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miinatozakiii · 4 months

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tutor perks

park jihyo x fem!reader ; fluff, smut ; pt. 2

synopsis: the kid you’re tutoring has a really sweet, charming hot aunt.

warnings: alcohol ; not proofread so many spelling and grammatical errors (probably) ; mmm smut ; smut; and smut ; praise ; overstimulation ; almost fucking in the fancy bathroom ; reader ruined by jihyo ; men mentioned yuck!! ; food ; jihyo is like seven years older than reader ; mmm anything else i’ve missed ; physics mentioned 😵‍💫

a/n: i need her so bad like

(um ALSO i wrote half of this on my phone (that era was...))

you’re assigned to tutor a high school student, some junior boy named matthew park that’s falling behind in a couple of subjects. the lady at the front office had provided you directions to the library, but still, it took you a few wrong turns and another ask to actually get there.

walking in, you notice the lively yet quiet ambiance filling the room. there are groups of students studying together, giggling and pushing each other around as they do so. another group seems to be much more focused than the others, all furrowing their brows while examining whatever paper is on the table.

you scan the room and look for a guy who should be alone, and to the right, you spot just that.

he’s hunched over a little and his eyes are glued to the phone in his right hand while he spins a pencil with the other hand. the guy has on a green crewneck sweater and the headphones he wears squish some of his dark hair, which is parted messily in the middle. you tap on his desk subtly—he looks up with raised brows and takes off his headphones.

you shoot a friendly smile and begin to speak, “hi, are you—“

“matthew, yeah.” he interrupts, “matt is fine.”

his voice is pretty low, and something about his energy and mannerisms tell you that he’s some type of athlete. he runs a hand through his hair as you sit down next to him and fixes his posture. at least he has some manners, unlike the type of athletes you had to deal with a few years ago.

“i’m y/n, it’s nice to meet you.” you greet, sticking out your hand—which matt takes—and shaking his bigger, rougher one.

you clear your throat and look at the slightly creased notes on the table accompanied by the spiral notebook and green folder. setting down your own bag on the floor, you ask, “so, what is it that you’re struggling with the most?”

matt glances at the entrance for a brief moment then looks down at the work in front of him and clenches his jaw, crossing his arms.

“physics and precalculus.” he simply says, his voice seeming small and ashamed. you glance over towards where he was before, catching a group of five teenagers—all seemingly athletic from the apparel they wear—and start to catch onto his sudden bashful demeanor.

“alright, i can help you with that.” you assure, “i’ll try to make this quick and do the best i can to help, just let me know what you want me to explain.”

matt nods, picking up the pencil and huffing.

after tutoring math and reliving your high school physics trauma, you’re headed out the entrance of the library and trying to find your way to the main doors.

“wait!” a voice calls out, “y/n, was it?”

turning around, you stand a few feet away from matt, whose headphones are resting around his neck comfortably. he rubs his neck and then pinches the bridge of his nose before shutting his eyes tightly.

you tilt your head, wondering what this boy needs; was it some extra notes or help?

“yes?”

“i um,” he begins, tensing his jaw and shaking his head. “i don’t know if this is appropriate to ask you since you’re a tutor—and i swear i’m not hitting on you!” he catches himself, groaning after he speaks. “i just, don’t want to be seen getting tutored, it’s embarrassing because i’m… i’m not doing well academically right now.”

“matt, it’s okay, don’t feel—”

“stop,” he says bluntly. “look, you were probably in my place a couple of years ago or something, i don’t know. just, i don’t like being seen like this because i used to be better, but my professors and everything…”

“i get that, we can work it out! i was actually really good at physics and i know how bad it can be, i was there and precalculus is pretty simple to me.”

“yes and thank you, i just wanted to ask if we could change locations. somewhere that’s not where i go to school.”

“where were you thinking matt?” you ask, quirking a brow and ignoring the little buzz from your phone that’s in your pocket.

he sighs and repeats, “before i ask; i’m not hitting on you, i swear to god.”

“matt if you’re insisting some type of café i’m fine with that, people study there all the-“

“no, i’d be recognized there too.” he mumbles. “can you just come over to my house? i’ll even have my aunt texting you to say it’s okay, i don’t know if you need that confirmation or whatever, i mean, i’m a minor and i get that it might be iffy.”

“oh, i see.” you mutter in response. “i mean, we can do that, just have your aunt text me, yeah?”

“okay.” he responds, “can we do this thursday? i have a physics test on friday.”

“that’s fine, i’ll do my best to help you out matt.”

he smiles gratefully. “thank you y/n.”

once you’re out of your car after parking near the curb across the street, you get a real good view of matt’s house and damn, the place is nice.

it’s pretty big and modern, but not too modern that it’s uncomfortable, it just stands out.

you walk down the little pathway towards the door, which is illuminated by dimmed, warm lights, and tilt your neck to the side to crack it before knocking. a few moments later, you hear the locks click as they turn and the door opens, matt opens it and he’s wearing some white t-shirt, which is paired with black sweatpants.

“thank you for coming, and again, i swear i’m not hitting on you.”

“matt, it would be very illegal for me to do anything like that with you. i get it, seriously.”

“just making sure.” he says, “come in, my aunt is coming home soon.”

his aunt had sent you a text asking if you were his tutor, and she had thanked you for offering such assistance to her nephew. the lady—his aunt—seemed sweet. her tone via text and the amusing emojis she used had given you this image of some woman in her 40s or 50s, probably baking cookies and thanking you with a warm hug for helping her dear relative. you’ll meet her later; hopefully, she does end up giving you cookies.

matt leads you to the dining area and as you make your way there, the aroma of vanilla fills the air. maybe it was the cookies that were waiting for you, or you’re just really hungry and craving something sweet.

“i have the things i need to study, he gave us this study guide and i have some questions regarding the velocity equations.” he explains, but stops himself in his tracks and mutters an “ah,” before asking, “did you want anything to drink?”

“no, no.” you dismiss him with a wave of your hand. “let’s get started, shall we?”

the rhythmic ticking of the clock echoed through the room as you continued to guide matt through the complexities of his physics homework. frustrated groans and muttered curses painted a vivid picture of the challenges he was enduring—in this case, one of the most dreadful subjects ever—and you found yourself helping him whenever you could.

as the sounds of the front door unlocking reached your ears, both you and matt instinctively turned towards the entrance. matt, eager to get a small break from the terrible page of paper in front of him, leapt up to open the door just as it swung ajar.

"hey, auntie," he greeted, the familial connection evident in his tone.

“hi matt, there are some groceries i need you to take in, would you mind helping me out?”

“no not at all,” he says, then excuses himself to go help out with the groceries.

the figure that emerged into the room drew your attention like a magnetic force. matt's aunt strode in with an air of authority that commanded immediate respect. your jaw tensed as you observed her approach, an almost instinctive reaction to the oddly powerful aura exuded from her. how crazy it was for a woman who’s just appeared to have you sit up in your seat.

she was not what you expected—a far cry from the stereotypical image you had of aunts in their 40s or 50s, definitely not as old as you had assumed. instead, she carried an ageless poise, appearing young but undeniably mature. dressed in a black blazer that teased the line between formal and casual, ending provocatively above her knees, she was a vision that held your gaze captive.

however, it wasn't just the flawless outfit that ensnared your attention. it was the remarkable contours of her face, the sharpness of her cheekbones that had your jaw dropping just barely as you were in your trance. her steps echoed with a strange power, and even in her approach, you couldn't help but feel a sense of intimidation just by existing within her proximity.

as matt’s aunt neared, her gaze locked onto yours—a gaze that felt both deathly and tremendously allurin — then, she smiled, a shift in demeanor that caught you off guard. the stern, professional aura melted away, replaced by a wonderfully cute smile that seemed to rival her intimidating presence.

you—caught in a momentary trance—couldn't help but reciprocate with a dorky smile, your hand instinctively moving to fix your hair, as if trying to match the sudden change in atmosphere. what a mess you were for someone’s aunt you’ve just laid your eyes on.

"ah, you're y/n, matt's tutor, am i correct?" she inquired, her voice sent a ripple of warmth through the room. the cadence of her words held a subtle allure, a tone that rang with confidence and undeniable charm. her voice was a little on the deeper end, but regardless it was hot and you could for sure get used to it.

you managed to nod, finding your voice despite the sudden whirlwind of emotions. "yes, that's me. nice to meet you, miss park."

“no need to be so formal hon.” she chuckles, pleased. “you can call me jihyo.” she assures with a smile. jihyo stretches out her hand and you take it, her hands are soft and smaller than yours, and her nails well manicured. “you have nice hands y/n.”

that is such a crazy statement coming from someone’s beautiful, striking aunt who you’ve met for the first time ever and just now. your cheeks flush and you laugh shyly before responding, “thank you, your hands are um, they’re nice too.”

after realizing that you’ve been holding this woman’s hand for too long, you pull away and run a hand through your hair again. jihyo smiles at you before walking over to the desk and examining the paper, she sighs and raises her brows.

“ah, physics, i was never good at that when i was in high school.”

“yes it’s something a lot of people struggled with in high school, i was lucky to be able to do well in that class.” you shrug, and jihyo looks at you impressed.

“i see, you must be smart huh? and how old are you sweetheart?”

your knees almost give up on you after this crazy hot woman just called you sweetheart, yet you manage to respond to her without stuttering or sounding like a fool. “i’m 20.”

“ah, pretty young huh. you’re in college?”

“yeah. education major, actually.”

“how cute.” she responds amusingly, “well, thank you again for teaching my nephew. i’ll be upstairs, just send a text or shout if he’s a hassle. thanks hon.”

jihyo shoots you a grateful smile before patting you on the shoulder; you might just die right then and there. you gulp lightly and manage to choke out a response, “y-yeah, no problem.” which makes the older woman giggle softly before leaving.

you have got to get a grip.

the woman you’ve interacted with for no more than three minutes surely left a mark with her first impression. now you’re putting more effort into your appearance than you did for that date you had three weeks ago with the girl sarah set you up with.

you slip into a white graphic baby tee that effortlessly molds around your figure, the perfect balance of snug and comfortable. the tee you were gifted is paired with your beloved thrifted boyfriend jeans, their wash perfectly complements your top and if you were to stretch just a little bit, jihyo would get a glimpse of the line that runs down your tummy. a hint of effortlessness fills the air as you tie up the upper half of your hair, allowing loose strands to gently caress your shoulders and frame your face. light and natural makeup enhances your best features, purposefully done to emphasize your appeal with a touch of ease.

when you reach the front door of matt’s house, you brush a strand of hair out and pat down the black cardigan you have on before knocking on it three times. the familiar teenage boy opens it up and greets you with a smile, inviting you in.

everything goes as usual: you situate yourself in a different room this time and matt hands you his assignments. you take your time to give them a good look, and then ask him what he needs help with. this time he needs help with precalculus, and thankfully, you’re pretty good at that too.

you watch him work on the assignments for a bit and start to get thirsty, and then you realize you’ve forgotten your water bottle on the counter in your small apartment.

“ah i forgot my bottle… could i get some water?” you ask him, and he nods without looking away from the paper.

“yeah, the kitchen is down the hall to the right. there’s bottles in the fridge. could you grab me a coke zero?”

“yeah, thanks, i’ll be quick. just work on these for the time being.” he hums in response to you and continues to write down various messy scribbles while solving some type of math problem he’s been assigned.

you do as he says: walk down the hall and to the right to enter the familiar kitchen you were near last time and you’re met with the familiar older woman that had you all flustered before. she’s standing by the stove and cooking something up and it smells great. awkwardly, you walk over to the fridge and she turns after catching you in her peripheral.

she smiles immediately upon meeting your presence.

“y/n! hi honey, it’s nice to see you.” jihyo greets, “i’ve been wanting to see you again.”

“you have?” your cheeks flush immediately, and you manage to recompose yourself, clearing your throat before responding,, “it’s nice to see you too..”

jihyo looks you up and down, eyes pausing for two seconds on the baby tee hugging your figure before meeting your eyes again. her look does things that she wants her hands doing, but that’s for her to know.

“did you need anything sweetheart?” she asks, raising a brow. her question doesn’t process through your head until a few moments after. you were too busy admiring her from head to toe, taking in her features, the casual outfit she has on—eyes enjoying the view of her cleavage that slightly shows in that black tank top she wears.

you clear your throat again.

“oh i was just getting some drinks for matt and i.” you respond, quickly darting your eyes away from her chest.

the older woman giggles amusingly, “take whatever you’d like from there.”

“thank you miss— i mean, jihyo. it’s fine really, just thirsty and matt wants a coke zero, haha.”

“alright~” she says, dragging her response teasingly. “just let me know, ‘kay?”

“yeah, thanks.” you smile sheepishly and nod, then grab the drinks you almost forgot about before walking away.

jihyo looks you up and down as you step into the hall, smirking a bit before going back to cook the dinner she’d been preparing.

when you get back to the room where you had been tutoring, you spot matt, who is still writing down some equation down on his paper. he looks up once he hears you, then smiles after seeing the coca-cola in your hand.

“here’s your drink.” you smile.

“thanks.”

“it’s no problem, your aunt told me to grab as much as i’d like. is she always so… sweet?”

“i mean, i guess so. she’s pretty laid back with my friends as long as we don’t do too much.” matt opens the can and shakes his head as a small laugh slips out. “she’s definitely more generous with you, i can tell. she asked me about you actually.”

“she what?” your eyes widen and your head turns. “what did she ask?”

“nothing too important, just when you’d be over again.” matt shrugs, then his adam’s apple moves up and down whilst his neck muscles tense and relax as he gulps down the carbonated drink. “damn this is fizzy—” he says, then coughs. “fuck.”

matt leaves you with an awareness of jihyo’s curiousity towards your own self, and now you’re trying to focus on tutoring the kid whilst thinking of his aunt.

“good job matt, i can see you’re already getting much better. the concepts and formulas seem to be clicking, yeah?” you praise, he nods. matt stretches his arms out and you roll your shoulders back to release some tension.

after helping him tidy up, you make sure everything is back in your own tote bag that you had brought. matt turns towards the entrance to the room and his eyebrows raise a bit, then you turn and see the same woman. your jaw tenses—lips part slightly too.

jihyo walks in and the sway of her hips isn’t unnoticeable. she looks at the two of you, eyes lingering on you longer than her own nephew, then beams. “matt, help me set up dinner will you?”

“mhm, gotchu. what’s for dinner by the way?”

“steak and pasta, go mix up the pasta would you?”

“yes aunt hyo.” matt complies, then shoots you a grateful grin before standing up with an exaggerated, tired sigh. he walks past jihyo, leaving the two of you alone.

your heart beats embarrassingly fast once matt is gone, it thumps so hard in your chest that you’re afraid that jihyo may hear.

“done for the day?” jihyo questions, walking over to you.

you gulp. “yeah, just finished actually.”

“i see, you must be hungry.” then jihyo locks eyes with you, and you genuinely think it might be something more—or maybe you’re delusional—who knows. “stay for dinner.”

okay maybe it’s something more, or you’re just a desperate, lovesick gay college student that’s borderline head over heels.

“oh it’s fine, really.” you say it with uncertainty, waving your hands in the air with an awkward smile. “i don’t want to trouble you.”

“it’d be anything but a trouble y/n.” jihyo counters, “if anything the trouble would be letting a pretty lady like you out my house with an empty stomach.”

jihyo places her hand on your shoulder, then squeezes it lightly. her eyes have you paralyzed in place, drilling into your pupils and then finding their attention on your lips. jihyo is slightly shorter than you, yet you feel so helpless under than her. an amused smirk plays on her lips and you find yourself clutching your tote bag strap a little tighter.

“…then i’ll take your offer, thank you.” you nod awkwardly, feeling your cheeks flush.

jihyo nods, feeling accomplished, then pulls her hand off your shoulder. “i’ll have matt know there’s going to be an extra plate then. come on sweetheart.”

now you’re sat at the dining table with jihyo across. she’s grinning and her eyes keep wandering all over you, but most of the time they’re focused on your face.

matt hands you a plate with steak and alfredo pasta, then some utensils. he places a cup of water down on a coaster and pushes it towards you, then hands his aunt a glass of white wine.

matt takes a bite of the meal and sighs, pleased with how it satisfies his hunger. jihyo laughs at him whilst he goes on to devour the plate. you follow after him and twirl some of the noodle against your spoon, then stab a piece of steak with your fork. the bite you take is filled with some saltiness, though it’s deliciously savory—just how you like it.

jihyo smiles. “good?”

“it’s great, thank you again jihyo.”

“anytime, i fancy your company.” she responds before taking a bite herself.

there’s a question brewing in your mind, but you’re second-guessing yourself because it seems a bit rude, well, maybe. jihyo swallows the steak and reaches for her glass again.

“so it’s just you and matt?” you ask, avoiding eye contact.

matt turns and raises a brow, then shrugs it off. jihyo simply nods her head.

“just me and the troublemaker.” she jokes, which earns an eye roll from matt. “he moved here a few years ago, the school over here is excellent for him. great academics, extracurriculars, sports teams…”

“i see. good for him then.”

“what about you?” jihyo questions. you look up at her in the middle of chewing down your pasta, rushing to get a response out.

“sorry, what?”

“just you? no boyfriend or… significant other?”

surprisingly, you don’t choke on your food. “oh no, not at the moment.”

“that’s a shame, and a surprise.” she takes another bite of steak and chews on it in the right side of her cheek, puffing it out a little. “i wonder why no one has made a move, i would’ve if there were a beauty like you around.”

matt pauses, his brows furrow and he looks at his aunt with some slight concern. “auntie?”

“i’m only teasing silly, just complimenting,” jihyo says, laughing to ease the tension in the air (though, it doesn’t work. your heart starts racing again and the meal gets harder to finish). “it’s better than whatever you’ve said over the phone to those—”

matt coughs, then shakes his head. “okay okay, we get it.” he rolls his eyes (again) and shrinks into his seat, making jihyo giggle. you laugh as well and matt scoffs as he pokes at the steak on his plate.

there’s a sudden buzz that makes the table vibrate slightly. your phone sits next to your glass of water, and you reach for it hastily. due to your clumsy handling, the water topples over, spilling all over shirt—your chest.

“shit—” you curse and stand up quickly.

“matt, grab some napkins for y/n.” jihyo orders, quickly walking over to your side of the table. she grabs the napkins from her nephew and hands them to you, then urges you to follow her. she turns to matt and quickly says, “clean up the table, i’ll go help y/n out with her clothes.”

matt hums in response and you follow jihyo, feeling embarassed from the small scene you’ve made.

“i’m really sorry, and really, i could’ve cleaned up on my own—”

“it’s fine y/n, don’t worry about it.” jihyo assures, leading you to the large master bedroom.

there’s a king-sized bed in the middle, dimmed lights, and the room screams luxury. jihyo leads you over to the closet and grabs a small towel, then starts to pat down at your chest, making your cheeks burn.

her hands find their way over to your shoulder to stabilize you, and then she’s shaking her head after trying to dry the spillage on your shirt. “this won’t do, let me get you a shirt. you can take off yours and leave it on the hanger over there.” she says, pointing to the hook.

“t-thank you.” mentally, you facepalm yourself for sounding so nervous.

“your cheeks are red,” jihyo giggles. she places her hand on your shoulder, then drags it down to your chest briefly before pulling away. “it’s alright honey, it happens. i’ll get you that shirt.”

a few minutes later she enters the abnormally large closet again and hands you a gray sweatshirt with some college logo on it.

“thank you jihyo, i’ll give this back to you when i—”

“it’s fine, just keep it for pajamas or anything like that. it’s just some old shirt from when i graduated a while ago.” jihyo says. you pray that you look calm and collected, trying to mask your flustered-self with a smile. “i’ll let you change, just come out when you’re done sugar.”

“yeah, thanks—and sorry.”

jihyo shakes her head and waves off your apology with her hand.

you’re back downstairs in a few minutes—minutes of jihyo (not so) subtly checking you out in her old clothes.

matt asks if you’re okay, you answer with a nod and a smile.

“my roommate keeps calling me, i should get going.” is muttered followed by an unnecessary peek into your tote bag, shuffling through to make sure you have everything. “thank you again for everything.”

jihyo leads you to the door and sends matt up to get ready for school. she flattens out her own clothes, runs a hand through her hair, then watches you slip on your shoes from the front door.

“you should stay for dinner more often y/n, i enjoyed it.”

you chuckle awkwardly, then push a strand of hair back. “i enjoyed it too, though i’m sorry for spilling water everywhere.”

“that’s quite alright, you could always make up for it by staying over. i like your company.”

looking down at the ground, you smile bashfully and respond, “i’ll consider it. thank you again.”

“drive safe pretty.” jihyo says, waving goodbye and shutting the door.

sarah sits on the opposite end of the couch and watches you closely.

youre hugging your knees to your chest and smiling, making your roommate turn her head in confusion. “why’d you drag me to the couch.”

“i need to tell you about today. about everything.”

“make it quick, i have a lecture tomorrow morning for psych.” she sighs, crossing her arms and leaning against the couch.

“so i’ve been tutoring that kid you know, the high school kid.” you start, and sarah nods as she hums. “yeah so basically i tutor him that one day at his school or whatever, then, he asks me to tutor him at his house.”

“so he… wants you?”

“no, absolutely not. plus, that’s like, a case.” you say with a shake of your hand, dismissing hee assumption. “but, speaking of age differences, i went to his house — his aunts house — and i was tutoring him and whatnot. then i hear someone knock on the door and he says it’s his aunt, so im unfazed or whatever because it’s probably this middle aged lady or whatever.”

“right, so…?”

“so i was fucking wrong.” you explain, sitting up now. “the most beautiful woman i’ve ever laid eyes on walks in. she’s dressed in work clothes or something, all black, and she looks good.”

“oh, so you’re gay.” sarah scoffs amusingly, quirking a brow. “am i supposed to be… surprised?”

“can you just shut the fuck up and listen to me fully for once, please.”

sarah rolls her eyes. “fine.”

“okay so she calls me hon, then she says my hands are sweet — and keep in mind, this is the first time i’ve talked to her in person. then she calls me sweetheart?”

“she’s being nice i think, considering she’s probably older than you. maybe you’re just gay, delusional, and haven’t gotten laid since… months ago?”

“just because you and your girlfriend do it every time i’m out does not mean you have to shove it down my throat.” you scoff, “anyways, yeah no i thought that too, but then her nephew — the kid in tutoring — he tells me that she’s more generous with me and asks about me. i don’t think that’s being nice.”

“that might just be curiosity and being nice, y/n.”

“no hear me out okay,” sarah giggles as she watches you talk all animatedly with your hands moving after every couple of words. “she invited me for dinner — literally wanted me to stay, like insisted — then said i was too pretty to not be taken? and then she was saying that if ‘there were a beauty like you around, i would’ve made a move.’”

sarah’s eyes widen, then her mouth opens slightly in shock. she leans closer to you, now fully invested knowing that this isn’t just another stretch of your interactions with women.

“holy shit?”

“i know.” you say, feeling your cheeks flush just from thinking about it. “and then you called and i spilled water and whatnot, she brought me to her room and—“

“you guys fucked?”

“no!” you immediately say, a little too loud for that matter. “no, no.” you reassure, “though, i’m going to be honest i kind of wish—but that’s besides the point. she helped me out and patted down my tits — well my shirt but who cares, same thing — and then gave me her old sweatshirt. im literally wearing it right now and i remember her checking me out as soon as i changed into them.”

“oh my god?”

“yeah, and then you called again for me to come back or whatever and she told me to stay for dinner more often. now i’m here and that’s the end of the story.”

sarah simply stares at you with wide eyes, her hand covering her slightly opened mouth. you place your hands on your face snd grown, feeling the heat of your cheeks on the skin of your hand.

“i cant believe someone’s aunt wants you.”

“i know!”

“are you going to… sleep with her?” sarah asks, tilting her head.

you find yourself lost in thought, often drifting into a world where she consumes your every waking moment - both at work and during classes. in these vivid daydreams, your thoughts sometimes stray to a more innocent realm. you envision the possibility of going on a simple date with her, where you can unravel the layers of her personality and just get to know her on a deeper level. because jihyo’s the type of woman that you want to sit down and get to know, that’s for sure.

but to be honest, most of the time your mind wanders to far more… provocative scenarios. your imagination conjures up images of her completely unveiled, with a tantalizing desire to feel her hands caressing your every contour, leaving you to completely submit to her; to be ruined by jihyo personally. these fantasies consume you, their allure impossible to resist.

“well, i don’t know.” you answer, pinching the bridge of her nose. “i still have to tutor her nephew.”

“hmm… then focus on that and then sleeping with his aunt.” sarah suggests, giggling lightly before her phone buzzes. she looks at the screen and sees a text from her girlfriend, then smiles immediately. “speaking of sleeping with people, my girlfriend is picking me up. i’ll be out for the night.”

you groan, still wanting sarah to listen to you while losing your mind and leave her own comments here and there. it’s almost impossible to get her away from her girlfriend. you’re so jealous and sarah loves to poke at you for being single and insatiable.

“you’re unbelievable.”

sarah shrugs, getting up with a cheeky grin. she snickers, “and you need to get laid. good luck with your little milf situation.”

“she’s not his mom!”

“same difference.”

—

the next time you tutor matt, you never get to talk or see jihyo. matt explains that she’s out for the night, something related to a business trip that he seems to not really care about.

but you care, and you need to know when she’s back. unfortunately, tutoring comes first and the last thing you want to do is make it obvious that you have a crush on the aunt of the kid you’re tutoring.

(matt has a little hunch; he notices the stares the both of you give each other when you two think no one is looking. matt is looking and definitely suspicious of how nervous you get around her and how generous his aunt is to you. though, he doesn’t have time to dive deeper in that since another physics test is clouding his brain for the time being.)

you run into jihyo the day after that session with matt, but not as his house.

there’s a place near the campus that’s now you and your friends’ signature study and hangout spot. it’s this cozy café and restaurant that the five of you have spent countless hours at either conversing and laughing for hours or losing your mind over whatever classes you guys take. this time, you’re all getting brunch together and debating something small.

you excuse yourself and get in line to grab a drink since you only purchased a panini, thinking that would satisfy you. you were wrong. so, you stand in line for a bit, not really minding your surroundings while you tap through various instagram stories and scroll mindlessly. a minute later, you feel a tap on your shoulder while you’re halfway through a video your friend had posted. when you turn around you’re met with the face that has you lost in a momentary trance.

“ah y/n, it’s nice to see you.” jihyo says.

“oh, jihyo.” you respond, trying to hide your surprise and sudden nervousness. “it’s nice to see you too.”

oh for sure it’s nice to see her. sunglasses sit on the top of her head, loose strands fall over her face, and the dress she’s wearing under her long coat looks divine. your eyes scan her whole body for a short moment, and then you’re clearing your throat as she starts to speak again.

“are you here alone?” she asks you, looking you up in down in the process.

“oh i’m with friends actually, they’re over by the window—“ you point to the group of four laughing together, all invested in the conversation at hand as the afternoon light brightens their smiles. “—we were just getting together and eating brunch.” you explain.

“i see…” jihyo mumbles, looking over to your friends. she sounds a bit dissapointed, but you could be wrong about that.

“what are you doing here? i mean, i don’t mean that in a rude way it’s just—“

jihyo smiles again, putting her hand on your shoulder as she laughs. “oh honey,” one of many things she calls you that makes your breath go short, “it’s fine, i get what you mean.” she trails down to your bicep, her skin warm on yours. “i was going to grab a drink before work, this is one of my favorite cafes.”

“what a coincidence, it’s one of mine too.”

jihyo subtly acknowledges your presence, her gaze gracefully trailing along your figure, delicately fixating on the tantalizing hint of skin peeking through your attire. her probing eyes pause there momentarily, capturing every nuance of the tempting groove down your tummy, accentuated by your low-rise jeans and revealing crop top. the ensemble effortlessly enhances your allure, inducing an irresistible appeal that’s impossible to ignore. as her gaze eventually retreats, it effortlessly returns to meet your own.

“i suppose we have lots in common.” jihyo notes.

“yeah,” you breath out, “i guess so.”

“next in line please!” one of the the cashiers yells out, snapping you out of your daze. you apologize to him and then smile at jihyo before walking over and shuffling for the wallet in your shoulder bag.

after getting your pistachio latte, you walk back to your friends and they beam at you. setting your bag down, you listen in on the conversation.

“—and so, as i was saying, he kept making me pay for everything on the first date.” mai scoffs, crossing her arms. she’s a friend from your intro to education, lively and always has something to say. this time, it seems to be quite interesting. “look, i am a 50-50 girl and whatnot, but he asked me out and expects me to pay? i felt like there was a whole beard on my face and my balls dropped or something after paying for him. yeah, never again.”

you laugh loudly, covering your mouth upon hearing the entertaining story.

again – similar to just a few minutes ago – there’s a tap on your shoulder. your friends look at the woman behind you before you can, and once you set your look on her; your heart starts to beat again, a blush settling on your cheeks.

“hey pretty, i was about to leave for work.” jihyo says with a smile, “can we talk for a bit? alone.”

to your left, another one of your friends raises his eyebrows subtly. just with that small gesture alone, he manages ask without speaking: who’s this woman and why is she calling you pretty? though, you can’t answer him just yet. there’s no way you’d embarrass yourself in front of jihyo.

you clear your throat and stutter just barely in your response. “hey, hi. um, yeah, sure. excuse me guys, i um, need to talk with her.”

after sending an apologetic smile and earning various cheeky smiles, you nod at jihyo and find a spot near the window to talk to her. alone. she brushes a strand of hair out of your face and leans back to sit upright in her seat; you try to stay calm

“i just wanted to ask for a favor, i completely forgot about it until i got a notification from my calendar.”

“oh, what is it?”

she looks out the window and sips on her iced drink, then turns back to meet your eyes. “well, i have a work dinner thing, a lot of… men will be there for the most part. i was wondering if you’d accompany me? i’m afraid i’d grow tired of their dull efforts to impress me, but it’s completely fine if you can’t make it.” jihyo says, although her tone near the end suggests that she’d be pretty disappointed with an answer other than yes. “i know it’s a big ask, but i’ve grown quite fond of you. is that ridiculous?”

quickly, you dismiss her by waving your hands a bit frantically and shaking your head. you assure her, “it’s not ridiculous at all!” unintentionally, the volume of your voice spikes. “i’m actually um, really flattered that you feel that way, seriously. it also wouldn’t be any trouble – the dinner thing – id, um, i would love to accompany you.”

jihyo finds herself blushing, surprisingly. she sips on the drink before setting it down on the marble counter side, then places her elbows on the table and her eyes smile, then her nose scrunches a bit.

“right, that’s wonderful.” she says, “come over to my place tomorrow at 5:30 then?” you gulp upon hearing her words – practically an order with that tone and raise of her brow – then nod. she smiles and places her hand on your shoulder again, this time terribly close to the crook of your neck, her thumb brushing against your throat. “good, see you then.”

“yeah,” you respond, not wanting to leave yet; your friends are waiting for you and jihyo has to go to work, so you begin to stand. “i’ll see you… my friends um, they’re—”

“oh, yes, sorry for dragging you away—”

“no!” you shake your hands again, cringing at how loud your voice grew (again). “they’re fine with it and i don’t want you to be late for work. we weren’t doing anything important anyway, just catching up.”

she giggles and stands up to face you, eyes angled up slightly since she’s an inch or two shorter. she takes her hand off her skin and it feels specifically frigid in that area now that the warmth radiating off her fingers isn’t there, you almost shiver.

“right, thanks hon. i’ll see you tomorrow yeah? shoot me a text when you get there, you have my number.”

you nod and she hands her work bag on her shoulder, then starts to walk away – but not before winking at you. you smile, feeling your heart do a flip.

when you return to your table, your friends are already eyeing you mischievously. mai has her straw sitting on her teeth, giving you that look. your jaw tightens and you smile at them before awkwardly sitting back in the previously empty seat, mentally preparing yourself in those two silent seconds before they all start bombarding you with questions and relentless teasing.

you arrived at jihyo’s house ten minutes early, a little earlier than you’d expected since the traffic wasn’t as bad. you walk down the small path leading to the steps, then up those three steps and onto the doormat. before you can even knock, the door opens and matt nearly bumps into you.

he apologizes immediately, then looks at you with scrunched brows.

“were we supposed to tutor today?” he asks, scratching his head with a finger. “if we were, sorry but i’ve got plans.” he says, nudging his head forward, making you turn around to see a honda civic parked on the street across. the windows are rolled down, revealing another guy that looks around his age in the drivers seat, another in the passengers side that you can barely see, and two girls in the back.

“oh, no. jihyo called me over actually, not for you.”

matt raises his brows, then his body relaxes. “oh.”

“yeah, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“no it’s… fine.” he assures, looking at you skeptically. “have fun with… my aunt? um, whatever you two are… doing. i’m staying at a friends house tonight so…”

“yeah, have fun.” you respond awkwardly, looking up at him as he observes you for a few seconds longer. the makeup on your face is slightly heavier than usual – not that it’s a bad thing, in fact he wouldn’t have even noticed if it weren’t for the nice dress you were wearing. quite odd, he figures, but it’s not his business. he shrugs his shoulders and forgets about it, waving at you before he leaves, running over to the black honda civic that’s playing music at a volume so loud that you can hear it from the door.

you forget about the whole encounter for a moment, instead redirecting your attention to the opened door in front of you. stepping inside, you get a whiff of the familiar lavender scent that fills the house, then close the door behind you. the house is silent until you send jihyo a text, and she responds a few seconds later by yelling from upstairs.

“y/n! come upstairs darling!”

you freeze in place, suddenly feeling intimidated for no reason. nonetheless, you walk on over to the stairs, then up to jihyo’s room.

as you enter the room, her image captivates your attention in the mirror. the black dress she has on a pulls you towards her, reciprocating the intense attraction you both feel. the attraction that’s most definitely there, but jihyo’s a tease and you’re cautious. she likes that she has you wrapped around her finger. it’s amusing how easily flustered you get around her.

the sight of her is nothing short of exquisite, and your gaze fixates on the enticing curve of her hips, igniting a subtle pulse in between your legs hunger that has you subconsciously nibbling on your lip. glancing further upwards, you indulge in the sight of her exposed shoulders, showcased gracefully in the mirror's reflection. they exude a provoking attraction, tempting you to succumb to your countless daydreams. you want to explore the softness of her skin, want to leave indelible marks on her delicate collarbones.

in the midst of your blatant stare, her eyes lock with yours through the mirror, catching you in the act of unabashedly admiring her. she laughs, then she turns around to face you, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips.

“like what you see?” she teases you, making your cheeks burn.

you clear your throat and pretend to busy yourself by looking into your bag, but manage to respond politely, “i um—sorry. matt let me in, he just left.”

she starts to step towards you, and you feel yourself gulp unintentionally.

“mhm, he told me about the sleepover.” she says, then stands inches away from you. using her pointer and thumb, she tilts your chin up and away from the bag hung on your shoulder, intensely gazing at you for a moment before speaking again. “you look remarkable.”

your breath hitches as you look at her, eyes drilling into yours while you try to stay calm. “t-thank you.”

she eyes you for a while longer before nodding, then smiles at you like she didn’t just eye fuck you.

“let’s get going, there’s good parking if we arrive early. less of a hassle for us.”

all you can do is hum and follow her, afraid of embarrassing yourself from how flustered and inaudible you are.

the car ride consisted of you trying to not stare at her sharp, defined features the whole time. it was very difficult to not glance here and there, a few times you had your eyes glued on her godly cheekbones and sometimes you even eyed the way her bones would pop out when she turned the wheel.

during the car ride, you found it increasingly challenging to avert your gaze from her captivating, exquisitely sculpted features. the temptation to steal a glimpse here and there proved irresistible, as her godly cheekbones held your attention.

at times, you couldn't help but be captivated by the protrusion of her bones as she maneuvered the steering wheel. after eyeing it for too long, jihyo caught you in her peripheral and turned to face you – the light was red anyway – then smiled cheekily. she moved her hand towards your thigh, placing it dangerously close to the dampening area in between your legs.

“you alright lovely? you seem a little tense.” jihyo asks, rubbing your thigh with her thumb just barely. “something on your mind?”

you fought back a low whimper before you respond, “i’m fine, thanks.” you try, voice small as she adds more pressure to your skin. you try your best to remain calm and composed, but god it’s so hard when she’s touching you there and like that. “it’s not important, i was just daydreaming.”

(your daydreaming will be increasingly explicit from now on.)

the light turns green and jihyo puts her hand back on the wheel as she turns away from you, redirecting her attention on the road. your jaw tenses and you shift in the seat a little, thighs closing and rubbing together.

jihyo pretends not to notice and fights back a smirk.

the two of you would enter the restaurant together with jihyo linking your arms and smiling at you like she didn’t just make you ten times hornier than you already are daily.

as you enter, you are immediately mesmerized by the extraordinary interior. the lighting casts an enchanting, almost mystical ambiance, wrapping the space in an intimate aura. the arrangement of tables is meticulously planned, each one positioned with precision and attention to detail. the sheer beauty of the place is breathtaking, leaving you in awe. it’s evident that reservations at this place come with a hefty price tag, most definitely surpassing the cost of more than half of your apartment's monthly rent; maybe almost as much as what you and sarah pay together.

jihyo leans in closer to your ear, lips brushing against your skin and it sends a shiver down your spine. “come lovely, let’s find our seats.” she says, then walks you over with her to the man with slicked back hair and an impossibly perfect posture. he gives you the table number and holds his arm out in the direction of it, then jihyo thanks him with that weirdly arousing voice she has and tugs on your arm lightly.

there are other men that are scattered around the dining area, they all notice jihyo as soon as she steps in – who wouldn’t?

she’s stone faced as she walks with you and towards the table, her stern expression unfazed by the stares from men that aren’t accompanied by their respective lovers. though, maybe those with their own lover took a small glimpse.

you feel a little small, most eyes are on jihyo though a good amount also land on you. it seems that the two of you have taken the attention of the majority, which freaks you much as much as it flatters you. jihyo seems to notice the attention on you too, then subtly brings you closer to her.

jihyo sits down first and flattens out her outfit before she fixes her hair, then pats down the seat next to her. you sit down and she brings your chair a little closer before leaning towards your ear and speaking again.

“thank you for coming, i wouldn’t have been able to make it to the table this quickly if it weren’t for you.”

you hum, then ask, “why is that?”

“the men here are shameless, they hit on me dinner after dinner.” jihyo sighs, then lowers her voice when she says, “i guess they were too distracted by you. you’re a sight worth skipping dinner for.”

you gulp, laughing off her suggestive compliment before boldly responding, “i think most would much rather… indulge in you. i get their standpoint, though.”

as you begin to fix the delicate fabric of your dress, a subtle flicker of surprise dances within jihyo's widened eyes. with her grip on her handbag growing tighter, her gaze shifts towards you, a newfound intensity in her look. you turn to look right back in her eyes, almost challenging her with this new confidence of yours. it’s in this moment that the unspoken connection seems to deepen, the tension drawing you two closer. the allure she now feels towards you, layered with a hint of curiosity and urge to undress you, is palpable yet carefully restrained.

three more men greet jihyo formally and she smiles forcefully at them before they take their seats and indulge in their own conversation. the menus are handed once everyone settles in and everyone glances at the options. the selection intimidates you; half the dishes incorporate foreign words that you had never heard of.

jihyo places her hand on your thigh again, this time higher than before. she looks at you with those drilling brown eyes and squeezes a bit.

“know what you’d like?”

your breath shakes reluctantly, but you respond with a leveled tone. “yeah, the chicken chasseur.” there’s a ninety percent chance you butchered that pronunciation, half of the reason was because you never really paid attention in your french three class your junior year of high school, and the other half was because jihyo’s fingers started tracing patterns into the flesh of your thigh.

“right, the chasseur,” she says teasingly, pronouncing it correctly. “that’s one of my favorites.”

“i see, i’ll definitely like it then.”

“mhm.”

the waiter comes by – the same guy with the slicked back hair – he introduces himself in a deep, formal tone. it catches you off guard that his name is so simple: michael. he takes all of your orders, then collects each menu. as soon as he leaves, one of the men at the table attempt to strike up some small talk with jihyo, and she responds with blunt, uninterested answers. the men are left intimidated and out of luck, then try to succeed in initiating a meaningful conversation with you.

“what was your name dear?” one says, his features implying that he’s not too far off from how old your parents are.

hesitantly, you respond with a polite “y/n,” before smiling respectfully. he narrows his eyes and smirks before glancing down, it leaves you uneasy. jihyo clears her throat and sends daggers at him with her glare.

“how are you and your wife, samuel?” she questions, quirking a brow before your waiter arrives with a bottle of white and red wine. the man who’d bee blatantly chekcing out your chest area grimaces, then fakes a smile.

“we’re doing fine.” he says a little sternly, then halts his attempts at socializing with you.

you send jihyo a thankful glance, she responds with a grin before swirling the white wine in her glass and giving a sip, then sips.

“this is good, have some dear.” she says, urging you with a tilt of her head to try some of the identical wine in your own glass. “do you like wine?”

“kind of, i mean, i never really indulge...” your response gives you a quick flashback of the various cheap selections of alcoholic drinks you’ve downed at house parties you’d attend here and there. you grab your glass and copy what jihyo does – you don’t really know how to sip on wine without it looking like you can’t even afford three sips – then raise your brows in surprise once you get a taste. it's sharp and fruity, much richer than the past drinks you’ve had.

“good?” jihyo says amusingly, observing your expression.

“it’s wonderful.”

she grins at you, then gances around the table hastily. two of the men continue to glance over even as they talk withe ach other, it seems that you two just can’t escape the attention. the appetizers arrive a minute later and the two of you indulge, unable to create any small talk or anything like that with your company. jihyo decides she’s craving a different type of appetizer as soon as she sees you wipe your lip subtly.

“come with me to the restroom, the main courses won’t be out for a little while.” jihyo insists, then looks around at the men busy with their bread, butter, and various other appetizers that sound too complicated for how they look. “besides, i'd rather be alone with you than surrounded by them for the time being.”

once again, a tremor of anticipation seeps through you, your breath quivers with a mix of nerves and eagerness. jihyo just get’s bolder by the second.

although it’s a simple trip to the restroom – a countless number of times you and your friends have scurried off to the comofrting ‘sanctuary’ of the girls’ room for meaningless conversations and minuscule touches of makeup – yet, with jihyo accompanying you now instead of your stupid best friends, your mind is propelled into an intricate labyrinth of scenarios, infused with explicit scenarios that jihyo stars in.

jihyo gracefully positions herself before the strangely exquisite mirror, which is not only unreasonably large and fancy, but it also manages to delicately enhance her plump lips after applying a fresh coat of lipstick. as she caresses her captivating pout, you become mesmerized by the subtle dance of her lips, gently gliding against each other like silk. she releases her pursed lips with a faint “pop” sound before she looks at you through the mirror.

“daydreaming again?” jihyo asks. you shake your head and walk over to the sink next to her before fixing your hair for no apparent reason. a smirk tugs at her lip sbefore she turns so that her back is facing you. “zip up my dress for me? seems to have gone loose.”

without a word, you move your hands over to deftly maneurver the zipper along the length of her dress. the entire tableau unfolds so quickly, though there’s an unexpected intamacy that lingers in the air, seeming slightly out of place but it’s also undeniably enticing. your hold your breath unknowingly.

“you know y/n,” jihyo starts, your hands still on the zipper. “you’re so easy to rile up, it’s cute.”

“what?” you respond with disbelief, pretending that her statement isn’t the turth. she turns around and tilts her head, eyes narrowing as she draws her attention down to your lips – now parted – then brings a thumb to graze the bottom lip.

“c’mon baby, think i didn’t notice how you were in the car?” she chuckles, now moving her fingers down to your chin and moving and pushing down on your chin to tilt your head down just barely. “staring at my chest and all of me so clearly in my own house... darling, do you think i’m a fool?”

you gulp, her eyes peering into yours and waiting for an answer. you’re absolutely dumbfounded, cheeks burning violently.

“i’m sorry i didn’t mean to--”

“oh honey, i'm not against it.” she assures, smiling at you and bringer her hand down to play with the dainty necklace around you rneck. “if anything, i want you just as much as you seem to crave me.”

“i--”

she cuts you off, pressing a chaste peck to your lips. when she pulls away, you subconciously lean forward to catch her lips again, whining lowly. jihyo giggles softly before putting her thumb against your lips, adding pressure to halt your eagerness.

“gosh, you’re adorable.” jihyo says, “i could just ruin your pretty little self right here.”

“jihyo, please”

she laughs, pleased, raising her brows and smirking at this new, desperate y/n she’s brought to the surface.

“tell me how much you want me and i'll let you have more, can you do that?”

your cheeks are on fire and so are your ears. jihyo pulls away further so she can fully see your face, stroking her knuckles down the curve of your cheek. you swallow shallowly before opening your mouth to speak, but hesitate.

“c’mon baby, use your words for me. you can do that, can’t you?”

“yes, yeah,” you sigh, trying to keep your voice stable. jihyo smiles, then presses a haste kiss to your jaw. your breath out shakily, bringing a hand to jihyo’s forearm.

this has to be a dream, there’s no way matt’s aunt is this close to you – and like this. jihyo's pressing kisses down your jawline and neck, nibbling softly and eliciting sharp breaths. everything feels unreal, it’s so unexpected and you don’t know what to do while she brings a knee in between your legs.

“i’m going to stop if you don’t tell me what you want pretty girl.”

you sigh, almost moaning at the way her voice bounces off your skin.

“someone’s going to walk in...” you mumble, placing your hand on her waist.

“isn’t that part of the thrill?” jihyo asks, “tell me what you want.”

“kiss me, please jihyo.”

“that all?”

of course it’s not all, you want to be pushed to the point of tears and incoherent sobs – but not here, not now. you can only groan at the untimely situation, wanting jihyo to take your time with you someplace less unorthodox.

“when we go back... i want you to... do more.” you mumble shyly, watching jihyo move away from your neck so that she’s inches away from your face. her lips curl up into a mischievous smile as she twirls your hair.

“i’ll take it easy on you for now,” jihyo chuckles, “come here.”

without hesitation you lean forward, messily and eagerly meeting jihyo’s lips again. the two of you get used to everything and ease into each other’s contact, jihyo leading the way. she tugs on your bottom lip gently and you gasp, which gives her the chance to slide her tongue in and explore your mouth.

you’ve madeout with girls countless times, but it’s always been messy, rushed, and the only thing you could taste and smell was cheap aochol. your past experiences have been nothing like what’s happening right now.

you can taste the hints of fruit and slight vanilla in that expensive white wine from earlier, it’s even better when you get to taste it off of jihyo. she tastes divine. she’s so precise and skilled with her tongue and lips, immediately adjusting to the pace of the moment and ultimately leaving your knees weak. jihyo's fucking skilled, she knows what she’s doing and everything feels so goddamn euphoric.

she pushes you against the marble of the sink area and you moan into her mouth when she squeezes your ass, making her smirk against your lips cheekily. you’re like a puppet in her control, and she knows just the right movements and subtle touches to get you going.

jihyo pulls away suddenly and you whine, trying to pull her back. she holds you in place firmly, lingering near your lips and chuckling against them.

“why-- why did you stop?” you ask desperately, pathetically pinching the fabric of her dress tighter.

“pretty girl, you’ve forgotten where we are haven’t you? the main course might be out.”

“but jihyo--”

“listen,” she says sternly, sending a shiver down your spine. a soft smile is displayed, which soothes your nerves after witnessing it. jihyo tucks your hair behind her ear. “let’s make a deal, how about that?”

“okay,”

“if you can...” she starts, twirling the hair on the nape of your neck. “...be good for me and stay patient, then i'll reward you when we get back to the house. can you be good for me pretty?”

a lump forms in your throat, making it difficult to respond. you try your best to do so anyway.

“mhm, i can.”

“good. i'd love to ruin you right here, don’t get me wrong, but there’s other guests that expect me to be present.”

fuck those other guests, you need to take her right here and right now. she can’t just rile you up like this, give you the best makeout session of your life and then end it so abruptly. regardless, she possesses an innate power - she's jihyo. you're completely enthralled and under her control anyway, whether you know it or not.

she lets out a cold, menacing chuckle and flashes you a provocative grin. she delicately reshapes your disheveled hair and then tends to her own cascade flowing down. you can feel the lingering presnce of her own lips on yours -- slightly swollen and vividly tinted -- and although jihyo remains unfazed by the evidence of her artistry, it's clear she revels in your visible discomposure. if others were to connect the dots, she couldn't care less; if anything, she welcomes it. she's evil, and all you want is more of her.

so you’ll have to behave for the time being, because who knows what she’s capable of.

“ah, you’re back park. the food got here ten minutes ago.” samuel says, raising a brow in suspicion.

the men’s plates are already half eaten, and then there’s two plates that are left untouched on the table. jihyo eyes you, raising her brow before elegantly reaching for her utensils.

she clears her throat and lies, “lady troubles.” which earns a flush on each of the men’s faces, and a brief apology from samuel.

the remainder of the dinner becomes utterly unbearable. it’s not just the men engaging in dumb, uninteresting conversations -- which require you to perform an artificial smile, direct focus, and provide meaningless responses - but underneath the table, jihyo teases you. her delicate hand grazes your thigh intermittently. the whole thing is excruciating, causing an overwhelming surge of sexual frustration that genuinely throbs between your legs. the only thing you crave right now is her touch again; you don’t know how many more times you can utter “oh how interesting,” before exploding completely.

an hour passes and it’s finally time for jihyo to bid her farewells, finally.

the farewells’ had to take at least ten minutes, since jihyo’s pretty high up there in whatever she does. you never really knew, but it wasn’t your place to ask.

jihyo unlocks her black porsche, which is remarkably eye-catching, though not as much as the driver. you get in the passenger's side and she’s already inside turning the engine on, one hand on the stick. she backs up smoothly, then gets out of the parking lot quickly.

the car ride is almost silent for three-quarters, the only thing that pokes at the tension is jihyo’s hand on your thigh. she's driving one handed, it’s a common skill – you drive one handed here and there – but when jihyo does it, your thighs try to ease whatever is going on in between.

“did you enjoy the meal?” jihyo asks, eyes on the road.

“yeah, it was great.”

“mhm,” she hums, then squeezes your flesh a bit. “how was the dessert? did it suit your tastes?”

you let out a shallow breath, “yeah.”

“good.” jihyo says, then smiles to herself. “we’re almost home.”

you can only hum in response, growing impatient.

jihyo clicks a button and the garage door opens, then drives in slowly. she has to be doing this on purpose, just to test you. you’re going to endure the aching, because at the end of the rainbow there’s always gold, and you’re her good girl.

when you enter the house, it’s completely dark, then jihyo turns on the light and you have to fight the urge to kiss her again.

“come,” she orders, turning to walk towards the stairs to the second floor. she's swaying her hips a little on purpose, she must be – or you’re just horny, or both.

finally, after what seemed like centuries, you make it to her room. she closes the door behind you as you walk in.

“sit down on the bed for me.” you do as you’re told wihtout hesitation, sitting down on the soft mattress of the king sized bed. the sheets are perfectly set on the bed, so are the blankets and pillows, but something tells you that it won’t be like that by the end of this night. “good girl.”

she glides towards you, delicately raising your chin and fixing her gaze upon you, like an artist admiring a masterpiece. she revels in the sight of your flushed cheeks, the gentle parting of your lips, and the slight up turn of your brows, all traits that make this vulnerable rendition of you enticingly irresistible. her eyes grow dark, consumed by a yearning that she has now ardently realized; this is what she’s been wanting ever since she first laid eyes on you.

“clothes off for me sweetheart.” immediately, you start to slip yourself out of the dress. jihyo decides to be generous, helping you out a bit since she’s quite eager herself.

now, you find yourself perched delicately on the edge of her bed, goosebumps on your skin even as warmth envelops you. you’re nearly exposed, clad only in delicate undergarments that hold jihyo's gaze captive. a sigh escapes her lips, swiftly followed by a mischievous smirk, a telltale sign of her satisfaction.

jihyo's going to have the meal of her life, nothing she had for dinner that night would ever compare to you. she hasn’t even gotten a taste of your arousal yet, but she already knows.

“you’re beautiful,” she mutters before closing the distance, kissing you on the lips. you sink into all of it: the hand on your cheek, the knee shifting in between your legs, and simply her touch.

she maneuvers your body onto the bed, positioning herself on top, ensnaring your legs with her own. with an air of urgency, she kisses you harshly, whisking away the very essence of oxygen from your lungs. she pulls away to see you all hot and heavy, watching the desperate rise and fall of your chest while your eyes meet hers in a gaze brimming with insatiable lust.

“up,” she mutters, to which to respond by propping yourself on your elbows. she skillfully works away at the clasp of your bra, unclipping it and throwing the garment some place off the bed. “god, you’re so beautiful, you know?” jihyo says before fastening her lips on your neck, sucking violently.

as your voice becomes stifled, attempting to form words proves worthless under jihyo's intimate touch. she delicately explores your body, her lips grazing your neck, causing shivers to cascade down your spine. the symphony of your helpless moans resonates wonderfully, she just wants every ounce of pleasure you can offer, greedy for all of you.

“f-fuck, oh my god...” you groan helplessly, squirming under jihyo as her mouth starts to tend to your tits. your hand lands in her hair, gripping tightly as her tongue swirls around your perked up bud. her tongue was great in your mouht, but holy shit it’s ten times better when pushing you near your climax. she hasn’t even touched the ache in between in your legs and you feel like you could cum right then and there.

jihyo gets up and looks down on you like a predator would with its prey, eyeing your vulnerable, exposed body that she’s ravenous for. there are marks along your neck and chest, jihyo’s artwork looking better than anything a museum could hold.

she still has her dress on, though it swiftly finds the floor in a few moments. your gaze becomes fixed upon her, witnessing a new prize the further the dress drops down. in the wake of this unveiling, she stands before you, clad only in undergarments—pricey, hot looking ones. your eyes fixate upon her chest and the sight of her tits leaves you wide eyed. the alluring contours of her abdomen draw your attention next, effortlessly accentuating her absolutely unreal, fit body. she leans back slightly and her ass catches your attention, rendering you speechless. everything about her is divine and you find yourself completely engulfed in desire.

all of this is so unreal and you figure it has to be one of those dreams that gets cut off by the alarm for your morning classes; but no, this is real, it’s especially real as jihyo slides her hand down from the top of your chest to just above your waist. her fingers tease the fabric covering your cunt, tantalizingly grazing it.

“want me inside baby?” jihyo asks, subtly sticking her fingers under the edges of the fabric. you nod desperately, which makes jihyo laugh. “gosh you’re so wet honey, need me that badly?” she teases, and you can only respond with a weak hum.

she slides off your panties quickly, you whimper pathetically in response her skin encounters wetness.

her fingers glide slowly along your folds, easily moving up and down with how aroused you are. she brings her fingers back to her lips, getting a faint taste as your back subconciously arches against the mattress.

“want me inside?”

“please.”

“beg harder.” jihyo chuckles, moving her fingers back to your pussy and teasing you carelessly as she lightly slides up and down the damp folds.“i won’t let you get it that easy. if you want something i want to hear you say it, sugar.”

you whine, breathing out through your parted lips.

“please, i need your fingers inside jihyo,” you sigh, voice all nasally and airy. “i want you to fuck me how you want, just make me cum please, you can have your way with me i don’t care. fuck, i'm all yours.”

“perfect.” she says, then harshly pushes two fingers into your dripping cunt. your head shoots back into the pillow it’s on and your fingers grip the sheets tightly, the curse you cry out practically echoes throughout the room.

she pounds into you with those slender fingers, maneuvering skillfully inside and out, curving at the right spots and leaving you breathless. tears form at the corners of your eyes, her other hand holds you down, pushing down on the middle of your torso to keep you from squirming so much.

the amount of pressure she adds to your clit occasionally renders you weak, you’re a moaning, squirming hot mess and jihyo has never been this turned on in years.

an indescribable sound escapes your lips, a melodic symphony of affirmation and inclination. jihyo's fingers plunge in and out, in and out – delving deeper into the depths of your core with each intoxicating thrust. she retreats momentarily before venturing even further, introducing a third digit into the hypnotic rhythm.

i'm fucked.

there was this sensation of being utterly reinvigorated, inside and out, in the most euphoric way that only your moans could describe. you've never been fucked this good, seriously, you can’t remember the last time you’ve been this turned on and goddamn submissive. it's insane how quick and easy jihyo managed to do it.

the knot in your stomach seems tighter and you’re about to find out just how goddamn well it feels to come undone because of park fucking jihyo. matt's aunt.

“f-fuck i'm, hnnh i'm so close--” you whimper, voice dying down in your throat, “p-please,”

“god you’re so beautiful,” jihyo says right before hitting your clit with her palm as she pushes into you. then, with a stronger arch and near sob, you tighten around her fingers and grip the sheets tightly, clinging on for dear life as you reach your high.

jihyo pulls her fingers out and massages your clit lightly, still stimulating you as you recover. your legs are shaking, still, and your ribs are exposed as you lay there and breathe heavily.

“be a good girl for me, y/n, you can do that. you will.” jihyo says before slamming into you again with three digits, making you gasp from surprise and pleasure. you've barely had time to recover, and yet jihyo is torturing you yet again.

it feels like your pussy is being torn to shreds, you can hear the “squelch” and clap with every point of contact.

you try to say something – exactly what, jihyo doesn’t know or minds because she’s too infatueted with every jolt and twitch of your body – and then you let out another loud cry that sounds something like “fuck,” before your body goes limp, twitching every now and then.

she pulls her hand out – dampened with your clear arousal – and gets a taste of her middle and pointer finger. she drags her fingertips up along your torso -- sending a shiver down your spine – then brings her damp fingers to your mouth.

“open.”

without hesitation, you comply, tasting your own arousal off her skin by swirling your tongue messily. your eyes lock with hers before you suck, going down to the base of where her fingers connect and sliding up until you get all of your arousal off.

“good girl.”

she slides down your body, now she’s facing your cunt directly. you shiver in anticipation, a little scared but for the most part turned on one hundred times more than ever. she presses a sweet kiss to your pussy – quite different from how ruthless she was earlier – before she indulges, making you press the back of your hand against your forehead.

god her tongue, it’s like it’s made to leave girls like you fighting for air. she holds your thighs, pressing her fingers into your flesh as she absolutely devours you. it's not too long before you feel that same knot in your stomach, and this time to leave you screaming she simply flattens her tongue against your sensitivity and sucks on your clit harshly.

there's tears on your cheeks now, and more start to trail down as jihyo starts to fuck you dumb again. whatever is leaving your mouth is incoherent, practically gibberish as you squirm around. she forcefully spreads your thighs apart – which says a lot about her stretngth considering how you’re getting fucked into oblivion – keeping oyu in place even as you start to turn your body and roll onto your side desperately.

“you taste so, mmh, good.” jihyo mumbles, “fuck, this is better than the dessert we had.”

you can barely comprehend what she’s saying because your minds so goddamn foggy and you’re literally sobbing from how overwhelming everything is. but it feels so good, if she stopped you’d be crying for a different reason rather than pleasure.

jihyo feels your thighs shake beside her head, then feels a hand on her head gripping her hair tightly and pushing down against your cunt before the trembling stops. the cry you let out stops before it leaves your mouth, so you cum with an airy, choked out sob.

jihyo's gaze fixates upon your pulsing, swollen cunt – dripping with your sweet arousal. she rises to her knees, gracefully straddling you, drawing her attention to the rise and fall of your chest. your disheveled hair frames your features, adorned with a rosy flush and the remnants of tears. a soft smile dances upon her lips, a testament to the mess she’s made.

jihyo falls down to your tummy, scattering feathery kisses. she ascends to your chest, your neck, and at last, your lips. you kiss her sloppily, weakly reaching to cup her cheek while she traps your top lip between both of hers. she pulls away and fixes up your hair, then rubs her thumb along your tear stained skin.

“you did so good for me baby,” she assures, watching you sniffle. “are you alright?”

“yeah.” you mumble weakly, smiling softly at her. “i just, need to relax.” you chuckle softly before jihyo pecks your lips again.

“i’ll help you clean up, stay here pretty.” jihyo says, rubbing your rib with her thumb softly.

the two of you wake up an hour before lunch the next morning. jihyo rubs your thigh with her hand, massaging it to reduce the soreness. she insists that you two get up since matt is coming over in a few hours and it takes a while for you to get down the stairs without falling – jihyo did a great job, your legs are wobbly and aching– but nonetheless you make it downstairs to the kitchen.

jihyo lets you set your head on your cross arms over the counter since you’re so drowsy, she laughs and presses a kiss before fetching ingredients for lunch. you watch her with tired eyes; her muscles flex and tense as she assembles the ingredients for the sandwiches, leaving you stupidly mesmerized.

you get up and stretch your arms out, then walk over to the older woman. a short giggle leaves your lips as you wrap your hands around jihyo’s waist, she laughs wholeheartedly.

“did you need something?”

you kiss her head and linger before responding, “no, you just looked good from the back.”

“i have to cook lunch, matt is coming home in an hour.” jihyo says, turning to face you, lips inches away from yours.

as you carefully adjust the stovetop temperature to a low, your gaze lands on jihyo, prompting a mischievous smile to play upon your lips. your hands rest on her waist, you turn her body to face you, drawing her nearer with a subtle bite of your lip. jihyo rolls her eyes, a familiar exchange between you both, before your lips meet, you smile into it as you always do.

jihyo guides you towards the kitchen island, never relenting on the heat of her kisses. an involuntary groan escapes your lips as she playfully bites your lower lip, igniting subtle throbbing sensations in you. her lips, feather-light, wander along your jawline, slowly tracing the curves of your face like a breeze meeting petals of a flower.

mindful of your pleasure, you tilt your head back, granting her unrestricted access. her tongue traces your sensitive skin, a captivating and sensuous touch that sends shivers down your spine. jihyo has this power of leaving you breathless in seconds. in the moments between kisses, delightful giggles escape jihyo's lips.

“you’re such a--” another kiss to your jaw, “--tease.” jihyo says unbelievably.

“and you’re the one who’s ah- enjoying this.”

jihyo squeezes your ass gently before kissing your lips again, backing you into the marble of the counter and placing her hands on the edge as she smiles into you.

lost in pleasure and eagerness, the two of oyu fail to hear the sound of the door being unlocked, opened, and then closed. jihyo's hand slides just barely under your shirt, tickling your ribcage with the brush of her fingers. you wrap your arms around her neck and pull her closer, turning your head a little more to get a better taste, to get more of jihyo.

“um, y/n?” a voice interrupts the two of you, and it’s too familiar.

it unfolds like a movie scene; you and jihyo turn to find matt standing there, gripping a backpack strap tightly, his visage a mix of appalled and perplexed. in a rush of apprehension, both of you instinctively release each other, striving to create as much distance as possible while smoothing down stray strands of hair and meticulously adjusting wrinkled garments.

“matt,” jihyo says, trying to recompose herself—but the blush on her cheeks doesn’t die down whatsoever. “you’re home early. i thought you were coming back at 1?”

“yeah...” he says awkwardly, embarassed and flushed as he tries to avoid any eye contact. “i was just going to say hi and um, work on homework.”

“alright, i was just making dinner with--” jihyo clears her throat, “y/n.”

matt looks between the two of you, narrowing his eyes and sighing.

“how long have you two been... doing this?”

you and jihyo exchange a look before you decide to speak up this time, “let’s all sit down at the table and talk about this, how about that?”

now, you’re trying to form the words to explain that you’ve fucked some kid's aunt the night before, and jihyo’s trying to do properly conjure up a sentence that explains the marks on your neck.

#twice x reader #kpop x reader #twice imagines #twice #twice jihyo #jihyo x reader #jihyo imagines #park jihyo #twice smut

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star-sim · 5 months

Text

supermassive blackhole ☆ jay park pt. 2

☆ non-idol!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: 16.7k ☆ tag list: @sophiko22 @yenqa @kwiwin @okikinshasthehiccups @lovelickies @siyen @blackhairandbangs @pjjongsaeng @chkltmlk

part 1

The next day, exactly one week before finals week officially began, you and your friends decided to have a beach picnic to de-stress from the impending doom that was semester finals. It was your meeting place, ever since high school. Clad in a pretty yellow sundress, you entertained yourself with a sand-castle building contest between you and a few friends. Unfortunately for them, a course in urban design (which you shared with Jay Park) equipped you with just enough knowledge on how to build a killer sand-castle.

“Woah!” Isa, the one that you helped get with Jay’s friend all those years ago, exclaimed. You were crouched right next to her in the sand, using silicone molds to make sand seashells. Since junior year of high school, you and Isa have grown apart. It wasn’t the break up rift that caused the distance. In fact, you got closer because of the break up. People just grew on their own, and sometimes that growth was in opposite directions. Now that you were at the same university, you were still friends, but not as close as you used to be. “Specky, you’re really good.”

You grinned to yourself, melding the wet sand into a pillar. “I know.”

Even when your friendship thinned, there was one thing that made Isa distinct: the fact that she called you “Specky,” (short for “spectacles,” since you wore glasses) and no one else did.

“It’s what a course in urban planning and design gets ya,” you quipped, poking your friend with a sand-covered finger.

There were some things that you two disagreed about.

Like when Isa picked her major to be fashion design and apparel construction. Not the most useful or appealing to most employers unless she made it big, which was why you were so vehemently against it. Between the required courses in fashion design and political science (your own major), you argued that the latter would be much more useful.

But that was two years ago, and now you joke about it.

“Yeah?” Isa cocked a brow. “But can you make leopard print look good?”

You smiled. “No, but I know how to pass a law that makes leopard print illegal.”

Isa nudged you playfully. It was supposed to be a light nudge, and it was. Except, your heads bumped together. After a bit of laughing and a few ‘sorry’s’ Isa stopped in her tracks, nose scrunching.

You glanced at her curiously.

Isa didn’t say anything, only leaning closer to you. This time, she pressed the tip of her nose against your exposed shoulder.

“Are you sniffing me?”

Isa only laughed before pulling back. You shot your friend a suspicious look.

“You smell like someone.”

“Don’t I always smell like someone?” you molded the sand in your palm. “Like.. I dunno, myself?”

“Yes, but-” Isa leaned into you again. “You don’t smell like yourself.”

Before you could question her further, Isa called over a few more friends.

“Jake! Kazuha! Come smell Little Miss Specky!”

After having five whole people smell you, they all agreed that you smelled “un-[Name]-like” (whatever that meant).

Isa frowned, placing a thinking hand on her chin. “A-Ha!”

You watched amused as the woman jumped to her feet.

“I know who you smell like!”

Isa threw an accusatory finger your way.

“You smell like Jay!”

Jay Park knew there was something wrong when his toaster broke that morning.

Him and his (your) friends were having a beach get-together, but you went first. He told you that he “had something to do for his job.” Probably easy to guess what he was actually doing.

He arrived at the outing an hour after you did.

And the moment he stepped out of his taxi, there was an entire group of grown adults (read: his friends) charging at him. It wasn’t unnatural for this to happen, but it was what they were screaming and the person they were dragging along with them– You.

Except, when he made eye contact with her ,you looked away embarrassed.

And that was when he remembered the worst slip-up of his life.

“Yeah, I think Jay Park is in love with you. He tells me all about he’s liked you since freshman year and–”

Lying to you while being Spider-Man…. About how he, in his civilian form, liked you.

In his defense– he was panicking, okay? He didn’t know what to say! And he didn’t want to make it awkward either– ew, that would be so icky.

Apparently making his enemy think that he was madly in love with her better than making the atmosphere awkward. When he went home yesterday night (that is, after dropping you back at his place and then making another round around the city so that you wouldn't suspect him), he almost jumped off a building without shooting a web to suspend himself.

He chewed on the inside of his bottom lip.

Jay couldn’t make out any words they were shouting at him, other than your name, “fucking,” and “smell.”

“Okay, okay, shut the fuck up!” Jay finally yelled back at them. “All of you. Let me sit down first.”

When they got back to where all their other friends were, his friends sat him down, looking very serious, as if he was their teenage son who they caught drinking, or something.

“Why are you guys so serious?” he questioned suspiciously.

“You know why!” one of his friends chided.

Jay really didn’t.

In the corner of his eye, he could see another one of his friends dragging you toward them.

Dread.

He could not face you after what happened yesterday.

Eyes narrowing, he turned back to them. “What is this about?”

“How ‘bout you tell us what you’re about?” one of them quipped. “Why does [Name] smell so much like you?”

What.

“Wait, what?” Jay’s lips curled. “What do you mean?”

“Let go of me, Jake!” Jake Sim finally managed to get you, who was kicking and screaming, to come over to where Jay was. You struggled out of his grasp. “Dude, I just want to build my sand-castle, Jesus fuck-”

When your eyes met with Jay’s again, instead of a glare or disgusted expression, you simply looked away awkwardly.

“[Name] [Last Name]!” Isa proclaimed. “Are ya gonna tell us why you smell like your sworn enemy?”

“I don’t know!” you shot your friends a glare. “What do I even smell like normally?”

“Sweet, kinda like an orange,” Jake answered matter-of-factly, smiling.

I would know that, thought Jay.

“And what does Jay smell like normally?”

When Jay and you locked eyes, you knew the answer exactly. You both knew why you smelled like him, and it was an answer that was more complicated-sounding than it should be.

You slept in his bed. Not because you slept together on his bed, but because he also used to sleep in that bed, so it was only natural that his scent wore off on you. You also used his shampoo and body wash. Not because you showered together (ew!), but because you lived in his house.

But if you told them that, there was no way in hell anyone would believe that there wasn’t some sort of relationship between you two.

“He smells like wood, but like, mixed with Axe body spray.”

“I do not!”

It was a silent agreement between Jay and you.

Act stupid.

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jay grumbled.

You crossed your arms over your chest. “I knew you guys were stupid but I didn’t think you were that stupid.”

Jake and Isa sent each other suspicious looks, reconvening before a large grin spread across both of their faces.

“I knew it,” Jake murmured. He got louder. “I knew it!”

Everyone looked at him curiously.

“What are you talking about–”

Swinging an imperious finger at Jay and you, Jake announced loud enough for surrounding people to hear and turn their heads. “These two are fucking!”

What?

The uproar that that single statement caused was uncontrollable. In your group of friends, it was common knowledge that Jay Park and [Name] [Last Name] had nothing to do with each other. If Jay was on one end of the spectrum, you would be on the other. Even suggesting that there may be anything more than simply hate was outrageous.

“No way, man….”

“That’s insane.”

“Impossible!”

When Jay looked over at you, ready to deny everything that they were saying, instead of your characteristic scrunched nose and curled lips in disapproval, your face was plastered with nothing but an awkward and almost embarrassed expression.

“Y’know what?” one of their friends spoke up. “I saw Jay and [Name] kissing at the hockey mixer last week!”

You were completely out of commission, and uncharacteristically so, with a panicked and flustered face. Everyone else was consumed in such clamor. So Jay would have to take everything into his own hands. Taking a deep breath, he waited (while showing great disapproval) for everyone to shut up.

It wasn’t like they’d believe him if he explained the truth.

“Are you guys done…?” he finally spoke, clear dissatisfaction in his voice.

Everyone shut up.

Jay Park was generally an easygoing guy. He didn’t snap at people, and if anything, he was often the butt of jokes. Not that he minded. He was hot-headed and an asshole, but he was probably one of the easiest people to joke with.

However, his censure was not something to mess with.

He was an older brother. He was a STEM major, which was already a rigorous department to go into, no less civil and urban engineering. He was the top of his class in high school (after a certain someone, of course), and ostensibly worked, like, three jobs.

If there was anyone who was normally very patient and smart, it was him. If he’s annoyed, probably shut the fuck up.

Plus, there was nothing like pissing off a tired college student a week before finals.

Jay wet his lips. “You guys are making [Name] uncomfortable. Look at her.”

It was true. You were literally cowering into yourself, frowning deeply and playing with the hem of your yellow sundress.

“Look, I get that you’re our friends, or whatever,” Jay huffed, folding his arms. “But maybe there’s a reason that we don’t tell you certain things. Maybe because everything gets so blown out of proportion and you guys assume the worst.”

He turned over to Jake. The scariest thing about Jay was that even if he was hotheaded most of the time, he was incredibly calm and laid-back when confrontational. “You– You especially. You constantly force [Name] and I together. Some people don’t get along, and that’s okay. Stop trying to force people who don’t want to be forced together.”

Jay wasn’t angry. He wasn’t even annoyed. Just trying to set things straight. When he was done, he looked at his friends expectantly. One by one, they apologized awkwardly.

There was no real resolution, just Jay saying, “Cool,” and walking away to talk to his other friends.

To say that you felt awkward would be an understatement, and to say that you were comfortable with the fact that you were feeling awkward would be a lie.

There was a lot to unpack.

Everyone was trying to suggest that you and Jay had some sort of sexual relationship. People always joked about it, sure, but for an entire group to accuse you of it was beyond disorienting. Now sitting under the parasol with a floral-print towel beneath your sundress, drawing shapes on the sand that had gotten onto the towel, you wished you could have said something. Sure, they were probably being light-hearted, and you knew your friends had no intention to make you feel uncomfortable, but there was something else they didn’t know.

That the number one source of your discomfort was directly from Jay.

When Spider-Man detailed everything that Jay had apparently told him about you, you didn't know how to feel.

According to Spider-Man, Jay Park has had a thing for you since freshman year of high school, and he keeps the hero up until early hours of the day just talking about you. Initially, you were horrified. Could Spider-Man be messing with you? There was no way that Jay Park– the bitch-faced, uncouth, uncivilized, villain that was Jay Park– liked you.

Just the thought that someone like him saw you in a different light made you uneasy.

On the other hand, you were a bit flattered. As Spider-Man explained it, Jay had a thing for you but not necessarily a crush. Rather, he found you attractive.

“And he still does,” the hero had added. “He still thinks you’re attractive, even if he argues with you.”

Jay was the victim of some of your worst moments. You’ve screamed bloody murder at him, shed hot tears, and shrieked so hard that you’d lost your voice. He’d point out your major flaws and insecurities, ones that you didn’t even know that you had. He’d seen your true destructive, tyrannical, and malicious self.

But he still found you attractive?

That was terrifying.

Has he ever seen you with your friends? How you were you soft and kind, all affectionate and tender? How you’d take care of them, how you’d pet their heads and listen to them cry?

How could he ever find you attractive if he’d never seen you be a good person, when he’d only seen the monstrous side of you?

How could anyone find you attractive?

You got positive comments about your appearance many times before, but they were always followed up by comments about your character

You were snapped out of your thoughts when a familiar dark head of hair passed through your line of vision. You never took the time to observe what he was wearing: basketball shorts and a hoodie. It seemed like he could never dress for the occasion, regardless of where he was.

He had his earbuds jammed into his ears, an irritated expression on his face.

After years of purposefully trying to make his life miserable, you could read his face easily

Jay was hot. Physically– Wait no.

Jay was hot, as in ‘affected by the scalding weather.’ His brows always scrunched up with his bottom lip jutting out when he was feeling especially warm.

Maybe if he took off that hoodie of his for once.

You looked down at your hands.

You were under a parasol.

Which gave shade.

Which would make someone feel less ‘affected by the scalding weather.’

“Park!”

You never really thought that you would be the one to invite Jay Park to sit under a parasol with you. Especially after such events that transpired earlier.

It was silent.

Awkward.

Usually, you’d be able to look him straight in the eye, but now equipped with the knowledge that he may or may not have been attracted to you this entire time, you felt queasy.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

He had his eyes glued to the book that he was reading. Upon closer inspection, you knew that book. In fact, you had it.

It was Design of Cities: Revised Edition by Edmund Bacon. The textbook for your urban design course.

And he had the audacity to call you nerdo freak all this time!

He only looked away from his book to glance at his phone.

To change the song that he was listening to.

When you peeked at his phone screen, you noticed a familiar album cover playing.

Bright orange and blue, four men gathered around the table.

Then you noticed the white text right below it.

Supermassive Blackhole.

Before your mind could even think, your mouth moved for you.

“You listen to Muse?”

Jay took his earbud out of his ear, looking up at you slowly with a questioning look.

This scene has happened before.

“You asked me that already,” Jay said simply.

“I-I know.” Why were you stammering? “Summer of freshman year. We were at the beach then, too.”

He cocked a brow at you, and just as he was turning back to his textbook, you continued, voice meeker than usual. “I asked you if you listened to Muse because I also listen to them. But you.. You thought I was making fun of you.”

Jay looked at you slowly.

Why were you shy?

He fingered the earbud that he had removed. You seemed to notice, bracing yourself for the slight embarrassment that would come with his shoving that thing back into his ear. Except, he didn’t. Instead, he presented it in his palm before you.

Was he… offering it to you?

“If you’re just going to stare at it–”

You snatched the bud from his palm, prodding it into your ear.

When the music played, you were met with Matt Bellamy vocalizing into your ear and that iconic, yet rough, guitar rift. Weird that the very song that you listened to when working out was the one that Jay used to study urban planning and design.

You watched Jay’s focused face. The scar on his nose got lost in the divots on his skin when he scrunched his nose, presumably in reaction to something he had read. You never really noticed the birthmark on his neck either.

The next song played, but before it did, Jay paused it.

“What are you looking at?”

You recoiled.

“You were looking at me,” Jay remarked. “Is there something on my face?”

“No, there’s nothing.”

“Okay.”

He caught a glimpse of the song playing before pressing ‘play.’

“You must love this song,” he muttered.

You couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not, until you were met with a distinct drum, rugged bassline, and the 4-on-the-floor beat.

Exo-Politics.

That was the name of the song.

The song that was playing was called Exo-Politics.

You were a political science major.

Was he trying to joke with you?

Was the Jay Park attempting to joke with you?

In the corner of your eye, you could see some children building sand-castles, just like you had been doing earlier. You then peered at the textbook he was reading.

Design of Cities: Revised Edition by Edmund Bacon.

You bit your lip.

“Do you…” you began. “Do you want to see who can build a better sand-castle?”

A civil and urban engineering major and a political science major.

Both were taking the same urban planning and design college course.

Who would build a better sand-city?

“What the fuck is that?”

“I’m going for a high-rise look!”

Maybe it wasn’t the greatest idea.

Especially when it was two ‘nerdo freaks’ trying to out-wit each other.

“The housing density is insane.”

“That settlement looks squatter.”

“That looks unsustainable.”

“That neighborhood is just looking to get gentrified.”

At that comment, you, who were only a few feet away from Jay, grabbed a handful of semi-wet sand and hurled it at the man. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hey!” The glob of sand had landed on one of his ‘high-rise’ buildings. “I’m trying to say that your neighborhoods look poor.”

“Poor?!”

You went for a more sustainable look. Geometric layouts, charmingly sinuous roads, mid-height buildings with only a few clustered high-rise ones, concise zones of income, and clumps of wet sand littered all across the sand-city, imitating trees.

“Is that… New Urbanism?”

You patted your hands off. “Glad that you can recognize it, Park.”

The detail really was something to marvel at. Each building had a indents into their surface to imitate windows, the sandy ‘roads’ were strategically carved with a sharp fingernail to replicate the different uses of land, and even the globs of sand that represented trees were fluffed up to look like actual trees rather than miscellaneous globs.

Jay rolled his eyes, going back to shaping the pointed tip of his building.

Whereas your city was terribly idealistic, he went for a more true-to-life replica. After all, it was his job to study and create infrastructural pieces for real-life cities. High-rise buildings, strong geometric structures, high-density housing, narrow spaces between structures, and little open space. They were built with incredible precision: all the lines were perfectly straight, all the shapes were beautifully even on all sides, and it genuinely looked true-to-life.

“Your city looks like something that would need protection from Spider-Man.”

Ironic.

Jay sighed to hide the slightly-amused grin that you had elicited from him.

“You like Spider-Man?”

Your face contorted, eyes squinting. “In what way?”

“Whaddya mean ‘in what way’?”

You frowned. “I mean, economically and politically speaking, he’s kind of a disturbance, dontcha think?”

Do you even like Spider-Man? Has Jay been misconstruing everything?

Did he technically kidnap you?

“He’s, like, more effective than other law enforcement, but that’s really a testament to him as a protector and how shit current law enforcement is,” you thought aloud. “I think he’s good.”

“Just good?

You frowned again.

“Aren’t you his friend?” you changed the subject. Even in your strange uneasiness, you didn’t find it hard to maintain steady eye-contact with the man. Given the fact that you’d cussed him out using all swears under the sun while looking him straight in the eye.

Jay feigned surprise. “Yeah, he is. How do you know that?”

The man watched as your bottom lip was taken under your teeth. “He came by last night.”

Jay quirked a brow.

There was a pulse of silence between you two.

Not quite comfortable, but not exactly hostile.

Other than the sound of soft breathing, seagulls squawking and people laughing in the distance, and sea waves crashing against the sandy shore, it was completely silent.

Dare Jay say, a nice moment.

“Jay, come play football with us!”

That’s right.

Every time they’d go to the beach, Jay would play football with the boys.

He wanted to play.

But he also wanted to show you up in your sand-city competition.

As he constructed another sand skyscraper, Jay slowly looked up. His eyes met with yours. You gave him a sharp nod, as if to say, ‘Go ahead.’

The man sighed.

Dusting his sandy hands off, Jay rose to his feet.

“I’m not done here, by the way,” he remarked as he passed your crouched form. “I can still make a better city than you.”

Jay felt a glob of sand flicked at his leg, he knew that the feeling was mutual.

Jay lost control of his spider-like abilities sometimes.

His fingers would stick implacably to papers if he wasn’t careful, he’d turn a door handle mindlessly and break it with his inhuman strength, or be acutely aware of the most miniscule of all dust specks flying close to someone’s face.

Sometimes, he’d use those abilities to his advantage.

Like right now.

Jay wasn’t cheating!

Just making use of what his body can do.

Fast reflexes to dodge those that would charge at him head-on, incredible (in a human way) running speed, and probably the greatest throws, like, ever.

When Jake Sim passed the red-brown ball in his direction, who was he to not use those spider reflexes and catch it with larger-than-life precision? As his eyes scoped around for who to pass to, he found the perfect person. Preparing, he raised his arm, squinting for accuracy. At once, he hurled the football.

Except, he found that he’d lost control of just how much strength he was putting into the throw.

At top speed, it began shooting through the air, its pointed tip charging like a missile. As if it was in slow motion, gravity dragged the leathery ball toward the sandy ground. Like a rocket torpedo, the football flung straight into the elaborate city of sand sculpted by your very hands.

If it was any normal, human-strength throw, only a portion of the sand-city would be destroyed.

But because Jay had an obscene amount of strength, the ball not only destroyed the entire city, but dug so harshly into the sand that it exploded it– debris-like chunks of sand just bursting everywhere. And especially all over you and your pretty yellow sundress.

The earth must have stopped spinning, the sun shedding a single ray like a stagelight in a theater over your now frozen figure. It wasn’t just Jay’s super hearing senses. It was like all sound at this bustling beach died out in an instant, zeroing in you.

You turned your head slowly. Your expression was completely vacant, but that spoke volumes. There was sand all over your face, so with a willful arm, you wiped all of it in a sharp swipe.

Even though he was several meters away from you across the beach, and even though there was no way of telling who threw the ball, Jay could feel your stone gaze right at him. You took a deep breath.

Jay ran to you.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip. “I didn’t realize that it– the ball– was going your way– I–”

Everyone was ready to hear you shout your lungs out at Jay. In fact, Jay braced himself for the onslaught of profanities and obscenities that would be rightfully spewed at him.

But there was no yelling.

You breathed through your nose before rising to your feet and dusting off your sandy dress.

You looked at him.

“Thanks a lot, Jay.” There was a sliver of a smile spreading on your lips, but the way your teeth so clearly clenched together told a different story. You squeezed your eyes shut to conceal your bubbling anger, but you simply couldn’t take it. “It always seems like you ‘didn’t realize’ something all the time. But I’m not really surprised anymore.”

With that, flicked a piece of sand off your shoulder before snatching up your tote bag that was perched against the parasol and turning on your heel.

All Jay could do was watch your retreating back, football in hand, as you walked in the opposite direction away from him to the parking lot.

He dug his nails into the leathery ball. Tearing his eyes away from you, Jay was about to turn back to his friends.

Except, a massive crash erupted through the air.

With his spider-like reflexes, Jay snapped his head up. From behind the high-rise buildings and tall structures emerged a giant shadow.

Almost immediately, in the distance, Jay heard cars honking, wheels screeching against the road, and screaming. There were mini fires in the distance from cars crashing.

As people scurried for their lives, the car smoke cleared, revealing a greater shadow in the distance.

Six claws, seemingly mechanical and woven together with many tiny wires. Two antennas extending from the crown of the figure. Metallic body, with red and flashing accents.

Shit.

He knew exactly who that was.

Doctor Discotheque.

Didn’t he fight him a week ago?

“Where’s Spider-Man?!”

Jay clenched his fist.

He had to find a way to get into his hero suit without anyone seeing. Speaking of…

The man whipped his head around to where his friends were. Like everyone else, they were running for their lives. At least they were going in the opposite direction.

Clenching his fist again, Jay was ready to charge straight up to the supervillain, but his dark eyes incidentally caught onto the frozen figure of none other than you. You were completely frozen in your spot, unmoving as you gawked at the incredible size of the villain.

Damnit, [Name], Jay sucked in a sharp breath. It wasn’t abnormal for people to freeze in the face of danger, but he never thought it would be you.

Shooting a web from his wrist, Jay retrieved a stray towel. In what was only a fraction of a second, he threw the towel over him before he changed into his Spider-Man suit. Fixing his mask, he discarded the towel.

The ground rumbled under his feet as Doctor Discotheque’s gigantic body terrorized the streets.

Jay’s feet immediately began moving, running toward your direction. As he approached her, he shot a sticky white web, sticking to your clothes back and effectively yanking you right into him. The hero threw you over his shoulder with an arm around your waist, and began running the other direction.

When you didn’t react, Jay gave a pat to your ass, the way a parent would do to their infant.

“Oi, [Name]!” Jay propelled himself off the sandy ground, discharging a few webs to allow him to swing.

“S-Spider-Man?!” Finally, you snapped out of your dazed state. “What’s– What was that?!”

Jay tightened his grasp around you as he began climbing up a building. By now, he was far from where Doctor Discotheque was. Good for your safety, but not good for his own crime-fighting.

“What, that big thing?” He felt you nod. “That’s just my good pal Doctor Discotheque.”

His tone was far too easygoing, and you audibly gulped.

“Relaaaaax, Angel,” Jay swung to another building. “He’s just a little villain. I beat him twice already. Nothin’ for ya to worry yer pretty head about about.”

“But he’s huge! And, you’re–”

Jay gave your ass another pat. “Just trust me on this, Baby.”

Finally, you reached the destination Jay had planned for you– the underground subway station. It was far enough from all the commotion for it to be calm, but just safe enough.

Jay placed you down. Despite all his reassurance, your face was twisted with concern.

You squeezed his shoulder, lips jutting out into a frown.

“I told ya already,” Jay knocked on your head. “Don’t worry about me.”

When you wouldn’t stop frowning, Jay flexed his bicep, placing your hand on it. With his hand over you, he squeezed his firm bicep.

“Ya feel that muscle?” you nodded slowly. “I’m strong. Spider-Man is strong.”

You stared at him.

“So you don’t hafta worry about me.”

Granted, Jay was talking to you the same way that he would talk to a crying six-year-old, but hey, it’s the principle of it!

“Just…” you took a deep breath. “Be careful.”

Jay unknowingly grinned. “Yeah, yeah.”

There was a pulse of silence between you two.

You looked up at him, with nearly glossy and wide eyes. You bit your lip.

“Before you go…” you murmured something under your breath. Abruptly, you grabbed Jay’s masked face, bringing it down so that he was eye-level to you. You pressed a quick peck to his cheek, before pulling back immediately. “Just… Don’t do anything dumb.”

Jay stared at you, blinking a few times to absorb everything. He swallowed on his dry throat, licking his lips. Another wide grin spread over his face.

“Of course, Gorgeous.”

Okkkayyy….

So maybe Jay was a bit of a liar.

According to the supervillain himself, Doctor Discotheque got access to some high-tech science shit and now had this supermassive mechanical body to control.

Just great.

Spider-Man was no wimp. He fought with all his might and was actually quite effective. Effective enough to damage Doctor Discotheque to the point that he ran away and yelled, “Damn you, Spider-Man!”

The only issue was that Doctor Discotheque was a little too strong for Jay to handle unprepared.

The night was completely silent now. That is, if you didn’t count the police sirens and helicopters flying overhead, reporting on the incident.

There was an undoubted hush that fell over the city. The supervillain hadn’t done anything that was crisis-causing, but he was an unequivocal threat. According to the police reports, three people had died, while an entire block and a half of important infrastructure, including parts of the beach, had been subject to damage. The news, after collecting data, reported that quantitatively, 67% of citizens felt unsafe and were fearful of what was to come. Indeed, there was a threat.

And even worse, Spider-Man was injured.

Doctor Discotheque wasn’t lying when he said that he had “some high-tech science shit,” because one of his tentacle-like claws managed to stab Jay’s thigh. It was nothing fatal, but it was certainly debilitating.

“Ah– Shit.” Jay had to resort to climbing the walls instead of swinging around buildings. Before he entered his apartment complex, he made sure to tie a piece of cloth around his bleeding wound and change back to his civilian clothes.

When he cracked open his apartment door, he was surprised when you bombarded him with questions.

“Where the hell were you?” The you that Spider-Man knew was vastly different from the you that Jay Park knew. “We were all so worried– Shit– No one saw you, like, at all, at the beach– and you weren’t responding to any texts or calls– and–”

Jay blinked.

“What were you doing all this time? You could have been killed, or injured!-- or– It doesn’t matter– Where have you been all this time and why haven’t you been responding to any of us, or–”

You dug your teeth into your bottom lip. “Look! Even your brother’s worried sick!”

Jay looked over at Wonnie, who was eating chips (and getting crumbs all over) and watching TV, completely unbothered.

“I, um,” Jay stared at you. Quick! How was he going to get out of this one? “I was– I was at my internship. We.. uh, We were studying infrastructure… as a result of the… Incident.”

You eyed him suspiciously. “Was the studying so interesting that you couldn’t respond to any texts or calls?”

Jay fumbled with his phone that was deeply squashed in his pants pocket. “It was dead.”

It was now that he noticed the way that you were circling him, inspecting him like a hawk. It was a good thing that he changed into his civilian-wear, or else you'd see the cuts and bruises all over his arms, as well as the dirt and debris that had gotten into and onto his hero suit.

“Oh my god, are you bleeding?!”

Jay looked down, and lo and behold, there’s blood dripping down his thigh, creating a puddle of dark red below him.

Maybe next time, he shouldn’t use a tiny piece of cloth to tie up such an absurd wound like that.

“Oh. I am.”

“?!”

And that’s how Jay found himself sprawled across the bathroom floor with one ear pressed against the bathroom door, listening to your voice on the other side.

“Is it bad?”

“Yeah, there’s blood everywhere.”

“?!”

He finally fessed up and admitted that he got stabbed in the thigh (with an appropriate excuse, of course). You were just going to leave it at that, snarkily saying, “Hope you know how to fix up a stab wound,” but when he responded with, “I don’t,” you grumbled under your breath and forced him to take a shower. You weren't exactly excited to see him naked and so bare (his thigh!) and neither was he, so your direction was all told behind a bathroom door.

It was a tedious task having to listen to you.

But you were a tedious person.

Look for things in the wound like glass shards, disinfect it with alcohol, patch it up.

Except he couldn’t get past the second step.

“Shit, shit, shiiiiit,” Jay hissed. Rubbing alcohol burned.

“Park?” your voice resounded behind the bathroom door. “Are you okay in there?”

He fumbled with the various medical equipment. “Y-Yeah– It just kinda hurts.”

There was a silence.

“I’m fine.”

Behind the door, he heard you sigh.

“Put on some clothes, Park.”

“W-What?”

“You’re so fuckin’ incompetent that I need to help you. Put on some clothes so I can get in there, will ya?”

Now the two of you were sitting on the floor.

“Ow! That really hur–”

“Stay still then!” “I can’t when it’s burni– Ah.. Agh! It hurts!”

The wound was a lot worse than you had thought. Jay said that one of the interns dropped a saw knife on his lap, causing it to stab him. Honestly, you did not buy that story but it was the best he had so you just accepted it.

Unfortunately, this stab wound looked a lot worse than someone just accidentally dropping a sharp object onto his lap.

The two of you were now sitting on the cold bathroom floor, you in between his legs. Jay had shorts rolled all the way up, revealing his injured thigh. Other than the occasional hiss of pain, annoyed murmur, and sound of Wonnie’s TV channel in the background, it was completely silent. The early-summer night was only beginning to darken. If the night of the party was discounted, then this may have been the closest that you two have ever been.

Your delicate fingers against his skin, Jay sunk his teeth into his lip. Your glasses were at the very tip of your nose, almost falling off your face. He wanted to push them up badly, but decided against it. After all, you and him were not friends. Barely even acquaintances.

Well, you and him, a.k.a. you and his civilian form, a.k.a. you Jay Park.

You and Spider-Man seemed to be great friends.

He wondered why you hated him so much. You got along well with Spider-Man just fine, and Spider-Man was probably the most free version of Jay there was. Was it just the very essence of Jay Park?

Thinking back to what happened earlier at the subway station, you were sweet. Too sweet. The sweetest that he’d ever seen.

Jay never thought that he’d look into your eyes and see genuine worry, concern.

The way you held onto him, those pouty lips, gleaming eyes that looked up at him like he was some god.

Jay’s lips parted unconsciously as he watched the way you were currently working between his legs.

It would be a lie to say that Jay wasn’t, to some degree, attracted to you. He’s always been. Your [H/C] hair, those glasses that would delicately lay on your nose. Your mean words, nasty glares, critical eyes, and most strikingly, your wicked intelligence– they should have made him completely terrified of you, but for some reason, it only made him more attracted to you.

Too many guilty nights were spent thinking about you, contemplating what he should say to you the next day to elicit a reaction.

Sometimes, at night, his mind would wander about what would have happened that night at the soccer mixer if Wonnie hadn’t called him. What would have happened between him and you?

And when you kissed him earlier, he felt like a little schoolboy talking to a girl for the first time. Why was he so giddy?

He bit his tongue as you finished off your bandaging job.

He was going crazy.

Yes, you did indeed need to ask Jay Park for help again. Normally that would be embarrassing enough. But now it was another level of embarrassment.

A few days had passed since the incident at the beach, and someone had the wonderful idea to have a frat party. In the middle of the week. Which was what you (and by association, Jay) were getting ready for.

You and Jay agreed that you both would be taking your car to the party, but under the condition that you went in at appropriately-spaced times to avoid misunderstandings.

Jay’s version of “getting ready” was literally nothing. He wore what he always wore to parties. On the other hand, you actually dressed up.

The only issue was you didn’t have your friends with you, who would usually help you get ready.

Which was why you were now embarrassingly asking Jay Park to zip up your tiny red dress.

“C-Can you– just–” you had to cross your arms to keep the thin spaghetti straps from falling off your shoulders. Even so, in front of him, you felt like you were practically spilling out of the dress. “Can you just zip up my dress?”

How embarrassing.

Jay agreed to it with a silent nod, but you could feel his judgment boring into the back of your head.

You felt his large hands ghost over your lower back before stopping.

“Move your hair.”

When you didn’t respond, Jay repeated himself. “Move your hair. I can’t zip it up if your hair’s in the way.”

“O-Oh.”

How embarrassing.

When he was done, you instinctively turned around to face him. When you were with your friends and they zipped up your dress, you’d turn around and ask, “How do I look?”

Unfortunately, Jay wasn’t one of those friends.

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment when Jay gave a questioning look, ready to turn around and scurry off. However, you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes clung to your dress-clad body, and especially the way that he gulped harshly, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

You couldn’t stop the self-satisfied curve forming on your lips.

“What?!” was the simultaneous reaction of Jay and you.

Inevitably, when you arrived at the party, you parted ways to go to your own friends.

“I don’t know how you could hate him,” a friend chuckled into your ear as you hung out in the billiard area, drinks in hand.

“Hate who?”

Another friend nudged you. “Y’know.. Jay.”

You grimaced. “What about him?”

The friend laughed. “Have you seen his arms?”

“No, I haven’t.” You frowned.

Your friends shrieked, giving you a slap on the arm. “Christ, he’s, like, fine as fuck– oh my god, the lip piercing–”

The bespectacled you frowned again, taking a sip of your canned beer. “If you like him so much, you should tell him. His big ass head might like the attention.”

Your friends exchanged looks.

“Nah, I can’t do that.”

At that point, you weren't even paying attention, too focused on the pool game happening in the room. “Why not?”

“Because everyone knows that Jay Park is yours.”

“WHAT?”

Jay Park?

Yours?

?????

“He’s not-”

Your friend threw an arm around your shoulder. “Look, babe, we all understand. It’s pretty much an unwritten rule that Jay Park is reserved for you and you are reserved for Jay Park.”

You scowled, taking another long sip of your beer, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Your neck felt uncharacteristically warm. “But, we’ve never even shown interest in each other!”

Another friend put a hand on your shoulder. “Everyone sees the way he looks at you.”

“But that’s just him!” you crossed your arms. “I do not like him!”

There’s cheering in the other room, which you momentarily poked your head out of the room to take a look at. Meanwhile, your friends shared a look.

“[Name], Sweetie,” they smiled when you came back. “Remember when he got his first girlfriend? You were glaring daggers at her.”

“Because she was an objectively bad person!”

“Then why were you crying into my shoulder for hours because you randomly ‘felt sad’?”

“Because I was randomly feeling sad!”

“Right…”

Your friend sighed. “You guys are crazily oblivious.”

You spluttered.

Likewise, Jay was having a similar dilemma.

“Dude, I don’t care if you think [Name] is hot,” the dark-haired man crossed his arms.

His friends stared at him. “Uh. I think you do.”

Jay’s nose scrunched. “I don’t.”

“She always looks like she’s gonna eat you up–”

Jay leaned back on the sofa, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Yeah, which is why–”

“And you always look like you want her to eat you up.”

“That’s not true.” Okay, so maybe Jay Park knew that it was true. When you called him stupid or cursed at him, it may or may not have been a turn-on. He’s not weird. “She doesn’t even call me by my name.”

“Right, [Name] exclusively calls you Park.”

Another friend chimed in. “She wants your last name!”

“Wha–”

Another one spoke up. “She calls you by your last name because she’s waayy into taking it.”

“Okay, okay,” Jay muttered. “But even if I did like her, I don’t think she’s like me back.”

“We never said anything about you liking her…”

“I’m leaving.”

He didn’t end up leaving. In fact, he and his friends ended up in the hallway bedroom along with an entire group of other people. Including you and your own friends.

“Let’s play truth or dare!”

The moment that that fuck-faced, son of a bitch Jake Sim reached for the glass Heineken bottle and gave it a spin, Jay knew he was doomed. Because the bottle landed on you yourself. And the mischievous look on his face told the room everything they had to know.

“[Name], I dare you to play 7 Minutes in Heaven with Jay!”

That’s how Jay Park found himself sitting face-to-face with you in a stuffy closet.

Awkward.

Outside, you could hear the muffled voices of your friends, giggling amongst themselves. It was deathly silent in the closet, so quiet that Jay’s ears rung with static. Despite this, your eyes were not shy; steady and unwavering eye-contact was always the way for Jay and you, no matter the situation.

“Are they gonna kiss?!” someone whispered not-so-loudly on the other side of the door. You, staring dead into his eyes, cocked a brow, your lip twitching.

“Six minutes!” someone shouted outside.

Jay was uncomfortable. You probably were, too.

How could he lighten up the mood?

Well, he’s comfortable with you when he’s Spider-Man, and vice versa. What’s something Spider-Man would say?

“You look great tonight.”

Good one, Spider-Man.

Your brows furrowed together, your entire face scrunching. Just as Jay was about to pray to the sky for the ground to swallow him up, you opened your mouth.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, and for the first time since you got into the closet, averted your gaze from his. Your eyes dropped, before using your foot to nudge him. “Nice socks, Park.”

That’s right, tonight he was wearing… Spider-Man socks.

Oh man, he looked like a weirdo.

Jay chewed on his bottom lip.

When he glanced over at you, for the first time ever, instead of feeling indignation or irritation, he felt something adjacent to admiration.

Jay had seen you for every one of your embarrassing phases. And when he looked at you now, those dark and curly mascara-laden lashes, glossy pink lips, and shimmery eyeshadow lining your eyes, he only realized then how gorgeous you were. You had always been attractive to him, and he’d always known that. But now you were seriously beautiful.

There was no doubt that you put effort into your appearance. He was stupid, and he knew he was, to indulge in the idea that, perhaps, you dressed up for him.

On your end, your heart was hammering in your chest. Which was weird. Because that only happened when you were nervous. And what was there to be nervous about when it came to Jay Park?

“Five minutes!”

Your friends’ words rang in your head.

Was Jay Park really that attractive?

He had honey-gold skin, strong and sharp features, tousled dark hair, and a pierced lip. If you looked past his smug expression when he got what he wanted or that slightly-pathetic look in his eyes when he didn’t, you supposed that he could be attractive.

You glanced at him. His distracted gaze, pointed at the carpeted floor below their feet, was almost daunting.

Was there something between you and Jay, something that neither of you knew about?

If someone asked you that question years ago, you would have punched them square in the face for asking such a dumb question.

But now you didn’t know.

You would be lying if you said that you never thought of Jay Park in a different light. As much as you hated to admit it, there were times where you questioned your attraction to him. It wasn’t like he was going around charming you with physical affection.

Instead, it was small actions.

Rolling his sleeves up, his large hands littered with rings, the bruises along his knuckles and splinters and cuts along his fingers because of his engineering workshops, licking his lips, that little side smirk he’d do when satisfied with himself, when he’d quirk his brow at you, when he’d correct people, when he’d speak academically, when he’d help people in class.

You were so immersed in thoughts that you didn't notice the way Jay was outright staring at you.

You were only pulled out of it when you felt a finger push up your glasses.

Surprised, you jerked back, eyes looking up at a just-as-surprised Jay.

“I’m sorry,” Jay blurted almost immediately. “Your glasses– they were falling down your nose, so I–”

You bit the inside of your cheek, feeling your ears prickle with heat. Sheepishly, you pushed up your glasses, holding onto the rims as a way to hide your embarrassed face.

“I’m so sorry,” Jay rambled. “That’s so weird and I shouldn’t have and–”

“It’s okay,” you interrupted. You pushed up your glasses again.

Another silence fell over you, this time, even more tense. Until Jay broke the silence.

“How did we even start hating each other?”

You cracked a small smile. “You don’t remember?

“No, I do,” Jay said. “I just feel like there were so many opportunities for us to become friends. We just never did.”

“I guess.”

There’s another pulse of silence.

“I don’t hate you, by the way,” you mumbled.

“You don’t?”

“I mean, at least I don’t think so.”

“Then I don’t think I hate you either.”

“Thanks.”

Jay almost laughed. “‘Thanks?’”

You shrugged.

Your eyes met, staring into each other’s eyes for a few moments before a bashful expression spread across Jay’s face. “Y’know, I stopped talking to Taehyun after you yelled at me.”

Your lips parted. “Why?”

Jay scoffed, his brows knitting together in an attempt to explain himself.

“I dunno. I guess you..” he trailed off. Again, those wide and glossy eyes that looked at him. This time, though, instead of gazing at him as if he was some god, you watched him as if he was a book, trying to read him. “You beat some sense into me.”

“Three minutes!” someone shouted. From outside, there were giggling and fake kissing noises.

You two shared a small laugh at your friends.

The remaining 3 minutes were quiet.

College student stress was no joke. That coupled with a pinch of sexual and housing frustration, and the result is a drunk you.

You really didn’t mean to drink so much tonight, but everything seemed to become a much bigger problem when on a dance floor next to a whole bunch of sweaty bodies, so why not drink your problems away?

Currently, you were on top of a guy, who was equally as drunk as you, in the guest bedroom of the frat house. Tangling your hands in his hair, you smashed your lips against his. Whoever you were kissing was a messy kisser– He shoved his tongue into your mouth, aggressively exploring every crevice. His kisses left your lips swollen and pouty, pink lip gloss leaving pretty residue at the corner of his lips. Cold metal pressed into your bottom lip– it must have been a piercing. It should have hurt, and it did, but the foreign and cold pain only made the kiss even better.

Meanwhile, his hands roamed.

Would it be a good time now to mention that the guy was Jay Park-- just that both of you were too drunk to even notice each other? For the second time.

Jay's large, ring-covered fingers gripped your hips, hard enough to leave bruises. With each passionate kiss, he pulled your hips against his, before sliding his hands down to your ass and giving it a squeeze, earning a squeal from you.

You finally pulled away from each other only to catch a breath of air. You, with puffy lips and blown-out eyes, shifted in the man’s lap; you shoved your knee between his thighs, while your hands grasped his hair to tilt his head, giving you access to his neck.

Pressing wet kisses along his honey-gold skin, you took in his woody scent. Your fingers, laced harshly in his soft locks, pulled on his hair.

“Fuuuuuck,” Jay groaned.

You gave his hair another harsh tug, pressing your lip directly against his neck– right at the crook where his jaw met his neck. You swiped your tongue over his skin. Grinning to yourself, you graze your teeth against him, before sinking them in and giving his plush skin a soft suck. He gasped.

“You like that?” you breathed in his ear. He shuddered, nodding quickly.

Unsatisfied, you sank your teeth into his skin again, sucking harshly this time. “I wanna hear you fuckin’ say it.”

“Yes– shiiit–” your lips moved to the crook of his neck. Jay threw his head back, sighing loudly. “Fuck, I like that.”

Even under the dim bedroom light, when you pulled away,you could admire the red-purple marks left on his skin, along with the slight shimmery sheen of lip gloss left. Just when he thought it was over, you ran your tongue along the bruises that you left, pressing the sensitive skin.

You ran a pedicured hand up his chest, before pushing him down so that he was lying flat on the soft bed. Currently, you were completely straddling his thigh, so you threw a leg around him so that you would be straddling his hips.

In your drunken stupor, you couldn't make out his features, other than a sharp nose and dark hair. Jay's hands came up to grip your hips once again, rocking yours against his just slightly and letting out a desperate cry.

You ran your nail along Jay's neck, admiring the marks you left. You grasped his chin, shaking it side-to-side. “Uh-uh. Not until I say so.”

Yanking the hem of his hoodie, you pulled it up, revealing a toned and tanned stomach. You graze your nails against his skin, biting your lip.

“Raise your arms,” you slurred. He sat up and complied, so you pulled his hoodie over his head. With him still sat up, you pulled Jay close so that your chests were pressed right against each other.

Once again, you smashed your lips against his, engaging in another heated make-out session. Your nails dug into Jay's biceps, while his hands roamed your body– squeezing your ass, grazing your thighs, and tugging at the thin spaghetti straps of your dress.

“Take it off,” he whined against your lips, pawing at your dress. “Take it off, please.”

You chuckled, amused. You grabbed his chin. “What did I say earlier?”

“Please, please, please,” he begged, completely ignoring what you said.

You slammed your lips against each other, pulling him by his face. The room was filled with the sound of lips colliding with one another, and occasional whines and pleas.

Both far too intoxicated to focus on anything other than your desire, you didn’t notice the sound of footsteps and laughter approaching the guest bedroom.

“And I was like–” the door clicked open. “OH MY GOD–”

Why does this keep happening?

The last time Jay went to a frat party, he nearly hooked up with you and got cockblocked one way or another. Last time, it was his kid brother. And now his friends.

As he ran out of the frat house (of course grabbing a water bottle and chugging it to sober up), searching for you, Jay couldn’t help but feel a harboring sense of disappointment and shame. His cheeks burned against the cool night air, his eyes glossy and watery with the initial surprise and now, shame. He tried to blink back the tears that were beginning to line his eyes, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

When two of your friends bursted through the doorway, the two of you were completely frozen. Jay was too drunk to even comprehend what was happening, but when he heard “[Name],” everything came back to him.

You didn’t seem to realize it was him either until you heard his name.

And the moment that you did, your face grew red, morphing and twisting. As crystal tears began to fill your eyes, you began hitting and punching Jay. Maybe he was too drunk to understand, or you were too drunk to generate coherent words. But he couldn’t understand anything that you said.

Not until you let out a loud sob, yelling, “I hate you, Jay Park.”

You jumped off of him, running out of the room, pushing past the group of friends that had formed a mini-crowd around the doorway.

You must be disgusted with him. He was a fool to think that he could even have a chance with you.

Humiliated and disgusted with himself, Jay watched as you ran off into the night. His heart sank to his knees, an uneasy and nauseating feeling settling in his stomach. As his heart calmed down, Jay lowered his head in humiliation, unable to even face himself.

You said that you didn't hate him, but you surely must now.

Just as he was about to run back into that frat house and drink himself dead, he realized one very crucial thing: where the fuck was you going?

You were drunk. And crying. Even if you hailed a taxi, there was no way of knowing that you'll be safe.

Sucking in a sharp breath from his heavy breath, Jay looked down at his hands.

God, he was so ashamed of himself. He would love– and truly, love– to go drink until he was shitfaced drunk again. There’s no way that he could look anyone, and especially you, in the eye after this. He felt disgusting. Nasty. He must be a repulsive person.

But there was no way in hell that he was going to let a drunk and vulnerable woman run around the city late at night.

Which was why Jay found himself pulling the very woman that crushed his soul close under a street lamp.

Of course, as Spider-Man.

Luckily, you hadn’t gotten in a taxi yet. He found you sitting under a street light, crying. His heart ached, wrenching in his chest.

Standing over you, he extended a hand.

“Let me take you home, Angel.”

Even with all the shame that befell over him, Jay was gentle with you. Even though you were the source of all his troubles, he couldn’t bring himself to treat you as anything less. In his heart, you were still the you that he knew (and loved).

Crouching down, he pushed your hair out of your face, running a thumb over your wet cheek to wipe away your tears. Patting your head, he couldn’t help but coo at your pouty face.

He didn’t like to see you cry like this.

When Jay cupped your face, you grabbed his wrist, nuzzling your cheek into his warm palm.

“Please,” you whispered.

And who was he to refuse you?

You cried into his neck the whole way home. In a way, Jay felt like a fraud. The same person that ran you away from was the one holding you. If you knew who Spider-Man was, you’d run, too.

“Don’t wanna go inside,” you murmured into his ear once they arrived at his apartment.

Jay stroked your hair gently. “Why not?”

“Because,” you sobbed. “Because— it’ll r-remind me of him.”

The hero frowned. “Of who?”

You cried harder. “Jay—“ you stopped yourself, only holding onto him tighter.

“[Name],” Jay whispered against the shell of your ear. “How ‘bout I stay with you out here?”

You sniffled, glassy eyes shining in the bluish moonlight. You nodded your head profusely. Much to your surprise, Jay launched the two of you up onto the roof of the apartment complex. When you looked at him sheepishly, he simply muttered, “I go here when I want to clear my head.”

Ten minutes later, all of which were just filled with you sobbing in your drunken glory, neither of you wanted to leave your current position: Jay sitting cross-legged and you on his thigh so that he could see your face. The whole time, as you cried, Jay stroked your hair, occasionally whispering a few words of reassurance in your ear.

As you calmed down, Jay cupped your cheek. You must have been beginning to sober up, because you resisted his touch, pulling away to hide your face.

“[Name],” he said against the shell of your ear, delicate fingers grasping your chin. “[Name], look at me.”

Rich from someone who could barely look you in the eyes right now.

“Nooo,” you whined, bringing a stray strand of hair to cover your eyes. “It’s embarrassing.”

Jay cracked a grin under his mask. “What’s there to be embarrassed about?” you didn't respond. “Yer embarrassed about crying in front of Spider-Man?”

“Am not!” you shot at him, but the way you continued to hide your face told Jay everything he had to know. “H-Hey!”

Jay forced your face to turn to his. He ran his thumb across your cheek, caressing your puffy and tear-stained skin. “Talk to me, Gorgeous.” Your lips pursed into a pout. “What happened? Did someone do something to make you cry? Do I gotta fight someone?”

Yeah, yourself.

He knew the answer to that.you were going to cry again, wail about how much you hated Jay Park, how disgusted and horrified you were with Jay Park, how it was him, that bastard of a man, that made you cry. Jay knew he wasn’t emotionally prepared for what you were going to say, but he wanted to hear it from your lips for some reason. He would at least gain some closure, even if it meant rubbing salt into the wound before he was going to inevitably beat himself up over it later.

But to his surprise, you shook your head.

“No one did anything,” you sniffled.

“B-But–”

You looked down at your hands sadly. “It was my fault.”

How could it be your fault? Jay was certain that it was his.

“I’m such a bitch,” you breathed. “He… H-He didn’t even do anything– I– I wanted him– so bad– But I pushed him away…”

Jay tightened his hold around you. “What… What are you talking about?”

“If I talk about it, I’ll start crying again,” you murmured. When Jay gave your head a soft pat, whispering, “I won’t make fun of ya if you do,” into your ear, you took a deep breath. You turned over your shoulder to gaze at him. “But you have to promise not to tell anyone though.”

It wasn’t like Jay heard you say that though.

Because he might have been too fucking enraptured by you.

The yellow-marble moon shone behind her, giving you an ethereal backlit glow. Even so, the lights of the bustling city reflected off the sparkling luster of tears collecting in your wide eyes. Your hair was endearingly disheveled, and your nose and ears were getting sensitive from the cold night air. You were probably the loveliest person he ever-

No. He should stop.

Jay extended a pinky finger. “Promise.”

You sucked in another deep breath, fiddling with the hem of your dress.

“Me and Park… We got drunk and almost…” you trailed off, hoping that he would get what you were trying to say. He hummed, signaling that he did. You opened your mouth to continue, but frustrated, shove your face into your hands, letting out a whimper. “And then… our friends walked in on us– And– I just– Felt so embarrassed.”

Embarrassed.

That word stung.

Your eyes began to quell, and the wet sniffles started again. “I got angry, I got so– Fucking angry– and I just began yelling and h-hitting him–” you cut yourself off with a sob, to which Jay squeezed your hand.

He let you cry into his shoulder.

“He– He–” you sobbed. “He looked so hur– hurt. A-And that’s why I-I’m crying!”

Jay sunk his teeth into his bottom lip. He urged you on, rubbing circles on your back.

You used the back of your hand to wipe your tears. “J-Jay–” His ears perked up at the sound of his name. You almost never called him by his first name. “Jay-fucking-Park makes me feel so-”

Jay braced himself.

“-weird. I-I thought I hated him… B-But–” you squeezed Jay’s hand– “I…. I think I.. I…Ugh!”

You smashed your wet face into Jay’s shoulder in frustration. In his complete and utter bewilderment (you truly didn’t hate him?) Jay let out an airy chuckle. Feeling his chest rumble, you groaned, giving him a smack.

“Y-You said you wouldn’t l-laugh!”

Jay stopped, giving your head another pat. “Sorry, sorry. Ya said that Jay makes you feel weird? Whaddya mean by that?”

You ran a hand through your hair. “Tha- That’s the problem: I don’t know!”

You looked up at him helplessly, grappling onto his wrist. “Help me, Spider-Man!”

Jay let out another airy chuckle. “I mean, how do ya feel around him?”

You glared at him incredulously. “H-He– I normally d-don’t feel anything!-- But re-recently I feel… Hot.”

“Hot?”

“Like, like I’m about to b-burst!”

Jay studied your face. “Do… Do you just hate him?”

“I-It’s not hate!”

“Then I don’t know!”

“Spiiiider-Maaaan!”

He didn’t want to say it. Even suggesting it was probably too emotionally-wrecking for the two of you.

“Do you… have a crush on him then?”

You flopped over him.

“?!”

With your body thrown over his shoulder, you shoved your face into your hands, letting out a drawn-out groan. There’s a pulse of silence.

Jay clenched his fists. There was a lot to take in. It could be the alcohol lingering in his system, or the overwhelming emotions he felt, but he genuinely could not process anything right now. He’ll sleep on it. All he knew was that he was on-edge.

You responded to his question with an inaudible, muffled, mumble.

From the way that you stilled against him, not even uttering a sound, it must have been an utterance to yourself, something that he wasn’t supposed to hear.

You clearly didn’t want to confront it, so he won’t force you to.

With little thought, Jay frowned while he traced shapes against your thigh, while you were still sniffling away. You two sat in a comfortable silence, soaking in the moonlight.

“Did you just draw a poop?” you blurted.

“Yeah,” Jay replied. His gloved finger, laced with mischief, traced another figure– consisting of two circles and a long tube.

“I don’t even want to say what you just drew!”

Jay snorted. Wrapping his arms around your hips, the hero hoisted you up momentarily, before lifting you off his shoulder and onto his lap. It was only when you let out a short squeak when he realized that your legs were now draped on either side of his hips.

He deadpanned.

This scene has happened before.

But instead of you pushing him away and punching his chest, you simply giggled, cold hands coming up to grab his masked face. Jay was startled when you pulled his face closer to yours.

“[Na–”

You tried to squeeze his cheek under the mask. When you felt plush, warm skin, your face lit up. “Woahhh!”

“Why’re you so surprised?”

You squished his masked cheek again. “You’re real!”

Another thing about you that enamored him: your naïvete and nearly innocent nature (but only sometimes, when you weren’t trying to kick his ass).

Jay chuckled. “Of course I am. Didja think that I was fake?”

You hummed. Then ,you cupped his cheek, before pedicured fingers slithered toward the juncture between his ear and neck. You fingered the cloth there. Jay’s breath caught in his throat.

“I’ve always wondered who’s behind this mask,” you thought aloud, caressing his neck. Your voice was low and light, like a whisper.

Jay felt like a middle school boy; he was getting nervous just by how close you were to him. He could smell your perfume, and even your breath against his neck. His heart hammered in his chest.

“You…” he rasped, voice deep. “You don’t wanna know.”

“But I do!” you giggled. “Do I know you in real life?”

“Err… I can’t answer that.”

“Awwww.”

You stared at him, before cracking another grin. “I don’t care who you are in real life. I’d still be your friend.”

Jay quirked a brow. He slunk his arm back around your waist, pulling you in closer.

“What if I was someone you hated?” he murmured. His dark eyes locked onto yours. Such an indulgent question. He was opening himself up to get hurt, but for some reason, he didn’t care.

“I wouldn’t care,” you breathed. “I’d love you either way.”

He knew that was a lie.

That night, you fell asleep in his arms up on the rooftop.

When he snuck back into his apartment, he placed you down on his bed, tucked you in, and whispered, “Good night, Pretty.”

The moment that he shut that bedroom door, Jay felt weak to his knees. His heart rate was picking up, nose suddenly becoming runny. He was in the middle of chanting, “Don’t cry,” to himself when the first tear rolled down his face.

A hand reached up to clasp his mouth tightly as he squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t wake you or Wonnie up.

Jay didn’t know how long he cried sitting with his back against the bedroom door, but when he was done, he felt dizzy.

Jay went on an early morning patrol.

He didn’t get much sleep, but that sleep was indeed helpful in clearing his mind.

As he swung from building to building, occasionally scaring off criminals and sketchy people alike, his mind was occupied with thoughts about last night. It was hard to rationalize last night, and while it still was hard, the cool morning air kissed his cheeks just enough to give him the calm to think.

Okay, so, she doesn't think I’m disgusting, I didn’t actually do anything wrong, she was just embarrassed. I make her feel weird, and she might actually hate me. She says that she would still love me if I was… me, but like, “me” as in “Spider-Man” and the other “me” as me, Jay Park, and–

God, this was frustrating.

Even if you didn’t blame him, there was no way he could face you or any of your friends as Jay. His friends were blabbermouths. Everyone and their mothers probably knew by now the events that transpired.

His anguish built up. So much so that even when Jay was disarming a knife-bearing mugger, he couldn’t bring himself to make a few snarky remarks. His body was moving on its own, jumping around and soaring through the air. His mind was in a world of its own, running and drilling with little break, just mulling over all the possibilities.

He didn’t notice the time (three hours later) until all the delis and flower stores began opening up for the day. Plopping down onto one of the hedges on top of a building, Jay only realized how out-of-it he was; his legs were plagued with an abnormal ache, and his chest pushed out air using labored lungs.

Jay pulled off his mask, letting the cool air hit his face. He took a deep breath, peering down at the quiet bustle beginning to spread throughout the city.

He was about to sit there and contemplate, probably reflect on himself or simply relax.

However, an ear-splitting ringing sound cut through the air.

Beep beep!

“Shit,” he muttered, slipping his phone out of the seamless pocket attached to his suit’s leg. “Whaddya need, Wonnie?”

“Mayday, mayday!” his brother whisper-yelled into his ear. “Code red! I repeat: code red!”

“Why’re you whispering?” Jay jumped to his feet. He sensed the urgency in Wonnie’s voice on the other line, slipping back into his mask. “What happened?”

“I’m at school right now,” Wonnie hissed. “It’s your girlfriend!”

The man prepared for mobility, rubbing his wrists. “I don’t have a girlfrie– And why are you calling me at school right now?”

“Aghh!” Wonnie cried. “It’s [Name]!”

“Did something happen to her?” Jay’s voice immediately switched to a serious tone. He flexed his muscles, suddenly becoming hyper-alert of his surroundings. His eyes scanned the surrounding area.

Jay heard fumbling on the other side of the phone, presumably Wonnie almost getting caught by a teacher or something. “Okay, okay. Downtown– the skyscraper along the greenbelt– yes, that one! Doctor Discotheque; I think he’s hanging her!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jay grumbled.

He was on top of a retail store. If Jay’s urban design professor was correct, then there should be a big stretch of apartments in the next few hundred kilometers. In the center should be the CBD. The only issue was that those apartments were dense. If he wants to drill past them in time, then he would need to be quick.

With just his enhanced spider-sight, Jay could see all those hundred kilometers ahead, straight to the central business district. Doctor Discotheque was standing at the top of the downtown skyscraper, and apparently he ditched the massive mechanical body that the “high-tech science shit” gifted him. Instead, the supervillain wore a sleek spandex suit. Doctor Discotheque was laughing villainously, because next to him was a crane hanging right at the edge of the building. The silhouette that was dangling from the crane was you yourself.

Jay heaved.

Let’s fucking do this.

“Spider-Man did it better, by the way.”

“If you keep talking, I will drop you off the side of this building.”

You couldn’t even be surprised anymore. Somehow getting kidnapped by a supervillain was less outlandish than making out with you enemy twice.

This morning, when you were just starting to leave for class, the window shot open, revealing a goofy-looking villain in purple spandex that he totally didn’t rip off of Spider-Man. Seriously, it was the tackiest outfit ever. He had a sparkly panel as a recurring design motif and it seriously was not good.

Nowy ou were suspended 400 meters in the air, with your feet fastened to the lift of a construction crane. You crossed your arms over your chest.

You should be scared. You really should. For God’s sake, you were dangling upside down over a busy road from an unsteady crane on top of a building that was 400 meters tall.

But the sight of a supervillain wearing a sparkly suit was too unserious. If there was anything to be afraid of, it would be Doctor Discotheque’s little villain costume.

“Nice outfit, Sparkle Boy.”

And besides, you knew that Spider-Man would save you.

Doctor Discotheque ignored your not-so-subtle jab at his suit, too busy scanning the sky for a certain red and blue - clad superhero.

In fact, that really pissed you off.

How dare he, a sloppily-dressed, dilapidated-looking, old geezer, kidnap you and threaten your life? And when you tried to talk to him, he just ignored you? Such a poorly-designed supervillain. 2/10 from you.

“Hey!” you yelled from where you were dangling. “Hey, you! Purple Wurple!”

Doctor Discotheque ignored you again.

You huffed. “You motherfucker! How dare you ignore me!”

Nothing from him.

“Hey, answer me! Doctor Disgusting!”

Finally, the supervillain snapped his head at you.

“It’s Doctor Discotheque, not Doctor Disgusting,” he spat.

You snorted. “It’s a good thing you became a supervillain, and not a villain-namer, because wow, ‘Doctor Discotheque’ might be the worst deed you’ve ever committed.”

Doctor Discotheque narrowed his eyes at you, before a wide smirk spread across his face. “I had higher standards for Spider-Man.”

When you glared at him, he continued.

“I can’t believe he could date such a wretched person like you.”

“Date?”

“You seem more surprised at that than me kidnapping you,” Doctor Discotheque muttered. He observed your scrunched expression, his grin widening. “I saw you and Spider-Man getting cozy last night on the rooftop. Never knew that he would go for a woman as insufferable as you.”

“Hey, we’re not–”

“And, if you don’t shut your mouth,” the villain spoke through tight lips, “I’ll throw you off this building.”

Before you could retort, the man’s hand reached for the remote console that controlled the crane. Gloved hand palming the joystick, Doctor Discotheque let out a low chuckle, before giving it an experimental pull. Immediately, the lift of the crane shakily lowered.

“H-Hey–!”

He played around with the controls, philandering around as if it was some kind of children’s toy.

“You– You little bitch!” you, though shaky from the mobility, yelled. “F-Fuck you and your sp–sparkly spandex!

Doctor Discotheque let out another low chuckle, before pressing a button. You weren't sure about the mechanics of a crane remote console, but it started shaking the lift from side to side. The crane must have been old, because the parts were moving so shakily. The lift was quite literally rocking in the sky, swinging you around slowly.

“One more word from you, and I’ll be releasing you,” Doctor Discotheque mused. “And by the way, it’s not spandex. It’s lycra.”

You were seriously considering shutting up. Your stomach did flips now that you looked down at the vast expanse of the city below you. The sound of cars rushing across the road, as well as the distressed crowd that was now gathering under the skyscraper, police cars with their loud sirens, and camera shutters did not calm you in the slightest. It was a miracle that your glasses were still intact at this point.

And still, Spider-Man was nowhere in sight.

Wait.

Spider-Man.

Your eyes flickered toward the villain.

There must be a reason that Doctor Discotheque kidnapped you. Other than the fact that he was, in fact, a supervillain, there must be another reason for his evildoing.

Why would someone want to kidnap a broke college student, unless there was something to gain from it?

There truly was only one thing notable about Doctor Discotheque, other than his horrible costume. And it was that he had major beef with Spider-Man. Unfortunately for him, Doctor Discotheque let it slip that he thought you and Spider-Man were dating.

It was a perfect plan.

Use Spider-Man’s girlfriend against him.

The only issue was that Spider-Man had not yet arrived on the scene yet. Heck, no one even knew if he knew of the situation yet.

Doctor Discotheque wasn’t going to do anything to you. Not until Spider-Man made an appearance.

“Y’know, Doctor Disgusting,” you shouted. “You suck!”

Doctor Discotheque deadpanned. “Foolish woman! Did you not hear what I just said–”

“Drop me,” you demanded. You thrashed around, flailing your arms so that the rope fastening you to the lift shook. “Drop me, you fucking bitch! I dare you!”

Doctor Discotheque stilled. He said nothing, just simply grumbling something under his breath and dropping the remote control to the concrete ground.

You watched him, proud of yourself.

But there were bigger problems up ahead now.

Spider-Man was nowhere in sight. This maniac might actually do something to you if Spider-Man didn’t show up on time. With the size of this commotion– road blocks, traffic issues, a giant crowd pooling at the base of the skyscraper– it was no doubt that the spider-like hero should be on his way.

“Hey, fuckface!”

A familiar confident and charming voice cut through the air suddenly.

Lo and behold, it was the great Spider-Man.

“Spider-Man-!” you blurted, relief washing over you.

Doctor Discotheque let out a laugh. That laugh became a cackle, before he was howling. Except, it wasn’t really laughing out of amusement, but him pushing air from his chest to create a sound.

“So you’ve decided to show yourself, Spider-Man,” Doctor Discotheque rasped. He snatched the crane remote control off the ground, and fiddled with the controls just enough to shake you. You let out a small shriek. “One wrong move and this little girlfriend of yours will be dropped.”

Spider-Man clenched his fists.

“So choose wisely,” the villain furbished the remote with his fingers. “Or you'll be toppling to your death in no-time.”

Jay had to be quick with this.

All eyes were on him, and you were genuinely endangered.

Doctor Discotheque’s main goal was and had always been to humiliate Spider-Man. Jay had no idea what types of things he had hidden up his sleeve, but if he was going far enough to endanger a civilian, it must be bad.

Like his name would imply, Doctor Discotheque had the ability to generate sounds that transpired the ordinary human sonic level. A.K.A. Doctor Discotheque had a loud voice.

An ability like that would be extremely dangerous, considering that large sound waves are capable of killing people. Except, Jay had a crucial piece of information, thanks to the invaluable research of Wonnie: Doctor Discotheque’s body was not suited for his own ability.

While Doctor Discotheque was capable of pushing air from his diaphragm and vibrating his vocal cords, his own ears could not take it. Usually, those with superhuman abilities would have different bodily functions to accommodate the harm that the abilities would have. For example, those with fire abilities would have cooler and fire-resistant bodies in order to sustain the aptitude. Unfortunately, Doctor Discotheque did not have that.

That meant that while Doctor Discotheque could do basically anything with his voice, he wouldn’t, because that would bring physical harm to his own self, too.

The only issue: if defeated, Doctor Discotheque might take on a “if I die, I’ll take everyone with me” attitude.

Jay had to be strategic.

“If you don’t attack, Spider-Man,” Doctor Discotheque started. The villain sucked in a large breath, “I’ll destroy your eardrums!”

That last part was at least 90 decibels. Jay could tell by the way that Doctor Discotheque himself winced at the sound.

What a dumbass.

“I can’t believe I have to deal with you again, man.”

Jay shot a web to the water tanks behind Doctor Discotheque, thrusting him across the rooftop, which allowed him to extend his right leg in order to land a kick at the villain. The villain dodged his kick by stepping to the side. However, Jay’s lightning-fast reflexes saw that one coming, so he swerved his body to the right to attempt another kick. His elevated heel succeeded in scraping the crown of Doctor Discotheque’s head.

The villain stumbled backward, but continued to evade Jay. Shooting a web, the hero attempted to bring Doctor Discotheque to him, but he dodged it once again. Jay had to give him credit: he had pretty good reflexes.

Jay shot a web to the hedge the villain was next to, hoping to launch himself at him, but before he could, Doctor Discotheque landed a punch square on Jay’s nose.

“Ow! What the fuck, man?” Jay’s eyes watered at the impact. How embarrassing.

Jay continued his venture to wrap this guy in his webs, shooting multiple webs at once. A few of them landed, but Doctor Discotheque was able to dodge them.

“Come on, old man!” Jay grumbled. Finally, one of his webs effectively landed on the villain’s shoulder, allowing for Jay to grapple him toward him. Before Doctor Discotheque could react, the masked hero blasted him with a bunch of more webs, slathering him in those sticky white strings.

The supervillain struggled against Spider-Man’s iron grip. Even with the tight webs binding him, Jay could feel him suck in a deep breath, an indicator that he was about to utilize that loud voice of his.

If Jay didn’t move now, his eardrums might actually get bursted.

Jay jumped away from Doctor Discotheque, except he kept his webs attached to him so that his previous binding work would not be rendered useless. Jay whipped his head around, eyeing your dangling figure.

“Cover your ears!” he shouted, before doing so himself. Doctor Discotheque let out a shrill screech, and although the sound was only large enough to send a vibration through Jay’s body, that was because Jay had the aid of superhuman abilities.

Everything else around them? Absolutely not.

The glass of surrounding buildings shattered, while the metal crane that was dangling you shook profusely. You screamed.

Shit, shit, shit.

While Jay was distracted, Doctor Discotheque squirmed free of the webs, crawling to the remote console he dropped to the ground earlier.

“Let’s play with your girlfriend,” the villain glowered. With that, he began tinkering with the controls of the console, shaking you around on the lift. This time, though, he was literally pressing all the buttons, giving you little time to anticipate what was coming next. The movement of the crane was unadulterated, so you shrieked in fear.

“Are you gonna save her, Spider-Man?” Doctor Discotheque mocked.

Jay clenched his fists. It was a lot more important to save you before anything else. He could deal with this maniac later.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Spider-Man!” Much to his surprise, it was you yelling at him. “Don’t worry about me, just kick this lunatic’s ass!”

“How adorable!” Doctor Discotheque cooed.

Jay wasn’t about to let a civilian, much less you, be in a position of severe danger. But Doctor Discotheque has been getting too confident and talking out of his ass too much.

Maybe he could do both.

If Jay could debilitate Doctor Discotheque, he could take the remote control. If he takes the remote control, he could easily save you.

When Jay started toward Doctor Discotheque, the villain let out a laugh. “You’re just going to ignore your little girlfriend like tha–”

“Shut– up!” Jay knocked him down with a kick to the cheek.

When Doctor Discotheque was knocked to the ground, he dropped the remote control, too. However, the remote dropped face-down, so with the impact of its collision, it bursted and shattered into several pieces. The crane began to malfunction, waving around its lift erratically. The excessive movement made the ear-splitting sound of rust rubbing against itself.

Not good.

The head of the engineering department at the university always warned them about rusty construction tools.

Oh, not good at all.

You screamed. Still pinning Doctor Discotheque’s hands to his sides, Jay grunted, snapping his head to you.

“Don- Don’t– Ah!-” you breathed. “Don’t worry about me!”

Jay clenched his jaw.

“I-I’m serious!” you squeezed your eyes shut. “I’m not sc-scared, or anything!”

No. That wasn’t true.

All those times that he carried you through the sky.

“Stop making fun of me, Spider-Man!” you lightly slapped his chest. “I’m just…– Eep!--” you squeezed his bicep again– “Scared of heights.”

The crane squeaked, as its spasms slowed. Except, its slowing down meant nothing. It only continued creaking. It was unstable, and by the looks of it, even Jay couldn’t guarantee that it wouldn’t snap off.

Doctor Discotheque threw his head back against the concrete ground, letting out another chortle. Before he could say anything, Jay raised his fist and punched him straight in the diaphragm. The villain groaned in pain, and before he could recover, Jay planted another punch in the abdomen, and another one square in the nose.

A punch in the diaphragm should debilitate him for just enough time to save you.

Jay swung toward the lift of the crane.

You were tied to it by the feet. The only way to get you to the roof was to operate the crane so that it was hanging over the building, or untie you. The former was impossible now, so the second option was the only option.

“I-I told you to–!”

“[Name], you yell a lot.” Jay didn’t realize how out-of-character it was for Spider-Man to say that, but currently, he was plagued with urgency. He had to be serious.

You shut your mouth immediately.

“[Name], I’m going to untie you,” Jay instructed. “You are going to fall.”

“Wh-What?”

Jay was already untying the ropes. Which was oddly easy.

Why were the ropes so loosely tied?

He clenched his teeth.

He was going to destroy that maniac for putting you in harm’s way.

“When I untie your feet, you’re going to fall,” Jay asserted. When he heard your breath hitch, he sighed. His gaze on you softened. “Don’t worry, Pretty. I’ll catch you.”

There was one loop left to unknot. Your eyes widened as you felt your feet slowly slip.

“You ready?” Jay stared into your eyes.

“Y-Yeah.”

He sensed the fear in your voice. “I got you, Baby.”

He untied the last knot. Immediately, you began falling down multiple stories. Your arms thrashed, and your eyes squeezed shut. You let out a loud, yet strained scream.

But then you stopped. Because you felt strong arms grip your waist.

“Spider-Man!” you cried, pressing your face into his neck, holding him tighter than you ever had before. Your eyes were watery with fear.

“What did I say, Angel?” You could hear the grin in his voice. “I got you.”

Jay swung the two of you up to the top of the skyscraper. He let you down at a roof-like structure at the very back of the roof.

“Stay here.”

“But you–”

“[Name], I need you to stay here,” Jay said, squeezing your arm. “Please.”

You sighed. “Fine.”

With that, he swung back to the front to fight Doctor Discotheque.

At that point, Doctor Discotheque was still coughing and heaving from the punch to the diaphragm, but was able to stand.

“I’m surprised you could still stand, you old geezer,” Jay mocked.

Now that you were safe, he regained his humor.

“Spider-Man, you may have beaten me three times, but not a fourth ti– AGH!”

Jay punched him. “Shut up!”

Then, Doctor Discotheque kicked Jay in the stomach. From there, they engaged in hand-to-hand combat. It was a shaky fight: Doctor Discotheque had decent strength, so his punches were indeed strong, but Jay had lightning reflexes that allowed him to dodge. Soon, Doctor Discotheque backed the hero up against the electricity pole.

“Little punks like you–” Doctor Discotheque, finally, landed a successful punch to Jay’s cheek, eliciting a groan- “Need to know your place.”

Doctor Discotheque took a deep breath.

Fuck.

He was going to scream.

He couldn’t scream loud enough to kill or severely harm Jay because he would be inflicting that same pain to himself as well. But he could definitely debilitate him with a single scream.

Doctor Discotheque opened his mouth, his chest rising and falling to widen his vocal cords.

Just as the villain was going to scream Jay deaf, he freed his hand from Doctor Discotheque’s grip. Jay punched the villain’s mouth. More specifically, he shoved his fist in his mouth.

Doctor Discotheque sunk his teeth into Jay’s fists, but he just ignored him. Instead, Jay pushed his fist deeper into his mouth, further lodging it in.

With the agility of a spider, he attached a web to the villain. With nimble, yet confident, fingers, Jay spurted webs to bind his hands and feet together. In between, he landed punch after punch and kick after kick at the man.

“Just” punch “go” punch “away” punch “already!”

The villain was now biting into Jay’s fist so hard now that he was sure the fabric was ripping.

“Fuck!” Jay kicked him square in the abdomen, sending him flying across the rooftop. When he looked at his fist, it was bleeding with teeth marks. Whatever.

Jay approached Doctor Discotheque’s keeling figure. The villain coughed blood, hair frazzled with sweat and sticking to his forehead. The superhero stood over him.

Then, Doctor Discotheque started sobbing.

“I… I did it all for my son,” the villain quivered, tears streaming down his cheeks. “My son… My beautiful son…”

Son.

Jay never had a father. The only person closest to a father was his uncle, who already died, leaving him to take care of his kid brother.

“My– My so-son,” Doctor Discotheque sobbed. “He– He always wanted a c-cool dad.”

???

“I th-thought if I fought you… he would th-think his dad w-was cool!”

Jay took a deep breath. “And you can be a cool dad. If you just spent time with him instead of fighting me.”

“N-No,” Doctor Discotheque sniffled. “H-He’s obs– obsessed with Spider-Ma-Man.”

Jay sighed. He crouched down beside the man.

“Doctor Discotheque,” he began. “I didn’t have a father. I’d do anything to just spend time with him. Your son will love you ten times more if you were just there for him.”

“R-Really?” Doctor Discotheque looked up at him with watery eyes.

“Yes.”

There was a pulse of silence. Doctor Discotheque stared at Jay, before his fingers twitched. Before he could do anything, a loud clang! rang through the air.

“[Name]…!”

You, with a metal rod, wacked Doctor Discotheque in the back of his head, sending him forward.

“I don’t fucking care!” you spat at him. You were breathing heavily, before your eyes met Jay’s.

“[Name]... what are you–”

You dropped the metal rod. You grabbed the villain’s face, slapping him.

“I don’t fucking care about you and your son!” Slap. “You wreak havoc on this city and you expect us to forgive you because you have a tragic sob story?!” Slap.“You almost killed me!” Slap. “You’re wearing sparkly spandex!” Slap. “No wonder your son doesn’t think you’re cool!” Slap. “You bitch!”

“[Name], that’s enough…!”

The aftermath of the incident was nothing to sneeze at.

Your face, as well as Doctor Discotheque, was plastered all over the news. Speaking of which, Doctor Discotheque was revealed to be some middle-aged professor, and was taken into custody for a court hearing.

It had only been a few hours ago since Spider-Man dropped you home. Meanwhile, he said that he had some “business” to attend to. Probably interviews and reporters.

It was the middle of the afternoon by now. The apartment was completely silent. Wonnie was still at school. And… Jay.

You bit your lip as you remembered what happened the night before.

You felt your neck and cheeks heat up. You really kissed him, touched him, whispered lewd words into his ear– Oh my god, you had to apologize to him!

You brought two fingers to your lip.

His lips were chapped and the lip-piercing pressed against your lip in a way that was almost painful, but for some reason, the thought just sent butterflies in your stomach. His hands were so big, holding onto you with a desperate grip.

You shoved your face into your hands, squeezing your eyes shut.

How embarrassing!

How were you going to face Jay Park?

Why were you worried?

“Do you… have a crush on him then?” Spider-Man’s words echoed through your mind.

Did you?

It would make a great deal of sense.

Why you were feeling this way, why you got so angry last night, why you’d been thinking about him at night for the past five years.

Your heart began speeding up at the thought of having a crush on Jay Park. Not just the absurdity of the idea, but because you felt so childish. You were an adult now. How could you have such a petulant crush?

But then again, Jay Park made you feel childish. Like you were some middle schooler, all immature and giggly.

Before you could dig yourself further into a hole, a tapping came from the window. Stalking over to the sill, you spotted a red-and-blue-clad hero.

He was lowering himself upside-down in his iconic stance, hanging onto a single spider web.

“Spider-Man!” you exclaimed.

“Hey there, Angel,” the hero grinned behind the mask when you opened the window. He was about to climb through when the unexpected happened. “H-Hey, what are you–!”

You grasped his upside-down face. You tore down his mask just enough to reveal the bottom half of his face, and pressed your lips onto his.

It was a chaste kiss, not meant to be sexual. Simply innocent.

Except, it felt familiar.

It was a soft kiss, but you could feel the hero’s lips. They were chapped, and there was a cold piece of metal on his lip. Like a lip-piercing.

When you pulled away, you gazed at Spider-Man’s half-exposed face, which wore an awkward, boxy smile.

“That’s what you get for saving me all those times,” you breathed.

Spider-Man’s lips curved. “What are you, a fairytale princess?”

You grinned. “You saved me like I was one.”

“Just my duty, Gorgeous.”

You caressed Spider-Man’s skin. Just like you expected, he had a strong jaw and sharp nose. His cheeks were a honey-tan color, with a twinge of red.

And most notably, his lips.

Chapped, pink, but plump.

And pierced.

Her thumb pressed onto the piercing.

His breath hitched.

You've seen that lip-piercing before.

You've stared at a certain somebody’s lips for long enough to recognize it.

No. It can’t be.

You touched his face, tracing his features slowly.

“Spider-Man,” you drew out your syllables. “Can you stand up normally? I want to check something.”

The hero silently complied, climbing through the window sill. When he stood in front of you, swiping a tongue over his pierced bottom lip, you swallowed down hard.

Please.

In one, quick movement, you pushed Spider-Man against the wall, sliding your hands up his chest. Your hands slithered to his toned arms, grappling onto his wrists to pin above his head.

Your heart was about to fall out of yourc hest. You were breathless, eyes trained onto the hero’s lips.

A pedicured hand came up to grasp his chin.

“Are you Park?” you asked in a near-whisper. “Please. Please tell me. Are you Jay Park?”

Spider-Man stilled in your hold. He sucked in a sharp breath, taking his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Please,” you whispered.

As you gazed at him with wide, pleading eyes, Spider-Man was able to free one of his hands. Slowly, he grasped the tight material of his mask. He pulled the fabric up and over his eyes, before freeing his entire head and face.

What was revealed?

Dark hair. Dark eyes. Tan skin. A sharp nose. And that goddamn lip piercing.

Jay Park.

You audibly gasped. Your hold on his one wrist weakened, dropping all the way when you brought both hands up to clasp your gaping mouth.

Jay looked at you with an ashamed expression, yet his eyes were locked onto yours. He parted his lips to say something, but no sound came out.

This entire time… it was him?

Your body moved on its own.

You grabbed his face, and smashed your lips against his.

At first, Jay was completely still.

But after a few seconds, he let out a low grunt against your lips, slithering his arms around your waist. That earned a small squeal from you, giving him the opportunity to shove his tongue in your mouth. Your hands roamed, sliding up and down his chest before resting in his hair. When you pulled on his dark locks, he groaned softly, allowing you to push his tongue out and put yours into his mouth.

Jay gave your waist a warning squeeze, as if to say, “Don’t try that on me.” But you only smirked against his lips, sliding your hand up his head to grab a fistful of his hair and pulling it.

When you pulled away from each other, you were breathless, both flushed in the face with blown-out, desire-filled eyes. You stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like an eternity.

“You…” you blinked. Then, your face contorted. With a fist, you began hitting his chest. “It was you this whole time? It was… It was you who carried me home, who took me out, who saved me, who– who comforted me when I cried!

“Why didn’t you listen to me when I told you to not worry about me?!” you continued pounding his chest. “And why the fuck would you try to sympathize with that lunatic?! You could have been hurt– He might have pulled out a knife, or something! I was so worried that he’d pull a fast one and try to stab you, you stupid, stupid, stupid–!”

It was Jay’s turn to smash his lips against yours.

Almost immediately, you stopped all of your movement, melting into the kiss.

“You’re-” Jay mumbled against your lips- “You’re always such a fucking brat.”

He laced his fingers with hers, holding your hands tightly. "Always givin' me hell, you know that?"

He was rough, a lot more rough than you imagined, but it wasn't like you were opposed to it. You tried to say something, squeezing his hands. You got a few sounds out, but they were all muffled by his kissing.

“Shut up,” Jay breathed against your lips. “Just shut the fuck up and let me kiss you.”

You whined, causing him to smirk.

This kiss was much more heated than any previous ones you’ve had with him. And also much messier.

When you finally pulled away, your lips were swollen, connected by a single string of spit.

“Oh my god,” you mewled, gripping onto Jay’s bicep. “Fuck, please, Jay.”

Jay swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. You never called him by his name like this. “‘Please’ what, Angel?”

“I want you,” you looked up at him with wide and glassy eyes, the same ones that he’s seen in his guiltiest dreams. “Oh my god, please, I want you so bad, Jay.”

“Are you gonna yell and hit me like last time?” he teased, hands already sliding down to grip your hips.

You pressed a wet kiss to his jaw. “Only if you won’t leave me in the middle of a hallway drunk like last time.”

You both stared at each other for a few moments, with cocked brows and narrowed eyes, neither of you wanting to relent your pride. Then, at the same time, broke out into a fit of laughter.

“I have high expectations for you, Park.”

“I won’t disappoint you, you fuckin’ nerdo freak.”

FIN.

part 1 here

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen fic #park jay #jay x reader #jay enhypen x reader #jay fluff #enhypen smut #park jongseong fluff #park jongseong x reader #star-sim #vanya-writes

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stageaccents · 2 years

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As any parishioner can attest, getting into a choir and getting a uniform is an important aspect of the choral experience. I realize this may sound depressing, but I've never seen a choir outfit that I adored. But, I b - Quora

#High School Choir #college choir apparel #black choir dress #concert black attire

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perfettamentechic · 2 years

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Cynthia Rowley

"Un soffio dello spirito spensierato e semplice": Cynthia Rowley #cynthiarowley #casadimoda #moda #fashion #storiadellamoda #creatoredistile #creatoredimoda #stilista #perfettamentechic

Cynthia Rowley è un marchio di lifestyle leader a livello mondiale fondato dalla stilista americana Cynthia Rowley, con sede nel quartiere di Manhattan a New York City. Rowley è originario di Barrington, Illinois, un sobborgo nord-occidentale di Chicago ed è nata il 29 luglio 1968. È una dei tre figli nati da Ed Rowley, un ex insegnante di scienze, e da sua moglie, Clementine, che era una…

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perseephoneee · 5 months

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New years party with kate bishop!

new years (kate bishop x f!reader) {ficmas 2023}

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ happy day 8 of ficmas!

a/n: I genuinely like this one, and if ANYONE knows me, then they know that kate bishop has been my hero since I read the comics in 2015. i hope this is okay for my wifey @mayfieldss

↳ masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ ficmas 2023

Since your first year of high school, you have been attending New Year's parties with Kate Bishop. They were always hosted by your classmate, Agatha Maloney, a bubbly girl with a penchant for party planning. The parties involved games, champagne stolen from her parents, and enough fairy lights to brighten a small city. You and Katie would show up, eat all the hors d’oeuvres (you hated the spicy chips that Kate would always consume), and perform a Bon Jovi duet. And every year, you would wait outside watching the snow fall in clumps across the city while Kate was inside kissing someone else at midnight. You used to think you were just jealous that she could find someone when you couldn’t, but now, you recognize it for what it was. You’re in love with your best friend and can never tell her.

It was the last New Year's before you split for university. You weren’t sure if you’d have another New Year again; if you did, it wouldn’t be the same. Your classmates would have new friends and new stories. New inside jokes that you wouldn’t understand. You and Kate were attending different colleges. It's the same city, but different. Kate had a lot more money to afford a fancy university, and you were scraping by with tuition (that you were thankful for, don’t get it twisted). But even next year, what would you do when you didn’t share the same wavelength?

It didn’t stop the two of you from laughing as you bound up the doorsteps to Agatha’s. Kate wore a simple, long-sleeve black dress that ended at her knees and matching ankle boots that still made her look beautiful but rugged. You opted for a strapless jumpsuit. You and Kate had a weird apparel rule: if one person wore a dress, the other wore a jumpsuit. So that you always compliment the other person.

“OMG, you guys came!” Agatha squealed as you approached the front door. Her blond hair was curled like a ‘20s flapper girl, her lips the color of bubblegum. She hugged both of you, almost suffocating you with her grip. “I’m so excited you came here for our last official hurrah. It’s not a party unless the dynamic duo is here.”

“You always know how to make us feel welcome,” you mumble, trying to dislodge yourself from her arms. Agatha was a sweet girl but very intense. And pushy.

“You can let go now,” Kate choked, sending you a look of distress as Agatha officially detached herself. Kate sent you a look as you both followed Agatha into the house. Most of your classmates were experiencing the wonders of intoxication, and you appeared not to have missed a single critical moment. “Is it just me, or does she get crazier yearly?”

“She’s certifiable,” you chuckle, nudging Kate as you make a bee-line to the snacks. You shove your mouth full of pretzels and tomato cheese covered in balsamic vinegar. There’s a name for the snack, but you can’t remember and don’t care as you let the tastes overwhelm your tongue. As usual, Kate eats the hot Cheetos until her fingers are dyed red. She smiles at you over red Cheeto dust, and you think that even though she is messy, she looks beautiful. Instead of saying so, you just make fun of her.

“Do you think that a cheetah has seen a Cheeto and thought, that’s cannibalism?” Kate asks you, eating more Cheetos.

“I think you’re crazy,” you laugh, grabbing a plastic flute for the champagne and pouring you and Katie a glass. “A cheetah is more likely to wonder how it became a mascot wearing sunglasses.”

“Because it’s the cool thing to do, obviously,” Kate took the glass you handed her, taking a sip before excitedly motioning to the set-up karaoke machine. “Showtime!”

Every year, you debated what to perform. And you still ended up doing “Wanted Dead or Alive” by Bon Jovi every year. You needed to spice up your choices, but you two were old souls who got too impassioned with Bon Jovi. During the instrumental breaks, you guys would yell out how many measures were left and march across the stage. You even had experimental pop star names (“If Beyonce goes by Sasha Fierce on stage, why shouldn’t we?” said Kate).

You finished your duet to a round of applause like always. And just as you finished, one of the attendees turned on the New York countdown so everyone could wait till the ball dropped and the new year was ushered in. You averted your eyes when you saw Stephanie from your chemistry class taking second glances at Kate. You ignored the feeling that gripped your heart when you saw Kate looking back. You thought this would be a good cue to step outside, like every year, and watch the snow fall as you ignored your heart breaking into pieces inside the house.

The balcony was covered in a light layer of frost. Agatha’s home always had boughs of greenery wrapped around the terrace, with beautiful sparkling lights that reflected the city spread out before you. You wrapped your coat tighter around yourself, letting your breath fog in front of you. You huffed like a dragon and giggled to yourself. You liked seeing the tall buildings sprawled out in front of you, the little houses in front like a treeline to the secrets further back. The sounds of the ten-minute countdown could be heard from inside, but you let it become a dull sound in your ears. You were in blissful silence until you heard the balcony door close behind you.

“Aren’t you freezing?” Katie asked, coming up right next to you. You look over, noticing she put on her coat and a beanie to fight the freeze.

“It gets stuffy in there,” you turned back to the city, feeling the heat of Kate’s arm next to yours.

“I hear that; it’s like a sauna,” she chuckles. You sit in silence for a while. “Can I ask a question?” You gesture for Kate to continue.

“Why do you come out here every year?”

You let the question hang in the air, unsure how to answer. How do you tell someone that you leave because you’re in love with them? Because watching them kiss someone else kills you? Because you want to grab and kiss them as firecrackers erupt in the air, just like they would in your heart? You opt to lie instead.

“I don’t like watching people make out,” you awkwardly chuckle. “PDA is weird.” Kate gives you a look that tells you she doesn’t believe you. Your breath is shaky as you exhale. “Maybe there’s no one available worth kissing.”

You freeze up as Kate grabs your hand with her own, intertwining your fingers. Her hands are rough and calloused from all her physical activities, compared to your soft ones untouched by nature.

“The person I would want to share my kiss with is never here,” Kate whispers. “She always goes outside and hides.”

Your heartbeat is heard in your ears to the point where you almost miss the countdown starting from inside. You make eye contact with Kate, her blue eyes wide as she looks at you. She seems as nervous as you are, making you feel better. The party attendees start to count down from ten.

“Y/N,” Kate says, snow coating her hair in beautiful crystals.

There are only five seconds left on the clock. When it hits one, you lean forward and kiss Kate, enjoying the gasp she lets out from surprise. Cheers are heard not just from inside but from the city, neighbors, and everywhere as people welcome the new year. Your hand cups her face, twisting in her black hair as she wraps her arms around your middle, pulling you close. You feel freezing and yet on fire as you kiss the love of your life on New Year’s Eve. A bad taste makes you pull away.

“Did you eat hot Cheetos right before this?” you mumble, grimacing at the spiciness on your tongue. Kate laughs, a full-bodied laugh that is your favorite sound in the world.

“I stress eat when I’m nervous.”

“It tastes disgusting.”

“Oh shut up,” Kate chuckles, kissing you again. And again. And again.

#kate bishop #katie bishop #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #hailee steinfeld #hailee steinfeld x reader #12 days of ficmas #ficmas 2023 #my writing

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dollwritesarchive · 2 years

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𝓈𝓁𝓊𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓎 ⎹ 𝓓.𝓖. & 𝓙.𝓣.

fandom dc / neon moon au masterlist / @dollsdc-library

featuring vampire!jason todd x human!reader ( f! ) x vampire!dick grayson

rating none of my work is meant to be viewed by minors (anyone under the age of eighteen), and i will happily block any that interact with my posts or my blog.

content warning this is a dark fic, do not read if nonconsensual content triggers you! blood kink ( there’s so much blood lol ), fear kink, choking, nonconsensual feeding ( at first ), dacryphilia, glamoring/mind control kink, dubcon smut, fingering, threesome, spit kink, dp ( vaginal + anal ), overstimulation, ahegao, creampie, and cum marking

summary who knew a knock on your door could turn your life so upside down?

word count 6k / one shot

attention do not repost or translate, even with ‘credit’. just don’t do it. reblog instead of like. leave feedback if you enjoyed.

thanks so much @sinisterlysiv for the commission! ❤️

commission info & contact

the banging on your front door startles you awake.

with a strangled yelp, you sit up straight, and stare through your open bedroom door into the darkness of the hallway. listening. another furious beating of fists against your door. at first, you thought it might be the cops, the pattern similar for a moment, before you realize it’s a pair of fists— two at once, pounding against the barrier; a desperate plea.

growing up in Gotham should’ve made you more suspicious of middle of the night visitors so desperate for you to open the door that they’re trying to batter it down, but you couldn’t help but wonder: what if it was someone who needed help? what if someone innocent was on the other side of that door, being chased by one of the city’s many threats and you didn’t answer it? could you live with the guilt if you opened the door tomorrow morning to find a body on the step?

you frown, concerned, and pull yourself out of bed. the pounding was ceaseless as you escape the dim bedroom in a flurry, your sleepy apparel, an oversized Gotham Academy tee, belonged to an ex boyfriend from high school, but it had always fit you like a dress, and fluttered about your thighs as you hurry through the hall. only when you’ve flicked the switch at the end of the hall, the small living room flooding with light, that you hear the voice on the other side of the door. calling your name.

“I—I need your help, please… Open up…”

“Jason?” you whispered under your breath, practically ripping the chain lock. it swings wildly against the door as you flip the deadlock and wrench the door open. “Jason—“ your heart practically stops at the sight before you. bloodied fist prints painted the other side of the door, and your friend was covered in it. you could smell it before anything else, thick and metallic in the air, and you nearly want to gag, but you haven’t the time to react before Jason is collapsing— crumbling towards the floor like a house of cards in a thunderstorm. “Jay!” you cry out, scrambling to catch him, wrapping both arms around his midsection. “Jay? What happened? Are you okay?” you demanded, trying to pull him into the apartment. you can feel just how soaked with blood he is; his dark shirt saturated; it’s in his hair, drying on his face, and he’s leaving bloody boot prints on the floor as his legs go slack and his feet drag against it. he’s so heavy, much heavier than he looks. you’re unable to haul him in by yourself, and you huff, “Jay, can you walk? Can you come inside? Help me, please! You’re too… too heavy…”

somehow, he finds the strength, his sticky hands finding your shoulders and his boots pushing into the floor to assist in propelling him into the room. with a yelp, you stumble back. you’ve no choice but to slide to the floor when his muscles give out again, trying to soften his fall by guiding him towards the couch, his back hits the edge and he lets out a weak grunt.

“Oh, my God.” you exhale, sitting back on your knees. simply getting him inside had you panting, but now that you were sitting in front of him in the light, you could see why. he was hardly sitting up, his head lolling against the side of the couch, eyes rolling back in his skull with his bloody lips parted, jaw slack. “Hey, hey, Jay,” you mumble, grabbing his face with both palms. you could feel the blood like drying glue sticking to your hands, but you tried to ignore the queasy feeling in your stomach and shake him back to consciousness, “wake up. Come on, look at me, open your eyes and look at me!” he groans, lids flittering, and you can tell he’s trying. finally, his clear eyes try to focus on you, but they seem different than the last time you’d seen them. or maybe you were simply remembering them wrong; you hadn’t seen Jason in five years, perhaps you’d simply forgotten that they were so translucent that they seemed to glow… then again, when have you ever seen anyone’s eyes glowing like this? “Talk to me,” you plead, pushing his damp, dark tendrils back from his face, “how can I help?”

“Thirsty.” he croaked, and you thought maybe he was looking past you, over your shoulder towards the kitchen. “I’m thirsty.”

“Where are you hurt, what happ—“

“Thirsty!” Jason barked, effectively starting your heart like a furious engine. he’d never yelled at you before. one, blood slicked hand reaches for you.

you nod, taking it and carefully setting it down. “Okay, okay. I’ll be right back. Just… try not to move too much, okay?” you get to your feet, hurrying towards the kitchen, and you don’t notice the way his fist clenches at his side. grabbing a glass from the cupboard, you hurry to the faucet and fill it, trying not to watch the water ripple from your shaking hand. the blood smeared against the glass as you gripped it, so instead, you avert your gaze back towards the living room. you can only see his legs, splayed out. please be okay, you prayed silently, please be okay.

finally, when the water reaches the brim of the glass, you turn it off and spin on your heels, about to sprint from the kitchen when you catch your reflection in the refrigerator. the silver heavily distorts your countenance, but you can still see the crimson blurs, massive and ugly splotches of blood from your shoulders to your bare knees. you pause, staring into the reflection in horror, but looking down at yourself. it wasn’t any less shocking than in the reflection, seeing your night shirt streaked in what you suspected to be your friend’s blood. but you couldn’t linger there, you couldn’t fall apart because he still needed your help.

“Okay, here we go.” you whisper, hoping to soothe him as you kneel by his side again, one hand coming up to cradle the nape of his neck and urge him to sit up as you bring the glass to his lips. “Drink. It’s okay.” you feel a soft tickle of relief brought about when you watch him take in water, lips smearing ruby over the rim of the glass. he took a large gulp into his mouth, and you wanted to exhale. that was, until he choked on it. “Easy!” you pull him up straighter, concerned.

but Jason was gagging, sputtering and spitting water all over the floor as he floundered. with a powerful swat, he knocks the glass from your hand and it explodes when it makes contact with the floor, shattering by your knees. you jump, recoiling from him as he pulls himself to his knees and doubles over. both palms smack against the wooden panels of the floor as he coughs water up on to it. you stare in horror, unsure of how to help.

“J— Jay…” you mutter, watching him close, and inch closer, “where are you hurt? Can you show me?” he doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t pull away when you peel his soaking shirt upwards, examining his back for any injuries. with your fingertips, you prod carefully at his skin. it’s freezing, so cold that you’re in shock that he’s even still alive, but you can’t seem to find a single break in his skin, not a single bullet wound or gash from a blade. your hand careens his waist, feeling on his stomach until your fingertips brush a patch of rough flesh, and he flinches. one of his fists flees to grasp your wrist as he falls back on to his butt and inches backwards.

“No.” he grimaces, shaking his head, but his grip tightens around your wrist, so you scoot closer, wincing.

“I need to see,” you reply, looking up at him, “I need to know how bad it is.” but it’s almost as if Jason is looking through you, as if his vision is unfocused, his eyeline streamlined to your neck instead of your countenance. his hand is vice tight and squeezing so hard you fear your wrist might snap, and he’s drawing you closer, just staring. “Jason…” you gulp back a whimper, eyes widening, “that hurts…”

and then, strangely enough, it’s as if he snaps out of a trance. his fingers uncurl from around your wrist and he lays back, averting his eyes. you take a moment to rub the soreness out of your wrist with your other hand before you look back at him, seemingly docile for now, and you swallow around the lump in your throat, leaning closer. this time, both of your hands reach out for him, holding on to the hem of his shirt and gently push it upwards over his abdomen. what you see there sends your mind reeling.

a hideous Y incision from his abdomen up to the start of his neck.

an autopsy scar.

only, somethings wrong. the wound has already healed; the pale scar tissue is much too rough to be fresh, even. so, this scar had to be a few years old, at least. you stare, equal parts perplexed and horrified, sitting back on your buttocks with one, blood stained hand clasping over your mouth. you feel like crying, or screaming, or vomiting. maybe all three.

just, what the hell had happened to Jason since you’d last seen him?

“Of all the places for you to hide, you picked the most obvious.” a familiar voice breaks through your thoughts, pulling you back to the gruesome reality before you, and your head snaps up to see the figure leaned against the door jamb. “You really are desperate, aren’t you, J?” you didn’t have time to try and decipher what he meant. you didn’t care to.

“Dick?” you ask, hopefulness returning. Jason’s adoptive older brother had his arms crossed over his broad chest, but his pitiful gaze was almost a mockery of sympathy. “W— what’s wrong with him?” you asked, looking back to Jason, who was groaning as he lays back against the floor.

Dick quirks a brow, watching Jason writhe. “He’s dying.” he replied, jarringly flippant.

“What?” you snap, voice breaking over the realization that he must be right. Jason was freezing, he couldn’t keep anything down, and he could hardly hold the weight of his own body up. “No…” you sit up on your knees, reaching out to pet his icy forehead, but he turns away from you with an incoherent moan. you look back to Dick, biting down on your lip, “there’s nothing we can do?”

“Well, there is something.” Dick purrs, shifting his weight as he stands up straighter, willowy digits curling around the door frame. he glares into the doorway, staring you down like a lion stalking a very clueless gazelle. “I can help him.”

“Really?”

Dick nods, “Of course. Do you want my help?”

“Y—“ you gasp, peering down at Jason. he’s grabbed your nightshirt with both hands. “Jay?”

“Don’t…” his voice is hardly audible, and you have to hunch forward, getting as close to his lips as possible.

“What?”

Dick’s jaw tightened, gripping the doorframe tighter, he calls your name in a chilling, singsong voice. “You’re wasting time. And my brother is dying in your arms. Say it.” he urged, crystalline gems sparkling.

you frown, confused, looking from Jason to Dick and back again. you wished Jason was strong enough to finish his thought, but he couldn’t even keep his eyes from rolling back behind his lids. “Yes,” you said, finally, looking up at Dick with wet eyes, “please come help him.”

a low and wicked rumbling vibrates within Dick’s throat as he quirks a brow, and his fingers dig deeper into the frame, splintering wood from the sheer force. he then swaggers inside with a pleased sigh. “What a good girl you are.” he crooned, traipsing closer; his lips were stretched into a demonic grin, “Very, very stupid, but a good girl nonetheless.”

you blink, confused, watching his legs— they’re eye level to you as he encircles you. “What are you—“

“No wonder baby brother likes you so much,” reaching forward, his fist wraps around your neck, pulling you to your feet with a strangled choke. you stumble backwards, both hands coming up to claw at his wrist when he yanks you back against his solid chest, “he wouldn’t feed with me because he was holding out. Saving himself for his pretty, little high school crush.”

feed? you squirm, grunting as you try to wiggle free of his grip, but he’s so much stronger than you, escape is impossible. “Let go!”

Dick chuckles, lips caressing your jaw as he speaks, “I won’t lie, Jay, I’m surprised you were able to resist this one. I bet you can hear her heart from all the way over there, can’t you?” his fingers dig into your vulnerable flesh, squeezing your windpipe until you gag, and he plants a soft kiss against your cheek, “Listen to how fast it’s thumping!” he exclaims, giddy, “Like a little drum.” pressing his cheek to smush against yours, he coos out a taunt, “Are you scared when I squeeze your fragile neck?”

you nod, gulping swallows of air that burn against your windpipe when they’re caught by his fist.

“Leave her… out of this…” it’s Jason who speaks, now, struggling to push himself off the floor. he slipslides in blood and water puddles around him. “Leave her alone.”

“Jason, he—“ you start to call for him, but Dick’s other hand clamps tight over your mouth, and he shushes you.

“Shh,” he hisses against your face, before he looks to his adoptive brother, “leave her out of it? Oh, no, Jason, you’re the one that involved her. The second you showed up at her doorstep.” you can feel one forefinger drag against your throat, the pad surprisingly soft and chilly over your pulse point. “You didn’t come here just to starve to death on her living room floor, did you? You were going to fuck her, feed off her, hell, maybe even turn her, weren’t you?”

feed off you?

turn you?

your eyes widen, pieces of the puzzle starting to fall into place. but they’re shaping into a realization that you didn’t think was possible. you stare at your friend, who’d gotten to his knees, now, but that’s where he stayed— slouching on his knees in front of your trembling legs. his eyes glide over your bare skin, stained with blood that didn’t belong to you. you knew now it didn’t belong to him, either. they linger there, on your thighs, his eyes glowing dim like before.

“Yeah.” was all Jason says in return.

your whole world feels as if it’s been flipped on its head.

Dick’s laughing with wicked amusement, holding his palm tight to your mouth to muffle your squealing, “You won’t take any of my playthings because you want your own, is that it?” another kiss to your cheek and Dick’s hand slides from your mouth down over your body, menacing and slow.

“Please, don’t kill me!” you cry out; it’s the first thought to reach your lips as you squirm and push against him.

“I’m not going to kill you, silly girl. At least, not yet.”

“Dick.” Jason warns, baring unusually sharpened teeth. fangs.

his brother groped at you as his hand travels south, before he gathers the night shirt in his fist and pulls it up, exposing your quivering thighs and cotton panties. your legs snap together, and you whimper, humiliated. “Go ahead, Jay,” he urges, “bite her.”

Jason stares at the exposed flesh, clean and soft, and you could practically see his mouth watering as he inches closer. “N—no…” you whine, kicking at him. you feel a bare foot connect with his chest, but it doesn’t do anything to hold him back.

“Uh uh,” Dick mumbled, giving your beck a squeeze, “you kick again and I’ll snap this pretty neck of yours.” you freeze, croaking out a weak whine of submission. “Good girl. You wanted me to help Jason, didn’t you?”

with tears welling up in your eyes, you nod as best you can, and his grip on your neck loosens, just enough for you to be able to breathe again.

“Then, stand still and let him have you.”

meanwhile, Jason has grabbed hold of your legs and pried them apart, pressing his knees between your feet to keep them spread open so he can force his way between them, nuzzling his face into your thigh.

“Jason, please…” you choke out, shuddering when his frozen lips press to the warmth of your thigh. you can already feel the sharp edge of his fangs dragging along the supple flesh, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it, and a pathetically helpless yelp erupts from your lips when they sink in, with absolutely no resistance from your silken skin. you want to scream and kick, do anything you can to get him off of you, but you know Dick will make good on his promise to kill you, so you sob softly, watching through bleary eyes as your childhood friend starts to pull blood from you up to the surface of the pin prick wounds. it bubbles up in thick globs to soak his lips, and the sound of his slurping makes your head spin. “Jay…”

“I’m getting a bit jealous here, baby doll,” Dick croons, releasing your throat in exchange for a tight fist at the crown of your head, tilting it to one side to expose your sore throat to him, “watching how much he’s savoring the taste of your blood, hearing you moan for him like the perfect, little pet. Makes me want a taste, myself…”

“N—no, please, don’t…” it was hard to keep still with the tip of Jason’s nose bumping against your panties as he moaned, gurgling and dribbling your blood over his chin and on to little droplets on the floor. as much as you don’t want it to, the pain feels almost euphoric, and your body juts forward to stimulate your swelling clit against his nose bridge.

you’d hoped neither have noticed, but both seem to react. Jason grunting as he pushes his face flush against the damp patch in your panties, latching on to a fresh locale to drink from, breaking new skin, both hands come up to dig his cruel fingers into your bloody thighs.

“Don’t?” Dick repeats, mocking, as he lets go of your shirt to push his hand under the waistband of your panties instead. you cry out in surprise, two svelte fingers rubbing your slit, teasing your slick. “You’re fucking soaking,” he teases, his fangs nicking your throat, just enough to draw a single drop of blood to the surface, which he swipes away with his tongue, “you don’t need to be ashamed that you like it, a good bloodslut always does.” savoring the taste of your blood on his tongue, he groans, hooking his fingers into you like an anchor, before he bites down, fangs gliding as easily as they may softened butter.

the tears have broken the barrier of your ducts and streak your cheeks, one hand holding on to his wrist when he starts to pump his fingers deep inside, and the other trying to push Jason’s head from between your legs. the only problem is that Jason had already taken so much of your blood that you felt woozy, and your strength was all but diminished, so you can do little to fight the supernatural monsters off. with the two of them pulling from you, you can’t help but sag back against Dick’s chest, whimpering in forced submission. warm, liquid rubies dribble down over your clavicle and soak into the neckline of your nightshirt, and you can hear him moaning and slurping in your ear.

you moan, unable to hold it back, when his digit tips curl to brush against your sweet spot. it’s getting harder and harder to try and ignore how good his skilled fingers feel, spreading you open, prodding deep. your knees feel like jelly; you know you’ll collapse when you cum.

Jason has pulled away, panting and lapping at the blood on his lips, but his hands have found the waistband of your ruined panties, and are working them down your thighs, his practically snarling with desire when you’re exposed; Dick’s fingers refuse to stop, even when your back arches. the younger of the two finds his strength, and pulls himself to his feet, ripping at his clothes until he’s completely bare in front of you, face drenched in your blood, muscles rippling and cock throbbing and hard. the visage is horrifying and beautiful, as are his gleaming eyes when he grabs your face, pulling you in for a sloppy, sticky kiss. you whimper, trying to turn away— all you can taste is blood. your blood. Jason calls your name, thick with lust, and pulls your face back towards him. “Look at me.” he sounds desperate again, but there’s an edge in his voice; an authoritative tear. you obey, wet eyelashes sticking together when your gaze flickers up towards him, and instantaneously, you’re trapped in his stare, mesmerized. “Kiss me.” he demands, and you’re too compelled to submit that your mind goes completely and utterly blank.

what did he do to you?

all you want is to obey, to please him.

leaning forward, you kiss at his lips, slurping on the blood and smearing it over your own face. Jason seems pleased enough, hands pulling at your nightshirt to rip it apart until it hangs in pitiful shreds at your sides, and his palms envelop your breasts. he kneads, roughly, before his head dips, tongue hanging out from his mouth to catch a stream of blood leaking from the seal of Dick’s lips on the wound on your neck. “You’re so fucking sweet. Just like sugar.”

“Sweeter than sugar.” Dick chimes in, clearly having had his fill of your blood, too, he presses bloody kisses over the wound, “And I’d bet it’s not just her blood. Little whore is about to cum, I can feel her cunt squeezing my fingers.” as if to prove his point, those wicked fingers stuffed inside of your cunt jackhammer against you until you feel as if you’re about to explode.

you mewl, dazed, and pull back to rest the crown of your head against Dick’s clavicle. coming undone has never felt as intense as it does right now, with Jason watching Dick finger fuck you so mercilessly that your body convulses against the rough treatment. you close your eyes tight, breath coming in furious, little puffs, toes curling. you whine in ecstasy, hips rocking until the orgasm takes hold of you and renders you completely incapacitated. your nails dig into Dick’s wrist, but even as you claw at him, he doesn’t even budge. “Look at her go!” he chortles, “That was a big one, wasn’t it?” nuzzling his nose against your ear he kisses along your lobe, and you shiver, nodding with your eyes still closed. “Hope we didn’t break you already,” he mutters, pulling his sticky fingers free, giving your sensitive core a couple of cruel spanks with his palm. you jerk under each one, unable to catch your breath to make any substantial noise except for pathetic wheezing.

your lids weigh a thousand pounds at least, making it damn near impossible to open them, until you feel Jason lifting your legs, your feet rising from the floor. “She’s not broken yet,” Jason says, hooking your limp legs over his hips as he pulls you to his chest. Dick allows it, releasing you into his brother’s arms, and you fall forward against him. “Just a little bit cumdrunk, a little bit drained.” his strong hands then careen to support your ass as he spreads you open, suspended in his arms, to spear your folds with the head of his cock. you both moan in unison, his much stronger. your hands push against his shoulders, much too sensitive to take his entirety, but he isn’t giving you a choice as he thrusts upwards and pushes your body down simultaneously, filling you hilt-deep with one buck of his hips. “Fuck,” he growls, baring his blood-stained fangs, “she’s already clenching like crazy.” you can feel it, too, the way your walls spasm against the girthy intruder, refusing to open up any more than he’s willing to force you to.

“Sounds like you need to stretch her out,” Dick was saying, and even in your dazed state, you could practically hear the grin on his face, “unless, you’d rather I do it for you.” he offers, “I’ll ruin her, break in that tight, little pussy so you can just slide right in.”

“Fuck you,” Jason barks, pushing your body upwards so that he nearly slips from your body and then bringing you down on to him harder than before, as if he were making a point to his older brother; he was perfectly capable of snapping you in two if he so desired. “I’ll break her myself.”

“Jay… son…” you moaned, his name broken into weak syllables as you bounce, helplessly impaled on his cock. you couldn’t think of anything but how intense the sensation of his brutal fucking was. he practically slammed you down to his base each time he rutted, and the position does absolutely nothing to keep his thick tip from kissing your cervix.

your climax comes in a matter of moments, much quicker than the first and much more intense. your arms fall, limp, and dangle at your sides; you can do nothing but slump forward, squeal into his chest, and enjoy the feeling of being completely and utterly decimated.

“The little thing has already gone completely dumb on your cock.” Dick snickers, pressing himself to your back. you feel nothing but icy skin and realize that he’s stripped himself down, too. you bite down on your lip to muffle a moan of anticipation. “Absolutely fucking pathetic.”

would they take you together?

you hated how badly you wanted to feel them both inside of you.

Dick grabs you by the hair again, pulling your head back like a rag doll, and out of the corner of your teary eyes, you can see his bloody, evil grin. “Open up, baby doll.” you do, your jaw hanging slack, and he shoves three fingers into your mouth. you wince at first, especially when he forces them to the back of your throat, and you gargle out a tiny sound of discomfort. drool covers his fingers and dribbles out from both corners of your mouth. “Attagirl, go ahead and be a sloppy, little slut, because you’re going to want to give me plenty of lube to fuck that little asshole.” wrenching his hand free, you spit more on to his fingers and his palm when presented with it, before he drops it to envelop his cock, slathering it in your saliva and giving it a couple of furious pumps.

when he guides the tip of his manhood to your ring, you lurch forward with a nervous whine, but free hand flees to grip your shoulder, twisting you back and pulling you back towards him. “Where do you think you’re going, huh?” he teases. even Jason has slowed to a slow, shallow thrust to let his elder join in. Dick smears you with his tip before he worms his way inside, grunting with impish delight when you groan. “That’s a tight fit, isn’t it, baby doll?” he sneers against your cheek, tongue sliding out to flick at your drying tears on the apple of your cheek. once he’s snugly inside, his other hand grips one of your arms at the elbow, keeping a tight grip on the opposite shoulder, and falls into a ruthless rhythm in seconds. you nod, squinting, back arching now that you’re sandwiched between them, your moans turning more shrill and hoarse with each thrust. “You’re going to have to get used to it, because I’m going to fuck your ass every single day just to hear these pretty, little screams.”

Jason has started pounding against you, too, moaning under his breath as his head dips so he can litter your jiggling breasts with bites. you were much too overstimulated to know what you were even screaming for anymore. was it how good he felt, his protruding veins rubbing against your sensitive inner walls, or was it because of his fangs cutting into your skin, leaving a peppering of stinging, paired pricks. or maybe it was Dick, who was slamming into you from behind with so much ferocity that you were certain your body couldn’t take it— you were going to simply break in half of the brothers kept up this rough treatment.

even still, you felt a familiar bubbling in your belly. you couldn’t believe it. you were going to cum again.

Jason is the first to notice, both hands sliding up to dig his fingers into your hips until he leaves paling imprints in your flesh, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hisses in pleasure, “keep tightening up for me, baby, gonna make me cum in this little, fucking vice of a pussy—!”

“I—I can’t!” you beg; surely the next orgasm would shatter you, and your poor, hazy mind would fracture, “I can’t take— another— please…”

“We don’t care.” Dick growls in your ear, and you shudder at just how devilish he sounds, voice ripe with pleasure, “You’ll cum as many times as we want you to. Scream, cry, beg all you want, but you belong to us, now.” you whine, hands trembling, the symphony of sensations sending you over the edge just as Dick said you would, and you beg for mercy the entire time. mercy that neither of them had for you. “That’s more like it.”

your fervent, needy clenching had clearly pushed Jason to his own orgasm, because he was calling your name amidst the most animalistic of grunting, burying himself as deep as he could go until you could feel the shape of him against your lower belly, and he released. what was meant to be warm and comforting filled your belly with ice, but you couldn’t help but enjoy the way his arousal dropped out of you when he pulls free, glazing your bloody thighs. then, he drops your legs and steps awake. you felt hollowed out, and you want to double over and grip your belly, but Dick wouldn’t let you, even as Jason stumbled back and fell on to the couch, his cock twitching, lain over his thigh and shiny with his and your essences, cocktailed. you expected he might pant, if he needed to breathe, but instead, those clear glowing eyes watched you be destroyed by another.

even Jason at his roughest was no contest to how Dick was breaking you in. you practically dangled off of his cock, somewhere between conscious and not, as he drove himself into you mercilessly for several more minutes, moaning the most vulgar expletives you’d ever heard.

what’s worse?

you were still wet.

you were trembling and weak, eyes unable to stay open, and you looked as if you’d been attacked by a battalion of spiders by the fang wounds that littered your poor frame, you leaked cum, and you couldn’t form a coherent sentence anymore, but you were still so aroused; so tickled that his relentless plowing was more than torture. it felt incredible. you still mewled with your mouth open, tongue hanging out, eyes rolled back. and Dick loved every moment of it. “Just one, little slumber party, and she’s already braindead.” he snorts, grabbing both of your shoulders to hold you in place as he pounds away, “You picked an easy one, Jay.”

“She’s a good girl,” Jason replied, husky, as he leans forward, staring into your eyes, “my good girl.”

“Don’t get greedy.” Dick warns, though the muscles in his jaw tense. he pulsates within you, and you know he must be close. “This little bloodslut is ours. Isn’t that right, baby?” one of his hands glides upwards, snatching a fistful of your hair to pull your head up, holding it steady.

you nod, breathless, your entire body rippling from the force of his fucking. “Y— yes—!”

your humiliating, hardly coherent shriek of a response must’ve shredded what was left of Dick’s composure, because he howls in pleasure, pummeling your abused body a couple more times before he shoves you off of him. with a soft thud and a raspy yelp, you hit the floor and roll over on to your back, quivering, and Dick stands over you, fucking his own fist like a man possessed. he moans, eyes closing and head tilting back, and streamers of his release paint your marked chest, mixing with the drying blood and spit. “See?” he croons, after he’s done with his masterpiece, and squats down to grab your face, his thumb and forefinger hollowing your cheeks as he turns you to face Jason on the couch, “Ours.”

you blink, slow, but your eyes are too glassy to truly focus on either of them, your body completely spent. if Dick wasn’t holding you up by your cheeks, you wouldn’t collapsed on the floor, and most likely drifted into a much needed rest.

“What do we do with her?” Jason asks, uncertain, but watching you close.

Dick laughs, as if Jason had asked the obvious. “We pack her up like a pretty, cum covered sack lunch and take her with us. Come on, tell me you don’t want to see your little toy waiting for you on her knees, fuckholes wet and ready, back at the manor every night?” he lets go of you, allowing you to fall back, chest heaving, body twitching.

“I… I want to go,” you babble, weakly, “I want to go with you…”

“You must truly be fucked completely brainless to want to go home with two bloodthirsty vampires whose only use for you is fucking and eating you whenever we want.” Jason snapped, getting to his feet, he stomps over, a slow and devious smirk playing at the corners of his lips. maybe Dick was rubbing off on him. “Then again, I could get used to seeing you like this. Completely fucking ruined.”

you stare up to both of them, and a simper of your own tickles your cheeks.

you were actually excited.

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bluewinnerangel · 2 years

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Somethings going on with these dudes with the shirts in Harry's music videos.. first we had the blue polo with the 4 7s (which makes you guessed it 28) in the intimate dining setting in between public appearances in Late Night Talking

And now there's a dude in Music For A Sushi Restaurant in a Jersey that says LT SENIORS 74. Like. 7x4 again. And LT this time. Have a potato ill put in more pics

To make it worse this is Lyons Township High School apparel, or LTHS.

Gotta laugh its as youre looking for a harry&louis update acount and take wrong turn like

Next level egh-idk-about-that addition: the LT or LS are hidden in most of the shots as is the number.

#would love to hear your interpretations of this #like i just noticed so i shared but i habent thought about what it could mean in this case #like you can for sure interpret this in multiple ways like if the dude is supposedto be louis lol #and its definitely not the vibe i got just watching the mv #but yk we come with assumptions #lets look again tomorrow #its not straight forward thats for sure #its not straight either #now im imaginig louis go YOU HAD ME KILL YOU?? and harrys like well implied And louis is like well that doesnt make much difference now

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fandomxpreferences · 10 months

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Game On Chapter Two: Denial Is A River In Egypt

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Frat! and Hockey! JJ x female!reader

TW:alcohol consumption, thats it I believe

Summary: You go to the game and realize that maybe JJ isn't so bad after all.

Word Count:4.2k

After spending days overthinking, Friday is finally here and you turn back and forth in the mirror while scrutinizing your appearance. What the hell are you supposed to wear to a Hockey game?

"Do I look okay?"

You look at Kie through the reflection and she rolls her eyes playfully.

"You look fucking gorgeous."

You twist your mouth and give yourself one last once over. It's nothing special; some jeans paired with Air Force Ones and an old band tee that you got in high school.

Sarah smirks with raised eyebrows as she watches you, and crosses her arms as she chuckles.

"For someone that swears she doesn't like this guy, you seem awfully concerned about looking good for him."

She giggles when you flip her off, and hands you your phone.

"Let's go. Wouldn't want to be late meeting lover boy." She teases, and you groan before shutting the door and bounding down the stairs and outside.

"Fuck off."

The scent of sugar and vanilla wafts to your nose as soon as you settle into Sarah's backseat, and the familiar environment eases your nerves the slightest bit. It's so undeniably her, and you can't help but smile at the photo booth strip she always keeps tucked into her visor.

Your comfort is soon interrupted when you kick a crushed monster can under the seat, and scrunch your nose.

"If my shoes get fucked up, you're buying me new ones."

Sarah turns the key and waves her hand dismissively, too focused on getting music set up.

"Yeah, yeah.'

The drive is short but fun, filled with loud singing and even louder laughing as you speed down the street with the windows down.

You rush to grab the door for stability when Sarah rockets over a curb, looking at her with wide eyes.

"Damn, bitch!"

She flips you the bird with a laugh and pulls into a parking spot before facing you.

"It was in my way."

You don't get a chance to respond before she hops out of the SUV and starts toward the door, leaving you and Kie to catch up.

You look around the crowd of students and strangers clad in team apparel, just narrowly missing someone's elbow as they maneuver past you.

"We need to find roll call." You half shout and the girls both nod while beginning to look around.

"It's over there." Sarah points, and you grab their hands to stick together.

The three of you make it past security and finally stop in front of the counter.

"I have three tickets reserved under Y/N."

You smile politely as the young girl starts rifling through a drawer, but she comes back empty-handed.

"I don't have any for that name. Sometimes the guys try to get people in but the younger players get the last pick. Who reserved them for you?"

You glance at Sarah and she shrugs with a frown, just as confused as you.

"Um, JJ Maybank." You answer, and she perks up.

"Oh!"

She returns a few seconds later holding an envelope and hands it to you with a smirk.

"So you're the infamous Keg Queen? I've got something else for you, stay there."

You frown at her weird behavior, but it starts to click when you look down and see the name written on the paper. You can't help the smile that burns your cheeks and you shake your head at his antics.

You look up when you see her coming back in your peripheral, and you already know what she's carrying.

"Oh my god."

You take the jersey from her with a laugh and tuck it under your arm.

"What did you mean infamous? How do you know my old nickname? I haven't been called that since leaving home." You inquire, and she gives a knowing smile.

"I'm one of the player's girlfriends. J squared has been talking about you all week at practice."

Her answer only leaves you more baffled, and she smiles with reassurance.

"Don't worry, you'll catch up on all the slang and nicknames. They call JJ J-squared and John B is Jombee; they all have a hockey name." She explains, and you nod while trying to stay afloat in a whole new territory.

"Right, thanks."

You walk off and jump when Sarah suddenly speaks up. You'd been so caught up that you forgot they were here for a moment.

"I didn't think he was serious about the jersey."

Sarah casts Kie a glance and they both shake their heads.

"Where are the seats?" Kie asks, and you try to scrunch your shoulders as you navigate through a sea of painted faces and jerseys. You manage to come out the other side without being marred by beer or nacho cheese and breathe a sigh of relief.

"Rinkside, right up on the glass." You finally respond, and Kie gives an approving nod.

Sarah raises her eyebrows, only half surprised that he secured you such good seats. You're standing in line for concessions when you decide it's easier to wear the jersey than carry it and slip it over your head just as you approach the counter.

You place your orders and go to pay, but when the guy looks up from his screen and sees you he refuses your card.

"You're covered."

You wait for him to elaborate, but he moves on to the next customer and leaves you with more questions than answers.

"What was that about?" You ask over the rim of your glass, making sure to cup your hand under your mouth as you walk in case it spills while you take a quick sip.

Both girls shrug as you lead the way, and you manage to make it to your section despite the chaos between you and your seats.

Your eyes widen when you finally sit down, now only a couple of feet from where the team sits. You weren't expecting to be so close to him, and you nibble on your lip at the realization. The hard plastic digs into your back as you shift around, trying to get as comfortable as possible.

You sit with your head high and shoulders back, absolutely refusing to show any sign of nerves. You're not the girl who stumbles over a boy and makes a fool of herself, no matter how much you're twirling your hair and squealing internally.

You jump when the crowd suddenly starts cheering and a loud voice comes over the speakers to start announcing the teams. The air is thick with the aroma of popcorn and sweat as people laugh and cheer, eagerly awaiting the puck drop.

Your shoes are sticking to old spilled beer and the person behind you keeps hitting your back with their knee, but the energy is unlike anything you've experienced. You can't help but smile as the boys make their entrance, and glance around at the screaming audience.

You watch as JJ skates across the ice while hyping the fans, and it's almost magical to see. He found his place here, drowning in notoriety and attention the way he could never have back home.

As soon as he's close enough, his eyes scan the crowd and light up when they land on you. He wasn't convinced you would show, and he'd be lying if he said his heart isn't racing in his chest. There's always a surge of adrenaline before a game, but having you here is a whole new rush.

Your fingers wiggle with a small wave, and he shoots you a wink while smiling around his mouthguard before turning back to the game.

He's in the zone tonight, hell-bent on playing his best to impress you. He tries to focus, but it's hard when he swears he can feel your eyes burning holes through the number on his back; the same number that currently adorns your frame.

You try your best to keep up, periodically googling something you don't understand and conversing with the girls. For the most part, you cheer when everybody else does and try to figure out what you're celebrating.

By the end of the first period, you've gathered enough information to have a general idea and find yourself having more fun than you expected. JJ makes a point to look at you every chance he gets and practically stares anytime he's on the bench.

You pretend not to notice, but Sarah and Kie pick up on the tension and use it to their advantage. What kind of best friends would they be if they didn't make fun of you a little bit?

"So when's the wedding?" Sarah teases, and you shoot her a sideways glare.

"Keep it up and you won't be invited."

Her mouth drops open in mock offense and you smirk with satisfaction before turning back to the rink.

You lean forward when JJ takes control of the puck, and everything seems to move in slow motion as he races forward and shoots it into the net seconds before the buzzer sounds for halftime.

As if your body has a mind of its own, you leap out of your seat and scream, the sound piercing through the whistles and cheers to cut straight through JJ. His eyes find you instantly, and his heart leaps at the sight of you acting as his own personal cheerleader.

"Stop looking at her like that, dude."

JJ's eyes never leave you as he tries to focus on his conversation to no avail.

"Like what?"

John B scoffs but elaborates nonetheless.

"Like you're in love."

JJ shrugs and shamelessly watches as you throw your head back in a laugh, exposing soft skin that he wants nothing more than to lay claim to.

"I'm not in love, dude. That would be crazy."

John B's eyebrows shoot up as he glances between you and his best friend and he shakes his head with a chuckle.

"Whatever, you're practically drawing a heart with your names in it."

JJ's only response is to flip him off, but John B's point is proven when the blonde is too distracted and skates face-first into the wall. Much to his relief, you don't seem to be paying attention and his cheeks burn red as he dips his head and races off the ice.

You sit back down while the guys disappear for a break, and the girls are staring at you with amusement.

"Don't look at me like that. You think I don't see the way you're eye fucking John B, Sarah?" You laugh, and she nods.

"Fair point, but I never claimed not to like him." She argues, and you roll your eyes.

The three of you are laughing when an employee suddenly appears and taps you on the shoulder.

"Y/N?" He asks sheepishly, and you smile politely while trying not to seem too suspicious.

"Yes?"

He nods his head toward the rink and you wait patiently for his next words.

"Someone's asking for you. You can follow me if you'd like."

Your eyebrows shoot up as you look at the girls, and resist the urge to slap the smug look off their faces.

"Not a word." You mock scold with a pointed finger, and they both raise their hands with small laughs.

You maneuver your way through the crowd and follow the man closely as he leads you further into the arena and away from the public eye. You briefly wonder if you should have questioned him and almost turn around, but your worries are put at ease when you see JJ standing in the service hallway grinning ear to ear.

"Thanks, Eric." He gives the guy a fist bump before he heads off, and turns to face you.

"I couldn't wait till the end of the game to tell you how good you look in my jersey."

Your cheeks burn hot and you stand up a little taller to try and camouflage the fact you're so flustered.

"Where are we?" You ask, skimming over the compliment with ease.

He watches you for a second before answering, and you know he's enjoying every second of this.

"Outside the locker rooms."

You give a small nod and JJ nearly collapses when you scrunch your nose in a way that reminds him of a bunny.

"It stinks like sweat and shitty cologne."

His laugh makes you smile, and you can't help but join in.

"You'll get used to it." He shrugs, and your eyebrow quirks.

"Are you trying to flirt with me?"

He takes a step closer and you stare up at him as he smirks triumphantly.

"Is it working?"

You tap your chin and pretend to think for a moment while moving closer, and just when he thinks he has you, your hand pats his cheek and you start walking backward in the direction you came from.

"Not even a little bit."

The sparkle never leaves his irises as you blow a kiss and wink before disappearing and he knows in that moment that he'll do whatever it takes to make you his.

By the time you find your way back to your seat, the team is re-entering the rink and you plop down between the girls. Despite your insistence that you don't have any feelings for the floppy-haired blonde, your radiant glow suggests otherwise.

Luckily, the girls don't get a chance to ask questions before the game resumes and you focus on the jersey that matches the one hanging from your body. Time seems to fly by, and before you know it, JJ scores the winning goal.

You're almost certain that your cheering can be heard over everyone else, but it doesn't stop you from screaming at the top of your lungs. You watch as they exit the rink to shower and stand to go wait in the lobby.

You figure he'd want you to at least say goodbye before heading out and you're in the middle of laughing with Kie when Sarah grabs your attention.

"Here comes your boy toy on skates."

You turn around to see what she's talking about, and sure enough, JJ is barreling toward you with John B barely keeping up. He struts up with newfound confidence and swings his arm to rest around your shoulder in a way that forces you closer to his body.

You ignoré the butterflies that erupt at the feeling of his strong muscles holding you against him and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

There's a moment of awkward silence before John B takes the initiative to formally introduce himself and you're grateful for the distraction as JJ's body wash and shampoo overwhelms your senses.

"I'm John B, but you can call me JB." He smiles, and Sarah nods.

"I remember, you used to work on the Druthers during the summer."

He looks genuinely taken aback and stutters a few times before finally landing on a response.

"Yeah, that was me. Never thought you noticed me."

She rakes he eyes over him slowly in a way that would make even you buckle, and you resist the urge to laugh as he falls prey to her alluring looks and personality.

"Oh trust me, I noticed you."

There's another beat of silence before JJ speaks, and you tilt your head up to look at him.

"We're gonna go hit a local bar to celebrate. You guys down?"

There's hardly any room for argument as you're practically glued to JJ's frame and Sarah has practically sunk her teeth into poor John B. You nod with a smile, doing your best not to be charmed by the way JJ does a cute little fist bump.

"Who all is going?" Kiara asks, and you wonder when you became so enthralled with the blonde that you lost the common sense to get details.

"Just us and a few of the other guys. Our other friend, Pope, who was at the party is coming too. Is that okay?"

JJ doesn't elaborate the way he wants to. He doesn't add that if it's not okay, he'll gladly ditch them in a heartbeat. He'll do anything if it means getting to spend more time in your company.

"Yeah, that's fine." You affirm, and he responds by pressing a short kiss to your hair that makes your head swim.

"Perfect."

JJ sends you the address, and before you know it you're piling back into Sarah's car. Your anxiety spikes when see how packed the parking lot is and it only worsens when you walk through the door to a new environment overrun by college kids.

The guys are already inside, and you smile when JJ spots you and starts toward you. Within seconds his hand is on your lower back as he guides you toward a table full of rowdy guys that you somewhat recognize from around campus.

He stops when you reach the group, and pulls you back into him with his arm loosely draped around your waist.

"How'd you find a table so quickly?"

You lean into his touch when he bends down to speak directly in your ear, but you still strain to hear him over the thumping bass from the dance floor.

"This spot is always reserved for us. Player privilege." He explains, and you open your mouth to form an 'o'.

"Ah, I see. So you abuse your status as captain?" You jest, and he looks back at you with a sparkle in his eye that you are beginning to realize is a sign of mischief.

"I wouldn't say abuse. I'm an opportunist. If being captain of the hockey team happens to open doors for me, I'm going to walk through them."

You smirk and tilt your head toward the bar.

"So if you have the opportunity to buy a cute college girl a drink, you'll take it?" You half shout, and he really thinks he might be in love.

"Only if she can kick my ass at beer pong and wears my jersey."

You can't help the wide smile that overtakes your face, and you swear your cheeks are going to be sore by the end of the night.

"Looks like the Universe is on your side, then."

Two hours and one too many shots later, you're clinging to JJ like he's a lifeline and you've made yourself at home with his friends. Loud giggles leave both your lips as you lean further into his side while you watch one of the members, Bruiser, try and fail to get a girl's number.

Your eyes shine with mischief as you take a sip of your drink and tsk at the younger boy as he sits back down dejected.

"That was brutal." You tease, and the entire table erupts in laughter when he flips you off and grumbles under his breath. Seeing you banter with his closest friends makes JJ feel warm and fuzzy, and he can't help but picture this same scenario but ten years from now with a ring on your finger.

Your eyes lock with Sarah's across the table as she mirrors your comfortable position with John B, and Kiara is in deep conversation about wildlife preservation with Pope. It's not exactly how you saw your night going, but to your surprise, you're having a lot of fun.

"You smell good," JJ whispers and you tilt your head back to look up at him through long eyelashes that make his heart stutter.

"I wish I could say the same, but you reek like old spice and athlete's foot."

His mouth drops open and he puts his hand over his heart as he feigns offense before pinching your side and eliciting a loud squeal.

"You wound me."

Maybe it's the alcohol or maybe it's the way the neon lights buzzing overhead bask him in a bright glow, but before you can think you lean forward and press a kiss to his knuckles that are still laying flat across his chest.

"Better?"

There's a certain innocence to your tone that tells JJ your motive was pure, but it doesn't stop his pupils from dilating with lust at the doe eyes you're giving him.

He's mere seconds from stumbling over his words and carrying you back to his room when the bartender announces last call, and he breathes a sigh of relief. He doesn't understand why you specifically can fluster him so easily when he's spent years perfecting his craft, but he knows it's something rare and special.

"We should probably get back." You sigh, and JJ resists tightening his hold until you morph into one body as you start to stand up.

Sarah and Kie seem to notice your movement and excuse themselves as well, but not before exchanging phone numbers with their respective boys.

"Do you need a ride? I can call an Uber and ride back with you so you don't get kidnapped." JJ offers only half joking, but you shake your head.

"I haven't been drinking," Kiara interjects, and she almost feels bad when she sees the kicked puppy look on JJ's face.

"Text me when you get back so I know you're safe?"

The sentiment causes a wide smile to pull at your lips and you nod before pressing a short kiss to his cheek.

He watches as the three of you walk out with your arms around each other while laughing and John B shakes his head.

"Is our little JJ growing up? Has he finally met the woman that can put an end to his wondering eye and dog-like ways?" He teases, and JJ flips off the group as they all make mocking kissy noises.

"Fuck off."

Meanwhile, you're subjected to the same torment the entire way back. Your head lays against the cool glass window as you try to block out the sound of Sarah and Kie's goading.

"So you seemed really cozy." Kie smirks, and you roll your eyes before kicking the back of her seat.

"Just friends, Keeks."

She scrunches her nose at the nickname, a moniker you know she hates and that you only use when you want to get under her skin. She lets it slide though, and turns around with a scoff when she comes to a red light.

"Yeah, friends totally look at each other like that."

You groan loudly when you realize she isn't going to let it go, and breathe a sigh of relief when her attention is momentarily drawn back to the road when the car behind you honks.

"I treat him the same way I treat all my guy friends."

This seems to grab Sarah's attention and much to your dismay, she joins in suddenly.

"No, you don't. You were friends with Rafe and Topper yet you never once let them get that close or gave them that big doe-eyed look you always have when you're talking to JJ."

"Okay, why am I being interrogated?" You whine, and the girls just laugh.

"We just want you to admit that there might be more to your feelings than you're letting on." Sarah shrugs, and you finally throw your hands up in defeat.

"Okay, fine! Maybe I have a little thing for him, but it doesn't matter. He's just in it for sex like every other college jock."

You're about to go on a whole rant when your phone suddenly vibrates and cuts you off. You slide it out of your pocket just as you finally step out of the car, and your heart races at the name on the screen.

"Oh."

Sarah frowns and leans over, nearly knocking you down in the process to get a look at what has your attention. You angle it toward her so she can read better, and her eyebrows shoot up as she scans over the text.

Did you get home safe, cupcake?

"Just in it for sex, huh? Last I checked guys like that don't care about your safety and well-being."

You ignore her and focus on responding, just typing out a simple yes and hitting send. Barely a second passes before the bubbles pop up to show he's typing, and a smile tugs at your lips against your will.

Good, because I expect to see you again at next week's game and if I'm lucky enough maybe even before then

You shake your head with a chuckle and the girls watch from the sidelines with knowing looks.

hmm, we'll see

You don't wait for a response before heading into the house and your best friends are hot on your heels.

"You're in deep this time, you know that right?" Kie asks, and you stop in front of your room just long enough to respond.

"I know."

At that, you close the door and head to the bathroom to start your nightly routine.

After washing your face and brushing your teeth, you slip off your jeans and crawl into bed. In your still buzzed state, your inhibitions are down and you find yourself pulling the jersey up over your nose to inhale the now-familiar scent of JJ.

It doesn't take long to doze off, and even in your dreams, you seem to know that one way or the other, you're not coming out of this the same person.

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