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katsu28 · 2 days ago

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summer's golden haze - chapter four

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: a confession, a second first date, and the start of something special. (4.8k)

a/n: happy birthday landooo!!! my gift to him is a girlfriend 🙂‍↕️

previous chapter | masterlist

A loud clang from the kitchen startles you from your sleep, blinking awake to a still dark room.

Your head throbs a little bit, but the headache isn’t as bad as you thought it would be. It’s easy to ignore, especially since your mind is occupied by the snoring boy sprawled out under you.

Lando’s fast asleep on his back, one arm slung over your torso loosely while the other hangs off the end of the sofa above his head, legs tangled with yours. You don’t remember cuddling up like this during the night, but you’re not complaining. He’s warm and comfy, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest soothing.

You almost don’t want to get up, but your curiosity about the noises coming from the kitchen wins out in the end. Very carefully, you wiggle out from under his arm, peeling yourself away from him as slow as you can so as to not wake him.

Once you’ve successfully extracted yourself, you can’t help but drop a kiss to Lando’s forehead before you go, pushing his curls away from his browline to do so. He lets out a little sigh, rolls onto his side, but remains deep in slumber as you pad out of the room.

The ruckus turns out to be Camille puttering around the kitchen making coffee—an essential hangover cure.

“Sorry, sorry, I was trying to be quiet. Did I wake you?” She hisses, cringing. You wave an absentminded hand, stifling a yawn as you plant yourself on a stool at the counter.

She slides a mug of coffee towards you and you gladly accept, leaning over the steam wafting from the piping hot drink. It’s taking all of your willpower not to gulp it all down in one go and burn your throat.

Camille lets you sip and sit as you attempt to wake yourself up a little more, but you can tell she’s dying to say something. You sigh. “Say what you wanna say.”

“Oh thank god. I hate you for making me wait more than five seconds, but whatever. Anyways, Lando stayed over last night?”

“Mhm, yeah. He did.” You bob your head noncommittally, staring hard at the dark liquid in your cup. Despite your laser focus, you can still feel Camille’s eyes boring into the top of your head, and when you finally do look up at her, she’s looking at you very pointedly. “What? We talked for a bit, and then we fell asleep.”

“And that’s all that happened?”

“Uh…” Your voice goes higher pitched than necessary, one eye squinting shut. You want to tell her everything, but you haven’t had the chance to speak with Lando yet. You’re not sure what “everything” entails yet.

Lando shuffles into the kitchen right at that moment, rubbing furiously at his eye with one hand while the other scratches at his stomach aimlessly. He extends his arms high over his head in a loud yawn and stretch combo, in doing so revealing a strip of tanned torso that has you nearly choking on your sip of coffee.

That earns you two confused, yet amused looks, for wildly different reasons.

“Hot.” You say lamely, in a very poor explanation. Lando’s expression turns slightly smug. “The coffee. Burned my tongue.”

“Morning, sunshine!” Camille chirps happily. Knowingly. She beams at Lando and it stops him in his tracks, blinking unsurely at her chipper form like he’s hallucinating instead of responding. “Cool, just stare at me like I’m an alien.”

“Sorry, I just—how are you not hungover right now? You could barely walk straight last night,” He asks incredulously.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She hums, winking at him.

Lando pulls himself onto the stool next to yours with a groan, but doesn’t hesitate to give you the best smile he can muster in greeting. “Morning. How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” You say softly, wrapping your hands around the mug in front of you. “You?”

“Really good. Best sleep I’ve had in months, actually.”

“On a shitty couch with no back support? Interesting.”

Lando checks to see that Camille isn’t paying any attention before he responds. “Maybe it was the company.”

You feel your cheeks blaze hot under his intense gaze, but you can’t bring yourself to break eye contact with him. You still need to address what happened last night. It’s still something you haven’t quite wrapped your head around yet, and you feel the need to stall so you can gather your thoughts some more.

“Coffee’s fresh on, if you want some,” You blurt.

Lando takes your reaction in stride, as if he senses you need time. “Oh, that sounds amazing right now.”

Instead of going to pour himself his own cup, he eases yours out of your hands and takes a hefty sip from it in one fell swoop, before you can even tell him it’s just coffee. He doesn’t like plain black coffee. Then he shudders, face scrunching up in adorable disgust. “Blegh. Needs milk. Sugar, too.”

“That’s because it’s mine, and I happen to think it’s just fine the way it is, thank you very much.”

“You don’t wanna share?”

Your nose crinkles in the same way his had a few moments ago. “Not if you’re going to dump a fuckton of sugar in it.”

“Not a fuckton! Just a spoon or two. Maybe three.”

“Get your own, Norris.” You roll your eyes playfully, and Lando cocks his head in challenge, lifts your mug back to his lips for another long sip, this time obnoxiously loud. Paired with the adorable crooked troublemaker’s grin, you have to fight the need to kiss him again.

You want to, but you can’t. Not yet.

Samira and Maren trudge in a little while later, looking much worse for wear than you all. Neither of them even have it in her to reply to any of your good morning’s, only to make it over to pour themselves a generous mugs of coffee.

“See, that’s what I thought you lot would be like right now,” Lando says, waving a hand at your two zombies of friends. “That’s what normal people are like after hitting up four bars in a night, you psychopaths.”

“If my head wasn’t pounding right now, I’d punch you in your pretty boy face,” Samira grumbles, glaring at him through bleary eyes. “What’re you even doing here, anyways?”

“Who d’you think brought you all home last night?”

“Then why do I remember Max doing a horrible rendition of We Belong Together by Mariah Carey?” Maren groans, face screwing up in confusion.

In perfect timing, you hear the front door open, and then Max’s booming voice.

“Your savior has arrived!” He saunters into view with his hands behind his back, as if he’s hiding something behind him. The closer he gets, the more you can smell something mouthwatering wafting from whatever he’s just brought.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear, I guess,” Camille chuckles.

Max juts his lower lip out, smacking one hand over his heart. “Aw, you guys were talking about me? All good things, I hope.”

“Always, mate,” Lando assures him, but not without shooting you a cheeky wink as soon as his friend turns away.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Samira grits out, glaring at no one in particular. “You’re all being way too loud right now.”

“Guess that means you don’t want the food I brought?”

“...What is it?”

“Sugar and carbs.”

“Hand over the box right now and you’re forgiven.”

The four of them get into some other conversation quickly after that, giving Lando the privacy to lean over towards you, lips nearly ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Think we can slip out and have that talk now?”

You cast a glance at your friends fighting over the pastries in the box. They won’t even notice you’re gone.

Lando’s mouth is on yours as soon as you’re out of sight and earshot, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You almost forget what you’re supposed to be doing, but catch the thought at the last second before it slips away.

“Mm, Lando, hold on—” You mumble, splaying a hand flat across his chest. He lets out a distracted sound of question, squeezing at your waist. “Less kissing, more talking,” You chide.

Lando pouts, but obliges, taking a step back to put just the smallest bit of space between you. “Fine, fine, I’m listening.”

“Look, I don’t—I’m not normally one to do things that scare me. And when you told me who you were, I immediately shut down because I thought no, that’s not me. I can’t do that, that’s too scary to be me. I wanted to play it safe.”

His heart beats strongly under your palm, if not a little quicker than usual with your fingers curled into the softness of his rumpled jumper.

You’re not looking at his face right now. With how vulnerable you’re being with him right now, you aren’t sure that you’ll be able to utter the words if you look him in the eye.

Instead, you’ve got your gaze trained on his hand on top of yours, the collection of bracelets on his wrist that you remind yourself to ask about another time.

“Getting to know you, realizing how much I like you, I think it also made me realize that life is too short to always play it safe. Some people are worth stepping out of my comfort zone for. What we are, what we could be—you’re worth stepping out of my comfort zone for,” You say softly, but firmly.

It’s nothing but the absolute truth. You’re putting yourself out there in a way you’ve never had the courage to do before. But Lando, he gives you courage. He makes you want to try.

“So this is me, doing something scary, asking if you’ll…take a chance on me?”

Only then do you muster up the courage to look him in the eye, and when you do, you’re met with the biggest, most smitten grin you’ve ever seen grace his face. Dimples on full display, eyes squinted with happiness, he’s smiling so hard it almost looks like it hurts.

“I’ll take every chance I’ve got on you,” He says earnestly, cupping your face in both hands. “And if I’ve got none left, I’d find some more, ‘cause you’re worth it a hundred times over.”

“Sorry it took me so long to figure my shit out,” You say sheepishly.

He gestures towards himself suggestively, waggling his eyebrows. “I knew you couldn’t resist all this for long.”

“You’re so dumb,” You scoff, shaking your head at his antics. Even so, your affection for him has never been clearer. You may say he's dumb (you know he isn’t), but he’s yours now. He’s yours now and you've never been more excited to see what’ll happen.

“Well, you like me, so…guess you’ve just got to deal with it.”

“Yeah? And what do you think I should do about that?”

“What do I think? You wanna know what I think? I think you should…” He trails off, pushing in closer, closer, closer, until his mouth hovers a millimeter from yours. Careful fingers tilt your chin up to guide you the rest of the way, meeting your lips gently.

You’d kiss Lando all day if you had the time, just because now you can, but there’s still the issue of the when and how you’re going to tell your friends. Reluctantly, you pull away. “We should get back before they notice we’re missing.”

“Probably, yeah.” You wait for him to move but he doesn’t. He just looks at you like he can’t believe you’re real.

“What?” You reach up hastily in an attempt to smooth out your hair. “Do I look okay?”

“You look perfect.”

“Stop being so sweet. I mean, do I look like I’ve just been kissed within an inch of my life?”

“I’m taking that as a compliment.”

You press one more quick peck to his lips in lieu of a response, giving his hand another squeeze before turning on your heel to head back. Lando follows behind like a puppy, close but not too close.

All eyes are on you the second you step back into the room, four pairs flicking from Lando to you, back to him, then back to you. Granted, it probably would’ve been a smarter idea to return at separate times so as to not raise suspicion, but it’s too late for that now.

“...What?” You try for a lighter tone to throw them off, tilting your head to the side.

One second passes. Two, three, four seconds. You almost think you can pull this off. Then—

“You fuckers!” Maren huffs, seeming much more alert and awake now. “You couldn’t have waited another day to get your shit together?”

Definitely not the reaction you were envisioning in your head, if you’re being honest.

“‘Scuse me?” Lando asks, looking both bewildered and a little bit offended by the outburst. He aims a sideways glance at you for an explanation that you can’t provide.

All it does is confuse you, but for some reason, Samira begins to giggle uncontrollably. Even Max looks a mixture of happy and smug.

“I just lost thirty bucks to Max because of you two!”

“You bet on us? What the fuck, mate!” Lando exclaims incredulously.

Max lets out an offended noise from the back of his throat. “You expect me not to take my chances on easy money? Get real, mate. I can give you a cut of it if it gets your knickers out of a twist.”

“What they mean is, we’re glad you finally figured out you belong together,” Camille says earnestly, only a tad apologetic. Lando takes this moment to sling an arm around your shoulders, tucking you against his side and pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Right, well, in other news, I actually came over here with a purpose other than providing joy to everyone,” Max interrupts the tender moment, clapping once. “Lando, we’ve got Keegan’s thing today, so we gotta, y’know—gotta get going, yeah?”

Lando inhales sharply, shoulders slumping. “Right. Fuck, I forgot about that.”

“Yeah, I know you did. Too busy wooing your lady and all,” Max teases, aiming a wink in your direction that has you throwing up a playful middle finger at him. Lando turns to face you, frowning.

“I’m sorry, I’ve gotta—I wish I could stay, I really do. I totally spaced on this thing one of our mates has going on today, we promised we’d go—”

“It’s okay, Lando,” You say, endeared by his scrabbling for an explanation. He didn’t really need one to begin with, but it’s cute that he feels the need to explain himself. “Go do your thing. I’ll see you when you’ve got time.”

“You’re the best. How did I get so lucky?” He sighs, dramatically dreamy. Humor twinkles in his eyes.

“Bye,” You chuckle, moving to peel yourself away from him. You want to get in on one of the pastries Max had brought before they’re gone.

“Wait, wait.” Lando slips his fingers through yours, tugging lightly to stop you before you can get even a few steps away. “Before I go. Do you have any dinner plans tonight?”

Your brows pinch in the middle. “No. Why?”

“I want a do over of our first date. One that doesn’t end in…y’know.” You hum in thought, like you’re even contemplating turning him down, and he lets out a little frustrated whine that makes you giggle again. “Come on, let me take you out. Wanna wine and dine you properly, baby.”

The term of endearment rolls off his tongue so easily, so casually, like he’s called you it all along. It makes you concede.

“Where are we going?”

“That’s for me to figure out before tonight,” He hums. You raise a semi-skeptical brow. “I’ve got ideas, I swear! Just wear something pretty and be ready by seven. I’ll be by to pick you up then.”

“Okay.” You nod. Lando perks up, beaming bright. He kisses you again, briefly but enthusiastically, before turning to follow Max towards the front door. “See you tonight. And you better not be late!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it!”

The rumble of a car driving away echoes out soon after the two boys disappear from sight.

You sigh lightly, returning your attention back to the enticing box of pastries on the counter. You pray the one that had been calling your name in the little peek you'd gotten when Max first handed them over is still there.

Your hand gets smacked as you eagerly reach for the box, not hard enough to bruise but hard enough to make you curse. You look up to see all three girls waiting expectantly for you to fess up and tell them how you’d gone from awkwardly avoiding Lando to what they'd just witnessed.

“Can I at least eat first?” They shake their heads firmly, and you whine. “What? Come on, I’m starving!”

“Explain, then eat.”

Your shoulders creep up towards your ears in a shrug. Seeing as it was kind of just a gut feeling more than anything, it’s a little hard to articulate with words. You try your best at it anyways.

“I…realized I was making a mistake by walking away because I was scared. You guys know I’ve never been great with change, but I dunno, maybe change is okay sometimes.”

“Oh my god, our girl is growing up.”

-------

The closer it gets to seven, you find your nerves growing with every tick, tick, tick of the clock. You’re not even sure why. It’s just dinner, and it’s just Lando. You’re comfortable with Lando. You like Lando.

So why does it feel like you’re about to do something so much bigger than that?

Dinner might as well mean canon event in your mind. Things with Lando are literally brand new, not even a full day old yet, but it feels like something monumental. Your first date ended in shambles (thanks to your own doing), so the urge to make sure this one goes perfect is high.

The pressure is on, and you don’t do too well under pressure. That doesn’t even include the fact that your feelings for him are stronger than anything you’ve felt for anyone before.

The moment Lando pulls up in front and you lay eyes on him climbing out of the car though, all your worries start to melt away. He looks so happy to see you again, even though you haven’t even been apart for a full day. It makes you remember that there’s no reason to get all worked up about anything with him.

“Hey, you,” He says, leaning in to wrap an arm around your waist as soon as he’s close enough. “Missed your face today.”

“Just my face?” You tease.

Lando’s head lists to one side, nose scrunching adorably. “Maybe other parts of you too.” Your eyebrows lift towards your hairline amusedly at his words and he groans, nudging you gently in the ribs with a large hand. “Oh, get your head out of the gutter! I didn’t mean it like that.”

You giggle, dotting a kiss to his pouting lips. “So what’d you come up with for our second first date?”

“Why don’t you get in the car and see?” He offers out his arm and you take it gladly, accepting his help into the car too. You think he’s about to start the car when he slides into the driver’s seat, but he catches you by surprise by sneaking in another kiss instead. “You look amazing.”

“You clean up pretty well yourself,” You shoot back. He’s gone for simple but put together with a classic white button up with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms and some dark trousers, and you’d be lying if you said he didn’t pull them off fantastically.

“All for you, baby.” He grins, winking boyishly. “I got us a reservation at the nicest restaurant in town. Well, nicest according to the loads of travel blogs me and Max looked at. Fancy seeing if Greek summer gal dot com knows what she’s talking about?”

“With a name like that, how ever could she be wrong?” You play along, lacing your fingers through his. He dots a kiss to your temple.

Lando chats about his day on the way into town, all the way until his phone rings. His brow furrows, and for a split second you think it might be work calling again. If it is, you have half a mind to answer it yourself and chew them out.

“Sorry, d’you mind seeing who it is?” Lando lifts himself off the seat, shoving a hand into his pocket to squeeze his buzzing phone out and passing it to you. A wildly unflattering photo of Max flashes across the screen.

“It’s Max. Want me to answer?” You offer, giggling at the silly sight. He nods gratefully, keeping his eyes on the road. You tap the accept call button, putting the other boy on speaker.

“What’s up, mate?” Lando says, hitting you with a ‘get a load of this guy’ sort of look. “Kinda in the middle of something here.”

“Yeah I know, that’s why I’m calling. You can’t go to that restaurant.”

Lando’s expression morphs into one of confusion, one you’re sure that you’re mirroring as you squint back at him. “Uh…sure we can. I made a reservation, everything’s set already.”

“I know, asshole!” Max huffs. “Someone must’ve leaked your name on the reservation to the press or something, ‘cause I just drove by a few minutes ago and it’s crawling with people. Like, swamped with paparazzi and fans.”

Lando’s knuckles tighten on the steering wheel, face screwing up into something between anger and despair. “Shit. That’s not good.”

“Just thought I’d let you know before you get there,” Max says. He sounds guilty, but he has no reason to be. You’re glad he’d been able to get a hold of Lando beforehand. “You can still go out, just…maybe find somewhere else to go, I dunno.”

“Thank you, Max,” You chime in.

“Yeah, thanks for the heads up, mate. Cheers.”

Lando flicks on his blinker to pull off to the side of the road the first chance he gets after Max hangs up, and when he does turn the car off, he immediately goes to bang his head against the steering wheel. “This is so bad,” He groans.

You smooth a hand down his back in an attempt to soothe him. “It’s fine, Lando. We can just go somewhere else.”

“I wanted this so badly to go perfect, and again, I’m the reason why it’s all going to shit.”

“It’s not going to shit. And you wouldn’t be the reason for it, even if it was,” You insist firmly. He straightens up in his seat, turning to face you with doubt crinkling his face that you immediately want to rid him of. Your hand finds his, prying his fingers off the steering wheel to intertwine. “I mean it. I don’t care that we’re not going to some fancy restaurant. All I care about is that we’re together.”

Lando squeezes your hand, bringing it up to his lips to press a grateful kiss to your knuckles. “You’re too good for me, you know that?”

“I know.” You shrug, feigning nonchalance. It makes him chuckle, brings back the twinkle in his eye.

After driving for a bit, you eventually find yourselves at a little gyro spot to grab some food. You push open the door to get out once Lando has put the car to a stop, but at the very last moment, you turn back to face him.

“You should probably stay here,” You say, gnawing on your lip.

Lando pouts, but doesn’t make a move to exit the car. He must know it’s for the best. Even so, he digs out his wallet, pressing a few bills into your hand. You click your tongue, giving your head a shake. “Don’t look at me like that. I asked you to dinner, I pay for it.”

“Alright, fine.”

“Mint. Get me something good?”

“‘Course I will. Salmon, right?” You quip, smiling innocently. His hatred for fish is something you’ll never tire of poking fun at him for.

“Don’t even joke about that, you monster!” Lando exclaims, slapping a dramatic hand over his chest. You laugh out loud. “And don’t you think about getting fish either, or I’ll never kiss you again.”

“Well, someone’s dramatic!”

“I’m serious!”

You leave him behind at that, giggling to yourself about his theatrics.

The lady working the counter in the little mom and pop gyro shop is very kind, compliments your outfit and calls you a beautiful young woman while you wait on your food—even gives you an order of veggie kroketes, on the house.

She kind of reminds you of your own mother, whom you make a mental note to call when you have the time. You’ve been having such a good time here, you’ve nearly forgotten the rest of your world outside of it.

You wind up finding someplace not far away to enjoy your food once you’ve gotten it. A hidden spot, a little off the road—not a place anyone would come across unless they were looking hard enough. Perfect for two people who’d rather not attract attention.

Lando procures a beach towel from the boot of the car for the two of you to sit on as you eat.

“I’m sorry about the restaurant again. I usually don’t use my actual name when I do things like that, but they were just about booked up and I really wanted us to go, so I did,” He sighs, tracing a finger along the patterned cotton. “I had no idea it’d get leaked, I swear. Guess I should’ve seen it coming.”

“Does that usually work? Using your name to get things.”

Lando’s cheeks flush pink and he smiles guiltily, ducking his head momentarily before nodding. “Usually, yeah. I don’t do it often though. Almost never, really. Only for special things, and this…well, I wanted it to be just that. Special.”

“It is special,” You say, letting your knee bump his.

He scoffs lightly like he doesn’t think the same, lifting his half eaten wrap in the air. “We’re sat on the side of the road eating takeaway.”

Even a date like this truly is something special to you. Spending time with the person you’ve become so close with in such a short amount of time—the one who makes you feel things you’ve never felt before, who makes you feel like you can truly be yourself—it’s something you were starting to think you’d never have. Lando’s come along and changed all that.

“Do you think you have to impress me?” Lando doesn’t say anything, just lets his mouth snap shut, but you can see it in his eyes that yes, he feels the need to impress you. You’re not sure why, but you suspect it has less to do with you and more to do with his own feelings. “Because you don’t. I couldn’t care less about your name, your money, or anything else that comes with it. I like you for you, not for what your status can get us.”

Lando stares back at you long and hard, as if he’s searching you for any ounce of indication that you’re not telling him the truth. You’re certain he’ll find nothing, because even though you’re still getting to know each other—flaws, fears, and all—you’ll never lie to him.

“I’m sorry,” He says eventually. “I dunno why I thought—” He cuts himself off with a shake of the head. “Y’know what, nevermind. It doesn’t matter. I’ll be better.”

“You don’t need to be better,” You hum, resting your head against his shoulder. “You just need to be you.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re really good at this pep talk thing?”

“Never had to give anyone this many pep talks before.”

Lando pokes his fingers into the ticklish spot between your ribs in response. You reach to bat away his hand, but he moves quicker, leaning in to drag his nose against your cheek.

“Is now a bad time to tell you I did actually get the fish?”

Lando rears his head back faster than you could’ve imagined, looking so absolutely horrified at your insinuation it has you breaking composure almost instantly. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was two seconds away from gagging out loud. “No you did not.”

“I didn’t, but wouldn't it have been funny if I did?”

“That is so not cool,” He grumbles, lips pulling into a pout. You have the urge to kiss it away and you fight it for a moment, but then you remember you can kiss him whenever you want, so you do. It seems to make him forget about his disgust, because he kisses you back immediately.

You’re one who’s dazed when you finally resurface for air, but you manage to smile sweetly. “Better now?”

“Getting there. Maybe a little longer would help.”

“Just a little longer?”

“A lot longer works too.”

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#lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 #ln4 x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x fem!reader #lando norris fic #lando norris series #ln4 x you

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gothcsz · 17 hours ago

Text

Summary: A lot of firsts with Javi.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s he taking you, anyways?”

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

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

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

“Okay, I’m back.”

“And?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe one day.”

This moment already feels charged for no reason.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like you’re anticipating something unfolding.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh absolutely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Figures. You’ve got that fire.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kiss me, Javi,” you murmur.

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

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

It’s all so new, so beautifully unhurried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then he goes and says something stupid like that.

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

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

“I guess so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I could quit—”

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

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

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

“Javi, please, think this through—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I guess we are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘“I’ll be waiting.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“An old colleague,” he says flatly.

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

“Woah, nena, take it easy—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Javier raises his brows at you. “Seriously?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Turn around, baby, let me see you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He groans low and deep, clearly savoring your reaction.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You need to fuck this man.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Javi! Fuck—fuck, yes, oh god—”

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

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

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

Right, he’s got that pornstar stamina.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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novvabee · 2 days ago

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And They Were Roommates pt.7

Summary: this one is pretty short and sweet, but Y/N makes the boys friendship bracelets.

“What colors do you want?” you ask Sirius who is sitting on the other side of the couch, picking out beads and charms that he likes. You were making little bracelets for you and the girls when Sirius walked in the living room and asked what you were up to. He cozied up next to you and watched as you intricately wove and knotted a pink, white, and green bracelet for Lily. Once you were finished he sweetly asked for one, and you of course agreed.

“Do you have red and black?” he asked, still sifting through the little charms.

“Of course,” you replied, “I also have this silvery color I think you’d like.” You lifted the string of the shimmery silver so he could see. His face lit up and he nodded. You cut three equal length strings in the colors he wanted and began tying knots.

He handed you three charms that he wanted: a star, a red guitar, and cherries. You couldn’t explain it, but those charms just made sense on a Sirius bracelet.

He hovered over you, watching intently, sitting close enough to rest his chin on your shoulder. You enjoyed this small, quiet moment with Sirius. You felt like you didn’t get them often, but when they happen, it leaves you with a warm feeling all over.

“Could you teach me how to make one?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you replied, “just grab some colors and copy me.” you turned to face him, legs criss-crossed, knees touching his.

“Ok, just go slow.” he said.

You smiled and showed him the basic knots and loops he had to copy, at a much slower pace, making sure your work was on clear display for him to follow. “See you make a ‘4’ with the strings, and make sure it is tight so that you can see the pattern,” you explained, “and then you move to the next string.”

“W-wait, slow down.” he laughed.

“Keep up, slow poke.” you laughed back. In all fairness, he did try, but somewhere along the way it all went wrong.

The bracelet, if you could call it that, turned into some sort of knotted ball, strings hanging loose. You bit your lip and turned away to stop from laughing.

“Don’t you dare laugh.” he said, this just made you hide your face in your hands to muffle the giggles coming out. “Stop it! I tried so hard!” he said, fake pouting.

“Oh it’s lovely Siri,” you laughed, holding out your wrist for him to tie it to. It looked like something a cat would play with, but you were genuinely proud of him for trying. He grabbed ahold of your wrist and secured it, a goofy smile cut across his face. You loved to see it, loved that he was comfortable to be silly around you, himself around you.

“Ok, ok my turn.” you say to him. He closed his eyes and held out his wrist, the same way you did. You tied the bracelet around his wrist, knotting it to make sure he could take it off when he wanted. “Ok look!”

He opened his eyes. His smile grew and he looked quite pleased. “I love it.” he said, eyes not moving from the strings. There it was again, that warm little feeling. "You gotta tie it tighter so it wont come off." you nodded and tightened it. You thought surely he would take it off soon after you put it on, but maybe you thought wrong.

You heard footsteps make their way downstairs. You looked up seeing Remus, still in pajamas and hair a bit messy.

“Morning sunshine.” Sirius shot at him. Remus yawned and made his way over to the pair of you. It wasn’t irregular for him to sleep in so late, usually allowing himself a day of rest once a month, you figured it was because he always stayed up so late and he was trying to fix his sleep schedule.

“Hi Remmy,” you greeted him.

“What are you two up to?” he asked, voice groggy and deep.

“We are making bracelets, Y/N is teaching me.” Sirius said, holding his wrist up for Remus to see.

Remus took Sirius’s hand and held it close, examining your work. He smiled at you. “Fine craftsmanship, I see,” he said jokingly.

“Would you like one? I can make one for you as well.” you asked. It would not take long at all, you had made hundreds before.

He nodded. “Course I would like one, love.”

You beamed up at him, clapping your hands eagerly. “Pick out the colors and charms you’d like.” you ordered him.

He chose green, brown, and a yellowy tan color. The colors much like the sweaters he often wears. He picked out a singular charm, a crescent moon, and the letters spelling out ‘moony’.

“Moony?” you asked. He was now sitting on the armchair, sitting sideways, long legs dangling over the arm’s edge.

He chuckled, supplying you with a short, “It’s a nickname.”

“But why-” you were interrupted with the front door opening and James swooping in, always the tornado. He was out of breath and sweaty, just coming back from a jog.

“Hello! I need to shower- Ah Remus nice to see you’re finally awake, anyways after that I want to make dinner-Chicken and pasta alright?” he asked, so fast paced and chaotic, the way he always was. He stopped in his tracks when he saw what you were doing, coming to the back of the couch and looking over. “What is that?” he asked.

“A bracelet, I made one for Sirius and now one for Remus. Sirius made me one too, which I love and am very proud of.” you held up your arm for James to see the yarn ball dangling halfway on your wrist. James and Remus both burst into laughter, Sirius chuckling along with them.

“Well that's not fair,” James said, “if you are making friendship bracelets, I want one too.”

You giggled at the slight childishness of that statement, but replied, “Fine, you pick out some colors and charms too.”

James picked red, yellow, and white for his colors and two tiny gold charms; a sun and a lightning bolt. The sun made sense for him, he was always the light and warmth within the house, bright and happy. The lightning bolt however…

“Why the lightning bolt?” you asked, straining your neck all the way back to look at him above the couch.

He smiled down at you and shrugged. “No clue, I just think it’s cool.”

Taglist 💌: @too-efn-old-to-be-here @cometsghost @eeviee4 @giuli-in-earth @spicybearnaise @the-lavender-girl @adharalikethestar @champomiel @itsleroyposts

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tetragonia · 3 days ago

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It Almost Worked

JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

One summer night. Two knees touching each other. Three hours in conversation. Four logs burning bright on the bonfire. Five best friends having fun. Something almost worked.

warning: nothing, really. no use of (y/n), just pure fluff

note: this was in Season 1-ish, where the Pogues were just Kie and the boys. just a feel-good fic, knowing what we got in Season 4^_^

words: 1.2k

The night was warm, the stars were scattered across the Outer Banks sky like salt crystals tossed over midnight silk. You sat in a circle around the bonfire with John B, Kiara, Pope, and JJ, laughing and trading stories, all of you just on the edge of exhaustion from a long day out on the water. A gentle breeze swept through, carrying with it the salt and wildness of the ocean. It was mid-July and you wanted it to stay like that forever, just the five of you, having the most fun.

JJ sat next to you, his hair tousled and glowing faintly in the firelight, and his laughter mingled with yours as John B recounted a story. He leaned forward, face animated in the flickering light.

“So there we were, okay?” he began, grinning like he’d just cracked open a treasure chest. “Pope’s convinced that we’re being followed, right? He’s looking over his shoulder every two seconds, nearly tripping over his own feet!”

Pope rolled his eyes but stayed silent, clearly waiting for the punchline. Kiara smirked, already skeptical.

“So you guys are just… walking in circles?” she asked, eyebrow raised. John B laughed.

“Well, we thought we were being stealthy, but turns out, we circled around so many times, we ended up right back where we started!”

“Right back in front of Mrs. Callahan’s house,” Pope added, deadpan. “You know, the woman who called the cops on us last summer?”

Kiara shook her head, looking between John B and Pope with pure disbelief. “Wait, you mean to tell me you spent, what, an hour thinking you were outsmarting someone — just to wind up exactly where you started?”

“Hey, hey!” JJ jumped in, clapping to support John B. “They were clearly being hunted, Kie. Expert survival instincts, alright? It’s called evasion.”

You were clutching your stomach, laughing so hard your sides hurt as JJ kept trying to hype up the story with exaggerated nods and dramatic hand gestures.

“Oh, please,” you choked out, trying to catch your breath. “This is the same group that got lost on the mainland, and that was in broad daylight!”

John B threw up his hands in mock offense, “Okay, so maybe we didn’t exactly outsmart anyone. But come on! Admit it, we kept it interesting.”

Everyone erupted in laughter once again at the silly story. It was one of those moments where you felt like time had stopped; there was just the fire, the night, and the warmth of friends.

When everyone was busy laughing, you felt JJ shifted beside you, leaning back on his hands and stretching his legs out, his knee brushing against yours. The touch was so light, it could’ve been accidental, but he didn’t move it away. Neither did you.

Instead, you let the heat from his knee sink into yours, feeling a strange thrill at the proximity. It was something you’d been noticing more lately—the quiet moments where JJ was just close enough that you could feel him without touching him. And yet, tonight, there was something in the air. Maybe it was the firelight, or maybe it was the feeling of summer hanging heavy and endless, but you were painfully aware of him beside you.

“You guys remember that time we almost got stranded on Midsummers?” JJ’s voice was low, and he grinned, his eyes glancing toward you before drifting back to the group. “I thought for sure we’d end up spending the night in those marshes.”

“Thanks to your brilliant plan,” Pope said with a smirk, leaning forward. “What was it you said again? ‘Who needs a map when you have instinct?’”

Everyone laughed, JJ included, but you felt his knee press a little more firmly against yours, a slight nudge, like he was daring you to react. You met his eyes across the fire, and he raised his eyebrows, just barely, like he was challenging you. You knew that look—it was the one he used right before he did something reckless.

The fire crackled, and JJ leaned closer, his shoulder almost brushing yours now.

“Guess I can’t always get things right,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“Almost doesn’t count,” you replied softly, giving him a playful nudge. But he just smiled, his gaze flicking from your eyes to your lips, lingering there for a heartbeat longer than it should. Your heart skipped, and you forced yourself to look away, but it didn’t stop the flush from creeping up your neck.

“Hey, you two! What are you whispering about over there?” Kiara’s voice cut through the moment, her eyes gleaming with mischief. She’d noticed the space between you and JJ, or rather, the lack of it.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, glancing away and picking at the edge of a log. But JJ, never one to let a moment pass, smirked and tilted his head toward her.

“Just talking about how close you were to breaking that table at Midsummers last year,” he teased, deflecting with his usual charm.

“Oh, shut up, Maybank,” Kiara shot back, but her smile betrayed her amusement.

The conversation drifted back into laughter and teasing, yet JJ didn’t move. His knee was still pressed against yours, his arm brushing yours every so often as he laughed, his hand nearly grazing your own.

Finally, John B and Pope started talking about some ridiculous theory about the treasure, but you were barely listening. You felt hyper-aware of every breath JJ took, every subtle movement he made beside you. You turned your head, meaning to tell him something about the stars, or the fire, or anything to ease the tension building between you.

But then you caught the look in his eyes — something deeper, softer, something that made your heart beat a little faster.

“You know,” he said, his voice just a murmur, “this was a good night.”

You felt yourself smiling despite the heat, despite the way his gaze was making it hard to breathe. “Yeah, it was,” you replied, just as softly.

For a split second, it felt like everything else disappeared — the fire, the laughter of your friends, even the stars. There was just JJ, his blue eyes meeting yours, a small, hesitant smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He leaned just slightly closer, his shoulder brushing yours.

The air between you crackled, charged with all the words neither of you had spoken, all the things you hadn’t allowed yourself to admit. He tilted his head, his lips a mere breath away from yours, close enough that you could feel his breath warm against your cheek. And for a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you. For a moment, you thought everything was about to change.

But then, he pulled back just slightly, the playful smirk returning to his face, though his eyes were softer, his voice almost a whisper.

“Almost,” he said, and you swore you heard a hint of regret in his tone.

Your heart dropped and soared all at once, caught in the tension of what could have been. You gave him a small, bittersweet smile, and replied, “Almost.”

He chuckled, looking away with that familiar ease, but you knew that he felt it too. The unspoken tension hung heavy between you, an acknowledgment of the connection you both felt but couldn’t quite act on.

As the firelight flickered, casting shadows across the beach, the two of you sat in silence, close but not quite close enough. And though neither of you said a word about it, you knew—tonight was the night that it almost worked.

#outer banks #jj maybank #obx #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x fem!reader #outer banks x fem!reader #outer banks fanfiction #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #obx x reader #outer banks x reader #rudy pankow #outer banks fluff #obx fic #tetrapost #tetrapost obx

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mialikeshockey · 3 days ago

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Kiss Me - Jack Hughes

Being with Jack was always like a fresh breath of air. Never was there a moment where we weren’t giggling and laughing over the most ridiculous things. Everything was always so smiley, it’s kinda why being with Jack was always so special to me; until I remember he’s my twin brothers best friend. Jack would never be anything more to me than my brothers best friend. Case would never allow it for sure.

So I thought…

“Hey lil mac, how’s it going?” Jack says walking into my room. “Case is out back with Trev.” Jack chuckles, “I wasn’t gonna ask about him, but great to know.” I set my book down on my blanket, “What were you gonna ask about then? You never just come in my room to talk unless Case isn’t home, and well, Case is home.”

“Who said i didn’t wanna talk to you even while Mac is home?” Jack picks my book up and starts looking over at the back. “Since when do you enjoy reading, give me my book back.” I say, taking my book out of his hands. “Ouch. I guess there’s a lot you don’t know about me Lex.” I put my bookmark in my book and close it, gently setting it down on my nightstand.

Before I could get a word out, Case runs in my room giggling,Trevor following behind him. Case jumps on my bed, landing right on top of me. “Ew! You stink! Get off my bed Case!” Case just chuckles. “It’s not funny, I will push you off. You have five seconds to get up.”

Case gets up, “Come on Hughesy, we gotta head out soon. Marshall and Danny are waiting for us at the rink.” Case walks out of my room, Trevor following him like a lost puppy. “I guess I gotta go.” I lay back on my pillows, “yeah, I guess so.”

“I’ll call you later lil mac, and ps, maybe this time, answer the phone.” He pats my head and walks out. I grab my book and try to finish what I was reading before, but all I could think about is why he wanted to talk.

—

Later that night, I finished up some last minute homework before I could head to bed. I finish packing my bag for school tomorrow and my phone lights up, with Jacks name on the screen. I sit there thinking if I should answer or not, why would he even wanna talk to me anyways. I mean he does call and text a lot but I’m always dry with him and I don’t try to keep a conversation.

I let myself just have the win of my feelings take over and I answer the call. “I feel like I just won the lottery.” Jack says, very tiredly. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Jack chuckles, “lil mac finally answers one of my calls.”

“Well, make this quick, I wanna go to sleep.” Jack goes quiet for a moment, “Jack, I really gotta head to bed. I have an ap history test tomorrow.”

“okay, goodnight beautiful.” Jack hangs up before I could say anything. My heart drops to my stomach and all I could think about was his voice repeating that over and over again in my head.

I lay down in bed and try everything to get it off my mind, but nothing sounded as good as hearing him call me that. I close my eyes and relax and I was out.

—

My alarm is one of the worst things to wake up to. I hate the noise of it. I turn it off and give myself time to wake up, I sit up and check my phone. Nothing much to really check because I hate having social media but got it to see my families posts.

I turn on some music and I start to get ready. I get one of my jeans out with a sweater to go with it. I put my hair in a low messy bun. I was never big on makeup, I did put on mascara on every now and then but I have gotten used to not putting it on at all. I put some lip gloss on and headed downstairs.

All my brothers were sitting at the table eating breakfast. “Morning boys, morning Gav.” I say, giving Gavin a kiss on the head. “How come Gavin gets a special good morning and Case and I get a lame one?” Aiden gets up from the table, I take his spot. “I actually like Gavin.” Gavin smiles in response.

“Come on Lexi! We gotta go, I gotta pick up Jack!” Case yells to me, walking out of the door. My heart drops at Jacks name. I grab my bag and put my shoes on, “I’ll make cookies with you guys after school if you ask mom go get the stuff.” I tell Aiden and Gavin, they both nod.

—

We get to Jacks house and he walks out. He’s wearing gray sweatpants and an ntdp hoodie, his hair being a bit messy, but I always found that adorable. He gets in the front seat and looks back at me. “Morning lil mac.”

“Morning.” I say quietly, putting my face back down in my phone. Thank gosh the school isn’t far from Jacks house.

—

We get to school and i quickly get my stuff out of the car and walk to the building. I head to my locker and get my history books out and my notes to help study for the test. As I’m shutting my locker, I see a familiar face standing right next to me. “Can I help you?”

Jack rubs the back of his neck, “I wanted to apologize for last night.” I look over at him, “what is there to apologize for?” He gives me a confused look.

“Jack, your my brothers best friend, he’d kill me if I ever once said anything about having a crush on you.” I state, walking away. Jack walks with me, “so you admit it, you do like me?”

“Never said that.” I put my book to the side. “Well then, do you?” I stop and turn and look at him. “It doesn’t matter if I do or don’t Jack. Like I said, you’re my brothers best friend. I can’t do that to him. He’s my twin brother.” Before I could walk away, Jack grabs my arm.

“It does matter Lex, I already talked to Case. He trusts me. Why do you think he lets me come over so much and be around you?” I start thinking of all the times Case never got mad at Jack for hanging out with me and not him.

“I like you a lot Lexi. I wouldn’t be trying to do anything about it if I didn’t.” He grabs my hand. “So kiss me.” I say walking closer to him. “What?” Jack says softly.

“If you like me and Case is okay with it, kiss me to prove it because I don’t believe you.” Jack stands there and looks around. “Exactly.” I say, letting go of his hand and walking away. “Wait! Lex come here.”

Jack pulls me in and kisses me. “I don’t wanna mess up okay. I call you every night because you are my last thought before I go to bed. You’re the last person I want to talk to before I go to bed. I got scared last night and hung up because I didn’t mean to call you beautiful out loud. It just slipped out.”

Before I could reply to Jack, Case and Marshall appear out of the corner. “About damn time!” Case yells. “I’ve been waiting for this for months. Only took a couple pep talks!” Case pats Jack on his back. “Yeah yeah whatever Mac.”

The bell rings, Case and Marshall head the opposite way of Jack and I. Jack holds my hand, “you’ll do good on your test. You’re really smart.” I try to hold back my smile but being called smart is one of my favorite things.

He walks me to my class and before I go to walk in, he kisses the side of my cheek. “Good luck beautiful.”

I walk in class looking like a tomato with how red my face is from smiling.

—

Sorry I haven’t posted in so long, I was visiting family back home and haven’t really been on any social media. I wanna write more for Jack but I have like no ideas but I’m gonna try to post a lot more with holiday themed stuff so if you have requests feel free to send them in!

Credit to gif maker!!

(Also for the people that don’t know, Cases nickname is Mac so that’s why Lexi is named lil mac 😭)

#jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #trevor zegras #jack hughes ntdp #luke hughes #quinn hughes #case mccarthy #hockey #nico hischer x reader #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier smut #nico hischier #new jersey devils

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kawaiibarty · 22 hours ago

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unedited jegulus oneshot at exactly 1,4k words based on this insta post (please check out the artist they're so cool) the ending is so rushed because i cba 😭😭😭😭😭

Saying that Regulus wasn't used to this would be one of the greatest understatements he'd ever make, and given his past, well that says a lot.

It happened when he and James were in the library, and where Regulus was meant to be studying, he'd found himself staring at the other boy intently. He couldn't help it, anyway. The boy that was usually loud, chatting non-stop to ensure that Regulus was painfully aware of his presence now sat with his nose buried deep in a book he'd chosen from the shelf at random. Except he hadn't turned the page in about seven full minutes and Regulus was beginning to feel weirdly irritated by the fact that James hadn't said anything since he'd asked to join him (which would be a groundbreaking first).

“Good book?” He finally asked, and James jerked, clutching the book towards him as if it would run away. Regulus frowned at the startled ‘deer-in-headlights’ look on the other boy's face.

“Uh, yeah?” James said, cheeks turning pink, and he must have noticed the vaguely irritated way Regulus watched him because he stared back at the open book. He gestured to it rather weakly and said, “Very interesting. Yes.”

“So tell me what it's about.”

James balked, looking rather stupid with his mouth hanging open. Regulus sighed, running a hand through his hair, cursing himself mentally as he asked “Potter, are you okay? And don't give me that look, I'm just as surprised as you are that I care.”

James' blush spread to his ears and he shook his head, then nodded and when Regulus sighed again he shrugged, defeated.

“If I wasn't, there's not much you could do to help anyway.” James said, looking back at the book, trying his best to feign nonchalance but Regulus wasn't stupid. He reached forward, pulling the book away from James.

“Hey, that's not fair.” James grumbled indignantly but made no move to take it back.

“Come on, Potter. You force shit out of me the same way, have a taste of your own medicine.”

James worried his lip, looking down at the table, “I told you. You can't do anything about it. It's stupid.”

Regulus groaned, sitting all the way back in his chair.

“Potter, between you and I, I sort of actually care about you, okay? Seriously, if you have something that's bothering you,” he caught James’ eyes, finishing weakly under the curious scrutiny, “you can tell me...”

Silence dragged and Regulus wondered if he'd pushed too hard. The golden boy of Gryffindor tower looked as though he hadn't slept for days and Regulus told himself that he was right to ask, after all James’ eyes were far too tired for someone who is usually smiling at everything.

Regulus opened his mouth, then closed it. An overwhelming urge to bundle the other boy up in a giant blanket and stroke his hair until he fell asleep washed over him. He cringed, attempting to shake the thought out of his head and promptly failed when he turned his eyes back to James. The Gryffindor looked pathetic and he wanted to kiss him square on the forehead. He couldn't stop himself, Regulus let his mouth betray him. Just this once.

“I could hug you, if that's what you want.” As James laughed, Regulus thought that the betrayal was worth it. It was small but it was something.

“Did you mean to say that out loud, Reggie?” a tinge of humour, almost entirely sincere.

“Hm, maybe. What gave it away?”

James perked up slightly, head tilted to the side in that curious way of his, “I'm pretty sure that when you don't like a thought you've made you screw your face up and all. You do it a lot anyway.”

Regulus scoffed, a little embarrassed “No, that's ridiculous. What's wrong with you? You've never turned down a hug before, anyway”

“Real smooth subject change, and I never did turn it down. I just—” James smiled a little bashfully this time, fingers picking at the edge of the table, “— uhm, it's really nothing. I, uhm…”

Regulus mused that he must have sighed a million times by then. He rolled his eyes, palms smacking against the table.

“You're frustrating me.”

James mimicked him, “You're frustrating me.” He punctuated it with an exaggerated pout, slamming his hands on the table and flinching at the noise. Stupid Potter.

“Okay, so you want to be hugged?” Regulus would be lying if he said he'd feel disappointed if the hug was properly rejected, but he kept his face as neutral as possible.

James hid himself behind his hands, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses, “Yeaaah, I guess.”

“Ugh, what do you mean, ‘I guess’? It's either yes or no.”

“I'm like,” James reached out to thin air, waving his hands in little circles and Regulus would've found it endearing if he wasn't itching with mild irritation, “I don't know? Like, uhm…”

“Merlin's fucking beard, Potter. Spit. It. Out.”

“You're so tiny!” James screwed his face up, shaking his head.

“What? I am not.” Regulus didn't bother with being embarrassed by how defiant he sounded because James Bloody Potter calling him tiny was not something he wanted to hear after being picked on by Barty and Sirius for his height every time he breathed.

“I mean, like—” he gestured to Regulus, then to himself and when it seemed words failed him he groaned, hands coming back to his eyes.

“I hug you right?”

Regulus squinted at him, “Uh huh…” every word that James sputtered out concerned him more but he let the other boy speak. He wanted to hear everything.

“And then, uhm, yeah it's like,” James gestured stupidly again, “I hug you, and you can, you know? Lay your head on my chest.”

Understanding dawned on Regulus, he smiled, then caught himself and schooled his expression as best as he could. Pointless, considering James had already noticed and the Gryffindor’s face was redder than Regulus had had the privilege of seeing. He looked dumb. In a cute way.

“You're scrunching your face up again.” James mumbled.

“So you want to feel smaller than me when you're being hugged?”

There was a moment of Regulus waiting expectantly for a vacant James to answer and when he didn't, Regulus nodded, feeling his cheeks heat up as he stood, pulling a stool away from the bookshelf behind them.

“I'll take that as a yes, then.”

Regulus stood on the stool, arms held open.

“What are you—”

“I'm not waiting all day, Potter.”

“I didn't take you for a jokester.” James said, something vulnerable in his voice caused Regulus' heart to stutter in his chest.

“I'm not. Now come on, before someone sees me standing here like an imbecile.”

Slowly, James stood too. He looked everywhere but at Regulus, inching forward like a little kid afraid of tripping over something.

“James. It's fine.” Regulus’ attempt at sounding genuine must have worked because as soon as he'd said that, James' forehead was touching his chest. Regulus cautiously wrapped his arms around the boy, feeling arms snake around him at the same time.

James sighed, breath hitching a little. They stood like that for a bit, Regulus praying to whatever muggle god was out there to mute his racing heartbeat.

“So…are you okay, Potter?” he asked as a distraction.

Fists clenched into Regulus' shirt, another little sigh. A little bit like a hiccup. Regulus’ heart did that jumpy thing again.

“Potter, I asked—”

“Say it again.” muffled and softer than Regulus had heard James speak in his entire schooling career at Hogwarts. A lot of firsts for one day, it started to make Regulus dizzy.

“Are you okay, Potter?”

James shook his head defiantly, probably messing up Regulus’ shirt and tie in the process, “Nah uh.”

Regulus fought a tired groan from escaping, gritting his teeth he managed; “Use your words, you baby.”

“My name.”

"I did—" Oh.

Oh. Regulus was properly blushing now.

“Oh, uh. James, are you okay?” he whispered, knees weak with embarrassment.

James' grip relaxed and he pulled himself away gently, looking up at Regulus. A dopey smile plastered on his face, eyes a little watery.

“Yeah, I think I'm good.”

“Okay.”

Regulus really, honest to Merlin could not stop himself this time as he leant forward, kissing James on the forehead.

He was stupid. In a cute way. So it's fine.

#*sighs pathetically*#god help me #starchaser #sunseeker #james x regulus #james potter #regulus black #jegulus #jegulus oneshot #regulus x james #james.fic

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hyukakisses · 3 days ago

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— emo soobin as leviathan from obey me!

pairings: emo soobin x fem reader

plot: random soobin as leviathan from obey headcanons

warnings: perv soobin, loser soobin, red flag soobin, virgin soobin and virgin reader, cursing, faint smut, tsundere-to-yandere soobin, strangers to lovers troupe, bratty sun reader, service top soobin

soobin was absolutely seething in anger when he found out lord diavolo was responsible for the human exchange student committee. the emo demon boy hated humans or normies as he likes to call them.

soobin just didn’t understand the hype behind humans. the indigo-colored haired male thought they were disgusting. worse than angels, another type of creature he hated.

the tall boy kinda hoped that one of the humans that was apart of the human exchange committee would at least be a pretty girl; soobin longed for a player two :( he felt so lonely watching his brothers all have their girlfriends and all he had was his pet odi. his only friend.

when soobin was told that he needed to show you around RAD, he was not happy.. i mean why him out of all people? soobin was not known to socialize or be friendly.

with a whiny grumble soobin drags his long legs out of the comfort of his room; already annoyed for the day. he just hoped this tour would be over quickly.

soobin would be lying if he said you were ugly, the boy was mesmerized with how you nodded with a pretty smile at his detailed explanations about his favorite girl group kara and his favorite anime character ruri-chan when he should have been going on about the history of the devildom.

“is your hair naturally like that?” your delicate fingers point to soobins head, the emo boy smiled at how you didn’t reach to grab it without asking. “yeah it is” “oh that’s cool! back in the human realm everyone is either born with blonde or brunette. you have really pretty hair” you blush feeling butterflies in your stomach.

“so do you have any more questions?” soobin looked at you, hoping you didn’t. “actually i was wondering maybe when i’m settle in my room we could hang out?” your voice was soft like honey, soobin paused in his tracks. “what? i think you’re getting me confused with yeonjun. what do you mean you want to hang out with me?”

from that day on, soobin had to pinch himself around you, afraid that a pretty human girl like you hanging out with him was some type of dream.

soobin hated how easily and quickly it was to lose his aloof and tsundere act around you, he hated how quickly he was able to gain romantic feelings for you.

soobin liked how you invited yourself over to his room, most people would find his otaku activities weird and boring but you found them fun. you didn’t mind being locked away in soobin’s bedroom, snuggled up in his bedsheets watching bunny girl senpai over and over again.

“why have you been avoiding me?” after not seeing soobin for nearly a week you decided to march up in his room demanding an answer. “i-i haven’t..” “yes.. yes you have! you’ve been ignoring my texts and just been on league of legends all week!” you screech making soobin curse internally, the boy has been ignoring you. “i thought things were going so well!” you sat on the tall boy’s bed itching closer to his laying body. “they have been” soobin felt his heart thump at how close you were approaching. “so why are you avoiding me?” your chin rests on soobin’s chest. “do you not think i’m pretty enough for your time and attention anymore? is there someone else?” soobin couldn’t stop staring at your pink lips wondering what your lip gloss tasted like. “binnie? hello? are you even listening-“ you let out a yelp in surprise at your friend shutting you up with a kiss. your body melting against soobin’s, you pout pulling away. “you know, if you wanted to be my boyfriend you could have just said so”

soobin wasn’t big with words, he preferred just listening to you talk your ear off. nodding dumbly at your words with sparkling eyes wondering if you’d be that talkative if he was eating you out- “binnie? you’re still listening to me right?” “hmm? oh yeah you’re talking about wanting to go blonde together”

you also didn’t mind being his personal guinea pig when it came to cosplay. you really enjoyed all the special attention and praises you got for staying still without complaining.

soobin also liked how you’d actually listened to kara with and for him, your favorite song being honey and his favorite song being secretly secretly

the two of you rarely argued unless it was over something stupid like who was better tommy february 6 or tommy heavenly 6? you both couldn’t choose however.

soobin was definitely a service top, as soon as you both got together you were always demanding soobin to your whim. not that your now boyfriend minded. he liked how you were always bratty and bossy. “binnie can we match? i know its pink but it’s pretty” “tie my shoes mister!” “do you mind applying my lipgloss for me?” “princess orders binnie!”

“baby please?” soobin’s large hands loop under your inner thighs, his eyes looking up at you pleadingly as his glossy lips itch closer to your pretty pussy. “m’ sleepy binnie..” a small whine slips your lips, feeling yourself drift to sleep. “you don’t have to do anything baby! just p-please let me a small taste? please?” soobin begs pathetic making you huff. “fine”

a/n: ugh i love soobin

#lyrical’s garden 💒#coquette #txt #txt headcanons #txt imagines #txt x reader #txt reactions #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #txt fluff #yandere txt #txt fanfic #txt soobin #leviathan obey me

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shantechni · 3 days ago

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Related to your post about Mikey "accidentally delivering low blows when stressed" (Aug 2023) would you hc that it's related to his emotional awareness of his family? Like when he blamed Splinter for letting them go up to the surface, he would know Splinter was already questioning his decision to let them do that, or he calls Splinter out on not being affected by his mutated appearance (when Splinter looks uncomfortable being seen by humans/Shredder)? Basically, what are your further thoughts on it? Has he done this elsewhere?

The post in question for the curious cats

This compilation video as well because my big brain remembered me doing that and it's related to this topic and I meant to do a part 2

Oh, that behavior is 100% related to Mikey's emotional awareness. I'd hardly even call it a headcanon, it's just canon lol.

After not only botching their first fight above ground but failing to stop two kidnappings on their watch, the boys immediately start playing the blame game by pointing out each other's rash decisions and dumb mistakes that led to such an outcome. Obviously, the idea of Splinter's decision being yet another mistake of the sorts was hanging somewhere in the air waiting to be grabbed at, but no one readily went for it as something that needed to be acknowledged as mistake. That's why it's so fascinating to see the writers establish Mikey right out of the gate as someone who isn't afraid to comment on Splinter's decisions and his emotional state when he's making those decisions.

He was certainly aware of their father's doubts concerning them going above ground for the first time because a comment like that doesn't just come out of nowhere.

Granted, this instance was him speaking his mind in the heat of the moment and only realizing how much his words would sting after the fact (especially since they're the ones who convinced Splinter to send them off with their begging), but this becoming a continuous trend of his throughout the series further proves the fact of him being more aware of things than a lot of people pegged him to be.

In Mikey Gets Shellacne, his remark about Splinter telling him not to fret about his appearance when he could hardly bring himself to do the same can be interpreted as a more apparent example of him knowing more than he lets on. It's made rather obvious from the start of the series that Splinter wasn't keen on roaming the streets looking like a giant rat, but that's more of a show and tell deal where both the audience and the characters are left on their own to pick up on such an important yet minor detail. Splinter never tells anyone about his insecurity, nor does anyone in the series talk about it amongst each other, so a moment like this can be a bit jarring when it's framed as Mikey calling out Splinter's opinion on his own appearance.

Though the intent of his comment was to simply call Splinter old, the underlying insult is there and Mikey regrets saying something like that to their father of all people.

Other than letting his frustrations get the better of him and unintentionally plucking at Splinter's insecurities, Mikey is greatly in tuned with the emotions of those around him and will usually pick up on any changes rather quickly. Take these two moments with, funnily enough, him and Splinter near the start of Serpent Hunt.

I previously posted the first clip as a funny little observation, but the scene is more intriguing than my jestful sentence made it out to be. Mikey's attention is split between hanging his goofy pieces of artwork on the wooden boards and listening to April as she announces how the restaurant is starting to look like a makeshift home. It's not until he turns around to joke with her about his drawings that he finally has Splinter in his sights, and his attention evidently begins to drift to Splinter as April is responding to his question (you can literally see his head following Splinter's movements while April is speaking to him😭). And just look at how taken aback he is by Splinter's melancholic expression being on full display:

While Splinter answers Mikey by stating that he's concerned for Casey, Leo and Raph because they've been gone for a while, it's pretty obvious that's not all he's bothered by, and him not being subtle about his troubled mind like usual had enough flags raising in Mikey's mind for him to hop up from his spot. Once the scene transitions to the second clip, Mikey lingers with Splinter in the front of the restaurant while April ventures to the back in search of Donnie to check on his progress with the retro-mutagen, as well as to see if the others made it back yet. Mikey and Splinter decide to follow April as soon as Donnie utters Karai's name, and Mikey is visibly bracing himself for another look of heartbreak on their father's visage:

Splinter moments aside, Mikey recognizes when something is up with his brothers and friends, as well as whether or not he should step in. Of course the prominent moments of him demonstrating his ability to calm Leatherhead and Raph down count among the times when he steps in, but the times when he chooses not to step in shouldn't be understated either.

Take the pre-intro scene in The Cosmic Ocean for example, when April breaks the silence and questions where Leo ran off to. We understand where Raph is coming from when he says that it can't be healthy for Leo to confide in a simulated version of Splinter since it could just make him miss their father more than ever, but Mikey suddenly pops from his laid back position off-screen and joins the conversation:

He's knows as well as Raph that speaking with a simulation of their father isn't exactly ideal, but he also knows that Leo is used to coming home to confide in Splinter for advice whenever he feels his confidence as a leader beginning to waver. The whole gang knows all of this, but once again, Mikey's the only one to verbalize it. Sometimes people need to hear something so obvious outloud to really understand or remember its importance, and Mikey seems to know that best.

I don't really need to mention how his emotional awareness extends far beyond simply knowing when someone is down, or when he is or isn't in a position to help them, but it makes for a decent epilogue to this analysis so-

Him being the least (read: least) temperamental of his brothers automatically puts him in the position of a mediator when there's tension in the group, and it's common knowledge that he'd often go out of his way to ease that tension in his own ways. He sometimes makes jokes, both corny and intelligent, just to get everyone's minds off of the heaviness of a situation, even if that moment of reprieve only lasts for a minute. He attempts to break up fights before they get too far, which sometimes doesn't work because they're a stubborn bunch of turtles (literally the entire first five minutes of New Girl in Town lol), but his efforts are commendable and genuine.

He's exceptionally conscious of changes in the atmosphere and a swing in someone's mood, which could go hand in hand with his sixth sense for weird Kraang stuff if you think about it. But all of this comes together to paint an undeniably clear image of Mikey having a great amount of emotional awareness, and just all around being one of the most emotionally intelligent characters of the series.

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jaybirdluvr73 · 1 day ago

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You're my Best Friend (nanami kento x reader)

A longer fic version of this

Best friends to lovers with Nanami Kento. Fluff, a little tiny bit of angst but a Happy ending. Mild spoilers. Set in the early 2000s. I was thinking about what to call this and became inspired by the song "You are in love" by Taylor Swift

a/n: this is my first fic like this, i hope you guys like it. Feedback is super appreciated <3

"You're a…what?", you say in disbelief, trying to figure out if your normally level headed best friend has officially gone insane.

"A sorcerer", Kento says slowly, as if he hasn't fully accepted it either. "In the world, there's cursed energy and some people, sorcerers, are capable of using it. Usually to fight curses."

Your mouth hangs agape as you wonder if this is some prank he's playing on you. But Kento has never lied to you before. (although he's never claimed monsters and sorcerers were real either.)

"I believe you", you say finally, to Kento's relief, "I mean this sounds completely insane but I trust you."

He finally cracks a small smile before frowning as he remembers something. "That's not all"

"What? Don't tell me aliens are real too"

"They want me to go to a school that trains sorcerers" he swallows before continuing, "in Tokyo"

You feel your heart stop as you realise that means you'll hardly see him anymore. Ever since preschool, the one constant in your life has been Nanami Kento. Sitting in class, eating lunch, walking home, no matter what you did or where you were, he was always by your side.

You can't pinpoint the exact moment you fell in love with him, you just remember waking up one day and knowing. Maybe it was when he would ask the teachers questions for you in preschool, or in elementary school when he tried to bake you a cake by himself for your birthday. It might have been when he started reading all your favourite books so he could talk about them with you or when he spent half an hour trying to win you a teddy bear at an arcade. You may not know when you fell in love with him but you do know that loving Nanami Kento came as naturally as breathing.

"Promise you'll come back to visit", you say, trying to offer a smile. He nods, swearing that he'll never break a promise to you.

Nanami Kento remembers the exact moment he fell in love with you. It was fourth grade and your tenth birthday was coming up. He spent days looking up recipes and baking tutorials so that he could bake you the perfect cake. He spent hours on it. By the time he finished, his mom joked that there was more flour on him than in the cake but it was worth it to see the look on your face when he sowed it to you. The cake didn’t turn out great, the layers were uneven, the frosting was grainy and the entire thing was lopsided. When you saw it, you immediately started tearing up. At first he started apologising because he thought it was so bad that it made you cry. But then you threw your arms around his shoulders smiling widely and told him that nobody had ever done something so nice for you before. From that moment he knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life making you smile like that.

“- and I put some of the new Fall Out Boy songs on the playlist too. The new album isn’t their best but”, you stop as you see a strange look on his face. “What’s wrong Ken?”

“Nothing’s wrong it’s just,” he pauses then says, “You’re my best friend”

“The cheesecake was good but I think next time I want to try the brownie”, you say, shivering as you step outside the new bakery Kento brought you to. “I told you to bring a jacket, " he says, frowning while he takes off his sweater to give you.

“I didn’t think it would be this cold!” you say trying to defend yourself as you tell him to keep his sweater on so he doesn’t freeze. “I’m not feeling that cold anyway”, he says as he forces the soft material into your hands.

You put it on, closing your eyes as you feel the warm embrace of the fabric. “It smells like you”, you say before clarifying, “in a good way, I mean.” He just laughs and shakes his head before walking you back home.

He laughs the same way years later, when you reveal that you slept in the sweater for a week, only stopping once it didn’t smell like him anymore.

“Kento I know you’re in there!”, you shout, knocking on his bedroom door. “Your mom told me you were home.” He opens the door with a sigh before looking down at you and asking what you were doing here. As he gazes at you, you notice the deep eyebags that weren't there before, and a hardness in his eyes that you’ve never seen before.

“I’m here because my best friend disappeared! Because you haven’t responded to my texts, or IMs or emails for weeks and I needed to know that you were okay”

“Well you can see that I’m fine. Thank you for checking on me, but you can go now.”

“Fine? Really” , you scoff, pushing your way into the dark room. “You won’t talk to me, your parents told me that you barely say a word to them and you clearly haven’t been sleeping! I want to help you Ken. I want to be there for you but you keep pushing me away.” Your voice softens before you continue, “I know you and Haibara were really close. I can’t imagine how you must be feeling right now”

“Exactly, you don’t know how I’m feeling right now and I hope that you never do”, he yells , “I’ve seen what this life can do to people, I’ve seen the toll it takes on the people left behind. I could die at any moment while on a mission, and I don’t want you to have to feel that kind of loss! I love you too much to put you through that! It’s better this way.”

“Better for who Kento? Because I’m already miserable without you and you don’t seem to be doing much better! I know that being a sorcerer is dangerous and that something could happen to you. But isn’t it better to have loved and lost than to live life alone, because you’re worried about what might happen?”, you feel tears welling in your eyes before you continue, “I’m in love with you Kento and I don’t care how risky your life is. I’m willing to face any amount of pain if it means keeping you in my life. I would rather have you, and risk losing you, than not have you and lose you anyway.”

Kento feels his world stop spinning as soon as the words ‘I’m in love with you’ spill out of your lips. His mouth hangs open as he tries to figure out what to say. The only words that he manages to get out are, “Can I kiss you” as he leans closer. You nod slowly as you move towards him.

You can feel his breath tickle your face before his lips finally descend to capture yours. Something warm grows in his chest, like the first flowers of spring blooming after a long winter. The entire world around him disappears as he feels your soft lips dancing against his own. His hands move gently to cup your face as he deepens the kiss. You snake your arms around his waist, feeling the soft caress of his hands on your cheeks. Feelings left unsaid for years come bubbling up and overflows.

When you two finally break apart to breathe, you notice a familiar look in his eyes. And this time, you knew what it was.

He is in love

a/n: I'm not a huge fan of the title banner i made but lmk what you guys think.

tag list: @jasminelee324

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fandomnerd9602 · 21 hours ago

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Parents & Kids

Bambi!Wanda x Reader

It started out as such an innocent question. Born from the curiosity of one of your twin deer, hybrid boys, Billy.

“ what happened to my father?” he asked his voice rimming with uncertainty.

That question really struck a nerve with your mate your wife Wanda Maximoff-(L/N). You could see the color practically drain from her face as soon as the question left Billy‘s lips.

“Look at that,” you quickly covered, “boys you’re gonna be later for school”

The twins ran for their backpacks. You gave Wanda a reassuring kiss on the lips and touched your forehead to hers.

“I’ll take them to school,” you whispered, “just worry about Natalie, okay?”

“Okay” Wanda whispered back, her voice shaking as small tears made their way down her face, “thank you”

You drop the boys off at their kindergarten class and haul back to the house. You give Natasha a call saying that you and Wanda need to take a personal day.

“I know Chief,” Natasha replies thru the phone. “Wanda told me about it. Take it slow, okay?”

You arrive home to find your doe pacing back and forth, her usually giddy tail is hanging down rather depressingly.

“Natalie is down for her nap,” Wanda explains as she walks up to you, wrapping her arms around your waist. She just collapses against your chest, little sobs escaping her lips.

You wrap your own arms around her, rubbing her back reassuringly. “I know. I know”

“I-I always thought I’d have more time, my buck” she cries against your chest softly. “I-I barely talked about him with you and…and…”

“Wanda, I know,” you reply. “I know about Vision”

“You do?”

“Pietro filled me in on him. Who he was to you and him. I’ve known since before Natalie was born”

“Why did you not tell me?” Wanda asks.

“You were already under so much duress with the pregnancy,” you wipe away her tears with your thumbs, “I didn’t want to add to it”

“How do I tell our boys the truth?” Wanda wonders, her worries leaking through, “d-do I tell them every detail? Do I tell about my captivity? Do I tell them how…how..?”

Your wife tears up. You hold her tight, gently rocking her back and forth.

“I mean I liked Vis. He was a good family friend,” Wanda tries to explain, “but we were together one time and that’s what led to the boys”

“I have to be honest,” you said with a shrug, “I was always afraid that our boys’ father would come back and take you all away from me”

Wanda lets out a little sad chuckle, “my love for you is deeper than any love I’ve felt for anyone in my life”

You touch your forehead to hers, “our boys deserve to know about him.” You try to formulate, “We’ll just tell them that he died before they were born and never got the chance to know them.”

“But he would’ve loved them too” your doe adds.

“And that this doesn’t change the dynamic of the family we built.”

“Agreed” Wanda says with a sad little smile. You hear the gentle murmurs of your infant daughter from her crib. “Natalie’s up!”

You both rush to the nursery, both of you tending to your daughter’s needs.

School comes to an end. You and Wanda pick up your boys from kindergarten and bring them home. The car ride was unusually quiet.

You gently guide the boys to your couch as soon as you walk through the door. You and Wanda made a quick stop at the Sanctuary before picking them up.

“Billy, Tommy,” you gently tell them, “your momma and I have something to show you-“

“I’m sorry Poppa” Billy says, “I didnt mean to make Momma cry. I just wanted to know who my father was”

“But you’re still our Poppa, right?” Tommy asks. “We think you are.”

You smile, “yeah I’m still your Poppa and you’re still my boys.”

Wanda sits in between the boys, clutching a Polaroid. “This is your father.”

The boys stare at the picture of a blonde haired male deer hybrid. You could tell that he hailed from Great Britain just by his body language and smile in the pic.

“This was Vision,” Wanda explains, “he was…a good friend. Kind, supportive, caring, helped out me and your uncle Pietro when we needed it most.”

“What happened to him, Momma?” Billy asks.

“He died before you were both born,” Wanda replies, her voice dripping with tears and sadness. “But I know he would’ve loved you both”

You wrap your family in your arms and hug them tight, “I know I’m not your birth father but I will always be there for you both”

“That’s why we like calling you our Poppa” Billy replies. A few tears made their way down your face.

Pietro was closer to Vision than Wanda was. The boys would occasionally ask about their birth father but they always reiterated how much they loved you still.

It was circumstances that led to the boys’ birth but it was the love that you and Wanda share that led to a whole family.

A family that you treasure more than anything in the world.

Tags @lifespectator @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @olsenmyolsen @idkwhatever580 @moonlit-imagines @multi-fandom-enjoyer @family-house-of-m @holiday-house-of-m @pinklawyerwinnerzonk

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fratttymatty · 3 days ago

Text

Rebooted

(All characters are 18+)

Dylan was never the type to blend in. At 18, he was finally stepping into his own skin, but still, it was a skin that felt different from the one others expected of him. Quiet, a little reserved, and gay—he had always gravitated toward the girls. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hang out with the guys; it was just that the popular boys in school made him feel like an outsider. They had their own language—one filled with smug smirks, competition, and a kind of easy, cocky swagger Dylan had never quite been able to pull off. He didn’t try. He was comfortable where he was.

His circle of friends? A tight-knit group of girls who didn’t care about popularity, who didn’t care if he was gay. They just liked him for who he was. And that was enough.

But the universe, it seemed, had a different plan for Dylan.

It started on an ordinary Friday afternoon. The bell rang to signal the end of the school day, and Dylan found himself walking toward his usual hangout spot by the bleachers. His friends were there, chatting and laughing, with their bags scattered around. But as he approached, he saw a few unfamiliar faces. Guys. Popular guys. The ones who ruled the school.

"Hey, Dylan!" A familiar voice called out. It was Cassie, one of the cheerleaders and one of his closest friends. She waved him over. "Come sit with us! The gang’s all here."

Dylan hesitated. He wasn’t sure what Cassie meant by “the gang,” but when he looked closer, he saw a mix of familiar faces—and a few others that made his stomach twist: Brent, the captain of the football team, Jake, the guy who spent more time flexing in the mirror than doing anything else, and a few others—pretty much the whole ‘elite’ crew of jocks and their girlfriends.

Dylan felt his pulse quicken. There was no way he belonged here. This wasn’t his scene. But when he caught Cassie’s pleading look, he sighed and walked over, taking a seat on the edge of the table, keeping his distance from the popular crowd.

“Don’t be shy, bro,” Brent said, giving him a grin that was too wide, too knowing. “Get over here, man. We want you to meet the guys.”

Dylan shifted uncomfortably but complied, dragging his chair a little closer. What was going on?

From the moment he sat down, it was like the world around him began to shift, subtly at first. Brent and Jake exchanged glances, and the girls—who Dylan had always been so comfortable with—seemed to be watching him, their eyes glittering with an unsettling mixture of amusement and... something else.

“You know, Dylan,” Jake said, tossing a football up in the air and catching it easily, “You’ve got potential, man. You just don’t know it yet.”

Dylan blinked, not sure what he meant. “What do you mean?”

Brent leaned forward, his voice low but intense. “You’ve got the looks, you’ve got the brains, but you’re not playing the game right.” He glanced at the girls, then back at Dylan. “You need to be more... confident. More dominant.”

Dylan’s brow furrowed. “I’m fine with how I am…”

“Not anymore,” Jake said with a sly grin. “You’ve been hanging with the girls for too long. Time for a change.”

Before Dylan could react, he felt something strange tugging at his mind, like his thoughts were being rearranged in real time. A sharp pull, a weight that lifted, as if the part of him that had always felt like an outsider was suddenly... slipping away. He blinked, trying to shake it off, but the feeling was too strong.

Cassie, perched next to him, leaned in, her voice dreamy and a little ditzy. “Like, oh my god, Dylan,” she said, flipping her hair, “you totes need to, like, show these guys what you’ve got, okay? You’re, like, way cooler than they think.” She giggled, not in a mocking way, but like she was excited by the idea.

Her words hit him like a wave. Everything in him was changing, shifting—and the more he thought about it, the more it felt right. This new version of himself started to form, like an empty vessel filling up with something brash, something confident, something that didn’t care about fitting in... because he was already at the top.

Before Dylan could say anything, his hair—the messy, untamed curls that had always been his trademark—began to change. It wasn’t like some sleek, polished version of cool. No. His hair became perfectly messy, tousled in a way that looked like he’d just woken up after an intense night of partying. There was no more worry about perfecting his style. Now, it was effortlessly good. His clothes, which had always been a little too... quirky for the jocks, seemed to rearrange themselves. His hoodie turned from an oversized, cozy piece into something more fitted and sleek, while his jeans tightened in a way that accentuated his newfound shape. His body felt stronger—sharper, like it had been sculpted into something more powerful.

And then the name came. The new name. The one that fit this new version of himself.

“I’m... Grayson,” he said, as if the name had always been there, waiting for him to claim it. He said it with an ease he didn’t know he had. It wasn’t Dylan. It wasn’t that version of him. Grayson sounded natural. It sounded right.

“Yeah, Grayson,” he repeated, leaning back in his chair with a smirk that felt more confident, more cocky than any expression he'd ever worn before. “That works.”

The transformation wasn’t just physical. His demeanor changed, too. His shoulders squared, his posture became straight and powerful. He was no longer the quiet, reserved guy at the edge of the group. Now, he was the center. He was Grayson, the guy who commanded attention without even trying. He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest in a way that made him look untouchable.

Cassie’s eyes glittered. She leaned in, her voice giddy with excitement. “Like, Grayson, you’re so gonna crush it now, totes.” She giggled and then added, “You just need to, like, get with it, you know?”

Grayson didn’t even blink at her words. In fact, he liked that she thought this way, that she was already putting him in the same league as the other popular guys. He grinned, the kind of grin that sent a signal to everyone around him that he wasn’t just playing a part—he was the part.

Brent slapped him on the back, hard enough to make his chair rock. “Welcome to the team, Grayson. You’re gonna fit in perfectly.”

Grayson barely acknowledged the slap, his eyes still focused on the rest of the table. He felt the change completely settle in now, like a tight, perfect fit. The old Dylan, the shy, gay kid who had always been friends with the girls, was gone. In his place was someone who belonged here, who was made for this world.

The following weeks passed in a blur, but Grayson didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything anymore—except being the guy everyone wanted to be around. The girls? They loved him. The guys? They respected him, and he now knew how to play their game. Grayson was the new center of attention. He was the one who knew how to talk to the girls, how to charm them, how to make them laugh. He was also the one who owned his place on the football field. Every part of his old self, the insecure, unsure Dylan, was a distant memory now, fading like an old shadow.

His friends—the girls who had known him before, who had always been his comfort zone—tried to reach out. But Grayson was no longer the guy they’d once known. He didn’t need them. He didn’t need anyone.

Because now, he was at the top. And he didn’t care if the world knew it.

Grayson finally understood: he was exactly who he was meant to be.

Grayson adjusted to his new life with startling speed. It was like stepping into a new suit that fit him perfectly, like the universe had always intended for him to wear this version of himself. The popular group quickly absorbed him into their fold, and he found himself in the spotlight at every school event, every party, every hangout. It was effortless. No more uncertainty, no more second-guessing himself. He was now everything he had once envied: confident, desirable, and completely at ease.

But then there was them.

It was a Friday afternoon, a week after Grayson had fully transitioned into the "popular" world, and he was lounging on the steps outside the gym, chatting with the football team. The guys were in the middle of a heated conversation about their latest game, but Grayson’s mind wasn’t on the game—it was on them. His old friends. The girls.

He hadn’t really thought about it until now, but something was tugging at him, pulling him back to those days when he’d hung out with Cassie, Hannah, Emily, and the others. The feeling was almost foreign now. He couldn’t pinpoint it.

But there they were, walking toward him, his old group, the ones he used to feel so comfortable with. They were coming from the cafeteria, laughing together as they approached.

"Grayson!" Cassie called, a huge grin lighting up her face. Her voice was still bubbly, still a little ditzy, but something was different now. The way she looked at him was no longer playful; it was... adoring.

Grayson stood, the casual confidence now completely woven into his movements. "Hey, girls," he said with a grin, giving each of them a nod as they stopped in front of him.

There was a hesitation in the air. Something was off.

Cassie twirled a strand of her hair, giving him a wide, almost dreamy look. "Like, we’ve missed you, Grayson," she said, her voice slow and a little breathless. “You, like, totally should hang with us more. We, like, never see you anymore.”

Hannah, another one of his old friends, smiled, but there was something different in her eyes—something more intense than before. "Yeah, we miss the old Dylan," she said quietly. But it wasn’t a complaint—it was more of a longing.

Grayson’s chest tightened, the old name feeling strange to hear. "Dylan? That was... a long time ago."

Emily, who had always been the most pragmatic of the group, shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her arms folded. She didn’t smile, but her gaze lingered on him, trying to read him in a way that felt more like an interrogation. "You don’t really seem like the same person anymore," she said, her voice carrying a sharp edge.

Grayson, though, just smirked and leaned against the brick wall, his posture the very image of cocky indifference. "I’m not. Dylan’s gone, you know? Grayson’s the guy now."

The words rolled off his tongue effortlessly. It felt natural now, the confidence, the certainty that he didn’t need to explain himself anymore. Grayson was the guy—he was who everyone wanted to be. The truth of it had become ingrained in him, like a new set of rules he couldn’t ignore.

Cassie tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with what Grayson could only describe as admiration. "Well... I guess that’s, like, okay,” she said, giggling lightly. “I just, like, miss the old Dylan, you know? But... you look, like, way hotter now." She winked at him, giving him a flirtatious smile.

Grayson didn’t think twice about it. He wasn’t the shy, uncertain kid who had spent so much time with Cassie and the others. His world had changed, and now, he felt like a different person—a person who could look at Cassie and feel a twinge of something that was definitely not friendship.

The shift was obvious. Cassie wasn’t the only one.

Hannah’s gaze softened as she watched him, and he caught the way her eyes lingered on him a little too long. "You look different," she said, almost in awe. "Like, not just your hair and stuff... but, like, you are different."

Grayson could see it now. It wasn’t just about his new appearance—his new hair, his new clothes, the sharp edge to his smile—it was the way they were looking at him. They were looking at him like he was... more than their friend. They were seeing him as something else.

Something... attractive.

Grayson felt a flash of discomfort deep in his chest. He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected them to want him—like that. This wasn’t the world he’d known. He wasn’t used to being the guy the girls crushed on, not like this. He was used to being the guy they confided in, the one who was always there, always supportive. He didn’t want this kind of attention.

He looked away, trying to push the feeling down. His mind raced for a moment. But then, a thought settled in his brain like a weight: It didn’t matter. He was Grayson now. He wasn’t that old version of himself. He wasn’t the shy, sensitive Dylan who had been more concerned with what his friends thought than anything else.

Grayson wasn’t gay. He wasn’t that guy anymore. The pieces of him that had once fit together in that old version of Dylan—the parts that had found comfort in the girls, in their easy friendship, in his secret crushes—had been wiped away. Now, he was the guy who could casually flirt with Cassie and laugh with Hannah and feel no need to question it. He didn’t feel the pull of something deeper.

He liked the attention, the way they looked at him, the way they were drawn to him now. He could be one of the guys. He was one of the guys. And he liked it.

“Yeah,” he said, straightening up, a smirk playing on his lips. “Things change, girls. But I’m still the same, just... better.”

That night, at the usual hangout, Grayson felt the weight of the shift settle in again. Cassie had been hovering, her flirtations becoming more obvious, and even Hannah’s glances had taken on a new intensity. It was as though they couldn’t help but be drawn to him, to the new Grayson.

He didn’t return their feelings, though. He didn’t feel anything for them, not the way they seemed to feel about him. It wasn’t the same anymore. His thoughts were consumed by the new life he was building. It wasn’t just about the looks—it was about the lifestyle. The world had opened up for him, and he was going to take it all, leaving his old self, his old connections, behind.

“Grayson,” Cassie cooed as she leaned in closer, “you, like, want to hang out later? We could, like, totally grab some coffee and talk... just the two of us?”

Grayson didn’t hesitate. He smiled that smile—the one that had turned into his signature look—and leaned back in his chair. “Sure, Cassie. I’m down. Let’s hang.”

He didn’t feel guilty. Not at all. He wasn’t the person he used to be. Dylan was a memory. Grayson was the here and now. And Grayson was straight.

No, there was no going back.

And for the first time in a long while, Grayson felt completely at ease.

Grayson was beginning to love the life he had created for himself. The popular guys had become his new best friends, the girls adored him, and the school seemed to revolve around him. It was like everything had clicked into place. He was no longer the shy, reserved Dylan who spent time with girls because he didn’t quite fit in with the guys. He was Grayson now, confident and cocky, moving seamlessly through a world where he was the center of attention.

But then there was Cassie.

Cassie had always been one of Grayson’s closest friends, the bubbly, talkative cheerleader with a contagious laugh and a constant stream of “like”s and “totes” in her conversations. But ever since Grayson had fully stepped into his new identity, she had been acting... a little different. More than just her usual ditzy self, she was acting more into him. Grayson couldn’t help but notice how her eyes lingered on him a little too long, how she laughed at his jokes a little too loudly, how she started to copy his every move, even the way he walked.

And that’s when it hit him—Cassie was changing too.

It was after school one day, a bright and sunny Tuesday, when Grayson noticed it the most. He had just finished practice and was heading toward the parking lot, his phone in hand, texting some of the guys about a party later that night. As he turned a corner, he saw her: Cassie, standing by the lockers, waiting for him, her eyes wide and sparkly.

"Grayson!" she squealed, bouncing on her toes as soon as she saw him. “O-M-G! Like, I totes need to talk to you!”

Grayson smirked and started to walk over, but as he did, he noticed something... different about her. She wasn’t wearing her usual cheerleader uniform or a cute casual look. No. Today, Cassie was rocking a tight pink crop top that showed off her midriff and a pair of high-waisted denim shorts that hugged her thighs in a way that screamed “summer girl vibes.” Her hair—usually soft and curly—was now sleek and straight, cascading over her shoulders like she had just walked out of a magazine shoot. And she wasn’t just standing there chatting. She was, like, posing—with her hand on her hip, lips pursed, head tilted in that adorable way she always did.

Grayson raised an eyebrow. "Cassie, you okay?" he asked, a bit more concerned than he’d intended. She was acting... well, a lot more than usual.

Cassie giggled, her high-pitched laugh ringing through the hallway. "Oh my god, Grayson!" she squealed, practically jumping into his arms as she gave him a hug. “Like, I’ve missed you SO much! You’re, like, soooo different now. Like, soooo much cooler than before!”

She pulled back and looked at him, eyes sparkling with what could only be described as adoration.

Grayson felt a knot tighten in his stomach. Not again. Was she... really looking at him like that?

He smiled, trying to brush off the unease. "Yeah, I’ve changed a little. Guess I’ve finally figured out how to play the game."

Cassie clapped her hands together with a high-pitched squee. “You’re, like, SOOOOO hot now, Grayson! It’s, like, soooo cute how you, like, don’t even care! I totes love that about you!”

Grayson chuckled, trying to keep his cool, but he noticed how Cassie was now practically hanging on his every word, her big, doe eyes locked on him, her lips parted slightly like she was waiting for him to say something profound. This wasn’t just Cassie anymore. She was, well... different.

“Yeah, well, it’s a lot easier once you stop worrying about being anything other than yourself,” Grayson said with a wink, feeling a little too proud of how easily it came out.

Cassie’s face lit up with a giant grin. “O-M-G, Grayson! You, like, give the BEST advice! Totes inspiring, like, I feel like I need to, like, totally rethink my life!” She put a hand to her chin, pretending to think deeply, though her thoughts seemed far more on him than on anything else.

Grayson felt the transformation in her. It wasn’t just physical anymore. She was becoming more—more like him. More cocky, more confident, more willing to follow his lead.

“You know what, Grayson?” Cassie said suddenly, her voice turning more flirtatious. “I, like, totally wanna be, like, the coolest girl in school. Like, no one can touch me. You know? I just, like, wanna be like you!”

Grayson smirked again, the realization dawning on him: Cassie was changing to fit into this world too. It wasn’t just about her appearance anymore—she was adopting the confidence, the attitude, even the carefree flirtation he had mastered.

A few days passed, and the shift in Cassie became even more apparent. It was a Friday afternoon, and Grayson had just finished chatting with Brent and Jake about the upcoming weekend. As he turned to leave, he saw Cassie again—waiting for him by the entrance.

This time, she was... well, she was adorably out of control.

Cassie was wearing an oversized, pastel pink hoodie that hung off her shoulder, revealing a glimpse of a lacy bralette. She had teamed it with a pair of knee-high boots and a matching pink backpack with the word “LOVE” written across it in sparkly letters. Her hair was even more perfectly styled now, the loose curls giving her that “I woke up like this” vibe. She looked... so cute it was almost impossible to ignore.

But what really caught Grayson’s attention was the way she was acting.

“Oh my god, Grayson!” she exclaimed, practically skipping toward him. “Like, I TOTES just got the best idea!” Her eyes were wide, and her hands were flailing in the air as she practically bounced from foot to foot.

Grayson grinned at the sight, though there was something new in his gut. Cassie was different. She wasn’t just acting more like a popular girl—she was embracing it with everything she had.

“Yeah, what’s up, Cassie?” Grayson asked, leaning casually against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t sure if he was enjoying this or if he was starting to feel, well... a little guilty. She wasn’t just copying his attitude; she was, in some ways, losing herself in it.

“Oh my god, I’m, like, SO obsessed with you right now!” she said, giggling wildly, her voice so high-pitched now that it was almost cartoonish. “Like, we should totally, like, go shopping this weekend. I want, like, ALL the cutest outfits so I can look like you!” She twirled her hair and smiled at him like he was the most amazing person in the world.

Grayson chuckled, but there was a hint of something else in his chest now. Was this what he had become?

“Cassie, you’re already, like, super cute,” he said with a shrug, trying to brush off the weird feeling. “You don’t need to change for anyone.”

Cassie beamed, but then her face turned serious—well, as serious as Cassie could get.

“No, like, I totally do!” she said, throwing her arms wide, her oversized hoodie flaring out around her. “I wanna be, like, the hottest girl in school, and I think, like, I can do it now—like, with you!”

Grayson stood there for a moment, watching her bounce on her heels. And he couldn’t deny it—Cassie was starting to look... perfect. She had become the kind of girl who was always smiling, always laughing, always looking for the next thing to keep her cute, energetic world spinning. It was like watching a flower bloom into its full, exaggerated beauty.

He had to admit: Cassie was adorable. And in this world of confidence and cocky smiles, she fit in perfectly.

And, maybe—just maybe—Grayson liked that she had become his own little ditzy sidekick in this new world.

From then on, Cassie and Grayson were inseparable. She was his partner in crime, his cute, bubbly counterpart in the world of cool kids, and she had completely embraced it. No longer just the ditzy cheerleader, Cassie was now the ultimate girly-girl, obsessed with looking cute, acting cute, and being obsessed with Grayson.

And in her own way, she was no longer just trying to fit in. She was leading the pack, a version of herself that was just as untouchable as Grayson—cute, giggly, and completely at ease in her new world.

And together, they ruled it.

It was a Friday evening, just a week after Grayson and Cassie had fully slipped into their new personas. The school year had settled into its rhythm, and the pair of them had become inseparable. Grayson, now at the top of the social ladder, and Cassie, who had gone from the cute, ditzy cheerleader to the ultra-confident, bubbly "it girl," were always together. They were the couple everyone talked about, even if they hadn’t officially defined it yet.

It wasn’t like Grayson hadn’t thought about it. Cassie had become more than just his friend—more than just the girl he spent time with to pass the time. There was something about her energy, the way she was always there, her wide eyes that sparkled every time she looked at him. It was impossible to ignore.

And as for Cassie, she had never been more obsessed with someone in her life. Her crush on Grayson, which had started as innocent admiration, had deepened into something more. She liked him more than just for his looks or popularity. She liked the way he made her feel like she was the most important person in the room, the way he casually made everything seem so easy.

It was at the party that weekend when it finally clicked.

The music thumped through the walls of the house as Grayson leaned against the kitchen counter, a solo cup in his hand, chatting with some of the guys. He could see Cassie across the room, surrounded by her usual group of friends, but her eyes were fixed on him—no surprise there. She was always watching him, always a little bit in awe of him, like he was the sun and she was orbiting around him.

Grayson’s smirk curled up at the corners of his lips. She was cute, no doubt about it. And the way she acted around him—well, it wasn’t just cute anymore. It was kind of perfect.

And then, in that moment, something shifted. Cassie’s laugh, high-pitched and slightly off-key, rang out as she chatted with some of the other girls, but it wasn’t just a casual laugh. It was a flirty laugh. And when she caught his gaze from across the room, she tilted her head and blew him a kiss.

Cassie had been working her way through the crowd, and before Grayson could even process it, she was standing next to him, her wide, sparkling eyes staring up at him. Her oversized pink hoodie hung off one shoulder, revealing a lacy bralette, and her perfectly styled hair bounced as she tilted her head to look up at him.

"Hi, Grayson!" she cooed, her voice full of that sweet, innocent energy that made Grayson feel like he could melt into the floor. She leaned against him just a little too casually, but he couldn’t help but notice the way she was very much in his personal space now.

"Hey, Cassie," he replied, his voice a little quieter, the weight of her proximity catching him off guard. He casually brushed a strand of hair out of her face, his fingertips grazing her soft skin. “You’re looking... really cute tonight."

Cassie giggled, a sound that was so adorably high-pitched it could have been straight out of a rom-com. She batted her eyelashes at him. “Aww, you, like, think so? I, like, totally spent, like, a million hours picking this outfit, so I’m so glad you noticed!"

Grayson couldn’t help but laugh. Cassie. The girl who had once been his carefree friend—always happy, always a little clueless—was now the one who had his full attention. She was confident, sure, but still that cute, bubbly, ditzy energy he couldn’t get enough of.

“Yeah, you look... perfect,” Grayson said, leaning closer, a slow grin spreading across his face. He couldn’t deny it. She was perfect. In her own way.

Cassie’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, and she giggled again, the sound making Grayson’s heart skip a beat.

“Grayson...” she trailed off, her eyes gleaming as she stared up at him. “Like, I totally have a confession to make.”

Grayson raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s that?”

Cassie, looking up at him with those huge puppy-dog eyes, took a deep breath. “Well, like, I’ve, like, really liked you for a long time, but I was too shy to say anything.” She let out a little giggle, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “I think you’re, like, sooo amazing and cool, and, like, I’m not even sure why I didn’t notice it sooner! But, like, I just, like, wanna be with you... y’know?”

Grayson’s heart skipped, and for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t entirely sure what to say. He had always thought of Cassie as his friend. She had been the cute, bubbly girl he spent time with, but this was... different. She wasn’t just his friend anymore.

And somehow, somewhere along the way, he’d started to feel the same way.

He smiled, his hand finding the small of her back, pulling her gently closer. “Cassie... I think I’ve liked you for a while too,” he said, his voice low and genuine.

She blinked, her mouth falling open in surprise. “Really?! Oh my god, I, like, totally can’t believe you just said that!”

Before Grayson could respond, Cassie’s hands were on his shoulders, and with a sudden burst of energy, she was kissing him, her lips soft and full of that cute, bubbly warmth that was so Cassie. Grayson didn’t hesitate for a second. He kissed her back, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her even closer.

It wasn’t a deep, passionate kiss—not yet. But it was the kind of kiss that was sweet, electric, and filled with the promise of more. When they pulled away, Cassie was practically glowing, her face flushed, her hands still holding onto his shoulders like she never wanted to let go.

“Oh my god, Grayson, I’m, like, so happy right now,” Cassie said, her voice high-pitched and full of that giddy excitement. “Like, you’re so perfect! You’re, like, the guy of my dreams!”

Grayson chuckled, still holding her close. “I’m glad you think so, Cassie. Because, like... you’re kind of the girl of mine.”

Cassie beamed, her eyes sparkling as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body closer to his. “Like, this is SO cute. I, like, can’t believe we’re, like, together now! I’m totally obsessed with you, Grayson!”

“Same here,” he said with a smirk, feeling that familiar surge of confidence and excitement wash over him.

They were no longer just friends. No longer just two people who shared casual flirtations and hangouts. They were a couple now—a power couple in this new world they had created for themselves. And it felt right.

From that night on, Grayson and Cassie were inseparable. They were the couple everyone envied—the girl who was effortlessly cute, bubbly, and ditzy, and the guy who was effortlessly cool, confident, and cocky. Together, they ruled the school, and nothing could pull them apart.

And for Grayson, the guy who had once doubted his place in this world, it felt like he was finally, truly home.

#male tf #male tf story #gay to straight #nerd to jock #female tf #female tf story #bimboification

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