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star-sim · 4 months

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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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bluejeanstrash · 2 months

Text

tags: boyfriend! seungcheol x reader, domestic scenes, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of marriage | wc: 744

‘is he okay?’

‘mmm’ seungcheol nods, carefully closing the door behind him. ‘he’ll be fine. he fell asleep but i’ve kept the puke bucket next to the bed incase he needs it’

‘cheollie, we really need to throw that thing’ you make a face, thinking about how many times it had been used.

‘yeah, but people keep throwing up in our house!’

‘that’s because you keep making them drink way too much!’ seungcheol’s “home bar” was 3 bottles short of a liquor store. he was extremely proud of his collection and very generous with it, offering offensively expensive drinks to any and every guest that entered your home.

tonight, passed out in the guest room was hoshi, who had been taken out midway through his fourth drink. he hadn’t even made it to the dinner part of the dinner party you both were hosting.

seungcheol pouts in response, picking up a dirty glass left on the bar ‘do you want me to do the dishes, my love?’

‘nope, i’ve got it. can you clean up and take out the trash instead?’ he gets on it right away, pausing for a second to rub your shoulders when bringing the glass over. a second turns into a minute, and the rub into a mini massage as his fingers move deftly, kneading all those little knots away.

‘thank you baby, i needed that’ you sigh, and the next thing you know his arms are wrapped around you, his chin resting on the slope of your shoulder ‘you know what was really nice today?’

‘hmmn?’

‘you know when joshua’s friend…mark? yeah, mark. when he thought we were married’

it was first time it had ever happened. ‘so, how did you and your husband meet?’ mark had asked.

‘oh, he’s my boyfriend’ you had corrected him and moved on, but seungcheol was stuck right there. boyfriend? no, that just wasn’t going to cut it for him anymore. why would he ever want to be called your boyfriend when he could be your husband instead? a demotion, really.

‘i liked it. a lot. husband-’ he presses a kiss to the warm skin of your neck ‘-and wife’, and another, before pulling you into him. he brings his arm forward to turn off the tap before turning you around to face him.

‘what do you say? should we do it? get married?’ each question asked in between little pecks.

‘if this is your idea of a proposal-’

he chuckles, circling back ‘get married. make you my wife. get you…pregnant’ seungcheol feels a little giddy honestly, giddy at his own words. he’s already made up his mind — he wants this future, and only with you.

‘you want to put a baby in me?’ you tease, starting to feel a little hot under your clothes.

‘oh, i want to put many, many babies in you’ he mutters, his lips parting yours, impatient hands coming around to untie the knot of your apron.

‘want to put one in you right now...’ he grabs your ass to lift you up, your legs wrapping around him instantly. you pull off your rubber gloves, tossing them aside and lock your arms around his neck. you kiss him, a little needily, tugging at his hair to let him know you need him right here, right now. he turns around to take you to the kitchen island, opening his eyes for a second to see hoshi — hoshi who’s discreetly trying to make his way out of the kitchen.

‘shit!’ seungcheol’s grip on you loosens abruptly before he catches you, carefully putting you down.

‘sorry! i’m so sorry!’ hoshi covers his eyes, stumbling back ‘i didn’t see anything. i just..i threw up..in that bucket thing and didn’t know what to do with it’

‘it’s fine, it’s fine. go to the room. i’m coming’ seungcheol takes a second to calm himself down, taking deep breaths to redirect his blood flow.

‘this is what it’s going to be like with a kid, you know’ you joke, bending to grab the fallen gloves which doesn’t help his raging boner at all ‘at least hoshi can clean up after himself up. who’s going to clean up our child’s projectile vomit?’

there’s a moment of silence.

‘not it’

‘not it!’

you both giggle — you turning back to do the dishes, and seungcheol going to check up on hoshi, both of you back in the moment, dreaming of the future to come.

#random drabble to get back into writing #scoups fluff #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #scoups #choi seungcheol

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zhongrin · 4 months

Text

𒆙 the warrior god

part 1/8 of ⎡∞ / 𝟔 𝟎 𝟎 𝟎 ⁺⎦, a zhongli 2023 birthday event

𖧷 tags ┈ gn!reader, young boyfailure morax (well, not exactly, but you see traces of it if you squint-), pining (both ways), fluff, slight gore, major character death

𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓊 ❬ masterlist ❭ 𐫱 𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅 ❬ taglist ❭

𝓏ealousness was a quality that, most of the time, would not come to you unless you were in a very high spirit, all due to your cautious and shy nature. besides, would it not be unbecoming for a mortal such as yourself, to derive so much excitement over a deity you were not supposed to serve?

…. well, alright, one could say that technically, you were - though not exactly directly.

no, you were lady guizhong’s closest confidant despite being a mortal. so much so that people would sometimes refer to you as her priest/ess. it was an unofficial title that normally you would have prided yourself in, but right now, it was the very source of your dilemma.

but could anyone really blame yourself? surely any mortals would get at least a little bit excited when the apple of their eye’s birthday was right around the corner? shouldn’t one appreciate such occasions even more now, as the archon war was escalating? you could die tomorrow, so you might as well live to the fullest today, assuming it would be your last, right?

“uhm… m-my lord?“ you inwardly cursed the very lips that uttered the embarrassing stammer, but you braved yourself to look up at him, and immediately you were lost in those pools of amber eyes.

somehow, you could always spot something in his eyes - an abstract emotion you couldn’t describe nor comprehend, ever since the first time he laid his sight on you. perhaps it was an unfathomable emotion only gods could feel, just like how they would act outside mortals’ rationality; just like the very first time he met you and gifted you smooth and shiny pebbles with the prettiest patterns, along with other minerals that glittered and shimmered just like the cor lapis lining his back.

you heard the soft call of your name, and you realized you had been caught staring. ogling. at the close companion of the very god you were serving.

oh celestia swallow me whole.

“ah! oh- my- my sincere apologies, how could i dare- please forgive this foolish mortal’s ill manners!” you apologized profusely, body bent in a deep bow, frazzled mind half contemplating to grovel onto the ground to hide your burning face.

“please, there is no need to be so apologetic when you’ve done no offense,” he said, and though you could not hear it from his voice, had you looked up that very moment, you would have seen the slightest pink dusting his cheeks. “ahem… what is it that you require? is everything alright? if anything is inconveniencing you, i will make sure they’re taken care of.”

“your dedication to the people and your duties are as admirable as ever, my lord… we’re all always thankful of your tireless work in maintaining the people amidst these tumultuous times.”

“oh,” the benign expression slipped a little from his face, giving way to a brighter blush and a wider smile. his chest puffed like a proud sandhill crane, the deity cleared his throat, “of course. it’s my duty, after all. but your apt observation and kind words are appreciated.”

“… and… well… if this mortal may be excused for yet another impertinent action…,” you inhaled deeply before presenting the box you had been clutching to your chest towards the wide-eyed deity, “w-will you please accept this humble offering?”

“….. for… me?” the cluelessness in his voice was far too endearing, it tugged your heartstrings almost painfully. the gold of his fingers pulsing as he slowly reached out to grasp the box as if it was the most fragile glass that could shatter with the slightest push.

“yes- well- this time, unlike the previous years, you couldn’t have any banquets, so i thought- uhm- you know- i just…. wanted to wish you a happy birthday….”

oh celestia swallow me whole NOW.

his fingers, despite glowing with the power of geo, shook slightly as he unlocked the latch of the box with the most care you had ever seen someone muster to open such a simple contraption. you then heard his breath hitch at the sight of a golden hair clip, perfectly matching the pattern of his outfit, sitting on top of a velvet cushion.

“….,” your lord was silent for far too long, and you decided if celestia did not answer your call, you would instead dive headfirst into your blankets back home to wallow in shame.

“then!!! i must uh- prepare some tea for madam guizhong! so if you’ll excuse me-”

“thank you.”

“— i- huh…… y-yes?”

“thank you for your thoughtfulness."

“…... oh… but of course… you’re welcome… my lord…”

the warrior god- no… your protector god was as good-hearted as he was good-looking, there was no doubt about that. anyone could look at him and they would've felt their hearts flutter when they saw his magnificent form. but there was no mistaking the giddy and smitten feeling flooding your chest as he directed such a genuine, joyful smile to you.

i love you.

…. and as the foreseen war raged the very next day - as you felt the arrows sinking into your vitals and your life essence soak into the trembling cracking breaking ground, you clutched the stone pendant within your hands as your eyes slowly fluttered shut.

you had no regrets.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #rin writes #∞ / 𝟔 𝟎 𝟎 𝟎 ⁺

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mar-iiposa · 11 months

Text

prompt: the boys find out that their s/o snorts when they laugh

tag(s)/warnings: GN reader, suggestive comments/themes/jokes, vv fluffy

requests: open

authors note at the end for readers!! stay tuned :D

Leonardo:

he’s trimming his bonsai (you know how much he treasures them)

he’s slightly humming “boy’s a liar too

you’re reading a book whilst in the dojo

the dojo is quiet except for the calculated snips

you decided to save the next chapter of your book for later, so you quietly go on your phone

until you see a cute couples date idea on your ‘for you’ page

“hey, leo?”

you didn’t expect your voice to come off as wayy louder than intended

and neither did your boyfriend

the blue-masked ninja jumps at the unexpected noise

so much so that he knocks his bonsai over

his heart stops and he swiftly dove to the floor and scrambled to juggle the plant before finally catching it

he wipes his forehead and breathes a loud sigh of relief

however, you’re laughing your literal ass off

never have you seen him so visibly stressed

you were convinced he was gonna have a heart attack

hunched over and gripping your own sides, you’re hollering

and out comes snorts while you laugh

but as soon as you realize you’re snorting, you put a hand to your mouth

as you blink in embarrassment and security,

leo smiles over at you in adoration

with those criminal cute dimples too

“what was tha-?”

“you heard nothing.”

“babe, I know what I heard.”

you look away in pure embarrassment, heavily avoiding eye contact

“I know it’s weird-“

he’s now visibly confused

like wtf??? wdym ‘weird’??

he thought, if anything, that he’s the weird one

considering he’s a mutant turtle

“how is that gorgeous laugh weird?”

you’re about to respond when you pause

your cheeks grow warm

“what-“

“you heard me.”

and he’s giving you that little coy yet sincere smile of his

“you should laugh like that more often, princess.”

your jaw has dropped

he takes a few steps towards you

and he gently holds your chin, lifting it so that you look up at him

eye contact (l o r d)

“I like that raw beauty.”

you sink into your seat, oh my god

he chuckles softly and pecks your lips with a kiss before walking out of the dojo

you’re stunned.

and why are you turned on-

Raphael:

so we all know raph

and he is the biggest “gym rat”

( no offense to master splinter )

and you guys know those squats that you do with weights???

yeah, well, raph wanted to try those out today

and so he did

but it didn’t go by unnoticed

you were spotting raph (gym term) when mikey passed by

and my god, does mikey always have something to say

right as raph was mid-squat

“nice ass-popping, raph”

you

you LOST IT

in tears laughing

mikey instantly fled from the scene

the look on raphael’s face just made it so much better

and so did it make you laugh much harder

thus, you began to laugh your “real laugh”

snort after snort surrounded your laughter

uncontrollably snort-laughing

“ya got the hiccups there?”

and just as quickly as he mentioned it, you were just as quick to stop it

you stood from your seat and your brows furrowed together

he knew that look

that was when he knew he was screwed

and off you went, grabbing your things and ready to head up go the surface and back home for the night

he strides after you, reaching out for your arm

but you pull it back before he can get the chance

“babe, what’s wro-“

you stop briefly outside of the lair’s entrance, tears pricking at your eyes

you feel the droplets on your lashes, and you can’t look at him

so, he stands in front of you

and his heart stings

“I feel like a pig,” you cough slightly as you begin to cry

raph’s expression instantly softens

“baby… yer speakin’ nonsense.”

he gently takes your hand in his big, rough and calloused one

“everyone always says that when they hear my real laugh.”

your pout quivers as your lips do so, your shoulders shaking slightly as you cry

you move to cover your mouth and half of your face with your other hand as you cry

but he stops you

and he carefully places it on his cheek

and his left hand rests on your cheek too

“raphae-“

“I love ev’rythin’ about ya. sweet cheeks, look at me.”

your gaze flickers to meet his amber eyes

“you could have a million laughs… but this one right here? jesus, that one’s my favorite. now that’s for sure.”

you get on your toes and desperately hug your much-taller boyfriend

now this is one of the reasons he’s the love of your life

“I love you, raphie.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Donatello:

that’s it

he’s convinced you are 110% his soulmate

and here he thought that he had the worst and dorkiest laugh

this snort-laugh of yours occurred when donnie had accidentally taken a sip of scorchingly-hot coffee

he was sleep deprived

thus, he forgot how hot coffee could be

directly after pouring it

and you weren’t quick enough to stop him

so you snort laugh, stomping a little as you throw your head back in your chair

he used to hate his own laugh that involved tons of snorting sounds

but now you’ve effortlessly convinced him that it’s the best laugh in the entire universe

“what was that?”

donnie’s got the biggest and most goofiest grin on his face

“I can explain-“

his grin expands

“yeah, huh? give me another demonstration, darling.”

you shake your head in disagreement

just as you open your mouth to further reply, he continues

“oh, I bet I can out-snort you, jellybean.”

a wicked grin plastered on his face

and a mirroring grin begins to grow on yours too

“how much are we talkin’?”

“un-licked poptarts.”

“annddd?”

“annddd I’ll have to be out of the lab for a week.”

woah

this dude was serious

“deal. pleasure doing business with you, an-“

“nuh uh, no stalling. let’s hear it, you first.”

donnie gestured towards you to start off the competition

you give a purposely-snarky little laugh, snorting near the end

your boyfriend gives a nod of approval

“very cute, might be hard to beat.”

then he gives it a go

“such a rookie”

he shoots such a devastatingly-cute yet playful grin over at you

he then cracks his knuckles

“game on.”

and so now this just sparks your competitive side

you two spend the next 15 minutes just going back and forth

and those passing by right outside of the lab are so confused

“what the hell’s going on in there-”

Michelangelo:

thank god he’s a comedian

you’ve giggled countless times around mikey and towards his jokes

he’s a funny one

indefinitely getting giggles and chuckles straight out of you

but your actual laugh???

it had yet to be unleashed

until today

your boyfriend’s trying to show you how to get creative with your art

lately, you’ve been out of the zone

and who better than than the master of creativity himself to help you out of your art block?

so here you are in the sewers, spray painting on the walls

“angelcakes, you’re too stiff! you gotta relax, chillll”

“but I’m trying!”

he moves to stand directly behind you, covering your eyes with the tails of his mask, his hands over them as well

“what’re you doing?”

“just spray with your eyes closed and move, babes.”

you inhale and then exhale

with a few movements here and there, you decide to start off small until you could hopefully gain inspiration from there

instead, all you got was a surprise

“IS THAT A PENIS?”

apparently, you accidentally drew one

mikey yelped, falling to the floor as he banged his fist against it in fits of laughter

he had the humor of a middle-school boy

and so did you

top tier comedy imo

you kneeled down to the floor beside him

clapping your hands, you feel yourself losing control of your body

and that accounts and goes for your laugh too

least expecting it, you begin to snort as you uncontrollably laugh

some squeals in there too as you try to regain your composure

he laughs harder, pointing at you

you nearly feel the insecurity start to seep in

that is until you hear him go “awee!”

and your heart melts

but not as much as his has

“you like my snorting??”

“who wouldn’t?! it’s the cuuutest thing ever, baby!”

you swore that you fell deeper in love with this man

somehow

you both just sit there in those sewers

laughing over an accidental penis drawing

and continuing to laugh like a couple of fools

lovesick fools

author’s note: hello, everyone!! glad to be back! I’ve been on hiatus recently, but I hope to be more active and produce more fanfics and headcanons for you guys :) I am currently open to requests, so please send them my way! and don’t limit yourself, you can send as manyyyy requests as you want!! please leave comments and stuff, they fuel my motivation and validation tbh 🫶 thank you for reading, thrilled to be back!!

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reiding-writing · 4 months

Text

Hiii, I absolutely loved immortal it was adorable! I was wondering if I could request a fluff fic w Gn!reader where when Spencer goes to the swing set after the whole thing with Cat at the restaurant reader also goes there maybe to read a book and it's a whole meet cute kinda thing cause it's one of his favorite authors or smth? sry for the long request I was trying to be specific Imao

swinging [s.r]

Summary:

You attempt to find your usual late night escape in the empty play park late one evening after an argument with your boyfriend, instead you find a handsome stranger that you find oddly endearing.

WARNINGS: shitty boyfriend (not spencer obviously)

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: fluff (kinda hurt/comfort)

wc: 1.5k

masterlist!!

a/n: i am reuploading this once and once only so if it doesn’t upload to the tags again then i am giving up-

“It’s a little late for a play date don’t you think?”

Your comment clearly catches the boy in front of you off guard, his head shooting upwards and his eyes wide like he was in a state of fight or flight.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” You take a second to admire the man in front of you through your apology.

His hair was fluffy, bordering curly, and long enough that it was getting caught in his eyelashes as he blinked up at you.

His eyes were big, round, and practically glistening in the warm lighting of the lamp post to your left.

He was dressed in a finely pressed black suit fit with a baby blue shirt and a lilac tie that made him look like he’d walked right out of one of those rom-coms where the male lead is a prolific billionaire.

He was gorgeous.

“I came here to wallow in my own self-pity but it looks like you beat me to it,” You can’t help but chuckle softly at your own explanation. “Do you mind?”

You gesture towards the swing besides his with a book held in your left hand and a soft expression, as if to silently tell the beautiful stranger in front of you that if he wanted to be alone that you would feel any offense.

“Uh- yeah- no- no, go ahead,” You don’t even try to suppress the smile that creeps its way onto your face at the way he stumbles over his words, and you take a seat on the swing next to him with a chuckled “Thank you,” as you turn your head down to the open book in your lap, just illuminated enough under the lamp post so you can read the words on the pages.

Any distinguishing factors, including the book’s title were unceremoniously hidden from view as it blends into the night’s shadows, effectively halting curious effort of the boy next to you to figure out what it is.

Of course, it doesn’t take long for you to feel his lingering gaze, and you follow it down to the novel in your hands before you show off the cover in his direction.

Paramenides by Plato.

“Have you read it?”

Your voice stops his psychoanalysis of your literature choices as he turns his eyes back up towards your face again.

“I have actually,” He nods softly at you with a pursed, slightly awkward smile, the contours of his cheek bones perfectly captured in the dim lighting. “I read it when I was doing my Philosophy degree.”

“No kidding-“ You let out a small laugh in surprise at the fact the cute stranger encroaching on your usual pity party venue just so happened to have a degree in Philosophy.

He also just so happened to have an absolutely beautiful laugh, the sound like a song in your ear as he joins you in laughing about the absurdity of the odds that the two of you both had a keen interest in philosophy.

“So, what brings you out here so late then?” You seem to lose interest in your book as the two of you make eye contact, shutting it in your lap as you turn your shoulders towards him. “No, wait, let me guess, shitty date?”

The boy lets out a breath that could almost constitute as laugh, averting his eyes from you and leaning towards slightly to awkwardly run his hands over his legs. “Something like that-”

You give him a sympathetic smile and a nod. “Don’t let it ruin your perception of romance, it’ll work out in the end,”

The boy’s eyes turn up towards you once more as you speak, and your smile becomes a little more awkward as he meets your gaze once more.

“You don’t look like you believe yourself…” His words leaving you blinking softly in his direction, facial expression full of confusion.“Your relationship isn’t going very well at the moment is it?”

Your expression morphs at his question and he immediately backtracks, waving his hands around as he tries to pull back the conversation.

“I’m sorry- I didn’t- I’m-” He takes a sharp breath in through his nose before attempting to actually speak a full sentence to you. “I’m a uh profi- A behavioural analyst- I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable i’m so sorry-“

“No it’s alright,” It was your turn to awkwardly drag your hands down your legs now, fingers curling over the edge of your book as you reach it and fiddle with the metal plating on one of the corners of the cover. “You’re not wrong,”

You can practically see the curiosity in his eyes as you confirm his suspicion. “Is that why you’re here?”

You can hear the cautiousness in his tone as he presses you further, clearly scared about crossing a line, “You said you came here to ‘wallow in self-pity’ earlier…”

You can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of your earlier statement as he repeats it back to you. “We uh, had an argument,”

You play it off as something insignificant, but you can tell that he doesn’t believe you and soon end up finding yourself spilling the entirety of your relationship problems to someone you’ve never met before.

“He has this best friend that he’s like weirdly close to and he stood me up on a movie night we were supposed to have so they could go out together instead-“ You sigh exasperatedly as you replay the nights events in your head.

“I called him to ask where he was and it spun into him yelling at me for ‘not respecting’ his friendship because they’ve been friends longer than we’ve been dating, it’s stupid really-“

“That’s not stupid at all,” He shakes his head determinedly at you. “He’s not respecting your relationship, i’m sorry you have to deal with that,”

You can’t help but feel minorly guilty for making a stranger feel bad for you, but you give him a soft “Thank you,” nonetheless.

You unfortunately don’t have time to continue your conversation as your phone buzzes with a message from your boyfriend telling you that you have to go home to your shared apartment.

With a sigh you pick yourself up from the swing, clutching your book underneath your arm.

“Well, it was nice to meet you…” You trail of the sentence with indication for him to fill in the space with his name.

“Dr. Reid- Spencer Reid- Spencer- I’m Spencer....”

You can see the flush spread across his cheeks and over his nose as he stumbles out his name.

“I enjoyed speaking with you Spencer,” You give the cute stranger, Spencer, a soft smile as you prepare yourself to leave, hands stuffed in your pockets.

“I enjoyed speaking to you too,” He returns your smile with one of his own, albeit one that’s slightly more awkward, and you can see his mouth fall open again as if he was going to say something else, but his words fall short.

“Good night,” Your stopped in your walk home almost before it even starts as Spencer calls after you with a new found confidence.

“Wait-“ His voice echoes through the empty play park, and you turn around to meet his glistening gaze once more. “Am I- going to see you again?”

His half-awkward demeanour was oddly charming, eliciting a soft smile that spreads to your eyes.

“I like to read here sometimes, bring a book with you and maybe we can read together…”

Spencer smiles at your indirect invitation to see him here again in the future, and he nods softly at your answer, standing from the swing he was sat on to mirror you. “I’d like that,”

“Good,” You give him another soft smile that joined by a slight tilt of your head. “I’ll see you soon then..”

“Yeah…” Spencer stays stood as he watches you leave to go home, mind running at a million miles a minute as his brain fully comprehends what just happened.

You’re already out of sight before he realises that he forgot to ask for your name.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #mgg #asks 🫶

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angel-of-the-moons · 5 months

Text

Small Surprises

Moon Knight System (Marc/Jake/Steven) x Single Mother!Reader

TW/CW: Some mentions of past childhood abuse, cheating partner, mostly fluff

A/N: Like the Symbrock one I did, this one will be one whole fic with a few times skips here and there! This fic will also explore a bit more into the autistic side of Steven as a character, based off my own experiences with my autism, tics, habits etc! Also, once again, featuring snippets of the hobby headcanons done by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction! (I love those headcanons so much they are canon as far as I'm concerned asdfghjkl)

Taglist: @chrishy973 @katitakenway @queerponcho

EDIT: Part 2 is out now!!! Read it here!

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Another droll day at the museum, the same disinterested customers and more nagging from Donna. Honestly, Steven was lucky he got his job back at the museum--though he only surmised it was due to the fact nobody else wanted to work for Donna--but he was grateful for the extra income.

And it definitely helped provide a distraction from Jake's night activities for Khonshu, as well as Marc's from time to time.

But of course, even though it provided a distraction, it wasn't much of one.

That is... until the day a poofy mop of curls bounced into the gift shop, eagerly looking at the wares within with big sparkling eyes. The child couldn't have been older than four--maybe five--as she happily looked at the myriad of items available.

Contrasting to most of the little girls he's seen come in (which, were admittedly few) she didn't immediately run over to the cheap horse figures with the chariots or even the cat plushies.

She went right for things like the plushie scarabs, the statues...

This of course had Donna proverbially chewing her nails as she watched the unaccompanied minor scamper about the gift shop.

"I'm going back to do inventory," She warned Steven. "If she breaks anything, it's coming out of your pay, Stevie."

Steven ground his teeth when she called him that, and waited for her to walk away before muttering. "What little you do pay me, you bloody old biddy."

Steven fixed his name tag and walked up to the little girl, crouching next to her as her chubby little face scrunched in what appeared to be distaste.

"Hey there, poppet. What's got you upset, eh?" He asked, his big brown eyes meeting hers as she crossed her arms with a huff.

"They don't look right!" She complained.

"Oh? What doesn't look right?" Steven asked patiently, a warm smile on his face.

The child pointed to the small canvases and posters of the various Egyptian gods. Namely the ones of Bastet and Anubis, and in particular of the two, one of the canvases depicting Anubis surrounded by shrieking souls and flames.

He himself had raised a complaint with that depiction, as after his own time in the Egyptian afterlife (alongside Marc, and unbeknownst to them at the time, Jake) he knew the afterlife was not like that. While they hadn't met Anubis himself, they were guided and weighed by Taweret.

But he wholeheartedly agreed that the artwork of Anubis was entirely wrong, and frankly, offensive.

"'Nubis isn't like that." She said, stomping her little foot. "He's nice!"

Steven raised his eyebrows at her, tilting his head as some stray curls fell over his face. "Oh?" He asked. "Then tell me little one, how is Anubis?"

"He's--!" She scoffed, rolling her eyes in the typical fashion a child does when they feel like they're explaining something painfully obvious to an oblivious adult.

"He's a good dog-man." She says to him. "He doesn't mess with skulls n' stuffs! He's nice, he helps people who might get lost when they die."

'That's a hefty subject for a kid.' Marc's voice spoke.

"No kidding." Jake remarked. "Where are her parents?"

Steven meanwhile, was positively thrilled that one so young understood that Anubis, while being the god of death, was not evil. And... naturally this sent him into info-dump mode.

"Why, yes! Anubis is good." He held up a finger as the little girl looked at him, awe on her face that he understood what she was saying and was willing to actually talk about it.

"He guided souls once they left their earthly bodies." He explained, grabbing a small replica of an Egyptian temple front. "Once their hearts were weighed, if they were good, he would help guide them to the afterlife. If they were bad..."

"They got ate by the crocko-lion!" The girl finished with a gasp.

Steven suppressed the urge to laugh at how she described Ammit. Jake and Marc meanwhile, held no such compunction and were laughing their asses off.

"I like this kid." Jake said as his laughter died down.

"Yes! They did. But did you know they also had to be judged? Not just with the scales?" Steven grinned at her as she bounced on her heels, the palms of her hands rubbing on her coveralls as she listened.

"Now that subject is very lengthy...." Steven leaned over on the flats of his shoes and plucked a small book about the Egyptian afterlife and mythos and showed it to the little girl. The cover was emblazoned with raised gold print; with images of sarcophagi, and motifs scattered on the front and back.

"But it's always worth a good read." Steven continued. "Now, if you want to know someone else who sometimes assists those who've passed on?"

The little girl plucked the book out of Steven's arms, nodding, her eyes tracking the way his mouth and hair moved. Not once did she make eye contact, instead settling for staring at other features instead.

Steven could understand, sometimes looking into people's eyes was... oof. It was difficult and frankly sometimes it made him uncomfortable, made his palms itch and the hair on the back of his neck tickle.

He stood up, and walked to another shelf, the little girl trailing behind him, the book looking three sizes too large for her tiny body as her little light up sneakers squeaked on the waxed linoleum.

Steven reached down, then, and grabbed a plaster statuette of a familiar feminine shape sporting a hippo head and kneeled back down, showing it to her.

"This is Taweret." He beamed proudly.

"She's the nice hippo lady." The child peeped, staring at the statue with rapt attention.

"Yes! Yes, she is! Very nice." Steven chuckled. "But she's also the goddess of motherhood and children, did you know? She protects women when they have their babies, and helps them."

The little girl nodded, "Yeah, I read a thingy 'bout her! She's--"

"Victoria! Oh my god." A breathless voice called from the front of the shop.

The moment Steven lifted his gaze, he could feel his heart catch on his throat when he saw you. Even Marc and Jake went quiet as you approached.

You were wearing some faded-out jeans and a t-shirt with a faded band logo that hugged your figure very nicely. You had a backpack slung over your shoulders and the keychains dangling from it tinkled and clacked as you moved, rushing to scoop up your child.

Steven could easily see that Victoria got her looks from you, those gorgeous inquisitive eyes, her nose, hair texture...

Jake had to give him the mental equivalent of a slap to stop his gawking as he stood up awkwardly, wiping the hand not holding the statue on his jeans as he gave you what he hoped was a charming smile, but judging by your wariness, you obviously weren't thrilled at the sight of your daughter talking to a strange man.

Steven was about to speak up, but Victoria did so instead for him, not reading the tenseness in the situation.

"Steven's my friend!" She beamed, holding the book in her pudgy little fingers, showing you. "He knows about 'Gyptian stuff, too!"

Steven blinked, feeling a blush creep up on his cheeks as you looked at him, raised eyebrows. It took him a moment of awkward glancing away to realize Victoria knew his name because she read his name tag. He hadn't once said it to her. Hell, he only knew her name because you said it when you ran in!

"Ah... Yes. I work here, in the gift shop. Egyptology is a major... um." He struggled to find a word.

"Hyperfixation?" You sigh, the tension easing from your shoulders as you smile tiredly.

"Oh! Yes. I s'pose!" He said, blinking his big doe eyes at you.

"Yeah, Victoria is... well." You chuckle, propping the young child on your hip with practiced ease. "She's obsessed with the stuff! I swear, the stuff she can shove into her noggin with how much she knows of ancient Egypt, it feels like she was born in the wrong era, I'm telling you!"

Victoria smiled happily and snuggled into you, rubbing her cheek on the soft fabric of your shirt with a content hum, almost like a happy little cat.

You didn't pay any mind to her as she rubbed her face on you, instead conversing with the man in front of you.

"Ah... A little scholar to be, eh?" Steven laughed awkwardly.

"Hah, more like she already is one. With everything she knows, I swear she outpaces me in the IQ department." You sigh fondly, brushing a stray curl from your daughter's face.

Steven's eyes anxiously tracked your movements, how your fingers curled, the way your eyelashes brushed your cheeks when you blinked, the way your foot tapped on the floor...

"I'm surprised she talked to you. She's normally very introverted." You hum softly, raising those drop dead gorgeous eyes to lock with his before he awkwardly dropped his eyes to your lips whilst you spoke.

"But then again, if you started talking about this stuff with her, it's no surprise. I'm the only person she talks to about it because nobody else understands."

You noticed his Steven was looking anywhere but your eyes, and how he nervously licked at his lips, his fingers wrapped around the statuette in his hands tapping idly.

"Oh! She's a lovely little conversationalist. Rather well-knowledged as well!" Steven replied, looking at Victoria again, who grinned as she once again rubbed her face on your shirt.

"Honestly, she's more learned than half the adults who try to talk to me about Egypt." He huffed out a chuckle.

His eyes dropped to the picture of Anubis that initially offended the child. "We got into a little debate about how inaccurate those pieces of Anubis are."

"Oh, don't get her started on those inaccurate artworks... She despises them!" You laugh softly.

"Oh, I fully understand why! It's so offensive!" Steven gasped. "Especially to a culture! Anubis is not an evil god by any means!"

"Oh yeah, believe me... we watched a movie the other day and she had a meltdown because they made Anubis the bad guy. She was so distraught it took thirty minutes to calm her down." You smile with infinite patience at your little girl.

"Oh, poor little dear! But I can totally understand that." Steven smiled, finally locking eyes with you as he reached some level of professional comfort with you.

"Mommy, can I get em?" Victoria peeped, interrupting you before you could get another word out.

"Hm?" You hummed at her, raising an eyebrow.

"The book and hippo lady!" She replied, holding up the book.

"Hippo Lady?"

"Yeah!" She said, sounding a little exasperated, pointing to the statue Steven clutched in his hands. "Her! Tawar!"

"Taweret." Steven chuckled softly at her mispronunciation.

"Tawww--" Victoria frowned as she tried to get the word out. "Tawweret."

"Close 'nough. I'm sure she wouldn't mind." Steven smiled warmly, holding up the statuette.

"All right, all right." You laughed, following Steven to the counter so you could check out, having another nice chat about what he and Victoria discussed. He even tossed in a little keychain that held a preserved scarab beetle in epoxy, much to Victoria's delight!

What you didn't know as you left the shop, was how positively smitten he was with you already.

That was your first meeting with Steven Grant.

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A few weeks crawled by, and every other day you were at the museum, letting Victoria lead you by the hand as she animatedly discussed what every object or picture meant, and you struggled to keep up, making mental (and a few digital) notes on what she was talking about. Of course, she insisted that after every tour, you stopped to say hi to her new "bestest friend" Steven.

You were thrilled that you found someone who operated on the same wavelength as your daughter, knowing that it was hard for her to make connections with other children, let alone adults. But Steven and Victoria took to each other like ducks to water.

And hey, he seemed harmless enough. Cute, too, beneath that mop of curls. You even started researching more just to be able to tag into the conversations between your daughter and her unlikely friend.

Today, you were at the local grocer and Victoria decided that she wanted to walk with you instead of riding in the trolley on her tablet like she normally did. You were happy, but ensured she kept her noise cancelling headphones over her tiny ears to make sure she stayed comfortable.

You had picked up a pack of steaks to examine the cuts when Victoria slipped your hand free of hers and darted off, squealing, "Steven!"

You almost dropped the steaks when Victoria darted down the aisle and wrapped her arms around the legs of the man she ran towards.

One minute Marc was looking at a box of matzahs, the next, he had a child clinging to his legs.

His whole body froze as he looked down, immediately going rigid as the little girl looked up at him, babbling something he didn't quite understand because of how quickly she was speaking.

He did make out the name "Steven".

"Uh--" He said awkwardly.

"I'm so sorry!" You say, hastily bringing the trolley up to the two. "She just got excited to see you, and..."

Your brows furrowed as you looked at him. He looked like Steven Grant, but he didn't feel like Steven Grant. His normally messy curls were combed back neatly, his flannel hanging open with the sleeves rolled up and T-shirt untucked from his pants. His big brown eyes were wide, looking at you with a face that simply pleaded "Help me".

"Uh..."

"I'm... Marc." He said in an unmistakably American accent.

"Oh. Oh!" You lean down and scoop up Victoria, hastily plopping her in the trolley, willing yourself to ignore her little wobbling lip as you messily search up her favorite video to watch on her tablet to prevent the simmering meltdown you could see just beneath her surface.

"I'm... I'm sorry. You just look like someone we know from the museum, and..." You sigh, rubbing your hands together as you cringed.

"Steven, yeah..." Marc said, giving a stiff smile in return as he dropped the box of what looked like crackers into his basket looped over his elbow.

"You..."

'Play it cool, Marc...' Jake's voice softly warned.

"We're, uh, brothers. Triplets. All identical." He spat out with haste.

"Oh! Well... That's... That explains the looks, huh." You smile, hoping to ease the awkward tension. His explanation didn't sit well with you for some reason, as to why he suddenly blurted it all out. But you chocked it up to him trying to explain to avoid upsetting Victoria.

"But, yeah. Um... Your brother, Steven? He and Victoria are like, best friends now. She looks forward to seeing him whenever we're at the museum." You chuckle softly.

Marc's eyes soften as he smiles, giving Victoria a gentle look. "Yeah, uh, Steven's told me about her. She's a smart kid, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. A real genius." You smile at her as she starts tapping away at her tablet, selecting one of her drawing apps and beginning to scribble.

"Sometimes I can't keep up with her."

"Hey, that's good. She'll go places." Marc replied.

Your smile falters a bit. "Yeah, if people will give her a chance..." You mutter.

Marc was about to ask what she meant, but he kept his mouth shut, watching as Victoria was engrossed with her tablet, her little feet wiggling and tapping on the sides of the trolley as she moved her mouth silently, mouthing words to herself.

"She's... Eh." You rub the back of your neck. "She normally doesn't come to the store with me. She says she can hear the lights buzzing and it upsets her, which is why she has to wear her headphones. I mean I can't hear the lights or anything, but all I need to know is that she can..."

"Yeah, Steven is the same way sometimes. It makes him twitch so he has to wear headphones when we go shopping..." Marc said, frowning.

"Yeah. That's something I'm kind of amazed about. Victoria doesn't really have any friends outside of well, me... and your brother? Steven and her are just... man, they're like two peas in a pod!"

Marc stays quiet as you smile fondly at your child, and he notes the relief in your expression as you recount that your child was able to finally connect with someone. It warmed his heart to know that Steven was able to socialize with someone who shared the same mannerisms, even if she was just a kid.

His eyes flicked down to your hands as you put your hands on your hips, and noted the lack of wedding ring and a ring tan line.

'Focus, cabrón.' Jake snickered.

"She's autistic. It was a pain to get her diagnosed, but we managed. I could tell she was different. Namely how she would act with fabrics." You sigh.

Now that grabbed both Marc and Jake's attention. If Steven were aware and co-fronting, he was sure he would be rapt as well. Steven explained the fabric thing to hime a few times, but being in the same body it was still hard at times to understand that Marc or Jake could feel one thing but Steven could feel another.

"Uh... Fabrics? You'll have to forgive me, but..."

"Oh! It's a sensory thing." You explain, rolling your hand. "With her, it's fleece, or satin-like textures. They irritate her and make her fussy. As a baby I never understood why she flipped out when I would put her little socks on her until the doctor explained it when she was older. But for some people it's cotton, or microfiber... The way Victoria describes it is that it's, uh..."

"Scratchy." Marc murmurs.

"Exactly!" You snap your fingers.

"Yeah, Steven is the same way. Though he's not like that with satin, he usually prefers cotton--the super soft kind? Or silk." Marc nods, shoving one hand in his pocket.

"Yeah... It's thankfully easy to shop for her, she prefers cotton and soft microfiber. It's why she rubs her cheek on my shirts or pants. Some people mistake it for being affectionate--and don't get me wrong sometimes it is--but usually it's a grounding thing." You sigh softly. "It helps her calm down."

"Ah... Sounds hard. What about her dad? He know how to handle it?" Marc asked curiously.

He immediately felt bad when he saw how your expression fell, and you glared at the ground.

"He skipped out on us while I was pregnant. I caught him in our bed with someone I thought was my best friend the day I found out she was a girl." You spit, angry and full of venom.

Marc cringed. "God, your best friend? In your bed? That's a whole extra level of degeneracy..."

"I know! Ugh! I swear, if he wasn't stronger than me I would have stabbed him that day!" You groan.

Marc rocks his head back in shock at the admission. "You were gonna stab him?"

"When you're five months pregnant, hormonal, tired, and sore and walk in on your fiancee doing the deed in your own bed? Yeah, emotions get high." You run a hand through your hair, smirking as you looked back at him.

"Grabbed the knife right outta the block and lunged at him. Chased em both half naked out of my flat."

'Shit, I'd be in love. That sounds sexy as hell.' Marc could just imagine the grin that would be spread across Jake's face at that.

Marc laughed, unable to contain himself, both at the retelling of your story and Jake's remark.

'You got problems, Jake.' Marc shot back mentally.

'Pot, meet kettle...'

'Touché...'

"So it's safe to say, he's out of the picture, huh?" Marc says, his laughter dying down into a soft chuckle.

"Oh yeah. Had his parental rights severed, and kicked his sorry.... well. I tossed him out and told him that my "best friend" could deal with him and his lazy antics, considering I pay for the flat."

"Yikes. Sounds like a real dirt bag."

"Oh yeah, he was. I have no idea what I saw in him, to be honest... And knowing that Victoria isn't "normal" like other kids, I feel like he would treat her badly, or... hurt her." You say, shaking your head.

"Hey, if he shows up and does that just call me." Marc grunted. "I hate it when people do that crap to kids. I'll knock his teeth down his throat."

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and the weight of them almost made them feel oppressive as glimpses of his abusive childhood shone through. The memories of his mother swinging her arm down, the crack of the leather belt, the red, bloody welts in his skin...

'Ay, hermano. Come back, don't think about that.' Jake's voice said gently, urging that door in his mind shut. 'That's not your life, anymore.'

Marc blinked and looked back up at you, his eyes locking with yours. And the concern on your face... he felt so undeserving of it. He wasn't sure why, but...

"Ah... I mean... Let's just say I have experience with that sort of thing. So I'm..." He struggled.

"No, no, I get it. My dad was a piece of shhh..." You cringed as the word almost slipped from you, casting a short glance to Victoria, making sure she couldn't hear you. "Er. He was bad. So yeah, I totally get you."

"Oh... Sorry, people get weirded out when I..." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Disassociate." You finish for him. "I used to do the same thing when it came to my dad. It gets easier once you're free of it, I promise."

The soft, sweet smile you give him was strong enough to make his heart jump into his throat.

'Wow...'

'Ask. Her. Out. Steven won't do it, so you do it!' Jake urged him.

Marc choked suddenly, coughing awkwardly to clear his throat at Jake's further commentary.

"You okay?" You ask him.

"Y-Yeah, I just... Uh..." He cringed again. "It's... allergies! I've been dealing with them since we dusted the flat, and... Yep. Allergies."

You chuckle softly at him as Victoria tugs on your sleeve and whispers in your ear.

"Oop, mama duty calls. It was nice meeting you, Marc." You grin, giving him a short handshake.

"Yeah... You too." Marc replied as you walked off, giving Victoria a wave as she peeked over your shoulder as you push the trolley away.

'Allergies? Smooth, Marc. Really smooth. How the hell did you ever bag Layla with romantic skills like that?' Jake sighed sarcastically.

'I swear Layla probably only married you for your dick, man. You're so BAD at romance.'

Marc knew Layla did love him, at one point but with all the drama of being Moon Knight, it quickly snuffed that relationship... They were still close of course, but they'd never open up to another intimate relationship again. Which was fine, none of them minded particularly.

Especially not now. Not now that there's a cute single mom with and adorably--scarily--smart little girl on her hip to occupy those thoughts.

And that... was your first time meeting Marc Spector.

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Now, meeting Jake was different. Completely different. You technically "met" Jake weeks after you met Marc and built a rapport with him.

One night, Jake was sitting in the window, munching on some saltines he'd spread with sunflower butter as he read some old knitting patterns in a book he'd picked up at a resale shop.

He thought he could knit something for both you and Victoria and have Steven give it to you, it would be a good way to start actually flirting, to hopefully open up that door for all of you.

But of course... well. He knew Steven was way too shy to ask you out on a date, and Marc was too chicken shit and awkward about the subject to bring it up himself.

And so, it fell upon Jake Lockley to find a way to get closer to you, two. He understood that many single mothers found it tricky to date, especially with a child like Victoria. It would require immense levels of trust to get past those walls you would have put up to protect both you and Victoria, especially after you'd told Marc about Victoria's biological father fucking your best friend the day of your ultrasound.

He could just imagine how your poor face fell when you closed your front door, hearing the ridiculously high-pitched, false moans and the squeaking of the mattress as that miserable excuse of a man was having his way with your supposed "best friend"...

All while your hands would have clutched the pictures of your unborn baby girl, tears bubbling up in your eyes as you screamed at them while they scrambled to cover their shame.

And then.... as you told Marc, you would have grabbed the knife and the rest was history; bidding goodbye to that cheating bastard and woman you once trusted.

You were strong, loving and oh so patient with your daughter and her needs. Jake found your whole being attractive, honestly. He hadn't seen you angry, but he just knew you were a badass if you wanted to be.

He chuckled as he picked up his knitting needles, and began to loop the soft, thick yarn through each line. He was sure to pick yarn that wouldn't upset Victoria and her sensory issues, so he picked the softest yarn he possibly could, selecting enough to make the both of you matching jumpers.

Victoria's would be a little big, to allow for comfort and her to grow into it as she wore it. He could just imagine how adorable she'd look with the sleeves hanging over her little hands, squirming and giggling as you two played together--

Jake's hands stopped knitting.

Shit. He had it down bad for you, too.

When he looked down, that's when he noticed the green laser pointed right at him...

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You were there, simply cleaning up the mess from dinner as Victoria happily colored on her dry erase board, drawing the shapes and hieroglyphs she saw in the book Steven selected for her.

She had been quiet and engrossed in her little art project for so long that you jumped and almost dropped a plate on the floor when she squealed loudly.

"Mommy, it's Steven! Or Mister Marc?"

"Huh? What?" You looked around your flat, for some reason your brain told you to look inside instead our our the window where her little finger tapped the glass excitedly.

"No, there!" She insisted. "Over there!"

You walk over to her and lean down, looking out the window.

And sure enough, across the street, in the building across from yours, an apartment had the curtains open with the lights on.

In one of the windows, at a desk, sat a man. The streets were close enough together that you could make out some details. The shadow of a mustache being the first thing you zeroed in on, and then the immaculately slicked-back hair.

He looked like he was... knitting? This man, who looked like Steven and Marc. Marc and Steven both mentioned on different occasions that they had a brother named Jake, maybe this was him?

And wow! So close by, too!

Victoria waved her arms, trying to get her attention, but the man was so absorbed in his task that he didn't notice her try to get his attention. When her little disappointed sniffles could be heard, you snap your fingers.

"I got an idea!" You say, dashing to the end table by the front door and rummaging through the various keychains you'd accumulated. It was a guilty habit of yours, you found.

But then you pluck up the laser toy and run back to the window. It takes shaking it once or twice for the green light to illuminate, but when it does, you shine it directly through the window and at the man's chest.

Then, he looked up.

You break out into a happy grin when he spots the two of you, and Victoria giggles with unabated glee as she waves some more, her whole tiny body moving with every shake of her overly excited hand.

You see the man smile back and he waves at the both of you.

"Hey, baby, why don't we use your board to say hi?" You suggest, rubbing her shoulders.

"Yeah!" She giggles, grabbing the board and erasing her painstakingly re-created drawings from the book, and messily scrawled the word:

Hi :)

The man laughed and looked around until he grabbed a notebook, scribbled something with a marker, and held it up for you two to see.

Hello

You chuckle as Victoria hands you the board, knowing that your writing is neater than hers is, and with how excited she is, she was bound to mess up.

You quickly and clearly write something down and turn the board to face the window.

Steven or Marc?

He smiled at you and scribbled back.

Jake

Marc n Steven told us about you. Hi!

They've told me a lot about you, too.

"That's Jake, honey. Remember what I said? How Steven and Mister Marc look alike? He's the same way." You explain to Victoria.

"Oh." She sighs. Poor little thing seemed dejected that once again, she misidentified someone as her "bestest friend".

You lift your eyes as Jake showed what he put on the notepad next. It was a badly drawn cat with a happy face on it.

You can't help but laugh and grin, nudging Victoria to look at what he drew for her.

"It's a kitty!" She gasps, snatching the board from your hands to draw pictures for him.

You spent much of the evening that night with Victoria and Jake drawing pictures back and forth, writing messages until he ran out of paper.

That's when you put down your phone number and told him to text, to make it easier on Victoria.

Victoria, upon realizing this, dropped her board and snatched your phone, starting a video call with Jake and chattering his ear off. He seemed to take it in stride, engaging with her. Not on the same level as Steven, but something about how he handled it gave you the impression he had experience with kids, or even worked with kids.

He didn't talk down or dumb anything down for her, he spoke to her calmly and clearly like he would anyone else, and the fact he was so sweet was endearing to you.

He was even teaching her little words in Spanish. For some reason, she liked to repeat the word "cat" because she liked how it sounded, and it was "funny".

That was how you met Jake Lockley.

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It was now half a year since you'd indirectly met all three "brothers" and quickly, the pressure was beginning to mount on them to reveal the truth to you as their crush developed more and more into full infatuation with you and your darling girl.

But they still hadn't asked you out, yet. They'd come close a few times, but it was never when Jake was in control so Marc and Steven backed down at the last possible moment. Every time Jake was in control it wasn't a "good moment" for them to propose a date with you. But now?

It was late in the year, the harvest festival being over with and the holidays around the corner with Christmas, as usual, dominating all others. Snow and ice encased everything. It came early this year, and Victoria couldn't be more thrilled. (She could build snowmen with her friends, Steven, Mister Marc and Mister Jake!)

You and Jake would text, and he gave in and told you that he, Marc, and Steven all actually lived together and he would "let" Steven or Marc use his phone so he could video chat with Victoria and you.

You didn't know the boys all shared the same phone regardless.

It was nice having a social life again, even if it was small. Outside work and ensuring a comfortable upbringing for your little girl, you'd forgotten how nice it was to have friends. Even if those friends consisted of three identical, quirky brothers who lived in the flat across the way.

The day was coming soon, for when they would have to confess to you about the true nature of their identities. And the three unanimously agreed that they would tell you about Moon Knight.

For your safety, and Victoria's. They didn't want you to agree to date them (if you ever would) only to find out they snuck out in the dead of night to do the bidding of some creepy ancient bird god who could frankly do with a wardrobe update...

They just didn't anticipate that day to be today. Of course, Steven would rather have broken the news to you over a nice dinner in the corner booth of a quiet restaurant. Or even on a nice walk through the park...

But no. No, it had to come out when you decided to pull out your phone and go through your texts or the day as Victoria sat in Steven's lap on the couch of your living room.

Jake had sent a meme earlier in the day, of a little cat wearing a sombrero and you chuckled. You sent a meme back in reply, of a snail holding some maracas on some drawn-on arms.

That's when Steven twitched when the phone in his back pocket vibrated and chimed with a silly little ringtone.

You blinked at him as he fished it out of his pocket, careful not to knock Victoria off balance as he checked it. He awkwardly cleared his throat and gave you a strained smile as he set it on the coffee table in front of you.

"You okay..." You say, eyeing the very familiar phone. They could just have the same model and case...

"Oh, yes, just an email alert, luv. Don't worry 'bout it!" Steven chirped, quickly shifting his attention back to Victoria as she practiced her reading from the book in her hands.

You squint at him suspiciously. Your finger hovered over the send button when you selected another silly little image...

But you decided to call instead.

That's when a song began to chime. One you recognized very well as Steven's favorite song...

♫"Lonely is a man,

Without looove~"♫

'God damn it, Steven! You forgot to put it on silent again!' Marc's panicked voice shouted inside their headspace.

'Ay, hermanito, not now!' Jake groaned.

Steven began to sweat profusely as Victoria handed the phone innocently to him, urging him to answer it, not making the correlation with the song, or your phone number...

Steven shakily held the phone to his ear and answered.

"H-Hello..."

"Steven." You deadpan, raising an eyebrow and tapping your finger on your arm.

'Shit shit shit shit.' Marc hissed.

'Busted.' Jake almost sang.

You look at Victoria, hesitant to interrupt her time with Steven, but you wanted answers. Why is it that none of the men ever agreed to all meet up in person to hang out? Why did you only ever see one at a time? Yes, work was a convenient excuse, but every single day?

And then there's the phone!

Yeah, you weren't letting Steven wiggle free from this talk, even as Victoria pouted and trudged back into her room to play with her toys.

You almost feel like a cop in a bad movie, the way you lean back with your arms crossed, almost like you were an interrogator in a police precinct.

Would this make you both the bad and good cop?

You felt so bad, knowing that this kind of behavior would only freak Steven out, so you relaxed your jaw and posture, leaning away from him and giving him breathing room as his sweaty hands began to pat nervously in the memorized tune of that specific song that was just playing.

"I'm not blind, and I'm not dumb... So start from the beginning." You sigh. "I don't want anything to come out and upset Victoria, but I have to know who I'm letting around my little girl."

Steven licked at his slightly chapped lips, taking his bottom lip between his teeth briefly.

"Okay..." He peeped.

'Just take it slow, Steven.' Marc urged him gently.

'I can take control, if you want.' Jake offered.

"No, that's too much right now." Steven muttered aloud, without thinking.

You tipped your head to the side. "What's too much?"

Steven jumped and covered his mouth, his big doe eyes wide as can be, like he's a little boy who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.

He despised awkward situations like this. He could never tell what to say to keep someone happy and to avoid them getting angry with him...

"Steven, I'm not mad. I'm honestly confused. Please... Just... Tell me everything, okay? I just wanna know some things." You say, leaning forward to put your hand on his knee, your ever so patient eyes sweet and understanding.

Yeah, those eyes were his undoing.

"Do you know what Dissociative Identity Disorder is?"

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Whatever you had originally expected to hear from Steven, finding out that he, Marc and Jake all shared the same body was a lot to absorb. Especially after Steven blurted out about their superhero alter ego that apparently did bidding for an Egyptian god?

Steven expected you to be mad, braced himself for it, but instead, he and his two headmates were knocked entirely off center when you made the remark that if Khonshu ever got to be too much for the boys, they should lock him in a room with Victoria and her never-ending questions.

That would shut him up for a little while, surely.

Another thing you weren't expecting was the date proposal from Steven (and of course Marc and Jake).

You hesitated, at first... But...

They were so kind and sweet. They already have shown so much care for you and your daughter... And you were honestly happy to realize that you weren't crushing on different guys, that your feelings were no longer awkward and conflicted.

Or wait, were you crushing on different men? Yes they were completely different identities, but they shared a body, and... oh, this was gonna take time to learn more about.

Your first date was for later that week. Steven informed you it would be Jake, taking you out, as he felt like a "bloody awkward fool" and was afraid of messing it up, and Marc was just as bad at those social situations.

But you agreed, and when the date rolled around, you and Victoria were bundled up, all ready to go to the charming little Italian restaurant somewhere in town where apparently Jake was friendly with the employees there.

Victoria skipped in the snow, struggling to match her pace with yours, making sure her footsteps were measured so her prints mirrored yours exactly as she walked on her little tippy toes.

As you approached where Jake had his car parked, he smiled, his mustache quirking up as he scooped Victoria in his large gloved hands, laughing when she dragged her fingers over his hairy upper lip, comparing the stache to a caterpillar.

You stifled a snort and covered your mouth as you watched Jake buckle Victoria into a booster seat in the back of his car.

"Where did you..." You blinked. You fully intended to run back to your flat and grab the booster seat you owned, but you were surprised to see Jake already had one. A rather expensive-looking one, at that.

"Ay, cariño, you didn't think I'd let the little chiquita ride unprotected, did you?" He smirked at you, his dark eyes glinting mischievously.

"But, I have one. You didn't have to..."

"Hey, if it makes it easier, I'll be happy to foot the bill." Jake hummed, leaning in to check Victoria's buckles as she played on her tablet, snow-caked shoes kicking lazily as she did.

Normally, Jake was insane about his car. He always made sure his fares cleaned their damn feet off before getting inside. But for you two he willingly made the exception.

"Now, c'mon mamacita." Jake grinned at you once more as he enabled the child lock and closed the door on Victoria's side. "We got lunch to get to, right?"

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You couldn't remember the last time you were on a date. Actually wait, you could. The night you got pregnant. One of the only times Victoria's sperm donor was ever romantic with you, and he proposed the next morning after.

Yeah, you knew how that story ended.

But now it looked like a whole new book was being written right in front of you, as cliché as it all sounded.

Jake had treated you both well, engaging happily and drawing with Victoria on the activity mat the restaurant provided as you sipped your glass of red wine, watching; your heart was fluttering in your chest as you watched how happy she was interacting with them.

After a while, he went back out to his car and returned with a sparkly red gift bag for the two of you and you immediately felt your heart lurch up from your chest and into your throat.

He knitted the two of you matching jumpers. A mama cat and her kitten, of course, he managed to do it in an Egyptian style, much to Victoria's glee as she ripped off her regular jumper in favor of the one Jake made, immediately rubbing her face on the sleeve with a happy giggle.

You couldn't help but smile warmly as Jake helped her pop her head through the top, and you decided to slip yours on, yourself.

God, it was almost surreal how Hallmark it all seemed. Not one, but three men interested in you, a lonely single mother. All three men who adored your daughter and treated you both with respect. All three men, who shared the same body and nighttime secret.

And you found yourself falling just as hard, and somewhere in the back of your mind wondered if--if--you had met them first... would they have been Victoria's father(s)? Would they have rejoiced in your pregnancy? Gone to your appointments, held your hand in the delivery room? Would they have helped the doctors weigh and print Victoria for the very first time?

Your mind was knocked out of the what-ifs when your phone jingled, catching Jake's attention.

"Oh, it's Victoria's pediatrician. I have to take this." You sigh sadly, not wanting to step away from the cozy atmosphere in your booth.

Jake smiled at you and winked, "Go ahead and take it. I got her handled."

You smiled back, hoping the flush to your face wasn't as obvious as you feared as you got up and answered the call.

Jake continued to play and draw with Victoria, letting her explain how some of her learning games worked, what apps were her favorite, and who her favorite cartoon characters were.

Honestly, if anyone thought Steven was great with Victoria thanks to their same autistic traits? Jake was good simply because he was a natural with kids. Marc was, too, but he was a bit stiff and nervous. He needed to be eased into it just a bit more.

"Hey.... Psst. Mister Jake." Victoria whispered to him, blinking her big, bright, gorgeous eyes up at him.

"Yeah? What is it, gatita?" Jake hummed at her, grinning.

She waved her hand, urging him closer as she whispered conspiratorially, cupping her hand over his ear, "Look where Mommy's standing."

Jake lifts his gaze to find you among the crowd of people, where you stood on your phone, talking to the doctor about Victoria's upcoming appointment. He tracked where Victoria was pointing, and that's when he saw it: the mistletoe.

He knew immediately what Victoria was hinting at.

"That means you gotta kiss my Mommy." She whispered to him again.

"Oh, I do, huh?" Jake teased, poking her in the side. "And what if I don't?"

"Then Imma make you!" She squeaked and giggled.

"Oh, dear, then in that case I definitely have to do it, eh?" He chuckled.

"C'mon." Jake said, scooping Victoria up and holding her on his hip. "Let's go give another present to your wonderful mamá."

As they got closer to you, he caught the tail-end of your conversation.

"...yeah. Next Wednesday at 3pm. See you, then, Doctor Wilson. ...Of course! Happy holidays." You say cheerily, ending the call.

When you turned around, you saw Jake holding Victoria against him as he walked closer to you.

The sight really shouldn't have taken your breath away the way that it did...

But if you thought your breath was taken before? It was entirely robbed from you as Jake leaned in, wrapping an arm around your waist as he tipped his head down to kiss you, his mustache tickling your nose and upper lip.

You were so taken aback that you didn't hear the whooping and laughing from the workers of the restaurant as the scene unfolded in front of them, congratulating Jake.

Victoria squirmed and squealed and laughed and laughed, rubbing her face on Jake's leather jacket as your lips finally parted and your jaw dropped.

"What's the matter, mamacita? Cat got your tongue?"

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God, dating those men was the best decision you ever made. Even with them being Moon Knight.

They were kind enough to always say goodnight to Victoria before they went about their business, giving you a soft kiss before whichever one was in control of the body departed.

You had only been dating a short while, it was now entering February and you were all spending more and more time together. Marc, Jake, and Steven had all spent the night once or twice in their own time.

Nothing sexual happened, but it was so nice to fall asleep with someone wrapping their arms around you. It was even better to wake up and see Victoria snuggled onto his chest, his arms caged around her protectively, flexing when she made any movements as his unconscious body ensured she wouldn't roll off of him and--god forbid--onto the floor.

It was a few days before Valentine's, and Marc had spent the day with you and Victoria. He had gotten much more comfortable around her, falling into a natural and gentle routine unique to them. Just like she had with Steven, and Jake. And above all, they handled her autism well.

Steven was exceptionally good at helping distract her during her meltdowns, whereas Jake could cradle her, singing little songs in Spanish as he rubbed her back. Marc would start by talking to her in a low, gentle tone, urging her to just breathe, and talk, explaining what was upsetting her and what would work best to help her calm down from it.

But right now, Victoria was in the midst of a battle against sleep.

"Don' wanna sleep." Victoria sniffled into Marc's jumper.

"I know, babydoll, but you'll feel loads better once you do, mkay?" He murmured quietly to her as he padded, barefoot into Victoria's almost obnoxiously canary-yellow bedroom.

"I can make some apple pancakes for you in the morning, hm? How's that sound?"

He dodged the minefield of toys scattered about and chuckled softly at the shelf where her little ancient Egypt memorabilia sat meticulously organized alongside her books and drawings on the subject. A half-finished paper sarcophagus lay on the desk in the corner, a project Steven had started with her two days ago that they intended to finish together.

Marc laid her down and she nodded, rubbing her eye. "Okay..." She mumbled in agreement.

Marc picked up the plushy scarab that Steven bought from the gift shop and handed it to her, tucking her in all nice and warm.

"There you go." He said softly to her, kneeling next to the bed. "Snug as a bug in... well. Blankets, right now, huh?"

He grinned when Victoria giggled groggily at his pun, squeezing the beetle plush she named "Digger" and snuggled under the blankets, her feather lashes brushed her cheeks as she began to drift off.

"See you in the morning, babydoll." Marc said softly, giving her a kiss to her forehead before standing.

His finger had just flipped the switch to turn off the lights in her room, so only the salt lamp dimly illuminated her bedside, when he heard her peep as she rolled over.

"G'night daddy."

He felt like his heart stopped beating as he shakily closed the door, dragging his suddenly very heavy feet through your flat as he made his way to your couch, the weight of that word landing on his shoulders.

He felt like Atlas, carrying the world on his back as he dropped down onto the chocolate brown cushions.

You walk over, having finished dishes from dinner, wiping your hands on a tea towel. Upon seeing his shell-shocked expression, you sit next to him in concern as he covered his face with his hands, his arms shaking and skin pale.

"Marc, sweetie, what's wrong?"

"I..." He said, his voice breaking.

You lean in, reaching out to brush a hand through his mop of curls, letting him take his time. Maybe Steven or Jake was trying to front? You've seen how taxing it could be on them when it happened so suddenly. One time Steven had seized control in the kitchen from Jake and he fell and cracked his head open on the counter! Poor Victoria cried when she saw how much he was bleeding, scared that he was dying.

It took a lot of hugs and kisses to convince her otherwise...

"She... God. Fuck." Marc swore softly, sniffing. "She--she called me daddy."

Your jaw dropped and you gawked at him. Was Victoria already so attached to him? To them? But then again, she's never had a father figure, before, either, and suddenly having not one, but technically three men in her life doing all the things a dad should do? You can understand why she would--hell, why you would...

He dropped his arms and you could see the beginnings of tears clump in his beautiful eyelashes, heavy weights of emotion settling deep in his chest.

He looked up at the ceiling, trying to blink the tears away. God, he didn't deserve all of this. He didn't deserve this... this domesticity. Guys like him just didn't get to have a life like that. Not with everything he's had to do as a soldier, a mercenary... in Khonshu's name.

He didn't deserve such a beautiful woman, or the idolized gaze of her sweet and innocent baby girl.

'You're too hard on yourself, Marc.' Steven said to him in their headspace.

'Yeah, hermano...' Jake murmured.

"Marc, honey..." You say, leaning in and adjusting your position, so your head lay on his chest. You spread your hand over his heart, feeling how it hammered in the muscle of his chest.

"I just... What the hell did I do to get this?" He asked softly, bringing his arms around you to bury his nose in your hair.

"Well, I think it all started the day a certain little girl wiggled free of me and ran into a gift shop..."

Marc chuckled, squeezing you tight.

"Would you want us to?" He whispered. "Would you want us to stay? Would you be okay with that? I know it's soon, and--and I'm not saying we move in or anything like that, but..."

"I think it would crush Victoria if I ever shoo'd you boys away, honey." You assured him, tipping your head up to give him a sweet kiss.

You feel the tension slowly bleed from his body and his expression softens into a heartbreakingly sweet smile, his dark eyes sparkling with a warmth that you haven't seen before as your lips parted.

"Then we'll stay. As long as you both will put up with us." He said to you, his voice so quiet you almost couldn't catch his words.

"How do Steven and Jake feel about her calling you daddy?" You smile slyly.

Marc grins and drops his head back with a laugh, listening to the bickering of his headmates as his anxiety ebbed away.

"Oh... They're arguing over who Vicky is gonna call daddy next."

"We need to think of nicknames for you guys so she doesn't confuse you." You laughed with him.

Your laughter was cut short when you heard Victoria's door click open, and out she waddled, blanket clutched in one arm, Digger firmly squeezed into the crook of her elbow and her thumb was in her mouth. She only sucked her thumb when she was frightened, or severely anxious.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Marc asked, shooting to his feet even before you could, at her side in a split second.

You joined him and put your hands on her shoulders, looking into her drowsy and not-entirely-awake eyes. "Did you have a bad dream?"

She shook her head, mumbling something around her thumb.

"What is it, kiddo?" Marc inquired next.

She pulled her thumb out of her mouth with a pop.

"There's a bird-man in my room."

#moon knight #moon boys #moon boys x reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant #marc spector x reader #marc spector #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley

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gremlingottoosilly · 4 months

Text

Lego still not sponsoring me (dark!Konig x fem!Reader)

Konig is a nerd who needs to get sprayed with water for being a fucking creep. You're an adorable cashier at the Lego Store in Berlin who doesn't know any better and is too nice to lose. He will have you. Mostly because he wants someone to do his Lego sets with.

Details count: 2922 AO3 TW and Tags: Dub-con/Non-con, age gap, size difference, kidnapping, awkward colonel Konig, nerd Konig, hurt/comfort, Konig's POV(mostly), awkward German, yandere Konig.

You didn’t want to build Millenium Falcon with him.

You didn’t want to shower or eat, you didn’t want to do anything besides crying, and even though your tears, as he expected, were beautiful and adorable, it was kinda hard for König to take care of your mental and physical needs while he was rock hard from watching you cry so sweetly.

König is patient, kind, and a model citizen through and through. Why are you upset? He is doing everything he can, just to make you smile! Seriously, Schatzi, the desire to make him as miserable as you possibly can doesn’t make you pretty or cute or even the least bit adorable. Good thing that he is used to feeling sad and kinda of bullied – you’re lucky he doesn’t even try to feel good anymore. Not in his destiny book to live a good life. — I brought food.

You groan lightly, whimpering somewhere in the corner of his basement. To your justification, his basement is a bit dirty. He forgot to visit the house for months after deployment, which was never enough to fill out the blanks of loneliness in the empty rooms. His dogshits methods of choosing decorations also made the mere existence in the house a hard mission even in itself. He looked at the anime posters in the guest rooms, which made him want to sell the property to anyone willing to pay 50 Euros for the processing fees. The posters(Sword Art Online because why the hell not, he likes cool swords and a power fantasy about a loser getting the chick) and artwork of his queen and savior, The Busty Blond Lady From Fate because, unlike those waifu-obsessed freaks, he did have a life and not enough time to actually remember her name. Something about light sabers. Or cats. — Are you going to kill me?

He sighs because you sound like a broken record. All the time – the questions about his intentions, like you can’t see the tent in his pants every time you open your eyes, about letting you go, about at least allowing you to text your family that you decided to change your country of residence and would need to revoke your German visa. You’re way more soft than he thought you’d initially be – no fighting, no arguing, just pure terror and desire to die every time his hands brush over you. König is a sweet guy, as sweet as someone like him can be – but he only has a few weeks until his next mission, and even a few days of your moping around is bound to make him not just blue-balled, but also very, extremely, offensively hot-headed.

He spent two days with you chained up in his basement and, he thinks, that should be enough for foreplay. He is extremely generous and kind – usually, at this point, he’d already start breaking the fingers of whoever poor fuck is his torture victim for the mission.

— I don’t want to kill you.

You whimper – somehow, his answer didn’t calm you down. Fucking women and their inability to talk to their kidnappers – he considers spiking your food just this once, so he could have a nice session with your little drunk self and some roofies but, of course, he is a nice guy who brought you takeout in a reheatable container, with a cute plastic fork and some sparkling water in a glass, just so you won’t feel like he is making you eat some garbage. It’s good food, too – he’d love to cook like this, but the heights of his skills are runny eggs and burnt coffee. He hopes you like the Italian because it’s the most inoffensive stuff he could have brought you without resorting to pizza and cup noodles. He will never let you eat cup noodles on his watch.

— Are you going to rape me?

He can’t exactly say no because, as a matter of fact, pulling your cute body under his is one of his intentions. He wanted to do it since he was you in this fucking store, but, of course. saying this to a pretty girl is lame. And completely counter-productive. And would make him a villain in your eyes, even though he tries so fucking hard to be a hero. He can make you feel good if you were to just open your pretty legs for him and moan under his tongue – god knows, he wants to make you feel good. He wonders what would it take for him to please you. If he could have a full-time job at this.

— Nein. Thought I told you already.

— I don’t…I shouldn’t believe you.

He shook his head, pushing the plate(he had to go out of his way to actually put the pasta from the tray to a proper plate, enjoy this, woman) towards you. You’re adorable like this – naked, trembling, a bit too weak to actually fight him over not eating anything for the past two days – you’re repeating the same conversation over and over again and König wouldn’t mind living in a groundhog day if the loop would end with his fucking you on that thin mattress each time.

Speaking of mattresses – he needs to get you a thicker one.

Speaking of thicker mattresses – he needs to relocate you into his bedroom as soon as possible.

Speaking of his bedroom – he is fucking bricked.

— If you don’t trust me, why do you ask?

You bite your lips. He can see you’re hungry and thirsty – he doesn’t want to forcefully feed you, so, yeah, you better be very hungry very soon. He pushes the plate towards you, hoping you won’t launch it on his head. He survived worse, a 6’4 British dude in a ski mask falling on him with the speed of Brexit, but getting hit by a plate when your angry girlfriend is being an angry girlfriend is…the best thing that could ever happen to him, actually. Gott, he is miserable.

— I…I don’t know. Don’t want to get killed.

— I won’t kill you.

— But you will hurt me.

— I don’t have to do that, Liebling.

No, he doesn’t.

But he sees the way your plushy thighs are squeezing into that tiny corner where your mat is, your squishy body getting all shaky and trembly, your lips in a tight line with tiny blood droplets from biting on them too much – and, by his fucking god, you’re beautiful. He wants to make you wet, to make you squirm, to make you beg and cry for mercy as he pounds into the sweetness of your cunt. He wants to try you on the inside and out, lick you all over from the inside, and then make you lick your love juices from his lips.

König knows he is hard and can’t really hide it – it’s useless now, really, he is being very nice and considerate to you. Changing your life is hard, especially with how quickly you moved to his place – like a good boyfriend, he should help you adjust. And aid you in recognizing that he is, in fact, your boyfriend and future husband. The perfect partner to ever exist. — What is it?

— Pasta. It’s…it’s good. Should be good. He is nervous, anxious. Seeing a pretty girl in her natural habitat – a Lego store – is one thing. He was barely able to talk to you properly, especially right after his deployment, where the only female attention he ever got was Roze asking to cover her or additional female soldiers groaning in pain as he stomped them. But you…he shouldn’t be colonel around you – absolutely not. You’re soft and civilian, you’re as polite as a girl in a basement could be, and you deserve to have something nice for once in your life. Licking his lips, König gently picks up a fork and presses a small amount of pasta – rich, creamy, with some nice cheese that smells divine - -against your lips.

You refuse.

A smart move, he could have poisoned it – so he thinks for a few seconds, staring at you like a smart girlie you are, and then – lifts his hood. If only barely, revealing his scarred chin and bruised lips. The initial swelling after getting his head bumped by a guy who was speaking like an edgy teenager in the Counter-Strike lobby was already gone by the time he managed to get you into his basement – but no amount of rest could hide all other marks from his job.

Despite being a seasoned mercenary with hundreds of killed targets and completed objectives, he feels…insecure. You’re a nice girl, a good girl, the type that used to look at him with hatred while he was bullied at school. Hatred or pity – but you only look at him with fear, and it cements his understanding that you’re not going to give in to loving him so easily.

König sighs deeply, his lips, curved into that awkward, boyish smile that creeps on his face every time he as much as thinks about you, now transforming into a scowl as you proceed to whimper and try to get lost in the wall behind you. Like he wouldn’t be able to track your scent if you would disappear. He slowly presses his fork towards his mouth, chewing on the food – showing you that it’s not poisoned.

He smiles again when he sees you slowly parting your lips, expecting him to feed you with less of a fuss. He’d propose something else – maybe even untying your hands and allowing you to actually for yourself, but something in your helpless state made his cock throb in his pants. God, König knows he isn’t his strongest soldier, but could he please make you less adorable? He doesn’t want to push you on your knees and make you suck on him until he whimpers, but the way you lick all of the cheese from your lips and try your best to look presentable in front of him… The process of feeding someone shouldn’t really be sexual, but König gently pushes the hair away from your face and lifts up the fork over and over, sometimes only changing to bring a glass of water to your lips. He can do this all day. Every day. Pleasing you already becomes second nature – and he spends most of his life thinking that the only thing he can take care of is his rifle and a few tortured enemies that need their teeth extracted. You require gentle handling – and he wants nothing more but to give you that. Just…a bit later. Preferably after the already came in your pussy at least two or three times and made you choke on his dick as a little thank-you gift.

You finish eating after a short while, thanking him for bringing you a napkin to clean your lips. König gently caresses your head, enjoying the sensation of your hair under his palm – it’s like petting a cat. A soft little pet just for him and no one else – if only he could actually bring you to like him. He has a few bond activities in mind, though. — You liked it, ja?

You lick your lips again, and his breath hitches. This is going to be hard, this is going to be impossible, it’s worse than having to work with high Krueger on a ship that made everyone feel like they were the ones doing crack in the backroom of their makeshift base.

— I…I did.

He pets your head again like you’re his pet – and you gently move your head to lean into his touch. Perhaps you’re dumber than he thinks. Or way smarter – a clever strategy to make him relax and nice to you without making him too suspicious. You slowly get back into your corner, but König wouldn’t have any of it – he drags you back by your arm, making you whimper and sob in his hold. It’s bad, he doesn’t want you to squirm from under him as much as you do, but…if you don’t want to be a good girl, he might as well force you to.

You cry as he pushes you deep into the corner, his hands roaming over your body. Thank god he ripped your clothes before you woke up – now there isn’t anything protecting you from his hands, not even that adorable bra he ripped in pieces because, as much as he loved wearing a uniform with straps and buttons everywhere, he could not figure out how to take this thing off you without breaking it. The last time he was sleeping with a woman, she wore a sports bra that could be taken off easily. It’s your fault that you decided to be more girly, really. Not his.

His hands cup your breasts roughly. Tugs and twists your nipples, a few shaky moans telling him exactly how sensitive you are – he might not have a girl in a hot minute, too busy with being the best freaking mercenary in the world, but even he knows how to take care of a pretty thing like you. Your tits fit in his hands perfectly, even more, reasons to believe you were just made for him. Not for some lame job at a Lego store counter – you should be waiting on your knees in his bedroom, with your mouth open wide and neat to fit his cock right in. With some sweet things lingering on your tongue as he bullies himself right in, getting what he deserves for protecting peace – and installing violence – while doing his job. He might not be the best freaking guy around, but he deserves something nice.

He pinches your nipples until they’re firm and swollen, every little cry escaping from your lips is only encouraging him to proceed. Licks on the open skin of your neck until his eneve stubble makes you whimper from how sensitive you are – it should be painful, he thinks, with how bloody the little bite marks from his teeth have become.

König marks you as thoroughly as possible, smiling each time you cry and beg for him to stop. You’re changing between bad German and good English, between loud cries and small whimpers, which he can’t determine from pleasure to pain. Not like he cares, too determined to make you cry his name – even though you probably don’t know it. All of his desires to claim you taking full power now, not listening to the way you plead with him. Whimper for him. Your skin is a clear canvas, allowing him to paint you with hickeys and marks, enjoying the little blood droplets covering your collarbones.

— Quiet, please. Don’t…don’t move, Schatzi. I don’t want to hurt you.

— Please, please, just…anything but… — Won’t take long. Promise.

— I don’t want to- — Quiet. I know you don’t, Liebling. Just…Scheisse, you…fuck.

— Stop! — Can’t. I apologize, Schatzen. Relax for me, ja?

He whispers, he whimpers, he is almost out of his mind when he can finally put his tongue on your swollen nipples. For some weird, depraved reason, he almost expects the milk to start flowing from your chest, allowing him to drink up as much as he wants. If he could get you pregnant, he might enjoy it for a few months – although having a kid on his hip isn’t as fun as it could have. He tried to babysit Hutch kids once when he brought them to base – and it was the worst fucking day of his life. Besides, little children can’t be around Legos – it's already a deal breaker for someone like him.

Speaking of legos…

You wiggle in his grasp, as good as you can with your hands still in the handcuffs – he should give you that one, at least you aren’t just laying lifelessly in front of him. At least you’re putting up a fight. At least he doesn’t feel too bad about restraining you without proper reasoning. You lick your lips again, that cute tongue of yours going over all the bite marks. You take a deep breath, shaking in his hold. God, he can just look in your face the whole day – barely knows how to handle himself around you. — I…I thought you wanted to…build this set with me? Smart girl. Way smarter than he gave you credit for – you know how to make him stop in his tracks and finally look at you differently. Maybe, you’re too good for him. Maybe, he doesn’t really care about that. Millennium Falcon, still sitting in the box – König hoped you’d start slowly putting it together but, seemingly, you need a bit of encouragement. The only thing that could tug him away from your breasts is the expensive set sitting just next to him.

Might start bonding with you as well. He tugs away from your nipples with a loud pop, an obnoxiously wet sound emerging as a thin line of saliva connects your breasts and his tongue. You whimper when he smiles, that scarred face of his twisting in a huge grin. Knows he’s not the most charming person around, but it’s not like you have any choice now – not with the limited options he gave you. Like a good girl, you’d probably pick doing Lego Sets with him than taking his cock in that tight pussy of yours. He’d be satisfied with any outcome. — J…ja. I’d like that. He has to give this one to you – you really know how to get a man going.

Bu building this insane set with him, that is.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #call of duty #yandere cod #cod x you #konig mw2 #konig x you #konig cod #lego

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actual-changeling · 4 months

Text

A small 'this is how you use tumblr' for the people that haven't been here very long. These are in no particular order, and if you have any questions, feel free to ask them!

Since I probably did not mention a lot of things, you are welcome to add to this post with your own advice.

a) Reblog posts. if you like it, reblog it. even if you have zero followers and ESPECIALLY if it's art or writing of any kind. We will see the reblog in our notifications and that alone brings joy. One reblog can start a chain and push the post onto many people's dashes.

b) Tumblr is not a very functional website, if you want to survive without losing your mind, there are two things you need: xkit rewritten and dashboard unfucker. Play around with the settings until it is to your liking. Additionally, change to firefox if you haven't already and install ublock origin to get rid of ads, tracking etc.

c) If you go to your settings (account! not blog) you can find this under dashboard at the bottom. Turn off at the very least 'best stuff first' since that will fuck up your dash and not give you posts in chronological order.

The rest are a perfonal preference but it will keep your dash tidy and easy to control if you turn them off, too.

d) Apropos settings—get a profile picture, a header, write something human in your bio, anything. Otherwise people will assume you are a bot and block you on sight.

e) Blocking! Do it generously and whenever you want, this is how you keep whatever remains of your sanity. It's not a lethal offense, it is (usually) not even seen as rude or anything along those lines. You block people and they block you and everyone is happy.

f) Under account settings you will find this:

Just like with blocking, use both options to your heart's content.

g) Tumblr is not like other social media platforms, spam liking & reblogging and going three years deep into someone's account is NORMAL and encouraged. You can search a blog by post type, tags, or even go to the archive and scroll through the posts there.

h) Lastly—interaction. We already went over reblogging (I mean it, REBLOG), but there are also replies and asks. If you add something to someone else's post please behave like a kind human being and don't be an asshole; based on my experience, that's easier said than done. On top of that, the tags are ALSO used for communication, go unhinged, ramble, leave your thoughts, or simply use them for organisational purposes. Everyone loves a good insane tag wall.

An open inbox (either anonymously or with your blog attached) is to be used! Please send people asks if they have them active, use it like DMs or a comment section, use it to recommend something, ask questions, participate in an ask or prompt game—we love asks here.

(We do not like harassment in our inboxes, same rules as above.)

#alex yells at the void #tumblr culture #fandom culture #tumblr in a nutshell #how tf do I tag this. anyway #i know a lot of new people followed me after good omens 2 and still are #so this is for y'all!

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milliesdiary · 1 year

Note

Imagine if the reader is friends with Jace and Luke but also betrothed to Aemond, so when he makes that offensive toast at dinner, reader gets mad and confronts him. She says that if he actually loves her, then he would stop doing those things, which leads to a confession <3

𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭; after a fight-provoking tribute at a family dinner, you ask aemond — your friend and betrothed — where his feelings lie.

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬; princess!reader from an unspecified house, fluff, a bit of spice ♡

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; thank you all for the support! also a big thank you for those who wanted to be tagged :) you keep me going! for anyone who reads this, please reblog and comment with your feedback. i fall in love with everyone who does and it means so much! i appreciate you & be sure to consider following to stay updated ✨

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬; @deeeeexx @cassianas @sweet-andromeda @thedeathofduty @evasgreentea @burningcoffeetimetravel

𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐁𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐄.

It started off a bit rocky, to be fair. But then Viserys’ made a plea for peace, begged for the family to heal, and the tension melted like a slab of butter in a warm hand. Everything finally seemed to be falling into place.

Forgiveness was offered. The family was together. Your betrothed was complacent, despite being in the presence of his nephews. Alicent hid her laugh behind a hand, Rhaenyra’s pretty lips were curled into a smile that matched Daemon’s, Jace and Helaena were dancing — it was all perfect.

You’re not even sure where it went wrong. It just did.

You are laying in bed now, hours after the eventful gathering. The insomnia you're experiencing is a classic case; Aemond's tribute plays over and over in your head. You aren’t even remembering the crucial details, like what he said or what you ought to have said.

Instead, all you can recall are the expressions on Luke and Jace's faces, the way the lighthearted mood deteriorated, and the clang of your knife on your plate after dropping it in shock.

You also remember storming out of the room.

Truthfully, you are embarrassed at your future husband’s behavior. His smirk had been so arrogant that you wanted to meet it with a fist, and you probably would have if you could get away with it.

You have been betrothed to Aemond for about a moon, and while you were aware of his distaste toward his nephews, you never thought he would disrupt his family as they attempt to repair the rift between them.

Over a fucking pig.

Maybe you should have expected it.

You met Aemond when you were both children, as your father had established a peace treaty with the Targaryens at the beginning of his reign. You saw the boy get taller, watched his jaw sharpen, and stared on as his charm turned into the stern temperament of a man. He learned to ignore the things that do not serve him.

You knew that Aemond became a person of duty, of justice; he would not let things go that easily. He held a grudge with the incident. Losing his eye.

Taking that into consideration, this should not have been that big of a surprise.

And Gods, do you still want to marry him. When your father informed you about the betrothal, you were overjoyed, fit to burst, chest suddenly stuffed with the warmth of the sun and a billion ‘what ifs.’

Aemond has fascinated you throughout the years; he has always seemed so at ease and still. Unhurried and righteous. He can remain at the fireplace for a considerable amount of time, leaving you to constantly wonder what he might be thinking and how he is able to survive in such solitude.

You love him. Always have, though you are too scared to tell him. Part of you wonders if he shares the same affections.

But there’s no chance of that, is there? Aemond does not allow himself to experience attraction or establish attachments. There is no changing that. He must have agreed to the proposal because it was the right political choice; there is no other reason why he would have accepted.

Aemond loving you back? It’s impossible.

You roll over onto your side and stare at the window that sits across the room, trying to focus on the moonlight drifting through. It takes about thirty seconds of dead silence for you to realize that you might just go insane. You’re literally about to grab an extra pillow and shove it over your face — with the plan of suffocating yourself to sleep — when you hear a knock on your chamber door.

The noise almost makes you jump. For a moment, you consider not answering it, but curiosity refuses to bid you farewell. You crawl out of the sheets and reach for a match on your dresser, flicking it against the wood to conjure a flame. You ignite the oil lamp that sits on your nightstand, the light basking the room in a warm, orange glow.

You are just making your way over to the door when the knock comes again. Straightening out your nightgown and taking a deep breath, you open it.

Despite the darkness of the stone hallway, you recognize Aemond immediately.

No, it‘s not just his chiseled face that gives him away, or the long silver hair that drapes over his shoulders. It isn’t the black leather tunic he wears, hugging his lean chest. It is the way he stands: the confident way he waits for you, chin high, strong and assertive.

He’s too perfect, despite being one of the most imperfect people you know.

“Princess,” Aemond greets. His eye briefly looks you up and down before focusing on your face again. “Green suits you.”

Your gaze flicks down to your nightgown — made from a beautiful silk and a deep emerald, decorated in golden floral designs. It was a gift from the Queen; even though you and Aemond had not married yet, she happily proposed that you start to wear the family’s house colors. You accepted, of course.

Aemond’s compliment is so genuine that you don't know how to respond. You feel a sense of pride at his admiration. “I do not wear the color much,” you shrug, trying to sound unbothered. “But I will get used to it over time.”

“You shall,” Aemond nods. He seems pleased. Pleased that you will become a Targaryen, that you will be dressed in the color of his house until the end of your days. It is a reminder that you’re his. All his.

“My Prince,” you change the subject. “Might I ask what you are doing outside my chambers this late?”

“I have come to talk.”

You fix him with a blank stare. Talk? The last thing you want to do is talk.

“Where did my guard go?” you ask slowly.

“I advised he take a walk.”

You get a feeling that the conversation with your sworn knight did not play out that way, but this is your future husband; it probably would not be a good idea to go to sleep on a bitter note. Biting back a retort and a sigh, you open your chamber door and wave him in. Aemond struts in casually.

He acts like he owns the place with how he stands directly in the center. You dawdle by the doorway, allowing him to observe the space: he takes in the fireplace, the golden decor, and then your bed, draped in silks and the pillows similar to the fluff of clouds. It’s a beautiful room, you must admit. You take pride in it.

“You are upset about the tribute, I presume,” Aemond says finally, turning to face you. That eye of his is the perfect shade of violet; purple like a flowering bruise, unclouded and intense and determined.

“I am not upset anymore,” you lie. “I do not care.”

“You do care.”

“No.”

It is quiet for a second. Not a word uttered.

Then Aemond pries you right open. “You do.”

“Fine. I do.”

“And why is that, Princess?” He almost taunts.

You want to snap at Aemond — ask him what he means and how can he take something like this so simply. It is not a joke. A civil war is brewing among his family, yet he does not take it seriously at all. He even seems to take joy in participating. The idea has you seething.

Here Aemond is, continuing to pretend that he is harmless, that his touch is gentle, that his palms won't burn handprints into your skin. You would almost believe it if you didn’t know any better.

“With all due respect, My Prince, Jace and Luke are my dearest friends. They are kind and loyal to me, as well as their family.”

Aemond hums, uninterested. "A dog possesses the same traits.”

An anger gathers within you. It screams right into your face: this is how it shall be and you will have to deal with it.

“You are playing quite the jester today, My Prince,” you tell him. I would like to slap you across the face, is what you’re truly thinking.

Aemond lets out an amused huff at that. The light from the lamp in the corner of the room dances along his silhouette, illuminating every plane of his face. His hair is a white, jewel-drenched curtain — there’s the urge to run your hands through it.

How can someone so gorgeous cause so much chaos?

"I am exhausted," you finally sigh. You can feel how hardened your expression has become. “I am finished with miscommunications and arguments. I have tried to refrain from intense emotions and confrontations. The moment I entered King’s Landing, I told you that there was to be no drama. You promised me. And what you did at dinner? That is the trouble I stray from, yet you seem so content in dragging me back in.”

Aemond’s mouth threatens to twitch into a scowl then. He’s trying to keep his face neutral, though annoyance peeks through the cracks in his façade. “You are acting as if jests are more harmful than stealing an eye.”

“I am not saying that. I am saying that if you are to be my husband, you should be shielding me from conflict. Not causing it.”

Aemond has nothing to say to that apparently. He just gazes at you piercingly, that one violet eye intently focused on you. You try to remain steadfast, although you do feel like shrinking under the chill of his stare. Somehow, you find the courage to continue.

“If you truly respect me as your future wife — if you truly love me — then you would cease this petty game.” You steel yourself, begging yourself to be bold and ask the question. “Do you love me, Aemond?”

For a moment, you catch how Aemond’s face changes into one of surprise; he obviously was not expecting that question. It takes a couple of seconds before he fixes his jaw, training his expression into something more cool. Practiced. Poised. But then he looks at you; truly looks at you, stares you down from the inside out. “I should be asking you the same thing.”

You freeze, almost shocked by the rebuttal. You can tell he is being serious: there is a sincerity with which he wants to know.

Aemond may be wild and deranged like a dragon, thirsting for havoc, but he still aches for approval and acknowledgment. Always has. Perhaps that’s what he wants; he wants to hear that even though he fails at kindness and charity, you are still able to love him.

“Tell me,” Aemond demands. Before you can say anything, he strides forward until he’s standing right in front of you. He leans into your space, breath fluttering along your cheeks and voice almost threatening. “Do you love me? For my righteousness that drives you mad and for my lack in restraint that you so despise?”

The fire inside Aemond could kill anyone in a five mile radius; he knows it. Yet he still wants you to love him, to bravely walk into the tempest. Locate him amongst each dancing flame.

“I will accept every piece of you,” is all you can choke out.

Aemond seems to mull the words over. His face is terrifyingly neutral as he observes you carefully; he must not know impatience.

“You still never answered my question,” You blurt. “Do you love me?”

Tell me you love me, is what you really want to say.

Aemond’s face remains blank for a second.

Unbeknownst to you, he’s almost offended at the inquiry. After all the years you have spent together, all the conversations and the secrets shared and the plights experienced — how could you utter such a thing? He was the one who spoke to his mother about proposing to you. Do you really think he did it for political gain? To secure a higher seat in the ranks of royalty?

Aemond almost sneers at your ignorance. “How much longer must we be together before you acknowledge that I am not doing this for power?”

“That does not comfort me, Aemond.”

Silence. Dead silence.

The lack of an answer from Aemond makes you worry: worry that you struck a chord within him, that you have irritated him enough for him to leave, that you have made him regret accepting you as his wife.

But something changes. Slowly — agonizingly slow — Aemond takes both of your hands into his, like a silent vow without words. A white flag of surrender. His profile relaxes into something slightly softer, more reserved.

At the end of the day, he is to be your husband. If you need comfort, he will give you comfort, even if it means he has to be vulnerable.

Just for you. Only for you.

“When we were children, you once accused me of not knowing the meaning of love," Aemond starts. "But you were wrong."

You begin to breathe faster, grateful he can only discern the the direction of your emotions and nothing more. Hearing those words makes you feel something; it flutters inside your lower belly and is comparable to hope.

“I do not give a shit about anyone but you,” Aemond admits. His voice is low, deep, sincere. You almost cannot believe it.

“Is that so?” You try to sound indifferent, but it’s not convincing. His face is so, so close: your noses are almost touching.

“I would not say it if it weren’t the truth,” Aemond hums. “I did not know how to deal with my affections before, nor did I accept them. You have tortured me into becoming someone I am not.”

Tortured?

“I don’t understand—“

“You are the sword I gut myself with; that, Princess, is love."

That’s it. That’s all you needed; that reassurance, that validation. Every single ache in your heart is extinguished in a single second, every wound healed, every internalized scar covered in gauze and bandages and the homeliness that accompanies love.

More. You want him to say more. “…And you will continue to love me?”

“You are mine until death, my dear wife. I am your monster for the rest of time. I am your insanity. I am yours.”

“And me?” You whisper. You’re struggling to focus, trying to remember that you’re mad at him, but his lips are right in front of yours.

Your question nearly makes Aemond chuckle. He holds it back, a sharp exhale of air coming from his nose instead. “You are my refuge.”

“Your refuge?”

“My refuge,” Aemond repeats, his expression more resolute. “I can envision no other peace beyond the one that exists when our bodies are bound.”

“And you prefer me?” You want to be showered in his love, again and again. “Over anyone else?”

“I would choose you over all,” Aemond purrs. His tone, his accent — you could crumple to your knees. "The world is cruel and it steals from everyone, so I shall do the same. I will take what I wish. I will take you every time you are offered.”

Goosebumps threaten to rise from your body. Aemond’s hand comes down to rest on your waist, causing your breath to come out as a stutter. You’re not sure how you haven't disintegrated into nothingness. “I have loved you forever, Aemond.”

A warmth akin to sunshine rises in his face and he almost looks humored. You need him. And he needs you, though he may not outwardly admit it; needs you like you’re oxygen and he's trying to catch a breath.

Suddenly, Aemond’s hand grabs the back of your neck and he pulls you in for a kiss. Your fingers fly up to grip his shoulders when your lips touch, opening your jaw for him on instinct. You grab a fistful of his leather tunic and kiss him as hard as possible, allowing his hands to conquer your body. He tastes of peppermint, smells musky like dragon.

Everything seems to be on fire. The pit of your stomach, your blood, his mouth. All you feel is the strength of his silhouette against your own and you want to remember this forever. With how Aemond holds you so firmly — almost like you might disappear any second — you can tell he feels the same. You have the power to kiss away his suffering, his years of self-hatred, his doubts, and the crushed dreams of an irrelevant future that he always imagined.

Aemond’s hands roam to your lower back, thumbs digging into the silky fabric of your nightgown. You draw him closer, brushing your thigh against his crotch to get a reaction out of him. He lets out a ‘hmm’ into your mouth.

There is nothing you desire more than to examine Aemond in full view with all lamplights on and his clothing off, to have him slowly remove this gown from your body and take his time with touching every inch. You want to run your fingertips across the ridged skin of his scar and trace it all the way down. You want to feel the weight of him flush against you, wrapped around you. You want him.

Finally, you draw away, only to whisper.

“You said you would take me whenever I am offered. Take me then, Aemond.”

A fire alights in Aemond’s eye — he’s considering it — but the flames quickly freeze over with that sense of duty. Self-control. “Not like this,” he murmurs. “But I vow to treat you to obscenities when I bed you. I will leave such marks on your body that anyone you entertain afterwards will have to know me in order to know you.”

Aemond’s words have the ability to make you shiver. It only makes you more excited for your wedding day. Even then, you still want him in this moment. Need his presence.

“Stay with me tonight, at least,” you plead. “Just share the bed with me. Nothing else. I will bribe the guards tomorrow morning so we will not get caught.”

Aemond considers you for a long while. Then, without a word, he smiles. It’s sly, yes, but oh-so beautiful.

“So you will stay?” You ask again. Aemond hums in agreement, cradling your cheek in a palm. It is a tenderness that you were not expecting, but one that you accept heartily. He nods his head before speaking.

“If you put your hand in mine, my dear wife, I will always hold it.”

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond smut #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond fic #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon x reader #hotd imagine #hotd fic #millie’s works — 📓

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xo2dee · 4 months

Text

𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐜𝐞 𝐕𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐨

𝐣𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

❦ Pairing: Nanami Kento x (Fem)Reader

❦ Warnings: MDNI/18+ only. smoking (nanami does it while reader secondhands), lap dancing, thigh riding, degradation, praise kink, dirty talk, daddy kink (it's said like twice maybe three times because i cant handle writing it too much), vaginal fingering, squirting, slight impact play, semi-public sex, rough sex, car sex, vaginal sex, finger sucking, unprotected sex, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, creampie

❦ Word Count: 15132

❦ Summary: There were various emotions swirling within his eyes, like his body and mind couldn’t figure out which one to grasp onto with you near him and there was an internal struggle with both parts of his mind trying to figure out what to do with you. You assumed you could feel flattered and prideful over that, getting the reserved Nanami Kento to swallow harshly at the sight of you and having him get jealous over you.

It made you want him all the more.

❦ A/N: yall remember this outfit

well it's what made me write this and made me think about ruining his pants as i rode -

❦ twitter - ao3 - discord 18+

It was too long of a moment before you realized he was watching you again – through his peripheral vision once more he had been eyeing you carefully in patterns. You could feel his stare crawling onto your skin like phantom itches despite not openly looking at him; call it an intuition, but you knew he had been watching you oh-so discreetly the entire night.

You wouldn’t have noticed if that hadn’t been your plan in the long-run, and he had been watching you for months in the same way you had been watching him out of the corner of your eyes for months. After that, it seemed to become a tangible game of cat and mouse, the both of you alternating between each player on the offense and on the defense to see who could catch who in a slip-up and corner them for the pounce.

(It was all in the eyes, and if you were being honest, he had you beat there.)

His eyes were as dark as the shadows he was bathed in, only the neutral pattern of his coat and powder blue of his turtleneck were visible along the edges of the darkness creeping in from the outside and the sheen of his blonde hair highlighted from the city outside of his car. His free hand laid between his spread thighs limp, yet there was an undertone of apprehension in them from the very way he had the other tightly gripped onto the steering wheel the entire ride to where he was taking you both, the shine of his Tag Heuer watch in the low light of his car making him seem all the more mysterious. You could count the veins that were protruding outwards in his hand and those visible in his forearm holding the steering wheel from his rolled up sleeves, could count each way he had shifted in his seat from the tense atmosphere, and could count each individual glance he had taken to you.

Though, that wasn’t to say you hadn’t been seeking your own glances to him the entire night.

The foot on the gas pedal of his car in all its sleek black glory pressed down harder, the engine purring in response to it as he sped up a fraction to get to the destination he seemed to have planned for you both – and you knew it wasn’t your or his apartment, you could see it in his eyes when he had approached you and pressed his lips to your ear, asking you if he needed to take you home or if you wanted to go elsewhere with him. You had obliged him, giddy in the way he had curled his fingers around your wrist and led you out of the club with a meaningful glare towards anyone else, away from everyone’s watchful eyes and the muted, giggling whispers about you two leaving together. It was like they were betting on it as much as you had been, wondering when all the tension would stretch to its maximum and finally snap for what had been brewing in-between you two for six months.

Pursuing him in your own right seemed to be the definition of a slow-burn; he was reserved as they came and preferred to keep things strictly work-related, but there were twists and curves in your ‘just coworkers’ relationship along the way as the friendly dinners and murmuring touches along each other’s arms became something more than just two people who were comfortable in each other’s presence. He could see it in the way you looked at him, all twinkling eyelashes in mascara and vision tinged in sapphire for your lust for him, but also the way you coated yourself in adoration each time he was around because you were sure what you were feeling was more than just lust if six months of pining over him spoke for anything.

And yet, you could see it in his eyes – something he had tried to definitely hide behind those silly little goggles he wore when you saw him most – in spite of your tinted vision of yearning. There was something else there hidden in those umber irises, something you couldn’t quite place your finger on since his eyes were at times too intense to even look into and you often shied away from in response. He had no problem meeting your gaze however, a master of making eye contact as he liked to look people in the eye as he spoke and a master of making you squirm as it seemed folly to try and decipher any meaning behind his eyes, leading you to believe that perhaps your desire was unwanted, or he was oblivious.

Nevertheless of that, you knew it was there, and his behavior that night further cemented it from the way he had glared at you over the rim of his glass of Whiskey while you eyed him as you danced, the amber liquid scalding like his gaze and rough like the way it felt in your throat when you teasingly took a swig from him in a chance to get him wound up. It had worked a fraction (a clenched jaw and a narrowed set of eyes as you only smiled, giggled at him, and poked your tongue out to lick your bottom lip in response before prancing off), but it was nothing compared to what made him slam his feet down off of his barstool, leaving a generous tip (and paying for you as well), and to come after you, the deep blue lights of the club highlighting and shadowing his features in a cutting edge that made you clench your thighs and hitch your breath in anticipation the longer he looked at you with that mask of indifference.

And at that moment then, it was only a question of whenever he would snap and give in to give you both what you had been skipping around the bush for in your not-so silent or unknown play of pining and sexual tension.

In your peripherals you watched as the hand that laid limp in his lap rose and dug into his pants pocket, fishing out a cigarette from his carton before addressing you quietly for the first time in several minutes. “Mind if I smoke?”

You curled your toes in your laced-up heels, nails painted white and knees feeling weak watching him raise his cigarette already to his lips, “Not at all.” He didn’t waste any time afterwards, the window rolling down a smidge as you watched him intently, quick in lighting it and pushing it to the corner of his mouth. Your mouth was dry then, discreetly staring at his lips before you wetted your own with a swipe of your tongue, “You’ve smoked an awful lot tonight…”

Kento didn’t answer you, only a hum leaving him as he focused on driving for the time being and made his way through winding roads and sharp turns out of part of the city where the club was located. He wasn’t in the mood to seemingly discuss that particular piece of information, possibly afraid that it would reveal too much of his true reasoning as to why he wanted to leave the club with you so early. You let your eyes fall away from him, a pitfall of anxiety and rushing excitement making home in your stomach as you waited for the inevitable while you let your gaze wander looking out the rain droplet-spattered window on the passing buildings and scenery.

Tokyo looked like a metropolis. The architecture was always interesting to look at – from grandiose skyscrapers to local houses with style made of tin. In Tokyo, the majority of the residential buildings there were compact. They were either small and very square, or tall and rectangular thin, existing in varying shades of coffee, caramel and grey and neatly placed together. Although Tokyo had its area of skyscrapers and modern architecture, the overwhelming feeling there was for design to be functional and straightforward was present, rather than used as a showpiece. Being nearly its own separate entity altogether and the capital, it was given personal art deco and art nouveau that was something utterly fascinating to you.

Though all of that was becoming was to become a sight on the horizon, the roads changing from being full of traffic to having stragglers of long-haul trucks and random cars alone, the view of the buildings changing to a seemingly endless forest full of darkness and winding roads. Tokyo was becoming a gleam on the horizon the more he drove on to pass free of any stoplights and stop-signs, the clock ticking towards midnight in a sign that whenever you two were going, you two were going to be very much alone.

In the corner of your conscious lulled by the humming of his car, you memorized the way the rain tinkled on his windshield and how the windshield wipers rapidly came up slapping the water away as you turned your gaze to it at the final stoplight before you assumed was your destination. The whole process looked oddly mesmerizing, to the point your eyes nearly began to droop and a frown slipped on your mask at your oncoming haphazard fatigue. You didn’t necessarily realize you had done it, nor did you realize when, but you had placed your feet upon his dash in a fit to make yourself comfortable and forgoing completely any manners and where you were as you lost your train of thought.

Kento’s voice broke you out of your thoughts once more.

“You shouldn’t put your feet on the dash,” he started off softly, until his gruff voice rose in volume with his next sentence, “and you should put your seatbelt on.”

He startled you at first, blinking as you left the trenches of your brain addled with wayward thoughts as you turned your head fully to look at him. His eye remained on the road ahead of him, yet you could not take your own off his visage in the crimson shine of the stoplight. It made him look… dangerous, a far cry from how he looked pliant and gentle underneath the blue lights of the club. The red contrasted and highlighted his features nicely; from the sharp crease of his jaw, the side view of his bottom lip plumper than his top with the cigarette hanging off his lip, the aristocratic nose, his dark eyelashes falling over his dark eyes, and the angled, nicely trimmed and arched brows overtop.

He looked… God, you couldn’t describe then. But he was so handsome, and it made you want to scream.

Regardless, you pushed those thoughts away – and the faint lingering of arousal beneath your naval – swallowing harshly before you piped up in another tease to let the awkward mood simmer away, “Oh yeah? ‘Traffic Regulation Number One’?” Even as you said it, you removed your feet and did not miss the way his eyes remained on the way your dress rode up on your thighs in the process.

Kento glanced at you again, a glint in his eyes that made you cross your ankles, “Not only that, if we were to wreck you would suffer more than I,” he turned his head to you then, challengingly staring into your eyes, “and I can’t have that.”

That time you stared at him as you considered his words carefully, only coming up short to why – other than genuinely caring for people, including yourself – he even mentioned it before you reached for the seatbelt and slowly put it on. You could blame your forgetfulness of it on always walking and taking the bus everywhere, though he didn’t seem to mind otherwise. Once it clicked, you looked up at him from under your eyelashes, “Happy?”

“Extremely.” He says with the world’s most monotone voice.

You tottered on further as the light continued to remain red, “I doubt we’d even get in an accident… you’ve been driving like ten under the speed limit.”

“It’s raining,” he argued back, a hint of exasperation in his tone, “and are you so surprised I follow regulations?”

You stretched your legs out, “It’s only raining a little. And I wouldn’t say ‘surprised’, maybe… a bit of a cliché for you.”

“’Cliché’? How so?”

“Have you seen yourself? Everything about you screams ‘punctuality’, and your willingness to follow all the rules. I feel like you need to loosen up…” you trailed off eyeing him up and down unashamedly, aware he could probably feel it.

Kento abruptly grinded out his cigarette in his ashtray sitting within the cup holder, a bit of a slight underlining of his true strength showing through as he did it. “’Loosen up’…” he practically hissed the words out between the cracks of his teeth; the sound making it nearly like he had tasted a horrible beverage and was trying to get the taste of the liquid off of his taste buds. He glanced you at once more and both hands were on steering wheel, tight in the way he held it. “You’re saying I’m predictable.” He wasn’t asking, he was just repeating your statement back to you in a different fashion. He was curious then.

“Sometimes, but I’m still trying to figure that out… Though from your behavior tonight, maybe I don’t really know.”

His head slowly turned to you, eye half-lidded over that molten gaze and sending a sharp, shrilling tingle down the ridged bones along your spine. You held his gaze however, not one to be so easily one-upped and having your fair share of looking men in the eye so effortlessly to get them at your mercy, yet it was different with him. He was… dangerous, all the more giving off that feeling the longer you gazed openly at him in blood-colored lighting so much like the nearly visible tension between you two as you realized you might have been completely wrong about him being horribly uptight and haughty.

His little performance in the club was enough evidence to back that up, buuuuuuut you were in a teasing mood again and had piqued his interest in the matter. Gone were your nerves thinking of how you two were supposed to remain strictly platonic in the way coworkers were supposed to be, in was your lust clawing away at your brain like a caged beast for something you had not felt in so long. Metaphorical vines straight from the sinful garden were ensnaring you in and blooming with azure roses in comparison to lust’s color association, slowly crawling out around your limbs and reaching for him.

You wanted him.

And you had a good guess that he wanted you, though it was just matter of playing your cards right to get your answer.

Kento finally answered you, a languid blink on his eyes before he sent a slow look down the course of your body, “I supposed you don’t.”

You hummed leaning slightly forward and slowly beginning to raise your hand, a new idea born within your mind, “Call it an intuition. Though…” The air shifted between you two once more, the lingering taste of seduction about as you stretched your hand out further to him, “I don’t think it’d kill you to have a little fun for once and loosen up…?”

Your hand landed on his thigh, to which he suddenly tensed up from the contact and his grip on the steering tightening up to point you thought he may have ripped it off if he wanted to. You had landed up closer towards his hip, feeling his quads flex and twitch underneath your smooth glide to let your sit your hand closer to his knee. Then, only for a moment, you dug your nails through his skin and into his pants.

However, he kept his composure for that moment, regarding you carefully after a particular hard swallow that made his Adam’s apple bob, “Did I not come to club tonight after you begged me?”

You rolled your eyes at him and sent him another sultry look from underneath your eyelashes with a small pout on your lips, “Yeah, but all you did was sit in the corner and drink sips out of one glass of Whiskey; sulking, and even when I asked you to come dance with me you wouldn’t.” You made it a point to sigh dramatically after finishing your sentence to give him a clue that you were somewhat hurt by him, circling your finger along his pants while you mulled the entire night over in your mind.

When you first saw him standing outside your apartment door for the night, you hardly even recognized it was even him at first.

Nanami Kento was known for dressing to the nines every day for work, as he usually wore a three-piece suit with shining Oxford shoes to match; the suit crisp, free of wrinkles, without a single piece of lint on it, and his shoes looking like they had been newly bout despite him having bought them two years beforehand. Though, what he showed up wearing for the night… he certainly dressed for the club.

You knew Kento had name-brand clothing, and you figured that they were just his tailored suits and expensive shoes, but the moment you spied the particular set he was wearing and realized you had seen it once flicking through a magazine at the Dentist’s Office while chomping gum you weren’t supposed to, thinking nothing of it then on the model but appreciating it, yet seeing it like you were… It was all the more appealing on the eye from the way he seemed to model it without trying, and how the fabric layered onto his sculpted body to accentuate his complexion and hair perfectly underneath the low light of your apartment’s hallway. He looked… stunning (not like he never did anyway).

Kento dressed himself purely in Dolce & Gabbana; a neutral, double-breasted overcoat, and in plaid-like pattern was what caught your eyes first, buttoned once in the middle and a brooch pinned onto the left collar of it with a pretty, powder blue turtleneck underneath it. His pants looked crisp and in the same fabric of his overcoat and his shoes were new too you noticed, black with shiny golden emblems atop them. You knew he had still had that watch on too, he never went anywhere without it, and his hair looked styled all the more from his usual day of work; he truly had went out of his way.

(Sometimes you wondered truly how much money he ended up making at his office job.)

You had taken to shamelessly looking him up and down, an eyebrow lifting up and your throat hot as panties were suddenly too uncomfortable for you even wear any longer.

“You look handsome.”

Kento had done the same to you, passionate eyes free from his usual goggles, and he took in your silvery and glittery mini-dress that had the world’s most plunging V-neck and free of a back and split up on each side of your hips. The laced-up heels were just for fun, but you liked the way he looked at them.

And from how he drug a slow, dreamy course look up your body back to your face with his own challenging eyebrow raising, you knew he liked your outfit just as much as you liked his.

“You’re beautiful.”

Briefly, you had wondered if he purposefully left out ‘look’ but decided not to look too much into it since it set your belly spiraling and thighs twitching.

It was a defining moment that you actually got him to come with you, Kento never being one to go out where there were crowds and preferring to stay at home to read a book. Not like you didn’t like that about him anyway, but the moment Satoru asked you if you wanted to go out for the night that was supposed to be just bar-hopping on your behalf while he sat back and watched your alcohol intake sipping on his water, turned into him insisting you go to some club the moment he learned you were tagging Kento along with you, you knew you had made the right choice in doing so. You could vividly still see the wide Cheshire grin that stretched across his lips abnormally wide the moment he saw you in your dress and heels with the straps twirling along your calves up to your knees and Kento trailing behind you dressed to the nines in Dolce & Gabbana with his eyes only for you and only on you, you knew then you were in for a Hell of night.

You sighed inwardly though as you remembered the way Satoru had snickered in your ear about Kento watching your every move and telling you he had plan that could work, knowing good and well the plan would either fail horribly, or work tremendously. You were iffy in following in with whatever he had planned, as he was not someone who had not even ever been in a relationship (sans if you wanted to count the soulmate bond you knew he had with Suguru) and couldn’t talk to women to save his life as he literally had not ever pursued one that much and preferred to complain about how scary they were. Though you supposed that if he knew how to rile Kento up, he knew how to do it well.

In the end, you had little to no drinks for the night, wanting to remain sober on the behalf of not wanting to humiliate yourself in front of Kento, and after the moment he declined dancing with you Satoru had swooped in and came to your aid. He asked you to dance as his sunglasses slid down a fraction allowing you to see those luminous eyes with a knowing glint and wink you were only able to see, and you took his hand and let him take you to dance floor. After that… well, that was the moment Kento had swiveled around on his stool and stomped after you the second Satoru stepped away from you after the small dance and asked you to leave with him.

You knew then that his little plan to make Kento jealous had worked, and you wouldn’t have been in his car with him brewing with extreme sexual tension and want if you hadn’t followed along.

You’d have to thank him if everything worked out.

Kento’s eyes darkened and hardened, the memories of everything coming back to him all at once and you watched his jaw clench before the harsh words were tumbling out of his mouth, “You seemed more than content enough to dance with Gojo.”

You rolled your eyes again, repressing the urge to giggle at his blatant jealousy and walking two fingers along his thigh, “Is that what this is? You're mad that I danced with him after you rejected me? You can’t blame a girl for trying though, which is exactly why I said you need to ‘loosen up’,” you hissed those last two words out, gripping his knee again and batting your eyelashes at him.

He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes revealing more than perhaps he would’ve liked and you nearly felt like shrinking as the seconds passed without him moving a muscle and only gazing at you. There were various emotions swirling within his eyes, like his body and mind couldn’t figure out which one to grasp onto with you near him and there was an internal struggle with both parts of his mind trying to figure out what to do with you. You assumed you could feel flattered and prideful over that, getting the reserved Nanami Kento to swallow harshly at the sight of you and having him get jealous over you.

It made you want him all the more.

It was a few more moments before you let go of his thigh, sitting back up into your seat and keeping your eyes on him, a finality in your words as he let off the gas when the stoplight turned green and resumed on with a left turn. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

He glanced at you once more, a sharp, matter-of-fact one as he turned the wheel once more with just his palms and slowed the car down until it came to a complete stop. You discreetly looked around as you eyed a smooth and rippling lake from the patter of raindrops stretched out below the both of you situated on top of a hill, gleaming a shining silver and a deepening onyx in the night and in the presence of rain. Delicate pine trees lined the horizon of what you could see, edging around the lake and fading into the darkness of the night and rainfall the more you looked at them. It was a gorgeous sight, and the moment Kento killed the car engine you heard an owl hoot in the distance, the lonesome sound surprisingly peaceful and adding to the atmosphere.

As you looked on, he only offered you two words. “We’re here.”

The more childish degree of you wanted to pout at his swift dodge of not answering your question, though ended up humming in acknowledge and bringing up his choice in taking you both, “A secret little lake? Wasn’t expecting this…”

You heard him grunt as you eyed the water, fixated on the way it rippled with each hit from a drop of rain before he quietly responded with an air of distraction about him. “I would come here sometimes after long shifts at the office, it’s a nice place to clear your mind up from everything. And I’d like to think no one knows it’s out here.”

You sat quietly for a few moments, eyeing the dark forest surrounding you both and wondering what brought it about for him to take you there. Deciding to lighten the mood, you teased him a fraction, wanting to bring him out of whatever dampening mood he seemed to be in, “Did you bring me out here to kill me and dump my body in the water?”

Kento snorted, “Hardly.”

You hummed again to his gruff admission, taking notice that he had turned the car off but he had made no moves to get out of the car. Though you briefly became startled whenever he suddenly undid his seatbelt before sitting himself further into his seat, your eyes sliding over to him as you realized he had already been staring over at you. You subtly fiddled with the hem of your dress, sensing the electricity in-between you two after the stunt you had pulled.

Not that you were complaining.

You stretched in your spot and sighed, feeling your back pop along with your neck as eyed him once more, “So what’d you bring me out here for?”

He was quiet, and his gaze nearly frightened you (but you never did scare easy), before he swallowed again, “To talk.”

“’Talk’?” you repeated back, a hum leaving your chest as another smirk played along your lips, “You know you could’ve talked me at the club too, right?” you turned slightly to your side to face him better, making a show to rub your thighs together and relishing the way he watched the movement.

“Too distracting, and too many people there.”

You swung your right leg up, giving him a peek of your panties as you propped your leg up atop his thigh, the heel of your stiletto digging into his pants a bit, yet not enough to harm him. He was quick to curl his fingers around your ankle, his thumb rubbing the bone to make sure you kept your foot placed there. “Really? Could’ve sworn you were more than intent enough with the way you had been staring at me all night, but maybe it’s not me who was so distracting…” You shot him a knowing look, realizing you had hit the nail on the head whenever his brow wrinkled, and his mouth thinned. Sighing, you continued on, thinking he wasn’t about to reply to that, “Don’t be like that, Kento. You know you can’t be jealous over Satoru for taking my attention from you..."

“For once, you’re wrong,” he said, voice taking in that commanding tone that made you snap your mouth shut the moment you heard the first syllable leave his mouth. “More-so annoyed with myself over declining you like that,” he continued, two fingers tickling along your calf all the way up to the bend of your knee, “There’s no reason for me to be jealous,” he curled his hand underneath your knee, lifting your leg up and leaning his body over so that his mouth closed in on your ankle, his breath tickling your skin as he spoke more, “Why would I be jealous when I know you’re already mine?”

The moment he pressed a kiss to your ankle your skin erupted into goosebumps, nearly losing your composure to keep up your attitude for his bold-bold claim that tickled your insides and made your cheeks warm. “I’m yours? That’s a bold claim…”

“Please,” Kento started with a sharp look up towards your face, keeping his gaze locked with your as he pressed another kiss to your calf, “You’re hopeless if you think I haven’t noticed.” His hand moved to curl around your calf once more, another kiss placed to your shin that time as hum vibrated out of his throat, “And you’re completely obliviousness if you haven’t noticed my own feelings at this point.”

Necessarily, you hadn’t been too oblivious in thinking so yet thinking back to everything you realized perhaps isn’t all about lust and more emotional than you realized. “Oh.” Had been your quiet response, a whisper that made him hum into your skin again.

“You have chills… I wonder why.”

He knew damn well why, and he released your leg to let your bring back into your space, eagerly as well anxiously awaiting your response for him. You swallowed down the thick tension, eyelashes ghosting over your eyes in your cute blinks as you regarded him for a long moment before speaking. “So, what do you wanna do about that now, Kento?” Your tone was sly and mischievous, yet shaky in want.

Kento was giving you his own version of the Stanley Kubrick Stare with less murderous intent and more seduction pooling into his eyes, and longer you both stared at one and another the antsier you got in you want to know exactly what he was thinking. Fortunately, he finally spoke back up, curing you of the itching want to know what was on his mind and the tingling along your inner thighs.

“Do you want this truly?”

It was soft, vulnerability laced within his voice as he asked you for permission first before doing anything else. It warmed you, but he should have known what your answer would always be for him.

“Yes.”

Kento languidly blinked at you, eyes falling on the way your coat was still covering your body somewhat until they made towards the way you had your thighs pressed together and your hands then placed neatly into your lap. He lingered on your legs until he rolled his gaze back upwards to your face, leaving behind the specter of lava in his trail and mimicked you by marginally raising his eyebrow in question to yours. It made you bite the inside of your cheek, almost feeling like shrinking under such an intense stare from him as the atmosphere in-between you two boiled to a blistering degree as the small space in separation only seemed to close in on you both.

You briefly grew aware you still had your coat and seatbelt on, wanting to take both off to help with the growing heat until he broke the silence again and froze you from making any movements.

“Come here.”

He spoke with refined poised, yet an underlining of uncontrolled gruff that churned a sharp, familiarity in your lower abdomen as you let his words sink into you to understand where he was going with it. It seemed his little display of annoyance from before was more of his display of biting back for control in your teasing and making slip over the edge. Nevertheless, your lips twitched as you realized where he was trying to go with it.

Truth be told, you’d secretly been hoping he’d pull a stunt like that.

Your anxiety about the earlier worry of what possibly caused him to seek you out like that was out of the window, the window still spattered with rain highlighted into the shadowed car by the neon lights of the car console so perfectly underlining his features and making him all the more handsome that you couldn’t resist. You didn’t necessarily care for the bigger topic at hand at that moment, and neither did he – which may have not been the smartest decision, yet the scorching friction between you two was increasing beyond belief and you both desperately needed to settle it.

And for that, you chose your next words carefully to see if Kento was biting at what you thought he was.

“Play some music for me.”

He held your gaze as his arm lifted, his hand coming up next as he deliberately pointed a finger out to mess with the radio until he got it to a low volume loud enough for you both to hear and to feel the vibrations from the bass rumble throughout the car and into the seats for your bodies to feel. You watched him keenly the entire time, trailing your gaze from his finger still sitting atop his radio, over the skin of his exposed forearm and the sleeve of his blue turtleneck, over the bulge of his bicep and up to his face still impassive in its expression, yet his bright and dilated the longer he glowered at you. You felt your lips twitch upwards for a smirk, heart pounding and gut curling despite the excitement you felt for what you were about to do.

All the teasing glances, soft touches, hushed whispers and hot stare downs were finally all coming down to the head of the sexual tension that spilled over like magma breaking free from a volcano. The lava was free to ruin, your body and mind succumbing underneath its scorching weight as you sent him a candied smile and obliged him.

“How can I say no now?” You shrugged your coat off, letting your bare arms and shoulders come into view – to which he ate up at the sight of more exposed skin – before you leant over to undo your heels and stopped just as quickly as your slid a finger under the winding straps below your knee.

“Keep them on… The dress too.”

Kento spoke authoritatively, leaving you no room to even consider to take either of the articles off as you sat back up straight in your seat and looked over to him with a slow blink. “Okay,” you eventually answered, finally doing in and unbuckling your seatbelt as it was the final thing separating you both. And once that bind was free, you knew there was no going back.

At that, Kento leant back up, arms outstretching for you and eyes heavily lidded, “Come here then.”

With an intake of a long inhale and your heart pounding inside of your skull akin to thunder rolling, you made you way over to him, warmth spreading throughout your body the moment he slipped both hands under your arms and around your back, sliding them down to glide over your ass for a second before gripped you on the back of your thighs. You wrapped your arms around his neck in return and leaned into him, nearly sighing aloud as the warmth of his body had your own body propelling into another round of arousing sensation, the smell of his cologne (Armani you were sure; more specifically Armani Eau de Cèdre that you had caught a whiff of on some of the more prestigious of men. The woody tones with the spicy nuances mixed in with a mouthwatering tea note were so very familiar to you and you personally enjoyed the smell. It was sophisticated and elegant, something that matched him just perfectly you thought) intoxicating you and spiraling you into a descent of nirvana.

Before you were more than warm and relaxed just sitting beside him, completely content with his presence alone yet getting him so close to and holding you was another thing altogether.

Kento handled you like he handled that fine, China vase filled with lilies at his apartment on his dining table; delicate in the way he let his calloused hands find way on your body and lifted you like you were something completely precious to him that he didn’t want broken. Despite the awkward angle as well, he picked you up from your seat effortlessly and you pulled your legs up to bend them to not knock them or your pretty heels along his stick shift or knock over the ashtray in his cup holder. He maneuvered you over with ease into his seat, finding yourself hovering over his lap for a moment as he removed one hand to fiddle with the seat so that he could recline it back to let you to be comfortable. A second later you felt the seat move, his body leaning as far back as he could while holding onto you still before his hands returned to rubbing along your bare back, soothing to let you know he was done, and you could move whenever.

You were more than ready too if the slightly damp panties were anything to go by and the heat within your lower abdomen.

And with that you plopped down onto him, the misjudgment of where you were hovering over him and how he was holding you slightly off as you landed atop his thigh with your own straddling it and tightening up around whenever his muscles flexed and pressed up against your clothed cunt. However, it was fine for the time being, you wanted to egg him on further, and by the looks of it he wanted you to as well.

You sat back away from him as you slid your hands to lay atop his shoulders, meeting his intense gaze and relaxing your body and mind and letting it move to the low hum of the music playing in his car. You began in slow erotic rolls, satisfaction building within when you watched his nostrils flare.

His hands slid down to grasp onto your hips in a firm hold, his reclined form with you beginning to swing your hips across his thigh feeling all the more inviting as you watched his eyes follow the movements of your hips with indifference marring his expression. He was playing nonchalant, like he didn’t get jealous at the club, drag you out to a secluded location and all but ask you do to what you were doing.

You sighed tapping your fingers onto his shoulders to catch his attention, only speaking once his gaze flitted back up to yours, “If I had known this was what you wanted, I would’ve let you take me a lot sooner… But,” your slid an index finger diagonally before plucking the button of his overcoat free, exposing chest and abdomen and gently scratching along until your nail was tapping onto the bone protruding from his collarbone through his shirt, “I liked seeing you get a little jealous and drag me out yourself…” you titled your head and pressed your breasts closer to him, mouth quirking up at side when he only continued to watch and listen, “Maybe I should’ve done that a lot sooner if it would’ve ended up like this.”

A huff left him, “Is that why you were flirting with him? To just make me jealous in the end and get what you want?”

“And if I said yes?”

“I wouldn’t believe you. You flirt, but you flirt to tease,” his free hand fell to his pocket, retrieving his carton of cigarettes as he laid onto the center console for a brief moment. “You tease me and then you run off for the chase.”

Damn, he could read you like an open book.

You lifted your hands from his shoulders to dig them into the seat’s headrest just behind him, your hips rotating slightly faster as you watched his nostrils flare from the action, “Attentive, aren’t you?” you drummed your fingers onto the cushion, tilting your head at him more as you lowered yourself further down onto his thigh, “You don’t like chases?” Your voice breached off at the end, higher pitched as an all-telling dampness settled within your panties and a coil grew inside of your abdomen.

He had another cigarette between his index and middle fingers, beginning to fish out his lighter as he continued the banter with you, “It’s my job to chase really. I chase… then I capture…” he let the double meaning echo out into the car, an eyebrow cocking back up at you for your little, ‘Hmph’ as he finally found his lighter deep within his pocket.

You weren’t done, however. “Smoking again, Kento? You’ll contract a lung disease at his point, and doing it while I’m in your lap too?”

He had placed it in-between lips by then, not lighting it in that moment as he spoke around the stick and let it bob from the movement, “You told me you didn’t mind smoke, and right now I’m about due one and I’ll try not to blow it in your face.” You can blow whatever you want in my face.

You leant forward into his face, freezing him in his actions as your mouth came to rest against the tip of his cigarette, “I wanna taste,” you murmured with your lips slightly closing in around the cigarette.

“Thought you didn’t smoke,” he slowly and roughly mumbled back, eyes on your lips once more.

You hummed leaning back away from him and slightly arching your back, “I said I don’t really smoke, but sometimes maybe I want to.” Your hips were slowing back down to grinding against thigh, the low vibration of the music rumbling the car and the brewing sexual tension encouraging you to slow down and work at him in a build-up.

Though from the feeling of the hardening cock below you, you didn’t have to do too much.

He lowered his eyelashes, a dark brow arching as he laid eyes on what was exposed of your chest, “You really want to smoke?”

“Only if it’s yours.”

He didn’t answer you after that, continuing to study you for a moment and you took that initiative to lift up a hand to snag the cigarette from between his lips. You didn’t get very far though, his head tipping further back out of your reach with a grunt leaving him as he did so, and you nearly went to say something but his plucking the cigarette out for himself and then –

He pressed the stick against your lips, maneuvering it around to pry your mouth apart until he sat it between your lips with his fingers trailing down off of your bottom lip once knowing it was securely there. Your heart was pounding then, intensely watching as he rose his lighter up to the end of the cigarette and flicked it for a small flame that lit up both your faces in the low lighting for him to light your (his) cigarette for you.

He held it there for a few moments until he knew it was properly lit before releasing his thumb and pocketing it away along with the carton, both hand returning to your hips as he waited for you to take a full drag. You did so, keeping the heavy eye contact you two had been making the entire time you had been together as you felt the tobacco burn the back of your throat from the long inhale you took. He watched the end of it burn for a few seconds, before his hand was rising back up and his long fingers were brushing across your lips again until he was grasping it free of your lips and raising it back to let his own close around it for a long, meaningful inhale.

You pushed out the smoke with a heavy exhale from your mouth, the smog of wisping against his face while you felt his legs underneath shift out further and a, ‘Mmm’ leaving him whenever your rocking picked back up. Your throat felt dry as you felt his thigh tense and flex underneath you – and perhaps from the cigarette since you really didn't like to smoke – and your mind clouded with pure lust spurred you on to keep finding ways to prod at each him.

However, Kento beat you to it that time.

“You look good like this. Gorgeous,” he rumbled out, hands sliding along the length of your body before gently skimming across your breasts. The action brought a full-body shiver from you, something he took note of as he smirked slightly around his cigarette, “You like this, don’t you? Playing with me until I get you how I want you?”

You sighed and rocked your hips faster at his words, the friction pure ecstasy that had you rolling your eyes back underneath your eyelids, the thin, wet lining of your panties practically useless as your clit so easily rubbed against his clothed thigh. “Mhm, I do.”

“I know you do,” his hands moved back to rub along your sides, thumbs pressing into your ribcage and voice soft like the drizzle of the rain pattering against the window, “You like this much better than grinding your ass against someone else, don’t you?”

His voice took a hard edge at the end, fingers digging into your flesh through your dress as he guided you to rock faster, the first little moan pulling free from your mouth whenever that tickle spread up from your clit throughout the rest of your body and you glided easier against his thigh from how wet your pussy and panties had gotten. That warm ball was growing within your belly, your cunt pulsing in tune with each way you leisurely grinded up onto his thigh whenever he flexed it for you, and when you quickly rolled back down whenever he bounced it for you. The heat in the car grew tenfold, your combined heavy breathing beginning to fog up the windows as you quickly tried to fight back a response to his question.

“Mm, maybe… Though it sounds to like you were a little jealous, huh? Jealous I grinded on him before I grinded on you –”

A squeak left your lips whenever one hand left your side and landed on your ass in a hard smack, the action causing you to roll your hips particularly hard and a low moan to tumble free from your lips at the pleasure it brought you. The stinging on your ass transferred over to the pulsing in your cunt, Kento’s hand leaving the harsh grip he had on your ass to take the opportunity of your open mouth to stick his thumb in there. You took that chance to close your mouth around his thumb, curling your tongue around it and licking it before puckering your lips and sucking on it like you knew he wanted.

He regarded you with a hum, bouncing his thigh up into you and relishing in the muffled whine he felt vibrate from your tongue and the way you wiggled atop him more, and sighed around his cigarette while he watched you nearly crumble above him.

“You can be such a brat sometimes… All talk like I couldn’t feel your pussy throbbing the moment you sat down on me and the little looks you give me,” he pressed his thumb down onto your tongue, forcing you to stick it out a fraction before he hooked it into your left cheek and leant forward into your face, “Even now you’re completely ruining my pants; soaking them through with your pussy. These are expensive too, but I suppose it can't be helped with how pretty you look doing it.” You felt your eyes roll back at his words, your stomach curling harder as you watched him pull his cigarette free and leaned closer into your face.

You moaned unashamedly whenever Kento blew his smoke into your mouth, lips puckered and so close to kissing you that it made you almost whine at the same it made you roll your hips on his thigh harder, your eyelashes fluttering in ecstasy as you greedily sucked in as much as you could from the blow of smoke that can directly from his mouth. He watched you in his own satisfaction, placing the cigarette back onto his lip and gripping your hips to goad you on further.

“Brats like you shouldn’t deserve anything. Especially with how you behaved tonight,” he hissed, fingers gripping your harder onto your hips and breaking his face away from yours to throw his head back onto the headrest, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Like it when I treat you like the brat you are and let you get yourself off on my thigh, yeah?” His hand came down onto your ass again, making you jolt forward and whine from the pleasure that prickled through your body because of it.

Your expression scrunched up at the sinful whisper and the slap, another hot lick of pleasure shooting through your nerves straight into your awaiting clit at the language. Fuck, did it have you drunk off pleasure and another harsh twist finding its way your naval.

He wasn’t about to let you not answer him though, and with his hand helping guide your rolling as he was back to mouthing off to you, “Tell me, sweet girl. Tell me, and I’ll give you what you want.”

You were so wet, and his thigh felt so fucking good rubbing against you, but the words were nearly sending you into a frenzy. You let your eyes focus back onto his face that was eagerly looking back with bright eyes (too bright for their shade) at you, his pupils enlarged while he waited for you to tell him the words back that he wanted to hear. Mind hazy and body feeling like you were intoxicated, a hitched moan left your lips when he bounced his leg into to bring your attention back to him while your tongue rolled over the syllables in your mouth to let him hear them, the choice of words falling out of your mouth before you could even think them over.

“Ah – I love being a brat for you, Daddy.”

Something in the back of your mind told you that perhaps it wasn’t wise to say that so soon, and you nearly wanted to curl up back into the passenger seat after you let that little word slip out for him to hear that you didn’t think he’d even particularly like, yet Kento proved you once more that he still continued to surprise you the entire night with his behavior.

He barely kept the groan in his voice as his fingers became bruising on you and forced you ride him faster and hard, his voice all but a growl mere seconds after you said it, “What did you say? Call me that again.”

The warmth inside of you expanded, lust teeming within you to the brim over his eagerness to the name, and you repeated just as fast as you rode his thigh long and hard.

“Mm, Daddy.”

It was butchered, slurred and perhaps not the best articulation, but he seemed pleased by it from the grip he had on you narrowing and letting your grinding increase.

“Good girl,” he praised you in a way that had your cunt clenching around nothing but your clit answering in a harsh pulse. His voice was so… exhilarating, almost as if you could taste the sugar-sweet flavor right on the tip of your tongue and the vibration of it sending a pulse back into your lower body. “You look so pretty right now; my gorgeous girl. How can I ever resist you?”

The words made a strangled noise leave your mouth, your nails falling down to claw into his coat as he pushed your hips harder and faster as a fleeting thought of wondering if he would mind a lap dance passed through your mind. You weren’t given time to think too much of it when he was helping you ride down into your impending orgasm faster by forcing your body to roll more on him and whispering his heavenly voice into your face. When his hand left your hip to slide back to grip your ass to follow after the shivers he caused, his breath began to mingle back into yours with the tease of a kiss and you were ready to beg into his mouth, “Please, I want it.”

A kiss was placed onto the corner of your mouth, “Want what?”

God, his voice; his voice. You were sure you could cum alone with just him whispering in your face like that. You rocked faster and doubled down harder into the grip you had on his thigh between yours, “I wanna cum, please.” It was so hot, everything smelled like him again and you had one track mind split into thinking of cumming on his fucking thigh and just him in general.

Kento’s teeth bit at your lips, a tease in it as he hissed once more into your face, “Say it nicely.”

Your fingers clawed into his coat, ready to slam your mouth onto his, but you held yourself steady and gave him what he wanted to hear since you knew the payoff would come just as nicely.

“Please, Kento, let me cum. Touch me.”

The answering groan was in your favor, his hand leaving you for a moment to take another drag of his cigarette before placing it back into his mouth and tapped your thighs lightly to stop your grinding before squeezing, “Lift up for me.”

You obliged and lifted up a fraction, Kento’s hand diving up into your dress and pulling your panties to the side not a moment later as he sunk his middle finger first into your pussy before letting his ring finger join when he realized there was no friction and unease from your end. His thumb found your puffy clit and began a harsh roll on it, his fingers in your drenched pussy quick and hard as they curled to stretch you and the sounds of your actions invaded the confined space.

“Hold your dress up. Let me see you,” he groaned, rewarding you with a squeeze onto your thigh with his other hand whenever you obliged him with a whimper. You lifted up your dress high enough to let him watch himself finger you, the obscene squelching of your pussy louder over the low music and slight rain from outside as he kept you steady and viciously finger-fucked you. “Look at you; dripping and ready to cum just from me. You’re a delight,” he rasped out, voice teetering on a heavily ledge the longer he watched his fingers disappear within you and the juices from your pussy splashed out and covered his hand and clothing alike, “I don’t think there’s a more beautiful sight than you right now.”

You moaned louder at his talking, nails digging into his clothes for leverage and the knot in your stomach ballooning outwards and heavier than from before as he curled his fingers harder and faster against the furthest point within you that had your thighs quivering from the rapidness of his fingering and his words. The pushing and pulling back and forth was becoming too much for you as your body began to feel way too hot and your muscles began to constrict, causing you to slightly lean your head back and your spine to arch at all the pleasing sensations. His fingers were so fucking big and thick, the callousness of them more enjoyable than you ever would’ve thought as they helped you reach your haven.

The tension he was adding onto your clit combined with his soft praises egging you on had you spiraling into that electrifying want, your hips wiggling in the same tempo to how he fingered you. His fingers were demanding as they were stretching and curling against you and apart on your insides, the slapping wet noise of your pussy making your cheeks warm and your chest beginning to heave when you felt the stretch behind your naval pull too far. “Kento,” you sighed out into the air above you, “I’m – Don’t stop. I’m gonna – cum.”

It was hard to speak as you sputtered out incoherent whine and your brain sloshed around inside of your head from the pleasure you were receiving, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. “Yeah? You’re going to cum on my fingers like this?” his voice dropped another octave as he continued to watch you squirm, roll, and grind onto his fingers, ignoring the fully hardened presence of his cock straining his pants as he was too focused on getting you to your high first. He pushed his fingers up into you in a mouthwatering tilt as he flexed them harder and pressed down harder against your clit in counter time with when you were swaying back down for another grind, a curse leaving his mouth whenever a louder moan escaped you, “So pretty.”

It was right there – right there, right there, right there. You just needed one extra push, one harder touch onto your throbbing clit for you to cum, as you watched the hood of his car above you swarm with colors until you had to shut your eyes from your oncoming release on the cusp. You wanted to hear his voice once more; just another scalding whisper in your ear or a silky praise for your actions, you really didn’t care what it was. The pressure was too much and weighed heavily within, a warning you were close and it was more than an ordinary orgasm.

“Please – oh fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

The answering sigh made your cunt tremble around him, his eagerness to see you do it triumphing as he gravelly replied and sped up a fraction while taking to speaking for that final shot to get to cross the finish line for your climax.

“Show me how pretty you and this pussy are whenever you cum for me.”

The pressure was distributed fast and had you releasing from the hold on your ecstasy to fall forward and grasp at his shoulders, your hips and body jerking harshly as much as you could as you fought through that undeniable force gushing all beyond your body and out of your cunt. Your pussy clenched and unclenched hard around his still moving fingers, but the throbbing leftover from the action was eye rolling as you felt his hands, his watch, his pants and parts of his car get soaked in your juices from the way you squirted and grow saturated from your trembling orgasm. His name was gasped out in the throes of it once before you became a garble of gasping, your brain addled with just jumbled thoughts pertaining to him and how fucking good you felt from doing all of that, while he goaded you through with tender squeezes and sweet words.

The ecstasy in your veins was loud as he continued to fuck you with his fingers in jerked movements to fully diminish it until he could slow to a stop and you could slacken your thighs from the harsh hold you had on his hand. Your breaths finally calmed down as you relaxed the grip you had on his shoulders while leaning back to see his face once your brain wasn’t just pure gush, finally blinking through the fog of vivid bliss as he pulled free his fingers from you.

You had half a mind to be embarrassed that squirted all over his car and him, getting his expensive watch and his suit covered in your pussy juice, but given from the way he laid there with such an enamored expression staring at his fingers coated in your climax, you really had no room to be embarrassed when he seemed to like it. All the more with his next action that had your body erupting back into chills and your cheeks warming as another prick of arousal brewed within you at the display.

Kento stuck those two fingers into his mouth after retrieving his cigarette in his other, a slow stroke as he sucked them and maintained eye contact all the while, his fingers falling out with a ‘pop!’ before he ran his thumb along his bottom lip to swipe for any excess. He rose an eyebrow at you and narrowed his eyes, “You taste good. Next time, you’ll have to let me eat your pussy,” he paused as he put the cigarette back into his mouth, the attitude leaving for a moment as he regarded you, “Are you okay?”

Despite everything, you still felt your body heat up from the play of his words and his actions and you lifted your leg back up to situate it on the other side of his hip to fully straddle him, coming down onto his lap fully as you felt the full brute of his cock press up against your pussy. Kento grunted from the touch, cigarette bobbing in his mouth and hands coming back to smooth circles onto your hips with his thumbs as he awaited your answer. You knew what it was he was asking along with actual concern over you, and you were ready to tell him that you were more than okay but settled for another approach.

“Still okay, but…” you trailed off for the moment as you slid your hands down his shoulders, gliding meaningfully past his pectorals and flexed abdomen as you came atop his belt buckle, tapping it a few times with your nails before brushing gently over his hardened cock in his pants, “You’re hard.”

His expression wrinkled at the touch, a break in that indifferent mask that had you thinking that you could’ve easily made him putty in your hands by just getting him in your hands or your mouth, and his jaw clenched down to leave his teeth indenting into his cigarette. He eyed you carefully, taking in your form for any other emotions before speaking lowly and gravelly, “It’s all because of you too. What are you going to do about it?”

You hummed and pressed your arms together to accentuate your cleavage, rubbing and palming his dick through his pants as it already felt hot and heavy through the cloth and thick from one touch alone. It had your body buzzing with excitement, your pussy already gaping and throbbing at the thought of getting him inside of you once and for all and sealing the deal in-between your two for good. Your sentimental emotions swelled with your lust, batting your eyelashes at him and leaning forward for a sultry whisper.

“Whatever you want, Kento.

Kento’s expression wrinkled again, brow deepening and eyes hardening once over the name as he let go of one hip and pulled his cigarette out of his mouth to blow out the smog once more into the air, a lethargic manner in his actions as he placed his stick back onto his lip and gave you a slow look over before speaking with finality that had your body shivering.

“Take my cock out.”

A shaky breath left you at the command, adrenaline pumping through your blood rushing within your veins as you blinked a few times and answered quietly, “Okay.” You shifted and leaned back as much as you could in the confined space, fingers moving to undo his belt and get his cock before both his hand curled his fingers around your own to stop you with his thumbs rubbing along your knuckles. You looked back to him and paused at the sheer vulnerability showing on his face, a side of Kento you rarely ever saw as it made your want settle for the moment to hear him out.

“Wait – Are you sure you’re okay? You sound nervous. We can do this another time, or I can drop the play… I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to, and I want you to be comfortable –”

You interrupted him by leaning forward and placing that long-awaited kiss you had been dying for the moment you knew you had feelings for him onto his lips. It was as chaste as they came, your lips molding around his bottom as you puckered and feeling him kissing you back mere milliseconds later when he realized what you were doing. You broke away from him after only a few moments, a soft smack after your lips separated and a sweet smile gracing your lips when you saw him dreamily blink at you like you were some fantasy he had just awoken from.

You giggled and pulled your hands free, flipping the hold to have your fingers curled over his wrists as you lifted to them to sit back onto your waist and you returned to his belt buckle, settling there for the moment as you spoke. “I like what we’re doing, and I'm comfortable, and…” you leant back forward, pressing another sweet kiss to his cheek before whispering into his ear, “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

Kento slightly shivered underneath you, his swallow being heard from your closeness as you leant back away and let him scrutinize your expression and eyes for any signs that you were lying, and when finding none his eyes warmed back over and he graced you with one of his rare, small smiles at the confession for your want and the kiss. He hummed and lowered his eyelashes, thumbs starting back up that slow roll on your hip bones as the heat in the car simmered around you two.

“So have I.”

You hummed and teased your finger over his zipper, “What do you want me to do?” It was better right then to give your consent as you asked for his that way to get the show rolling faster as you didn’t know how long you’d be able to hold out, nor how long he’d be able to from how ready he felt underneath you.

The flipped switch right back to how it was before, the sentimental emotions being saved for later in a silent agreement between you two from your eyes alone, and he fixed you with a hard look before repeating back that command from earlier before the tension ate you both alive.

“Take my cock out for me.”

You obliged him eagerly, confidence from his compassion and the way you both admitted what you two had been skirting around for so long as you deftly unbuckled his belt in clangs and undid his zipper just as fast. Pulling the front of his pants away allowed you to see the shape of his cock through his briefs (designer too, of course), the front darkened from the presence of his precum as you dipped a finger in the elastic and drug them down far enough to allow his thick cock to bounce free into its fully aroused state. You had been right to assume he was pure girth; a fat cock that was reddened at the tip and ready to get inside of you as you gently curled your fingers around it, squeezing it for a reaction before stroking him a few times to see how he reacted.

Kento hissed through his teeth and gripped your hips harder, bucking upwards from the seat into your hand as you watched the precum ooze out more from his tip and heard the growl he gave in rebuttal. “Don’t tease,” he grunted, using the hold he had on you to slightly lift you upwards, “Let me feel you. I want to be inside of you.”

You sighed at the words as you returned your hand for both of his shoulders, his one hand leaving your hip to grab his cock and slap it against your clit a few times, each soft ‘pat’ of it against you making you squirm from the stimulation and dig your nails into his shoulders in anticipation. “Kento,” you moaned, circling your hips in the air, “Please – I want you.”

“I know, and look at you,” he groaned, giving one harder slap of his tip to your clit and moving to rub along your pussy instead, “You’re still dripping all over me… Just can’t help it, can you?”

You couldn’t see the what he was talking about, but you believed him from how wet your pussy felt again from your earlier orgasm and how aroused you were once more. The car by then was smoldering, the hum of his radio still playing and the rain pattering against his windows and hood as the night went on outside of you two; the world nothing as of then as you two only had room to think of each other for the time being. You moaned and tried to catch him in your cunt, but he was quick to slide away as he waited for your answer.

“I can’t, not when it’s you.”

“Mm, I know, darling, I know. And I wouldn’t want you to either,” he cooed out, making your pussy clench around nothing and your clit tingle with the thought of getting more pleasure. He sighed as he caught himself on your opening again, the heat from you transferring over onto him and making both of your minds hazy with lust for what was to come finally after six months of pining and waiting.

You felt dizzy, but it was mainly from the inflation of emotions warping around your mind and heart, and you moaned again whenever he pressed the tip of himself to breach into for only an inch and his hand left his cock to join the other on your hips again. You waited for him to speak again, savoring the tension and anticipation between you two as it was about to quickly unravel and be replaced with a rushing storm of emotions for the awaited moment that had been brewing for months. And when Kento spoke, he didn’t disappoint.

“Sit on me; nice and slow.”

Eyes nearly rolling back and heart pounding from his command, you listened to him, taking him slow into you as it still did slightly sting no matter how wet and ready you had gotten for him. Perhaps it was because it had been quite a while since you actually had sex and you weren’t getting yourself off with your fingers or with the vibrator you kept hidden under your bed, but you knew what was to be expected since you had taken cocks before and that fear and distress of losing your virginity was long gone. You supposed it was to be expected with him having such a thick cock too.

Inch by inch you slid him into you, biting your cheek and practically holding your breath the entire time as it was a few more moments before the entire brute of him was pushed inside, a gasp falling from your lips as you felt your walls stretch, constrict and throb once you got him where you wanted him. He felt… amazing, and perhaps it might have just been from long you had gotten laid and missing the actual heat of another person – along with the warmth of a cock – but you began to feel your clit and cunt pulse at the mere entrance of him.

“Mm, you’re so thick,” you gasped out against his mouth as he did the same, both your lips continuing to skim across one and another in a fight of the other to give in and go for a kiss. “Feel so full,” you managed as you came back down to sit atop his lap with him completely inside of you.

Kento’s fingers tightened onto you, blunt nails ready to rip through your dress as he hissed at the feeling of your pussy coating him in your heat and wetness, looking up back to your face with his cheeks flushed in a nice blush and his eyebrows arched sensuously along his forehead as he tried to balance the cigarette between his lips still, “Feels good?”

You rolled your hips once, twice and three times before you found a nice rhythm for you both, his cock prodding your insides perfectly and your clit rubbing along his pelvis as you went in smooth motion as you fell deeper into brimming satisfaction and flooding emotions you couldn’t even decipher. “Feels perfect.”

He heavily blinked a few times, guiding your hips the same way he had been doing whenever you had been riding his thigh and you could feel his body relax from its tautness as he watched you ride him while continuing to puff on his smoke. “Yes, that’s it. Such a good girl,” he breathed out, his head falling back to lull on the headrest again as he watched you through lidded eyes, “Just like that. You’re doing so good.”

You moaned at the praise, arching your back and picking up the pace a fraction as your confidence doubled from his words. You nearly felt like you were spinning, your face finding way into his neck as pushed yourself against him to easily rub your clit along his pelvis, wetting his skin in the process from how completely drenched your pussy was. You did smooth roll downs onto his cock, clenching around him to hear him hiss and groan each time he was completely inside of you, and quick roll ups to unclench until you were at his tip and sliding yourself back down to bury himself back inside of you. His cock felt as good as you dreamed it did, each fantasy not even comparing to the actual feeling of him inside of you and the way he throbbed and how hot he felt inside of your soaked cunt with a protruding vein along his cock sliding against your walls so deliciously, you couldn’t help but to start babbling.

“Kento,” you moaned, sliding your hands onto his chest to pinch at his nipples showing through the tight turtleneck as he jerked underneath you and hissed again. You continued on knowing he was listening, angling your head onto his shoulder to look up at him as turned his head fraction to see you better, his cigarette burning mere inches from your lips. “I’ve wanted this for so long. Thought about you and your cock so much.”

Your little confession earned you a groan, locking eyes with him as he took another drag from his cigarette and let a hand come up to cup your jaw as the other one smoothed over your bare back in a rub holding the stick outwards between two fingers to not burn you. You opened your mouth eagerly waiting for the smoke, Kento’s mouth descending onto you not a moment later as the smoke engulfed your mouth the same time his tongue did. He squeezed your jaw as he blew the smoke into your mouth, a moan you gave muffled by the searing kiss and the taste of his harsh tongue that of tobacco and Whiskey. He broke off from you after a few moments, a string of saliva connecting you two as you stuck your tongue for him to press onto again before he retrieved his cigarette and placed it back into his mouth, hands gliding over your back while you remained riding him.

The haziness of the car had your mind spiraling, a quick glance around letting you see the windows had completely fogged over as your hands fisted into his shirt the more you leisurely rode him. It felt sticky and debauch in all its intentions, but neither of you were willing to care and the moment that you had squirted all over him and his car spoke for the both of you for how messy you two were willing to get. Kento spoke again for your attention, calloused fingers rubbing into your shoulder blades and the dip of your back each time you rolled and rocked atop of him.

“Tell me more,” he encouraged, voice getting raspier as you felt his cock pulse within you.

You sighed into his neck, your noises still mellow for the time being, but knowing that was perhaps going to change with the sliver of mischievous inside of you to indulge him in some of your many fantasies that you had. “Thought about you at night a lot, touching myself to the thought of you and wondering how good your cock would feel stretching me open like this.”

Kento rumbled underneath you, his chest vibrating with the low groan as his hands smoothed their way back to your hips to grab onto, a single word leaving him for you to continue. “More.”

“Thought about getting down on my knees and crawling under the table at meetings to let you fuck my throat – making you stay quiet so we don’t caught until you make me swallow all your cum.” Your voice began to get breathier as you increased to pace of your grinding, your clit tingling from the rubbing along his pelvis and his dick snugly inside of you stretching you full all but asking you to enhance the friction and intensity at which you two were going.

He didn’t speak at that time, the grunt doing the most for him as he planted his feet firmly on the floor and pushed up into you abruptly for the words. His head rested back onto the headrest more, his jaw sharp and clenched as you whined from the rough treatment but felt that familiar spark within your pussy for more. However, you continued, one last little fantasy you had spilling out of your mouth in a sultry whisper to his ear to perhaps get him to snap.

“Want you to bend me over the desks at the schools; fuck me hard and make me yours and you cum so much inside of me there’s no way I don’t get pregnant – I want it all, Kento. Please, I’ll do anything.”

He hissed at your bold words as his fingers turned to bruising, stopping your rolling and roughly grinding out his cigarette in his astray before guiding your hands back to sit atop his shoulders as he glared down at you, “You want me to fuck you?”

“Mmm, fuck me, Kento. Give me more.”

Kento groaned the loudest he had done as he slammed up into you again, a squeak leaving you from the harsh thrust as his cock slammed up into your cervix and prickled your spine, before he hissed through his teeth as he goaded you on. “If that’s what you want… Bounce on my cock then and let me see you.”

You panted at the command, brain turning to mush and your need and want for him fueling your body and mind as you wanted to do nothing more than please him. You lifted up away from him and shifted onto your knees again, digging your nails harder into his coat and pushing yourself down experimentally in a swift pace before you resorted to bouncing, his cock breaching further and further inside of you as the slaps of your thighs against his filled up the car and the obscene sound of your pussy squelching with each hit made your cheeks warm. He watched you intently the entire time, fingers still using your hips as leverage to help you bounce up and down harder and faster as his eyes alternated from watching your face, your tits, and his swollen cock sliding in and out of you.

It was so hot, all of your senses completely overtaken by everything that pertained to him as a series of pants, whine, gasps, and moans left you as your pussy greedily swallowed his cock and you bounced on him to his and your own liking to appease you both. You arched your back as your eyelashes fluttered, your stomach tickling with phantom butterflies the longer you took his cock as your second climax was on the brink, leaning your head back with a soft moan fully aware of how hard he was watching your every move.

“Look at you,” he started, a venomous edge to his tone the more you bounced yourself on and off of his cock, “Taking me so easily and pretty – You could’ve been bouncing on my cock sooner, but you wanted to play games, didn’t you?” One hand left your hip, sneaking forward the rub along your clit as you squirmed atop him and felt that coil burn harder. “Wanted me to chase you until you made me give in and now look, you can barely hold yourself up.”

It was true, your thighs were beginning to quiver with the warning of your climax and you resorted to placing your hands behind you atop his knees to steady yourself, finding it easier to bounce that way as Kento’s hand slid along your front to grasp your tit through your dress, kneading one as it made you fall deeper into your paradise in the disguise of your orgasm. “I can – take it,” you huffed out in tune to your bouncing, your face burning at how hard he felt and his filthy talk.

“Oh? You’ll let me cum inside of you like you want and take it all?”

“Mm, yes,” you moaned louder that time, your back arching harder and your nails beginning to claw into the fabric of his pants as the coil in your abdomen began to unravel at an alarming rate and your clit throbbed underneath his thumb.

“Tell me,” he hissed out again, the glazed look in your eyes warning him you were mere moments away from cumming on his cock, “Let me know how you’ll take my cum.”

Your eyes rolled along with your head, looking back down to him and meeting his eyes as you spilled out that fantasy again in your final moments before climaxing. “I’ll take it all – make you a daddy from how good I take it and keep it inside of me and let you put as much as you want inside of me.”

The answering groan had you bouncing faster, your arms beginning to shake from all the pleasure and your thighs shaking for what you knew what going to be another soul-reaching orgasm. Kento’s fingers dug into your tit through your dress, his thumb speeding up in a punishing pace atop your aching clit as you whined and felt your muscles begin to tense up and your pussy to tighten up around him harder for the impending climax.

“You want me to fill your pussy with cum? Cover your insides in white so that there’s nothing but my cum inside of you?" he all but growled, hips lifting off the seat once more to meet you for each bounce to push you further into cumming. “Want me to stuff you full to the point you can’t hold any more? Pump you full and get you pregnant?”

It was too much, your brain was nothing but complete liquid and the fire behind your naval burned bright one last time before utterly diminishing into a flood of rushing water as keened for him a final time in the throes of your pleasure in a form of babble to give him what he wanted.

“Oh, fuck yes! I want it, Kento. Let me take it!

Your second climax had you rolling your eyes back, back arching dangerously and head falling back into your shoulders blades as a near gospely cry of his name echoed throughout the car from your panting mouth. You could feel yourself shaking like you were cold, your legs and body collapsing atop his chest as they longer could hold you up as your body turned to liquid gold while he continued to fuck you through it. Your world spun in a different array of dyes and euphoria taking ahold of you making you nearly numb, but the only thing keeping you grounded being him. You felt your pussy gush around him, the feeling like nothing you could’ve ever imagined as you pulsed around his cock in a fit of trying to keep yourself steady, yet having little to no success whenever every nerve in your body felt like it was electrified and buzzing along the inside of you. Your thighs were still shaking as you came down through it all, duly noting he was still going to achieve his own as he had resorted to quick, hard bursts of his cock into you that made your hips bounce off of his own from how hard and fast he was going.

You gave a pitiful moan from his cock practically drilling up into your guts, him fucking you so hard like he wanted your head completely empty and only filled with the thought of him, and listened to the curses leaving him about how you had cummed so hard around him and how pretty you looked doing it. Your clit twisted at the praise; his hands hard on your hips as he angled his head down far enough to catch your mouth.

“Kiss me,” Kento begged, “Kiss me one more time before I –”

You didn’t give it another thought, smacking onto his mouth for a fierce kiss with the undertones of hidden message within from the way you both fit each other’s lips so perfectly. You took all of what he had to offer in the kiss, giving what you could in return as you swiped your tongue across his own and moaned into his mouth –

The groan that vibrated your mouth startled you, but the feeling of his cum spurting inside of you and making you feel warm and full completely drove away any other feelings. You eagerly accepted it all, Kento continuing to keep his mouth connected with yours as he came inside of you so hard and so long that you worried that you might’ve not been able to actually take it all from the moment you started to feel full of it all. His thrusts had become slobby and uncoordinated, stabbing you all but with his cock in short, fast jabs upwards before he stopped completely, chest heaving with pants and sweat lining both of your brows as you laid there in the aftermath of sex. He broke free from the kiss seconds after that, head lulling back and blush scattered across his face as his hands moved to rub your back again.

Content to lay there for a minute or two in catch your bearings, you both sat in silence with one and another, the unspoken words about in the sticky air of what was to happen, but the neither of you speaking on them for the time being since you two had already confessed to the mutual desire that was there that wasn’t only just sexual want. The endorphins that had submerged your brain were somewhat harrowing, but you knew if you had Kento there with you it wouldn’t matter since he could easily guide you through if you asked for help. You hummed and snuggled closer into his chest, listening to his heartbeat that was still calming down and noting the completely fogged up window.

You felt Kento legs stretch underneath you, a soft grunt leaving him when his knees from the prolonged sitting and you distinctly felt his cock softening within you, yet not he nor you made any moves to remove yourselves from each other – too enamored with being so close to each other. He sighed a second later and his soothing murmur reached your ears, “Still okay?”

Pressing your nose into his chest to breathe in his scent, you hummed again, feeling drowsy and mumbling back to him. “Always.”

“Are you about to fall asleep?”

“Maybe.”

“We can’t sleep here, we can go back to my apartment. Though… I’m sure they’ll wonder where we are.”

“Like they don’t know.”

He started to knead your shoulders, the action making you all the more ready to start drooling all over his expensive shirts (not like you hadn’t ruined other parts) as you tried to keep yourself above the weighted water of sleep to hear what he had to say. “It seems like his little elaborate plan worked in the end… Not like I wasn’t going to finally pursue you tonight anyway.”

"Pursue me... You make it sound so old-fashioned," you snickered at his tone, lifting your head up a fraction to place a peck onto his mouth, “I think jealousy looks good on you, and we both got what we had wanted for a long time.” You slid your hand up his chest to cup his cheek, dopily smiling at him and the apparent adoration present in his eyes as he looked down at you.

Kento regarded you for a long moment, eyes searching your expression again for anything that may have turned him before he found nothing and leant into your touch. His eyes lidded as he continued to take in you still lying before him like you were, almost like he couldn’t believe you were really in front of him while you watched his expression soften drastically. “You know what this means? I’m in this for the long-run,” he murmured, curling his fingers around your own to pull them off his cheek to kiss your knuckles.

A sigh left you as a tremendous heat busted outwards from your heart, your feelings being recuperated making you grin like an idiot, “Of course, I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

His lips twitched with another small smile, leaning back to press another of the many kisses you two would share before he sat back and basked in the all the emotions and post-coital bliss. It was quiet for a moments as you closed your eyes and nearly nodded off if it weren’t for him speaking up again with a twinge of concern in his voice.

“Please don’t ever try and make me jealous again. I don’t think my heart could take it.”

“No worries, but you have to fuck me like you’re jealous every so often.”

“Deal.”

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