#I have questioned them on and off before but it’s definitely back I think

[ariestrxsh]

mean!chris x shy!reader

✰ content warning: smut, sneaking around, pornography, masturbation, oral(m & f!receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, enemies to lovers

✰ summary: the morning after you and chris share a mutual masturbation session together, you both have to act normal around his suspicious brothers. the tension grows even thicker when the two of you are left alone all afternoon.

Idk who first wrote mean!chris or shy!reader, so I can't give proper credits, but I feel like it's been done before. I can't claim this is an original AU, but I hope you enjoy the fic! Credits to everyone who did it before me! ✰

dividers by @/anitalenia

Lights Turned On

chapters: | 1 | 2 |

The next morning, the sound of the heater kicking on woke you up around 9 a.m. You were on the hard living room floor with Matt to your right, beginning to stir. Nick was already up and making coffee in the other room, the aromatic scent drifting through the air.

You shivered, tugging your wool blanket up to your chin. Sunlight was beginning to pour in through the big window, lighting up the front of the house. You yawned, the detailed memories from the night before flooding back to you - Chris, walking in on him, seeing him naked for the first time, finishing beside him.

You almost had to ask yourself if it was all a dream, but when your tired eyes fluttered opened, Chris was descending the stairs. He was in a sweater and flannel pajama pants, and he was holding a laundry basket with his sheets in it. There was a part of you that felt hurt when he didn't even glance in your direction.

"You piss the bed or something?" Matt teased Chris, motioning towards the basket full of his bedding.

"Fuck off," Chris hastily mumbled under his breath on his way to the laundry room. You quickly turned away and blushed, knowing he was probably washing them because of the mess you made on them. It definitely wasn't a dream, but you were better off pretending it was, that way you didn't bring any attention to the situation.

Matt shifted around in the blankets, rubbing his eyes and turning to face you. "Hey, did you go upstairs last night?" He casually asked you. Your eyes subtly widened, and your heartrate started to quicken.

"Yeah, I went to go wash off my makeup," you shrugged, avoiding eye contact. Why was he asking?

"Then why didn't you?" He asked, furrowing his brow and letting out a chuckle as he motioned towards the smeared eyeliner on your eye lids and your crusty day-old mascara. "You look like a damn racoon."

Blood rushed to your cheeks, realizing you were going to have to think on your feet and lie, because after you'd gotten caught up in your little side quest with Chris, you completely forgot the main objective of going upstairs in the first place.

"Yeah, turns out I forgot my makeup wipes and my face wash at home," you shrugged, rolling your eyes at yourself and shooting a weak smile in his direction.

"You could've used my face wash," Matt narrowed his gaze at you. "Or Nick's."

"I just didn't feel right about using it without asking first," you lied, shrugging a shoulder and glancing over at Matt's face to see if he bought it.

"You're always welcome to our stuff. You know that," Matt said, giving you a skeptical look. You could feel the awkward tension growing between the two of you. You could tell that Matt could tell that you were hiding something.

"Why'd you ask?" You wondered out loud, taking control of the conversation. You tried to make your question sound as nonchalant as possible, trying to figure out what he already knew without seeming like you were trying to gather information.

"Well, I woke up last night, and you were gone. I stayed up for like twenty minutes before I fell back asleep, but you never came back down. I almost went upstairs looking for you, but I dozed off," Matt replied.

Your heart dropped at his words. The thought of him stumbling upon you and Chris and your intimate moment sent a rush of panic through you.

"So, why were you upstairs for that long? Were you alright?" Matt inquired with an almost concerned look on his face. You had to come up with something quickly that would either answer all his questions or keep him from asking them.

"God, Matt! I was having lady issues. Do you have to pry so hard?" You snapped back defensively, knowing he wouldn't want to press further. You threw the blanket off in annoyance as Matt mumbled an apology to you.

You almost felt bad for being snippy with him, but you didn't know any other way to handle the situation in the moment without incriminating yourself, so you doubled down. You got up with a huff and headed to the kitchen to join Nick.

"Coffee?" Nick offered, glancing over at you, already refilling his Keurig with water in anticipation that you were going to say yes. You weren't the type to ever turn down a cup of coffee.

"Sure, thanks," you accepted, giving him a warm smile. Nick grabbed you a french vanilla kcup and your favorite mug out of the cabinet and started brewing a cup for you.

You peered through the doorway that connected the kitchen to the laundry room as Chris pulled his sweater off over his head and tossed it into the wash with his bedding. His intense blue eyes met yours for just a moment, but his expression was completely unreadable.

You loved how mysterious he was, but you also hated it, and you especially hated how much you loved it. You were usually good at reading people, but Chris' mannerisms, his expressions, and his tone, all left you with more questions than answers.

He went back to loading up the washing machine, but he started subtly flexing, enjoying the attention you were giving him even if he was really good at acting like he didn't notice. You dropped your gaze to the way his pajama pants hung low on his hips, revealing the waistband of his black Calvin Klein underwear. Your eyes wandered to the bulge in his pants.

"Did you hear me?" Nick inquired, breaking you out of your dirty thoughts that you were entertaining about his brother.

"Huh?" You asked, not realizing he had been speaking to you or that you had been subconsciously holding your breath the whole time. Nick glanced at where you were looking and back at you, giving you a confused look as if he could tell what you were thinking.

"Sorry, I was just thinking about all the laundry I have to get done," you nervously responded, quickly pulling your gaze away from Chris' bulge.

"You're good," Nick replied. "I was just letting you know I'm leaving for my Space Camp meeting soon, and Matt's coming with me if he ever gets his ass up," Nick chuckled, looking over his shoulder into the living room where Matt still laying on the floor on his phone. You snorted at Nick's comment.

"You can come if you want, but it might be a little boring. You're also free to just hang out here as long as you don't mind being stuck here with Chris."

You shrugged, trying to act like you weren't dying to stay back. "I don't mind hanging out here," you told Nick, taking your cup of coffee from him once it was done brewing. Nick took his mug with him into the living room, saying something to Matt about him being the laziest person he's ever met.

You wandered over to the boys' fridge to get some milk for your coffee. You reached down and picked up the carton, and when you turned to close the fridge door, Chris' blue eyes met yours as he was preparing his own cup of coffee a few feet away.

He shook his head and let out a soft scoff. "Gonna stay and hang out here with me all day? Thought you had laundry to do," he joked, giving you a smirk to let you know that he'd noticed you checking him out.

Your palms began to sweat, nearly losing your grasp on the milk in your hand. You could hardly hear Nick and Matt arguing or the sound of the Keurig brewing over your heart hammering away. Chris leaned up against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he licked his lips.

"You better put your eyes back in your head before one of my brothers catches you staring at me like that," Chris warned you, reaching down the front of his underwear and adjusting his hardening cock. Your gaze followed his wandering hand for just a moment before you caught yourself staring.

You blushed, averting your eyes to the two boys in the other room. Matt was still laying on the floor, bickering back and forth with Nick about how long it would take him to get ready.

"I've already called the Uber. They're like ten minutes away!" Nick rolled his eyes, standing over Matt with one hand on his hip, and his other hand looped through the handle of his ceramic mug. "You think I can't get ready in ten minutes?" Matt scoffed, finally climbing to his feet.

You turned your attention back to Chris, who was taking a step towards you, your stomach fluttering as he got close to you, thinking for a moment that he might kiss you. "You gonna do something with it or just stand there?" He smirked, towering over you.

"Do something with it?" You reiterated, your breath growing shallow as you peered up into his perfect blue eyes. Was he asking you to..?

"The milk, you little pervert," he chuckled, looking down at the carton you still held in your trembling hand. He took it from you without waiting for you to answer. He poured a bit into his steaming hot coffee and turned back to you, handing you back the milk. He brought his mug to his lips and took a sip from it, holding eye contact with you. You'd never been so jealous of a cup of coffee before.

"I had fun last night," he said, finally addressing the elephant in the room, "but if you're hoping for another show, just know, the first one may have been free, but the next one's gonna cost ya." Chris winked, gently brushing past you as he walked off in the other direction, heading towards his room.

Your jaw dropped, and you peered back over your shoulder at Chris as he ascended the stairs, admiring his back muscles. You could hardly wait for Nick and Matt to leave to figure out exactly what Chris meant by that little comment.

A few minutes later, you said your goodbyes to Nick and Matt, wishing Nick luck with his brand deal and apologizing to Matt for snapping on him earlier.

You took a shower in the upstairs bathroom after they left, finally washing the old makeup from your face and letting the hot water run down your back. The whole time you stood under the shower head, rinsing the shampoo from your hair, your mind was swimming with thoughts of Chris, replaying last night's events and anticipating what today would be like now that the two of you had the house to yourselves.

You spent a little extra time in the shower, scrubbing yourself and shaving all your body hair, trying to convince yourself you weren't doing it in case Chris wanted to have sex with you, even though you knew you were.

Suddenly, you heard the bathroom door open and close, which startled you and caused you to knick your ankle with your razor. "Shit," you whispered, watching the bit of blood color the water before swirling down the drain.

"Gonna use up all the hot water before I can get a shower in, huh?" Chris snorted as you heard the sound of the faucet running.

"W-What are you doing in here?" You managed to get out, stumbling over your words.

"Using my bathroom," he scoffed as if it weren't the most obvious answer in the world.

"You can't just barge in here," you argued, peeking out from behind the shower curtain at the shirtless boy who was applying some toothpaste to his toothbrush.

"You mean, like you did to me last night?" Chris winked at you and started brushing his teeth. You pulled the curtain closed again with a huff and went back to shaving your legs.

A couple minutes later, you heard Chris spit into the sink, rinse off his toothbrush, and knock the excess water off of it. You thought he was just about to leave when you heard the toilet lid open and the sound of Chris emptying his bladder just a few feet from you.

"Ew, are you peeing in here right now!?" You exclaimed.

"Yeah? So?" He nonchalantly asked, shrugging.

"You're disgusting," you shot back, rolling your eyes.

"If I'm so disgusting, why do you want me so bad then?" He teased you. You couldn't even think of a witty comeback. Instead, you scoffed at him loudly and waited for him to flush before you shut off the water. At least he washes his hands, you thought as you heard the faucet running again.

"Can you hurry up?" You asked. "I'm done with my shower. I'm ready to get out now."

"Then get out," he responded. You poked your head out from behind the shower curtain and gave him an unamused look. "What? You got to see every inch of me last night." Chris leaned up against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest.

Your gaze flickered between him and your towel that was slung over the rack across the room. He smirked at you and reached for your towel, handing it to you. You snatched it out of his hand and started drying off behind the curtain. You wrapped the towel around your chest and stepped out onto the bath mat, your eyes meeting Chris'.

"Why are you still in here?" You retorted, glaring.

"Just waitin' for my turn to use the shower. Didn't expect ya to take all damn day," Chris sneered back. His gaze danced over you, eyeing you up and down as you wiped away the condensation on the mirror with your hand.

"You're bleeding," Chris observed. You glanced down at your ankle and the drop of blood that was slowly running down your skin. "Here, hop up on the counter," he told you, moving closer towards you, grabbing you by your waist and spinning you around.

He lifted you by your hips, propping you up on the ledge of the granite countertop, your heart skipping a beat. Your gaze met his for a moment. He reached around you to grab a bandaid out of the drawer and a tissue from the kleenex box beside you.

He kneeled down in front of you, wiping away the bit of blood that dripped down your the side of your foot and carefully placed a bandaid on your cut. His hand gently brushed over your freshly shaven leg as he stood back up.

"There," he softly cooed, both of his hands resting on the countertop and his face just inches from yours. "I'm gonna go take a shower. By the time I'm done, I want you completely naked on my bed, legs spread, touching yourself to your favorite kind of porn," he lowered his voice, searching your face for a reaction.

Your heart pounded in your ears, your eyes widened, and you could feel your cheeks flush as he spoke. You turned your head away, avoiding eye contact. "You hear me?" He wondered aloud, tipping your chin up to face him again. "You got to watch me last night. Now it's my turn to watch you." His intense blue eyes bore into yours.

Your breath was caught in your throat. Any boldness you had the night before was completely diminished when he spoke to you like that, his body draping over yours as you sat there in your towel. All you could do was nod.

Chris took a step back, dropping his bottoms with a smirk. You glanced down almost as a reflex but quickly turned away to leave the room. You heard the shower kick on behind you.

You walked down the hall, completely embarrassed by what Chris had asked you to do - and admittedly, a little turned on by it at the same time. When you walked into Chris' room, you noticed a vanilla-scented candle lit on his bedside table next to his lamp.

Your eyes wandered to the new, fresh sheet he had on his bed. You finished drying off, letting your towel drop to the floor. You laid on the clean linen, propping yourself up against his headboard with a soft pillow behind you. You nervously bit down on your lip, preparing to do what Chris had told you he wanted you to be doing when he walked in.

Your palms started sweating, and your face grew hot. You opened your phone, scrolling through some porn when a lesbian video caught your eye. You clicked on it, your stare locked onto the two women and the way they started kissing and undressing each other.

Your hand wandered south, your fingers drawing closer to your heat as the scene played out in front of you. After the two of them made out for a few minutes, the video started to get even more steamy. Their hands roamed each other's bodies and their mouths, too.

You watched as one woman started sucking on the other woman's neck, slowly moving down to her collarbone and then to her breast. She took the woman's nipple into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it. She trailed kisses down her stomach, parting her thighs, and started gently licking her between her legs.

A soft moan unfurled from your lips as you started gently rubbing your clit in circles. You were so enthralled with the hot scene and how good your hand felt that you nearly forgot you were in Chris' bed or that he could walk in on you any minute.

You started going at it faster now, your breath quickening and your fingers making tighter, more fervent circles as you listened to the heavenly sounds the girl made while she was being eaten out. That's when Chris appeared in the doorway, leaning up against the doorframe with his towel hung loosely around his hips as he watched in awe.

You didn't notice him yet, too caught up in what you were doing, your body squirming beneath your own touch. His voice startled you when he finally spoke. "Look at you," he quietly said, smirking, his gaze fixed on you. He stepped forward, running his fingers through his damp hair, a few water droplets rolling down his chest.

He approached the side of the bed and gently brushed the back of his hand against your flushed cheek. "What do we have here?" He inquired, peeking over at your phone screen and raising an eyebrow at what he saw. You immediately grew self-conscious and started to close your legs. "Ah, ah, ah," Chris cooed, "keep 'em open."

He gently wedged your knees apart again with his strong hands, his eyes dancing over your breasts and your glistening pussy that you continued to toy with. "You're watchin' girls, huh?" He sweetly asked, his voice laced with a hint of jealousy.

You bit down on your lip and nodded, still drawing lazy, slow circles on your clit. "What do you like about girls?" He asked, brushing a wet strand of hair out of your face as he watched the video alongside you.

"They're soft and sensual, and they just know what they're doing more than boys do," you admitted, your eyes still fixed on your phone screen and the way the two girls were interacting with one another.

"They know what they're doing more than boys do, hmm?" Chris repeatedly you, sounding skeptical. "You really believe that?" You nodded, your eyes flickering up at his. He let out a low chuckle.

"We'll see about that," he smirked, taking your phone from you, shutting off the screen, and tossing it to the side. "C'mon. I'm your entertainment now. Let's put that mouth of yours to good use, hmm?" Chris softly purred, dropping his towel.

His hard cock sprung out at eye-level with you, and he gently placed his palm on the back of your head, his fingers combing through your locks. He gripped you by the underside of your hair, guiding you towards his swollen tip. He pressed it up against your full lips, watching it slowly disappear behind them.

He let out a relieved sigh, a smile curling on his lips. Your eyes fluttered closed, too nervous to look directly at him. He softly chuckled at your timid nature.

"C'mon. Look at me, pretty girl. Don't get all shy on me," he softly whispered, coaxing you to meet his gaze with yours. "That's it," he hissed as you slowly peered up at him, looking into his gorgeous blue eyes. He looked like a God, standing over you, his perfect skin glistening from his shower.

You softly moaned around his length, the vibration causing him to twitch in your mouth and involuntarily tighten the grip on your head. He watched you through heavy lidded eyes, his jaw dropping as you took him further.

He reveled in the sight of you looking up at him with his cock buried behind your soft, wet lips. "Good fuckin' girl," he rasped, gently rocking his hips forward, taking in the view.

His gaze travelled between your legs, admiring the way your fingers traced your clit. "Fuck, you look so good like this," Chris hoarsely whispered. "Wonder what Matt and Nick would think if they knew I had you like this right now," he smirked, his words causing you to clench around nothing.

You hummed around his perfect cock, feeling it spasm against your lips. He tipped his head back for a moment, his blue eyes rolling back as a few pleasured sounds poured from him. You could feel him throbbing as your tongue traced every vein.

You could tell he was already close, and it took every ounce of willpower for him to hold his hips still. He grabbed you by your hair and slowly pulled you off of him. "Fuck," he whispered, his cock twitching at the loss of contact.

He brought his attention back to the way your hand was moving fervently between your legs. He slowly paced over towards the foot of the bed to get a better view of you touching yourself for him. "So wet, aren't you?" He purred, slowly lowering his head between your thighs. Your heart raced, anticipating his next move.

"Put your fingers inside," Chris ordered you, his hot breath hitting your cunt as he spoke, causing your toes to curl. "You heard me. Put them inside," he repeated. You nodded, taking two of your fingers, placing them at your entrance, and slowly pushing them in. A soft whimper escaped your lips as your knuckles disappeared into your hole. "Fuck yeah. That's it. Now fuck yourself with them. Hard."

You did as he said, pistoning your fingers in and out of your pussy, the wet, languid sounds filling the room. Your breath grew ragged and your moans grew louder. Chris licked his lips, his gaze fixed on your glistening cunt.

"Stop," he said suddenly. You halted your movements, giving him an inquisitive look as you slowly removed your fingers. He hooked his arms around your thighs, pulling your heat closer to his face. He placed his strong hands on the back of your legs, pinning your knees to your chest and nearly folding you in half.

Without warning, he started slowly and seductively tracing your folds with his tongue. You pinched your eyebrows together, screwing your eyes shut and letting your head fall back against his soft pillow. "Oh, no you don't. Eyes on me," he ordered you.

You peered down at him with a glazed over expression, eager to do whatever he said even if it was out of your comfort zone. You watched his tongue slither out from behind his lips once more, and he started flicking it against your clit. "Oh!" You whimpered, your body jolting at the sensation.

He chuckled against your heat, watching you writhe around. He closed his lips down around your sensitive bud, alternating between tenderly suckling on it and licking it. He rolled his soft and velvety tongue against you, your wetness starting to drip down his chin.

"Chris.." you squealed. He hummed against you, vibrations reverberating through your whole body. You kept your eyes fixed on him the whole time, his blue eyes that were staring into your soul and his quick tongue that were just about to fall apart on. He pulled away just before you could.

You let out a disappointed sigh, your climax ripped out from under you before you could reach the point of no return.

You watched Chris position his length at your entrance. Your eyes and your mouth widened as he started slowly dragging his pink tip up and down your folds, teasing your slit. He shot you a smirk as he finally sunk it in, ripping a few satisfied sounds from your core.

Your walls enveloped him, accepting him and sucking him in as he pushed a bit deeper. A guttural sound left his lips as you stretched around his throbbing member. "God, your pussy is perfect," he purred, slowly rolling his hips back and forth. "Takin' me like a good girl, aren't you?" He grabbed your left leg and slung your ankle over his shoulder to get a deeper stroke.

"Oh, my god," you sharply gasped, feeling his tip kissing your cervix over and over again. It wasn't just his size, but the way he fucked - the way he stirred his hips into you, the way he angled himself inside of you, and the way his thrusts were sensual and slow but incredibly powerful nonetheless.

"Feel that? You like that?" He seductively asked you, his fingertips gliding over your thigh as he pushed into you once more.

"Yes! Right there," you moaned, not worrying about your volume, considering the two of you had the house to yourselves. Each restrained movement he made drove you crazy. You knew he was holding back - taunting you. You grasped for Chris' soft sheets beneath you, desperate for something to anchor you.

Chris bent your knee and pressed it into your chest as he burrowed himself deeper, using all his body weight with each skillful plunge. "So fuckin' pretty when you're about to fall apart on my cock," he told you through his breathlessness, tenderly placing a hand on your face as he pressed his forehead to yours.

You could feel your cheek grow warm under his touch. You giggled, breaking eye contact and turning away. "C'mon, eyes right here. I wanna see your pretty face when you finish on me," Chris whispered, tilting your chin to face him again.

As if there were a magnet drawing you each closer to one another, the space between your lips and his started to close in on itself. He moaned into your mouth, his breath mixing with yours. The sloppy sound of you two kissing filled the room, complimented by skin slapping against skin as Chris sped up his thrusts.

Chris broke away from the kiss, feeling you start to tremble beneath him. "That's it. C'mon," he cooed, his gaze locked onto your blissed out expression. You could feel the knot forming in your core, threatening to snap any second now. "Be a good girl and finish for me," he grunted, his own finish line approaching.

"Chris.." His name slipped from your lips as more of a breathy whisper. You came unraveled, your pussy pulsating around him, moans and profanities streaming from your throat as your climax was ripped from you.

Chris continued bucking his hips forward at an unwavering pace, his fingertips digging into the top of your thigh. He fucked you steadily through your orgasm and the aftershocks, chasing his own. He stared down at the complete mess you were beneath him, admiring how beautiful you looked right after finishing.

"I'm gonna cum," he warned you, his facial expression saturated with lust and pleasure, his eyebrows pinched together and his eyes locked on yours. You could feel him starting to twitch inside of you, teetering on the point of no return.

He pulled out at the last second, ropes of cum squirting onto your lower stomach and your pussy. He let out a satisfied sigh before collapsing beside you, his cheeks flushed and sweat dropping down the sides of his face. He turned to face you, a smile spread across his lip, still clearly out of breath but trying to muster up enough strength to tease you one last time.

"So. Do I do it better than girls do?" Chris chuckled, grabbing a towel and cleaning the evidence of what he's just done to you off of your skin. You blushed, your chest rising and falling as you stared up at the ceiling.

"Better than the ones I've been with, yeah," you admitted breathlessly.

"What about the other guys you've been with?" Chris asked, narrowing his gaze.

"Okay, fine. Yeah, better than them, too. Happy?" You shot back, rolling your eyes and trying to hold back a smirk.

Chris climbed to his feet, unable to control the fact that your comment went straight to his head. "That's what I thought," he responded, wandering over to his closet to grab a change of clothes.

"You know, I would have liked more foreplay, though," you admitted.

"More foreplay, huh?" He asked, glancing back at you and giving you a lustful grin. "Noted. I'll do that next time."

Your heart fluttered at the promise of a next time.

You threw your legs over the side of his bed, glancing down at the wet spot the two of you left behind on the bed. You blushed, reaching for your towel and draping it around your body as you started to head out of the room. "I'm gonna go change," you told Chris.

"Good luck," he mumbled.

You glanced over your shoulder, giving him a suspicious look as you stepped out into the hallway. You walked a few doors down and entered Nick's room, pausing when you saw that your bag was left unzipped. You made your way over, kneeled on the carpet, and started rifling through its contents in search of your change of clothes.

Of course, Chris was messing with you. You just knew he had something to do with this.

"Chris!" You shouted, getting up from the ground and heading towards the bathroom. You peeked in there for the outfit you'd worn the night before, which, of course, was also missing.

"Chris!" You exclaimed again after he didn't answer the first time. You marched down the hall and back into his bedroom. "What did you do with my clothes?" You asked accusingly, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Why do you assume I have them?" He snorted from his gaming chair, his headset already on. "Because they're not where I left them, and you're the only other person here," you retorted, your eyes rolling in annoyance.

"Guess you'd better start looking for them because all you have to wear is that towel until you find them," he smirked, glancing up at you from his laptop.

"Ugh!" You stomped, growing impatient. "I'm serious. Where are they, Chris?" You hissed.

"I'm serious - you'd better start lookin' for them, because I'm not tellin'. You're gonna walk around in that little towel of yours until you find them," he repeated, giving you a sharp look.

He had done this on purpose - hidden your clothes throughout the house. He wanted you like this. He wanted you vulnerable and desperate, in nothing but a flimsy towel while you took part in his little demented scavenger hunt.

The only saving grace was that the house was much warmer than it was when you'd first gotten up, so being in a towel wasn't completely uncomfortable despite how exposed you felt. You rolled your eyes one last time before you left the room again.

You shuffled downstairs, rifling through the pantry for something to eat while you silently asked yourself, if you were Chris, where would you hide someone's clothes? You made yourself another cup of coffee, holding your towel closed with one hand.

You figured you'd either find them or he'd give them back to you before his brothers got home. Surely, he wouldn't leave you stranded in a towel for Nick and Matt to come home to - right?

[stargirlygirl]

you smash zayne's car (on accident)

zayne x fem!reader

summary: coming home from a long day at work, you get into a minor car accident with your bf's audi

contains: fluff, hurt/comfort, swearing, zayne being the best bf, 1.6k words

It happened in the blink of an eye. You were driving along the highway one moment, exhausted after a long day at the Association. Your music was blasting, and the other cars were well-behaved. Until suddenly, the car in front of you braked. Your tired brain didn’t react fast enough, and you skidded into them. The sickening crunch made you scream, your body jolting forward and back as your vehicle came to a stop.

You mumbled to yourself repeatedly, “Oh my God,” as you put the car in reverse and backed up a few inches. Slowly, you swerved to the resting bay on the side, the other car following suit. Your heart raced, and the blood rushed in your ears over the buzzing song. After grabbing your wallet, you exited Zayne’s now battered black Audi to check the hit.

And oh fuck—

The front panel was dislocated, the bonnet scrunched, and the headlights were scratched. The other driver came up beside you, a middle-aged man a few feet taller than you with a balding patch. Your hands trembled as you exchanged licenses and took photos of your damaged vehicles. You stumbled over your words, apologising before questioning why he had stopped so suddenly. A stray cat, he said. Bullshit. On this motorway? You don’t think so.

But it didn’t matter, you’ve got dash cam footage that will show if any ‘stray cat’ darted across the road. With a forced smile, you reassured him that you’d contact your insurance company tomorrow to lodge a claim.

Crouched down beside Zayne’s car, you had beaten the popped-off panel back into place beneath the headlights before driving off with a pit in your stomach. The ride home was filled with you chattering to yourself, trying to process what just happened and how you were going to explain it to your boyfriend.

“One day!” You shouted at yourself while pulling into the apartment’s underground parking. “He let you drive his car for one fucking day and you already smashed it?! Are you kidding me?!” You slumped over the wheel after parking, groaning to yourself about how reckless you were.

And now, you stand outside your shared apartment playing with your keys. They make a hell of a racket, but fiddling calms your nerves. Or at least, it attempts to.

Exhaling, you go to unlock the front door, but it swings open. In front of you stands your boyfriend, a microscopic frown on his face as he gazes down at you.

“Heyyy,” you laugh nervously. Internally, you’re groaning at yourself for already acting weird. He’s gonna know!

Zayne stares at you, analysing your dark under eyes paired with the frantic look you’re giving him. He steps aside and nods for you to come in. As you step past the threshold, you’re greeted with the wafting scent of jasmine.

He takes your handbag from you and helps you out of your coat, saying quietly, “Is everything okay?”

You nod far too enthusiastically, muttering, “Yes! Everything’s fine, really.”

He trails behind you to the bedroom as he comments, “You were standing outside for almost five minutes. I didn’t think you were going to come in.” You whip around, your shirt half-unbuttoned as you stare at him.

Oh, he definitely knows.

You watch with dread as he hangs your coat and sets your bag down almost robotically before coming back over to you.

Zayne unbuttons the rest of your shirt, not meeting your wild eyes as he reminds you, “You don’t have to tell me, but it usually helps to alleviate some of the burden by sharing it with others.” His chest ghosts yours as he pulls the sweaty blouse off your arms, leaving you in your bra. You cup his cheeks and tilt his gaze up to you. He stares at you with slightly wide eyes, caught off guard by your sudden touch.

You sigh, “Zayne… I’m sorry.” His cool hands wrap around your wrists and unleash rogue goosebumps across your skin as he waits for you to continue.

You mumble, “I accidentally rear-ended someone on the highway.” Your boyfriend blinks at you, processing your words.

You ramble, “It was an accident, I swear! He just stopped in the middle of the road! And so, yea I hit him. I’m really sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to!” He shakes his head, averting his gaze momentarily as he gets a grip on all this new information. His fingers tighten around your wrists for a moment before he tugs your arms down to your sides.

Finding your eyes once more, he asks clinically, “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, “No, I’m fine! It’s just… your car—”

“Don’t worry about the car,” he huffs. Zayne squeezes your shoulders before rubbing up and down your upper arms.

He continues, “You’re sure you’re not hurt? Did you hit your head during the moment of impact?”

“No. I was just scared, that’s all,” you admit quietly. He exhales and brings you into a tight hug, resting his chin on your forehead.

He murmurs, “I’m sure you were. I should have warned you about the short acceleration times.”

You squish your face into his warm chest, mumbling into his white long-sleeve shirt, “It’s not your fault, baby. Please don’t blame yourself.” You sigh with relief as he pats your head, fingertips pressing lightly into your scalp as he runs his fingers through your locks.

You two embrace for what feels like an eternity, but even that isn’t enough time. All you want is to be surrounded by his heat and refreshing musk after such a challenging day (not to mention you’re on your period). He pulls back, his hands on your waist as he gazes down at you with affectionate eyes.

He says tenderly, “Why don’t you go have a shower while I assess the damage?” You nod and sigh as he pecks your lips.

“Don’t be gone too long, okay?” You pout as he grabs the doorknob.

Casting you a glance, he shakes his head slightly, “I won’t.” You huff as you hear the faint click of the front door and wrap your arms around your now cold chest before trudging into the bathroom.

After a nice, hot shower, you put on your favourite pyjama set and do your skincare routine. Once you’re feeling relaxed, you stroll into the living room.

On the couch is your boyfriend, flicking through his camera roll. Two mugs of steaming tea sit on the coffee table. He locks his phone upon feeling your weight dip next to him. Placing it down and grabbing the mugs, he hands you one and doesn’t let go until it’s firmly planted between your palms.

“It’s chamomile,” he murmurs. You hum as you blow the curling tendrils of steam away. As soon as you stop, they whip back into a whirlpool of opaque white.

Clearing his throat, your boyfriend utters, “The damage is mild.”

“Mild?!” You retort. “It’s awful! Did you see the bonnet?”

He nods, “Yes, I saw.” Setting his mug down, he wraps a muscular arm around your shoulders and draws you into his side.

He mumbles into your hair, “Don’t be so hard on yourself.” You sip your tea, the bittersweet flavour warming your insides. Zayne unfolds the fluffy blanket you bought a few weeks ago and throws it across you two, helping you to get comfy.

You sigh as you lower the mug to your lap, “I just feel so bad like. You trusted me with your expensive ass car and I ruined it.” His fingertips draw swirling patterns across your clothed shoulder, up and over the ridge of your collarbone and down to the meat of your arm.

“It’s nothing we can’t fix. Leave it with me. I’ll call the insurance company tomorrow and lodge a claim,” he mutters. Softly, he continues, “You can spend tonight collecting your thoughts.” You nod while slurping your tea.

After finishing it, Zayne takes your mug from your toasty hands and puts it down on the coffee table. Instinctively, you cuddle his side and cling onto his torso like you’re a koala and he’s an eucalyptus branch. The day weighs heavily on your shoulders, and in the comfort of your lover’s arms, you let it go.

He doesn’t say anything as you begin sniffling and eventually cry into his chest. Composed as ever, he rubs your back and pulls the blanket up to your chin. He fetches you a tissue box and holds it as you blow your nose like a snotty five-year-old.

In the torrent of your emotional storm, Zayne remains steady. He anchors you back to the present with gentle reassurances and even gentler caresses. He holds your hands whenever you try to rub your eyes and instead wipes them for you. And he whisks you away to your bathroom, still wrapped in the blanket and his warmth, to brush your teeth before tucking you into bed and spooning with you.

The next morning, he informs Jenna that you’ll be having the day off; doctor’s orders. He then calls the insurance company and recites to them the story you sobbed out last night.

You wake up to breakfast in bed and a quick peck from Zayne before he heads off to the hospital. He cooked your favourite comfort meal, which makes you tear up as you blow him goodbye kisses.

And when you pick up the rental car a few days later, he insists on driving you everywhere. Because he’s a good boyfriend, not because he’s concerned about your driving skills at all. Seriously.

a/n: pls lmk if his characterisation is okay. i got into my first car accident yesterday and this how i wished it went down when i got home (i live with my parents😀).

[lia-linny]

summary: A hilarious TikTok trend changes yn's life when her crush sees the funny video titled "reasons why i would date Lee Felix" and a notification pops up in her phone the day after: "@leefelix_brownieboy posted a video"

genre: fluff, Highschool au, social media romance

words: 1.9k

"What about Wooyoung?"

The chatter in the school cafeteria was as loud as ever, but at the table where yn sat with her friends, it felt like a world of its own. Loud, chaotic, and full of giggles. Typical teenage conversations were held, from the latest fashion trends to celebrity gossip. That day, they first passionately discussed how cute Bang Chan and his new girlfriend the skater girl looked together. Then, the topic had shifted to relationships in general, and her friends had started wondering why yn was still single. Determined to change that as soon as possible, they decided to set her up with someone. All they needed now was to find someone who match all her criteria.

"Wooyoung is way too flirty for me," yn replied with a smirk to Karina’s question.

"Jungwon?" Winter chimed in.

"Nah... not really my type..." Yn was sitting between Karina and Winter, across from Ningning and Giselle, while her friends worked through their mental list of guys with the precision of a detective team. As she twirled the straw in her iced tea can, Giselle asked:

"Sunghoon? Figure skater energy?"

"I’d fall, and he’d definitely laugh at me." That sparked another round of giggles.

Giselle rested her chin in her hand. "Girl, your type doesn���t even exist. You’re picky times ten."

"That’s called having standards," yn shot back with a grin but deep down, she knew her friend was right. She had never been someone who fell in love easily. She preferred to watch, analyze, and take her time. If you were going to fall, then it should be for the right one, right? Why waste time just to find out that he is an asshole?

"Okay, wait." Ningning leaned in, her voice a little softer, almost teasing. "What about Felix?" Something tightened in yn’s stomach. Bullseye.

"Felix?"

"Yeah, you know. Bakes like a god, gamer, freckles." All eyes turned to her. Yn had tried to stay neutral, but the telltale blush on her cheeks had given her away. Plus, she was pretty sure anyone within a ten-kilometer radius could hear her pounding heartbeat.

"Oh my God, she’s blushing!" Karina exclaimed.

"He’s just..." yn sighed, playing with her fork in the food. "He’s exactly my type. Looks-wise. Personality-wise. He’s just so..."

"Sunshine?" Giselle teased with a grin. Yn nodded slowly, a quiet smile playing on her lips.

"Guys, I think our angel is in love! Omg, we have to get them together!!! Sunshine meets sunshine!"

"You two TikTok nerds would vibe perfectly," Winter said.

"You’d go viral before you’re even official!" Ningning laughed. Yn laughed along, but one thought stuck in her mind. Felix. She had never really talked to him just a few fleeting glances in the hallway, maybe some mutual TikTok likes but something about him felt... magnetic.

She pushed the thought aside. It was just a fun conversation among friends, nothing more. It wasn’t like she actually had anything to do with him...

But later that night, while scrolling through TikTok and stumbling upon the new trend “Reasons why I would date…”, a thought flickered. What if?

It was just after midnight, the light in yn’s room dimmed, only the fairy lights above her desk casting a warm, flickering glow across the walls. Her finger hovered above the record button. It was just for fun. She propped up her phone on a stack of books, fixed her hair, and pulled the hood of her sweatshirt slightly over her forehead for the vibe. Then she hit record.

“Reasons why I would date... Lee Felix.”

For social media, yn had scraped together every bit of confidence she could find. It was meant to be funny. She looked at the camera with a grin as she raised her fingers one by one, counting off the reasons.

"1. He's nicer to strangers than 90% of people will ever be.

2. He bakes. And well. I mean, come on.

3. His freckles are cuter than anything I’ve ever seen. They are like little stars on his face. It looks so friendly.

4. His laugh. I can’t even explain it, but my heart literally does a flip. I’m convinced that every time Felix smiles, he saves a life somewhere in the world.

5. His voice is fucking hot..."

At the last point, she had to giggl a bit and hid her face in her hands. She ended the video with a crooked smile and added a caption:

@ just.yn'n.bakin: just girly things ~ only my mutuals will see this anyway lol 🍪☀️"

The next morning, she had just wanted to check if her best friend had replied to one of her messages. Instead, TikTok had been blinking with 999+ new notifications. Her eyes widened with shock.

"Oh my God." The video had gone viral overnight. Not “haha a few likes”-viral. Millions of views. And tens of thousands of comments, like: “I ship you two SO HARD.” “Felix, you’ve got 24 hours, bro.” “Manifesting this relationship.” “Why am I crying over this???”

Yn stared at the screen as her fingers trembled.

Ping!

Message from Karina: “YOU’RE GOING VIRAL?!”

Then Winter: “Felix definitely saw it.” Seconds later, another one: “He’s literally liking the comments?? Girl I see your love story already!”

Her heart had started racing fast. Faster. Way too fast. She had never thought this would turn into something real when she recorded the video. She hadn’t even dreamed that Felix might actually see it. Somehow, it all felt... embarrassing. Did it make her seem hopelessly in love? Would he find it weird? Cringe? She could already imagine a response video: "Reasons why I would NOT date yn!!!!!! 🤢🤮😂"

Ping!

Notification TikTok: “@leefelix_brownieboy posted a new video.” Still trying to steady her breathing, she quickly tapped the push notification. Her video the one she had half-jokingly recorded before bed was now part of a duet.

Left side: her original. Right side: Felix.

He was sitting cross-legged on his bed in a hoodie, a blanket half-draped over his legs, his hair messy. But his grin was bright and a little shy. He let the video play in full lenght without interrupting, but it was clear he was struggling not to laugh. His cheeks growing redder with every reason she listed.

Yn, watching, had also turned increasingly red as she saw Felix listening to every single word she had said about him the night before. And just when she was about to die of embarrassment... He started his own list.

“Reasons why I would date yn.

Sunshine recognizes sunshine.

2. She bakes better than me. And I don’t say that lightly. You can literally taste the love in her baking. I almost proposed to her when she handed out those cinnamon rolls on her birthday last year.

3. She makes TikToks that are meant just for her friends and still manages to make me laugh so hard I’ve got a whole folder where I save them.

4. She always likes the same TikToks I do. It’s creepy. But cute. She’s funnier than she admits.

5. And… she stole my heart faster than my friends could even send me her video."

At the end, he looked straight into the camera, tilted his head slightly, his tone soft almost unsure but clearly meant for her.

“Yn, if you’re watching this… I wouldn’t be uninterested. Just saying.” The video had ended with a wink, and her eyes had immediately jumped to the caption:

@ leefelix_brownieboy: Someone tell her I’ll be looking for her in the hallway today.

~☆~

Yn felt like every pair of eyes in the hallway was on her. And she probably wasn’t wrong at least three students had already smiled at her like she was some kind of local celebrity. Some of the younger girls, standing in a whispering circle, looked like they were seconds away from asking for a selfie, the way they were dreamily staring at yn.

She tried her best at stucking close to Karina as they made their way to the lockers. But then yn heard a familiar voice. The same voice she had, just yesterday, publicly declared as hot. “Hey.”

She turned around. Felix stood right in front of her, hands tucked into his pockets, that same crooked grin from his TikTok but somehow more real in person. From the far end of the hallway, the group of girls squealed in delight, and yn was pretty sure one of them was about to faint.

“So… uh. Sunshine meets sunshine, huh?” His gaze turned a little cautious, like he was trying to gauge her reaction. Yn let out a soft laugh, then nodded.

“I guess TikTok shipps us.”

“Then we probably shouldn’t disappoint the internet,” he said with a smirk. A brief pause followed. Yn couldn’t quite tell if he was flirting or asking if she wanted to film a TikTok together.

“Kinda random but... coffee after school? Or cupcake baking? I’ll bring the ingredients, you bring that love-recipe of yours?” Yn’s grin grew.

“Only if you help bake.”

“Deal.”

TikTok or date? Maybe it could be both.

~☆~

The air was thick with the scent of vanilla and melted chocolate, wrapping around the two of them like a second layer of sugar. They both had a natural charm when it came to socializing. Chatting with people had never been hard for either of them but this didn’t feel like just any new aquintance. The conversation flowed easily, jumping from topic to topic, laughter echoing between them as they built inside jokes like it was second nature. Something between them just clicked.

While yn kneaded dough for the second batch with flour-dusted fingers, Felix stood beside her with a piping bag in hand, brows furrowed in concentration like cupcake decorating was a sacred art.

“If you stare at that piece of baked dough any harder, I’m gonna get jealous,” yn teased. Felix looked up, pushed his bottom lip out playfully, and grinned.

“I just want you to know I can do more than TikTok dances. I have to bring out all my baking skills to impress you.” He held up a cupcake with a tiny, hand-drawn heart on top.

“Try it.” She took a bite and immediately burst into laughter.

“You swapped salt and sugar in the frosting, sweetie.”

“What?! No-” He yanked the cupcake back, tasted it himself, and pulled a disgusted face. “Okay, plan B: I bring the romance, you save the flavor.” He wiggled his eyebrows in an exaggerated flirt, which sent them both into another round of laughter.

Once yn had finished baking the rest of the muffins and they had decorated them this time with actual sweet frosting they arranged the cupcakes neatly on the kitchen table. The phone was clipped into the tripod, TikTok already recording. Felix grinned into the camera.

“Okay, guys, you wanted an update…” He gestured to yn, who gave a shy little wave, cheeks slightly pink. “This gorgeous girl said yes mostly to cupcakes, but also kinda to me.” They both giggled and grabbed a cupcake each, holding them up in front of their faces like silly dough-eyed monsters. And just before the recording timer ran out, Felix leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

@ just.yn’n.baking: From TikTok mutuals to cupcake partners. Recipe for love?

The comments exploded: “STOP I’M CRYING THIS IS TOO WHOLESOME” “The internet really just played cupid for a softboy and a softgirl.” “Think I’ll try TikTok instead of Tinder now. This gives me hope.” “If they start dating I won’t even know which one I’m more jealous of.”

~☆~

A warm Sunday afternoon, sunlight spilling golden through the half-open window. Felix’s room was a cozy mess: a gaming setup in one corner, a plushie on the bed that yn had jokingly given him weeks ago now clearly treasured and a fruit plate his mom had brought in with a knowing look. A TikTok tripod stood in the middle of the room.

“Okay, this time you’re nailing the drop, right?” yn teased.

“Hey! I’ve gotten better.” She tossed him a hair tie with a laugh. He caught it and tried to tie back the loose strands of his long blond hair, but the ponytail failed miserably most of his hair fell right back into his face.

“Let me do it,” she said without thinking and stepped closer, gently gathering his hair in her hands. She was standing so close now that Felix had to swallow hard. When her hands dropped, they looked at each other. Their eyes met long, deep, and quiet. But just as quickly as the moment came, it passed.

They both stepped back, the music started. Three… two… one they danced. But at the crucial part, Felix missed the beat, stumbled, and nearly fell backward straight into yn. She didn’t fall, thankfully, instinctively placing her hands on his waist to steady him. His face was just inches from hers. Suddenly everything went quiet. The music was still playing, but they could barely hear it. Yn’s heart thudded in her chest. Felix’s breath brushed against her cheek. The distance between them was so small. So easy to close. But neither moved. They were too new at this. Too unsure. As far as yn knew, Felix had never had a partner. Neither had she.

Later she saved the video in her drafts. Too sweet to delete. Too intimate to post.

~☆~

A gray Tuesday. The sky above the school looked like someone had drained all the color from it. Thick, looming clouds were gathering. something was definitely brewing up there. And right on cue, as the final bell of the day echoed through the halls, a sudden downpour broke loose.

“Oh no,” yn murmured, clutching her backpack closer. Of course she hadn’t checked her weather app that morning. Now she was standing there no umbrella, no jacket just a light top already fluttering from the sharp wind.

“Here.” Before she could protest, Felix had tugged off his hoodie. warm, soft, smelling like him and pulled it over her head, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“But you’ll get soaked.”

“I’m Australian. I’ve seen worse,” he grinned. They walked through the rain together, shoulders brushing. Even though his shirt was getting soaked, he looked at her like none of it mattered like she was the only thing that did.

Cautiously, she slipped her hand into his. And it felt so right, they practically floated home.

“Keep it warm for me. Or keep yourself warm with it. Both work.” That had been Felix’s last message. He’d walked her home, hoodie and all flashing her a shy smile as he told her to keep it. The butterflies it gave her then? Gone now.

Because the rain had left her with a cold. Her nose was red, her throat scratchy. She layed curled up on the couch under a fluffy blanket, some random Netflix series droning in the background as she scrolled aimlessly through social media. The day dragged on like molasses. She had canceled on her friends and was now just... existing in a pile of tissues and self-pity.

The soft chime from the doorbell snapped her out of it. Groaning, she shuffled to the door only to blink in surprise when she opened it to see familiar doe eyes and a freckled face. Felix stood there. One hand held a small paper bag, the other a thermos. His hoodie was pulled up over his damp blonde hair, misted with rain. Somehow, that made him look even more handsome.

“Heard you’re not quite yourself today.” yn blinked.

“How did you…?”

“Karina. And the TikTok silence. Very un-yn to not post something silly all day.” He offered the bag to her.

“Cough drops figured your throat’s killing you. And… ginger tea. I know, it tastes like trash, but it works.” She gave a raspy laugh.

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe. But cute while doing it.” She let him in. They didn’t talk much he sat on the floor while she remained bundled up on the couch. They both scrolled through TikTok, showing each other their favorites now and then. It was low-energy, simple… but somehow perfect. And somewhere between one video and the next, yn fell asleep.

~☆~

The TikTok started with light and romantic pop music. Felix stood in the foreground, Chan holding the phone, and Hyunjin commentating loudly off-camera: “Okay guys, today’s the day. Sunshine’s asking Sunshine!”

Cut.

A timelapse of the boys decorating a small garden, fairy lights twinkled overhead, handmade paper stars hung from branches, and colorful paintings swayed gently in the breeze.

Cut.

Felix, in a pastel yellow shirt, tried to mask his nerves with his signature crooked grin.

“She has no idea,” he said to the camera. “when this works, it’s gotta be the most wholesome TikTok move of the year. Holy crap, I’m nervous.”

Cut.

Yn appeared, led into the garden by Ningning, who could barely suppress her squeal. When yn saw the lights, she froze. Her eyes widened. The boys stood in a line, each holding a sign. Above them hung a banner: "REASONS WHY I WANT YOU TO BE MY GIRLFRIEND:"

Cut.

A clip played showing the signs up close:

1. Because every day with you feels like my favorite song and I never want to hit pause.

2. Because you wear my hoodie like it’s always been yours.

3. Because you’d give me the last cupcake.

4. Because you record our cringe moments and turn them into my favorites.

5. Because you’re sweet. But not just that. You’re brave, smart, funny… and most off all perfect for me.

6. Because your laugh makes me laugh even when I have no idea what’s funny.

7. Because you make me feel chosen. And you’re picky. But you picked me.

At the end, Felix stood there holding a cupcake, his eyes soft, his smile quietly excited.

Cut.

YN’s eyes glistened as the realization hit. Gently, Felix stepped closer.

“Yn… from the first video, I knew you were special. And with every laugh, every cupcake, every second together… I knew it even more.” He cleared his throat, voice shaking slightly as he looked into her eyes.

“So… will you be my girlfriend? Officially? My Sunshine?” Yn covered her mouth, eyes wide. She was laughing half overwhelmed, half head-over-heels.

“Yes. A hundred times yes.” She threw her arms around him, and as cheers erupted behind them, she kissed him. Soft. Warm. Honest.

The boys exploded behind them. Changbin shouted, “FINALLY!” Hyunjin zoomed in dramatically. Seungmin threw confetti. Jisung yelled, “THAT’S MY BOY!”

Pure chaos erupted. The video ended on a freeze frame of the kiss, calmly lit by the fairy lights.

@ leefelix_brownieboy: Sunshine x Sunshine official now! 🙀🥳💙

[xylatox]

By a string || cyj

My first fic of nina’s which is absolutely diabolical to me. I am so happy I finally got to read one of her fics :). I always love a good YJ fic and spiderman brings me back hehe. Anyways unto my thoughts!!

Do most of your conversations revolve around your shared class? Yes. Does Yeonjun ever get tired of teaching you the concepts? No, never. In fact, he stretches out his explanations as long as possible to keep you talking to him longer. — off the bat this is cute as hell. Yeonjun is such a cutie and i can see him doing this

Oh. Well in that case, your professor sucks. Yeonjun can’t have you stop coming to him for math help; you’d never talk to him at all if it came to that! — He is such a cutie oh my word 😭

Soobin and Yeonjun being awkward is kind of endearing awwww :((( I also love how we get his thoughts hes so charming in his own kind of awkward way.

“Right now?” he asks. “I-I have class…” As much as he likes you, he really can’t risk dropping his grade due to missed attendance. — love a man who’s a nerd and doesnt skip classes

He glances back at you casually, making sure you didn’t witness him tripping. Fortunately, you’re on your phone, no longer paying him any mind. — im going to be gushing about how cute he is for the entire thing i swear.

Taehyun hums and nods. “Well, we missed you bro, hope you’re feeling better. I’ll see you around!” Yeonjun waves and returns the smile his friend gives him, then walks as fast as he can to the location you sent him — Taehyun my little boba-eyed cutie

“Cause we’re friends,” he says instead. He wants to punch himself after the words leave him. This was his chance to flirt with you, yet he couldn’t even muster up the courage to give you a single compliment. — Man :::::((((((

Oh my god. Im so giddy over the mc talking to Kai about Yeonjun. Thats actually so damn cute. My heart is actually so soft. They are genuinely the cutest pair and they arent even seeing each other yet

“Sorry, gotta take this,” he says. “Stay right here.” He slings himself onto a branch of a tall tree nearby, just to make sure no one can listen in as he accepts your call. — this is so funny lmfao waw Yeonjun, priorities 

I think its nice to see that despite Yeonjun and Soobin not really being friends Soobin still asked if he was okay :( I, God, mc is so sweet and understanding. I love how she just helps Yeonjun, no questions asked

“You know, I wasn’t expecting this when you said you’d hang out with me again.” There’s a softness in your voice that makes Yeonjun feel lightheaded. Not the losing-too-much-blood kind of lightheaded, but the oh-god-I-really-like-her kind—this one’s much more preferable and much more welcome than the former. — And the way she lightens the situation too :((((

“Well…” you start, eyes darting between his own. He barely has time to register it when you press a kiss against his lips, your movement so hesitant and shy. It’s soft. It’s sweet. It’s over before he knows it. He blinks at you dumbly—it’s all he can do to not pass out like a dork in front of you. — I love them so bad oh my god im dying???

I made the saddest face when I realized Beomgyu is not really a bad guy but?? Idk how to phrase it, just a not so nice person? Wait but oh. Okay. I take it back, sorry Gyu :((( I feel so bad for Yeonjun ahhh :(((( 

“We’ll have to trigger rapid apoptosis,” —  you know I’m a nerd cuz this made me giggle

“Oh, I’ve already told, like, three people that you’re my boyfriend.” There might be real hearts in Yeonjun’s eyes right now. — LOL????

“It’s not that bad. I think we can pass the time,” he says, failing to hold back his smile. — I giggled o good lord.

“That’s your cue, Spider-man.” — Such a cute end ahhh

I am again soso glad I finally got to read your work! Its so good and I love your style of writing. It makes me so happy just how seamless your write everything. Definitely can’t wait to share my thoughts on another one of your works :)) 

by a string

summary: Yeonjun’s got a lot on his plate. Not only does he have to worry about being a star student, but he also has to be the city’s web-slinging hero. And a lab intern. And a semi-decent roommate. And a little bit in love with you.

pairings: yeonjun x fem!reader

word count: 18.9k

tags: fluff, smut (mdni), some angst, spiderman!yeonjun, his webs shoot from his actual wrists like tobey maguire’s spiderman, college au, yeonjun is a cute awkward charming nerd, inaccurate science stuff sorry, blood, physical violence, lots of spidey shenanigans, campy weird action scene teehee, small arguments

smut tags: making out, heavy petting, webs as cuffs LOLLL, thigh riding, edging, fingering, praise, unprotected sex, cum eating, oral (f rec.), yeonjun is so playful and such a tease

notes: omg she’s finally here!!! i am so excited to get this out to u guys hehe<3 tysm for all the love on the teaser, i hope spideyjjun steals ur heart. enjoy the fic !!!

Saving the city can suck sometimes. Homework sucks significantly more. If Yeonjun had the option to zip through the city chasing some bad guys instead of sitting here trying to finish his calculus assignment, he’d be flying out his window in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, responsibility is a virtue, and Yeonjun cannot swing through the city for no good reason.

The one good thing about this tedious, awful calculus homework is that if it’s hard enough, he always gets a text from you. His body springs to life when he hears his phone buzz, rushing to pick it up and check the notification.

[you] have u done the calc homework

[you] how do you solve #4 :(

Do most of your conversations revolve around your shared class? Yes. Does Yeonjun ever get tired of teaching you the concepts? No, never. In fact, he stretches out his explanations as long as possible to keep you talking to him longer. Yeonjun never knew before that math talk could make his heart flutter.

“So, does that make sense?” he asks after a long-winded explanation. He’s almost out of breath after spewing out so much math jargon, but being on a call with you for ten minutes has similarly breathtaking effects.

“Yeah. Thanks, Yeonjun.” He bites back a giggle upon hearing your words. “You should seriously be teaching this class,” you say with a laugh.

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t—I mean, I’m—I’m more of a science guy,” he stammers out, lips tightening into a thin line at the embarrassment of stumbling over his own sentence. “Our professor’s pretty cool, too,” he adds as if that saves him at all.

“Is he? Maybe I should start going to his office hours,” you muse.

Oh. Well in that case, your professor sucks. Yeonjun can’t have you stop coming to him for math help; you’d never talk to him at all if it came to that!

“He’s not that cool,” Yeonjun says. You laugh, and he huffs out a short chuckle too.

“Noted. I’m gonna go now, but thanks for helping me. You’re the best.” Your praise goes straight to Yeonjun’s head, making him feel like the greatest man to ever live. He doesn’t even feel this accomplished after going out on his little spidey-missions.

He’s a beat too late to say goodbye or good night to you, the call already hanging up as he opens his mouth to speak. He melts into a puddle over his desk, sighing out as he plays back his conversation with you in his head. He thinks you have the prettiest voice he’s ever heard. You’re so smart, too. He never has to over exert himself to get you to understand, though he would happily do that for you.

He jolts up as his roommate walks into his dorm. Yeonjun glances at him quickly as he straightens out his posture, picking his pencil back up and returning to his homework.

“Hey,” his roommate, Soobin, greets quietly. Yeonjun didn’t know Soobin prior to this semester, but he’s been pretty nice. He’s very quiet, but very respectful of Yeonjun’s space. It’s much appreciated, considering Yeonjun’s hiding a few of his red and blue spandex suits in his closet.

“Hey. How was your day?” Yeonjun asks, only half-interested in the conversation.

He watches Soobin shrug from his peripheral as he slides off his shoes. “Normal,” he answers.

Yeonjun nods. “Cool.” The conversation kind of dies after that, which is fine. Soobin isn’t the most extroverted person, and Yeonjun doesn’t push him to talk more than he’s willing to. He sometimes forgets he even has a roommate with how quiet it gets in the room.

Yeonjun regains his focus a minute into the silence. His eyes widen when he realizes that there’s now a doodle of your face on his calculus homework—when did that get there..? His face heats up as he grabs an eraser from his desk’s drawer. Thank god he didn’t do this assignment in pen.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Yeonjun’s not really paying attention to the professor, finding more interest in taking quick glances at you. You’re wearing a different bracelet today. It’s really pretty—maybe he should compliment you on it. Is it weird to lean in and tell you that? Are you close enough where he can compliment you without looking weird and creepy?

He rests his head in his hand and starts doodling in his notebook, mindlessly scribbling on the page while he waits for the lecture to end. He thinks of quick conversational things to say, something to discuss in a few minutes when it’s time to pack your bags and leave. Interesting class, right? Who would’ve thought—Yeonjun looks up at the projector to see the professor’s notes—the shell method… would be so cool… Maybe he shouldn’t say that, actually.

He’s honestly better off not trying to strike up a conversation with you at all; the chances of it leading to total and utter embarrassment lean greatly towards one hundred percent. He just wishes he had a little more spine, or that he was naturally a little cooler. The only interesting thing about him is something he can’t even talk to you about, or with anyone at all.

Yeonjun barely registers it when the professor dismisses class. He steals one last glance toward you, lips parting like he finally built up the courage to speak, but the words build up in his throat and die on his tongue. He seals his lips and focuses his gaze back on his own things, closing his notebook and shoving it in his bag. It’s not worth it. He decides he’ll just keep his mouth shut.

“Hey Yeonjun?”

Yeonjun almost jumps out of his seat, and he has to fight away his nerves as he turns to you. You’re packing your things back into your bag, not even looking at him. A part of him thinks he might be hearing things until your eyes meet his, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah?” he responds, voice coming out strained. He clears his throat.

“We’re friends, right?” you ask. He blinks, feeling like this is some kind of trick. He analyzes your face, making sure there’s nothing snide or teasing hidden in your question. You look honest enough, which puts him at ease.

“Yeah, for sure.”

“I hope that’s not sarcasm,” you say, getting up from your seat and adjusting your bag over your shoulders.

“It’s not! Really, we’re friends,” he reassures. You walk past him and he follows, leaving the classroom and entering the busy hallway.

“Well, good. I wanted you to go with me somewhere.” Your statement is wildly cryptic, and it leaves Yeonjun’s mind whirling with the possibilities of what you might offer.

“Right now?” he asks. “I-I have class…” As much as he likes you, he really can’t risk dropping his grade due to missed attendance.

You laugh, “No, tonight. There’s this party, and I”—you keep talking, but Yeonjun barely registers it. He’s never partied in college before. What would he even do at a party? He can’t handle his drinks well, and he’s not sure how well he’d blend into that kind of environment. He’s scared he’d make a fool of himself.

As you leave the academic building, you turn to Yeonjun, raising a brow in question. You must have asked him for his confirmation. Yeonjun forces his brain to rack up a response.

“Could you text me the details..?” Yeonjun asks. You relax a little at his words, nodding happily. You pull out your phone, ready to text him now. Yeonjun feels his heart pounding. He catches sight of the time on your phone, noticing he’s only got five minutes until his next class. The hall he’s supposed to be in is at least a three minute walk from here.

“There,” you say, awarding Yeonjun with a grin so bright that being late to class might just be worth it. “I really hope to see you there.” You tilt your head a little, and Yeonjun feels starstruck.

“You will,” he promises mindlessly.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Yeonjun feared he might’ve been in trouble when his professor asked him to stay after class. Turns out, it’s something much worse.

“Yeonjun, do you think you could help in the lab later today?”

Yeonjun doesn’t think much before he nods. “Yeah, of course, how much later?”

“Around 6 this evening,” his professor answers. Yeonjun’s heart drops. That would be perfectly fine any other day, but he promised to go out with you today. Of course the party would start at the same time Yeonjun’s professor wants him to stop by the lab.

“I’m not sure I have the time,” Yeonjun says quickly, suddenly fidgety and feeling antsy to leave the room. “I’ve got this… thing to do.” His professor doesn’t look too convinced. Yeonjun wants to facepalm himself. Yeah, great excuse.

The professor sighs, but Yeonjun starts up again before his professor can say anything. “I can come in earlier! I’m free right now, so I could just go over after this.”

“The cells we’re working with need a full 24 hours in culture for the sake of our research. Are you sure you can’t push your plans forward? Or back?” he asks.

Yeonjun’s stomach twists with guilt. He knows he shouldn’t let his professor down. Yeonjun’s kind of counting on him to write his recommendation letter for a graduate program, too.

“I’ll push the plans back,” Yeonjun says, giving in. He hopes the dejection isn’t too evident in his voice. His professor smiles and pats Yeonjun’s shoulder in thanks. He half-listens as his professor gives him the usual rundown of what to do during and after the process, nodding along and holding back the frown that tries to tug at his lips.

When Yeonjun finally leaves the building, he lets out the heaviest sigh of his life. His shoulders sag, and he feels like he might be the unluckiest person in the world. You finally give him attention outside of just asking for homework help, and the universe just had to intervene. This is laughable. It’s also stupid. Annoying. Frustrating.

There’s a pout etched onto Yeonjun’s face as he walks back to his dorm. He’s got a couple hours until he needs to go to the lab, so maybe he can take a nap or tidy up his room a little. His head hangs low, gaze transfixed on the sidewalk, kicking along a small pebble that keeps him company on the way.

He only picks his head back up as he walks past a certain field of grass, one he often finds you sitting in. Sometimes you’re on your laptop, sometimes you’re taking notes in a textbook, but most of the time you’re just lounging and doing nothing. It’s almost inspiring. Yeonjun would probably benefit from relaxing and decompressing more.

You’re there, sitting cross-legged on the grass, peaceful and silent. You look up suddenly, making eye contact with Yeonjun. His face flushes, but before he can turn his head in embarrassment, you raise your hand and wave. Yeonjun almost stops in his tracks. You’re waving at him, acknowledging his existence yet again.

He smiles and waves back, failing to tame his heartbeat as he takes the sight of you in. He’s forced to look away when he nearly stumbles over the pebble he’s been kicking around—“Oh, shit!” he utters, quietly enough to not draw attention to himself.

He glances back at you casually, making sure you didn’t witness him tripping. Fortunately, you’re on your phone, no longer paying him any mind.

Back at his dorm, Yeonjun stands by his closet, contemplating what exactly to wear tonight. He also has to make sure his outfit is lab-friendly, so the loose sweater he’d been eyeing is a no-go. He sighs, looking at himself in the mirror. Maybe the t-shirt and jeans he’s wearing now will suffice.

Time passes slowly, slow enough for Yeonjun to clean his half of the room, make himself a small meal in the communal kitchen, and even read a chapter ahead in his calculus textbook. He almost feels relieved when his alarm sets off to go to the lab, eager to get his work over with.

He’s determined to get this done quickly enough to still see you tonight. The thought of letting you down the one time you ask him to hang out is almost painful. He imagines the frown you’d wear next time he sits next to you in class. He can’t let that happen; he has to make sure he gets to you.

He throws on his lab coat and adjusts the goggles to fit onto his face. He sighs as he grabs containers of various chemical compounds from the cabinet, leaving them on the counter as he fetches the other materials he needs. With everything set out in front of him, he grabs the petri dish of cells and glances at the procedural note his professor left.

Yeonjun’s done this enough times to get into the swing of things, so he’s not too concerned with double checking his every move. His bigger priority is getting this done as fast as possible so that he can get to you. Lab work is never particularly fun or interesting, so he passes the time thinking about you.

The smell of the chemicals burns Yeonjun’s nose a little, and he wonders for a second if he’d been zoning out too much. He picks up the procedural note and glances over the measurements again, making sure he’s been adding the right amounts of everything. If he does something wrong and messes with the cell culture, he risks not being allowed back in the lab. He should probably slow down a bit, even if it means making you wait longer.

He’s more careful throughout the rest of the process, pushing back the worries that he might’ve messed something up. He continues to reassure himself that everything’s okay as he finishes up his work, placing the lid back on the petri dish and storing it away. He writes the date and time on a piece of tape that he sticks onto the lid, then finally lets his body relax as he steps back.

He cracks his knuckles to alleviate the stiffness that had been building there and rolls his shoulders back, groaning at the soreness of his muscles. All the fine motor movements from working in a lab does a number on his arms and fingers.

He hears a rattle, and he turns quickly to make sure he didn’t knock anything over in his haste. His eyes scan the room, but nothing looks amiss. He shakes the feeling and sheds himself of his lab gear, eager to head to you at the party already.

It’s been over an hour, and the thought of you waiting so long for Yeonjun’s arrival strikes guilt inside his chest. He opens his phone to find the path he needs to walk to get to the house the party’s being held in, eyes bugging out when he sees that it’s a twenty minute walk from the lab. Shit, by then you’ll have been waiting an hour and a half for him to show up!

He groans, trying to think if there’s a better way to get to you. The buses around campus don’t stop at the street he needs to get to, and it’s not like he has one of those electric bicycles or scooters that everyone seems to love. He wonders now if it might be a worthy investment. He pouts and throws his head back, totally drained from everything happening today. His eyes land on the tops of the academic buildings and the tall trees overhead. Maybe there is another way to get there after all.

No, he shouldn’t. That would be way too reckless. He’s already gone through the whole power and responsibility spiel, and he’s not in the mood to get himself in trouble for acting rashly. But if no one sees…

He turns his head and scans for people in each direction. No one’s around. No one would know, and he really needs to get to the party before he makes himself look like an asshole. He checks for anyone one last time, then aims his wrist towards the sky.

“Yeonjun! What’s up!”

Yeonjun startles and brings his arm back to his side hastily. He whips around to see who’s talking to him and lets out a breath when he sees his friend who had just exited the lab building. “Taehyun, hey man,” he says, ignoring the anxious pounding of his heart. That was way too close. Lesson learned.

“Didn’t catch you at the physics meet last week. Everything alright?” Taehyun asks. Yeonjun really hopes this conversation doesn’t take too long. The last thing he needs is another ten minutes piled on top of how late he already is.

“I’m good, I was just”—controlling a fire set by some idiot arsonist, then trapping said arsonist with his webs until the cops arrived—“uh, kind of sick.”

Taehyun hums and nods. “Well, we missed you bro, hope you’re feeling better. I’ll see you around!” Yeonjun waves and returns the smile his friend gives him, then walks as fast as he can to the location you sent him. He manages to get there in fifteen minutes instead of twenty, only at the expense of heavy breathing like he just finished a marathon.

When he gets to the entrance, there’s two men Yeonjun has never seen in his life guarding the door. He almost scoffs. What is this, some kind of nightclub?

“You got the money?” one of the guys ask.

“What?” Yeonjun scrunches his brows and leans his head forward a little, thinking he might have misheard him.

“No money, no entrance,” the other man says.

“Dude, come on!” Yeonjun whines.

“House rules. Stop wasting our time and get out of line.”

“No, no, I’ll”—Yeonjun sighs, reaching into the back pocket of his pants to fetch out his wallet. “How much?” he asks. The men tell him, and he bites back the complaints that almost push past his lips. Yeonjun slaps the bills into the guy’s open palm. They finally open the door for him, and Yeonjun steps inside.

He’s taken aback by how many people are cramped into this place. The house is pretty big, but there’s at least a hundred people mingling around, which makes space tight. He squeezes past the crowd with muttered apologies, but no one seems to pay him any mind. He scans every room for you, but it’s a little hard to do it efficiently when there’s so many faces to check. A part of him fears you might’ve left already.

He pulls out his phone, ready to text you and ask, before he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns at the action and smiles when he’s met with your pretty face. “Hey, you!” you exclaim. “I thought you bailed on me.” There’s no real bite to your words, but it still makes Yeonjun frown.

“I’m sorry. I had to do this lab thing, and”—

“It’s alright, don’t explain. You’re here now!” you say. “Did you have anything to drink?”

Yeonjun shakes his head. “I don’t drink much.”

“Me either,” you say. You look out the window, then grab onto Yeonjun’s hand. His brain short-circuits, and he has to stop his eyes from going all dumb and wide. “It’s kinda stuffy in here. Let’s go outside.”

Yeonjun puts up no fight as you lead him out the back door, walking out into the yard. There’s almost as many people out here as there are inside, but the lack of walls means there’s more space to move. It’s much more breathable.

He takes quick glances at your face, trying to decipher what you’re staring so hard at. Your gaze is fixed on a small group of people just sitting and laughing. All the guys have girls in their laps, and a few girls stand around them, sipping their drinks. They all look happy. And drunk.

“Did you want to join them?” Yeonjun asks. He doesn’t know any of those people, but he’ll go if that’s what you’d like. It’s not like there’s much else to do when you’re not drinking or dancing.

The LED lights that line the house reflect in your eyes, making them dazzle extra bright. Your eyes dart to the group one last time before you shake your head. “Nah. Let’s just sit down and talk.” Yeonjun gladly obliges.

You find an empty spot to sit at, looking up at Yeonjun after you situate yourself. He laughs a little, “You really like sitting on the grass, huh?”

You smile at him and pat the ground next to you. “Don’t act like you’re too good to connect with nature.”

“It’s more about getting grass stains on my pants,” Yeonjun says, but sits beside you anyways.

You turn your head to him, and something about seeing your face this close makes it hard for him to keep eye contact. It’s quiet for a few seconds before you speak up, “So how come you said yes to the party?”

Something about your question strikes fear inside Yeonjun. Did you find him out? Do you know he likes you? Maybe this is some kind of humiliation ritual you’ve set him up for.

“Cause you asked,” he answers, voice a little meek as he fidgets with his hands in his lap.

“And if it was someone else who asked?”

Yeonjun thinks for a second, but he can’t come to an answer. “I don’t know. Like who?”

You hum and look into the crowd of people. Your head turns back to him after a couple seconds. “Like Yerim,” you say.

Yeonjun laughs as if the scenario is ridiculous, mostly because it is. Yerim would never even give him the time of day. She’s notorious for being cold to anyone who she isn’t interested in. Somehow, that seems to attract a bunch of guys to her. Not Yeonjun, though.

“No chance I’d go,” he says.

“So what makes me different?” you ask.

A lot of things. You’re nice, and you’re smart, and you’re down to earth, and you’re a beacon of warmth. Everything makes you different.

“Cause we’re friends,” he says instead. He wants to punch himself after the words leave him. This was his chance to flirt with you, yet he couldn’t even muster up the courage to give you a single compliment.

You nod. “I’m just asking cause… well, I guess I’m just surprised you agreed to come.” Your eyes meet his, warm and kind. “Thank you for that, by the way.”

Yeonjun’s stomach does flips when you look at him like that. “You’re welcome.” It goes quiet for a moment, so he continues, “I think this was worth handing over the last of my cash for.”

You burst out laughing. “They made you pay?! Why didn’t you just say you’re here with me?”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” he says. He bites his tongue after the words leave him. Who is he to assume there will be a next time? He hopes you don’t call him out on it.

“We should just go somewhere else next time. There’s a lot of places downtown that I want to visit,” you suggest, bumping his shoulder with yours. Yeonjun almost explodes.

“We should do that then,” he agrees. He’s not sure what suddenly drew you to him as more than some kind of tutor, but he thanks the universe for bestowing him with all this luck.

“There’s that bakery that opened a couple months ago,” you mention.

Yeonjun lights up. “Oh my god, I’ve been wanting to go there too!”

You squeal in excitement and clasp your hands together. “Let’s do that next. Tell me you’re free on Sunday,” you say.

“I don’t know, things come up last-minute sometimes. I’ll let you know.” It’s hard to make plans when he’s basically living a double life. Then again, he did agree to going out with you tonight on a whim. He’s not very consistent with his rules. He pushes the thought back.

Your eyes land back on the group of people hanging out and laughing. Yeonjun frowns, and he wonders if he’s not entertaining you enough. He doesn’t want to keep you from having fun.

“Why do you keep looking at them?” he asks, curious and soft. He hopes he’s not prying.

“They’re just some friends,” you answer.

“Oh. Why don’t we go say hi, then?” he offers.

You pull your lips into a tight line. “I’d rather not.”

“That’s alright,” Yeonjun says. You give a small smile in appreciation.

“What about you?” you ask. He tilts his head, not knowing what you mean. You continue, “Who’s in your friend group?”

Yeonjun laughs awkwardly and shrugs. “I mostly hang out with the physics honor society,” he admits.

“That’s cool. You must have a good bond.”

“We do,” he says. “How’d you meet your friends?”

You smile at him, and something in your face tells Yeonjun that it’s a complicated story. You sigh dramatically and lean back a little, “I met them at parties. Does that surprise you?”

Yeonjun’s not sure if that’s a rhetorical question. “No. You’re friendly. I can see why people come to you,” he answers.

“Thanks,” you say, voice a little quieter.

“Are you friends with your roommate?” he asks.

“I don’t have one. I live in a single dorm.”

Lucky. If Yeonjun had the extra money to spare, he’d be dorming alone too. It would definitely make heading out as Spider-man easier; he’d just be able to change in his room and jump out his window. Assuming no one is around to see, that is.

“That must be nice,” he says.

You shrug. “It’s alright. What about you? You got a roommate?”

“Yeah. We’re…” Yeonjun struggles to find a word to describe his relationship with Soobin. They’re not exactly friends, but they’re peaceful with each other.

You laugh and finish the sentence for him, “Roommates and nothing more.” There’s a lilt to your voice when you say that, and you wiggle your eyebrows like that’s supposed to suggest something.

“Ignoring your insinuations, yeah, pretty much.”

“I’m just kidding,” you say. He’ll let you make jokes at his expense all you want, it doesn’t bother him. Especially not when it means he gets to see you all giggly and happy. He thinks that you look the prettiest like this. Yeonjun would stare at you smiling up at him forever if he could.

The sound of a guy calling your name pulls Yeonjun from his stupor. He blinks at the man standing before the two of you, then looks at you with scrunched brows as if to ask who is that?

His unspoken question is answered the next second. “Hey, Kai,” you say. When Yeonjun gets a better look, he realizes that this is one of the dudes in the group you kept looking over at.

“Who’s this guy?” Kai asks, jutting his chin toward him.

“I’m Yeonjun.” He goes to hold out his hand for Kai to shake, but quickly puts it back down upon realizing that might be weird.

“Oh, Yeonjun from calculus. I know you,” he says.

“I didn’t know you’re in that class too,” Yeonjun muses.

Kai laughs, “I’m not. Y/n just talks about you.”

Yeonjun nearly melts. You talk about him. This is the best day of his life.

“Anyway,” Kai continues, looking at you again. “I need a couple more people on my beer pong team. You guys down?”

Yeonjun turns to you to gauge your reaction. He can’t really tell what you're feeling, not even when you face him as you contemplate your answer. Yeonjun shrugs, as if to tell you that he’s down for whatever you want to do.

“I think I’m good,” you say.

“Ah, alright, you bummer,” Kai jokes, stepping back and sending you a bright smile. “Continue your convo with the calc lord, I insist.” He’s gone after that, jogging off to the rest of his friends, setting up the game.

“Calc lord?” Yeonjun repeats, amused.

Your laugh is accompanied by a roll of your eyes. “He means it nicely, I swear.”

“Well, depending on how well he does in this game, I might start calling him beer pong lord,” Yeonjun says. You push at his shoulder as your laughter continues.

Yeonjun already knew he likes you a lot, but as the night goes on, he finds out that you’re even better than he thought. Conversation unfolds easily with you, even if Yeonjun’s answers are dorky and awkward at times. He feels exactly how he thinks you look when you sit in the grass alone: content and peaceful.

He’s not sure how many minutes or hours have passed when you ask him to walk you back to your dorm. All he knows is that tonight could have stretched into infinity, and that would’ve been fine. He follows you into the building, then into your room. He’s not sure why. It just feels right.

“Thanks for bringing me back,” you say. Yeonjun smiles and nods. He leans against the wall and stares out the window. You live on the top floor of your building, so the view’s pretty different from Yeonjun’s second story view. This would be a fun room to swing out of.

“Do you need anything else?” Yeonjun asks. A smile slowly takes over your face, and you cross the room to stand in front of him. You blink up at him, and something about it feels flirty. If he wasn’t biting his tongue so hard, his thoughts would have slipped right past his lips: you look cute.

You break the short moment of silence with a giggle. “Just for you to promise me we’ll hang out again,” you say, voice barely over a whisper.

Yeonjun has to remind himself to breathe and be normal. “I promise,” he says. He even holds out his pinky to seal the deal. You curl your pinky around his, accepting the playful gesture.

“Did you want to stay?” you ask. You look out the window, then back at him. “I’m okay with sharing my bed.”

That definitely flusters Yeonjun. “Oh, no, I’m—I was gonna just walk back to my dorm or something. Or take a bus. I don’t know. Thank you, though.”

You laugh. Hopefully not at his sputtering and rambling, but Yeonjun has a feeling that might be why. “Alright, then. Good night, Yeonjun.”

Your soft voice has Yeonjun wanting to backpedal and say he’ll stay the night, but he swallows down the words. He smiles at you as he backs away toward your door. “Good night,” he says, standing in your doorway.

“Yeonjun,” you call, stopping him before he could leave. He turns, waiting for your words. He’s surprised to see that you look a little shy. “I’m really happy I asked you to come with me. Tonight was fun.”

Butterflies erupt in Yeonjun’s stomach, and he feels like he could float from how giddy he is. “I’m happy too,” he says.

He steps out into the hall, thoughts lingering on how overwhelmingly good his time with you was. His mind is clouded with rosy memories of his night with you, and he finds himself repressing the urge to twirl around and jump for joy. He’ll probably be skipping all the way home, imagining all the possibilities of what could come next between you.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

It’s Sunday, and Yeonjun knows exactly why you’re calling. He stares at his phone, then back at the man in front of him tangled up in webs. Yeonjun shoots another web over the guy’s mouth.

“Sorry, gotta take this,” he says. “Stay right here.” He slings himself onto a branch of a tall tree nearby, just to make sure no one can listen in as he accepts your call.

“Hey Yeonjun!” Your voice is so cheerful that it makes Yeonjun giggle. He even swings his feet in the air as he sits on the branch.

“Hi Y/n,” he greets, hoping his voice isn’t too muffled through the mask of his suit.

“Did those last-minute plans end up showing, or are you down to try out that bakery?” you ask. Yeonjun frowns, hating to let you down when you sound so happy.

“I’m really busy today, I’m sorry,” he says, shoulders sagging from how awful he feels. He’s got a whole lab procedure to write once he’s done sorting out the crime scenes of today.

“No worries, maybe we can go after class sometime.”

He frowns. “I wish I could, but I got another class right after ours. Let me check my schedule, I might be able to”—

“Are those sirens?” you interrupt, and Yeonjun looks out to the street. He’s grown so accustomed to the sound of those things that it didn’t even register. “Where are you?” you ask.

“I’m… uh,” Yeonjun stammers, focusing on the cops getting out of the car and making their way towards the criminal.

He tunes into the cops’ conversation. “Looks like Spider-shit’s been here already,” one of them comments in a gruff voice.

The other cop huffs out a laugh. “He’s always meddling in with petty crimes. What do you think this guy did?”

“Jaywalking?” The cops chuckle.

“Not like he can explain with that over his mouth.” He points to the web Yeonjun placed on the man a minute ago.

Yeonjun scowls. He’s not sure why the cops hold so much scorn for him, but if they’d like to know, then the petty crime that Spider-shit helped stop was an armed robbery. If these guys were a little better at their jobs, he wouldn’t have to meddle in all the time.

“Hello?” you ask, and Yeonjun reels his attention back to his conversation with you.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m just coming back from the store. Crazy stuff going on today.”

“Oh. Well, stay safe,” you say.

“Thanks, I will.” He sees the cops looking around, probably trying to spot him, so he flattens his back against the tree and tries to talk a little quieter. “I’ll see you in class, I gotta go.”

“See you!”

Yeonjun sighs once the call ends. His suit doesn’t even have pockets, he just carried his phone with him today in case you contacted him. Stupid? Mildly. Inconvenient? Very. He had one less hand to work with when dealing with today’s crime culprits. To hear your voice, though? Worth it. He smiles like an idiot as he swings over to the next nearest building, making his way back to his dorm.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Yeonjun’s professor accompanies him to the lab today, overseeing the procedures for the day. The feeling of his professor watching over his shoulder is more nerve-wracking than any day spent fighting crime on the streets. He’s usually careful with his work in the lab, but he’s extra, extra careful on these days.

He pauses when he retrieves the petri dish of cells. He briefly considers the possibility that he’s crazy and just seeing things, but Yeonjun’s pretty sure that the clump of cells just moved. Like, uncanny movement. He holds his breath.

He stares at the clump, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. It doesn’t jerk around anymore, so maybe it was just his imagination. Fear still creeps up his neck at the idea of the research going wrong. He remembers feeling like he messed up at some point last time he was here, and the realization is making his skin grow clammy.

“What is it?” his professor asks, taking a step closer to Yeonjun.

“Nothing, I was just thinking,” he quickly responds, keeping his voice calm and steady. He brings the petri dish to the table and does his best to forget what he saw earlier. Yeonjun fears how his professor would react if he told him something unprecedented might be occurring. It happened so quickly that he can’t even tell if his mind was just playing tricks on him. Maybe he’s just extra nervous today.

He wipes the sweat off his palms onto his lab coat, bringing the necessary materials to the table to continue the research. His professor reads off the instructions slowly, and Yeonjun pretends he doesn’t feel his stomach twisting as he works with the cells.

He tries to calm down as he walks back to his dorm, but there’s a permanent chill shooting down his spine. There’s no way the clump should have moved like that—it shouldn’t show any observable motion at all, not without some kind of electrical stimulation.

Maybe he just jerked the dish too harshly. He was pretty nervous, so it would make sense. He must have been shaking and just didn’t realize. That would explain it. That would put Yeonjun at ease.

He can try to convince himself that everything’s fine, but he can’t stop the anxious thrum of his heart. Apparently the fear reads on his face, too, because Soobin’s quick to notice it when Yeonjun enters the dorm.

“Are you okay?” Soobin asks. Yeonjun’s not sure what must have given himself away. He pays more attention to breathing slowly and talking casually.

“I’m good,” he answers. He doesn’t expect Soobin to push the subject considering how quiet he always is, but Soobin’s gaze isn’t leaving Yeonjun. He must be really concerned.

“Did something happen?” Soobin asks. Yeonjun sinks into his desk chair, covering his face with his hands as he groans. “Sorry,” his roommate apologizes, turning away from Yeonjun to look at his laptop instead.

“No, you’re good, it’s just…” Yeonjun sighs. He might as well get this off his chest. “Some lab thing.”

Soobin nods, not asking any further. Now that Yeonjun’s started though, he doesn’t feel like stopping.

“I think I might’ve fucked up,” Yeonjun admits.

“How?” Soobin’s playing some video game on his laptop as he talks, which actually puts Yeonjun at ease. It feels less pressing, less like an interrogation or a confession and more like a normal conversation.

“The cells I’m working with are being weird. I don’t know. I don’t even know if I saw it right. I just feel crazy now.” Yeonjun rubs his palms against his eyes in frustration and exhaustion, soothing the headache he’s got building up.

Soobin hums. The little shooting sounds and animated voices coming from Soobin’s game fill the room until Soobin speaks again, “Did anyone else see?”

“No. My professor was there, but he didn’t notice.”

Soobin shrugs. “You’re probably fine then.”

Honestly, Soobin’s nonchalance to the situation eases Yeonjun’s worries a lot. He knows he can get in his head sometimes, especially when it comes to doing everything right, so to hear he’ll be fine lifts a weight from his shoulders.

“Yeah, probably,” he agrees. He basks in comfortable silence for a minute now that his heart isn’t beating so hard.

“By the way, have you bought more laundry detergent yet?” Soobin asks.

Ah, shit. “Tomorrow, I promise.”

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Being Spider-man is tasking, but it’s usually pretty cool. Not everyone gets to zip around the city and restore peace in people’s neighborhoods. Not everyone, however, has to worry about getting stabbed by a criminal in the middle of the night.

Yeonjun always stays until the cops arrive. It almost feels essential, just to make sure justice gets served. This time, he can’t.

He has to stop himself from groaning too loud when he feels the knife pull out from his side. The man in front of Yeonjun is already stuck to the side of a building, held there with a thick layer of web, so there has to be someone else. He turns around to look at the perpetrator, but the world moves a lot slower than normal.

Yeonjun blinks hard, focusing on breathing and staying conscious. The coward who stabbed him is wearing a ski mask, and he’s running away quickly. Yeonjun can’t let him leave. He moves forward and ignores the searing pain that sets his body alight. He straightens out his shaky arm and aims his wrist at the man, but the web that shoots out is just as weak as Yeonjun is.

Frustrated, Yeonjun growls and forces himself to move faster. It burns, he’s never felt any kind of pain like this, but he can’t let this man walk free. He can’t let this man stab another innocent person. Even with his staggered pace, limping as he tries his best to catch up to the man, he advances quickly.

He breathes hard and holds the air in his lungs as he aims again at the man, brows furrowed with angry determination beneath his mask. He lets out a loud grunt as he shoots his web out, and finally, it lands. The criminal falls as the web captures his ankle, keeping his leg stuck to the ground.

Yeonjun huffs as he traverses the rest of the way toward the man, nothing but fury in his veins as he shoots another web out. This one’s bigger, covering the man’s back and securing him to the pavement. He picks up his head and looks at Yeonjun with fear in his eyes, but he doesn’t care. He can’t. All he feels is pain and anger and pain and pain and so much fucking pain.

Yeonjun’s not the vengeful type, but getting stabbed really tests a person’s limits. He shoots more webs over the guy, making sure he won’t be able to move a muscle until the cops arrive.

Yeonjun doesn’t waste his breath making snide comments, though he does have a few choice words for him. He takes off the man’s ski mask and resists the urge to deck his face. He’s got fear etched into his expression, but Yeonjun finds it hard to feel sorry for him. The man starts begging for his life, and Yeonjun scoffs. Of course he’s not going to kill this man—no matter what, he doesn’t end people’s lives. A city’s hero shouldn’t get to decide who lives and dies.

Yeonjun stumbles away after finding a passerby to call the police. Now that the adrenaline’s gone, Yeonjun feels less mad and more scared. He’s really bleeding now; his hand comes up soaked when it presses against the wound. What the hell does he do? He can’t die like this.

He can’t go to the hospital with a stab wound. There’s no way for him to make up some alibi that wouldn’t just trace Spider-man’s identity back to him. He hisses through gritted teeth as he frantically scans his surroundings, looking for somewhere to go. The only thing that’s coming to mind is you, and it’s aggravating. He could be dying right now, and all his useless mind can do is think of you. Maybe it’s all the blood loss, and he’s just getting delirious, or maybe it’s a sign. It’s not like he has many good options right now.

There’s not enough time to think about it. He zips through the city and back onto campus as fast as he can, ignoring the splitting pain in his side that shoots up his body every time he moves. It’s getting harder to breathe, suddenly feeling suffocated by his mask, but he has to hold on. He’s not far away now.

He remembers the view from your window. He remembers exactly which room to shoot himself up to. He adheres himself to the wall outside your room and pulls his mask off, leaning his forehead onto the cold glass of your window with a sigh of relief. He catches his breath and knocks with a shaky fist. He’s really sorry for having to wake you up at this hour, but he has a feeling you’ll understand.

He doesn’t wait long. You're trudging out of bed and making your way toward the window, tired eyes blinking slowly. You look really cute. Everything is spinning around him, but he focuses on you. You’re still groggy and out of it until you meet Yeonjun’s eyes through the glass. As soon as you see him, it’s like you wake up immediately.

He watches your jaw drop, your frantic hands racing to open your window. His vision is nearly blacking out, and he tries to blink away the dizzy feeling in his head the best he can.

“Yeonjun?!” you squeak as he drags himself through your window and into your room. He can’t even hold himself up anymore, weak body collapsing to the floor. He groans and leans against the wall, clutching his side. He ignores the sickening feeling of blood dampening his hand, sticky and warm against his palm and between his digits.

You pick him up by the underarms, grunting as you heave him toward your bed. He notices how shaky your arms are, and he tries his best to pick up his own weight, even if it hurts like hell. He’s burdening you enough as is coming here so late.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to go to,” he says, catching his breath as you guide him to lay on your bed. He’s half-aware of how bloody and dirty he is, but you seem fully ready to let him stain your sheets. Concern and confusion fill your wide eyes, and Yeonjun can hear every word that you don’t say.

Luckily, you save the unnecessary questions for later. “What do I do?” you ask. Your hands tremble as they peel the shirt of his suit up, just enough to expose his midriff and the nasty damage to his side. You gasp upon seeing how bad it is, hardly able to stomach it, opting to look into his eyes instead.

He wants to respond to you, if not to answer your question then just to comfort you, but breathing is enough of a chore on its own right now; talking seems almost impossible. Watching you panic about this is shattering him. He makes an effort to move his arm out toward you, just to hold your hand and reassure you, but he doesn’t have enough strength.

You lift from the bed and open up a bottle of water, pouring some of the cool liquid over his head. It’s relieving against his burning skin and keeps him from losing consciousness. It also makes him realize how dehydrated he is.

“Please sit up,” you beg, placing a hand underneath his head to lift it a bit. He comes up just enough to drink some of the water you feed to him, swallowing down the rest of the bottle. He collapses back against your pillow once he’s finished, feeling much better just from that.

You come back with another bottle of water and pour small bits at a time over the gash in his side. He hisses and tenses up each time it hits his skin, but he knows you have to do this. He doesn’t want to make it harder by thrashing around and complaining, so he bites his tongue and keeps his body stiff.

The sheets soak beneath him as you continue emptying the water bottle over the wound. He should help you clean up after this; he doesn’t want you dealing with his mess all alone. A few minutes pass before you discard the plastic bottle and grab a t-shirt from your dresser.

You press the bunched up cloth against his injured skin gently, and he holds back any grunts that threaten to slip out. It’s like you can sense his pain despite his efforts to hide it, because you keep murmuring apologies to him.

“I’m okay, don’t be sorry,” he reassures. He doesn’t think you believe him, judging by the way lips stay tugged into a frown.

A quietness falls over the room. You pull your t-shirt away from his body and observe the wound, and your fingertips on his torso send electricity throughout his body. It doesn’t hurt so much now.

“You’re not bleeding anymore,” you point out.

He hums. “That’s good.” Your hand grazes the skin just outside the gash. There’s a soothing effect in the way your fingers glide against him, pressure so light that it’s barely there.

“You need stitches,” you say quietly, like you hate to break the news to him.

Yeonjun doesn’t mind. “You got a needle?” he asks. You fidget with the fabric of Yeonjun’s suit as you sigh and look away.

“I do,” you say. You don’t sound too confident, though. He doesn’t know what to do to make you feel better.

You grab his hand like it’s second nature to do so, and the action would be romantic if only you didn’t have that nervous look on your face. He can practically feel your heart pounding, and he’s dying to let you know that everything’s okay.

“I trust you,” he breathes out. He makes sure he’s looking you in the eye so you can see how much he means it. He’s risking everything by trusting you, but he’s not scared. He feels safe even with his life in your hands, his secret identity in your knowledge. If there was something more sacred and dangerous to give up than that, he’s sure he’d be okay lending that to you too.

It feels much more real when you have your needle and thread in hand. Yeonjun can’t contain his noises anymore, whimpering in pain when he feels the sharp tip pierce his skin.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you say quickly and desperately. “I’ll do it fast.”

He hisses as he feels the thread start to tug his wound shut. He throws an arm over his eyes, as if not watching you treat him will stop the piercing feeling. All his muscles are tensed up no matter how much he tries to relax, but he keeps his breathing steady and lets you do your work.

It’s not too long before you’re tying off the final knot and discarding your needle onto your nightstand. You run your thumb over the stitch, gentle and slow. Yeonjun takes his arm off his face and fixes his gaze on you, watching you scrutinize your work with scrunched brows.

“It feels fine. You did perfect,” he says, wanting to keep you from judging yourself too harshly. He wants to thank you, but the words feel so awkward building up in his throat.

“I don’t have a big enough bandage to put over this,” you say, still fixated on his injury. Yeonjun tries to sit up, but your hand on his shoulder eases him back down. “Don’t move too much.”

“Y/n…” he starts, but you give him a pointed look, and he decides to shut up and listen. He relaxes against your mattress.

“I wish I had some clothes to change you into,” you mutter after he pulls the shirt of his suit back down. The spandex isn’t super comfortable against his fresh stitches, but it’s easy to ignore in comparison to the searing pain of the open wound. He’ll have to throw out this suit; it’s bloodied beyond repair, and he has plenty of back-ups anyway.

“It’s alright,” Yeonjun says. You shuffle on the mattress until you’re laying down beside him. “Aren’t the sheets wet?” he asks, surprised at how unfazed you seem.

You let out a small laugh, and that frown finally leaves your face. “I don’t mind. I wanted to lay down.”

“I’ll buy you new sheets,” Yeonjun promises. “And a new needle. And I’ll explain everything to you, I swear. Please don’t”—

“Yeonjun,” you cut off. He shuts his mouth. “That stuff doesn’t matter. Are you okay now?”

He nods. “I’m okay.”

“That’s all I care about.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence. Yeonjun stares at the ceiling and wonders how much this is going to change things between you. He has some hope that this will make you two even closer, but a small part of him fears that you won’t want to associate with him anymore. He wouldn’t blame you; it’s not like being close to Spider-man isn’t a riskless situation. He doesn’t regret coming to you tonight, though.

He feels your eyes on him a moment later, and he can only bring himself to look at you for a second before returning his gaze to your ceiling. You must find that funny, because he hears you chuckling beside him.

“You know, I wasn’t expecting this when you said you’d hang out with me again.” There’s a softness in your voice that makes Yeonjun feel lightheaded. Not the losing-too-much-blood kind of lightheaded, but the oh-god-I-really-like-her kind—this one’s much more preferable and much more welcome than the former.

“I’ll have to make it up to you,” he says.

“How do you plan on doing that?”

He turns his head to face you, and something feels awfully domestic about getting to lay this close to you in your bed. It’s hard to breathe when you’re smiling at him so eagerly, when there’s a glint in your eyes that tells Yeonjun you’re having fun. There’s an itch all the way down to his bones that begs him to push forward and kiss you already, but he resists.

“I’ll find a way,” he whispers.

The room gets quiet again, and Yeonjun supposes he should leave. It’s not like he can wait for the sun to rise and walk out of your room in his bloodied Spidey-suit glory. He’s not sure what time it is right now, but he knows that if he doesn’t leave soon and get some sleep, he’ll be passing out in his classes.

“Thanks for fixing me up,” he says, pushing himself off your bed and stretching his limbs. He feels beyond sore, wincing at the pain that shoots through his body. You sit up immediately, scrambling to stop him.

“You’re leaving? Are you crazy? Stay here!” you insist, trying to drag him back to the bed. He turns his head to you and smiles, and something about the silent plea in your eyes lights up his heart. He keeps his feet on the ground and resists your efforts, even though he wants nothing more than to spend the night with you. It’s just not smart and not worth the risk.

“I can’t,” he says. You pout and stand before him, blinking up at him so prettily that he almost changes his mind. “It’s dangerous.”

“I know. I just wanted to keep you.” That makes Yeonjun giggle.

“Sorry. Maybe next time.”

You swat his chest. “Don’t let there be a next time. You almost scared me to death.”

“I’ll make sure to tell the next knife-bearer you said that,” Yeonjun jokes. It gets the laugh that he was hoping for out of you.

“Well…” you start, eyes darting between his own. He barely has time to register it when you press a kiss against his lips, your movement so hesitant and shy. It’s soft. It’s sweet. It’s over before he knows it. He blinks at you dumbly—it’s all he can do to not pass out like a dork in front of you. Your smile is just as soft and sweet as your kiss was. “Just stay out of trouble,” you finish, patting his chest gently.

“I’ll try.”

“I guess I’ll see you in class, then,” you say.

“Yeah,” he agrees. He should go now. He should make use of his feet and back away, but he stays planted in his spot. You sway girlishly in front of him, hands clasped behind your back.

“Good night,” you whisper. Yeonjun can’t help it—he pulls your face in so he can feel your lips on his again, more properly this time. They’re pillowy and dreamy, and Yeonjun could just melt into you. He doesn’t linger longer than he has to, backing up just enough to see your face. You mirror the glee that he feels in his own expression.

“Good night,” he echoes. He backs away and grabs his mask, slipping it back on. He opens your window back up and slings himself to the nearest tree. Each time Yeonjun looks over his shoulder, he sees you leaning at your window smiling right back at him. His heart does a little flip. On second thought, maybe getting stabbed is kind of cool.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Despite how well last night went, Yeonjun wakes up with a heavy weight on his shoulders. Every ounce of confidence that his interaction with you last night might have given him is completely gone the moment he remembers it, and sheds away at itself further when he notices you skipped class. A dreadful thought creeps up his spine: are you avoiding him?

Maybe you woke up regretting it all. Maybe you realized how ridiculous and stupid getting involved with Spider-man is, and you’re just protecting yourself before you can be burdened further. The classroom feels hot and suffocating, and fresh air sounds really nice right now, but Yeonjun stays put in his seat. He doesn’t want to make a scene and start freaking everyone out. To the best of his ability, he pushes his fears down and saves his panic for later—preferably for after he talks to you and gets some answers.

He doesn’t even open his notebook in his last class of the day. He shows up just for attendance purposes, then zones out staring at his desk for the rest of the hour. Time passes far too slowly; Yeonjun’s itching for the lecture to end so he can talk to you already. He’s practically running out of class as soon as it’s dismissed, but finds himself slowing down the moment he’s outside the building.

He’s pretty sure he knows where to find you. The bigger issue is figuring out what the hell he’s going to say. Is there any way to start this conversation without being awkward? Hey, thanks for saving my life last night. Also I am indeed that hero or whatever taking care of criminals in the city, hope you don’t mind! He feels so lame.

It’s wishful thinking to hope that you won’t care about what happened last night—well, except for the kissing part, but that’s probably not as important right now. He’ll push aside that conversation until the more important one happens.

He wants to run away the moment he sees your figure in the distance, sitting exactly where he thought you’d be. His tongue suddenly feels like lead, too heavy and useless to try talking to you. He gathers his breath and walks across the field, not letting himself back out now. You deserve to be given a little peace of mind. He’s sure today must have been confusing for you, that clarity hit you like a train this morning the same way it did to him.

You look over your shoulder when he reaches you, staring up at him and squinting your eyes from the sun. “How’d I know you’d come find me?” you ask, half-amused.

Yeonjun gives you a short laugh, unsure of himself as he sits on the grass beside you. It feels a little like he’s invading your space. He’s seen you sitting alone on this field as if it was all yours so many times.

“I thought I should thank you again,” he says, a little shy. He feels like he owes you a lot for last night. The whole city probably owes you a lot for saving him, honestly.

You look at him with a small smile, leaning your head on your bent knees. “Mhm. Shouldn’t I be thanking you, Spider-man?” There’s a teasing quality to your voice, and it makes Yeonjun laugh nervously. He should probably address that.

“I really hope you won’t tell anybody.”

“I won’t. I’m still finding it hard to believe anyway,” you say. Your sentences are all laced with a tiredness and exhaustion that Yeonjun can’t help but to feel at fault for. “It’s just weird to know it now.”

Yeonjun hums. He can sympathize with you on that—it must be really bewildering to know your classmate is the one swinging around town shooting webs at criminals. He just hopes you can forgive him for dragging you into this.

“Spider-man’s a little less cool now, huh?” he jokes, keeping his voice quiet even though no one’s around.

Your smile is full and genuine, and Yeonjun’s heart skips a beat. “I always thought he was a little lame,” you answer. Yeonjun’s ego bruises at that. You continue, “But I think he’s kind of interesting now.”

He can only hope that you don’t see the blush that takes over his face. He looks away to hide it, but he feels your gaze on him. “I don’t know if I’m that interesting,” he says, acting all humble. It’s clearly bait, and he hopes you’ll catch it.

“I can be the judge of that. Let me get to know you more,” you offer. Yeonjun bites his cheek to stop himself from grinning at this massive win.

“Well, we still have that bakery to go to,” Yeonjun mentions, and judging by the way your eyes gain a new sparkle, you seem to like the idea.

“You don’t have any more classes today, do you?” You already look ready to go.

Yeonjun doesn’t bother hiding his excitement anymore, letting his smile take over his face. “I don’t.” You’re standing up the next second, and Yeonjun’s quick to follow.

The bakery is a cute, cozy little place near some other restaurants downtown. There’s no seating inside due to the lack of space, but that’s made up for by the giant row of sweet selections to choose from. Yeonjun’s stomach rumbles in anticipation as his eyes jump around to look at each confection.

After buying your treats, you lead Yeonjun to a nearby bench. You both open your pastry boxes and bite down on the baked goods eagerly. You hum in satisfaction, nodding at the taste. “Wow, we should go here again,” you say, going in for another bite.

Yeonjun chose a sweet cheese bread, which he completely devours within a couple minutes. You don’t eat as fast as him, but he doesn’t mind waiting for you. He makes conversation in the meantime: “How come you skipped class today?”

You laugh a little around your mouthful of food, swallowing before you answer, “I barely slept. There was no way I could’ve focused if I went.”

Yeonjun hums in understanding. “I barely slept too,” he says.

“But you still went,” you add. “I guess you’re better than me.”

Oh god, he hopes you didn’t take it that way. “Not at all!” he rushes to say.

You smile and pat his shoulder. “I know. You’re just a star student, that’s all.”

Is that a compliment? Yeonjun blushes anyway. “I like to do well,” he says.

“I mean, considering everything you’re balancing, yeah, you are doing pretty well.”

Yeonjun laughs awkwardly in response, barely able to take your praise. He’s pretty sure you’re alluding to what you found out about him yesterday. “Thanks,” he mutters, all humble.

“Do you wanna talk about last night?” you ask, finishing your last bite.

“Sure,” Yeonjun answers, feeling a smidge of nervousness returning to him. It’s quiet for a few seconds. “Did you have any questions?” he asks. He feels more bashful than anything else, but it’s better than coming off as braggadocious.

You hum in thought, pouting your lips while you conjure up some ideas. “Was that your first kiss?”

He’s completely taken aback by your question—and a little embarrassed, quite frankly—and he scrambles to spit out a response. You’re stifling your laughter before he can even get his defense out. “No! I had my first kiss in, like, high school!”

“I’m just teasing,” you admit. “You’re a good kisser.” The compliment goes to Yeonjun’s head, playing in a loop while he floats on cloud nine. You liked kissing him. He should do it again and again, just to keep you happy. And for more selfish reasons, too.

Your voice breaks through his thoughts when you speak again, “Do you feel better today? Are you healing alright?” The joking tone leaves your voice, replaced with genuinity and care.

“I feel fine,” he answers. He pulls up his shirt to show you the wound, all stitched up and starting to heal over.

You wince. “Good thing I finished my food already. That killed my appetite.” Yeonjun laughs at your grimace and releases his shirt, falling back into place. “You should really put a bandage over that,” you suggest.

“I don’t have any.”

You shake your head in disbelief, though your amusement reads on your face. “You should be more prepared.”

Your concern is cute to Yeonjun. “I know,” he says.

“So who stabbed you?” you ask.

He shrugs. “No clue. He’s probably in a cell now.”

“Did it hurt?” you ask, though the answer is obvious.

“Like hell,” he says.

“How’d it even happen?” Honestly, Yeonjun’s not too sure about that either. He can usually sense imminent danger before it comes, but maybe he was too focused on the crimes he’d already been dealing with.

“He came up behind me while I was handling another criminal,” he answers.

You hum, getting off the bench and tossing your trash in a bin nearby. You start walking off then, and Yeonjun follows mindlessly. “Must be tough being Spider-man,” you say.

“Careful how loud you say that.” Yeonjun tenses as someone walks past the two of you, praying they were out of earshot when you said that. He sighs in relief when he sees the person had headphones in.

“Right, sorry. There’s just so much I wanna know now.” You turn a corner, taking a path leading back to campus.

Your curiosity excites Yeonjun, and he’s ready to answer whatever question you come up with. Some of his stories have serious entertainment value to them.

“Ask me, then,” he invites. You twist your head to smile up at him for a second.

“How’d you get like this? Were you just born this way?”

Yeonjun laughs at the idea. He swings his head around to make sure no one’s around when he answers, “No, a radioactive spider bit me.”

“When did that happen?” you ask. Yeonjun reminisces the first few weeks after the bite, thinking back to those initial feelings of fear and dread when he realized something had happened to him.

“In high school,” he says. It was super bewildering back then to change so drastically, yet be forced to act so normal. It’s much easier now—he’s had years to adjust—but he was a teenager when it first happened. That’s a lot for a kid to take on. He had to act like he was the same Choi Yeonjun his classmates had grown up with, and not some mutated superhuman dealing with the stresses of his new identity. Of course, he did that whole Spider-man thing to himself, but it was the right thing to do. He doesn’t regret it.

“Does anyone else know?”

“My uncle did, but he’s gone, so now it’s just you.” He looks at you, lips twitching upward.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you apologize, voice growing soft. He realizes that you’re in front of your dorm building now, and he supposes this is where he should leave. His eyes dart between yours, like he’s waiting for you to tell him to go. To ask him to stay.

“Are you doing anything today?” he asks. Maybe he sounds desperate. He doesn’t really care.

“Catching up on some work,” you say.

“I’ll give you my calculus notes.”

You smile. “That would be nice.”

Yeonjun didn’t even take notes in calculus today. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

“Can I stay?” He’s teeming with hope and bravery today. You open the door to your building and signal him inside, and he has to hold back the victorious giggle that almost escapes him as he trails behind you.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of questions and answers. Yeonjun’s never talked so openly about being Spider-man before, and a part of it feels healing. You study hard while he rambles about stories of the little things he’s done throughout the years. Some are funny and make you cackle, and some draw your attention away from your textbook so you can look at him in shock. It’s impossible for Yeonjun to wipe the grin off his face—not when he bids you good night, not when he walks back to his dorm, not even when lays in bed to sleep. His heart never lets up on that jittery rush it has for you.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

A quintessential part of the college experience, Yeonjun’s come to find out, is trying out all the different ramen brands to see which one is the best. He’s a fan of whichever one he’s chowing down on right now, and a 5-pack of this barely puts a dent in his bank account. Seems like a winner.

He glances over at his dorm’s door when it opens, curious to see that Soobin brought someone over. Yeonjun isn’t bothered by that, though; if this guy is anything like Soobin, he’s not worried about getting annoyed.

“You can remember to buy ramen but not detergent?” Soobin asks, chuckling. Yeonjun chooses to read that as a joke instead of a passive aggressive comment.

“Ugh, dude, I keep forgetting, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. Yeonjun points at Soobin’s friend and continues, “This your friend?”

“Yeah, I’m Beomgyu,” the friend introduces. Something about him looks a little familiar.

“Nice to meet you,” Yeonjun greets with a nod.

Soobin grabs some clothes from his closet then turns to the door. “I’m gonna go change and then we can head out,” he says to Beomgyu, then heads off to the bathroom.

When the door shuts, Yeonjun returns his attention to his ramen and ignores Beomgyu’s presence as best as he can. That doesn’t last too long, though, cause soon enough, Beomgyu’s breaking the silence: “Are you still hanging out with Y/n?”

Yeonjun turns in his seat to face Beomgyu. He’s not sure how Beomgyu would know that, but Yeonjun entertains the question nevertheless. “Yeah. You know her?” he asks.

“She’s my friend,” he says. “Kind of.”

Yeonjun already feels something weird in the air. He’s waiting for the turn that this conversation is bound to take. He finally pieces together why this guy looks so familiar; he’s one of the boys at the party in the group that you kept looking over at. Now Yeonjun’s really curious.

“Why do you ask?” The question comes out a little hesitantly.

“I’m telling you this man-to-man, I think you might be getting played,” Beomgyu says.

Yeonjun’s immediate reaction is only confusion. How would you be playing him? You’ve been nothing but sincere with your feelings—or, that’s what it seemed like, at least. Now Yeonjun’s doubting himself. A part of him doesn’t believe it and doesn’t want to indulge in this conversation any further, but he’d start spiraling whether or not Beomgyu explains himself now. Worry swirls in Yeonjun’s stomach.

“Why?” he asks despite himself.

“This is just what I’ve heard, but apparently she had a thing with Kai, and he started talking to another girl, so she wanted to get back at him. I don’t know, though.”

Kai. That boy who came up to you at the party. Yeonjun remembers him.

He doesn’t want to show how much those words affect him, but shit. Hearing that hurts. His body feels weightless, like he’d be falling over if he wasn’t sitting at his desk. He nods as he exhales slowly, keeping his heart from going haywire.

“Huh,” is all he says. Soobin comes back the next second, and Beomgyu heads out with him after that, and the world keeps spinning on, but Yeonjun feels trapped in that moment. He waits to wake up in a sweat, hoping this is all some nightmare that’s going to end, but the wake never comes. He’s forced to deal with his whirling thoughts instead.

None of this can be true. It wouldn’t make sense. You kissed Yeonjun. You said you were interested in him. If this was all a lie, how will Yeonjun ever trust anyone again? When he came to you bleeding out, you saved his life. When you found out his secret identity, you kept it safe. Yeonjun miscalculated something that night—there is something more sacred and dangerous to trust you with than those things: his heart.

He doesn’t even want to finish his ramen anymore. His fingers brush against the wound that’s healing pretty well thanks to you, and a thought crosses his mind. The night that you kissed him was the night you found out he was Spider-man. An especially sickening question starts to haunt him. Did you only start liking him because of that?

Yeonjun feels played. He’s always known that he was a fool, so he doesn’t know why he’s so surprised, but really? Beer pong lord?

Five minutes is hardly enough to process the information Beomgyu dumped onto Yeonjun, but that’s all he gets, because now his alarm is going off and telling him to go over to the lab. He drops his head to his desk with a groan. It’s like an anchor’s been tied to his heart, sinking further and further until it makes him his stomach churn.

The fresh air feels good in Yeonjun’s lungs as he walks over to the lab. A permanent pout is etched onto his lips, unable to stop thinking about you. Good things. Bad things. Everything. Each memory hurts now.

He probably looks like some depressed college kid, walking around with his hood up and head down. He should be less pathetic, pick himself up and get himself together. It’s not like you two were really anything anyway. A kiss doesn't always mean something to everyone. Maybe it’s his fault for assuming that for you, it did.

It’s not just that, though. Yeah, kissing you made Yeonjun feel alive in a way that only swinging through the city could compare to, but there’s so much more to you than that. It’s the way you talked to him, the way you cared for him, the way you looked at him. How the hell do you fake that kind of connection? Hurt splits him at the seams like he’s being torn in two, but he keeps walking like nothing’s wrong.

“Yeonjun!” He recognizes that voice immediately. He pulls his eyes off the sidewalk and catches sight of you walking up to him. He almost forgot that he walks past your little field on the way to his lab.

It feels like he’s the one keeping a secret, palms clamming up as you stand in front of him. He stops in his tracks to allow you the conversation. “Hey,” he says.

“What are you up to?” you ask. He fidgets with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Should he just act normal? Should he let you get away with using him? When he thinks about it like that, it puts a sour taste in his mouth.

“I’m headed to the lab. Got some stuff to do, and it’s time sensitive, so…” he trails off awkwardly, looking off into the distance instead of at you.

“Oh, okay,” you say, sounding a little dejected. Yeonjun shouldn’t be feeling bad for you right now, but he can’t help it. It makes his chest clench to hear the joy leave your voice. “Maybe we can hang out after? Just to study or something,” you offer.

Yeonjun sighs, “Maybe.”

You’re quiet for a second as you assess him. “Are you okay?” Concern fills your voice, and when he brings his vision back to you, he can see it in your eyes too.

“I’ll talk to you about it later,” he says.

You frown, taking in his flat expression. You must gain some insight from that, because then you’re asking, “Did I do something?”

He wants to hold his head, feeling defeated and frustrated and sad and a million other different things. He’s not sure how to label it. He’s never felt emotions this complex before, probably because he’s never liked anyone this much before.

“Oh god, did I?” you repeat, more fear in your voice at Yeonjun’s lack of a response. It strikes him and deflates his will to be dismissive about it, not wanting you to sit here worrying for the rest of the day. Curse his soft heart.

“Just come with me,” Yeonjun says, continuing on the path to his lab building. You follow beside him, taking long strides to match his quick pace. He notices you struggling to keep up, so he slows down, even though it might make him a few minutes late.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. He can feel you looking at him, but he keeps his eyes ahead.

“You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for,” he mumbles.

“Tell me then,” you plead. The thought of having to talk about this with you makes him feel sick. He doesn’t know if he can even choke up the words without getting nauseous.

“Let me clock into my lab first.” The rest of the walk is silent; you keep quiet even as you enter the room with him, watching him take off his sweatshirt and put on his lab coat. You’re quiet even as he goes through the study procedure, not even lingering near him to see what he’s doing. He feels a little cruel for it, wondering if he’s just torturing you by forcing you to stand silently and worry about what he must be upset at you for.

He steals a glance at you. You’re leaning against the wall by the door, so many steps away, keeping so much distance. He bites his lip and looks away, figuring it’s time to start the conversation.

“I want to talk to you, but I don’t want you to lie to me,” Yeonjun says, breaking the long stretch of silence. He walks toward you, stopping before he gets too close.

“I won’t. I’m not gonna hide anything from you.” It’s funny you say that.

“Do you like Kai?” His question catches you off guard, your frown leaving your face.

“No,” you answer.

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not.”

“Okay. So why did Beomgyu tell me you used me to get back at him?”

He watches you stiffen at the question. “How do you know Beomgyu?” you ask.

“Please just answer me,” Yeonjun says. He doesn’t want to run around in circles, he just wants to hear the truth from you.

“I don’t like Kai anymore.” Something about that sentence hits like a stab to the gut. Yeonjun would know the feeling.

He tsks and shakes his head, ready to walk away and end the conversation, but you continue, “Please let me say the whole story.” Yeonjun sighs and meets your eyes. He decides to hear you out, only because a part of him is dying for you to make this right.

“Go ahead,” he says.

“I invited you to the party because you’re my friend, and I think you’re cute, but also for really petty, stupid revenge. It was so dumb and I’m so sorry, I feel so fucking bad for that now,” you explain. Yeonjun thinks back to how excited he was when you asked him. He remembers the rush of butterflies, the nervousness that pooled in his stomach, the adrenaline through his veins when he realized he finally had your attention.

You continue, “But I swear on my life, Yeonjun, the second we went outside at that party, I realized how unfair it was. I wanted to make Kai jealous, but when we were standing out there, I couldn’t do it. You’re a good person, and I felt fucking awful, and I didn’t go through with anything, and I’m glad I didn’t. You gave me one of the best nights of my life that day. I mean that. Seriously.”

There’s sincerity in your eyes, so Yeonjun knows you’re not lying. The ache in his chest is dull now, but still there. He can’t believe you planned to use him as some pawn to get back at Kai.

“Why’d I have to hear it from someone else? Why couldn’t you tell me yourself?” he asks. It’s pathetic how his voice carries more heartbreak than anger.

“Cause I didn’t want you to misunderstand and leave!” you explain, desperate. “Yeonjun, please. I don’t care about Kai anymore. I haven’t even talked to him since the party.”

Yeonjun wishes he could feel comforted by your words, but all he feels is hurt. He has this terrible thing where he can’t stop asking questions that will only batter him worse. “So you didn’t really like me?”

You take a step closer to him, placing both hands over your heart. Yeonjun’s not blind; he can see the fear in your eyes, the worry that he might walk away. He doesn’t have it in him to relieve your stress right now.

“I always liked you. I like you more every day,” you answer. There’s honesty in your words, which Yeonjun appreciates. It doesn’t quite melt away his insecurities, though.

Yeonjun can’t bear looking at you any longer, dropping his gaze to the floor and stepping back. He’s ready to leave, thinking he needs the night to himself to stare at the ceiling and contemplate this whole situation.

You stop him before he can get too far. Your hand hooks onto the sleeve of his lab coat, shaking as you cling to him. It’s so pitiful that it ruins the monstrous image Yeonjun’s trying to fit you into in his mind. Against his better judgment, his eyes meet yours again.

He’s about to speak—maybe to console you, to get some of that sadness out of your eyes—but the sound of glass breaking behind him makes him turn with wide eyes, searching for the damage. He’ll be the one stuck replacing any broken equipment; he can only pray that it wasn’t a more expensive piece.

His eyes flit across the room, but he finds nothing. Is he seriously losing his mind? Every time he’s in this lab, there’s something new giving him a mini heart attack. He brushes this off as some kind of paranoia. He considers talking to his professor about taking a break from the lab, just until he can restore his sanity.

“Let’s just head out of here,” Yeonjun says, unable to rid himself of the chill down his spine.

“Do you still like me?” you ask, unable to move on from the conversation. You stay planted in your spot as Yeonjun takes off his lab gear. He groans internally at your question—of course he still likes you. Do you think his feelings are so malleable? His adoration for you feels like an immovable boulder. He can’t even stay mad at you for as long as he wanted to, though he tries not to let you win too easily.

He sighs out your name instead of answering. He waits for you at the door as he throws his sweatshirt back on, and you trudge forward with a pout. Once his sweatshirt is slipped over his head, he catches sight of something behind you, heart stopping entirely.

“What the hell—?!” he emits, eyes growing wide as the cell clump he’d been working with expands out past its storage spot, spilling out onto the floor. The broken glass earlier must’ve been from the petri dish—shit, he should’ve checked. It’s discolored now, so dark it’s nearly black, and growing more rapidly than it should be able to.

You spin on your feet to see what Yeonjun’s looking at, yelping when you see the growth. You back up quickly and bump into Yeonjun’s chest. “What’s happening?” you ask, turning your head back to look up at him.

“I don’t know,” he answers. He has to think fast, because it doesn’t look like the cell replication is stopping any time soon—if anything, it looks like it’s growing exponentially. The clump is a goo-like substance, slowly spilling out further and further onto the floor, looking something like tar as it expands out. “We’ll have to trigger rapid apoptosis,” he says.

“How do we do that?” you ask. Yeonjun’s not sure either, so he doesn’t bother to answer. He opens one of the cabinets and pulls out all the different liquid chemicals he can find. One of these is bound to do something.

You hold yourself and watch him carefully, still looking shy and desperate and nervous from your argument. Yeonjun’s not sure why you seem to be more bothered by him not reassuring you that he likes you than by the clump that grows behind you. Your attention remains on him the whole time.

“Are you mad at me?” you ask.

“No,” he answers sharply and quickly. He has bigger issues to be worried about than staying mad at you.

“I promise I wasn’t lying. I won’t talk to Kai ever again.”

“Why are we having this conversation right now?!” Yeonjun asks, frustrated.

“Because it’s important to me that you know!”

He ignores you in favor of unscrewing the lid to one of the acids, hoping it could digest the cells. When he pours it onto the clump, a loud hiss rings through the room and smoke comes up from the mass. It doesn’t seem to dissolve the cells, though.

He emits an exasperated groan, opening the lid to another chemical substance, and you rush to do the same. He can’t stop to think about how dangerous this is, too focused on controlling the problem before it gets irreparable. You and Yeonjun pour chemicals onto it at the same time, and it seems to react. The tar-like blob thickens now, erecting itself up from the floor languidly.

You and Yeonjun back up, watching with fearful eyes as it stands. It moves like it’s alive, like it’s a living organism. It’s eerily silent for a room as you two stare at the mass in shock. Then, rapidly, it comes charging at you, attaching itself to your cardigan as you shriek. Yeonjun acts fast, running to you and grabbing your waist, adhering his feet to the floor to keep you from getting dragged any more. You shed your cardigan quickly before tugging it back from the blob. It tears from how harsh you pull it, but you don’t seem to care, chucking it to the opposite side of the room.

This is an unfortunate time to see you in a tight-fitting tank top. Your chest heaves from the panic of being grabbed by the organism, rising and falling as you start to steady your breath. You look over at him, and he finds himself blushing and removing his gaze from you in embarrassment. God, now he’s the one struggling to focus on the bigger problem.

Yeonjun directs his wrist at the blob, shooting a web at it to keep it from charging at you again. The web sends the mass flying back until it collides with the wall. Though it can’t remove itself from the confines of the web, it still slowly grows, and it will be able to expand enough to attack again soon. Still, this should buy you two some more time.

“You should leave,” Yeonjun says, coming to you and cupping your face. His eyes beg you to go, strung up on the possibility of you getting hurt.

“I won’t,” you say, grabbing onto his wrists.

“Please. You’re too important.” His hand strokes through your hair like you’re something precious.

You take his hand and kiss it. “You are too. I won’t leave.”

He sighs. He knows he’s not winning this, there’s too much determination in your words. Before he removes his focus from you, he thinks he should tell you one last thing. “Just so you know, I like you too.”

You’re barely able to hold back your smile, but Yeonjun can’t stay and watch your reaction. The mass continues to grow over the confines of the web, and he has to find a way to control it before it overcomes the binds. He opens the binder that holds the descriptions of all the lab materials, hoping he can find something useful in there. His eyes flit across the words, scanning for the chemicals that will be his saving grace.

He stops when he reads the description for nitric acid. The words digest and dissolve kick his body to life, hope stirring inside of him. “Come here with the nitric acid!” he shouts over his shoulder.

“Which one is that?” you ask hurriedly, scanning through the different bottles of chemicals.

“It’s in a brown translucent bottle. Quick!” Before he can panic further, you’re racing to his side with a bottle of the acid. Yeonjun quickly pours it over the mass, watching it shrivel when the liquid hits its surface. A weight lifts off Yeonjun’s shoulders when he realizes he finally found something that works. The bottle doesn’t hold nearly enough, though, because Yeonjun empties it out before he can melt the organism completely.

He turns to you expectantly, and you’re rushing back to the counter where all the chemical substances are held. You’re turning each to read the labels, growing more aggravated as you fail to find another container of nitric acid. You curse as you swing the cabinet doors open, checking if there’s any stored away in there.

You pull out a bottle from the cabinet, reading it quickly. “Would sulfuric acid work?” you ask, looking at Yeonjun like you need him to say yes.

“It would react with the nitric acid,” he answers. You groan.

“You think I know any of this stuff?!” You go back to searching through the cabinet.

“Yes! You’re, like, the smartest girl I know!” Yeonjun exclaims, equally as frustrated.

“You must not know a lot of girls then,” you huff. You finally pull out a bottle that seems to match, running over to Yeonjun. He takes it from your hands and pours the liquid over what remains of the clump, watching it dissolve until all that’s left is a murky puddle on the floor. He plops the nitric acid onto a table, finally letting himself take a full breath. He tastes the chemicals swirling in the air, but he can’t bring himself to care about any toxins filling his lungs. He’s worn out, crouching down in exhaustion with a groan.

When he picks his head up from between his arms, he searches for you. You’re bent over one of the tables, head tucked between your arms as half your body rests over the surface. You must be just as drained as him. He stretches his body out as he stands back up, then approaches you at the opposite side of the table. He rests his elbows onto the tabletop, leaning forward to be closer to you.

“You get feisty when you’re working under pressure,” Yeonjun teases, breathless laugh escaping him. You lift your head to look at him, and he can see how you hold back your amusement.

“I could say the same about you,” you respond. You seem winded, still breathing hard as you push yourself off the table and pick up your cardigan from the floor. You hold up your cardigan and examine the damage. It’s stained and ripped and looks disgusting. You pout. “This was my favorite one…”

“Don’t worry, you’re pretty good at stitching things back up,” Yeonjun says, coming up to you and taking the cardigan from your hands to tie it around your waist. You look up at him, something fond shining in your eyes.

“I guess I am,” you say, tugging on Yeonjun’s sweatshirt to pull him closer to you. You wear a dopey smile as you stare at him, hands resting on his shoulders, and Yeonjun really hopes that you do what he knows you’re both thinking about right now.

You don’t leave him waiting long; your hand comes to his jaw to bring his face to yours, and the next second, Yeonjun’s having the best kiss of his life. It feels like a reward after the shitshow that today’s been. For it to come to this, he’d relive it a dozen more times.

“Wait,” Yeonjun says, pulling back. “Are we dating now?”

“Haven’t we been dating?” You look at him like he’s a fool, and it endears Yeonjun endlessly.

“I mean, boyfriend-girlfriend dating,” Yeonjun explains.

“Oh, I’ve already told, like, three people that you’re my boyfriend.” There might be real hearts in Yeonjun’s eyes right now.

“Good,” he says, coming in for another quick kiss. “I’m all yours.” His words are uttered against your lips, since he can’t seem to pull himself away from you.

You gladly accept his kisses, and he has to keep himself from getting too drunk off your taste. He has to remember he’s still in a lab with a bunch of chemicals filling the air—it’s probably a good idea to get out. Even though he doesn’t want to, Yeonjun steps back and looks around at the mess throughout the room. Given everything that happened, it’s not awful. A mop would take care of ninety percent of the problem.

“We should clean this up,” he sighs.

“Yeah,” you agree. Neither of you make a move. You start laughing after a few seconds, and Yeonjun returns his attention to you with a cheeky grin.

“No, let’s just leave,” he suggests. He’s exhausted. He’ll explain everything to his professor tomorrow, he can’t take any more of this today.

“Should we go back to my place then?” you ask. Yeonjun does a very poor job of hiding his excitement. He wants more than anything to hold you to his chest and zip across campus to get to your dorm, but alas, he does the smart thing instead. A ten minute walk has never felt more like ten hours in his life, and seeing your dorm building finally come into view has his heart racing in anticipation.

Yeonjun’s all over you the minute your door closes behind him. He doesn’t let your lips disconnect for a second—not to talk, not to breathe, because nothing’s more important than tasting your lips on his.

Your back falls to your mattress, and Yeonjun’s mind briefly wanders to the last time you two were here. Having you sprawled out beneath him is quite different than you patching him up above him. In a way, that moment felt like the start of something bigger between you. The initial spark came long before it, but that night is what caused fire to catch. He feeds the flame now, fingers untying the cardigan at your waist and throwing it to the floor. Your shirt’s the next thing to go, and he only pulls away long enough to shed the cloth off of you.

His mouth on yours is ravenous and unwilling to waste any more time. He feels up your stomach, cherishing the warm flesh with eager fingers. He trails his hands up to your chest, feeling your breasts over your bra. You gasp when he squeezes experimentally, and it encourages him to continue, movements growing hungry.

You break away from the kiss, panting for air while Yeonjun latches onto your jaw. He’s insatiable, sucking your skin and placing kitten licks over the mark after. He hovers his face over yours, biting back his grin when he sees how hazy your eyes have become.

You catch his face in your hand, cupping his jaw and thumbing his cheek. The action makes his heart soar, and he leans into your warm touch. Your smile turns from soft to wicked when you push your thumb between his lips, and he engulfs the digit without a fight.

“I like you,” you say as he sucks your thumb, blinking up at him adoringly like he’s not doing some lewd act right now. He swirls his tongue around you before popping it out of his mouth, kissing your fingertip then taking your hand in his own.

“I like you too.” His free hand goes behind your back to search for your bra clasp, fumbling with it clumsily until he gets it to disconnect. You pull the material off, and Yeonjun’s cock twitches in his pants when he takes in the sight of you. A part of him feels wrong for doing this, like this is too dirty, but a larger part of him can’t wait to indulge in you. He’ll just make sure to take you out for dinner after.

Yeonjun throws his sweatshirt and shirt to the floor, pride swirling inside him when he sees the way you ogle at his skin. You lay your hand over his chest, trailing your fingers over the expanse teasingly. He takes your wrist and drags your hand away.

“You don’t deserve to touch me. I’m still upset about Kai,” he says. It’s a lie, but he’s in a playful mood. Your hand makes its way back to his chest despite that, so he grabs it and brings it to the bed, shooting a web over your wrist so you can’t move it. He giggles. The whole web-slinging thing comes with some perks.

“Oh, come on,” you sulk as he does the same to your other wrist. He leans back for a moment, looking down at you all proud. A few different sights flash through his mind, endless possibilities of how he could make the most of your hands being restrained. Maybe he should punish you for ever liking Kai in the first place, keep you on the edge until you’re chanting apologies into the air. He could also just indulge in your body greedily, taste every inch of you without your hands pulling him away. The ache in his pants grows at the thought.

You sigh in satisfaction when his hand meets your clothed core. Your hips grind against his hand, and he allows you to use him to find your pleasure. Your hands close into fists as Yeonjun lets you ride his open palm, still fighting against your restraints.

“How much do you like me?” Yeonjun asks. His free hand holds your waist, fingers brushing against your skin gently.

“So much,” you answer, never abandoning your rhythm. “You’re so smart, and handsome, and funny, and—nngh—and good to me…” Yeonjun’s hand travels from your waist to your chest in reward, thumb rolling over one of your nipples.

“Yeah, I am good to you. I stay with you even though you’re mean to me.”

You shake your head at his statement. “I’m not mean to you,” you say.

He laughs at how you try to control yourself, how serious your tone gets. Your hips slow, so he takes measures into his own hands and moves his palm against your cunt instead. If he presses down hard enough, he can feel how wet you are even through your pants.

“You are,” he says. “You use me to get other men.” He knows that’s not true now, but a part of him is still a little bruised by the idea. He figures that airing out his insecurities like this might help him, and it makes him feel less vulnerable.

“No! That’s not true!” Yeonjun ignores you and takes off your pants, letting them join the other articles of clothing on your floor. He short circuits when he sees the wet patch on your panties. A sense of shame must fill you then, because your legs clamp shut to block his view.

“Hey, be nice,” he says, opening your legs back up. He holds you open as he presses his knee to your folds, and he can feel your arousal even through the fabric of his sweatpants. He’s squealing internally, overjoyed to have you soaking for him, but he keeps his calm on the outside.

Your hands push against the webs again, shaking the mattress a little. You pout at him. “I want to touch you,” you whine.

“Sorry about that,” he says. He matches your pout as his hands smooth down your legs, lazily exploring your flesh. He grabs your hips and positions them up a little so that you’re pressing into his thigh. He hears the moan that gets caught in your throat as he drags your cunt against him, holding back a satisfied smirk.

“Should I tell you what I like about you?” Yeonjun asks, something silky and smooth in his voice. You nod, rolling your hips over his thigh. “Say pleaseeeee,” he prompts.

“Please,” you echo. He giggles.

“Again.” He’s having fun.

“Please, Yeonjun,” you beg, sweet voice dripping with need.

He releases your hips so he can pull off your panties, tugging you back onto him once you kick the cloth off your ankles. He can really feel how wet you are now, and it makes a knot form in his stomach. He wants you more than anything.

“I like how pretty you are,” he starts, leaning over you to press kisses against your neck. “And I like how cool you are.” His mouth travels a little lower, sucking at your collarbone. “And I like how I can talk to you for hours and never get bored.” His lips smother your chest, just above your tits, familiarizing himself with every inch of your skin. Your hips buck against him when he presses his thigh more firmly between your legs. “And I like how wet you get,” he laughs.

His mouth finds your breasts then, tongue swirling teasingly around one of your buds. Your nipples perk up, begging for his attention. He drags his tongue over to your other mound, sucking at the swell of flesh, moaning against you. The taste of your skin in his mouth makes him feel high.

You whine, hips rolling more fervently against him, chasing your approaching high. Yeonjun busies himself with delivering kitten licks to your nipples, watching the way they glisten with his saliva after he runs his tongue across them a few times. He peels himself off of you when your rhythm gets unsteady, not wanting you to cum yet. There’s a look of betrayal on your face as he disconnects from you, not touching you at all anymore.

“Yeonjun,” you moan, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him in. “I need to cum.” Your needy cunt grinds against the tent in his boxers, hungrily trying to get yourself off. He lets you have your fun for a minute, enjoying the feel of your warm, wet slit coating his clothed cock, before holding your hips still and keeping you from moving. That doesn’t stop you from digging your heels into his back, pushing him harder against you.

He removes your legs from him, holding you open as he plunges two fingers into your cunt. Your heat takes him in so nicely, the slide of his digits inside you made so easy from how slick your cunt is. You arch your back, moaning out as he curls his fingers inside you.

“Tight girl, gotta stretch you out,” he says, scissoring his digits to prepare you. Your arousal pools out of you, dripping onto the mattress as Yeonjun fucks you on his fingers. “Need to get you ready for me.”

“Mhm, need your dick,” you say. You look so helpless like this, laying back and letting Yeonjun fuck his fingers into you however he wants. He increases his speed just because he can, knowing you can’t pry his hand away, grinning when you emit a surprised gasp. Your walls start tightening around his fingers, a warning of your orgasm, and Yeonjun pulls his hand away before you can get there.

You’re whining his name again, thighs clamping shut to relieve the pressure. He shushes you as he tugs his boxers out of the way, stroking his cock as he watches the way you tremble. Poor thing.

“You want me to fuck you?” he asks. Your legs spread open immediately in invitation. He watches as a glob of arousal drips out from your core.

“Yes,” you breathe out. He pumps his shaft a few more times before bringing it to your folds, letting your wetness coat his tip. “Put it in,” you beg, jerking your hips up. He ignores your plea, bringing the head of his cock to your clit to tap on it a few times. The stimulation sends a buzz through you, and Yeonjun coos at you sweetly.

“Want you to feel so good,” he says, aligning his tip to your hole and starts pushing in. You throw your head back and groan, and he gives your neck a wet kiss. “Wanna be the best you’ve had.” He sinks in slowly, letting your walls adjust to him inch by inch. You feel like heaven around him, and his fingers dig into your hips to keep himself from losing his mind. He wants to meld himself into you.

He grinds his pelvis against you when he bottoms out, steadying his breaths so he doesn’t lose himself too quickly. His moans are deep and airy, while yours are whiny and pathetic. He trails a hand up your body until he’s cupping your face, bringing your attention to him. You look dazed, and he wants to watch you fall apart. He needs to see your perfect face scrunched up with pleasure, eyes glassy and mouth open, going stupid from how fucked out you are.

He presses a light kiss against your lips, then leans his face into the crook of your neck. He finally starts pulling back, slamming back into you with a whimper. Your cunt takes him so readily despite how tight you are, your arousal making him glide in and out of you so easily.

“Gonna be perfect for you,” Yeonjun promises. “Be a good boyfriend. Fuck you every day. Keep you happy.” He lifts himself up to watch your mouth fall open as he thrusts into you. He presses against your stomach to feel himself inside you, moaning whorishly when he does. It makes him fuck you harder, desperation coursing through his system.

You can barely speak from how far gone you are, stuttering out curses and whimpers of his name. He brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing at the swollen bud to get you clenching around him. He groans at how tight you get, sucking him in like your body was meant to take him.

“Need you to cum now,” Yeonjun says, feeling his high looming over. “Gotta feel you milking my cock, let me see it.”

“Kiss me,” you say breathlessly, mouth hanging open as you wait for him to take it. He obliges eagerly, shoving his tongue into your mouth with a needy whine. He licks into you as if this will coax your orgasm out, and it does. Your walls clamp around him, and he’s barely able to move from how tight you get. He circles your clit diligently, only letting up when your body jolts in overstimulation.

He pulls out soon after, only having to stroke himself a few times before he’s spilling his seed onto your stomach. He groans as he milks himself for every last drop, hand shaking as he releases the last of it. You look hot painted with his cum; he bites his lip and squeezes your thighs, needing more and more of you.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he says, making you turn your head away shyly.

“Thanks. You are too.” His stomach flips, feeling proud that he earned your praise. He lowers himself to your torso, lapping at the milky strands of his cum. He cleans you nicely, swallowing down his own release until your stomach’s coated in only his saliva. He brings himself to your slit to lap at it languidly, loving the little whines you emit at the sensation.

“Did so good for me, thank you,” he murmurs into your cunt. He pushes his tongue into your entrance, slowly fucking the muscle inside you. You sigh and roll your hips against his face, relaxed and melting into the feeling.

“Y-you’re good too,” you praise. He licks his way up to your clit, taking it into his mouth and letting his tongue roll over the bud. He likes to hear that he’s being good for you, it makes him feel like he’s worthy of you. He thrives off your happiness, so he feels content as he pleases you with his mouth.

He never wants to let you go. He wants you in his arms forever, he wants to stay in this room and live the rest of his life with just you by his side. This much is enough for him. He glides his hands down your thighs, letting his fingers lightly drag along your skin. He opens his mouth a little more to taste more of you, to kiss your folds more hungrily. He presses the tip of his tongue to your bud, focusing the pressure right against it until he hears you mewl.

“Right there!” you gasp out, pressing yourself further into Yeonjun’s face. He hooks his arms around your thighs to keep you in place, making sure you don’t jolt away when your orgasm creeps up on you. He flicks his tongue over your clit repeatedly, feeling your thighs shake in his grasp. He doesn’t stop until you’re releasing on his face, coating his mouth and chin with your essence.

He detaches himself after a minute, licking his lips and letting go of your legs. He sits up and smiles at you, taking in how pretty you look. He holds your jaw so he can kiss you, and he can’t help but to giggle into the kiss. This is so surreal. He would have fainted if he knew one month ago that this would be happening to him.

“Hi,” you say when he finally pulls his face from yours. This feels like a dream.

“Hi,” he echoes, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He cherishes the smile you give him.

“So when does this dissolve?” you ask, tugging at the webs holding your arms in place. Yeonjun scratches his neck bashfully. That's enough of an answer for you. “Yeonjun…” you sigh, body deflating.

“Less than two hours!” he rushes to say.

“Two hours?!”

“It’s not that bad. I think we can pass the time,” he says, failing to hold back his smile.

Your eyes flit down to his stirring cock. “I guess I have nothing better to do,” you give in. Yeonjun sees right through your nonchalant act, but he lets you get away with it. He has better things to busy himself with than arguing about that.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

You bring Yeonjun to the market after learning about the laundry detergent debacle. You place the item in your basket, shaking your head at him as you do. “I can’t believe your roommate had to tell me to get you to buy this.”

Yeonjun raises his hands in defense. “I get busy sometimes,” he says.

“With coming to my dorm every other night?” you ask with a raised brow, walking into the next aisle.

Yeonjun drops a candy bar into the basket alongside the detergent. “No, with lab stuff, and class stuff, and Spidey stuff,” he corrects. He picks up a bottle of your favorite drink as he passes by it on the shelf. “And with girlfriend stuff,” he adds sweetly.

“Right,” you say unconvincingly, smiling as you nod your head.

Yeonjun grabs a pair of sunglasses off a rack, placing them on his face and turning to you with a grin. “How cool are these?” he asks, pointing at himself.

You laugh and lift the sunglasses up so they rest on his head. “So cool,” you answer. You tilt your head to check the price on them. “You should totally spend the last of your money on them.”

He pulls the glasses off his face to check the price tag, eyebrows raising in reaction. He puts them back on the rack. He can’t get rid of the smile on his face as he watches you shop, endeared and swooned by every little thing you do. It’s small moments like these that make him feel like the luckiest guy on earth.

“We should get bandages. I can’t believe you don’t have any,” you say, looking for where the item would be in the store.

“There’s a lot of things I don’t have. I’m operating on a limited budget,” he explains. It’s not like he can tackle a job on top of everything else he does. He’s grown accustomed to his ways of living, accepting that he’s become the male college student stereotype.

“I’m glad I stepped into your life then,” you say, throwing a box of bandages into your basket. “I’m actually scared you’d die without me.”

Yeonjun can’t help but to laugh at that. “I would die without you,” he agrees. He follows you as you continue walking around the store, aimlessly searching for anything you might need. You stop when you feel your phone buzz, pulling out your phone upon receiving a notification, checking it curiously. He reads the message over your shoulder; it’s an alert from your local news station about some rescue mission for a bunch of dogs that ran loose from their shelter just now. You turn to him with a knowing smile.

“That’s your cue, Spider-man.”

notes: god i loved writing this so much…. i hope u like spideyjjun just as much as i do<3 i would love to hear ur thoughts if u have anyyy!!! tysm for reading hehe

taglist: @ambsphoria @bananasdiary @beaabz @beomgyusluver @beomsdoll @brrytears @bumgyuz @dawngyu @enhastolemyheart @estrnrea @fancypeacepersona @fatbixchwithanopinion @heejamas @heesmiles @insanityz @i4tzy @jellyyjn @kejingken @lilbrorufr @lovesickchoi @mrsjohnnysuh @raspberrii @sanscupid @saraalovestxt @soobinieswife @starrynightgyu @starstrucktae @taebatu @taysfairies @tubatukimoa @tyongyuta @usuallyunlikelyfox @verco @vvjolyneee @xylatox @younbeanz @yourenzoo @yunverie 🤍

© delugyu 2025, do not translate or reupload

[yetrop]

Good Omens is autistic—here’s why!

First off, there’s the angelic/demonic nature of the protagonists

They’re trying to blend in with humanity, but have to pick things up as they go along

Because of this, the way they interact with and view people is different from the expected norm

Which also means they're often confused by human customs and find it difficult to read social cues (think Aziraphale asking Maggie if she actually thinks she isn’t crying later on in this scene)

Crowley has to hide his eyes, a part of his identity, from everyone except Aziraphale and the other demons for fear of seeming different/threatening/not human (masking in the most literal sense of the word)

Muriel is concerned with acting and speaking “correctly” to be seen as human

Even though both main characters don’t fit in with humanity because of their angelic/demonic nature, they also don’t fit in with their respective sides, who view them both as strange and don’t understand them. The only place they find acceptance/belonging is with each other. If that isn’t a neurodivergent (and very queer) storyline, I don’t know what is.

Next up, there’s Aziraphale as a whole

The way he stims

Loves routine, dislikes change

Gets uncomfortable when he has to break rules/disrupt order

Taking things literally— “You can’t drive my Bentley.” “I can— I have a license!” (also, this scene is another example of his insistence on order and rules— he insisted on getting a license before they were even legally required)

Paces back and forth talking to himself, planning out what he’s going to say before a conversation (scripting)

The way he suppresses stimming around Heaven by clasping hands behind back, feels uncomfortable and overstimulated there

Bookshop is super cluttered, he has an organizational system that is comprehensible to basically exclusively him

Clumsy, often sucks at motor coordination

Easily startled

He loves alone time, especially when he’s in his own space— he does everything he can to keep customers away from his bookshop

Attaches a lot of sentimental value to inanimate objects (“I’ve kept this in tip-top condition for over 180 years!”)

Incredibly passionate about his interests, especially magic and books

Black and white thinking and rigid morality— He loves and trusts Crowley more than the other angels, but still has tendency to categorize Heaven, Hell, angels and demons as exclusively good or bad (“of course you didn’t go back to Hell— you’re the bad guys!”)

Crowley’s definitely got something neurodivergent going on too (leaning towards ADHD, but potentially AuDHD)

The way he sits in chairs

Hell, (…or Heaven, whatever…) even just the “ducks!” moment alone is enough to show that that his mind jumps around a lot to unexpected loose threads rather than focusing on the subject at hand

Impulsivity

Creative and has a vivid inner world. As pointed out by God Herself, he has what the other demons don’t— an imagination

Craves novelty, frequently changes appearance

Stimming starmaker

This one is from the book, but it’s too good not to point out: the way he idolizes characters like Bond and copies his behaviors off of what he thinks a cool human would do. He has a new computer because it’s “the sort of thing Crowley felt that the sort of human he tried to be would have” (pg 239)

His understanding of how humans fall in love is based on a Richard Curtis film he’s seen

His insistence on asking questions when things don’t make sense to him, knowing why things are the way they are rather than blindly accepting them

And of course, there’s the themes of the story

Black and white thinking vs shades of grey

Breaking away from a world that doesn’t accept you to find love, belonging, and safety

And, as demonstrated time and time again by our two protagonists: intelligence isn’t synonymous with interpersonal skills (…or common sense.)

Thanks for reading all of that! This isn’t the kind of post I normally make, but I have so many thoughts about this that have been on my mind for almost two years now, so I decided to share them.

While there are of course a lot of plot-related reasons for why they behave the way that they do and many of the traits I brushed on could be explained by other factors, I still find it interesting to explore it through a neurodivergent lens. I also think the existence of angels with physical disabilities (like Saraqueal) adds credibility to the idea that other types of disabilities or neurodivergence is at the very least possible for angels and demons in this universe.

Feel free to point out anything I forgot to include (which I have no doubt is a lot) and let me know your own thoughts in the comments or tags— I’d love to hear them!

[myfanfic-urfantrash]

Asking them if they'd let you get them pregnant...part 4?

Cw: pregnancy talk, a little suggestive.

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part five

A/N: I put myself to sleep making crack and I awake to do the same. Felt I had too many agree so I've changed it up. Also Idk how many more of these I'll make I am running out of guys because I'm not caught up in HSR and GI but I do believe that once I am they will suffer the same fate as the rest. There is no escape. :3

-------

Welt is always willing to answer your strange questions that seem to plague you in the middle of the night. But this question definitely makes him pause. He turns around from his desk with a raised brow and uneasy expression.

"Aren't I a bit too old to be bearing children?" But you shake your head asking him to answer the question but he blurts out his own spinning his tablet pen in his fingers nervously.

"Is this your way to say we should have kids?"

"Are the younger express members not enough?"

"Perhaps Joey will be alright? He's young enough, oh, but you haven't met him yet not to mention he's rather far away..."

You cut him off telling him that if there were a way to get him pregnant would he let you and not to think about it too hard. He sighs a bit relieved that you aren't serious...at least he hopes you aren't.

"I'm- Well I don't exactly picture myself becoming pregnant even if we could do so. And given my age it'd probably be best not to for both my sake and this hypothetical child of ours." He nods still spinning around the pen.

"So my final answer is 'no'. And if you'd like to have children in the future we can-" He clears his throat. "-talk about it. But for now no hypothetical pregnancy."

Luocha takes off one glove and presses it against your forehead checking your eyes before moving on to check your pulse.

"Luocha? I'm fine. I'm not sick or intoxicated if that's what you're worried about." He nods solemnly pulling back and putting back his glove. "Then it's worse than I feared: You're just a fool." "Hey!"

He catches your hand that attempts to smack his shoulder at the minor insult. He places a kiss on your knuckles.

"As lovely as having children of our own sounds, now is not exactly the time nor place. We are wanderers after all. They deserve better than what we can currently provide."

"Besides...who said anything about me bearing our children?" Luocha pulls you close embracing you placing a kiss just below your ear and whispering. "I think you would look rather lovely...round and full. Don't you think?" Uno reversed?!

Dr. Ratio sighs deeply flipping to another page in his tome. You sorta expected him to throw a piece of chalk at you at this point but it seems he's refraining focus locked on his book. At least that's what he looks like he's doing but the flush of his shoulders up to his ears gives him away.

"Veritas are you ignoring me?"

"What an astute observation. Perhaps we should give you an intergalactic peace prize for such study."

"Veeeriiiitaaaaaaas. Come ooooon answer the question." He rolls his eyes the tome thumping shut in his hands. He walks past you to put it away and grab another two from the short recently purchased pile of tomes.

"No. I've clearly rewarded your impudent questions far too much." He lightly smacks your hand as you reach for some of his tomes. "You need to learn some restraint."

You whine again flopping on his personal libraries lounge. You keep whining until he throws one of the lounges pillows at your head.

"Fool! If you are so determined to have children then why don't you bear them instead?"

"But I wanted to get you pregnant not me. You'd look so pretty carrying our-GAhk" Another pillow makes contact with your head. He heaves his flushed skin much darker than before.

"My answer is 'No' now get out!"

[madabapf]

Hello! First off, I just want to say I think you seem super neat and I love your LMK posts and artwork!

Second off, after seeing part 20 of the drunken shenanigans comic, I was wondering if you know how Wukong got all of his scars? And if so, do he and Mac have any prominent scars elsewhere that have interesting stories to go with them?

On a similar note, has Mac ever seen Wukong without all his glamours since coming back to life? (Did he see him deglamoured before he bounced?)

aww thank you :D <3

i dooo (mostly)

when designing wukongs scars i figured the only scars that would stay are either from repeated injury or a very powerful being

bc let's be real, that whole man would be a walking scar otherwise-

so the obvious ones i think are on the head from the circlet, and his neck from pulling his favourite party trick of cutting his head off

the one on the mouth is from his time under the mountain where he was only given molten copper to drink (and iron balls to eat) in my copy of JTTW that was the only torture mentioned, but i have been told that in other versions/translations his mouth was held open with hooks to feed him would've added those too, so if you see my design change over time, now you know why lmao-

the big scratch on his face is from the fight with macaque™️ i wanted them too look like they were done in a moment of panic because normally you don't fight by scratching (at least in my hc) it only hurts the outer layer, and a punch just does more in the long run

the little scratches on his eyebrow and ear are from fights on his journey

i haven't drawn designs for their whole body scars yet (partly because i still need to finish reading JTTW cus i wanna implement more lore but reading is hard 😭) but there are some hopefully one day i will finish it and then i can give you an update lmao-

but something i can say is that wukong definitely has a lot of burn scars from his time being cooked and macaque from being a literal corpse

to your last question, macaque does not know what wukong looks like unglamoured, he left in a hurry well at least he doesn't know about the scars, he might have seen his brownish fur and grey strands

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Jesse X Virgin!Reader: Curiosity killed the cat.

a/n: this is so random but i needed to write about him, so yeah

Warnings: this is pure filth, porn with no plot, handjob, fingering, talks about sex, smut, kissing, making out, cursing, male anatomy, female anatomy, virgin reader, innocence kink (i think?), virginity kink (is that a thing?), weed, being high, vulgar language, no use of y/n, not proofread

Word count: 2,2K

You knew about sex. Well, in a broad sense anyway. You knew how it worked and the consequences that came with it but you'd never actually done anything other than touching yourself. Maybe it was the weed. Maybe it was the crush you'd been harboring for Jessie for the past year. It didn’t matter what caused it, the fact is that the words had left your mouth and now you couldn’t take it back.

“Can I see your dick?”

You expected Jesse to jump from the couch and look at you like some sort of pervert. But he surprised you.

“It's not hard.”

Maybe his brain was foggy with weed too.

“So what?”

“So it's not nice to-um-look at, I guess.”

He gave you a small shrug, looking at nothing in particular but actively avoiding your gaze. 

“Dina’s never seen it soft?”

Jesse recoiled a bit at the mention of Dina and you immediately regretted bringing her up.

“Sorry. I’m just curious, I've never…”

You forced yourself to stop talking, opting to pick at your shoes instead.

“You’re a virgin?”

He didn’t ask like he was judging, he asked like he was genuinely surprised. Your heart sped up a bit. Had he revealed something to you just now? Or was it just in your head?

“Yeah.”

Jesse stayed quiet for a moment, thinking about something as he stared off into space. He was struggling to decide what was or not appropriate to say. You’d started this conversation but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by accident. He didn’t know how innocent you were. 

“Normally people only see it when it's already hard.”

You bit into your cheek, nodding in understanding. No one had ever told you that but it did make sense with the little knowledge you had. Jesse watched you think for a second. His eyes scanned your body. You seemed calm but that could be because of the weed. You turned to look at him, your eyes catching the way his eyes raked over your body. Ok so you definitely weren't imagining things. There was something there. But just how far would Jesse let you go? You intended to find out. 

“If i made it hard would you show me?”

You where already starting to make him hard with all your fucking questions. His brain took every word that slipped from your mouth and turned it into a dirty little fantasy. Harmless but very effective. He hesitated for a bit but then the horniness got to him and he simply nodded at you.

“Yeah ok.”

You lifted off your spot on the floor, moving towards him. He shifted on the couch, moving so that he was sitting instead of laying down. You stopped when you got in front of him, hands unconsciously tugging at your jacket. Jesse waited, his eyes moving over your body until they reached your face. You looked at him with wide eyes. It was then that he realised you were waiting for him to tell you what to do. 

“Have you ever made out with someone?”

“Like kissing them? Yeah I've kissed people Jesse, I'm not that inexperienced.”

Jesse sighed. He hadn’t meant for it to sound like he didn’t think you could manage to have someone want to kiss you, but by the way you’d crossed your arms in front of your chest he could tell he’d touched a nerve. He rose from his spot, closing the distance between the two of you. You took a step back at the action, not because you didn’t want him close but because you didn’t know what to expect from him. Jesse noticed the uncertainty in your eyes.

“Hey it’s ok. It’s just me.”

You nodded, allowing him to move closer. His hand found your cheek, his thumb running over the skin as he spoke.

“There's a difference between kissing and making out. That’s why I asked.”

Before you could answer he leaned down. His lips found yours, placing a small kiss to them before backing away. 

“That’s a kiss.”

His hand moved to rest on your waist, pulling you flush against his body. His lips crashed into yours, hands trying to tug you impossibly closer. Your heart was beating so fast it was the only thing you could focus on. This was so different from the gentle kiss he’d just given you. This was hungry. Carnal. 

Your body reached for him in desperation, arms moving to wrap around his neck as he deepened the kiss. His hands squeezed your hips before shifting to your ass. You gasped at the movement and Jesse took it as his opportunity to shove his tongue in your mouth.  When he finally pulled away you were gasping for air. Your chest heaved with every breath, lips swollen as you stared up at him like he’d just shown you the secrets of the universe. He couldn’t help but smile at your expression.

“So, I take it you’ve never made out with anyone.”

“No I've never done…that.”

A laugh slipped from your mouth before you could help it. Jesse joined in, his hands never leaving your body. When you both got your laughing fit in controle you leaned into him, placing a kiss to his lips.  Your mouth chased him as he moved away, a small whine leaving you. Jesse’s dick twitched at the sound. It didn;t help that you were practically pouting at him. 

“It’s easier if you're sitting down.”

“Okay.”

You watched him move back to the couch. He took a seat, manspreading as he stared up at you. You took a step forward, hesitating for a moment before placing one knee on the couch. Jesse nodded his head at you, approving your movements, so you continued. You settled on his lap, hands resting on his shoulders. Jesse's hands rested on your hips as he waited to see what you would do. Your eyes moved from his lips to his neck, tongue moving out to wet your lips.

“Can I try something?”

“Of course.”

“And you’ll tell me if it's bad?”

“If you want me to.”

“I do.”

“Then yeah, I will.”

Satisfied you leaned down. Your lips found his neck with caution, placing small pecks to the skin. Jesse shifted beneath you, head moving to the side to give you more access. You took that as a sign to keep going. Your kisses became more confident and Jesse responded to every single one. When you finally found his sweet spot he let out a groan, hips bucking up into you. The action caused you to stop licking at his neck. Jesse's eyes snapped open when he felt you pull away from him.

“What is it?”

“You’re hard.”

He had completely forgotten about how all this had started. But you were right, he was hard.

“Does that mean I did it right?”

Jesse smiled at you before he could help it. He tugged you into a kiss and you accepted it. You ground down into him, searching for relief without even knowing why you were doing it. Jesse pulled away, his forehead resting on yours.

“So…can I see now?”

He had promised and Jesse was a man of his word. 

“Yeah. Do you want me to take it out or do you wanna do it yourself?”

“You can do it.”

“Okay. Move back a bit.”

You did as he asked, shifting slightly on his lap so that he could reach his pants with more ease. Your eyes followed every movement. He moved slowly, drawing the moment out longer than necessary. You could tell he was doing it on purpose. Just as you were going to scold him his dick sprang free. Your lips parted in confusion, head tilting to the side as you took in the sight before you. It wasn’t pretty. It looked kind of weird actually. But you felt a desire to sit on it. How strange. 

Jesse watched you take it in. He could see the wheels turning in your mind. He hadn't expected you to scream out in joy or anything but the silent observation was killing him.

“Can I touch it?”

“Sure.”

Your hand moved to grab his dick. Jesse hissed at your skin met his, causing you to look up at him.

“Did that hurt?”

“Not exactly, it's just sensitive”

You gave him a tentative stroke. Jesse's head fell back onto the couch with a small pant so you repeated the action. 

“Is it true that people put it in their mouth?”

“Yeah its-shit- that's a blowjob.”

“Is it good?”

“Very.”

“Better than this?”

Your hand hasn't stopped moving as you spoke and Jesse was finding it harder and harder to keep his voice leveled.

“Much.”

“Do you want me to? Put it in my mouth I mean.”

Oh, he so very much wanted that. But not right now. Right now he wanted to show you he could make you feel good too. So despite his brain yelling at him to say yes he moved to grab onto your hand. You gazed up at him as his hand warped around yours, stilling your movements.

“Maybe another time. Can I show you something instead?”

“Okay.”

Jesse's hand moved to your pants, looking up at you in a silent question. You understood his request. Once you’d nodded your okay, Jesse unbuttoned your pants and pulled your zipper down. You were already panting from the anticipation. When his fingers found your folds a moan ripped itself from your throat. You’ve touched yourself before but it felt so different when it was someone else doing it. Jesse's fingers were thicker than yours so the feeling of fullness was more predominant. 

“Jesse it's…oh wow.”

“Fuck you’re wet.”

He added another digit and you gasped.

“Just wait till you feel my dick.”

You clenched at his words and Jesse couldn’t help but smile.

“You want that huh? Want me to fuck you?”

You were nodding with all your might, fingers gripping onto his shoulder as he continued to finger you. 

“Can I sit on it?”

“Next time. It’s better to be laying down for the first time.”

“Okay.”

“I need you to cum first though ok?”

You nodded, allowing your head to rest on his shoulder. Your hips rocked against his fingers, searching for your release. When  his thumb found your clit you were gone. You fisted at his shirt, mouth opening to release a moan of his name as you gushed onto his fingers. Your body sagged into his completely as you reached your high. Jesse placed a kiss on your shoulder as he removed his fingers from inside you. 

“You want a taste?”

As curious as you were, your body was too tired to focus on anything other than the sudden euphoria that has washed through it. So you shook your head. Jesse moved his fingers away from your face, shoving them into his mouth before licking them clean. You watched the action, clenching around nothing. You looked down at Jesse's crouch, finding him still rock hard, possibly even more than he ahd been when you’d been touching him. Jesse caught onto your stare, hands moving to wrap around your chin. He lifted your head so that you were looking into his eyes.

“Do you really want it to be me, or were you just saying it because my fingers felt good?”

“Not just because of that. I like you Jesse and I trust you. I want it to be you. If that's alright with you I mean.”

“It's more than alright with me.”

He gave you a loving kiss, shifting around so that he could tug you out of his lap and lay you down on the couch. You spread your legs for him, allowing him to slot between them. 

“It’ll hurt a bit at the start but it gets better. And if you want me to slow down or stop you tell me ok?”

“I will.”

“Good. You ready?”

“Hu huh.”

Jesse was right at first it stung, even with how slowly he was entering you the discomfort was present. Your brows furrowed and Jesse noticed. He moved to caress your thighs trying to pull your attention away from the pain. It worked well. Before you knew it the pain had turned into pleasure. 

Jesse started rocking into you slowly. With every move you gasped, hands clawing onto his back. That only spurred him on. His movements became more erratic, his whines louder. He was trying to be a gentleman but you kept clenching around him like a vice. His head fell onto your shoulder, hips moving faster and faster with each of your moans. You could feel the pressure in your stomach. The more he moved the closer it got to snapping. And then with one well placed thrust Jesse had you biting into his shoulder as you came. It took everything in Jesse to not cum inside as your body threatened to swallow him whole but he managed. Afterwards the two of you lay in eachothers arms snuggling to keep the cold at bay. 

“Do you think we’ll be here long?”

Jesse glanced out the window. The storm was still raging outside.

“At least a couple hours.”

“Does that mean we can go again?”

Jesse let out a laugh. He’d created a monster. 

“Yeah we can go again.”

“Can I sit on it this time?”

“Sure. Just give me a couple minutes.”

“Alright.”

You settled on the couch nuzzling into Jesse, your body buzzing with the promise of what was to come.

[starlockheart]

Never lose me

kk Arnold x reader

summary: You and kk are teammates who are dating on the low. You both are going to the WNBA draft together, and after you accidentally make a TikTok and post it online for y’all fan base to see.

A/N: i havent wrote something in so long and i will get to work on that hazel fanfic i just been ….. busy with smtg 😅

april 11

You and the team had just won the natty and it's just been an amazing time. Especially since you had won it with your girlfriend kk, but only the team and some mutual family knew about it since u wanted to keep it casual.

You and kk are now on live before the draft since it was in two days. The livechat was roaring with excitement as everyone was happy about the win and the draft coming up since everyone knew about Pagie being the #1 pick.

“When is yall gonna make them tiktoks 😒”

“oml they such a cute couple”

“i'm wlw and love them together but we need to leave these girls alone!”

“are yall going to the draft?”

kk had read all the comments, they were funny, to say the least. “Yes girly pops we are going to the draft and we know yall can't wait to see our outfits.” kk was very giddy which didn't leave the fans eyes. 

lanihopps: “why is kk so giddy?”

mayra🦋: @lanihopps “because she got that good pussy from Y/n after the win.”

The comment got taken down very fast but everyone in chat definitely show it, including you and kk. You look to your left and saw kk holding back a laugh as you both made eye contact you both burst out laughing.

The whole chat was eating this up as the commets were going by so fast to the point where you guys couldn’t even comprehend what was being said. So you ended the live not even trying to deny the comments shipping yall.

It was now later and the clip had blow up on tiktok which isn’t a shock so as anyone would do when anyone is waiting for them to address the comments and shipping, yall stay silent. But who doesn’t stay silent is the team gc.

payless page: “did yall see the live these two dumbasses had.”

one link attachment

nonchalant alpha sarah: “just dumbass doing dumb shit.”

influencer era morg: “HELP??? did nobody notice what the comment sais?”

thirst trap aubrey: “i think thats the whole reason for the video morg…”

kk read the groupchat as your head laid softly on her lap. She knew that you both mutually agreed to keep the relationship on the low since the media was very batcrazy about the relationships at Uconn. But sometimes she wanted to show you off to the world.

You had woke up as you looked up at kk staring at you which was romantic but in this case she was looking a little out of it. “baby whats wrong, you’re staring at me like i killed ur dog.”

“i just wanna post you without having to stress about if the post sends the wrong message.” kk had started stroking your hair looking at you with the most authentic expression.

You wanted to say something but no words would come out or maybe the right ones wont come out. So you stayed silent which kk took as an answer. She took your hands out of your hair and stood up walking away from the bed, or you. The emptyness filling you as you got up to follow her.

“kk come back.” Was all that could leave your mouth not wanting to say something too much or too little. You followed kk to the bathroom as she laid on the sink hiding her head.

crazy to think that something that started as a funny life led to something so serious. Kk turned her head to the side you were as she just stared for a good minute. “Do you not want to post me publicly because you're scared of being known as gay?”

The question had thrown you off guard, but you knew you had to answer the question so you contemplated what to say so you said the right thing. “Kk I'm never concerned about being known as gay, I just believe it's the right time for things to happen.”

You stepped behind her pulling her into a backward hug. This calmed her nerves a little as she melted into the hug. “Trust I would love to post you but it's just not the time.” You said as you started to wrap your hands around her waist.

April 14

It was now the day of the draft and you and Kk were in the car taking pictures, and feeling yourselves in your outfits. As you scrolled on tiktok after posting a photo of you and Kk on your instagram story you heard the “never wanna lose me audio.”

“He dont never wanna lose me.”

“He dont never wanna —wait .”

“Pussy so good make him do what i say”

The Tiktok was a girl hard launching her and her man's relationship which was cute and an amazing song so you saved the audio in your favorites.

As you scrolled on a couple of more tiktoks and made a singular one with kk you finally made it to the draft. As you and kk left the car the photographer and interviewers were eating it up. Everyone knew you guys were going together even if they were convinced it was two friends.

The draft itself was amazing with the photographers, some interviewers, pagie being the number one draft, kaitlyn being unknowingly drafted, and aubrey getting drafted. It was truly a night of success and drinks, a lot of drinks.

As you and kk left the afterparty from the draft you and kk wouldn't stop giggling as your driver drove home. “Kk let’s make this tiktok I I saw.” This lead to “Never lose me” by flo milli to start playing as you started lip syncing the lyrics as kk smiled drunkenly in the back.

“She dont never wanna lose me.”

“She dont never wanna —wait .”

“Pussy so good make her do what i say”

At the last lyric, you focus the camera on Kk’s face as she stumbled the last words out trying to hear the phone. “Make her do what I say” As the TikTok ended kk looked over at you as you looked at it smiling without knowing what you were about to accidentally do.

“Are you… posting that?” kk voice snapped you out of your glaze. “uh no just wanted to uh capture the moment.” You smiled as kk noticed how perfected you looked under the new york city lighting as the windows were down blowing your hair all over your face making you look majestic.

kk pulled you into a kiss as your hand accidentally pressed post instead of draft. Your phone was dropped on the car phone as kk pulled you onto her lap. Your dress rolling up as kk’s hands were gripping onto your ass, your legs straddling kk’s lap.

The intimate moment getting heated before kk’s phone in her bra blowing up. You broke the kiss looking at kk before she nodded and you took her phone entering her password and look at her Groupchat.

“Are you two hard launching🥹🙌🏾”

“wtf are you guys drunk🤨”

“Yall finna lose ALL them interships😭”

You were confused as your eyebrow raised kk looked at you with an expression that had “What was going on” written all over it. “Your friends are talking about a video we posted, we didn't post anything..”

As you opened TikTok you saw the video you accidentally posted with 80k likes and 8k comments in only ten minutes. Your eyes widened as you put kk’s phone down and grabbed yours. “Bae, tell me what happened?” You tried to reply but you were to stressed trying to take the video down as your notifications were blowing up.

“i p-posted the video, im sorry i just always talk about when would should hard launch but i just posted that a-.” kk cut you off with a kiss, a warm and gentle lip to lip connection that brought your frown to a smile.

“its fine just take down the video of us drunk, and we will announce it tomorrow.” kk voice sounding comforting as it made u smile. You toke down the video as you laid on her lap while the city nightlife was all around.

guess kk could never wanna lose you.

A/n: soo this was shorter and worse then i intended for so sorry if its bad!! and this was something to start off, also kk is 19 and u have to be 21 to drink so… i believe it was underage drinking… whoops..

[landwriter]

Talk about sandman WIPs you say? 👀 Your porn AU and San Francisco gays still live in my head rent freeeeeee ❤️

Pella! I'm glad Professional Fuckers lives rent free in your head because I definitely forgot it existed. In spite of this, I am somehow still confident I'll actually finish and post it one day. It's just so easy and refreshing to write a setting purely from experience. Still needs several more scenes but I know the whole shape of it.

I think there's a lot of really fun potential to be mined from indie porn in a rom-com sort of story: you have this professional physical intimacy that can mean absolutely nothing, an intimacy that is itself altered and shaped by the demands of performing for a camera, by the visual and literal language of any given shoot genre; but separately to that, there's this variable of the chemistry you have with them, as colleagues, as co-performers, and of course, though somehow least significantly, as people fucking. The chemistry that plays out on screen does not always track onto the chemistry you feel with someone. So there's this, I think, super funny territory you can get into, where you've just fucked someone, and the prescient question of did we make something good and the vain little one of was I good, did you like that are entirely separate. But imagine the urge to ask when you're doing something you've never done before.

Imagine, too, nursing a crush on somebody and still not being sure if they like you like you in spite of fucking them in shoots all afternoon and pretending to be in a relationship for half of those. Imagine doing all this demanding, intimate work with a near-stranger, and then making friendly small talk after because outside of this work you hardly know each other. Imagine feeling like there's something there, beneath all the performance, and the commingled horror of crossing professional boundaries--of finding out your co-performer is just so good that they sold the story you were telling together to you too, without meaning any of it--and the desire to find out how good it could be with the cameras off. No awkward blocking, no performing, no story, nothing: an entirely novel, unprofessional, and maybe even more intimidating kind of fucking altogether.

That's what this setting is all about. In the spirit of that, have a mildly NSFT scene ft. Dream sucking cock for the first time while on a shoot, and Hob making a suggestion after.

[ask me anything]

“Dream,” says Hob. “Dream, please, I’m gonna cum, oh, fuck.”

He looks up at Hob, jaw afire, and Hob swears and twitches and comes in his mouth. Dream swallows it without thinking of making a show of it, just swallows and swallows and pulls off, panting. He doesn’t realize how swollen his lips are until Hob traces them with a warm thumb, and murmurs, wow, so low it’s surely not for the cameras, more a breath than a word.

“Was I good?” he asks. His voice is fucked out and low and Hob laughs breathlessly as he tucks himself in.

“Yeah. Yeah, shit, you were good, baby. So good for me.” He looks down at Dream with undisguised lust. “M’gonna want this all the time now.”

Dream doesn’t know what to say, so he just stares up at Hob, until Hob smiles and shifts to sit up. “Great,” he says, in a normal tone, the scene sloughing off him. “Happy with that?”

“Was it enough time?” Dream asks.

“Oh, yeah. We’re probably at thirteen, fourteen minutes. I know you only wanted ten but I didn’t want to tread on perfectly good footage and say something.”

Dream can’t conceal his surprise that it’s been so long already. Hob takes it as skepticism and laughs. “No, you can check, but I’m like a fucking egg timer. It’s my party trick on shoots.” He stands and goes over to his camera, squinting at the display. “Yes! Thirteen twenty-nine,” he announces triumphantly, and turns it off. “Right,” he says, all business when he turns back to Dream. “Water and onto the next?”

Dream, still kneeling, awkwardly stands. “Yes,” he says, and clears his throat when it comes out rough. “Yeah, sure.”

Was I good? Truly? Hob is so good at inhabiting someone else that Dream isn’t sure. He would cover it up well if it was bad. “That’ll sell well,” he says, as neutrally as he can.

Hob takes the bait and grins at him. “Oh, definitely. That was perfect. You were great.” Then he takes in Dream and frowns. “Hey, do you want to, ah?”

Dream realizes he’s still painfully hard. Hob is grimacing down at his tented jeans. The moment of satisfaction is popped like a soap bubble. He adjusts himself, feeling his face heat. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“Oh, fuck, don’t be sorry. Always good to know I’m not repulsive. I meant, do you want to deal with it now since you didn’t come?”

Dream glances toward the guest bedroom, unable to believe Hob is actually propositioning him. Unable to believe the yes that offers itself at once. Hob continues. “My facial shoot, later? Could just switch things around and get it done now if you’re ready to go.”

“Of course,” says Dream, magnanimously. Of course that’s what Hob meant.

[penkura]

Congrats on 1K! 🎉 (and I hope your move went well!)

For the celebration prompts, could you please do “First Kiss” with my boy Shachi? 💘 He needs more love!!

Thank you!! I really appreciate it and I'm so glad Shachi was the first one requested! He really DOES need more love, he deserves it so much!!

So let's give him some love with a first kiss. 👀

I tried to push it a little more than I normally do but not by too much cause I've never kissed anyone before. 😜

“Hey, Shachi.”

“Uh-huh?”

“Have you ever kissed anyone?”

Shachi chokes on his drink before looking at you with a blush creeping up his face, where on earth did that question come from and why are you being so casual about it??

The Heart Pirates are having a party, celebrating a successful haul of pirate hearts to help your captain in becoming a Warlord, though Law is nowhere to be seen, you think he’s probably already turned in. Parties aren’t really his thing no matter how much he cares for you all. You had stepped to the side a while ago, feeling a little too warm surrounded by so many people and the alcohol you’d had, Shachi eventually came over to keep you company even when you didn’t say much and just gave him a smile before leaning against him once he sat beside you.

Its not really a secret how much Shachi likes you, everyone can see it just in the way he interacts with you. He doesn’t treat you like you’re weak and need him all the time, but he helps you with anything you need and fights alongside you as seamlessly as he does with Penguin or Bepo. He’s eager to work with you every day, volunteering to be your partner anytime Law places you on night watch or ship maintenance,  sometimes you offer to stay with him if he's left to watch the ship when you all dock. You two are able to have fun together without feeling like you’re boring the other, sometimes you two do your own work in silence buts never awkward or uncomfortable, it’s always welcome and makes you feel calm, you’re comfortable about Shachi and he’s the same with you.

But every now and then you bring up something like this and it makes him blush, his heart racing and he’s sure this is only because of the alcohol you’ve had.

“I…w-why are you asking??” he laughs, trying to not focus on it too much but you keep staring at him as you lean into him more. “Of…of course I have!”

For all the times he and Penguin have gone looking for girls and having drinks with them, Shachi has never actually kissed or slept any of them. He’s not entirely sure why, he was also so eager to try and woo someone when they went out, though more often than not the girls would flirt back but nothing ever came about from it. Then you joined the crew and he just…stopped. Stopped following Penguin into the bars, he quit trying to flirt with every girl he thought was attractive, he asked more and more to stay on board with you when Law was looking for volunteers to watch the ship. It was like you flipped a switch in him that made Shachi less likely to go after other girls, it was such a sudden change that Penguin thought he was sick until Ikkaku said Shachi definitely had feelings for you and that’s why he stopped going with his best friend to some places.

“Oh…I wanted to be your first.”

He chokes on his drink before looking at you with such a bright red blush, anyone else would think you’ve said something scandalous or that he’s just drunk and having inappropriate thoughts.

“I…you…what?!” if you hadn’t already asked him about kissing his mind would be running to a thousand other conclusions (first date, first time?!), “You…no you don’t!”

“I’m pretty sure I do…or did I guess.”

Wow he didn’t expect you to sound so disappointed, but you look down and away, leaning back against the wall you’re both sitting at. He feels bad for lying to you, but he didn’t think you’d actually want to kiss him if he had no experience with it, most of the girls he’d flirt with in the past always seemed turned off when they figured out he’s never done anything more than hold hands and flirt, they always expect him to be more experienced when they find out he’s a pirate.

He watches you for a minute, still thinking all of this is because you’re drunk, before Shachi stands and takes your hand, pulling you up and out of the room with him to the hallway. You’re confused, especially when he stops and has you against the wall, trapping you with his arms but not looking you in the eye.

“Shachi, what are—”

“I lied.”

“What?”

“I lied…about having kissed someone…”

You’re quiet, a small ‘oh’ coming from you when you realize what he’s said. The part of you that’s still sober wants to ask him why, but when you see how red his face you don’t bother listening to that side, especially when he looks at you all embarrassed and you feel a blush start to creep onto your face.

Cute…he’s so cute…

“I…lots of girls don’t like when I say that I haven’t kissed anyone so…I just—”

Shachi is surprised when you kiss him, eyes widening for a moment before he kisses you back, taking your face in his hands while you hold onto his tank top. Its short and sweet, makes him want more, especially when you pull back to look at him.

“Now you’re not a liar if someone asks.”

You give him a grin that makes him almost laugh at you, instead kissing you again and moving his hands to your waist to pull you closer to him, you still grip his tank top but press yourself closer to him. Your sober side wonders if it's the alcohol that’s made you both so bold, this isn’t something you’d ever do and with the way Shachi is, you think he’s the same. You’d normally take your time to get to know someone more before running off to make out with them, but you’ve known Shachi long enough now that this kind of makes sense.

Ikkaku will be surprised you think, that you finally made a move on Shachi after the last several months of pining away and whining to her about much you like him and wish he’d do something or that you weren’t too nervous to ask him out yourself.

 The more tipsy side of you wants to sneak off somewhere else and see where this leads. Shachi seems eager to find out the same, keeping an arm around your waist while he starts to move his other hand up your shirt, maybe you should move to your room and--

“Ahem.”

Shachi only pulls away from you when he hears Law clearing his throat, you whine when he does so but your companion’s face is bright red, embarrassed to have been caught making out with you in the hallway only because it’s your captain and Law looks less than enthused at this. You’re too drunk to care but Shachi is stammering, trying to get something out of his mouth, anything to justify to Law why you two were making out in the hallway, though your captain just looks between you both. You’ve still got a grip on his tank top while Shachi has one arm around you and his other hand up your shirt, the flush of your face mixed with his blush would make Penguin laugh if he saw it, but this is Law and he’s just giving you both the most straight laced, stoic look you’ve seen from him.

“Hallways aren’t for making out.”

“Cap, sorry, I, we…well…uh…”

You giggle a little and lay your head on his chest, Law sighs and rolls his eyes before nodding his head to a supply closet.

“At least go into another room,” your next giggle tells Law just how inebriated you are so he adds, “Just no rooms with a bed, we don’t need any babies on this ship.”

“Right! Sure, sorry, Law! We’ll do that!!”

Shachi grabs your hand and starts leading you off elsewhere as you question him, Law steps out of the way and watches as you’re led away, hopefully to the supply closet if you’re going to continue making out or the kitchen to get sober, he’d prefer the latter so you two aren’t tempted to ignore his “no beds” warning.

With another sigh, Law shakes his head and starts heading to the common area and the party, and slight smirk on his face.

Ikkaku owes me five hundred berri now.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

GIVE ME THAT M!READER FIC. I'M A MALE MYSELF AND I NEED JAMES HETFIELD FICS. I'm not thaaat gay but I would definitely suck his dick.

A/n: this is part one bc I have plans 😈

Warnings: homophobia, degradation, oral (m receiving), cumming untouched, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Rock was your whole life, you played guitar to drum, piano, anything and everything. You played in your own band but you weren’t very big so you looked for other jobs that still kept you in the scene.

You’d been a roadie for a long time and managed to get a gig with Metallica. You were excited, you loved Metallica as any metalhead does, getting paid to see them was a dream, but you quickly grew to regret it.

James Hetfield, he was known to be a dick but you hadn’t expected this. You’d be doing your job at soundcheck, tuning guitars and making sure everything was set up right, James would find you and ask you questions. Really personal and invasive questions about your love life, more specifically your sex life.

You were crouched down and fidgeting with an amp, making sure to get the right sound out of it, when James came over. He leaned against a nearby wall, cigar between his lips before he took it in his fingers and breathed out the smoke. “Is that what you look like with your boyfriend?” He asked with a smirk on his face.

Your hands paused and you did your best not to look at him. “My what?” You muttered, though you knew you should’ve kept your mouth shut.

“Your boyfriend, you know? Or, do you not have one?” He asked with light laughter. You inhaled deeply and exhaled heavily. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” He was just teasing, teasing to get under your skin. “Just need some big strong man to come fill you up, uh? Bet you have a bucket of dicks in your bus for when you get lonely.” You got up, needing a break from him before you got back to work.

He didn’t follow you but you heard his laughter floating through the air, finding your ears like missiles in the wind. “Run along, gay boy.” You shot him a look at that.

“I’m not fucking gay, James!” His laughter got louder as you stormed off. You weren’t gay, you never liked men, you told him as much. There was no reason for the jokes other than to piss you off and, as much as you tried not to let them get to you, they did.

The shows went on, you did your best to avoid James but he went out of his way to find you. The questions got worse, “what porn do you watch to get off?” “Dick gets hard every time you see me, right? That’s why you always walk away.”

One night it just went too far, Metallica was supposed to be going on stage soon and you were hiding backstage. Of course James found you, he always finds you. You were in a small room with an old couch, hiding behind your phone. “Even found us a little hideout this time? How thoughtful.”

You glared at him, watching as he approached slowly, standing over you with his arms crossed over his chest. “Do you want me to suck your dick?” You asked, a bite to your voice.

James’s eyes widened slightly. “What?” He asked.

“You always talk about it, me being gay, wanting some old man to fuck me right.” You spoke, standing up yourself to even the heights a little. “Maybe it’s just projection, huh? Maybe you’re the gay one who wants to fuck me.”

James stared at you for a long moment, questioning if you’d really just said that to him. He grabbed you by your collar, old as he was he wasn’t weak by any means. You thought he was gonna fight you, instead he pulled you close and crashed his lips down on yours.

You took a step back, stumbling slightly but he didn’t let go of you, tongue slipping into your mouth and exploring it. You had your hands on his shoulders, pushing him off but he didn’t budge.

James spun you around and forced you onto your knees, falling onto the couch in front of you. “You wanna talk a big talk for a fucking faggot.” He had you right where he wanted you, on your knees and defenceless. “It ain’t gonna suck itself, sweetheart.” He mused, sitting back. If you tried you might be able to make a run for it…

James was working on his jeans, undoing his belt. He knew exactly what you were thinking, how easy it would be to get to the door, he wouldn’t chase after you with his pants down. He moved his boot between your legs, adding pressure to your cock through your own jeans. You winced, hands instinctively grabbing his calf.

“Stay down, you’re not getting out of this one that easily.” He assured, pressing his toes down on you. Your hips bucked involuntarily and your face heated up a deep shade of red. “You love this, don’t you?” He asked, lifting his hips to get his jeans down. “Love being treated like a fucking dog. Get up and strip for me.” He ordered, bringing his hands behind his head as he relaxed further into the couch.

You hesitated, however, with no safe way out of this you had to do as he commanded. You stood up and pulled your jacket off before getting your shirt over your head, James whistled at the sight, only making your cheeks hotter. You got to work on your jeans, kicking your boots off while James watched eagerly as you stripped for him.

Your pants fell to the ground, pooling around your ankles. Your boxers followed and James’s laughter echoed throughout the room. “So fucking tiny! You really thought you were gonna fuck women with that thing? Jesus, you’d be better off with a pussy, least that has a use.” He gave his thought a pat, getting you back on your knees in front of him. “Go on, see what a real cock looks like.”

You didn’t dare look him in the eye as you pulled his boxers down, just enough to let his cock spring free, hitting his abdomen. He was rock hard, easily eight, maybe even nine inches. He was thick and veiny with an angry red tip, aching for some attention. At the base was thick white hair leading up his stomach, you wanted to make jokes about his age but you were choking on your words.

“Not gay, huh? You got stars in your eyes.” He said with a grin, reaching for the back of your head, tangling in your hair. He brought you closer to his cock, using his other hand to press his tip to your lips, smearing pre all over like makeup. “Go on, you know exactly what to do, don’t you?” Your gaze flickered up to his, head tilting to get away from him but he held you in place. You shook your head and he chuckled lowly. “Open your mouth and down fucking close it or I’ll tie you up in my bus, alright?” With a threat like that you had no choice, opening your mouth wide and letting him push himself down your throat, waiting for you to gag.

You pushed your face into his pubes and held you there while you squirmed, hands flying to his thighs to push off of him but it was no use. “Breathe through your nose.” He said, but the words barely made it to your ears. He pulled your head back, a firm grip on your hair close to the roots.

He had you bobbing your head on his cock, you gagged and choked on him, tears coming to your eyes as drool dribbled out the corners of your mouth. Low groans started leaving him, your mouth starting to feel really good. His hips thrusting up, small snaps at first but soon he was holding your head in place and fucking your throat roughly, spitting degrading words. “Look at you, taking my cock real good for someone who’s not gay, huh? No, you were just waiting for this, weren’t you? Needing me to fuck you back into your place, fucking queer.”

All of it felt weird all over, your throat was hoarse and hurt, your eyes stung from tears that now streamed down your cheeks. Your jaw hurt from holding it open for him but you knew you’d be punished bad if you shut your mouth. You clawed are his thighs, it only seemed to spur him on; your own thighs burned and your gut felt weirdly hot.

James was close, his pulsing down your throat had the pieces clicking together you and realized what that feeling was. Your eyes widened slightly, you whined around his cock and it made James groan, deep and guttural. It was too late, there was no stopping it, only moaning around him as you came untouched, a puddle of your cum pooling on the floor in front of you.

Your throat constricted around James, who was still pounding your mouth like his own personal fucktoy. “Oh, fuck, you can be useful, huh?” He said through grunts, teeth grinding together from the pleasure. “Swallow it all, not a single drop slips out, understood?” You didn’t want to nod, he gave your cheek a harsh smack when you didn’t. “Good boy.”

With a few final thrusts he came, loud groans filling the room. He made sure you really did swallow it all before pulling out. “Open.” He ordered, tilting your head back. You stuck your tongue out, letting him see it was all gone. He gave you head a few good pats. “Good boy.” You hoped he wouldn’t see your cock twitching at the name.

James fixed himself up, getting himself back into his jeans and he stood up, laughing when he saw your mess. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He blurted. “I didn’t even do anything for you, sucking me off made you that fucking horny? You fucking whore, you gay fucking whore.” You couldn’t do anything, say anything. Your throat was raw and all you wanted to do was deny it, but you couldn’t. James didn’t do anything but use you and step on your cock, he made you cum so fucking hard your legs felt numb.

You watched him walk out of the room like nothing happened at all, his head held high as he went while you were stuck on your knees with a puddle of cum and a full belly, but not nearly full enough.

[laboratory-for-peace]

HIHIIYA!! do you have any crack hcs, or serious hcs of the MADS members?

Oh man, I think I have a thousand little ideas for about every One Piece character I've spent 2 seconds thinking about, be it villains or not.

It's one of those cases where it's nothing concrete or big, and a lot of it verges on "character analysis" rather than headcanon, so I have a hard time listing specific things. But talking about all the big theory stuff or deep character analysis would probably be not what you're asking for + I'm not focused enough to do that right now, so let me think of some funny inconsequential stuff.

I don't know. Fuck. It's like I forgot every thought I've had about these science jerks. Idk. Caesar can't smell anything anymore due to all the toxic gas and chemicals burning his nostrils for years. Judge has severe back pain due to being 270-something cm tall and also in his 50s (and he deserves every second of it). Queen didn't loose his arm in an accident, he chopped it off on purpose to give himself a sick robot arm. All of them would have the most severe presbyopia right now were they not some of the few people on the Blue Planet with access to corrective eye surgery. Screw it, Stella didn't make the Satellites' consciousness via Brain-Brain fruit he was simply plural already, he just used the fruit to add a sense of concreteness to them and help with the android body inhabitation. Ms. Buckin' has a serious gambling addiction and got scammed by whatever the OP universe version of crypto is.

Joke headcanons aside.... let me think of more interesting stuff. Long post so it goes under the cut. You've been warned.

I''m fully convinced Queen made the Marys. Was that ever confirmed or touched upon? It's insane to me that canon never like, explained their existence. That makes total sense, right? Are all of them like, robots/artificial lifeforms, or are they cyborgs like Queen himself, and were once living beings? I think if he made them, either way, he has a funny uncle-niece relationship with Bao Huang. He's metaphorically giving her a gun and going "hell yeah go do crime little dudette". Also I like to think whoever the mother of his abandoned son was, was probably another member of the Beast Pirates. Also a big part of his rivalry with King definitely comes from the fact that King doesn't Trust Scientists after what happened in his childhood, and Queen knows that and tries to intentionally make him uneasy because he finds it entertaining.

I'm convinced of the "Caesar has some sheep/goat Mink ancestry" thing, it makes full sense. Even in a post-"horns in humans tend to signify Ancient Giant ancestry"-reveal world, I think the design of them looks too much like sheep/goat horns, rather than the more bovine design we've seen from everyone else. I know this is boring "everyone has this headcanon at this point" territory, but it just makes full sense to me. As a character in general, I think he's very easy to read, so I don't know if I have anything more unique to say about him. In my head, the reason he got hired at like, a very young age to join MADS, is because he gained a name for himself in the Underworld by doing some sort of horrific bio-terrorism type experiment that left a bunch of like, Marines dead or something, when he was a kid, and that put his name on Lu Feld's ears.

As for Judge, that piece of shit and his stupid little family have enough juice from being featured heavily in an entire arc that it's super easy to come up with a lot of things about them. I think for starters, his marriage with Sora was most likely arranged, mirroring WCI. It seems to be how royalty does things. I do wonder who Sora's family was before that, though, and how she ended up there.... Too many questions without answers until we get like an SBS or something. It'd be really poetic if she was from a royal East Blue family or something, considering Sanji ended up there... Also, I think that him being allowed to fuck off from whatever his royal duties might have been, at a very young age, and join MADS is interesting. So in my head, whoever the previous king / his father was, he was probably one of the funders of MADS. Both as a desire to invest in weapons for Germa, and to feel that he had a sense of control over whatever his (presumably only) son was doing. Also I think Judge and Queen had a Sanji vs Zoro type rivalry, obviously. He got called "twirly-brows" (derogatory) at LEAST once by him. I also like to think a lot of his horrific hypocrisy comes from a place of disgusting projection and insecurity. This man definitely grew up being a weak crybaby until his horrid ideology and pampered upbringing forced him out of it.

Ms. Buckingham is a VERY interesting one, because I feel like we already know a lot about her and also absolutely nothing. The Rocks Pirates are for sure a group we'll get more flashbacks on, eventually. Looking at the timeline, I like to think that after she saw her own clone (being the first ever successful human clone), she immediately started attempting to create Weevil. I like to think this was somehow her way of getting "revenge" on Newgate for "dumping her" or some petty motivation like that, on top of desiring his strength. That boy is a (not-so-successful) clone for sure. The Rocks Pirates had recently been dismantled at that point. I don't think it's a coincidence that Weevil is 35 and Stussy (clone) is 36 lol. It looks like she saw, she immediately tried to copy, she failed.

And for Stella.... now that's a man who's entire history we kind of already know of. There's so many good meta and analysis posts around Tumblr, even stuff I've written, so I'm not sure what to add. The plurality thing wasn't a joke. But other than that, I think that -to combine this with a Stussy (clone) headcanon, he was forced by the WG to hand her off as a Cipher Pol agent. 26 years ago, as an exchange for Not Getting Arrested and instead Being Hired by them. She would have been exactly 10 years old at the time (temporally; with her being a clone, we don't know what physical and mental age she would have been). He must have been raising her until that point, right? He was her creator. I think that the WG made a demand that she's taken as an agent, and like any father, I like to think Stella was reluctant to hand her over at first, but eventually decided it'd be safer for her too. He'd been Underworld so far, he was going to comply to most demands the WG made for him in order to keep his new position. But of course, seeing Stussy's faith to him in Egghead, she definitely kept contact with her father throughout the years, even while in Cipher Pol, even if it was in secret.

Those are my very cool MADS headcanons thank you for coming to my TEDtalk.

[mischievoushiddleston]

Panel After Dark

Pairing: Eric Winter x female! Reader

Warnings: Smut

Masterlist Here!

The light in the hotel bar was pleasantly dimmed and cozy.  It wasn't too crowded, but it was lively enough that nobody stood out sitting alone at the bar. Y/N stirred her drink with a straw, lost in thought. Her voice was almost hoarse from the panel, where she hadn't been able to hold back. She wanted to take her chance and was happy that she had been one of the few to get the opportunity.

"All right," she had said, directly into the microphone as she stood up, "The question is for Eric: if Tim Bradford had a softie moment - a real one with a candlelit dinner and a blanket - what would it be like?"

The room laughed. Eric Winter too. And not embarrassed - but honest, warm and with that slightly rough undertone that had tingled in Y/N's stomach and made her unconsciously squeeze her legs together slightly.

Now she was sitting here, two hours later, in the hotel bar - without much hope of seeing him again, while she unconsciously bit her lower lip. And then she heard him and felt goose bumps spread over her skin.

"I recognized your face," a deep voice said from behind her, "Bradford would hate that you introduced him at a candlelight dinner."

She took a deep breath and paused for a moment before turning around - and there he stood. Eric Winter, in jeans and a light blue shirt that was slightly open at the collar. Casual, charming. A dangerous mix that only made her press her legs together again.

Y/N grinned, hoping not to let on how nervous she actually was. "You were laughing. I have proof."

"Is that so?" he asked as he simply sat down next to her, ordering a whiskey and looking directly at her. "But I'll admit, I rarely laugh this honestly on panels. Usually the questions are... well, more harmless."

"Then I'm glad to have enriched your evening." She sipped her glass, trying not to look too nervous.

"You definitely added to the evening," Eric said with a slight wink. Y/N leaned back and looked at him with a smirk.

"I never really got an answer to my question..." she breathed with a playful twinkle in her eye.

Eric leaned a little closer. "What do you say we take the evening a little further? With... a drink. In my room. Just you, me, and no microphone within earshot, and I'll answer your question."

Y/N blinked. Briefly. Her lips curled into a crooked smile.

"Is this your official panel after-program?"

"VIP guests only." he murmured, looking her straight in the eye. "And you definitely had the best question of the day."

Y/N looked at him with interest, raising her glass to her lips and sipping it slowly before casually crossing her legs. Her gaze lingered on him, calm but with a noticeable crackle in the air.

"That sounds... tempting," she said quietly, her voice soft as velvet. "But tell me - how much does such an exclusive extra cost?"

His gaze wandered briefly to her lips, then back to her eyes - dark, alert, almost demanding.

Eric grinned, leaned back with the glass in his hand and looked at her as if he wanted to solve a riddle. "It all depends on what you want. Conversation, company... or something unspoken in between. Either way, we'd both get something out of it..."

His tone was calm, controlled - and yet there was an underlying current between them, as if something could jump out at any moment.

Y/N leaned forward a little, just enough for her scent to touch him. "What if I want it all?"

He was silent for a moment. No feigned hesitation, rather a silent weighing up - whether she was serious. Whether he could take it seriously.

Then he put his glass down. "Then you should come with me now, before I convince myself that I should remain the gentleman everyone thinks I am."

A dry, quiet laugh escaped her and she slid off the bar stool. His eyes followed her every move. "All right, Mr. Winter. Show me your 'VIP program'."

He led her through the hotel lobby in silence, the hum of the air conditioning and the subdued lighting creating a strangely intimate atmosphere. The elevator was empty when they got in.

The door closed.

Silence.

A brief flash in his eyes, and then he stepped closer.

"Last chance to change your mind." His voice was rougher now, almost whispering.

Y/N cocked her head slightly to the side, looking him straight in the eye. "Why should I?"

He grabbed her waist, pulling her to him in one smooth motion - unhurried, but with clear intent.

"Then I'll start to spoil you. And afterwards, I'll let you decide if it was worth the price."

His lips met hers - warm, firm, demanding.

And when the elevator started to move, they both knew that this was just the beginning.

The kiss was not hesitant - it was immediate.

present.

He kissed her the way he had looked at her earlier: focused, with a hint of control, but ready to lose himself in it. His hand at her waist pulled her closer while his other landed in her hair, gentle but demanding.

Y/N returned it just as hungrily. Her fingers slipped under his open shirt collar, feeling the warmth of his skin, the slight rise in his pulse. Her body nestled against his, as if she wanted to feel every inch - and that's exactly what she did.

Eric tasted of whiskey and mint, his lips warm and soft against hers. When she bit lightly on his lower lip, a dark, throaty sound escaped him - soft but charged.

"You're going to drive me out of my mind," he murmured against her mouth.

"That's the plan," she whispered back, pulling him even closer.

When the elevator stopped and the door opened with a soft *ping*, they reluctantly broke away from each other. They both breathed faster, his hand sliding lower against her back, almost possessively, as he led her into the hallway.

"Last door on the right," he said hoarsely.

The walk to the room was short, but every step was charged with the knowledge of what was about to happen. He pulled out his room card, let the door open and turned to face her - there was no question in his eyes. Only hunger.

As soon as the door closed behind them, he pushed her gently but firmly against it.

His mouth found hers again, this time more slowly, more intensely. His hands explored her body more freely now - the curve of her waist, the base of her hip, the slight trembling he caused her.

Y/N's fingers ran through his hair, her nails grazed the back of his neck. She pulled his shirt out of his pants, slid under the fabric, and felt his muscles tense under her touch.

He whispered her name against her skin like a promise, kissing his way down her neck, finding the exact spots where her breath caught.

"You feel better than in my imagination," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire.

She smiled, pulling him towards the bed. "Wait until you get it all."

Y/N pushed him backwards towards the bed, her fingers still under his shirt, which was now rising inch by inch over his chest. He let her, his eyes fixed on hers - dark, alert, almost greedy.

When she finally let the shirt slide completely over his shoulders, it fell to the floor. Her gaze slid over his upper body, defined, warm. She could feel the tension in his muscles under her hands, the soft sigh of relief as her fingers brushed along his ribs.

Eric lifted his hands, slipped her jacket off - slowly, with relish. Then he ran both thumbs under the waistband of her top and looked at her as if to reassure himself that she was still with him every step of the way.

Y/N nodded barely perceptibly.

With a gentle tug, he pulled the shirt over her head. His gaze traveled over her - not just greedily, but reverently, as if he wanted to memorize every detail.

"You're..." He shook his head slightly, as if words couldn't keep up.

"Better say it with actions," she whispered, gently pushing him to the edge of the bed.

Eric let himself sink back, leaning on his forearms, while she undressed in front of him - first her pants, then her bra, with a confident glint in her eyes. Her movements were calm, controlled - but every little gesture carried weight.

When she was standing in front of him in just her panties, she pulled him all the way back onto the bed with a gentle push on his shoulder. Then she swung herself over him with supple elegance, sat astride his hips, her hands flat on his chest.

He moaned softly, lifted his hands to her thighs, ran them slowly upwards - along her waist, her sides, until they were buried in her hair.

"You look like a fucking dream, Y/N."

She leaned toward him, her lips just a breath away from his. "Then don't wake up."

And she kissed him-deeper, more demanding. Their bodies moved in synchronized rhythm, as if they'd found each other long ago. Her hips rolled lightly against his, just enough to drive him to the edge with each contact.

His hands slid under her panties, finding the warmth of her skin as she pressed against him, soft, demanding, impatient.

His voice was little more than a throaty murmur. "If you're not careful now, I'm going to lose control completely."

Y/N kissed his neck, whispering against his skin, "Maybe that's the plan."

Eric suddenly grabbed her hips and spun her under him in one swift, smooth motion. His body pressed her into the mattress, his weight heavy on her - controlling, but not crushing. His gaze was fixed on her, not a trace of uncertainty left.

"You like playing with fire, huh?" His voice was deeper, darker as he leaned over her. "Then I'll show you what heat really feels like."

Y/N's breath quickened as he pressed her arms over her head, holding her there with one hand - not roughly, but firmly. His other arm slipped between them, his fingers brushing over her panties, slowly, agonizingly light.

"So damn soft," he murmured, his lips barely touching her neck. "And you make this so easy... wanting you."

With a deft move, he tore the last of the fabric away from her, tossing it carelessly to the side. Then he kissed his way down from her collarbone - slowly, demanding - his tongue grazing the most sensitive areas with one goal: to make her tremble.

Y/N arched towards him, seeking more, but he held her tight. Controlled. His fingers slid through her heat, slid inside her - deeply, rhythmically, and then he stopped, only to silence her tender protest with a kiss.

"You don't get anything you don't deserve," he murmured against her lips.

Then he straightened up, removed his trousers, his boxer shorts - his gaze never left her for a moment.

He knelt between her thighs, gripped her hips and pulled her hard against him.

"Tell me you want me," he demanded, his voice a command, not a wish.

"I want you," she breathed, completely surrendered beneath him.

"No, Y/N," he growled. "Say it the way I want to hear it."

She looked him straight in the eyes, lustful, ready. "I want you inside me. Now. Take me."

Eric wasted no time. In one fluid movement, he penetrated her deeply - firmly, demanding. A rough moan escaped him as their bodies found each other perfectly.

"You're mine - right now," he groaned, his hips thrusting powerfully against hers.

Eric paused when he was fully inside her - motionless, deep - and looked at her as if he wanted to memorize every detail of her face. Her dilated pupils, the slightly open mouth, the trembling in her chest as she tried to anticipate his rhythm.

"Can you feel that?" His voice was little more than a raspy whisper. "As deep...as you wanted it."

Y/N nodded, but that wasn't enough for him. He withdrew slowly, almost all the way - she gasped - and then thrust deep into her again, a long, controlled thrust that pressed her hips into the mattress.

A moaning sound escaped her, raw and uncontrolled. And he liked it.

He repeated it - slowly, deliberately. Each thrust was precise, firm, deep. No hasty thrusting - but slow-motion possession.

"Every inch of you is mine right now," he whispered. His hands gripped her thighs, pulling her closer to him so that he could slide even deeper into her. Eric leaned down and took one of her nipples into his mouth. His teeth grazed over the sensitive spot and made her moan.

She clung to him, feeling his pelvis provoking her climax every time, teasing him, challenging him - but he gave her no control. Only the feeling that he was controlling everything. Her tempo. Her trembling. Her climax.

His upper body lowered over her again, his chest pressed against hers, his breath hot on her neck. He held her arms above her head again, pinning her with just one hand while the other held her hips tighter - setting his rhythm.

Then came the moment when he increased the pace slightly - not recklessly, but just enough to make her twitch begging beneath him.

"You take me so damn well," he moaned against her ear, "like you were made just for this."

Her legs closed tighter around him, her fingernails digging into his arm as he moved deeper and longer into her - each thrust driving her closer to the edge, not letting her breathe, only feel.

"Please, Eric..." she gasped.

"Not yet," he growled. "You'll cum when I tell you to."

And so he kept her on the edge, driving her almost insane for minutes - until her muscles spasmed, her body began to quake beneath him. Then, with one last deep, controlled thrust, he leaned forward, looked into her eyes.

"Now."

And she cum - with a sound meant only for him, her body jerking under his control.

He followed seconds later, deep inside her, his groan hot against her skin as he surrendered - breathing heavily, holding her as if he couldn't let her go.

Her breathing slowly calmed. Their bodies lay close together, still sweaty, still warm, but the heat was now giving way to a quiet, almost holy calm.

Eric moved carefully without letting go of her completely. He slipped the rumpled sheet over his lower body and pulled Y/N a little closer to him. Her head now rested on his chest, one hand on his stomach. Her fingers were still on his skin as if half asleep - as if she needed to make sure he was really there.

"Are you okay?" His voice was soft, quieter than before. No trace of dominance - just caring, honest interest.

interest.

Y/N raised her eyes slightly, looking at him, her lips still slightly swollen from the kiss, her eyelashes heavy. She nodded slowly. "Mmm... better than okay."

A faint smile settled on his lips. He leaned forward, kissed her forehead - not demanding, not hungry - but quietly, almost tenderly.

"You're incredible," he murmured as his hand ran slowly over her back. "I didn't know a convention could end like this."

She laughed softly, sleepily. "I thought you were the pro at panels like this."

"Only on stage..." He looked down at her, his thumb stroking her shoulder. "That's where I need luck. And you were just that today."

She said no more. Her eyelids drooped again, her breathing became calmer, more even. The excitement was gone, the moment full of gentle silence.

Eric pulled the blanket over them both, his arm firmly around her. He felt her snuggle against him, sigh slightly - and then fall asleep.

"Sleep well, Y/N," he whispered against her hair.

A/N I hope you enjoyed it 😉 Which of you were also at the Con

in Paris?

[approximatelynothereorthere]

Broken Legs

Bodhi Durran x OC

3.6k words ☆ Part 1 of 2

Okay hi. first fic I've posted on here so yay! This ended up being way longer than I intended and it's also now split into two parts. I'm hoping to get the second part up mid next week but knowing me it could be a little longer lol.

My OC is called Evelyn (Eve to most, Evie to one person in particular- definitely not planning a whole other fic to explain all of that lol), in this she's a second year in the same squad as Imogen, Quinn and Dain (she might be his XO, I haven't decided yet) and by extension Violet & Co. , she's fairly stubborn and has some insecurities and fears surrounding her signet (I haven't explicitly stated what her signet is but one could make an educated guess at what it could be from some details in this fic)- I will be making an OC master post soon-ish which will go into a bit more detail about Eve and I have plans for some more OCs...

Contains: Somewhat of a description of broken legs (I have never broken a bone before so it may not be very accurate), a bit of Dain hating (will explain that more in part 2), a li'l bit of angst

(please let me know if I missed anything)

‘Ow ow ow. Ah shit’

‘Imogen, you need to get her other side.’ Quinn says from under my arm that she’s holding up as she tries to help me down the stairs. We’ve made it down two so far, only about fifty to go. Imogen appears at my other side and lifts my arm over her shoulders. I wince as we begin moving again. It feels like there are a thousand tiny blades violently stabbing into my legs every time I make the slightest movement. My right leg is worse I think. It feels slightly in the wrong place and the blades seem more angry on this side. Each step is godsdamn agony but there’s nothing we can do until we get to the infirmary.

‘You good?’ Imogen asks.

‘Just…’ I hiss at the sudden sharpness I feel just below my knee. ‘… peachy.’

Imogen merely grunts in response but then adds ‘Stop putting weight on your right leg, I know that one’s worse. And stop holding back on me and Quinn, we can take your weight just fine, that’s the whole point of doing this.’

I don’t say anything back but I do let myself lean on them more. The blades seem to ease up a bit but it still hurts like a bitch. Malek, take me now. Stupid fucking Aetos and his stupid fucking dragon.

‘If it helps I threatened the squad leader with a fiery death the second he dismounted Cath’ Nimh tells me.

‘I imagine that didn’t go down well with either of them.’ I send back.

‘Knocking my rider off a ten foot drop isn’t something that goes down well with me.’

‘Fair point.’

‘Is that all you have to say?’ She questions.

‘Sorry I’m a bit preoccupied with not passing out from pain right now.’

You'd think she’d be a bit more sympathetic, It’s not like I’m crying over stubbing my toe.

‘We will talk later.’ Nimh states before I feel her presence in my mind recede slightly. I can’t tell if she wants to scold me or plot revenge on Aetos and Cath. Probably both.

We’re about three quarters of the way down now but the blades are coming in harder and stabbing deeper than before. Fucking hell. I whimper as we take another step and my eyes well up. This is becoming unbearable, I don’t know if I can make it to the bottom of the steps, even with Quinn and Imogen holding me up, before my legs give up completely.

‘Eve you’re doing so good. Not far to go now, we’ve got you.’ Quinn gives my side a squeeze that I know is supposed to be comforting but it’s not doing shit for me right now. Oh holy… fucking gods. This is shit, this is shit, this is shit. I feel wetness falling down my cheek. Great, now I’m crying. I breathe in slowly, trying to calm myself and with the faintest hope that oxygen has some undiscovered pain relieving property. It doesn’t and tears are still slipping down my face. I want Bodhi. If he were here… I… I don’t know, I just need him to hold my hand or something, smile at me in the way that smooths over the rough edges of my feelings, in the way that only he can. This is so pathetic. But hey, I have two potentially broken legs and still the entire fucking quadrant to get through to reach the infirmary, I think I’m allowed to cry and want my boyfriend.

Two steps to go. Dark spots cloud my vision and I blink hard.

‘Can one of you talk? About anything, I don’t care. Just give me something to focus on… please.’ I mutter.

Quinn immediately throws herself into chattering about weekend plans and it seems to be working. One final step to go and then we’re off this infernal staircase. One of the sharpest stabs yet shoots through my leg and I cry out and scrunch my eyes up before more tears can escape.

‘Eve you did it. Should be easier now-’ Quinn starts.

‘Give me… shit… give me a minute’ I inhale sharply. ‘I feel… like I’m gonna… pass out.’ I try to exhale as evenly as possible but it still comes out shaky and I see Imogen shoot Quinn a strange look. Not strange, worried, it just looks odd on her features. I’m screwed if Imogen’s worried, she never worries. She goes to say something before, ‘Evie? a voice calls out from the other side of the room. The fucking nerve of this person to call me-

‘Evie? What the fuck?’

I look towards the voice with what I hope to be a deadly scowl on my face and a tall figure comes into view. My vision is too blurry to make out anything else about them, all I know is they’re next on my kill list, after I end Aetos for putting me in this situation. The person quickly moves closer, their steps echoing.

‘What in Amari’s name happened? Cuir told me to come find you but he didn’t say…’ they stop just over a foot in front of me. ‘…shit darling.’

Who the fuck do they think they- oh. Cuir told them… him. My eyes finally focus on the man in front of me as the drowsy feeling of my consciousness slipping ebbs away a little. Bodhi’s eyes are wide and a small line creases between his dark brows.

‘Oh, hey.’ I attempt to sound nonchalant but it clearly hasn’t worked when the crease between his brows just gets deeper.

Imogen quickly explains ‘We’re taking her to the infirmary but the pain in her legs is getting worse and she’s barely putting any weight on them. I’m not sure how much further she can get.’

I make a small sound in protest but she cuts me off. ‘Don’t argue, you just said you think you’re about to pass out and it doesn’t take a healer to see how fucked up your legs are.’

Quinn gives me another squeeze and this time it does help, a tiny bit. I see Bodhi’s wide gaze leave my face and travel down to my legs, then back up to where my arms are slung over Imogen and Quinn’s shoulders. He strides forward and, in one quick motion, lifts me up into his arms. I wince as I feel the pressure of his arm on the back of my thighs cause something to tug sharply further down my right leg. I bite my lip and scrunch up my face because it hurts, it really fucking hurts.

‘I know Evie, darling, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ Bodhi whispers as I lean my head into his shoulder. His other arm is wrapped around my back and his hand is absentmindedly stroking my side. Maybe not absentmindedly, maybe he’s doing it deliberately because he knows it makes me feel safe, knowing he’s there, that he’s alive and with me. I go to put my arms around his neck as he starts speeding towards the infirmary, Imogen and Quinn keeping his pace just behind. My eyes are still shut to stop the world from spinning and I bite my lip to stop anymore whimpers from escaping me.

‘What happened?’ Bodhi asks softly as we turn a corner. I think we’re crossing into the other quadrants now.

‘Later.’ Is all I can get out. I’m not ready to go into all of that just yet. I open my eyes and look up to find him gazing straight back at me. His eyes are still wide but they look slightly watery now. Or maybe it’s just because I’m looking at him through watery eyes, tears that I’m still trying to hold back. He gives me a small nod, his mouth pressed into a small line.

After what feels like an eternity, we reach the infirmary. The stabbing feeling in my legs is almost constant now and I’ve been feeling my control slipping, similar to the way I slipped off Nimh’s leg only this time the result would be accidently channelling my signet, into Bodhi. I’d rather break my legs ten more times than let that happen.

The second we step into the infirmary two healers working on something at the far end of the room spot me in Bodhi’s arms and rush over.

‘What happened?’ one asks as the other beckons Bodhi over to one of the beds to lay me down on.

‘She fell dismounting her dragon.’ Quinn answers.

‘As if- Eve’s not incompetent, she got knocked off. Completely out of her controll and the landing fucked her legs.’ Imogen quickly interjects.

I feel Bodhi’s eyes on me, frowning like his life depends on it. This is not how he was supposed to find out. ‘Knocked off’ could imply someone made me fall deliberately and although I am decidedly pissed off at the someone who did knock me off, he didn’t do it with the malicious intention I’m sure Bodhi has interpreted it as. Since we’d been together, scratch even before that, when we’d started getting closer, he’d always worried about others trying to hurt me to get to him, because he’s marked. He avoided me for an entire week once because of a small incident that occurred during sparring. He claimed he was ‘protecting me’, I told him he was being an idiot. Now I don’t even want to imagine what he must be thinking, that someone is targeting me because of him. He already has so much to deal with being an XO, training first year marked ones, not to mention Xaden and his ridiculous obsession with Sorrengail. Bodhi doesn’t have space in his head to worry about nonexistent threats against me.

He adjusts his hold on me as he tries to figure out the best way to lay me on the bed without hurting me. It’s unavoidable at this point but the sentiment warms my chest a little. Finally he lowers me but as his arm is removed from the back of my thighs pain shoots down my right leg like a poison dart tearing through the bone and muscle.

‘Oh fuck me.’ I curse loudly and it echoes around the room.

Bodhi immediately reaches for my hand, intertwining our fingers. ‘I’m sorry darling.’ He brings my hand towards his lips and kisses the knuckles gently. The feeling is enough for me to forget about everything happening and purely focus on him. I lay my head back against the cool pillow that’s been propped up behind me and look at him, he’s looking right back at me like I’m a riddle he can’t quite figure out. As he lowers our hands onto the edge of the bed I open my mouth to say something but-

‘Hiya Evelyn, sorry to see you here but do you think you could explain what you friend means by your legs being ‘fucked’.’ One of the healers says as he moves to the other side of the bed. Thank gods he stopped me, I have no idea what I would have said to Bodhi.

‘Hey Parker.’ I say. Parker is a third year healer I met after Threshing last year. He stitched up the nasty slash Nimh had given me just below my collarbone and over time we became friendly with each other. I wouldn’t call us friends per say but it’s always nice to see him. Maybe not under these circumstances, however.

Looking down at my legs, I realise what Imogen mean by my legs being ‘fucked’. The sharp intake of breath comes involuntarily when my eyes register exactly how messed up my right leg is. Tears form in my eyes once again, not because of pain, that's becoming more and more familiar to the point that it would feel weird if something didn’t hurt, but because I can barely comprehend that the close to utterly mangled appendage is actually attached to my body. That’s my leg not someone else's that I can look at and just think ‘ouch’ as I imagine what it might be like. I don’t need to imagine because it’s actually happening to me and it’s fucking terrifying.

Good fucking gods. My breathing is becoming more and more shallow and panic is tingling around my body. I need to do something, I need to get away, scream, anything. Anything that will make it stop. My control is slipping and power is spreading down my arms, reaching my hands, slowly seeping into my fingertips where… oh shit. I yank my hand out of Bodhi’s before it can get to him. As long as I don’t touch anyone it’ll be fine. I just need to get a grip on my emotions.

I can feel both Bodhi and Parker’s narrowed gazes on me but I can’t tear my eyes away from my legs. It’s like I’m in a trance, a horrifying nightmarish trance.

‘Eve… talk to me. What’s going on?’ Bodhi whispers softly. Gods I want to look at him but I can’t, I’m frozen in place like a statue. He reaches for my hands once again but I snatch them away and hold them tight to my chest. If there’s only one other thing I can focus on, it’s not hurting him, keeping him safe above anything.

I can almost hear the gears whirring in his brain. I never pull away from him, never, not unless…

‘It’s your signet isn’t it?’

Click. I don’t say anything, only nod. It’s barely a nod more a shift in the positioning of my head but he notices. He moves his chair even closer to the bed and rests his hand on it, so close to me that I swear I can feel heat radiating from him.

‘Evie? Can you try and look at me please darling?’

I want to, I really want to but I have the irrepressible fear that if I look away from my legs for even a fraction of a second they’ll get even worse and not even Nolan could fix them.

‘I know you’re scared but I need you to trust me, Eve, just look at me and let me help.’ He says firmly but quietly. He hasn’t had to use that voice in a long time and… he thinks I don’t trust him. Like hell I don’t. I take a deep breath, shut my eyes and turn my head slowly. I can feel his fingers twitching beside me and exhale shakily as I open my eyes.

‘Hi’ he’s giving his soft smile, not my favourite but the most comforting at the moment.

‘Hey’ I whisper, averting my eyes from his before I panic and back out completely then end up wallowing alone in pain and shame until I can walk on my own again.

‘Can I touch your hands?’ He asks and I feel his fingers shift against the mattress again. I shake my head.

‘What if I hurt you? I don’t trust myself to not hurt you.’ I admit more to the mattress than him. His fingers inch impossibly closer to my side and they brush gently against it.

‘You won’t. You’ve never hurt me with your signet before and I trust you with my life and more.’ He says with the confidence I wish I could have right now.

‘I’m not in control. I can feel it in my fingers and I can’t make it go away. My head is too much of a mess to… it- I can’t…’ My response is desperate and weak but I am well and truly panicking now.

‘Let me help. You can give me your hands and we’ll make it go away. We’ll talk it through.’

‘Bodhi I-‘

‘I’ll counter it, just like I used to.’ He interrupts. It’s terrifying how quickly he’s willing to risk himself for me.

‘You shouldn’t have to do that.’

‘I don’t care, I want to. ‘

I search his eyes to find the faintest hint of fear so I can refuse him but I only find the fierce determination I fell in love with. Damn him.

The instant I mumble an ‘okay’ his hands are holding mine, clutching them like the world would end if he ever let go. Thumbs rubbing circles into the backs of my hands, I feel the power fading slightly. It’s not the feeling of him countering it though, he’s just calming me. When he counters it feels like the power just won’t turn on. It’s frustrating but he’ll only do it if he absolutely has to. I’m guessing this is not one of those times, although it certainly felt like it should’ve been from my end.

‘See darling, you’re in control, you’re not hurting me.’ Bodhi says, his soft but dark eyes on me.

I don’t say anything back, just focus on the feeling of his thumbs on the back of my hands. There have been many times before when he has had to counter me, when I was only just starting to learn how to use my signet. It’s normal for first years to struggle controlling their signets and accidents are bound to happen, expected even. But my signet is not one you want to be out of control, an accident with my signet has an unfortunately high chance of someone becoming merely a name called in death roll or the infirmary for an not ideal period of time. That’s why Bodhi and I started training together more frequently, he was one of the few people who could defend themselves if I did slip up. Even then I worried he wouldn’t be able to wield under pressure if it did come to that.

Someone clears their throat near me and I remember that Parker is still here, as is Imogen and Quinn who are standing together a little further away watching quietly. Blood rushes to my face as I realise they’ve all witnessed that entire interaction between me and Bodhi. I trust them all with my life (just about) but my relationship is something I usually prefer to keep to myself. He is mine and I am his and that’s all I need anyone to know.

‘When you can, Eve, could you explain what the pain is like and where?’ Parker says softly. ‘Nolan has been informed that he is needed and is on his way as we speak. If you want mending, that is.’

‘Gods yes!’ I groan, now feeling a bit more like myself again. I turn my head towards Parker. ‘Can you imagine me being stuck here with broken legs for weeks on end? No thank you.’

He gives me that rare grin of his and Bodhi chuckles, giving my hands a quick squeeze.

‘And uh yeah I think I can talk about it now. Sorry for freaking out a little.’

Bodhi makes a small noise in protest and Imogen just scoffs.

‘Respectfully, you are a fucking idiot if you think you need to apologise for having a normal reaction to your injury.’ She crosses her arms over her chest so I narrow my eyes at her and she narrows her right back as if she’s daring me to argue with her. I turn back to Bodhi and see the corner of his mouth quirk up slightly.

‘You’re not going to defend me?’ I ask.

‘But she is right.’ He shrugs and Parker nods in agreement.

‘Gods, you’re all mean. I hate you.’ I huff.

Bodhi smirks. ‘Uh huh.’ He kisses my knuckles once again. ‘Love you too.’

Hope you liked it and thank you so much for reading :)

[earlysapiens]

Still thinking about sharks ough