#everything he loved—everything he destroyed

[viktorthemachineherald]

What actually happened to Jayce and Viktor in the end? And why didn’t Ekko’s Z-drive destroy everything within its blast radius?

TL;DR: the only timeline that could have worked was the one where Viktor gives Jayce the Acceleration rune, where Ekko invents the Z-drive, and where Jayce saves Viktor and gets his partner back.

Something we’ve seen pointed out is that the world rune that worked in this timeline was the Acceleration rune, which has the function of transportation through time and space. 

Ekko’s Z-drive was built by inverting Jayce’s Acceleration rune (this is important later).

We know from his experiments that the limit for reversing time is only 4 seconds. Any further back and it causes catastrophic harm to his surroundings. It’s implied that the further he overextends his Z-drive, the more disastrous the damage and radius of effect.

In the final battle against Viktor, we see Ekko overextend his Z-drive far beyond 4 seconds. Then, he yeets it at Viktor, whose mask is shattered from the impact.

We know that turning back time beyond 4 seconds causes catastrophic destruction of the surrounding areas: Jayce and Viktor, and perhaps countless others should have been caught up in the blast. But instead, we see something different:

Time stands still for a moment, courtesy of the boy who shattered time. 

Now things happen all in a manner of seconds: In the astral plane, we see Viktor comment on the anomaly that Ekko has created.

It’s something that Viktor as smart as he is, couldn’t have conceived— leave it to Ekko (and lest I forget, Heimerdinger and alt-Jinx) to show them all up.

This is debatable, but I firmly believe that Viktor with his awareness of all time and space, could have escaped or even survived the explosion.

It’s only Jayce, the only person who could show him what he showed him, that gets through to him in the end and convinces him to give up his Glorious Evolution.

"In all timelines, only you can show me this". Ekko is the catalyst but Jayce was the key.

Jayce returns the Acceleration rune to Viktor which kicks off a chain of events. The souls under Viktor’s control are freed from his grasp. Back in the real world, and back to the explosion, we see the following happening almost simultaneously: 

The blast from the Z-drive extends from Viktor’s reach to Jayce’s

The Acceleration rune embedded in Jayce’s wrist starts to glow from being activated by Jayce and Viktor in the astral plane

Jayce and Viktor are absorbed into the gem and the gemstone blips out of existence 

Recall that the Z-drive was created through an inversion of the Acceleration rune. To multiply something by its inverse, is to divide it by itself. The Acceleration rune multiplied by the Inversed Acceleration rune, cancels out the effect of the other: nullifying both the anomaly from the Z-drive but also the rune.

This explains why there was no larger explosion. Viktor and Jayce (who chose to stay) sacrificed themselves and took themselves out of the equation. Jayce and Viktor were the anomalies— just like the Z-drive should not have existed, neither should have Hextech.

Through all the timelines and permutations of runes that Viktor tried, the only combination that could have worked was in the timeline with the Acceleration rune. It couldn’t have worked if it was any other rune, if Ekko had never invented the Z-drive, or if Jayce had never convinced Viktor to give up his path of destruction, and got his partner back.

In short: Boy Savior saves the day; Love Wins

[avelera]

Analysis: Why Jayce broke up with Mel in Arcane 2.08

Since the finale episodes of Arcane dropped this morning, I've been going back and re-watching some of my favorite scenes, and I was struck by Jayce breaking up with Mel.

First of all, yeah, he clearly does break up with her, though I missed how formally he does so on my first watch-through. He does it in the Council chamber, just before Viktor attacks. But since they get interrupted, he finishes breaking up with her (after checking in with her) on the balcony later.

But what really struck me about the breakup wasn't in those scenes, but actually back in 2.07, when Jayce is alone in cavern in the darkest timeline. I definitely didn't catch on the first viewing that this is where he chose to break up with her.

In the background, you can hear Jayce in the depths of his despair and solitude starts going over in his mind all the steps that led him to where he is.

Here are some of the quotes he hears:

"I never asked for this!" - Himself to Viktor, trying to justify his actions up to that point just before Viktor leaves him.

"This research is everything, my whole life," a quote from one of his first conversations with Viktor but, more importantly, it establishes Jayce's entire raison d'etre up to that point. Hextech research was his life.

"He was my mentor, Mel, and I betrayed him," obviously is Jayce discussing the coup d'etat against Heimerdinger he orchestrated to save Viktor, but it was with Mel's assistance and urging.

"You must destroy it. It corrupts. Consumes." A quote from Heimerdinger, warning against Hextech. Which must feel especially prescient now that Jayce is stuff in the evil bombed-out future where Hextech destroyed the world.

"I was trying to create magic." Jayce to the Council to defend his Hextech research and save himself from banishment, but, he only mentioned magic at Mel's goading, which I would guess he's beginning to recognize now for what it was in retrospect.

"It's your time now, Jayce." Mel, part of her goading of Jayce into advancing Hextech research and his political career.

"Perhaps it's time for the era of magic." Mel's words on the night she saw Hextech for the first time, after helping Jayce and Viktor break into Heimerdinger's lab.

"You must destroy it." Heimerdinger about the Hexcore, again, probably feeling pretty prescient right now with Jayce literally in the pit of despair in a the evil Hextech future.

Finally, while looking out over the fire while clearly going nearly insane from the isolation, Jayce begins to hallucinate seeing Mel. But then, her image in the fire gives way to Viktor's.

The decision has been made there. It's not just Jayce reflecting on his two closest loved ones (as I thought the first time), rather, it is the moment Jayce makes his decision: he is picking Viktor over Mel. He has decided that the reason he is here in this terrible place is because of Mel, not Viktor. He is choosing his partner, going back to what they had before she became involved in their life. His new course is set.

Now, I want to preface the next part by saying I love Mel, she's a fascinating character, and though I ship Jayvik I also ship/shipped MelJayVik, so this isn't coming from a place of bias. I'm just analyzing the material when I say these flashbacks were Jayce rearranging the narrative in his head and realizing Mel's been manipulating and goading him in his pursuit of Hextech.

Given where he is when this is happening: starving, freezing, in pain, alone for weeks if not months in a stone box, slowly going insane, surrounded by the burnt corpses of people destroyed by Hextech, I'd say... yeah. His need for someone to blame is pretty understandable. He even starts whispering, "No!" in a panic at the memories in response to what she says in his mind.

So when we get to the Council chamber in the main timeline in 2.08, I'd argue that Jayce is spoiling for a fight. He's had months of agony to decide things are over with Mel and that he's angry at her. He wants to blame her for what happened to Viktor, for what happened to him, and he's in pain and he wants to lash out. The relationship is definitely over.

But then Mel is in pain too. And Viktor shows up, with his own autonomy, showing that they all had their shitty parts to play in this drama.

The attack by Viktor adds another element, Jayce was probably also mourning that he had to shoot Viktor at that point, another thing that was painful and made him want to lash out and blame others for this horrible place he's in emotionally and the horrific place he's been in physically until recently.

It's only after Viktor's attack though that Jayce realizes that this situation is complex, it's not all Mel's fault. It would be easier to just pin all the blame on Mel and make Jayce and Viktor her victims, but Viktor shows to him that he has his own agency and Jayce needs to be clear-eyed going forward about who he is saving, because it's not "Mel's victim". Viktor is his own person.

Jayce also remembers some of the care he once had for Mel when he catches her before she falls (in a tender moment I mistook for a full reconciliation between them the first time but no, it's just him remembering he cares for her wellbeing). Jayce can't trust her anymore, after realizing just how adept she was at manipulating him without his realizing, but he does still care for her as a person. And he's cooled off enough to address the pain she is clearly carrying.

(I admit, I do love this moment of him calling himself an ass, because I adore Jayce but it's a lovely beat of self awareness and really shows his growth as a person that he can say this to someone that just hours before he was squaring up to fight against and blame for all his misfortunes.)

But anyway, the moments you really see that it's over between Mel and Jayce:

When he doesn't explain to her what happened to him. That's not for her to know anymore. He's decided that they're not together or intimate anymore. And he's probably still hurting from realizing how she's used what he told her in the past to encourage/manipulate him to her own ends and therefore wary of sharing. This is also a reason for the breakup: he can't share the immense pain he's been in because he can't trust her anymore, and he knows it. It's over.

In the scene on the balcony when he turns away from her instead of towards her before offering his advice. Jayce is very touchy-feely, he always offers physical comfort to his loved ones. But there, he deliberately turns away instead of taking her in his arms and comforting her. Again: it's over between them. But he still respects her. So he reminds her of how indomitable she is, along with offering the slight backhanded compliment born of his distrust for her: she's never the passenger, she is always the one in control. He knows, because he's realized she used to control him.

I've mentioned in other meta that this season deals in a lot of comeuppance for events in S1, and this is arguably Mel's. She'll be ok, she's got magical sun powers and she's the head of a powerful house now. But she doesn't get to keep Jayce in her life as her lover anymore after what she did, because she did manipulate him, even if she had good intentions mixed with the self-interested ones.

The trust is simply gone now. But he cares for her and wishes her well, so, I'd argue they parted on as good of terms as could be done.

[veikkoalen]

1. no. he wears whatever's there

2. phonk or metalcore probably

3. he broke two knives during a certain event

4. he'd be an all survivable cocktoach type of guy if he didn't land on a friend's couch in the end

5. typical grunge shit with stupid edgy trinkets here and there

6. he bleaches it and if he does, it must be platinum blonde otherwise his face is melting off from embarrassment

7. crocodiles cuz theyre cool and have one of the strongest bites and he likes reptiles in general

8. twitch cuz hes jumpy. given by his school circle and stuck to him ever since

9. he has severe acid reflux issues but he doesn't give a fuck most of the time and therefore suffers a lot. avid orange flavored chocolate enjoyer

10. he wears imitation jewelry from time to time. silver chains/pendants or plain black rings. his fav stone is fluorite

11. he has my ex haircut and half of my interests/garbage traits. he's not antisocial and unwilling to live though. he wouldnt have understood me probably but the friendship could work

12. he's somewhere in his early 20s and he was born july 12 just because i want so. he hates his birthdays cuz they always ended up with a fucking disaster

13. native english and solid french but nobody knows about the latter : )

14. better than me, he liked calculus back in school

15. a single child in a nuclear family. his uncles and aunts do exist but somewhere far away. he lived with his parents till 18, left after a grand fight and nobody wanted him to come back. he lives with his best friend now

16. a cat called razor. he's fucking huge and kind of an entity by itself

17. school books and stuff. nerd

18. lying yes, stealing yes, killing – well it's not like he can say no at this point

19. he has a lot of patience but if you mention his family or try to guilt trip him he's likely to rip your head off

20. he can but he doesn't have his own car. when he drives others' cars he keeps them clean

21. bowling courts

22. yes if drunk, no to else

23. same as [REDACTED], he smokes and yells a lot so it's a bit creaky. he can

24. he can draw and he's a good marksman but he ditched everything atm

25. hearing is fine, vision is –1/–1.5, he's squinting a lot recently

26. he's very well coordinated and he has a light foot. kinda required since he's broke and entered a number of places around the neighborhood

27. he likes archery, shooting, biathlon and curling

28. he spends time around people he likes. and he gets physical if he cant stand someone

29. no. but id say he feels like dust

30. cigarettes 🙄

31. he doesnt know what to gift to people really, he loves any gifts but quality clothes/shoes would melt him

32. he knocks doors and boxes before opening them including fridges and cupboards and everything that has a handle

33. walking trouble by most and gentle soul by best friend

34. damaged goods

35. he let it get irreversibly destroyed

i wanted to make an oc ask game 😋 things i like to ask people abt their characters:

are they associated with a certain color? what color do they wear the most?

what sort of music would they like? have you thought about what genres or bands do they lean towards? do they have a favorite song?

weapon of choice? any particular reason they chose their weapon?

how crafty/resourceful are they?

how do they typically dress? does their wardrobe lean more towards practicality or aesthetics?

how do they wear their hair? do they care a lot how their hair looks?

favorite animal? why?

do they have a nickname? who gave it to them? if it's not derived from their real name, what's the story behind it?

favorite food? least favorite? are they a picky eater? do they have any dietary restrictions?

if they wear jewelry, what kind? do they prefer silver or gold? do they have a favorite gem?

what do they have in common with you? how are they different? would you get along with them?

how long have they been around? do you know their birthday? is their birthday the day you made them or another day? what do they think of celebrating birthdays?

what languages do they speak? how fluently?

are they any good with numbers?

how big or small is their family? who did they live with growing up? do they live with anyone now?

do they have any pets? what do they call their pets?

how did they spend their summers/free time as a child?

their opinion on lying, stealing, and killing?

are they quick to anger? what sets them off?

if applicable, can they drive? if they have their own, what color is their vehicle? is the inside neat and tidy, or a mess?

their favorite place to be?

do they sleep well at night?

how would you describe their voice? can they sing?

do they have any creative hobbies? (art, writing, music, etc)

how good/bad is their hearing? what about their eyesight?

how do they move? are they clumsy? light on their feet? do they use mobility aids?

if applicable, do they have a favorite sport? do they play any sports or prefer to watch?

how do they show that they care about someone? how do they express that they don't like someone?

are they associated with any particular element (air, earth, fire, water)?

do they smell like anything notable?

do they like receiving gifts? giving gifts? what is their ideal gift?

do they have any habits that aren't particularly self-destructive, just maybe odd?

if applicable, how would your other characters describe them? i mean specifically the people around them.

how would your character describe themselves? it doesn't have to line up with how they really are.

do they ever return home?

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 14

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 2.2k

Note : Hey lovelies!! Sorry for those I missed in the tags last time! My notes has been weird latter and I accidentally deleted a bunch so hopefully now you’re all back here again! Please let me know if I miss anyone on the tags! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

“Never Ask to be Forgiven”

Saturday.

You blinked, your eyes adjusting to the too-clean white ceiling, your ears trying to find comfort in the beeping that marked your heart rate. The pain was still there, a dull throb radiating from every bruise and cut. 

But that was all. 

You didn’t know what you expected. Maybe some part of you thought the last four years would come back, simply because waking up this time felt so eerily similar to the first. But no—there was nothing. All you had were the last few months. The hurt, the betrayal— the nights spent in Bucky’s arms, the pain that followed.

And then you noticed him.

Bucky sat slumped in the chair beside your bed, his face buried in his hands. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His hair was messy, his eyes red-rimmed and glassy. He’d been waiting for you to wake up.

The moment he noticed you were moving, his hand shot out, hesitating just inches before it reached you. 

“You’re awake,” he murmured, relief flooding into his voice. 

You stared straight ahead. You refused to give him your attention. You didn’t want to give him your time.

“I... I’m so sorry,” he broke the silence, his voice breaking as he struggled to keep his composure. He was uncomfortable, and she was filling in the silence. “I should have told you everything.”

You stayed quiet, your eyes fixed on the wall.

“I was wrong.” The words spilled out of him in a rush. “I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was hurt you. I was terrified of losing you. But that’s no excuse. I... I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

All you heard was I this, I that. He was begging for your forgiveness, but it wasn’t something he could plead for. It was something you had to choose to give freely. On your own terms.

Slowly, familiar fury rose up in your chest, destroying any trace of empathy you had for him.

“Get out.” The words left your lips before you’d even realised you’d spoken. Your voice was barely above a whisper, yet it didn’t leave any room for debate.

Bucky’s face fell, the sadness in his eyes drowning him alive. “Please,” he tried, his voice trembling. “If you’ll just listen—”

“No.” Your voice steeled. “Out.”

You watched as he staggered to his feet, his hand slipping away from where it had been, hovering near yours. You remained still, refusing to give in to the quiet voice in your mind whispering that you still loved him— more than you had ever loved anyone before.

For a moment, it looked like he might try one last desperate plea. But then, he turned and walked toward the door.

He paused at the door frame, as if waiting for you to change your mind. But you didn’t look away. You held that cold stare until he was gone.

Sunday. 

The knock came quietly at first, as if the person on the other side wasn’t sure they wanted to disturb you. 

You didn’t answer. You had nothing left to give. No words left to say. 

The door creaked open.

Yelena moved with a hesitation you’d never seen in her before—like she wasn’t sure if she had the right to be there. 

You stayed still waiting for her to say something or leave. She did neither.

Instead, she lingered by the door, counting her breaths like she was trying to keep herself together. When she finally spoke, her voice came in the form of a whisper. “I’m not here to make excuses.”

You didn’t respond, resentment still alive in the dark corners of your mind. 

“You probably don’t want to hear this,” Yelena sighed, stepping closer, “but I’ve been sitting outside that door for hours, trying to… gather the courage to come in.”

You closed your eyes, wishing she would just go away. 

“I tried,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “I wanted to tell you so many times. But I was afraid. So I projected it on Bucky. And I’m not making excuses for him either but… I think I discouraged him.”

Yelena had to learn the hard way; you can’t force the truth out of someone. Force only breeds fear, and fear makes people say whatever they think will make the pain go away, truth be damned.

She understood that now— that there was something fundamentally wrong about using force in human relationships. But in her defence, it was all she had ever known. The Red Room, the kills she was forced to carry out—they’d taught her that control came through fear. Force became the only reliable tool in her arsenal. 

She realised now, that it was the same for Bucky.

Hydra had stripped away his humanity, piece by piece. Force had shaped him, twisted him into a weapon of someone else’s will. Force has dehumanised him. 

Of course he had resisted when met with any kind of force. Of course he had pushed back.

Yelena wasn’t going to defend him—not entirely. But she couldn’t deny that what he’d done was painfully… human. His reaction had been flawed, but it came from a place of desperate survival— and she understood that better than anyone.

She had failed to see Bucky as human. In doing so, they both had failed you.

You clenched your teeth, refusing to look at her, refusing to acknowledge the sting of her words.

When you finally spoke, your voice was cold. “You were complicit.”

You heard tension in the sharp inhale she took, in the faint tremble in her breath. “I know,” she said quietly. 

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch the edge of her face in your peripheral vision. 

“I’m not expecting you to forgive me,” she said, taking another cautious step closer. “I just... I need you to know that I’m sorry.” Her voice broke, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. The sincerity in her voice was unbearable.

You exhaled, pressing your palms into the bed. “I don’t have the energy to fight you right now,” you muttered, the tiniest hint of acceptance forming on your face. You didn’t know if you could ever forgive either of them, but you were tired— tired of being bitter. Tired of feeling nothing but hatred.

A faint, bittersweet smile tugged at her lips. “I’ll take it.”

She pulled a chair over. After a while, she leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “There’s something else I think you need to hear,” she said carefully. 

You didn’t respond, but you didn’t stop her either.

“It’s Bucky,” she said hesitantly. “He… he’s in pieces over you. He doesn’t sleep, he barely eats. And I know he fucked up— but…”

Your breath hitched.

“His heart is yours,” She continued softly, “It always has been. And… and I’ve just never ever seen you as happy as you were with him.”

The words hit you harder than you would ever admit. 

She only ever wanted you to be happy.

Your hands clenched into fists, your nails digging into your palms.

“I know you don’t want to see him,” Yelena added quickly. “But you should just… think about him. For your own sake.”

You didn’t answer. 

You couldn’t.

Monday. 

Today, Sam stepped inside, tablet by his side. He wore his expression as a mask of restraint, not betraying the guilt he felt underneath. He didn’t flinch, didn’t look away as he offered you quiet sympathy you weren’t ready to face yet.

Progress had been slow. You’d refused to see anyone but Yelena, but even when she was in the room, you barely talked to her. 

Maybe you just didn’t want to be isolated while you were healing— maybe you just needed a friend.

When Sam spoke, his voice was measured, like he was tiptoeing across a lake that had just frozen over

“I know you’re angry,” he said cautiously. “And you’ve got every right to be. But there’s… something you need to see.”

You wanted to tell him to leave, to stop pulling at threads you weren’t ready to unravel. Anger was easier— simpler. It didn’t leave room for doubt, didn’t force you to come face to face with how complicated everything had become. 

But his words lingered in your mind, demanding curiosity from you. 

So you gave an almost imperceptible nod you gave in response.

Sam crossed the room carefully, like he was approaching a wounded animal. He placed the tablet on your lap, waiting for you to take the reins.

“The first time— when you lost your memories, he sat with you for hours,” Sam said quietly. “That’s— It’s all here.”

When he stepped back, his hand retreated reluctantly. 

Without another word, Sam turned and left, his footsteps fading down the hall until the room was nothing but a bubble of suffocating silence.

You stared at the tablet on your lap.

You wanted to push it away, to leave it untouched, to keep its secrets buried forever. You didn’t want to do this—not again. Not let a piece of technology guide you through fragments of memories better left forgotten. But your hands had other plans. 

You gave in, pressing play. The screen came alive with a flicker, pixels blooming into existence from the void. 

And then, there he was.

Bucky, in the sterile, dim light of a hospital room, looked like he’d been hollowed out. His eyes were red and swollen, dark circles beneath them etched deep into his face. He was holding your hand, his thumb brushing absently across your skin. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, “You deserve so much better than this. I just… I just didn’t know how to handle it. I pushed you away because… because I was afraid. But I care about you. I care about you so much.”

The raw pain in his voice, the vulnerability in his eyes, sent a tremor through your chest. You could see it, the regret laid bare, the desperation searing through him like the pain of an open wound.

Here, he wasn’t hiding. He wasn’t holding anything back. He was just a man, broken and afraid, holding onto your hand like it was a lifeline.

The footage cut briefly, and when it resumed, he was still there with the same clothes, the same tousled hair.

The time stamp showed that a day had passed. 

Here, his voice was softer, more fragile. His thumb was still tracing small circles over your hand. “I’ve been sitting here for hours, and I can’t help but think about how you light up every room you walk in,” he murmured, a bittersweet smile pulling at his lips. “You always found a way to pull me out, even if I didn’t show it. Even if I didn’t deserve it.”

The words felt like a surgical knife had methodically split your heart open, removing the hatred from your body piece by piece before stitching it up again.

You couldn't quite believe— that despite being cold to you then— he had known exactly what you meant to him. 

He’d known, even when he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“I miss you so much,” he choked out, his voice collapsing. He clung to your hand as if it was the only real thing left in the world. “I can’t do this without you.”

Your throat tightened, and you felt tears burning in the back of your eyes. 

He’d spent so long hiding this, hiding everything he felt.

And it all came spilling out when you weren’t even awake to hear it.

Then he looked up, his eyes lost in a distant memory. “Do you remember the time we went on the Latveria mission together?” He let out a soft, shaky laugh. “I thought I was going to be a distraction. You laughed and said I could never be a distraction. You said I was your favourite partner. I should’ve known then that you cared about me… that I meant something to you. And I took you for granted.”

The remorse, the grief in his voice, was too much to bear. 

And then, he said it: a quiet confession of a broken man.

“I love you.”

The screen went dark, but you couldn’t move, couldn’t look away. 

Your heart twisted.

You knew now, deep down, that he was just a man—flawed, broken, fighting his own battles. Sometimes, he failed. This time, he failed you. 

But aren’t failures what makes us all so devastatingly human?

And yes, he failed. But he was also a man who loved you. The man who sat beside you for hours, holding your hand, pouring out every piece of himself in the hope that you’d feel him.

And love is something he could never fail at.

Tears slipped down your cheeks washing away the last shreds of your anger. You couldn’t forget the hurt he’d caused, couldn’t ignore the wounds he drove in your heart, but you could try to understand why it hurt so much. 

You couldn’t deny that you loved him, too—despite everything. And for the first time since all of this began, you felt that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way through the pain.

You could be whole again.

Tuesday.

Today, you were discharged. And today, you went searching for a friend—not Yelena. Things between you and her were still fragile, and you were unsure if you had even forgiven her completely.

Instead, you found yourself back at the museum, sitting in front of Bucky’s old war uniform. The glass case reflected your bruised face, a monument to your present and his past.

Alex sat beside you, eyes furrowed with concern 

"Tell me everything," she said.

And so you did.

-To be continued…

Taglist :

 @hzdhrtss @irisk12 @tayyyystan @seventeen-x @lomlbuckybarnes 

@greatenthusiasttidalwave @avatarofthetimelords @bckynatt @winchestert101 @zemosprincesa 

@nngkay @hiireadstuff @sapphirebarnes @thatesqcrush @bethexo07 

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@ordelixx @jadeofspadesxp @generousmiraclebread @jeremyrennermakesmesmile@titasweetandsour 

@one-lengthiness36 @chimchoom @waitingformysandman @blackhawkfanatic @chaotic-taco-collector-blog

@aurysartstudio @olive-main @purplecolordeer @mrsnikstan @annoyingrebelsoul

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@vickie5446 @portrait-ninja @trocaderoisyummy @walkwithfluffyangels @torntaltos

@dogtorjae @hhiggs @hi172826 @eanthedeadqueen13@starsmoonn 

@notsostrangerthing @wintercrows @chiliwhore @mrsnikstan @bunnygirlwriter876

[local-lamppost]

Act 3 Thoughts

Watched Wicked, came home, waited 20 minutes, binged Act 3. I do not recommend this lifestyle. Anyway...

I was so satisfied with where we ended up, but I would have also appreciated about 20 minutes to an hour more. It felt like some beats were skipped over, they wanted to get to specific endings and didn't have the time to wrap them up as neatly as I would've liked.

Maddie is a good example. She's a plant for Ambessa, okay but when and why did she become one? She couldn't have been one before Cait being named commander and when we next see her she's pushing for Cait to take power back from Ambessa. Did Ambessa just message her right after Cait and Vi started working together again as like a "the woman you love's actual love is back in the picture, you can either wallow or get revenge with me", but also made a smarmy remark about Cait 'at least being warm' or something. We didn't need to absolve Cait or villainize Maddie for their 'relationship' because they didn't even have a relationship-just a coping mechanism for Cait, similar to Vi's drinking. At best it was all unnecessary and at worst a waste of time.

Away from that, I want to focus on some good.

I am officially a JayVik shipper now. Them disappearing into a void together, encircled with each other, after Viktor spend however long within timelines/multiverses in hopes of finding a Jayce able to bring him back to his humanity? Come on, they needed to kiss. Especially after Jayce and Mel's low key break up. Honestly we were denied the three of them working together, because they would have been unstoppable.

Speaking of Mel, I love her. I love her design, her powers, her matricide, her taking command of Ambessa's armies, etc. I wish we could have seen more of her adapting to her new powers, finding peace with what she now is. There could have been a cool interaction with Viktor over how Arcane power has changed them both for better and worse.

I don't think Mel's story is done. With other characters, I can see them coming in for future story arcs as like, cameos or background details, but if the next LoL story is in Noxus I fully expect Mel to be a major player again.

Back to Jayce. I like Jayce, that could be my Arcane hot take, and I definitely want to write something more in depth on him. On all the characters really. For now, I'll just say that his determination to destroy everything he has built, because the only creation worth saving is his relationship with Viktor is just... glorious.

Viktor was amazing. I love Viktor in the lore, and they took his traits from the lore and amped them up to eleven. His body being destroyed and rebuilt, the process of which has chipped away his humanity and mutilated his dreams. He lives up to his own quote: "In the pursuit of great, we failed to do good. We have to make it right."

Ekko is a character I never realize I miss. That sounds mean, it probably is, but I am never the less so happy to see him every time. It's like finding the missing piece you didn't even know was lost: that is Ekko to me. His mini adventure in the parallel universe was adorable. Us getting to see what could've been alongside learning what matters most to Ekko, him getting a taste of a near perfect life and still choosing to return to his own time. That's why Ekko is the true hero of this story.

In terms of Jinx, I'll just say I'm not a hundred percent sure she's dead. The airship leaving at the end followed by her scribbled sign off, plus not getting a dead body shot. It was definitely left open ended. Her looking to do something good, to not mess up, alongside her fear of not wanting to try again because she is just tired of failure, of being a Jinx, was too real in many ways. I will go in depth on her at a later date.

Caitlyn's arc is going to be argued about, no question. It needed more time (see the start of this long post) to make her point of her anger burning away, of it not being sustainable, hit harder. I would have made her realize what her anger was doing to Vi, have Jinx point out that they really are acting the same in their treatment of Vi, and use the whole Ambessa was literally stoking the fires of her hatred to help fit what time they had left. Honestly just have Cait learn Ambessa was the one behind the memorial attack, that would be a much better way to explain her anger diminishing enough to look beyond her own hurt to realize and take account of her mistakes.

Vi, as usual, needed more screen time. Not necessarily because her story would've been helped by it like in act two, but just because I wanted her to have more time to enjoy her life. I went into act three with the sole hope that Vi would have a nice day, only for her to loose everything again. The only people she has left are Cait and Ekko, and god help anyone who tries something against those too now. Her ending being the chance to finally rest, to lean on someone else, was beautiful. She is my favorite character and please let her have only good things in the future, she was traumatized in almost every scene this season please-

Nobody tell Vi that in a universe where she died young everyone else ended up living. It would destroy her.

Vi and Cait relationship was great. I wouldn't say it was rushed in act three, because it felt like it was where it should be for a final batch of episodes, if that makes sense. It felt like the set up was Cait being genuinely remorseful and Vi just wanting someone in her life who wanted her in return. It helps that they have great chemistry and that when given the chance they fit so neatly together. I think Jinx encouraging Vi to be with Cait is what sold it to me. Jinx realizing how much Vi has given/sacrificed and giving her blessing for her sister to be happy with someone she disapproves of; not to mention Cait pulling the guards from their posts to give Vi the chance to actually meet Jinx in order to have that conversation. All in all, it comes down to Vi's "I don't care" because that's really all there is too it for them. Vi is done being miserable and Cait makes her happy, vice versa. Cait is someone Vi can rely on, Vi is someone Cait can find strength in.

Spitfire round:

Sevika being made a councilor

Every single one of Mel, Cait, and Jayce's designs were 10/10s

Vi not being given an actual uniform, just armor and the gloves

Jinx cutting her hair further to match Vi

Ekko getting his crystal sword/bats

Heimerdinger dying after living a life where he could make his city something to be proud of

I was fully expecting Vander and Silco to kiss in that one shot

Everything with Benzo

Loris' name being said

Vi humming the song and the song being their mother's lullaby

Viktor being held within the Herald

Sky leaving so Viktor was free to bring Jayce to his space mind palace

Caitlyn's rifle never surviving

Fishman McBlue being the only one of Cait's soldiers to stick to his guns and stay loyal

Sevika and Shoola side eyeing each other

Vander and little Vi and Powder with the bunny

The bunny being a passenger on Jinx's balloon

Singed's messed up family getting a happy ending

[javier-pena]

i didn't read this immediately when you posted it because i knew it would destroy me, and i needed to pick the right moment very carefully and STILL .... well i am destroyed and i have no idea how i will continue with my life, go to work tomorrow, and such :(

i loved their date so much, it was so romantic and sweet and hot, and it was the first time (and certainly not the last time) while reading this that i wished javi was a real person - like the way he immediately held ms reader's hand when they left the apartment 😔 need me a freak like that

(also once again ms reader was just like me when she was like "So he’s a southern boy. That detail definitely adds to his charm." because i would've jump javi right then and there)

but everything that came after that did exactly what i predicted -> DESTROYED me ... “I don’t think I can just be friends with you.” 😔 i'm so glad they immediately came back from that because i wouldn't have been able to go on knowing javi's heart had been broken, that he thought he'd been rejected again, it would've been too much, also ms reader's insecurities were so fucking relatable, i would be the worst if i was dating pornstar!javi, i would drown in them actually (but also i feel like if a guy like javi just so much as looked at me, it would do wonders for my self-esteem)

but luckily, their "first time" more than made up for all the heartbreak you put me through, like javi said so many hot things i had to take a break regularly to catch my breath ... “Go ahead, baby, take it. Put it in.” (skdjhasjf) “I’m not gonna last—shit.” (right after he put it in like wtf???) “That’s right, baby. Gonna give me one more on my cock, show me how bad you wanted it.” (yeah i still haven't recovered from that one

and then, at the end, when ms reader is like "You're not real" i felt that ..... because he isn't real for me and no matter how much i wish he was he's never going to be 😔 good for her thought that she finally got everything she deserves, and i can't wait to ferociously live through her ...

West Side | Pornstar!Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | Part 5 of Unscripted Desire | ~15k wc | Series Masterlist | gif cred | Explicit. Minors DNI.

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.

🏷️ : @almostempty . @magneticecstasy . @thundermartini . @auteurdelabre . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7 . @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @dontlookatme121 . @cherrysugarx . @half-moon16 . @dinanabuu . @sunshinefive . @angiewatson .

@pasc4lfuzz . @sjc7542 . @almostfoxglove . @shy-taylorsversion . @theredvelvetbitch . @xxbadchoicexx . @lumpatto . @haylee-e . @guelyury . @doblasftcisco . @ashhlsstuff . @kluvspedro . @goodvibesonly421 . @maladptivedaydreaming .

[candyskiez]

Viktor really is The disabled character of all time isn't he. Man who would tear everything apart to try and survive and thinks he was Supposed to die, that he cheated death, constantly outrunning it, man who was so desperate to fix every problem ever, man who needed the world to be Perfect because if he couldn't fix everything, if he couldn't claw his way out of hell and be somehow Amazing and Perfect after then him somehow surviving isn't good. Man who just wanted to fix everything and that became this obsessive distrust of everyone that they'd destroy each other, because of how many people had screwed him over, so if he just can fix it all. If he can just make everything stop, if he's just the perfect Good miracle inspiration porn every disabled person is supposed to be, then him surviving isn't selfish.

And Jayce who'd finally understood what it was like to go through what Viktor did is the one who breaks him out of it. Screams at him that he has never been broken. He has never been tainted. He has been someone who's been hurting for years. He's never had to make up for existing. He cannot fix every problem in the world. He just causes more of them doing that. There will never be a solution to every problem in the world but there will always be ways to do it better. There is no perfect world. He doesn't need to be a perfect victim. Jayce sees his pain and sees what he was going through, the first person in the whole show to actually see WHY Viktor was falling apart, and he says I WANT YOU TO LIVE. Jayce finally finally sees him. And not because Viktor "earned" it. Viktor hits his absolute worst, and Jayce loves him not despite it but including it. He understands him. Finally after everything he is no longer the golden boy he isn't on the pedestal he meets Viktor at his level, and he sees him. I need to explode. I need to explode. What the fuck man.

[rose24207]

Interrupted Stream

Summary: Lando is streaming and the chat seems to like his girlfriend more than him.

TW: None!

Genre: fluff, humor

A/N: English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

Lando was in the middle of an intense game, his eyes glued to the screen. His chat was alive with their usual chaotic energy, commenting on everything from his questionable aim to his random screams whenever he got ambushed.

“Alright, chat,” he muttered, leaning closer to his mic. “This is it. Big brain plays only. I’m clutching this—wait, WHAT?!”

A sniper shot from across the map ended his game, and he threw his hands up in disbelief. “That’s so unfair! How did he even see me?”

The chat erupted with laughter:

“Lan, you’re blind.”

“Bro, he was RIGHT THERE.”

“Classic Lando meltdown.”

He sighed dramatically, leaning back in his chair. “Chat, you’re supposed to be on my side. You’re supposed to support me. Where’s the loyalty?”

As he rambled on, the door to his office opened, and you walked in holding a mug. “Lando, do you—oh. Are you live?”

He spun around in his chair, a grin spreading across his face. “I am, indeed, live. And now so are you.”

You froze for a second, glancing at the camera. “Oh no,” you said, setting the mug on his desk. “This is why I avoid this room when you’re streaming.”

The chat immediately exploded:

“Y/N REVEAL!”

“WE’VE BEEN BLESSED!”

“OH SHE’S HERE!”

Lando leaned back, hands clasped behind his head. “Chat, look who decided to join us. Everyone say hi to my very lovely girlfriend.”

“Hi, chat,” you said reluctantly, waving. Then you turned to Lando with a suspicious look. “Wait. Why do you look so smug? What did I walk into?”

“I was just showing chat how amazing I am at this game,” he said innocently, gesturing at the screen.

You raised an eyebrow. “Amazing? Didn’t I just hear you screaming about getting sniped?”

The chat went wild again:

“SHE KNOWS!”

“Y/N CALLS HIM OUT!”

“WE LOVE HER ALREADY.”

Lando groaned, putting his head in his hands. “Why are you always on their side?”

“Because they’re right,” you teased, sitting on the arm of his chair. “Let me guess. You ran straight into the open without looking, didn’t you?”

“Excuse me,” he said, pointing at you. “I’m a tactical genius. They just got lucky.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, babe. Tactical genius. That’s why you once threw a grenade at your own teammate.”

The chat was losing it:

“EXPOSED.”

“LAN, SHE’S TOO GOOD.”

“PLEASE LET HER STREAM INSTEAD.”

Lando groaned, covering his face. “This is cyberbullying. From my own girlfriend.”

“Call it tough love,” you said, smirking. “Besides, you’re the one who left your socks on the kitchen counter this morning, so you deserve it.”

“What does that have to do with anything?!” Lando exclaimed, his cheeks turning red as he glanced at the camera.

“Everything,” you said, standing up. “Alright, I’ll leave you and chat to... whatever this is. Try not to embarrass yourself too much, yeah?”

Lando turned to the camera with a dramatic pout. “Chat, she’s so mean to me. Don’t you feel bad for me?”

The responses were immediate:

“NOPE.”

“WE STAN Y/N.”

“JUST ACCEPT YOUR FATE, LAN.”

Before you could leave, Lando grabbed your hand. “Wait, wait! Before you go, answer one thing.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “What?”

He turned back to the chat with a grin. “Alright, chat, here’s the question: Who’s better at Mario Kart—me or Y/N?”

You snorted. “Oh, that’s not even a question. I destroy you every time.”

The chat erupted again:

“Y/N SUPREMACY.”

“GET HER ON STREAM!”

“LAN IS FINISHED.”

Lando shook his head, laughing. “Unbelievable. I’m outnumbered in my own stream. You’re supposed to be on my team!”

“I am,” you said with a smile. “But only when you’re actually good at something.”

The mock gasp Lando let out was so over-the-top that you couldn’t help but laugh. You kissed the top of his head. “Good luck, babe. Don’t lose again.”

As you walked out, Lando turned back to the camera, shaking his head. “Chat, this is my life. Constantly roasted, no support, but hey... I think I kinda like it.”

The chat spammed hearts and laughing emojis as Lando launched into his next game, grinning from ear to ear.

Thank your for reading!

[vigilskeep]

Do we know enough about how Crow succession and talonship works to believe it would be possible for Viago to take the seat of first talon either through some sort of non-violent coup in the absence of an heir to house Dellamorte or through marrying his kid (rook) off to Lucanis? Asking because I really don't know and would love to write something in that direction...and you seem a crow enthusiast...also love your blog

THEORETICALLY. yes.

we haven’t seen the talons shift directly, but they do shift, with regularity. house arainai was first talon in living memory and then fell slowly downwards to their current point where they’re struggling in and out of eight talon like a drowning man who keeps finding his way to air for just enough breath

the eight talons system, if you’ll allow me the tangent, is a really fascinating choice of fantasy hierarchy because it is such a clear hierarchy. among a bunch of ambitious killers whose prime goal is notoriety. you can only hold each position here if everyone below you is too afraid to do anything about it. what an anxiety trip it must be to decide whether to push someone down just one rung or to try to destroy them entirely; do you want to leave your rival with more opportunity or more motivation? but crow power is also all about theatre, all about perception—you are first or fifth or seventh talon primarily because everyone agrees that you are—so making a failed gambit for a higher talon has got to be incredibly damaging. which is a risky setup. it discourages attempts, but when someone does make an attempt, they will not be fucking around

anyway ignore all that we’re talking about soft takeovers today. okay so house dellamorte has a dying core family, theoretically. we’re making the assumption that no surviving young children from any branch of the family are mentioned because none exist. we have two heirs, neither very acceptable (my apologies to caterina’s delusions), both men in their 30s with (again, assumed) no children, and neither making much progress in that regard. (arguably dependent on player choice when it comes to lucanis, but since he can fall in love with and express his undying devotion to any kind of rook, we can at least say he’s not making that much effort.) within a generation the core family may die out. but that is a LONG TIME to wait. you still have to deal with the current ones, they’re pretty robust

lucanis is the current first talon as of the end of veilguard. can he be convinced to give this up and hand first talon over to someone better suited? i do believe it. mostly because i need to believe, for my mental health, that we can get him out of there. but he also now has a fairly bulky support system full of people who love him and will notice how bad this is going to be and convince him he deserves things like a life he doesn’t hate

as always your main problem is caterina. caterina is not going to allow a takeover, soft or otherwise, while she is still alive. caterina didn’t give up first talon when they murdered her children. there’s probably an emotional plot in here where she can be made to accept what she’s done to her family, far too late, but with time left to save just one by letting him go. on the other hand, i’ve also been experimenting with plots in my mind where she tries to quietly get rid of viago or romanced rook for having too much influence, with the added benefit on hopefully being able to steel & refocus lucanis on defending the house against whoever she frames. or plots where she blames lucanis trying to leave and not being the boy she remembers on his, you know, demonic possession, and attempts to forcibly remove or destroy spite. so. there’s potential ups and downs, here.

i don’t know how helpful rook de riva/lucanis is. most of your problem here is that everything that sets this ending up by giving the de rivas more power, and by giving any rook more power over lucanis, is something that in my mind would crank caterina’s wariness all the way up. house de riva surely has to move up from fifth already after the events of the game and look more like a contender, and i don’t think even caterina’s delusions about lucanis’ suitability for first talon could make her blind to the effect rook can obviously have. i definitely think she would delay on a marriage and have the power to do that

i think it’s worth saying that rook de riva at any point bringing up to lucanis the idea of handing things over to viago would be a hell of a conversation. i know lucanis never remotely suspects rook of any agenda and trusts them completely, and i know i agree with rook here, but you’ve GOT to see how “i love you and having power is bad for you and what you should do is hand it all over to my talon” sounds. i truly could not blame him for a bit of doubt here especially if caterina was around to suggest it

sorry this is a completely messy and disconnected response. i don’t even know if i had a point. you might have to wait for caterina to actually die? is that my point? i can see rook de riva/lucanis being helpful to ease a transition of power to house de riva then. i also think it’s worth pointing out that teia might be the better contender for all this out of the two lovebirds. what quietly makes teia probably the most dangerous talon in the crows, if she ever chose to be, is that everyone likes her. i’m not joking or trying to handwave crow politics, it’s a form of soft power and the result of her cultivated skill that nobody ever suspects teia of anything. even caterina treats her gently, and literally a talon who tried to murder all the others in tevinter nights was delaying murdering her because she was his favourite. if anyone can handle a gentler transition like what we’re talking about, maybe it’s more likely to be teia

[dreamingsnowflake2013]

One of the many things which make Zhou Yichen's journey to find his lost love so hauntingly beautiful and profound is the juxtaposition of Zhao Yuanzhou becoming one of those thousands soul falling into the sea and sinking into deep sleep, kept in a limbo-like state, where he dreams a recurring nightmare of neverending loss and loneliness, and Zhou Yichen restlessly searching for him day and night without any respite. In fact, it's extremely poignant that his search begins in the middle of the night, with him desperately racing through the darkness. The circle of night turning into day and vice versa constantly repeats itself, but he never stops, from the deepest night until the break of day, he never ceases in his search for him.

He goes up hil and down dale, letting nothing stand in his ways, constantly roaming and traversing two worlds, going to the edge of both of them, undeterred in the face of constant failure, persisting and soldiering on, endlessly chasing after the impossible hope and dream of seeing Zhao Yuan Zhou once more, not resting until he finds him, since any other option would destroy him and turn the shattered pieces of his heart into dust. Because, yes, he never sleeps during the pursuit of ZYZ's soul.

He used to be an insomniac boy who feared falling asleep because of dreams of himself turning into a demon, then he spent almost a decade not being able to dream, and now he becomes an insomniac, who does not sleep nor dream, again because he fears never finding the demon he fell in love with.

And it's at dawn, when the first rays of light break through the darkness of the night, when Zhao Yuanzhou, whose soul which fell asleep wakes up at daybreak, comes to find him, just as ZYC told Li Lun, even the separation comes to pass and the lovers reunite again, and that's everything. The night ends and with it the nightmare, the beautiful dream Zhao Yuanzhou used to dream returning by becoming a reality.

While watching Zhou Yichen's looking for him, the few working braincells that weren't drowning in tears back then kept asking how can he search so long without packing any food on his trip. It took me two days to realise that as a great demon he now doesn't need to drink nor eat and his demon blood allows him to forgo sleep for days on end, so once again, it's his demonic nature, his choice to become a great demon, that helps him to find his beloved. The sheer brilliance of the writing!

The insane willpower, deep devotion and love that never allows Zhou Yichen to give up or falter in his quest are so unbelievable powerful and fate-defying that they feel like an obsession, in fact, they are, making him extremely similar to Cheng Huang and Li Lun. The only thing keeping him from walking down their path is his kind heart keeps him from leaving a trail of innocent lives behind, it's an obsession lacking selfishness and the need to control and possess.

Still not over the fact that Li Lun's unique power was literal possession and the only person he could never possess in every sense of the word once they broke up was the one he wanted the most, ZYZ, which hurt him even more because he had him once and lost him. Only for Zhao Yuanzhou pretty much giving himself to Zhou Yichen willingly and eagerly, be it his life or flying straight into his arms in the end.

[brainddeadd]

hughes sister x oscar and maybe she works something in f1 that’s how they met and they have been dating for a little while now and they finally found time for her to meet her family and she takes him to his first nhl game

Meeting the Family

The weekend had been carefully planned, squeezed between Oscar’s racing calendar and her brothers’ grueling NHL schedules. It was the perfect opportunity for Oscar to finally meet the Hughes family—and for her to take him to his first hockey game.

As they drove toward the Hughes family home, she could feel her nerves creeping in. She glanced over at Oscar, who seemed calm as ever, one hand loosely resting on the steering wheel.

“You know,” she began, fiddling with the hem of her hoodie, “Quinn, Jack, and Luke might come off a little... intense at first.”

Oscar smirked. “Intense like Turn 1 at Monza or...?”

She rolled her eyes but laughed. “More like three defensemen deciding whether you’re a threat to their baby sister.”

Oscar reached over and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll survive. I’ve met team principals scarier than your brothers.”

When they arrived, the Hughes house was buzzing with energy. Jack was the first to open the door, taking one long look at Oscar before pulling his sister into a tight hug.

“So,” Jack said, stepping back and folding his arms. “This is Oscar, huh? The guy you’re always FaceTiming?”

Oscar extended a hand with an easy smile. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Quinn and Luke appeared in the hallway, both sporting curious expressions. Their little sister could feel the weight of their stares as the introductions unfolded.

“Alright,” Luke said after a beat, “he seems normal. But we’ll see after tonight’s game.”

That evening, they piled into the arena, the excitement in the air almost tangible. It was Oscar’s first NHL game, and she couldn’t help but notice how fascinated he looked as the players skated out for warmups.

“They’re fast,” he said, leaning close so she could hear him over the roar of the crowd.

“You’re fast,” she teased. “This is... different.”

As the game began, Oscar quickly picked up on the intensity of the sport, asking questions about the rules and commenting on the sheer athleticism of her brothers.

When Quinn executed a flawless poke check to stop a breakaway, she nudged Oscar’s arm. “That’s Quinn. Pretty good, huh?”

Oscar grinned. “Not bad. But I’d like to see him take Eau Rouge at full speed.”

By the end of the game, the Devils had won, and Oscar was fully converted into a hockey fan.

Back at the house, the family was more relaxed. Jack and Luke took turns grilling Oscar about racing—his craziest moments, the rivalries, and the mechanics of the car. Oscar, to his credit, answered everything with patience and charm, even cracking a few jokes that made Quinn chuckle.

As the evening wound down, she leaned against Oscar’s shoulder, watching her brothers laugh at one of his stories. He fit into her world better than she could have imagined.

Later that night, as they left, Jack pulled her aside.

“He’s alright,” Jack said begrudgingly, but she could see the small smile tugging at his lips. “But if he ever hurts you...”

“I know,” she interrupted, rolling her eyes. “You’ll destroy him.”

As they drove away, Oscar glanced over with a playful smile. “So, did I pass the test?”

She laughed, leaning her head against the window. “Barely. But they like you.”

“And you?”

She smiled softly. “I love you.”

Oscar’s hand found hers again, and with a quiet grin, he said, “Good. Because I love you too.”

[ssentimentals]

PUTTING ON MY CLOWN MAKEUP SORRY JDCJDJS 🤡🤡🤡🤡 uhhh yes I would love dokyeom fluff prompt #9 🥹🙈

aksakjfs you are good, love!! :D no worries, thank you for requesting! 💜 hopefully you will like it!

fluff prompt: 'i love you.' - 'say it again.' - i love you!'

stare competition is not the one you're strong at, but you are willing to try because beating seokmin right now is more important than anything else. 'you cheated,' you accuse, pointing finger at him.

seokmin frowns, not breaking eye contact. 'did not.'

'you did,' you press. god who knew that monopoly game can turn two loving people against each other. 'admit it.'

'there's nothing to admit,' seokmin argues, throwing his hands up. 'i can't believe you're-'

'do you love me?' you interrupt suddenly, narrowing your eyes at him.

seokmin blinks. 'i love you. of course i do. what kind of question is that?'

'then if you love me you have to admit that you cheated!' you proclaim loudly.

seokmin looks shell shocked but then hollers with laughter soon after, can't bear to stand your dramatics with a serious face. you're trying to keep it in, but seokmin's laughter has always been contagious and you have to bite your lower lip to prevent yourself from cracking up too.

'do you love me?' seokmin asks, instantly changing from laughing to serious. 'quick. do you love me?'

'of course i do,' you answer, because this is the thing you are most sure about in this world. earth is round, we breathe air and you love lee seokmin.

seokmin's eyes twinkle. 'say it again.'

'i love you,' you repeat, sure as ever.

'are you accusing me of cheating because you are losing right now?' he questions, grinning broadly at the blush that spreads on your cheeks. 'being sore loser is a bad thing, babe.'

before you can comment, he leans forward and easily snatches two hidden cards under your knee, making you squeak in surprise. with a triumphant 'aha!' he grabs you and pulls you into a hug, destroying everything on the game board and attacking you with tickles.

'seokkie!' you squeal, barely breathing and laughing so hard that your stomach hurts. 'let me go!'

'never!' he yells, grinning like a madman. 'you are mine forever!' he slows down then, wrapping you in a soft hug and kissing your nose. 'even if you are a sore loser.'

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

[sixtwotoo]

forever thinking about that scene where sevika reveals to have triple crossed finn and renni and stayed loyal to silco and hes Hyperventilating when her sword doesnt go through his neck. silco is so…… haunted. everything he does and stands for comes off as reckless arrogance and absolute ruthlessness but underneath all that is a guy too self aware for his own good. hes paranoid, half blind, a drug addict, emaciated and weak from years living in zaun. i think his connection to zaun is what distinguishes himself from the others; he doesnt believe himself to be better than this, doesnt ever dream of leaving. he breathes in the gray confidently while his subordinates are choking at his feet. he hates his home with such tenacity and violence it could only ever be love. finn wants to change zaun: he wants a thriving empire under his command, something to rival piltover. silco was once a man who wanted nothing more than a bar where he could safely enjoy a drink with his friend. zaun is his home: to fix it is to destroy it. thinking about that one person that compared it to a gravesite…. everyone there is dead or in mourning. silco is content to haunt it for the rest of his existence, whether it be through his violence or the memory of it.

[daisymbin]

hii can u pls do angst #50 with seungcheol? and ofc, not an happy ending >__< i love ur writing sm, thank you!

ah!!! yes I can!! thank you for requesting 🤍

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // cheol's m.list

angst prompt #50: "I hope they're worth it."

seungcheol stumbled through the front door, the faint scent of alcohol and guilt clinging to his skin. the clock on the wall read 8:23am, but he didn’t need to check the time to know he was late—too late. the moment he stepped inside, he saw you sitting on the edge of the couch, arms folded tightly, face pale and blotchy, with dried tear tracks staining your cheeks.

you had been crying.

"you’re home," you said flatly, your voice raw like you’d been screaming into a pillow all night.

his heart sank. he’d spent the entire cab ride rehearsing what to say, but the words disintegrated in his throat. his voice came out hoarse. "yeah. i… uh, i lost track of time."

you laughed bitterly, the sound low and hollow, and reached for your phone. you slid it across the coffee table, the motion sharp, deliberate. the screen was lit, an image burned into it—a picture of him kissing someone at the bar.

someone who wasn’t you.

his breath caught. his fingers trembled as he picked up the phone, staring at the evidence of his betrayal. the rush of blood to his ears drowned out everything else.

"you weren’t even going to tell me, were you?" your voice cracked, anger bubbling just below the surface of your words.

"i—" his voice faltered. "i didn’t mean for it to happen. i was drunk, and—"

"don’t." the single word stopped him cold. you stood abruptly, wrapping your arms around yourself like you were holding yourself together with sheer will. your eyes shimmered, fresh tears threatening to spill, but you blinked them back, your voice sharper this time. "don’t insult me by blaming it on the alcohol."

his chest tightened, the weight of his mistake pressing harder with every word you spoke. "it was a mistake. i swear, it didn’t mean anything. i—"

"you don’t get to decide what it means, seungcheol." your voice broke, and this time, a sob slipped out. you pressed a hand to your mouth, as if you could stop it, but it was too late. the tears were falling again, streaming down your face even as you tried to stand tall. "you don’t get to brush it off like it’s something small, like it’s something i’m supposed to forgive just because you feel guilty now."

he moved closer, his hands trembling as he reached for you, desperate to bridge the chasm he’d created. "please, it was a moment of weakness. i love you—"

"love?" you let out a strangled laugh, the sound choked by tears. you wiped at your face with shaky hands but didn’t bother to hide how much you were breaking. "is this what love looks like to you? leaving me here all night, wondering if you were safe, only to find out you were with someone else?"

his knees felt weak. he sank onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. "i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to hurt you. i don’t even know why I—"

"stop." you cut him off sharply, your voice steadier now, though the tears kept falling. "don’t sit there and act like you don’t know why. you knew exactly what you were doing. you just didn’t care enough about me to stop yourself."

his own tears started to spill, hot and heavy, but he didn’t wipe them away. "it was a mistake," he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt. "it didn’t mean anything."

"it meant enough for you to do it," you shot back, your tone trembling but firm.

you bent down to pick up your bag from the floor, your movements slow, like every step you took was crushing you.

"wait," he blurted, panic lacing his voice. "where are you going? we can fix this. we can—"

"we?" you turned to face him one last time, your tear-streaked face filled with heartbreak and resolve. "there is no ‘we’ anymore, seungcheol. you destroyed that the moment you kissed her, the moment you decided i wasn’t enough."

his throat tightened as he tried to hold back his own sobs. "i’ll do anything. just… don’t leave. please."

you shook your head, the weight of the tears on your lashes making them shimmer in the dull morning light. "i hope she was worth it," you said quietly, your voice trembling as your lips quivered. "i really do."

he could only watch as you walked out the door, the sound of it closing behind you echoing in the empty apartment.

he stayed on the couch, staring at the spot where you’d stood moments ago, his tears falling freely now. the silence was suffocating, filled with the weight of everything he’d lost. he buried his face in his hands again, but this time, there was no one left to comfort him.

and he knew he deserved it.

[rottenpumpkin13]

I would love to see the aftermath of Cloud convincing Zack his life’s mission is to kill Sephiroth

*After Cloud travels back in time and tries to train Zack to help him fix everything*

Cloud: Okay, let's try this one more time. This is important, Zack, focus.

*He holds up a picture of a mako reactor*

Zack: Got it! Blow it up!

*Cloud holds up a picture of Genesis*

Zack: Inject him with stable Jenova cells! Understood!

*Cloud holds up a picture of Shinra headquarters*

Zack: Infiltrate and destroy! No problem!

*Cloud holds up a picture of Sephiroth*

Zack: Give him therapy?

Cloud: No.

Zack: Adopt him and give him love!

Cloud: NO.

[amara555555]

Something wholesome (or sad idk) because of crippling anxiety and how im procrastinating my assignments:

Sunshine

Gun x daughter reader:

“Daddy can you tie my shoelace?”

Those words had Jonggun’s mind in a blank. Tie her shoe laces? His mind suddenly aware of how his childhood was a ways ahead different than the one he tried to give his child, nothing ever pushed him towards the anger that he had sustained or the coldness he endured, the force of individuality, coldness, expectations, pain, and neglected before being smuggling into a different country by the age of 12.

He watched his little girl pout up at him embarrassed and shy, something so small could enlist a reaction of his little girl but he still couldn’t hold onto an ounce of emotion without it puffing into smoke. Leaving himself once again, numb, alone, inhumane.

It felt foreign how she was confidently asking him for a favour he would’ve been expected to know younger than her age. However he couldn’t shed the instinct to respond to her beck and call so quickly.

He blinked and lowered himself to her level before silently tying them meanwhile she hummed and busied her fingers by playing in his dark hair.

He finished her loops before securing them with a double knot then looking up back at her big doe eyes and rosey cheeks, all centred around a tiny button nose.

Perfect. His perfection. Everything he wasn’t . The stark contrast of her pigtails, playful eyes and pinky outfits, childish nail polish and little bits of glitter and stick on diamonds on her face, Childish. Meanwhile he’d be clad in darker colours, feel the blood of others dry upon his skin, his knuckles busted and hair gelled back in maturity. Grown up. She raised a brow and blinked.

“You look sad.”

Something so Perceptive for someone so young. She grew up too fast for him to realise, yet she still remained a baby in his heart. Yet he still felt a numbness towards the past, however within the time frame of his child’s birth he’d felt….something akin to the ray of sunshine, that comforting and gentle caress of love.

He couldn’t help but wonder if his parents noticed his growth? Did they feel this caress of tender affection? The swirling of love stir a reaction of warmth for a little person they created? He didn’t know. Not that he could ask anymore. He kept his eyes on her before responding.

“I have a lot on my mind right now.”

She perked up.

“Are we gonna rant together?!”

He smirked.

“You go first.”

He didn’t know how hard it would be to raise a child but he’d destroy himself before dropping into the standards he’d been raised by.