as possible.

You prepared two sandwiches, one for you and one for him. You side his food with some fruit and some juice. He loves juice.

You can say that you beat your own speed record because in no time you were back in the room with him.

"I got you your favorite juice, Pablito." You say, placing the tray in front of him. "And I just remembered that Bride Wars it's still available." You bop his nose, making him smile.

You take a look at his face, the way his eyes are shining, and the way he's calmer and relaxed, demeanor gives you peace.

"Mirame." You say, grabbing his cheeks and caressing his skin. "I know it's hard, amor. But I'm here for you in every step of the way." You kiss the top of his nose.

You sea next to him in bed, always keeping a distance because you were afraid of hurting you. You eat in silence because of the movie.

"Can you get me napkin or a piece of paper?" He asks, making you nod.

You get up and walk to the bathroom, grabbing some paper because it is quicker than going into the kitchen.

"You don't alter the Vera Wang to fit you." You say at the same time as the movie dialogue. "You alter yourself to fit Vera." You imitates the voice.

"What to boys learn in school?" He finishes the dialogue, smiling.

You pass him the paper, fixing a string of hair on the way. You feel better now that he is feeling no pain and is eating. >

He goes out of this trance when Antonella places the plates in front of him. The sandwich looks weird to say the least.

"I tried, okay." She says, giggling. "Don't judge me, try it."

He does it, he takes a bite of the sandwich. "I mean, it's something." He smiles at her.

He doesn't want to make her feel bad, so he eats it all. Drinking the disgusting so-called juice she did.

"I love spending time with you." She says, kissing his lips. "Love you."

He half smiles. "Thank you." He says, patting her head. "Let's keep watching, I love that part."

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

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"Do you want to try this?" You ask your cousin.

You two were having lunch with her. You love spending time with your family now that you are on vacations.

You came back to Sevilla, changing the routine a little bit. You used to stay in Barcelona because Gavi wanted you there.

And of course you chose to stay with him while everybody else was on vacations. You were waiting for him to come back from training.

You two finish your meals, happy that you got to spend time together and got to talk about all the things you needed to talk about.

You two walk back to your place, since you guys were neighbors it was funny to go everywhere together.

"Okay, see you later." You say, leaving your cousins at the door of the house.

You enter your home, lay on the couch and turn the TV on. You were too full to mind anything else.

After an hour and a quick nap, you hear the doorbell, you call your mom, telling her that you are opening the door. When you do, you find someone you didn't want to see.

"Aurora, hi." You say with a weird smile you face. "How are you?"

"I'm good, been better." She says. "I was worried about you." She confess.

You frown. "About me?" You ask. "Why?"

"Why?" She asks you back, looking at you like you just say something illogical. "Y/n, you don't answer my text, you don't answer my calls, you even unfollow me from social media." She says, naming all the things you stopped doing. "It's like I'm not even your friend anymore."

She has one hand on your arm, making the scene look a lot more dramatic than what it is. It feels like one of those simulations.

You look at her directly in the eyes. Trying to find out what she was asking was with concern or just because.

"Aurora," you say, grabbing her arm and moving it away from you. "You are not my friend."

She blinks a couple of times, confused about your reaction. She knows she was a little bit wrong by sticking to Pablo and Antonella, but she was his sister.

"What?" She asks, confused. "Y/n, that's not true. I'm your friend."

You shake your head lightly. You can't even believe that she thinks she's your friend after everything she did.

"I asked you if Pablo was seeing someone." You remind her. "And what did you do? You lie to me."

"Y/n, that's not -"

"That's not true?" You ask, scuffing. "Aurora, you knew he was seeing her. You knew Pablo had other intentions with her, and what did you do? You lied."

She shakes her head. "That's not what happened." She tries to explain.

"You knew I loved Pablo." You remind her. "When you asked me what my feelings were about your brother, I told you I loved him."

"Y/n, I -"

"You knew, and you chose to lie to me."

She sighs, "You have everything mixed."

"No." You say, stern tone. "I have my facts straight. The only thing I got mixed was that I thought you were my friend. You are not, so leave me alone!"

You close the door of your house without caring that you're literally closing the door on her face. She didn't care about you, and you don't care about her at all.

You want to open the door and ask her for forgiveness because you closed the door on her face, but you won't do it.

You have to remember that Aurora chose to lie to you. She could've been honest, you would've prefer that.

Instead, she knew Pablo didn't want you at the dinner. She knew Pablo had her over. She knew that girl was in his life.

You take a deep breath and walk to your room, wanting you to go back to sleep and forget that you have to deal with the broken pieces that he left.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

"What do you mean you can't keep seeing me?" Antonella yelled. "Pablo, what is wrong with you?"

"Nothing is wrong, Anto." She sighs, tired of her yelling.

"No, something got to be wrong." She says, angry. "Because we were fine a few days ago."

He scuffs. "You were fine, but we?"

"I can't, Pablo." She says, exasperated. "I want us to work, but you won't go past your old habits."

He shakes his head. "That why I'm telling you that I don't want to see you."

Antonella cursed at him. Grabbing her stuff and walking out of his room while slamming the door.

He's tired, very tired.

But he's free from that burden.

He took his free days and traveled to Sevilla to be done with whatever his relationship with Antonella was.

He feels better now that he's free to finally go look for you. He's ready to be with you, and he hopes that you understand that he was confused.

His parents sat him down and scolded him about what he did to you. He was raised in a different way.

His father had a long talk with him days after, about how it was not okay to play with the girls feelings.

< "If you ever become a dad, you would kill the guy who dared to treat your daughter they way you treaded Y/n. And that says a lot about you." >

That left Pablo with a bitter aftertaste. He never thinks about becoming a dad, but he knows that if that ever happens he would go to war for his kids.

And what can he expect? If a guy ever treats his daughter in that way, he can't even complain. He would be complaining over something he said nobody should mind about.

Mario invited him to a party, it was his annual vacation party. Gavi lost the last two because of games he had.

He showered and got dressed. His way of hiding from people outside of his circle is going with a bucket hat and some glasses.

He picked his phone from the nightstand and grabbed his keys, leaving to his friends house.

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You and your friends were pre gaming before going to Mario's party. You were so excited to finally be out and enjoying the time you lost.

But as your Abu says, even the saints cry over the lost time.

So, it's better to start to get it, then lose it by being all sad at home. And that's exactly what you friends will helped you about.

After about an hour or so, you find that it's time to go to the party. You check yourself in the mirror, detailing the things that needed it.

Your friend was the designated driver so you can drink and have fun. You are usually the designated one, but today is your day, so you don't worry about it.

When you got there, you went straight to Mario. He was an amazing friend and you love him and appreciate him with all your heart.

"I thought you weren't coming."

"When have I ever said no to a party?" You ask.

"Good point." He laughs. "Let's go take some shots." He grabs your hand and moves you with him inside the house.

You take not only one run but three. You grab a bottle of water, not wanting to get all bad before even enjoying for a little bit.

You walk over to your friend, she was talking with someone. You say hi and introduce yourself.

"This is Jaime." Your friend says. "He's my friend, and he's visiting Sevilla."

"That's amazing. Are you enjoying it?" You ask.

"Yes, don't get me wrong, I'm loving Sevilla, but Barcelona has its special thing."

"Oh, you are from Barcelona?" You ask excited. "I study college there."

You two make conversation around the fact that you two were living in Barcelona and you two go to college there.

"I'm going to go for a drink, but have so much fun and if you need anything we are going to be here." You smile at him.

You walk back into the house. You go to the bar table and grab something to drink now that your water is done.

You grab your favorite liquor and add some mixer. You turn back to the door, but you end throwing your drink all over someone.

"Joder, mi puta madre."

You lift your head, finding those puppy eyes. "Pablo," you say. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it."

He looks at you, surprised. He never thought he would find you at Mario's party. He tries to say something but his mouth is just open.

You want to laugh, he's dumb sometimes. You grab his arm, moving him to the side and take his glasses.

You don't even understand why you are acting this way. You should be hitting him with your heel or serving more into your cup and throwing it to his face.

But no.

You place the now dry glases back into his face. "Sorry, have a nice night." You say, leaving him there.

You don't care that he's there. You already made yourself to the idea that you two live in the same area, you have friends in common, you have a whole history together.

You aren't going to run. If he is uncomfortable, then there's the door. You already give enough care to him thar you ran out of it.

You go back to your friends with your almost to the half drink. You were going to have an amazing night with your friends, and that's all that matters.

After a few hours of you and your friends having all the fun. You danced with Mario, you danced with Javier and even danced with someone's dad who was at the party.

"I'll go to the bathroom." You say, smiling at your friends. "Don't move." You point at them.

You walk inside the house, find the bathroom, and go inside. You hear someone knocking on the door. You shrug, applying your lip oil and taking your time.

You open the door finding Gavi. He was waiting for you. "It's free now, calm down." You laugh.

You feel him grabbing your wrist. "Can we talk?"

You sigh, it really has to happen during a party?

You nod, pulling him to the front yard. There was almost no one there. It was barely any noise and people were minding their business.

You free yourself from his hold, looking at him and letting him talk. He's the one who wanted to talk, then he can do it.

"How are you?" He asks.

You roll your eyes. Was he even real?

"Pablo, go to the point." You say. "I'm not in for formalities, I'm good. Thank you."

"Okay, sorry." He lift his hands. "I want to tell you that I'm sorry that I didn't call after what happened at the game or before that game."

You stayed quiet and sp he did.

"Okay." You smile. "Thank you, now if this is all." You say, about to go away but he grabbed your arms.

"Y/n." He says, pouting. "I say I'm sorry."

"Okay?" You giggle. "I said thank you. Did you not hear me?"

He was confused.

Why didn't you care?

"I want to tell you that I let others' opinions got to me, I'm really sorry that I hurted you and told you all those things. I didn't lie. I do like you."

You smile, nodding.

"And I'm sorry that I ever put you in second place. I thought that with Antonella, I was going to get something that I never got. You are the only one for me. You are the only one who make me feel this way."

"I was not the only one, Pablo." You say. "You had other options, and you chose her before me, even tho you say I'm the only one."

You don't feel like being quiet and letting him think that it was only the side he saw the correct one, it was wrong.

"And I don't know what you want me to tell you. If you didn't find what you wanted to find and you are not happy, I'm sorry, but you are an adult, and your actions have consequences."

He blinks a few times, he's confused about why you are not understanding his point.

"I hope you find that one thing that you are looking for, I really do." You say.

You walk away from him, ready to move on with your life, but his grip on your wrist stops you.

"Y/n, I left Antonella."

You frown. "I'm sorry that it didn't work." You say.

"No, Y/n!" He says this time louder. "I'm telling you thar I left her. We can now be together."

You look at him, you focus on his features. The bushy eyebrow, he upper dimple, his big eyes, that green undertone.

You have to do something. You grab his cheeks, your lips finding his. His hands find your waist, he grips your skin.

You grab his hands, moving them away from you. With this you earn a confused look, he's not understanding what is going on.

You don't waste time and separate from him.

Your eyes found his.

You know what you have to say.

"I'm sorry, but I had to do that." You say.

"What?" He asks, confused. "Why?"

"I needed to confirm that I don't feel anything."

Pablo can't even digest your words. Why would you even do that when he just told you that he wants to be with you?

What did you even mean when you say you don't feel the same way about him? Is this a joke?

"You don't?"

You shake your head no, internally screaming from happiness that the war is finally over.

"Pablo, you got yourself a girl whose only purpose was to be your girlfriend when I was there basically begging for you to give it to me, and now you tell me that it didn't work and let's just forget and move on?" You ask.

"I didn't want to lose you if something came out wrong." He whines.

"Gavi, we had so many misunderstandings. So many moments where you left my house mad or I left yours in a fury. Moments were we both question if what we had was worth it." You remind him. "And none of that ever made me leave. Because I was sure that I loved you, but you come here and told me that you needed someone else to be sure that you love me?" You scuff. "Pablo, that's not love."

"But, I explained everything to you." He says. "I told you I left whatever I had with her and that I regret ever treating you the way I did."

Gavi shakes his head, he's not understanding why anything is going the way he ever imagined it.

Why are you being so difficult?

"Okay." You smile, shrugging.

"Y/n, que he dejado a Anto." He repeats. (I broke up with Anto)

You take a few steps closer. "Gavi," you call his attention. "Did I ask you to do that?"

That's when it hit him. You weren't going to be back with him.

You walk back into the house, ready to enjoy the rest of the night and not think about anything. You are finally free.

Your friends and you decide that you were finishing the night at home. With a bottle of some liquor and a truth or dare game.

Before leaving, you went to say goodbye to Mario. Thanking him for inviting you. You told him that you were finishing at home because it was safer.

"Oye, Y/n!" You hear someone calling you.

You turn, seeing Jaime walking over to you.

"Hola, having fun?" You ask.

"Mucha." He laughs, making you laugh with him. "Hey, want to take a shot?"

You pout. "I'm leaving, but it was really good meeting you, hope I see you around before you leave."

He nods, giving you a hug. "Can I have your Instagram?"

You nod, asking him to hand you his phone. You type your username and pass him the phone.

He checks it, saying thank you to you.

"Oh, shoot." He says. "You know the 6 from Barcelona?" He asks, impressed.

You chuckle. "Oh, Pablo?" You ask. "He's just somebody that I used to know."

"Nice." He smiles. "I followed you. I hope you follow me back so we can chat." He winks, waving at you and going back to the party.

You go to your group, helping one of your friends with her bag. You stopped at the liquor store, getting something for the night.

You all change into your pijamas and get unready, taking you makeup and jewelry off.

You do a few rounds off truth or drink, if you may say. And everybody was already a little too drunk.

"Okay, Y/n, your turn." Karla says. "Let me think."

They all think for a moment. "Oh, I know, Luisa says." Making you and everybody curious. "Do you still love Pa-?"

They all hit Luis in the arm or head. Making you laugh.

"Qué si-" You start. "Qué si me gusta Pablo?" You ask back. She nods. "Que va, ya no siento nada por él. Eso es cosa del pasado." You smile. (If I still love Pablo? No, I don't feel anything for him. That's in the past.)

🏷: @gadriezmannsgirl @messi88 @electrobutterfly @dessxoxsworld @jsprien213 @alexis1taylorr @pabl0andm3 @yaxkinnn @htpssgavi @emmdreams

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nicksolemnlyswears · 1 year ago

Note

DUDDDDE!!

I am in LOVE with your writing. I have been craving some good Han Lue works and you're filling the hole!

Everywhere is extremely lacking in quality Han Lue content bro 😭😭

But any whosies.

I was wondering if it were at all possible to request a Han work from you (from what I've seen you still have requests open so if you don't im sorry)

Specifically something about a reader who's fucking amazing at driving, and has been crushing on Han for a while, and the two decode to race (set in Tokyo) and whoever wins gets the loser to do what they want. Y'know classic setup.

You could choose where this leads to. Idc if we win or loose. All I want is a little bit of fluff sprinkled amongst some smut mayhaps. You could do this in headcannon format btw don't feel obligated to write the whole thing.

I'm just thirsting for any thing I can take 💀🙏🏼

Take your time! <3

pairing: han lue x racer!reader

words: 11.4k

warnings: some cursing and smut (pls wrap it before you tap it) don't judge my smut too much, it's been a while since i've written one

notes: hi anon! thank you for all your sweet, sweet words 🥺 i hope this is somewhere along the lines of what you were thinking of. as soon as i saw your request i was ✨inspired✨ it's been a long time since i've been so hooked by a oneshot. i have worked on it almost everyday since i received it so thank you! i changed the request just a little bit, i hope you don't mind.

trust me i know there is a ridiculous lack in han content! it's the reason i'm here writing over this man! there is not enough content for the speed i consume it, lol. i've read my own headcanons like 10 times already, excluding the times i was working on it.

anyways! might have gotten a little carried away but i enjoyed writing it so much! here you go! enjoy!

i really really hope you like it!!

Tokyo was the city where you learned how to street race. Weaving through the cars on the highway became second nature the harder you pressed the gas pedal. The neon lights turned into blurs as you sped down traffic, whether it was in search of a prize or a thrill.

You were meant to meet Han Lue. His presence became known as soon as he stepped foot in the parking complexes that serve as makeshift race tracks. He quickly became popular with the crowd, especially when he joined DK's crew.

His races were seen as exclusive, known to happen once in a blue moon. He was totally opposite to you. You took the opportunity to race any moment you could. It's what lead you to become a good racer. Practice makes perfect, after all.

'Good racer' is a bit of an understatement. You're one of the best right after DK. There's a debate about whether the second best is you or Han. Each person can take their pick. Many have suggested the idea for the both of you to race, but Han has shot down each and every one. He doesn't need to prove himself to anyone. Besides, he hasn't had anything to gain from racing you.

People like to call you 'Angel' because when you started participating in the races, you looked like an absolute angel, but soon after, they discovered you raced like the devil. You fool everyone around you, even with the way you drive. Whenever someone has to go against you, they think they have your strategy down, yet you switch it up every time.

The distinctive revving of your car alerts Han of your presence. He glances to his left, where you've parked right beside him. As you open the door and step out of your car, he opens a bag of chips, depositing one into his mouth.

You walk over to him, leaning against his car like he is. The bare skin of your back arching slightly as it touches the cool metal. "Have I missed anything?"

Han shakes his head cooly, watching his surroundings. He spares you a glance, taking in what you're wearing. A short, shimmery dress with an open back and high heels. Seems like you don't plan on racing tonight. You refuse to race in high heels. You've tried before and failed. You didn't lose, but you did break off both heels.

You feel his eyes trailing over your body, and you don't mind it. You like that you can catch his attention that way. Having a crush on a guy like Han takes work. He has every woman's attention in the racing underground. They often cling to his arms and bat their eyelashes his way, and he has gladly taken a few of them home.

"You done judging my outfit?" You say, looking at him.

"Not judging, admiring," he promptly replies with a small shrug.

That right there is what feeds into your silly little crush. Han isn't afraid of your comments or banter. If you look good, he'll say it. It's the way he says it that irks you, though. He is so nonchalant and aloof like he's commenting on the weather.

It doesn't help that he's never truly made a move on you. He considers you his friend and acts that way (most of the time, at least). You hate every moment because being his friend is the last thing you want.

"I take it you're not gonna race tonight?" He asks, already knowing the answer. He just needed an excuse to talk to you. Digging into his bag of chips, he grabbed another one to pop into his mouth.

"Not unless it's against you," you respond cheekily.

Han chuckles, "Not you too."

"Are you afraid of losing, Han?" You ask him, keeping your eyes on the race about to start. Why else would he avoid racing you?

Han props one arm on the roof of his car, facing you and saying, "If you're into racing, you can't be afraid to lose, Angel."

"Then why don't you spoil me a little and race me?" You hum, turning your head to face him. He's much closer than you anticipated, but you resist the urge to pull back despite the reddening of your cheeks. You want Han to know you like him even if you refuse to say it out loud.

"Maybe one day when I have something to race for," he responds simply, kissing your cheek and turning back to watch the race.

You release a shaky sigh and try to calm your pounding heart. Extending a hand, you dip your fingers into Han's nearly empty bag of chips and steal one for yourself. Han doesn't mind lowering the bag to make it easier for you. There's a smirk on his face as he fully well knows what he did. It's fun to make you flustered.

Han is out on the streets of Tokyo doing business or collecting his money from the greedy hands of wanna be gangsters. It's entertaining, to say the least, although sometimes it gets tedious. It's only fun when they get rowdy and want to intimidate him. They should know better than to judge Han by his calm exterior.

He's walking by the busy streets of Shibuya, the shopping district of Tokyo, minding his business. Han avoids the masses of people until he looks into a store and sees you. You're by the checkout desk, ringing out a client.

Han can't help it; he's drawn to you. Forgetting the wad money he has to collect, he enters the store. The bell on top of it chimes, prompting you to greet the customer in an abnormally cheery tone.

"Hello, welcome to-Han?" You stutter over the greeting, seeing his slightly mocking grin.

Han walks over to you and leans on the counter, there was barely anyone in the store now. Perfect timing. He assesses you and your overly pink clothes, bedazzled name tag, and glossy pink lips. It's unlike you to be so pink. He recalls you telling him you hate the wretched color.

"So this is where you work, Angel," he hums, toying with the trinkets on the checkout counter.

"Not everyone can survive with racing and sketchy side deals," You mutter. One hand on your tilted hip as you shoot him an annoyed look.

If racing made you enough money, you certainly would not be working in a store that makes you wear pink on every single shift. You could get more involved in the sketchy part of racing, but things are alright for now.

"True," Han stifles a laugh. He grabs a lollipop from the big jar filled with sweets for the paying customers and pops it into his mouth.

You extend a hand to throw away the colorful wrapping, and he places it gently on your hand, fingertips grazing your palm. You're not a teenager to be reacting over such minuscule actions, yet you do.

"What are you doing here, Han?" Han adores it when you say his name that way, pretending to be annoyed by his presence when in reality, you love having him around.

"Wanted to visit my favorite girl," he responds aloofly, carefully gauging your reaction. As he expected, your cheeks redden, and you try to hide it.

"Did you know lying makes your nose grow long," you scoff, rolling your eyes.

"Could be useful," Han says cheekily, causing your blush to deepen.

"If you're not going to buy anything, you can't be here," you shoot with a pout.

You weren't prepared to face Han this afternoon. You didn't get to repeat your affirmation as you do every night you encounter him. His constant playfulness throws you off, not giving you the opportunity to compose yourself.

"Oh no, consumerism got its claws on you," he jokes sarcastically. You glare at him and cross your arms over your chest, which only emphasizes the size of your chest. "Fine, help me find a new jacket?"

You round the counter and motion for Han to follow you toward the men's section. Your coworker will have no problem taking over the checkout counter.

You shoot Han question after question in search of the perfect jacket for him: colors, textures, durability, versatility, sizing, and so on. He responds just as quickly, propping an arm up and leaning against a rack of clothes as he watches you storm all over the store in search of the item that screams Han. He had no intentions of buying anything today but seeing how invested you got it leaves him no choice.

"I quite like this one," you beam, standing Han in front of a full-length mirror. You slide off the jacket he's wearing and replace it with the nice black leather jacket you found for him. Dusting him off, you look into the mirror seeing how perfectly it fits his broad shoulders.

"Why do I feel like you're giving me the most expensive one?" Han asks, looking at himself in the mirror.

He had to admit you picked well. He looks great in the black leather jacket. It didn't have too many buckles to make him uncomfortable, and it wasn't too warm either. The material felt nice and luxurious hence his comment.

"You asked for my help," you shrug, "It's not my fault I have expensive taste. Besides, you look hot in it." You wink at Han through the mirror.

Han tries to hide the smile forming on his lips. You were getting bolder and bolder. He knows about your crush on him; you're terrible at hiding it. Truthfully, he's felt the same from the moment he saw you race. You're oblivious, though, so he likes to tease you.

"I'll take it," Han sighs, refusing to look at the price tag. "Might even wear it on a date."

"Oh, you've got a date?" Your smile falters, quickly regretting picking such a nice outfit that makes him look so handsome. You'd definitely put out if a man wore that to a date and was as lovely as Han. All of your hard work just for another girl to enjoy it. If you catch one of Han's little friends wrapped around the jacket...you will burn it.

"Not yet," he says mysteriously, taking off the jacket and returning to the checkout counter. Han has to get going. He does have to collect his money. Especially now that you've convinced him to buy the expensive leather jacket. 'It's an investment,' he tells himself.

"She'll be one lucky girl," you huff, scanning the tag, carefully folding it, and placing it on a bag. "Don't worry, I'll apply the friends and family discount."

You watch Han go through the display window and hope he was just fucking with you on the whole date thing. You can live with your crush and have him as just a friend, but if he gets a girlfriend, you will not be able to manage it. You scold yourself silently for acting like a lovesick teenager. You're better than that. Right?

Taking the party to Han's club after a race is a must, especially after winning six thousand dollars. You won't have to worry about rent for at least six months, which is something to celebrate.

You park next to Han's car, and he waits for you to enter the plain-looking building. People greet him left and right as they go through the door that pours music and lights each time it's opened.

"You sure are popular," you tease him, leisurely walking towards him.

"Comes with the territory," Han responds without missing a beat. "Ready?" He asks, motioning for you to walk ahead of him.

"Always," you chirp. You purposefully accentuate the sway of your hips, giving Han something to look at.

Being a Friday night, the inside is filled to the brim, there isn't any space for more drunken people. Using your short height to your advantage, you easily find a way to the connecting hallway between this part of the club and the more exclusive one.

Han isn't as lucky constantly losing you from his sight. He's conscious that you are a grown woman capable of making your own decisions and caring for yourself, but he'd feel better being with you.

When he catches up to you at a point, he grabs your hips, pressing you against him, preventing you from getting lost again. You look back, startled, expecting to see a stranger rubbing against you. Noticing this, Han quickly calms you, "It's just me, Angel."

'It's just Han,' you repeat to yourself. You grab onto one of his hands, holding onto your hip, taking full advantage of the situation. Having Han wrapped around you feels like being on cloud nine. If this wasn't his club, you'd be going in circles, so he never pulls away.

With Han holding onto you, the way to the 'not-so-secret' hallway takes longer than usual. Not that you're complaining, though! Han's firm grip makes you fall harder for him. It fuels your imagination on how it would feel in other situations.

Han enjoys this position just as much as you do. He can pretend it's a safety thing as he steers you away from the sweaty bodies of drunks dancing, but it's for his selfish gain.

Having your body close to him reminds him of what he's missing and desperately desires. It started as a little innocent game for Han, knowing you had a crush on him, but then it turned into something more. He likes that you have feelings for him and wants it to stay that way. Han wants your attention on him all the time. His games are over; he wants you.

To your surprise, Han doesn't let go of your waist when you enter the hallway. Instead, he slings one arm around it as he walks beside you. "Maybe we should've taken the other entrance," he smirks.

"And miss the show?" You chuckle, finding a couple making out in the deserted hallway. Neither is willing to admit it's not about the show but about Han's proximity.

Unlike all the other times in the past you've partied with Han, he doesn't let go of you for more than two minutes. You dance all night together, just the two of you, no girls coming up to Han and no guys coming up to you. There simply wasn't a window of opportunity.

"You enjoying yourself?" He says in your ear over the loud music. Your back is against his front as your sway and roll your body to the beat. One of his hands is nursing a drink, and the other is right where it should be, on you.

"I won 6k and have a cute guy buying me drinks and dancing with me. What do you think?" You giggle, turning in his arms to face him instead. The drinks stop you from overthinking and let you wrap your arms around his neck. Faces close. You want to kiss him so bad you're not drunk enough, though, and it's not the way you'd like to do it, either.

"Just making sure," he smiles down at you, hand on your lower back.

The night is long, yet with Han, it goes by so fast. Sooner than you'd prefer, he walks you to your car, no longer holding onto your waist but your hand. There are only a few stragglers left behind who refuse to acknowledge the night is over. You and Han are two of them.

Reaching your white and red, modified skyline Han opens the door for you. With one arm propped against the open door and the other extended onto the roof, Han cages you against your car. Before you get in, you turn to face him, finding the bravery to do something you've been thinking about all night.

"Thanks for tonight, Han. I had fun," you say softly, suddenly feeling shy.

"Anytime, Angel," he responds smoothly, brushing his fingers on your naked shoulder. The jacket you wore earlier was discarded somewhere in the bar. An excuse for Han to see you outside the races.

"Well, goodnight." Gathering every particle of bravery, you stand on your toes and peck his lips softly.

It's only a tiny, innocent kiss, yet it makes Han close his eyes. It happens too quickly for his liking. You have been growing bolder, bold enough to kiss him. He needs to step up his game.

Taking advantage of his distracted state, you close your car door and rev the engine. On the drive to your apartment, you squeal in excitement. Fingers ghost over your lips, replaying the small kiss over and over again.

Another chance at a race becomes available only days after your win. Men love to challenge women, especially those who are winning, much like you are.

They hate seeing you be successful, but it doesn't bother you in the least. It's another opportunity to win cash or a car, which you can use for parts and sell what you don't need.

As you roll up to the starting line, Han approaches your window, leaning down to duck his head in.

"Come to give me a good luck kiss?" You speak playfully, lips turned up into a smile.

You two haven't talked about what happened at the club and have continued to act as you usually do. He's been more touchy with you, though, often trying to find a way to be close to you. Being the lovestruck fool you are, you've encouraged it, finding those ways to let him be close.

"We both know you don't need luck. You've got this in the bag, Angel." Han speaks encouragingly, "Tell you what, though. You win, and it's yours."

"Making me earn it, I see," you laugh, shaking your head. "Alright, you've got a deal. See you on the other side."

Han is confident you'll win. With a last reassuring tap on your door, he steps back, finding his place in the crowd.

Your opponent finally drives up to the starting line, sending you an unnecessary nasty look you laugh at. The flag girl stands between the two cars, her dress leaving nothing to the imagination. You respect it. They are a lot more confident than you are in that department.

You are off when the word 'go' falls from her lips. You knew this track by heart, having raced it so many times. You knew exactly when to hit the gas and when to press the brake to get the car to swerve. Han's full attention is on your race, and when your car disappears to another level, he takes the elevator up to the top floor, where the finish line is. Watching you race is interesting. You always come up with ways to confuse your opponents.

With a bag of chips, he anxiously waits for your victory. Regardless of your ability to race and win, your races make him nervous. He cares about you, and so many things can go wrong.

The noisy crowd gets louder as the sound of tires screeching gets closer. In seconds, your car swerves onto the top floor, again marking you as the victor. There's not a scratch or bump in your car. Your opponent arrives shortly after with dents and long scratches in his paint.

The crowd cheers loudly for you, coming up to you to congratulate you and tell you how cool you looked. Your opponent comes up to you and hands you his keys with a scowl. You shrug it off. A deal is a deal.

Winning leaves you on a high, a feeling of invincibility wrapping around you. You've learned to control it because that feeling caused a big loss years ago. You get distracted by the people around you and forget Han's promise. It's funny because it was the only thing running through your head while you raced.

"Good job out there," Han says, catching up to you later in the night once the hype died down.

"Why, thank you!" You chirp, closing the hood of your car and leaning back to sit on it.

"I believe I made a promise," Han mentions, stepping close to you until you're face to face, only a few inches between the two of you. "You did," you nod, biting your lip.

Han notices this, bringing a hand up to cup your face, his thumb tugging your lip loose from the tight hold of your teeth. The other wraps around your waist, pulling you close. You slide on the warm metal of your car, placing a hand on his chest to brace yourself as Han settles between your legs.

"I'm a man of my word," he whispers, finally leaning down to press his eager lips against yours. Han is greedy for many things, and your lips are one of them. Ever since that night at the club, he's wanted to smash his lips against yours, to feel you close, taste you.

Your eyes instantly flutter close, fisting Han's shirt in your hand as if afraid he'll pull away too quickly. The kiss starts slowly as you both test the waters, but it soon becomes not enough. Han tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

It's an electric shock that consumes him and doesn't let him go. This is the result of Han holding himself back, and you made it worse when you gave him a taste the other night.

Han slips a hand under your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin. You gasp against his lips, arching your back as his cold fingers catch you by surprise. It serves as an opportunity for Han, his tongue pushing past your pouty lips, savoring the moment.

You gave into him, offering everything you have in exchange for this moment. His warmth wraps around you, burning you from the inside out. The need to breathe makes itself present too soon and becomes far more demanding than the need for each other's lips.

Han pulls away, your bottom lip between his teeth. You're breathless, as if you ran a marathon. You feel lightheaded, intoxicated by Han, who continues to peck your lips softly. He might be addicted already. The tips of his fingers draw soothing circles on your lower back, grounding you in the moment.

"So this is what winning feels like," you breathe out, smoothing Han's shirt with your palms. A futile way to hide their shakiness.

Han laughs, pressing his face against your neck and leaving a fleeting kiss behind. "Appears so, Angel."

A perk of being Han's friend is using his garage whenever you want. The days of paying for a spot to fix your car in a stranger's garage are far in the past. At the moment, you've spent the most part of the afternoon upgrading your car. The car you won on your last race sits beside yours with the hood popped open as you switched around pieces. He had quality parts, and his driving still sucked.

Twinkie, Earl, and the others are scattered around the large garage, working on different things and chattering. You had purposefully picked a spot away from them so you wouldn't get distracted. With work, your time is limited.

Han is on the second floor, leaning against the railing and pretending to watch the first floor and what they are doing. In reality, he is watching you closely.

You're bent over the hood of the car, working on unscrewing a tight bolt, cursing at the man who installed it initially. It's a sight straight out of his dreams. Your Nike sweatpants hung low on your hips, framing your ass perfectly. If he focused, he'd see the dimples on your lower back. His mind ran wild at the thought of pressing his thumbs against them while taking you from behind.

It's been a while since he's slept around. He cut himself off when he realized his feelings for you. What was the point of sleeping around if he wouldn't be satisfied? Those girls weren't you. They were temporary relief. Now, his pants tighten at anything you do. It's like he's seventeen again and unable to keep it in his pants.

He followed the curve of your ass to your arched back and the cropped shirt you wore. The matching crew neck sweater you arrived in is discarded in your car due to the heat. The revealing shirt rose with each of your movements, revealing the band of your baby blue bra. You tug on it for the millionth time today, annoyed.

The strands of hair you curled to frame your face stick uncomfortably to your sweaty forehead. You regret not putting them back into the two braids that fell over your shoulders.

Han needed to rip his eyes away from you before the others noticed. He's been staring for too long, fantasizing about everything he could do to you. To Han, you looked even more beautiful than you did that night with your sparkly dress and makeup. A woman who knows her way around a car is instantly a hundred times more attractive in his eyes.

As he accidentally visualizes you taking his cock from that same exact position, car included, you groan and straighten up. "I need help," you whine to no one in particular. The bolt is not budging, no matter how hard you try.

Han snaps out of his fantasy and springs into action, quickly appearing by your side. You've bent over again, wrench in hand, to give it one more try before giving up. He leans beside you, a hand on your lower back for faux support.

"What's the matter, Angel?" He says softly, one hand propping him up as he looks at the machinery under the hood. It's better if he helps you. He can't continue listening to your whines and groans.

"I need to unscrew those," you point at the bolts giving you a hard time.

Han asks for the wrench in your hands, and you place it in his hand, annoyed. You don't need the help of a man to do this, but it's Han, so you'll take it. You watch him as he places the wrench around the bolt, his arm tenses, emphasizing his muscles hidden by the short-sleeved button-up he wore over a white wife-beater tank.

His hair fell around his eyes as he successfully unscrewed the bolts. Feminism died as you lustfully took in Han, biting your lip. 'What a man,' you thought. You would've instantly refused the help if he had been any other guy.

"There you go," Han says, handing you the wrench. When he spares you a glance, he laughs softly. Good to know he has the same effect you have on him.

"Whatever would I do without you," you purr, shooting him a mischievous smile, "You deserve a reward." That's what it has come to, silly excuses to kiss Han because you're just friends. Nothing more.

Han looks at your lips briefly before snapping back to your eyes. You grin at him, leaning closer to kiss him for his 'hard work.' You know that he's been watching you all this time; you saw it from the reflective surface of the toolbox. Seeing his quickness to help you makes you believe he enjoyed the show.

Your lips brush teasingly against his, and just before Han can grab the back of your neck to stop the teasing, a loud bang tears through the room. Both you and Han pull away to see where the sound comes from, but Han bangs his head on the car's hood in the process.

"What the hell was that?" Han yells, rubbing the back of his head. He's annoyed that he's been interrupted.

"Sorry! The motor I was working on fell!" Earl exclaims from the other side of the garage, unaware of the daggers Han is throwing him.

"Best I get back to work," you quietly say with a chuckle, taking the piece you needed out of the car to bring it to yours.

"Yeah," Han says simply, reluctantly leaving to do his own thing.

Each and everyone that's in Han's garage returns to their business after the noisy interruption. Twinkie turns on a radio, blasting music to drown out the silence and clanking of tools. You work without interruption for the next three hours, giving your car all the love it deserves.

You clean your hands free of the motor oil and grease and search for Han. Your work for today was done. Now that you took anything valuable from the car you won, you had to sell it. You figured Han could do that for you.

"Hey, are you busy?" You ask him, seeing him working on a part by his desk.

"Nah, what's up, Angel?" He questions, dropping the screwdriver in his hand to focus all his attention on you.

Leaning on the desk casually, you begin speaking, "After I replace the bumper and give it a new paint job, can you sell that car for me?"

"Shouldn't be a problem," glancing at the car, Han agrees. It's a popular car in the racing world, and as soon as he gets the word out he's selling it, many offers will pop up.

"You're the best, Han!" You beam at him, pushing yourself off the desk to return downstairs.

"Angel, wait," he calls after you. Being your friend has been fun, yet he needs more. You shouldn't have to come up with excuses to kiss him; you should be able to do it freely whenever you want.

"Yes, Han," you ask softly, tilting your head in question.

Standing up from the rolling chair, he approaches you, "Do you want to go on a date?"

A grin sneaks past your lips before you even process what he said. Instantly, you nod your head, "I'd love to." You could combust at that moment. Finally, after months of pining, Han asked you out.

"Let's go," he smiles, grabbing your hand and guiding you to his car.

"Wait, now?" You furrow your eyebrows.

"Yes, unless you have something more important," he asks, teasing you.

"Nothing is more important, but I'm a mess," you shake your head hesitantly. You spent your afternoon working on cars, sweating, and getting covered in grease. You didn't think it would be in sweatpants when you pictured going on a date. Not to mention the state of your hair.

"No, you're not. If you must know, you've had me distracted all day," Han whispers the last part in your ear, trying to convince you even if it means giving himself away.

"Am I supposed to apologize?" You question, the corner of your lip curving into a sultry smile. You had been right all along.

"No, just agree to the date. Be spontaneous," Han bounces his eyebrows cutely.

"Let's do it," you sigh, hoping you won't regret it.

"Atta girl," Han smiles victoriously.

Han tries to remember the last time he had a proper date. Even with his ex, they just sort of happened. No date ever officially branded as such. It's why rather than asking you and waiting for the day to arrive, he decided to do it spontaneously. It leaves him no time to be nervous or to overthink things.

You slide your sweatshirt back on on the way out to shield yourself from the chilly Japanese night. Han opens the door to his car for you, shutting the door when you slip in. The drive is short as he takes you to a small family-owned sushi place he swears by.

"I'm surprised you eat more than chips and crackers," you joke with him as the food arrives, and he takes a bite.

"I definitely eat more than that," Han replies nonchalantly, referring to something else entirely. It's something you don't catch despite your dirty mind.

A discussion develops when you discover Han always orders the same thing in the restaurant. He's in Japan. He needs to throw himself into the culture and try new things.

Starting easy, you grab a piece of sushi from your plate, "You need to try this."

"I don't know," Han grimaces as he looks at the sushi held in your chopsticks.

"That's not an answer. Open your mouth," you groan, gently placing the sushi roll in his mouth.

You watch him chew slowly, getting a feel for the new food. "It's good," he agrees, liking whatever you had ordered. It was delicious, actually.

"Better than yours, right?" You ask him, knowingly, pointing your chopsticks at him.

"Yes," he rolls his eyes, refusing to give you the satisfaction.

"Told you," you sing, grabbing both plates and placing them in the middle of the table. Now you could each grab from both and share your meals.

The date goes smoothly. It's a wonder why the two of you hadn't gone to dinner before today. You already know Han is attentive and funny but his wisdom surprises you. He's already lived through so much, more than an average person. Despite being a couple years older than you, he retains his youth. That may be why he appeals to a younger crowd as well.

"What was your life like growing up?" You ask him, taking a drink from your Coke. Han ordered another plate of sushi to share, the one you chose earlier.

"My upbringing wasn't the best," he shrugs, remembering his life in California as a teen. "I was always in trouble."

"Why does something tell me that you were the one causing the trouble," you say, narrowing your eyes.

"I definitely was," he chuckles, "But in the end, it brought me here, and I'm happy."

Han believes in the timing of life. He's been after Tokyo for so long. Before stepping foot in Tokyo, he had to go through the Dominican Republic, Rio, Germany, Shanghai, London, and many more places. It was supposed to happen that way, or he wouldn't have met you.

"I knew it," you sigh dramatically, "I've always been into bad boys."

"What about you, Angel?" He returns the question, curious about your past.

"I grew up in a normal Japanese family. My dad's a mechanic, my mom a nurse, and my sister a pain in the ass. I went to school for engineering and graduated with top honors," you tell him, reminiscing on your not-as-impressive past.

"You say that as if it's easy to graduate with top honors," Han chides you, to which you roll your eyes. "Why work retail? Doesn't engineering make you a lot more money?"

"Don't laugh, okay?" You point at Han. When he agrees not to laugh, you continue, "I wanted to be a Formula 1 racer when I was younger. My dad signed me up to participate in smaller competitions, and I was pretty damn good. My mom was totally against it and forced my dad and me to quit.

Fast forward, I'm in college, and engineering seemed like the way to go. Learned about street racing and figured that could be a way back into my dream. It's a foolish thought. The professionals spend years in proper circuits practicing and competing. No one comes with a background of illegal racing."

Han wasn't expecting that answer. He assumed you hated engineering and did it to appease your parents. He wonders why you thought he would laugh. Your dream is nothing to laugh at. Having witnessed your racing, you undoubtedly had the innate talent. "So retail?" He prompts, realizing you didn't answer the first question.

Snapping your fingers, you say, "Right! I figured I'd always have my degree. I'd rather spend my time having fun now; when the time comes, I'll return to that. I do like it, but I'm not ready to commit to a life of 9 to 5's. I prefer spending my time in the wee hours of the night racing. Since I can't be a Formula 1 racer, I'll be a street racer. Much cooler, anyways."

"That takes guts," Han tells you, "I'm glad you're doing it."

You give him a little shrug and a smile because you were too. Despite your childish dream dying when your mom forced you to quit, you're still happy with your life. Especially if you end up with a guy like Han.

Han, being a gentleman, pays for dinner. Before returning to the car, you stop by a convenience store for dessert. Han follows you buying snacks for himself. In search of something sweet, you find a shelf filled with Pocky. You grab the chocolate-covered ones with a plan in mind.

You and Han sit at a table outside the convenience store. It was getting late, so only a few people were around. You open the packet of Pocky, taking out a chocolate-covered stick.

"Have you ever played the Pocky game?" You ask, taking a bite of the treat.

"No. What is it?" Han looks at you curiously.

"Essentially, you grab one end of the Pocky stick, and I grab the other. We have to eat it, but if one of us pulls away, they lose," you respond simply, hiding the game's purpose.

"That sounds awfully like Lady and the Tramp," Han mentions, catching onto your intentions.

Offering him a stick, you say, "Want to play?"

Han smiles at you and grabs the Pocky stick placing the biscuit end between his teeth. You hold the chocolate-covered end and tap his hand to start. You both take it slow, Han opting to stay still as you near his lips. You tilt your head when you're close to his lips, giving him the perfect opportunity to kiss you when only a small piece is left.

You smile into the chocolate-flavored kiss. If you wanted to kiss Han, you could've done it without so many sneaky plans or excuses, but it wouldn't be as fun.

"So, who won?" Han asks when you pull away.

"Does it matter?" You cheekily say, pulling him back in for another kiss.

There's no flaw in your reasoning. Han pulls you close, lifting your legs to lie in his lap. You spend more time than you care to admit making out outside the convenience store.

Han offers to drive you to your apartment since your car needs to be finished. Throughout the drive, his hand is laced with yours in your lap. Small talk flows between you as you continue to learn about each other.

Smoke coming from your apartment building cuts that conversation short. Firefighters stand outside the building, spraying water into the source of the fire. Han steps out of the car with you to ask anyone what is going on.

Noticing the building manager across the street, you approach him. He quickly blurts out all the information he knows. You're one of many of the tenants to approach him. "There's a fire on the sixth floor. We don't know the damage yet. I understand this is your residence, but you need somewhere else to say for the next few days while we asses the damage and inspect the building."

"What am I going to do?" You groan, covering your face with your hands. You worry about where you'll stay and your stuff in your apartment. You have important documents in there.

"You can stay with me," Han offers without a hint of hesitation.

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose." It's nice of Han to offer you a place to stay, but would it be too much at this stage of their situationship. Last thing you want is to push boundaries.

"You're not imposing. Let me help you," Han insists, grabbing your hand to rub soothing circles in it. It's a given he has feelings for you, but before that, you are his friend, and he's not going to leave you out on the streets or sleeping in your car.

Han offers you calming words on the way to his apartment. Your apartment is on the twelfth floor and the other side of the fire. Chances are that your stuff will probably be fine. Whether the building will close for renovations is another matter entirely.

His apartment is just another level to the building he owns. Its entrance is on a more private side. Inside, it's very clean and organized, a surprise since you expect most guys to be messy. Picture frames and knick knacks are scattered throughout the space, giving you more of a glimpse into Han's life.

It's quiet between the two of you but comfortable. Han is giving you time to process what you saw in your building. He offers you his shower if you'd like, and when you brought up you didn't have any clothes, he searched for a clean t-shirt and sweatpants you could borrow from him.

A shower is just what you need as you let the water cascade down your body. Fire aside, it has been a great day, even before Han asked you on a date. Hope fills your being at the prospect of soon beginning a relationship with Han. So far, everything points out it can happen. There haven't been any red flags or hesitation from him.

You change into the oversized t-shirt Han picked out for you and the spare pair of underwear you always carry in your bag. Smart girls know to carry a spare in case of emergencies. You debate about wearing the sweatpants he left for you but choose against it. The t-shirt covers enough.

You shyly make your way out of the bathroom in search of Han. You find him in the bedroom, grabbing an extra pillow and blanket. "The bed is yours," he mentions, eyes briefly trailing your naked legs.

"Where will you sleep?" You ask, furrowing your eyebrows. If anyone has to sleep on the couch, it should be you.

"I'll take the couch," he responds, as you expected.

"Han, stop being a gentleman and get in bed with me," you say, taking the pillow from his grasp and placing it back on the top of the bed.

He offers you an 'Are you sure?' look, and you nod confidently. He doesn't need to be told twice. Han steps out of the bedroom for a few minutes and grabs a shower. Taking that time, you get on the bed to get comfortable, it's soft, and you sink into it.

You're snoozing off when he returns to the room. Han carefully peels back the sheets and gets under them. Feeling the bed dip, you turn to the side to face him.

Your sleepy mood makes you cuddle up to him without much thought. The smell of his soap invades your senses. Han naturally accepts it, throwing an arm around your waist and hugging you closer, legs intertwined. He kisses the top of your head, finding comfort in the position.

Thankful doesn't begin to cover how you feel. There's this overwhelming sense of security that comes with Han. There is something about him that makes you trust him. Deep down, you know he wouldn't intentionally hurt you.

"How are you feeling?" Han checks up on you before you fall asleep.

"I'm okay. I hope none of my things got damaged," you mumble into his chest, pressing a kiss into it afterward. "Thank you for everything, Han. Your help with the car, the date, letting me invade your bed," you finish with a soft laugh.

"Anytime, Angel," he responds truthfully. If he can help you in any way, he will. Sleep consumes both quickly after, and it becomes the best night you've both had in a while.

The following day you're the first to wake. Han's arms are around your waist, and you feel his breath tickle the back of your neck. He's warm, and you just want to sink into it even more. Your need to pee pries you out of his embrace, though.

As carefully as possible, you slip out of his loose grasp and head to the bathroom. Han had picked out a toothbrush for you the night before, which you're thankful for. Shuffling out of the bathroom, you cook breakfast for Han as a 'thank you' for his hospitality.

You pick the ingredients you need from his fridge, careful not to make too much noise. Your progress is slower than you prefer as you get used to the kitchen layout and localize everything you might need.

Soon enough, you drop pancake batter into the pan, and while that cooks, you scramble eggs with veggies. Since it's his kitchen, you assume he'll like what you make. It's his ingredients, after all.

Just after finishing the last batch of pancakes, you hear the patter of Han's feet entering the kitchen. You turn to glance at him quickly and greet him, "Good morning! I made you breakfast, sit!"

"You didn't have to do that," Han says, coming up behind you. He traps you between his body and the stove as if having you close last night wasn't enough.

"Yes, I did! You let me stay here, borrow clothes, sleep in your bed," you flip the pancakes as you count all the nice things he's done in less than 24 hours.

Humming, unconvinced, Han kisses your cheek and thanks you. It sends a tingle between your legs as his voice is raspy and deep from sleep. Your cheeks flare up, betraying you as always.

Han follows your orders and sits by the kitchen table, waiting till you're done to begin eating. With that time in his hands, he observes you. You're wearing the t-shirt he loaned you, which swallowed your frame. Each time you flipped a pancake, it rose slightly to reveal the light green fabric of your panties. Han soaked the sight in and wondered if this was what waited for him in the near future.

His eyes continue trailing down to your thick thighs. He wouldn't mind being trapped between them. Lower and lower, his gaze went from your pretty legs to your varnished toes. Back up, it went as you turned off the stove and approached the table. You weren't wearing a bra under the t-shirt, as your nipples poked through the thin fabric.

Han's glad he didn't notice these things last night, or he wouldn't have been able to sleep a wink. Spreading his legs, he tried to hide the hard-on he was sporting. None the wiser, you sit on the empty chair near him and tell him to eat up.

Shooing the dirty thoughts from his mind, Han thanks you one more time and digs in. It's a lovely morning, with light chatter bouncing between you. Han praises your cooking every chance he gets and even finishes the pancakes you left over but not before drenching them in more syrup. When both of you are done, you clear the plates and place them in the sink to wash.

"Angel, come 'ere," Han calls from behind you.

Mindlessly you walk over to him, wondering what he wants. Han grabs your waist, pulling you to his lap. "Han, what are you doing? I have to do the dishes!" You squeal, holding onto him, afraid he'd let you fall.

"No, you don't," he speaks softly, one hand cupping your cheek.

"I don't?" you prompt, leaning into his touch.

"Let me properly thank you," he offers, lips chasing yours. Han can't contain himself any longer. You've done a number on him, strutting around his kitchen in your underwear. He wants you. He needs you.

You lean into the kiss as you always do, pouring everything you have into it. Tasting the coffee on his tongue, you bring your hand around the back of his neck, softly tugging the long strands of hair. Han groans into the kiss, having missed that sensation.

Repositioning yourself, you straddle Han in the rickety kitchen chair. You feel his hands all over your body, trailing down your back to grasp your ass in his palms. Every so often, you'd resurface to breathe but dip down again and again to continue kissing him.

Han feels himself harden as you rub your center against him deliciously. It's clear as day you want him just as much as he wants you.

"Want to spoil me and fuck me?" You breathe heavily, kissing Han's neck.

"So bold," Han chuckles, his hands wandering under the t-shirt to feel your warm skin, his nails faintly scratching your back, sending shivers down your spine. "Six months ago, you would've been too scared to ask me that."

Six months ago, you would've been too scared to kiss him on the cheek, but you've come a long way. As time passes, you realize your feelings are not one-sided because Han means every word he speaks to you despite his taunting nature. Each and every complement is honest.

"I got tired of waiting around for you," you bite back, nipping his neck and sucking a pretty bruise on it.

Han hisses at the momentary sting, "I thought I was just a friend?"

You laugh sarcastically, picking your head up to stare at him, "I don't let friends kiss me or grope my ass."

"What does that make me then?" Han raises an eyebrow, cheekily squeezing your ass as a smirk forms on his lips.

"Special," you shrug, lips pouty and swollen.

"Because?" He wants to hear you say that you feel something for him. It's a last hurrah on giving you a hard time for fun.

You realize it's time to be honest and come out with it. You stopped hiding your feelings a while ago. Hell, you even asked Han to fuck you. All that's left is to admit your feeling out loud. "Because I have feelings for you, Han Lue," you whisper, brushing the hair that threatens to fall over his eyes.

"That's all you had to say," Han murmurs, catching your lips in a passionate kiss.

The heat rises with each passing moment. Your feelings have now come to a boil and bubbled over. Han picks you up easily and sits you on the kitchen table. He leaves his touch on your naked back to trace the outside of your thighs. It's time to give you precisely what you asked for and what he has been fantasizing about for far too long.

Grabbing the elastic band of your panties, Han slides them down the curve of your ass and your thighs until they are off. He throws them somewhere in the room, the information unimportant for now.

"Han, please," you whine, spreading your legs wider and giving him access to your most private part. You beg between kisses to feel his touch where you need it most.

"So impatient, Angel." Han jabs lightly as his right-hand touches the inside of your thigh. The pads of his fingers brush over your thighs repeatedly, nearing the apex more and more with each stroke.

You gasp as he finally dips a finger into your folds, gathering the slick that formed to spread it around your bundle of nerves. You gasp, breaking the kiss and throwing your head back.

Han sucks on your neck and collarbones as you moan into the air. Slipping a finger into your tight walls, he groans, thinking about how they'll feel around his hard cock.

"Fuck, Han, feels so good," you sigh when Han adds another digit into your soaking core and presses on your clit with his thumb.

"I didn't realize I made you this wet," he says into your neck as you grind your hips into his hand. You must've been wanting this for as long as he has.

"Liar," you respond, staring at him with hooded eyes. The nights you've touched yourself while thinking about him are many. The real thing is a million times better.

Han watches you intently, catching every little reaction you have to his touch. The moans and whines echo through the room and are music to his ears. Without a doubt, there's a wet patch in his boxers as his tip leaks precum from the erotic sight in front of him.

Your walls clenching around him alert him you're close, and promptly after you make it known as you beg him not to stop, except he doesn't listen and stops just as you're about to cum.

"Why did you stop?" You complain, eyes wide in desperate need.

"Want you to cum on my tongue," he responds, stealing a quick kiss before he kneels on the floor. Wrapping his strong arms around your thighs, he scoots you closer to the edge.

His words shoot another current down your legs, no doubt making more of a mess. You wait with bated breath as Han kisses the inside of your thighs, making eye contact with you as he delves into your pussy.

He licks up from your hole up to your clit. You grasp his hair with one hand, pulling the t-shirt up with the other to better look at him going down on you. Your eyes roll involuntarily when Han wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and flicking it with his tongue. His long fingers find your opening once more, sliding in effortlessly.

You try to maintain eye contact with Han through it all. If his hair fell on his eyes, you'd quickly brush it back, not wanting to miss his lustful gaze. It spurred Han on to see you crumbling over him, biting your lip as you tried to hide the pretty cries that wanted to fall from your lips.

Han stops licking your clit and slows his thrusting fingers each time you near your orgasm. Time and time again, he repeats this when you're near the edge. Only when your arousal coats his hand he keeps his pace, and as you whine out, 'gonna cum, don't stop,' he slips his tongue into your pussy, tasting your cum directly from the source.

He makes a great example of what his nose can do as it brushes over your clit while he tongue fucks you. You trap Han between your legs as your pussy clenches, your orgasm coming in waves. As you relax back onto the kitchen table, Han continues to lick your puffy center, being careful with your sensitive nub.

When he stands, you fist his t-shirt, smashing your lips together, tasting your essence. "Let's take this to the bedroom," Han pants. You nod eagerly and squeal when he picks you up, your legs wrapped around his waist.

You leave a trail of kisses on his neck as he makes his way to the bedroom. Once there, you both fall on the bed, Han hovering over you. He tugs on your t-shirt, "As much as I love seeing you in my clothes, this has to come off."

Without the shirt, he can admire your naked body. A lone finger slides down from your neck to your sternum. It slides to your side near the curve of your left breast, where a small sakura flower is tattooed.

"This is my new favorite thing about you," Han softly says, noticing you staring at him.

The tattoo was an impulsive thing to do. You had wanted a tattoo for years but never knew what to get. After your last breakup two years ago, you got the little flower instead of getting bangs and dying your hair. It has no real meaning to you. It's just a cute flower.

"You're the first to see it since I got it done," you tell him, a laugh bubbling from your lips as his touch on your ribs tickles.

"And I hope it stays that way," he responds. It's an unspoken promise. He wants you all to himself for the foreseeable future.

His finger continues the trajectory down your tummy, lightly going over your belly button before it traces over your mound and dips to touch your clit.

You gasp at the surge of pleasure as your clit remains sensitive from his previous actions. "Gotta say it's not fair that I'm the only one naked," you moan when Han continues to circle your nub.

"What are you gonna do about it?" Han incites you to see what you'll do.

Any remaining shyness you had is long gone as lust replaces it. You kneel in front of Han, who leans back to watch you. Your chest is close to his face, so when you lean closer to grab the hem of his shirt, he sucks one of your nipples.

"Han," you whine, arching your back," "Stop distracting me."

Ignoring his mouth on you, you grab his shirt and pull it off. Successfully making him stop his attack on your breasts. You peck his lips and kiss down his jaw.

You take your time kissing his toned chest and stomach. You wish to memorize every part of him. "You're so handsome, Han," you purr, glancing up at him.

Those simple words that spilled from your mouth made his heart flutter. Han is used to being the one to dish out compliments and praise the women he's with. To have you say that is like a breath of fresh air, and he can't wait to have more.

"Fuck, Angel," he groans, grasping your chin. You kiss his palm with a smile that's equally angelic and devilish.

You want to peel two more layers off Han's body and decide to do it all at once. Grasping the band of his pants and boxers, you slowly pull them down, building anticipation.

His cock springs out of its confines, landing on Han's abdomen. You don't hide your curious gaze as you take in his cock. It's so big it makes you bite your lip in anticipation. The tip is a dark pink as it drips with precum.

After you remove his pants entirely, you grasp his cock, feeling the warmth and weight of it. Han breathes out through his nose, a futile attempt to keep his cool. A string of saliva drips from your lips, coating his hard length. Each stroke you made caused a bead of pre to spill from him.

You take it as an invitation to taste him, wrapping your lips around his head your tongue licks the beads of white.

Han does the impossible not to push your head down to take all of him. The thought is present, though. You've barely teased him compared to how he teased you, but Han can no longer resist.

"I need you," Han groans, calling out your name, not the nickname you've been donned for the past three years.

You don't take it for granted. Hearing your name sends you into overdrive. Han pulls you up to kiss you and lies you down on the top of the bed. He comfortably gets between your legs that hug his waist to bring him closer. His cock brushes your wet pussy, and you both hiss at the sensation. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the thought of having Han fill you entirely.

"You ready, Angel?" Han asks you. One arm holding him up and the other wrapped around your thigh, giving you a comforting squeeze. Time stops ticking at that moment. It's just you and Han wrapped in each other.

"I've been ready for the past month, Han. Fuck me, please," you plead quietly, your fingertips running up and down his back.

"Just because you said, please." Han lines his cock up to your entrance and pushes past your lips into your warm center. Relief floods through the both of you, but it soon dissipates, and it's replaced by waves of unfiltered lust.

Han starts fucking into you deep, at the perfect pace. Your eyes involuntarily close as you feel Han's cock stretching you open and filling you like never before. Han kisses your temple and releases sexy moans into your ear with words of encouragement.

'Such a tight pussy just for me.'

'Taking me so good, Angel.'

'Can't get enough of you.'

You echo his words, encouraging him to keep fucking you. Your nails dig into his back as you try to hold on to anything, and your heels dig into his lower back. The closeness between you is intoxicating, your scents mixing and becoming one, his hair ticking your face, his warm skin heating up yours.

Han slows the pace momentarily, leaning back on his knees to see your pretty cunt taking his cock. He wants to commit to memory how your pussy spreads to make way for his cock, a white ring on the base of his cock, and how your little clit is exposed and vulnerable to his touch.

The other girls he's slept with only got part of his attention and dedication. He didn't mean to make a huge impression. He only did his job, often choosing to lie back and let them do as they pleased with him.

With you, it's different. He wants to give you his all and leave a great impression. He'll do all the work; you can just take it if that's what you want. That's the difference between you and the other girls. He lived to spoil you.

Meanwhile, you fall apart under him, moaning incoherent phrases he can barely make out. He loves hearing them, though. You reach for Han's hand as he increases his pace and grips it tightly.

Han slips his cock out of you, wanting to make his fantasy a reality. You shudder at the empty feeling and whine, "No, don't stop."

"Come on, Angel. Get on your knees," Han coo's at you, kissing your pouty lips. "Promise you'll cum soon."

Han positions you on your knees, your back arched as your tits rub against the bed sheets. You huff through it all, desperate to have him pounding into you again. He smacks your ass when you wiggle it to get him to do what you want.

Han enters you in one smooth motion, this position amplifying your pleasure as he hits the spongy spot inside of you more directly.

"Han!" You cry out, fisting the sheets underneath you.

"I'm right here, Angel," Han breathes, snapping his hips rhythmically.

Just as he visualized, he grabs your hips in his large hands and digs his thumbs into the dimples on your back. With a tight hold, he thrusts into you unrelentingly, and you push back onto him just as eagerly. Your cries are muffled by the pillow you're hugging to your face.

Your pussy swallows him with each thrust, even as it clenches to prepare for orgasm. He can't hold back any longer as his balls clench with each faltering thrust, and your walls squeeze him tighter than ever.

" 'm cumming," you squeal, your legs tense up and shake. Your walls contract and release in a rhythmic motion that sends Han over the edge, your name on the tip of his tongue.

Han pulls out of you, helping you get back onto a comfortable position, and lies beside you, catching his breath. He turns to look at you, and you do the same. You can't hold his gaze long as you furiously blush.

Han laughs, grabbing your hand to lace your fingers together. "You can't get shy now!"

"I can't control it!" You exclaim, hiding your face with the same pillow as earlier.

The rest of the day is spent in bed. Han ignores his daily responsibilities and stays in, getting lost in your touch and making promises he hopes to keep.

One Year and a Half Later...

You drive up to the empty parking complex. It's similar to the one you spend your nights on. Driving up the floors, you find Han where he told you he'd be. He leans against the familiar orange car, a bag of chips in his hands. A nice lather jacket covers his arms, making you smile when you remember how he got it in the first place.

"Hey, you wanted to meet me here?" You question, getting out of your car.

Approaching him, you kiss his salty lips and wait for an explanation regarding the random meet-up spot. In the entire year and a half of you dating, he's never asked you such a weird request.

"You feeling up to race?" Han asks you, holding your hand in his.

It's been years since the two of you met, and for the same amount of time, people have been pining you two to race. He denied every request, including the ones you threw every once in a while.

"It's about time," you exclaim, excitement filling your body. "What's at stake?"

There is something up Han's sleeve. You know that much. There is something he wants from you if he suddenly wants to race you. He could just ask. You'll give him everything he desires. You play along, though.

"Winner gets the other's car," he offers, pushing himself off the car to wrap his arms around you to hug you, his thumb soothingly brushing over the spot where your tattoo is. He last saw you when you left for your new engineering job early in the morning.

"You're willing to sacrifice your car?" You chuckle, implying you are going to win.

"It's only fair," he shrugs, kissing your cheek.

With one last peck, he lets you go and gets in his car. You follow his lead, lining up your car to the imaginary starting line. Han sets up a timer, and once it went off, both cars lurched forward at high speeds.

You focus on the race, forgetting it's Han you're competing with. You've been dying to go against him for so long, desperate to find out who was the better racer between the two.

As expected, Han makes it hard for you. The race is neck and neck as you drift up the floors of the building. Whenever Han takes the lead, you find a way to get ahead. You see the end near, and Han threatens to surpass you, but with one last boost, you keep your position, winning the race.

You leap out of your car, feeling the high of the race. No one has kept you on your toes for so long. It's a satisfying win. Han walks out of his car more calmly, smiling, happy to see you celebrate. It didn't matter to him that you were better. You deserved it.

"I can't believe I won," you exclaim, jumping into his arms as he spins you around.

"I can, and I'm so proud," Han says, kissing all over your face.

The race's prize is forgotten as you celebrate, but Han reminds you by handing you his keys, "A deal is a deal." You take the keys from him as a mere formality. You're not taking Han's precious car. Racing him is enough for you.

The weight of the keys is strange to you. They tend to be much heavier. Opening your palm to inspect them, you see that his keychains and spare keys are missing. In their place is a diamond ring.

"Han, what-" you stutter, whipping up to look at him.

"My car is yours. I figured I could be yours too. Will you marry me?" Han takes the keys from you, getting down on one knee and removing the ring from the holder.

From all the possible scenarios you had in mind from this clandestine meeting, Han's proposal was not one of them. Nevertheless, you have your answer instantly.

"Yes," you nod, choking back a sob.

Han grabs your hand and slides the ring onto your fourth finger. It's a perfect fit, just like Han. You drop down in front of Han, ignoring the dirty floor, to kiss and hug him.

Han kisses away your tears, a smile permanently etched on his face. He never thought he'd see the day he would settle down, but this past year has been near perfection with you, and he doesn't see himself with anyone else.

"Did you let me win to set this up?" You ask him later that night. His arms are wrapped tightly around you as you lie on his chest.

"No," he answers simply, kissing your head.

"You let me win," you then say assertively.

"No, I did not, Angel," he answers again, hiding his smile in your hair.

"I don't believe you. We have to race again," you tell him, lifting your head to glance at him.

"I don't have a reason to. I've got everything I want right here. Take the win, Angel," Han tells you sweetly, his fingers playing with your ring.

"For now," you huff, settling back down and cuddling up to him.

Fin.

thank you for reading! i didn't mean for it to be this long although i'm sure you guys are not complaining!

this was so much fun to write. guys like i am in love with han lue, i've spent hours on tiktok watching han lue and sung kang edits. i need help! tell me i'm not the only one like this!

requests are still open ❤️

#request #han lue imagine #fanfiction #fast and furious fanfiction #fast and furious #han lue fanfiction #han seoul oh #han lue x reader #han lue request #han lue #han lue imagines #han x reader #han x you #han lue smut #smut

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simp4konig · 1 year ago

Text

Intimate König headcannons

Gender-neutral Reader

Word Count: 1246

*FLUFFFFFF!!!!! YES FINALLY WE (I) LOVE THAT ☁️☺️💫

MANY THANKS TO @puff0o0💫🩵🫂💙🩵✨⭐ FOR GIVING ME TJE IMMEDIATE INSPIRATION TO WRITE THIS 🥰🥰💖 LOVE U SM POOKS I AM SO THANKFUL TO HAVE SOMEONE LIKW YOU AS MY MUTIAL 🥹🥹🥹 YOU ARE SO SWEET AND DESERVE THE WORLD (and to be with your crush😤 fuckingGOD im in AGONT when the FUCK is the wedding gonna be 😭😭💔)

Was down in the dumps and feeling really guiltt for not delivering fanficgions on time but you really reassure me and make ot seem like its alright for me to take my time 😇 Honestly am forevr used to the stress of deadlines and alwahs achieving expectations always expected of me thay i always feel intense guilt whenever i delay 😿😿 Thank you so mucj for your love and support uour messages are whay have kept me going 🙏🙏💖🫂(and motivated me immediately to write this in <5 hours LOL🤭)

also pls do NOT track my ip address puff PLEASE this is some next-levdl fbi investigation type shit and im honestly SHOOK are u secretly an fbi agent ?????😰😰never poetinf screenshots ever AGAIN ❌🚫‼️

*Physical intimacy (not sex guys🗿) headcannons for before your relationship and during your relationship

Tag List ♡ @simpforkonig ♡ @abysslovesyou ♡ @puff0o0 ☆ @rustic-guitar-notes ☆ @happy-mushrooms ♡ @reyner-lee

...

König's crush on you was not subtle. At ALL.

My personal headcannon is that he has never had a girlfriend/boyfriend/lover before. :(

I mean, bullied at school, enlisting into the military aged 17, climbing up the ranks to become a Colonel... yeah, to me it doesn't sound like the man would ever have time to find a significant other.

Oh, don't get me wrong, he would devote so much time to a partner (if he had one), would coddle them and cuddle them more than humanly possible and spend every, making the most out of every moment together. Precious hours never taken for granted that he dreamed of while on deployment.

...Yet, having no experience with receiving affection and being affectionate since being a very young boy, when his mother was still around to take care of him before he attended secondary school, up to this point he had ZERO (0) experience.

Still, König ALWAYS had a hand over your body in some way, under the guise of protecting you and keeping you out of harm's way. It was endearing that he cared so much about your well-being. 🥹

Resting a large hand on the small of your back as he guided you down crowded rooms (though that was almost always a pretence, as there would actually be very few people around, and it was only his excuse for touching you).

Leading you out, his hand would be quickly replaced by his arm wrapping around your side and pulling you close, closer even than you had been moments prior.

Truth be told, the way he touched you was the way he longed, craved for someone else to touch him. To long for him and crave him as much as he craved you.

It wasn't like you were oblivious. In fact, you were hyper-aware of the skin-to-skin touch, of every instance his fingers grazed your knuckles when handing you something, of every "accidental" bump of your head into his chest in corridors, of each time he rested a hand on your shoulder. Or on your back for reassurance — though, whether it was for your reassurance or his own, you couldn't tell.

All his touches, his gazes at your from afar and up close, the way his pale blue eyes crinkled in happiness under that long hood of his: all of it; you noticed it all. Every single time.

Obviously, you didn't object. You relished in this attention, so touch-starved that each touch made you melt. Besides, how could you even? You became putty in his hands, and you revelled the feeling of being so loved.

...However, your own intrusive thoughts insisted that you wouldn't be good enough for König, did not deserve such a man like him.

As much as it pained you to do so, you shied away from his advances, always the first to pull away.

And, of course, König noticed it. Every single time.

His immediate thought was that you didn't feel the same way. That you felt disgusted, disgusted by him and his touch.

Did you not like the way he touched you? Did you not like him?

Therefore, for a while, he toned down the touching. A simple pat on the back or a tap on the shoulder would have to suffice, despite his desperate need to feel more of you, touch you more.

Judging your reactions, scrutinising your cues... you weren't disgusted. Not in the slightest, it appeared.

You just looked... flustered. Shy. A hand would go up to hide the blush on your cheeks — nothing discreet about that — stubbornly avoiding his gaze, yet a small smile was on your face, and it made him wonder: what if you really did like the way he touched you? Liked him?

His touches became more daring. Confident.

One day, all of his anxiety ceased to exist when you reciprocated his touch with some of your own.

The hand kept in place of your hip flinched slightly at yours timidly moving to touch the top of his, interlocking fingers over his palm. Momentarily causing König to short-circuit, he became stiff, audibly gulping.

Adam's apple swallowing the dryness of his throat, he looked at you, frantically attempting to read the expression on your face.

You said nothing, didn't look at him at all, yet through that gesture alone König understood it better than had you could have ever said it in words.

For a moment, you regretted it. Even made a move to sheepishly pull your hand away. König, finally pulled out of his daze, held your hand in place, squeezing it three times. You squeezed it three times, too.

Suddenly, it all made sense to him, and, somehow, made sense to you too. You two were meant to be together, regardless of your insecurities.

Now, your dynamics shifted slightly.

Hands held together as you two sat by each other in a room, neither acknowleding the situation in case the other pulled away in embarassment. Never parting ways without a good-bye hug from you, your arms lingering by his own for a moment longer than they should have.

When you two are finally in a relationship?

☠️ Say goodbye to privacy and personal space ig

König is unbelievably clingy, and literally clings on to whatever of you he can reach. He does not let you go. There can be no compromise, and he keeps you in place, despite your protests and squirming, face flushed as you tried to playfully push him off you, obviously to no avail.

At the same time, König's touch is so, so gentle.

Tentative touches on your skin as if your body was precious porcelain, a fragile fine china.

Callous hands that had killed so many in cold blood running across your back, your arms, your waist, your legs, anywhere that König could reach, with a mildness that could have made people question whether it was even the same man and if so, how he could ever be capable of being so soft.

It doesn't matter whether you go to the gym regularly and have put on muscle or whether you are someone on the more petite side, you're so delicate to König. Like you could be broken at any moment.

For that reason, he holds back. Or, at least, tries to, for the most part. Bless his soul, he tries his best, but it's impossible not to cradle your body in his arms. <3

Unable to restrain himself, his resolve breaks after five minutes of going without you under him or on top of him or beside him or entangled with him, and his hands go back to touching you all over again, caressing you with such care and love that tears often brim in your eyes.

No one has ever been so gentle, so attentive, so loving. No one has ever touched you like this before.

And, seeing how you allow yourself to be vulnerable with him, to see you so sensitive, he would wordlessly wipe the tears away with his thumb, your eyes glassy like a doll's.

He'd run his fingers through your hair, whisper sweet nothings in a mix of English and German, often forgetting to speak in English and unconsciously reverting to German, calling you the loveliest things in a tone that expressed his complete devotion to you.

And, as you'd sleep peacefully beside him in bed, he'd admire you, and wonder how on Earth he possibly could have gotten so lucky.

...

Note: can i please have my own König irl please and thank you🙏🥰 want nothing more than a big beefy man to hold me 🥹❤️❤️(😭 man i need some mentsl help 🗿thays for another day tho am not wbout to get into the catastrophic state of my brain😊✨gonna keep deluding mtself instead !!<3)

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madstronaut · 25 days ago

Text

truth can be stranger than fiction, but sometimes they also hold hands and kiss

I was gunning to post this in September but A Lot of Life™️ happened (and is still happening tbh) so despite me pouting at myself about skipping a month, without further ado - my 24th faficowrimo ramble~

every now and then, the fiction I read and my lived experiences tangle together in my head and coagulate into some interesting dreams...some of my favorites ofc are the smutty ones, what can I say I've always had an active imagination

Some of my beloved fics I note as comfort reads or cathartic reads, depending on how I'm feeling and the nature of the story...this falls squarely under cathartic for me

I will temporarily sidestep the mountain pile of naughty dreams to share of a recurring one that's always left me quite speechless that I have had the gift of dreaming about again brought on, in part, by the latest read of Service Dog Johnny by @void-my-warranty in a way that really just leaves me at a loss for words... if you'd like to get emotionally baja blasted (and also tbh once again hear me rant about my love for fanfic) with me, read on, my fellow taco bell enthusiast & traveler ✨🌮

also I am including this gif because I searched 'taco bell' as a joke and for some unexplainably fucked up reason this was one of the top gifs to show up in the list but also what a double-duty it serves as I talk about SERVICE DOG JOHNNY EH? reality sometimes really *is* stranger than fiction but also seriously wtf is going on here in this gif if you know pls DM me im afraid to google it

I started therapy a few years ago thanks to finally finding someone I trusted/specializing in my trauma cocktail *and* covered by my insurance (to my fellow americans: SHOCKER, I know, anyway fuck US healthcare and this economy but moving on) and I recall describing the early sessions to IRL beloveds/moots with some choice phrases, like:

having a sword tip poking my chest and being asked to walk further into the blade

having swallowed a large sack full of glass shards and instead of trying to remove them, realizing i have adjusted to have the bits piercing out of my body be less noticeable - not very sustainable personally speaking, let's be real

after some hard fucking work, sweat, tears put in I started dreaming about seeing that sword as a surgical scalpel instead, healing instead of harming, and that sack of glass filled with water and oil instead (really wanted to put a squirting/watersports joke here at voidy's expense but this is such a sacred thing to me but wait it's MY sacred thing and I can desecrate it for jokes IF I WANT TO OKAY) making me feel light and buoyant and seeing all my former open wounds now freshly scarred up. I'm honestly tearing up writing this out because I am very fucking proud of how far I have come... all this to say, brutal but rewarding. if you have the opp... 'walk towards the sword' my moots & beloveds 💝🫂

I have since ended regular therapy sessions and only go on the one-off times I really need the extra support, but a question I grappled with for a long time (and sometimes still do!) was "how do I know I'm healed?"

I used to think of healing as this near-mythical - and frankly, unreachable - final destination for me. but I'm learning it's more about the journey and companions along the way and the many signposts on the path marking how far I have come (and that I still have a ways to go). anyway I blabbered on here too long but my point is healing is hopefully a familiar (and necessary) journey for us all in so many ways, and I for one welcome the unexpected companions that help us take another step forward (and catch you when you falter back) *looking at you, fanfic my beloved* and SDJ was such a vivid reminder of all of this for me

I could fuck with concepts like protagonist/deuteragonist/tritagonist (had to look that third one up to see if a term even existed tbh) but the truth is for me, each of voidy's trio are written like living breathing dimensional beloveds to me in how broken and tender and loving and human and flawed and mysterious they are and each of them in their own way are so beloved to me.

I have been reading bell hook's we real cool: black men & masculinity lately (deeply enjoyed her books all about love and feminism is for everybody - i understand she is not free from controversy after having devoured a bunch of her writing but i deeply fuck with her main theories that being rooted and motivated to love and be loved at the core of our humanity needs to involve having our eyes, hearts, minds, ears, and hands open to the experiences of fellow humans, particularly marginalized + POC voices) and one of the passages discussing healing from abuse was very SDJ/simon-coded to me...

"Many males have experienced traumatic sexual abuse in childhood. It scars them for life. And when they receive the message from the culture that real men should be able to endure abuse as a rite of passage and emerge with their sexual agency intact, there is no cultural space for them to articulate that they were sexually abused, that they are damaged and in need of sexual healing."

I will say for myself, the culmination of the trio's journey so far in SDJ, simon in particular - with whom I unfortunately share some of his canon trauma and SDJ-flavored hangups and anxieties - has made me feel so loved and seen, like meeting a good samaritan (or perhaps a service dog johnny) on the road to hold my hand wordlessly saying "you too? me too." and walk part of the journey with me, even for a brief stretch.. a happy accident or eucatastrophe of meeting someone at the right place at the right time like reader and johnny have been for simon in SDJ ❤️‍🩹🫶🌿

I've heard an oft-cited statistic that in a random crowd at least a quarter if not more of the people around you, regardless of gender, have most likely experienced abuse and assault than not. Finding a space to be seen and heard re: sharing about abuse and trauma - and god forbid perhaps even healed? in the year of our lorde 2024? - has in many ways been delegated to avenues that aren't readily available to most, financially and socially and relationally speaking - even nowadays. I'm in my mid-30s and I was only able to afford therapy several years ago, despite finally mustering the courage to start looking after years of patient coaxing and support from IRL beloveds, because my workplace decided to expand our mental health benefits + insurance during covid.

beyond my IRL beloveds who have been absolutely incredible sources of support, I am not even fucking joking when I say fan-motherfuckin-fiction kept me afloat mentally spiritually socially since my madstroteens to help me feel seen, heard, loved, and healed - basically free therapy until I could afford the real thing...but even as I say "the real thing" there has been nothing fucking realer to me than the growth and beauty and joy and catharsis in reading life in its heights and valleys and finding a bit of myself in fanfic...

I've heard it said that the profound is lurking behind the absurd and I am 1000% serious when I say the very cathartic and moving tales and tragedies and romances and adventures and lessons and wisdom in FANFICTION (for CALL OF DUTY!!!!!!!!!!!! no less) is absolutely fucking priceless to me - the world didn't give it and the world can't take it away, as it says somewhere in some good books

these made up stories and characters and scenarios in our heads have held my hand, my head, my heart when I have needed it most - and helped me do so for others - and created the most expansive safe space to explore in a free and nonjudgmental way that I can't really think of a real-world equivalent other than actual therapy or times when I've felt a deeper peace and affection touch me in sacred settings or in nature or maybe playing D&D with my IRLs lol

so yes, I wholeheartedly agree that while some of the loveliest writings are drawn from lived experiences, exploring something new in fiction, like readers exploring sexuality through throuplegate tags ghoap fics or asks about aromanticism... or cathartic healing words and gestures they may have yet to hear or receive in reader's and johnny's stalwart and carefully mapped, but also spontaneous and artesian support and tender care for simon... can have just as real and powerful of an impact on reader & writer as well!

and it can be so clearly seen in the absolutely incredible reblogs, asks, comments, and headcanons and side drabbles shared if you go through voidy's SDJ tags which I also so enjoyed reading alongside the story; it reminds me of ye olden days when I was a rabid LOTR fan and I re-watched the extended versions of the trilogies in multiple iterations via the cast, director, and producer commentaries

ok before I lose my train of thought entirely here because I was supposed to rant about what I loved about SDJ and I've just been adding to this monster of a draft for weeks on end rambleranting on and on about fanfic-

the reader!!!! the reader. I have been brought to tears multiple times by her selfsacrificing affection and deep love for simon, as well as how well she is able to disarm him in the moment with her humor

the humor!!! the fucking weaponized use of humor as character tell and development in this fic... i feel (and personally use) humor as a way of visibly lowering and bypassing the armor and walls we put up around others as if to say 'see? it's safe! I feel safe around you enough to joke around and I want you to know that. i invite you into this safe space in me, with me.' and the way time and again reader, simon, and johnny uses it like a sniper shot is fucking brilliant

a random selection of some of (I write 'some' fully knowing I'm gonna just copypaste the entire fucking story) my favorite lines below:

He’s always been up front with you about his trauma, how he can’t stomach touch unless it’s non-sexual. You’ve always known it would just be only you taking care of your own needs, and it’s something you’re more than happy to accept, because you love him. But how could you even conceptualize doing something like that? Letting someone else touch you when you’re in love with Simon.

Lines like these above is what makes reader so human and real to me. 💋👌mwahmwah exponential chef kisses for your literary cookin voidy💋👌

God, why is he still talking to you like that? It’s really, really hot, but are you allowed to enjoy it? Surely you are.

right there with you dear reader, been there before 😵‍💫

His eyes are practically burning into you with some type of excitement, though he doesn't let the rest of his face betray it. It's only because you know him so well that you see the unusual gleam there, and suspect that if you put your hand on his chest right now, his heart would be hitting your palm in a gallop ... He's interacting with your sexual desire for the first time, running his thumb over the crown of your head and watching you so intently that the orgasm warming your legs is starting to feel unavoidable.

Simon's journey to re-experience sexual desire as safe and healthy and normal again...I do not have enough words 😭😭 anyway brb crying my heart goes out to SDJ simon so much i want to hold his face and dick(WHO SAID THAT) in my hands and cradle him gently and tenderly

“It won’t, love." He waits for your your fingers to find your clit again, and for your eyes to slide shut, and he whispers, "Someday very soon, you’re going to get to cum while you’re bent over the bed, and someone’s hand is keeping your head pressed nicely into the covers. You won’t have to think about anything but staying right there and getting fucked, and you’ll be able to just relax, and take it for as long as you’re meant to.”

SDJ simon, like many of us, also seems to find refuge and safe sexual expression in fantasy 👀👀

Simon just smiles at you in that warm way, the slight curve of his mouth that doesn’t have even a hint of malice or dishonesty behind it. You’ve grown to trust it implicitly.

🥹🥹🥹 this is so tender and lovely. mwah mwah mwah I would attack with so many cheek kisses for simon and voidy ✨

“Dinnae misrepresent me to your woman. I’ve had my share of romance.” “Learned that word on the way here, did you? You know you’re supposed to keep your eyes on the road.”

I fucking live for simon and johnny roasting each other 😂😂😂

The look of adoration he’s giving you sends a burst of fuzzy pink warmth through your chest.

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

“Simon,” you gasp, and then frantically backtrack over your mistake. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean— oh-hhh my god.”

I looooved loved loved loved loved loved this slip of the tongue. one word speaks volumes <3

It’s glaringly obvious how wet you are, the bits of your underwear that stick to your ass as he works his hand against your cunt.

ok I just want to say THIS IS SO REAL AND SO GODDAMN ANNOYING I HATE THAT FEELING LIKE THE OCEAN IS GIVING MY A WEDGIE where all my sometimes sensory issues girlies (gn) at

You figured out early on in the relationship that he loves affectionate threats of violence.

me, recalling DMs with voidy: yes, yes this is also voidy

“He was just offered a shag, of course he is.”

😂😂😂

That gentle touch happens again, this time sending a wash of awareness though you, forcing you to look away from his eyes. You’re not allowed to feel like this when he’s touching you. This is forever off limits, that interested tingle between your legs. Stop it, he’s just being sweet...“You’re turning me on,” you whisper. It’s what you’ve always done, any time he’s inadvertently touched you in a way that your body perceived as sexual. You always let him know, let him cut it out before it makes him feel a certain type of way. The last thing you want to do is find secret, perverted enjoyment in moments that would trigger him if he knew.

sometimes I call reader 'saint' in my head, because I can't think of a better word to sum up her patience, love, sense of self-sacrifice, near catholic levels of guilt for feeling anything remotely self-focused, and desire to focus wholly on others' well-being before her own...and alternately, a saint is also usually a two-dimensional flat figure, devoid of needs and wants, there to absorb all the negative emotions and give, give, give...surely not a life fit for a regular-degular human girlfriend, dear reader 👀

This has never happened before. He’s never pushed himself this far, standing between your legs like this when you’re in your underwear. Why he’s doing it now, you can’t fathom, but this is his struggle. You have to trust that he won’t hold it against you if he gets too far past his limits.

me, screaming and gesticulating wildly: you can't fathom THAT SIMON LOVES YOU AND WANTS TO PUT HIMSELF OUT THERE FOR YOU TO TRY AND MEET YOU WHERE YOU'VE RETREATED LKE YOU HAVE DONE FOR HIM????

You know that’s not true. If anything, the deflection leads you to believe that he’s protecting Simon, like he told him something personal.

something I find so interesting and perhaps a tad relatable - reader is a fucking psychic sometimes when it comes to reading others' intentions and feelings, and yet overly sus and cautious when it comes to seeing into herself (now why does that sound familar oh FUCK ITS-A ME, MARIO-)

He feels safe enough to touch himself with his friend here, but not when it’s just you? You glance back down to Johnny, heart galloping and anxiety expanding in your lungs as you make some unfortunate mental leaps. Why did Simon choose Johnny for this? How can he be so very confident that he’ll take care of you? Has he done this before? Is this a thing they do? Simon gets a new girlfriend, and Johnny gets free sex?

I've said this before somewhere but I theorize Johnny's presence for Simon make him feel safe for & from himself and sidenote: as a card-carrying woman I do not fault reader at. all. when it comes to her anxious spiral of thoughts here re: some men and their triflin ways

Maybe it’s just the post-nut clarity talking, but you realize for the first time that the reason isn’t because you want to keep him at arm’s length, it’s because you think you don’t deserve it. This whole arrangement has felt like you’re living someone else’s life, someone who’s worth being looked after like this. It’s not something you’ve ever experienced before, and it feels so unsafe to venture into something new. It feels comfortable and familiar to decide that you can’t allow yourself to fully experience Johnny, that you must ration him instead, nibbling on little bits so you don’t grow too accustomed to the taste. You’ve been subconsciously depriving yourself, as if maintaining your unmet needs is crucial to making sure you don’t grow beyond the person you’ve always been.

All of this + reader's reaction to perceiving crying as bad versus cathartic... early 20-something madstronaut, is that you

I have also wondered at the cost of arguably a huge part of herself (I believe we can and do change and accept ourselves and each other in and for love, kind of like moving but in tandem and rhythm, like a dance, but I'd argue reader in choosing simon and his particularities as her dance partner has also chosen to metaphorically tourniquet one of her limbs to do so) if maybe she is also crying out of personal grief and confusion as well. That razor-sharpness of post-nut clarity is too real... after deciding to give up her sex life as she knew it before for simon, then now suddenly exploring getting it back, and the whiplash of emotions while in an intense feedback loop of orgasms? gurrrrllll I would be bawling too, high-five

You think back over Johnny’s endless patience, how considerate and soft he’s been with you. How he went so slow the last time, giving you time to mentally prepare to be penetrated, making sure every touch was comfortable and enjoyable. And you consider for the first time that maybe Johnny isn’t just Simon-by-proxy for you. Maybe in a way, you are that, for Johnny.

mmm, ghoapcrumbs WHO SAID THAT

Also honestly I love me some unreliable narrators (reader here imho isn't unreliable in her perspective being false or wrong but rather her deep deep love and devotion for simon can be almost blinding to other important perspectives like her own to also consider at times..) sometimes I just want to take her by her shoulders and stare her down and peptalk her aggressively just saying in increasingly louder volume "YOU ARE ALSO WORTHY OF LOVE, RESPECT, CARE, AND AFFECTION - THE SAME LEVEL, NOT NECESSARILY THE SAME WAY, YOU GIVE TO SIMON - AND THAT IS PERFECTLY FINE AND VALID"

Nine minutes and change later, you make the last turn and smile to see Johnny in sweat-soaked running clothes, propped up against a lamppost like he’s trying to pretend he’s there on purpose.

😂😂😂 "pretend he's there on purpose" WHO'S THE FUCKING DOBBER NOW

Johnny makes an acknowledging grunt and limps towards your car, and you swear his face looks a little more flushed than it was a minute ago....“Nah. Thanks for the lift.” Stubborn, and definitely embarrassed.

oh look, pot, meet kettle...just two fucking dobbers (affectionate) who give like they have an infinite gaming glitch but hiss like those tiktok cats at the vet when they discover they *gasp* have their own needs

Johnny leans back on the couch to really look at you for the first time today, and it’s your turn to feel embarrassed. You feel like he’s somehow seeing more of you than is comfortable, and it makes you look away, towards the bright sky out the window. “I should be getting back,” you deflect, tugging the keys out of your pocket. “I switched phones with him, and he might not like that when he wakes up.”

I can't explain how much I fucking love this first dynamic between reader and johnny sans simon. feels like watching a knifefight where their knives are their inability to just receive disguised as their sense of generosity and they keep holding themselves hostage hoping the other gives in/runs away lmao. also i'm re-reading this in later drafts and I have no idea if this makes sense sooo I apologize in advance for my latenight ramblin

You kiss him until you’re in love with his mouth...

🥰🥰🥰

also the flashback to their meet-cute (meet-wrestle?) is once again INCREDIBLE!!! as sex/touch-averse simon is, their body language speak volumes in those split-second matching responses to each others' reactions with the pendrop and the arm-wrestle tie. those magnetic "we click right away" interactions you have with certain folks is absolutely intoxicating

Simon’s not looking in your direction, but you can feel the ghost of his attention somehow, making you feel scrutinized and out of place here. You haven’t felt in place in so long, it’s like an ache in your chest.

I shivered at how good this line is!!!!! THE GHOST OF HIS ATTENTION- mmmpfffhhh

She proudly presents you with Simon’s number, scrawled in blue pen on her palm. And there, below it: “You have lovely eyes”

my very first crush/love in high school also told me "I had lovely eyes" over AIM, made me very nostalgic 😂😂 Also can I just say laney you a real one; you went out of your way to go to bat for our girlie despite striking out yourself, a true sister indeed, pouring one out for you tonight

The sizzle of the onions begins to die as he closes the distance, and you shriek as he scoops you up into the air with a, “Where’s your fuckin knife now, you little ankle biter?”

i live for their horny-adjacent playfights

You wind back as far as you can, furiously smacking Simon’s ass with one solid hit, and you’re rewarded by his pained grunt and a satisfying sting to your palm.

fucking screeeeching

So, apparently Johnny is one of those absolute pieces of shit who can pick up any fine motor activity after the second or third try.

I hate to expose myself like this but...*high-fives johnny*

It’s subdued now, in a way that would almost make you wonder if they’d been fighting about something, except that Simon still seems awfully relaxed. As he entwines your fingers, you realize it’s Johnny who’s bothered. Johnny, who's never bothered about anything, is now staring blankly at the TV, his eyes unmoving even though the players are darting across the field.

once again fascinated by the dynamic duos of this trio!!!! I told voidy once I read SDJ sometimes as a mystery/drama because I'm constantly edged kept in suspense about our trio's next moves and motivations

His fingers skim your jaw. “I don’t think you know… sort of… seeing how brave you are with all this. How much it helps.”

my GOD. this plus my audible gasp when Simon finally touches reader sexually in ch. 10....beyond being incredibly sexy I also was very moved at the two (plus one) reaching this milestone and I have hornycried MULTIPLE times reading this fic

Everything these guys do feels sexy right now, and what’s worse is that Simon is sitting right across the table from you, and he’s thinking about you. It’s like he’s hit that sweet spot where he’s not so much in his head anymore, but he’s still a little turned on from what happened. You can feel it in his gaze, how it keeps wandering down the line of your shirt collar, keeps tracking the motion of your fingers while you hold your straw to drink.

Being aware of anothers' attention and lust has got to be one of the most intoxicating and powerful feelings in the world 🥴

“Johnny,” you whine, desperate to get him to stop hurting himself. You need to stop enjoying this, you need to focus on his pain, but he’s making you forget yourself. He’s fucking you and holding your hand to the bed, and despite your best efforts, he’s making you need to cum. He’s making you hate your own pleasure, as it brings him more and more pain.

the absolute deepdive into reader's psyche here in this little snippet is just *chef's french kiss*

When you get home that night, you take an everything shower. You paint your toenails and do your hair extra pretty, shave and lotion and basically make yourself as edible as you can be, because your baby’s coming home. Suddenly you’re on your feet, sliding a little in your socks as you rush to meet him. He’s just finished flopping his bag onto the floor when your arms wrap around the most familiar, safe body you know, and then you’re home.

I get strong cuteness aggression vibes whenever I see reader being just absolutely adorable

You barely even comprehend how big he is, with how big this event feels in your heart. So it’s bittersweet, seeing the aftermath of his success. You know it’s got to pain him, losing the control on his body and mind that he holds to such a standard in every other aspect of his life. He could have gone for years more, keeping a tight handle on things, dismissing the trauma and projecting that insecurity onto everyone else in unhealthy ways. But he didn’t. He’s here, unable to even tolerate your touch just yet, with his lungs spasming and his eyes leaking in a way his father would find unforgivable. A grown man, coming to terms with his reality and letting others see his failings, people who love him. People he can depend on, not because of blood relation, but because he’s worked tirelessly to build and earn that deep kind of trust.

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 I basically cry-read this whole chappie and also stopped in my tracks and gasped out loud when simon asked to fuck reader and definitely got out of bed screeching victoriously with joy after they Finally Did The Deed

You gingerly sit up and do your best to keep the cum dripping down your thigh instead of onto the bed. God, that’s Simon’s cum. That’s the best cum in the world right there.

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

You round the corner of the hall, only to see the door still wide open, and your boyfriend with his head bent down, resting on Johnny’s shoulder. Johnny has an arm wrapped around Simon’s head and another around his shoulders, fisting his shirt and holding him tight. “That wasn’t a small thing,” Johnny’s whispering, cheek to cheek with his friend. “That wasn’t a small thing, mate.”

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

I'll be quite honest if SDJ ended here with this incredible milestone I would've still been happy as a clam.. I believe all wins big and small are worth celebratin

It’s kind of weird that you’re here. Technically this is where you live, but all of a sudden you have this feeling of not belonging here, of being unnecessary in this moment. You feel like you’re just outside, looking in on Simon’s journey, without actually being too relevant to the path of it. It could have been anyone, really. Pretty much anybody with a heart would have given him the same kind of love, helped him get to this result. You just got lucky enough to come into his life first, but this would have played out the same with anyone.

reader my sweet READER DID YOU NOT PAY ATTENTION TO MY EIGHT-PART PEP TALK WHITEBOARD POWERPOINT PRESENTATION OF HOW AMAZING YOU ARE? as painful it is for me to read how self-deprecating as she is here...her perspective also betrays truly how deeply she sees and loves simon in how lovable she perceives him to be (and how willing she is to give him the sort of patient, kind, long-suffering commitment and devotion I have heard mused and preached about that someone like simon, nay all of us need and want)

Okay, maybe that’s not entirely accurate. The truth is, you want to get used. You’re not even that horny anymore, you just need to feel like you’re desired and important and useful for something.

👀👀 the way voidy is fucking reading the writing on the wall of my brain/pussy is near psychic to me 👀👀

In a roundabout sort of way, being selfish right now and not worrying about anyone else might be what’s best for everybody. There’s only so much you can give.

Your reflection stares back at you in the mirror, with freshly moisturized skin and slightly tired eyes, and you have this unexpected wave of compassion for yourself. You’re only human. You had a big day, and a significant conversation, and you made it through the hard parts. Things are going to be okay now, because you chose right. You’ve poured yourself into people who actually deserve to have you, and it will all work out somehow in the end.

🫂🫂🫂 i love this so much

He throws his legs over the side of the bed and stays there for a minute stretching his neck out, while you remain where you are, vibrating with anticipation. Finally he sighs and glances over his shoulder at you. “Suppose you’re allowed to get excited.”

the fucking GIGGLES that erupted from me... btw PSA if you haven't deduced it already i am madly in love with droll goofy SDJ simon and his dry-ass humor

You’re limp after that, merely a jellyfish washed up on the beach. Simon thinks it’s funny, keeps lifting your wrist in the air and then letting it flop to the mattress. He can’t even see it, but finds it entertaining all the same.

god THIS FUCKIN SCENE i just fucking erupted in giggles but also teared at simon finding humor and joy and laughter in sex again

The anger is inescapable, bordering on full-on rage, though Soap’s face doesn’t move at all. He keeps it locked deep inside, reminding himself that this is good. This is healthy for Simon. This is what he’s always hoped for, companionship and romance for his large, quiet friend. The jealously is intrusive, and he doesn’t claim it as his own.

If I could I would happily spend hours picking through SDJ soap's brain like the basement book aisles at the strand bookstore.. I had a conversation with an IRL beloved recently about how we are only jealous with the things & people that matter most to us....oh johnny boy, don't be embarassed trying to dodge one of the most common and pervasive feelings known to humanity!!! follow the thread to your interior and let it show you something about yourself 👀 (or hell that's what I try to do when I've felt embarrassed about feeling jealous)

But the thing is, he doesn’t want to fuck anyone else. Everything here is so peaceful, even with the emotional turmoil. He can feel the acceptance in the air that these two have generated, soaking into his skin every time he visits here. Things aren’t okay, and that’s somehow okay. It boggles the mind.

ah what's the phrase, better the devil you know? I also fuck with the "finding comfort and familiarity in chaos" vibes though I am trying not to have that be my baseline norm of late

He hasn’t had a hookup since he started coming here. Far less sex than he’s grown used to, and yet he’s finding himself thinking about it less and less. It’s like the obsession with the chase and the release has finally lost its grip on him, and now the connection is what he finds himself thinking about. Fuck the connection. That’s the part that hurts people, and it honestly doesn’t make sense that he’s still feeling safe about it. It must be because they love each other. It’s a convenient buffer, the reason he decided to go through with this in the first place. The line has been drawn in the sand, and he just has to hope they’ll live up to their end of the bargain.

to this I'll just say my people, my IRL beloveds, are the people who saw and accepted me as I was, for who I am - and all my changing ebbs and flows throughout the years, even at my most broken and awful, and ironically their acceptance and love and care for me while I was at my lowest is what helped me more fully return to and be myself... I believe johnny is experiencing a glimpse of that here now 🥹 I am legally obligated to throw in one of my favorite quotes on this topic which I have mentioned before:

There is a twilight zone in our hearts that we ourselves cannot see. Even when we know quite a lot about ourselves-our gifts and weaknesses, our ambitions and aspirations, our motives and our drives-large parts of ourselves remain in the shadow of consciousness. This is a very good thing. We will always remain partially hidden to ourselves. Other people, especially those who love us, can often see our twilight zones better than we ourselves can. The way we are seen and understood by others is different from the way we see and understand ourselves. We will never fully know the significance of our presence in the lives of our friends. That's a grace, a grace that calls us not only to humility, but to a deep trust in those who love us. It is the twilight zones of our hearts where true friendships are born. - Henri Nouwen

Simon did it. It took years, and an angel of a girlfriend, but he fucking did it. It’s simply indescribable, the burst of hope flaming to life in Johnny’s chest. Good things can happen sometimes out of nowhere. Sometimes, in a random bed in a random city, the universe can push a piece back into place that was missing.

this has to be one of the most beautiful lines of prose I've ever read

You enjoy how safe your body feels with his touch, how it’s no longer a thought in your mind that he’s doing this out of pity. You’ve formed this strange sort of sexual bond, and friendship, and it makes sense to your pussy that he gets to touch it whenever he wants.

ah, thinkin with the puss, we've all been there dear reader *pats the puss sagely* also such a simple sentence but one not to be taken for granted - no matter how hardcore the kink, feeling safety with your lover's touch is so so baseline important and crucial 💯

“Mhmm,” you tell Johnny, drawing out each syllable in a slow, breathy voice. “So sweet, and thoughtful, and you smell really… Mmmm... Really good.” Johnny raises his eyes to the ceiling, inhaling a long, frustrated breath. For what reason, you can’t imagine, because you’re certainly doing nothing wrong.

I am laughing my ass off because since first reading this voidy updated the chapter with the lovely @gorsime's incredible SDJ fanart and please, scroll down to the end of the chappie (ch 17) if you haven't seen it already

The guilt does start to hit a little, as you get dragged onto your actual boyfriendʼs lap, and a less-scruffy mouth presses to your cheek. You're being selfish. You've gotten too used to your wants being met, and you really need to dial it back down to just needs. This is simply a wakeup call, like hello, hereʼs reality, sometimes your own fingers are all you get, and thatʼs okay.

I have wondered just how much of this was loosely choreographed & planned by johnny and simon for dear reader 👀

Up until now, sex with Johnny has been somewhat casual, and you haven’t embarrassed yourself too badly. But things are always different, when it’s Simon. Suddenly your heart’s in it. Suddenly your brain is pushed to the side, and all you can think about are brown eyes and big hands, and being as good as you can possibly be. And you’re unused to the feeling of having Johnny nearby when you’re so focused on giving yourself to Simon.

once again, just deeply touched (and turned on) by the evolution of reader & simon's sexual relationship (good boy johnny)

He watches your eyes while his fingers trail down your belly, and to your utter shock you suddenly feel them on your pussy.

once again fuckin screamingggggggg! sometimes when you're in it for the long haul after seeing someone's borky bits and pieces, you'd be surprised how a bit (or more) of tender, trauma/person-specific love, kindness, care, and unusual paths of healing can have in speeding up the process of recovery...so much so that it can seem like a whiplash when you've resigned yourself to an eternity of seeing yourself/ur beloved as wounded/hurt and suddenly (but really not so suddenly!) you both meet A Healing/Healed version of Them/You - is this 2.0, or someone new? who knows!!!! what an adventure (it is currently 2am on a weeknight and I got work tomorrow as I ramble but I AM ON A ROLL also I made the mistake of telling voidy weeks ago that I thought I was gonna post this and hoo boy i am paying that price)

“Why don’t you go see Johnny?” Simon murmurs, giving your forehead one last kiss. “Get you something better than fingers.” “I think you should let her have something of yours,” comes Johnny’s voice, before you can begin to form a reply. “Cross my heart, I won’t look.”

literally yelled out loud omg HIS DICK? IS IT HIS DICK? HOLY SHIT SIMON'S DICK?????? the first time I read this

Your lungs know it’s happening before anything else does. They expand and then hold, and the next drop of your hips feels so good, as something deep inside you turns itself inside out. With a debilitating roll of sensation, you let out a pained cry and feel your cunt begin to brand itself onto him with pulse after pulse of your release. It streams down your limbs and explodes in your belly, and it’s Simon who’s got you this time.

this is pure poetry!!! also something deep inside you turning inside out and streaming down your limbs has got to be one of the best descriptions of an orgasm ive read tbh ive only reeaally experienced a full-body endless orgasm after a ton of edging (like at least 15 min) which I don't have the patience or stamina for anymore ;-; but I still think about that One Magical Night from years ago when I did achieve this

It almost hurts to cum on something that big, but it’s a good kind of hurt.

🥴🤤🥴🤤 mmm iykyk but also yes, prep prep prep preparation is key

Your hand climbs up to his face, but instead of the rough five o’clock shadow you expect to find, the first thing you feel is something wet. He twists his face away, but it’s too late. You felt that line of dampness on the edge of his jaw. His fingers begin to stroke your hair, so you comfort him too. You run your hand across the muscled line of his shoulder, wishing there was something you could say to make it better. Maybe someday when you’re better with words, you can let him know how it feels to have him connected to you like this, to have both of your hearts wide open and witnessing each other. But all you can do right now is caress his neck and plant a little kiss on the skin you can reach, and whisper that you love him. That he’s doing such a good job, and you see his efforts. You see him.

🥹🥹🥹🥹 AAAAND JUST LIKE THAT I AM CRYING AGAIN GOD THIS HAS TO BE SOME KIND OF NEW UNIQUE KINK IVE DEVELOPED WITH THE EMOTIONAL WHIPLASH OF THE HORNYCRYING OF IT ALL

“Doin’ alright?” he asks, hugging you back because he’s a very nice person.

I am so so curious what soap was thinking as he witnessed this little miracle (which came about in no small part thanks to him, that soap, such a saint he is, so kind and selfless and giving and- *cut off by loud explosion*)

You know now, why he didn’t let you cum before. He let you think he was being mean, in order to give you an experience you never thought you’d have. Johnny gave that to you, for no reason other than he knew it would make you happy, and he was the only one who could. The noise he makes when you take him into yourself is so Johnny. It’s half groan, half breathy laugh, mirroring the way he seems to see his sexuality as a game. He just wants you to play with him, that’s all. A little tug on his hair, a little smile while you kiss him, he eats it up. So you do it. You play with him for the noises, because he likes it. You can’t get enough of him, that’s the problem. Yeah, the sex is fun, and necessary at times, but you just like having him in your house. You like those hands that never hurt you, the sunshine in his voice, those eyes that know when to pretend they don’t see things. It’s just who he is.

that post-nut clarity kickin in for reader I see

“Johnny, I like you.” You just barely catch the way his smile drops away, as you take him into your mouth. He’s in it now. No more flirting, no more foreplay. He’s ready for you to get him to your throat, and let him cum in it.

no noo too much post-nut clarity GO BACK READER GO BAC- 😂

“You don’t get to decide that what people need are the things you want them to need. Tea?”

HAHAHA SIMOOOOOOOON TENSION DIFFUSER EXTRAORDINAIRE

I just want to say, shoutout to all my girlies (gn) who can come from a shower head; that shit is just too laser-focused for me to get off 😵‍💫

The way you’d cried and cried over that. It hurts so fucking bad, missing him the way you do, while knowing there’s really no legitimate reason to feel sad.

no legitimate reaso- GIRL HE TURNED YOU INTO A LITERAL SHOWER HEAD, JESUS HIMSELF WOULD WEEP-

He gave and gave, and in a weird way, it left you feeling used. It feels like he stole something from you, by not opening himself up in return.

✨oh, familiar pathways of coping and perceiving trauma responses, is that you✨

“Alright.” You hold the damp towel to your chest and stand there with a few feet of distance separating you, and give him the truth. “You don’t feel safe with me if Johnny’s not in the picture, and I don’t understand why.”

there's got to be something poetic about reader having this convo while butt nakey

What’s he playing at? He’s just standing there, looking at you like you’re something new and interesting. Like he’s redrawing some kind of perception in his mind, and enjoying the outcome.

not even gonna lie, started crying reading that last line ruminating on how far simon has come... 🥹🥹🥹 so proud of these little freaks (supremely affectionate)

“You’re trying to turn me on, but tough titties, I’m already wet.”

reader is basically horny shakespeare to me 😘👌 fucking love her humor

“You’ll tell me if there’s anything you don’t like.” “I will,” you promise. He brings his mouth down to give you a kiss. “...Even if you think it’s something I want.” “You don’t get to have fun, only me,” you recite with a smile. “Good girl.” You get rewarded with another soft kiss, and a firm circle over your clit. “Might have to fool around a bit, it’s been some years for me.” “I have my appointments cleared for the rest of the night.” “Mmmm.” He takes in a long inhale, curling his finger around the gusset of your underwear to start tugging it off. “I like you.” ‘I like you too, baby.”

ur not crying im crying i mean wait what aNYWAY this is my umpteenth readthru of this because this fucking chapter!!!!! my god I was speechless the first few times around and in some sort of holy awe and pride and joy and deep in the feels from he SEX!!! THEY HAD SEX!!! WITHOUT JOHNNY AROUND!!! (but really, I see and hear echoes of johnny in simon's newly gained sexual confidence around reader 👀👀👀)

“Yeah, stuff it. What I bloody well mean is, I thought we’d have time. Because you and me, it’s… it’s going to be a long thing. And I thought we’d get there eventually, and we have.”

🥹🥹🥹🥹

“I won’t,” you promise, running your thumb across the scars on his cheek that you have to consciously notice to even remember they’re there. He’s just so beautiful. It’s not an opinion, or something you’ve talked yourself into, it just is. Some people will look the same however long you know them, but every now and then you meet a Simon Riley who’s just so wonderful that their face turns into something perfect in your eyes.

I love them both so much 🥹🥹🥹🥹 is this not what love is, how reader sees simon

So apparently post-nut clarity Simon is fucking annoying.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

It makes you wonder if something inside him died tonight. Something other people put there, and you both just decided to kill it, because it was time.

once again...pure fucking poetry that has again, left me hornycrying...and again I'd die happy if this fic ended here. i mean, purely sexually speaking, hast thine service not been fulfilled here, loyal johnny boy 👀

I have a friend whose family used to raise seeing eye/service dogs on her farm growing up (yes yes I know her fam could've be doin numbers on the clock app today) and talked about how the training to weed out which puppos were eligible was clocking the ones who could most suppress their instincts & nature to obey and pre-empt needs in their obedience.... everytime I see one out in public I am always a little in awe of how professional it is but also a little secretly heartbroken at the same time for that little puppo that was trained out of itself so early...maybe projecting a little but sometimes I also feel some type of way at seeing that line boasting that Johnny is the youngest SAS recruit as his claim to fame also why i love 141 AUs so much where they are living their best civilian life untouched by war

He’s talking about something inside him, something that settled wrong in his heart today. He saw something about himself that scared him. Maybe it was something new, or maybe it was old and buried, but it violated his personal code in some way. There’s nothing you can do about that. You can’t reach into his chest and dig it out, as much as you wish you could. All you have are your eyes, looking at him now like he isn’t a monster at all, and he never could be.

this incredible fic is still ongoing but I am reminded in so many ways how powerful a simple word, a gaze, a touch, can be in reaching out to share and extend a bit of healing and love - and if that's too lofty a goal, then just to offer acknowledgement and presence.

I think of how much both reader and johnny and even simon with reader shortchange themselves so much throughout the story so far and yet the fruit of their consistent presence in each other's lives is so fucking masterfully crafted and yielded in the latter chapters in the most cathartically rewarding way. I know I am changed from reading about their tender and patient kindness and humor for each other so really to all the people moaning 'bout throuplegate let's be honest this is more of a polycule if we consider simon, reader, johnny, you, me, and voidy 😂😂😂

I mentioned approximately 17 years ago when I first started writing this ramble on asking, "how do we know when we are healed?"

my therapist and I had long, long chats about 'neuroplasticity,' but I knew it when my heart & mind & body responded to it all, combined with the love and support from my IRLs, by replacing one of my persistent nightmares with a new recurring dream - it's been a while, but I dreamt it again after reading SDJ the first time around, and I woke up smiling and crying thinking of simon & reader & johnny & voidy & you <3

I am sitting in a large patch of sunbeam streaming in through my window. my body, normally covered with blood and torn skin and shiny bits of glass leaking out from my wounds, looks different. As I sit in the sunlight my entire body becomes transparent, like oil, or the clear wax of a long burning candle. I become soluble enough to see all those jagged shards inside me and begin easily plucking them out one by one. I see now it's not just glass but claws, teeth, nails - old memories, but all still leftover and festering inside me. I wonder at the source of this change and notice where my heart would be is a wick, and sitting in the sunlight has lit it aflame. as I watch my body become clearer and clearer, I see the rest of all those shards fall out and my wounds softening, blurring, closing up. I move out of the sun and get ready to venture out. My heart still glows and burns steadily, and I remain solvent. Some people reach out with claws, teeth, nails - and find themselves horribly burned by the hot oil as they swipe harmlessly through me and leave no marks. Some people reach out with open hands and arms, and find themselves softening, melting and old wounds and scars under their skins blurring and closing up. I am envisioning where i used to see broken glass inside me, whole, healing, filled with light and water. Like a sunrise and morning inside me.

all this to say, to voidy, and my fellow readers, and fic writers in general - thank you & I love you, for holding my hand and making my days and night a little bit softer & brighter 💛💚❤️‍🩹🌿✨

my fucking god I really really am genuinely contemplating making an invoice to submit to my insurance so that voidy can be duly compensated for tangibly contributing to my positive mental health and growth this year ✨✨✨ mwah mwah mwah mwah so many aggressively affectionate playfully nonromantic chef's kisses for you 💋💋💋 mwah mwah mwa mawh-[devolves into snoring from writing most of this in the wee midnight morning hours between colds, flus, traveling, tears, conventions, funerals, zooms, trains, planes, podcasts-]

A fuckin timely banger of a read from this morning’s commute:

“A sacrament is when something holy happens. It is transparent time, time you can see through to something deep inside time. Needless to say church isn’t the only place where holy happens. Sacramental moments can occur at any moment, at any place, and to anybody. Watching something get born. Making love. A walk on the beach. Somebody coming to see you when you’re sick. A meal with people you love. Looking into a stranger’s eyes and finding out they are not a stranger’s. If we weren’t blind as bats, we might see that life itself is sacramental.” - Frederick Buechner

🌿🌿🌿 thank you stevie for being my latenight crooner and ramblin companion

youtube

#madstrothought #FaFiCoWriMo #fanfiction #call of duty #service dog johnny #void-my-warranty #simon ghost riley x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #ghoap x reader #poly!ghoap #Youtube

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base0h · 2 years ago

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can I have a shy yet a very good drawer GN!Reader who still hasn’t confessed their feelings X Law, Sanji, and Zoro?

Much platonic love And a happi day/night to you! ✨😀

a/n - awww this is so cute anon 💜💜 much love to you as well :)

Warnings ⚠️ - g/n reader, none

- Zoro is on the shyer side as well, so you both can enjoy some pretty comfortable silences (he’s sleeping)

- he won’t ever admit it.. but he really likes it when you just sit by him while he trains just to keep him some company

- he wouldn’t enjoy anyone else but you, you’re like a little anchor for him to remind him that someone’s always there for him

- you’re an artist, he knows that VERY well. He’s peeked at a couple of your sketches of chopper and Robin, let’s just say he’s very impatiently waiting for his

- pls you ended up sketching Sanji first and he saw that and almost crumpled it up

- didn’t want to ruin or waste your beautiful talent tho

- one day, when he was training, you saw him lifting his weights per usual, swinging his katana, as well as squat jumping and all that

- he looked- unusually perfect today (not that he didn’t before) but- his expression, as well as his figure was almost picturesque

- you started sketching almost immediately, not even knowing your hand could move that fast. You were scribbling so intensely that the lead broke several times, much to your disdain

- “Y/n can you hand me the towel.”

- ….

- “Hello?????”

- he ended up walking over there while you were entranced in your drawing, finally finishing a rough sketch of the quite beautiful “model” zoro

- he saw it and had trouble keeping his jaw from dropping

- he walked back in front of you, surprising you when he threw an eraser at your forehead to snap you out of it

- “Look, this pose is better right?”

- you closed your sketchbook almost immediately.

- oh shit, he saw it

- “make sure my biceps look big please.”

- “I’M NOT A FREELANCER.”

- Law is a man of very few words, and when he speaks they’re almost always very negative or pessimistic

- but he can never seem to say anything negative about you or else I’d beat his ass

- he knows you’re an artist, and that you mainly just like to draw in your alone time, it’s a nice private activity

- mans a stalker

- will literally find the perfect window to your room just to take a peek at your drawings

- why are they all of Bepo and not him

- EVEN SHACHI GOT A DRAWING? TF?

- stormed off like a little baby 💀

- as you can see, he doesn’t get jealous easily

- he hasn’t confessed to you, but it was extremely obvious to the entire crew…

- you two always had tea together in the morning, sat together in down time, went over plans, and even talked normally together (which he literally never does)

- but- you’re lowkey oblivious asf so you don’t pick up the cues 🥰

- you two were drinking tea together, bright and early as he read the newspaper, and you took out your sketchbook

- the rays of sun coming through the tinted windows of the polar tang lit up his tan, cool toned skin perfectly

- he didn’t have his hat on to cover any of his scraggly features. The bags under his eyes, his intense gray eyes, sharp jawline, goatee, everything about him was accentuated in the light

- you started to draw this very bigass crush of yours in the most detailed way possible

- the silence was almost too peaceful for Law, part of him wanted to initiate a normal conversation, maybe- “how are you today?” But the poor guy was too nervous to talk around you

- he peeked over your shoulder to see you furiously adding details to his drawing

- damn he looked good- did he look like that????

- man thought he was so ugly 💀

- hey maybe let’s give y/n a compliment right? That’s the normal thing to do!

- he had a tint of pink on his cheeks, and couldn’t think of anything to say other than, “Why are my eye bags so big.”

- law 💀

- GOD FUCKING DAMMIT I DIDN’T MEAN TO SAY THAT - law having and existential crisis

- Corazon be disappointed up in heaven 💀

- “because you have ginormous eyebags???”

- …

- watch him wear concealer now 😭😭😭

a/n - I loved this an ungodly amount lmao

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harrywavycurly · 8 months ago

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Hey Sarah I’m in a mood and I was wondering if you could break my heart (pls put it back together tho) with any of the Eddies or Joes

Hiii lovey!! I will gladly break your heart and I’m gonna be totally honest I had a whole moment where I went “what if…I don’t put it back together?” but don’t worry I will…eventually(I really will fix it I promise) 🙈 but I did this in a conversation formate because that’s how it flowed the best in my mind so I hope you enjoy💖

-I had to create a whole new Eddie for this because I simply couldn’t bring myself to break any of my precious babies hearts😂

A/N: This has a cliff hanger and I’m sorry I feel like it’s necessary and you’ll see why, don’t hate me✨

“You know staring at it won’t make it magically disappear right?…you’re gonna have to open it eventually.” “Gee thanks Steve…what would I do without your words of wisdom?” “Listen jackass sitting here on your front porch staring at a cardboard box isn’t exactly how I planned on spending my Friday night okay?” “Then why’d you come over?” “Because…you called and sounded all…upset…and you’re like one of my bestfriends so…here I am.” “Thanks…” “So…what’d you do?” “I fucked up.” “I mean yeah…that’s a little obvious…I mean what did you actually do to make her send all your stuff back in a box marked…the asshole’s stuff?” “We got into an argument and she walked out and I didn’t go after her.” “Wait..what?..what do you mean you didn’t go after her?” “I mean exactly what I said Steve…I said some shit…she said some shit and then she left and I just…let her….” “What was this argument about?” “She got a wedding invitation from some girl we went to high school with and it made her all…happy and hopeful for our future and..she started talking about us getting married and I just…I’m not ready for all that shit man I’m only twenty three I can’t be someone’s husband.” “Okay so you just tell her you’re not ready yet…you don’t just throw in the fucking towel Eddie.” “You didn’t see her face when she was talking about our lives together Steve…she’s ready for that like right now and I don’t…I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.” “What exactly did you say to her?” “I just told her…if she’s looking for someone to marry she’s looking in the wrong place…and…and she just..called me a selfish asshole and left.” “Well she wasn’t wrong…and that’s when you just let her drive away?” “I didn’t even move from the couch…I sat there the rest of the night because I just assumed she’d come back after she calmed down a bit.” “You’re such an idiot man…but just tell me…is it the idea of being with her forever that you don’t think you’re ready for? Or is just being her husband you can’t wrap your head around?” “I love her…more than anyone and I know she’s it for me but I’m not husband material Steve and that’s not…fare to her.” “Oh fuck off with that…she clearly thinks your husband material or she wouldn’t bring it up so don’t go trying to say you did this as a favor to her okay? You did this because you’re scared.” “I’m not scared.” “Yes you fucking are Eddie…you’re terrified that someone else loves you so much that they literally want to be legally bound to you…that’s some heavy shit man so I get it but that’s why you made her run away…it has nothing to do with this lame ass excuse of you not being husband material.” “I just..I don’t want to fuck it up..I’ve seen enough horrible marriages I don’t need to be apart of one too.” “Sorry to break it to you man but…you kinda already did.” “Yeah…I did didn’t I? She couldn’t even write my name on the box…” “Oh asshole isn’t your first name? I’m shocked.” “Fuck off…” “Sorry…but you wanna go through it now or…wait?” “I don’t need to go through it…I know what’s in it.” “Oh really? What?” “A few mix cds I made her… a teddy bear from a claw machine at the arcade…some letters…a photo of us at the lake one summer and hopefully a few Metallica shirts.” “Letters?” “Yeah? We used to write each other all the time…it was like our way of expressing how we felt sometimes when we couldn’t really…get the words out…why are you looking at me like that?” “Do you want her back?” “What?” “Answer the question man.” “Yes…yes I want her back…” “Just checking…because…I may have an idea…” “Okay…I’m listening…”

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson au #eddie munson angst #Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #Eddie Munson #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things au #my little dungeon master baby #my little fluffy haired baby

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midnightfantasiez · 7 months ago

Text

Twisted Love | 넷 (chp.4)

SUMMARY: you were certain that you would never find love nor ever lose your virginity throughout university, that is until a man named Lee Sangyeon came into the picture and offered to become your tutor; in exchange for keeping your grades up, and most importantly, teaching you everything you needed to know about sex. it was all just for fun & games, that is until one of you started to develop feelings for the other.

PAIRING: tutor!Sangyeon x afab!reader

GENRE: smut (18+ MDNI!!)

WARNINGS: we taking a look back on Sangyeon's past 👀, as well as a peak into reader's feelings, petnames (princess), talks about Sangyeon having fwb behaviour, unprotected sex (pls don't do that irl), dirty talk, creampie, rough sex, p in v sex, doggy style, pussy rubbing, lots of teasing from your best friend Haknyeon, sex jokes (nothing too vulgar dw), alcohol consumption, Sangyeon is now just cold 🥺

WORD COUNT: 4,121

A/N: apologies for the late update on this one it's been a while!! 😭 but we're back and hohoho. yall are not ready for this one 😮‍💨✨

send me an ask/comment to join the series taglist! those in my permanent taglist will automatically be added!

Sangyeon’s POV

“Sangyeon? Sangyeon-ah!”

That loud voice startled the young teacher assistant as he was scrolling through his computer, grading all of the pop quizzes that were handed in by the students over the school holidays, making him turn his back almost immediately towards the direction of the owner of the voice.

Professor Kim clearly noticed the vast and heavy under eye bags that he had gotten recently, and it was very concerning to him, especially when he used to be his favourite and top student several years back.

“Sangyeon-ah, you clearly have something going on in your mind, don’t you?”

He knew that his professor read him like a book, and there was nothing he could do to hide his emotions and struggles from him ever—at least, he had never succeeded once. Sangyeon was basically like the professor’s own son, taking him in and tutoring him for hours after lectures each day back then so that he could obtain the title of one of the best alumni the university has ever seen for the past decade.

After graduation, Sangyeon traveled to Tokyo for a couple of years and gained some experience there before returning to Seoul, where he met the love of his life.

Meeting his ex was truly one of the best things he had ever experienced, especially abroad, since he had accepted the fact that he would be completely stuck working remotely in his apartment, with little to no contact from the outside world.

But it was thanks to his roommate, who convinced him to attend their monthly company events, that he met the love of his life. She was half Korean and half Japanese, and she was truly one of the sweetest human beings he had ever seen.

Within less than a year, they got so close that he decided to move in with her, spending almost 24 hours with her at all times and treating her the best that he possibly could. It went pretty smoothly for two years—travelling all across Japan during the weekends and their paid holidays while making precious memories together.

Sangyeon was convinced that he had found the love of his life, and he was ready to propose to her. He even reserved a specially made ring from Tiffany & Co. in Ginza, Tokyo—turquoise was her favourite colour, after all.

But his dreams came shattering down when his ex confronted him in the comforts of their apartment one night, telling him that she had found someone better and that it was time to end their relationship. Tears were shed, and his heart was shattered into pieces when he found out the exact reason why she saw no future between them.

You don’t pleasure me enough.

Through that heartbreak, he decided that he needed to go through a healing journey, and to really figure out what he was lacking that made his ex end things abruptly with him during the peak of their relationship. Hence, he started meeting different types of girls—goody-two shoe ones or girls who were often wild and found at the clubs, all to figure out and work on his sex skills.

He has definitely learnt a lot more through those experiences, even if some of them turned out pretty messy and unpleasant—he just needed to refine himself to make sure that he would be loved once again.

However, when he finally got back to Seoul a couple of years prior, he decided that it was time to put his fuckboy life behind in order to live a proper life with a stable job and to mix around with people who weren’t just craving for his dick.

After a few different jobs, he finally landed on his current one, and he was surprised yet grateful that Mr Kim actually thought and remembered about him after all those years, and he immediately accepted the offer without much dilemma, thinking that working in the education field would divert his attention back to reality for a bit.

That was until he met you.

He only had one job at the sorority party: to make sure that the students avoided making outrageous decisions and that everyone went back home safe and sound. But somehow, he laid his eyes upon you, and you reminded him so much of his ex. Be it the looks you had or your demeanour, or how it was the way you reacted that was the exact same with his ex back when he first crossed paths with her during a company event where she had a little too much to drink.

Instantly, the lust within him grew, and he knew that it was hard for him to refuse the kiss that you gave. One thing led to another, and then you actually trusted him to take your virginity away. Sangyeon was definitely beyond grateful about that, knowing that he was actually validated and loved in some way, even if you were absolutely lost in this whole messed up contract you both had made with one another.

But there was something different about you: you never refused his touch and that you actually enjoyed his company, even if his tutoring sessions were definitely something completely different to what you had in mind.

Sangyeon never thought much about it, until Haknyeon came into the picture.

He never really knew why that was exactly the case. Haknyeon had been your best friend since you were kids, and he had little to no room for messing up with your personal life. It was not his place to have a say in this, after all. Who was he to judge nor control the timing of when your best friend would actually return from abroad and reunite with you this quickly?

It shouldn’t have affected him in the slightest—Haknyeon was just being himself and hanging out with his best friend after being separated for quite a while.

But why did he have this uncomfortable feeling deep down in his gut that was slowly eating him away?

To the point he even had a spicy dream about you making out with your best friend.

It has been a week since he last saw you, and this time, Sangyeon himself was the one to turn down all of the tutoring sessions that were supposed to be going on, coming up with any possible excuses to tell you that he wasn’t able to see you for a while.

Or rather, he wasn’t ready to reunite with you.

However, he knew that he could no longer avoid this, as he clearly had to meet with you to discuss the possible topics or chapters that your professors would highlight in the upcoming quiz that was going to take place next week.

With that, he kindly excused himself from the lecture hall where he was with Professor Kim. He slowly made his way out to the nearest rooftop garden, located right outside the campus. He reluctantly took out his phone and dialled the familiar number.

“Hey, I’m coming over at eight tonight. Don’t be late.”

Y/N’s POV

Your walls are slowly ripping apart with every single thrust that Sangyeon makes within you, not caring about your pleas and cries as he continues to push his cock further and as deep as he can.

You were panting while lying flat down on the bed with your ass sticking up to his abdomen, both your arms bound by one of his veiny hands, while the other was gripping a clump of your hair as his groans filled the entire room.

Sure, you both have had rough sex like this before, but deep down, you knew that something wasn’t right, especially with the way he treated you firsthand when he stepped right into your apartment. The both of you would usually start with your actual work, having an hour or two to work on your grades before going in with the sex, but that wasn’t the case today.

Immediately, he quickly pinned you straight to your front door the moment you let him in, and he began kissing you feverishly, not giving you any room for rejecting his advances. Frankly, you couldn’t even do much because, well, you did kind of miss his presence.

You missed his scent so badly and how his fingers would comb through your hair whenever you made out. You missed the way his lips felt against yours, that sweet mango-flavoured lip balm that he would often apply on a daily basis, one that you have grown accustomed to.

Most importantly, you craved the way he would treat you in bed. He knew exactly what you needed and was feeling for the day. It was as if he had some sort of telepathy when it came to reading your mind, and he would meet every single one of your needs for the day.

Sangyeon always made you feel good about yourself; it made you feel as if you were loved by someone, given that you had concluded that romance would never be a thing for you in university. But ever since Sangyeon came into the picture, that all changed.

You knew this was all part of the gimmick and the so-called “contract.” None of this is accurate, and you two will not be guaranteed to end up as a couple.

However, you have always kept your hopes up that perhaps one day, Sangyeon would change his mind and that you actually meant a lot more to him, given that he would agree with this whole ordeal in the first place.

Right?

It has been about 3 minutes of Sangyeon constantly picking up his pace as he thrusts into you, but this time, you could tell that he was getting impatient. He tugged you up aggressively to pull you upright, with you now kneeling on the bed while his other hand was still holding both of yours in place.

“Y/N— Tell me—How much you missed this?” He panted while he leaned close to whisper into your ear, desperate for your answer.

“A lot— I missed this so much—”

“Come on, Y/N. You can do better than that— Show me how much you missed this—” Sangyeon growled before letting go of your hair and moving down to rub your dripping wet clit.

“I— I missed you, Sangyeon! I want you so badly!” You were now shaking from the mess that Sangyeon had placed you in, and it made it even worse when he began sucking on your earlobe. “I’m cumming! I’m cumming!”

“Cum all over my cock, princess. Do it for me,” Sangyeon commanded before giving one final thrust as you two finally came, then taking a few seconds to come down from your high before letting you go as you fell straight down onto the bed.

You expected Sangyeon to do the same because that was what you had grown accustomed to—cuddling in bed until you regained strength and sometimes sharing a few sensual and slow kisses before he would carry you right into your bathtub and give you a warm bath.

However, your tutor immediately got up and put on his pants, pushing his sweaty hair back with his hands before draping his shirt over his bare shoulders and walking straight into the living room.

“Call me when you’re ready. I’ll get you ready for a bath, and then we’ll work on the lectures.”

Those were the very last words he said without even turning his head back to look at you before closing your bedroom door shut.

Something was definitely not right.

“What’s with that gloomy face that would actually cause a thunderstorm to happen sooner than later, miss Y/N?”

You were brought back to reality when your best friend flicked you on your forehead, earning a yelp from you while giving him an immense glare as if you were going to murder him right here and then.

“Nothing. Just been having some issues with some assignments,” you commented before returning to meddle with your boba straw instead of drinking from it.

“Nah, I’m not convinced. Y/N, I’ve known you for decades now, and that look is giving me an I'm-depressed-please-get-me-to-talk-about-it look,” Haknyeon insisted as he pulled your boba drink away from you.

“Hey! Give it back!” You raised your voice before your best friend began taking a sip of your beverage. “Oh, Ju Haknyeon, you’re so dead—”

“Then spill. I’m going to finish up your favourite Oolong Milk Tea if you don’t,” he stuck out his tongue right at you before taking a few more sips of your beverage. You could clearly see that he was already halfway through and would inhale the entire thing if you were not going to speak anytime soon.

“Okay okay, stop! Don’t finish it! That’s my very last boba that I’ll be able to afford for the month.”

“Not my problem that you’re not earning as much with your current part-time job.”

“Look, I’m doing it all for charity, okay?”

“Don’t care; spill the tea now.”

“You’re so–”

“Tick tock, tick tock! I’m going to finish it!” Haknyeon teased before taking another big sip, and he was close to finishing up your boba pearls.

“Fine! I’ll talk! Now take your mouth out of that straw,” you snarled.

Haknyeon’s eyes now glowed as if he was going to listen to his favourite bedtime story from when he was a kid, and he quickly pushed the drink aside and rested his face on both of his palms as he leaned forward to look straight at you.

“I hate how something tells me that you’re planning to use whatever I’m going to say up against me.”

“It depends, knowing you it’s probably about your “side assignment” instead of your actual ones.”

Dang it.

“I absolutely despise how you just know too well about me,” you sulked.

“Whether you like it or not, you’re stuck with me forever as best friends, so suck it up,” he smiled, giving you his signature puppy eyes which just made you roll your eyes back. “Now that’s just rude. You’re ignoring my cuteness.”

“It makes me wanna puke every time I see you do that straight to my face,” you fought back.

“Okay so, what exactly happened between you and Sangyeon?” Haknyeon immediately jumped into the topic, not giving you a little breath of air to mentally prepare yourself on how you would address it to your best friend.

On the bright side, it definitely saves you from taking your usual 10 minutes to muster up the courage before you would touch on topics like this.

“I wished I knew, Haknyeon,” you lowered your head, and your voice was now getting softer than before. Truthfully, you never really knew how you felt about all of this.

You were definitely concerned about Sangyeon’s change of demeanour; it was not like him to give you fairly little attention or care. After all, the Sangyeon you knew always made sure the people around him were being taken care of, and he would always put up this genuine and soft smile that seemed to make even the worst possible scenario seem bearable.

However, another part of you was also feeling certain emotions that you weren’t sure if you could pinpoint them correctly. Sadness? Loneliness? Upset? You really didn’t know at all.

But it seemed your friend immediately picked up on the situation and flat-out shoved his observations right at your face.

“So you’re sad that he did not give you any aftercare after your last sex,” Haknyeon flatly blurted out right there and then.

“What the fuck? Of course not! It was definitely nice if he did…but that’s not the main point,” you were now blushing as you commented on that.

“Hmm…you’re sad he walked out on you after sex,” he continued.

“Haknyeon. He was just different. Even during our tutoring sessions, he wouldn’t even look right at me in the eyes, and his vision was constantly on the lecture notes for the 2 hours we were doing it.”

“And then he left right away after that.”

“And yes, he left immediately after that, with only a single goodbye.”

You slowly waited for your friend to process all that information before his concerned look turned into a sinister smile, knowing he was up to no good.

“You wanted more sex after that.”

Immediately, you slapped his arms, earning a yelp from him and sending you daggers through his eyes. “Can you not hurt me like that!”

“Then be serious with me, will you?” You snapped, crossing both of your arms while giving him a little huff.

“Okay fine, he’s different than usual. And what about it? You do know that Sangyeon has his own life and matters to deal with; he’s also an adult and not just a tutor and a sex buddy, okay?”

“I’m aware of that…but it’s affecting me too…”

“How so?”

Haknyeon now scoots closer to you, and he is now resting his hand on his arms that are draped on the table so that he can peer up and look straight at your face from below.

“Oh, hell no. You caught feelings for the guy, Y/N.”

Cat’s out of the bag.

Suddenly, all the alarms went off in your mind, and all the puzzle pieces came together immediately. You knew that from the back of your mind, part of the reason you didn’t want to agree with this whole contract to begin with was that you were afraid that you wouldn’t be able to distinguish between “business” and “romance”.

However, you were desperate to find love, and you were certainly not going to graduate university being labelled as a virgin. Hence, you decided that it wouldn’t harm to actually try it out.

Only if you knew that your worst nightmare was slowly beginning to form down the road.

You didn’t really know when you started falling for your tutor, but who could’ve blamed you? Especially when he was one of the university’s top alumni and had such good looks that made every female swoon over him whenever he bypassed down the halls.

Sangyeon was truly a blessing and a curse for you. You were now stuck in a situation where you actually developed feelings for the man himself, even when you promised yourself that you would never fall deep into this whole situationship that was going on between you two.

It seemed as if you had failed. Horribly.

If it wasn’t for Haknyeon, who was now cupping both of your cheeks with his hands, you could’ve gone on and on overthinking this whole situationship between you and Sangyeon. Thankfully, you were now brought back to reality and managed to break that unpleasant train of thought for a little while.

“Look, Y/N. I don’t know why you’re overthinking about all of this. If you fall for him, then why not? Confess to him. If you’re worried about him, then ask him face-to-face. It can’t be that hard, especially when you both are a lot closer than just normal friends.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I don’t know why I’m making such a big deal out of all this,” you chuckled before choking on the tears bound to drip down your face.

But Haknyeon wouldn’t let that happen and immediately embraced you, soothing you by rubbing your back while his other hand patted your head. “Here’s an idea: you’re good at baking. Why not make him some sweet treats to thank him for all the hard work he has put in for you and also to make him happier?”

“You’re right. Maybe I could whip up that mango sago recipe my mother used to make for me all the time, and I’ll give it to him after the quiz tomorrow morning.”

With that, Haknyeon smiled and ruffled your hair before rubbing his nose against yours. “Now that’s more like the Y/N I know.”

You tried so hard to juggle between studying for your quiz and making the dessert the night prior. To be fair, making the dessert would’ve taken about half an hour, and it was a fairly simple recipe—that is if Haknyeon hadn’t decided to take you out to a newly opened bar and treat you to some drinks before you finally came to realise that you have a quiz the following day.

You scurried your way back home at 1 in the morning, and you quickly tried your best to sober up by chugging down glasses of water and splashing your face with some cold water in an attempt to pull an all-nighter.

Without wasting time, you immediately set your phone on silent mode and try your best to focus on studying for the quiz while taking necessary breaks to work on the dessert. It took about a couple of hours before you realised the sun was about to rise as the sunlight shone through your blinds. You knew there was no point in trying to take a little shut-eye now, for you wouldn’t want to risk being late for the quiz.

Instead, you caked on as much makeup as you could to try to cover the under-eye bags and to make it seem that you weren’t drunk in the slightest as you packed away everything, including the dessert, as you made your way to campus.

Besides feeling groggy and not your best self due to the lack of sleep and alcohol in your system, everything else went smoothly as you arrived on time and did some last-minute studying before your professor was about to walk in with the papers in hand.

Sure enough, Sangyeon trailed behind Professor Kim at 8 a.m. sharp and helped your professor to pass out the papers for each student, even coming close to placing one right on your desk personally. Obviously, you looked up to see him right in the eye, but the male didn’t return the favour, and he quickly made his way towards the other students.

You were slightly upset, that’s for sure. However, you figured he was just doing his job and not making any unnecessary interaction since it was during campus hours. Once all of the students had gotten their papers, the professor started the timer before everyone began answering the questions frantically.

On the other hand, you were doing fairly well and with ease, all thanks to Sangyeon highlighting the specific chapters to focus more on during your last tutoring session with him. You could answer all of them easily before you realised you had finished a little earlier than the other students.

With that, you gently placed your pen on one side before turning your eyes to look straight at the male himself. Unfortunately, he was staring right at the students on the lower ground, not even once tilting his head up to glance at the floor you were on. Once again, you had to remind yourself that he was just doing his job as a teacher’s assistant, nothing else.

After what seemed like 10 minutes had passed, the timer that your professor set had gone off, and all of the students were to hand in their papers before they were permitted to leave the hall, and then it was the start of midterm break.

You followed the other students, gently placing your paper on your professor’s desk before bowing to him and wishing each other a blessed midterm break until you reached the front door where Sangyeon leaned against the wall, grabbing onto your wrist and not letting it go in the slightest. Instead, his grip tightened slightly before he gently pulled you back into the hall, addressing a few things with your professor before he took the papers with him and left.

“H-Hey, Sangyeon! Thanks for helping me during the last tutoring session. The quiz was fairly easy, and I was able to answer the whole thing fairly quickly!” You tried your best to show Sangyeon your excitement, but the male only furrowed his brows and stared at you blankly.

Now, that was awkward.

Trying your best to break the tension between you two, you quickly fished through your backpack to pull out the dessert that you have been dying to give to him. “Oh! I made you a little something last night to show you my token of appreciation! I think you’ll love it—”

“Y/N. Stop it.”

That alone was enough to freeze you in place, and your hand immediately fell off from your backpack. “S-Sangyeon? Is something the matter?”

Instead of answering your question, Sangyeon takes in a deep breath and tucks his hands away into his pockets before closing in his distance between you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. But this whole tutoring session between us is over.”

A/N: one more chapter to go folks 🥹

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