#the way he's so warm and friendly to everyone around him
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Think I'm Gonna Call it Off
Description: You have been Prince Aemond's secret for years now, but a certain visiting Stark opens your eyes to what could be.
Inspired by the line “think I’m gonna call it off, even if you call it love, I just wanna love someone who calls me baby.” From Good Luck, Babe by Chappell Roan
This was ridiculous, you are a Lady of a fine house, virtuous, beautiful, intelligent, kind and your embroidery skills have been praised by Queen Alicent herself and yet here you sit waiting for Prince Aemond to return. To return and not spare you a single glance. Not until you are tucked away from the prying eyes of the court, until he is confident no one can hear your conversations.
You wonder if it is foolishness that keeps you sitting there, leaning against one of the many windows in the library, searching the skies for Vhagar’s great form set against the clouds.
You have rejected a number of suitors, worried your father and mother, made yourself seem all but undesirable in the eyes of the court, all because the prince swore that he would tell his mother. That he would announce to the whole of the realm that he loved you, and that you would be wed as soon as possible. He does not want a Valyrian wedding he said, he has no taste for it, he wants to honor you, honor his mother, and the Seven whom he worshiped.
“Lady y/n?” Lord Cregan Stark’s voice rolls through you like thunder, the deep baritone, the rouge northern brocade that made him pronounce your name just slightly different from everyone else, just enough that shamefully it makes you feel special.
You turn your head away from the towering window and give him a small smile. “Lord Stark, I did not expect to see you here.”
He returns your smile and leans against the wall; arms crossed over his chest.
Seven help you, he did have such strong looking arms, the sight of them never ceases to distract you. Even his thick tunic, and his dark-colored cloak could not hide them. Truly, everything about Lord Stark seemed strong. Queen Alicent said it is common of a Northmen, that they must be strong to survive the winters, while Lady Frey said it was the wolf’s blood in his veins. That all Starks had unnatural strength, speed, and stamina granted to them by the Old Gods. Neither woman’s explanation accounted for the man’s looks though.
Lord Stark is quite handsome, a strong jaw and sharp cheekbones with a close-cut beard, more stubble than a full beard though, and gray eyes like a winter storm. His dark hair is around Prince Aegon’s length, though often tied back and much better cared for. His lips are full and healed, having been cracked and dry from the drastic change in temperature on his trip down south. A small scar runs through the corner of them, on the right side, giving him a more roguish appearance. He said he had gotten it as a child, playing around with his father’s sword. And he was tall, so, so tall, towering over you in a way no man has before.
Then he laughs, the sound warming you to the bones, making a blush rise to your cheeks. “Do not tell me you think me a barbarian, as the others do. I thought you knew me better than that, little fox.”
The name he has graced you with never fails to make your heart stutter and disrupt any coherent thought you might have had. It is a reference to your house sigil, you know that. But the way he says it, how his accent wraps around each syllable, makes it seem far more…intimate than simply a friendly moniker given to you by a man who does not know your customs.
Aemond calls you his, or some sweet term of endearment in High Valyrian in private, sticking to Lady y/h/n in public. You wish he would use your name, you have told him time and time again, even the Queen and Princess Helaena use it. You have been at the Red Keep for nearly a decade now, been in the Princess’ inner circle of friends for almost as long, it would not seem strange to others.
“Lord Stark—”
“Cregan, or Lord Cregan if you must add the lord, as I have told you before.” He corrects you, but not unkindly, his lips curling up into a fondly exasperated smile.
“Lord Cregan, I did not mean to imply I believe that libraries were not your preferred place to spend your time, only that I thought you would be joining the other men on their hunt.”
He glances out the window towards the Kingswood. “And I would think you would be taking tea or sewing with the other ladies.”
You have been caught.
“Ah yes, well, as you know, Prince Aemond is to return today and Princess Helaena asked me to keep watch. She loves her brother very much but has to entertain the other ladies so could not watch for him herself.”
You pray Helaena will forgive you for involving her in a lie.
Cregan hums low in his throat and his eyes flicker to you, picking you apart. “Did she now?”
You nod, not trusting your own voice.
“The prince is lucky to have such a vision of beauty to return home to.” He says, running his eyes down your form, drinking in every detail with something akin to reverence? Though you know you must be seeing things. Cregan Stark would not look at you in such a way, there is no reason to.
“Princess Helaena is quite beautiful.” You agree, trying to keep an air of propriety around you even as your mind screams at you to flee for fear you will say something utterly stupid.
Cregan reaches out, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering for a moment caressing your cheek. “Aye, but she is not who I speak of.”
You? He means you?
You duck your head, cheeks warming once more. “You flatter me.”
He shifts forward, invading your space, the scent of forest air and woodsmoke filling your nostrils. “Is it flattery if it is true?” He is so close, still a respectable distance but close enough that you can reach out and touch him, can feel the warmth radiating from his skin.
“I believe that is a question for the maesters.” You tease lightly, your heart pounding in your chest.
“You are a smart girl, little fox, I am sure you can figure it out.” He teases back, a glimmer in his eyes that excites you.
No one teases you; no one jests or challenges you like Cregan does. You assume it is because they all know Prince Aemond has claim on you, or because you are a lady, but you are educated, and strong-willed, you enjoy a good challenge. You enjoy Cregan speaking to you like an equal.
“Truth is relative, as they say.” You offer, cocking your head innocently, barely able to keep a smile off your face.
“Aye, some say. Though your beauty is truth, relative or not. Surely you must know that.” He counters.
“Vanity is not a virtue.” You say, meeting his gaze. The storm gray of them has softened to a dove gray, mirth dancing within them.
“Neither is lying and yet…”
“Are you accusing me of lying, Lord Cregan?” You gasp in mock outrage.
“About knowing that your beauty is what every man dreams of returning home to? Yes.” He says, his tone light and blithe, but his words, and the way his eyes darken for a moment? It takes your breath away.
“Your beauty, little fox, is one that haunts men’s dreams, that keeps them fighting when they are the last standing. That they keep in their mind as they clash swords, traverse through snow and sea.” He continues, holding your gaze, voice no longer light, but heavy with intent and promise. “It is a beauty one wishes to see the moment they return home before all else, or any others. A beauty that should be admired in all lights and shadows. The setting of the sun and its rising, the summer days and winter nights, one to be cherished.”
You break away from his gaze, a twinge of sadness in your chest. Aemond has never spoken to you in such a way, he has waxed poetic about your beauty, flattered you, lavished you with sweet words, but it has never felt the same as Cregan’s did now. Guilt replaces the sadness, and you toy with the edge of your sleeves. You should not be engaging with Cregan in this way, it was not right, even if it made you feel…something. “You are too kind, My Lord.”
Cregan reaches for you, breaching what was proper, and taking your hand in his. They are so much larger than yours, so warm, so gentle. “Have I spoken out of turn?”
“No, no, I am just—I am a maiden of the South, Lord Stark, I am not used to such forwardness from a man I am not courting with.”
“Honesty, it is honesty, though I apologize for my forwardness.” Cregan says, subconsciously stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.
“Either way, I am not used to it.” You say heart calming with each stroke of his calloused thumb.
Cregan’s brows furrow. “I have heard tales of—the other noblemen, they speak highly of you. Of your beauty, your kindness, your wit, are they all struck dumb by your very being, is that why no one has praised you as you deserve?”
You feel you should say something about Aemond, but what could you truly say? There is no formal betrothal in place, he has not publicly staked his claim beyond a possessiveness that those who spent enough time in court could see. But nothing is ever outwardly stated.
You go to speak, but Cregan stops you. “My apologies, I should not have asked such a thing, how are you to know what lies within the minds of man?”
“You are correct, I do not know their minds.” You say instead and bury down any explanation involving Aemond and his invisible claim.
A dragon roar fills the air, the window vibrates with the force of the sound, and your eyes shoot back to the window. Prince Aemond is home.
“Or they fear the mind of one man and thus hold their tongues.” Cregan says, releasing your hand.
“The prince? I—he—we…it is not—” You cannot get the words out fast enough.
“I will take my leave.” He says, remaining for a moment searching your face until it seemed he had found what he is looking for, and left.
You watch him go, admiring the strength in his stride, when he turns back, a strange look in his eyes. “At the feast tonight, might I have a dance?” He asks.
“With me?” Your heart is pounding against your chest.
He nods.
Footsteps rush by the open library door, and you can hear Princess Helaena calling out to Prince Aemond.
You stand, smoothing out your skirts with shaky hands, why did he make you so nervous? Or is not nerves, but excitement? “Of course, Lord Cregan, I would be honored.”
“I will hold you to that.” Cregan smile, then he disappears down the hall, and you are left alone to hurry after the princess.
Aemond does not call for you until hours after he has returned. When you knock on the door to his chambers, dressed already for the feast, he bids you to enter in a soft voice, exhaustion tinging each word.
You hurry to his side, clasping one hand between your own. “My Prince, I cannot tell you how happy I am that you have returned safely.”
He uses his free hand to cup your cheek, that half smile, half smirk he wears so well on his well sculpted face. “I was only gone for a mere moon, and I was never in any danger, did you doubt your Prince, ñuha nūmio?”
“No, of course not, but…you would not tell me where you were going, no one would.” You say, looking up at him through your eyelashes.
“That is simply because it was not information you needed.” He says, brushing the pad of his thumb across your lips.
“But if I am to be your wife, would it not be prudent if I were to know where my husband is?”
Aemond’s eye, a brilliant amethyst, hardens, then he looks away and sighs. “Lady y/h/n I have told you patience is a virtue, and your virtue is what I adore most.”
You bite your lip, internally chastising yourself. You know better than to rush him. “My apologies.”
Aemond frees your bottom lip from between your teeth and brushes his lips across your forehead. “Do not take my words so harshly, your eagerness is quite endearing, and I to wish for us to be wed, but it is not yet time.”
You lean into his touch, “I understand.”
“How have you been amusing yourself while I was away, ñuha nūmio? Did anything exciting happen?” Aemond asks, his thumb resting beside the corner of your lip.
“Not much, it seems you had taken all the excitement with you. Though as you know Lord Stark’s arrival has caused quite a stir and now two moons later still is. Many ladies are jockeying for the position of Lady of the North.” You tell him, giggling at the memory of some of your friends’ actions.
“But not you?” Aemond asked, his tone making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.
“No, I am yours, why would I wish to be Lady of the North?” You reassured him, brushing back a lock of silver hair from his face.
For a moment, you are struck with the feel of Cregan’s fingertips, rough and calloused but gentle against your skin. The warmth of his skin, the softness of his gaze, the earnestness of his words. What was he looking for when he stared into your eyes, when he took in every detail of your face?
“If you are too distracted, you may leave, My Lady.” Aemond says, the irritation in his voice drawing you from your thoughts.
“No, no, I am not, I am just so happy you have returned.”
Aemond hums in acknowledgement, dressed in his feast finery as well. “I have missed you.”
Your heart flutters. “I have missed you as well.”
He releases your chin to trail his fingers down the column of your neck. His cool touch causes goosebumps to follow in his wake, and he dips his head low to press his lips to your cheek, then begins to follow his fingers with his lips. “I have missed you, your voice, your smiles, your touch.”
You shiver in response, grabbing onto his doublet.
“Do not touch, you will wrinkle the fabric.” He warns, even as his hands grip your waist.
You remove your hands, clasping them behind your back.
“I will not be able to dance with you tonight, mother has brought another girl for me to try and charm.” He says, into your skin, his silver hair brushing against your exposed décolletage.
Your heart sinks. “Not even one dance?”
Aemond sighs and presses a final kiss to the hollow of your throat. “You know I detest it as much as you do, but it is my duty.”
You nod, blinking back the tears that threaten to appear on your waterline.
He smooths down your hair and turns you towards the door. “I will try to find time for one dance, but I cannot make any promises.”
His words lift your spirits, and you smile at him. “Thank you, Aemond.”
“Prince Aemond, we have guests tonight.” He reminds you, then he shuts the door, and you hurry back to your chambers.
The Great Hall is decorated beautifully, and you sit at your table with the other ladies of Helaena’s circle. A wine glass in hand as you watch Aemond dance with Cerelle Peake, her brown hair pinned up with a net of gold and sapphires, her umber gown flowing beautifully as she twirled.
“Come now, y/n, you will never be asked to dance with such a scowl.” Johanna Swyft says, poking your cheek goodnaturedly.
“No, she will never be asked to dance because the prince glares at anyone who tries.” Mina Redwyne says, clinking her glass against yours in silent sympathy.
Johanna shoots her a look. “Do keep your voice down, Mina.”
You take a long drink from your glass, emptying it, then setting it down, scanning the crowd for another servant. “Perhaps I do not wish to dance.”
“I am crushed to hear that Lady y/n.” Cregan’s presence makes every lady at your table sit up straight, and you turn to face him.
“Lord Stark.” You say, bowing your head in his direction.
He holds out a hand, and you remember how it nice felt, the phantom warmth still lingering. “I do believe you agreed to a dance, earlier today?”
“Lucky.” Mina hisses, as Johanna juts her elbow into your side to prod you up and out of your seat.
You stand, and take his hand, trying to ignore the twinge of pain in your side. “I did.”
Cregan leads you to the dance floor, and you can hear your friends giggling behind you, much to your utter embarrassment.
“Your friends seem quite encouraging.” Cregan says, barely holding back a laugh.
“When they learned I have no sisters, they decided that they would act as such, apparently that means acting in a most embarrassing way.” You say, falling into the rhythm of the dance.
“I knew you had brothers, but I did not know you were the only daughter, that must make you very precious in your father’s eyes.” Cregan ventures, his large, warm hand pressed to yours as you circle each other.
“I would like to think so.” You smile, your heart aches for a moment with homesickness. “He could not attend this feast, he is too ill to travel, my eldest brother is here on his behalf, accompanied by my second-eldest brother who is here to drink and presumably enjoy the Silk Streets.”
“I never had a taste for brothels.”
“Nor I.”
Cregan smiles and twirls you. “I thought not, for I have heard you are far too virtuous.”
You shrug. “It is more, I do not wish to spend the coin.”
Shock flashes across his face then he laughs, repeating your words quietly with a chuckle, and as you are spun back into his arms you cannot help but laugh as well.
“You are clever, little fox, I will miss you when I return home.” He says, his eyes searching you once more.
Your heart stops, and you trip over your feet. “You are leaving?”
His grip on you tightens as he helps you right yourself. “Aye, I have here for two moons, that is far too long, my people need me.”
You do not want him to leave, you will miss him dearly, his laugh, his expressions, his stories. You will miss the walks you had taken together, the discussions that ran late into the night, just outside your chambers, the men standing guard pretending they were not listening. The way he presented you with the pelts of animals he had hunted, regaling you with the tale of how he felled it. Who would challenge you now, who would make you laugh, would listen to your words, and respond as if you were an equal, as if your sex did not diminish your intelligence?
“When will you leave?” You ask, unable to keep your voice steady, so you spin away from him to give yourself a moment to smother your emotions.
Cregan pulls you back into his arms, trapping you with his steady gaze. “In a few days time.”
“Oh…” You manage to choke out, swallowing hard, your eyes on your feet.
“I have been meaning to tell you, there just never seemed to be a good time.” Cregan says sheepishly.
You nod, still staring at the floor. “Well, I will miss you.”
“I will miss you too, y/n,” he says softly, then he slips a finger under your chin and lifts it gently. “In all lights, in all seasons.”
Tears blur your vision, and you hastily blink them away, not even noticing he has said only your given name, no title attached. Cregan’s warm thumb catches any stray tears that fall, and you lean into his touch, desperate for more of that something he had made you feel before. That something you realize he was always making you feel, and that he is making you feel right now, though it is tinged with grief. “Cregan, I—”
“Lady y/h/n, I believe I promised you a dance.” Aemond’s voice is steel, ice, the frigid fear that ran through the veins of Vhagar’s victim, and you hurriedly wipe away any remaining tears plastering on a false smile, before you turn, Cregan’s other hand still on your waist.
You drop into a curtsy. “My Prince, that you did.”
Cregan’s hand lingers, and your heart lurches in your chest when the warmth of it is finally removed.
Another song has begun to play, one you love dancing with Aemond to. It allows for close movements and lingering touches that you always long for with him.
“I thought you did not wish to be the Lady of the North.” He says, his eyes picking you apart as Cregan’s did but there is a cold methodical feel to it that makes you feel utterly and horribly exposed.
“He was merely being kind, no one else had asked me to dance.” You protest, falling into the rhythm as you had before.
“No one else should, you are mine.” Aemond say, spinning you out, and then back in.
His hands burn through your gown, your skin, meeting bone, and before you would have loved it, relished the feeling, but now you feel they are too hot, your skin prickles uncomfortably.
“I like to dance; I do not get to dance when you are occupied, and you are often occupied.” You say quietly, your head bowed ever so slightly.
“I had them play your favorite song, as a reward for your patience.” He says, ignoring your words. “Do you like it?”
“I do, thank you.” You smile and raise your head, hoping to catch his eye and find it brimming with affection. That would soothe your wounded heart, would banish the grief you feel at Cregan leaving.
Instead, his eye is elsewhere, you follow its gaze to see it land on the Peake girl. You do not blame her, do not hate her, though your blood turns to fire in your veins, and you brace yourself for what you are going to say next.
“When are we going to be wed, I have been patient for many years, and you never tell me when my patience will be able to end.” You say, holding your chin high. You are not a Peake, but you still have pride.
His eye flicker back to you, his grip tightening. “Are you truly asking this now?”
“Yes. Yes, I am, because I am tired of waiting, tired of watching as you charm others, tired of being shunted to the side because even though you will not claim me, no one else is allowed to.” You can no longer keep your emotions contained. “I want to be happy Aemond, I want to be happy with you, but I am not happy.”
“Not everything is about your happiness, Lady y/h/n.” Aemond snaps.
You reel back as if you have been struck. “I did not say it was. You have been the one saying you wished to marry me, promising me you would tell the whole of the realm how deeply you care for me. I have done nothing else but dote on you and be patient.”
Guilt flashes across his face, and he reaches for you, but you push his hands away. “It is not so simple.”
“Do you see my face in your dreams, does it keep you fighting, keep you marching on, am I the first person you wish to see when you return home, do you wish to see me in all lights, in all seasons?” You throw Cregan’s words in Aemond’s face and wait for a response.
Aemond laughs, taking your hands, and bringing you back into the dance. “You have picked up a new book of poetry, I see.”
You cannot find it in yourself to be angry, the shock settling in, muffling everything until it is as if you are floating underwater. The rest of the night passes that way, you go through the motions, avoiding Cregan, your friends, shooting you concerned looks.
Then the feast ends, guards escort those too drunk to find their chambers, all others dispersing to their places for the night, or into Fleabottom for more revelry.
You try to sleep, but it will not come, Cregan and Aemond’s words echoing in your sleepless mind, until finally you throw off your blankets and wrap a robe around your nightshift.
You creep through the halls, no true direction in mind, letting your feet take you where they wished, when a flicker of umber catches your eye. Pressing yourself behind a pillar, you wait a moment then peek out.
“Lord Stark, might I be allowed to enter?” Cerelle Peake’s voice is soft, as was required for the late hours.
“Lady Peake, might I ask why you wish to enter my chambers?” Cregan asks, his words thick with sleep. His hair is loose, his night shift exposing his broad chest.
“I thought perhaps you might enjoy some company.” She says, as she takes a step towards him, moving to run a finger down his chest.
Cregan catches her hand and gently returns it to her side. “I do not wish for your company, Lady Peake. Please return to your chambers quietly, and I will not speak with your father about this.”
Cerelle scoffs and turns on her heel, storming down the hallway. You wait until Cregan’s door closed then follow her.
Halfway there, you know where she was going, you have walked these halls many times. Not wanting to further your own pain, you turn back to your own chambers, but your feet disobey you, and you find yourself in front of Cregan’s door.
You knock before you could stop yourself and the door swing open, a tired and angry Cregan standing before you. “Lady Peake, I do not need any comp—” His words die on his lips as he realizes it was you and not Cerelle. “Y/N?”
“All those things you said, about my beauty, about me, did you mean them? Truly?” Tears prick at the backs of your eyes, your chest tight, your bottom lip trembling.
Cregan rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Do not tell me you woke me only to hear more flattery.”
A sob escapes your lips. “I thought you said it was truth, not flattery.”
Cregan snaps awake, pulling you into his arms. “Little fox, I am sorry, I was half asleep, yes, yes, it is truth.”
You cling to him, gripping his night shirt, your face buried in his chest as you sob, every fear, every pain spilling out into his warm embrace. “Tell me you meant it, that you see me in your dreams, that you want me, in all lights, all seasons, that I am not destined to wait forever for someone to love me.”
“I love you, y/n, I love you, you do not need to wait, I will tell you as many times as you desire. I meant it, all of it, you haunt my dreams, you plague my waking thoughts, I want you in at any time, in any manner, or light, or moment I can have you.” He says, his voice is steady, and you can feel the vibrations of it deep in his chest, alongside the sound of his beating heart.
“I want to go with you to Winterfell, I want to be your Lady of the North, or even just your mistress if my house is not a good enough match, Cregan I do not care. I love you and all I care about is that we are not parted, that we are never parted, I do not think I will be able to breathe if we are parted.” You confess, looking up at him afraid to see what you saw in Aemond’s eye.
Cregan cups your face and kisses you, the taste of honeyed ale on his tongue, his hands warm as he keeps you close, using his foot to kick the door closed so he can press you against it.
Now in the safety of his chambers he breaks the kiss, your breaths intermingling. “You will not be a mistress, you will be my wife, none will come before you.”
“Will you tell your people, will they know?” You ask, your lips brushing against his with each word.
“I will wake the whole Red Keep to announce it now if you wish.” He says, his forehead resting against yours.
You reconnect your lips with his, his stubble brushing against your skin, but you pay it no mind, letting Cregan devour you, his hands moving into your hair, as you loop your arms around his neck, keeping him close.
He groans against you, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, delving in when you part them and exploring every inch of you. “My little fox, my y/n, my wife, my beautiful, clever wife.” He presses the words into your skin, heated lips trailing down to your pulse point.
“Husband.” You sigh, tilting your neck further exposing yourself to him, his teeth sinking into the skin claiming you as his own.
“Say it again for me, my wife, tell me who I am.” He breaths, sucking, and nipping at your neck, returning to darken the marks between creating new ones.
“You, Cregan, my husband.” You say, eyes snapping open when he releases you and stalks over to the window.
He threw it open and stuck his head out, shouting. “Y/N Y/H/N, is to be my wife.”
You rush forward and pull him from the window with a scandalized giggle. “Cregan it is the middle of the night.”
“Then at the very least a few guards heard.” He says, pulling you close and kissing you again, in full view of the window, the moon, anyone else who might look up, and it is exactly as you want it.
HOTD taglist: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda, @haydee5010, @partypoison00, @serrhaewin, @issshhh, @pax-2735, @malfoytargaryen, @sahanna, @dellalyra, @mxrgodsstuff, @jkhomes, @unusual-raccoon, @boofy1998, @kravitzwhore, @caribbeangel, @krispold, @issshh, @afro-hispwriter, @ryswritingrecord, @prettykinkysoul, @elissanatok, @sahvlren, @its-sam-allgood, @happinessinthbeing, @8e-h-e8, @feyres-fireheart, @just-emmaaaa, @crazylokonugget, @hedahobbit98, @devils-blackrose, @mercedesdecorazon, @snh96, @imjustboredso, @izzicle, @hiatuswhore, @aslanvez, @devils-blackrose, @yentroucnagol, @queenofshinigamis, @partyposion00, @cryptidsrcool, @jennifer0305
#meg's writing#hotd#aemond targaryen x reader#cregan stark x reader#cregan stark x you#cregan stark x y/n#aemond x reader#this one is so long omg#it hurt me to write Aemond like this I love him so much#cregan stark
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another day being sad over no one really caring about childe's well being after he disappeared in the fortress of meropide. the fatui only cared about using the situation for their own interests and diplomatic purposes, the people at the fortress obviously didn't really give a fuck since they didn't even know him personally and even traveller and paimon who displayed actual concern and are his friends didn't really have any real urgency (i know they had to be clever executing their mission but still)?! childe's little group of subordinates that he managed to gather in his days at the fortress, who barely even knew him, were actually the most concerned people and the only ones that seemed to care about his disappearance, standing loyal and putting efforts into awaiting his return. i think the scene that shocked me the most was arlecchino asking the traveller if the way she replied to childe's sister seemed okay. not because the scene is shocking per se - and it's understandable why the fatui would hide the situation from them since it's also for their own sake - but because you realise at that moment that childe doesn't even have the luxury of having his loved ones' worry. that they have no hint of an idea that childe is in danger and might not come back. and you inevitably question yourself how trully lonely his path is.
#part of loving someone is wanting to care for them worrying supporting... and childe doesn't have that#he's also a young adult he's a baby really you're supposed to depend on others yet he holds the burden of trying to protect his loved ones#from the dangers of >his< life#you're supposed to depend on your older siblings and your parents...#like. okay i'm trying not to go on a super long childe rant but. the way he keeps his trauma to himself and the way most of the time he's#just an upbeat chill guy but then in fontaine he's so open about it. the way his trauma no matter if he realises or not is the way he is so#incredibly loyal to his ideal of doing his best to protect kids and their dreams. their innocence.#they way he goes above and beyond to live according to his beliefs. the way he made the fatui invest in palm trees for qiqi to have her#milk because he promised!!!!!#the way he has been vocal about not enjoying hurting others and avoiding it the most he can#the way he's so warm and friendly to everyone around him#i could talk about so much but i'll just say i genuinely love him so so much#and i felt for him so much during the archon quest and i hope everything turns out okay with him because he deserves so much better#i want to hug him man
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Stray Kids Kinktober Day 8
Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist
Breeding - Bang Chan
Word Count: 8.4k
Summary: Your family’s yearly vacation is here and once again, you’re single. To avoid having your dating life be poked and prodded by your relatives, you decide to turn your best friend for a little help. Everyone already knows him! What’s the worst that could happen if he pretends to be your boyfriend for the week?
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“It’s going to be a disaster,” you lament, leaning your head back over your couch. Your coffee mug gripped tightly in your hand.
A random movie is playing on your TV, but neither you nor your best friend are paying attention.
“It will not,” Chan chides and nudges your arm with his elbow.
He sips his own drink slowly, watching you throw your arm over your eyes.
“Yes it will! Every year my family goes on this vacation to the mountains, and every year I’m reminded that I’m the only single adult in the family.”
You sigh.
“You’re not the only single one, what about your cousin?”
“He started dating someone about a month after last year’s vacation. They’re still together, so she’s coming on the trip.” Your tone switches to something less dramatic. “She’s lovely, by the way, you’d like her. Very friendly.”
Chan laughs. “So, you’re single and alone there, what’s the worst that could happen? It’s your family. ”
“They make fun of me the whole time! And if I do anything my mom doesn’t like, she’ll go ‘this is why you don’t have a boyfriend, Y/N.’ Ugh!”
“Aren’t there only four ‘older’ cousins?”
“Yes, and I’m the only single one above the age of seventeen. I’m twenty four and I am going to die alone.”
Your arm drops from your eyes and you stare up at the ceiling.
The air in your apartment is warm and comfortable. Candles burn on the table beside you, filling the house with a pleasant warm cinnamon scent.
It was always one of Chan’s favorites.
“How long until the trip?” he asks.
“Next weekend.”
“Not enough time for a dating app, huh?”
You force a laugh, “No. Can you imagine? ‘Coffee was great! You wanna come on a week-long vacation with me and my giant, loud family?’ They would run for the hills.”
“Your family is great and you know it.”
“I know, they’re just… obnoxiously close, that’s all. I love them, don’t get me wrong.” Your arm slides off your eyes and you stare up at the ceiling. “But if I need to listen to my aunt nitpick my appearance in passive aggressive ways to ‘help’, I might kill myself.”
Chan takes a long sip of his drink. “They’re not that bad.”
You roll your eyes. “They love you so much, what would you know? Every time I bring you around them I always get tons of questions afterwards about you. I think my cousin is in love with you.”
“Which one?”
“Lily.”
“She’s twelve.”
“Twelve and in love with you.”
Both of you sit in silence for a moment. Chan’s attention slides back to the TV. He’s looking at it, but he’s not absorbing what’s really playing.
Same with you, you’re too busy wrapped up in your thoughts when an idea hits you all of a sudden.
“That’s it!” you yell, sitting up straight. Your voice startles Chan and he almost spills his drink all over your couch.
“What? What’s it?” he asks quickly, checking his pants to make sure nothing spilled.
“You can come with me!”
“You want me to go on your family’s yearly vacation in place of a boyfriend?”
“I want you to come on my family’s yearly vacation as my boyfriend.”
Chan’s head snaps over to you, his eyes wide and his jaw dropped. You’re already looking at him with pleading eyes.
“Please, Chan!” you beg before he has a chance to say no. “Please, please, please!” you repeat over and over again.
Placing your coffee on the table, you crawl closer to him on the couch, begging over and over again.
“They already love you so much! It would be so easy ! Plus, it’s all expenses paid! It’s a free vacation to a lake house in the mountains with your best friend!”
“Felix isn’t going.” Chan teases.
You whine and grab his free hand. “No, me! Your best friend! Pretty please Chan! I’ll owe you big time!”
He stares at you for a long moment, thinking it through in his head. You’re staring at him with big, pleading, sparkly eyes. He’s never been able to say no to that look.
He sucks his teeth, head cocking to the side for a second. The hand in yours twitches and he holds it, like a faux-shake.
“Fine,” he says. “But, you owe me dinner.”
Squealing, you throw your arms around his shoulders.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He wraps his beverage-free hand around you and hugs you back. “You’re seriously the best, thank you!”
“I know, I know. Now can we please finish the movie?”
——————————————
The trunk to your car slams shut, Chan dusts his hands off and then rests them on his hips.
“You look like a dad,” you tell him while coming up to the car with your backpack slung over your shoulder.
“A dad who packed the trunk of your car perfectly.” He eyes the backpack on your shoulder. “That goes in the backseat. I’m not opening the trunk again.”
Giggling, you open the backdoor and toss it in.
“Can you drive?” you ask, batting your eyelashes. “You know how much I hate driving.”
Chan sighs and holds his hand out for the keys.
“You’re the best!” you cheer and toss them to him.
“Yeah, you keep saying that.” Chan rolls his eyes and ducks into the driver’s side of the car. “Do you have the address?”
You duck inside the car and start typing on your phone. “I should have it in my texts, one sec.”
Scrolling through your phone, you try to find the text that your aunt sent you with the address. Your family has rented the same AirBnb every year since you were fourteen and yet you could never remember the address of the place.
As you’re searching for it, a phone call from your mom comes in.
“Oh, hold on.” You say to Chan and hit the answer button.
“Hey, ma!” you greet into the phone.
“Hey, sweetie! Are you on your way yet?”
“We just got into the car, actually. We’re about to leave.”
“I thought you would’ve left an hour ago.”
“Chan got held up at work, actually. Not his fault.”
At the mention of his name, Chan perks up and looks over at you, listening to the phone call intently.
“Ah, gotcha. I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me you two finally started dating.”
“Yeah, well, it’s still kinda new,” you lie through your teeth. You look up and make eye contact with Chan. “We only became official about…”
His eyes widen and he looks around panicked. Quickly, he holds up three fingers.
“About three week-”
He moves about wildly.
“Months! Three months ago! Sorry, I’m a little distracted putting all the bags in the car.”
Chan reacts to your lie comically, his chin jutting forward, head cocking to the side. You wave him off silently. Your mother doesn’t seem to clock your panic about the situation.
“I always saw how the two of you looked at each other, it was only a matter of time, really.”
A blush crawls up your neck and turns your ears and cheeks red. Chan looks down at his lap and coughs nervously, a blush of his own making its way onto his skin.
“Anyway, we better get going, mom! You know how talking on the phone while driving is illegal and all.”
“Make Chan drive! He’s the boyfriend.”
“You’re so right… And he should do so without putting up a fuss.”
Chan motions down to himself, as if to say ‘I’m already the one in the driver’s seat’. You wave him off again, trying to focus on your mother’s voice.
“Okay, okay, I’ll see you soon, but I expect some questions to be answered when I see you, Y/N!” Her voice is teasing, but it makes your blood run cold.
“Of course, mom. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Bye, love you!”
You don’t give her a chance to answer you before you hang up.
The silence in the car is so loud, the air is so still.
“So,” you say slowly. “We need to come up with a backstory, huh?”
“It seems so.”
Another bout of silence.
Neither of you are looking at each other, you’re both facing forward, staring out the windshield.
“I’ll uh… find the address.”
“Yeah.”
You clear your throat awkwardly and scroll through your phone. Chan waits a second before starting the car.
——————————————
Chan turned one of the final corners of the trip onto the street.
“Our first date?” he asks.
“Coffee at the cafe by my apartment.”
“Second date?”
“Movies, we saw Barbie. We went out to eat afterwards. A diner.”
“When did we become official?”
“Three months ago. May 6th. You asked me after our third date.”
“And?”
“You kissed me at my door.”
“Good.”
You both pause for a moment.
“How come I can’t be the one that kissed you?” you tease him.
Chan laughs out loud and turns the car into the driveway. “As if you would ever make the first move.”
You look at him incredulously. “I so would! You’re the one who gets too nervous to do anything. I say I kissed you, not the other way around.”
“No way, I kissed you.”
Chan puts the car into park.
“Absolutely not. I kissed you first.” you reply.
“Keep dreaming. I walked you to your door, we stood there and talked for a minute. You went to walk inside, but I stopped you and kissed you.”
You unbuckle your seatbelt.
“No, after we talked, there was an awkward silence and I could see how nervous you were and how you kept looking at my lips. So, I took the first step and kissed you.”
Grabbing the door handle, you wrench it open before Chan could issue a rebuttal again.
He calls your name from inside the car and lets out a loud groan afterwards.
“You can’t have all the firsts, now can you?” you call back, walking around to the trunk.
The front door to the house rips open and two of your little cousins come tearing out of the house with happy smiles.
“Y/N! Y/N!” they both call out, sprinting up to you.
Leaning down, you scoop both of them up into a hug with both arms, giving them an equally excited hello. Both of them hug you tightly.
They’re five and nine years old, girl and boy– the youngest of the cousins.
“Look who else I brought with me,” you giggle and look over at Chan, who was watching you from the side of the car. The door still opened, his arm leaning on the top.
Both of their tiny gazes turn towards him and just like that, you’re forgotten about.
“Chan!” They both cheer and run at him full tilt.
He wraps both of them up in his strong arms and picks them off the ground.
“Hello, you two!” he coos and gives them both kisses on their heads.
Something twinges within your heart seeing him interact with the two of them that way, it goes through you like an arrow. His brown eyes are so warm and sparkly holding your two little cousins close to him.
A genuine, bright smile pulled across his beautiful face.
Chan steps away from the car and puts them on the ground, they both complain. “Come on, I need to help Y/N with the bags. I wouldn’t be a good boyfriend if I made her carry them all by herself.”
Your heart thuds again. Boyfriend.
The two kids groan and give in, running back into the house, telling everyone of your arrival.
Chan watches them for a moment before turning to look at you with a sheepish smile. You smile back and knock twice on the hood of your car.
“Come on then, boyfriend. These bags won't carry themselves.”
He laughs and grabs the bags from the trunk, arguing with you when you try to lift some of the heavier bags. Well, you weren’t going to argue about carrying something if you didn’t need to.
The cold air conditioned house was a familiar sight when you walked through the front door. One of your aunts was near the entrance when you first came in.
“Y/N, Chan, you’re here! We have you both in the room down here, I hope that’s okay.” she says, pointing to the room down the hall. It’s one of only three bedrooms on the first floor.
“Yeah! That’s totally fine, thank you.”
You smile and walk to the room, dropping your bags down on the bed.
The singular bed in the room.
Chan follows you inside the room with your bags, plopping them down on the floor by the door. You turn to look at him, he’s staring at the bed, most likely thinking the same thing that you are.
He closes the door behind you both.
“I didn’t think about this part.” you say quietly just in case someone was outside the door.
He shrugs. “Just don’t hog the blankets,” he jokes. Chan brushes it off so easily.
What you don’t know is his heart is racing just as much as yours is. His mouth has gone completely dry and he had to gulp down some nerves before jesting with you.
It’s just a bed, right? Both of you can share a bed, no problem. Not at all.
The two of you have fallen asleep on the couch together before. But, it’s not quite the same as sharing a bedroom for the next week.
“I didn’t think you would need any blankets since you’re a human space heater.” You open your one bag and pull out a few smaller things.
“You’re just jealous because you’re cold all the time.” Chan stands on the other side of the bed, plugging his phone charger into the wall.
“I’m not cold all the time.”
“You’re in a sweatshirt and it’s eighty five degrees outside.”
“We had the air conditioning on in the car.”
There’s a few knocks on the bedroom door. “Dinner!”
——————————————
Contrary to what you both originally thought, your family did not grill the two of you interrogation style about your relationship. Instead, you were met with a lot of “It was only a matter of time”.
Each time one of your family members said something along those lines, both you and Chan would grow extremely shy, faces flushing and hearts racing.
Dinner was held in the back room attached to the large kitchen, a long dining table sat in the room, benches full of your family members lined it.
There were so many of you: eight cousins, three aunts, two uncles, two parents, one sister, one brother in law, one grandmother.
This was not the first time Chan had been around your extremely large family, not at all. He’s around you all the time, especially when he can’t go home to Australia for holidays. You always invite him to your family celebrations, and each time he’s more than thrilled to be there.
Everyone was so happy that he was there; part of you thinks they’re happier to see him than you.
Dinner came and went, it was filled with laughter and stories, like it usually is. Your dad and his brothers all teased one another, bringing up stories of being young in the 70’s and 80’s.
“Let’s do a movie night!” One of your younger cousins turns to her older brother. “You’ve been promising me that we would watch Star Wars.”
“You want to watch Star Wars tonight?” he replies.
“Yes, please! Cousins movie night!" She cheers and grabs her plate. “We can set the couches up like last year!”
Chan leaned over and whispered in your ear, “Movie night?”
“There’s a den upstairs with a couple couches, we push them together to make a giant bed and all watch movies at night. Very common L/N Family Activity on vacation.” you answer, leaning closer to him. “The adults usually go to bed and all the cousins watch movies.”
“Sounds exciting.”
Both of you chuckle and smile at one another. His dimples showing. You two seem to be in your own little bubble.
Chan’s leaning so close his body heat is radiating through your clothes. The fabric of his shirt is brushing against your bare arm.
“You’ll find that there’s a certain schedule to each day, breakfast, play down at the lake, lunch, back to the lake, get ready for dinner, eat dinner, movie time.”
“I think I can get used to that.”
“You better.”
A throat clears by you. Your aunt is looking at the two of you with a playful smile. “Are you both going to help clean up or what?”
——————————————
“Dibs on sitting next to Y/N!” One of your little cousins calls out after you all finished pushing the couches together.
“No, I want to sit next to her!” Another yells out.
The youngest runs up and throws his arms around your hips, hugging you close to him. Both arms don’t make it around you all the way.
“No, me!”
You laugh and ruffle his hair. He holds you tighter and it knocks you off balance slightly.
“Come on, hon, you got to sit next to me at dinner, let someone else have a turn.” you coo down to him.
“No!” he pouts and hugs you tighter. You grimace and try to pry his arms off you.
Chan comes out of nowhere and picks your cousin off the ground in one fell swoop. “How about me, huh?” he teases and tickles your cousin with his one free hand.
Your cousin starts giggling like crazy.
“Don’t I get to sit next to my girlfriend?” he jokes and tickles him even more.
The biggest smile stretches over your face, heart warming once more.
Chan drops your cousin onto the couches, he bounces a bit, still laughing.
The tickle torture continues now that both of Chan’s hands are free. Giggles turn into cackles.
No matter how hard you try, you can’t fight the smile on your face and the feeling that stirs in your stomach. Are you ovulating? You have to be. There’s no other explanation for the flutter within your chest.
He just looks so natural like that. The teasing looked adorable.
It wasn’t until one of your older cousins came into the room before your gaze was taken away from Chan.
“Lovesick, eh?” he says in your ear.
“Oh, shut up.” You hit him in the arm.
“I know that look anywhere, Y/N. You can’t fool me.” He laughs and then walks to take his spot on the big couch huddle with his girlfriend.
Chan picks your little cousin up by the ankle and starts dragging him around. Both of their laughter was music to your ears.
“Okay, okay! Move time!” You call out to the two of them. Chan looks over at you immediately with the goofiest grin on his face.
Your little cousin groans.
“Give me my boyfriend back,” you tease and climb onto the couch.
After several minutes of figuring out seating and finding the movie on the TV, everyone was finally settled.
Chan sat directly next to you, his arm on the back of the couch behind you. Both of your legs stretched out in front of you and a shared blanket draped over you both.
The opening title sequence of Star Wars starts playing and silence falls over your cousins for the first time since you got there.
Absent-mindedly, Chan’s fingers lightly brush over the skin of your exposed shoulder from behind you. They trace small shapes lightly.
You can’t even focus on the movie in front of you, Chan’s touch is too distracting.
Your sister and her fiance sat on the other side of you. She leaned over and whispered in your ear about twenty minutes into the movie.
“You can cuddle with your boyfriend, you know.”
A flush crawls up your neck. “Yeah, of course I know that. I just didn’t want to–”
Chan must’ve heard her, his hand closes over your shoulder and brings you closer to him. Your body turns into his, head tucked underneath his chin. His body warmth seeps into you as soon as you press into him.
The cherry on top is when he presses a kiss to the crown of your hair before resting his chin on top of your head. A shockwave of goosebumps ripples through your body.
Thinking you were chilly, Chan wraps his other arm around you and holds you even closer.
Well, if he’s playing the part.
You intertwine your legs with his underneath the blanket. His heart jumps in his chest and he has to fight the urge to press another kiss into your hair.
Chan knew he was pushing his luck with the first one, but it just felt so natural, he couldn’t help himself. Every single time the two of you touch, he instinctually takes it further into a romantic zone.
Previously, he would restrain himself from advancing these moments with you, but now? He doesn’t need to hold himself back. He can let his body react naturally.
The movie continues on, whenever a younger cousin would ask any questions about the movie, one of the older kids would answer.
Whenever Chan was the one to answer, his voice would rumble deep within his chest. The later it got, the raspier it sounded.
Throughout the movie, you both just got more and more tangled up underneath the blanket. You slid an arm around to rest your hand on Chan’s chest; fingers mindlessly playing with the fabric of his t-shirt.
Chan melted into your touch so easily.
In all the years you’ve been close friends, you’ve never been this level of a human pretzel while hanging out. He’s relishing every moment of it. Your shared body heat mingling is intoxicating to him.
He’s such a tactile person, physical touch is definitely his love language.
Chan can’t remember a time he was ever this cozy while watching a movie.
One of his hands moves from your shoulder and into your hair, running his fingers through the strands gently.
Every muscle in your body relaxes when he starts scratching at your scalp lightly. His soft exhales puff out on your head. Normally, this would bother you, but instead you find it soothing.
Both of you were fighting against your eyelids towards the end of the movie. The little kids fell asleep about ten minutes before the credits rolled.
Chan squeezes you tighter for a moment before whispering into your hair, “Time for bed.”
Your heart squeezes. “I gotta help get the little ones to bed.”
“I got it,” he answers. “Go wash up and get to bed. I’ll be downstairs in a few.”
Words can’t even describe how much your heart melts at his words.
Pull it together, Y/N. He’s your fake boyfriend for the week, remember? Not your real one.
It’s Chan – Bang Chan. The same guy who held your hair each time you drank yourself sick in college. The guy who camps out at your dining room table to work because he claims the Wi-Fi is better at your apartment.
Nevertheless, you peel yourself off of him, untangling your limbs and sitting up.
“You’re the best,” you say to him with a sleepy smile.
“I know.”
——————————————
Sunlight streams in through the bedroom window and the air conditioning unit continuously hums in the room.
A strong arm squeezing tighter around your body is what drags you out of dreamland.
A searingly hot body is pressed flush against the back of yours; legs tangled up, back to chest, soft exhales blowing into your hair lightly.
The haze of sleep still has your mind in its grip. All you know in that moment is that it’s so cozy, so warm, so nice that you can’t help but press your body backwards into that serene clasp.
The arm tightens again and brings you even closer.
A nose nuzzles further into the back of your head.
Chan, it’s Chan behind you.
You should care. You should be prying his arm off your waist and scooting over away from him.
But you don’t want to. It’s too nice.
It’s so peaceful, you’re about to drift back to sleep when the sound of two separate footsteps run towards your bedroom door.
They’re so loud, it rips you from sleep and you tense up, preparing for impact.
Your bedroom door is practically flung open.
Chan jolts against your body at the noise, his eyes snap open, arm tightening around you even more in a protective manner.
He has about two seconds to get his bearings before both cousins leap onto the bed, yelling at you both to wake up.
Chan releases you and turns over onto his back with a deep groan.
You groan and squint your eyes closed, bringing the covers up over your head.
“Noooo…” you moan out.
Chan laughs and grabs one little cousin closely, hugging her close to his chest. “Are you in here to sleep in bed with us? I sure hope so since it’s still soooo early.”
She giggles and tries to fight against his strong arms. “No!” she cackles. “You have to eat breakfast so we can go swimming down at the lake!”
Your other, more calm, cousin squirms underneath the covers and cuddles up to you. Slinging an arm around him, you keep your eyes closed and try to let your mind drift off again.
This is not the first time he’s done this, and it most likely will not be the last. It breaks your heart thinking about the year he feels like he’s too old to do this.
Chan is practically wrestling with your cousin next to you. She squeals when he turns on his side with her encased in his arms.
“Chaaan!” she giggles.
After a few moments, he lets her go and she clambers off the bed.
“Come on, Chan! Come sit next to me at breakfast!” She pulls on his hand closest to the edge of the bed.
He laughs and turns his head to look at you. You’re fast asleep again with your younger cousin asleep in your arms.
Chan’s heart slams against his ribcage and his stomach does a cartwheel.
Your sleeping face is so peaceful, and the way your little cousin has the same hair color as you had the cogs in his mind turning.
What if that was your kid in your arms, not just a cousin?
What if it was his?
His eyes flicker all over your face.
Something stirs in his mind, shooting down his spine. If it wasn’t for your other little cousin yanking on his arm over and over again, probably would’ve watched you for a few more moments, allowing his mind to roam into dangerous territory.
——————————————
“You’re staring.” Your aunt sits next to Chan with a plate full of food.
He’s camped out on the back porch of the cabin. It overlooks the wooden stairs that lead down to the dock hanging over the lake.
You’re lounging out on a floaty, pina colada in your hand– courtesy of him. He had walked it down to you only a few moments ago.
When it was announced that it was lunch time, you told Chan you wanted to work on your tan without worrying about your cousins splashing you every five seconds.
Maybe making you a frozen drink was just an excuse to see your face light up when he brought it to you. Maybe it was an excuse to watch the water droplets slide over your body up close.
Chan clears his throat and tears his eyes off your lazing form. Clearly, he’d been caught staring at your bikini clad form.
She nudges his arm playfully. “Don’t be embarrassed, it would be weirder if you didn’t stare, you know.”
Your family can be so crass sometimes.
Chan laughs and takes a bite of the sandwich on his plate. “It’s just nice to see her relaxing for once.”
“Has she been working herself into the ground again?”
“She never stops.”
Your aunt nods and looks back down at you before taking a bite of her own food. “Also helps that she looks good in that bathing suit.” She pauses. “Damn, your kids will be good looking.”
Chan chokes on his bite of food, his body jerks forward and he slams his fist into his chest to try and get it down.
Your aunt pats him on the back a few times, laughing at his expense.
“What?” She questions with an evil chuckle. “Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it.”
“We’ve only been together for three months,” he wheezes out, still hitting his chest. The clump of food is sitting in his throat.
“And?”
“It’s too early to think about stuff like that,” he lies through his teeth.
You’re not even his. You’re not. This week will end and you’ll have to go back to just being best friends.
He’ll have to pretend that he wasn’t fake sleeping for the last hour before you woke up just to have his arms around you for a little while longer.
“Please.” Your aunt rolls her eyes and goes back to her food when another family member joins the table.
Chan takes a long swig of water before letting his eyes flicker to you once more. Your free hand hangs down in the water, head tilted back to dip into the cool lake, exposing your long, beautiful neck.
In his swim trunks, his cock twitches and he takes an even bigger drink of water.
——————————————
The torture continues endlessly for the two of you.
It’s the fourth night when it’s just you and Chan left awake.
Rain is pouring against the windows outside, the fireplace is lit, TV playing something in the background.
“I’m never going to get to bed.”
“I told you that you shouldn’t have had coffee with dessert,” you tease Chan, nudging his arm.
“Your uncle offered me a cup and I panicked.”
“You don’t even like coffee.”
“I know!” He whined.
You laugh at his expense. “Come on,” you tug on his arm. “You promised you would play pool with me.”
“When did I say that?”
“Literally this morning!”
“Fine, fine.”
He allows you to pull him off the couch with a dorky smile on his face. He loves giving you a hard time for no reason at all.
The pool table sat in the front room, just a few steps away from your bedroom.
Every time the two of you had gone to play pool, other family members would get in the way and pull one of you two in another direction.
Tonight was really the first night you both had to yourselves.
“You break,” you tell him once everything is set up. He nods and lines up his shot. After a second, he hits the cue ball perfectly into the cluster and all the balls scatter along the table, but nothing sinks into the pocket.
“Pity,” you tease him.
“Pity,” he repeats, mocking your tone.
Laughing, you bend over and line up your own shot. From across the table, Chan watches your form bend over, his lip pulling between his teeth mindlessly.
You hit the ball and sink one in.
With a cheer on the quieter side, you look at him with a smirk. He rolls his eyes playfully as you line up another shot.
The game continues just like this for a bit. Both of you going back and forth, missing most shots, but also nailing some good ones.
You’re tied at the end, racing to try and sink the 8-ball before the other person.
Leaning over the table right in front of him, you try and set up your aim.
“Wait,” Chan says quietly before you can pull the pool stick back to take your shot.
He leans down over you, pressing his back into yours, arms coming around you. He guides your aim to hit the cue ball differently.
The entire time, your heart rate is increasing exponentially.
“Just a bit more to the left,” he whispers in your ear. Chills rip down your body and you gulp. His voice sounds so low and sensual.
His hand over yours adjusts with tiny, miniscule movements. He keeps changing the aim a bit to the left, then a bit to the right, like he’s prolonging the contact.
Behind you, his hips are pressed into yours. It’s taking every ounce of willpower and control for him not to get hard in his sweats.
Especially, since in this position, he potentially could–
“Pull back,” he rasps. You follow his instructions immediately. He helps guide the pool stick back, hesitating for a moment. His chest inflates with a deep breath.
He breathes in the smell of your shampoo.
“Shoot,” he exhales.
With his guidance, you both shoot the ball, standing up quickly to watch it bounce off the 8-ball and then sinking into the corner pocket.
You cheer and jump up, turning around to face him directly.
“Take that!”
When you turned to face him, he hadn’t backed away yet. You’re practically nose to nose with Chan. A gasp catches in your throat from his proximity.
And yet, he still doesn’t back away. He continues to stare at you, his eyes dart from yours, down to your lips, then back up to your eyes again.
“Y/N,” he breathes out.
You swallow nervously and hold his eye contact.
Chan’s jaw clenches once, his hands ball into fists at his sides. Every single ounce of constraint is being tested within his body right now.
Cracks are going up the dam of his self control.
You’re not moving away; why aren’t you moving away from him?
He watches your eyes flicker down to his lips once and that’s all it takes for his mind to snap.
Chan lunges forward, grabbing your face with both of his hands and smashing your lips together. You let out a surprised noise against his mouth, your pool stick clattering to the ground.
Every bit of pent up aggression from the last few days is poured into the first kiss.
His hands aren’t on your face for long. He can’t keep still, sliding them all over your body; into your hair, down your sides, grabbing your hips, he’s everywhere.
“Fuck,” he growls against your lips. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Y/N. Shit.”
Even though he’s apologizing, he can’t stop himself. He can’t stop slotting his lips over yours, devouring your very being.
Chan’s eyebrows are pinched together painfully. He’s pinning your body against the pool table with his hips.
You grab at his shirt and pull him closer.
“Shut up,” you say in between heated kisses.
“But I–”
“Shut up.” Your tongue runs over his bottom lip and his mind whites out. Every rebuttal fell from his mind, through the floor and into the Earth.
You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his face even closer to yours as he licks into your mouth. With each turn of your heads, your noses brush against one another.
Chan runs his hands down your body and grabs underneath your thighs, picking you up and placing you on the pool table.
Your legs part and he stands in between them, never leaving your lips once.
As he runs his hands up your legs, he squeezes your bare thighs every few inches. It makes your core clench and body tingle.
Your fingers run up through his hair, grabbing tightly and pulling. Chan moans into your mouth and moves his hands to grab at your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt.
“Chan,” you whisper on his lips. He responds with a grunt. “Need you.”
God.
His hands fly to your legs again, grabbing you by the knees, he yanks your hips forward. Your clothed core comes into direct contact with his erection.
“I can give you exactly what you need, baby.” he nips your lip with his teeth. “I can take good care of you, yeah?”
Trailing his fingers up, he toys with the waistband of your shorts. At the same time, he moves his kisses down your neck. You tilt your head back to give him more access.
“Wanna take these off, babygirl?” he moans when you roll your hips into his.
“Yes, please.” you hiss in response.
Lifting your hips, he grabs the fabric and slides it down your legs, tossing them onto the floor with the forgotten pool stick.
Kisses trail lower and lower down your neck as he lowers to the ground.
Chan pulls away to kneel onto the ground.
His eyes are heated and strong when they meet yours. A dark scarlet color covers his cheeks and down his neck, disappearing into his sleeveless shirt.
Both of his hands grab at your thighs when he looks down at your glistening cunt. You’re absolutely soaking wet by now.
Since the moment he helped you line up your shot, you felt your panties dampening.
Wasting no time, Chan leans forward and runs his tongue from the bottom of your slit all the way up to the top, swirling around your clit and sucking gently.
Your hand flies up to cover your mouth, the other rests on the table behind you to keep your balance.
He repeats the action again, this time with more fervor and you squint your eyes shut, head tossing back from the pleasure that rips down your spine like a zipper.
Chan’s hands tighten around your thighs, eyes staring up at you and studying each reaction closely.
You taste so fucking good. He can’t get enough of you. His tongue greedily scoops up your juices, licking around your clit to feel you grind into his face.
His cock throbs with each moan, each whine that makes it through your fingers held tightly over your mouth.
After one long suck on your clit, Chan dips his tongue inside you, licking at your walls. Your eyes roll back into your head, the hand over your mouth flies down to grip at his hair.
He can’t help but smirk into your folds.
Every single moan is music to his ears.
Slowly, he inches his fingers over and when he moves his tongue up to your clit, he slides a finger into you, immediately curling it up to hit that spongy spot inside you.
“Jesus fuck–!” you cry out as quiet as you can manage.
It doesn’t slip your mind that you’re quite literally in a house full of relatives who could wake up and come into the front room at any moment and see the two of you.
But the fear just adds an extra layer of arousal to you.
“Does that feel good, babygirl?” Chan mutters into your cunt. “Does it feel good to have my fingers inside you?”
He thrusts his finger in and out slowly, those brown eyes studying you like a predator studies prey.
You bite your lip, eyes closed, and nod your head.
Chan adds a second finger and your head tosses back again. He can feel you clench down hard on his fingers when he licks your clit in long, even strokes.
A thin sheen of sweat covers your body.
“Chan,” you whine.
“Yeah, baby?” he teases, licking up slowly, the pace of his fingers is equally as slow. But, regardless of the pace, he’s still coaxing you towards the edge of an orgasm. It’s building slowly, you can feel it in the pit of your stomach.
“Shit,” you buck your hips into his face when he does one particularly hard thrust.
“Use your words, little girl.” He bites your thigh and then goes back to your folds. You clench around him hard at the name.
How are you supposed to use your words when your voice keeps getting caught in your throat? When every time you think you can open your mouth, a sultry moan tumbles out.
“N-Need you,” you manage to strain out.
A devilish smile pulls at his lips. He begins to thrust faster with his fingers, licking your clit quicker.
“Need me?” He asks in between licks. “You need me?”
Veins are popping in your neck from straining to keep your voice down.
“Yes, fuck!” You hiss out. “ I need you.”
In between his legs, Chan can feel his cock weeping with precum. His mind is so clouded with lust he can barely think straight.
Desperately, he wishes that you didn’t have to keep your voice down. He wants to make you scream.
Faster and faster he thrusts and licks at your soaking cunt, greedily tasting your juices.
Your thighs twitch on either side of his head the closer you get to your orgasm.
“Chan,” you grab his attention by yanking on his hair. He grunts and looks up at you through his lashes, lips still devouring you. “Inside, inside. I need your cock inside me.”
Your words go straight to his dick, he licks at your cunt a few more times before standing to his feet quickly to lock your lips together, fingers still buried inside you.
When you taste your own slick on his tongue, your eyes roll back in your head and you clench around him. Chan smirks into the kiss, curling his fingers up.
He’s relentless. Tongue sliding over yours, moans being eaten up by a greedy mouth while his fingers fuck into you.
With more strength than you thought you had, you pry Chan’s lips off yours by pulling his hair back.
“If you don’t fuck me in the next thirty seconds, I’ll pin you down and ride you until your cock can’t cum anymore.”
An exhale is punched from his chest. His mind whites out. Chan’s mouth drops open and his fingers stutter within you.
Did you really just say that? That sounds like a fucking dream.
“Babygirl,” he growls darkly. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”
Your eyes darken and you pull his hair again. “Fuck me until I can’t walk, Chris.”
Chan rips his fingers out of your cunt, grabs both of your hips and roughly pulls you off the pool table.
He fists a hand in the back of your hair and spins you around, shoving your head down, bending you over completely.
You’re lucky you had half a mind to put your arms out to rest your weight on your elbows.
Using his one foot, he knocks the inside of yours outwards to spread your legs even more.
“Fucking look at that,” he marvels, running his free hand up your ass and kneading a handful. After a second he reels back and brings his hand down with a painful smack.
Your one hand flies to your mouth to cover the squeak that you make.
“Bent over, soaking wet cunt just fucking waiting to take my cock.” His hand tightens in your hair. The other hand rips his sweatpants down to take his cock out. “What a good girl you are.”
Chan can’t remember a time he’s ever been this hard.
Casting a look over your shoulder, you look back at Chan. His eyes are blown out, lip pulled in a sneer as he fists his cock, staring directly at your fluttering walls clench around nothing.
“You wanna fill me up, Channie?”
His eyes snap up to yours with a predator-like stare. His hand stops pumping his own cock, hell, he even stops breathing.
Chan’s jaw clenches, every ounce of self control is being drained. How much more of this can he fucking take before he passes out?
“What?” His voice is so strained and hoarse.
Your eyes narrow and you wiggle your hips tauntingly. “Come on, Chan.”
Chan’s eyes darken. He fists your hair and shoves your face down on the table and slams his cock inside you.
Your mouth stretches open in a silent scream, but you don’t let the noise make it out of your body.
Chan’s eyes roll to the back. You feel so fucking good.
“Holy shit.” He moans out. “Jesus fuck you’re so fighting tight.”
He wastes no time, pulling his cock out to slam back inside you. Your back arches and hips press into his to meet his thrust.
Each sharp wave of pleasure shoots down your legs and into your toes.
Small gasps and whines make their way through your lips.
Chan leans down, yanking your hair back to pick your head up slightly. His face comes down next to yours.
“You like this, yeah?” He whispers harshly. Thrust after thrust slams against your cervix. “You like when it’s rough?”
Closing your eyes tightly, you keep your mouth shut, trying to nod with his hand so tightly wound in the crown of your hair.
“Better be quiet, then. Don’t want someone coming out and seeing you look like a cum hungry, whore.”
Over and over again he fucks into you.
After one harsh thrust, your mouth drops open and before you can moan loudly, Chan’s free hand covers your mouth tightly.
“Feels that good to have my cock inside you, huh? Can’t control that pretty mouth, you’re so fucked out.”
You whine and nod again. Nails digging into the felt of the pool table underneath you.
Hot, white pleasure is coursing through your veins. You’ve never been fucked like this in your life.
Chan leans down more and bites at the side of your neck, lapping at the skin and leaving small marks that will fade by the morning.
“You’re fucking lucky you have to be in a bathing suit in front of your family tomorrow. Otherwise I would leave my fucking mark all over you.” He bites, but doesn’t suck. “Make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”
Another whine is stopped by his hand.
“I have a better idea, babygirl.” He bites your earlobe, pace slowing down within you. Instead, he thrusts deeper, you can practically feel him within your gut. “I’m going to do exactly what you said, yeah? Fill you up? Make that pussy sloppy with my fucking load.”
Your hips jerk back into his to try and encourage him to pick up the pace. Chan only tightens his hold in your hair.
“You’re going to take whatever I give you, every last fucking drop. Even after I pull out, I’ll stuff you with my fucking fingers so nothing gets wasted.”
Arching your back, you press into him more.
“You want that, huh?” He growls, biting your ear. His pace picks up gradually, each thrust rougher and faster than the last. “You want my seed inside you?”
You nod pathetically.
“You want me to fuck a baby into you?”
His thrusts start growing erratic.
You never expected him to be this talkative during sex. But he hasn’t shut up once.
Another nod accompanied with a whine comes from you. You’re absolutely drowning in pleasure.
“Gunna carry my kids, got the fucking perfect hips for it, yeah? You’ll look so fucking hot all pregnant with our kids. Fuck.”
He’s so lost and fucked out, he can’t stop his mouth from running, spewing all his fantasies.
Moving his hand from your mouth, he trails it down to grab at your throat.
“Chan!” You moan out, licking your dry lips.
“Can feel you clenching, babygirl. You gonna cum for me? Gunna cream on my cock? Suck up my cum and hold onto it with this tight fucking pussy?”
“Yes yes yes yes.” You pant over and over again. “Kiss me, kiss me, please”
When you turn your head, your lips smash together.
The coil in your gut is seconds from snapping.
You bite Chan’s lip and pull back.
“Fuck me full, daddy.”
Every muscle in his body tensed and his thrusts turn into something animalistic. The hand in your hair is so tight your scalp is screaming.
“Say it again.”
“Fu-huck,” is all you’re able to manage.
“Say it again.” He barks in your ear. You’re not going to be able sit down tomorrow.
“Daddy.”
A bite to your neck.
“Again.”
“Daddy! Fuck me, daddy!”
“Holy shit.” He whines in your ear. Hearing you say that makes him feel fucking insane. His body is acting on its own.
With a few more thrusts both of you are thrown over the edge at the same time. Your cunt clenching around him so tight, Chan can barely breathe.
His cock spurts and sprays within you, painting your walls white.
Every single sensation feels so good you think you leave for body for a few minutes. Your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks.
His entire body is wrapped around yours. Grunts in your ear keep you grounded.
You feel so full.
Chan came inside you so much that it’s leaking out and dripping down the inside of your legs.
He pants heavily into your ear.
Releasing your neck, he lovingly runs his hand down your side, caressing your hip, massaging circles into the bone.
His hand slides around and cups your lower stomach tenderly.
Slowly, he unwinds his hand from your hair, kissing at the roots he’s been relentlessly pulling on. He scratches and rubs at your scalp to ease the ache.
But still, he hasn’t pulled out.
Chan kisses the top of your head and down to your face, kissing the cheek he’s able to reach.
You can’t catch your breath.
“Y/N,” he whispers into your hair.
You hum back to him, eyes still closed in bliss.
“I love you.”
Your heart jumps in your chest, Chan feels you clench around him.
“I love you too.” It falls from your lips so easily, like it’s been sitting there for so long, just waiting to be heard.
Both of your heads turn to kiss one another.
It’s so ungodly sweet for the events that just took place minutes ago.
His lips are so soft and plush, especially from being swollen from your steamy kisses.
Inside you, you can feel his cock twitch. Is he…?
Breathlessly, you pull away from his sweet kiss.
“Are you still hard?” you pant.
Sheepishly, he smiles and ruts into you. A moan catches in your throat.
“Babygirl, I’ve been waiting for so long to fuck you. It’s going to take a few times before I’m ready to call it a night.”
#skz smut#stray kids kinktober#stray kids smut#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#skz kinktober#bang chan smut#bang chan x reader#bang Chan x reader smut#skz x reader smut#stray kids x reader smut#bang chan x y/n
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supermassive blackhole ☆ jay park pt. 1
☆ non-idol! spiderman! jay x fem!reader
☆ summary: You and Jay Park couldn't stand each other. But after a drunk makeout session at your university's annual soccer mixer, combined with Jay's secret identity as the city's friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, the two of you are pushed closer to each other than ever, challenging your long-time status as 'enemies.'
☆genre: enemies to lovers, suggestive but no nsfw/smut, angst, fluff, spiderman! au, college! au, so incredibly american HELP, reader has glasses bc it's cute and jay has a lip piercing bc i said so
☆ warning(s) ? many mentions and instances of alcohol (all characters are of age) , this is very suggestive but there is no smut
☆ word count: 13.7k
☆ a/n: my dumbass didn't factor in character block limit when i wrote this shit so i'm gonna split this fic up into two parts... sorry guys :( lmk if you want me to tag you in part 2, also this has a diff style so lmk how we feel abt it 😇
part 2
“Oh, thank you so much, Spider-Man!”
It was a warm spring evening, and Spider-Man had been on his evening city patrol. When he found a little old lady calling for help, who was he to refuse her? Her cat had been stuck in a tree, and she needed someone to help her. Hopping up on the tree, he safely retrieved the ball of fluff.
“Of course, Ma’am,” the superhero chuckled. If only she could see him through his mask, he would be grinning. “Get home safely.”
Watching the little lady’s retreating back, Spider-Man shot a web to the top of a building, and hoisted himself up into the air.
On late-spring nights like this, it was peaceful. He liked the breeze that hit his masked face as he swung from building to building. Around this time, rush hour would be beginning, and all the university students would be getting out. Speaking of…
Peeking over a billboard, Spider-Man peered down to the university campus. His own university campus.
There was no reason in particular for this, but he liked to watch the university around evening time. Most people were beginning their commute home or to the dorms, but campus crime was not rare at all. It could be small offenses like graffiti or theft, but he would prefer those types of things to just not exist at all at a place like the university. And, he just liked to check up on his friends or people he knew, to make sure they were getting home safely.
His eyes narrowed at a familiar figure that made its way across campus. Even from a tall building, he could recognize that head. His jaw clenched, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip before shooting another web and slinging away.
By the time it was fully dark out, Spider-Man had finished his night patrol.
Sitting on the roof of his apartment complex, he didn’t quite want to go in yet. He liked freedom: the physical freedom yielded from spider-like abilities– practically flying through the air– and the social freedom of anonymity. Leaning back on his palms, Spider-Man took a deep breath.
The clouds were beginning to clear up because of the weather, so the moon and stars were extra visible tonight. Clothed fingers creeped up to his neck, carefully pulling up the red mask that covered his face.
He was lucky that no one else casually sat on top of apartment complexes, or else his identity would be revealed.
Jay Park.
The moonlight glimmered on his honey-gold tan skin. The night breeze was cool, kissing his hot cheeks. He ran a hand through his tousled coal-ebony hair, letting his sweaty forehead that had been covered for hours air out.
Truth be told, he was a tad exhausted. It’s not common for the safety of a city to lie on the shoulders of a struggling university student like himself. Throwing his head back and letting dark locks fall over his eyebrows, he let out a huff.
Shit, there’s a party tomorrow.
Everyone liked to boast about the idea of soulmates.
The idea that fate existed as the binding force that drew lovers of all disparate backgrounds together was prolific, pervading in all parts of history. From severed limbs that shared the same primordial origin, to congenital tattoos containing initials, to even timers that counted down every second until meeting, the concept of soulmates has been longed for, craved for, lusted for- for centuries.
Unfortunately, for you, the notion that everyone had an innate and pre-destined lover was a tad ridiculous.
There was no way that you could believe in soulmates.
“Why the fuck are you here?”
But you did believe in natural enemies.
“I can ask you the same thing, Park.”
Tonight was the soccer team mixer, an end-of-the-year party that the university’s team hosted to celebrate yet another exciting school year. Courtesy of your friends, you and your thick-ass glasses ended up attending.
Tonight was supposed to be a nice night. It really was. Junior year of university was a stressful one, and you were more than ready to party all your worries away: you figured that you earned it.
Much to your misfortune, though, there was someone else that decided to attend: the most insufferable, loud, and obnoxious person to ever exist, Jay Park.
There were several reasons to despise him and his funky, tousled hair. He was loud, rowdy, fiery, rambunctious, unruly, uncouth, uncivilized, hot-headed, talked way too much, had no sense of volume, and in your very personal opinion, just sucked. And, apparently, he was a total freak. He would show up to parties and socials, cause a ruckus with his presence, and then randomly disappear. He stood weirdly, and his mannerisms were just strange.
If you could go back and change history, you would have never allowed yourself to even meet such a person. Unfortunately, you two had intersecting friend groups and many mutual friends; there was no avoiding him given your social circles.
It started back in freshman year of highschool. The two of you were sat next to each other on the first day of fourth period English Honors. Your teacher must have seen something that you didn’t, because it was almost impossible for you to even talk to each other. Jay, the pubescent boy he was, would crack a few jokes. You, though, would stare at him vacantly, as if you were expecting him to add on.
“Can you stop talking?” you asked him once. “Your jokes aren’t funny.”
You had meant it in a helpful way.
“If you want to make it funnier, maybe have a set-up and punchline? Your jokes don’t land.”
Really.
You were genuinely trying to be helpful.
The only issue was that, like everyone else in the world, Jay didn���t take that well.
From then until the second quarter, you and Jay would only talk to each other if specifically asked to. You would turn around to the girl that sat behind you, and Jay would talk to the guy that sat diagonally in front of him. And when you guys did speak Jay would be unnecessarily dry, and in response, you would get irritated and snap at him.
When you finally moved seats next quarter, you still managed to see each other around. Too much. Your only interactions were limited to a few judgy glances, and occasionally, glares.
During the fourth quarter, Jay made an attempt to mend your relationship when you guys were placed adjacent to each other again.
Except, now it was your turn to be offended.
“Hey, I know I was a dick and you were a bitch, but-”
“I was a bitch?”
You’d kick his chair in class, and when the two of you were inevitably forced to talk, it’d be short and curt.
Truly, it was the summer of freshman year that really catapulted your relationship into what it was today.
When you hung out with your friends over the summer, Jay was always (and truly, always) there.
Initially, it was awkward.
But when you learned that Jay liked the same band as you– Muse– you thought that you could finally put your terse relationship to an end.
“You listen to Muse?” You had tapped his shoulder one day at the beach. He was hunched over, listening to his music with earphones jammed into his ears peacefully. He looked bemused, cocking a brow at you.
It must have been the way that you said it. Poor, slightly socially-inept you, who, up until that point, couldn’t control your tone of voice. It was no surprise that Jay thought you were making fun of him.
Brusquely standing up, he snatched his earbuds up to go somewhere [Name]-free, grumbling something under his breath.
From then on, you two rarely got along.
“Something about his face pisses me off.”
“I don’t like how she says things.”
“He makes me so angry for some reason.”
“She’s a total nerdo freak.”
“I need to fight him.”
“I need to fight her.”
For the first two years of high school, there was non-stop bickering. Not necessarily malicious in intent, but it was clear that neither of you liked each other.
The closest thing to a “friendship” that the two of you formed was during the second semester of sophomore year, when your friend started liking his friend, and vice versa.
Both of you were getting tired of seeing your friends so cluelessly in love with each other, so you and Jay joined forces to push them together. Secret in-class texting, after-school discussions, shared knowing looks, and when they finally got together on the last day of school, a perfectly-timed fist-bump. As much as you’d hate to admit it, you and Jay Park made a wonderful team.
After that, you were just on your way to becoming great friends. Obviously, not as close as other friends, but it was undoubted that you had incredible potential to become very good friends.
Until one midsummer night.
“You knew that Taehyun Kang was cheating on Isa– with the girl that he swore up and down she shouldn't worry about– and said nothing?”
It was a difficult night. Especially when you had to console a weeping friend on one call and yell at Jay Park on the other.
“He’s my best friend, too,” was all Jay had said.
“And?” You had been incredulous. “Taehyun’s been making googly-eyes at that girl since way before he got with Isa! You knew. You’ve known this entire time and you still-”
“I didn’t know.”
You remembered the anger that began to bubble inside of you. You had spent the past few weeks trying to fix your aggression issues, because it was Jay that told you about your first interaction that got you guys off on the wrong foot. But now, you really couldn’t suppress it.
“Yes you fucking did!” you yelled over the phone. “I know you did. Don’t try to pull this shit on me, Jay.”
He didn’t respond.
“You’ve known this entire time, and you didn’t say anything.”
He had huffed over the phone, grumbling something incoherent. “I didn’t know until a few days before school ended.”
“A few days before school ended?--” You had sunken your teeth into your bottom lip, for the anger that was just beginning to heat up was now rising to a boil– “That was a few days before they got together! You had time to say something– but you didn’t.”
“What did you want me to do?” Jay was now getting angry. “You wanted me to speak up and ruin everything?”
“You could have. You should have. But you didn’t.”
“It’s not my responsibility, [Name]. It’s not your or my responsibility.”
The boiling anger was now seething. “Yes, it fucking was!”
“No, it wasn-”
If Jay could have seen your face over the phone, it would have been twisted with both disbelief and indignation.
“When you and I teamed up to get Taehyun and Isa together,” you asserted through clenched teeth, “there were some things we took responsibility for. And when they got together, we had the responsibility to be good friends. Good fucking people, Park! You–”
You had to take a few moments to breathe. “You had the power– You had the knowledge that your best friend was a cheating bastard that would– You know what? You’re just like him. You could’ve been a normal fucking person and did things the right way, but you lack responsibility and basic intelligence to do so.”
Through the course of that messy break-up, a few more screaming matches between you and Jay came about. Really, it should have been an argument for your friends to have, but you and Jay had had enough of each other. The floodgate that had held your relationship finally broke.
For the rest of your high school years, every interaction would just be blows at each other. It started as subtle, harmless jabs. But over time, those jabs became hostile. Petty actions, like light shoves or stealing pens, evolved into spiteful and calculated attacks, such as purposefully tripping the other or intentionally cutting the other out of a group photo.
Eventually, your friends made up and the break-up rift was resolved, but not you and Jay’s rocky relationship.
The horror you and Jay must have felt when you found out you were going to the same university.
At the present, pushing up the metal-framed glasses that delicately laid on your nose, you could feel Jay’s dark eyes boring into you. Giving him a once-over, your nose scrunched. Once again, you’re reminded of why you could not stand this guy.
Tonight was a soccer mixer. A college mixer. Looking around, everyone was dressed as if they were college students at a college party. Because that’s what they were.
Girls, including yourself, wore small dresses and short skirts with plunging necklines and fat, wedged heels. They did their hair in all kinds of elaborate styles– you tied your hair into a half-down-half-up style. The guys wore ripped jeans, form-fitting button-ups, leather jackets, and if you were a soccer player, the iconic soccer team jacket- but really anything that was casual and easy to move in.
Jay Park, on the other hand, swore a deep-green hoodie with ripped jeans, like the uncultured villain he was.
Okay, maybe you were being biased.
A few of your friends did come in wearing hoodies and ripped jeans, and you did, in fact, come through the door of this frat house with an oversized hoodie draped over your shoulders. But, the difference was that this was Jay Park. Everything that he did was uncultured and barbaric.
“I don’t know why you’re so surprised,” you remarked, glaring up at him through your lashes. You were on your way to grab a few drinks for your friends in the kitchen when you bumped into none other than Jay Park. “You hang around Jake Sim, I hang around Jake Sim. Use your critical thinking.”
Jake Sim was a mutual friend between you and Jay, who just so happened to be on the university’s soccer team. Great guy, but the only thing that you would complain about was the fact that every time you hung out with him, you would inevitably meet Jay.
Jay scoffed. “Didn’t think a prude like you would actually show up to a party like this.”
“Prude?” Of all times to be calling you prude, it really shouldn’t be now, when you were wearing possibly the shortest and tightest dress with the most risque neckline that you’ve ever worn in your entire life. Those thin spaghetti straps were not doing you any justice. And especially because you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes would linger around your silhouette. “Who’s the one who hasn’t been laid in months? Who’s the one with the worst box-dyed hair on the entire campus? Who’s the one that lacks any social awareness and says the most uncomfortable shit in a voice at 260 fucking decibels? Who randomly disappears? Who moves around like a goddamn insect?”
“That’s not even fucking true!” The man waved his hands in front of himself defensively. “God, you’re so fucking annoying.”
“I’m annoying? You’re the creep that follows me around everywhere.”
“You said it yourself! We have a mutual friend so we always end up-”
“Yeah, but I get the feeling that we end up in the same places because you choose to follow me-”
“I can assure you that no one wants to follow your nerdo freak ass-”
“Oh wow! How creative. You’ve been calling me that since we were fourteen–”
“Because that’s what you are! A nerdo freak that can’t do shit–”
“Why are you even here? You always have that job that you leave to-”
“Hey, hey, hey, party people!” a new voice interjected.
Jake Sim, your mutual friend, with sleek sunglasses resting on his nose and a beer in his hand, suddenly appeared between your arguing bodies, throwing an arm around each of you.
“Jakey!” you exclaimed.
“‘Sup.” Jake was a suave guy, not a wonder that so many people liked him. “What were the two of you talking about? Looked like you were having fun!”
Jay cringed, his lips curling. Of all words, ‘fun’ would be the furthest from a good descriptor of your interaction. You seemed to think the same.
“Nothing,” you said through clenched teeth and brief glare to the ebony-haired man.
Jake frowned. “Awww, don’t tell me you guys were fighting again!”
You and Jay locked eyes.
‘Don’t you fucking dare,' his eyes said.
‘Wasn’t going to,’ yours replied.
Jake Sim was a sociable guy. Unfortunately, it made him a little obsessed with making everyone get along. So when he found out that you and Jay deeply disliked each other in junior year of high school, he made it his life’s mission to make you get along.
Didn’t work. It really only made you hate each other more.
“We weren’t,” Jay affirmed, swiping a tongue over his pierced bottom lip.
When Jake cocked a brow, you added, “Yeah, we weren’t.”
When Jake left you two alone again, there was a thick silence that fell over you (as silent as a rowdy college party could get). You took your drink, and turned to leave.
“Go fuck yourself, by the way,” you spat.
There’s many issues with college parties. A few hundred bodies of sweaty late-teen-early-twenty-somethings all squished together in a single frat house with alcohol and drugs was just a recipe for disaster. Alas, that was simply the college way.
To Jay Park, other than the fact that there was, ahem, usually the presence of people that he didn’t like at college parties, there was the fact alcohol was practically everywhere. No matter how many times he could vow to not drink on one particular night, he always ended up slightly buzzed or full-out drunk.
Like right now.
It was late into the night, but the party hadn’t died down even a little bit. His friends pulled him onto the dance floor. Normally, he would scurry off, probably scared that he might lose control of his spider abilities, but with the booming techno music, blinding LED lights, and alcohol that had happily found its way into his system, Jay’s mind was completely hazy. He could barely feel his own feet below him.
The next thing he knew, there was a body up against him. Definitely smaller than him, but plush and soft, moving fluidly to the music. His mind was completely fuzzy, but Jay could smell a familiar scent. Sweet and almost citrusy, like a summer orange. His arm slithered around the person’s waist, pulling them closer to his own body. His fingers found themselves snaking toward the person’s hip. His larger hands gave it squeeze, earning him a barely-audible squeal.��
If only he knew that the person was you.
Maybe it was the alcohol getting to him, but he felt a shock of fervor and excitement rake through his body.
Bodies moving closely together, he could feel a ghost of your warmth where there was clothes; where clothing was, he could only feel a touch of warmth.
Jay could feel everything, thanks to his heightened spidey senses and the alcohol. Every motion of your body against his, every breath you took. Which is why even when intoxicated, he could clearly hear the song change from techno to punk rock– Muscle Museum by that one band he’s liked since freshman year of highschool. Muse, was it?
“Fuck, I love this song,” he heard you mutter in your own tipsy state.
Jay was sure you couldn’t hear him, but he slurred back, “Me too.”
His hands explored.
A bare thigh, soft and creamy. An exposed neck, an unclad arm, an ample uncovered chest. Something metal on your face– a piercing? glasses? You must have been wearing jewelry, because he could feel cold metal hanging from your neck and splaying across your chest.
(The amount of practice it took for him to be able to ensure no sticky webs came out of his palms was out of this world. Sober Jay would have been a little more careful, but it was a good thing that he practiced so much.)
When his hand gave your waist another squeeze, something must have clicked in your mind, because you slid your arms around his neck, turning your body to press your chests together. Pedicured fingers ran across his chest through the fabric of his hoodie, ending up at his shoulders. Another jolt of warmth and electricity coursed through his veins.
Jay’s head was way too blurred to really take a look at you in front of him, but again, that familiar scent filled his senses.
When the lights dimmed and music slowed, you rested your head on his shoulder. He could feel your breath fanning against his neck, lip brushing against his skin. Your lips were half-moist; it must have been gloss that made it sticky, but there was a hint of dryness that he could tell was from being swollen– you were biting your lip so much it was becoming swollen. A warm chill rushed down his spine.
How drunk was he at this point? He didn’t care, because the next thing he knew, he was pushed up against a wall in a dark hallway.
“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he muttered under his breath, as you shoved your pedicured hands up his hoodie and played with the belt loops of his ripped jeans. Throwing his head back against the wall, he heard you giggle, before you ghosted your hand over his lower abdomen, effectively sending waves of warmth down his body. He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, flinching. He cursed his spidey senses for making him so sensitive to touch. “Don’t fucking do that- don’t tease me.”
He heard another giggle, before he felt a few nimble fingers grasping his chin gently, pulling his face down for a better reach.
It was a soft, but crazily attractive, voice that whined in his ear, “But you’re so cute like this.”
And then you continued, slipping your hand up and down his bare abdomen, occasionally stopping near his collarbone to tug on the metal necklace that laid so delicately. Meanwhile, you pressed open-mouth kisses on his neck, eliciting the softest sighs of satisfaction.
Truth be told, Jay had no idea that it was you who was all pressed up against him, but for some reason, the fact that he didn’t know turned him on even more.
The wet kisses, which he was sure left sparkly pink traces of lip gloss, littered all over his skin, trailing from the part where his jaw and ear met, to his collarbones, to his Adam’s apple, and finally, to his chin.
With a squeeze to his bicep, you gently cupped his cheek, pulling him closer. With an experimental hand, you swiped your thumb over his bottom lip, pressing onto the cold metal piercing that adorned his lip.
It was a dark hallway, but it was now that Jay noticed the light that reflected off of your glasses’ lens. When he tried to look for your eyes, he was only met with the sleek shine that reflected off your glasses.
“Let me kiss you,” you purred into his ear as you ran your thumb over his lips. It was now that he could smell the tequila from your breath. “Please?”
Jay, all in his equally-drunken glory, threw his head back again against the wall, making a thud sound. “Fuuuuck,” he cursed under his breath. “Yeah. You’re hot.”
You giggled. You gave his lip piercing one more tap of the finger before entangling your hands in his dark hair, giving it a soft tug. It was a good thing that he was pushed so close against a wall, because Jay swore his knees were going to give out.
“Thank you, baby.”
You gave his hair another tug, staring straight into his eyes. The half-panicked expression that spread across his face made you crack a small grin of satisfaction, and Jay felt embarrassed under your gaze. Gently holding his face, you pressed soft butterfly kisses along his jawline before you ended up at his chin. You pulled him closer so that your chests were pushed all the way against each other, the majority of your weight on him against the wall.
Jay swiped a tongue over his lip, sucking in a sharp and shallow breath. His chest rose and fell, swallowing so hard in anticipation that his Adam’s apple bobbed. You brushed your nails along his bicep before clasping hands with him; in a swift movement, you pinned his hands flat on the wall next to his head.
The gap between your faces was closing. You were only a few inches apart at this point. Hot breaths and glassy eyes.
Hands still pinned against the wall, Jay could not tear his eyes away from that glossy sheen on your glasses. He wanted so badly to see your eyes, lock onto them. Usually, the inability to see someone’s eyes would make a kiss less appealing, but for some reason, it only made things more intimate for him. Combined with the darkness and intoxicated state, the anonymity was a turn-on.
Almost as if to tease him, you peppered soft kisses along his chin and around his lips. Freeing his hand from your grip, Jay snuck it around your waist, pressing you all the way up against him. He could feel every curve and divot of your body now; with the softness and plush skin, he wanted to explore it once again with his touch. His big hand traveled down your waist to your hips, caressed your ass, and ended up on the backside of your thigh. He freed his other hand to do the same, resulting in two hands on your thighs.
Jay parted his lips, peering down at you through lidded eyes. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest.
The music had faded in the background, but his heart pounded to the beat of the slow R&B.
Ba-dum, ba-dum.
So close. You were so close.
Ba-dum, ba-dum.
Sliding his hands up your back to your shoulders, Jay gave it a squeeze. In a swift movement, he flipped your positions around, pushing you gently against the wall and placing a flat palm above you head.
Ba-dum, ba-dum.
You giggled, grappling for his hair once again.
Again, he could smell that sweet, citrusy scent.
Ba-dum, ba-dum.
Jay leaned in.
There was a sort of tenderness—intimacy— that he suddenly craved for. Closing that gap, having skin on skin, lip to lip, he needed it.
Ba-dum, ba-dum.
If he just got a little closer… a few more centimeters, and your lips would-
Beep beep!
What-
Beep beep!
Bewildered, Jay flinched back.
It was his watch, which lit up the dark hallway.
You held his bicep, trying to pull him back in. He resisted.
Beep beep! Time to go! his watch went on.
“Baby,” you breathed. “Is everything okay?”
Jay bit his tongue. As sensible as an intoxicated person can be, his eyes narrowed at his glowing wristwatch.
Fuck.
“I-I have to go.” Jay pushed off the wall, turning toward the hallway entrance. He was feeling dizzy.
“What? But-”
He eyed his watch, which was now glowing a red color.
“Shit, shit-” He turned over his shoulder, slurring out, “I’m so sorry.”
He couldn’t see your face but he could feel disappointed and confused eyes boring into his back.
On his way out of the frat house, Jay took a bottle of water and chugged it, sobering up (though still feeling shitfaced and nasty). He rushed out of the house, and the moment he stepped out onto the pavement, his phone rang.
“What happened this time, Jungwon?” he grumbled into his phone, still catching his breath. His hand came up to touch his neck. Even out here and sobered up, he could still feel the sticky kisses pressed against his skin, setting his cheeks aflame against the cold night air.
On the other side of the phone, a childish voice spoke. “Doctor Discotheque!”
“What?”
He heard a huff. “Doctor Discotheque! Remember? That villain guy! He’s here!”
Jay scoffed. “Where’s ‘here’?”
“At home, you dummy!”
Sometimes, Jay wondered why he employed his eight-year-old kid brother, Jungwon, or Wonnie, to help him with his Spider-Man endeavors. Given the fact that the kid was literally eight years old, it might have been a little pathetic to enlist the help of someone who couldn’t even do basic math. But honestly, Wonnie was the best he had– the kid was terribly excited to find out that his big brother was a superhero and he promised not to tell anyone only if Jay 1) told him everything that happened (correction: everything cool that happened, the kid didn’t want to hear about helping old people use the subway) and 2) let him be intel. There wasn’t much a grade-schooler could do to be a valuable informant (what was Jay going to let him do, run around the street at night?), but he sure did have a lot of time on his hands.
“Okay, okay,” Jay rubbed the scar on his nose. “Where at home? Like, in the complex? Outside?”
“Two floors below us.”
“What.”
Just as Jay was outside the general vicinity of mixer-goers, he heard a slew of heavy footsteps and then suddenly felt two arms wrap around his torso.
“What the-”
A very, very, very familiar voice began sobbing into his back. “Why’d you leeeavvvvveee?”
You.
You tightened your hold on him, burying your face in his hoodie-clad back. “Whyyyyyyyyyy?” you drawled.
“The fuck-?” Jay, cringing into his skin, tried to pull away. However, his nose picked up a scent that he was more than mortified to recognize. It was sweet and citrusy. And when his eyes caught the outline of your metal-framed glasses and the illumination that was strewn across the lens, all hell broke loose.
“Jay?” Wonnie’s voice called over the line. “Jay! Spider-Man! Is everything okay?”
“Hold on-” Jay replied. “Fuck, just give me a second.”
You, [Name] [Last Name], possibly one of the most insufferable people ever, was the one that he was all over just five minutes ago. You were the one that had him pressed up against the wall. You were the one that was touching and kissing him all over. You were the one that sent chills down his spine. You were the one that he was minutes away from taking into a spare bedroom and-
He sucked in a sharp breath. Not the time to think about that.
Now that he had soaked in the fresh air outside the frat house, the smell of alcohol was strong on your person. It consoled him that everything happened because both of you were drunk, at least.
“[N-Name],” he muttered. “[Name], let go.”
You were fuckfaced drunk, holding and clinging onto him like your life depended on it and wailing. Jay never thought that he’d find a day where you would be like this to him.
“I want youuuuu,” you slurred. “Come baaaaack insiiiideeee.”
“Jesus Christ, you college kids,” Wonnie clicked his tongue on the other side of the line. “Get a room.”
“Shut it,” Jay spat. Turning his attention to you sobbing in his arms, he figured that you had no idea that the person you were all over was him. If you did, you would be kicking and screaming at him.
As much as he needed to go, he didn’t feel great about leaving a drunk woman (no matter how much he disliked you) alone at night at the side of a road.
“[Name], where are your friends?”
You sniffled. “I don’t knowww.”
Jay huffed. He couldn’t find your phone, and he wasn’t going to hang up on his brother– who he honestly really needed to get to, like, right now.
He had a few options: fail at his job as Spider-Man by leaving a drunk woman unattended, go inside and physically look for your friends which will delay him going to Wonnie, or take you home himself. He did not have a lot of time.
Which is why he was currently carrying you, his worst enemy, bridal style as he shoots webs across the sky, all the while being on call with his kid brother.
“When are you getting home again?” Wonnie asked.
“Give me, like-” Jay looked around the city- “Five minutes.”
A lucky feat of being Spider-Man was that he had incredible speed and agility.
It wasn’t going to take much longer to get to your apartment, which he now realized was very close to his own apartment complex.
Actually, he was heading straight towards his apartment complex.
Weird.
Maybe yours is the one behind it?
Nope, there’s just an old construction site behind it.
Wait, so then where’s your apartment…?
Oh my god, you lived in the same apartment complex as him.
Speaking of, you were asleep in his arms.
“Won, what is Doctor Discotheque doing?”
“Having tea with our downstairs neighbors.”
“What?”
“What kind of question is that?!” Wonnie yelled over the phone. “He’s a supervillain! What do you think he’s doing? Wreaking havoc, duh!”
Jay took a deep breath so as to not yell back at this kid. “Yeah, I know. What in particular is he doing?”
“He’s being rude to the apartment staff.” When he was met with a judgmental silence, Wonnie groaned. “I’m serious. I think he’s waiting for you. He’s just being super mean to people right now.”
Damnit.
Jay took a look at the unconscious you in his arms. “Wonnie, I’m going to drop someone by the balcony. Take her in, will ya?”
Before Wonnie could blow up on him for bringing a ‘her’ home, Jay brusquely said, “I’m going down to kick Doctor Discotheque’s ass.”
Of all things in the world, you did not expect to wake up in Jay Park’s bed.
The next morning, you woke up with probably the worst headache you’ve ever had. You were never one to drink, but maybe the university stress was really getting to you. Groaning, you sunk your face into the freshly-washed white sheets. All seemed normal, until you realized a few things:
First, who took you home last night? You had no memory of anything that happened at the mixer that night. If you thought about it hard, you could probably remember getting ready for it, meeting some, ahem, unpleasant people, talking to a few friends… and really nothing more. In fact, the bedroom you were in right now didn’t look like it belonged to any of your friends.
Second, you were still in your clothes from last night. And makeup. And hair.
How did you get home last night?
This was probably the worst hangover you’ve had in a while. Nevertheless, when you realized that there was talking outside the room, you got out of bed to investigate.
Which led you to possibly the worst thing to ever witness.
Jay Park, with wet hair, shirtless on the couch.
The shrill scream you let out was enough to get a complaint from the neighbors.
“Oh my fuck, calm down,” Jay, in all his bitch-faced glory, rolled his eyes.
“You- You want me to calm down?” You were scandalized. Horrified. “You’re literally- You’re-”
“This is my house,” his eyes bored into you. “I can do whatever I want.”
“This- This is your house?”
He blinked. “Yeah.”
There was another ear-splitting scream before Jay convinced you to sit down so he could explain.
“You don’t need to sit so far away from me,” Jay dead-panned when you sat at the very edge of the couch.
“I don’t want to be near you,” you murmured.
“That's rich coming from someone that was all over me yesterday.”
The utmost and utter horror painted across your face was nearly laughable.
You?
All over Jay?
Was that why you woke up in his home…? In his bed?
“Oh my god,” you clasped a hand over your mouth. “Did we…”
“No.”
You breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
“Then how am I here then?”
Jay sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.
If you weren't completely stunned into silence from the fact that you woke up in Jay Park’s bed, then you were now. Jay recounted a rather detailed account of what happened the night before– the two of you got drunk, and ended up more than touchy with each other. Your face heated up, with both embarrassment and… anger?
Frowning, you asked, “Then why’d you bring me home?”
“You were crying and begging me to come back inside with you, but I had to go.”
You glared at him, crossing your arms.
“Go on.”
“I wasn’t going to leave you out there drunk, you know,” Jay shrugged. “I was going to bring you to your apartment, but I had to fight– I mean– Spider-Man had to fight some.. Um, villain downstairs.”
You nodded slowly, but skeptically. Sensing your cynicism, Jay added quickly, “You can check the news. The fight was on the seventh floor.”
Your ears perked up. “Seventh floor?”
“Yeah-”
“That’s where I live.”
Jay’s eyes widened a fraction. “Shit.”
A great thing about being Spider-Man was that he was technically a government worker, a public service provider. The government paid for all the casualties caused by his work, luckily. Gone were the days that he’d be considered a masked menace.
As great as this was, it led to Jay being more or less reckless. Not that he was throwing shit around and purposefully breaking property when protecting citizens, but he had the freedom to do whatever was necessary. If he had to break down walls to save people, then so be it.
Speaking up, Spider-Man went a little.. Err… crazy last night. Maybe it was the alcohol still lingering in his system, or the fact that Doctor Discotheque the supervillain was literally insane. Safe to say, when fighting in the hallway of the seventh floor, Jay got a little aggressive and broke a few more things than usual.
If you found out that he-- Jay-- was Spiderman, a.k.a. the one that probably damaged your home, he’d be dead. Luckily, you wouldn't find out. Unluckily, your apartment was among those that were damaged last night.
“Can you stop that?” Jay said.
There were many reasons that Jay Park deeply disdained you. You were nit-picky, snobby, arrogant, pretentious, overly-critical, fussy, and extremely judgmental. Everyone thought you were some sort of genius, and he could tell that you liked the fact that they did.
“I’m fuckin’ stressed,” you spat as you paced around the floor. “I don’t think I can really ‘stop.’”
Not that he was a sick person, but the expression of genuine distress spread all over your face was almost satisfying. But then Jay realized the situation you were in and he knew it was his fault, so he felt just a little bad.
You lost your phone last night, and your apartment was more than a little damaged, the entire seventh floor being tarped and taped off. Sitting on the couch, you chewed on your bottom lip. It wasn’t even noon yet. Given your group of friends and the events last night, it wasn’t likely that any of them were awake at this time. And you didn’t have your phone- it wasn’t like you could just easily phone someone that wasn’t there last night.
You had a massive headache, feeling lightheaded with a throbbing sensation up there. You felt gross, with smudged makeup and the same tiny dress from last night. You could definitely walk to a friend’s place and wait there, but the heels you wore last night were the tallest, most painful, party-purposed stilettos. You were absolutely not walking around the city in those shoes.
The worst part about it all was that you were stuck in the apartment of none other than Jay Park.
Could you appreciate the fact that he looked out for you by taking you home? Yeah, sure.
But could you stand him? Absolutely not.
“Why are you walking around like that?” He was getting persnickety, as payback for all the times that you’d been nit-picky towards him. “You’re going to ruin my floorboards.”
You sent him a glare. Some empathy would be nice, you thought, rolling your eyes.
There really was only one person that was accessible to you if you wanted to get out of here, and it was Jay himself. You never really thought that there would be a day where you would need to ask for his help, but here you were, practically stranded. Speaking of, he was ignoring you, occasionally looking up from his phone to give you a weird look.
If you wanted to go home, you would need to swallow your pride and just ask for help.
You prided yourself in your ability to be blunt. You were a natural leader, ambitious and aggressive. You never had an issue with announcing your wants or needs. But now faced with the piercing silence of Jay Park, you simply could not open your mouth to speak. It wasn’t like you couldn't ask him, but that you wouldn't. Curling your lips, you let the glum, nearly shameful, feeling fall over yourself.
Eyes tracing the man’s outline carefully, you swallowed the lump in your throat.
‘[Name], you can do this,’ you recited to yourself. ‘You can do this. Just talk to him, just talk to-’
You pressed your lips together, before taking a deep breath and opening your mouth to speak. As you attempted to say his name, no sound came out. When he glanced up at you suspiciously,you quickly averted your gaze and closed your mouth.
When he looked away, your eyes flickered back to him, simply drilling into him. You licked your lips. For the second time, you opened your mouth to say his name, bracing yourself for the sound of your voice, but Jay spoke before you did.
“What are you looking at?”
You stood up straight like a board, pushing up your glasses clumsily.
“I- Well-”you cursed yourself for stammering. You never stammered like this. “I…”
He looked at you expectantly.
Your ego, that fat chunk of an ego, was crumbling.
“Park,” you brusquely said.
He leered at you. “What?”
You stared at him awkwardly, lips pressed into a line as thin as paper. “I… I.. um.”
He clicked his tongue impatiently. “On with it.”
You huffed loudly.
“Can I please use your phone?”
The second last thing that you expected to happen ever was to be sitting on Jay Park’s bed with wet hair wearing his hoodie and sweatpants. And that other than asking him for help.
Never have you felt so ashamed of yourself, sitting on the soft bed with your knees up to your chest.
The judgy glance that Jay gave you was absolutely soul-crushing, and after a humiliating stutter-filled explanation, he simply said, “Go take a shower.”
Were you initially mortified? Absolutely. But after soaking in the warm water for a few minutes, you begrudgingly thanked him. But only in your head.
Staring at a spot on the floor, you pressed your face into your knee, reflecting upon everything that had happened. As you were lost in thought, what startled you was a loud beeping sound, the slamming of a window, and yelling. You jumped to your feet in reaction, but before you could creep out of the bedroom, someone else came in.
Instead of a tall, well-built man with black hair, it was a young boy no older than ten holding a massive walkie talkie.
“Who- Who are you?”
The boy blinked owlishly, before cracking a grin. “Oh, it’s you!”
You recoiled. “Wh-What?”
“You’re the lady from last night!” he laughed, revealing sharp canine teeth. When you only looked more bewildered, he continued, “The lady that Jjongsaeng brought home last night!”
Jjongsaeng? “You mean Park— er, Jay?”
The boy frowned. “He didn’t tell me he had a girlfriend,” he murmured to himself quietly, before turning over to you. “Mhm!”
“I’m sorry, who are you?” You were a little concerned. Who was this child and why was he in Jay Park’s apartment?
“Oh!” The boy laughed again, throwing his head back. He came closer to you, extending a small hand towards you. “Jungwon! But just call me Wonnie!”
Okay, but your question wasn’t answered exactly. “Are you…” you took a better look at Wonnie. He was just so small! Though, he looked an awful lot like Jay Park… – “Are you his son… or…?”
The boy put an offended hand over his chest, scowling deeply.
“Son?” he gawked. “I’m his brother!!”
Your lips formed an ‘o.’
“And what’s your name?” Wonnie looked at you curiously.
“[Name] [Last Name]– Just– Just call me [Name].”
A silence fell over you two.
“Do you- Do you know where your brother is?” When Wonnie gave you a suspicious look, you quickly added, “I need to use his phone.”
He gave you another long stare, before saying simply, “He’s not here.”
How could he not be here? Jay was just here, like, twenty minutes ago? “What do you mean?” you narrowed your eyes.
“He-” Wonnie’s large eyes hovered over to the window quickly, before fluttering back to you. “He went to work.”
“Doesn’t he have a night internship?”
Wonnie grumbled something under his breath, almost looking stressed, gripping the walkie talkie. “Yyyyyessss,” he nodded slowly. “But he has a day job too…. As an.. Um, photographer?”
You nodded slowly. “Right. When do you expect he’ll be back?”
Wonnie glanced at the window again. “In, like, fifteen minutes-”
Crash!
You two rushed over to the living room window, peering across to the construction site behind the apartment complex. There, there were news reporters, blaring ambulances and police cars, and rubble and dust everywhere. Not to mention the elephant in the room: Spider-Man and two criminals.
“Oh my god, is that Spider-Man?”
Wonnie didn’t seem as impressed as you, opting to toy with his walkie talkie. “Yeah, he’s here all the time. Cool guy.”
You frowned. You lived only a few floors down and you wouldn’t say that Spider-Man was ‘here all the time.’
“Really? This is my first time seeing him.”
Fingering the window handle, you pushed it open.
You’d heard all the stories. Your friends talk about seeing the red-and-blue-clad hero with his iconic spider logo. He was some neighborhood hero. According to a few of your friends, he’d help them fight off muggers and creeps, swinging in with his sticky white webs just moments before all hell broke loose. Apparently, he was a super suave guy, and according to a few, really hot.
“As hot as a masked hero can be,” you would laugh with your friends. Now watching from a few stories up, you could definitely see the appeal. The sun was out, casting a harsh shadow on Spider-Man’s defined back muscles. The skin-tight suit hugged his strong arms and sturdy build.
There was something so fascinating about Spider-Man. He was strong, friendly, dutiful, sure. But what made him so alluring was that you wanted to study him– dissect him. It was only in your nature to want to know every single inner-workings of a figure like him.
You then felt a poke at your side. It was Wonnie.
“What, are you in love with him or something?”
You tore your eyes from Spider-Man’s figure. “What? No!”
Wonnie raised his brows. “Hmmm… Okay.”
You turned back over to the window, except when you scanned for Spider-Man, he had disappeared completely.
“Hey, where did he-”
The front door of the Park apartment flew right open, revealing a disheveled Jay Park.
“Y-You’re back already?” Wasn’t he just at a job….?
Jay waved his hand in front of him, taking off his shoes. “Yeah. Why? Were you gonna do something?”
Your nose scrunched. “No! I just thought you were at a job.”
Jay scoffed. “Who told you that-” He cut himself off when he noticed the awkward expression painted across Wonnie’s face.
“Fuckin’ dumbass,” he muttered.
Jay Park would have never guessed that you would be sleeping in his bed. For the second night. In a row. None of your friends had enough space for you to crash, and if not, they just didn’t pick up the phone.
“You need better friends,” Jay had told you in a matter-of-fact way, earning a sharp glare.
And it wasn’t an easy decision to let you stay with him either.
The apartment was a 2-bedroom one. One for himself, one for his kid brother. He sure as hell wasn’t going to make Wonnie leave his room or you and Wonnie share a room, and he most definitely was not sharing a bed with you. He’d make you sleep on the couch, but the Spider-Man in him told him not to. So very grudgingly, Jay let you take his room.
He was only allowing this because it was him that practically destroyed your apartment. Even if he didn’t like you, he did take responsibility for what happened.
Maybe that one argument you had the summer of sophomore year got to him.
And plus, he could not stand you. All the little jabs you made at him, even down to your facial expressions, had him riled up. But, for the sake of the child in the room, Jay made no big attempt to fight back.
Curled up on the couch, Jay couldn’t shake off the glum feeling that settled on his chest.
Jay Park never realized how many qualms he would have with another person living in his house.
He was okay with Wonnie, because Wonnie knew his identity as Spider-Man. And plus, Wonnie was his brother– that little squirt was tolerable. When it’s just the two of them, Jay could do basically anything he wanted. Wonnie was more than enthusiastic when he would use his webs to pull objects toward him or hang on the ceiling just because he could, and it was a rather common occurrence for you two to make a ruckus whenever there was crime in town. Jay could go do Spider-Man things whenever he needed to, and Wonnie would be okay with it.
But now with you living with him temporarily, he had to be a lot more careful.
Especially with your nitpicking everything he does.
“Why do you cut your bread like that?”
“Ew, your butter is so hard.”
“Can you stop chewing so loud?’
“Why does your face look like that?-- Oh, hi Wonnie!”
“Hi, [Name]!”
It seemed like Wonnie and you got along better.
“Hey, where are you going?” you asked from the kitchen table.
Jay, who was putting on his coat and shoes at the door, made a face. Swinging his backpack over his shoulders, he took Wonnie’s hand. “What do you think we’re doing?”
It was a rhetorical question, but you answered matter-of-factly. “Class doesn’t start until nine though!”
Jay pointed to Wonnie. “Gotta take him to school.”
That was only partially the truth. He did indeed take Wonnie to elementary school, but like every morning, he went on a morning patrol. The amount of small robberies and little school children walking into traffic was a bit staggering, but not to worry, Spider-Man was on his way.
Like right now.
As Jay swung from building to building, he carefully scanned the alleyways and streets to possibly catch any crime. When he stopped to rest atop a mix-use flower shop, crouching in his iconic pose, he spotted two children and a man.
Jay’s enhanced senses allowed him to hear the conversation-
“Let go!” one of the children pleaded, pulling away from the man. The other child, clearly the younger one, confusedly held onto the other.
“Kids, kids!” the man chuckled, continuing his tightened grip. “Just come with me. I’m your parents’ friend!”
The older of the two scrunched her nose, continuing to resist the man.
Jay observed from above. Clearly, these children had no idea who this man was. By the looks of it, there wasn’t anyone else around. Even if the kids screamed, no one would come to the rescue quick enough. This weird kidnapper guy could definitely take these kids without a doubt.
Cue the screaming and crying.
Panicked, the man tightened his grip on the kids, jerking them along as he began to walk towards the alleyway.
Fuckin’ creep, Jay thought before shooting a white web at the lampost a few meters down the pavement, swinging down. Extending a leg, he held onto the web as he suspended across the air. As he closed in on the man, he heard the two children let out shrill gasps just as Jay's foot made impact with the man’s cheek.
The brief moment of surprise made the man loosen his grip on the two children, allowing for them to scurry back. Now on the ground, Jay stood over his fallen figure.
Disgusting, he thought as he peered down at the man. Just thinking about what he would have done to the children made him angry. The man groaned in pain. Jay leaned down to the man, bringing a masked, yet somehow patronizing, face to him.
“Hey, buddy!” His words were ordinary, but very clearly filled with contempt. “Whatcha doin’ over there with those kids?”
When the man didn’t answer, Jay stamped a foot right between the man’s legs, impossibly close to his crotch. “C’mon, man. Wontcha explain?”
The panic in the man’s eyes was satisfying, as he began to draw out a pocket knife.
“S-Spider-Man?!”
Under his mask, Jay cracked a smirk. “Honored to be at your service.”
The man ogled at Spider-Man’s built figure– he stood no chance against the hero. Regardless, he stumbled to his feet, pointing the blade at Jay. “Stay back!”
Jay laughed.
“Oh no! A knife! Anything but the knife!” Jay feigned fear, cowering into himself. “I’m so scared! Please! My biggest weakness is a tiny little knife!”
The man faltered, staring hesitantly at the hero. Jay took this moment to shoot one more web at the street light, giving him momentum to jump in and kick this guy in the face again.
“Oh, man,” Jay chuckled. “That knife really got me.”
“I-I’m sorry!” The man gawked at the hero’s figure standing over him, spluttering as he struggled to his feet and finally scuttling away.
Jay watched his running back carefully.
“Thank you so much, Spider-Man!” he heard the children cheering behind him. Turning over his shoulder, Jay gave them a salute, before shooting a web and swinging away.
When classes for the day ended, Jay Park wanted a head-start on patrolling. The sun was only beginning to set, casting a golden hue over the city. He liked this time of day the most. There was always a faint citrusy smell in the air, and he wished he could take off his mask to feel the wind rake through his hair.
He checked all the important places– the bank, the university, the bus station, and especially the central business district. The alleyways were crazy notorious for being crime-ridden, so he was extra attentive with the patrol.
Speaking of, there seemed to be a bit of a conundrum right now. From the top of a high-rise building, Jay’s eyes zeroed in on the figures a few hundred feet below him. It was no uncommon occurrence for there to be some sort of assault (with Spider-Man here, attempted assault) in a dark alleyway. Jay always followed a basic procedure:
Step one: identify what’s happening.
From above, he could see that– oh shit– a woman was going to be mugged.
Little did he know, much to both of your luck, that woman was you.
Step two: identify the threat.
Two guys, both disheveled, one with a pocket-knife. Even though he couldn’t see your face, just by the looks of it, you were clearly disadvantaged– these two guys were massive compared to you.
“We see ya wallet, girl,” one of the men said. For two people who were very much advantaged, they were rather shy with the knife, holding it low and with little confidence. “Hand ovah the money.”
When you didn’t respond, they got a little more vindictive, slamming the rusted brick wall, demanding for money.
Step three: swoop in and-
Jay was bewildered by the raucous clanking of metal trash can tops against the dirty pavement. Gaping down, he could see one of the men crashed up against the trash cans, and the other one taken aback.
Did you just…?
Jay was taken by surprise once again when he heard grunting and groaning in pain. You were kicking these men when they were down. With heeled shoes. And it was now that he finally noticed your physicality: [H/C] hair. Glasses. Big attitude. Oh my god, how did he not realize that it was you?
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” you landed a kick at the crotch. Jay hissed in pain just at the sight of that. “Huh? You think you own this fuckin’ place?” Another kick. “Fuckin’ scum.”
Jay was contemplating whether or not he should go down there and give you– [Name]-fucking-[Last Name]– a hand. He was going to decide against it, when his spidey senses picked up the very crisp sound of a blade scraping across the pavement. While you were busy cussing out one of the assailants, you didn’t notice the way one of the men unsheathed the pocket-knife.
Jay could see it— In a matter of seconds, the guy’d bare the blade and shank your right in the abdomen. He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, tongue swiping right over his metal lip piercing.
“Hey, fuckface!” In one fell swoop, Jay landed a powerful punch to the blade-bearing assailant’s cheek, sending him flying down the alleyway. you let out a shriek.
“Spider-Man?!”
It was weird to see you startled like this. “Hey, Gorgeous.”
In his defense, there was not a bone in his body that thought that you were gorgeous. It was simply a habit he took on when he assumed the role of Spider-Man. He said that to everyone.
The second assailant, the one that you had basically beat up with words, was still keeled against the trash cans, eyes widened and fearful of what the friendly neighborhood hero could do.
Jay leaned down to be at eye-level with the man. “Nice day, isn’t it?”
The man spluttered, and Jay sneered. The kick that the hero gave to the man square in the chest subsequently propelled him down the alleyway, joining his friend at the back.
“Maybe don’t try to mug someone in broad daylight, bud.”
When Jay heard a few clanking sounds and groans of pain, he turned to you.
You were looking at him with large, shiny eyes, utterly consumed in admiration. Jay cringed at the silence that fell over the two of you. It wasn’t normal for there to be such a calm silence between him and you. If there wasn’t arguing, then there’d be an uncomfortable and tense atmosphere.
“I- Spider-Man…” you said, looking up at him through your glasses. The way that your eyes were practically glued to his masked face had Jay scrunching his nose. After a long silence of you just staring at him, you quickly avert your gaze, finding interest in your shoes instead. God, why were you getting so shy? Seeing the abashed expression on your face was like seeing a police officer get a parking ticket– so fucking out-of-character and just pure unnatural.
Jay wanted badly to make a jab at you, to say, “Hey, Jay Park just saved your sorry ass.”
But he didn’t.
Because that’s not what friendly neighborhood Spider-Mans do.
You bit your lip before glancing up at him. It was almost like you could feel his eyes questioning you from behind his mask, and once again, avert your gaze, pushing up your metal frames.
It was now that Jay truly realized what was going on– Did you have a crush on Spider-Man?
You were acting really shy, and you were looking at him like he was some kind of god.
The thought made him want to shrink into his own skin, but for some reason, it also made him grin. Grin a smug grin. Because now he had something to dangle over your head.
He didn’t have any sinister intentions other than the fact that he wanted an opportunity to be petty with you.
“Thank you, Spider-Man,” you finally blurted, that bashful look still casted on your face.
Jesus Christ, the way you were acting soft-spoken and coy was so weird.
He could do one of two things to fuck with you.
He could be extremely cold and distant, making you feel embarrassed. It would definitely be satisfying to see you panicked and flustered. But then again, Spider-Man’s job was to keep the city safe, not be mean to civilians. Even if said civilian was someone he couldn’t stand.
The second he could do was fluster you in a different kind of way: enthrall you with charm to mess with you. It was certainly a more ethical way to fuck with you, but Jay wasn’t sure if he’d be up for practically flirting with the person he hated more than anything else.
You shyly looked at him, expecting a response.
On second thought, he might be up for it.
He didn’t want to break you. Just fuck with that strong head of yours a little bit.
“Anything for you,” Jay took a step closer to you, just close enough that you would be taken aback, “Beautiful.”
Okay, maybe he should never do that again. Jay was not a lady-charmer. He had no game. There was a reason that he didn’t have a girlfriend, and it was because he could not flirt for shit. His skin was crawling with cringe– what he would do to have the ground open up and eat him whole because that shit was the worst thing he’s probably ever done.
His internal squirming was cut short when he saw the way your eyes widened a fraction, before letting a slight abashed curve settle on your lips.
“Oh- I-” you lowered your head, your glasses laying on the very tip of your nose.
“Thanks,” you stammered.
.
.
.
Now it was awkward.
What was he supposed to do now? Kiss you? No! What the fuck?
“I’m gonna go now,” Jay muttered. Extending his arm and aiming it at the top of the adjacent building, he prepared to shoot a web. However, he was stopped when you gently grabbed onto his bicep.
“Wait.” Your voice was uncharacteristically quiet, meek almost. “I-I don’t feel safe going home now.”
Jay blinked.
Jay Park never seemed to expect anything.
For the second time ever, in the same week, he was carrying you across the sky to his own home.
This time, though, you were wide awake instead of black-out drunk.
With your arms wrapped around his neck, you clung to him as he held onto your body tightly in the bridal-style. It wasn’t abnormal for him to be carrying a damsel in distress like this, but Jay never thought that he would be carrying you of all people.
With you clinging so close to him, Jay could smell that sweet, citrusy scent again. He grimaced when he was once again reminded of the events that had transpired a few nights ago. Whenever he thought about it, Jay could almost feel his skin crawl, remembering the wet and sticky kisses placed on his skin.
Jay tried to ignore the way you stared at him so incredulously, wide and glinted as if he was some sort of idol.
As Jay approached the edge of the high-rise office building, he noticed you bracing yourself for the jump You’d been shutting your eyes tightly and letting out a little peep every time he’d jump across buildings.
Maybe he should try fucking with you right now.
Launching off his feet, Jay had propelled the two of you into the wide valley between office buildings. Usually, he’d shoot a web within a few milliseconds of just being the air. However, with you in his arms…
“S-Spider-Man…!” you squeezed his bicep. You were falling…!
Jay was taking his sweet time with shooting another web, waiting for them to be just a few hundred meters from the bustling and traffic-filled road, giving you the illusion that you were about to topple to your death.
“Spider-Man, we’re gonna–!”
When you were practically dangling over the cars, Jay shot a web up to the next building, hoisting you two up and away.
“What, you don’t trust me, Beautiful?” Jay got some sick satisfaction from shaking up the usually-controlled you. If he was Jay, he probably would have made a jab, say something like “I told you so,” but since he was Spider-Man he stuck to the flashy and charming persona that the hero built himself.
“I… I trust you, Spider-Man, just– Eep!”
Jay threw his head back, laughing. It was funny when you got scared.
“Stop making fun of me, Spider-Man!” you lightly slapped his chest. “I’m just…– Eep!--”you squeezed his bicep again– “Scared of heights.”
Jay gave your waist a squeeze. “I got you, Angel.”
It was weird to pull up to his own apartment and pretend that it wasn’t his.
“This your place?”
Jay was curious as to what you would say. He dropped you off on the balcony, before going into his iconic crouching pose on the thin metal railing.
You shook your head. “It’s my… friend’s. I’m staying with him because….”
You trailed off, before your eyes fluttered over to Jay’s masked face. “Hey, didn’t you fight some villain the other day?”
Oh.
Right.
The reason that you were even staying with him was because… Well, him.
Jay nodded slowly.
“Oh- Well, um,” you wrung your fingers. “My apartment, it got… Yeah.”
It was like you could sense the uneasiness behind the mask.
For the heinous amount of crime-fighting that Jay did, he did feel a little bad for the amount of infrastructure that got ruined. It seemed like every other week there were glass shards strewn all across the streets. He couldn’t imagine the type of work that would go into rebuilding homes and infrastructure after so much damage.
That, he will take responsibility for.
He lowered his head. “Yeah, fuck, I’m sorry about that.”
A civilian is a civilian.
“No, no, no!” you said rather brusquely, almost in a hostile way, waving your hands in front of yourself.
Ah, there it was. The [Name] that he knew.
When you realized your tone of voice, you quickly back-tracked, clearing your throat and pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
“I mean- It’s okay, Spider-Man,” you said, looking up at him through your lashes. “You did what you had to do.”
If you knew his identity ,you wouldn't say that. You would probably file a lawsuit against him.
But he appreciated the sentiment.
“What’s your name, Pretty?” He needed you to formally introduce yourself so he could stop using those cheesy nicknames.
You smiled bashfully again. “[Name].”
“Then I’ll see you later,” Jay jumped to his feet, balancing on the metal railing. He looked over his shoulder, raising a hand up, “[Name].”
With that he began swinging away.
You blinked slowly, eyes trailing his slowly disappearing figure.
When he was out of your sight, your lips immediately broke out into a wide grin. Taking off your glasses, you used a hand to cover your eyes, feeling your cheeks heat up and pull upward.
Oh, you understood it now. Why everyone said Spider-Man was so charming.
Using both hands to cover your warm face, you let a few giggles out into your palms.
God, Spider-Man was attractive.
Your momentary fluster was cut short when the screen door of the balcony slammed open.
“Are you gonna come in or….?”
You turned to look over your shoulder.
Jay Park. Always had to ruin everything, didn’t he?
You huffed, removing your hands from your face. “Yeah… Just, give me a second.”
��Okay.”
When you turned back, you failed to notice the smug grin plastered across Jay’s face.
You heard from many people that Jay Park had an issue with disappearing. You understood what they meant. In the classes that you shared with him (which was few because your majors were different but similar enough), he would be absent for a few days at a time. At parties, even if you didn't actively seek him out, you’d see him at the beginning and after a few minutes, he’d just completely vanish. Even at some get-togethers that your mutual friends hosted, you’d hear some people complain about Jay always needing to “go to his job.”
Now that you, more or less, lived under the same roof as him, you understood to a whole other degree what people meant.
According to what his own friends said, Jay had a night internship, and according to his brother, he also had a day job. He didn’t show up to his classes some days, but you would see him in the morning before class alive and well, so he clearly wasn’t having health issues. How crazy was his schedule? You had friends in his major with jobs of their own, and they weren’t flaky in the way that Jay was.
Jay would be up early, completely disappear for the entire day, and come home late.
It was weird.
Not that you cared.
You could care less what happened to him.
You just found it strange.
Like right now.
It was late at night. Finals were coming up soon, and you simply couldn’t sleep.
See, Wonnie was normal. Wonnie had an ordinary, completely sane, schedule. In the morning, Jay would take him to school, and in the afternoon (you assumed that) Jay either picked him up or Wonnie walked home. Either way, the kid had a much more tangible daily schedule, yet his brother’s was the complete opposite. But it didn’t seem like Wonnie questioned anything either.
You saw Wonnie come in and out of rooms, heard him get a glass of milk, you even said good night to him.
The yellow-white lights that illuminated the apartment were blinding now, wearing down your eyes to the point that they felt watery. There was a sort of morose feeling that set over you as you sat at the cold kitchen counter. From final exams to the fact that your apartment was under reconstruction to the fact that you were practically intruding on our greatest enemy’s home was frustrating.
It would be completely bitchy and ungrateful of you to not recognize the sort of generosity that Jay displayed toward you. You really, genuinely, truly, could not stand him. He was someone who constantly made your day worse, someone who you'd never been able to agree with for years, someone who went out of his way to bother you– and vice versa. It wasn’t like you had no idea why he’d try to help you: he might be a supervillain to you, but he was no monster. It was clear that you were on a “I-only-doing-this-because-it’s-courteous” basis, but even then, for him to give you his own bedroom was more than courteous.
You didn’t like it.
Of all people in the world, why did he have to be so… hospitable?
You didn’t like the fact that you felt so dependent and almost helpless.
You must have sat at that kitchen counter for a good chunk of time, because the next time you really moved from your lethargic position was when there was a sudden bang against the window. Lost in thought, you violently jerked up, jumping to your feet.
Eyes quivering to the windows, which were blackened by the dark night sky, there was nothing there.
Strange.
You had your tongue dig into the inside of your cheek, frozen in place. Just when you thought your mind was just playing games, another loud bang against the window resounded through the room, followed by a few jumbled curse words.
You weren’t exactly happy that the one time you would get robbed it would be in your enemy's house.
Shit.
Except, instead of a masked burglar comically dressed in black, someone completely unexpected bursted through the window.
Red and blue spandex suit, complete masked-over face, and that unmistakable spider icon.
“Spider-Man?!”
Oh.
My.
God.
Why was Spider-Man landing in Jay Park’s apartment at this time?
And when you looked down at what you were wearing– a thin tank-top and pajama shorts–you suddenly became a lot more alarmed and self-conscious than you initially were.
“[Name]?” Spider-Man gaped. Except instead of that friendly and playful tone he was known for, it sounded sour. “What are you doing up at this time?”
You, who was now very consciously covering yourself up, gawked. “I’m– I was studying– What are you doing here, Spider-Man?”
“What do you mean? This is my ho–” Spider-Man stopped himself, before clearing his throat. Like a switch had been flipped, the hero began again, “I’m, um, stopping by to see my friend.”
You blinked.
“Y’know, Jay Park– dark hair, lip-piercing, super handsome and cool.”
Your nose scrunched at the description.
“I didn’t know you lived with him, Beautiful,” Spider-Man continued. “You said you lived with a friend, right?”
You pushed a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I mean, I wouldn’t say friend. We’re like, acquaintances… by association.”
“You don’t sound like you like ‘em very much, yeah, Gorgeous?”
You weren’t about to lambaste Jay Park in front of Spider-man, who was apparently his friend. That would be discourteous, and you weren’t about to flame the guy that was letting you sleep in his house.
“He’s…” You didn’t want to make it seem like you were buddies, especially in front of Spider-Man. “He’s all right.”
Spider-Man was now inching toward you. “Just all right?”
You eyed the hero’s well-built figure as he came closer and closer to you, suddenly feeling shy and exposed. You felt even more shy and exposed when he very clearly lingered around the sight of your silhouette. The way his voice resounded throughout the room, slightly raspy from the yelling he must have done and low due to his exhaustion, sent a chill down your spine.
“He’s okay,” you responded curtly. “How– How do you know him? How do you know Park?”
You could feel Spider-Man’s eyes on you even through his mask.
“How do I know him?” Spider-Man crouched down next to your feet at the kitchen island, looking up at you. You could hear the grin in his voice. “He met me in senior year of high school.”
Oh wow. They’ve known each other for a while.
“A spider bit him, or something,” the masked hero continued. “And I found him all sick and sad when his uncle passed.”
That’s right. In senior year of high school, Jay’s uncle, the person who took on a father figure after his parents unfortunately passed. It had taken a toll on him at the time. You remembered passing him in the hallways, seeing the messy black hair overgrown over his brows and dark eye bags. The one person that you regularly debated in AP Macro was no longer interested. At the time, you had contemplated whether or not to reach out to him, but he’d completely shut everyone out.
“That’s great,” you murmured. No matter how much you didn’t like him, it didn’t mean that he should lose someone important to him. “That’s great that he had someone there for him. I remember–”
Spider-Man looked up at you.
“I remember– I tried to talk to him about it once, in… I think it was in Stats?” you recounted. Your lips pressed together before forming a slight curve. “He yelled at me.”
“He yelled at you?”
You almost laughed. “Yeah, he did. Oh man, we never got along in high school– even now– but… It’s not nice to lose someone you love, is it?”
Spider-Man stared at you silently, before quickly agreeing– “Yeah, it isn’t.”
You bit your lip as you recounted. “I wanted to comfort him, but I don’t think he wanted me of all people to do that. At least I tried.” Your eyes fluttered over to Spider-Man. “I’m glad he had someone like you to be there for him.”
Spider-Man didn’t speak.
“Are you and Park close?” you asked.
“Yeah, we are.”
You hummed. “Oh. Do you see each other a lot?”
“Everyday.”
.
.
.
Spider-Man got to his feet.
“[Name], do you want to go on an adventure with me?”
Sometimes you thought you were stupid. Not all the time because you knew you were smart, but some time like now, where you allowed a masked man who may or may have not broken into your enemy's apartment claiming to be his friend to take you around the city at night. And you did it without even telling anyone, so if you got killed in an alleyway no one would know.
Not to worry, though.
Jay Park thought he was pretty stupid, too.
Staying out late at night right before finals week and completely forgetting about the workaholic nerd freak that lived with him temporarily (you). And to make it worse, he mentioned his own civilian self!-- and he obviously couldn’t be in two places at once.
He needed a way to deflect.
“Wooooh!” Jay hooted as he swung from building to building.
“Spider-Man– Slow down…!”
Unlike the last two times he’d taken you out on some sort of aerial excursion, you had your arms and legs wrapped tightly around his neck and torso, hugging him from the back instead of Jay holding you bridal-style.
It was nice for a change. For the first time, you were hanging off his back instead of being directly held by him. Jay couldn’t help the snicker that he let out when you would squeeze him and squeal in his ear out of fear.
“I thought ya said you trusted me,” he beamed. Jay could feel the way your face pressed into his back as you dangled in the sky. “C’mon, Gorgeous, don’t get all scared on me now.”
“It’s not fair- Eep!”
“What’s not fair, hm?” He shot another web. You didn't respond, opting to squeeze him harder. “What’s not fair, [Name]?”
“This!” you chided in his ear. “You-You’re not scared because you do this every day!”
“Well, maybe you should do this more then.”
To Jay, it was really weird to carry a frightened you around. He never took you for the clingy type, but maybe there’s a lot he didn’t know about you. It was especially weird when he was Spider-Man, because you were oddly nice to him. When he’s Jay, there’s no denying that you’re hostile.
“Why are you so nervous?” Jay sneered when you two landed on top of the central clock tower. You’d sat down at the top, letting the cool late-Spring night hit you. For someone notorious for their crazy confidence, it was absurd to see such a person all feeble and fiddling with their fingers.
“It’s just finals,” you mumbled.
Jay nearly laughed. “Wow, you really are a nerdo freak.”
Your cheeks visibly heated up, folding your arms over your chest. “Hey! I’m not a nerdo fre–” You stopped yourself, before you brought your eyes up to the hero. “Did he tell you that?”
The man narrowed his eyes. “W-What?”
“Park is the only person that calls me ‘nerdo freak,’” you frowned, raising up your fingers to make air-quotes. “He’s been calling me that since highschool.”
Oh.
Shit.
“Y-Yeah,” the man responded, sucking in a shallow breath. “He talks to me about you a lot.”
Not true.
Jay Park doesn’t talk to Spider-Man about anything.
Because they’re the same person.
You swiped your tongue over your bottom lip. “Really? What does he say about me?”
Oh, this would be awkward.
“Jay thinks you’re really… Uhm…”
There’s two things Jay could do. Tell you his (Jay’s) honest thoughts about you as Spider-Man and effectively make the entire atmosphere both now and at home awkward. Though, it wouldn’t be much of a loss because he (Jay) already made it loud and clear how he felt about you through his words and actions toward you. It would only be awkward because he as Spider-Man was the one expressing it.
The second thing he could do was lie.
“He thinks you’re hot as fuck.”
Oh my fucking god what was he doing.
“Oh… uh… Really?”
Jay wanted to kill himself.
Of all things he could have said, he said thats?– Oh my god, and now you were shifting uncomfortably in your seat– What does he do?
Jay Park was not attracted to you and he will never be! Never! Ever!
It was the first thing that came to his mind! He doesn’t mean it! Jay Park hates you! He thinks you’re ugly and- Well, actually, that’s not true. You’re a very pretty woman, he did indeed get crazy butterflies the night of the soccer mixer, and he did catch himself staring at you a few times, because let’s be honest, the tiny tank-top and pajama shorts looked good as fuck on you– but still-!
“Did he tell you that… or…?”
“Yeah, that’s a direct quote.”
Jay Park! What are you doing?
part 2 here
#enhypen#enhypen x reader#enhypen fluff#park jongseong#park jay#jay x reader#jay enhypen x reader#jay fluff#star-sim#vanya-writes#enhypen smut#park jongseong fluff#park jongseong x reader
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Chris giving reader his hoodie even though they are just friends but like each other secretly
friendly cuddles - c.s
you stood outside a restaurant in LA with madi, the triplets and nathan (who was visiting from boston) as you waited for them to get the other guests seated before letting you in.
nick had made plans for all of you to go out to dinner before nate had to go home, wanting his friends last night in LA to be with everyone.
despite having on a relatively warm outfit, especially compared to madi’s, you were still shivering up a storm in your space between nick and chris. the movements were enough for nick to speak up about it,
“why are you shaking like that, girl?” nick looked away from the camera, the one recording for their vlog, and over to you.
“i’m cold.” you simply said, not feeling the need to push the matter any further.
“how?” madi furrowed her brows, a small smile covering her features, “you’re wearing more clothes than me.”
it was true.
while she wore a dress and a thin jacket, you opted for something on the more comfortable, yet cute side.
“she gets cold easily.” your bestfriend, chris spoke up for you, silently removing his own jacket to wrap around your shoulders, unaware of the eyes watching his every movement.
he stepped behind you so the natural heat coming from his body could push towards you. you sighed contently, wanting to melt in his arms at the contact.
from the corner of your eye, you could see matt and nate share a look, the pair of friends raising their brows at one another.
it was no secret within the friend group that you and chris felt some way about each other.
even you and chris knew you liked one another.
the only thing was that even after the many hints and obvious signs that you two liked each other, you both weren’t very good with commitment — far too scared of getting hurt, so your relationship now was something you were both completed okay with.
you weren’t too good with communication either.
you sort of just came to a silent agreement that you were together without actually being together. best friends who cuddle and hold hands but never risk furthering the relationship by kissing. but neither of you would dare to talk to anyone else romantically.
“how cute is that?” nick teased, earning an eye roll from chris, the boy wrapping his arms over your shoulders, fully pressing his chest to your back.
he let out a small hum. he could smell the perfume he got you for your birthday waft towards him, almost tempting him in a way, begging him to pull you closer.
he prayed that you wouldn’t feel the intense pounding of his heart through the large amount of fabric covering your goosebump covered skin.
“so cute that it makes me wanna spew.” nathan smiled, holding his hand to his chest.
“you guys are hilarious.” chris mocked them, subconsciously rocking your bodies side to side.
“i know we are. what’s even more hilarious is your denial of love.”
“we’re not denying anything…”
“yeah, there’s nothing wrong with friendly cuddles.”
“we know how we feel and we’re fine where we’re at.” chris finished, earning a nod of agreement from you.
it wasn’t a lie. you were both completely fine how you were as of right now. conversations need to be had eventually. but for now, you were chill.
“and now you’re finishing each others sentences?” matt gasped playfully, earning laughs from the other three, “you’re practically married already.”
“bro, shut up. like she said, it’s just friendly cuddles.”
despite pretending he didn’t care, chris’ couldn’t help the way his cheeks warmed up. he pulled you closer to him, if that were even possible, pressing a very friendly kiss to the top of you head.
taglist: @hearts4chris @timmyandsturniolo @mayhem-72 @luvsturns @knowingnothingnoel @mrsmattyb @itzdarling @julliaaaaaaaaaaaaa @dracoflaco @heartsforchrisandmatt @lily-strnlo @alliehansson @stinkytwinkwinky
#sturniolo triplets#nick sturniolo#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo
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I Think He Knows
James Potter x fem!reader
Summary: Your boyfriend promises to watch over you when you want to get drunk.
Genre: SMUT-ish
Warnings: innocent!reader, intoxication, swearing, grinding on someone's thigh, mentions of sex (no actual sex considering reader is drunk), praise kink
Just as you extend your arm to knock, James slides in front of you and gently holds under your elbow. He's smiling at you fondly as he caresses soothing circles across your skin.
"I want you to know, love, just because we mentioned it doesn't mean you have to, hmm?" he reminds you, his voice low and husky.
You smile and nod your head, letting him wrap an arm around your waist, "I know, Jamie," you reassure him. James looks at you in such a way you know he understands and he settles into your side. He turns around when you knock, his arm still holding you close, and when the door swings open to reveal an already flushed Sirius Black, your boyfriend smirks.
"Prongsie!" Sirius cries happily, pulling James in by his collar and trapping him in a hug. James has released his arm from around you in anticipation of Sirius's gesture and you giggle, walking into the house behind them.
Sirius looks at you next. "Y/n!" he cries, "Your lovely lady looks as lovely as ever, Jamsey," he skips over and takes your hand in his, twirling you around. You can smell the faint cherry vodka on his breath as he holds up your hand and clumsily swipes a thumb along your knuckles. "Still no ring?" Sirius whines with a light-hearted pout.
James pulls you away gently, his cheeks blushed pink. "Alright, enough. Hands off my girl," he reprimands, holding you close as he presses a kiss to your temple. He's holding your hand almost possessively, but you don't mind.
"I keep wondering that myself, Siri," you join in the teasing and send James a smile.
The latter rolls his eyes but smirks as he helps you out of your winter coat. He hangs it up next to his own and then places his hand on your lower back so he can guide you around. It's a common gesture James doesn't even realize he's doing anymore.
Sirius and Remus's house isn't small, but it isn't big either. It's normally sized with dark brick walls and ivy near the upper windows. Inside, the fire is burning and the smell of cookies and wine is in the air.
Lily, Dorcas, and Marlene occupy the couch as they play a game of friendly poker with Frank and Alice. Remus, when he sees you all, stands up from his armchair and smiles widely.
"Y/n/n," he says as if he hasn't seen you in years. Which is a dramatic exaggeration.
Remus pulls you into a warm hug, which means you aren't next to James anymore and he pouts, "Why is everyone suddenly in love with my girlfriend?" he whines.
Remus chuckles and kisses your cheek, "Because she's just so lovely, James," he kisses your cheek again and you giggle. "Plus, you've been hiding her from us for weeks now. I'm starting to think you're doing it on purpose."
James shakes his head with a low chuckle, his hand finding yours. "It's not my fault she's been busy."
"You guys do realize I am standing right here, yeah?" you interrupt with a chuckle. Remus looks at you fondly. He nods and then hurries you and James over to the couch where your friends are.
Always the gentleman, James crosses his legs and sits on the floor while you squeeze in between Lily and Marlene, sending them smiles.
A few moments later Sirius emerges with two glasses of white wine. He grins and hands one to James before handing you yours. Instantly, your eyes flicker to James as you take the glass and look at the liquid.
He sends you a reassuring nod. Even in school, you tended to stay away from alcohol because you were scared. Scared of losing control. But, now that you're with James and you feel safe around him. You had brought it up a few days ago: that you wanted to try. James had promised to watch you, to make sure you don't drink too much or do anything stupid.
So, you put the glass to your lips.
Three drinks in and you don't feel drunk.
Rather, you feel completely normal – well almost normal as you seem to have a hard time keeping your eyes away from your boyfriend's hands. You tend to play with the hem of your dress in your lap and you're still sitting in between Lily, and now Sirius as he drunkenly animates his sentences.
James is still sitting on the floor, his arms draped across his knees as he crosses his ankles. From time to time, he'll look up at you and his eyebrows will scrunch as if to ask if you're okay. Your cheeks start to feel hot and you fumble with your hands to press them on your face. You squirm around, feeling pressure in your core as you bite down on your lip.
"Y/n," James's voice is hoarse and you look up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Come here, dove," he whispers.
When you stand, you stumble to James and gasp when he pulls you down onto his lap. You hold onto him, looking into his eyes as his hand finds your thigh just shy from your ass. James frowns as he sees your expression but then his lips curl into a smirk.
Clumsily, he makes a show of standing as you cling onto him. Your friends don't seem preoccupied by you and James as he gently guides you into Remus and Sirius's small bathroom in the hallway. You lean against the sink, looking up at James and mumble, "W-What?"
James's knuckles caress down your cheek as he chuckles. "Hey, are you okay?"
You blink at him, trying to focus on something other than the heat from his strong body against yours. You hum, nodding. James's palm presses against your cheek first and then moves to your forehead. He frowns. "You're warm. 'You sure you're okay?" he asks with concern.
Your breathing becomes harsher as you stare at him. "O-oh- yeah. I'm g-good," you try to sound as normal as you can although his touch ignites a fire inside you.
James's frown deepens, looking you over. When you bite your lip, his eyebrow raises and the corner of his mouth slips upwards. He knows your signs all too well by now.
James slides his knee in between your legs, a soft gasp escaping your lips as your skirt rides up your thighs a little further. The coarse fabric of his jeans hits your cotton panties and your hands grip the sink harder. You look up at him, your eyes lidded. "J-Jamie?"
His hand slides up your cheek, tilting his head as he presses a sloppy kiss behind your ear. "Shh, it's okay. I'm here. I won't allow anything bad to happen to you, my lovely," he lifts his knee slightly and a shiver runs up your arms.
You clutch his shirt, your mind already starting to go fuzzy. You can't tell if you're just drunk or incredibly horny – perhaps you're both? All you know if you want James's touch. You want his lips, his hands, his cock. James's knee rubbing against your pussy interrupts your dirty fantasies as you sigh.
"I'm not gonna do all the work," James mutters and pauses his movements.
"More," You whisper, staring at him needily and James chuckles quietly.
"Shhh, my baby's simply a little too drunk for that," his voice is smooth and stern as he kisses the side of your lips, "I'm not gonna do that, lovie. I'm sorry. But, if you wanna get off on my trousers then who am I to deny you?" he quips with a knowing smile.
As if simply needing his permission, you roll your hips onto him and let out a loud moan. James covers your mouth with his hand, stroking your skin as you buck against him desperately. You're dripping and seeping through your panties to soak his jeans with your juices. You can't stop your soft, drunken, moans as you rub your sensitive clit against him.
"Good girl," James whispers encouragements, occasionally moving his knee to apply more pressure, "My good girl, aren't you? So needy when you're drunk, hmm?" he hums with a smile.
You nod, cheeks burning as your movements become even more desperate. It feels so good. He's making you feel so good and he knows it. James leans in and rests his hand behind your ear as he delicately kisses your head. He can tell you're close and he whispers sweet nothings in your ear as your mind goes fuzzy and your skin prickles with desire.
Your mouth opens only no sound comes out when you rut against him harder. James grins, enjoying having you so completely undone in front of him. You hold onto his sleeve, squeezing your thighs around his and tears of pleasure brim your lashes. James coos, "Aw, don't cry, sweetheart. What's the matter?" he teases and strokes his thumb across your cheek.
"I- I need more," you whimper, trying desperately to reach your high.
"I can't let you have more, lovie," James says quietly. He doesn't want to risk crossing any boundaries when you're drunk.
Still, he grips your hips and rocks them over his thigh, helping you. "Here, just let go for me. It's okay, I'll take care of you later I promise." You whine and lean your head on his chest as your pussy throbs.
You feel light-headed when you finally come, your juices soaking your panties and James's jeans. He kisses your forehead when you look up at him, eyes lidded. "Good girl, you did so good," he whispers, stroking a hand in your hair as you catch your breath.
James lifts you effortlessly onto the sink and you automatically spread your legs. You watch him as he bends over and rolls up some toilet paper in his hand.
He then hands it to you, "Clean yourself up, dove?"
You look at him innocently, silently asking him to be the one to clean you. James hesitates and bites his lip. Quickly, he dips his hand into your panties and collects your cum on the paper. He bunches it up and throws it in the toilet. He rolls up some more and wipes his jeans a little.
Finally, he flushes the evidence and kisses your lips. You squirm a little, uncomfortable from the wetness in your panties. James looks down and smirks.
He starts to slide your panties down your hips and looks at you for consent. You nod, staring at him. You're still in a haze from the liquor but you trust James. He slides your panties into his jeans pocket and smoothes your skirt. He sees your adorable frown, "No one will know, I promise," he assures you.
When you leave the bathroom, the hallway seems darker. James's hand rests on your ass, keeping your skirt down as you focus on not tripping. You don't realize how giddy and stupid you and James looks until you both enter the living room again and your friends turn to stare. Lily, Remus, and Marlene seem to compose themselves as they smirk behind their hands, but Sirius, in his drunken state, seems completely appalled.
"You did not just fuck in my bathroom, Potter!" he exclaimed. Laughs escape the others and you must look completely embarrassed because their smiles widen. James gently and playfully covers your ears as his voice strains to hide his amusement.
"Shut up," he chuckles and then kisses your temple, "we did no such thing, did we, lovie?"
You nod your head. You wonder if your panties are burning a hole in James's trousers just like your bareness is causing a burning in your stomach. James hands moves to your back as he caresses you comfortingly.
"So, why did you come out of the bathroom together?" Marlene interrupts and adds to the teasing, "Don't tell me Y/n needed help peeing?"
James sends her a glare and moves you through the living room and to the door. "It's late, I'm tired," he tries to take the attention off you, "I think it's time for us to drive home."
He drapes your coat over your shoulders and you're grateful he's taking you home. The neediness has been replaced by pure exhaustion and you grip his arm. James puts on his own coat and opens the door. He whispers to you, "Shh, you're safe with me," and kisses you again.
You both say your goodbye's and Sirius calls out one last time, "If I find any evidence you fucked in my bathroom, I'll personally kill you, James Potter," James pauses, knowing he's not finished and smirks when he hears Sirius's last comment.
"Shame on you for roping poor, innocent Y/n into your disgusting activities. And in my bathroom — "
"Sirius," You hear Remus warn, exhausted.
James holds your hand and starts to shut the door behind you,
"Next time, Remus and I will fuck in your bathroom!"
"Sirius!"
#james potter#james potter x reader#marauders#james potter fluff#james potter smut#marauders fic#james potter fanfic#james potter fanfiction#james potter x you#marauders imagine#james potter blurb#james potter imagines#james potter imagine#james potter drabble#james potter fic#james potter x y/n#james potter x fem!reader#marauders imagines#hp marauders#marauder james potter#maraduers harry potter#marauders era#aaron taylor johnson#james#marauders harry potter#mauraders#marauders fanfiction#hp fanfic#hp fandom#marauders x reader
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hot rich dilf + babysitter reader
dilf! toji fushiguro x reader Mafia AU
age gap (reader is 21, toji is 39) + smut & fluff + reader is in college + toji is a rich man who lives a dangerous life
toji fushiguro.
the biggest mafia boss around Japan, a single dad, with one kid. he is also living in one of the most beautiful houses in Japan. the richest neighborhoods around on the hills, where no one is able to see it well.
whenever you would hear, see, or look at that name wherever you are in the city all you think about is hot, rich dilf.
it’s wrong to think of that, especially when you were the babysitter for his son. yet, toji couldn’t risk the dangers of his son being taken cared of in a public daycare; where anyone can take him and possibly use him as ransom.
that’s why he has you, his personal baby sitter. the young, beautiful woman who is still in college, taking care of his child. something his ex whore of a wife couldn’t do.
whenever you get a text whilst taking classes, your heart skips a beat and your thighs clench together at who the message is from.
Toji sent 1:23 pm
Hey, y/n. I’m sorry for the sudden message, is it alright if you babysit megumi around 4? I have important things to take care of at work.
he is a dangerous man, yet you would never back down taking care of his child. you are putting yourself in major risks, but whenever you would see toji’s frame holding megumi on his hip you think differently.
megumi is a different story, he is a splitting image of his father besides the scars. he’s a sweet boy, kind and respectful to you, and would constantly always want you over to his fathers house.
you enjoy his company, him and his father.
You sent 1:25 pm
of course, not a problem! my classes are ending so i’ll be able to be there by the time you’re about to leave.
Toji sent 1:25 pm
Great, thank you so much. I will double your payment for being able to take care of Megumi during a school day. Thank you again.
not to mention, how good the payment is! by the end of the day you are able to pay 3 months worth of rent for your apartment. there is never a time where you never have left over money for yourself.
you always think it’s a mistake by how much he pays you, how delusional you were missing all the signs he has given you.
the amount of times he would wink at you, with that sexy smirk on his scarred lips. the way he would love you out the way with a hand on your waist, carefully pushing you to the side.
and the way he gives you cheek kisses, saying it’s a friendly greeting towards everyone when he knows damn well he doesn’t kiss anyone’s cheek besides yours and megumis.
his hopes continue, his hopes in you falling for him continue to increase.
toji will always protect you, and megumi. even if you are just a baby sitter, to him you were more than that.
he appreciates the time you put in for his son, and for him. and he appreciates how you always manage to come to his house earlier than expected just to take care of megumi.
toji approaches you with a tight black suit, one that hugs his muscular frame insanely well. your thighs rub against each other without you noticing.
something that wants your heart is when he hold megumis hand, whilst approaching you. it’s cute and wholesome.
“megs, you be good for y/n okay? i’ll be back in a bit.” toji kisses megumis forehead, letting go of his hand before making his way towards you with a small, but seductive grin.
like always, he kisses your cheek before saying a word to you. your stomach has butterflies fluttering around, he continues to sweet talk you.
it’s funny, how could such a dangerous man who does unthinkable things everyday warm your heart in such a way?
“thank you so much, again y/n. here is the money, please be safe and help yourself around the house.” his green eyes pierce through your e/c eyes. his hands giving you a stack of money, more than usual.
your eyes widened, it’s too much. it’s almost as if you depend on him too much with the amount of money he gives you for what, just a few hours of you taking care of megumi?
"mr fushiguro, i cannot accept this. why are you handing me so much?" you questioned, looking up at his tall frame.
he shakes his head and chuckles, pushing your hand that was holding the money closer to your chest.
"its for you, and your hard work. don't question it, you deserve it sweetheart." the pet name slips out, but he has no shame in calling you that. you are his sweetheart after all.
before you could say anything else, he continues on. and continues to make you flustered with his words, and expressions.
"oh, and y/n dear, call me toji. no need to be so formal when you have done so much for me, and my son." he caresses your cheek before brushing past you, grabbing his hat and work jacket from the coat hanger.
"..thank you, so much toji! i will forever appreciate everything you have done for me sir." you smile up at him, waving him goodbye before he is out the door.
"not a problem, dear. you both take care, be back inna bit." he closes the door. the smile on your face hasn't left, and the fast speed of your hear beating increases as you lock the door with its additional locks.
you snap out of your joyful thoughts when megumi embraces you with his small, slightly chubby arms. they close around your waist as he looks up from your stomach with a heart warming smile.
"why cant you just get with my dad, y/n? he likes you soo much, and you treat us so well." he frowns, eyes glossy and filled with adortion.
your heart weeps, his stare makes you double think everything. what if you did get with toji?
"megs.. i don't think he likes me like that sweetheart. and its okay! its okay just being your baby sitter." you pick him up, placing him on your hip while you walk towards his play area. it was clean, free of toys scattered everywhere in the room.
"you're so wrong! i know he likes you a lot. he kisses your cheek, and forehead like me! that means he loves you." the word that holds so much power, and strength over anyone slips from his lips. yet he doesn't try to apologize and make it out as a mistake.
"not only that, but you are like a mommy to me. better than the other one, don't leave tonight. please y/n!" he cries out, hugging you as tight as he can.
you look down at him, sitting on the bed with a sad expression. you never knew how much megumi had actually cared for you. and it amazed you how good he was able to speak as a 4 year old.
"megumi,' you start off, watching as he looks up at you with teary eyes.
"i'll see if i could stay tonight, but just for tonight!" you tell him, his lips automatically curl into a big smile, before he kisses you on the cheeks. the same way his father does.
"yay! thanks y/n. now can we play, please?" he slips out of your embrace and begins pulling out toys from his drawer, handing you a big car which you take from his small hands.
"sure, megumi. if you want, ill take you to the park after?" you question and get on your knees, getting down to his level so you would be able to play properly.
he nods his head repeatedly, you wonder if his cheeks every get tired from smiling so much.
"yes! thank you y/n, you're the best!"
the day goes by fast, now you are sitting on megumi's bed, tucking him in before he goes to sleep.
"y-you're gonna stay tonight, right y/n?" the little boy questions, turning to look at you. the only source of light was the hallway lights, through the opened door.
you stay silent for a few seconds, giving him a hopeful smile that would make him feel better.
"i'll see, i still have to check in with your dad." you replied. deep down you knew you wouldn't stay over, especially when you knew it would be pretty weird to stay over at your bosses house, just for his kid over night.
you would just have to make up a lie by tomorrow, apologizing to the younger boy on why you couldn't stay over.
i'll say i had classes! yeah that is a good excuse. you thought to yourself.
"okay.. goodnight y/n." megumi utters, smiling before he closes his eyes and drifts off the sleep.
you stay in the same position, watching him peacefully drift off with his hand loosely around yours. after a few minutes, you knew you had to go home.
"bye megs.." you whisper, kissing his head before standing up from his bed, walking towards the outside of his bedroom.
you sighed and began walking down the hallway, towards the exit of the home.
“you’re not gonna stay the night?” a voice startles you, making your turn around with a hand over your heart.
“toji-san! w-when did you get home?” you nervously laughed, and breathed in heavily as he walked towards you.
your heart jumps to your throat as he looks down at you, the tension was high.
his hand reaches your shoulder, squeezing and rubbing over it seductively. a smirk appearing on his features, that stupid sexy smirk that makes your pussy heat up.
“don’t mind that darling. as i said, you’re not gonna stay the night? thought you wanted to be with megs?” the smirk turns into a small frown, making you rethink on why you were going to leave in the first place.
“‘m sorry.. i-i just didn’t think you would be comfortable with it.” you admitted, looking up at him with guilty eyes.
your hand clutches your tote bag, the both of you stay in silence before he speaks up. a kiss being left on your forehead, it drowns out the guilty feeling and lights up your features.
“it’s fine sweets. y’want to talk for a bit and have dinner together? i don’t mind you staying over, megumi has a strong liking for you.” he waits for a response.
it’s almost embarrassing to you how fast you nodded your head, yet toji chuckles at how dedicated you were towards the offer.
you did not go home that night, as expected. but what happened was something you never thought would happen at all.
you thought you would be in your own bedroom, but here you were. face flat onto toji’s pillows, and him behind you groping your body in many ways. his cock drilling inside your plush, tight pussy.
“you’re so beautiful, my love.” his words continue to make you cry, both ways. he flips you over so his hand would be able to wrap around your breast, and the other caressing your head as you take all of him inside of you.
“daddy— ‘s so good!” you cry out, mind getting foggy as you look at him with the most love and adoration expression he could ever make out. his heart melts.
he shuts you up with a kiss, tongues clashing together as his hands roam around your love handles, squeezing and slapping them.
you moan into the kiss, it’s muffled but he was able to hear it clearly. the sound was music to his ears, making him slam into you rougher and deeper, his cock abusing your g-spot.
you were just too beautiful, too pure for him. he couldn’t resist you. the day he met you in a coffee shop he knew he wanted you, and you would become his.
“shh, baby. can’t forget gumi is sleeping, hm?” he hums, pulling away from your pouty, swollen lips.
“sorry.. ‘jus feels too good. love your cock s’ much tojii.” you moan once again. your hand interlaces with his bigger hands, pinning you down on his large bed.
“i know, sweet girl. you almost needa cum?” he coo’s into your ear, large, muscular hand going down onto your stomach. your womb filled with toji’s hot seed.
you whine, nodding repeatedly and look up at him with desperate eyes. sobs leave your mouth, the bubbly feeling in your stomach begging to be released.
“please! need t’ cum, lemme cum daddy.. please!” you beg over and over, it’s adorable to him. the way you’re so desperate for him, and his cock. even if it’s bullying your insides.
arousal floods into your insides, the way toji lowly groans on top of you makes you see the stars.
“cum with me, my dear.” he moans out, hands gripping at your waist as he continues to slams you down on his veiny, hard, big cock.
just like that, you realease all over him. you hadn’t even notice you squirted. the feeling of toji filling you to the brim once again made your eyes foggy, filled with tears. thankfully toji was there to wipe away any tears left.
hot cum continues to spurt into your pussy, the feeling of your walls clenching over his cock so well makes toji’s feelings for you grow stronger.
“my beautiful, princess.” he whispers through heavy breathes. your heart beating even faster as his hands cup your jaw, pulling you into another heated kiss.
“starting now, you’re mine. my little girl.”
#jujutsu kaisen#toji fushiguro#jjk#jjk imagines#jjk toji#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji zenin#jujutsu toji#toji fluff#toji headcanons#fushiguro toji#toji imagine#toji x reader#toji x black reader#toji smut#toji fushiguro smut#toji x y/n#toji scenarios#toji drabbles#toji thirst#dilf toji#toji fic#toji angst#jjk fanfic#jjk x reader#jjk manga spoilers#jjk 221#jjk anime#jjk fanart#satoru’s diary
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keep it on the low ♡ haechan
genre: fluff ⭒ word count: 0.7k
haechan sighs for third time that minute, eyes narrowing as he watches jaemin wrap a scarf around your neck. he sniffs, lips pursed and nose pink before turning away from the pair.
he wishes it were him bundling you up.
maybe that’s why he trudges through the snow without thought, stomping toward you in chunky black boots. jaemin’s giving you that up-to-no-good smile when haechan loudly clears his throat, drawing over your attention.
“can you hurry up?” he insists. “everyone’s already got their tickets by now."
jaemin holds his hands up in a mock surrender before leaning in. “cheer up our grumpy channie, hmm?” he mutters the request to you, winking before taking off in a comically-large puffer jacket.
haechan crosses his arms, childishly sticking his tongue out at the retreating friend. he taps his foot and watches the slush splatter beneath his boot. he won’t look at you, he decides, because then he’ll see your little hat—the ears on top and color matching your eyes—and suddenly all will be forgiven.
but then you cup his face and just like that, his plan is destroyed. your gloves are warm on his frozen cheeks and he can’t help but melt into your touch, honey eyes filled with nothing but adoration. it’s moments like these he wishes to live in forever. maybe the movie can wait a bit.
you giggle at his expression. “are you going to keep sulking or come inside now?”
“depends. are you sitting next to jaemin?” he unnecessarily drags out the name. if his jealousy wasn't obvious before, it is now.
“see my previous question.”
“i’m not done.” he shakes his head, your hands moving with him. “let me pout a little more."
…
haechan makes a show of dragging you into the theater almost comically. he immediately claims the seat to your right, shoving chenle into the other. the foreigner was friendly at times but harmless when it came to you. that was all haechan needed to know.
but then chenle starts whispering to you.
haechan leans in, hoping to not appear too interested in the conversation. his gaze flickers between your form and the previews on screen. not even his crossed legs or casual demeanor can hide the anxiety in his features. it's painfully obvious—even jeno and jaemin watch the interaction with muffled laughter.
the next time he takes a peak, fingers unconsciously picking at the skin on his lips, he's surprised to find you looking back. he jolts away, nearly tearing a chunk off in the process. "ani," he quickly denies, "I wasn't listening."
you're amused. "I didn't even say anything."
haechan blinks. “oh.”
chenle peers around you, shaking the bag of popcorn in his direction. "want some?"
he takes the snack with a huff, grumpily munching for the next few minutes.
…
“i’m scared,” haechan murmurs to you. so maybe he was exaggerating the movie's intensity a little—what’s wrong with wanting to cuddle? he was bored out of his mind and only an hour into the movie. he couldn’t help if you were sitting next to him looking all cute and fluffy. “can i rest my head here, baby?” the name slips before he can catch it.
you go rigid against him. renjun chokes on his drink, liquid nearly spraying across the theater as he and jisung share a look of disgust from the aisle behind. haechan’s flaming red. had everyone heard him? he slides further down the seat. how was he going to explain this one? momentary insanity?
but then you’re nodding, even patting your shoulder as an invitation. the gesture has him nearly in tears. he buries his face beneath the soft hood of your coat, eyes closing as he attempts to collect himself. he’s in trouble. haechan feels your hand brush his, hesitantly resting on top for several heart-pounding moments before intertwining your fingers.
he holds his breath. only one thought's on his mind right now—please don’t pull away. the pair of clasped hands find their way to your lap. your gentle touches against his skin leave him breathless. haechan's nuzzled up against your side for the rest of the showing, maybe even drifts off for a minute or two. he could let his guard down a little—his friends had gotten the message anyway.
you're his.
#haechan#nct#nct dream#nct 127#nct fluff#nct imagines#nct scenarios#nct x reader#haechan fluff#lee donghyuck#nct fanfic#nct haechan#nct drabbles#nct dream fluff#haechan scenarios#haechan imagines#nct fic#haechan x reader
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a paddock affair - Lando Norris
Y/N x Lando Norris
Theme: Fluff
Lando introduces you to part of the paddock x
mentions of Max, Carlos, Charles, Oscar and Daniel
word count: 1200+
taglist: @game-set-canet
requested by anonymous :) hope you like it.
gif by me;
As the sun is shining brightly, casting its golden ray upon the Melbourne skyline, you find yourself standing outside the gates of the prestigious Formula 1 paddock, hand in hand with Lando, your heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and nerves.
It had been a whirlwind romance since you first met a few months ago, and now Lando was inviting you into his world, the heart of the F1 action.
"Lando, I'm really nervous," you confess, tugging at the collar of your Mclaren team jacket, a piece of clothing that now holds sentimental value beyond its sleek design.
Lando squeezes your hand reassuringly, his trademark grin lighting up his face.
"Don't worry, love. You'll be great. Everyone's going to love you."
With his comforting words, you make your way into the paddock, where the air is alive with the hum of engines and the chatter of mechanics and drivers preparing for the weekend ahead.
Your first stop is to meet Lando's good friend and teammate turned rival, Carlos Sainz. As you approach, Carlos looks up from his conversation with a mechanic, and his face breaks into a wide smile.
"Lando! And who's this lovely lady?" Carlos greets you, his Spanish accent laced with warmth.
"This is Y/N, Carlos. My girlfriend." Lando introduces you proudly with a shy smile playing on his lips.
Carlos extends his hand, and you shake it, feeling a rush of gratitude for his friendly demeanor. Lando stands by your side, his comforting touch a constant reassurance; his hand strokes the small of your back, a subtle yet comforting gesture.
"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I must say, you look great in that Mclaren gear," he motions to the jacket Land gave you a few days prior. "You're practically part of the team already."
You blush at the compliment, feeling a sense of belonging wash over you as you exchange pleasantries before Carlos gets called away to attend to his duties in the garage.
Next, you encounter Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc engaged in an animated discussion. Their laughter echoes through the paddock as they reminisce about the last race. As you approach, they exchange knowing smirks before Charles excuses himself, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.
Max bounds over to you, his infectious energy filling the air. "Well, well, well, Lando, you sly dog! Hiding your girlfriend from us, eh?"
Lando rolls his eyes playfully. "Yeah, yeah, Max. This is Y/N, by the way."
Max shakes your hand enthusiastically. "Pleasure to meet you, Y/N. Don't worry, we won't give Lando too much trouble... maybe."
Their banter is like music to your ears, easing your nerves and making you feel like a part of the tight-knit F1 family. Amidst the lively banter and laughter, Lando's presence anchors you as the grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly.
After Max excuses himself as well, Oscar Piastri joins your little group. You had met him before, and he greeted you with a warm smile, genuine concern evident in his eyes.
"How are you feeling, Y/N?" Excited?" Oscar asks, his Australian accent adding a touch of familiarity to the conversation.
"Excited doesn't even begin to cover it," you reply, unable to contain your enthusiasm.
Lando wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close. "Come on, let's take a stroll through the paddock. I want to show you everything."
As you wander through the bustling paddock, Lando points out the intricacies of the garages, the sleek motorhomes where the drivers and teams strategize, and the various anemities that make the F1 experience truly one-of-a-kind.
With each step, your anxiety melts away, replaced by a sense of wonder and awe at the world Lando inhabited.
At the same time, your eyes can't help but wander to Lando, taking in every detail. His Mclaren shirt hugs his lean frame perfectly, the familiar papaya orange contrasting beautifully against his sun-kissed skin. The casual elegance of his outfit, paired with jeans that fit just right, only serves to enhance his natural charm.
But it is his curly hair that always captivates you the most. Each unruly lock seems to have a mind of its own, framing his face in a way that is both effortlessly cool and undeniably endearing. Every time a stray curl falls across his forehead, your heart skips a beat, reminding you just how lucky you are to be by his side.
"Lando, your hair looks amazing today." You can't help but gush, reaching up to tuck a wayward curl behind his ear.
He grins, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Thanks, love. It's a constant battle trying to tame these ecurls, but I'm glad you like them."
You smile and caress Lando's cheek, marveling at the softness of his skin beneath your fingertips. His stubble tickles you ever so slightly, but you welcome the sensation, relishing in the intimacy of your moment together.
"I love your beard, Lando," you murmur, tracing the contours of his jawline with your thumb. "It suits you so well."
A hint of surprise flickers in his eyes before a sheepish grin spreads across his face. "You do? I wasn't sure if I should keep it or not."
You nod emphatically, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. "Definetly keep it. It makes you look even more handsome, if that's even possible."
His laughter echoes through the air around you, filling you with warmth and contentment.
Lost in your quiet moment, a familiar voice breaks through the serenity around you. "Hey there, mate."
Startled, you turn to see Daniel Ricciardo approaching you, already donning his racing suit with that siganture grin plastered across his face.
Before Lando can react, Daniel reaches out and playfully pokes his sides, causing him to burst into giggles.
"Hey, Danny." Lando exclaims, returning the gesture with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Trying to distract me before training, huh?"
Daniel chuckles, his charm undeniable, as he joins you. "You know me, mate. Always up for a bit of fun."
Lando's arm finds its way around your waist, pulling you close, giving you comfort.
You fall into easy conversation, chatting about racing and sharing anecdotes from past experiences on the track. Daniel's enthusiasm is infectious, and soon enough, you are all laughing like old friends reunited.
After a while, Daniel excuses himself, a glint of determination in his eyes, as he prepares to focus on the upcoming race weekend. "Well, it's been great catching up, but duty calls. See you both later."
With a wave and a parting smile, he disappears into the bustling crowd, leaving behind a lingering sense of camaraderie that warms your heart.
You turn your head to find Lando looking at you, a warm smile forming on his lips.
"Lando," you say softly, overcome with emotion, "thank you for bringing me into the paddock."
A tender smile graces his lips as he gently caresses your cheek. "You did amazing, Y/N; I'm proud of you."
His words fill you with warmth, and as he leans in to kiss you, you feel a rush of love and affection wash over you, knowing that with Lando by your side, there is nothing you can't face together.
#lando norris x reader#lando norris x y/n#lando norris fluff#lando norris imagine#lando norris fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 fluff
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SIT ON IT.
chris smut, ykwtfgo
dom!chris • poc!reader friendly
contains: FAT-ASSED READER, semi-public sex (in a gathering), reversed cowgirl, large gathering (not really party) type setting, pet names, no use of y/n, lots of touching/groping
semi-proofread ✍🏾
word count: 0.9k
No seats on the couch. Big gathering. Rando’s I don’t know. Friends. Matt—occupied, Nick—also occupied, so where’s Chris? I searched for Chris throughout the gathering until my legs were already tired from walking around. I just gave up and went towards the couch again to find a seat again just to see Chris.
I scurried forwards as I saw him manspreading across the couch seat. He had eye contact with me, signalling to come closer till I was bowed down in-front him.
I light grasped my jaw to put his lips on my ears “Where have you been, I’ve looking for you” Real funny, cause I was about to say that.
“Me too, I need to find a chair or a seat ASAP, I’m tired as fuck” He grabbed arm as he looked around the room for an empty place but there was no luck, Chris sat back still holding my arm as he pulled me in even closer. “Sit on my lap”
Bitch what? I was confused, I knew I wasn’t drunk, I barely had one Twisted Tea but I think I was being deceived. “What you say?” I asked.
“Sit on my lap” I wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t bring myself to do it, Chris is definitely one of my friends that are fine as fuck, I wouldn’t know how to act if I sat on his lap. “I’m cool, it’s okay” I declined his offer.
“Just sit, you’re obviously tired and what’s the problem?” I pace my eyes across the room before I give in, because I’m not about to tell him ‘Hey Chris I don’t want to sit on your lap cause I lowkey, high key want to jump on your dick.’ No.
I pulled down my mini-skirt which half of my ass was going to fall out of regardless. Sitting down on his left leg, I still refused on sit on his lap, I just wasn’t going to do it “Shit I didn’t realize how big your ass is” He chuckled.
Am I tweaking?
It was kind of uncomfortable and I found myself shifting on his knee often. As I looked back at him and he locked eyes with me “Sit on it” Chris demands. I finally stopped being stubborn and I sat directly on his lap and he adjusted by bucking his hips up towards my ass, feeling Chris under me.
Making sure we were both comfortable I began to move alot more as people brought drinks to the table and I just took a soda then jumping back on his crotch accidentally sitting a little too hard.
A moan escaped his mouth and I realised what I did in that moment. Chris’ hardness grew underneath me, he and I both what I did. “Fuck, I asked you sit not to give me a lap dance.”
“I can get off if you need me to”
“And let everyone see that you gave me boner? Why don’t you help me” Chris proposed
I was flattered and horny, the way he was whispering in my ear with that low voice of his. I wasn’t going to miss the chance to fuck my crush.
“You wanna get a room?” I turned to face him
“I mean… You could just ride me right here” He shrugged, It was risky but why the fuck not, nobody is going to check us. Chris asked one of his friends to give him one of the smaller blankets that was just hung around the end of the L couch.
Chris put it over us, pulling my skirt up and I held the front of my skirt to lift my ass up from his crotch and hover a little bit so he could take his dick out his pants and so I could move my thong to the side.
I extended my neck back to watch his twitching cock fling out of his jeans. He aimed his dick towards my warm entrance pulling me down to sit completely on his dick. I zipped my mouth shut struggling to stay quiet around these people, even though everybody in the room were talking and it was loud.
He held my waist hoisting me up onto his cock slowly not even stopping to look around to see if anyone was watching us.
Chris’ cock is lengthy, I expected it but nothing could’ve prepared me for all it. I was being filled to the brim with him hitting all my right spots.
I spit small whines and whimpers repeatedly struggling to keep quiet, his hands slipped up groping my boobs as I moved at a quicker speed but still not trying to make seem too obvious.
“Fuck— Oh my— Fuck” Chris’ moans are quiet but I hear him because his lips were touching my ear. I slid on his lap, taking everything in my body to stop myself from just stripping off this blanket and bounce on his dick until my pussy go numb.
“Chris— I’m gonna fucking cum” I bounced just a bit as I chased my high, Chris held my hips thrusting up making my ass clap a few times “Shit, you gonna cum with me mama?” I nodded while my ass recoiled for the last few times before his liquids filled me up and he pulled out of me.
“We gotta be alone the next time”
tags: @chrisenthusiast , @miguelsangel , @lunariaxzz ,@thesturniolos , @angelic-sturniolos111 , @littlebookworm803 , @79sturniolo , @alinaa131 , @sturniolopowers @mattslolita @luv4kozume @sturniofilmd @sturniolooooo @urmom2fresh @chrissturniolosbitch
#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo fluff#christopher sturniolo#smut#fics#fan fiction#fan fic#matt sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#nick sturniolo#matt sturniolo smut#hoesformatt#riyahspeaks
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white flag ✹ proglogue
note: can't believe i'm actually writing for ghost, yes he was the reason i got into cod, but i havent thought about him since like january lol. has this trope already been done? yes. am i doing it anyway? also yes.
pairing: ghost x gn!reader
wc: 2.2k
no use of y/n
readers callsign is 'stingray'
summary: if there's one constant in your life, it's that ghost doesn't like you, so when your house burns down and you have no choice but to move in with him, it feels like your life is on a steady downhill spiral.
warnings: slowburn, some angst, your house burns down, ghost is mean, sort of enemies to friends to lovers
ao3
【next】
it's been almost a year since you'd joined the taskforce. nearly twelve months of gruelling hard work, and not for a single second had lieutenant ghost treated you with a shred of familiarity. at first, you thought he'd get over it, that he'd get past his obvious trust issues and warm up to you eventually, but you quickly gave up on that idea.
clearly, you'd been too optimistic.
which was unfortunate, considering how much you'd come to care for the prickly bastard, no matter how dismissive he was of you. it started slow; when you were first recruited, you held a great deal of respect for him because of his reputation, and you'd naively even looked forward to working with him. when you discovered his less than friendly demeanour, to say you were disheartened would be an understatement. he was withdrawn and stoic, never sparing you so much as a passing glance and a barked order, whether you were in the field or not.
the other sergeants had assured you that he wasn't as cold as he comes across; soap and gaz both told you how he'd acted the same towards them when they first met – he was a lone wolf, not used to having to look out for teammates.
the more time you spent on missions with him, the more you saw of the person beneath the hard exterior. you saw how he seemed to know everyone's strengths and weaknesses, things you never would've picked up on. he always made sure the team had eaten, disguised as a gruff order to stay on your game. when he got angry, it would be because someone put themselves in danger, not because they screwed up the mission. you saw someone who'd been through hell and come out the other side swinging.
before, you'd respected ghost as a soldier and your superior, but now, after spending so much time with him, your perspective of him has changed. he intrigued you; he's quiet, introverted but not shy, more observant than you could imagine, and so closely guarded you wondered if he'd ever be able to open up. you'd only heard whispers of the things he'd been through in the past, so despite his obvious animosity towards you, you treated him with the respect you thought he deserved – like a person, and you'd hoped that with time, he could see you as more than just a soldier too. though he still didn't like you, you liked to think that the two of you have come to some sort of understanding.
and that leads you to your problem; you wanted to know him. every tiny crack in his facade made you more and more curious about the man behind the mask – about simon, rather than ghost, but from what you could tell, he didn't hold the same sentiment about you. where he would banter back and forth with the others over comms, he'd fall silent whenever you join in. every minute little mistake was amplified to him, you've lost count of the amount of times he's berated you for things he's excused for others. it made your heart ache that you just couldn't win with him, and you feared you'd never understand why.
but now, as you sit shivering with a shock blanket wrapped around your shoulders, watching the smouldering remains of what was your home in the middle of the night, freezing and exhausted, you'd never felt more hated.
you could hear them, ghost and the captain, talking in hushed voices a little ways down the road from where you sit. they probably think they're being subtle, discussing what to do with you like you're not even there, like every single one of your worldly possessions hadn't just gone up in smoke, but you hear them as if they're standing right in front of you.
"i wouldn't do this if there were any other options, simon."
"there are plenty of other options, just stick 'em in a hotel for god's sake."
"there's no hotels close enough to base – it'll only be temporary, 'till we can find 'em somewhere else."
"fuckin' hell, why cant they go with one of the others?"
"soap and gaz are already flatmates, you live alone and you're the closest to base. this is the only option that makes sense."
"i'm not fuckin' happy about this, price."
their profiles are momentarily illuminated by the blue lights from the fire engine parked nearby, allowing you for a second to see the withering glare ghost is sending your way, and all of a sudden the last couple hours of emotional distress is crashing down on you; his obvious distaste for you combined with the toll of watching your house literally burning down was too much for you all at once. you could feel the tears start to spill over again, but you can’t find the strength to stop them and just bring the shock blanket closer to your face. you’d lost everything, and even now he couldn’t find it in himself to feel an ounce of compassion for you? why can’t he care for you like he does the others? like you do for him?
as your watery gaze drops to the soot and ash covering your pyjamas, a voice sounds from beside you, the opposite direction from price and ghost. you don’t even realise you’re hyperventilating until they lay a hand on your shoulder and rub soothing circles into your back.
“hey– hey, it’s okay,” it’s gaz, you notice in the back of your mind, sitting on the curb next to you. you squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to block out the world around you, and gaz brings you closer into his embrace. “you’ll be alright, we’ll get everything sorted, yeah?”
"i– i don't– i can't–" you try to speak, but you can't seem to form a coherent sentence through your sobbing.
"it's alright, just breathe for me." gaz hugs you tighter again, your head coming to rest on his shoulder as he consoles you. for a few minutes you stay like that, your breathing eventuslly returning to normal and the tears slowing to a stop.
price and ghost are still arguing, but you can't hear what they're saying anymore; probably for the best, if you had to listen to ghost complain about you for one more second you might really have a breakdown.
soap's voice cuts through the fog in your mind, "managed to find this, thought ya' might want it." you look up to find him crouching in front of you and holding out a slightly singed photo, a weak smile on his face. "frame's broken, but the picture's still mostly fine."
you take it from him, fingers grasping the card gently as you turn it around to look at the picture. it's from a few years ago, you and your friends from your previous unit, smiling into the camera as if you had no worries at all. staring at the ghosts of your friends starts you crying again, clutching the photo to your chest and leaning back into gaz's shoulder. if anything could've survived the blaze, you're grateful it was this. gaz rubs your arm sofly, whispering comforting words to you again.
you hear another set of footsteps approach and look up again to see price now standing in front of you as well. it's not exactly surprising, but ghost is nowhere to be seen.
"ambulance is here," price says, offering you a hand and pulling you to your feet when you take it. "i'll follow behind to the hospital, one of you two take their car to simon's."
you nod and retrieve your car keys from your jacket pocket, thankful you'd had the mind to grab it on your way out in your frantic state.
"I've got a bag in the boot, it's got some clothes in it." you mutter, handing the keys to soap, who smiles and gives you a pat on the shoulder.
"no bother, i'll grab it for ya." he says, and jogs off to where your car was parked, thankfully untouched out of reach of the fire. he returns not a minute layer carrying your duffle of emergency supplies, something you never thought would actually come in handy.
before you know it you're waving gaz and soap goodbye, the paramedics are guiding you to the back of the ambulance, and you're leaving what remains of your old home in the rear-view mirror.
✹✹✹
you hated hospitals. it was a fact, and it had been that way since you were a child, everything about them just made your skin crawl. perhaps you inherited the feeling from your mother; she always managed to bring up her distaste for the place whenever the topic arose. or, maybe you only hated them because they scared you.
either way, the relief you felt as you stepped out of the front door into the car park with price trailing behind you was palpable. he falls into step next to you as the two of you make your way over to where he parked, his keys jingling as he fishes them from his pocket.
"we're puttin' you up with simon for the time being, 'till we can get you somewhere else." his words make you wince; you already knew he was going to say that, but it didn't stop the anxiety from bubbling up in your chest.
"i heard." a beat of silence passes before you continue. "how long will that take?" you ask, climbing into the passenger seat and dropping your bag at your feet as price settles into the driver's side.
"i wouldn't get your hopes up. might be quicker to wait for 'em to rebuild your old place." he flashes you a smile, but you can't find it in yourself to return the gesture.
"right."
neither of you say another word as he starts the engine and pulls out of the car park. you turn to look out the window, watching the world go by, the quiet rambling of the radio serving as white noise in the background. it's the early hours of the morning now, the sun would be up in a few hours and you'd have to go back to work already – price did say you could have the day off, but honestly the last thing you wanted was to sit around all day with nothing to do but overthink.
after nearly ten minutes of trying to ignore it, the worry playing at your mind becomes too much to keep to yourself.
"you know he hates me, right?" you utter, half expecting price to ignore your question all together.
he clicks his tongue. "he doesn't hate you," price replies, and his voice sounds reassuring but it doesn't bring you much comfort.
"okay, well, he doesn't like me either." you turn your head to look at him, raising your brows. rolling to a stop at a red light, he meets your eyes and huffs.
"alright, he can be difficult–"
"really?"
"–but i promise you, he doesn't hate you." he says. you give him a disbelieving look, and he sighs, looking back to the road as the light turns green. "give him a chance, alright?"
"is he gonna give me a chance?"
"he will." price says firmly, sparing you a look as he drives down the quiet road. "and if he doesn't, you'll knock some sense into him, eh?"
"sure…" you mutter, looking back out the window and falling back into silence. its only a few minutes until he's pulling over to the side of the road, outside the house number you know to be ghost's.
"sting," price calls out, stopping you as you reach for the door handle, "he'll come around, alright?"
"it's been a year, cap. i don't think he will." you reply, and before he can say anything else you open the door and step out into the night air, grabbing your bag from your feet before closing the door again. you give price a half-hearted wave as he pulls away again, before turning around and gazing up at your – temporary – new home.
it was nice, all things considered; a standard terrace on the end of the row, but the size has you wondering if there was even room for you to stay here. though it's not as if you have a choice. all the lights were off, which had you hopeful that you wouldn't run into ghost just yet.
you drag yourself to the front door, your eyes stinging from the effort of keeping them open, and twist the handle as quietly as possible, closing it behind you and cringing at the clunk it makes. thankfully ghost didn't hate you enough to lock you out for the night, something you actually wouldn't put past him considering how he feels about you.
there's a small side table in the entryway that catches your attention. on top of it sits your car keys – you make a mental note to thank soap in the morning – a new key, and a note. you pick up the paper, using the torch from your phone to examine the scratchy handwriting.
living room's yours. lock the door.
– s
it's more than you expected from him. you sigh to yourself and pick up the other key, locking the door and shuffling into the small living room. the pull-out bed is made up for you, albeit quite messily, and you waste no time in dropping your stuff and laying your head down on the lumpy pillow.
with any luck, this arrangement wouldn't last long, but in the meantime you got the feeling you were in for a bumpy ride.
#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#mw2 x reader#cod x reader#141 x reader#call of duty x reader#mw2#cod mw2#call of duty#simon ghost riley#mw2 ghost#roosterr writes#praying that hes not ooc
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Hiiii! Love your clarisse oneshots ^^. Could you possibly do one where Fem!reader is the daughter of Hades and has a hellhound as a pet that absolutely adores clarisse? Reader also has a similar personality to clarisse, loves to fight and has a big pride but only lets her guard down around Clarisse.(also possibly has her own electric weapon of your choice)Thank you!!
creatures of the night
clarisse la rue x fem!hades'cabin!reader
warnings: none
a/n: sorry this is so short, hope u like it<3
wc; 1.1k
You would never consider your relationship with your father as better than anyone else's relationship with their own parent in camp.
But when you had been claimed by Hades as well as being gifted a long black javelin with gold wrapped around the sharp edge on the same night you arrived at camp Half Blood, it seemed well established to everyone else and including yourself, that your father acknowledges your existence proudly.
Being one of the people in the small list of forbidden children, had created a fearsome reputation around your presence, and honestly speaking, you enjoy the privileges that come with it.
Although it was hard making friends considering your less friendly personality, some campers stuck by your side anyways. Those who bore you enormous respects and had been intrigued by your mysterious air instead of intimidated.
One of them being the infamous child of Ares, Clarisse La Rue.
Beautiful, strong and hot headed, Clarisse La Rue.
The two of you are often compared as the two sides of the same coin. Your personalities differ from eachother in many ways, but when it came to your goals and aims, you both are usually on the same team.
It's safe to say that you are less hostile than Clarisse. You prefer to keep to yourself whilst she prefered to assert dominance onto the other campers. And yet you are the more feared than her.
Clarisse is commonly brutal and unrelenting, but you usually saved up the worst of your tricks for when necessity calls for it. For now, intimidation worked well enough.
What's funny enough, is how Clarisse herself had a certain trepidation when she first befriended you. She learned soon that you were just another demigod girl just like she was, glory aside.
One of the instances where she felt that she had truly seen you as you are, all the facade dropped down, was when you first introduced her to your hound, Cerberus.
Your father had gifted him to you for your 15th birthday. It was one of yoir proudest moments in life. Demigods are almost never cared for that much by their parents, and so to have your coming of age be recognised by your father was a huge thing.
"Is that not the same name as Hades' own three headed hound?" She asked, staring at it for afar from the corner of your bed.
"I know, that's why I named him that." You explained to her as you're sat criss-crossed on the floor, scratching the beasts' chin.
Cerberus, once he deemed Clarisse as not a threat, rolled down on the ground on his stomach.
"Look at him, such a good boy." You were distracted by your new pet all day, ignoring your poor girlfriend who had come over to your cabin to spend time with you. "He's almost as tall as you." Clarisse spoke sarcastically, picking you on your height.
"That's not a fair observation. Most things are almost as tall as me." You responded, still not looking up.
"Are you just gonna keep standing there staring at me?" You asked her finally, realising just how weird the distance between you two were.
Clarisse was hesitant, frowning at your pet like he was some sort of threat. "I...think I'm good here." She muttered loud enough for your ears. "Oh, come on."
Clarisse shook her head as you complained about her irrationality. "Look at him, he's friendly." And he was, Cerberus had warmed up to you quickly and have not shown a single tendency for violence against your girlfriend.
"Come and say hello to him, Clarisse." You called out to her again.
You hear her sigh from the other side of the room. After a few more minutes pass, her footsteps grow louder as she moves nearer to you.
Clarisse squats down to meet Cerberus and flinched as he lifts his head up to sniff her. You reached for her hand, trying to get him to smell it. She pulls her hand back at first, but after a few more pulls, Clarisse relents and lets the hound give her knuckles a lick. "That tickles." She mumbled under her breath.
"He likes you, see." She gives a resigned look, like she's just going along with what you're saying. "No, I'm serious, look at how nice he's acting." You nudged your head towards Cerberus' head, encouraging her to give him a pet
Clarisse braves herself to give him a few strokes on his ears and found that he particularly likes that notion. "I guess he's not that bad." She admitted at last, pulling out a smile from you. "I told you."
"So what is he then? Some sort of guard dog?" She inquires. The gods would gift their children with tools that can be used, never something useless, like a domesticated pet. And from the looks of it, Cerberus is definitely not meant to be a some cute little friend.
"I don't know." You answered honestly.
"It's not like my dad does a lot of talking to me, but he gave me something from the underworld, something that's set as a reminder of him and his place above. I'd like to view it as some sort of stepping stone. Like I'm one step closer to him because of Cerberus."
It's not surprising that your end goal is to follow on your father's footsteps, no one really knows what the real secret to make their godly parent to care about them is.
It is often assumed that glory was the key, and yet, the best fighters in camp a
re usually the ones who resent their parents the most. You often prayed and hoped that you wouldn't ever have to cross that threshold.
"I'm sure he sees it that way too." Clarisse offered kindly. She knew all too well how much it meant to be noticed by their absent fathers, even if so slightly.
She slso knew deep down that even if your father refused to notice the lengths you would be willing to go for him, she did. And she would break the world in two for you if your father wouldn't. And you would do the same for her.
Clarisse leans her back against the lower frame of the bed, a small smile on her face as she watches you scratch the hound's chin whilst kissing the spot in between his eyes.
It is truly rare to catch sight of either daughters of Ares or Hades' being as gentle and playful as this, and Clarisse is grateful that these kind of intimacies are reserved for small private moments.
That same night, as she sleeps with her arms around your waist, Cerberus laying down by the foot of the bed, Clarisse realises that she would do anything for the bond between the two of you to prevail.
#clarisse la rue#clarisse la rue x reader#pjo series#pjo#pjo x reader#pjo tv show#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson and the olympians#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson#dior goodjohn
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The Newlywed Game
Summary: You’re forced to play The Newlywed Game with your ex situationship.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F. Reader
Warnings: Angst. Smuttish, but not my usual descriptive smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI.
See my Masterlist here
“I can’t.” That’s all the explanation you got when Bucky ended your situationship. You were friends with benefits for almost a year. The only rule he had was don’t fall in love. He had too much baggage and he never wanted a family. He didn’t want anyone to depend on him.
You couldn’t blame him, he was traumatized by Hydra. Trapped inside his own body for decades, he was afraid it could happen again. You jumped in head first with him anyways. You were in his bed after every mission, every meeting, every day. You basically lived in his room, not that he would ever admit that. Then one rainy afternoon, you knocked on his door like always. Except this time, he didn’t pull you into his warm embrace.
He moved out of the way so you could come in, and immediately you knew something was wrong. You reached for him, ready to console him, desperate for his touch. He had just finished a mission with Sam and he’d been gone for two weeks. You missed him, and he was usually so excited to see you.
When you placed your hand on his cheek, rubbing the scruff that had grown while he was gone, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist removing it. “I can’t do this anymore.” His voice was so low you could barely understand. Your eyes narrowed at his words. “Have I done something wrong?”
“This has gone on for longer than it should have. I can’t let it anymore.” Your throat tightens, but you refuse to cry in front of him. You walked out and your relationship with him was never the same. You didn’t hang out anymore.
When you were alone, he would leave. He didn’t sit beside you during the Friday night movie. He didn’t choose you for his partner on game night. The other Avengers didn’t know for sure that you were hooking up. You hid it pretty well. They had their suspicions, but neither of you ever confirmed it.
Tony called everyone to the back yard. “What’s all this?” Steve asks, pointing to the stage he had set up. “It’s my anniversary tomorrow and Pepper said she always wanted to play the Newlywed Game. So I had this built so we could play.”
“That’s great, Tony. But who are you all going to play with? There’s four set up’s and only two couples.” Steve gestures to Wanda and Vision. “Thought about that and Cap, you and Natasha are going to play and….” He looks at the whole team, everyone looking in different directions trying not to make eye contact. Except for Sharon, who hung around a lot lately. She was getting closer to Bucky, obviously wanting Tony to choose them. You roll your eyes. “Barnes and Y/N. There now we have all our couples. I’m going to go get Pep, you guys take your spots.”
You look at Bucky,but he’s busy talking to Steve about how ridiculous it is. You hear Sharon agree that he should have chosen someone else. When Pepper comes in, she excitedly claps her hands together. She points to the other teams, “You’re going down!” She laughs, but you can’t help but protest, “This is rigged! You guys and Wanda and Vision are the only real couples!! How is anyone else supposed to win?”
Tony shoots you a death glare but answers, “Cap and Natasha have definitely bumped uglies before. And you and Barnes are close friends. I thought that would make it more fair. But, I do expect to win.” You cross your arms, but accept his answer. Bucky finally looks at you, but it’s not friendly.
Sam comes out, wearing a suit Tony made him wear to host. “I’ll explain the rules. You all have a whiteboard, marker, and eraser. I will ask a question and you will write your answer on your boards. If your answer matches your partner’s you get a point. I’ll eliminate one couple each round until the final tie breaker.”
You take a deep breath. This is hell. But, you do know Bucky better than anyone, so as long as he didn’t ask any crazy questions, you would be fine. “First question. Where is the craziest place you and your partner have had sex?” You freeze. Of course Stark had these wild questions. If you both answered the same, everyone would know that you had hooked up.
You think about lying, but decide the ball should be in Bucky’s court. You’ll answer correctly, and if he doesn’t you’ll know he doesn’t want anyone to know. You quickly scribble your answer, waiting on Sam to call on you. Tony’s answer is Steve’s room and Pepper’s matched. Everyone laughed while Steve said Tony has to pay for his room to be deep cleaned.
Wanda and Vision both answer “in the air.” Natasha and Steve said a table in the meeting room. You turn your board to reveal your answer and Bucky shows his. You look and see that he has answered correctly. “The quinjet?! Damn y’all are nasty!” Sam laughs.
You’re taken back to that moment. You, Bucky, and Bruce were on your way back from a mission. Bruce was driving the quinjet, but activated the mode Tony installed for breaks. As soon as he started snoring, Bucky led you to the bathroom. He took you against the wall, metal hand across your mouth to stifle your moans. It was one of the hottest things you’d ever done. Your suit clung to you in the worst ways after that. His cum dripping down your legs, it was nearly impossible to take off.
The others look at each other in surprise. Scott yells “I told you they were hooking up. No one believed me!” Sharon looks at Bucky so harshly that if looks could kill, he’d be dead. He just shrugs his shoulders. Of course, he would be hooking up with her. Why wouldn’t he? She was pretty and it had been three months since he ended things with you.
The next question was “Who hogs the covers more?” Everyone got it right except for Steve and Natasha. She said that wasn’t a fair question because they never actually slept when they were together. The round continued with four more questions. At the end, Steve and Natasha were eliminated because they had the least amount of points. The rest of you were tied.
“What is your partner’s pet name for you?” Sam asks. That’s easy, “doll”, you write. When you reveal your answers, Sharon looks furious. That must be what he calls her too. It stings, thinking of them together. You don’t have time to dwell on it before Sam asks the next question. “What is the highest number of orgasms your partner has given you in one night?” Your eyes widen, you know the answer, but you don’t know if he will remember.
Tony and Pepper answer three, Tony grins like the cocky asshole he is. Vision and Wanda answer two. Bucky raises his board, “Six?!” Sam shouts, “How were you guys fucking this much and nobody knew?” He laughs. The round surprisingly ends with Wanda and Vision getting eliminated.
But you’re busy thinking about that night. Bucky’s head between your thighs for hours. He barely came up for breath. You were sure he would smother, but he insisted. He didn’t stop until the sheets were soaked, your legs were shaking so hard, you’d immediately fall if you tried to stand up.
He had you screaming his name all night. When he finally started fucking you, he took his time, pulling another orgasm out of you before going back down for another taste. He finally came with you on top. He had to lift your limp body on him, using you like a sex doll. You couldn’t move if you needed too. It was the best sex you’d ever had.
“It’s time for the tie breaker question. Answers don’t have to match, the crowd will vote on the most romantic answers.” Sam states. “When did you know you were in love?” Tony and Pepper immediately begin writing. You’re certain you’re going to lose this one. Bucky was never in love with you. You write your answer, deciding to answer truthfully.
Tony and Pepper’s answers make you tear up, they are so in love. You can only hope you’ll find that one day. You and Bucky reveal your boards at the same time. You glance at his, his answer knocks the breath out of your lungs because it matches yours. The Avenger’s Barbecue. You lock eyes, his gaze softens as he reads your answer.
You’ll never forget such a pivotal moment in your life. All of the Avengers and Shield agents’ friends and family were invited to play games, eat, and have a good time. Emily, who helped coordinate your missions brought her husband and three young children. A baby girl, a two year old boy, and a five year old girl. The children were drawn to Bucky. The two older children swung from his metal arm while he held the baby with his other one.
The image made your ovaries explode. You couldn’t help imagining how he would be if you had kids. He laughed as they asked him a thousand questions, playing on him like a jungle gym. You knew without a doubt, you were in love.
Bucky took a deep breath when he read your answer. Why was it the same as his? Did you know? Was it a prank you were playing on him? Emily’s children were entranced with you from the moment they met you. He couldn’t blame them, he felt the same. They had played with him for an hour before the food was ready. When Tony told everyone to make a plate, you offered to watch the kids while she and her husband got their food.
Bucky watched as you comforted the crying infant. The two older children sat beside you while you read from a book the girl got from their bag. Bucky knew he was screwed. He could see a life like this so clearly. Your belly round with his baby, while you tended to your other children. He didn’t want to admit how badly he wanted that. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He was in love with you.
That night he made love to you, it was softer, slower than the other times he touched you. He knew you could tell the difference too. He placed one last kiss to your lips, willing himself to let you go. The next morning, he left for his two week mission with Sam. He convinced himself that it was for the best if he ended things. He didn’t want to hurt you. You might be okay with it now, but years later you would regret it.
You’d realize having the Winter Soldier for a husband wasn’t worth everything you would have to go through. Then Sharon started flirting with him after Steve rejected her. He hadn’t so much as hugged her, but she acted like she was entitled to him.
Everyone voted for Tony and Pepper to win. They were the real couple and it was their anniversary tomorrow. Tony was going to treat everyone to dinner for being such good sports. You got out of there as soon as it was over. You needed a nap before going to dinner. It was all too much for you. How the hell did you and Bucky make it so far in the game? Why did he have the same answer for the last question? You convince yourself that he knew how you felt.
That night changed everything. The sex was different. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear he was making love to you. He had to be messing with your head. Somehow you manage to fall asleep even with your thoughts racing.
You wake up two hours later, just enough time to get ready for dinner. You put on the little black dress Bucky loved. If he wants to play games, bring it on. You apply your perfume when a light knock sounds on your door. You would recognize the knock anywhere. “Come in” you call. Bucky walks in, his tight black t-shirt hugging him in the best ways.
“Hey doll, we need to talk.” You put your earrings in, anger surging through you. “Talk about what? How you were trying to humiliate me up there? How you’re banging Sharon now? There’s nothing to talk about. You should just go.”
“Humiliate you? What about me? How did you know the answer to the last question?” He demands, charging toward you. “I answered it truthfully, James. How did you know my answer?” You ask, hands on your hips. “I answered honestly too.” He confesses, his blue eyes sweeping over the swell of your breasts.
“Stop lying! I don’t see what the point is. We have been over for three months. Why are you doing this?” He shakes his head, “I was telling the truth. I realized I was in love with you when all those kids were sitting in your lap. I could see our life together. And I wanted it, the kids, the white picket fence, the big house, you.”
“Bucky, I wanted all that with you too. Seeing you playing with those kids made me realize it too.” You sigh, feeling relieved to finally get it off your chest. His lips crash into yours, hands moving at lightning speed to remove all of your clothing. You’re under him in seconds, panting against his lips as he rubs himself against you.
Bucky moans as he sinks into you. He’s always known deep down you were made for him, now he has no choice but to accept it. “I’m so in love with you.” He tells you between thrusts. You claw at his back, his confession almost sends you over the edge. “I am so in love with you, Buck.” You kiss him gently. “Say it again.” He smiles, as you get lost in each other.
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#bucky barnes smut#bucky imagine#bucky fic#bucky barnes x reader#james bucky barnes#bucky#bucky fanfic#james bucky buchanan barnes#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky x y/n#bucky x female reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes and reader#bucky and reader#bucky angst#bucky au#bucky fanfiction#bucky mcu#bucky marvel#bucky oneshot#bucky smut#bucky x yn smut#bucky x yn#bucky x reader smut#bucky x female yn#the newlywed game
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Aphrodesiacs Pt.6
Miguel O’Hara x fem! spidey! reader
You and Miguel O’Hara were bitten by the same spider…what could possibly happen?
i’m back i’m back i’m back!
NSFW 18+ as always
It was the same old story, same old Miguel falling in the continuous spiral of something that he has long past an issue. The further this continued, it felt like another mistake living deep in chest. But he knew that this was objectively the right thing to do. Miguel blocked your number and broke his phone.
His stance remained firm and exhausted in same old boyishly endearing Miguel fashion, Peter B was standing next to him or something, saying whatever remark or sly jab at Miguel’s signature silent brooding. He wasn’t paying attention, words fell on deaf ears and he seemed even more disinterested in everything that was being uttered to him. It was like phasing out was a pitiful second instinct. All he seemed concentrated on was you, your tender sighs and sweet lips he could practically feel wet as you breathed over the phone. You were very brazen that night, it was surprising and refreshing in equal tandem. He would shut your vulgar mouth with his cock instead, he’d slap your cheeks raw with it and then slap his tip against your tongue until you’re begging him to just shove it in.
“Miguel? Buddy, you listening? Are you high or something?” Peter snapped his fingers in front of Miguel’s unappeased and unkind face to drag him away from something he never thought he would be: unfocused.
“Stop bothering me. I’m busy.” He huffed in response, his body language radiating stress. He was trying to occupy himself with working on some new tech but he couldn’t get that right either. If anything, Miguel needed to be bothered. Peter looked unimpressed and continued to be a pest warmly, in true Peter quips.
“Well it’s not my fault you’re acting all floozy and whistful into the horizon. When was the last time you even left here man?” Peter groans and grabs his cheeks like a mother would do to a small child, inspecting him gratuituously.
“Peter. Come on stop it.” Miguel grumbled lowly, not wantingto snap at him at the fullest terrifying extent he knew himself to be capable of. Peter squeezed his cheeks harder.
“You’re so damn pale…you’re like a vampire.” Peter chuckled at the inside joke that everyone actually believed that Miguel was a vampire ninja, he felt himself lighten up a little at that but he chose not to show it. Peter gasps in faux horror. “That beautiful warm golden honey glow is fading away with every second you’re here in your batcave.”
Miguel didn’t know what to say, the only time he’s ever left HQ is to go home and when he couldn’t sleep, which was always, he came back. Failing himself and everyone around him miserably. His mood strayed at the thought, but it was true. He wasn’t doing any good here, he wasn’t doing any good for you but he couldn’t tell Peter that. No one knew what was happening to him, only you, Jess and Lyla.
“Listen man, you need to get out of here. And it just so happens you know a guy who is throwing a cookout at their place back on their dimension. I.E: me.” Peter crossed his arms and looked terribly impressed with himself and Miguel just raised an eyebrow already tired of his neverending theatrics.
“No.” He said simply but firmly.
“Yes.”
“No.” He said more firmly this time.
“Yes.”
“Why?” Miguel snapped his gaze back at him, looking slightly agited but Peter wasn’t the only one with balls, he groaned out frustratedly at his candor.
“The Mysterio anomaly last week took 20 years off my already fantastic life and I need a break from it, so do you man. Plus my wife is way more unkind and insistent than me so she’ll be back to pull you by the ear so consider me a friendly warning.” Peter looked irked as he tapped his foot, waiting for a response that deserved a punch in the gut.
Miguel was in a state of bewildered shock, all he could let out was an eye twitch. He was so frustrated with you, with all of this that his nerve endings were on the outskirts of thoroughly cooked and fried with boundless anger. Every day his patience was stretching and every day was starting to feel like a losing battle but he had to keep reminding himself: it’s for the best, it’s for your own good. He absolutely deplored thinking it let alone repeating it but at this point he was too far gone to not give up now. All he needed was for you to stay away from him. God knows what you’d do to each other. Peter was right though, Miguel had the same routine: HQ, fail to sleep, HQ, avoid. Was it so wrong puncturing the rhythm of this soulless cycle? If he can’t be around you he might as well distract himself im more carefree ways, and he might not even get the opportunity ever again.
Miguel let out a short agitated huff and let out a pitiful yet stern “Fine.”
“I’m so convincing, it’s actually the only thing I have in my repertoire nowadays.” Peter beamed lightly, full of himself as always.
“Wait. I have one condition.” Miguel cut him off, his face mixing between frustration and anxiety.
“Okay?” Peter said hesitantly.
“Y/N can’t be there.” Miguel gaze was peneterating right through Peter, staring daggers into his face at the mere mention of your name. When he said your name he felt his mouth drawl back some drool, even saying your name had him salivating.
“What why?” Peter looked visibly confused at something so seemingly random. “I mean that’s gonna be quite difficult because her and my wife are actually the ones that are cooking for us sooo….No can do.”
Miguel looked like he got hit in the face with a brick, he was vacant and blank yet his eyes were slowly creasing, wincing at Peter for a split second and then groaning out in frustration, he almost sounded like a pained animal. God, this sweet torture.
“Lie to her. Make something up and get her to not go.” Miguel snarled poisonously, his true ferocity only showing just a fraction as it gleamed over twice in his eyes, Peter noticed it and decided not to press him further
“Okay.” Peter said hesitantly, attempting to sound cordial but he couldn't help but still be confused. This was all supposed to be for fun, he didn't want to randomly exclude people for no apparent reason. He couldn't argue with Miguel on it anyway, once his mind was set on something, Peter knew it was nearly impossible to knock it down.
-
Miguel's mouth went dry, his lips curled down into a crooked frown when he realized what he was about to walk into. Swimming was so pointless. Why the hell was he being coaxed into entertaining such petty things? He couldn't remember the last time he had relaxed or done something remotely fun, he used to think that working on new tech was 'fun', but now it was just a distraction to suck him out of the void of desperation. Avoiding it would be even more suspicious this time though, no one had properly seen much of him recently, and part of him wanted to see how everyone was doing. How everyone was doing without him. The thought shook him up. At least you won't be there to make him feel worse or lose any form of self-control. He was hoping it would be a breather from all this torment. It would go either one of two ways: fine or the absolute fucking worst. As always he would prepare for the worst.
Miguel arrived with a grimace he was trying to conceal, his weak smile when greeting Peter at the door was absolutely endearing and he hated it. He just had to remain calm for a few hours, show his face briefly, light conversation preferably about work and not leisure, he didn't need to grin he just had to bear it. Peter's house was in a quaint little suburb, Miguel threw his jacket in the bathroom and followed Peter when he led him to the back garden he was surprised to see that the pool was big and deep. Multiple Spideys were wilding out in it, having fun for once, not burdened by the consistent pressure to be a hero...like Miguel would put on them.
He frowned. And then his heart pulsated erratically.
Shit.
Of course.
Lord above save him.
Miguel's eyes scanned wildly around and then his gaze landed on you. His living breathing torment. You. Sprawled out on a sunbed, stomach down, kicking your feet as you drank in the golden sun, liquid rays pouring on every inch of your bikini-clad skin. God, it barely covered anything. Your back dipped and the curve of your ass was on full display. Miguel's face dropped into a mindless gawk, eyes wide and mouth agape, he swallowed when he saw what MJ was doing. She was rubbing your back down with sunscreen or tanning oil or whatever, he stood there looking like a complete idiot as he stared at you. You looked so blissed out, letting your eyes flutter as a lazy smile painted your face.
This was awful.
He was lying.
This was perfect. So damn perfect. A wet dream was written out in front of his eyes
His eyes then snapped to Peter, and an anxious yet irritated glare pierced right through him. “Why is she here?” Miguel gritted through clenched teeth. Peter just elbowed him playfully.
“Get your talons out of your ass and have fun man. Does it really matter? Wait did you...You and her-? Oh, you did that's why.” Peter chided, elbowing him in the bicep as if he uncovered the truth of ali of his schemes. “Hey man, I'm not judging you.”
Peter walked away chuckling and Miguel's gawk became even more apparent when you opened your eyes and they directly met his. When you saw him, you were sure you could've finished right then and there, eyes gleaming and wide and lips instinctively wetting. Why did he have to be so insanely hot? It's cruel and inhumane. He was wearing a grey compression shirt that fit him so damn tight and some black swimming shorts that made his thighs look beefy as fuck. You didn't even think he'd come, but obviously, Peter had to lure the snake away. You hadn't talked to him since you spoke on the phone and even then you promised you would go back to avoiding each other. He was just keeping that promise no matter how much it pained him. Especially in that tiny little bikini. The gaze you shared felt like it had been going on for hours, Miguel shook his head and grunted before turning his back to leave. This was a huge mistake. You looked so incredible it was making him lose it.
“Oh, it looks like Miguel got here.” MJ teased but you didn't even care enough to listen, you panted heavily and loosened out of her hold and rolled onto the floor and scrambled yourself up and practically rushed inside.
Pathetic and desperate didn't even begin to cover it at this point.
Miguel went into the bathroom to get his jacket, mumbling with a stern look on his face, that little v forming in between his eyebrows whenever he furrowed his brows. He quickly glanced in the mirror and took a minute to contemplate his purpose, he was sweating and the hair on his body stood to attention, it was the moment before being struck by lightning but a thousand times worse. He raked his hands through his hair, rubbed his eyes, and went to leave. When he opened them you were at the doorway. Getting closer to him. And then you closed the door behind you and leaned on it. Miguel just took and deep breath and sighed once your scorching gazes connected again. You could feel your bones going limp as he practically stared a hole into your face
He could see every dip and curve of your body, the thin fabric of your bikini covered so little but he already knew what was under it. He wanted to feel it. He needed to feel it. You had this confused aloof look on your face, a pretty pink stain on your lips and cheeks, eyes sparking with a sincere desperation that you couldn't hide when you were this close.
“Thanks for getting rid of the restriction on my watch, that was very philanthropic of you.” Your lips curved into a jagged scowl as you quipped sarcastically, and you crossed your arms like you were in a huff but Miguel wasn't thinking clearly.
“Thought we said we go back to avoiding each other.” Miguel raised an eyebrow at you. You were shining under the dim bathroom lights, the tanning oil that MJ put on you causing your skin to gleam and shimmer, your scent and skin were driving him crazy but he had to hold it together. It was all he had left.
You paused, taking yourself off the door and taking a few small steps closer to him.
“You know as much as I do that I wouldn't have been able to do that.” You whisper, blinking up at him.
“Don't give me that look.” Miguel averted his gaze elsewhere to the pale walls of the bathroom but like a magnet, his eyes always drew back to you. He was staring at your lips. Sweet yet cunning. Mesmerisingly calculating.
“Does it make me a bad person that I want to see you break?” You smiled slyly at him, half joking half not.
“Today's not that day.” He smirked, almost teasing you. It was like a second instinct, to butter you up and then leave you on edge. Miguel brushed passed you and you scoffed at his reply.
“Ouch.” You giggled dryly. “Fine. Let's manage then.” You rolled your eyes and he just let out a neutral 'hmm."
Miguel's hand went to the door handle and he tried to pry it open, not thinking anything of it initially but the handle wouldn't budge. He cocked an eyebrow, confused at his lack of strength. Then he tried again. It still wouldn't move.
“Ugh, what's taking so long? Open the door.” You groaned before turning around to see that he physically couldn't open the door. It was stuck.
"No. No. This can't be happening.” He mumbled with a strain under his breath, his eyes shot open and a confused look washed over his face, then it turned to anger. White hot anger.
“Move.” You grunted and then elbowed him to the side, the small brush of skin was enough to send sparks alighting under both of you. Ignoring it as per usual, you pulled on the handle, your grip tightened and even with all vour might it still wouldn't fucking open.
"Oh my fucking God.” Miguel buried his head in his hands and paced around as you continued to try and pry the door open, groaning and failing miserably.
“We're stuck in here.”
-
IM BACK FROM VACAY MORE CHAPTERS V SOON!
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Simmer #8
CH8. Boiling Point | The Menu
[3.7K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.
You wished the diner was busier.
You would’ve done anything for more customers to serve. Anything. But Jim’s was quiet, only a few regulars scattered around the tables, only wanting coffees, no refills, scowling if you came too close, blocking the sunlight that fell onto their newspapers.
Robin and Steve were by the bar, throwing a crumpled napkin between them like a baseball, talking softly about nothing important and you felt too hot as you stood polishing the cutlery, shoving napkins into dispensers with clumsy hands. You could see Eddie through the kitchen hatch, prepping the burger buns for the dinner rush that you hoped would come. His eyes were trying to find yours as he rolled out the dough but you were avoidant, moving around each empty table with your head ducked.
Eventually, the rolling in your stomach became too much and the sight of Chrissy loitering in the kitchen was making that hot flush creep higher up your neck, across the back of your ears. You slammed a pile of menus down on the coffee bar, ignoring the way Mr Creel grumbled at you, looking at Steve and Robin as if they’d be able to fix the way you were feeling.
“Did Eddie and Chrissy used to date?” You came right out with it, voice rushed and quiet, speaking low in hopes that your question wouldn’t carry into the kitchen.
The radio was on, a female voice crooning from the speakers and you hated the way Chrissy was swaying to the beat, powder blue uniform skimming the tops of her thighs as she stood too near Eddie, refilling the salt and pepper shakers.
“It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want, cry if I want to, cry if I want to. You would cry too, if it happened to you…”
“Chrissy?” Robin wrinkled her nose and looked into the kitchen, too obvious. You tugged at her arm, pleading. “Don’t look.”
Steve snorted, hopping off of the bar to block lean over it instead, knocking his knuckles against yours. “Nah. I mean, I don’t think so?” He squinted at you before he shared a look with Robin and the girl shrugged, confused. “Chrissy just likes to flirt. With like, everyone. Her and Eddie were friendly, I guess?”
“Friendly,” you repeated, swallowing the word with the lump in your throat.
“It’s not, it’s not like that,” Steve murmured softly. His eyes were searching yours, watching the way they turned glassy. “It’s not like it is with you, trust us, you don’t have to worry about that, okay?”
Robin nodded, reaching out to hold your hand. She squeezed your fingers and smiled. “Yeah, you seriously don’t have to panic. Eddie doesn’t worry about our eating habits,” she grinned when you rolled your eyes. “And can we talk about that hickey yet? ‘Cause, shit…”
You groaned, cheeks warm but your friends had succeeded in quelling the ache in your chest, if only just. You felt like the new kid again with Chrissy around, watching her sit on the stool - your stool - at Eddie’s station, laughing at a joke you couldn’t hear, pocketing tips from the truckers who came in for coffee and cake, asking her how her summer was, if she was still working seasons at the camp a few towns over.
Chrissy was confident and bright, a bubblegum pink smile and rosy cheeks, a pretty, bouncy thing that made you feel two inches tall and every time you caught her near Eddie, your heart sank a little. She touched him a lot, a delicate hand on his arm, shoving at his shoulder when he made her laugh, brushing a crumb off the lapel of his chef whites after he whisked up a new batter.
You stayed away from the kitchen, only taking orders that Jonathan handed you from across the hatch and you could see the way Eddie’s brows knitted together every time you turned your back on him but the jealousy was too overwhelming. The uncertainty, the self conscious ache that made your neck feel too hot and you knew you were being ridiculous.
You did. You knew.
But it was too soon to be marking your territory and scaring away the boy with questions like, ‘what are we? Have you kissed her? Have you kissed her like you kissed me? Are we more than friends now? Are we more than what you have with her?
“Chicago,” Jonathan’s voice interrupted your pity party. He was pouring a coffee for Mr Creel, the man’s seventh refill of the afternoon. “Chef’s asking for you.”
Your stomach flipped and you grimaced, trying to pull off the expression as a smile. You weren’t sure it worked. You held up the cloth you’d been walking around with for an hour to look preoccupied, shrugging half heartedly. “Busy,” you told the boy.
“He said he’s made you lunch,” was all Jonathan replied.
So you sighed and tried not to let his words tug on your heartstrings too much. You smiled and gave in, throwing the cloth onto the workstation by the kitchen door and you didn’t even bother announcing your arrival when the diner was so quiet. Eddie looked up the second you appeared, eyes wide and he was just finishing plating up a stack of pancakes, a bundle of chopped strawberries in a bowl beside them.
“Hey,” he breathed, wiping his hands on his apron. “Hey. You okay? I’ve not seen you all shift.”
The kitchen was empty, no sign of Chrissy. The stoves were off and only one grill was still sizzling, leftover pancake batter crisping in the corners as it cooled down, a simmer in the quiet. You smiled weakly, unable to stop the wobble in your lip.
Cry baby, cry baby, cry baby.
You coughed, clearing your throat until the lump there disappeared and you nodded. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Sorry, it’s, uh,” you winced as you gesture back to the empty diner. Steve was sleeping in one of the booths, his head against the window. “It’s been… busy.”
“Sweetheart,” Eddie murmured, a frown on his face. It was soft, concerned. “Sit, yeah? Have lunch with me?”
You took a step forward, aching to walk to the boy, to let yourself push your face to his chest and let him smooth his hands over your hair. You got to spend the night into the early morning with him, draped over his lap as you shared triangles of grilled cheese and then kisses after it but you missed the way he felt already.
Then the fire exit door opened and Chrissy sauntered back in, cooing at the sight of the pancakes on the worktop. Eyes wide, she skipped over, ponytail bouncing like something out of a damn daydream and you didn’t know what to say when she picked up the fork Eddie had laid out for you and speared it through the stack. Her lips were sticky with gloss and maple syrup as she licked them, moaning sweetly as she looked at Eddie.
“Oh my god, Eds,” Chrissy sounded pornographic. “I missed your cooking so much, you know that?” She turned to you, grinning. Oblivious - maybe. “Does this cutie pie cook you up some food too? I swear, I used to get three meals a day when I worked here full time. Oh my god— Eddie! Remember the triple stacked pizza—?”
You didn’t hear the rest of the story. You really didn’t care to. And as rude as it may have seemed, you walked right past Chrissy and Eddie and the pancakes that were no longer yours. You could feel the tears burning the corner of your eyes and it made your nose itch, your cheeks burn. You weren’t doing this where people could see.
The door to the walk-in was heavy but you yanked it hard, breath catching in your throat like a hiccup and you were quick to close it behind you, the thud making the shelves inside rattle but it was suddenly quiet as it was cold. The heat of embarrassment faded, the burn crawling up the back of your spine disappeared and you sniffed, gazing up at the ceiling as if that would quell your tears. You stared at the patches of ice, focusing on the goosebumps rising across your bare arms instead.
It was silly, you thought, to feel such a way. To let someone make you feel that way. But beside Chrissy and her perfectly curled ponytail and her pretty Mary Jane sandals, you felt small. Unimportant. Like you suddenly didn’t belong in the stupid diner with its stupid chequered tables and its broken soda machine. Chrissy hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. It was mean of you to dislike her, with nothing more than a name and her connection to Eddie to fuel your jealousy.
Feeling petulant, you decided that was enough. You swore, mostly at yourself, and pressed the heels of your palms to your watery eyes. You felt replaced and it was an awful, ugly feeling. As much as you tried to remember what Robin and Steve had told you earlier, you couldn’t get over the way Chrissy looked at Eddie, like she really knew him, like she had some sort of claim on him. It was a very female thing to pick up on, only seeing the subtle signs through the eyes of being a girl.
The glances, the quick up and down she gave you as you arrived that morning, weighing up the chances of you being competition. The touches on Eddie’s arm, the territorial way she barely left his station, the too sweet smile she gave you as she ate the lunch Eddie made for you. The chit chat that seemed pleasant enough, the not so hidden reminders in her stories that she knew Eddie for longer than you had, better than you did. They had inside jokes, old memories, shared stories.
There was a knock at the door.
An odd thing to hear, on the other side of a walk in refrigerator, but you knew there was only one person it could’ve been. So you sniffed again and swiped meanly at your eyes, leaning against the door, ignoring the chill, the way your cheeks were both hot and cold at the same time.
“I’ll be out in a second,” you called through the steel. “I’m just… trying to find some—” your mind blanked as you looked around the space aimlessly, eyes landing on crates of vegetables. “—some asparagus.”
You made a face, annoyed with yourself for such a lame excuse and you heard a shuffle from outside before a familiar voice came through. “Sweetheart? Can I come in?” Eddie sounded muffled, mainly from the inches of steel and insulation between you but you could still pick up on the concern in his voice.
You sighed, bottom lip wobbling and you opened the door, the brief wash of warm air hitting your cold face. The fridge didn’t lock. Eddie could’ve bathed in whenever he liked. But there was something about the way he’d asked you that had you giving in easier than you thought you would. You stepped back, arms goosepimpled and crossed over your chest as you made room for the boy inside the walk in. Back against the metal racking, your hip bumped against a pallet of butter, boxes of it stacked high. You didn’t look at Eddie not yet.
“Why’re you crying?” Eddie asked gently, ducking down and bending slightly at the knees so he could look at your face, so he could try and coax you into meeting his gaze. It was a soft question, not anywhere near an accusation and he said it so sincerely, like he really wanted to know what was upsetting you.
All you heard was crybabycrybabycrybaby. So you turned your chin and hid your face in your hair, letting the strands stick to your wet cheeks and you swiped at your eyes again, too harsh for Eddie’s liking. Your breath left you in a hiccup, a holding thing that made the boy’s brows pinch together.
“Hey, hey,” Eddie reached out and curled a hand around your wrist, wide and still warmer than your own skin. “Hey, c’mon, c’mere.” The boy pulled you in closer, hands coasting over the apples of your cheeks, tutting softly as he wiped the way the tears there.
You cringed, embarrassed at being caught in such a state but Eddie pushed his thumb into your cheek until you let him lift your face and your gaze met his. He frowned, eyes big and earnest and he made a noise that was meant to soothe. You couldn’t help but lean into his palm, eyes watering again and you moved away, stumbling over your words, not sure if you should be apologising first or asking the questions you didn’t wanna know the answer to.
“God, I’m sorry,” you scrunched your face, mortified. “I’m— I don’t know why I’m getting myself like this, m’tired or something.” Before Eddie could respond you pulled back to stare at him, cheeks hot. “Is Chrissy like… did you and Chrissy— are you—?”
Eddie blinked at you, surprised. “I—”
You regretted it immediately, the accusatory way you asked such a personal question. It had been two months, one date, one kiss. You felt so stupid. “I have absolutely no right to ask you that,” you rushed out, eyes wide. Fuck, you felt worse than before. “I’m sorry, that’s— that's none of my business.”
“Sweetheart, you spent the majority of last night with my tongue in your mouth,” Eddie tried to joke, smiling weakly. “I think you’re allowed to ask that question.”
You looked at him, mournful, the lump still stuck in your throat and an awful feeling of unease clinging to you. You shrugged, a little hopeless. “Were you guys like.. a thing? Are you a thing?”
“No,” Eddie answered, soft and sure. “We’re not. We’ve never been— not like that. Chrissy…” Eddie swallowed and pulled at his apron, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “Chrissy just likes to be the centre of attention. And well, I guess you could say, uh, I used to have a crush on her?”
Eddie noticed the way your shoulders tensed. “But that was way, way back in high school. Nothin’ happened. Ever. And— and I don’t want anything to happen now.” Eddie grinned, wry, awkward. “She just likes to make sure she’s got everyone’s attention, y’know?”
You did know.
“You used to make her food too,” you noted sourly and you hated the way your voice came out small, delicate. Moody. “She said she was your favourite.”
“Babe,” Eddie said a little gruffly, fondly. He reached back out, hand catching yours and you let him. He played with your fingers, the ring on your middle one, his touch delicate and comforting. “I’m a cook. I make food for everyone, they just— they just gotta ask me.”
Well, didn’t you feel silly. So you bit a little, heat rising up then back of your neck again, embarrassment tingling, your voice rising. “I don’t know! It could’ve all been part of your— your moves, or something.”
“Moves?” Eddie choked out, incredulous. “Sweetheart, it took me two months to kiss you, you think I’ve got moves?”
You squirmed, embarrassed still. You shrugged, unsure what to say because in your eyes, Eddie had all the moves. You could still remember the way he kissed you, the feel of his hand on your jaw, your waist, in your hair, on your thigh. The way he kissed you between making you your grilled cheese, the bread almost burning as he got too caught up in you, in the way he pressed you back into the counter, dotting kisses over your cheeks, your nose.
“I don’t know,” you said again and you ducked your chin, hiding.
Eddie tsked but it was a soft sound, sympathetic and he pulled at your hand, tugging you into him until you relented. Your face found his chest, nose pushed to his fresh chef whites and he smelled like his cologne, lemongrass and something sweet like leftover icing sugar. He let you hide there instead, your hands clinging to the front of his apron and you only pressed closer when his hands smoothed over your shoulders, climbing down your sides until he could hold you to him. His lips were on your hairline, a little hesitant, because all of this was so new, because you were clearly upset, because he didn’t know what this was yet, how this worked.
“What can I do, hm?” Eddie asked you softly, voice a low murmur. The walk in didn’t seem as cold with the way his nose was pressed to your temple. “What can I do to make you feel better, tell me.”
That hopeless feeling melted away with each pass of Eddie’s hand up and down your back, fingers trailing over the curve of your spine. You mumbled something intelligible, shrugging your shoulders again and hoping that Eddie couldn’t feel the heat that radiated from you. “I dunno,” you whispered. You swallowed, throat tight. You didn't know what to ask for too much, not so soon. “I don't want to— I’m not trying to—”
“Breathe, sweetheart.” You could hear the frown in his voice.
“Last night meant something, right?” You didn’t ask for the world. No labels, not yet. Nothing too scary. Nothing too deep. “That wasn’t just a, uh, one off or whatever?”
Eddie laughed, the sound softened by the way he buried his face in your hair and the arms he’d wrapped around you tightened, squeezing, affectionate. “I have absolutely every intention of doing that with you again…” he murmured, coaxing you out of hiding only to cup your jaw, thumb pushed to your cheek. He grinned down at you, all flirt and charm. “And again and again and again. If you’ll let me.”
It was unnerving, what those words did to you. The tilt of his lips, the pretty cadence of his voice. Eddie’s thumb coasted over the apple of your cheek and suddenly you forgot all about the other waitress who was no doubt still outside in the kitchen. “That sounds nice, yeah.” You nodded, warm all over again, all for the right reasons.
“You gonna let me take you out too?” Eddie asked and he leaned back against the racks, the cold metal doing nothing to deter him as he spread his legs a bit, pulling you between them by the tie of your apron until you were framed by his thighs. Closer, closer. “A proper date this time, please. A movie, some dinner, a walk somewhere real nice so I can kiss you goodnight and all that stuff?”
You grinned, cheeks aching, surprising yourself with the suddenness of it because now? Right then? Nothing else mattered but Eddie. “That sounds even nicer,” you told him and your eyes crinkled with the brightness of your smile. “Please.”
“Can I kiss you now? Been wantin’ to kiss you for ages,” Eddie murmured and his eyes were on your mouth, thumb moving closer to your chin, the tip of it ghosting the curve of your bottom lip and you nodded, eager in a way that should’ve been embarrassing but you pushed yourself to your toes and clung to him a little tighter.
A soft kiss, much, much softer than the ones shared the night before but still not appropriate for the workplace. Especially not a walk-in that was cold enough to make your toes ache. Not that you cared. But Eddie didn’t seem to either, humming in appreciation when you pressed yourself against him, face tilting to the side for him to deepen the kiss a little, lips moving a little more urgently against your own.
“Need to stop,” he breathed as he pulled away, grudgingly, giving in again to press a peck to the corner of your mouth and then another to your cheek. His palms smoothed over your jaw, up across your temples to swipe away the baby hairs there. “Gonna get carried away.”
You felt dizzy, miles and miles away from the kitchen, from that awful feeling, from Chrissy. You knew exactly what he meant.
“Can I make you some food now?” Eddie nosed at your cheek, arms winding around your waist and you felt so adored, the affection pouring from him by the bucket full. “You’ve not eaten all day.”
“Because someone ate my pancakes,” you said sourly and you regretted it immediately. You didn’t want to be the jealous girl, the insecure girl, the petty girl. But Eddie made it very hard to want to share. “Sorry, that was rude.”
Eddie snorted and just kissed your head, a touch so casual it made your heart jump. “C’mon,” was all he said. “Get your butt out of here before you freeze.”
It was easier to shuffle out of the walk-in when Eddie was leading you, his hand holding yours, the burning embarrassment you’d once felt fading to a shameful simmer. Chrissy was still at the boy’s station, picking out pieces of strawberry from the bowl, the plate of pancakes now empty. Steve was placing a bucket of dirty coffee cups into the sink and he looked up as the two of you appeared.
“Oh hey,” he frowned in concern at your red rimmed eyes. “I wondered where you’d gone to, you ok—?”
“Couldn’t reach the top shelf,” Eddie interrupted, smiling as if nothing had happened. He sent Steve a look and Chrissy watched, sucking fruit juice and sugar from her fingers. Eddie grinned at you, squeezing past you and the counter, his hands on your hips as he passed. “Had to lend a helping hand, didn’t I? Short stack.”
Your heart ached, your chest feeling too full with the kindness, the affection. So you could only nod, looking sheepish and even if Steve didn’t believe Eddie, he stole a knowing glance at Chrissy and nodded. The kitchen was filled with the kind of tension that had made you run off in the first place, but the feeling of being out of place disappeared when Steve asked Eddie:
“I’m going for a smoke, you comin’?”
Eddie shook his head and busied himself with pulling an old stool out from Argyle’s prep station. It had one wobbly leg, but you didn’t care. Not when Eddie took your hand and helped you hop onto it, the chair closer to him than the stool Chrissy was sitting on.
“Nah, man,” Eddie said. “M’gonna make my girl some food.”
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fics#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson smut#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson drabble#eddie munson imagine#linecook!eddie
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Dating Tom Marvolo Riddle
Warnings: NSFW, possessiveness, toxicity
A/n: sorry for the long absence babes! I’m in my depressive episode again, but I finally managed to finish those hc’s, they’ve been in my drafts for ages🙄. Anyways, hope you’ll enjoy it💖
Even though Tom never expresses his attraction toward you verbally, you can still see just how much you mean to him through his actions. His love is all about the small gestures like fixing the askew collar of your shirt, sharing his notes if you have difficulties in some classes, making sure that you eat enough etc.
You’re the only one who can actually touch him. Of course, teachers, especially Slughorn, often give Tom encouraging pats on the back or shoulder, but only you are allowed to touch his skin. To play with neat waves of his dark hair, brush your fingertips against Tom’s cheekbones in endearment, interlock your fingers while walking down school halls together. Only you
Tom is very possessive, not only with treasured magical objects, but also with you. He wants everyone to know that you are his, his and his only. Most of the time one of his hands rests securely around your shoulders or waist, keeping you as close as possible, glaring down at anyone who looks at you longer than a few seconds
Because of said possessiveness Tom is almost always by your side - you sit together in all your shared classes, and if it happened that he doesn’t take one of the subjects that you do, he has his devoted followers to be right beside you instead, making sure that no ‘unreliable’ people from your class are in near proximity to you. Outside of classes - you’re almost always seated on his lap. In the common room, courtyard, library - everywhere. He especially loves it when you sit on his lap during his privat meetings in the Room of Requirements - him sitting in the head of a long table with you cuddled up into his side, surrounded by his followers listening resolutely to every word he says. It gives him such a sense of power, having not only all of his minions, but also you - the only person he loves - at his complete mercy
Every one of Tom’s followers knows better than to talk to you, unless you are the one who starts conversation. And god forbid them being anything than polite and friendly to you.
Casual dominance? Yes, Tom is all about that. He likes it when you submit to his orders, no matter how small and trivial they are. “Darling, finish your tea, you need to warm up after a walk” or “Go to bed now, it’s too late” or “Put your book down, you’ve been reading for too long. Let your eyes rest”. And it angers Tom so much when you disobey, he wants what’s best for you, why can’t you see that? Most of the conflicts you guys have are actually caused by that, because you too don’t like being pushed around like a small child
Talking about conflicts - it is extremely hard for Tom to admit that he’s wrong, so if conflicts do occur between you two, Tom makes it look like you are the guilty one (even if you’re not). So yeah, he’s still a bit toxic, no matter how hard he tries to suppress it within himself
NSFW ahead!
Despite popular opinion walking around this mesmerizing platform, I don’t think that Tom sleeps around with every person he deems attractive. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’ll be his first (and only) sexual partner, even despite all the girls and boys almost throwing themselves on him in hopes of getting at least one touch
WILL👏FINGER👏YOU👏LITERALLY EVERYWHERE👏 Okay but this man has absolutely no shame when it comes to his lover (meaning you). Plus points if you’re in public place like library or classroom, and god, is he cocky. “You gotta be quiet, yeah? Don’t want other people to hear how much of a slut you are, do we?” all while his long slender fingers make their way up under your skirt, past the elastic of your pretty panties, and all you are left to do is to spread your legs a bit wider for Tom, and try to be as quiet as possible. And oh, don’t forget to take notes, you’re still in a middle of a class!
NOT into daddy kink. Being an orphan, even the word ‘dad’ itself feels strange, wrong even for Tom, so if you want to call him daddy - expect him to freak the fuck out. But if you’re into names he’d love it if you call him ‘sir’ or ‘master’, it gives him sense of power and authority over you
And while we’re on this topic - you’re called everything BUT your name in bed. Tom loves calling you names - whore, slut, fucktoy, darling, sweetness, princess - all that stuff. And oh, when he mixes praise with degradations, all while fucking you absolutely stupid *sighs dreamily*. “What’s that dollface? Is it too much for you? Can this slutty cunt take no more of my cock inside, hm? Stop pretending sweetheart, I know how much of a greedy whore you are, so shut the fuck up and take it”
Definitely will pin you against the wall as he towers over your smaller form, one hand resting next to your head while the other one cups your face gently, forcing you to look him straight in the eyes while whispering the filthiest things ever, making your panties soaking wet in a matter of minutes just by using his words. “You’re so needy, aren’t you? Walking around in that short skirt, swaying your hips like that. Think I didn’t notice, hm? I’d love to see those hips swaying while you ride my cock, what do you think about that?”
Even though Tom expects full obedience from you, he still likes it when you get a bit bratty. When you comply with every one of his orders, but there’s still something mischievous and coquettish about your behavior - naughty little comments slipping off your tongue here and there, and then you are batting that pretty doe eyes up at him, as if it wasn’t you saying all those things. “Moan louder” he orders in a strained voice, hips snapping into yours with loud smacking sound. “Fuck harder then” you quip back, sly smirk curling your lips at the sight of Tom’s perfect eyebrows pulling together in a frown. Your small giggle dies in your throat as man pulls out of you, just to slam his cock all the way back into your pussy, making your body jolt forward with the ferocity of the impact. Want it harder - you get it harder
Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, they inspire me on creating even more content for you💖
#tom riddle#tom marvolo riddle#tom riddle x y/n#tom riddle x you#tom riddle x reader#tom riddle x reader smut#tom riddle x you smut#tom riddle x y/n smut#tom riddle smut#tom marvolo riddle smut#harry potter#harry potter writing#harry potter x reader#harry potter x you#harry potter x y/n#harry potter smut#smut#harry potter fanfiction#lord voldemord#voldemort#voldemort x reader
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