#“Are you crazy?! You know there are easier ways to die | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mygnolia · 9 months ago

Text

to weave my love ⭒ n. riki

⭒ SYNOPSIS -› Riki is good at many things- dancing, making fun of his friends, playing it cool (debatable.), Hell- he’s even good at saving people from falling buildings without getting whiplash. But the things he’s bad at? Well, it’s asking you out to prom, and trying to balance the shared assignment he has with you…while being Spider-man.

⭒ PAIR -› spiderman!nishimura riki x fem-pres!reader

⭒ GENRE -› fluff, banter, action ⭒ TROPES -› classmates to lovers, idiots to lovers ⭒ WC -› 17k (i’m sorry idk why either.)

⭒ INCLUDES -› SPOILERS FOR GREAT GATSBY, cursing, non-graphic injuries (reader discretion advised), yes i made the patching up with first aid kit trope SUE ME!! takes place in a busy city similar to new york never specified, reader is rich, jake and heeseung are seniors and riki’s a junior, is riki stupid? yes… jake reveals stuff because he is also a little silly, reader wears a red dress!

⭒ GREAT GATSBY -› basically jay gatsby has this weird amt of money but no one rlly knows how he got it (nefarious reasons) and hes been in love with this girl daisy for five years but then she got married to tom buchanan but he gets rich so he can get the house across from her and wistfully watch her and he pines after her like CRAZY but he dies at the end

⭒ REN SAYS...special huge fat kiss to thena @sensitively-taken you will be in the will when im a millionaire THANK YOU for helping me with so much of this I WUV U AND I WLL BE WAITING FOR UR HUENING FIC!!! | LIBRARY

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE FROM PRE-ADULTHOOD STRESS, IF THAT’S EVEN A THING.

What exactly does Riki have to worry about as a seventeen-year-old junior in high school? Right now, his most daunting responsibility is catching up on the chapters of The Great Gatsby because the only thing Riki’s actually read from the novel is that the main character shares a name with his best friend and senior, Park Jay. His second most daunting responsibility is handling the fact that with the new seating chart in his Literature class, it means he’s sitting next to the object of his very subtle affections, you.

See, the problem with having a crush on you is that Nishimura Riki’s committed to thinking that you’re way out of his league, and unfortunately, the boy believes that almost too well. Not only are you minted beyond his wildest dreams (having seen your posts on social media), but you’re hardworking, helpful, and dedicated to your role as student body treasurer. He’s already understood that you’d never go for a guy like him. Maybe someone more like Park Sunghoon, whose parents’ salary matches yours. If Riki lived in a rural estate with generational wealth, handling the whole ‘Spider-Man’ thing might be a bit easier for him, considering he wouldn’t have to try so hard in school. It might even change the fact that Riki dealt with some alleyway criminals last night and is currently catching up on lost sleep, as your English Literature teacher goes on and on about a project on the book you’re reading.

In class, and even sometimes outside of the classroom, your small tendency to not pay attention to your surroundings has landed you in some awkward situations—like now.

“I don’t really tell anyone this, but I hate Daisy.” And instead of getting a response, you glance over to see Nishimura Riki slumped on the desk. Without trying to make preconceptions about what could land him in a situation like this, you poke his arm, stifling a smile at how his eyes widen when you’ve caught him rubbing the very obvious sleep from his eye.

“Sorry,” he whispers, still fighting the post-nap grogginess, “Did I miss anything?”

(Nope.)

Shaking your head, you return your attention to your teacher as he continues to answer questions. The second Mr. Yoo assigned a report, you wanted to die even more considering the work you had to do on top of the impending due dates. But for it to be partnered? And for you to get seated and paired with the one boy who's known for not caring about school? Maybe things are a little stacked against you, but there has to be a reason why Riki’s somehow still passing all his classes…right?

Considering it’s the last assignment about the book, you’re glad that you already read it so many times to know what you want to put into words. And in retrospect, answering a few open-ended questions about it can’t be that hard—the hardest part would be getting your partner to stay awake in class.

A small tap at your side makes you turn to face Riki, who you see has frantically written a page full of notes about the project in the past three minutes and how he can succeed. “Can you go over the first part? Sorry…I was…y’know.”

“It’s a partner project. And we’re partners.” You wince at the awkward wording.

Great! Riki was caught sleeping and that was your first impression of him for your paired assignment? Riki feels so stupid in front of you right now—in front of your meticulous notes with annotations and proper highlighting. He wants to curl up into a ball when he sees you glance over at his haphazard attempt to look like he was paying attention when, in truth, he was trying to remember the dream he had just ten minutes prior. When you offer him a small smile and nod, leaning over with your notebook in hand, he sighs in relief, thanking whoever it was that let him get away with his naps without the consequence of irritating you afterwards.

The bell rings when Mr. Yoo stops talking, and you pause, startled by the sound. Instead of leaving, however, you pack your bag and shuffle to his side of his desk, continuing to parrot details about your report in hopes that it all makes sense. You need to make sure he knows what he’s doing.

“I think one of the questions he mentioned was like ‘Is Gatsby a good person?’ and do you remember how in Chapter Eight…” The rest gets zoned out and forgotten in the boy’s head, because he in fact does not know what happened in Chapter Eight. He doesn’t know what happened…in any part of the book. But he agrees anyway, pretending like he understands what scene you’re trying to explain. What he notices is how thorough and dedicated you are towards ensuring he comprehends what you’re explaining, and although it could be because you don’t want him to fail you both, he chooses to believe you’re doing it because you tolerate him.

You’re so engrossed in covering all the little details and telling him random tidbits regarding the book that you don’t realize your feet have made it all the way to the cafeteria. “But here, let me get your number. I’ll totally explain more over text.”

Riki is definitely not freaking out when he silently grabs his phone and hands it to you with the contact page, staring a little longer than necessary at the cute smiley face you added to your name. “Thanks,” he mumbles, forcibly tearing his eyes away from the ten digits of your number, “For helping me with this, too.”

“Of course! The Great Gatsby is a fun read for me. A little hard to read sometimes because of some of the characters, but still easy to understand.” And Nishimura RIki realizes that he has to do well. He’ll read the book five times over if it means gaining your approval.

Jake notices something a little different about the tuft of black and blonde hair when his friend walks in. The first thing is that he’s actually here, and that you’re next to him, smiling. The boy rubs his eye to make sure he’s not dreaming somehow, but when he looks up again, you’re waving goodbye and joining your friends across the room.

“Did you get hit with something while fighting a villain that makes you more bold? I feel like I just saw you and ____ talking,” Jake starts when Riki finally joins him with his lunch.

Riki laughs, shoving Jake’s head out of embarrassment and opening his chips. “It’s just school. Got some project in English and she says we’re partnered.” He looks over at his friend chuckling, rolling his eyes at how Jake pokes at his side and wiggles his eyebrows.

“I better hear you two are dating by next week.”

“Who’s dating by next week?” Heeseung places his bag of food in front of them and takes a seat, opening the fast food he got last period and stuffing a fry in his mouth.

“Riki and ____. Let me have one,” Jake answers, reaching inside the bag.

Heeseung looks over at his junior curiously. “You asked her out?” And the two older students hear a groan from the boy in question.

“Me and ____ aren’t anything, for your information.” He prods at the vegetables on his tray and takes a bite before a look of displeasure washes over his face. “You’re both way too excited for two guys who do not have girlfriends.”

“Hey! You know the girl I’m always fighting with is the reason why I’m single. I have to focus on studying to do well in school to do better than her.” Heeseung’s whining falls on deaf ears as Riki smiles victoriously, seeing how defensive the former got.

Jake offers him a shrug of defeat. “I got nothing.”

The three of them fall into normal conversation and Riki finally explains everything that happened during English. “So you’re telling me your plan to ask ____ out went down from 18 months to 6?” And with a nod from the younger, they both groan once more. Heeseung exclaims, “We’re both going to graduate, dumbass. Make the plan go down to like…two months? Please?”

Jake cuts in before Riki has a chance to respond. “Make it one and a half, so we can see you with a prom date before leaving forever.”

“You act as if you’re going to die after graduation. It’s like you’re begging to be a super senior.”

And they’re silenced immediately.

“Do you think the guy I was with earlier hates me?” you ask on the other side of the room. Minjeong stares at you blankly, waiting for your explanation. “I don’t know if you saw when I walked in but I was talking to this really tall guy with blonde hair and black tips. He seemed really out of it, like he kept staring at me and nodding. I think I scared him off by talking about the book too much.”

Sunghoon, who is also listening in, opens his neatly packed lunchbox and begins mixing his noodles. “I think you did scare him off, ____.”

“Not helping,” Minjeong interjects, “Just talk to him more and maybe he’ll warm up to you. You two sit together in class anyways, so hopefully he’ll talk more?”

“I know him,” Sunghoon comments, “Well, sort of. I’m friends with Jake who’s friends with Riki, and it seems like all that boy does is sleep.”

“Maybe he’s really good at subconscious in-class comprehension?” you try, taking a bite of your sandwich. “I just hope it doesn’t interfere too much with treasurer stuff.”

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE IF HE SWINGS INTO ANOTHER WALL AT 100MPH LIKE HOW HE ALMOST DID TONIGHT.

All he’s had on his mind since school ended till now is how he should probably text you, if he really discarded the slimy acid monster from last week properly, and when the prom theme is going to be released, but there’s something amiss that confuses his spidey-senses and makes Riki much more alert.

He snaps out of whatever train of thought he had before, focusing on the situation at hand and looking around to follow his instinct. Riki cautiously plants himself on the side of a random apartment building to get a sense of what's going on. A tingle of some sort of in the air permeates the material of his suit and leaves him shivering from the cold.

He doesn't like it one bit.

Moving to the side of the building to the top, the boy finally catches a glimpse of something when he gets a decent view of the city and highway systems. Riki knows something’s wrong with the bridge the closer he gets. He zips from one side of the tall, metal tower to the other, crawling down on all fours making sure he isn’t caught. He feels the electric feeling once more, only amplified. It runs up his spine and he wants to slap it, almost like a frantic, summertime bug. The air around him is charged with something he has never recognized before. With a puzzled expression under his mask, Riki continues to investigate the surrounding area.

Riki finds a lone figure with some sort of attachment to his left arm, like a long glove made out of metal. The bulkiness of it seems to have no impact on his body as the man fiddles with the contraption, and the boy watches with bated breath as the machine fizzes and spurts with electricity. It begins to glow as power concentrates on his plated palm and the superhero sees it for the first time. It’s like a fizz, like a match striking at fire only to produce a quick burst of friction, but it almost feels liquid when he watches the person play with the flickering blue ball of electricity. It dances in the dark in a hauntingly beautiful way, with bolts jutting out from the metal as it spurts and buzzes with a life-like manner.

A spark.

“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” The sound of Riki’s voice from the end of the bridge causes the stranger to look up with wide eyes. Although Riki fully expects it to simply enhance strength or block damage, the immediate strike of blue that flies straight towards him is anything but defensive. With a yelp, he jumps away, this time refusing to show himself.

What the hell was that?

He knows he should go back down there to change things and get the person and the metal pieces away before it escalates, but when he goes back down to watch, it's ten times worse. The bright blue illuminates the scarred face of the villain as he’s picked up the metal arm–but this time, it’s no longer clunky and sparking, but fused into his arm.

Riki’s face pales at the sudden change before his body acts on its own and he shoots out a web to stop the man.

The villain is shocked by the intrusion, but quickly yanks free from the webbing and flicks another bolt of electricity, one that flies much faster now that the metal flows into the arm instead of simply resting on the skin. It’s unlike something Riki has ever seen, something that is so controlled in motion and yet so erratic in nature, and it instills a deathly fear when it grazes his arm he hisses in pain. The sharp feeling springs Riki into action as he jumps away. He’s lucky another bolt isn’t sent his way, seeing how the villain’s too busy marveling at the power of his new gadget.

“You know that fucking hurts, right?” He yells out, cupping his wound. “Maybe leave the gadgets to the kids!”

The man scoffs. “It better have hurt. I sacrificed half my body for this to work.”

“But why?” All Riki wants is answers. Some sort of explanation.

The man charges up yet another bolt, almost like a laser gun is built into the machine. “Less talking, more running, Spiderman.”

That scared the shit out of him.

The boy doesn’t have time to think as he jumps out from the dark tunnel to the bridge and up the metal towers—he hates having to fight with people right below. The villain follows in pursuit, almost crumbling the metal with his engineered arm as he hoists himself quickly. Riki continues to jump between the structure to avoid the flashes, trying to get out and apprehend the man as quickly as possible. When he reaches the top, however, he feels death is near as he glances down at the villain below who’s quickly gaining on him. He shoots out webs to slow him temporarily, letting himself fall and swing from the side of the tower to escape.

What he doesn’t see on the way across the bridge is the flash that misses his cheek and hits his thigh instead. It burns, and mid-air, Riki gives the wound a quick assessment before he lands on the metal, immediately forcing his body to climb. While dealing with his wound, he fails to notice the villain swinging from the bridge support lines to meet him.

He needs to end this fast before he becomes burnt toast.

Riki doesn’t often rely on instinct to carry him, but he can tell that the villain he’s facing isn’t just a criminal.

“Land another hit, would you?” he tries to say, his voice strained from the pain in his arm and leg. It doesn’t do much to deter the man in front of him as the arm continues to destroy and bend the metal on the way up. “What are you going to do now, Sparky?”

The man says nothing, charging energy into his metal glove again before aiming and focusing on the target: him.

Riki jumps off, not able to properly land his web in the right spot as he goes from one section of the bridge to the other. The man behind him looks enraged at the boy’s attempt to escape—so much so that he reaches out with his normal hand to try to grasp the suit when Spider-Man swings past him. Instead of the feeling of fabric, the villain feels sticky spider fluid on his fingers. Riki shoots out a web, one that curls around the villain’s wrist and drags him off the tower. Instead of being able to launch him into the surrounding waters, the man slips from the poorly shot-out webs and falls from mid air into the sea of frantic cars, including one semi truck that collides directly with his arm. In the air, the boy winces when he hears honks and shouts from the impact, hoping it’s the last time he’ll have to witness it.

With his gaze trained on the falling figure, the weakly attached web breaks, and Riki all of a sudden starts falling down as well. He curls up defensively before bracing for impact, curling into himself when he feels the metal dent and the truck driver scream from outside of the parked vehicle, the body of the villain right in front of it.

Riki staggers, holding onto his arm and thigh the best he can before getting up. With wobbly steps and a small jump, he lands near the unconscious man, whose metal arm is cracked and fizzling—something that Riki knows is bound to leave more scars.

“Call the police. I’ll get rid of the pieces.” Although Riki wants to figure out who the criminal is and make sure he’s properly apprehended, the gashes in the boy's limbs leave him winded and exhausted. With hot metal scraps bound together by webbing in his hands, Riki swings out and dumps it somewhere rural, trying his best to cover the pieces with the pounding headache that

Riki revisits the secluded spot under the bridge, looking for clues to the man’s identity, and his expression falls when he notices a lanyard dangling near a trash can.

His name, his position, and the company. FLiGHT Corp. The company name caught the boy’s eye, and he pockets the item before leaving.

It seemed like he was a normal research scientist, but Riki’s recollection of the scars and tattered skin leaves him retracting his last thought. He heard something about the failure of a time travel machine at FLiGHT, and if the mass of the incident was anything to go by, he was in the center of it.

No matter how many times Riki tries to get it out of his head, on the way home, all he can think about is the inexperience he displayed and the lack of response he gave Riki during the whole time. But Riki can’t bring himself to really take away someone’s life—and maybe for that, he’s a horrible superhero.

He knows he should stop the man before it's too late, and especially with how many self-proclaimed villains there have been, it's not easy to see so many innocent people ruin their lives chasing a power that inevitably consumes them. He knows it’ll only get worse if he lets them run free.

And while the superhero has never been fully honest with himself, there are many times where Riki hates his role as Spider-Man, and wishes that he was just some teenage boy who didn't have the lives of others in his palm. He wishes he didn't have to sacrifice so much to stay behind a mask—and he wonders deep down if there’s anyone else who felt the same.

His swings lead him across the city above hundreds of lives he has to protect, and he tries to find some semblance of peace. He thinks about how he has his homework due despite having just risked his life, he thinks about how your project is going—and about you.

In the night under the stars, Nishimura Riki wishes for something just a bit normal. He wishes a good night for himself, but also for you, wherever you could be.

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE FROM TRYING TO READ THIS BOOK IN ONE NIGHT.

The Great Gatsby is exactly like how you described it; a little hard to get through but fun with the plot’s eccentric characters. He’s pretty sure he could’ve just used a detailed SparkNotes explanation for the book, but having a crush can make someone do weird things. And in Nishimura Riki’s case, his infatuation has got him reading a novel about morally-skewed characters and rich society to impress you.

When you come into class barely on time, Riki gives you a confused look when you sit down, but doesn’t comment on it any further. Instead, he takes out his book and tries to act like his eyes weren’t closing shut from exhaustion by the time Daisy was finally confessing how she loved Gatsby.

The moment Mr. Yoo stops talking, however, Riki isn’t asleep—much to your surprise. He has his book out, pages filled with sticky notes and a whole section of his notebook dedicated to characters (written in bright red to keep him awake) and their traits.

“I got it.” It’s the first thing he says when you two are left to do in-class work. It’s ominous, and maybe a little too enthusiastic in a high school literature class for a boy who doesn’t even care that much for school, but you’ll accept it with open arms if it means you get a helping hand on your project.

“Continue,” you tell him slowly, leaning back in your chair to listen to him. And you don’t know why, but a small part of you thinks that the boy who sleeps every period the book was discussed wouldn’t have much to say or contribute to such an open-ended prompt, but life is full of surprises.

What you fail to notice is how Riki is nervous and his stomach does at least twenty flips before he swallows dryly and starts rambling in hopes to impress you and redeem himself from his embarrassing slumber a few days ago.

“So you know how our prompt is based on one character and basically all their actions?” he asks, and you nod, absentmindedly thumbing a sheet in your journal. “I’m thinking we should talk about Jay Gatsby because so much is revealed to us about him that we might as well use it to our advantage. Y’know, talking about how the theme of exploitation and secrets is veiled under Gatsby’s desire for Daisy.”

“You don’t think Gatsby’s a good character?” Riki wants to tell you that Gatsby is more relatable than good or bad, but he shakes his head.

“I mean, not really.” He feels like with those four words, he’s completely changed the trajectory of his relationship with you from a positive slope to completely downhill—and a wave of panic washes over him. “Should I? I mean, I could see him as more redeemable if you gave me examp-“

You wave your hand to quell his worries. “To be honest, I don’t like him either. But he’s an interesting main character to write about, so I think we should go with your idea.”

To win your approval feels like he’s won at least three fights against a villain in a row without getting any bad injuries—it feels good. And for the rest of the period, you are able to finish a detailed outline of your work for the next few weeks, mapping out sections for each other, and he even gets to see a part of prom planning on a word document you had open. He considers your shared productivity a win when he packs up and bids you goodbye before leaving for lunch.

One wave doesn’t catch Riki’s attention from across the room. Not even two, or three calls of his name could get Nishimura Riki out of his thoughts, and Jake frowns before moving up in the lunch line.

“Something’s caught your eye again.” Jake feigns innocence and sighs dramatically as he places the food down next to Riki’s plate. “Could it possibly be our school treasurer?” Jake laughs, leaning over to catch a glimpse of what’s got his friend so entranced and non-responsive.

Riki scrunches his nose, annoyed, but never breaking his gaze from where you’re sitting. “We talked in class–like, a lot,” is all he says, paying his friend no mind. “She’s genuinely so understanding.”

“God, I don’t think you can be any more down bad for her than you are right now.” Jake picks at his food, and despite his concentration directed towards the olives on his pizza, he’s able to dodge the flying loaded nacho that goes his way, even if he wasn’t the one with superpowers.

“Can you shut up?” Riki grumbles, laying his head on his arms as he notices you smile and point to something. “I just got pummeled into a semi truck last week. Let me have this before I die tomorrow.”

“Very grim,” his friend notes, ruffling the younger’s hair, “I think this is exactly what all of those mental health assemblies that we get are for.” And Riki basically tunes him out, too tired to fight and too used to the teasing remarks to come up with anything useful in response.

Riki sits up a bit, letting his head rest on his propped elbow as he looks at the school food and touches another nacho gingerly. “Y’know, I read the book for English so she wouldn’t think I’m an idiot.”

His friend snickers, successfully pulling out yet another sliced olive from the cheese, much to the disgust of Riki. “She probably already thinks you’re an idiot.”

The superhero debates throwing another cheesy nacho in Jake's face, before deciding to eat it instead. “Don’t say that asshole! You make it seem like I have no chance with her.”

Jake shoots him an exasperated look that makes Riki break eye contact. “That’s because you don’t.”

“I’ll prove to her that I’m worth her time.” Riki says somewhat wistfully, still stealing glances from a few tables away. “Maybe I’ll ask her out to prom, show up in my suit. Do that cheesy upside down kiss shit people say Spiderman does.” When his friend raises an eyebrow at him, Riki shrugs. “I will! Well-maybe not the Spider-Man thing, but prom definitely.”

Jake continues to look at him unconvinced as he takes a bite out of a slice of pizza with mangled cheese. “You barely talk to her in class and you think you can ask her out to prom as Nishimura Riki?” And the younger grins, eyes still stuck on how your eyes crinkle and how your shoulders shake with laughter.

“Yup.” And his fate is sealed, just like that.

“What’s your project about, anyways? Didn’t you tell me last night that she gave you her number? Must be pretty serious if she wants to text you.” Riki furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head.

“It’s just tying the theme of the book to one character and writing about how they show it. So we did the theme of money and Gatsby, because it’s easy and mentioned so many times.”

Jake gawks. “You must really like her,”

“I was planning to read it regardless of who I was partnered with.”

“Okay- that’s debatable.” There goes another one of Riki’s nachos.

“Gross.”

He thinks things are going pretty well for you two. The report is being written and your quotes are basically finding themselves, so Riki should give himself a pat on the back for pitching the initial idea for how to go about your assignment. Maybe reading the whole book offered him a few useful pointers, and he goes to sleep that night satisfied with your progress. Maybe Heeseung and Jake were right—maybe he could finally ask you out by prom.

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE TRYING TO SAVE THE CITY FROM YET ANOTHER MONSTER TERRORIZING THE STREETS.

He wakes up the next morning, not expecting his alarm to alert his senses to danger. It rings in his head and makes him feel delirious, trying to shake sleep off as he looks out the window for any visible sign of what's wrong. If he could hear the danger in his head then that meant someone could be hurt, and he could go to school without a few hours of sleep if he worked fast enough, right?

Riki slips into his suit without much thought and goes to crack his window open, only to look back at his clock and read the horrific time of 6:23AM.

Who the hell picks a fight with a teenager at this ungodly time?

Then, he shoots from his wrists, once, twice, and suddenly, he's off, covering more ground through the air in just three seconds than he ever could while walking or running for minutes on end.

The source of his tingling spidey-sense is some large metal centipede creature that was setting off car alarms in a neighborhood near the market. Thankfully, no one was really awake to be caught in the crossfire, but he has to figure out how the hell he's going to catch that thing in...he checks his watch…twenty minutes?

Hopefully, his instinct will help him win this time—again.

The web he shoots out does nothing to stop the monster, and considering how it connected them both, the threads only drag the superhero to the edge of the building he was initially watching from. With some yelling and pulling, he finally detaches, and realizes that the odd sizzling feeling in his bonds must be from the same source as a few days ago; Spark.

He had this gut feeling that a villain as strong as him wouldn’t have been destroyed so easily, but his wounds were so deep and the blood loss so bad from a few nights ago that he couldn’t have truly dumped him in the ocean without fainting or suffering something permanent, and although Riki hoped things in the universe would work itself out, the presence of the giant fifty foot insect alone is proof that things were not in his favor.

He jumps off the building onto another, working quickly as he strings up a few webs between the houses as a wall for the monster, watching it slide and knock over cars in its wild pursuit. The monster spends a few seconds breaking down the wall of webbing and climbing over it, the many legs easily breaking through. As the superhero jumps across buildings and keeps track of the centipede’s movement, he has no idea why it isn’t going for him, and that makes his job much harder without the attention of the monster. One glance at the direction the centipede is headed in sets off another ding in Riki’s head—but this time, it finally clicks why the centipede is headed away from the boy.

It’s attracted to the power plant.

Riki immediately jumps and swings off of a lamp post, using the momentum of gravity and the force of his swing to propel him faster than the slithering creature. Squinting, he holds out his fist and points his pointer and pinky out, following the movement of the centipede as he aims.

Bam.

He sends clusters of silky white threads down precisely at the first pair of legs to pin it down. The webs stop the creature momentarily, and Riki doesn’t have time to watch how the body shrinks up and fizzes out with blue shocks as it tries to wiggle loose and malfunctions. This fight would be over soon, and the boy smiles when he jumps down to shoot more webs to apprehend the centipede. It wiggles and sends electricity out through parts of its body, trying to pry itself out. He expects it to simply be a robot of sorts following a mission considering its avoidant behavior, but as he approaches the tail, the monster suddenly swings at Riki, and its mass and speed is incomparable to the boy’s reaction speed.

Riki lands into a tree and someone’s garage, feeling the crumbling wall falling all over him and the sudden pain blooming in his lower back.

This fight will, in fact, not be over soon.

With his superhuman abilities, Riki grabs onto the metal of the car beside him to hoist himself up, coughing from the dust, and jumping over the rubble to see how quickly the centipede creature can get out, without regard for his current state. The sound and rumble of the giant monster is all he needs to know that the traps are effective, but not at the previous capacity.

The plan is simple: apprehend the legs and crush the head, where Riki assumes the decision-making and programming is taking place. But the monster’s angry and erratic actions throw a wrench in his plan. Its legs move faster, digging into the cement and leaving ruin in its wake as it continues down the road. While both the villain and superhero are fast, the distance between the power plant is finite—and only grows smaller and smaller.

Although Riki can feel the bruises coming, he runs and swings, hearing the wind in his ears as he catches up to the centipede in no time. He tries the same tactics again–aim, shoot, stick, all the while keeping his distance. Although the monster’s body spans incredibly long, and should carry an immense amount of weight, the way it snaps at Riki’s flying body and sends shockwaves through his core leaves him shivering as his body slams into the ground, coughing. It hurts all over, and it feels like there’s weight on his eyes when he tries to open them and get up. His head is spinning as he staggers onto his knees, clutching his chest as he watches the centipede shrivel and crackle.

It seems like the voltage produced is a double-ended sword, one that burns up the centipede body as much as it deals damage, and with the way the mutant creeps towards the electricity of the plant, Riki gets the feeling there’s a magnetic pull that forces the mutant to continue to crawl even against its instinct to stop.

Despite his waning strength, however, Riki knows better than to half finish the job like last time. He creates a net from experience, weaving together the thickest and most durable threads to trap the entirety of the slowly approaching creature. It seems to crawl slowly up the makeshift barrier, knocking its head against the white and spreading the bright blue waves of its energy throughout. The boy watches as the thin white mass absorbs all of it and clings to the creature. It works, finally, after his attempts to nullify its movements, and he knows that despite the ache in his every step, the almost mummified centipede that hangs between several roofs for all the neighbors to gawk at is his sure sign of victory.

All he remembers is hearing a familiar call of his hero name before his legs give out and his head hits Jake’s chest.

Holy fucking shit is the first thing Riki thinks when he wakes up.

He’s not out of his tattered suit and he feels grimy all over, but his body has done wonders in reducing the otherwise fatal injuries he got. No human body should be able to withstand two energy-filled blasts, but his suit and superhuman healing are of greater help than ever in alleviating the damage from his wounds.

He knows why he’s in his bed with bandages thrown over his open wounds. He knows that every time something like this happens, it’s Jake who shoos away the concerned civilians, telling them he’s a medic. Jake is not a medic—rather, he’s a seventeen year-old boy who knows about his friend’s double life and with all the times he’s saved Riki, someone might as well dub him the greatest medic of all time.

The clock on his bedside table has only served as a bearer of bad news. He looks over to see how it’s practically midday, and he’s missed yet another day of school from fighting crime. He’s in no condition to get up or get his bag, seeing how his hair is frizzy and his cheek has a cut that would warrant questioning. It seems only fair that he stays absent, and before he falls back asleep, he only prays you aren’t too mad at him for leaving the seat next to you empty.

But you aren’t mad, just worried. The soreness in his muscles doesn’t go away though, and he groans when he sits up in his bed, with bandages around his arms and an ice pack discarded next to him.

He’s most definitely not coming to school like this.

While you bore holes into the clock hanging off the wall, that doesn’t speed up the time. Two minutes pass, then another minute. As your classmates find their partners and begin discussing, you notice how the room gets louder with the due date looming near. It’s the first time you’re alone without the familiar boy beside you, and something hangs low in your chest when you put in a pair of earphones and open your laptop.

Riki’s absence should have no effect on you. After all, you’re both just high school students who’ve talked once or twice, and yet you still look over at the empty chair. Staring doesn’t make Riki appear, though, and you return to your edits. It feels empty without his insight, or without him asking you to help him with a passage. Riki was your solution to all things boring. If he wasn’t doing his work, then you two were laughing at something on his phone. And if you agreed to both do something other than the report, then you could ask for an extra opinion when deciding prom details. There was something freeing about working with him that attracted you. Riki knew how to lighten the mood on days that weren’t so good for you, but he also worked hard and let loose at the same time. There was a perfect balance in Riki’s life that you aspired to have; it was a good mix of playful, dedicated, and fun all in the same vein.

The words blend together on your screen. Jay Gatsby this, Tom Buchanan that, it all looks monotonous the more you keep trying to read and comprehend what exactly you’re talking about.

Before class is dismissed, Mr. Yoo steps to the front of the classroom to gather everyone’s attention. He introduces your new novel for the next month, explaining yet another large assignment associated with the text.

Truth be told, you don’t pay attention to any of it.

The only thing you remember to do is to grab extra copies of the printed graphic organizers, as you get out of your seat and rush out when class ends in pursuit of one specific boy.

“Sim Jaeyun!” The call of his name diverts Jake’s attention from his phone to your waving arm as you weave through the students and finally reach him.

“You can just call me Jake,” he explains, “what’s up?”

You begin to reach into your backpack, trying to feel for your folder, and pull out a few sheets. “These are for Riki.”

Jake cheers internally for his friend who’s busy recovering at home. “What, you got a crush on him or something?”

He tries to play it cool by teasing you, but the smile you bite back leaves the boy questioning if there really is anything going on. Jake knows better than to tell you anything about Riki’s feelings, and opts to instead grab the papers and to thank you for looking out for his friend.

“Is Riki okay?” You have to know, just to make sure he’ll be here tomorrow to cure your boredom.

What Jake says is much different than the nonchalant wave and half grin he gives you. “He’s just bedridden.”

“That’s pretty serious! Did he come down with anything?” He seemed fine yesterday, so what’s the catch?

He blurts, “He just got badly hurt.”

Immediately, Jake knows he’s fucked up.

Your confusion and silence answers him far more than words ever could–he basically hears the gears turning slowly in your head.

Jake weakly defends, “His parents had a fight with him because he hit his head or something. He’ll be fine by tomorrow. Just bedridden from sadness, y’know?”

The look you give him is unconvinced, but when Heeseung pats him on the shoulder and waves to you, the boy realizes that maybe staying quiet would’ve been the better decision.

“I’ll see you later, ____.” And he’s off, waving half-heartedly and dragging a very confused Heeseung out of the cafeteria.

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE TRYING TO WAKE YOU UP AS GENTLY AS HE CAN.

Ever since March started and flowers began to bloom, your energy seemed to do the opposite, dwindling until Riki catches you mirroring his frequent in-class action: sleeping. And it worries him beyond belief, because you’re not the type to fall asleep like… ever. However, Riki does not have the heart to wake you up, even if it’s with a little nudge that you probably barely feel with how light he taps. It breaks his heart to have to ask you to review what he has done, because the bell is about to ring and the teacher might just send you to detention if he catches you off-task.

The allergies always make Mr. Yoo irritable, and Riki knows not to get on his nerves.

Your eyes flutter open to the pokes and prodding from none other than Nishimura Riki, who gazes at you softly when you adjust to the bright classroom setting once more.

Panic settles in. “Wait- how long was I sleeping for?”

He shrugs and scrunches his nose, not giving you an answer as he finishes scribbling something in his notebook.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Your hand squeezes into a fist at the frustration that you’ve let your partner down.

And yet, Riki seems to be unfazed, frowning when he sees you stressing out. “Don’t ever sweat the little things, yeah? If there’s anything you ever need to talk about–trust me, I know what it’s like to have a lot of pressure on your shoulders.”

Smiling at him, you respond with, “Thank you, really.”

Being treasurer is daunting in the spring. It’s full of requests, forms, and small tasks that leave you spent by the end of the day. “But,” you glance at the clock to see just how much time is left, “how’d you know?”

He motions to your open computer with a now dark screen. “I saw your document pulled up. ____’s tasks or else she will be kicked out of student government,” he taunts, snickering when your eyes grow wide with embarrassment and you lightly nudge his shin with your foot in warning.

“It’s not polite to snoop,” and although you say that, you catch something in your peripheral vision. It’s a few drawings of a figure and gadget drawn, shaded from rigid shapes with small descriptions pointing to different places. You weren’t sure what was more surprising; how good the drawings were, or the subject of his imagination.

Weird. Inherently, there was nothing wrong with Riki drawing a villain, and you chalked it up to him being creative. Nothing more, nothing less.

He puts his hands up in surrender at your last comment, his grin showing anything but. Just one look at the boy makes you realize that everything you’ve just thought about is foolish.

There’s no way he’d have time to be a villain and a student. With one final thought, you let your raging thoughts rest and focus on the present; him. You’ve seen his hair messy, especially after his naps, but when Riki tries to style it like how he did today, you pay more attention to the streaks of blonde and how he often hides behind his bangs and scrunches his nose. It’s cute. He’s cute.

The truth is, you enjoy being around him like this, joking around and never worrying too much about your responsibilities and expectations. It’s refreshing. Being around Riki gives you the feeling that things will be okay in the end.

You snap out of your thoughts to see that his desk is empty, while your’s hasn’t changed one bit.

“You’re going to sell prom tickets now, right?” He makes small talk before leaving for lunch, closing the notebook you were suspiciously eying before slipping it into his bag.

“Yup,” you answer, popping the ‘p,’ “I’ll see you later,” and you two part ways.

All the long lines and constant distribution of change doesn’t allow much wiggle room for you to daydream. As time goes on, the ticket-selling line grows smaller and smaller, but the only thing you truly care about is eating the lunch your parents packed you. Your sandwich is probably sad and soggy now that there are only a few minutes of lunch left. When you finally sign off one last time after triple checking the forms are all correct, you let out a sigh, leaning back and finally getting a break.

Then, it hits you that you’re not even sure if the boy you’re fawning over is attending the biggest event of the year, and you feel stupid for forgetting to ask.

Yesterday was a rookie’s mistake–today, you’d make sure you get an answer from him.

“Are you going to prom, Riki?” is the first thing you ask when he sits down, grabbing his book and laptop with a little too much enthusiasm.

“I’m thinking about it.” Yeah, whatever confidence he had when convincing himself he’d ask you out isn’t serving him well at this moment. Quite frankly, Riki feels lame as ever trying to be nonchalant around you. “You?”

“I’d have to set up, so I would be there, yes. But whether or not I have a date is another story.” You smile to lighten the mood, but Riki watches you and nods, focusing back on signing into his laptop and getting his notes for the new book you’re reading.

“Well, you’re not the only single one here.” And he wants to reprimand himself for saying something without thinking. “If someone asked, would you say yes?”

You think about it carefully, really because you don’t have anyone in mind when it comes to prom if Riki’s not planning on going. “It’d have to be someone I know—someone I talk to somewhat regularly. I’d be nice to be with someone who doesn’t make it awkward.”

Nishimura Riki might die from over-thinking if he keeps on wondering whether or not he fits that description to a tee.

RIKI'S TO-DO LIST BEFORE PROM

☐ talk to ____ regularly

☐ don't make it awkward

☐ be..cute?

The boy decides that his superhuman responsibilities might be easier to complete than any of those three things.

He switches the subject to stop his head from hurting too much. “Did you finish the report?”

You still, and Riki’s question reminds you of the report looming over your head. In your defense, you two hadn’t brought it up much in the past week, and he didn’t seem to worry over how much of your time was spent emailing teachers or making spreadsheets. Although caught off guard, you’re quick to respond with, “What did we have to finish? I thought we were done since last week, but if there’s anything else-”

“Sorry,” he rushes out, biting his lip, “I meant, if you finished reading it.” And the answer is no, you haven’t read it since your last edit on it three days ago.

Within a few clicks, you find the document and scroll to the bottom, seeing the small note that Riki left that said ‘let me know how it looks.’ It’s sweet to know he thought about your input as much as you did his.

“While some can agree that Gatsby’s rise into high society was sketchy, Gatsby still retains the same reserved character from years ago, and doesn’t manipulate others into success or use his money for nefarious purposes. It’s not like he changed after his wealth, and it could be argued Gatsby loved Daisy until his last breath and was willing to die as long as she was happy, emphasizing the theme of sacrifice.

So, is Jay Gatsby a good person? The question targets the morality of a character who many can empathize with. Those who are charmed by his overwhelming love for Daisy would say that he’s committed textbook crimes, but focus more on the intent behind it. To pine after someone from a distance isn’t easy, but to pursue her after years of separation is even harder. It’s universally agreed, however, that love as a driving force doesn’t nullify what he’s done to others and the dirty schemes he’s enacted to gain the power he has. Therefore, Gatsby makes for an interesting main character, and highlights just how twisted a system around money can be.”

The last page is–for the most part–his writing, and your admiration for him grows when you finish reading and scroll to hit your Works Cited page.

“It’s good,” you tell him wholeheartedly, “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Riki cracks a smile at your light teasing, soaking up your praise.

“Now you know.” He shrugs. And he can only hope that you like him as much as you like his literary skills.

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE WHEN HE COMES TO THE REALIZATION THAT HE IS EXACTLY LIKE JAY GATSBY,JUST WITHOUT THE MONEY—DESPERATE FOR THE GIRL OF HIS DREAMS, DYING YOUNG, AND A FRAUD HIDING BEHIND SECRETS.

Nevermind the last one, he has to hide when he has an identity to protect as the city’s only superhero, but Riki feels his heart sink to his heels when he read a few weeks ago how much Gatsby simply adores Daisy. When Gatsby died, he scoffed, closing the book with a sudden disinterest. If he were the male lead, he wouldn’t have been laying in a pool for target practice. Maybe being a superhero teaches you how to avoid being easy bait for all your enemies, or maybe Gatsby was too carried away with love to think straight.

Fighting crime gives you insurmountable experience with sneaking around, but it wasn’t something he could just teach to anyone. When he gets this horrible gut feeling that something’s happened to you, he just knew something was wrong. He might not be easy to catch, but for anyone else? Definitely.

For everyone else, prom was a month away, but for you, it was three weeks of talking to your advisor and president, arguing with your other board members, and sitting behind that damn money box for another five days to sell tickets. For you, it was realizing that you were supposed to buy streamers and balloons yesterday on your way home from school. It was the thinly veiled disappointment in your board member’s texts when they told you they were at a loss for words. ‘I’m sorry, and I know you’re busy, but how could you forget? Prom is so important for all of us. What if they don’t have what you need anymore?’ It all repeated in your head as you bit your lip in frustration and slipped on the first pair of shoes you could find. Although it was dark and dangerous, you could care less if it meant avoiding the passive aggressive comments you’d get tomorrow during your meeting.

There it is again: that little tendency to not pay attention to your surroundings.

You yelp when you feel someone grabbing your wrist and pulling you in, muffling your screams as he pulls you along. To see him on the news was worrying, but to see Spark in person with your life on the line is even worse.

Tears spring to your eyes as you struggle against the metal to no avail, and you curse every previous moment you spent worrying about balloons rather than your safety.

Spark suddenly stops, shoving you against the wall before his hand grabs a brick with his metal arm, beginning to climb. “Don’t let go.” And you don’t think twice before holding on.

The city view would be beautiful if you weren’t hearing your heartbeat in your ears or if you weren’t dangling from the railing of some company building, trying to wiggle yourself free of the rope around your wrists.

Spark speaks up, drumming his fingers on the railing next to you. “You wouldn’t happen to know where your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is, would you?” And you furrow your eyebrows, genuinely questioning for a moment if he really knew how the superhero operated.

A voice from across the street puts a temporary hold on your thoughts, and you glance up to see a flash of blue and red soaring through the air, followed by a groan and a beam of light next to you. Seeing Spark’s powers right in front of you spurs you into action, yanking at the rope and trying to take tiny steps away from where they were fighting.

“From what I’m seeing, you wanted to hold someone hostage because you’re not feeling too good, huh?” Spider-Man shouts as he shoots out webs and blocks hits. You shake your head in partial disbelief of how unserious he is, but also how unbelievable all of this seems. “You tried to take a potion or something? I’m going to tell you this now, but these usually don’t work.”

Riki’s assumption is right, and considering how Spark now has a leg and arm from metal instead of just the arm, the procedure for the additional limb couldn’t have been easy. The superhero still proceeds with caution, making sure to pay attention to anything new as he dodges and fights back.

The villain immediately gets back up, stumbling for a moment before he regains his stance and runs towards the boy. You hear the clanging of fist hitting metal from their fight, and considering the difference in height and build, you’d expect Spider-Man to be easily flung to the side, but he holds his weight in battle.

Riki aims for around the left shoulder, where an abundance of stitches cover the skin and fuse the metal into muscle. He lands a hit, and almost another one, before a punch to the side knocks him from his momentum. The boy wheezes when his back makes instant contact with the ground, rolling and getting up before Spark has time to shoot.

He notices how quickly the gadget generates electricity now. Before, the beams took longer, and were easily predictable, but now, it glows bright for a moment before it fires directly in Riki’s path. The boy dodges the first, but the second one almost hits the top of his head before he ducks and creates distance.

From the roof-top, Riki scans his surroundings before making the split-second decision to jump.

He swings to the other side of the building, keeping you in his peripheral vision as he works on apprehending the villain in front of him. They spring into yet another fist fight, with Riki’s agility easily letting him avoid punches and land precise hits to make the previous injuries even worse.

You think Spider-Man has the upper hand in this, seeing as how none of Spark’s punches seem to slow down the superhero, but you hear something loud before you can register it.

You figure out what happened after Riki stumbles and suffers a blow to the stomach, sending him tumbling to the edge of the building. Spark knew that Spider-Man was avoiding his left arm—he knew that one wrong move paired with the tungsten material would have a lasting effect on the superhero’s fist.

Riki coughs from the impact before his spidey-sense rings, pulling him back into battle as he runs as fast as his body can take him.

You. He still needs to save you.

With renewed vigor, he continues to avoid the flying sparks as he ducks between structures and uses the terrain to his advantage. He can tell, though, that the villain is slowing down. The shots are less accurate–a telltale sign that the enhancer Spark tried is working against him.

Between all of the chaos, Riki finally lands a proper web, yanking as hard as he can to pull Spark to the ground. He stumbles, grasping at thin silk before Riki lets go on his side. The villain’s balance is off, giving the boy an advantage as he closes the distance, hopping over a thrown slab of metal and landing a solid kick into Spark’s ribcage. As he stays down, Riki continues to aim for muscle and flesh, his head spinning as he packs punch after punch to keep the villain apprehended.

Spark’s body–curled into itself to absorb the hits the best that he can– hides the growing blue flash that he’s slowly charging up with his remaining power. The moment it escapes from under his abdomen, Riki directs his efforts towards avoiding the electric glimmer. The villain rolls over, his body tattered from the consistent injuries, and he fires what seems like an intense bullet of energy. It zips by the boy’s cheek, cutting the mask and leaving blood to run down in its wake. Time slows down as the superhero tries to process the unlocked speed of the burst, and Spark loses focus marveling at his new abilities. Never before had either of them seen power so concentrated, and it inflicts both fear and excitement.

He lifts his arm, the other holding it up for support, and Spider-Man notices the fizzle of bright blue. Riki’s about to jump out of the way, preparing for yet another high-speed bullet, but before Spark fires, something clicks. The arm doesn’t directly point to Riki–but it skews off to the right.

Except, he’s no longer aiming for Riki in the split second that the boy blinks. He’s suddenly aiming at you, where your hands are tied to the railing and your feet are dangling from the bent metal that holds you precariously over the edge, leaving a fifty foot drop in its wake. When you see the blue energy in the villain’s palm growing slowly bigger, you pull at the rope desperately with zero regard to the tender rawness of your wrists.

In your attempt to somehow break the rope, your cry of fear snaps Spider-Man into action.

Riki pushes his sore body to jump as quick as he can, leaping across the rooftop to the building over. He easily avoids the metal railing, grabbing onto your arm as he yanks hard on the rope, the force of it separating a piece of metal from the railing. He immediately jumps, sending out a web to swing him back up. It all happens in a flash–first, you were bound to the edge about to fall to your death, and all of a sudden, you’re tightly pressed against Spider-Man’s chest with your bound wrists still attached to the metal. Shutting your eyes, you trust Spider-Man entirely, closing your eyes to avoid seeing just how far up you were. Wind rushes in your ears and leaves your stomach fluttering with butterflies until the superhero sets you down on a secluded rooftop.

“Please,” he begs, “don’t leave. I’ll be right back.”

You’d be a fool to do anything but wait.

Riki checks on you one last time before diving down, springing himself back up with another web. The damage from the blasts is recognizable even from far away, and yet, he notices the reflective shine of a metal arm on the edge of the building before Spark lets go.

To Riki, Spark is dead after dropping from a fall having taken that much damage, but he hears no impact. Making haste, the boy fails to find any figure no matter how hard he looks, but Spark’s laboratory has to be here somewhere. The badge from a week ago was stuck on Riki’s mind, and he could only imagine the reasons why he pursued this life. Was he recreating something? If he needs to power some sort of machine, then the heart of the city is a perfect place to harness the electricity for any large scale project. As much as he wants to dedicate the rest of the night to searching the city for some sort of clue, the fact that you’re still stranded on that rooftop after having just experienced a life-changing event blares like an alarm in his mind.

He quickly leaves, returning to where you’re seated.

Without the fear of falling to your death from earlier, you were able to focus on undoing the knots from the rope. Red scratch marks and irritation bloom on your wrist, and the reality of it all happening still hasn’t settled in. Despite not being harmed once, the fear and incessant pounding of your heart overwhelms your senses, and it leaves you heaving with confusion.

A pair of footsteps only become apparent as Riki walks closer, taking a seat beside you and letting out a large sigh. He stares at the stars silently as if he doesn’t have a cut on his cheek and bruises waiting to paint his skin purple–as if he isn’t hiding his true self under a facade.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” You shake your head, grateful that Spider-Man was the reason you got away without a real injury.

“Thank you, really, for saving me. I don’t know how you manage to do it.”

Riki chuckles under the mask. “Eh, you get used to it,” you hear Spider-Man say. “You fight a couple bad guys, get over a fear of heights and eventually you get the hang of things.”

Scoffing, you gently rub at your wrists to ease the redness. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t been taught a crash course on how to avoid being supervillain bait just yet.”

“Maybe you should learn it sometime,” Riki responds absentmindedly, “someone like you shouldn’t have been out so late doing whatever it could’ve been.”

Sighing, your mind drifts off to think about the balloons and streamers that are not in your hand. “I had stuff for my upcoming events.”

He knew about all of it when you’d explain your cryptic reminders and notes on your computer, but he still feigns curiosity. “What upcoming events?”

“Just prom,” and he hears just how strained it makes you.

Riki tilts his head in faux confusion. “What do you have to do for prom?”

He notices how you immediately slump, as if the mere mention of prom deflates your happiness. “It’s only a few weeks away, and I was supposed to get decorations for our venue yesterday. I just wanted to slip out before my parents noticed.”

Despite the fabric over his eyes, Riki’s expression shifts from surprise to pity when he understands your stakes. “You still need to be careful. Is your student council strict?”

“Not strict necessarily, but judgemental–I ran for the position because I thought I could help my school raise funds and find more opportunities, but it just feels like no one truly wants to try anything new.” You wave it off as if it’s not that important, as if it isn’t the reason why you find yourself stressed so often. “I just don’t want to disappoint or give people something to talk about.”

Despite not being involved with school the same way you are, the boy next to you resonates with the fear you currently face. The fear of letting people down was a large part of why Riki continued to put on that mask and step into the most dangerous situation of his life; he never wanted to sit down to hear the news that Spider-Man quit.

So he keeps doing his job, even if some days are harder and some fights aren’t worth winning–just like what you do.

“Yeah, I get that,” he tries to console, “You must be doing a lot for everyone around you, and I’m sure a lot of people appreciate what you’ve done. Don’t beat yourself up too much, yeah? You’ll always have me.” He smiles, but he knows you don’t see it. You’re looking at the stars, trying to calm your mind and return to your life before everything happened.

You glance over at Spider-Man, wondering if he’ll truly be around for you when you need it. “If I need to talk to you, should I step out of my house past 8PM again?”

Riki chuckles, watching clouds slowly dim the moon’s glow in their path. “If I’m not fighting crime, I’ll show up at a moment’s notice.”

There’s no way he means it, but you grin, feeling a lot of the pressure and stress of earlier slowly wash away. After all, nothing happened to you–Spider-Man made sure of it. Maybe things really were going to be okay.

“Let’s get you home, yeah? Don’t you have stuff to do anyways?”

You shrug, nothing really coming to mind. As you get up, you remember having to run a plagiarism check on your work, and how Riki told you to text him when you got home after your student government meeting.

Riki. Spark. Spider-Man.

“Wait,” you tell Spider-Man, sitting back down on the cement, “I need to talk to you about something else, too.”

“It’s not like my dinner’s getting cold,” the superhero mumbles quiet enough that you can’t hear.

“There’s this guy,” you start, paying no mind to how dirty your clothes are getting when you cross your legs.

Spider-Man scoffs, looking off into the distance, and it makes you believe he has to be your age or older. “You have a crush on him, or something?” And a whole tidal wave of deja vu hits you in the chest.

‘He must be badly hurt’ isn’t just something people say. People don’t just draw insanely detailed drawings of Spark’s arm and machines without notes to follow unless they knew. People wouldn't just randomly miss school without any impending signs. You’re sure of it–the tired naps in class, the random drawings of superheroes and superhumans alike, or how awkward he could act–it all makes sense.

Your classmate, aka Nishimura Riki, aka the guy who you’ve questioned if you had a crush on for the past few days, might be a villain.

The swirling feeling of trepidation in your stomach leaves three words running around your head.

What. The. Fuck.

Although you tried so hard to stop thinking about it, Jake’s comment from before rubbed you the wrong way. It was sometime last week where you couldn't get your mind off of the implications of his words, but that feeling was brushed underneath your responsibilities.

Until now.

“Yeah, there’s this guy,” you breathe, feeling your chest constrict, “Nishimura Riki. I think he’s Spark.”

His blood runs cold.

“You think this…why?”

You take a deep breath, trying to organize all your thoughts. “Well, first, it was his friend, Jake. He said that Riki was badly hurt, and I was really confused at first, but tried to let it go.”

Riki was going to strangle his best friend.

“And then, I was looking at him in class, right? And keep in mind, he’s pretty cute, and we sit next to each other, so I just noticed how good his hair looked that day, but his notebook was out, and I saw all these drawings of Spark. Like, the arms, the metal things, even the projectiles! Who would know the ins and outs of that thing if it wasn’t Spark himself?”

He didn’t know what to think about first; the fact that you gushed about him for the first time, or if he should even tell you that Spider-Man would know those things, too.

“And sometimes, I notice he’s a little awkward around me. I can’t explain it. It’s like he’s paying attention to me. That must’ve been why he captured me.” He wants to laugh at how damn close you are to figuring it out, but in reality, nothing is funny about the situation.

Nishimura Riki is actually listening to this, right now, as Spider-Man–not Spark. The awkwardness, though? It was his crush on you, and was not superhuman related in the slightest.

“I don’t know,” he attempts to divert, pretending to focus, “I saw a badge for FLiGHT. You know the company that’s been making time traveling machines? I saw a glimpse of his name and face. It’s not that guy you mentioned.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And you haven’t gotten him caught?”

“Villains aren’t easy to find, y’know. It’s not like playground hide and seek,” Riki defends, crossing his arms.

You shrink in your spot, feeling sheepish for questioning a superhero so bluntly.

“Plus,” he continues, “Spark has never had a hostage. Wouldn’t it be pretty mean of that friend of yours to kidnap a girl from his class?”

“Yeah—that makes sense. Thank god,” you breathe, closing your eyes momentarily. “Then what do you suspect all that evidence leads to? Maybe he’s a secret agent?”

“I think,” Riki continues to keep up his clueless facade, “Your friend might just be clumsy. Or creative. I mean, maybe he went through a break-up?” Nice one, Riki.

You shake your head. “No, there’s no way he has a girlfriend. You’d think I like guys who are taken?” Scoffing lightly, you then remembered that Spider-Man really would have no idea who any of you are.

He shrugs and stands up stretching before motioning for you to follow him. “I have no idea what you high school kids do. Come on, let’s get you home.”

As you hug him tight, the cold air whips around your body and leaves goosebumps in their wake. You barely open your eyes from the fear of seeing yourself inches from hitting a building or up in the air. Spider-Man only yells his confirmation after asking how to get you home, finally placing you on the ground outside of your large gate.

“Thank you for saving me tonight.”

“Anytime. Figure things out with that friend of yours, and don’t go out late, okay?” You nod and take his words to heart.

“Goodnight, Spiderman.”

—-

Nishimura might die. One, because he has this horrible guilty feeling in his stomach, and two, because of a villain.

Yesterday, he ignored the salmon and rice bowl that waited for him back at home, choosing to follow the coordinates he saved on his phone after he took you home. It led him to a seemingly harmless auto-shop, with an arrow on his GPS pointing to a garage that was shut down completely with nails and blocked with boxes. The exterior pointed to it being abandoned, but Riki suddenly saw some light coming from a makeshift above.

The boy scaled the wall as quietly as possible, glancing into the source of the whirring. He caught small glimpses of something–metal, glowing, blue.

Or at least, for a few seconds it was on until the power went out.

The voice that complained from inside the room sounded identical to the man Riki fought. Spark grumbled, turning on a flashlight and quickly waving it around. Riki ducked from the window and held his breath, waiting for the man to suspect something.

Nothing.

One lightbulb slowly flickered back on, and then the other dingy light followed. The space was cramped with the metal equipment in the middle, resembling what Riki had seen in the news.

He was right–it was the same time travel portal that was ruined from a few months ago.

Spider-Man continued to observe the man as he worked and drilled, plugging certain wires or pausing momentarily to read from a journal. To anyone, it’d seem peaceful, like some sort of renovation project. But in reality, it was so much more than that.

Riki searched for any sort of information about the machine, trying to see what exactly was left to do until his gaze landed on something.

There was some sort of date on a bright pink sticky-note, and Riki’s eyes widened when he finally comprehends it.

The machine was scheduled to be completed tomorrow.

A street lamp next to Riki dies out—which was a clear sign that something was powering up. From the dark, he hears the metal from the same place as last night moving again, and he knows that Spark has left. His presence sends anyone down the street and immediately running, leaving the area for only them two.

Riki finally sees the completed metal build. Half of his body is wrapped in or replaced with metal parts as he sets down the metal portal, beginning to push it in the direction of the power plant.

A truck or car would make things much easier, but whatever.

Riki wants to cry from fear and run away. He wants to leave and pretend he never saw anything from last night.

He’s going to die fighting Spark and he will quite literally a) never finish highschool and get that stupid diploma, b) finish explaining how Gatsby is not a good person and is naturally selfish, and c) he’s never going to tell you how he’s had a small crush on you ever since he saw your cute campaign video as to why you should vote y/n l/n for student body treasurer last spring.

“You sure that thing works?” Riki asks, jumping into action as he sends webs to immobilize the machine.

“You’re annoying, you know that?” Spark sends a projectile in the superhero’s direction, hitting the wall behind him instead as Riki jumps out of the way.

With another duck mid-air and the roof of a flying car dangerously close to his nose, Riki thanks the dance practice he does for his flexibility as he shoots another web and swings away.

Spark is uncontrollable by now, sucking the light from street lamps and fizzing wires in his wake. He has no idea how he’s supposed to get in contact with the villain like before. The body of his suit fizzes with bright electricity that sizzles and pops. It illuminates Spark’s figure, making him easy to spot, but not so easy to defeat. It’s an overload of power, causing the voltage to escape between the joints and gaps of the metal pieces in his suit. And Riki can feel it; the air is heightened and so are the stakes of this fight—and with how the man that stands in front of him looks upgraded and menacing, he knows only one person can make it out of this fight alive.

“You injected the city’s ‘Gas and Electric’ into your system or what?” Riki calls out, making light of the situation. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s scared out of his wits seeing the six foot figure with blue and white shooting from every crack, looking like a nightmare to touch.

Riki avoids a few more angrily thrown objects, using the momentum of his jump from the side of the building to zip from the top of a yellow fire hydrant to go from one side of the street to the other. “You’re slow!” He taunts, tucking in his legs to avoid a shot of electricity directed at him.

The screech of metal from the nearby hydrant can be heard as the top flings off, making Riki lose his anchor/ Before he can process it, instead of smoothly landing on the building, he crashes into it faster than expected, groaning when his back makes contact with the glass and he tumbles into the living room of someone’s apartment.

“Fuck,” he curses, fighting his aching limbs to get up once more.

And the solution hits him. Literally.

When he steps out and quickly attaches a web to the top of the building, he’s met on the way up with a splash of water from the hydrant to his face, and Riki splutters as he wipes his mask, regaining focus as he lands on the concrete and hides behind the ledge.

Water. If he can get it in contact with Spark and pour enough water on the right spot, the excess of electricity blazing from his mechanical body should work against him.

“Too scared? You should know better than to run away.” The superhero rolls his eyes, crawling away silently to avoid being seen by Spark. Riki does his best to look around for something, and finds a black flower pot in the corner, using a web to grab it before he scales the side of the building and runs away while Spark is distracted as the villain also climbs the wall to face him there. But when Spark climbs the ledge and scans the premise, Riki is nowhere to be seen.

Instead, Riki swings across the street and fills the pot with water, heaving the extra weight as he shouts out from the sudden pain in his side. He stumbles on the pavement, crying out from the injury as the pot falls with his whole plan.

Maybe this is where Spider-Man dies.

He sucks in a deep breath before rolling from his back onto his knees, ignoring the wound to pick up the flower pot. The hydrant still shoots out water, and the superhero rushes towards it, causing Spark to follow. He narrowly avoids another shot from behind him, reaching the yellow hydrant before dropping the pot on the ground. Spark is th

While Spark has always been intelligent, Riki could tell that the man didn’t fear the water, believing he’d be invincible to the elements now that his suit was perfected. There was something off, Riki could tell, and he would make sure to use it to his advantage. Spark was uncontrolled, and his powers drastically decreased the more he used them. There’s no way his body isn’t in overdrive with how recklessly he’s been letting himself get hurt.

Riki uses a web to get himself on higher ground instead of fighting, waiting for the supervillain to follow. If he could get Spark off the edge and fall into the growing puddle of water, it should slow him down.

Spark scoffs. “Run away, then. Like you always have.” Riki hears the wall crumbling under the villain as he climbs within seconds, immediately preparing to fight when he makes it onto the rooftop. But Spider-Man was also prepared, jumping from his crouched hiding position and attempting to catch Spark off guard.

All he can focus on now is pushing him off. There’s no way it’d be easy, considering he had to focus on his touching any of the electricity off of his suit. Riki delivers a kick to Spark in the ribcage near his heart, where he’s fused metal into flesh. The villain coughs before taking a step back, his metal arm reaching for Riki’s outstretched leg. He grabs it, twisting with anger before the boy meets the ground in a violent throw. Not only is the slam greater because of the enhanced strength, but the power seeps into Riki’s skin, leaving it hot from the energy radiating off of his palm.

The boy groans, flipping to his side to avoid a fatal hit to the chest. He reaches for Spark’s normal arm, swinging the villain’s body away with as force as he could to create distance between them.

Riki has been in enough fights to simply know when to run, even if he doesn’t know what’s coming. He could feel the tingle of the charge as it powered up, and with its energy so unrestrained and its user so unstable, the large attempt to hit Riki sends the villain stumbling back from the force. The more Spark uses his powers, the more likely he’s going to end up dead.

“Your skin can handle that anymore!” he shouts, getting ready to swing himself closer as a plan manifests itself in his head. “You’ll die like this!”

Spark seems to know that too as he wipes his mouth and recovers from Riki’s attacks.

“You think I care?” He shouts, desperately pressing his wounds to stop the bleeding. “You think I have anything else for myself?” The vulnerability of his character shines through as he clutches his bleeding wound without regenerative powers to help. “You think I didn’t know that when I did it to myself--what they did to me?”

Riki doesn’t respond, grimacing as he continues hand-to-hand combat. Although he takes a solid punch to his jaw that’s forming a deep purple bruise, he manages to trip Spark onto the ground.

The man stumbles back from the head injury, the pounding from earlier not letting him to think straight. Riki doesn’t try to injure him anymore, but he instead blocks an incoming punch and tries to force Spark towards the edge.

The villain barely notices how much space there is left, and the boy lunges with full force. They tackle each other into the ground, and Riki gets off after apprehending him once more.

The city's a mess, and Spider-Man’s eyes want to shut down so badly, but he takes a few steps in Spark’s direction, pushing him off the side of the building as quickly as he can. Riki hears the thud before he peeks over the edge, seeing the water erode all of the engineering from the machinery. He slowly descends from the rooftop.

“You were in the accident, huh?” Riki shouts on top of the plethora of sounds. Pain, buzzing electricity, splashes of water as he lands next to Spark; it all echoes in his ears as he pours the water from the pot on Spark’s body. “Why did you try it? Why did you want to go back so bad?”

“If I could go back,” Spark coughs, trying to get away from the large pool of water, “I could’ve prevented the accident from taking the lives of the people around me. I could’ve saved them.”

Spider-Man understands loss, and he understands the regret that comes with failure. He understands how the man in front of him feels after having everything taken away from him, but his emotions could never justify his actions.

“You know you can’t change things,” Riki responds, “You tried your best, Spark.” It’s the last thing Riki tells the villain before his body slumps and police sirens grow louder and louder. It’s the last thing that he continues to think about, even if the medic quickly assesses the severity of his wounds.

“I’m fine- really,” he pushes away the hands of a concerned woman as she holds a roll of bandages. “There’s something else I need to do.”

Riki knew he had to tell you about this–he couldn’t just let you confide in him about..well, him, without your knowledge. And Riki wasn’t morally perfect, but he knew an explanation would be the only way to fix things.

Your house looks different when jumping over the fence instead of standing in front of it. When he realizes he has no idea what room belongs to you, he racks his brain, suddenly remembering how yours was the only one with a gray balcony over the pool. And so he climbs, slipping from the exhaustion creeping into his body.

You’ll understand after he explains everything, right?

“____, a little help?” And what the fuck is Nishmura Riki doing outside of your door? You go to investigate the muffled sound, inching towards the curtains and pulling them back to expect him there. When you hear a half yelp and a hissing sound that follows right after, without a person anywhere in sight, your heart drops to its stomach.

Do not say it’s true.

“Riki, where the fuck are you?” you ask, traversing out when you don’t see him anywhere across the glass.

“Down here.” You run in the direction of the voice, and your eyes grow comically large and you gasp, staring down at the sight before you.

“Holy shit.”

There Nishimura Riki is, with his mask half burned off his face and his blonde and black hair messy and matted to his forehead with sweat. The suit is ripped in multiple locations with gashes and purple replacing the healthy skin underneath. His face is in more of a grimace, as he holds onto the web with both hands and one foot planted on the stone of your balcony—read; the bottom of your balcony.

“A little help?” And you see his sheepish emotion through the tattered fabric, embarrassed after you had to find him in such a compromising situation. “I’m a little worn out and I think my webs are getting weaker.”

You’re a little frustrated with him for being out so publicly, but more scared and worried for his condition. Your gaze narrows on the mask, tattered and covered with scratches, but clearly visible. It was Spider-Man’s mask. The material gives way to a familiar face, and your mind almost blocks you from putting the pieces together. It’s impossible, almost horrifying to think of the implications of what it means to wear the blue and red suit.

Instead of being the villain, Riki is, in fact, the savior.

The harsh truth is that your classmate, who you spent the last month working on a project with and suspected was a villain, is the same superhero that went out and risked his life every night fighting crime. It’s jarring to see him like this, breathing heavy and straining against the stone of the balcony, and his cough snaps you out of it. “What the fuck do I do?”

Riki tries to put his hand up in surrender and shuts his eyes at your harsh tone. “Okay, okay, I get-“ and he cuts himself off with a yelp as his footing slips.

He holds out his hand, and you immediately bend over the smooth railing to grab it, leaning back on the heels of your feet to help him up the most that you can. You’re filled with confusion when the boy hobbles over the cool surface of the balcony and lets his head rest on the stone, not saying much as he catches his breath. You watch the rise and fall of his chest and how his right arm goes to nurse the left side of his ribcage, wincing and sucking in a pained breath as he assesses the smear of red on his fingers.

Sitting there with your mouth agape, you’re not really sure what to think about first; to check if RIki’s alright, to think about how your city’s greatest superhero is your English project partner, to yell at him for going to your house instead of his house to fix himself up, or to think about how good his side profile looks in the moonlight. Maybe you should’ve just been relieved that the boy you started to like wasn’t a fear-inducing villain.

“Okay, first of all, we need to have a huge talk. But I’m not a medic Riki- I’m going into accounting for fuck’s sake.” He hears the amount of curses flying from your lips as you ramble, and sees how stressed you look watching him sit against your railing.

“I don’t know how to help you. And also,” you lower your voice and scoot closer, looking around at the large property to really make sure no one’s listening. “you’re Spider-Man?”

The information all hitting you at once is worse than when your history teacher told you your essay was horrible. At least then, in her office, you could process everything. But here? You’re about to faint.

“I’m pretty cool, huh?” And of course Nishimura Riki says such a thing, taking deep breaths as he shallowly presses on the blossoming bruises on his skin and wipes the sweat from his brow.

“Pretty fucking stupid is what it is, Riki.” You cross your arms and try to take a look at where he’s been hurt, hoping that at least he has some sort of regeneration ability that helps him heal much quicker—because there’s no way he could deal with all of this on top of school.

“I have my reasons,” he says, his voice quiet.

You pause. “For being Spider-Man?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “For coming here.”

“What could possibly make you want to come over to my house instead of the nearest hospital? What’s that important to you?”

“I really want to ask you to prom.”

You simply stare at him, surprised.

“You came to my house, even though you’re like, a punch away from passing out, to ask me out? And you couldn’t have, I don’t know, asked me anytime during the classes we have together?”

Riki somehow finds it in himself to frown and shrink from your angry piercing gaze. “I can’t because talking to you makes me nervous–so yeah, I’m sorry I’m half conscious on your balcony in my suit instead of at your door with a poster.”

You’re conflicted, your mind still reeling from the recent discovery and your flood of emotions. Ever since you questioned his identity on top of your feelings for him, you had a hard time really knowing if you could like Riki if he turned out to be a villain, so to know that he proved both of your theories wrong leaves you quiet as you think. If possible, the color in the boy’s face drains even more when you go back inside, but the door stays open, and he thinks he hasn’t ruined things after all. You emerge with a bottle of isopropyl alcohol, a bowl of warm water, and a pristine white towel.

“I’m not mad about that, you idiot,” you reprimand him, setting everything down as you examine the cuts on his face. You squeeze the towel and start to dab at his skin, avoiding the cuts as you clean it. “Who does this for you if not me?”

“Jake.”

“Seems like a pretty good friend.” Riki nods in response.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs, sitting up to properly address you, even if you weren’t able to meet his gaze.

“For what?”

“For putting this on you–all of it. Not just the whole Spider-Man thing.” He knew he’d have to tell you at some point, or else it’d eat him up inside to know he kept all of it from you.

“Look at you, saving me mid-air and talking to me as if you didn’t know who I was.”

You notice a flash of regret through his wince as you clean up a cut with antiseptic. “I meant it when I told you I knew what it was like to have a lot of pressure.”

“Guess I wasn’t so far off, then. If we never talked, would you have told me?” Riki shakes his head, and the simple motion leaves you somehow disappointed.

“How do you ever tell anyone you’re…y’know, Spider-Man?” Even if it’s a hypothetical, you shrug, not being able to answer.

“How’d Jake find out?”

Riki chuckles and hisses at the same time before trying to remember. “I think I just kicked his window in after a nasty poison got hold of me. He was a little too excited to have Spider-Man on his bedroom floor, and less excited to know it was me. I’m not really supposed to tell anyone, though.”

“Then why’d you tell me? You could’ve just gone back to your friends.”

“I felt guilty–I know, I know, it sounds stupid. I’d definitely get my identity revealed at this rate.” You shake your head.

“Not stupid. Keep going.”

“I didn’t care that you suspected me, or if anyone else did, because I knew it was never true. But I felt so bad knowing you were sharing to me how you felt without even knowing it was me who was listening–like I was holding something from you.”

You admire his honesty, and when you look at his furrowed brows and his lip that he’s been gnawing from worry, you can’t even imagine what he’s had to hide and do for this. In a way, you look up to him more, for trying his best even if he’s gotten all odds stacked against him. Riki’s commendable in your eyes–he always had been, ever since you woke him up in class.

“I like those things about you, Riki. That you’re honest with yourself and the people around you as much as you can be, and you try to help others when you can. I’m glad we got to know each other more this past month.” Talking to him feels different than talking to Spider-Man from a few days ago; it feels raw, like you’re not just confessing something to a brick wall anymore. If none of this ever happened, you doubt you’d get the chance to tell Riki any of this properly.

The boy stays silent, taking deep breaths while processing what you’ve told him. “I’m glad I could help you out.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “I hope you know I don’t like you because you help me out. I like you because you’re attractive, and because you’re genuine,” you blurt.

Riki laughs despite his ribcage hurting everytime he does so. Riki nods and mumbles a ‘thank you,’ also glad to truly get to know you. While his crush was more of an infatuation with your hard work and amiability, the past few weeks really opened his eyes to who you were. You never wanted to disappoint, and even if your recklessness left you in some dire situations, Riki could see how much effort you really put into things.

There wasn’t anything else he needed to tell you–you were smart enough to see how much he cared about you.

You’re so close, your lips glossy with lip balm as you watch him carefully. You hear and see it all; the heavy, labored breathing from his body healing itself rapidly, and the way his hand is full of rough cuts and calluses as his fingers intertwine with yours. But your eyes catch a glimpse of his mask tossed to the side, the blue shining in the corner of your eyes as you’re reminded of who he is right now, and what role you play. You are still ____ ____, but he’s a superhero.

It makes you momentarily forget whose suit you're peeling away, whose skin you're cleaning. It reminds you that he’s just the boy in your English class that you fell for. “What does that make us?”

“Prom-goers,” he answers with a slight nod.

You smile, wiping a cut before placing the towel back into the bowl for the last time and getting up. “We can be prom-goers, yeah.”

You’re not sure if you’re ready for anything, and you’re thankful that he understands that, too. As much as it warmed your heart to see him again and hear his confessions, the blaring truth still hangs over your head. You grab his mask, finally looking at him before handing it back and grabbing your things. His secret identity wasn’t something you could just ignore.

“Go home, Spider-Man,” you turn your back on him, and time slows when you falter before sparing him one more look. “I want you as Riki, not like this.”

MAYBE NISHIMURA RIKI DOESN'T NEED TO DIE–OR ALMOST DIE–ANYMORE.

He went home that night with his scars somewhat cleaned and his bruises miraculous healing on their own, and even if slipping through the window left him clutching his side in pain, Riki silently jumped up to celebrate his multiple victories before slipping out of his suit and finally getting some rest.

Riki’s scared of how he’s affected your relationship. He’s worried you’ll avoid him in the halls, and he’s worried you’d never want to see him again after putting you through all of it. As much as he'd understand how upset you'd be towards him, he hopes he did the right thing by telling you.

But you see him on your way to English, and you call his name. His eyes search for yours in the crowds, and you two see each other before you crush him in a hug.

Riki isn’t sure how to feel at first, but eventually wraps his arms around you as relief settles in his stomach.

“Thank you for saving me, Spider-Man,” you whisper, loud enough for only him to hear.

He smiles at you, ruffling your hair as you go to English together. “Anytime, ____.”

NEVERMIND, NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE WHEN HE SEES YOU IN YOUR RED PROM DRESS.

But first, he has to try something out.

He curses to himself when silently zipping from a tree outside your family property to the top of your house, staring past the ledge two and luxurious stories to your well decorated porch light and door. He just prays that Google Maps is right about how secluded the area is, so no one can see him pacing around your rooftop, with flowers elegantly wrapped in his hand (courtesy of your mother’s sleek envelope from a few days ago).

“Fuck it,” he says to himself, shooting a web and dangling himself down. Riki’s upside down figure watches swirled window frames and meticulously designed accents as he descends, and he wonders what kind of shady business your parents could’ve done to afford something so grand.

He faces your door—hanging down instead of rightside up, but he’s still here on time like he promised.

The door opens at 6:00PM like he instructed you to, but what he didn’t tell you what to do was shriek and slam the door. On his nose. With a loud yelp, Riki clutches his nose, rubbing the spot you hit and trying to apply pressure to alleviate the pain.

When the door slowly creaks open again, you face with the image of Nishimura Riki, aka your boyfriend, aka your English partner, aka Spider-Man, curled upside down in the fetal position as he cradles the sore spot on his face and swings slightly from the breeze.

“You scared me, dumbass! How was I supposed to know it was you? It was so hard to see!”

Although muffled, Riki’s able to mumble, “You have a porch light for this reason, _____,” and a jab at his stomach from you follows his sarcastic remark. Finally, his nose feels better, and he straightens out to finally look at you.

Pretty, pretty, pretty, and the boy wonders how you look even more stunning with a glittering red dress and perfectly done make-up. “I like the red,” he says, trying not to freak out over your beauty. “Reminds me of a certain neighborhood superhero.”

“I have some blue spider earrings to match.” With a beautiful smile, you turn to show him the little accent, and it melts his heart. “Are you okay, though?”

“I’m fine. I should’ve probably put more thought into that.”

You snicker, sliding into your heels and closing the door behind you.

“One of us is better at romantic gestures, it seems.” It warrants a scoff, and Riki brings a gloved hand to poke at your forehead teasingly.

“Let me have a do-over, then?” And the way your lips curl up into a bright smile leaves him quiet and in awe.

“What, were you going to kiss me? Very original, Spider-Man.” With the way the fabric shifts over his features, you can tell he’s pouting.

“I thought girls liked this.”

You shrug, pretending you aren’t swept off his feet by the effort he’s put in. Taking a step in his direction, your hands reach up to gently pull the mask over his chin, ears, and then his nose.

Whispering quietly, you ask, “You’ve kissed other girls upside down?”

Riki’s quick to shake his head. “You’re the only girl I’d withstand a head rush for.” And god, you just can’t stop yourself from grinning at his sweet, genuine words.

You lean in, placing a small kiss on his nose as a silent apology. Then, you close your eyes and lean into him once more, feeling his hands carefully holding the side of your head and his lips on yours. Your kiss with Riki is saccharine and slow, making you pull away when the urge to beam at him is too much. Your cheeks definitely hurt by how romantic he’s being, and you can’t resist kissing him once more.

“I’m not gonna lie,” he starts, finally letting himself down, “It feels weird.”

“You ruined the moment.” And he really didn’t, but you enjoy his subtle reactions to your light digs at him.

“Whatever.” Riki laughs. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

You nod, sitting down on the porch and dragging a manicured nail over your lips with the ghost of his affections, thinking about how you literally just kissed Spider-Man.

Riki comes back, dusting off his suit and smoothing out the wrinkles, with a large bouquet of red roses and one blue one snuck in there. Your lips stretch into a grin and you accept the bouquet, keeping a mental note to read the card in there.

“You never cease to amaze me, Riki.” It’s the last thing you mutter to the air before you loop your arms around his neck, urging him to lean down as you kiss him once more—this time rightside up, but still as sickly saccharine as the one before it. Your heart is fuzzy with fondness and your eyes glitter with adoration.

“So, which kiss was better?” he asks when you pull away, a little breathless and dizzy.

You swat his arm and walk past the gates, seeing the sleek limo waiting by the curb. “I don’t know, Spider-Man. Maybe show up in your suit and we’ll try it again.”

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED AND ALWAYS READ!

RIKI FIC DONE!!!! ngl y/n u were right there how did u not know riki was spiderman but whatever idc she's a hard worker not smart LMFOAOAO. my first ever action fic so i hope you enjoy! also i hate the ‘oh he pined after her for 4 years she liked him for 2 months’ bs because I WAS IN IT. and it sucks so i tried to deviate from it :)

꣑ৎ permanent fic taglist (TAGGED IN TEASERS, FICS, HEADCANNONS, DRABBLES, ETC.): @dimplewonie @minleeeknow @heeheesang @mintpjzroll @llvrhee @firstclassjaylee @in-somnias-world @rairaiblog @suneng @mavlogist @sensitively-taken @sumzysworld @simpjay @moons-v @riksaes @txtari @jungwonscatcus @tya0 @sasfransisco @woorcve @shypen @pinkriki @rikisluv @saranghaohoshi @lilifiedeans @wonmyheart @k1ttyluvr @nikisgfff @ramenoil @laurradoesloveu @lvcky-g1rl-syndr0me @ikeulims @missychiefs1404 @qwonyoung23 @yangjungwonnie @onementally-unstabel-kid @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @blooqz @anormieee hi permies hope u enjoy! kith

3K notes · View notes

ma1dita · 1 year ago

Text

partners in crime

luke castellan x fem!dionysus!reader [the trouble!verse]

MAIN SERIES MASTERPOST [COMPLETED]

summary: few things are certain in this life as a demigod, but one thing is for sure— you can’t fight fate when it pulls you and luke castellan together, over and over again. two young people who hate the gods are more like them than they think, for better or worse. annoyances to best friends to lovers

things to know: dionysus!reader's nickname is trouble & mostly canon-compliant (mostly.)

here's a playlist (spotify & apple music links now available!)

child of dionysus headcanons!

trouble!verse moodboard 1 & moodboard 2 & college!trouble by the lovely @24kmar

deleted scenes from a different universe (AUs)

play the extended cuts (blurbs from in-between)

character study: luke castellan & trouble

any works, updates, thoughts, musings, etc about this series will be tagged under #trouble!verse !

key: fluff - ☼ angst - ☽ smut - ☆ jo's favorites - ᥫ᭡

[rewind to before] pre-established relationship

trouble always finds me (trouble!reader origin story) 1.7k ☼

The one where he could tell you were trouble from the day he met you. (You're an annoyance, but not an enemy)

entropy 3.6k☼

The one where you both blur the lines between annoyance and admiration. (the promise of becoming partners in crime)

buddy system 4.2k ☼

The one where he comes with you to rescue your younger twin brothers, Pollux & Castor. (this is as close to a real quest that Mr. D will give you--might as well take someone you trust!)

somebody's angel 4.4k ☽

The one where you convince him he’s pretty, even with a scar. (songfic - Die Alone - Finneas)

feed the fire 1.2k ☼

The one where his focus is not on spilled food, but on you. (Luke realizes this is more than playful banter)

bedtime stories 2.4k ☼

The one where night shift with him runs late, but you don’t mind at all. (the both of you have feelings you want to admit, but duty calls!)

crazy little thing 3.4k ☼

The one where he uses all his drachmas to make you smile on Valentine's Day. (the Apollo kids are better matchmakers than Aphrodite, sometimes)

anything you want 1.6k ☼

The one where you and him have your first kiss. (You've always loved teaching the story of Orpheus and Eurydice; except when your Orpheus runs away from you)

said he likes crazy 2.1k ☼ ☽

The one where only he can help you with a bad day, even if he's avoided you since your first kiss. (For being a son of Hermes, he has a way of calming your nerves)

[pause and remember us like this] established relationship

play pretend 5.1k ☼

The one where Mr. D catches you two in the act, but you and him aren’t exactly together yet. (Drunk words are sober thoughts. Your dad just wishes Luke told you instead of him)

a wish your heart makes 1.4k ☼ ☽

The one where you share dreams, burn cookies, and it still reminds him of home. (The dryads will probably ban you from the kitchen after this)

star crossing 4k ☼

The one where both your dreams come to life for a night (Crossing the stars for love is easier said than done)

to see the chaos through 4k ☼☽

The one where he remembers he was never a good guy, just yours. (Luke makes the ultimate deal with the devil in order to save you)

not your goddess 8k ☽

The one where you both know the best of days eventually have to come to an end. (songfic - Goddess - Laufey)

don't blame the kids 7.6k ☼

The one where you both chaperone a trip to Mount Olympus. (the Olympians are bigger gossips than you thought they'd be)

trouble's coming for you 3.7k ☼

The one where Percy meets his two favorite counselors at Camp Half-Blood. (three times Percy is oblivious (and in the way) and the time he realizes you and Luke are in love)

now that we're older 3.5k ☼

The one where he asks if you can stay the night even if all of cabin 11 makes fun of him. (Luke is tired of the routine. He just needs his girl)

if you need to be mean (be mean to me) 1.5k☽

The one where he leaves before you wake up. (songfic - I Don't Smoke - Mitski )

[fast forward until we meet again] post-tlt

lovers, or partners in crime 2.1k ☽

The one where Annabeth and Percy think you’re guilty too. (the last day leading up to Luke's betrayal)

love like a blister: the five stages of loving losing luke 4.7k ☽

The one where you learn to mourn someone even if they’re still alive. (the five stages of grief after facing a loss)

to catch a thief 3.7k ☼ ☽

The one where duty calls at Camp Half-Blood. Again. (Your reunion with Luke isn't quite what you expected.)

solipsism 5.3k ☽

The one where you finally pray to Hestia to keep your home safe, even if he's also trying to destroy it. (the four times Luke uses Backbiter to visit you during college ft. the first time you trust a god to help you)

forever falling: luke castellan & his four great loves 4.3k ☼ ☽

The one where he falls from grace and still thinks of you. (the four great loves of Luke Castellan’s life and how it will end up killing him)

love me dry 4.5k ☼ ☽

The one where he meets you at his mother's house, though both of you didn't expect the other to be there. (a glimpse into May Castellan's idea of a perfect day)

when the curtains close 5.3k☽

The one where you lose two people in the Labyrinth that day. All strings are cut. (Annabeth and Pollux find out the biggest difference between you and Luke.)

asking for trouble 7.8k ☽

The one where Luke's final wish is to see you. (He's himself again, and all he wants is to find out if the trouble was worth it all)

as above, so below 10.4k ☽☼

The one where you plead your case with the gods of Olympus. (The one thing the fates didn't expect was how much you'd both be like your fathers; in a way, you and Luke didn't see it coming either)

roll the credits [ a tribute through webweaving]

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#luke castellan x reader #pjo series #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #pjo imagines #luke castellan x reader fanfic #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #🪽#trouble!verse #percy series #pjo x reader #jo's navi <3

2K notes · View notes

sapphicdalliances · 1 month ago

Text

between this post and that post i am starting to reach levels of Sad About Jiang Cheng i had previously thought impossible. both metas are basically about the reality that wei wuxian was visibly and practically favoured over jiang cheng by his family members. and as the former points out it's sorta like… well, 1) he "needed" to be, because he was in a more vulnerable position socially and had been through more hardship, because his relationship with his family was not considered inalienable and therefore needed more reinforcement. and 2) because it's just… easier to favour him? he's magnetic and charming and fun to hang out with and always has a conversation ready to go. jiang cheng is not any of that.

i was chirping about this earlier – a thing about jiang cheng is that from a young age he is put into a lot of situations where everything sucks and he feels hurt and victimised but there is NO way for him to express that without coming off as completely unreasonable and unsympathetic, and even as a child he knows this. it cumulates in a big huge way with the core transfer. like he is upset when wei wuxian is praised over him, but he can't complain because it's simply true that wei wuxian did a better job. he's upset when wei wuxian receives comfort over him, but he can't complain because wei wuxian needs it or deserves it more in that moment. this continues for most of his life and i'm sure everyone who's ever had one of these moments knows there's no good coping method, you either complain anyway (and come off as entitled and jealous) or you try to get over it (which hurts to do and doesn't even garner any praise because it's kind of the bare minimum) or you internalise it as a You Problem (which breeds resentment and insecurity).

like afaict jiang cheng spends a formative portion of his childhood really aware that he's the unfavourite for a good reason and the main thing he can do to be shown the favour he craves is to be a different person with a different personality. really sucky situation for a kid to be in –

(especially because in his youth, a lot of these situations were literally no-win scenarios. because if he's worse than wwx at something then his mother yells at him and hits his brother and his dad doesn't do anything, but if he's ever better than wwx at something then he won't get praised for that either! because it would be something that's to expected from him anyway.)

and this is the background noise against which jc begged crying on his knees for wwx to be spared punishment, then attacked and strangled wwx, then tried his best to die to protect wwx. this is a relationship where… of course there's resentment. it would be crazy if there was no resentment. but there is still love. that's even crazier!

currently i think jiang cheng as a character is basically a depiction of a guy who fundamentally kind of sucks, but is actively trying his best and is frankly doing a pretty great job at not sucking. like he just doesn't have a good or fun personality and he's not likeable and he's not talented or sweet or charming or anyone's favourite person (EXCEPT – WAIT – EXCEPT FOR WWX'S!!! PRE-LAN ZHAN! and now – jin ling's!!!!) and he knows all of this, but he still spends a lot of the story trying his fucking best to be good to all of his people anyway.

he spent his childhood getting outshone by his brother and pissing off both his parents by just being himself, then his entire family died, then as an adult he was left out of the post-sunshot War Hero Boy's Club and had to jockey for political favour as the youngest and least experienced sect leader while the beacons of righteousness and confidence that were nmj and lxc were to his either side, his sister dies in his arms while looking at his brother, and even as an uncle he's competing with the always-gentle, always-sweet jgy who has the stronger social claim to his nephew due to being on the paternal side of his family. and all he's got to work with is himself, and that hasn't been good enough even once in the last 30 years.

a lot of jc haters have been @-ing me lately to expound on how jc is annoying and insecure and selfish and a prick and it's like ok yeah to all of that but frankly considering the circumstances he was operating under i think it is a fucking miracle that he didn't turn out worse.

#GOOD CHARACTER IDK. REAL CRUNCHY. GREAT MOUTHFEEL.#he's perfect to me.#it's like impossible not to have brainworms about him i think #like LOOK AT THIS GUY #mdzs #jiang cheng #my truest love #shut up phee

385 notes · View notes

thewritingrowlet · 7 months ago

Text

The Crazy Lesbians pt. 1, ft. tripleS Sohyun, Xinyu

tags: creampie, anal, strap-on, threesome—just read the damn thing, please.

length: 7k+

author's note: I know I'm late, so please don't yell at me. Also, I apologize in advance if it's too messy; I was trying to get this out as soon as possible.

edit: took me a few hours to realize that I forgot to credit @dreamcatchers-husband for the idea, so sorry and thanks. <3

“Yes, yes, baby! Fuck, yes!”

Xinyu has always been so expressive in bed, taking the submissive role almost all the time to complement Sohyun’s dominant side.

“I-I’m about to cum, baby,” Xinyu announces breathily. “Please keep going—p-please, I’m so close.”

Sohyun grits her teeth as she moves her hips as fast as possible, impatient to make her girlfriend cum. She finally gets what she’s wishing for: Xinyu screams very loudly when orgasm hits her hard. Usually, she’d stay inside and wait for the wave of ecstasy to die down, but today, she immediately pulls out. “T-thank you; I-I’ve been desperate for that,” Xinyu expresses her gratitude. “I love you, baby.” “I love you too, sweetie.”

Xinyu demands a cuddle, so Sohyun pulls her in for one. “Are you okay, baby? You’re thinking about something, aren’t you?” “I’m fine, sweetie,” Sohyun deflects with a smile on her face, “just had some thoughts but nothing serious.” “You can talk to me about your worries, you know; we’re in this together.” “I know, but trust me, I’m fine.” Xinyu presses her face against Sohyun’s chest. “If you say so,” she lets out a yawn, “thank you for today, baby.”

Once Xinyu goes silent, the thoughts in Sohyun’s head start running rampant. Xinyu is clueless that Sohyun has been longing for something more in bed; something that can please her in different ways, because as much as she hates to admit it, she’s getting tired of being the pleaser and would do anything as long as someone would take care of her, the same way she’s been taking care of Xinyu. Not only that but using a fake penis during sex just doesn’t feel… alive.

“Do I need a man?” Different variations of this question have been clouding her mind recently. The problem with that, however, is that everyone at campus knows her as a lesbian—how could she possibly get close enough to a man for him to get in her pants, especially since she’s in a relationship (with another woman, at that)? She’d like to think about this further, but time isn’t her friend right now; she has to go to sleep very soon, or she’ll miss the first class tomorrow.

A gay woman is a man’s best friend.

You’ve known Sohyun since the first day of high school, and the fact that she has come out as gay has made it so much easier for you to hang out with her, because neither of you needs to worry about falling in love with each other, thus enabling you to talk about a bunch of topics about relationships and love affairs freely.

Over yonder, you see Sohyun walking alone while her gaze is aimed at the ground, as per usual—at least, that’s what someone who’s not close to her would think, but you’re not that kind of person; there are always subtle differences in her gestures whenever her mind or body isn’t at peace, and you’ve learned how to pick it up over the years.

“Yo, hello,” you greet Sohyun, who seems to be very exhausted. “You okay?” She shakes her head. “I couldn’t sleep last night.” You ask if she wants to talk about it, and she beams for a second before her face tenses again. “Not now, but let’s have lunch together—maybe we can talk then.” You accept her invitation without thinking twice. “Sure, see you later, then.”

Sohyun arrives in the packed classroom shortly after parting ways with you. She pulls out her laptop from the bag and gets ready for class, but no matter how hard she’s trying to get her mind to focus, it keeps popping out different questions and topics to discuss with you, her friend of over 5 years at this point.

“Fuck, can’t I just skip this class?” Her heart races as she contemplates while her eyes scan her surroundings, from where her classmates are to the big door that the professor will enter from. Sohyun isn’t a fan of skipping classes, especially the important ones, but she simply isn’t in the right head space for this. “Ah, fuck it, I’m fucking leaving.” She closes the lid of her laptop again and carries it in her hand out of the classroom, not giving a piss whether someone is talking behind her back—Sohyun is an adult; she can make these decisions for and by herself.

Sohyun rushes towards the student council’s office space where she presumes you are, mixing her fast steps with short bursts of jogs. Once she arrives, she peeks through the tinted glass door to look for you, and when she sees that you’re sitting alone, she enters the room right away, not bothering to knock.

“Changmin-ah,” she calls to you, “c-can we talk?” You almost threw your phone thanks to the shock. “Goodness me, Sohyun-ah—you couldn’t fucking knock?” She sets her belongings at the desk in front of you. “P-please, Changmin-ah,” she begs, “I need your help.” “Okay, okay, sure—my God, what’s so pressing?”

Sohyun grabs an empty chair and sits on it after setting it next to you. “I need help with Xinyu,” she begins. “What about her? You want to surprise her or something?” She shakes her head. “I-I need help with bedroom stuff.” Your eyes blink in confusion. “Bedroom stuff? What are you on about?” Sohyun takes a deep breath before continuing. “Sex has been dull recently, Changmin-ah, and I’m desperate for something more.” “Okay, go on.” You see her biting her lip, visibly hesitant to speak her mind. “Ah, fuck it,” she says, “can we have sex?”

Her question stuns you for a few different reasons; she is gay and has a girlfriend—why would she want to have sex with you, a regular, straight guy?

“Say it again?” “Can we have sex, Changmin-ah? I-I want to remember what it’s like to do it with a man.” “Isn’t that cheating, though?” Sohyun shakes her head. “I-it would be cheating if I had sex with another woman, but you’re a man,” she reasons. You’re not sure if that’s the most logical reason (or the most convincing), but she seems serious about this.

You place a palm on your forehead as you think about it. “Please, Changmin-ah; I’ll make sure it’s worth your while.” You chuckle. “Worth my while? When’s the last time you had sex with a guy, by the way?” “F-five years ago,” she says in a quiet voice, and you swear that she’s about to cry.

You take her hands in yours. “Sohyun-ah, listen to me,” you say, “it’s not that I don’t want to help you, but how would having sex with someone that you’re not into help with your own sex life?” “I don’t know,” she says tearily, “I-I just wanted to see how it’d feel.”

While she’s busy sobbing, you’re busy pondering. “Alright, hear me out,” you break the silence. “Let’s do it; let’s have sex, and then you can tell me what you think about it.” Sohyun looks at you with her weepy eyes. “A-are you sure?” “You seem serious about it, so let’s do this.” She wipes the tears off her cheeks. “W-what’s the catch?” You say to her that the only condition is that no one—including Xinyu—can hear about this, which she agrees to. “Can I ask where Xinyu is first?” Sohyun tells you that Xinyu is at her campus and won’t be home until evening. “Are we doing it at my place, then?” You shake your head. “No, mine; can’t risk Xinyu suddenly arriving and catching us red-handed, can we?”

“Come in, make yourself at home,” you guide Sohyun into your apartment. “Wow, nice place, Changmin-ah,” her eyes roam around the interior, taking in the sights of your unit. You invite her to sit on the sofa in front of the TV. “Until we’re done today, Sohyun-ah, I will act as if you were my girlfriend; I will talk to you softly and call you by pet names—would that be okay with you?”

Her heart starts racing. The prospect of getting a soft treatment (from a man, nonetheless) makes her both excited and nervous; she’ll be dropping one side of her coin to make room for the other, one that hasn’t appeared since she started dating Xinyu.

“Can I have an answer, please?” Your question interrupts Sohyun’s train of thoughts. “Y-yes,” she says, “please take care of me.” You put on a kind and loving smile for her. “I love you, sweetheart,” you kick off the girlfriend-boyfriend play. “I-I love you too, babe,” she replies, and she can feel her cheeks getting hot.

You pull Sohyun by her hands until she’s seated on your lap. “I bet you don’t do this ever.” “No, never—if anything, Xinyu usually sits on my lap.” “It’s nice to change every now and then, isn’t it?” Sohyun nods shyly. “Never thought I’d be with a man again, but here I am.” “I’ll make sure it’s worth your while, sweetheart,” you use her words against herself, making Sohyun look away to hide her hot cheeks behind her thick hair. “Oh, please don’t say it like that,” she says. You start massaging her forearm gently. “I’ll take care of you, though—I promise you that.”

Over her head, you can see the clock that’s hanging over your TV, and you’re reminded about something. “Sweetie, have you had breakfast?” Sohyun shakes her head. “Would you like to order something, then?” Sohyun nods timidly. You hand your phone over to her, letting her order whatever she wants. “Just make sure to order for me as well, okay?” She fiddles with your phone a little before handing it back to you. “I ordered some iced latte and toast for us, babe.”

Despite your best efforts to suppress your excitement, your lips still form a smile when Sohyun refers to you by that name. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so excited about it—I mean, you’re someone else’s,” you say. Sohyun gives you a peck on the lips. “Whoever gets in a relationship with you will be so happy,” she comments. “I can tell that you’d be such a good boyfriend.”

Initially, you’re grinning, but the way she’s frowning erases it right off your face. “I’m such a bad girlfriend for Xinyu, aren’t I? I convinced her to get in a relationship with me in this society, but here I am, running away with a guy.” “Is she only into women, or?” Sohyun says that Xinyu plays for both sides, which you think is unfair because she’s undeniably very attractive.

You stay silent, trying to stitch together a reply that’s both sensible and comforting, and it goes a little bit like this: “first of all, I’d like to praise you for being so daring and challenging the norms of society in the name of love,” you start. “As for being a good or bad girlfriend, I don’t think you’re a bad person in your relationship.” Sohyun chuckles. “You didn’t even address the running away with a guy part.” You want to open your mouth, but she manages to get her piece off first. “Thanks, though; I know you tried giving me an assuring answer, so you’re getting an A-minus for your efforts.”

Your doorbell rings—food must be here. You say to Sohyun that you’ll be picking up the food, but she doesn’t budge, comfortably sitting still in your lap. “Don’t scream, okay?” “What do—ah!” You lift her by her thighs and carry her to the door. “Wait, wait, I’m heavy; please put me down.” You peck her on the cheek. “Honestly, you’re not heavy at all,” you say.

You grab the bag of food and make your way back to the sofa with Sohyun in your embrace. “Let’s eat, sweetie.” You expect her to pull away from the embrace, but no, she doesn’t budge one more time—she even tightens her arms that are wrapped around your nape. “Let’s stay like this; I want to savor this moment,” she says.

You reach around her body and grab a toast and a latte from the bag. “I’ll feed you, sweetie; open your mouth.” Sohyun takes a bite of the toast that’s in your hand. She then chases it with a sip of latte that’s in your other hand. “Oh, yeah, that’s good,” she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, “thanks, babe.” “Gladly, my love.”

Sohyun is feeling odd; her cheeks are very hot, and her stomach is full of butterflies. She hasn’t allowed any man to make her feel like this in years, and within less than an hour of hanging out with you privately and pretending to be your girlfriend, she’s starting to think that maybe there are kind and loving men out there who deserve consideration.

“You alright, Sohyun-ah?” You ask to make sure her mind is still with you. “That’s not my name, is it?” You’ve known her all this time, but only now do you notice how pretty her eyes are from this close of a distance. Your hand, as if capable of thinking independently, moves towards her face, stroking her soft cheek like she was yours. “Respectfully, sweetie, I think you’re very beautiful.” “You’re kind of cute yourself,” she whispers. You chuckle. “Kind of, hey? Sure, I’ll take it” Sohyun presses her forehead against your lips, “forcing” you to kiss her there. “I don’t know how you’re still single—these girls are missing out,” she says. “Eh, you know, I’ve just been so busy with myself; getting into a relationship doesn’t sound like a good idea at the moment.”

Sohyun places her hands on either side of your face. “What about getting in my pants? Does that sound like a good idea?” You scan her face to gauge her seriousness. “I’ll do it if you’d let me.” Sohyun grins. “Take care of me, please.”

On the way to the bedroom with Sohyun still in your arms, you barrage her face with pecks, mixing it with quick kisses occasionally. Even after you’ve arrived in the bedroom, the two of you still don’t stop. “Please, babe,” Sohyun is the first to crack, “can we start already?”

You take a seat on the edge of the bed, thinking that you still have a few things to address first. “Sweetheart, before we begin,” you say, “let’s talk about some stuff.” Sohyun bites her bottom lip (nervously, not sexily). “Let’s begin with the elephant in the fridge: you’re a gay woman, and I’m a man. Aside from that, you’re in a relationship with someone else. Are you sure you want to do this?” You hope that Sohyun was listening carefully to your little monologue (and managed to catch the little joke).

Sohyun stays quiet, which makes you feel like you need to provide a reason as to why you’re bringing up such topic. “Sweetheart, I just don’t want you to regret this later,” you say. She takes a deep breath. “I know, and I still want to do it with you.” “Well, lucky for you, I have some condoms.” She taps your nape with her finger to get your attention. “Actually, I was thinking about not using that,” she says, “n-no one else would be getting between my legs anyway.” You peck her on the lips as a sign of agreement. “As you wish, sweetie.”

You notice that Sohyun’s breathing is speeding up as you’re unbuttoning her shirt. “Are you okay? Do you want to change your mind?” “I-I’m fine; please continue.” You know that she has quite the sizable breasts, but you’ve never seen them this close and bare before. “Y-you like them?” You nod. “Yes, I do, sweetheart.” She then gives you permission to touch them, so you do just that. “My, your girlfriend must love your breasts so much,” you comment. Sohyun wants to say something, but a gasp escapes her lips, interrupting her. “S-she does—s-she always put them in her mouth.”

You reach around to unlatch her bra, but after thinking again, you decide to let it stay on; something about Sohyun in a shirt makes you very aroused, and you’d like to have her stay partially dressed like this. “You’re insanely hot, you know? God, you’re fucking amazing.” Your whispered words make the entirety of her body hot, and Sohyun can’t help but wonder if this is what being with a man is like. “Xinyu would go crazy with this guy,” she thinks.

“B-babe,” she calls to you, “w-would you be down to have a threesome with us one day?” “You and Xinyu?” Sohyun nods. “I-I feel like you’d t-take care of us so fucking well.” You peck her on the chest, right above her cleavage, before answering. “I’ll do it if you both agree to.” She places her cheek right against yours. “If you do well today, I promise I’ll bring Xinyu to you,” she whispers, and you can feel your arousal peaking at the prospect of having sex with two very hot women at once. “I will do my best, sweetheart.”

Sohyun gets off your lap to take off her jeans and panties. “Show me,” she says, “show me what you can do, babe.” You place a hand on her crotch, finding out that she is so wet already. “You’re excited to see me, aren’t you, sweetie?” The way her breathy moan hits your face is very arousing. “We’ll be having so much sex today, so I hope you can keep up,” you say, teasing her. “F-fuck me, baby,” she urges you, “let’s forget about everything else—today is ours.” You never thought you’d hear such words from her, but here you are. “Damn right.”

Sohyun slowly lowers herself onto your cock, promptly gasping and moaning because of the sensation that has been forgotten to her. “Fuck, Xinyu, I’m so sorry, baby.” She still has the head space to think about her girlfriend who’s doing God-knows-what at campus right now. It is when your lips hit hers that her thoughts are interrupted. She lets out small moans every time the kiss is broken while her hips are busy bouncing along your shaft.

“You like this, baby?” You whisper those words for extra arousal factor. “Yes,” she whispers back, “I feel alive, baby.” You’re not sure initially what she’s saying, but you guess that she’s probably has had so much sex with a dildo (which is a dead object, obviously), while you’re very much alive. “I-I don’t think I can last long like this, babe,” she adds.

You want to latch your lips onto her neck that’s right in front of your mouth, so you ask first. “Can I mark you, baby?” “N-no, b-but I’ll mark you,” she replies. You let out a deep exhale when you feel her wet lips on the side of your neck, and in response, you make her bounce faster on your cock. “C’mon, baby; let’s cum together, ‘kay?” Based on the little nibble, you estimate that Sohyun likes that idea.

“Baby, I’m about to cum," you announce after what feels like forever. “Oh, yes, me too,” she locks her gaze with yours, “make me cum, please.” Since she’s asking so nicely, you decide to cooperate by thrusting your cock upwards, thus filling your bedroom with clapping sounds on top of the moans that she’s letting out. Sohyun seems to be enjoying this too, as proven by how her eyes keep rolling towards the back of her head.

The way your cock is twitching in her pussy serves as a warning for you. “Babe, get off,” you say, “I’m about to cum.” Seeing that she’s still fucking herself on your cock makes you think that she didn’t hear it. “Babe, please, I’m about to cum,” you repeat. “J-just give it to me,” Sohyun finally responds. “Fill me, baby.”

Having been shown the green light, you pick up the pace again after slowing down moments ago. Finally, with a grunt, semen comes out of your shaft in abundance, filling her like she asked you to. “That’s so warm,” she comments. “D-did you cum too?” Your voice is rather breathy thanks to the orgasm. “I-I don’t think so,” Sohyun says, and admittedly, you’re disappointed in yourself for failing to make her cum. “I’m sorry, baby.” She laughs out loud. “What for? Because I didn’t cum?” She laughs again when she sees you nodding. “Please, it’s good enough as a start—don’t be too hard on yourself, babe.”

Sohyun lifts herself off your lap, letting some excess semen drip onto the floor. “Oops, sorry, babe.” You chuckle. “I’ll clean it up later.” She holds your chin and moves it upwards for a kiss. “Thank you, but I have something to ask.” “Yeah, ask away.”

Sohyun moves her head oddly close to your face. “Can you fuck Xinyu too?” You’ve talked about this before, but that conversation was clouded by horniness. Now that she’s asking again, however, you’re having second thoughts. “Babe, listen,” she hasn’t dropped the name yet, “Xinyu deserves to be this happy as well, you know.” “I mean, if you really want to, then sure.” Sohyun smiles in satisfaction. “Thanks, babe—I owe you.”

As soon as Sohyun enters her apartment, Xinyu comes running towards her with teary eyes. “Babe, you didn’t pick up the phone—where were you?" “Sorry, I was a bit busy, baby,” Sohyun deflects, because in reality, she was at the pharmacy to get some morning after pills. Xinyu, gullible as ever, believes what she just heard and simply comes in for a hug. “I’m glad you made it home.” “I’m glad to be home too, baby.”

Xinyu drags Sohyun to the dining table where she has prepared some fried chicken for dinner. “I got a coupon from my previous purchases, so we’re having fried chicken today,” she says. “Of course, babe,” Sohyun says, “let’s eat then.”

As Sohyun is chewing her bite, her mind goes back to this morning, and she finds herself comparing Xinyu to you. Xinyu is doing her best to take care of her girlfriend, but it’s not quite the same as the way you did it—there’s something about your ways that’s different but indescribable.

“You’re thinking about something again,” Xinyu manages to catch on. After sighing, Sohyun decides to speak plainly. “Babe, are you still interested in guys?” The question makes Xinyu nervous. “I-I don’t know,” she says, “I-I’m not leaving you for a guy, though—cross my heart.”

Sohyun proceeds to ask if Xinyu would be down to have a one-night stand with her and a guy. “A guy? Who?” “Changmin-ie,” Sohyun mentions your name casually. “B-but why do we need him? A-are you bored of me, perhaps?” Sohyun reaches for Xinyu’s hands. “I’m not bored of you, babe—I was just thinking if maybe we can spice things up for ourselves.” Sohyun knows that the only reason she’s thinking about “spicing things up” is because of boredom, and she seriously hope that Xinyu won’t give her too much trouble and interrogate her further.

“Fine, I’ll fuck him—I’ll do it for you,” Xinyu says. Sohyun shakes her head. “You’re not doing this for me, babe; you’re doing this for us. I swear you’ll thank me later.”

The bell of your door rings, and when you open it, you see Sohyun and Xinyu. “Can I help you, ladies?” Sohyun pinches your stomach lightly. “You and your words, babe.” Your eyes widen in shock, concerned about how she’s referring to you by that name in front of her girlfriend. “Oh, erm, welcome,” you step aside to let them in.

The two ladies enter your apartment while holding hands. “That’s cute,” you think. “Do you girls want some water—some soda, perhaps?” Sohyun asks if you have diet coke, which you do, coincidentally. “I’ll take that, please.” “What about you Xinyu-yah?” Xinyu says she’d like to also have a can of diet coke, so you grab one more for her.

You hand each girl a can of diet coke. “So, to what do I owe this pleasure?” “Oh, c’mon, don’t act stupid like that, babe,” Sohyun just won’t stop saying that name, and you can feel your heartbeat getting faster. “So-Sohyun-ah,” you’re getting nervous, “erm, are you sure you can call me that?” Sohyun looks at Xinyu quickly before turning back to you. “Yeah, I can—what, you scared of her?” You scratch your head. “Not scared necessarily, but I am concerned.”

As Sohyun is about to open her mouth, Xinyu speaks first. “I was told that you guys had some fun when I was at campus this Tuesday,” she says. You take a few deep breaths to calm your heart and mind. “Yes,” you admit plainly, “Sohyun-ie asked me if she could have sex with me, so we did.” “Did you like it?” “I did; I did my best, but I didn’t make her cum.” She clicks her tongue in mockery for your failure.

Out of nowhere, Xinyu slams her can of coke on the table and then sits on your lap. “You tried stealing my girlfriend from me and somehow managed to fail miserably—fuck you, you asshole,” she insults. “Xinyu-yah, I—” “Bad!” Sohyun yells out, scolding Xinyu for her bad behavior. “That’s not how you speak to him, Zhou Xinyu; he’s one of the good ones.”

Much to your surprise, Xinyu gets off your lap and kneels on the floor. “I-I’m sorry, I-I don’t know what got into me.” She gets visibly even more nervous when Sohyun suddenly stands so close next to her. “What happened to your manners, Miss Zhou, hm?” “I-I’m sorry—please, I’m so sorry.” Xinyu places a hand on your knee, begging to be saved from Sohyun’s anger. You try convincing Sohyun that you’re not offended nor is Xinyu being naughty, but she’s not entirely convinced. “We’re punishing her in the bedroom,” Sohyun says, her tone resolute.

Sohyun drags her girlfriend towards your bedroom while you’re still sitting on the sofa, stunned by the sight that just happened in front of your eyes. “Oi,” Sohyun steals your attention, “did you not hear what I said?” “Yeah, yeah, one second.” You shake your head rapidly to clear your mind before walking to your bedroom to join them.

When you enter, Xinyu is on her knees on the floor while Sohyun is standing in front of her with her arms crossed. “In case you forgot, Xinyu-yah, Changmin-ie over here is my best friend; even though our relationship has been a platonic one, I’ve found myself relying on him for a bunch of things. Not only that, but he’s also been supportive of our same-sex relationship—did you catch all that?” “Y-yes, mommy.” You want to poke a finger into your ears to see if maybe you heard that wrong. “I-I’m sorry, mommy; I-I was wrong to lash out like that.” Nope, you didn’t hear that wrong.

You stand between Sohyun and Xinyu, pushing her backwards to give Xinyu some space to breathe. “Sohyun-ah, calm down, please—I’m okay, you know.” “But she wasn’t behaving well,” she counters. “It’s understandable, don’t you think? We did have sex behind her back." Sohyun lets her arms fall freely and lets out a deep sigh. “This is what I meant when I said I wanted to be taken care of,” she says, “I’m tired of running around taking care of people and being responsible for them.”

When you look behind you, you see that Xinyu is looking at the two of you with a neutral face. Facing forwards again, you slowly put your arms around Sohyun’s body. “It’s okay, I understand; I’m sure it’s been exhausting for you to take on this role,” you say softly right into her ear. “Thanks, babe—it’s been great to have you as a friend.” It’s funny to hear her call you “babe” but say “friend” in the same sentence, but she’s right; Sohyun is still into women possibly until the end—unless she somehow becomes straight again—and your relationship with her is a platonic one.

You pull away from the hug so that you can turn your attention to Xinyu. You take a knee in front of her, getting to her eye level. “Hi, there,” you say, “how much did she tell you about what we did?” “I-I heard that the two of you pretended to be boyfriend and girlfriend.” You put on a smile for her. “That’s right, so can I talk to you like you were my girlfriend too?” Xinyu nods a little. “Great,” you say, “stand up, please, sweetheart.” Once she’s on her feet, you pull her in for a hug, the same way you did with Sohyun. “Sohyun-ie loves you so much, you know that? She goes against the norms so that she can be with you, sweetie.” Xinyu places her forehead on your shoulder. “I know,” her voice is almost too quiet to reach your ear. “I love her so much too, Changmin-ah,” she adds.

As soon as you get out of the way, the two women rush towards each other for a hug, much to your delight. Not only that, but they also start apologizing to each other and exchanging promises to be better as active participants in their relationship. “Love is in the air—let’s go!” You exclaim, getting excited on their behalf.

They break their hug and pull you into a three-way hug. “I’m so happy for you guys,” you say. “I must say, though, you need to stop playing for both sides if you can help it, Xinyu-yah; I’d love to have a girlfriend as well, you know.” The two girls laugh at the same time. “Hey, we can be your girlfriends on our free time,” Sohyun says. It’s now your turn to laugh. “Yeah, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

You take a seat on the edge of your bed. “So, we’re not going to punish anyone, are we?” Xinyu looks at Sohyun nervously, but Sohyun is quick to shake her head to clear things up. “We’re going to have sex later, if that’s okay,” she says. “Can we buy some food first?” You pull out your phone from your pocket and throw it to Sohyun, with whom you’re used to throwing and catching phones. “Go order something, I’ll pay.”

Sohyun and Xinyu scroll up and down on your phone to find something to buy, and before long, your phone is back in your hands again. You lie down in bed and are joined by the girls right after; Xinyu spoons Sohyun, and Sohyun hugs you from the side. “We look like sardines, don’t you think—or kittens, perhaps?” Xinyu giggles. “What kitten have you seen is this tall?” “Yeah, where did you get your height from, by the way?” “My parents are average height, but the mailman is tall.” You didn’t expect Xinyu to have this sort of joke in her bag, and you (Sohyun, too) can’t help but burst out laughing. “What the f—what do you mean mailman?”

Sohyun immediately starts touching Xinyu after getting back in your bedroom, ignoring your presence in the room. “Girls, it’s only 1—what are you doing?” Sohyun, who’s mounting her girlfriend, turns her head to look at you. “What the hell does it look like?” You take a seat on the stool near your computer desk. “Alright, I hope you don’t mind me watching, then.” “Not at all—we’ll show you how we do things,” she says before returning to the task at hand.

Xinyu, without being told, takes off her T-shirt, revealing the lacy bra underneath, and you sincerely hope that she has matching panties on. “Touch me, mommy—touch me while daddy is watching.” Thinking that shit is about to hit the fan, you free your cock from its constraints and start stroking yourself. “You see that—daddy is horny for you, baby,” Sohyun points at you, “would you let daddy touch you?” “C-can daddy touch me like you do, mommy?” You can’t hear what Sohyun just whispered to her but based on the smirk on Sohyun’s face when she glances at you, it must’ve been a naughty one.

“M-mommy, I’m wet for you.” “I can tell, baby,” Sohyun replies, “you want to get fucked, don’t you?” Sohyun jumps off her girlfriend when she sees her nodding and makes her way towards the small backpack on the floor, and at the same time, Xinyu uses the chance to take off her jeans—you manage to catch the lacy panties right before they were discarded. “Which one do you want, baby?” “N-number two, m-mommy.” Sohyun fishes out a strap-on that you estimate is as big as your cock and puts it around her waist. “Watch us, Changmin-ah,” she says to you as she climbs into the bed again.

Xinyu lets out a loud moan when the fake dick enters her pussy. “F-fuck me, mommy—please, please, please.” Sohyun folds her girlfriend in half and starts fucking her fast right out the gate. “Fuck, I can’t take this anymore.” You approach Sohyun from behind and bend forwards until your mouth is right in front of her asshole. “Excuse me, ladies.” You start licking Sohyun’s rear while she’s busy smashing her girlfriend, and judging by how she’s moaning, you know that she’s into this type of thing.

Sohyun finally slows down after a few minutes as exhaustion starts to set in. You, noticing the change of pace, pull your tongue away from her rear. “B-babe,” she turns her head to the side to see you, “y-you’re insane—who taught you that?” “Wouldn’t you like to know,” you peck her on the back of the head, “did you like it?” “Y-yes,” she blushes, “please do that again later.”

Xinyu, feeling left out of the conversation, expresses her desire for attention. “M-mommy, d-daddy,” she calls to the two of you, “w-what happened?” You hug Sohyun from behind, positioning your head next to hers so that you can look at Xinyu. “I ate mommy’s ass, baby,” you say, “she liked that a lot, you know.” Xinyu gasps. “You’re insane, daddy—no wonder mommy came to you for help.” You smile naughtily. “It’s your turn next, okay?”

Sohyun calls a timeout, mentioning her exhaustion as a reason. “Fuck her, babe,” she whispers to you, “better yet, make her cum.” You take her position between Xinyu’s legs after she’s moved out of the way. “Do I have your consent, baby?” Xinyu nods enthusiastically. “Alright, here I go, then.”

If Sohyun was rough earlier, you take a softer approach this time, giving some nice and slow thrusts to Xinyu. “I love you, baby—I love you as much as mommy does.” You see that her eyes are tearing up. “I-I feel complete, daddy; you’re such a perfect fit for me and mommy.” You guess that this is her double-sidedness speaking, but it’s good to hear that she doesn’t hate you or anything. “I love you, baby,” you repeat.

As you’re starting to move again, you feel some odd sensation is an odd spot—Sohyun is returning the favor, eating your ass the same way you did her. “Oh, fuck,” you utter, “fuck, you two are going to make me pass out.” Xinyu places a hand on your cheek. “You’re happy, aren’t you, daddy?” “Very, baby,” you reply.

You keep delivering thrusts to Xinyu, using her moans as fuel to keep up the pace of your movements. Sohyun, on the other hand, has had enough of eating your ass, opting to sit on Xinyu’s face, thus putting extra pressure on the moaning, stuffed girl. “Are you sure she can take this?” “Yeah,” Sohyun answers, “I’ve sat on her face many times.”

So, here is how things are going: you’re fucking Xinyu while also tongue-wrestling with Sohyun, whose pussy is getting eaten by her girlfriend. A part of you wonders what your parents would think if they could see that their son is having this crazy of a threesome.

Sohyun suddenly pulls away from the kiss. “Fuck, I’m about to cum,” she announces. The way she’s moaning louder must mean that Xinyu is stimulating her more like the good girl she is. With a scream, Sohyun lifts herself off Xinyu a little bit and sprays juice right into her waiting mouth. “Oh, fuck, me too.” You pick up the pace to chase your orgasm, and when it hits, you lodge your entire length in Xinyu’s pussy and fill her from the other end.

Both you and Sohyun leave Xinyu at the same time, and you can see how messed up she is: her messy hair is all over the place, her mouth is full of Sohyun’s squirt, and your semen is leaking out of her pussy. “Fuck, we went hard on her,” you comment. Sohyun pets her girlfriend’s head softly. “Good job, baby—good fucking job,” she praises her, “I told you he’d help a lot, didn’t I?” Xinyu swallows the juice in her mouth and nods weakly. “Should we get cleaned up?” “I’ll go first—I’ll get a shower,” Sohyun says.

While Sohyun leaves to get cleaned up, you take care of the exhausted Xinyu. “Are you okay, baby?” Xinyu nods again. “M-mommy and daddy used me.” The way she’s phrasing it makes you wonder if it was too much for her. “I-I’m tired, daddy, b-but I also want more.” “Let’s rest for now, baby; we can think about going again later.”

“Oi, oi, oi, look at you, sleeping in each other’s arms like a couple,” Sohyun comments as she walks in the bedroom after showering. “Mommy,” Xinyu reaches out an arm, inviting Sohyun back to the bed. She moves to spoon her, squeezing Xinyu between you and herself. “I’m here, baby—are you okay? Are you tired?” “I want—” A yawn cuts her off. “I want one more, mommy.” Sohyun chuckles. “Aren’t you drained, though?” “N-no, I-I can take it.”

“Yah, wake up,” Sohyun slaps your thigh to wake you up. “Xinyu wants to go again.” “Huh? Yeah, sure.” You rub your eyes to get yourself together. “One second, please.” Sohyun reaches for your cock and starts stroking you to get it hard. “We don’t have a second,” she says.

Like magic (not really), your cock gets rock-hard in no time. “How do you want us, baby?” “I-I want to give mommy and daddy my virginity.” It’s obvious that she’s talking about her ass. “Is that so?” Sohyun looks at you with a naughty smile on her face. “Alright, I’ll take it, baby, and then we can give daddy a sloppy second—how does that sound?” “S-sounds great, mommy.”

Sohyun flips Xinyu onto her stomach. “Pass me that strap-on, daddy.” You throw it to her, and she wears it around her waist like earlier. She then covers it with her spit before lining it up towards Xinyu’s rear entrance. “Watch us, daddy.” You nod as you start stroking your cock mindlessly at the sight of these crazy lesbians.

Xinyu lets out a gasp when the tip of the rubber cock hits her asshole. “Please be gentle, mommy.” Sohyun simply nods, which isn’t very assuring, and moves her hips forwards, negotiating (or perhaps forcing) her way into Xinyu’s rear. “FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! MOMMY!” Xinyu’s screams are concerningly loud, and you sincerely pray that no one will file a noise complaint against you.

“Fuck, there we go, baby,” Sohyun’s strap-on is in Xinyu’s ass all the way, “you’re completely mine now, aren’t you?” “Y-yes, mommy,” her voice is partially absorbed by the pillow that her face is pressed against. Sohyun pulls Xinyu’s hips backwards until they’re up in the air. “I’ll start fucking you, baby.”

True to her words, Sohyun begins fucking her girlfriend’s virgin ass with reckless abandon, not giving a piss about how she’s screaming from the top of her lungs, straining her vocal cords like never before. “Fuck, this is crazy,” you mindlessly utter while still busy stroking yourself. Sohyun is slapping Xinyu’s ass as she goes too, adding more craziness to this whole thing. “Fuck, if only I could feel how tight you are, baby,” Sohyun comments. “But you’re a virgin here, so you must be very tight.”

Not too long after the first penetration, Xinyu announces with a yell that “her pussy is cumming” (odd phrasing, isn’t it), and true enough, juice begins spraying out of her pussy, splashing all over the bed and even the floor. Sohyun, thinking that her job is done, retreats from the forbidden hole, leaving it gaped and winking. Sohyun mounts her girlfriend’s butt and starts pecking the back of her head endlessly, expressing her gratefulness and adoration. “I love you, baby—I love you so, so, so much.” “I-I love you too, mommy,” Xinyu replies feebly.

You notice that you’re leaking precum from your tip, and because you don’t want to actually bust, you stop stroking your cock. “Do you girls need anything? Water, or towel, maybe?” “Water, lot of it; Xinyu needs it,” Sohyun says. You jog out of the bedroom and grab some bottled water for the ladies. “Here, here—have a sip.” Sohyun drinks half in mere seconds before passing it on to Xinyu, who finishes the rest.

Tomorrow is Saturday, and because no one has any classes, Sohyun and Xinyu decide to stay the night at your apartment.

“Good night, girls—I’ll be on the sofa if you need me.”

You crash onto the sofa, only now realizing how drained you are. It doesn’t seem like your day is ending just yet, though, as Sohyun is walking out of the bedroom to join you in the living room, taking her spot on your lap. “Yes, sweetie?” “Thank you, babe,” she says, “you helped a lot today.” You smile amidst the exhaustion. “I don’t want to take too much credit, but you’re welcome; I’m happy for the two of you.”

Sohyun comes in for a hug and quickly lets out a sigh. “I love you, and I love her,” she piles on. “I’m still not falling for a guy, though.” You chuckle. “I mean, it’s not like you have to.” She gives you a peck on the cheek. “Can’t believe I fucked Xinyu in the ass.” “Oh, believe me, it was a crazy fucking sight to watch—you had me wondering if you would’ve given me a turn.” Sohyun looks at you right in the eyes. “We have all day tomorrow, don’t we?” You nod, partially hopeful about continuing the fun tomorrow. “What do you have in mind?”

“Maybe I’ll let you fuck Xinyu in the ass tomorrow, and maybe, I’ll let you fuck me in the ass too.”

“Miss Park, you are one crazy lesbian.”

“You know it, and now you love me for it.”

#girl group smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #male reader #male reader smut #smut #triples smut

397 notes · View notes

radioactive-mouse · 1 year ago

Text

i keep thinking about like. how the brutality levels vary between seasons and how secret life is the natural culmination of everything these people have been through and the watchers pushing everything to extremes. i’m going to try to articulate how crazy this makes me

3rd Life: god. 3rd life was a clear cut war. we haven’t seen a season since where nearly everyone has such an intense devotion to their chosen faction. the fact that there’s no precedent that they’re coming back next season, the fact that as far as they know, dying means staying dead, makes just how much they’re willing to go down with the ship that much more heartbreaking. grian ended the season exactly how it was played by damn near everyone else— i love you, i would do anything for you, i would rather die than keep going without you. the season of widows.

Last Life: and then they come back. and then ending things isn’t an option. and all of a sudden it’s not a war, it’s a death match, and damn is the competition is vicious. deaths are more often than not a vague, impersonal thing— not get away from my king, my husband, my charge— just the flash of a knife and a quick sorry, just playing the game! if 3rd life told you to hold the ones you love close, defend them to your last breath, last life urges you to burn that love out of your chest entirely.

Double Life: but everything slows down eventually. no more dying for the one you love— just learning to live with them. double life is about knowing that when you die, you will go together, hand and hand into the dark. a soap opera, the players joke. a small kindness, the universe replies. again, pearl wins the same way everyone else lost— no, not yet, please, just give us a little longer together, i’m not ready, i’m so sorry—

Limited Life: but the clock, unyielding, ticks ever onward. and god, everyone is starting to feel it. that sick, nauseating feeling of dread creeping up on them: what if it never ends? what if this is it, this is all that’s left for us— tearing each other apart over and over and over again, and for what? for a show? to feed those hungry things lurking in the dark? we’ll give them a show. bombs rain from the sky, the world shaking under the weight of it. there isn’t a thing left by the end that’s not rubble. we’re all doomed! the players cry, laughing with nothing but nihilistic, unrestrained joy. none of it matters! we come back again, and again, and again, have a little fun with it! light the fuse, collateral be damned. when death means so little, what’s the point in pretending they don’t take a little joy in it? we settle this like grian and scar before us, scott jokes, armor and weapons tossed to the side. are you insane? martyn thinks, remembering the hollow look that would wash over grian’s face when he thought no one was watching. it ruined him. it will not ruin me. this is a death match for a reason.

Secret Life: and here it is. the natural conclusion. this season is candy colored, the map dotted with cute pink houses and silly builds, the players all running around doing these ridiculous tasks. it’s so easy to forget how bloody this season was. unclosing wounds, bruises that don’t fade, the sting of fire or falling from a simple misstep. the hurt never goes away, but it gets easier to ignore— distract yourself with something silly to pass the time: spyglasses and frogs and the ugliest house you’ve ever seen and matching leather jackets and the doghouse and the relationSHIP and a weird tunnel full of doors and secret soulmates and god it’s almost, almost, enough to forget how much it all aches, how much the grief weighs on you, how many times someone you love has died, sometimes to your own blade. almost none of the grudges you hold are real by now, not really. not when you’re going to live and die with these people for as long as the hungry, many-eyed things delight in your suffering. you love each other, in the strangest way— sure you’ve all killed and betrayed each other in a thousand different ways, but at the end of the day, they’re all you have. clinging to each other in the face of the vast, unknowable horrors that drive you to slash each other to pieces. it’s still a game, after all. they’ve gotta figure out how to be good sports about it eventually.

#I DONT KNOW IF I SUCCEEDED IN ARTICULATING WHAT IM TRYING TO SAY BUT GOD #it kills me how as the brutality goes up in each series so does the sillyness factor #god #trafficblr #3rd life #last life #double life #limited life #secret life #eyesandears #<— tagging it cause it kinda alludes to martyns watcher stuff yk yk #god how else do i tag this #gonna tag the winners i mentioned and call it a day #grian #inthelittlewood #pearlescentmoon #mouse.txt

1K notes · View notes

itoshhi · 1 month ago

Text

𝜗𝜚 karasu tabito | friends with benefits

❕smut mdni, humiliating, rough sex.

do you remember the rules for FWB?

be quiet. don’t tell anyone about what you did or what happened.

what were you thinking when you went to the place where your close friends and the friend you only fucked for pleasure were? didn’t you guess that on your way to your friend otoya’s house, another friend of yours would make you cry with pleasure in a room?

"nngh! k-karas-" your eyes rolled back as his long fingers closed over your mouth, your hands holding on to something hard. one of your friend karasu’s hands was holding your waist and your hips while the other was busy covering your mouth. "do you wanna tell our only friends how i fucked you, honey? do you really want this?"

your phone screen lit up with the colors of your wallpaper as you tried to shake your head from side to side with difficulty due to the grip of his hand. one of your friends waiting for you downstairs.

➤ hiori

y/n babe where are you dude…

yuki has warned otoya at least FIFTY TIMES not to go upstairs and otoya can’t stand still like he has a worm up his ass

whatever, get our friend and yourself here as soon as possible.

“babe, huh?” karasu almost laughed as he fucked you right behind you. “they’re curious about us…” damn it your vision was blurry because of the fucking tears that were gathering under your eyes right now, you didn’t even know what he was talking about or who was texting you.

“they don’t know how i fuck you, do they?” you held onto the drawer he was leaning against as he sped up even faster. “do they know how i destroy you when it’s just the two of us between in fucking walls, y/n?” he was hard, fast and lustful. there was no lovely emotion, you were just driving each other crazy for pleasure. “tell me, answer my question. do they know how well i fuck you, honey?”

you let out a small scream against his hands as you were spanked on your ass. he pulled his fingers back a little, making it easier for you to breathe, as he waited for an answer to his question. you shook your head quickly, “n-no! fffuck, ah! no! they don’t know, oh my…” what were you saying? is that a game of saying the first word that comes to mind? my god…

“atta girl.” he knew exactly how stupid he was making you and how desperate that tight pussy of yours was for his cock. “i’ve complete control of your body right now, that pussy shaking is thanks to me, don’t i?” his fucking ego was only turning you on. his hand was covering your mouth again to muffle your moans as he sped up his movements behind you. he knew you were close.

“gonna cum? am i making you that dumb?” his hand on your waist moved down to your clit. you could die of pleasure as he sent new vibrations of pleasure in circular motions. “m-mmph!” “oh, you’re right.” he was mocking you with the knowledge that he was making you crazy, just like always, fucking bastard…

a wave of pleasure was starting to take over your entire body as all your folds vibrated. his pressure on your clit increased as you continued to make obscene noises against his mouth. his hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat and damn if you could see him right now you would cum even in this state. his grip on you never loosened as he leaned forward slightly and placed a wet kiss under your ear. “c’mon then, be a good girl and show your best friend all you can do.”

oh, wait.

➤ otoya

LMAAAOOOOOOOOO IS THIS REAL

IF YOU ARE ACTUALLY FUCKING IN MY ROOM I WILL BURN MYSELF LAUGHING

fuck.

#bllk x reader #blue lock smut #blue lock #bllk smut #tabito karasu x reader #karasu smut #bllk karasu #karasu tabito #karasu x reader #karasu tabito smut #blue lock karasu #blue lock headcannons #smut #fwb #i need a fwb #fwb to lovers

388 notes · View notes

keepingitformyself · 4 months ago

Text

good men die too (so i’d rather be with you)

A/N: first natalie fic. needed to get this off my chest. crush by ethel cain on repeat as i wrote this.

SYNOPSIS: natalie scatorccio isn’t the kind of girl you bring home to your parents. and she’s not the kind of girl you’d think to spend forever with. she’s reckless, dangerous, and rough. but that doesn’t stop you from wanting her all the same.

pairings: natalie scatorccio x reader

genre: no crash AU

warnings: suggestive themes, blood, bruises

MASTERLIST

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

it’s no surprise to anyone when natalie scatorccio comes strolling into soccer practice twenty minutes late. long after coach martinez has just finished a speech on the importance of time management.

her leather jacket slung over her jersey clad body gives you just the faintest scent of marlboro reds clinging to her clothes. she wears a smirk as she approaches the rest of the girls on the field.

coach martinez merely rolls his eyes at her presence. he decides to barely batt an eye anymore. what was the point? natalie was good. maybe not the best, but good enough to get away with her shit.

you weren’t really close to her like the others were. not like misty, who hung on her every word, or shauna, who tried (and failed) to keep her in check. you weren’t even like lottie, who seemed to understand her in a way that made no sense. no, you and natalie were something different.

you didn’t talk much, but when you did, it was charged. every snarky comment or off-hand joke felt like it was said to imply something neither of you wanted to admit. like a game neither of you were willing to lose.

the first time you really noticed it was after a game. the team was celebrating a win at some rundown diner. cramming into booths that barely fit you all. natalie sat across from you, her fingers wrapped around a coke bottle, condensation dripping from the glass.

her eyes met yours, and she smirked like she knew something you didn’t.

“you’re staring.” she drawled, bringing the bottle to her lips.

“you wish.”

she laughed, low and throaty, before leaning in. “i know.”

that was how it always went. a flicker of something in a hallway, a touch too long passing water bottles at practice, her voice too close to your ear when she made some off-hand comment that sent heat pooling in your stomach. and every time, you refused to acknowledge it.

because natalie scatorccio was trouble. and you didn’t do trouble.

but damn if you weren’t drawn to her anyway.

it was easier to act like she didn’t get under your skin. to roll your eyes, to scoff, to push her buttons just to see if she’d push back. you’d rather drive her crazy, make her hate you, than admit what you actually wanted. becuase if you admitted it, it would be real. and real meant dangerous.

real meant natalie had the power to ruin you.

so you kept playing the game. kept up the act. and natalie…she played right into it.

even with the others around, you found ways to test the limits.

at parties, when she was sprawled on a couch with some guy draping an arm over her shoulder, you’d pass by and let your fingers brush against hers for half a second too long. just long enough to make her glance up at you through her lashes, lips quirking like she knew exactly what you were doing.

in the locker room, when the team was too busy talking about the next game, you’d let your knee knock into hers while tying your sneakers. she never moved away.

one night, the team had gathered at jackie’s house for a movie night, a tangled mess of limbs and blankets on the floor.

you ended up beside natalie, bodies pressed together in the dark. her hand rested on her stomach, dangerously close to yours.

you could feel the warmth radiating from her skin, but neither of you moved. not when she exhaled slowly, not when her pinky brushed yours so lightly it could’ve been an accident. you weren’t sure if you imagined it, but you swore you felt her shift just a little closer.

then there was the time in the school hallway. the team was heading to the cafeteria together, but natalie had stopped by her locker. you weren’t supposed to wait for her, weren’t supposed to lean against the metal beside her as she rummaged through her bag, weren’t supposed to mutter,

“hurry up, scatorccio,” in a tone only she would catch. she smirked at you then, slow and knowing, before tucking a pack of cigarettes into her jacket.

“gotta problem with me taking my time?” she murmured, just quiet enough that no one else heard.

you scoffed. “i’ve got a problem with you wasting mine.”

she grinned. “right.”

one friday night, after practice, you found her in the parking lot, perched on the hood of her dad’s beat-up mercury, cigarette balanced between her fingers. the night was cool, and the parking lot was empty save for the two of you.

“you need a ride?” she asked, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

“i’m good.”

“you sure? wouldn’t want you walking home all alone. bad things happen to good girls.”

“i never said i was good.”

her smirk widened, something dark flashing behind her eyes. “no, i guess you didn’t.”

you should’ve walked away. should’ve ignored the way her gaze lingered, how the glow of her cigarette lit up her face in a way that made your breath hitch. but instead, you stepped closer. just a fraction. just enough.

natalie tapped her cigarette, ashes scattering to the pavement. “you ever gonna admit you want me?”

you scoffed, crossing your arms. “your window’s already passed.”

she laughed, full and unbothered. “bullshit.”

you didn’t answer. you didn’t need to. she could read your mind just fine.

and that pissed you off.

because you hated it. the way she could see right through you. the way she knew you wanted her even when you wouldn’t admit it to yourself.

it made you want to punch her, just to get rid of the feeling clawing up your throat. you wanted to see her lip split open, watch her wipe the blood away with that smug little smirk because then at least you wouldn’t have to think about how badly you wanted to kiss her instead.

then, one night, she cornered you outside a party, the bass from inside thrumming through your ribs. her lip was split, a bruise already blooming high on her cheekbone, and she looked at you like she had all the answers.

“i owe you a black eye and two kisses,” she murmured, voice laced with amusement. “tell me when you wanna come get ‘em.”

your stomach tightened, heat crawling up your spine. natalie licked at the blood on her lip, watching you like she was waiting for you to call her bluff.

but this time, you didn’t want to call it.

you swallowed hard, fists clenching at your sides. “you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

natalie tilted her head, stepping into your space, forcing you to meet her gaze. “i know exactly what I’m asking for. and so do you.”

the words settled between you, heavy and inescapable. you wanted to fight her. you wanted to push her away. but more than that, you wanted her to keep going. to ruin you the way you knew only she could.

“say it,” she pressed, voice low, eyes dark. “say you want me.”

your breath hitched. “i—”

“i want you,” she said first, cutting you off. the game, finally over.

and just like that, the bottom dropped out from under you.

you would’ve walked away. but every inch of your body screamed for you to stay. you could feel the weight of her presence as if she was a magnet, pulling you closer, her eyes locked on you like she was reading your every thought.

“i’m not the type of girl who plays by the rules,” she said quietly, voice dripping with something between challenge and promise.

“and i'm not the type who gets caught up in trouble,” you shot back, but it sounded like a lie. you both knew it.

her lips curled into a knowing smile, eyes glinting with mischief. “yeah? that’s funny, because every time i look at you, you seem like you're trying to talk yourself out of something.”

you crossed your arms, shifting your weight to one foot, trying to steady your pulse, but her words hit you harder than you expected. you could feel her eyes on you, following every move, reading the way your body tightened when she came closer.

“trying to act all tough, but you’re standing here, aren't you?” she continued, her tone light but pointed. “guess that makes you just as bad as me.”

your heart skipped, the sting of her words digging into you. “don’t flatter yourself. i’m not playing your game.”

she took a step forward, and you couldn’t help but move back a fraction, but only because you didn’t want her to see how badly she was getting to you. “you’re already in it,” she said, voice dropping lower. "you think i don’t notice the way you look at me?"

your breath hitched, and you scoffed, doing everything you could to keep the distance. "i don't look at you."

natalie cocked her head, eyes narrowing in playful challenge. “really? ‘cause i could’ve sworn i saw you staring when i walked into practice today. or maybe it was when i grabbed that water bottle from you after the scrimage. funny how you can't keep your eyes off me, huh?”

you swallowed, fighting the flush rising in your chest. “you’re imagining things.”

“i’m not,” she said, voice dripping with confidence as she moved even closer. her scent, a mix of smoke and something sharp, intoxicating, wrapped around you. "i know you want to fight it. but you’re not fooling anyone. least of all me.”

“i’m not some fucking game,” you muttered, voice sharp, but shaky. you couldn’t keep the edge from your tone, couldn’t keep the uncertainty out of your voice.

“you’re already in it,” she repeated, her tone quiet but unwavering. “so why don’t you stop pretending? stop pretending you’re not already caught up in me. you don’t get to walk away anymore.”

her voice was so close now, you could feel the heat from her breath brushing against your skin, and every nerve in your body screamed for you to back away, but your feet stayed rooted. your heart thudded, each beat pulling you closer to her than you wanted to be.

“i’m not some... i’m not the type of girl who...” you started, but your words were getting tangled in the mess of thoughts she was creating in your head. you were losing control, and the worst part? you didn’t want it back.

“not the type of girl who what?” she murmured, leaning in just enough to make you feel every word. “who gets what she wants?”

you opened your mouth to say something, anything, but you couldn’t. the words were gone, smothered by the feeling of her closeness, the way she was looking at you, waiting for you to break.

“you’re just a little scared,” she whispered, a teasing lilt in her voice. “scared of what’s underneath all this. scared of what’ll happen if you let yourself want it.”

Your pulse spiked. “stop it.”

“no,” she said, her smile widening. “you start it.”

you could feel the air around you both thickening, charged, and the space between you two felt like it was closing in, getting tighter, until you could barely breathe.

you could taste the words you weren’t saying, hanging in the air, unbearable. and in that moment, you hated her, hated how she could do this to you—make you feel like this.

but you couldn’t pull away. you couldn’t fight it.

and she knew it.

“tell me,” she pressed, voice low, dangerous. “what do you want, huh?”

it wasn’t a question anymore. it was a command. and in the space between, you realized she wasn’t asking for an answer.

she already had the one she wanted.

#natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader

292 notes · View notes

yvesssssssss · 2 months ago

Note

got an idea for a request 🫣

what about nagumo with a nonchalant gf? i want to see how he tries to catch her attention

Nagumo Yoichi & His Nonchalant Girlfriend

Nagumo Yoichi was used to attention. It came naturally to him—whether through charm, wit, or sheer ridiculousness, people always reacted. It was a game he enjoyed, an unspoken challenge to see how much he could make people fluster, laugh, or scowl.

And yet, somehow, you had remained completely unshaken since the day you met him.

Even after you became his girlfriend, you were still the same—unbothered, calm, and impossible to rattle. It drove him crazy.

Not that you didn’t care. He knew you did. You always waited for him when he was running late, let him steal your food without complaint (sometimes even giving him the last bite), and never minded when he draped himself over you in that lazy, clingy way of his.

But no matter what he did, you never really reacted.

So, naturally, he made it his mission to change that.

One afternoon, while you were sitting on the couch reading, Nagumo flopped dramatically onto your lap with a loud groan.

"Sweetheart, I think I’m dying."

You barely glanced up. "Mm. That’s unfortunate."

Nagumo peeked up at you, pouting. "That’s all you have to say?"

"You die like, three times a week," you said, turning a page. "I’ll start worrying when you actually stop moving."

Nagumo groaned louder, rolling onto his back so he could look up at you. "I feel so unloved right now."

"You’re literally lying on my lap," you pointed out.

"It’s not enough," he whined, grabbing your free hand and placing it over his heart. "I need affection."

You sighed but humored him, absentmindedly running your fingers through his hair.

Nagumo’s eyes fluttered shut immediately, a pleased hum leaving his lips. "Now this is love."

"You’re insufferable," you muttered, but your touch was soft, gentle.

Nagumo cracked one eye open, smirking. "And yet, you’re still here."

You didn’t reply, just continued stroking his hair, fingers grazing his scalp in a way that sent pleasant shivers down his spine.

Yeah. He definitely won this round.

But of course, that wasn’t enough for him.

One evening, as you were sitting beside him at a restaurant, quietly eating, he leaned in close—too close. His breath tickled your ear as he murmured, "You know, babe, I love when you get all cute and flustered."

You turned to him, completely unaffected. "That’s unfortunate for you, then."

Nagumo groaned, slumping against the table. "Why are you like this?"

You sipped your drink. "Born this way."

He pouted dramatically, then leaned closer again, resting his chin on your shoulder. "You know, normal couples kiss during dates."

"Mm." You took another bite of your food.

Nagumo stared at you, waiting, but you didn’t give in. With a huff, he finally pulled back, shaking his head. "Unbelievable. I should’ve picked someone easier to tease."

You smirked slightly. "But you didn’t."

Nagumo paused, then slowly grinned. "Oh? Is that you admitting I’m irresistible?"

"Sure," you said flatly.

His grin faltered. "Wait, that wasn’t satisfying at all."

You turned to him then, leaned in just slightly, your breath warm against his cheek. For the first time that night, Nagumo actually tensed.

"You talk too much," you murmured before pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to the corner of his lips.

It was barely anything, just a simple brush of warmth—but it was unexpected. And for once, Nagumo was the one caught off guard.

When you pulled away, there was the faintest trace of amusement in your eyes. "You good?"

Nagumo just blinked at you. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face.

"Oh, sweetheart," he drawled, resting his forehead against yours. "You do love me."

You hummed, neither confirming nor denying it. But your fingers tangled with his under the table, squeezing lightly.

Nagumo Yoichi may have been a man who lived for reactions—but when it came to you, he realized something.

It wasn’t about making you react.

It was about waiting for the moments when you chose to.

#sakadays #sakamoto days x reader #sakamoto days #nagumo yoichi #nagumo x reader #nagumo yoichi x reader #sakamoto days nagumo

219 notes · View notes

drabblesandsnippets · 10 months ago

Text

Sunshine - Part 2

Hot Bucky Summer 2024 - Week 6

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky x Plus-size female character (nickname is Sunshine)

Prompt: “I won’t be able to stop myself.” | [Sex Pollen | Gone Feral | Fuck or Die] @buckybarnesevents

Summary: (5k) Series Masterlist After a night out with Bucky’s friends, things will never be the same.

Warnings: 18+ Only. Slow burn. Grumpy/Sunshine trope. Happy Bucky (is that a warning?) - he's a photographer in this AU. Mention of insecurities and anxiety (she's a bit of a mess, okay?). Use of weed. Use of alcohol. Questionable drunk thoughts & decisions. Masturbation.

---------------------------

Bucky can’t stop.

Whether he’s awake or asleep, she’s there, occupying his thoughts.

When he’s out with his friends, he imagines her there, getting to see her laugh and have a good time.

When he’s working, he thinks about what it’d be like to take her picture. To pose her. To touch her. To boost her confidence.

And when he’s asleep, he dreams of her, waking up harder than he’s ever been in his entire life.

It won’t stop, no matter what he does.

It’s even gotten to the point where Bucky’s considered telling her to start looking for another roommate, to offer to help her find someone. But, she’ll ask why, and he can’t lie to her.

He’d have to tell her that he can’t stop thinking about her. That he can’t stop fantasizing about her. That he can’t stop picturing himself sneaking into the bathroom late at night to listen through the thin wall, hoping to catch the sounds she makes when she touches herself.

His confession would not only make her uncomfortable, but she’d never forgive him, and rightfully so. He’d just be another person in her life that ended up hurting her. So he selfishly does nothing, other than continue to allow himself to indulge in the fantasies, keeping it strictly to when she’s not home, or after she’s already gone to her room.

When they are together, he forces himself to keep his thoughts strictly PG-13, never risking giving her a reason to think he wants more than a friendship. Bucky doesn’t know as much about her as he’d like, but her avoidance of physical touch and vague answers about past relationships gives him no reason to think she’d even be interested. It’s just not worth the risk.

All he can hope is that eventually his feelings will fade, and until then he’ll continue on as normal. Inviting her out, hoping she says yes, while secretly starting to feel grateful that he’s been able to keep the two parts of his life separate. It’s been easier that way.

And then Steve opens his big fucking mouth.

He wasn’t even supposed to be here for at least another hour, but here he stands in their kitchen, drinking one of Bucky’s beers, laughing at something Sunshine’s saying. Trying to get her to change her mind after Bucky extended the invitation.

Of all the times for his friend to get involved, it has to be on the night they’re heading to a bar to check out some live music. A crowd of noisy drunk people is so far out of her comfort zone that Bucky can't help but jump to her rescue, telling her, “It’s okay. Maybe another night.”

For some reason that Bucky hasn't figured out yet, Steve won’t let it go, interjecting before Sunshine can respond. “It won’t be too crazy, I promise.” With a friendly smile and a lift of his beer, he adds, “And if it ends up not being your thing, any one of us will be happy to bring you home.”

It’s ridiculous to think that Steve is flirting with her, but the thought still crosses Bucky’s mind and it has his irritation growing, the sneaking feeling of jealousy threatening to build inside him. Resisting the urge to snap at his friend to be quiet, he keeps his attention on Sunshine, telling her, “You’re more than welcome to join us, but please don’t feel obligated because of this one.”

Her eyes bounce between the two men as she shifts uncomfortably and her cheeks flush, but she’s quick to shake her head. “It sounds like it could be fun… I’m just… um.” The anxiety building in her is palpable, causing Bucky’s concern to grow and his irritation at Steve to reach new levels. This is all his fault. Just as he opens his mouth to assure her, again, that there would be no hard feelings, she mumbles, “I’m not sure what to wear.”

The shy, awkward words cause Bucky’s chest to tighten and if he wasn’t worried about making this whole thing worse, he’d tell her exactly what he’s thinking. That it doesn’t matter what she wears because she always looks good. She could go dressed exactly as she is now - sweatpants and a worn t-shirt - and she’d still have his attention the whole night.

And then Steve beats him to it, the smile on his face conveying nothing but friendliness, but the words still get under Bucky’s skin. “You’ll look good no matter what you wear.”

Bucky wants to be the cause of the blush that spreads across Sunshine’s skin. He wants to be the reason she rolls her eyes and laughs at the compliment. And if it were him saying it, he’d make sure she believed it too. He wouldn’t let her leave this kitchen without knowing, without a doubt, that she’s always beautiful.

That's not an option though. He has to watch her dismissively shake her head as she takes her leave, and the moment she’s out of earshot, the tension in Bucky’s shoulders grows. With a hard glare aimed at his best friend, Bucky asks, “What the fuck was that about?” There’s not much that can rattle him these days, but if there’s anyone that knows how to push his buttons, it’s Steve.

Steve continues with the innocent act for a beat longer, making a show of taking a long, slow sip from his beer before he finally asks, “What? I can’t be nice to your roommate?” He’s immune to the subtle warning twitch of Bucky’s jaw, having spent years perfecting just how far he can take things without pissing Bucky off too much.

When it comes to Sunshine though, his fuse is much shorter, and whatever game Steve’s playing, Bucky needs it to end now.

“Enough.” Bucky pushes himself off the counter he’s been leaning on, forcing himself to head towards the fridge instead of getting in Steve’s face. “Leave her alone.” Even as he says it, Bucky knows this isn’t really about her. His best friend never does anything just to piss him off. There’s always a reason behind his provoking, usually one Bucky doesn’t like.

“She said she wanted to come. You want her to come. So, what’s the issue?” And there it is. Steve’s agenda. Involving himself in things that don’t concern him. Trying to goad Bucky into a conversation that he doesn’t want to have. One that he’s been skirting around for weeks.

Refusing to take the bait, Bucky rolls his eyes and ducks his head into the fridge to grab a beer. He’s tired of his friends using the excuse that they’re ‘looking out for him’ when they try to insert themselves into his love life (or lack thereof). He’s not putting up with it tonight.

“You had your fun,” Bucky tells him, keeping his tone even as he twists the cap off the cold bottle in his hand, making it clear he’s reached his limit. “You got your wish. No more games. Leave it alone.”

The only goal is to make sure Sunshine has a good time tonight.

-------------------

She doesn’t know what she’s doing.

One minute she’s making a ‘joke�� about celebrating her recent promotion with a night filled with weed, games, and social media, and the next she’s agreeing to go out to a bar with them.

She rarely goes out, and when she does it’s not to a crowded bar. It’s been a long time since she's even felt the desire, a brief stint in her early 20s spent anywhere but home having convinced her it wasn’t for her. A part of her life she barely remembers and one she definitely doesn’t want to revisit.

Shaking the flash of memories from her head, she lifts her hand to wipe the light sweat covering her upper lip and keeps digging through her closet, searching for whatever will feel the most comfortable. Pajamas. At home. Alone. (Or maybe just with Bucky).

She rolls her eyes at the thought and narrows her selections down to a few shirts, a couple of which she hasn’t worn in months, and the one pair of jeans that doesn’t dig into her stomach every time she sits down. Despite Steve’s friendly encouragement, she’s nervous, studying her reflection in the mirror as she tries on each shirt, growing sweatier with each change.

None of them feel right. They’re either too tight, too big, or show off too much cleavage. This is her first time hanging out with Bucky’s friends and she doesn’t want to choose the wrong thing. She wants to blend in, draw the least amount of attention.

Several outfit changes later, she’s in a simple v-neck t-shirt, brushing her hair out of her reddened face, pulling the damp strands into a quick bun. The desire to wear her hair down was quickly overruled by her desire to not overheat and look like a mess tonight.

It takes her a few minutes of sitting on her bed to cool off, trying her best not to look like she just ran a marathon, but as nervous and anxious as she is about tonight, she’s also excited. This has been a long time coming, and the edible she took a little while ago should help before they even get to the bar.

At least she’s stopped having inappropriate thoughts about Bucky. Well, for the most part anyway. She’ll still occasionally think about accidentally overhearing him in the shower, and she tries not to think about the really intense dream she had about him not that long ago, but it’s not everyday anymore so it’s easy to pretend it doesn’t exist.

And, hopefully, getting to see Bucky in his element tonight will put all this to rest. With any luck, she’ll get to watch him flirt with random women and finally learn what his type is. She assumes it’s the complete opposite of her. Someone bubbly and positive. Someone perky. Thin. Pretty.

-------------------

Sunshine’s not wearing anything Bucky hasn’t seen her in before, but he swears there’s something different. Maybe it’s the passing streetlights illuminating her beauty, or the smile that’s been on her face since they got in their shared ride, or maybe it’s the light breeze coming in through the cracked car window, the wind blowing wisps of hair along her temples.

Whatever it is, he’s having a hard time keeping his eyes off her, and an even harder time not letting his thoughts stray. The only saving grace is that Steve’s keeping her preoccupied from the front passenger seat, giving her all the gossip about their friends. How they all met. What everyone does for a living. The kind of shit they get up to when they hang out.

“One of these days, ya gotta get Buck to tell you about the time he convinced us to break into a private club to go swimming.”

Bucky doesn’t miss the way Sunshine’s eyes widen and her mouth opens in surprise, but he holds up his finger to correct Steve first. “Technically, it was ‘trespassing’ since I already had the key, and we wouldn’t have gotten caught if you hadn’t tripped the alarm on the way out. I told you exactly-.”

Steve is the first to interrupt him with a bark of a laugh, but before his best friend can start listing the useless defenses he has about that night, Sunshine speaks up, drawing both of their attention. “I’m sorry. You wanted to break into a private club?”

Bucky’s reminder of ‘trespass’ earns him a glare that he takes in stride, laughing it off. “I worked there. I was allowed to use the pool. Whether or not I was allowed to bring guests was a gray area.”

Steve jumps in to finish, telling her, “It was not a gray area. We almost got arrested.”

“We did not,” Bucky laughs, rolling his eyes at his best friend before turning his attention back to the woman that’s been driving him crazy. The look of slight amusement and bewilderment she’s giving has him clenching his hands in his lap, rubbing them along his jeans, wanting nothing more than to reach out and caress her cheek. To tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Not letting a second of silence fill the air, he explains, “There was no risk of getting arrested. I did get fired though.”

The nonchalant shrug Bucky gives her only adds to her state of confusion, and he can’t help but think how cute she looks, with her slightly furrowed brow and the crinkle along the bridge of her nose. Hiding the grin growing on his face, he glances out the window, taking note of how close they are to their destination.

Probably thinking he’s doing him a favor, Steve’s more than happy to keep the conversation going, telling Sunshine, “Don’t let his sunny disposition fool you.” The subtle warning look that Bucky shoots him, a silent reminder of their earlier conversation, has Steve quickly adding, “He’s the greatest guy I’ve ever known, don’t get me wrong, but he’s about as innocent as -.”

“Nope,” Bucky interrupts him with a loud laugh, reaching forward to grab Steve’s shoulder, refusing to let him finish that thought. Steve laughs with him, but keeps his promise, letting the subject drop, turning back around in his seat for the last remaining seconds of their trip, much to the happiness of their driver.

This is the first time Sunshine’s learning there’s more to him than meets the eye, and as she grows quiet, Bucky can only imagine what she’s thinking. Until now, she’s been limited to witnessing the sweet, happy, enthusiastic side of him, leaving her with the assumption that he’s a Boy Scout - a goody two-shoes.

He’s far from it, and as much apprehension as he has about how she'll react to getting know this side of him, there's also a jolt of excitement that he can't ignore. Maybe this will make their friendship even better.

-------------------

This is what she wanted. To get to know Bucky better, to see what he’s like out in the world, with his friends, with other people. But, she feels caught off guard. Like, none of her conversations with Bucky, or the interactions she’s witnessed between him and his friends prepared her for this.

The whole time that he’s been trying to get her to come out of her shell, he’s been hiding parts of himself. He’s been careful with her, never crossing a line, probably choosing his words carefully. There’s no doubt that Bucky’s been doing it for her benefit, but now it all feels like a lie. Like he hasn’t been able to be himself with her, and it hurts her feelings.

Whatever foolish expectations she had for the evening have flown out the window, and she’s more than grateful when the car pulls to a stop, the three of them spilling out onto the busy sidewalk. Fighting the urge to get right back in the car to take herself home, she follows the men into the bar, doing her best to avoid Bucky’s gaze.

He’s probably worried about her. Probably thinking she’s in over her head, that she’s realizing she made a mistake coming tonight. He’s probably thinking I told you so. That she’s not cut out for this - the bar, his friends, him.

The racing thoughts leave her just as quickly as they come, Steve getting her attention as he takes the lead to wind them through the crowd, Bucky in step right next to her. “I’m glad you decided to come tonight.” When all she manages is a slightly-forced smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes, Steve adds, “After everything Bucky’s told us about you, we’ve been looking forward to this.”

She steals a quick glance at Bucky, not at all surprised to find him already looking at her. He’s been watching her since she agreed to come tonight, like it’s his job to make sure she doesn’t get overwhelmed, like he’s expecting her to have a nervous breakdown at any moment. The smile he gives her only seems to prove her point, and it doesn’t help when all he innocently asks is, “What? You don’t talk to your friends about me?”

Of course she does, but it does nothing to quiet her concerns about what he’s told his friends about her. Are they expecting her to be an anxious mess? That she’s going to suddenly bolt in the middle of a conversation? What exactly-. She’s interrupted by Steve again, who’s looking at his phone.

“Buck, Nat found a table, and Yelena already disappeared.” He says it with a laugh, as if it’s a normal occurrence, not waiting for a response from Bucky before he says, “Why don’t you go help her keep our spot. We’ll get the drinks.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Bucky open his mouth, and they all know what’s about to come out. The offer to switch places, have Steve go sit at the table while she and Bucky get the drinks. And for a split second, she wants him to. It would be so much easier.

But, how is she supposed to prove that she can handle this? That she’s perfectly capable of having a good time if she can’t even be alone with Bucky’s best friend for a few minutes? Both her and Steve answer at the same time - Steve telling him that they can manage a few drink orders, while she says it’s a good idea.

Obviously seeing that this isn’t a fight he’s going to win, and not wanting to risk losing their table, Bucky takes his leave, but not without giving them both one last look. At some point tonight, she and Bucky are going to have to hash this out, but not until she’s had a few drinks.

Keeping close to Steve, she follows him the rest of the way to the bar, not missing how he occasionally glances back to make sure she’s still there. She might feel like she doesn’t know Bucky as well as she thought, but there’s not a doubt in her mind that she’s safe with his friends. She has no reason to be worried about being alone with any one of them.

Well, other than for the fact that she has no idea what Bucky’s told them, or how they're going to treat her tonight. Maybe that’s why Steve wanted a minute alone with her. To tell her all the ways they’re going to help her, to make sure she doesn’t freak out or get overwhelmed. It wouldn’t be the first time a stranger’s given her unsolicited advice.

As if reading her mind, Steve sets her at ease, casually telling her, “He’s had nothing but great things to say about you.” With a raise of his arm, he gets the attention of the bartender to place their orders before turning his gaze back to her, the smile never leaving his face. His hand is still raised between them and he starts ticking things off on his fingers, recounting, “You’re the best roommate. You have great taste in music. And books. And movies.” With four of his digits raised, he lifts his thumb to add, “You’re hilarious. Should I keep going?”

She quickly shakes her head, a laugh bubbling out of her as her skin grows warm. These are all things Bucky’s told her, it’s just strange to hear them from his best friend, who she barely knows. With the effects of the edible having started to kick in a couple minutes ago, she feels comfortable enough to joke, “Is this the part where I’m supposed to list all the great things about Bucky?”

“God no,” Steve immediately tells her with a playful roll of his eyes and a grin that she’s sure has gotten him out of many a things in life. “I have to hear how great that man is all the time. I’d rather drink.” There’s no malice in his tone, no hint of resentment or frustration - this is just their relationship. They love each other and they give each other shit. Like brothers. Like family.

Ignoring the ache in her chest at the thought of family, she lets Steve talk her into doing a couple of the shots lined up on the bar for them. Not that it takes much convincing. There were never any plans to get through tonight even remotely sober.

-------------------

They all know. All of Bucky’s friends know that he has feelings for her, but they think it’s just a crush, like he’s in fucking high school. They have no idea that he can’t stop thinking about her, that it’s bordering on obsession. Not even Steve knows the extent of it.

And tonight, they’re all too drunk to notice he’s been watching her, not out of concern for her mental well-being, but because she’s mesmerizing. Because Sunshine’s doing exactly what he’s been dreaming about for weeks - laughing and dancing and looking like she belongs right here. With his friends. With him.

The alcohol flowing through him makes it difficult to focus, and before he realizes it, Sunshine catches him in the act. Her attention had just been bouncing between joking with Nat and Sam, and watching the band currently playing, the music keeping most of the patrons on their feet. And now she’s staring right at him, as if she can read his mind.

For a moment, he actually believes it, her brow slightly furrowing as she makes her way around the side of the table, reaching out to steady herself along the back of a chair.

He has to fight the urge to help her, keeping his hands around his half-empty glass, the condensation wetting his fingers. After all the months of living together, all the conversations and late night Netflix marathons, he’s never touched her and now it’s all he can think about. It's the only thing on his mind, and she must be able to tell, because the look she’s giving him is telling him that he definitely fucked up.

Just as he opens his mouth to apologize, she asks, “Can we go outside?”

The only response he can muster is a quick nod of his head, and he silently follows her, his thoughts racing with what to tell her. How to explain himself. How to assure her that he’d never cross any lines.

By the time they’re outside, the light breeze cooling their warm skin, he still doesn’t know where to start. He doesn’t know how to fix this. All he can do is watch her, almost losing focus at her flushed skin and glassy eyes. Even drunk and stoned, she’s the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

“Are we friends?” The question blindsides him. Makes him stand there, stunned, confused, and silent. Trying to work out why she’s asking that, of all the things she could be asking right now. With a slight slur to her words, she continues, telling him, “I like dirty jokes and inappropriate humor. I like teasing my friends and giving them shit about stupid stuff. I’m not great at rule-breaking, but I wouldn’t lecture you about it.”

The hurt in her eyes betray the joking tone she’s keeping, clearly trying to make light of a situation that’s been bothering her all night - since she learned that he’s not the wholesome, straight-laced guy she assumed him to be.

So he did fuck up, just not in the way he thought.

“I never thought you would lecture me,” he promises her, keeping the shaking of his head to a minimum, his eyes quickly losing focus. He blinks the blurriness away and gives her a warm smile, shoving his hands in his pockets to resist the urge to comfort her with his touch. “I just never wanted to put you in a situation where you were uncomfortable, Sunshine. Especially in your own home.”

The quick peak of her tongue wetting her lips has his cock stirring in his jeans, and it takes all his self control not to keep his gaze on her mouth. To ignore the flash of need to kiss her, to feel her lips on his, to taste her. He’s so busy trying to pretend he’s listening to her that he just barely catches what she's saying.

“I'm more uncomfortable with your early morning singing and never-ending enthusiasm than I’d ever be with a dirty joke.”

Her response catches him off guard, and all he can do is laugh. All this time, he's been working so hard to reign in the parts of himself that might bother her, or make things awkward, and it was the complete opposite of what he should have been doing.

-------------------

She likes making him laugh. The crinkle of his eyes. The flash of his teeth. The slight shake of his head that has him lifting his hand to run it through his hair. She wants to feel it, to run her fingers through the soft strands. It’s the perfect length to grab hold of while-.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, laughter still pouring out of him. For the briefest of moments, she thinks she said it outloud, but quickly realizes what he means.

After tonight, things will be different between them, like they’ve given each other permission to really be themselves. And as they return to the rest of the group, she can’t stop thinking what it’s going to be like from now on. The kind of jokes he’ll make. The off-hand comments she won’t keep holding back. The teasing they’ll get up to.

All the inappropriate thoughts she’s been ignoring return ten-fold and she wonders if he’s a tease in bed. If he likes to drive his partner crazy. If he likes to be in control.

By the time the night is over, and they’re sharing a ride back home, she can’t stop stealing glances at him. Her eyes drifting to his mouth, wondering how he kisses. His five-o’clock shadow and what it would feel like between her thighs. His strong hands on her body.

That’s how she ends up in her bedroom, after a quick trip to the bathroom and a brief goodnight to Bucky - wishing like hell they had hugged, wanting the intoxicating smell of him to linger on her clothes and skin - she’s under her covers, naked and writhing at the touch of her own hand, her fingers teasing her nipples, the hand between her thighs ghosting over her swollen clit.

It’s easy to convince herself that because she has no idea what he’s really like in bed, this doesn’t count. This is just a fantasy that could be about anyone. Bucky’s just filling that role. He’s just a face for her to picture while she buries her fingers inside her dripping pussy, the palm of her hand pressed hard against her clit.

It gets harder to pretend as the pleasure builds and the fantasy becomes more intense, picturing him between her spread thighs, fucking her hard and fast, his growl of dirty words filling her head. And soon, she’s fantasizing about him hearing her - how he’d burst in and join her, bury his head between her thighs and fuck her with his tongue.

She’s not drunk enough to allow herself more than a couple seconds of unabashed noises, as if she’s really trying to tempt him, before she’s reigning it back. It’d never happen, but at least she has tonight. At least, for right now, she can pretend it’s him making her come, her hand quickly coming up to cover her mouth so she doesn’t scream his name.

-------------------

He shouldn’t be doing this. Bucky knows he shouldn’t be doing this, but he can’t stop himself. He blames it on the alcohol skewing his sense of integrity, but it’s a lie. He knows what he’s doing is wrong, and yet he stands here, barely breathing, his ear pressed to the thin wall that separates the bathroom from her bedroom.

Refusing to give in to the temptation to touch himself, he keeps his sweaty hands on the wall, his fingers tensing and flexing against the hard surface. He’s not sure he’ll be able to forgive himself for eavesdropping like this, but touching himself at the same time would be a step too far. The guilt would eat away at him until he was forced to move out without warning.

Bucky doesn’t know how long he stands there, his heart racing and his eyes closed, all his focus trained on what’s happening in her bedroom, until he finally starts to hear her. The barely audible gasps, the muffled moans, the occasional cut-off cry that has his cock straining against his jeans.

It’s better than anything he could’ve imagined and as wrong as this is, he can’t stop. Visions of what she’s doing plays through his mind, the possibilities of how she touches herself, what she’s fantasizing about, what’s causing the incredible noises spilling out of her.

And then the obvious signs of her getting closer suddenly has him sobering up. She’s drunk. Neither of them are in the right state of mind, and no matter how much he wants to stay right here to listen to her come, he hasn’t earned that right. He’ll never earn that right.

It still doesn’t stop him from ending the night the same way he’s ended every night for the past several weeks. This time, though, as he slowly strokes his cock, he doesn’t have to imagine what she sounds like. It’s all right there in his head, playing on a loop, working him quickly towards an intense orgasm, the sound of her name muffled as he covers his mouth with the palm of his hand.

There’s no doubt that he’ll regret this tomorrow, but as his cock stays hard in his grip, he can’t seem to care. It feels too good to stop, and it’s not long before he’s stroking himself again, his body aching for her touch. He’ll never have it, but that doesn’t mean he can’t live in this fantasy for just a few moments.

And if he’s lucky, he’ll forget all about this by the time morning comes.

---------------------------

Prev Part | Series Masterlist | Next Part

Hot Bucky Summer Masterlist

Main Masterlist

427 notes · View notes

jedi-enthusiasm-blog · 5 months ago

Text

Many people have taken one look at this and inmediately leaped to the conclusion that Jedi forbid emotions. Which is, huh… interesting.

What people don't realize is that the Jedi Order are a religious organization, and as such they have their own sacred texts, such as this meditation mantra (because yeah, that's the only time it's ever mentioned, during meditation).

And the trick about this kind of texts is that they're not meant to be taken literally. You're not supposed to take it at face value, you're supposed to think about it, reflect about it, and then interpretate it. I'm sure the average "fan" hasn't actually thought about it beyond "code bad Jedi evil", nevermind that it's not actually the Jedi Code mentioned in the films.

Since it's a meditation mantra, one used to focus to make connecting with the Force easier, it makes perfect sense that this is how you should feel when using the Force.

You shouldn't be overwhelmed with emotions or passions, you shouldn't act if you don't have knowledge. This is obvious: if you can command the essence of life, then maybe you should actually be in the state of mind to do it.

However, the other lines of "no chaos but harmony" and "no death but the Force" don't fit into this. So, what do they mean?

Here is the other version of the Code. It was seen for the first time in the Kanan comics, and is arguably more canon than the previous one.

(People have called it the Gray Jedi Code, which is hilarious in and on itself and another point in favor of the argument that the so called Gray Jedi are just canon Jedi.)

I'm sure everyone can agree that this one is good.

Feel, but find peace in your emotions. Know nothing, but figure it out. Suffer, but look past it to find serenity. Just like there is chaos, there is harmony. And just like there is death, there is the Force.

But what if I told you that both Codes are saying the same thing?

I know, I know. You probably think I'm crazy, but… what if they're saying the same things, in different ways?

To expand on the interpretation that the first one is how you should be when using the Force (and I admit with my whole chest that this is my interpretation), we can say that the Force isn't naturally things like emotion and chaos. They are only what we bring with us.

That doesn't make them any less real. They are, and they are important, but they are subjective experiences. Everyone will have different emotions, different passions, different things they are ignorant of. Even death, even as it will come for everyone, is something private and personal. I don't know what X person felt or thought when they died.

However, things like peace, harmony and the Force are universal.

Chaos (noun): "complete disorder and confusion." "the property of a complex system whose behaviour is so unpredictable as to appear random"

Dictionary definition, bear with me. "Whose behavior is so unpredictable as to appear random". It isn't random, it has patterns and reasons to happen just like everything else. We simply don't know those patterns. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Just because we don't know something doesn't mean we can't learn it. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. Therefore there is no such thing as chaos, not really, just a pattern, an order, a harmony, we don't know yet. First definition is about human reaction, not anything about the object itself. There is no chaos, there is harmony.

Emotion, ignorance, passion, chaos, even death. They are all feelings, subjective experiences, things that, ultimately, can change as you find new understanding (well, death only happens once and is permanent but you get the point). But inner peace, knowledge (about situations, about people's reactions), serenity and harmony are all universal. They exist, and will exist long after we die, we just have to find them.

And, long as we remember people, as we understand that all lives have left a mark, big or small, we will keep those who have passed alive within our hearts.

Death, yet the Force. There is no death, there is the Force. Or, perhaps…

"(The Force)'s an energy field created by all living things" Obi-Wan Kenobi, ANH

"Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter" Yoda, ESB

"No one's ever really gone" Luke Skywalker, TLJ

Death, yet the essence of living beings. There is no death, there is life.

#star wars #pro jedi #pro jedi order #pro jedi code #jedi meta #reflection #my ramblings #I try to guess the meaning of fictional religious texts and I'm agnostic #the funniest thing is that this interpretation makes sense #passion refers to its archaic meaning of suffering btw #jedi positivity #even if you don't agree it doesn't matter #philosophy is Like That #but understanding this was mindblowing for me #sorry if I don't make sense I just wanted to share my interpretation of the code #and I'm bad at articulating #nothing but love for the jedi #this is a pro jedi blog

230 notes · View notes

kisseobie · 1 year ago

Note

piwon if they prefer ass or tits😋😋

p1harmony on whether they prefer ass or tits

pairings: ot6 p1harmony x reader

warnings: nsfw obvi.. (mdni)

a/n: slowly but surely getting back into the writing grind.. also as a tit enthusiast.. this might be biased lol

𖧷 ₊ ° . keeho

goes without saying that he loves both, but i can’t shake the vision of him in my head where he has you atop his lap, fondling your ass as the pair of you lick at each others mouths.. i know yall saw that video of him at that club grabbing onto some girl’s ass.. yeah i think it’s pretty obvious what hill he’ll die on. doggystyle isn’t his go-to, but when he does have you bent on all fours, he loves to watch your ass meet his pelvis thrust for thrust. drives him insane and he might even transform into intak and become an ass-slapping addict.. who knows! def takes those couple photos with you where he has your ass facing the camera, hands perched on top of it like they were always meant to be there

𖧷 ₊ ° . theo

boobs! although i do think the part that riles him up the most is when you’re covered, aside from the cleavage from your low-cut top that he is very hyperaware of. loves loves loves when you two are in the heat of the moment and he gets the pleasure of unclasping your bra.. that first reveal of your tits unlocks something carnal in him every time without fail. possibly even a tit sucker when he’s feeling more lovey dovey! just loves your boobs no matter the size, and you catch on quite quick and purposely begin to wear tighter shirts that show more cleavage just to watch him struggle to contain himself. if he’s on tour and you send him a few titty pictures he’ll literally jizz in his pants

𖧷 ₊ ° . jiung

another boobie lover!! lowkey can’t imagine jiung being fixated on your ass when your tits are quite literally in his face. his favorite sight, however, is when you’re wearing one of his old t-shirts with no bra on.. the outline of your nipples against the fabric makes him crazy with lust. presses his chest up against you any chance he gets so he can feel the plush of your boobs squishing against his frame.. he’s a simple man.. doesn’t need you to dress up in lingerie (although he’ll certainly appreciate if you do!!), prefers the easier access when you’re braless anyways. probably has a stash of polaroids tucked in his bedside drawer of you, topless, with one of his hands fondling at the flesh… #jiung4boobs

𖧷 ₊ ° . intak

biggest ass lover in piwon sorry.. and he’s not ashamed of that fact either! purposely maneuvers you to where your ass is facing him, whether that entails him hitting it from the back or you riding him. he’s so obsessed with your ass it’s a bit ridiculous.. and the view of it bouncing on his dick, slick connecting the two of you even when you disconnect.. is enough to make him cum with a whimper. sits you on his lap no matter where yall are at, just so he can feel the pressure of your ass on his dick. like i mentioned earlier, intak is an avid ass slapper, even in a non sexual context. just a boy that loves loves loves ass!

𖧷 ₊ ° . soul

boobs 100%.. i mentioned this in another post once but i firmly believe that shota would wanna fuck and cum all over your tits, it’s so dirty but he can’t help his little perverted fantasy, not when you’ve worn the prettiest pastel lace bralette just for him!! when the two of you first became intimate, poor soulie was soooo shy to ask to touch them, to see them. now however, is a different story. fondles and gropes your boobs like they’re his own (they might as well be!). not a huge tit sucker but he does enjoy to paw at your nipples, is so fascinated with the way they perk up when given attention. once he’s seen them, he can’t live without them </3 gets off on his own to just the mere thought of staining them with his seed :(

𖧷 ₊ ° . jongseob

not to be annoying but i can honestly picture him loving both an equal amount. loves the way your jeans accentuate the shape of your ass, but he also can’t deny the effect that the jiggle of your boobs has on his boyish brain when you’re bouncing on top of his cock. doesn’t know where to put his hands when yall are fucking, which results in seob frantically grabbing at any part of you he can get. a big fan of how your shirt rises up at times to reveal your panty-covered ass, and is equally as big a fan of how his hands look placed atop of your tits. just a horny boy that can’t get enough of each and every part of you.. he’s indecisive but he doesn’t care :p

taglist: @woozixo @hearts4chanhee @kyokopi @astro-doll-the-star @soobiary @kyaaramello @t3ssamoodboard @angelcbf @idontknow-1s-world @vivienne-sim @elissasimp @imjustayapper @ihatewreckingballmains @sosaverse @seobing @www90kitsch @khfviq @barbiekh86t @bbyjjunie @taeyangi @fullsunstrawberry @jihnyah @intheemptymirror @watamotee33 @dreamer1299 @jixnnsie @wonootnoot @yukx-x047 @sundancearchives @chuuswifereal @seisyiss @fishsquishh @sunnyyangie

𖧷 ₊ ° .

522 notes · View notes

tremendouscreationperson · 8 months ago

Text

A few of you wanted a part three so here goes

Reader gets called Doll and Toots but other than that I think it's pretty GN

Part 1 Part 2

Ford - no Stan - had spun his tale. You weren't sure any of it could be possible. How was you supposed to believe that Ford was alive but not in this universe/realm/reality?

You sat in the lab he had brought you to - it was cold and dank, stark lights illuminated metal plates and cascaded up the walls to show off a large triangular 'portal'.

"Why'd you have to die?" You asked, eyes glued to the journal upon your knees.

For-Stan had been waiting for any questions, willing to provide you answers. "Seemed easier."

"And lying to me?" You flicked through the stained pages. "That was easy?"

"It wasn't." He told you honestly, just hearing his voice was crazy. You had believed he was dead for two years and he wasn't! He was here the whole time. "Gotta admit, I had you fooled."

The attempt at a joke was not humourous in the slightest. "This isn't normal behaviour."

Stanley didn't know what else to do. He hadn't thought you would ever realise, perhaps that was stupid on his part but he really thought he was able to coexist with you as Ford.

"So..." You took a deep breath. "Recap: this is Ford's journal and he wanted you to take it away and you both argued and he got sucked into that thing and now you're him and Stan is dead and you're trying to get him back?"

Stan nodded, twiddling his thumbs. "Yeah. It's been hard, I had to relearn math."

"Who else wrote in here?"

"Huh?"

You pointed at the page. "That's not Ford's handwriting. Although look, 'ford' signed it." A humourless chuckle escaped. "Who else is pretending to be your brother?"

Stan was at your side in an instant, looking over your shoulder. Being so close to him was maddening.

He was alive.

Your Stan was alive.

Yeah, maybe he was a fraud and there was weird space mumbo jumbo that you still don't entirely believe but he was alive.

Your face was turned towards him as he studied the page, his fingers grazing yours underneath the words. How did he look like him now?

You didn't see Ford in him at all.

The way he stood, his neutral expression, even his hair was different. Was Stanley.

"I didn't notice that." He spoke lowly due to the proximity.

"Is there anyone else in the town called Ford?"

Stan's gaze landed on you, his nose inches from yours and he opened his mouth to speak before closing it and just observing you. He really took you in.

Despite the lies you were still here. Still entertaining this. He really wished he had more to offer you but he didn't.

He was just him. He wasn't his brilliant brother or full of mysteries or answers. He was just Stan, a con artist who scammed people daily.

"I don't know." The words finally left his mouth and he quickly stood upright.

Rather than leaving tonight, you had stayed longer because of the news, calling in sick at work, how often could you say someone had come back from the dead?

The two of you ate half the pasta you made, sitting awkwardly opposite each other at the table.

He had been open and honest, answering all of your questions keenly and encouraging you to ask more. And you had to admit that was nice but the news still sat heavily on your shoulders.

Mostly because: FUCKING HELL THIS WAS CRAZY and a slither of: you had told FORD THAT YOU LOVED STANLEY AND BROUGHT HIM UP IN MANY CONVERSATIONS AND HE WAS THE ONE YOU WERE TALKING TO AND YOY WERE EMBARRASSED AS FUCK BUT YOU NEEDED TO HELP AND HDJAKSIEIES

"You, er.. you okay?" Stan toyed with a meatball.

"It's just a lot to process." That wasn't a lie. "I'll probably be like this for a few days."

He gave you a sincere smile, "take your time, do-"

Your eyes snapped up to his pink face. "Were you going to call me doll?" He nodded in affirmative, his ears reddening as well. You weren't sure why but you spared him with: "Hmm, better than toots."

"That was one time!" He insisted.

"That's all it took."

"I only said it to piss you off." He smirked cheekily, his face returning to its usual hue.

"It worked." Rolling your eyes as you giggled. You didn't hold any real malice, he was being cocky demonstrating his pick up moves and they did not work... Well they did but it was easier to pass off your hot face and wide eyes as anger rather than awe.

Stan laughed along with you, enjoying the sound. Loving how easy it was to just be himself. He didn't have to wear the gloves which made everything impossible, he didn't have to act stiff and drop big words into his 'lexicon', and he didn't have to lie. He could be himself.

He knows he doesn't deserve this, by God he knows that, but he would take all you'd willingly give; if that was just dinner before you drove away forever then he would take it and be thankful for the time.

"Want a beer?" He found himself asking.

You didn't reply straight away, ideas tumbling around your head. He loved watching your mind work. "Got anything stronger?"

Stan winked and disappeared to get the whiskey he'd stashed away.

And so the two of you found yourselves sitting on his 'balcony' (a little ledge, that you had to climb through a window to access, underneath the 'mystery shack' sign) forgoing glasses and passing the bottle between you.

"Must feel good to tell someone." Your words slurred as you laid on your spine, staring at the stars beyond the trees.

"It does." He took a sip. "Feel bad that it was you though."

You swivelled your neck to give him a confused face. He bellowed out a laugh. "Oit, don't laugh at me." Your socked toe jabbed his thigh.

Stan placed a hand over your foot, just holding it, forcing your hips to manoeuvre into a more comfortable position. You faced him as he watched the treeline. "Sorry to drag you into this."

"Sorry I didn't notice sooner." How didn't you? He was clearly Stan. There was nothing here that said Ford. "You're so obviously my Stan." You rolled your eyes and folded your arms in annoyance at yourself.

Stan's brows shot up and he turned to catch you grumbling at yourself. "Your Stan?"

Your eyebrows met and you scrunched your face in confusion again. "What?"

"You said 'my Stan'." His lips began to lift into the smuggest smirk as he leaned forward, entering your bubble. "I didn't realise I was your Stan."

"Shut up." You playfully pushed him away. "We're drunk, you don't know what you heard."

Stan didn't let up, instead he found your hand and intertwined your fingers. "I kinda like being someone's Stan." He spoke with a half shrug.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Was this a dream fueled by your longing and whiskey? "Well, you know how I feel because you were spying on me! Pretending to be Ford to hear what I had to say about you!"

"Hey, I told you Stan liked you too!" He defended.

"Do-" You paused. When did the two of you get so close? You were nose to nose. "Does Stan still feel that w-"

You weren't given a chance to finish the question because his lips were on yours. He kissed you slowly, one palm on your cheek as the other wound around your spine, pulling you in close. Your hands were pinned against his chest as you kissed him back enthusiastically.

Stan's slow kisses morphed into an intense make out session as he ran his tongue across your bottom lip and you gave him access. His hands exploring all over your body, squeezing and caressing your sides and chest causing your spine to curve.

The two of you were buzzing and the kiss was a little sloppy but it was perfect. You wouldn't want it any other way.

He finally allowed the two of you a breather, kissing his way down your neck, nipping and sucking the sensitive flesh. You squirmed again, back arching as a whispered moan tumbled from you.

That sobered him up, Stan raised his head from your neck, looking down at you and saw the needy look in your eyes. "Maybe we should wait 'til we're not blitzed."

The automatic frown you wore had him chuckling as you pulled his face back to yours, kissing him with as much vigour as you could muster.

Stan bit your bottom lip and his fingers settled on your thighs, how he managed to find himself in between them he didn't know but you pulled him closer with your legs and he had to pinch himself.

This was real.

All the shit he had done.

Every scam, every fraud, every crime, everything.

And you still looked at him with those eyes.

Fuck.

Maybe he loved you.

@aratheegreat @ngs991-2 @seahorrorz @misty-eyed-memory @50shadesofwinchesters @ryoiii @viceroywrites @atseoks @countlessimagines @aweleyirene @hesthermay @darlingdia1007 @piningforstan @emmygirl33 @imafangirlofeverything @daniel-meyer-03

I work in a DIY shop and this is what I had to look at for the majority of my shift 😂😭 he haunts me

#stan pines #stanley pines #stan pines x reader #stan pines x you #stanely pines #stanley pines x reader #stanley pines x you #gravity falls #grunkle stan

371 notes · View notes

vivwritescrappythings · 6 months ago

Text

crack me open, swallow me whole

alpha!joel miller x omega!f!reader

part 1

you go on one patrol without joel and a band of raiders finds you

tw: a/b/o/ dynamics, afab reader, fem reader, alpha joel, omega reader, violence, blood, kidnapping, angst, comfort, SMUT, knotting, claiming bites, p in v sex, creampie, unprotected sex, dubcon, not proofread

wc: 4.5k

masterlist

MDNI!

The smell of other alphas made you feel like you were choking. Their acrid scent soaked the cloth they had forced between your teeth as a gag, tied behind your head so tight that your cheeks were starting to ache. A blindfold was over your eyes, thin enough that you could see the sun shining in the room.

It was disorienting, you had never been reduced to only your hearing and smell. Your wrists were bound behind you, arms contorted painfully around the back of a chair.

You’d been slipping in and out of consciousness for a while now, not sure if days were passing or hours between each moment of wakefulness. It had been a while since you had stopped crying and trying to scream through the gag. There was no one to help you anyway, expending what little energy you had left was no use.

If you were honest with yourself, you probably were going to die there.

You sobbed when the clarity of your realization washed over you. You’d never see Joel again, or Ellie, or any of your friends back in Jackson. Hell, Joel wouldn’t even know what happened to you, just that you went on patrol without him once and you didn’t come back.

Joel.

He would surely blame himself.

It was hard enough for you and Tommy to convince him to switch partners for the week so Joel could help him clear out a group of infected getting a little too close to town. The agreement had been that you’d do a simple patrol of the wall with Jason, a beta. It was the only way Joel would agree.

You didn’t even know what happened to Jason, the butt of a gun slamming down on the back of your head had the world turning sideways as you fell to the grass. The way your blood trickled into your hair cemented itself in your memory.

Whatever happened to Jason, you hoped he didn’t suffer much.

Your head still throbbed like a heartbeat, somewhere in the recesses of your mind you wondered if you should be worried about having a concussion. A disembodied voice you couldn’t recognize reminded you to not sleep if you were concussed—but it was too late for that, you didn’t even know how long you’d been unconscious for.

It may have been better if you didn’t wake up again, easier that way.

“Hey, doll.” The voice made you flinch. You hadn’t even heard him come into the room. A hand brushed over your neck, cold fingers pressing against your scent gland until you whined into the gag.

He laughed cruelly as you tried to tilt your head away, the chair creaking as you struggled against your bonds. The rusty smell of blood filled your nose as he stood close. It seemed to cling to the alpha, you still didn’t know if he just never cleaned up or if it was his natural scent.

“It’s crazy that no alpha has snatched you up yet,” he whispered, his warm breath on your ear making goosebumps prickle up your spine. “I’m tempted to sink my teeth into you.”

You wished you had let Joel do it. Even if everything ended the same way, you found yourself desperate for some proof that you were his and he was yours. He had never asked to, never pressured you. You found yourself working your way to asking him as your relationship hit a year mark.

But you didn’t, still scared.

The stranger pressed his bared teeth against the curve of your neck. You screamed into the gag, the sound dying into a sob as you managed to shuffle the chair a bit, nearly tipping it over. Being forced into a claim was your nightmare, your instincts warring against your mind. You didn’t want to be bonded to a monster like him.

The pressure of his teeth lifted, his quiet chuckling was barely audible over the sound of you hyperventilating through the gag. “The boys would kill me if I did, though,” he murmured, clicking his tongue against his teeth like a disappointed mother. “They’ve never been with an omega before, I wouldn’t want to ruin that for them.”

You didn’t know how many “boys” there were, you could only recognize the alpha leaning over your shoulder. He was the only voice you’d heard, but sometimes you could hear laughter and smell other people in the room. There wasn’t an omega among them aside from you.

He grabbed your face, fingers digging into your cheeks and forcing your jaw open. You tried to wrench your head away, knowing what came next before you felt the pill tablet slip over the gag and onto your tongue.

The first time it happened you had spent so long trying to spit it out around the gag that it dissolved on your tongue. You swallowed the pill, too exhausted at this point to keep fighting it. It was hard to keep resisting the longer you were trapped, hope bleeding out of you.

Your mind swam as the drug settled in, curling up heavy and warm in your bones as your head started to fall back, body giving in to sleep as it beckoned you. The fear mellowed into a sense of unease, just enough to pull you under the surface.

—

“What do you mean Adam is missing?”

Commotion woke you up. The clash of too many voices disoriented you—you didn’t even know that many people were a part of the compound. Arguing came in layers, a few voices shouting over the rest as they vied for control of the conversation.

“He went back by Jackson, wanted to loot the body of that beta we left there. I told him it was a stupid idea but it was useless.” He trailed off, other voices filling the silence.

Poor Jason.

“Well those two big alphas were busy culling infected, I doubt they found him.”

You clumsily realized they were talking about Joel and Tommy. Hope made you wonder if they did find him. If they could find you.

“You’re a fucking idiot! You should have stopped him!”

You could hear a scuffle, shoes scrabbling across the concrete floor and grunts. The dull smack of a body hitting the ground made you flinch beneath the blindfold. He sounded alive, groaning.

“Should we kill her?”

Your heart dropped. Panic swelled in your throat, choking you as you tried not to squirm under the weight of an unknown number of eyes on you.

“Not yet, we don’t even know if there is anything to worry about.”

“Yeah, why would those alphas come after her?”

“The same reason we took her, dumbass. There’s not that many omegas.”

Your head was spinning, your parched lips sore around your gag. Joel could find you. He was just as bad as these men before you knew him, he’d told you about the years he and Tommy and Tess were hunters. There was more blood on Joel’s hands than you could have ever guessed, but that meant he could think like the monsters that took you.

The silence of agreement washed over the room. “Well what have we been waiting for, then?”

Then you picked up the sound of gunshots outside. There weren’t many, maybe one or two guns blasting followed by shouts. You were too disoriented to make out the words, but they sounded frantic.

But you were finally alone, or at least not the center of attention. You wriggled your wrists in the bonds as much as you could, your teeth clenching around the gag as you nearly dislocated shoulders pulling them from the back of the chair. You arched off the seat like a bow, using your head to get your arms off the rest of the way, trying to resist the urge to cry as the metal dug into your biceps.

You grasped frantically behind you, lifting the chair out of the ropes around your ankles. It was hard not to sob as you stumbled on your feet. The gravel and broken glass dug crunched beneath your feet as you moved blindly through the room.

The gunshots were louder as you moved forward, running into doorways and walls as you fought to place one foot in front of the other. Your pace was odd, limping as you tried to jog without throwing off your balance. You must have twisted your ankle when you got knocked out. It twinged with each step, begging you to stop, to take your time.

But you couldn’t.

There was too much yelling, too many gunshots. You steered yourself away from them, having to rub your shoulder along the hallway wall to orient yourself. Each turn was counted in an attempt to keep you from running in circles.

Your breaths were labored through the gag, each inhale thick and musty. The lack of food was getting to you, your head spinning with each step.

You’d given yourself an impossible task. That was quickly becoming more apparent to you as each hallway brought you to another and each door led to another room. You could only imagine the size of the compound, wondering if the building used to be an office or an apartment complex.

You pressed a door open with your hip, a cool breeze buffeting against your cheeks. The doorjamb caught your foot as you stepped over the threshold, sending you stumbling into empty air.

The wind was knocked out of you as you landed on your back on the last step, your shoulder blades and head in the dirt as you tried to wheeze through the gag. Pain ricocheted through your hands, still bound at the small of your spine as you choked like a fish out of water.

The gunshots were louder outside. Outside. You made it.

If you could just find cover and some way to cut the ropes around your wrists you could get home. Hope twisted in your chest as you forced yourself to turn onto your knees, your cheek pressed against the ground as you got your bearings.

You took a few deep breaths, grunting as you lifted yourself to your feet. The only sense of direction you had were the stairs leading back inside the compound. You hesitantly stepped forward, trying to feel for any obstacles with your feet as you prayed no one saw you.

The gunshots died down, eventually fading into silence. That was worse.

You got more frantic, kicking in front of you with each step as you tried to pick up your pace.

The sound of heavy footsteps to your right made shivers run up your spine. You screamed into your gag, running full out away from your pursuer. Caution was thrown to the wind, your steps lengthening as you barreled toward the unknown.

The deep voice of an alpha shouted, the sound of it almost making you trip. You couldn’t make out the words over the sound of your heart pounding in your chest.

Your foot caught on a pipe, the metal ringing hollowly. The ground hit you so hard that you were stunned, sobbing into the gag. Patches of grass tickled at your nose, making you roll onto your back as you hyperventilated.

The steps drew closer, heavy and even.

“Baby!”

Maybe you were dying, bleeding out onto the dirt. You could imagine the blood pouring so quickly that you were starting to hallucinate Joel being there.

“Baby… Jesus,” the voice repeated, so close to you. You cried into the gag, heels scrabbling over the ground as you tried to find purchase in the dirt.

Joel’s heart broke as he saw you. He’d never seen you so frightened, blindfolded and gagged as you scrambled in the dirt. Your clothes were torn and dirty, he could smell the dried blood on you as he got close.

He could smell the fear on you.

He stepped over the exposed length of pipe that had tripped you up, crouching over you. “Baby, baby shh, shh,” he murmured, trying to comfort you, “It’s okay, it’s me. It’s Joel.”

You were screaming, kicking at the alpha with your feet. Only a few landed, bouncing off his body as though they hardly mattered. He was so close he felt warm, your knee smashing into his leg as he crouched down over you. The will to survive filled you.

Then he grabbed your head in one large hand, holding you still as he pressed his wrist to your nose. His hand felt too warm against your skin. You cringed away from his touch, holding your breath until your lungs burned.

It was the only thing he could think of to show that it was him, your Joel. Not some monstrous alpha that took you.

His familiar scent filled your lungs with each breath. The fight died out of you fast enough, your surrender prompting him to carefully lift your head up enough for him to untie the gag and blindfold, pulling both scraps of cloth from you.

You blinked at the overcast sky, reeling from the sudden brightness as you blinked harshly. Joel was little more than a blur above you as you shut your mouth, trying to wet your sandpaper tongue.

He knew what you needed, he always knew.

His canteen was pressed to your lips in just a moment, a few sips of cool water sliding down your throat as Joel’s free hand anchored between your shoulder blades, lifting you into a seated position. You drank greedily, water running down your chin and soaking into your clothes.

“Slow down, you’ll choke,” Joel murmured, moving in close. He pulled you into his lap, resting you on his quads as he leaned you against his broad chest. You stank of other alphas, his nose wrinkling as he nuzzled at your temple. But he could actually breathe again for the first time in days.

“Joel,” you whined, turning your face into his neck. Tears rolled down your cheeks, soaking into his flannel shirt as you settled against him.

“I know,” he answered, reaching around you to cut the rope off your wrists. Your skin was raw beneath them, his fingertips tracing around the edges of the irritation. God, he never should’ve let you go without him.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Joel whispered, his blood-stained hands pulling you to his chest. You twisted in his hold, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. “This is my fault.”

You sniffled, holding onto Joel as you buried your face in his chest. “S’not your fault,” you mumbled through tears. There was no way you could blame him.

Joel huffed, trying to hold himself together. He rested his chin on top of your head, thumbs rubbing circles on your skin as he rocked you slowly. “If I was there, this wouldn’t have happened. I wouldn’t have let it. Woulda had to kill me before they could get to you.”

He took a deep breath, looking up at the sky for a second. God didn’t seem real to him since the outbreak started, hell, he even doubted before that. But he started praying the second they found Jason’s body outside the wall. It ran through his mind like a mantra for the past three days, he was constantly praying that he found you alive.

“Thought you were dead,” Joel found himself admitting, voice cracking as he spoke. “I was so fuckin’ worried about you.”

You pulled your face from his neck, your chapped lips searching for his. “I’m here, didn’t lose me,” you said softly, stamping your lips over his. You could hear his next question before it formed on his lips.

“M’not bit,” you added, taking his broad hand and smoothing it over the intact skin over the scent gland on your neck.

You could hear the relief in his exhale, his fingers curling around the back of your neck as his thumb pressed your scent gland. He brought your forehead to his, taking a deep breath as his umber eyes slipped closed. His aquiline nose bumped yours and ran up your cheek.

The breeze was chilly, making you shift closer to Joel. You ended up straddling his waist, your hands connected behind his neck. Neediness settled low in your stomach.

“Alpha,” you whined softly, fingers combing through his thick curls.

Joel’s dark eyes opened, his brows bunching. You never called him that in the year you two had been together, even during your heats. “Yeah, baby?” Joel asked, his wide hands finding your hips as he kept you steady.

The gravel in his tone made you keen, your heart in your throat as you nuzzled into the hinge of his jaw. “I don’t smell like you anymore,” you mumbled, voice soft and sweet and thick with tears. You reeked of alphas you didn’t recognize, the smell of them making you feel sick.

Joel let out a breath through his nose, nodding. “I know, but we’ll get you home and clean you up.”

“I thought I’d never see you again.” You sounded distraught, tears gathering on your lash line as you pulled back to look at Joel. His heart ached, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you tight against him. You sniffled, lips parting as you took a deep breath. “The whole time I just wished that I let you claim me.”

His heart stopped. Instinct made his teeth itch to sink into you, to finally have you completely. But instead he ground his teeth together, jaw flexing beneath his beard. “You don’t mean that,” he said, “s’just the shock.”

He wished he was wrong.

You shook your head, slanting your lips over his as you rolled your hips. Joel was already hardening beneath you, his hands guiding your movements. “Joel.”

That was a tone he recognized all too well, fire igniting in his chest like you’d set off a bomb.

“I’m so happy you’re alive,” he mumbled as he yanked you to him, the words muffled against your mouth. The kiss was needy, teeth clashing and noses practically bruising cheeks.

You wanted him, wanted to feel safe and taken care of and consumed. He started pushing your jacket off your shoulders. “You smell like those fuckers,” Joel admitted as his mouth found purchase just beneath the hinge of your jaw.

“Only want to smell like you,” you whimpered, yanking your shirt over your head and tossing it to the dirt. You should have been more concerned—you were still within walking distance of the compound in broad daylight—but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Joel groaned, calloused fingers gripping at you before his hand dipped beneath the fabric of your sports bra. “I’d rip all of them apart again if I had the chance.”

Again. You frantically reached for his belt as he sucked marks up and down your throat, scraping his blunt teeth over the delicate skin. The tease of it sent shivers down your spine, making your stiff fingers fumble with the buckle before opening it.

There were specs of blood on his canvas coat, you noticed them across his face and hands. It didn’t faze you.

Joel took off his jacket, spreading it out on the dirt before pitching forward, lying you back on the body-warmed fabric. He unbuttoned your worn jeans, yanking them and your panties halfway down your thighs as he pushed your knees to your chest.

“Just as pretty as I remembered,” he murmured, thumb dropping to your clit and rubbing tight circles over it.

You let out a broken moan, legs twitching in the confines of your jeans. The waistband of your pants dug into your thighs, keeping them from spreading too far apart. “Joel, I need you inside…” you begged, grabbing at his hands desperately.

Normally he took his time with you, opening you up on his fingers and tongue first. You couldn’t care less about it, aching to be connected with him.

He didn’t argue with you, his eyes getting immeasurably darker as he undid his pants. Your mouth watered as he pulled himself out, cunt clenching around nothing as you looped your forearm behind your knees and held them close to your chest. His weathered hand stroked over his hard cock, precome already pooling at the tip.

Joel’s head was spinning, the relief of finding you quickly deteriorating into lust as his free hand slotted over yours on the backs of your knees, bending you in half for him as he rubbed the head of his cock over your swollen clit. He loved the way you whined, your spine arching off his jacket as your lashes fluttered against your cheekbones. If he was a stronger man he’d keep teasing you, let you get slick and soaked and make you beg until you were blue in the face.

But he couldn’t do that to you, not when he was just happy that you were alive.

“Calm down, baby,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp rather than soothing. His calloused thumb stroked over the back of your hand as the blunt head of his cock snagged your entrance.

You both let choked moans into the open air as Joel sank into you, something about the stretch around his thick cock made you feel complete. It left you gasping for breath, your free hand fisting in his jacket beneath you as you watched his eyes squeeze shut. You wanted to reach up and smooth your thumb over the creases between his furrowed brows.

All he could think about was how you were so soaked, pulsing and hot and perfect for him. It took a moment for Joel to come back to himself, his head tilting skyward as he tried to catch his breath. You were moaning with each thrust, the perfect picture of wanton lust as you looked up at him.

His belt clinked each time it smacked the back of your thigh, neither of you could be bothered to stop long enough for him to pull his pants further down his legs. It added something, the scrape of the coarse denim he wore against your sensitive skin sent electricity prickling up your spine.

Beneath him like this, you felt like you were both everything and nothing at the same time. You were melting, nerves on fire as he mercilessly knocked against your g-spot. A numbness had settled over you for anything that didn’t include Joel. It was easy for you to give into it, any connection between your body and mind vanishing into thin air.

You were so beautiful, needy and insatiable as you took everything Joel gave you. He could smell your slick dripping from your pussy and pooling where your ass met his jacket. The wet squelch of your cunt was heavenly, obscene and loud as your arousal gave your desperation away.

Joel pressed forward, shifting your fabric-confined knees toward your right shoulder as he flattened you beneath the bulk of his body. The air was forced from you as you were squashed beneath his barrel chest, your mewls becoming borderline pathetic.

Each thrust sent pleasure racing through you, your free hand coming to twist in the salt and pepper curls behind his ear. He’d been letting them grow longer per your request, your desire to spin his curls over your fingers enough to convince him to give in. You relished in it, tugging him into the hollow of your throat.

“Please, alpha,” you whined, letting yourself slip into a place of submission you spent your whole life suppressing. His teeth were so close, the scratch of his facial hair against your neck enticing as you tilted your head.

He could feel you start to flutter around his cock, your voice taking that pitchy quality it always got when you were close to the edge. It was starting to become one of his favorite sounds in the world.

“Come for me, baby,” Joel growled into your neck, laving his tongue over your scent gland. He was drooling, all too eager to give in to his instincts and bite you. You probably tasted delicious, sweet and sugary with a tangy aftertaste of blood that stoked a fire in his belly that he was almost too ashamed to acknowledge.

He shoved his hand between your bodies, fingers swirling over your clit. The way your eyes widened made pride thump in his chest. Your sweet little whines threatened to make him come on the spot, his teeth gritting together.

“Alpha,” you whimpered, tears starting to sting at your eyes. You didn’t know submission could feel so good, so natural. It almost made you regret making Joel wait so long for it.

Joel could hear the twinge of emotion in your voice, that drop of anxiety you always carried with you. He fucked into you with renewed vigor, fingertips pressing tight circles to your clit. “I’m here, I’ll always be here, omega,” he promised, the words muffled by the thin skin on your throat.

Omega.

You came so hard you sobbed, his thrusts became shallow as you clenched around him like a vise. Honey dripped from your mind to your chest, spreading to your extremities as you bucked helplessly against him. It was no use even as your thighs pressed against his abdomen, the weight of him keeping you pinned and contorted for him.

Joel groaned low in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut. Your cunt pulsed around him, tightening and releasing, the mechanics of nature drawing him toward his own release. He could hardly keep his head on straight, grabbing your hip as he pounded into you.

“P-please,” you whined, voice tight and airy. He knew what you wanted, what you were begging for.

He’d been wanting to give it to you from the moment you showed up at Jackson, ragged and half-starved and the fiercest omega he had ever set eyes on. It felt more like a dream than reality: biting you, making you his.

It seemed only fair, considering just how long he’d been yours.

“B-,” you stammered out, clinging to Joel desperately as you felt his cock start to kick and spit inside you.

He shushed you, the bridge of his nose pressing into your neck as he shadowed you. His hips snapped against yours, a deep rumble pulling from his chest that melted into a moan as his knot pressed into you, locking him inside as he filled you up with his come.

It was just as he imagined when he bit into your neck, the sweet taste of sugar and devotion filling his mouth as you let out a high-pitched mewl. The aftertaste of your blood was welcomed, sharp and salty as he pulled away to lap at the wound on your throat. Your little whimpers were like music to his ears as he ground his hips against yours, knot pressing the insides of your cunt in a way that made your eyes roll back.

He kept you there for a while, your frenzied coupling becoming something languid.

The peace he felt mystified him, something he didn’t realize he longed for until he looked down at you, thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones. His omega, with a bloody mark on your scent gland to prove it.

#joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x female reader #alpha joel miller #omega reader #alpha!joel miller #alpha!joel miller x omega!reader #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #omegaverse #the last of us x reader #joel tlou #reader insert

304 notes · View notes