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seung-mong · 9 months

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shoot to kill - bangchan

includes: ex (?) bf! chan x fem reader, ANGST idk im in the mood to break hearts ig, fluff at the end, soft smut, mostly chan reassuring and praising reader

"alright fuck, then maybe we should just take a break."

the words leave chan before he can really think about it, hanging in the air like a knife that's been thrown and stops midair, your gaze ice cold and freezing it in it's track.

"really. thats your solution? a fucking break?" you scoff, your (chan's) shirt that usually hangs loosely suddenly suffocating you, wrapping you in a snake-like grip and making your head feel like you're going to explode.

"yea, i just dont think us being together is good for us anymore."

chan has a bad habit. he says shit he doesnt mean, blames the anger that builds in his chest and spits out words he knows will hurt. because thats what he wants to do. he knows its wrong, fucked even. the way he wants you to hurt the way he hurts.

"christopher."

its a plea. take it back, please. you stand there in front of him, defenseless. the way his full name falls off your tongue sounds wrong. it's devoid of all the emotions you'd usually call him with. where's the gentleness, the softness you usually regard him with?

"maybe we just.. need to stay away from each other right now." chan's voice is steady, betraying the way his insides seem to shake, he's not sure if he's shivering from the cold, or the way your eyes seem to look at him as if you're seeing him for the first time.

"you can't be serious." it hurts to speak, your words squeezing out of you as you struggle to breathe, tears freely flowing.

he should turn this around. surrender. no, he isn't serious. he's so stupid and he loves you and he's just so hurt by what you said a while ago and he's tired and- "i'll sleep at changbin's tonight."

your chest hurts, physically feels like its being ripped apart as you stare at your lover with empty eyes. "thats your solution? to run away? over such a stupid-"

"stupid?" chan laughs hollowly, running a hand through his hair, feeling all the anger rise in him again. "it isn't stupid, y/n. you're the one who keeps running away. you're the one who keeps pushing away this conversation every single time i bring it up." he's raising his voice now, can see how tense his body is from the reflection on the glass window.

"you're asking me to pick up my whole life and move to seoul with you. this isn't some silly request like asking me to pick where to eat for dinner, it's my whole fucking life, chris!" you raise yours in response, taking a step closer to him.

"that's what i did for you! i dont understand it, y/n. i moved to chicago. for you. picked up my whole fucking life and moved because i loved you. so why can't you fucking do that for me? this is my work, y/n." he takes a step, towering over you.

"no, don't twist it like that. we made plans, chan. we talked about it for months. it wasn't some spontaneous decision. we both wanted this-"

"well maybe i dont want this anymore."

oh.

...

"you don't mean that."

...

"channie? please. you don't mean that." your voice is breaks, shaky as you step away from him, clutching at your chest.

he can feel guilt eat at his stomach as he watches you, whole body shaking as sobs rack through your frame. he needs to apologize, he knows it. but you've hurt him too.

"i just... i need a break, y/n."

you sink into the couch behind you, shaking your head when chan hesitantly approaches you, kneeling on the floor in front of you. he places a hand on your knee, and his chest tightens when you flinch away from him.

"love-"

"don't." you spit the word out, refusing to even look at him.

"love, please-"

"a break's what you want? you fucking have it. tell changbin to expect you." you push his arm away when he makes a move to reach for you. you unfurl yourself from the couch, stepping aside from the man who holds your heart, ignoring his calls of your name as you walk into your shared bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you.

sleep comes quickly when you cry yourself to sleep, curled into a ball in your bed, heart empty as the overwhelming scent of chan sticks to his pillows. you faintly hear the soft click of the front door, and then complete silence.

it's hard to remember how you fell asleep, almost as if there was a smooth transition from sobbing heavily into your pillow and breathing into a deep sleep. your head is pounding when your eyes open, puffy and sore from your tears. your throat is dry, stomach aching, and heart heavy.

there's a chance chan will never sleep beside you again.

you push aside the bitter feeling, letting out a painful groan when you stretch your limbs, swinging your feet off your bed. the floor is cold, and you have to tiptoe to the bathroom to freshen up.

you look as horrible as you feel. you try not to spend too much time looking at yourself.

the thought of spending your whole day alone in your big apartment makes you uneasy, part of you wishing you could stay cooped up in your room forever. but you know deep down that's not what's truly bothering you, not when the uncertainty eats at you from the inside.

how is he?

is he thinking about you?

why hasn't he messaged you?

...... is it really the end?

you walk to the door, taking a deep breath as tears brim just below your waterline, promising to be productive today, and not to wallow in self pity all day. your scream leaves you before you can register what exactly is sitting by front of your door, large frame leaning against the door toppling over in his sleep.

"what the hell!" you scream, heart suddenly beating too fast at your liking as you finally take the scene in.

"baby?" chan's voice is croaky, as if his throat had been scratched raw. he's still wearing the clothes from last night, shoulder leaning against the doorframe before you swung the door open, causing him to lose balance.

"what the fuck are you doing here?" you sigh, guilt tugging at your heart when chan stands up, groaning and rubbing at his back.

"i- i didn't...."

you stare at him in silence, unable to control the way your brows furrow in anger. he stares back at you, lips suddenly going dry when he sees the way that you look at him, as if he was a bother.

"i thought you went to bin's." you push past him, heading straight to the kitchen as if you had no worry in the world, pretending to busy yourself with dishes despite there not being a single dish in the sink.

"i..... i couldn't leave you." his voice cracks as he takes another step toward you. you turn your back to him, denying him of your attention as you pretend to busy yourself with breakfast, pulling open drawers and taking out pots.

"wow. that's rich." your voice is laced with pure venom when you bite back, sinking deep into chan's heart as he shuffles awkwardly to stand by the kitchen counter.

"you locked the door."

you only hum in response.

"i.... i tried to go in, thought i'd apologize to you but.... it was locked."

"yea. you don't really expect anyone to go in your room when you're on a break."

the silence is heavy on your shoulders, but you know if you say any more the tears will start pouring. you're too mad at chan to break down in front of him, pride and ego wrestling as you maintain your unbothered facade, working your way around him as if his presence meant nothing to you.

"i turned down the job offer last night."

you drop the spatula you were holding in your hand, letting it clank against the metal pot.

"you what?" you finally turn to face him, disbelief etched onto your face.

you finally soften when you see chris mere feet away from you, eyes red and puffy a sign that he had been crying too. his hair is a mess, and his clothes from last night look rumpled, as if he had been restless all night.

"i- you have to know, my love. i will always choose you, nothing else. i was stupid and-"

"christopher, i never said no." you feel irritation rise in you again, but you take another step closer to your lover. "i never said i didnt want to go. i needed time to think, chris. time. to process. and now you've turned down your dream job and i-"

"i know, i know." chris reaches out to you, letting out what you think is a breath of relief when you dont push him away as he wraps his fingers around your wrists. "but i.... this job, it's going to be demanding and i'm constantly going to have to move and.... look, chicago is your home." he raises a hand to cup your face, wiping away the stray tear that had slipped down your cheek.

"and seoul is yours." you argue back.

"no, you are."

you let out a sob at that, allowing yourself to fully melt into chan's warm embrace. he immediately scoops you into his arms, pressing your face into his chest as he kisses the top of your head repeatedly, patting your hair down.

"it doesnt matter what im doing or where i am, as long as you're there." chan starts to choke up, pulling your face away to properly look you in the eyes. "i dont know what the future holds for me, love. all i know is that i want you by my side. in ten, twenty, thirty years." he plants soft kisses all over your face as you sniffle.

"but i- i feel so bad. i dont want to stop you from doing what you want." you groan, but chan simply giggles lovingly at you.

"i dont want you to think that, i dont even think that. its just a job, y/n. its not even a job i really want. it pays well yea, but it's not something id drop everything for. especially not you." he wipes away the tears that are still falling, cooing at you when you hiccup.

"i love you, chan. i'm so sorry." you sob, pushing your face into his shirt.

"don't apologize. i should be the one saying sorry. i was such a dick last night, i-" he sighs, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. "you know i dont mean what i say, right?"

god he hopes you say yes, he prays to any god, even those he doesnt believe in that you know he never means those things. he doesnt think theres anything worse than the possibility that you could actually think he doesnt want you or a life with you.

"i- i know. but... still hurts when you say it." you sniif, wiping away your tears with the back of your hand.

chan pulls away to look down at you. "i know, my love. im sorry. i'll work on that, i promise. can't stand it when you're sad. i hate knowing im the one who hurts you." he leans down to kiss you, the salty taste of your tears making his chest hurt.

"let me love on you, yea? let me take care of you baby, please."

you nod, jumping up when chan taps at your thighs. he catches you, wrapping his hands around your thighs as he carries you to your bedroom. "need to feel you," you sigh when chan gently places you on the bed.

he stands in between your spread legs, quickly throwing off his hoodie and letting it fall to the floor, leaving him half naked. he leans down to hover over you, lips instantly finding yours in a messy, heated kiss. his hands find their way under your shirt, tips of his fingers grazing your underboob.

"wanna fuck you in my shirt." chan hums against your cheek, squeezing your sides when you squirm against him.

"wanna feel your skin on mine though, please baby?" you beg, holding onto chan's shoulders as he kisses down your chest. he hums in agreement, rolling his shirt off so it sits on top of your breast.

"i'll give you whatever you want, baby. just ask me. promise i'll give it to you, i'll take care of you." he presses soft kisses across your stomach and chest all the while, only pulling away to lift the fabric off you. chan eyes you hungrily, only dressed in your underwear.

"you're the most beautiful girl ive ever seen, my love. so perfect for me." he sighs, fingers tangling in your hair as he kisses you deeply.

"want your pants off, need to feel all of you." you whine, fingers already flying to undo his pants.

"such a good girl, using your voice. you know id do anything you asked." he hums, kicking everything off until he lays bare against you, cock already hard as it rubs against your thigh.

"enough with the teasing, channie. need you in me."

"there's no rush, baby." chan hums, fingers dipping down to see how wet you are, surprised to find you already soaking.

"huh. guess she was crying for me too, hmm?"

you lightly slap at his shoulder, fighting the scolding smile that threatens to paint your face. "just put it in already, please."

"hmm. since you asked so nicely." he kisses your cheek, lips still against your skin as he pushes in you, holding your legs as par apart as he can. your breath catches in your throat at the feeling of him stretching you, fingers digging onto his broad back as he settles deep within you.

"feel good?" he asks, pillowy lips trailing across your face.

"so deep- love you, channie." you babble, and chan can't help but giggle. he presses his bare chest against yours, feeling satisfied when every inch of his skin is met with your own. his hands find yours, interlocking them before he dips down to kiss you on the lips.

"lets go slow, kay baby? need to feel all of you. every inch." he coos, hips slowly pulling back before he sinks back in, keeping the same torturously slow pace.

you whin when it starts to get too much and yet not enough at the same time, heels digging into his lower back to push him in quicker everytime he pulls out. "please, channie. need it faster."

"greedy," chan tuts, rubbing his nose against your jawline. "but, what my love wants, she gets."

his pace starts to pick up, lewd sounds of skin against skin filling up the room aside from the occassional moan you let out. chan grunts against your ear, letting out deep sighs and high pitched whimpers everytime you clench around him or reach up to kiss at his neck.

"m close," you whine, throwing yoru arm around your lover's neck to pull him closer. he easily complies, keeping the same rhythm as you press yourself against him.

"wanna feel you cum, baby. wanna feel that pretty pussy clench around me." he groans, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight circles on the bud.

you let out a silent scream when you cum, legs shaking against chan's waist as he fucks you through your high, letting out a breathy whimper when he feels how tight you've become.

"fuck! love you so much, channie." you sob.

that's what pushes him over the edge, shooting his load deep inside you as his hips stutter, groaning lowly with every thrust. he buries his face into the crook of your neck as you hold him, back sweaty from all the movement.

your breathing seems to sync as you both calm down, chan's hands rubbing up and down your sides as yours curl into his hair, holding him snuggly against you.

"i love you more than anything, y/n." chan suddenly breathes against your neck. he pulls away to look at you, and your breath catches in your throat when you see his eyes are brimming with tears.

"channie?" you pout, gently carressing his cheeks with your thumb. he leans into your touch, quickly kissing the palm of your hand before he nuzzles into it.

"don't wanna lose you. hurts so fucking much just thinking about it."

you're caught off guard by his sudden vulnerability, but you coo at him all the same. "you won't lose me, baby. we'll get through everything." you promise, heart squeezing when his tears start to fall.

"almost did. hate myself so much for hurting you." he sniffs, quickly wiping away his tears.

"baby, listen to me, okay?" you sigh. you try to sit up to look at him better, but chan whines, resting his head in between your chest and tightening his hold around your body. you giggle at him, hands quickly finding its way to his hair as you play with it. "you won't lose me. we just gotta... talk through everything, okay?"

"but i hurt you.... i dont think when i get mad. say things i dont mean."

"and you said you'd work on it. i trust you." he lifts his head up so he looks up at you, chin resting on your stomach.

"i love you. i hope you believe me when i say that. honestly, i dont think those three words can even begin to describe how i feel for you." he sighs, pinching at your side.

you giggle at him, thinking back to how he called you his home.

you push away the curls that cover his eyes, smiling down sweetly at him. "i know what you feel for me channie." you reassure him, pulling him up by the shoulders so he hovers directly above you.

"'s exactly what i feel for you, my beautiful boy." you coo, pulling him down for a kiss.

taglist: @abcdefgiwsmcty@n034sy@148-seungmin

#seung mong!#skz smut #skz #skz fanfic #stray kids #bang chan #bangchan x reader #bangchan fluff #bangchan angst #bangchan smut #chan smut #chan x yn #chan fluff #chan angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #i need a chan honestly #he loves yn your honor!#youre my home trope is one of the best like what the hellll

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hwajin · 1 year

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#! — [waves] Hwang Hyunjin

— gn!reader // nsfw — siren hyunjin! req. by @whatudowhennooneseesyou <3

He was intoxicating, in every sense of the word, in any way it was possible. The way his hands, cold but firey against your body, slid up and down your thighs, and your hips, and your waist as if you were a meal to be devoured, the way his cold breath fanned over you, how the damp huff of air covered your skin in the smallest of bumps, a sign of his effect on you. The effect he had on anyone if he only wanted to, the effect that would come with a simple strumming of his vocal chords. And yet he decided to gift you with his affection while he could have anyone, chose you to show his interest, his longing. Longing for love, or pleasure, only - you didn't care. You were ready to give him everything he desired, anything he needed.

Hyunjin's touch felt cold to the skin, forbidden, secretive. Every move of his swimming into the next like the softest, most delicate waves, and every bit of contact against your body with his had you drowning into him a little more, had you floating on a body of water. He was addicting, his kisses were, his cold against you was. You felt like you could never get enough of him if you wanted to, grabbing onto him so he wouldn't slip away the moment mutual satisfaction was granted and over and done with. You knew he couldn't stay with you, yet you wished for nothing more.

Your hands entangled in Hyunjin's hair, always damp, a bit wet, giving him a look so seductive you arched your back into him a bit more. The feeling of drowning returned with every thrust against your hips he made, with every fluid motions of his body against your own. And he was so hard to resist, luring you in and occupying your mind without saying a single word. As though it was telepathy, as though he was thinking the sweetest of words and praises, the most alluring promises and sent them right to you, non vocally. Your fingers clawed into his scaled skin, making him hiss out, making him bite down on the plushness of your neck. The moment was heated, limbs all over each other, lips clashing together in unspoken passion and sinful lust. The feeling of release was creeping up on you, the feeling that would call for the end of you and him, for the moment he'd vanish to reappear again whenever he felt needed. So you wanted to procrastinate it, because Hyunjin'd never leave without having you satisfied. Would stay until he gave you what you gave him, intoxicating pleasure that never seemed to run out when both of you met.

"C'mon baby, let go, for me."

And yet, your high was gushing over you faster than you could look, with Hyunjin's words hushed against the shell of your ear, singing a sweet melody you couldn't resist. Your head fell back, your limbs contracting, and Hyunjin's own release coating you from within. A feeling like no else, and yet you despised it. Becasue in the blink of an eye he was gone, your body left cold. And you found yourself wishing for the next time again.

@etherealeeknow @linoskitty @unexceptional-h @rseanne @diue @es-kay-zee @urcracksisx @jeyelleohe @yunkiwii @meloohmel @nyrasneedy @seochhj @spidercomics @chans-starlight @angelwonie @lix-ables @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @sstarryreads @svintsandghosts

#i've written 2 mystical creature hyunjin fics so far and both of them were about him leaving???#and it being all forbidden??#i love that trope tho with mystical stuff can you blame me #this was SO much fun to write does anyone notice the word plays i added #genius of me if i'm honest #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin scenarios #skz scenarios #skz smut #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios

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shadowofahope · 2 years

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We Are Liars

Pairing: rich college student! Changbin x college student reader

Warning: Flufffffff

Premise: He needed an out of his mothers attempts to set him up. Your summer schedule was empty. Maybe him asking you to be his fake girlfriend wasn't the worst idea. It did make a lot of sense. But then again it was too easy to say yes...

Word count: 4.7 K

Authors notes: Tada! I've been very overtired recently so please forgive the errors. I'll go back to fix them but for now I wanted you to have our lovely Changbin!

SKZ Masterlist

“Every time I go back home my mother incessantly tries to set me up with her friends daughters, even their nieces. No matter how many times I tell her that I want to find love on my own, she just still pushes. I was so tired of it, I just blurted out I have a girlfriend.”

He looked tired, honestly. Him asking you out to a late night coffee run, you weren’t expecting to meet up with him looking so exhausted. He was always busy and the others always told him he looked tired but this seemed different, but you guessed this made sense now.

You sip your coffe nodding along to his words, setting it down on the metal table, leaning back to give him your full attention. “Ok, well why me?”

“She knows of you in our friend circle, but she’s never met you or seen us together. I panicked and you were the first person I thought of. Being friends already I figured it’d be the easiest sell.”

The antsy leg bounces unde the table weren’t lost on you. Agitation wouldn’t be the right word for the look hardened on his face. You could see it clear as day though, he wasn’t one to mask his feelings or insecurities.

“Fair enough.” Because it did make sense to some extent. If it was one of the other girls that hung around occasionally, you wouldn’t bet money on their acting abilities. Or honestly their inability to not have a crush on him. Most of them, as annoying as they were, were just around clinging like flies to hot trash. Trying almost anything to get the boys to notice him, Changbin being the easiest sell as he was the richest friend in the group. Or at least he had the richest parents, you had pointed out once to the caddy bunch. They made some comment about being the only male in the family and blah blah blah. You had walked away without saying anything at that point, you didn’t see a point in listening anymore.

“She started asking me all these questions about how we met, so I just told her we met through Minho, which is the truth, but then she demanded for me to bring you home this summer. So now I’m sitting in a deep dark whole that I dug for myself that I’m really hoping you’d help me out of…I’ll even pay you for it…” His eyes squeeze shut, creating crows feet around them, hands coming up in a praying nature, bottom lip coming out in a pout. Putting on his best pitiful show.

He really didn’t need to beg so hard, but it was cute. “Ok. I’ll help.”

“You’ll come home with me?” He sounded almost shocked, did he really think you’d protest to helping a friend?

“Yea. No one should be forced into anything. I feel bad enough for you.” You laugh at him, keeping a light air around you. You did feel bad for him, relationships were hard already but add on a pressure cooker of a mother and who knows what someone would be willing to do to release it.

Knowing Changbin and being close to Changbin were two different things. You had hung out within groups but never alone, until tonight. However, you had never felt uncomfortable around him or unsettled. It seemed easy enough, and if you had to act with PDA, it definitely didn’t help that he was attractive. Not someone you’d usually find yourself drawn to, but maybe you’d get to see a new side to the rich, muscle man.

“Seriously?!” His eyes light up, as he reaches his hand across the table to yours. “Thank you, thank you, so much. I’ll definitely repay you for everything!”

“However.” You try to mask your smile behind a mask of seriousness. “We are going to have to set up boundaries, those of PDA.”

You use your head to gesture to his large hands still enveloping your smaller one. Not that you had a real problem with it, it was warm in the cool night air.

He chuckles nervously, “Yea, we don’t want anyone feeling uncomfortable…”, pulling his hands back from you.

“That goes both ways.” You genuine smile returning. “How are you generally in relationships and around your friends and parents?”

Finding out the logistics before hand would be a better idea than going in blinde. Especially as your normal reaction to things is keeping space between you and other people. Be that mentally or physically. You don’t want to recoil suddenly if he went to hold you hand infront of his parents. That would put an end to your show rather quickly.

“Hm-” He stares off, slightly behind you in contemplation. “Well I would say I am slightly on the clingier side. I like to hold hands, cuddling or just be touching in general. I’m very open to letting everyone know I’m with someone, I tend to be possessive in that sense. Normally I’d use pet names too. But i’ve never brought someone home so I’m not really sure how I’d be. My guess would be probably the same.”

You mull over his words carefully, factoring in your ability to act with him.

“Ok, Well I’m comfortable with the PDA level. I can accept clingy.” You coo at him. Who knew muscles had such a cute needy side. “Do you have a pet name you want to be called or can I wing it?”

“You can wing it. I don’t mind, I tend to use baby for my partners.”

“Baby it is.” You stand up, grabbing your coffee off the table. “Well shall we go create some evidence?”

“Evidence?” He eyes you suspiciously.

“Yep. Lets take some photos of us, plus I can use one as my lockscreen”

“That’s a cute idea! I want one too.” He exclaims clambering to his feet to join you in your walk down the street. He catches up with you rather quickly, which doesnt surprise you at all. But his next words do catch you off guard. “Should we practice?”

“Practice?”

His hand slides down your exposed wrist, fingers slotting between yours to intertwine your hands. Lifting your joined hands up for you to get a good view of them.

“Practice.” Something about that look he gives you makes you want to wipe that smirk off his face. If he thinks he can beat you in the cheekiness department, he is utterly wrong.

“Then how about kissing? Do we ignore that or should we practice?”

The innocence in your voice is lost behind the sounds of him chocking, followed by your hysterical laughing. Neither of you letting go of eachother, creating fake memories for the trip to come.

🌊☀️🌊☀️

“Nervous?”

“Yes and no.” You explain. “On one hand if it doesn’t go well, its not the end of the world because were not actually together. On the other, it’ll be a really awkward homecoming for you if this doesn’t work.”

“Fair points. Just be yourself, with a little bit of me.”

You roll your eyes at him, turning to look out the window. The drive was 4 hours overall, which you had spent 3 hours just talking and getting to know eachother, flushing out details like; how long have you been official, were exactly you met, first dates, etc. Obvious questions anyone might ask. Somehow you started talking about your childhoods and siblings, turning to various ex’s. Leading you to mention that your last relationship failed because of toxicity, but he allowed you to ghost over it. Not wanting to dwell or talk about it. You may be having to fake being vulnerable, but there was no way you’d actually show it now.

8 minutes left of your journey in the comfort of his slightly sporty highly expensive car with your own personal chauffeur, 4 hours was a breeze.

And just like you assumed, when he pulled up to the beach house his parents and sister were waiting out front for the two of you. Their eagerness to meet you was overwhelming but you held it together well. Open arms for hugging, warm welcomes and benign ushered inside to chat about the detaisl they were dying to know.

How remarkably easy it was to walk around on a tour with his hand in yours, luggage moved to your shared room for the nights you’ll be staying. His mother making a fuss about you two needing to share a bed because no matter where she would set up Changbin she knew her son would sneak back to you. Remarks she made, making you turn an eye to his, although he dodged eye contact very well.

Physical contact you both had made sure you were accustomed to, so even without thinking you would seek eachother out. Small kisses here and there, pecks on the cheek or forehead. His favourite place to keep his hand you found was on your lower back. So trip through the small town with his mother, also meant a large amount of teasing from her. His need to hold onto you continuously, she’d laugh at, pester him about being possessive and smitten with you.

Which is exactly what you both had planned. So shockingly convincing you were, it became comfortable. Easy. His warmth was contagious.

Not only his, but his whole family. From baking in the kitchen with his mother, to discussing with his dad about his favourite starwars movie in the franchise, to going out on lunch dates with his older sister talking about her drama filled work place and the guy she had a crush on in the office.

Watching him interacting with his family on calm nights like this, started making you think of things that were no longer possible. What it would be like to have someone like him love you, have his family love you.

Thinking back to last summer, the idea of dating again seemed like eons away. Leaving one toxic relationship behind you didn’t want to let yourself become that comfortable again. Setting yourself away on a shelf, adorned with forgotten trinkets of other peoples pasts.

Maybe that’s why you didn’t know how to act in a healthy relationship. Letting him set up his boundaries and agreeing with them meant he wouldn’t know that you were broken in a way. The unrelenting bluntness and over communication made some relationships weaker, but on another hand made many stronger.

Minho knew everything you went through with your ex, his uncompromising support for you to make your own choices, but also his need to scold you when you were being careless flourished your mere ‘childhood friends’ title to best friends. Over the years, no matter what friends you each made he kept your secrets adn you kept his.

But maybe it was time to share them with someone new. You’d never felt so welcome and at home with a partner before. It would be easy to get swept away by his parents and sister, swept out to sea from high tide, until when? You’d find yourself buried under the think sand, suffocating to feel this love again?

In this moment, you wouldnt let yourself dwell on anything.

A ping from a phone set down next to you grabs your attention. Changbins screen lights up with text notification.

“My love,” You call out, catching his attention. “Your friend messaged you about tonight.”

He doesnt hesitate in bounding over to you, settling down next to you, arm resting behind you on the back of the couch. He unlocks his phone, opening the text nodding at it before angling the phone for you to see.

You read it over quickly, before his mother observes “Are you two planning to go out tonight?”

“Just him” You smile at her, but continue explaining as she looks a little irritated with her son. “He’s going to have a drink with his old friends while I take advantage of the jacuzzi tub in his bathroom.”

“She’s been eyeing it for a while now.” He leans over to land a gentle kiss on your temple, a soft smile forms on your face.

“Alright…” She says unsure, but drops it nevertheless.

🌊☀️🌊☀️

They’d been out for a few hours now, going to their favourite club when they were younger. It was a little closer to town, so they had carpooled together. You had waved at them when they left, and he remembers thinking how at ease he would be if this relationship were real.

Now he’s many drinks in, and a few of them are tipsier then others. Him being one of the drunker ones.

“So when are we gonna meet this girlfriend of yours Bin?” His friend remarks, raising his voice to be heard over the loud music playing.

“How bout right now.” He shouts back, struggling to pull out his phone from his back pocket whilst still sitting on it.

“Man it’s 3 in the morning, you think she’s gonna be awake?” His other friend leans closer to him, making sure he doesn’t fall off his chair as he fights his jeans.

“Mhm!” Finally managing to rescue his phone from its compounds he carefully calls your num ber. It only takes a few rings before it connects. He smirks to himself, he knew you’d be awake.

“BABY!” Shouts gleefully into the phone.

An airy chuckle comes through the receiver.

“Yes my love?” Your warm sound already making him feel sleepy.

“Would you be able to pick me up from the club? I don wanna take a taxi.” His words slightly slur, but he fights through the fog of the alcohol. A pout forms on his lips, one he forgets that you can’t see.

“Where are your keys?”

“On my gym bag” He sings, knowing he’s won.

“Do you want me to come get you now?”

“Yesssss pleassssssse” Now there’s no hiding his sleepiness.

“Be there soon.”

“Yay!” Cheering he hangs up, turning to his friends.

“There you go! Now you’ll get to see how beautiful and amazing she is.” Turning serious. “Now none of you go falling for her, she’s taken”

He doesn’t wait for them to respond, instead he clambers to his feet to push his way through the crowd to make it outside. You were coming to get him, he wanted to be there. He was excited to see you again, even though it hadn’t been that long since he left you behind he had already begun to miss you the moment they drove away.

His friends follow him through the mass, making sure he doesn’t stumble too far to hurt himself. Or anyone else for that matter.

His body vibrates in impatience and delight when he sees his car pulling up.

“BABY! You’re here.” He shouts gleefully as he slings himself onto you in a too tight embrace as soon as you step up on the curb. He pulls back just to pout at you and look down at your clothes. “But why do you have to look so cute?”

You had dropped your book and slipped into the closest things you could find, that wasn’t your pjs, which at the time you had grabbed one of his shirt’s and a pair of your jean shorts. Your hair in a messy ponytail tail with your glasses still on your face, you couldn’t help but smile at his cuteness.

Ruffling his hair you coo at him “cmon you drunk, lets get you home.”

“Here, we can help.” Two of his friends attempt to pry him off of you and usher him into the car.

“I want bed and cuddles” he whines as you break contact.

“You know what would get you bed and cuddles faster? If you weren’t so drunk” you laugh at his plight.

“Hi y/n, I’m Wooyoung.” A hand comes out for you to shake. “Sorry for the lousy first meeting.”

“Honestly it’s ok, it’s still nice to meet you Wooyoung”

The gir standing behind himl snubs her nose at you but you pay her no mind as the other two guys come round the car also giving their introductions, to then point out the female and drop her name. You only nod at her.

You hear a scuffle behind you as changbin starts to re-emerge from his seat, trying to make another break for you. The males run round to stop him.

Heels click next to you. Something grateing about the voice makes your skin feel icky. “He let’s you drive his car.”

That was definitely a statement, not a question. But still you felt a tug to answer.

“Sometimes.” You smile watching the men fight, before turning to her “have a good night”

“Changbin! If you want bed and cuddles you need to get into the car.” You tell him sternly.

He gives you a goofy smile before giving a “goodnight guys” and disappearing into the car.

“Have a good night y/n, it was nice meeting you again.”

“You guys as well. Hopefully I’ll see you soon.” A smile once again before climbing into the drivers seat and heading towards the beach house.

🌊☀️🌊☀️

“Remind me not to drink that much again.” Changbin groans, rolling over holding his head in pain.

“I don’t know, you were pretty cute.” You mock contemplation, tapping your chin with your finger in consideration. Sitting on the edge of your shared bed, you’re already dressed and ready for the day. You had graciously let him sleep in a little longer before waking him up.

“I was what?” He shoots you a look from his hiding spot.

“You heard me. If I had known you were like that I would have drank with you guys more often.” The smirk on your face might as well be permanently plastered there. This was something you weren’t going to forget easily.

“What did I do?”

You don’t answer, walking across the room to pick up his phone. You unlock it, clicking on the video that Wooyoung sent him before tossing it onto the bed next to him. He scrambles to reach it, sitting up to watch carefully. Forgetting about the pain he was just in.

“Did I actually demand bed and cuddles from you?”

“The whole drive home.” You laugh evilly, heading out the door. “Now get dressed my love, your mother said brunch is ready.”

You hear a muffled mumble from behind you, but you don’t bother to check on it. You head down for food.

Halfway through food, he gets a call. Quickly leaving to answer it, leaving you and his mother and sister to continue eating and chatting. It doesn’t take him long to return. Hand on your back, but talking to the group.

“Dad wants me to go with him to the office today.” He sighs dejectively. He eyes you meekly, you’re unsure if he’s upset because of the hangover or he wanted to stay with you. You didn’t do much throughout the day anyways. You liked reading while listening to the waves, sometimes zoning out at the view even.

“Oh ok, I’ll stay here and help with the set up for tonight.” You smile up at him. Purposefully setting the question aside for later when it would be just the two of you again.

The at end summer party his family threw every year was tonight. They invited all their friends and their families to it. Changbin mentioned he hated it the most as that’s when his mother would stop her subtle hints at setting him up and blatantly attempt to arrange dates for him. This time thankfully he had you, so he could actually enjoy the night.

“Are you sure?” His puppy dog pout comes back, you can’t help but laugh, reaching up to kiss him ont he cheek in hopes of cheering up.

“I’d love to have her help.” His mother sings from the other side of the table. “We’ll be alright.”

“I can take her shopping later to pick out a dress for tonight!” His sister speaks up.

“Noona, you don’t have to.” He tries to derail.

“Of course I dont, but I want to spend some quality time with my sister-in-law!” She squeaks happily, putting on an overdramatic show just to annoy her brother.

“Upgraded already?” Changbin chimes, giving you a pointed look. “Did you put my family under a spell or something? Why do they love you so much?”

Both of you break into matching smiles. He gives you a quick peck on the lips, before turning to leave the room.

Your smile doesn’t recede when you watch his back as he leaves, turning back to food you find his sister and his mother beaming at you.

Excited giggles and chatter from the other two about the party when they decide to stop staring at you.

🌊☀️🌊☀️

“Are you positive that this is necessary?” You call out from the dressing room.

You had tried on countless dresses, creating your own fashion show when you’d unveil them to her. But each time them seeming not quite right to either of you.

“You can’t wear my brothers shirts forever.” She calls back.

“Says you.” You mumble, still loud enough for her to hear. You can make out her faint laughter through the door.

“Ok, last one then we’ll head home.” You dont react in time to her flinging the bottom of a dress over your door onto your head. You can’t stop yourself from outright laughing at her eagerness.

“Fine.”

Hanging the dress up on the hook you can now take a moment to look at it. A periwinkle empire waist full length dress, full flowy skirt bottom, with a shimmer of silver over the thin strap. Huh, something about this one pulls you in. You don’t realize your staring at it for so long until you hear her ask.

“Is it on?”

“Uh, one more minute.”

You slide the soft over your skin, the complimenting colour to you skin tone giving you a slight glow. Somehow out of the million dress you’ve tried on this one seems to fit perfectly. The zipper glides up, creating a snug but comfortable fit.

“Ready!” You call out.

Stepping out you don’t wait to look at her reaction. Spinning around to look at yourself in the mirror, your eyes widen.

“This one.” You sigh.

“This one.” She smiles at you in the reflection.

🌊☀️🌊☀️

“You look….” He scans the dress, to your hair and makeup. A light glow on your skin, his sister insisted on. Spending the evening getting ready with her allowed you to surprise him with the look for tonight. “...amazing,”

“Thank you. You’re looking very handsome in this look. I think I like it.” You tease, eyeing him up and down dramatically. And he did, the black slacks and white button up loosley buttoned was definitely a good look for him. Slightly snug in all the right places, biceps and thighs to be exact. Both equally impressive.

“Oh we like it hm?” He teases back. Maye you should reevaluate your ‘type’.

“Mm, might need to request we go to parties like this more often.” You laugh at the idea.

“Then lets get this party over with and I’m all yours to stare at.” His chuckle comes out genuine as he grabs your hand and leads you down the stairs.

When entering the party area Wooyoung makes himself known to the two of you. Hurriedly you make your way over, joining the large group there. Introductions of more of their oldtime friends turns to introductions to uncles and aunts and other family friends and at one point you think your head is about to start spinning with how many people you’ve just met in such a short time.

Even then, the smile on your face never wavers. Nor does his.

Eventually you find yourself in a conversation with his dad on the couch with an uncle of his and a family friend. You weren’t a huge fan of heels so you ending up opting to sit down with his father as he continued talking to his friends.

But like the whole trip here, your time without him was short. Your phone vibrates in your hand.

You give him a cheeky smirk before leaning over to tell his father where you were going and excusing yourseslf. You meet eachother at the back door. Heels left behind on the porch, hands intertwined you begin walking down the beach towards the water.

“Couldn’t stay away huh?” You tease, the breeze off the water feeling like bliss through your hair. It was starting to get a little too warm in the crowded house.

“You seemed to be having fun though, talking to other people…” You catch the accusation in his words.

“Jealous of your own dad?” You pry farther.

“Yes. Jealous of anyone who gets to spend time with you.” Once again his infamous pout appears. This pout would be the death of you.

The cutest muscle man you’d ever seen. One you’d been allowed to see close up and personal for what feels like forever but also only a moment in time.

“Confession time” He stills your walk when you reach the waters edge.

“I think I’ve been forgetting that all of this is fake.” He holds up your hands to look at them, and how perfectly they fit together. Slowly he lets go, dropping them and takes a step away.

You take a deep breath, before taking a few steps into the cool night water. Honesty and communication had always been your thing, the two of you. Easy reading others and their needs but also able to talk about what you wanted openly. Maybe that’s what made this work.

“You’re not the only one.” You admit, feeling the water rise and fall with the ebbing tide.

“What do we do?” He whispers, you turn to face him still on the beach. “I don’t know if I can go back….. I don’t want to go back.”

“Then, it sounds like we only have one option.” It all made sense, but then again nothing made sense. You didn’t have to think with Changbin, you just had to be. “We stop lying. Stop pretending. We stop faking.”

He takes hesitant steps into the water. Standing in front of you. “From now on, its real? Every moment, every kiss, every word, every touch. All real?”

Letting his words sink you, you think about what he’s asking.

“It’s already been real for me.”

You see the realization dawn on him. Cups your face and kisses you. Kisses you for all the kisses that contained the lies you told together.

“And I’ll be taking my payment in kisses please.” You manage between an onslaught of kisses and giggles. His arms wrapping around you keeping you close to him, the light in his eyes igniting into something more mischievous.

“I can think of another way for payment if you’ll accept it.”

You pretend to mull it over before hungrily kissing him, your tongue slipping into his mouth. A moan esapes him when you push him further to then pull away.

“From you? Payment accepted.” You give him a peck before pushing against his chest and running up the beach towards the house. Hell catch up quickly, you know that for a fact, but you also know he knows exactly where you’re headed. To his bedroom. The first night of you being together, no longer liars but two people loving eachother.

In the warmth of the truth.

SKZ Masterlist

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hyunjinfanatic · 1 year

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CAN WE JUST TALK ABOUT HOW THERE ARE LIKE NO ENEMIES TO LOVERS FF ABOUT FELIX ON HERE? LIKE IT CAN BE ANY AU AND STILL NO ONE HAS WRITTEN ANYTHING ABOUT HIM. (maybe he is too sweet) BUT LIKE MAYBE FELIX IS Y/N’S BODYGUARD SENT BY HER PARENTS OR MAYBE HE IS SENT TO PROTECT HER BECAUSE SHE IS THE PRINCESS IDK I JUST NEED SOMETHING BECAUSE I LOVE THE IDEA OF Y/N AND FELIX “hating” EACH OTHER WHEN IN REALITY THEY ARE SCARED OF THE CONSEQUINCES OF THEIR FEELINGS??? LIKE OMGG

(also sorry for the caps it sounds like i am yelling i js am very passionate about this trope especially with my bias :)) )

#skz imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #skz fanfic #skz fantasy au #skz felix #lee felix fanfic #felix fanfic #felix fluff #i literally just love this trope that’s why i posted this

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axel-skz · 7 months

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You know what? A heart can only sink and drop so many times in a fic.

Like seriously, it’s sank enough now. The metaphor is deceased.

Stop.

The heart is in his foot, it can sink no more. Beat a different metaphor to death, please?

This is a joke and not aimed at anyone-

#stray kids #skz #love stray kids #stray kids scenarios #reading #fanfics #stories #tropes #metaphor #stop it

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rattrapdadfigure · 2 years

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Okay I hate Disney as much as anyone else but I do love that there’s so much single dad stuff going on. Iron man, Dr. Strange, Thor, etc

As a single dad myself it’s just heartwarming ig 🥰

It’s lovely, and I can relate to/kin them a lot 🥹

#father #parenting #disney #marvel mcu #wholesome #family #familia #stray kids #kids #adopt #found family #representation #subverting #social expectations #masculinity #toxic masculinity #cute #i love it #movie tropes

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luvyeni · 1 year

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—｛🎂｝... LUVYENI'S; MAIN MASTERLIST !

WARNING:: 18+ most of these works are explicit content , if you are under the age of 18 please do not interact with the explicit content , but fluff and angst will be on this account , you may interact with that , but if i find out you're underage interacting with smut , you will be blocked completely from my page.

DISCLAIMER:: ‼this is a work of fiction , all the stories below do not represent the idols in any way.

recent work:: camera ready 00' line series

m= mature s= suggestive f= fluff

—｛🍰｝... STRAY KIDS !

BANG CHAN

curious (m)

fear (m)

LEE KNOW

lonely (m)

listening ft. felix (m)

no permission ft. hyunjin (m)

CHANGBIN

first match (m)

lock you up (m)

let me use you (m)

HYUNJIN

distracted (m)

no permission ft. lee know (m)

forever with you (m)

HAN

audience ft. jeongin (m)

FELIX

dlmlu (m)(a)

1 am (m)

listening ft. leeknow (m)

tensions rising (m)

not together (you're mine) (m)

SEUNGMIN

car picnic (m)

I.N

mini skirt (m)

audience ft. jisung (m)

hands (m)

louder (m)

bad day (m)

OT8

loser has to share (m) (fic)

the condom breaks (m)

not friends but not friends (s)

perv/yandere!skz with 9th member (m)

a court of thorns and roses (series)(m)(a)(f)

sexting with skz (1)(2)

STRAYKIDS HARD THOUGHTS HERE !

—｛🍰｝... ENHYPEN !

JUNGWON

HEESEUNG

campus secrets (f)

girl on the train (m)

make it up to me (m)

JAY

take it slow (m)

another one(m)

forever and always (m)

JAKE

good girl (m)

SUNGHOON

prettiest girl (m)

SUNOO

NI-KI

OT7

type of student they are (f)

not friends but not together (s)

different tropes with enhypen hyung line (m)

sexting with enhypen hyung line (1)(2)(3)

ENHYPEN HARD THOUGHTS HERE !

—｛🍰｝... TOMORROW X TOGETHER !

SOOBIN

all mines (m)

YEONJUN

late night (m)

never again (m)

BEOMGYU

right now (m)

TAEHYUN

study (m)

HUENING KAI

ready for bed

OT5

changing your hairstyle with tubatu (f)

friends leaving you out (a)(f)

member looking at you (a)

teasing them and leaving (m)

free use with with tubatu and 6th member (m)

sexting with tubatu (1)(2)

TUBATU HARD THOUGHTS HERE !

— ｛🍰｝... NCT DREAM !

MARK

nice boy (m)

RENJUN

crazy smile (m)

camera ready ft. 00' line (series)(m)

JENO

mine only (m)

camera ready 00' line (series)(m)

HAECHAN

hands off (f)(s)

one more time (m)

wake up (m)

camera ready ft. 00' line (series)(m)

JAEMIN

sensitive (m)

camera ready ft. 00' line (series)(m)

CHENLE

my bestfriends roommate (m)

interrupted (m)

morning sex (m)

if you love me (m)

this and that ft. jisung (m)

JISUNG

first time (m)

first time pt. 2 (m)

lollipop

just one kiss (m)

date night (m)

alone time (m)

this and that ft. chenle (m)

OT7

backstage (m) (fic)

the condom breaks with nct dream (a)(m)

unplanned pregnancy with nct dream (a)

after the break up with dream (a)(f)

innocent touches (f)

hand jobs with dream (m)

sharing a bed with dream (m)

sexting with nct dream (1)(2)

NCT DREAM HARD THOUGHTS HERE !

—｛🍰｝... NCT 127 !

TAEIL

TAEYONG

JOHNNY

that shirts (m)

wash day (m)

YUTA

whenever he wants (m)

DOYOUNG

on the edge (m)

JAEHYUN

JUNGWOO

OT7

sexting with nct 127 (1)

NCT HARD THOUGHTS HERE !

©️LUVYENI

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taeminsung · 4 months

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♡ ˚⁎⁺˳ ── enchanted..

pairing || minho x reader summary || when a change in his usual routine meant meeting you, minho couldn't help but be enchanted to meet you. genre/s || love trope. fluff. romance. angst. trope || love at first sight masterlist || stray kids as love tropes mina’s notes || sorry for the delay! life was hectic and writers block sucks. please enjoy ♡

Routine was something Minho thrived in. Something about the consistency of his day in the mornings caused the inner calm to be brought to the surface before the hectic schedule of his afternoons and evenings made his peace disappear. It’s why he loved the short walk to the same coffee shop with Seungmin where they ordered their usuals, before heading off to the company building.

Until the day he walked into the café with Seungmin in toe, that his life changed without him knowing it. The sound of an unfamiliar voice filled his ears, what can I get started for you? it asked. So quickly did his attention snap to you, someone new to the place he made a part of his life. When his eyes finally landed on you, your smile took his breath away. It melted away something in his chest that he didn’t know existed. You were like a ray of light in the darkroom that he’d been stuck in for some time. Excuse me? your voice rang out again, softer this time. Seungmin nudged him with a knowing smile before placing their usual order and pulling his older brother away from the forming line.

When schedules pulled them out of their usual routine, Minho couldn’t stop the small frown that kept appearing on his face in between the different activities. Why wouldn’t he stop his mind from drifting back to you? The encounter with you didn’t last more than a few minutes, yet he thought back to your smile and soft voice. The color of your hair and how it framed your face. Minho wanted to know more about you. What were your hobbies? Did you listen to their music? Catching the eyes of Seungmin in the mirror, he only grew more frustrated at himself knowing that once this small break was over, the same conversation with his younger brother would be brought back up.

On the next flight, he couldn’t stop kicking himself once he realized that he never caught your name either. How could something he deemed so small be the only thing that consumed his mind outside of lyrics and choreography? What was it about you that kept him in this state? The lingering questions kept him up. Did you recognize them? Was there someone else in your life that you care for? What else did you do? Minho would ponder these questions while he finally got to lay in his own bed wide awake, cursing himself because he knew that the schedule would continue to take him away from you.

Why wouldn’t he bring himself to stop thinking about you? All he could dream about was showing up at your door, flowers in hand, confessing to you all the thoughts that occupied his mind since that moment he laid eyes on you. Maybe it was for the better, this, longing love for someone he didn’t even know, but that didn’t stop him from imagining what your lives would be like together. Tossing and turning, he pulled out his phone to see their schedule for the next few days, only signing when he realized how much they had going on. What if the small opening at the end of the week allowed him for a fast stop at the café just to see you for a second. Yeah, he was out of his mind.

Opening the door, the next morning, he felt the bubble in his chest seconds before your voice rang out into the quiet space. He knew it was early when he dragged Seungmin out the door, but he didn’t want to miss the chance to see you. You should ask for their name, Seungmin had suggested on the walkover. When Minho saw the same smile as before etched on your face as you greeted them asking again what you could get started, he melted a little bit. Without answering your question he instead replied with, What’s your name?, leaving Seungmin to scoff in disbelief. The soft giggle you let leave your lips made Minho’s knees grow weak as you answered, y/n, bowing slightly to him.

While Minho monitored the member's dance practice, he couldn’t focus as all that possessed his mind was you. y/n he thought. A pretty name to match the pretty face. He was going crazy. His mind wouldn’t let him do anything besides daydreaming about what a future with you looks like. Yet, he knew that Chan was about three seconds away from smacking him or kicking him out of practice until he could be fully invested. Why did you have this effect on him?

Minho’s new routine was getting to the café a little earlier than he did before to ask you one new question a day as a way to get to know you. It was obvious to everyone that he was putty in your hands while you pondered his questions every day, indulging him in making sure that no answer was a one-word answer even though you could have easily replied that way. Was this feeling mutual? What was he feeling? When you smiled at him, all he wanted to do was gift you the world. When you giggled at something he said, all he wanted to do was kiss you.

When an off day finally arrived, Minho followed his usual schedule of going to the café to see you, only to find that you weren’t there, which was the first time since he’d met you that you were there. You had become such a constant part of his days that it felt like everything in this day would go wrong. Making it back to the dorm, he watched as the others shuffled around, filling a picnic basket with food and collecting blankets. We wanted to hang out by the river today, Felix said as he ushered Minho back out the door. The other members are going to meet us there, Felix happily provided more information as he continued to push Minho down the street.

As they approached, Minho couldn’t help but think this would be a great place to take you on dates. Lounging with you, head cuddled into his lap while he plays with your hair, enjoying the weather and the company of each other. So badly did he realize that if he wanted all of these moments, he kept dreaming to come true, he needed to find time to confess to you.

A soft giggle floated across the open space between the rest of the boys and him, bringing his attention back from his daydreams to, well you who was sitting with Seungmin. His feet stopped working as he stared at you. The way you seemed to be glowing under the sun as your laugh caused your eyes to close while you tipped your head back. Gods you were breathtaking. An angel on this earth was placed into his life to bring joy back into it. Seungmin invited them, Hyunjin said as he appeared out of nowhere to grab a few things from Felix. Said something about not wanting to get up so early anymore. Felix just laughed as he continued walking past the stunned Minho. Truly he didn’t know if he wanted to smack his younger member or thank him a million times over again for this.

Then your smile turned towards him as you waved over his way, causing his feet to move without thinking about it. His hand extending down to you before asking, walk with me for a minute? A shy smile pulled at his lips when your hand slipped into his and didn’t let go once you were standing and walking with him. Hope bloomed in his chest that maybe, just maybe, you felt the same way too. Stopping near the edge of the river, he finally turned to face you. The person he was so madly head over heels for. I’m glad Seungmin invited me out, you said looking out over the water, I haven’t made a lot of friends since moving here, so it feels nice to be included. Oh, how his heart ached. He couldn’t understand how someone like you hadn’t made friends yet, but he was practically glad for this little selfish moment of getting you.

I’m more than happy you could come, Minho started, pausing when you looked at him, a smile spread on your face. He felt weak in the knees just looking at you. How had you already made him this crazy over you when he hadn’t even confessed yet. I like you, he blurted out, I have since the moment I met you.

It felt like he no longer had control of his tongue or thoughts. The first day we went into the café, I was so enchanted by you. You are all I can think about in every moment. The words kept coming out of him with no sign of slowing down. Only becoming easier when the look in your eyes seemed to encourage him to continue. I just kept hoping that our story didn’t end there, Minho said before whispering, I just hope you feel the same. Slowly your fingers laced with his, tugging him slightly close to where you stood. I was over the moon when Seungmin invited me because it meant I got to spend time with you outside of the café, you said quietly, I’ve liked you since the moment you walked through the café doors.

The hope that was blooming in his chest burst, forcing him to smile while ducking his head. There it was. The words he so desperately wanted to hear. You like him, he thought before looking back to your face and gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Can I kiss you?

from mina with love ♡ ˚⁎⁺˳ ── thank you for reading! ♡ tag list || @orchid-mantis-petals; @i-dontevenknowman; @deadcrow-donteat; @turtledove824; @hhwangsmoon; @kidrauhlschik; @jazziwritesthings

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silkscream · 1 year

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angel unaware

ꨄ︎ pairing: peter parker x silk!reader

ꨄ︎ synopsis: you’ve known peter since you were fifteen, shortly after you were both bitten by the same spider. it was too obvious that you’d end up loving him. as you drift apart during your first year of college, you’re not sure how much longer you can keep dancing in circles with him.

ꨄ︎ genres: best friends to lovers, angst, idiots in love, slowburn, mutual pining, hurt/comfort

ꨄ︎ tags: rated explicit/18+ (smut), alcohol usage, mention of drug usage, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), characters are 19, mild violence, gun violence (there is a school shooting in the beginning but there aren't too many details)

ꨄ︎ wc: 13.8k

ꨄ︎ notes: omg. happy valentine’s day y’all. i’ve been working on this Big Bertha for literal MONTHS and i’m so happy to finish it and share it with you. thank you for being around even though i haven’t been the most active; this is a gift to you <3

ꨄ︎ listen to the playlist!

The spider bit you first.

It isn’t until you’re fifteen that someone else finds out about it.

In many ways, you should’ve known. The symptoms, the hypervigilance, the strange, gradual transition of filling out your body. You blame puberty first, but this feels more than abnormal. It's almost as if it's bursting through your skin. The only other person who seems to mirror your coming of age is Peter Parker, whose twitchy nature exacerbates the longer high school goes on.

You keep your head low because there’s no reason for you to tell anyone about your powers. Not even the boy about whom you’re positive shares the same curse as you.

But then the videos come out. Red and blue lycra flying through buildings, a blurred figure saving cats from trees, webs shooting and swaying as onlookers stare like it’s a circus act. He calls himself Spider-man and you think it’s awfully corny.

You’d be a fool to think that you were safe from the antics of Avengers propaganda, rubble, and ash blocking your way to school on more days than not. You’d be a fool to think that you could evade the classic tropes of American violence that force the president to lament about "unthinkable tragedies" multiple times a year. At this moment, you’re a fool for getting yourself locked in a janitor’s closet while there’s an active shooter at Midtown High.

Your breath hitches when the doorknob jangles in front of you. On instinct, you stick yourself to the ceiling, far in the corner with your senses on fire. You’ve never actually had to attack anyone before. You aren’t entirely sure how this would play out with a gun involved.

Peter Parker’s labored breaths fill your eardrums, and without thinking, you shoot your webs directly at him. He stumbles, clumsily tripping over an empty mop bucket. He looks up at you in confusion. He’s wearing half of his suit.

"You. You just–"

"Shut the fuck up," you hiss, covering his mouth with your palm. In the darkness, your eyes widen. Someone is near.

It’s a stupid ordeal. The crime happening, this meet-cute, the way your senses feel haywire being this close to him. Both of you are holding your breath, your heart is pounding erratically in your chest, and blood is rushing through your ears.

The day ends with you and Peter making it out of the closet through a vent and the shooter getting subdued by the police. A troubled sophomore who barely knew how to use the gun in the first place made it easy for Spider-man to intercept the weapon the moment the kid raised his arms.

Peter follows you home that afternoon like a stray cat, babbling over a game of twenty questions that you aren’t in the mood to entertain. Somehow, his presence leaves your chest feeling warm and light, and you realize that you don’t mind the company. Twenty questions become routine.

He’s the only one who gets it, of course.

He tells you about the Avengers, ignoring the way you scoff under your breath. Secretly, you’re only a little jealous. Not because you want that kind of prestige or even a fancy suit, but because at least there’s a group of freaks out there who know. "How come you didn’t tell me?" Peter asks you. He looks small on your couch despite his sixteen-year-old sleeper build and the fact that he’s taking up more than half of your space.

"What do you mean?"

"If you knew about Spider-Man this whole time… why didn’t you say something?"

"What, like I was supposed to seek you out on the street with a mask on?"

He gives you a pointed look. "You had a feeling about me. In school. Didn’t you?"

You don’t answer, which, to Peter, is an answer in itself.

"I didn’t want to be any trouble. It’s my burden to deal with," you say slowly, blinking up at him.

Burden. Peter smooths the word over in his mind and watches the way your nimble fingers pick at the threads of your sweater. He suddenly feels guilty for pestering you with questions, especially after the trauma of today.

"It’s not a burden," he says carefully. You don’t protest, but he knows there’s a certain level of repression inside you that won't let you give this part of yourself up. As if his knowing about your powers would only be that — knowing. He keeps staring at your fingers.

"You don’t have web shooters?" He gestures to your hands.

"Comes from my fingertips."

"No fucking way. You gotta show me."

"You saw it today," you chuckle as you take a breath.

"Not really," he pouts. The amber-brown of his eyes is annoyingly irresistible, and you know it because of how hot the back of your neck suddenly feels. There’s a hint of a taunting smile on his face, as if he knows.

You take him to the fire escape outside your bedroom window. It’s barely past five and it’s already gotten dark. Luckily, your bedroom faces an empty alley.

"I’m not some circus act, just so you know," you warn him.

"Please," he tuts. "If anything, we both are. Two arachno-freaks."

"You should rebrand as that," you say with a grin.

You shoot a web to the fire escape railing above you, holding yourself up and swinging like you're in P.E. climbing a rope. You feel ridiculous, to say the least. You quickly shoot more webs after a quick scan of your surroundings to swaddle yourself in something resembling a cocoon. It hangs like a playground swing from the metal above.

"Holy shit! Does it ever… run out? Do you get web blocks? Does it come out of anywhere else–"

"I’m not answering that." Your cheeks heat up at the insinuation.

"Sorry, just curious." He holds his palms up in defense, then reaches to touch a fingertip to the silk holding you together. It feels soft like cotton candy and is much less sticky than what came out of his web shooters.

He asks you to swing with him, and for some reason, you say yes. You don’t like to swing very much, and if you do, you try to look for construction sites or abandoned scaffolding to evade attention. Tonight, however, the New York City lights look warm against the velvety backdrop of the sky, and you decide that flying through the air with someone else feels better than doing it alone.

____

He doesn’t understand your desire to stay under the radar. Whenever he brings it up, you take the opportunity to bring up the New York City disasters that have gone underway before the two of you even graduate. If anything, you’ve been a decent backup, but you refuse to be in the public eye. You don’t want to be Spider-girl.

But you don’t mind swinging around the city in your handmade suit, spun and woven together with the silk that flows straight from your fingertips. It’s one thing that Peter’s jealous of, but it helps him when he needs to patch up a wound when he’s on the go with you.

Peter comes through your window with a red gash on his thigh. You can smell him before you see him.

"Ugh, you broke the streak. Five days without a scratch. That’s a record for you, Parker," you sigh, already rummaging through your drawers for the usual first-aid kit.

"I’m fine." He winces as he crouches down carefully on the floor. You’ve gotten good at minding your business and not asking about his wounds, at least not ones that aren’t too deep into the flesh. He knows it would only hurt you if you knew.

"And yet you’re here."

"I wanted to see you. You know I always want to see you."

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. You kneel before him, pouring hydrogen peroxide onto the gash as you dab gently with a hand towel. He hisses and grabs your forearm with more force than he intends to.

"You’ll be fine," you reassure him gently.

"Yeah. I could've done it, you know," he says as he carefully holds your gaze.

"‘S’fun sometimes," you reply without looking at him. Carefully, you wrap gauze around his leg. "When I was little, my neighbor and I used to play House, but it always turned into, like… Hospital. And I’d pretend to be a nurse and take care of her, I’d tuck her into bed, and I’d give her lollipops from my Halloween stash for being a good patient."

Peter chuckles. He wobbles slightly as he stands up with your help.

"Am I a good patient?"

"Mm. A very brave boy," you say as you pat his cheek.

"What, I don’t get a treat?"

"Your treat is staying alive." You take him by the wrist towards your living room couch.

He doesn’t know what he’d do without you. It’s not right for him to think of you as an extension of himself, but he often yearns for your presence like a phantom limb whenever you aren’t on patrol with him. He realizes you're the yin to his yang.

It excites him, the images of you two that end up on the Internet. How good you look together. You, on the other hand, dread any semblance of perception by the world.

"People are catching on, you know. Ned found a subreddit on you the other day," Peter murmurs into your lap.

You snort, rolling your eyes the way you always do. You fiddle with the soft strands of his hair. It’s second nature to you. "Ned needs to reduce his screen time tenfold."

"Rabbit."

You sigh dramatically at the nickname. He’d adopted it after the many jumpscares he’d give you when he’d sneak into your room at night. You’d become so accustomed to him that your spider-sense would dull when it came to Peter. He was your source of comfort.

"What, Pete?"

"Why don’t you patrol with me?"

"You know why." It’s too stressful. Too public. Too many run-ins with death that you can anticipate.

"It’s better when you’re around."

"You’re a big boy, Peter," you murmur. Your hand slides across his scalp again, this time with your fingertips settling in the space behind his ears. You aren’t looking at him; instead, you are watching the documentary on the television at a low volume. He crumples at your touch.

"May says you’re my guardian angel. Every time something really bad has happened, it always worked out because you were there."

"I mean, it probably helps when you have another Spider-person as a backup."

"I think she’s right, though."

You don’t say anything. You’re tempted to reply with something sardonic or self-deprecating. You put too much faith in me. But you can’t – he’s looking at you with something that you can’t fathom. Something earnest and entirely too fragile. You have to look away.

He hums, sighing into a tattered copy of Hamlet. "I can’t deal with any more Shakespeare."

"You’re such a slow reader despite being a goddamn genius."

"Did you just say something nice about me?" Peter raises a brow.

"Oh my God, relax, Big Bang Theory."

He scoffs and swallows down a smart-ass remark. A grin lingers in his mouth as he settles back into the book.

____

You’re apart from Peter for the first time since age sixteen. You don’t tell him – you don’t tell anyone – but you decide on an out-of-state university because you don’t want to feel tethered to him. Your friends consider you and Peter a package deal, and yes, he’s probably the first real best friend you’ve ever had, but the gnawing inside of you telling you that distance is needed doesn’t stop.

You, the black sheep, are the antithesis of your hero of a best friend, despite being bitten by the same spider. You’ve always wondered if your story was supposed to play out like some sort of Shakespearean tragedy because of your bond with Peter, so you decide to take your mind off of it. At least it won’t be as painful as severing it completely.

It feels free to be away from all the chaos. In Rhode Island, you can focus on your art and fold your feelings away in a neat little envelope. You’d rather die than let any of that out, especially when Peter insists on such frequent FaceTime calls.

Sometimes, you fall asleep to the sound of his voice. He tells you about taking a train down to Providence in the middle of September to visit you like some kind of long distance boyfriend. The thought makes something in your stomach bloom and stagger in the same way. He doesn’t keep his promise – chem labs are already kicking his ass halfway to Thanksgiving break, not to mention the crime rate in New York City rockets beyond normal.

Thanksgiving comes, and both of you are the same. Peter is exactly as boyish as you left him three months ago, though his brown hair has grown longer and he wears blue-light readers to help with the mild headaches he gets from staring at screens.

He isn't attached to your hip like you expected. Your week off is filled with missed texts and a marathon of TV shows about broken women—the kind with dark humor and falling in love with priests.

The next time you see him, your roommate is out of town. It's not an unusual occurrence given how little she spends time in the dorm, always elsewhere with her new boyfriend.

Peter takes up so much space in your bed that you almost offer to push the two twin beds together, but the feeling of his warmth is too comforting. Propped against the wall, you’re hip-to-hip with him as you scroll through Netflix on your laptop.

You can feel him staring. It becomes routine, or maybe it’s your senses, but you can always tell when he’s merely observing you, watching you carefully like ripples on a pond. You've never really chastised him about it, but it doesn't help that you know he can tell when you're nervous. He has you memorized.

He likes the way you look when you concentrate. Sometimes, when you’re deep in thought, he likes to take his thumb and smooth out the ridges of your furrowed brows even though you end up swatting him away. When he does this now, you look up at him with wide, doe eyes.

"Still as indecisive as ever."

"I have to be, otherwise you’ll just put on Gilmore Girls," you scoff.

"You’re the one who showed me that!" Peter protests.

"And then it was the only thing you wanted to watch to the point where I genuinely considered locking you out of my Netflix account!"

He doesn’t bother to argue, instead resorting to poking you in the side. You squirm immediately, yelping as he continues. He flashes you a leering grin as you whine in dissent, flinching from the feather-like touch of his fingertips dancing across your skin.

"You’re so annoying," you huff, curling your body toward the wall.

"And you love it."

More than you’d ever know.

You pause, rolling your eyes at him. You contemplate kicking him again just to get a rise out of him, anything other than the short silence between you that feels more present than it should be. Your stomach feels warm at his proximity, but then again, Peter’s built like a human furnace anyway.

When you attempt to playfully shove him, he catches your wrist with quick reflexes until the two of you are tangled together. It’s easy to fight with him when you’re both running off the same biological fuel. When he ends up on top of you, you forget how to breathe.

The two of you stare at each other like this, as if frozen in time. It’s you who looks away first, then back to his big brown eyes, settling a palm to his cheek. You can feel how hard he is. You wonder if he knows.

It’s something you’ve only thought about in your subconscious, in dreams, or in moments when you’re bandaging his wounds. How would it feel to have his skin all over yours? It’s a selfish thought, but it rings in your brain without warning at times like these, times of such closeness. The spider bit the two of you for a reason. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

It’s a curious thing for sure, but there are doors you don’t want to open yet.

"One episode and then I pick a movie," you mumble.

____

You don’t tell him about transferring when you come back for Christmas break. It feels embarrassing, despite knowing that he’d be ecstatic about the news. RISD proved to be too difficult for your one-track mind as you found yourself sleeping in more and more, flaking on the most rigorous of classes due to your mood. You’d successfully gotten into Pratt for the next semester and were fully moved out, thankfully. But when you see Peter in the arms of another, you wish you hadn't left.

You should’ve expected it, maybe. Peter had always had a thing for Michelle Jones but could never quite get past the friend zone. It seems as though your absence has nudged him further.

No, that feels too selfish to say.

But it’s still too difficult to bear in the loneliness of December, knowing that when the New Year’s parties hit, you’re still the black sheep. Even in a shiny little dress.

You don’t see him much over winter break, but he gets you a silver necklace for Christmas with a spider pendant hanging on it. It’s more sentimental than you expect, and it’s the nicest gift you’ve ever received. It certainly beats the Lego set you’d gotten for him.

Now, in your black cocktail dress, you smile dopily at Ned Leeds as the rest of the room counts down at the television, waiting for the ball to drop. It’s bittersweet when you remember last year’s countdown, in which Peter insisted the two of you swung out to Manhattan to watch the ball drop in person. You remember how much you wanted to kiss him then, but you didn’t. Thank God for his hero's anonymity and the impediment of his suit.

"Five, four, three, two, one – Happy New Year!"

Makeshift confetti falls to the ground as you watch him and MJ kiss. There’s enough champagne in your system for your heart to grow warm at the sight of it.

____

January is cold. Desolate. Even if you have your friends around you in New York, the place that feels most like home, you’ve come to realize. But there’s still something missing, something lacking. Like you’re inside a familiar place inside a dream.

You ignore the itch, learning to numb it with champagne. It worked on New Year’s, and now it’s been working for several weeks. You don’t leave your apartment.

Even though Peter Parker is a text or phone call away, you fade into the background of his life, watching him through newsreels and YouTube videos. You’re on his mind more than you’d expect. He doesn’t know why, though he does realize that your absence bothers him in small ways.

Sometimes, when he’s on patrol, he’s frustrated by his loneliness, especially in the dead of winter. You were never one to play the hero – he knew that – but it was still comforting to have someone to patch up his wounds or soften his fall. The webs that flow from your fingertips have always been strong, enough to form hammocks in between the corners of his bedroom or a makeshift suit.

And then there are the dreams. They feel real, vivid, and much too physical for something that his mind could conjure in his unconscious. You had only kissed him once before (in real life, that is), at a stupid basement party in the ninth grade, before the two of you were friends, but shortly after the initial spider bite. Although it’s something that’s only been brought up as a joke these past few years, Peter remembers vividly how hard his heart was pounding when the glass bottle landed on you after what felt like an excruciatingly long spin. He could never forget the feeling. He wonders if you feel the same.

It’s not something he should be thinking about right now. Especially when you’re not his girlfriend. He’d rather die a thousand deaths than have you know what you do to him in his dreams when you’re nothing but a reverie of your own silk-spun webs and soft, bare skin. You treat him like prey. He loves it.

Peter can nearly smell you, that sandalwood-citrus shampoo of yours, and your warm breath over his face. Your little whispers of praise, your tiny whimpers. The image of your eyes struggling to stay open while you’re underneath him is burned into his brain.

"I missed you," you say breathlessly. "Missed you so much."

God, how is this a dream? He can feel you so clearly. Until he doesn't, and he wakes up with a groan, an exhale, and an excess of sweat on his brow. Not to mention a dampness below him.

"Fucking Christ," he curses under his breath.

The ghost of you is on his bedroom ceiling, in the corner of his room. Something nearby smells like you, even though you haven’t been in his room in ages. This makes something in his chest hurt until he decides to get out of bed.

He wants to see you, but he feels guilty knowing what he's just dreamt about. He can’t help that the person that makes him feel the most human is the only other one who shares the venom in his blood.

Sometimes he follows you. It feels almost meditative for him to sit on a rooftop and watch you from the window of your favorite cafe, reading and writing and breathing. The brightness of his phone screen illuminates his face as his eyes scan over your contact. Your face smiles back at him, but there’s a distance considering the lack of texts between the two of you over the past month. He sighs as he zooms in on your location – the two of you had shared each others’ years ago and only found it convenient to keep.

Peter doesn’t know why he’s feeling all this yearning all of a sudden – sometimes he recognizes the feeling in his body and he thinks of you and he thinks of safety. Other times, like now, he knows that it only breeds guilt.

But he misses being quiet with you, misses the mundane intimacies of him poking you and you fixing his hair. All the small expressions you make with your face that only he notices. There’s something empty in the space he usually holds for you in his heart, and he doesn’t know why.

He has to see you. Maybe then, something in his brain will click, or he’ll see you as the old friend you’ve always been, and he can blame the heat in his body on his subconscious.

You’re predictable with your routine, because this afternoon, he finds you in your usual spot by the window at your favorite cafe again. You’re writing in your journal with your noise-canceling headphones on, so Peter’s presence is completely unknown to you. After he gets his coffee, he watches you from afar, just for a little bit.

As if on cue, you already know. The moment you skip a song and a millisecond of silence fills the space in your head, you feel him immediately. You always know when he’s around.

"Peter," you murmur without thinking. Your gaze is soft but carries the surprise of a deer caught in headlights.

"Hey," he smiles. "Mind if I sit here?"

He gestures to the armchair across from you, and you nod.

Peter knows how to coax your warmth from you, because within minutes, he has you talking about school, what’s on your mind, and why it feels better to be holed up in a cafe than sit miserably at home. You do the same for him, though you notice he’s more reserved for some reason – he’s tight-lipped about MJ, and doesn’t delve into the details of his hero work. He prefers to bombard you with questions instead, listening intently to your most recent fixations or the newest movie you saw alone in theaters.

"You replaced me yet, Rabbit?" he teases you.

"Never," you scoff, tipping your coffee cup to hide any embarrassment on your face. You haven’t heard him call you that in so long. "You know me. I’m a lone wolf."

"Pratt seems like your crowd though, no? No one at Midtown High was a match for you. You were way too cool."

"Mmm, true, yet you’re my best friend."

"Hey!"

Your laugh is like a song to him; he can’t help but smile ear to ear when he hears it.

"The only person who talks to me at school is this guy Cam from my ceramics class. He’s actually from Brooklyn so we took the train together to get home and he’s around for break, which is cool."

Peter’s face nearly goes cold at the sound of someone else’s name, though he stays composed.

"Fun. Are you two…" He gestures vaguely.

"We hooked up like, once, but I don’t really know where it’s going." You say it so nonchalantly like it’s an afterthought. You’re not even looking at Peter.

"If he fucks anything up, you know where to find me."

You smile, rolling your eyes in that bashful way you do when you shrug things off, and it’s more apparent to Peter now how much he adores all your little quirks and mannerisms. He realizes that he might have them all memorized.

"We’re actually going to a party tonight if you want to come. A friend of a friend’s birthday party in Manhattan, I think? I think her name was Anna?"

"Oh, my friend Gwen knows her and invited me!"

"Small world." You swallow down the image of Peter at the party with an ESU girl for a second, and it feels rough in your throat. But you’ll manage. You always do. "Is MJ coming?"

Peter shakes his head. "Ah, she’s in Philly visiting family. I’ll probably go with Gwen and her boyfriend Harry, though."

You feel shame in your relief. It’s sickening how much you have to bury your desire and your tenderness because you know better. You know that even though the two of you were bitten by the same spider, it doesn’t mean you’re necessarily compatible. Sometimes you think your attraction to Peter is some biological fluke determined by the cells in both of your bodies. And then you think, God, how can anyone look into his brown eyes and not feel a thing?

You're both warm in your chests as you part ways, waiting for your next meeting.

____

The night of the party, Peter revels in the sight of you wearing your spider necklace, which sparkles under the flashing lights of the penthouse apartment you’re both in. His mood dampens when he notices the tall boy attached to your hip like a guard dog.

It’s a stupid game and he knows it. The way he pretends not to see you or acknowledge your presence is cruel, but it feels safe for now. He doesn’t feel ready. He’s high off some gummy that Harry had given him an hour earlier, and it’s still fogging his senses, and even though he can be cloudy and nonchalant at this party, his paranoia precedes him. It feels like you’re everywhere.

He shouldn’t feel this way. Why does he feel this way? You’re his best friend and you have your own life that’s separate from his – he knew this would happen the moment he found out you were going to different colleges. Despite that, there’s a piece of you tethered to him that he can’t bear to cut off. It makes him feel sane, the parts of you that you’ve given him.

But now, he sees you laughing and swaying your hips with someone else’s hands resting on your waist and it makes his face burn.

"Dude," Gwen snaps her fingers in front of his face. Peter blinks back at her. "Are you good?"

"Yeah, sorry."

"Harry wanted to do a shot, you want to join?"

Peter nods numbly, following the blonde to the kitchen. He watches everyone else in the kitchen pour shots and drinks like they are rehearsed marionettes. Harry snaps him out of his daze once he slams down a shot glass full of vodka in front of him.

"Drink up, Parker!" Harry cheers.

The alcohol burns Peter’s throat, but he feels the head rush and the warmth. It feels good, makes him feel looser. Malleable. Invincible, maybe, if he took two or three more. But he knows he has to pace himself. He hates that his default setting is to look for you no matter where he is. But when he scans the room this time, you’re downing a glass of champagne alone.

Your body feels heavy at the moment, so you don’t register him plopping down on the couch next to you. You wake up to the sound of his voice as you always do.

"Hey, you."

"Hey."

Your glass of champagne is empty, so you take the beer bottle out of Peter’s hand without saying a word, and he lets you. He watches you gulp a bit of it down. Maybe you’re a little too drunk. Maybe you’re imagining the way his eyes scan your body.

You’re drunk enough to feel social, but truthfully, you’re deathly afraid of being alone with anyone right now. Being alone with someone would make you feel much too raw and vulnerable, so you convince Peter to introduce you to his friends that you’ve never met, and you try to cope with the fact that they look like they were cut straight out of a magazine.

"Peter talks about you all the time," Gwen gushes, sipping from her champagne flute.

"He does?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course," she nods incessantly.

"Only incredible reviews all around," Harry nods, drunkenly slinging an arm around Peter’s shoulders. The brunette smiles sheepishly, bashfully. You raise an eyebrow at him along with a coy smile.

"Should hope so," you tease. "He wouldn’t have gotten through high school without me."

It’s mostly a lie considering Peter was the star student and you were barely second to him. Maybe fifth or sixth. In a way, your words are true, because Peter’s agreeing with you.

You zone out as he starts a story from junior year and you have half the mind to chime in when needed. Harry suddenly puts a whisky coke in your hand and you don’t want to refuse out of politeness, but you know the mix of different alcohol will have your head banging in the morning. Peter downs half of his within a millisecond.

"What?" he asks when he notices you making a face.

"Since when do you drink so much?"

"It’s a party," he shrugs.

"Peter, when I brought you to your first party, you refused to drink anything that wasn’t a fruity canned cocktail. You won’t go near wine let alone whiskey."

"A semester at ESU changes you," Harry interjects. "He’s still a little fruity, though."

Peter chastises him as you and Gwen laugh. As the boys bicker, Gwen gets your attention. She asks you mundane questions, like your major, your zodiac sign, and what you thought of the season finale of White Lotus. You’re grateful when she beckons you to follow her to the kitchen to make another whiskey coke.

Her glossed lips twist to the side, eyes bright with a teasing glance. She has the ability to make you feel calm, almost excited to be there.

"He is obsessed with you," she sneers.

"What do you mean?"

"He just talked about you so much when we met him that I had to stalk your Insta, and I was like Jesus Christ, that makes so much sense. If I wasn’t with Harry I’d snatch you up myself. And then when I met his girlfriend and I was confused that it wasn’t you. Unless you’re doing that, like, exes-that-are-still-best-friends thing."

You blush and nearly choke on your drink. "Peter and I never dated."

"Seriously?"

You say nothing, only forcing an amused smile. You don’t know where to put her assumptions, but you sure as hell can’t keep them.

"I’m actually, uh, here with someone," you mutter, pretending to look around. Briefly, you lock eyes with Peter on the couch, who’s pretending to listen to Harry's rambling. Your eyes flit away quickly. "I think I might step outside for a smoke and look for him."

You don’t have to turn around to know that Peter’s eyes are following you. Or maybe you’re just drunk and projecting. Gwen’s bubbly nature makes her seem like the type to gossip, and just because your best friend happened to talk about you doesn’t mean that there was anything under the surface. But then you notice his slightly nervous energy tonight, the silver necklace around your neck, and the last time he visited you months before, when his body was so close to yours.

A pair of hands situate themselves on your waist and it makes you jump. The warmth feels different, as does the sudden smell of sharp cologne, and then you feel your heart drop the slightest bit when you hear his voice.

"Was looking for you," Cam slurs. You can smell the beer breath as he exhales on your neck, making you shiver.

"You sure? Because you’ve been MIA for like forty-five minutes."

You try to keep your voice even, sighing when he plants a kiss on your neck. Any animosity in your tone is completely ignored.

"I was catching up with some people that I wanted to introduce you to," he says, tugging you along by the wrist like a child. You pull up a chair to a firepit surrounded by a group of strangers, and the charade of icebreakers returns. There’s no point in remembering anyone’s name.

You think about returning inside to look for Peter or maybe Gwen and Harry, but being on Cam’s lap is distracting you. At some point, a joint a passed around, and the feeling of the boy’s arms around you makes it easy to melt into nothing.

____

You’re right. You always are. Peter Parker doesn’t drink, and he’s never drunk this much in his entire life. He’s been sitting in the bathtub for… how long? He doesn’t know. All he knows is that his senses were dulled to the point of detachment and he needed to get alone to ground himself.

He’s so out of it that he doesn’t realize someone’s knocking on the door of the bathroom, and his reaction time is too slow before Harry barges in.

"Are you hiding in the bathtub?" Harry squints.

"No, I’m just… hangin’ out," Peter stammers.

Harry snaps out of the facade of a confused daze and shrugs, unbuckling his belt with nonchalance in front of the toilet.

"Dude!"

"What? I’m turned around!"

Sighing, Peter looks around his surroundings. Generic brand shampoo and conditioner. A deformed bar of soap. A red solo cup with clear liquid. He remembers suddenly – he’d filled an empty cup he found with sink water before getting in the tub.

His brain swims with dizziness and mild nausea that mix up his stomach. Gulping down the water, his throat burns immediately, only to realize that it isn’t water at all. It’s fucking vodka and seltzer. Harry’s turned around again, cackling before washing his hands.

"Idiot."

"Fuckingshitjesusfuckingchrist," Peter groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You should just drink straight vodka at this point, man."

"Oh, I do," Harry agrees. He crouches down, squatting to meet Peter at eye level. A warm palm taps Peter’s cheek. "You good, bro?"

"Mmm," Peter nods. His breathing turns shallow as he hunches over, pulling his knees into his chest.

"Jesus, you need to get home, don’t you?"

"‘m fine. You go home."

"Gwen’s been nagging me to for the past ten minutes, so I might. I’d let you crash on the couch, but we’re getting up early to go upstate. How are you getting home, bro?"

Harry frowns when he realizes Peter is barely listening. "Pete!"

He grimaces at Harry’s constant fidgeting. With an annoyed sigh, he shoos the other boy away with flailing arms.

"Heard you," he slurs. "I’ll– I’ll share an Uber with Y/N."

Harry sighs with exasperation, pulling Peter’s arm forcefully to get him out of the tub and down to the living room of the house. Peter is dizzy in his vision, clumsy in his movements, but finds clarity when he glances towards the couch and sees you sitting there with furrowed brows.

"Peter? Are you okay?" you ask.

"Yeah, absolutely not," Harry says. "Gwen and I gotta head home and we’re leaving early tomorrow so he can’t crash. You guys are like, neighbors, right?"

You swallow a lump in your throat, briefly turning your head to glance back at Cam, then back at Peter. He looks at you with a guilty cadence, though his eyes lull with a tiredness that is unusual for him. He’s corpse-like, still hanging onto Harry’s shoulder like a lifeline. It makes the pit of your stomach stir.

It’s unlike him, to be this drunk. The only other time Peter has been this drunk was once in high school, when he was slurring his words all night and determined to clutch you like a teddy bear in his twin-sized bed. You recall his warmth and how his post-puberty figure appeared gargantuan to your body. Foreign, but warm. Comforting. When you think about taking Peter home tonight, you feel like you aren’t allowed to lay next to a body that doesn’t belong to you.

"Yeah, I’ll take him home."

____

"Coulda swung home myself," the boy mumbles. You hit him on the arm and give him a chastising look. Thankfully, your current Uber driver speaks a limited amount of English, not to mention the radio is on blast.

"You couldn’t have. You’re so fucking drunk, you’d kill yourself," you hiss in a low tone.

"Not if you were with me."

"Well, I wouldn’t be. I wasn’t even gonna go home tonight."

"Ah. Of course. Cam,” he exasperates. “Is he your boyfriend?"

You sigh. "No, he’s not."

"Right, you don’t… you don’t do boyfriends," Peter murmurs, rubbing his face with the palm of his hand.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

The car stops in front of Peter’s apartment building.

"Thank you," you say stiffly to the Uber driver as you drag Peter out of the car. The elevator ride is awkward and quiet, as is the fumbling of keys when Peter tries to unlock the door.

He leans on your body as you coerce him into his bedroom, with him thumping onto his bottom bunk.

"Jesus. I feel like if Richie Rich called you an Uber himself you could’ve easily made it up the elevator by yourself. Right, Pete?"

"Mhmm. He’s such. A worry wart. For some rea–" Peter makes a gulping sound that makes your face pale. Immediately, you grab his trash bin and place it between his feet.

"‘m not gonna puke."

"I think you might, Peter."

He pauses and examines you as you kneel in front of him. He’s so drunk, so awfully drunk, but he has enough sense in him to take the caution that the anxious voice in the back of his head commands. But fuck, you look so pretty. He doesn’t know what to do about it.

Peter takes a strand of your hair in his hands and curls it around his finger. His shallow breaths feel louder than they should be. Or maybe they’re yours. He can’t really tell.

"What?"

"Nothing," he shrugs. "I won’t vomit. I promise."

You sigh.

"I should get going–"

"Can you stay for a little?"

Swallowing, you nod. You get into bed with him, because, quite frankly, you’ve had your fair share of alcohol tonight, and laying down in Peter’s warm bed makes you want to melt off the bone.

"I'm sorry for fucking up your night." Peter turns to lie on his side and drapes an arm carefully around you. His hand is feather-bare on your hip.

"You didn’t."

"You were gonna go home with Cam."

"It’s fine, Peter. I wanted to make sure you were safe."

"Like a chore."

"Not like a chore."

"Yeah, okay."

He does that thing again – holds a strand of your hair in his hands. He runs his fingertips nimbly across your scalp as if he’s handling an injured bird. As if he’s afraid you’d bite.

Your eyes are huge, like flying saucers. He used to say that all the time, especially whenever you came to his apartment after experimenting with any new drugs. You only felt safe with him – you had told him that – and he took care of you and your big eyes and your tendencies toward erratic behavior. He always knew how to calm you down. And now, in your adult lives, you were doing it for him.

You let him keep his hands in your hair and he doesn’t know why. There’s a theory he wants to test – one that he dreams about even when he knows he shouldn’t. He thinks about it in vulnerable moments. He considers that maybe this is a vulnerable moment.

His fingertips trace your face between the edge of your eyebrow and the baby hairs on your hairline. He taps along your temple gently, smoothing across the softness of your skin until he sculpts down your cheek and jaw. He blinks once, then twice. And then he rests the pad of his thumb on the corner of your mouth.

Almost automatically, you part your lips. Your mouth is pink, dusted with a purplish-red in the center from the merlot you’d drank hours before, and he wants to lick it off you.

He feels your heart beating, too, and you can hear his. It's a loud bang that resonates in between your eardrums. It’s that shared venom that makes your bodies so acquainted with one another. You briefly consider whether a human body can overheat and burn away simply by being touched by another. You wonder how human the two of you can really be.

You close your eyes.

"What are you doing?" you whisper. Your voice is gossamer-thin, barely there, but you’re so close to him that he hears it so clearly.

"Whatever you want." His voice is dripping honey.

You shake your head, still with your eyes closed. Peter’s hand descends to your jaw, thumb on your bone, with the rest of his fingers warming up your neck. You feel like you might just choke on the feeling of it.

"No, that’s not fair. That’s not… okay."

"What?"

"You’re drunk, Peter. Don’t do that to me. Please."

"What am I doing?"

Your face scrunches up as your eyes open to look at him with a pained expression. You have to close them again. You don’t want to look at him. You want his hands off of you, so you push them away.

"You’re with MJ."

"I… I know."

Your face is crumpled as you inch out of his bed. You’re back to kneeling on the floor in front of him.

"Please don’t leave," Peter whispers.

"I’m tired. I’ll sleep on the top bunk," you mumble. You try not to let him catch you sniffling.

"Goodnight.” You don’t respond.

He falls asleep shortly after and smells your perfume even in his dreams. When he wakes up, he smells you. But you’re nowhere to be found. There’s only the cold air coming from a crack of his window left slightly open.

____

It’s not your fault, but you’ve broken his heart a million times. The night of the party was the most recent one. To be fair, he had also broken your heart. He was just too fucking drunk to remember most of it.

You’ve become a ghost, barely texting Peter back, and when you do, your responses are short and clipped. You don’t have much time to hang out, and he realizes he doesn’t either, not when he has MJ to spend time with along with his Spider-Man duties.

But he would make time for you if you wanted it. He wonders if you know that. He feels too ashamed to tell you that himself.

It’s been like this before, and he’s been able to cope. The way you’re on his brain and won’t leave —stuck on him like a parasite. It’s his fault, he decides, not yours. He knows he’s not being fair. Not to you, not to MJ, not to himself. But he keeps it all in and hopes it doesn’t boil over.

Truthfully, Peter wants to avoid everyone. He understands now why you abhor winter to the degree that you always have. The desolation is too much to bear when there’s not much sunlight in January to activate dopamine receptors, so Peter sleeps in longer than he should. Late enough for Aunt May to get on his case about it.

"Something’s up with you," MJ accuses him on a Thursday evening. It’s one of their ritual movie nights with pizza and wine.

"Huh? Nothing’s up," Peter shrugs.

"No, I know you. Something’s wrong."

"I’m fine, Em." A lie.

It’s a miracle that Michelle Jones sees through Peter’s bullshit because it means that she has the incentive to protect herself from any future bullshit that may break her later on. Peter is too numb to process any of it. There was the refusal of admission, the attempt to keep up the wall of his emotions, which crashed down soon enough by the time MJ was out of the door.

He thinks he should call you, but he doesn’t.

____

Peter is used to scrapes and bruises. He’s seen more than enough charred flesh than a nineteen-year-old should. You had never asked to be his caretaker, but over the course of years, that was what you became. His guardian angel.

He used to make excuses to come over after patrol, trying to coax you out of your nest of a room for just an evening. He'd always known you were far more talented than you gave yourself credit for when it came to spider abilities, but it felt more like a curse than a gift for you to bear.

Some nights, he dreams of you falling stories beneath him. Your face is covered in rubble and ash, and although his nightmares often start with this, he knows that somehow, it’s his fault. It feels visceral, the burning in his calloused hands. Torn lycra to show the dirt underneath his fingernails. Hot tears dripping.

He starts taking that Ambien you gave him years ago.

After that, each day passes like he’s trapped in a nightmarish purgatory. No, that’s an exaggeration. He’s just a victim of a New York winter, and he misses you more than he wants to admit to himself or anyone else.

"I can take care of myself." And with that, the image of you disappears.

"I know," he murmurs softly. He’s always known. It is insignificant in comparison to how badly he wants to take care of you if you let him. Your voice echoes in the cavern of his room. You get farther away by the second until you disappear completely, and he evidently wakes up.

Even in your worst state, he’s obsessed with your honeyed skin. It doesn’t matter the number of bruises or cuts – he caresses them all with his nimble fingertips, and he’s ready to kiss them until they heal. He thinks about this sometimes, how much he cares for you and your body. What he'd do if you just let him in, let him devour you however he pleases, and it disgusts him.

In his dreams where you’re hurt, he’s willing to sacrifice whatever he can so that you can revert to your clean, unbothered state. I’d never let anyone break you. It’s a prayer for him. One that he whispers in your ear whenever he can, at least in these dreams. In reality, he knows that he has to let you go because he knows you. Knows how much you want to be free and alone. How you can take care of yourself. You’re not a damsel in distress – you never have been. But Peter feels like he was made to care for you. It would gut him all the same regardless of whether you loved him or not, and he was willing.

When it’s real, he doesn’t know what to do. He didn’t ever think the two of you would be in this position.

He’s been in enough battles to know how these things end. Mr. Stark had walked him through it all and been by his side while the rest of the Avengers repaired the other broken bits of the universe.

Right now is one of those unique times, the quiet and wretched ones, where Peter is contemplating breath after breath before imagining the full picture. Shambles of the street he’s in. The ache of his bruised body and the blood that he sees from yours, that he shouldn’t have seen, because you said it yourself. You’re not a fucking hero. So why is your blood streaked on the palm of his hands?

The distance between you and Peter doesn’t matter – it never does. The moment you’d felt a dread stirring in your stomach, there was a sharp pain in your head that refused to leave unless the working adrenaline in your body was satiated. It wasn’t the same adrenaline that circulated within you from a night of debauchery – instead, it felt like poison. A compulsory kind of pain, a sharp jolt to your senses. Tonight, you’d felt Peter in danger, and it would’ve killed you if you couldn’t get to him. He'd been the destination you'd been dead set on by the end of the night because of your spider instincts.

The police broadcast was too muffled for you to understand much of it, but you picked out the parts where Spider-Man was mentioned and followed through on them. Although you didn’t fall into the shadow of his hero work, you still kept enough tabs on Peter to know where he would usually be on patrol. It wasn’t like he knew, or that you’d ever told him, but when he was starting out as another guard dog for the Avengers in high school, you needed to at least know his approximate location in the event that something went terribly wrong.

An explosion blasts in the center of a park, where the two of you would meet in the middle between Queens and Stark Tower. This is where you lay your courage down. This is where you find Spider-Man’s mangled body before anyone else does.

"Peter," you huff. "S’gonna be okay. You with me? I’m gonna make sure you’re okay."

He’s just less than conscious, the stretch of his animated eyes limited by his weakness. When he sees your face, however, his face glows – not that you can see it through his mask.

He says your name with a fervor that surprises you. His voice is raspy.

"‘m fine. I have to stay," he grunts, his pain palpable. You know that he’s telling the truth, but you don’t want to leave him alone in his misery.

"Peter. You’re hurt."

"You go home. I’ll come find you later. Just let me–"

"You’re fucking limping."

You had always carried yourself like a feather-like, lithe ghost. Quiet, whereas Peter was bold, despite the fact that his anxious nature had rendered him a boyish thing all these years. This is why he’s surprised that you carry him easily with your supernatural strength. He forgets that you have the same abilities as him. If anything, he’d think you were stronger than him in every way.

Even with his thick skin, he melts into something malleable, comfortable. The solace of your arms makes him feel better already.

A pang of small guilt rots away within him, knowing the circumstances of your last meeting. You’re too good. He didn’t deserve to be saved by you, to be patched up with your nimble fingers like he had been treated when he was younger and more naive.

"I can make it to my place, it’s okay," he rasps gently.

You don’t have to say anything, because bullshit radiates through the stern expression of your eyes, your mouth in a grimace. You had always been stubborn and today isn’t an exception. With your webs, you crochet a path for him toward your home, lifting and catching the boy effortlessly as you swing.

A gentle sigh escapes his mouth when the two of you crawl into the safety of your fire escape. The night is quiet behind you. When he looks at you, you have to look away, fixing your hair nervously or occupying your gaze anywhere but in his direction. His eyes are poignant in their longing, though you’re unsure of what he could be thinking. If he’s sorry about before. If he’s ashamed.

Your wispy webs wrap around the parts of him that hurt, but you wince when you check on him to see that the white fibers are slowly saturated with the dark crimson of his open wounds.

"Peter, you have to wash up," you whisper. "Shit’s gonna get infected. I can put some gauze on you after you shower."

He nods wordlessly when you ask him if he can manage the shower on his own. He feels vulnerable, and although your presence is always desired by him, he finds relief in the hot steam of your shower, alone with his thoughts. He’s still shaken from the explosion. Not completely catatonic, but tense. As if he isn’t in his body at all.

When Peter emerges from the bathroom, he looks like a stranger. Scars adorn his sides. Your face crumples at the sight of his fresh wounds.

"C’mere."

It doesn’t take you long to fix him up, cleaning his cuts and wrapping gauze around his stomach and chest. His quiet grunts startle you, as if he's a wild animal. Eyes screwed shut, brows cinched in pain. A heavy exhale and a mumbled apology followed.

You forgive him with a soft touch and a hushed whisper. He wishes the ache would stop. He wishes he could lie on your bed and have you whisper in his ear all night until the sound of your voice lulls him to sleep.

There aren’t many words exchanged, and you want to ask him why. If you did something. But then you think about the images on the news and his withered face, and you decide not to probe the sphere of trauma surrounding him. Peter has probably gone through more in the last twelve hours than you have in a week.

You stop him before he tries to make it out of your bedroom door and towards the living room.

"I don’t mind sleeping on the couch, I’ve done it before."

"It’s like sleeping on a rock, Parker. You just gone through God knows what," you chide. "Just… get in here."

As he breathes in and out, he nestles in your shoulder, his clean hair tickling your bare skin. There’s a nasty guilt that lurches from your sternum. As if you were the reason for his pain. For the state of his body. And you think back to the desperate look in Peter’s eyes the night you took him home from the party. Were you too cruel, then?

It’s like he steals the words from your mouth. He beats you to it.

"I’m sorry," Peter murmurs. His amber eyes blink up at you, unfathomable. You flash him a downturned grin.

"For what?"

"I feel like… there’s been a distance between us lately. And I don’t want that, because you’re my best friend. And now you’re taking care of me when you don’t have to. I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate it. That I, um, lo–," he stammers. He chews on his bottom lip. "You’re really good."

"‘m not all that good, Peter."

But of course, you are, he protests in his head. You are the moon and the stars and everything in between.

"I’m sorry for not being around."

"Not just your fault," you shrug. "Phone works both ways."

He knows you better than you think because, within seconds, his palm rests softly on your cheek, where he feels a hot tear.

"What’s up, Spidey?" he asks you. It makes you laugh.

"Shut up." You shake your head, trying to hide your face. The feeling of his thumb rubbing your cheek makes the tears flow even more. "I wouldn’t know what I’d do if something bad happened to you. If I couldn’t get to you. Or if you – if you were gone."

"I’m okay, Rabbit. We’re okay."

"Yeah," you chuckle, trying to hide your tears.

"Couldn’t get rid of me if you tried."

You feel warmer in his grasp. His small breaths fall on your arm as his body curls up next to you. He’s bigger than he’d been before back when you were teenagers. The jaw is chiseled and sharp. Not as soft and boyish as you once knew. With your senses, you can discern the steadiness of his heartbeat as his chest rises and falls into slumber. You fall asleep soon after, dreamless but full of warmth.

____

Waking up next to him is nothing new, but it’s been years. You never thought anything of it when the two of you were sixteen, staying up all night reading creepypastas and watching movies until you’d fall asleep on top of each other by four in the morning.

After a night’s sleep, Peter's sullen face is a bit brighter despite his dark circles. His limbs are entangled in yours, bodies fused together. Yin and yang. You can only assume that this is how it will always be.

You keep mental notes of him like trinkets. The uneven slant in his left eyebrow. The faint freckles dotted along his nose, the one near the corner of his mouth. The faint shadow of hollowed-out cheeks. Peter is still half-boy to you, and half-man, but you didn’t want to come to terms with it. Maybe he was something else. Half-ghost. Half-angel.

Slowly, over the course of a few weeks, he comes back to you again. Sitting together and reading at a cafe. The occasional 3 am swing. Walking around high at the 7-11.

"Did you like Rhode Island?" he asks over a joint one night.

You hum for a second, trying to come up with an acceptable answer. It wasn’t that you hated being in Rhode Island. It was that you hated being away from him.

So instead, you shrug. "It was nice to get away from everything. Providence is still a city, but it isn't as large as all this–”

You trail off, making a vague gesture with your hands. Chaos, Peter presumes.

"Less overwhelming?"

"Sure," you say, nodding. "I missed being home, though."

I missed you.

Peter passes you the joint. His brain feels fuzzy. Warm. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He massages your ankle absentmindedly.

"I get it," he says, breaking the silence.

"You get what?"

"Wanting to leave. I've been thinking about it," Peter shrugs, his eyes squinting in the late afternoon sun. "Sometimes I wish we could pack our bags and go to the countryside. See some cows and shit."

We. We. We.

"There are cows upstate," you snort.

"You know what I mean."

"We can do a road trip."

"You can’t drive."

"I am aware and perfectly fine with being a passenger princess. In fact, I’m looking forward to it," you grin.

He yanks your ankle this time, causing you to slip from where you’re sitting on the pavement. Giggling, you swat away his hands, but he’s too quick, untying your shoelaces as you kick and thrash.

"Honestly, it’s probably better for society if you never get behind the wheel," Peter teases. He dodges you when you try to kick him in the shin.

"Oh, but you can be? You get so distracted so easily! Whenever you’d practice driving, you’d miss so many exits or be too anxious to merge on the highway."

"Okay, well, you’re just a force of distraction," he shrugs, throwing his hands up in defeat. "You have that effect on people."

You look at him quizzically, your eyes narrowing. If there’s anything behind his statement, he doesn’t show it on his face. Peter knows his cheeks are burning, however.

There are more moments like these. Ever since you’d rescued Peter that night, he’s grown accustomed to spending hours of his day idly looking for you, learning your class schedule, and following you home like a pet when it’s time to unwind. He stays for hours like he used to when you were kids, and although he always thinks he’s overstaying his welcome, you don’t seem affected.

You curl into him more these days, like a sunflower stretching toward the morning glow. There are more lingering touches, here and there. You have to remind yourself not to get too comfortable, but God, he makes it so easy.

So the burning question pops out during a marathon of Chainsaw Man.

"Does MJ care that we hang out so much?" you blurt out. He looks at you like you have three heads. Also, his mouth is full.

"Um, webrobrup," he mumbles. He frowns as he looks down. Hot Cheeto fingers.

You mock him, of course.

"English, yeah?"

He chuckles as he finishes scarfing it all down. He shyly licks his fingertips, and you have to stop yourself from staring at the way his fingers enter his mouth. Ugh, gross. This is hardly supposed to be hot.

"We broke up."

You keep a straight face. It’s not like you’re excited or anything. You realize you shouldn’t be surprised because… why else would he be so available to you lately?

"Shit. You really fumbled, then."

"Shut up," he laughs.

"Seriously. Who else is gonna wanna put up with you?" You both know the answer to that.

"It was mutual," he says, shrugging. "I’ve got all my Spider-man shit, she’s getting into a bunch of extracurriculars and even a research internship even though we’re literally first years."

"Classic MJ."

"Yeah."

"We’ll get you back on the market, buddy," you tease, patting his head like a dog. A coy smile lights up your features. It makes something inside him melt.

"I’m not a piece of meat."’

You click your tongue.

"Oh, right, you’re an insect."

"Hey, so are you!"

____

You used to think it was a kind of twin telepathy, the magnetism to Peter that you felt. Bitten by the same spider and entangled in the same web. You realize as you grow older that it’s more than a platonic bond. It feels like wanting to share the same skin.

Or maybe it’s the wine talking.

It’s not your job to keep Peter afloat at the party right now, but both of you remember too well how the last party went. He continually sips water in between gulps of whiskey like a paranoid freak, which you tease him about. Maybe it’s just the darkness of his eyes under this light, but his pupils look wide and dilated.

It’s almost March. You’d both endured a proper New York winter, which usually extends until April if you’re lucky, but global warming has other plans. It's warm enough for you to pair one of your favorite dresses with an oversized Carhartt jacket that used to belong to Peter before the bite bulked him up significantly. You fiddle with the black velvet wrapped around your body as you pretend to listen to banal conversations, leaning your head into Peter’s bicep.

You keep picking at loose threads obsessively. You think about your fingertips and their webs. You think that maybe you should take up crocheting to distract your hands from their restlessness.

Peter grabs your hand away from you, squeezing it slightly, not even looking at you. His flushed palm rests against yours. Gently rubbing your thumb between your finger divots

If you were a cat, Peter would imagine you purring right about now. He wants to take you into his lap, stroke your hair while the alcohol subsides in both of your systems. The thought of you on top of him causes his cock to twitch slightly. His rose-colored cheeks are from the whiskey, he reassures himself. An affirmation. He lets go of your hand.

He knows that this isn't the time or place for such thoughts, so he makes an effort to push the desires down. He knows they'll come up again when the whiskey leaves his veins, but at least he'll be of sober mind.

Christ, he feels like he's at a middle school dance. Especially when you run off with a spring in your step to socialize with some girls you recognize from school. The smell of your hair lingers next to him. It's sweet and slightly floral, a scent that makes him think of when you were kids.

His ears perk up like a dog's when you call his name, reaching out to him so that you can introduce your best friend. He has the right mind to be polite, even funny at times, but he knows he pales in comparison to your current charisma, which contrasts with your usual wallflower nature.

Peter likes watching you talk, and you like that he watches you so intently. When you know he's watching, it's easy to deadpan some drunken jokes and elaborate superfluous tall tales from your high school days. His eyes are bright, and his bottom lip is chewed in between his teeth.

Suddenly, he gets to be alone with you in the kitchen. Your scent permeates the air. He could drown in it.

“Rabbit," you whine petulantly. "Swing me home."

"How drunk are you?" he chuckles with adoration.

"Not very. Just tired, s'all," you respond with a yawn. You scrunch your nose. "Can I sleep at yours?"

Peter looks at you with a soft gaze. "Of course, angel."

Angel. He's never called you that before. You decide that you like the sound of it.

By the time midnight comes around, you're barefoot in his bedroom, black velvet spinning loosely around your figure. In Peter's blurred vision, you look like a friendly apparition, one that particularly favors "Champagne Coast" by Blood Orange.

"Come into my bedroom, come into my bedroom," you quietly sing along as you sway your hips.

"You're already in my room."

Your smile beams at him, huge and illuminating, and impossible to look away from. Peter wishes that he could bottle up this moment to revisit it, or maybe live in it for the rest of his life. The sweetest way to exist.

Your body sinks to his level -- no, collapses -- as you roll over his heavy frame and rest yourself on your back. Your hair fans out like you're underwater. Your lips are red and wine-colored, freshly bitten. When you turn your head toward Peter, his hand plays with the exposed nape of your neck, fingertips grazing the creases of your skin.

"You used to be so gangly, you know," you murmur. Your voice is lower than usual.

"Okay, well, I'm not anymore."

"I could totally still take you in a fight." Still refers to the times when the two of you would attempt something along the lines of combat training, if combat training was just you unleashing your hotheadedness with your mutant powers instead of with your fists. If you weren't so agile, maybe Peter would've had a chance of winning.

"I'd like to see you try, angel."

It's decided -- you are on top of him, knees bent around his waist as you wrestle. The fabric of your dress pools around your waist in a way that feels sacrilegious. Peter has his hand on your thighs, and his touch feels white-hot to both of you, so he closes his eyes, tries to focus on swatting you away like a bat instead. When he opens his eyes, he meets your devilish ones, gleeful that you've managed to pin his arms above his head.

It would take two inches to break this spell of separation. He keeps trying to keep this bubble intact because the last time he tried to pop it, the look on your face made him want to dig a hole and lay in it forever.

Peter feels sorry for many things. He feels sorry for the times he's intruded, when he's made Mr. Stark angry, for the times he couldn't be there for you. He feels sorry that you had to take care of him when he wanted to do that for you.

Right now, however, Peter doesn't feel sorry at all. The slight twitch of your pulse, the way you smell, the curve of your bare shoulders -- it's all too tempting for him to feel sorry for. So he kisses you.

He's surprised when you nearly bite him back. You inhale sharply, pressing your body against him as you let go of his wrists and rest your palms on his jaw instead. Your kiss is fervent, desperate.

His brow cinches in confusion when you pull away.

"Wha--"

"Fuck."

"What is it?" He frowns.

"I owe Ned twenty bucks."

"What?"

"I just remembered. At graduation, he was like, teasing me that we were gonna get together, and we bet on who would make the first move. I was just entertaining him, but you know how that kid gets about twenty dollars."

"So you thought you were going to make the first move, then?”

“I mean, yeah. How was I supposed to know that MJ was going to cuff you before I did?”

“You snooze, you lose, I guess,” he deadpans.

“You don’t even fucking deserve me, you little freak,” you taunt, tickling his exposed midriff.

“God, I know. I’ve known that for a while. Too bad I want you regardless.”

He smiles as he captures your lips again, tasting sweet and smoky at the same time. He coaxes you onto your back and you revel in his body heat and the way his large hands grab the plush of your thighs, pushing and pulling your skin taut. It’s so erotic that it almost feels dirty.

You kiss him back like he’s your last meal while you roam your hands under his shirt, then to his protruding collarbones, then experimentally, to the tufts of his chestnut hair. You pull a bit too hard due to your eagerness and he lets out a mewl that you never could’ve imagined to come out of him.

“You like that, don’t you?” you taunt darkly. “Is that why you always want me to scratch your head when we watch movies?”

“I don’t care what you do as long as you’re touching me,” he breathes out, like a confession. “Don’t care how you touch me, s’long as it’s you.”

A tepid blush soaks your face. You shut him up with another kiss. He licks at your bottom lip, groaning softly at the feeling of your soft body against his.

“You’re so pretty, Peter,” you whisper.

“You are.”

Before you can react, you hitch a breath in surprise when you find that his hands have fully reached above the hem of your dress and onto the bare skin of your hip, toying with the elastic of your underwear. You part your legs, bending your knees so that you can pull the fabric off.

He sighs as his fingers tease the slot of your cunt, which grows wetter and wetter with every touch. Your sensitivity makes you squirm a little. He can tell so easily that you’re falling apart for him. He loves it.

You nearly whine when he takes away his fingers from you. Instead, he towers over your body, pulling your legs toward him as he pulls up the hem of your velvet dress and cascades kisses on your knees. He slowly works his way up to your thighs, biting gently, then hard. Meanwhile, his hands roam the perimeter of your chest and your ribs, all soft and pliable for him. You’ll be delighted when you wake up to a bruise on your thigh stuck in the shape of Peter Parker’s mouth.

A shiver lacerates your lower body all the way up to your neck – you feel it, viscerally. All from his mouth. He slots his tongue onto the bud of your clit going slowly just to watch you squirm.

“Please,” you beg.

“Please what?” His eyes are as dark as the sky. As dark as your dress.

“Your– your mouth. I need it. Please. More.”

Peter’s grip on your thighs tightens as his face moves closer to your center, licking incessantly as you cry out. You attempt to muffle your sounds with your hand covering your mouth, biting the skin on your palm. Your blood is hot, pumping hard, all the way down to your swollen clit, and he treats you like a man starved.

“Oh my God,” you gasp. “More, please. Pleasepleaseplease.”

He listens to you, forcing his ring and middle finger into your cunt and curling upward. Your legs shake involuntarily when he does this and it takes everything in him to not stop just so he can see the look on your face head-on. You look so beautiful right now.

“Gonna cum, Pete. Fuck.”

He closes his eyes as he savors your sweet taste. He feels it when you cum as if it’s happening in his body, too. A jolt to the sense. A vivacious rumble. Your mouth is slack, jaw falling open with your eyes screwed shut as you finish, and Peter towers over you to watch. He’s never seen you like this. He wants to keep the image of it forever.

You thank him with a messy kiss, not caring about the remnants of your lipstick. Your hands attack him, teeth nipping at his earlobe as you help him undress. Soon enough, the two of you are naked together, limbs entangled and kissing without paying any mind to oxygen.

You take his jaw in your hand as if he’s a delicate thing. Easy to break. It’s your turn to tease, now.

“What do you wanna do?”

“You’re such a little shit,” he mumbles, but he can’t help but grin.

“Tell me about it, Spidey.”

“Want you, Rabbit, want to make you feel good.”

“And how exactly will you do that?”

“Gonna fuck you. I’ll make you cry if you keep being a little shit like this, too.”

There’s no time for a reaction. He’s on top of you, pinning you down, and he licks your collarbone up to your jaw as you whine like a newborn kitten. He spanks your ass and you have to your bottom lip to keep from being too loud.

“You want it that bad, huh?”

“Yeah,” you respond breathlessly. He melts at the sound of your voice, cooing softly as he playfully bites the skin of your cheek.

You love him like this, a burst of passionate energy focused on you and you only. His little angel. You remember your rabbit heart caged in your sternum fragile and thumping like an earthquake for him.

He pauses to give you another kiss, this time sweet as he licks up the bottom of your lip. You can feel him at the crux of your legs and you can feel the want pumping in your veins. Patience. Patience. Patience.

“You want me to go slow?”

“Of course not.”

You’re so relaxed in his grasp. Gooey with your desire that it might disgust you if you weren’t so enamored. You keep your eyes on him when he enters you – you want to see the look in his eyes.

Peter feels selfish wanting to tease you like this. He’s slow when he enters you, listening to your sweet exhales.

“Easy,” he warns. “‘m gonna take care of you, don’t worry."

Please floods your entire body like a heat stroke. You bend your knees upward and rake the smooth terrain of his back, lifting your hips up at the same time. He thrusts once, then twice, and already, he feels like he’s ready to unfurl completely.

“Fuck,” he groans. You’re so goddamn wet. Soft. Velvety.

“Don’t be shy, Peter,” you murmur. “C’mere.”

You keen into the way he buries his nose into your shoulder, shallow breaths uneven and erratic as he continues, losing control bit by bit as he goes on. His pleasure is the knife you twist inside yourself.

You gasp at the way he can carve you out, the way he knows exactly where to put his hands as he grasps for your body, like he’d molding you from clay. He drinks down your moans with his mouth, eyes fluttering at the impact of your cunt clenching him.

Peter props himself up now, moving his body backward so he’s perpendicular to your core. He holds you by your hips a little too hard, but you’d always liked it rough. You liked it when he would cuddle you or play with you or put his entire body weight on you. To smother was to be encased in something akin to love.

“Fuck,” he hisses, getting the hang of a constant rhythm. His hips slot with yours as his cock thrusts deeper into you, until he can feel the slight tremble of your thighs.

“You okay?” he asks, chest heaving.

“Yes, keep going. Keep going.”

You underestimate how fragile you are. A rough thrust almost has you there, until he pulls out of you like a stolen breath, and it leaves you whining.

“Pete.”

“Shh, I’m just trying to pace myself,” he breathes, jaw slack and glistening with sweat. “You feel too fucking good.”

“Come back or I’ll break your wrists.”

He chuckles, but you’re dead serious. You lift your body to him so you can pull his down, kissing him with a ragged hunger that’s all teeth and lust. He’s quick to match your vigor but with more tenderness than desperation. It makes you melt, how natural it is, how this is how it might’ve felt in a past life. Your bodies entwined in a way that’s proverbial.

He listens to you. Fucks you much rougher than before, giving in to what he wants, because he’s not sorry about how much he wants you. Your broken moans curl out of your throat and into his mouth and the feeling of him deep in you makes you feel like a balloon ready to burst from the pressure.

It’s like Peter reads your mind, because suddenly, his hand is around your throat. You’ve never looked more angelic to him than you do now, eyes half-lidded and your reddish mouth all lax.

“So fucking beautiful, I love you,” he mumbles against his mouth.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

All of Peter’s muscles are tense from holding back. Fuck, he doesn’t want to cum until you do.

Luckily, the way his cock stretches you out has you nearly drooling underneath him. He touches the deepest parts of your insides like he belongs there, like he was meant to be there, as if the way he turns his hips toward you is a vow in itself. You whimper at the feeling of it all and he nearly loses it.

“I’m so close,” you pants. Thank fucking God.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Cum for me,” he coos. “You’re doing so good. Fuck.”

Your gaze lingers on the shape of his mouth. You think about how his voice sounds when he calls you angel.

Your orgasm comes like a flower blooming, like a beam of light in the darkness. He feels it, too, so vividly like he shares your body. It feels strange how much he feels that he hasn’t felt before, and it makes him come undone right after you.

He pulls out of you and spills onto your stomach unceremoniously with something in between a grunt and a whimper. He’s all over you. You want to bury your body into his.

“Peter,” you whisper, your gaze languishing.

“Yes, angel?”

“I think I owe Ned fifty bucks now.”

He looks at you incredulously but you can’t keep the facade, bursting into laughter as he groans in annoyance and flops his body on top of yours.

“Ew, clean me up, at least,” you complain.

“Right,” he says, nodding. And he does, with a spare t-shirt from his floor absentmindedly while he shares a grin with you. “You serious, though?”

“Of course not,” you scoff. “Ned Leeds will never get anything over twenty bucks from me.”

He laughs and it sounds like heaven.

“You said you loved me,” you tell him.

“I do love you. I’ve always loved you.”

You could cry right now. Surely the influx of endorphins in your body is breaking the rest of your brain.

“I love you, too.”

You kiss him again, open-mouthed, teeth sucking slightly as his lips. He takes a fistful of your hair while his other hand caresses your jaw. It excites you when he breaks the kiss by pulling your hair. His cheeks dimple the slightest bit when he smiles at you.

“Don’t do that, you’re gonna get me hard again.”

“You have the stamina,” you shrug, hugging one of his oversized pillows to your chest.

“You’re cute.”

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“How come you call me angel now?”

Peter shrugs. He rubs his hands on your calves.

“You’re my guardian angel. Always have been. And you’re not allowed to complain about it being corny because it’s true.”

Peter is shy all of sudden as if he hadn’t just fucked you. His brown hair is tousled to bedhead perfection, messy and slightly frizzy, and the warmth of his skin radiates from the way his whole body seems to blush in front of you.

“I have a proposition.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Come on!” You nudge him, kicking him with your feet. You get off of his bed to rummage through his dresser drawers for an oversized t-shirt, just dodging his attempts to grab you by the waist.

“Okay. What is it?”

“We should use our webs next time.”

He blinks, smirking, indulging you for a second.

“Deal.”

tagging mutuals: @meliapis @cutetomholland @userholland @sparklingsin @tomdutch @userholland @vendettaparker @selfcarecap @simplykenni @uhlxis @cordiformity @sapphicsoie @seolaseoul @honeyspidey @logangarfield @justapurrcat @arachine @cocoamoonmalfoy @ohcaptains @aniqua

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #spiderman x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker angst #spiderman x reader #mcu!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker x you #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #peter parker x you

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jet-teeth · 1 month

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Finally got caught up on that funky Bravern show the other day and omg. It's so much fun. Have some scribblin' More yelling under the cut (and also mild spoiler alert if you haven't seen any of it:)

Loved seeing more of the other Deathdrives, even if they were kinda short-lived on-screen and all (guess that's what happens when a buncha story stuff needs to get compressed into just 12 episodes)

I'm enjoying the hell out of this silly show it's fucking BUCKWILD. I can't remember the last show that made me laugh this much I am just constantly chimpanzee screaming at the screen Wasn't super sure at first because I was a bit "???" about where this was going in the first few eps but oh my god. It's def become a fav now. It's for sure meant to be a parody of itself/commentary on the entire mecha anime genre and all the tropes that it's loaded with but then the story actually gets interesting too. The TWISTS. IDK it just seems like they had so much fun making this Also, sentient robot characters yippee! (That stuff just seems to be super rare, I've always kinda wondered why, but it's like the mecha genre is allergic to the concept unless you go full into Transformers territory (which is its own whole thing at that point.) Like idk maybe I'm the weird one for loving that idea, but I do wish more of that existed outside of the context of parody or "for little kids" or whatever. Anyway I'll take whatever I can get on that front. I'm adopting all of these idiots) Cupiridas is my fav, Extremely Silly Guy. Kunus (Cunus?) is completely off her shits but I actually love that super wingy design. Pessimism has some really cool silhouette nonsense going on, can def approve of straying from the usual humanoid look. I could throw in some sketches of the main mechs (Bravern, Superbia) but they already get most of the fan art, so I wanted to doodle some of the others..

#bang brave bang bravern #bravern #Cupiridas #Pessimism #Kunus #robots #mecha #anyway def worth a watch #also that the transformers fandom collectively adopting Bravern was enough to convince me that I needed to give this show a chance #Jet art #jet squawkings

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urdepressedslut · 9 months

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You’re Mine, Sunshine ❝part nine❞

♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: After the events from the other day, you try and cope with the reality of what happened. The world is a lot less colorful than you remember. Bucky helps comfort you after you realize you have no one left.

♡ Warnings: heavy angst, flashbacks, abuse, mentions of parent death, hints to depression, reader doesn't know she has depression, anxiety attacks

Series Masterlist

Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine | Mob!Au Bodyguard!Au

Italics are flashbacks

“I don’t know… I kinda like shirts that don’t hug me too tight.” You mumbled, scratching the back of your neck.

You heard a dramatic gasp, and you looked into her eyes as she shook her head, holding up the top she had been trying to convince you to buy.

“Babygirl— why can’t you see how gorgeous you are. Anything you wear, you’d make look like a million bucks.” You Mother almost whined, and you couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips from her antics.

“Ma you know that’s not true.” You argued, failing at keeping a serious expression.

“No baby— I know I’m right. That’s my secret.” She argues back confidently.

She walked closer and started combing stray hairs out of your eyes, smiling at you adoringly as she did so. Her eyes practically sparkled with love.

“What’s your secret Ma?” You asked quietly, leaning into your Mother’s delicate touch.

She cupped your chin and raised your face to her lips, the feeling of her pecking your forehead sweetly. The gesture made you all warm inside— her love filling you with so much protection.

“Mommies never lie. So you really are beautiful baby— and soon you’ll start to see that, and you’ll be breaking hearts left and right.” She spoke quietly to you.

“I won’t be breaking any hearts… because that means I’ll have to date people and well… that’s scary.” You admitted.

Your Mother lifted your chin back up, giving you another loving kiss on your forehead, stroking your cheek as if you were fragile and needed to be protected. In her eyes— you were her everything. Her little girl— she only wished you could live your life without any pain. She knew life wasn’t that perfect— but she’d do anything for her baby. She’s try as hard as she could to make her life perfect. She deserved it.

“It is scary baby, but if you never put yourself out there— you may never have the chance to meet people.” She cooed. “We learn a lot from everyone we meet, and if you don’t meet anyone— you won’t learn anything. It helps us grow into being a better person.”

You nodded in understanding, feeling comforted by her words. She believed that you could do it, so you started to believe you could. Your Mother truly did know best— she’d never put you in a bad situation. As much as you hated to admit it, she was almost always right.

“You’re so smart Ma. I’m glad I've got a Mama as good as you around.” You whispered as you hugged her tightly— forgetting that you were at the mall.

Her laugh vibrated through her chest as your head lay against her heart.

“You know your compliments always go straight to my head.” She joked and you snorted and playfully hit her hip.

“I’ll take it back.” You playfully warned.

“Please don’t— we were having such a nice moment.” She whined dramatically and you both went into a laughing fit.

The air was so cool— so breathable. Your limbs felt relaxed, your mind was at ease. Everything was so much easier with your Mother around, she truly was the light of your life.

"Okay, I'll get it." You finally gave in, pointing to the shirt that was hanging off her arm.

Your Mother eyes brightened and she smiled like the chesire cat, almost starting to jump up and down like a little kid. You forgot who was the older one sometimes. You just watched with a giggle.

"That's my girl." She ruffled your hair and headed towards the cashier.

You watched her walk away, happy that you could make her happy. Although the top wasn't what you'd usually wear— maybe your Mother was right. It was time to get out of your comfort zone— plus she was never wrong.

You cracked your eyes open at the sound of rain hitting your window, the peaceful ambience of a storm passing over the house. You let out a deep breath, a heavy feeling left sitting on your chest— the bittersweet memory still fresh in your mind. It was sweet because even the memory of your Mother could fill your body with the joy that you had been missing from life. Although it was bitter because they were only memories. Instead of staying in the moment with her, you were forced to be sent back into reality. Back to a world where she wasn't around anymore. That was the most painful realization you had to live through every day.

The days since her passing had been the same, but it was slightly different this time around. You were almost positive that because of the relationship between you and your Father was getting worse— had you desperately wishing to have your Mother back.

You wondered if it would've been easier to never know parental love, then live most of your life with it— then to not have it.

You hadn’t realized you had slept through the night, misjudging how exhausted your kind and body was. There was just a slight glow from outside, otherwise the sky was cloudy— the weather gloomy. The outside was currently how you felt, it seemed.

Glancing around the room, there was no sign of him. Which was the second thing that had come to your mind this morning. Bucky.

Pushing that thought to the side, you swung your legs over the edge of your bed— heading towards the bathroom. Your head felt heavy, your limbs feeling like there were wights tied to them. You overall felt like the walk to the bathroom was much harder than it should’ve been. You had hoped that a nights rest would ease the haze that covered your brain. But as you walked to the bathroom— you could still sense the thick fog within your head.

Switching on the light, you headed straight for the mirror without giving it much thought. You’d be lying if you said your reflection didn’t startle you. In fact the harder you looked— you doubted that was actually you.

Your eyes were puffy, red rimmed as they were the night before. Your lips were chapped, achey with how dry they were. All in all— it was the still irritated skin on your cheek that had you in shock. The palm sized mark had you staring without blinking— your breathing starting to come in rapidly. Almost instantly, the events from the night before began to play through your mind.

"You wonder why I don't want you around— do you not see how you act? Disrespectful fucking brat! I do all these nice things for you— I buy you a fucking house! I provide you with everything you need!"

The memory of his hand shooting towards your face had you flinching back in the space of your bathroom. The action startling you from just remembering.

You furrowed your brows, staring at your reflection in confusion. Puzzled at your body's reaction— the way you had jumped. Even though you were alone in the bathroom— you felt embarrassed. Your hand shot down to grip your thigh, squeezing the flesh until you could start to feel pain. Your nose burned again, your chest tight and uncomfortable— unable to expand fully. You gasped, almost breaking from this trance as you released your thigh— glancing down frantically at the now red and irritated skin. Your head felt fuzzy as you couldn't understand why you were acting like this. You felt like you were out of control of your body— your mind. You wiped your face harshly, drying your skin of any tears— any evidence that you had been a mess.

Without wasting another second, you headed from the bathroom and made your way downstairs— in search of Bucky.

Bucky had made himself comfortable in the grand office downstairs. The room seemingly untouched, obvious that you didn’t care for this room. That much didn’t surprise him. But what did shock him— was the stash of liquor that was kept inside the study.

Surely that wasn’t yours. He thought to himself.

He had sat by your bedside, guarding the room as you slept for awhile. After you started to mumble in your sleep— that’s when he decided to leave. He knew you’d want him to be there when you woke, but the words about your Mother escaping your lips seemed private. It felt wrong to over hear such information while you were unconscious.

He also just needed to excuse himself, needing to drown his thoughts with alcohol for awhile. His career let alone his life— was in jeopardy.

He didn’t want to fear Pierce— but he couldn’t stop the overwhelming waves of anxiety from crashing into him. Amongst everything else, you stuck out in his thoughts. Majority of his worries circled around you, the concerns about you being left alone— with Pierce. If it wasn’t his life he was worried about, it was you. He was only afraid of the outcome because if there was no him— he wouldn’t be able to protect you.

It continued to eat away at him— he knew he should do something. He let the thought pass by… I should run.

He raised the glass, downing the rest of the contents— enjoying the burn on his throat as he scoffed at the cowardly thought.

He’d would run for you… with you.

He stared at the empty glass as he attempted to digest the idea. Knowing deep down he wouldn’t be able to make a proper decision without talking with you.

“James?” You called out, grabbing his attention to the doorway.

You didn’t even attempt to send him one of your usual warm smiles, instead glancing around the room you completely forgot existed. For good reason.

“What are you doing in here?” You asked, but soon found your answer when you let your eyes drop to the bottles of liquor surrounding his empty glass. “It’s early.”

You pointed out, and Bucky lowered his gaze for a moment in shame before lifting his eyes to your face again. This was when he noticed how different you looked.

It was the little, subtle changes that no one else could distinguish. But he could— he could see it clear as day, and it broke his heart.

Your eyes were dull, missing the usual sparkle in them. Your face just seemed like it was longer, the way you didn’t even try to keep a smile on your face. He didn’t think he’d ever seen you so… not you. Lastly, what killed him the most— was the way you were standing. The way you were trying to seem so small, like you could be small enough to hide away from everyone.

“James?” You called again, breaking him from his analysis of you. It was then he realized he hadn’t responded.

“Uh… yeah guess I’m just a little stressed out.” He finally told you, not completely lying.

“You shouldn’t do that— it can cause a lot of issues.” You motioned towards the alcohol.

“I know.” He mumbled, lowering his gaze to the desk again.

“You should just talk to me, instead of drinking until you pass out.” You told him softly.

“I can hold my liquor well.” He tried to argue, glancing up and sending you a smirk.

You just shook your head, crossing your arms like you were a mom scolding her kid.

“I don’t care. You should still talk to me.” You told him sternly.

He couldn’t ignore the shock in your change in demeanor. Of course you’d be in a different mood from the events last night— but he wasn’t used to this solemn version of you yet.

“Okay.” He agreed finally, standing up to head towards another room— preferably one that didn’t hold as much negativity as this one.

You surprised him by reaching out to take his hand, holding it tightly in yours. You didn’t give him a second to show his shock— instead you held on, tugging him towards the direction of the library.

He hadn’t even talked with you yet, but somehow he already felt lighter— in a better mood. Just by your presence, let alone your touch— was enough.

Making your way through the library— hand in hand— you didn’t slow until you reached your spot. The same spot from the very first introduction you two shared. One that didn’t have that good of an ending.

The memory although had a sour end, you still looked back and wanted to smile. You two had no idea what was coming— so naive. Like you said— it almost made you want to smile. Almost.

“James, why are you drinking this early in the morning? I know you’ve got something on your mind.” You started, as soon as you two sat down in your spots.

He rolled his eyes, avoiding your stare. He knew you were right, but also he just didn’t want to have this talk. Though— he knew it needed to happen. He just wished he could have one more care free day. He hated himself for not enjoying them while they lasted.

“Doll, we know what’s going to happen.” He voiced lowly, body and mind defeated.

You flashed a fearful expression before attempting to harden your features back.

“What do you mean?” You asked him cautiously.

“I spoke wrongly to your Father— everything that happened yesterday… you know how this ends for me.” He hinted, hoping you’d understand.

You shook your head, while still glancing at him with a softened expression. You don’t think you’d ever seen Bucky so stressed, his face stuck in a concerned expression.

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“(Y/n)… your Father doesn’t give a shit about me! For all I know— he probably has a new bodyguard ready for you. I’ll be as good as gone soon!” He exclaimed, voice raising— but it was Bucky. You weren’t afraid of him like you were your Father.

“Nothing is going to happen to you— I’ll make sure of it.” You promised him, and for a second he paused and looked at you deeply.

He ran a hand through his hair, leaning back in his seat with a frustrated huff.

“I don’t really care what happens to me… I just don’t wanna leave you. I can’t… I can’t let him keep doing this to you.” He whispered, lowering his head— his emotions stealing his voice.

You felt your heart start to beat faster, the same butterflies fluttering around your stomach once more. Every time he protected you, made an effort to want to be with you— it had you speechless. You never knew you could find something like this again. After your Mother had passed— you thought the feeling was lost.

“We should run.” He spoke again, breaking the thick silence that had blanketed the room.

You swallowed at that suggestion, wondering why a small part of you still didn’t want to leave your Father. Although he had proved to really not care about you— love you. You still loved him. He was all you had left.

But maybe that wasn’t true anymore, here was Bucky sitting in front of you— willing to risk his life just so you could live your happy ending.

“Where will we go?” You spoke back finally, shocking him that you wanted to go along with it.

As he stared into your eyes, his stomach rolled sickeningly at the fear that was evident in your eyes. But it wasn’t fear for yourself— it was for him.

“Somewhere far away— somewhere he won’t find you. I have a few places in mind… but are you really willing to do this? Leave your home?” He asked, happy that you were on board— but still wanted to respect your decision.

You immediately thought of that one cheesy quote you’d read somewhere— not necessarily believing it until now. Home can be a person too.

You felt your nose burn, tears welling into your eyes and this time you didn’t fight it. Everything had been building ever since you’d woken up. The only place you felt safe wasn’t even your home anymore— it was him.

“This place doesn’t really feel like home anymore so… yeah I’m ready.” You admitted, your voice getting quiet by the end.

Bucky’s hand twitched on his thigh, the way his instinct was to touch you— to comfort you. He fought against the side of him that itched to jump over to you, instead he stayed rooted at his spot.

“There’s something else I need to tell you.” He started, not knowing if you were mentally ready to handle this. “Your Father has been keeping this from you for awhile, and he had asked me to keep it from you as well but— you deserve to know. I wanted to tell you so many times I just— I should’ve told you… so I’m sorry.”

You got up from your seat and plopped down next to him, not hesitating to reach out and take his metal hand in your two. Your held it comfortably while also using the metal ridges to fidget with.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry about what you should’ve done— you’re telling me now. That’s all that matters, so I appreciate that.” You assured him, scooting even closer so that your thighs were touching.

“Someone’s been stalking you (Y/n).” He finally confessed, and almost immediately he could feel the weight being lifted off his chest.

You didn’t speak for awhile, just staring at him like you weren’t sure if you imagined him saying those words. Your brain was having a hard time processing what he had said— someone was stalking you? You were disturbed, your skin crawling with fear. One thing stuck out to you the most— it was the fact that your Father had yet to tell you.

Bucky took your silence as a bad sign, watching you stare blankly at your lap, where your fidgeting hands stilled on his metal one. It was his turn to wrap his metal hand around your wrist, applying a gentle amount of pressure to try and get your attention.

“(Y/n)?” He asked softly, growing more worried the longer you stayed quiet.

You still didn’t know what you were feeling, it was hard to distinguish it when you were already overwhelmed with emotions today. Your brain felt burnt out— your mind wanting to shut off completely.

“How long?” You whispered, still staring at your lap.

“Awhile, and they’ve gotten close. They have left stuff on your doorstep— and I found it before you could see it.” He told you, watching you shiver from the information. “They found your Mother’s necklace in one of the boxes that was dropped off at your door.”

That had gotten your attention, your head snapping up to his— your eyes wide with horror. You immediately started shaking your head in denial, knowing where this was going. You felt like you were gonna be sick, so you tried to swallow back the bile from rising.

“No… No I— I know what you’re going to say! My Mother died from a car accident. That’s how she died.” You rushed out, your vision blurring with tears.

“(Y/n) I’m not saying whoever is stalking you was involved with her passing— I’m just saying that there’s something darker to this than anyone knows.” He assured you, watching you nod in understanding.

His heart hurt watching your body start to tremble, your bottom lip quivering.

“Do you have it?” You whispered ever so quietly.

“What?” Bucky asked suddenly, confused.

You faced him, grabbing onto both his hands now— needing him to ground you from spiraling. Bucky had to hold in the gasp that wanted to escape, from how close you appeared to be.

“Do you have the necklace?” You asked desperately, voice cracking, “My Father he… he wouldn’t let me keep any of my Mothers things.”

Bucky’s heart broke again, his eyes softening at your broken expression. The way you were trembling holding onto him, your eyes red rimmed and lost looking. He had never held such hatred for someone before— fucking Pierce.

“Doll, I’m sorry— he has it.”

You nodded in understanding but couldn’t hold back the new wave of tears. You didn’t hesitate, and threw yourself into his arms. Wrapping your arms right around his middle, feeling the bulky muscles flex through his clothes.

He didn’t waste anytime and engulfed you in his protective embrace. He willed himself to stay strong— for you. But your cries and shakes of your body were killing him, he swore he was feeling physical pain from it all. He wanted to take it all away— all your pain.

Both your legs hung off to the side, while you practically were sitting in his lap. But neither of you cared— yes, it was intimate. But it was intimate in a different way, you both clung onto each other— escaping for a little while just in each others embrace. Being so close now, feeling each other pressed up on another— it felt right. It felt like home.

You felt one of his hands lift to the back of your head, cradling your head as his metal fingers weaves through your hair— just slightly scratching your scalp. You could feel yourself melt further into him. Your body sagging into him.

“I’ve got you (Y/n), I’m not going anywhere.” He whispered soothingly.

“I wanna hate him.” You whimpered, your fists fisting in his shirt.

His heart clenched painfully, hating that there was nothing he could do besides be here for you at the moment. But every cry and whimper only convinced him further that he was doing the right thing— the right thing by running away with you.

“Does that make me a bad person— that I wanna hate him? I want to but… but I can’t!” You cried.

Bucky shook his head, before he realized you couldn’t see him. He pulled you back away from him so he could face you— that was also when he noticed how close you were to him.

“No it doesn’t. He hasn’t been a Father to you. He hurt you— It’s okay to wanna hate him.” He assured you.

He held your gaze, waiting until you nodded to make sure you understood what you were feeling was valid.

“I really wanna hate him…” You whimpered again, trying to lower your eyes but you knew Bucky wouldn’t allow it.

He didn’t know if there was anything he could say to truly make you feel better, but he hoped that his comforting embrace was helping. Little did you know— your tight hold on him was ridding him of any and all stress.

“I know (Y/n), I know.” He breathed out.

Before he could stop himself, he was lifting his hand to stroke his thumb across her cheek— letting his palm rest on your jaw.

Your eyes fluttered shut from his touch for a second, before they opened and gazed deeply into his. His eyes shined with something unusual— something you had yet to see coming from his eyes. You felt intimidated from the intensity that was his gaze— the way your stomach fluttered nervously. You felt the same urge as before, your body leaning instinctively closer to him— you felt so safe in his arms, you couldn't help yourself from wanting to sink deeper into the ocean that was him.

"(Y/n)..." His voice broke through your trance, "Maybe we shouldn't."

God he wanted to slap himself for even voicing those words, because he so badly wanted to devour you whole— loosen every thread that was tied on you— unlocking every inch and part of you that he didn't know he craved. But the sensible side of him knew it wasn't the right moment... right?

You were so vulnerable, it felt wrong for him to even steal a glance in the wrong way when your walls were crumbled before him. He didn't want you to think for even a second that he was taking advantage of you. He respected you greatly, and he was not going to allow himself to have no self restraint. He wanted you to be in full control— and even then he felt hesitant to let you continue. The kiss on his cheek from before, he felt he hadn't deserved that— earned that. He was greedy however— and took any breadcrumbs he could.

You only darted your eyes down to his lips, watching his tongue poke out to wet them— your eyes watching the pink dampen the plump flesh. You found yourself biting your own lip— a sudden craving intensifying at the sight.

Despite your desires, you leaned forward and placed another kiss to his stubbled cheek— this time letting your lips linger on the skin longer than the last. Bucky could feel the heat rush to his face, knowing his cheeks were most likely bright red. He didn't know how he held so much power, but the feel of your lips against his cheek— god he wanted to kiss you so badly.

You sent him a small smile, and he could almost see the real you finally coming to light. The sight had his heart swelling, his own lips curving up in a cheerful smile— relived to see his girl coming back.

"Thank you James— I don't know what I'd do without you." You whispered, holding his gaze with hidden devotion. "I need you."

He had to fight back the huge smile he felt approaching from your words— he tried to ignore the bubbling joy he felt from your words. The way you needed him just as he needed you.

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lunaji · 9 months

Text

I could get used to this.

Pairing: Bangchan x afab!reader

Genre: Mature 18+ (MDNI)

Warnings: /below the cut/

Synopsis: The classic one bed trope. Unspoken feelings, which lead to a very steamy game of 'never have I ever.'

Word count: 4.9k

Authors note: My original plan was to have this be more heavy smut, but I fell in love with a softer side of Chan and the way he'd praise the reader, soooo... tadah.

Be added to the taglist here

If you like my work, please do let me know, it makes my day ♡

Lightly edited*

Please do not repost or reword any of my works onto any platform.

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Warnings: explicit smut, piv, mutual pining, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill), swearing, praise kink, softdom!Chan, sub!Reader, oral (f receiving), finishing inside reader, hickeys, fingering (f receiving), eenie weenie breeding kink, fluffy sex :) , Chan is in awe of the reader, reader is kinda bratty (magnifying glass needed), names such as baby, baby girl are used so if you are uncomfortable with that be aware!

----

“I must’ve messed up the reservation.” You had your face in your hands as you looked to the very obvious one bed in the hotel room, as Chan pulled his phone out, “I swore to double check the booking before I made it, I promise you Y/N.” Chan muttered, scrolling through the email as his face paled slightly. “Oh. Wait here, I will see if they have another room.” He spoke with an embarrassed look on his face, the tip of his ears bright red as he turned to the door, opening it with haste as you sighed, moving your hands from your face to open the bathroom door, leaning against the sink.

Your own face was a scarlet red, as you ran the tap cold, using your palms to cup the water, splashing it on your face to cool yourself down, as you sighed heavily. You and Chan were currently on a trip around the world, after he had finished his comeback with the other members of Stray Kids, he’d asked you, his best friend, if you would like to travel. It had always been something you had wanted to do since you were young, and Chan knew this, and now that he had enough money to do so, he wanted to spoil you.

After all, you were childhood friends, and he had promised you if he had gotten famous enough to afford a holiday for you, he would. One thing you knew about Chan was he was a definite man of his word. He had a rare 3 weeks off, which was practically unheard of, especially with big companies such as JYP, so much so you had /begged/ Chan to leave his laptop in Korea, which was a hard fight which ended up with you in floods of hot tears and Chan finally agreeing after seeing your point of relaxing. What you hadn’t managed to keep away from him was his work phone, but he had insisted he would only use it if absolutely necessary.

You wandered out of the bathroom, as you wandered to the window, looking out and down at the people wandering past, wondering about each and everyone's backstory as you hummed to yourself, before you heard a sigh from behind you, one of defeat almost. You turned on your heel to see a despaired Chan, as he kicked the door with his foot shut behind him, smiling sheepishly to you.

“Turns out I had indeed only booked one bed, and the lady on reception tried her hardest to find us a twin room, but they only had doubles left,” Chan sighed, as he looked to you apologetically. “I can set up a bed on the floor, I don't mind-” he was silenced by you shushing him as you pinched your hand together in a ‘be quiet’ motion, shaking your head as you laughed softly.

“We’re old enough now to share a bed, Chan. I’m okay with it really. What’s the worst that could happen, one of us kicking the other out in their sleep?” You offered a joke, sighing slightly in relief as Chan seemed to loosen up, his shoulders untensing from their harsh position by the sides of his head, his hands letting go of his shirt he had balled in his fists.

“Yeah, you’re right, we’ve slept on the couch together before, what is a bed for us?” He asked rhetorically, as he leant down to take his shoes off, as you lifted your hoodie up and off, slinging it on the back of the chair at the small desk that was positioned in the corner of the room. Chan had already begun to unpack the case you two had shared between yourselves, placing the clothes you had onto one shelf, and his own on the shelf below. What you hadn’t realised whilst you had your back turned, was the fond expression your best friend had given you throughout your conversation, as you now turned to face him, a cheshire grin on your face almost.

“The next step in our relationship. I don’t know if friends take it to second base. Bed sharing.” You stated sarcastically, pushing your trainers off your feet, and flopping onto the bed, “We’re only here for 4 days, we can even cuddle.” You taunted, as you patted the bed next to you expectantly, stretching your arms above your head, as Chan moved from his current activity of playing housewife with the clothes and sat on the bed next to you, his hands taking advantage of your exposed midriff, tickling it gently as you pulled you arms down quickly to try and defend yourself, a squeak leaving your lips as Chan laughed, unrelenting on his mission to make you laugh too as you squirmed under his attack, doubled over in a ball to hide from his hands. “Chan! I- stop!” You managed through breathy laughs, as he finally let go of you, lying back next to you as you hummed in defeat, feigning death as you stuck your tongue out dramatically.

“It wasn’t that bad Y/N, you’ve been around Hyunjin too much. So dramatic.” He mocked, as you looked over to him, a look of ‘first of all, ouch’, but he was right. But you were always like this together, so you knew he didn’t mean it really. You loved that about your friendship with Chan, everything you did together was always full of laughter and happiness, even when things were hard, like when Chan had left to train, you had still called when he could, making sure he checked up on you, always having time for you despite his ever growing and incredibly busy schedule. You admired him for it, and you couldn’t imagine anyone else being your best friend.

Best friend. That’s all you had ever seen him as, well, as far as you knew anyway. Sure, he was absolutely beautiful and he knew that about himself, he was confident enough to know and show his body to fans, and you would be lying if you hadn’t swooned over his abs, they were the best thing you had seen since sliced bread. Yes, your best friend was fucking attractive and you loved it. Did you love him? Sure, as a friend. At least, you told yourself that, but a few drunk thoughts would tell you otherwise. Besides, Chan was way too busy to be a dating man, you knew that, you just knew how to admire goods. That was all.

—

“Okay right, my turn.” Chan hummed, as he thought of his move, “never have I ever thought about an idol in a pervy way.” He smirked as you rolled your eyes, putting a finger down.

“In my defence, have you SEEN Hongjoong? He’s incredible. And do not get me started on Changbin.” You giggled, taking a sip of your lemonade as you spoke, Chan making a ‘bleh’ face as you spoke about his friends, “Hey, you asked me. I am being honest.” You shrugged as you hummed, “okay, never have I ever thought about my friends naked.” You wiggled your eyebrows, as Chan sighed dramatically, putting a finger down as you raised a brow.

“Let’s not get it twisted,” he started, repositioning himself so he was propped up on one elbow as he faced you, a blush painting his cheeks a rosy colour as he contemplated his words, “I have one friend in particular who I wouldn’t mind seeing naked, that is for sure.” He coughed awkwardly, as you made a noise of amusement, “They are stunning. But, there’s no way they would ever say yes.” He laughed softly, as you shuffled to sit cross legged on the bed, pillows propped up behind you as you watched him.

“They are incredibly stupid then, imagine saying no to Bahng Christopher Chan.” You teased as you used his full name, which you both only used in unserious situations with each other, “hit me.” You hummed, as you fiddled with the can’s tab, waiting for his next ‘confession’.

“Never have I ever touched myself to my best friend.” He said, a look on his face you couldn’t quite read as you furiously blushed, coughing as you looked away. “Well?” He murmured, as he leant up slightly, trying to see your face.

You hesitantly put a finger down as you felt the atmosphere change, it felt thick with unspoken confessions suddenly, “T-this is a fun game!” You forced a laugh as you looked at him again, noticing he had also put a finger down. “You know the whole point of this game is to say things you haven’t done.” You breathed out, as Chan shrugged.

“Oh well, you know I like to be honest.” He clicked his tongue shifting so he was fully in front of you now, lying across the bed sideways as you put your can down, pulling your cushion from behind you into your lap as you looked away from him. “Would you rather I lie to you Y/N?” He questioned as you shook your head, looking at him again.

“It caught me off guard, that’s all Chan. You can’t just ask me that.” You choked out, hitting him softly with the pillow as you spoke, as you bit your lip in concentration at your next ‘question’. You could be very straight forward with it, or, you could play dumb. The second option seemed very appealing, so you smiled reassuringly at Chan who seemed to be concerned at your lack of response, “Never have I ever fallen in love with my best friend.”

Chan’s breathing hitched as it was his turn to look away, before he licked his lips in haste. “Yeah.” He answered simply, as he looked you dead in the eye. “I have, and I still am.”

“Oh.” Was all you could manage. The tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife, and as you gulped, Chan shifted so he was leant against the headboard, his hands nervously running through his hair as he watched you, similar to the way you were watching him.

“Never have I ever wanted to kiss you.” There it was.

Time felt like it had stopped, neither of you said or did anything for a moment, but soon enough you found yourself crawling up the bed towards him, having only stopped prior to discarding the pillow you had placed on your lap. You tentatively sat on your knees in front of him.

“Never?”

Chan’s breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling at a fast pace, his hands reaching to pull you into his lap, your legs either side of his hips, as you both matched the same shade of crimson. You held your own hand up to his face, putting down a finger tentatively slow on purpose, as Chan’s breathing hitched in his throat, a hum leaving his lips as he moved to rest his hand on the small of your back, and pushed your body closer to his, where your chests touched, syncing in the rhythm of rising and falling.

“All the time.”

The shakiness of your breathing mixed with the sensation of his hand on your body made you feel dizzy with anticipation, as you rested your head on his shoulder, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck as you tried to ground yourself, before you felt Chan’s hand moving to bring your chin up to face him. His finger moved to trail your jawline, before his palm cupped your cheek, a look of seeking approval written in his eyes as you hummed softly, your lips parted slightly as you tipped your head to the side slowly, your eyes never leaving his.

Chan took a silent moment to work up an ounce of courage as he leant forward, the gap mere centimetres between your lips as you let out a tiny laugh, your nerves making your stomach twist as you felt his hot breath on your lips, the feeling intoxicating almost as you closed the distance. Your lips tingle at the sensation as he led the kiss between you, his hand on the small of your back now moving to gently hold your waist, keeping you close to him as you both shared at first, a sweet, simple kiss. The excitement of being able to finally feel what it was like to kiss him bubbling in your body whilst you let your arms drape loosely around his neck, Chan humming gently as he spoke against your lips, “you taste like lemonade.”

You chuckled softly as he spoke, his lips tickling yours almost in a ghost of a kiss, as you let your hands run up his neck to his hair, finding themselves lost in his brown locks. You felt his body shiver under yours. Chan’s tongue slid along the underneath of your bottom lip as you granted him access, letting your lips part slightly as his tongue trailed the outline of your own, feeling the warmth of his breath and sharing saliva felt so personal, making your head spin. Chan’s hands found its way onto your waist, his fingers drawing swirling patterns into your flesh as you hummed in delight at the feeling of his fingertips on your bare skin. They slowly made their way to the hem of your shirt, as he broke the kiss only quickly to ask for permission, your head nodding slowly as he lifted it gently, making sure to take in every part of your top half as he did.

When he had removed the garment to the floor, his breath hitched in his throat as he licked his lips slowly, “You are so gorgeous, my love.” He murmured, his fingers moving to trace hearts into your stomach as he spoke, moving carefully to make sure he got a touch of every inch of you, your eyes fluttering shut as you enjoyed the intimacy of the moment. The room was silent apart from the staggered breathing from both of you as you moved your hands to Chan’s chest, sliding them under the fabric of his top, feeling the hardened abs he sported, letting a small gasp of pleasant surprise out. It wasn’t like you didn’t know he had a fit body, but feeling it on your own accord made it all the better. He smiled at your curiosity, and lent back to pull his own top off, before he brought his hands back to caress the soft flesh of your back, pressing your chests together.

“I want to take this slow, we have all evening. Maybe even multiple rounds.” He whispered, his lips pressing faintly on your neck, trailing soft kisses of adoration along your jaw and up to your ears, “You belong to me, and I belong to you.” His words shot straight between your legs and you whimpered quietly, before his lips engulfed yours in a hot, passionate kiss, his hands wandering to your bra clasp, un-clipping it with insane ease. Every time his fingers caught your skin, it felt like hot lava encasing your skin, the whines from your lips suggesting neediness as Chan chuckled softly against your shoulder, the feeling of his eyelashes fluttering against your bare skin as he did so. You didn’t need to see his face to know the expression he was wearing at that moment.

“Chris..” you hummed, feeling the straps of your bra slip from your shoulders, Chan’s hands moving to cup your breasts, his thumbs finding haven in rubbing small circles to each of your nipples as he let a small ‘hmm?’ out, a smirk of pure love on his face as you tipped your head back slowly, baring your chest to him, whilst Chan’s lips worked delicate, purple bruises into your skin, trailing from your neck, down to the cavern of your breasts, marking you as his own. His, and his only. “I- you..”

Chan looked up to you, his breath hot on your skin as he let his tongue run along the top of your left breast, “words, baby.” His hand made light work on winding your nipple up to arousal, his mouth taking care of your other as his hand slipped down to your shorts, hesitating slightly as he ran it along the waistband. “Can we remove these, hmm?” He spoke against your nipple as you let a breathy giggle out, at his politeness, nodding as he shuffled to flip you both, resting you carefully against the bed as he let his mouth place sloppy, undirected kisses down your stomach, his hands working the buttons to your shorts, wriggling you out of them as you lifted your ass for him, making it easier for him to rid of the cloth covering you.

Chan’s lips pursed as he soaked in the view of how beautiful you were under him, his hand running to caress your inner thigh as his head lowered to press a deliberately drawn out kiss to your clothed pussy, before he raised his mouth a little to the pantie line of your underwear. He let the material rest between his teeth as he painfully slowly pulled them down, the butterflies in your stomach transferring to between your legs as his hands gripped onto your waist, supporting himself more than you as he maintained eye contact with you the entire time, the air thick with lust and emotions unspoken between you both as your own hands found haven in his hair once more, running them gently through it. The pure adoration you had for him had never changed, even so with him between your legs intimately, he was still the man you knew and had loved unconditionally.

You hadn’t even registered Chan’s current location until you felt the titillation of his hot breath against your thigh, a small mewl leaving your lips as your eyes followed his actions - one of which his lips trailed against your skin, daring closer to your pussy as he inhaled sharply, the way you were dripping for him and he hadn’t touched you yet drove him insane. His fingers ran up and down your other leg as he let his tongue kitten lick a stripe from your cunt to your clit, an obscene noise leaving your mouth as your back arched from the bed, hands gripping at the sheets below you as Chan took that as a compliment, now applying more pressure as he circled the tip of his tongue around your hole, before bringing his actions up to your clit, small but repetitive flicks on your bundle of nerves sending you to the stars without much effort already.

Chan hummed against you as his fingers slid under his mouth, so he could work your tight pussy at the same speed as his tongue, inserting a finger into you as he pumped it into you, his mouth and finger in sync as you shook slightly at the stimulation, your legs squeezing around his head as you felt him huff against you, his free hand moving to separate your legs so he could have better access. The sounds filling the room were disgustingly pleasing, from the squelching of your wet cunt being fucked by his finger, to the slurping and sucking sounds from Chan’s mouth. You’d never received head quite like it.

“Cum for me, then I’ll fuck you so good you won’t remember your own name.” Chan muttered against your clit as he introduced a second finger, pumping into you at a merciless pace as you could do no more than whimper incessantly at the feeling of your orgasm on the brink of tipping over the edge, your face contorted in pleasure as your eyes squeezed shut, mumbling incoherent words. And, when Chan’s fingers hit just that spot inside you, you let out the most intense scream of pleasure as your hands came up to clutch his hair, almost grinding your pussy against his face as he helped you through what would most likely be your first orgasm of many that evening.

Your eyes fluttered open as you felt Chan massage his hand up your side to your face, his own now centimetres with yours as his lips glistened with your release, his hair messy from where you had gripped it insistantly as you had face fucked him, a rosy tint spreading your face as he smiled gently at your embarrassment. His hand cupped your cheek gently as he let his nose nuzzle your cheek as his breathing hitched - mainly because you had pressed a cautious but firm leg to his crotch, feeling his hard on bulge through his shorts.

“Off, please.” You whined, as you made grabby hands to the top of his waistband, as Chan let out a chuckle, standing up slowly so he could remove his shorts and boxers, his erection springing free from its confined space as your eyes drew to his impressive length. His dick was the right amount to fill you up, you decided there and then as Chan kicked the shorts to the side, before he hooked his hands under the bends of your knees, pulling you down the bed to the edge, as he looked to you.

“Are you sure you want this?”

“Chris, you just ate me out and you’re asking me if I want this?” You snorted, as you could feel the heat of his body against yours, his strong hands tucked perfectly under your knees as you looked up to the ethereal man above, the same dorky smile painted on his lips as he moved down to kiss your lips slowly, savouring every second.

“I’m just making sure. I don’t think we could go back to being friends after.” He chuckled, stroking your face with his thumb.

“I don’t want to be just friends,” You started, your hands moving to wrap around Chan’s body, earning a small grunt from the male, as he let his hand move to grip the base of his cock.

“Good, because I don’t plan on being nothing short of your boyfriend once I'm done with fucking you.” He hummed, as he ran the tip of his cock up and down your slit, collecting your slick on it as he let out a small groan of pleasure, as you faltered slightly at his words. Your boyfriend. That made you let out a small giggle of giddiness, before it was quickly replaced by a tiny whimper of pleasure as you felt Chan lean one of his knees on the bed to support himself, pushing the tip of his cock into your tight entrance, a plethora of curse words leaving his lips as he furrowed his brows at the feeling. “Fuck baby girl, this wet and tight for me?” His words sounded like pure honey to you as you managed a nod, your hands gently gripping the soft flesh of his back as he continued to stretch you until he was sitting snugly inside your walls, leaning to kiss each corner of your mouth as he let you adjust.

His cock fit so perfectly inside you, it had you wondering just why it had taken you this long to fuck, as Chan’s thumb rubbed circles into your calf that was placed over his shoulder now, which had you split almost in half for him. He hummed as he let his head rest against your leg, before he moved his hips slowly, testing the waters. The moan that spilled from your lips was more than enough indication to Chan that he had you right where you belonged. He let his thrusts start at a mediocre pace, enjoying the feel of you clenching around him, his head tipped to the side so he could kiss a trail of saliva filled kisses to your leg, whilst his other hand ran down your body to your clit, his finger massaging an almost perfect circle around it as you whined from the back of your throat, hands gripping onto his back, leaving small but noticeable marks that were a sure indicator of your rendezvous of the evening.

The romantic atmosphere was nothing short of pure adoration from both sides, as Chan caught your eyes in a deep, meaningful gaze, his hips rolling into you with ease as he let grunts of pleasure leave his lips, all the while working you up to your second orgasm, his finger still on your bundle of nerves as he timed his thrusts into you with the same time he applied pressure in bursts, sending you up the wall almost at how well he was fucking you into the sheets.

“Chris- feels so good.” You babbled, hands desperately trying to ground you as you let them run down to his shoulders, earning a low moan from Chan, who had beads of sweat collecting at the centre of his forehead. He slowed his motions for a moment, before pulling out of you, earning a whimper of desperation from you, before he shook his head, sitting at the headboard, patting his lap to you, which you gladly complied, crawling up the bed to him, settling your thighs either side of him as he held his cock in place for you to slip back down onto him, filling the room with moans from both of you.

You placed both of your hands onto his chest, rolling your hips into Chan as his own gripped at your waist, supporting you as you began to ride him, leisurely at first, getting a feel of just how good he was inside you, before he let out a low growl, pulling you into him closer so he could attach his lips to your neck, decorating it with his own personal jewellery, a selection of varying shades of purple bruises. Marking you as his. Only his. That sounded so good.

“I’ve wanted you for so long.” His words tickled your skin as you leant back to cup his face, your hips still rolling into him as your breathing slowly fell from its steady pace.

“Why didn’t you just say?”

“Work,” Chan huffed, as he pushed your hair from your face, “along with the fact I wanted to make sure you really loved me the way I love you.”

"Of course I love you, I always have." You felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes, the confession made your heart race. You finally could tell him how you felt.

The look on his face told you everything you needed to know, as you captured his lips in a deep kiss, feeling his hands cup your ass, lifting you up slightly so he could fuck into you from below. You tried to match his speed, bouncing down onto his dick as he fucked up, but the dizzy, intoxicating feeling of his words, along with how good he felt, made you falter. He really cared about you, and it showed. He fucked deep into you, pressing against your g-spot with the tip of his cock, his mouth moving down to wrap around your nipple, licking and grazing his teeth against it. Chan really understood the female anatomy, your anatomy.

“Easy baby, let me take care of you.” He whispered against your lips, before he rested his forehead against yours, your arms wrapping around his neck as your bodies fit as close as they could together, two pieces of a puzzle perfectly aligned. The room was quiet, apart from the concentration of sloppy sounds from your wet pussy, Chan’s grunts and your own whimpers of ecstasy. “Look down.”

You complied, your mouth falling open in pure shock at the sight of Chan’s cock disappearing inside you, as you caught a glimpse of his face, concentrated on how well you were taking him, his lip bitten as you let your head roll back in pleasure, a string of words absolutely inaudible as you did, the familiar feeling of the knot of an orgasm in your stomach.

“Please, s’ close.” You hummed, licking your lips in haste as you chased your high, letting you pussy bounce down onto his cock, earning a throaty groan of enjoyment from Chan, who’s own hips seemed to snap up quicker into you now, both of you finding solace in each others bodies, your highs climbing quickly.

“Cum around me, let your tight cunt squeeze my own cum from me.” His words were filthy, but it drove you insane as you came undone on your newfound lovers cock, his name spilling from your lips loudly, sweat dripping from your forehead, before you felt Chan twitch inside you, “fuck, (y/n), I need to pull-”

You shook your head, bringing your hands to clutch him tightly to you, your eyes wide as you begged, “no, inside. P-pill.” Your words sounded so desperate, so needy, that it awoke something inside Chan, his thrusts becoming ruthless into your cunt, which would surely leave bruises in the morning.

“Baby girl wants to be bred? Fill you up so well?”

“Mhm..p- please Channie, need it.”

That was enough for him to spill inside you, your walls gripping his cock tightly as he moaned your name out, as you rocked back onto him, helping him through his own orgasm. Neither of you moved for a moment, the room filled with the heavy breathing from both of you, the smell of sex and the sure knowing of unspoken feelings finally laid out on the table.

You let your head fall onto his shoulder as his hands ran up and down your back carefully, as you felt him soften inside you. His lips pressed dainty kisses onto your head, leading down to your ear where he spoke quietly, barely above a whisper.

“Hey, (y/n)?”

“Chris?”

“I don’t think one bed will be a problem anymore, do you?”

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