#and the last time I did it I almost passed out

[arpicityandneed]

The King's Man

18+ f!reader. King!Bucky. Head Knight!Steve. dirty talk. bi!Bucky. bi!Steve. sequel to You, Me, and the King. Sir kink. switch!Steve. switch!Bucky.

You'd received word from your maid that the King and his Knight were waiting for you in the King's chambers but still, you didn't expect to walk in on this when you passed the royal guard on the way in.

Steve was fucking your husbands throat like he'd done so countless of times before. His sword was resting on the table and he was shirtless, his creamy flushed skin on display as he threw his head back- and expression of rapt pleasure on his handsome features as he found his release. James' lashes were wet as he swallowed every drop, but he was looking up at his Steven with such adoration you almost wanted to be jealous.

Only when the door clicked behind you did Steve acknowledge you. James finally let Steve's shaft go, nuzzling the vee of his hip and catching his breath.

"I won a wager." Steve explained with a grin, "He thought I wouldn't be able to wait until the physician's officially declared the pregnancy."

"But you did.. so this was your reward?" You murmured, your mouth dry and your cunt throbbing. Your heart pounded in your chest realizing you'd finally have them both the way you wanted for months now. What was once a strange kingdom full of enemies was made bearable by the love you'd found in your two men.

"No, the reward was you. I'm just helping him last long enough to thoroughly enjoy his reward." Your husband's voice was hoarse, but as he stood you saw just how much he'd enjoyed being used by Steve. His breeches did little to hide the large bulge of his arousal.

"Come here my sweet," Steve held his hand out for you, and you took it shyly but stepped into his space without fear. "I'll take good care of you, I promise." He murmured as he lifted your hand to his lips kissing your knuckles gently.

"I know." And you did, you trusted him with your life, and to finally be able to see him in all his glory was a treat in and of itself. His cock was thick even when soft and his body was covered in scars and marks of battle that made him all the more attractive to you.

James came to stand behind you, trapping you between them as he kissed your shoulder. You shivered remembering vividly how wide they'd been stretched over Steve's cock.

"My wife." James worked at untying the laces of your dress, Steve's possessive gaze keeping you locked in place.

When the dress fell down your body James pressed a kiss to your shoulder before stepping back. That’s when you noticed the chair placed in direct viewing of the bed. A shiver went down your spine as you realized your King would be watching everything.

“Pants off James, I want to see you too.” Steve commanded with an ease that made your knees buckle, and your King obeyed with a pretty flush on his cheeks. You wanted to devour him and the new shyness you saw in his eyes.

“He’s so pretty..” the words slipped out before you could help it and Steve laughed, warm and rich. Your husband however didn’t say a word. He looked to Steve instead for guidance.

“James, what do you say?” Steve wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer, his naked body all hard lines and raw strength that made you melt against him.

“Thank you, love. You two—you’re beautiful together.” His voice was hushed and awed.

“Sit.” Steve murmured as he trailed his lips over your neck, his blue eyes clashing with James’ grey ones. When James obeyed, sitting with his thighs spread showing off just how eager he was, Steve smiled against your skin. “Good boy.”  James’ cock was leaking and flushed an angry red. But he made no move to touch himself without Steve’s permission.

“Now, I think I’ve waited long enough for this.” Steve led you to the bed and urged you to lay down, drinking in the sight of you bared for him with hungry eyes. “Let’s see if you’re ready for me, my queen.” Steve’s hand trailed up your thigh slow and possessive and you squeaked. Instantly he stopped and returned his gaze to yours.

“Just—just, y/n.” You mumbled shyly as you reached out to cup his jaw, not wanting to be anything but his lover in this moment.

“Y/n then.” Steve’s voice was thick with emotion as he kissed your palm. His hand resumed its path until he could cup your sex, his fingers growing slick as he played with your clit and fed one thick finger into you. You moaned softly and spread your thighs wider, eager and aching for your Knight.

“Not quite, think you need to give me one orgasm first.” Steve mused to himself as he lowered his mouth, hovering over where you needed him most. “Missed tasting you.”

“You spent two hours with her sitting on your face yesterday.” James snorted, unable to help himself as Steve glared at his King over his shoulder.

“Let’s say no cumming for a day since you want to be smart mouthed.” Steve smiled as James immediately flushed bright red and mumbled,

“Sorry, Sir.”

You whined for attention, squirming under Steve’s hold. “Shh, love. I’ve got you. I shouldn’t make you wait anymore should I?” Steve murmured gently with a crooked smile before latching onto your clit with single minded focus.

His fingers made a come hither motion, practiced and easy as he worked your body. It took everything you had not to scream—he always touched you just right.

“Jesus, James, she still tastes like you.” James made a strangled sound but wisely kept quiet, stretching you further and pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

All it took was one hard suck and you were flying, a million pieces of stardust as he groaned into your folds. You soaked his chin and fingers shamelessly. By the time you were back to the land of the living he was over you, gliding his cock through your slick folds and lubing up his shaft in your juices. Just tasting you was enough to make his cock hard as steel once more.

“You’re going to scream for me, and I don’t give a fuck who hears. Do you understand?” Steve was usually a gentle man, soft spoken with you and always so considerate. But the Steve on top of you was a barely contained animal. Wild eyed with a will strong enough to subdue even your King.

“Yes, Sir.” You knew it was the right answer when his pupils dilated, and he lined up his cock against your entrance that clenched around nothing—aching more than anything to be filled.

“That’s a good girl.” He kissed you as he pushed in, inch by inch. Steve’s shaft was thicker than your husbands and you cried out your legs wrapping around his waist as you pulled him deeper into you.

Greedy, that’s how Steve’s cock made you feel as it split you open.

“Fuck, James, you shouldn’t have let me have her.” Steve growled, his girth safely tucked inside your gummy walls so deep he could feel his cock when he pressed his hand into the softness of your belly. “I’m never going to get enough of her.” You were whimpering at every word. Just a prize to be passed back and forth between the only two men worthy of you, the thought made you clench down on Steve’s cock even tighter.

“You can speak, James.” Steve’s smug voice, his cock throbbing inside you as the leaking tip pressed a loving wet kiss to your cervix, it was all too much and he’d barely started moving yet.

“Can—" you’d never heard your husband’s voice so wrecked. “Can I come closer, Sir? I want to see.”

“You may. Hold her hand like a good little husband.” Steve ordered and within a few seconds you felt a warm hand slip into yours, James’ gaze heavy as a touch as he stared where you and Steve were joined.

“She’s barely able to take you.” Why did he sound so pleased? Why wasn’t Steve fucking you yet?

“Shh, pretty thing. I got you.” Steve cooed at you, cupping your breast in one hand and pinching your nipple lightly—groaning when it made your pussy flutter around his cock hungrily. “Just making sure there’s no pain.”

“None, promise, promise, just please!” You begged shamelessly, having waiting as long as he had to feel him.

“Please what?” That’s when you realized the game, he wanted you to say it. Scream your intentions like you had with your husband.

“I want you to fuck me!” You cried, tears gathering on your lashes in frustration.

“Not your husband?” Steve taunted as he gave your breast a squeeze.

You shook your head frantically, your bottom lip jutting out as you looked up at Steve. “Want you now,” you admitted honestly. James’ hands tightened in yours but he didn’t need to say a word as his cock leaked. “Waited, I was good, so good, want your cock Sir, please.”

“Good girl, my good girl.” Steve groaned and started fucking you slow and filthy, rolling his hips and staying mostly buried inside you as his fat cock hit every pleasurable spot with ease.

“You’re doing so good sweetheart, taking his cock isn’t easy.” You moaned at your husbands words, realizing exactly what he’d meant. He’d taken Steve’s cock before. But you couldn’t focus on anything other than Steve’s controlled thrusts. You knew he was holding back but it was already so much, your pussy gushing on his cock and making each thrust a little easier.

“More!” You begged, barely able to keep your eyes open as you tightened your legs around his waist. Steve grinned, feral and sharp.

“As you wish.”

Then all coherent thought was lost, Steve starting to fuck you in earnest until he was splitting you in two ruthlessly. James never let go of your hand and you were drowning in the pleasure you were given.

Steve’s cock squelched through your juices, your arousal coating his heavy balls as he fucked you hard and deep. He was a hurricane and all you could do was hold on for the ride. You free arm was thrown around his neck holding him close as you screamed out,

“Sir! Please, please, more!” You couldn’t stop yourself. Every thrust of his cock was melting your brain, and James’ encouraging words in your ear was only fanning the flames.

“You can take it can’t you my love? So good for us, you’ll have his baby next won’t you? I want to see it, our children playing together. Just gotta do what you did for me. Take all his cum right in your pretty little pussy again and again.” James was rambling, aching to touch his cock but too obedient to disobey Steve’s order not to cum.

“Fuck,” Steve was lost in your pussy. Couldn’t look away from your pussy sucking him in, like you couldn’t wait to milk him for his load.

“Want his babies, need it!” You squealed as Steve shifted the angle of his hips, hitting that perfect spot that made you see stars. If you’d been coherent you’d be able to see the toothy grin on Steve’s face.

“That’s it, make all your prettiest noises for me y/n. Feel so fucking tight love,” Steve groaned as he got close, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust aching to fill you up. His thumb found your clit with practiced ease and with quick tight circles you were thrown off the edge without warning.

“’m not pulling out. You’re gonna take what I give you, when I want to give it.” It wasn’t a question and yet you nodded immediately, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you squirted, your arousal splashing out of you—Steve fucking you through your orgasm without mercy.

Only when he started to cum did he slow down, grinding in every spurt of seed into your pussy like he could force your body to accept his seed into your womb.

“Beautiful.” James murmured as he kissed your forehead, squeezing your hand and checking over your face. You were drifting—so safe and full of light you felt like you were floating.

Steve had to gently pry your legs off his waist before he could slowly separate himself from you, his copious amount of cum leaking out of your gaping hole in a lewd display that made Steve wish he had the stamina to fuck you again immediately.

“She’s still feeling it,” James murmured above your head as he looked to Steve, and if you strained you could focus on Steve’s reply.

“That’s alright, let her rest.” Steve whispered back, his thick fingers spreading your pussy lips wide so he could stare directly at your hole as it gushed and twitched.

But then he turned to his friend and grinned.

“Would you like sloppy seconds, my King?”

[danroiie]

Jayce Talis x male!reader. NSFW. MDNI.

content; soft!needy!dom!Jayce. sub!reader. grinding against clothes. fucking on a desk. light masturbation (received). rough but soft grinding. maybe a little bit of “friends” to lovers(?. he is a ‘please’ boy.

A/N; I need more of him x m!reader. 👹 #needthat. Well, what I was coming to. English is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any grammatical error, I do what I can 😪🫶🏻. Feel confident to correct me (as long as it is with respect, of course)

By the way, this was planned to be longer, but in the end I didn't like it and I cut that part leaving only the action. You can imagine what you want about what happened before.

The second punch of the day hit his right cheek. This time, you felt the regret forming in your chest as you watched him complain of the pain. But despite that, his hand was still firmly clinging to you, with no intention of letting you go. You took his wrist, trying to separate his hand from your forearm, but the only thing you got was a war of struggle through the room.

The fight ended only when you were cornered between your desk and Jayce. Most of the things that were on the nearby desks ended up on the floor. You don't know how long you two had been like this, but the sweat had already accumulated on your forehead because of the physical effort, just like on Jayce's.

He was close enough to you that you could feel his breath hitting your chin. You both stared at each other, trying to regulate your breaths. You hadn't noticed how much he had changed until he was very close. His hair was longer than usual, as was his facial hair. You were surprised that you were able to recognize him just moments ago.

For his part, you were almost the same since the last time he saw you. Of course, the only difference was the small dark circles under your eyes, but other than that everything remained the same. You kept looking at him with those eyes even though your expression or words wanted to make him believe otherwise. Your hair was not in that tidy hairstyle you used to wear; it was untidy and small strands stuck to your forehead because of the sweat. That only made you look so much better.

His gaze unconsciously turned to your ajar mouth.

He had really missed you, more than he should have.

You felt one of his hands slide from your jaw to the back of your neck, where it stood still and firm. You swallowed hard as you continued to look at him carefully, avoiding losing any other movement. You watched him exhale in a very peculiar way as he met your eyes again. He approached uncertainly, stopping millimeters from you. You could swear that his nose brushed against yours.

And what had only happened in your deepest dreams was fulfilled.

His lips crashed with yours in a fierce and needy way that barely gave you time to react. The hand that was on the back of your neck had now tangled between your hair.

You clung to the collar of his shirt to bring him closer to you. He let out a gasp among kisses as he carefully got you on top of the desk, positioned himself between your thighs. His kisses moved away from your lips only to continue their journey across your cheek, whispering repeatedly how much he had missed you as he passed by your ear. His path then moved down to your neck where he left sloppy kisses.

After a short time, you began to feel a small erection growing in the middle of your legs. You felt your face burn with embarrassment and you tried to close them, only to remind that Jayce was between them. The small pressure on his hips made him stop at his work with your neck to look down confused by the sudden movement. He let out a low and small laugh as he raised his head again to look at you, smiling sweetly before planting a small kiss on one of your reddened cheeks. "Don't hide it from me" he whispered to you with that same low tone in your ear, his hands slowly went down to the buckle of your belt.

His forehead rested on yours as he closed his eyes. You did the same as you felt one of his hands slip inside your trousers. The two of you let out a gasp in unison when he finally managed to touch you over the fabric of your underwear; you clung to one of his arms at the same time as your other hand clung to the wood of your desk.

His touch began slowly and softly, as if he was afraid of hurting you. Then, he started to go a little faster when he made sure you were wet enough.

"You look so pretty like that" he managed to say with difficulty.

"Shut up"

A contagious giggle escaped from his lips and you couldn't help laughing too.

You moan in reply when you feel his hand move away from you, but that didn't last long. His hands rested on the lower part of your thighs, raising them slightly upwards, which caused you to almost have to lie down on the desk. You looked at him confused for a few moments until you felt his own erection colliding with yours.

You heard him let out a hoarse moan before he leaned down to find you. You got up as best you could with your elbows. Your gaze traveled to your crotch, where you could better appreciate his erection against yours.

You couldn't help but moan when you saw that.

You felt Jayce's arms rest on both sides of you and the soft touch of his forehead against yours. You looked up to meet his eyes again; he watched you for a short time before leaning over to kiss you.

You could feel how he began to grind against you faster and faster, so much so that your desk began to move, throwing some of the papers that you had previously scattered on top to the floor. You felt your legs falter, but Jayce's hands made sure not to let them fall by clinging tightly to your thighs.

After a while, both of you let go of each other's mouths, with a small thread of saliva connecting your lips.

“Ah fuck-” You whimper, almost out of breath “I’m gonna-”

“Don't look away, keep looking at me, please”

Your underwear was soaked with the fluids of both. Your elbows hurt from the effort to support your weight, and not to mention your legs. Them were only still up thanks to Jayce. Your back began to arch from time to time, and you knew that soon you would cum.

Your breathing was a mess. You no longer knew if what came out of your mouth were moans, if you were just hyperventilating, or even a mixture of two.

For god's sake, it was just a grind, why was it making you so fucking bad?

“Jayce, I can’t… I… I need it, I need it so bad”

“Ssh It’s okay, I'm right here” he whispered to you in gasps “Why don't you lie down completely, hmm?”

Your back leaned completely against the desk. His hands grabbed your arms and brought them straight to his neck, where he quickly intertwined them before returning his hands to your thighs.

“Just let me make you feel good”

His face was hidden in the hollow of your neck as he continued to grind against you desperately. You clung to the fabric of his shirt, biting his shoulder and muffling the sound of your whimpering. You could only hear the sound of your desk hitting the wall of the room and Jayce's sometimes hoarse moans.

After a moment you heard him curse as he moved away from your neck, looking for your gaze.

“I need you to cum with me, baby, can you do it, please?”

You nodded quickly; you didn't make an effort to say anything because you knew it would be in vain since only incessant whining came out of your mouth. You looked at him, and you could swear that you had come right at that moment; the way he looked at you pleadingly and needy made you question which of the two looked more pathetic now. It was a miracle that you could contain yourself. You clung to his back tighter when you felt your pelvis contract as well as your legs. You would do it; you were close.

On your way to hide your face in the hollow of his neck one of his hands stopped you, holding you by the nape.

“Look at me when you cum, baby, don't hide your face, yeah?” you didn't tell him anything, but it wasn't necessary. The way your eyes looked at him told him everything.

For a moment, you genuinely believed that the desk would break under you. Jayce's hips began to move against you in a disastrous way, with an irregular but fast and strong rhythm. One of his knees rose to lean on the corner of the desk, and you felt one of his arms take you by your lower back. You could see the sweat on his forehead.

Your vision clouded as you felt the heat forming inside you; your orgasm approaching with each stroke. And, as if he knew, the grip on your thigh tightened harder, just like the one on your back.

“oh yes!, please, please, please, please”

Your body reacted to his words, and that's when you felt the barrier of all your control break. You felt your orgasm hit you with a wave of pure pleasure all over your body. You cried out, your voice broke with lust and need as you felt your legs tremble just like your back arched. Feeling your body pressing against you, Jayce's own climax rose to the foreground with the intense sensations pushing him to the limit.

“Fuck!” he groaned, his eyes rolling back with hips jerking erratically.

His body fell on yours, avoiding crushing you, of course. Your foreheads joined together while trying to regulate your breaths; both let out a small chuckle as you looked into each other's eyes. As the last pulses of his orgasm faded, Jayce tenderly wiped the tears and saliva from your face, which you hadn't even realized you had. He looked at you with sweetness and softness, still holding your face.

"You have a lot to explain" a smile drawn on your lips.

"You have no idea"

[jaeyunluvbot]

ilysm (i love you spider-man)

genre/tags 𝟅𝟈 mark lee x fem!reader, spidermark, friends to lovers, high school au, spiderman!mark

word count 𝟅𝟈 11.2k

NOT PROOFREAD

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

High school wasn’t glamorous. It was 6:00 a.m. alarms, piles of homework, and gym class—a.k.a. your least favorite subject. So, when Coach called for volleyball that day, you sighed and shuffled towards the court like a prisoner headed for trial.

The gym smelled faintly of sweat and old rubber soles, the harsh lights making it hard to focus. You stood by the bleachers, tying your sneakers when Mark stumbled in, late as usual. His hair stuck up in odd places like he’d rolled out of bed and made a mad dash here. Classic.

“Lee!” Coach barked, tossing him a red jersey. “You’re on Team B. Let’s go!”

Mark jogged over, muttering apologies as he passed you. “Hey,” he said with a sheepish grin, his voice slightly breathless.

“Hey,” you replied, amused. “Rough morning?”

“You have no idea,” he mumbled, pulling the jersey over his head.

Mark was… Mark. Sweet, funny, always a little awkward. You’d known him since middle school, and while he wasn’t exactly the athletic type, you’d never really cared. You’d bonded over you bonded over your mutual interests, anyways, and volleyball was not on the list.

The game started, and you hung back like always, hoping to avoid the ball as much as possible. Mark, however, was front and center.

When the ball came his way, you winced, expecting it to bounce off his face or fly past him entirely. But instead, Mark jumped—higher than seemed possible—and spiked the ball with enough force to make it slam into the court.

Your jaw dropped.

“Whoa!” someone yelled.

Even Coach looked impressed. “Nice hit, Lee! Where’d you learn that?”

Mark shrugged, his face slightly flushed. “Lucky shot.”

As the game went on, Mark’s “luck” didn’t run out. He dove to the floor to save a ball, slid across the court with the grace of a pro, and even managed to block a spike that seemed way out of reach.

By the time the game ended, the entire class was buzzing.

“Did Mark join a secret volleyball league or something?”

You couldn’t help but grin, though your curiosity was starting to bubble over. Since when could he do any of this?

During a break, you found him leaning against the wall, gulping down water like he’d just run a marathon.

“Since when did you play volleyball like that?” you asked, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow.

He nearly choked, coughing and spluttering as his face turned red. “I—uh, I’ve been practicing?”

“Practicing?” you echoed, unimpressed. “Mark, the last time we played volleyball, you tripped over the net and nearly took me down with you.”

He let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… things change?”

You squinted at him, unconvinced. There was something different about him lately—something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Before you could press him further, Coach’s whistle blew, calling everyone back to the court. Mark shot you a quick smile before jogging off, leaving you standing there, your curiosity growing by the second.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

As the day went on, you started noticing more little things about him. In English class, he caught a pen mid-air without even looking, like he had eyes in the back of his head.

“Nice reflexes, Spidey,” you joked, nudging him.

Mark laughed nervously, shoving the pen into his bag. “Just got lucky,” he said quickly, avoiding your gaze.

Then, in chemistry, he managed to grab a beaker you almost knocked off the table before it shattered on the floor. His hand shot out so fast you barely saw it.

“Whoa,” you said, staring at him. “How’d you do that?”

Mark shrugged, his cheeks turning red. “I dunno, instincts?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but before you could say anything, the teacher called for everyone’s attention.

By lunchtime, you were keeping a closer eye on him, trying to figure out what was going on. He seemed more jittery than usual, like he was trying to avoid drawing attention to himself but failing miserably.

When someone dropped their tray in the cafeteria, sending food flying, Mark’s head snapped toward the commotion before anyone else had even noticed. He looked like he was about to jump out of his seat before he caught himself and forced a laugh.

“You good?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, totally,” he said, shoving a fry into his mouth. “Just… startled, that’s all.”

You didn’t believe him for a second, but you let it slide. For now.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of classes, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different about Mark. He’d clearly changed somehow, but you couldn’t put your finger on what exactly was different.

And as much as you wanted to ignore it, you couldn’t help but wonder: what was he hiding?

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

Your parents had been asleep for hours by the time Mark came over that night. It was one of those quiet, lazy Friday nights where the two of you didn’t need to talk much. Just snacks, a couple of blankets, and a well-worn stack of DVDs.

You weren’t supposed to have people over this late—especially not boys—but it was Mark. If your parents knew it was him, they’d probably be fine with it. Still, sneaking him in through your fire escape gave the night a little thrill.

The two of you were huddled on your bed, knees bumping each other as the movie played on the TV. It was some action flick Mark had picked out, but your attention was divided between the screen and him. He looked more relaxed now than he had at school, though every now and then, you caught him glancing toward the door, like he was expecting someone to barge in.

“You good?” you asked softly, nudging him with your elbow.

“Huh? Yeah, totally,” he said, flashing you a sheepish grin. “Just… didn’t expect him to survive that fall.”

You laughed quietly, shaking your head. “It’s a superhero movie, Mark. No one ever dies unless it’s to make the hero angsty.”

He chuckled at that, leaning back into the couch. “Fair point.”

As the movie went on, the two of you started whispering back and forth, your voices barely louder than the hum of the TV.

“Okay, that was so fake,” you said, gesturing at the screen as the hero miraculously dodged a bullet.

Mark smirked. “You’re telling me this is where you draw the line?”

“I have standards!”

He shook his head, stifling a laugh, when suddenly his posture stiffened. His head tilted slightly, and his hand reached out, brushing your arm.

“Hey,” he whispered, his tone urgent. “Be quiet for a second.”

You blinked at him, confused. “What?”

“Shh,” he insisted, sitting up straighter. His eyes darted toward the hallway, and he moved to hide on the ground next to the bed, out of view of your doorway.

“What’s your problem?” you asked, a little too loudly.

Before he could answer, the door creaked open, and your mom peeked in, her expression equal parts annoyed and groggy.

“Y/N,” she said, crossing her arms. “It’s almost midnight. Keep it down, okay?”

Your eyes went wide. “Oh! Sorry, Mom. I’ll quiet down.”

She lingered for a moment, her gaze sweeping the room. You held your breath, praying she wouldn’t notice the second pair of sneakers tucked gently away next to your your bedside table. Thankfully, she just nodded and shuffled back down the hallway.

The second the coast was clear, you turned to Mark, your heart still racing.

“How the hell did you know she was coming?” you hissed, keeping your voice low this time.

Mark scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes. “I, uh… I just… I don’t know, I guess I heard her footsteps?”

“Footsteps?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes at him. “Mark, I didn’t hear anything. How did you hear her through a closed door? And while we were talking, no less?”

He let out a nervous laugh, shrugging a little too casually. “Maybe I’ve just got good ears?”

“Good ears my ass,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “You’ve been weird all day. First in gym, then in class, and now this. What’s going on with you?”

Mark froze for a second, his expression flickering between panic and guilt. “Nothing! I swear, it’s—nothing. You’re imagining things.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Yeah, okay” you said sarcastically, not realizing how close you were to the truth.

Mark’s laugh came out a little too forced this time. “Anyways, we should probably finish the movie, it’s getting late.”

You didn’t push the issue—for now. But as the movie played on, you couldn’t help but glance at him, your curiosity growing stronger with every passing minute.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

After your slightly strange movie night, everything feels... normal. You’re at school with Mark again, cracking jokes about your teachers and helping each other survive the monotony of class. 

After school, you walk home together as usual. Mark’s quiet, more so than usual, and you figure he’s just tired. He always seems tired these days.

"Are you okay?" you ask, nudging his arm.

He flinches slightly, then forces a smile. "Yeah, I’m good. Just didn’t sleep well last night."

You nod, though his answer doesn’t quite satisfy you.

Later that evening, you decide to take a quick walk to clear your head. The streets are quiet, the orange glow of the streetlights casting long shadows. You’re only a few blocks from your apartment when you hear shouting—a man yelling for help. Your heart pounds as you turn the corner and see a masked figure—Spider-Man—swinging into action.

It’s like watching a movie come to life. He moves with incredible speed and grace, disarming the attacker in seconds. The victim stumbles to safety, and Spider-Man barely pauses before disappearing into the night.

You stand frozen, your mind racing. Spider-Man isn’t supposed to be real—not in your world, not in your life. And yet, here he is, saving people in your neighborhood.

When you finally make it home, Mark texts you almost immediately:

Hey, you okay?

The timing feels weirdly coincidental.

Yeah... just saw something crazy on my walk. Spider-Man.

There’s a pause before he replies.

Mark: Whoa, no way. He’s around here?

You: Guess so. It was... surreal.

Mark: Sounds scary. You’re sure you’re okay?

Something about the way he asks makes you hesitate. He sounds so concerned, almost like he’s talking to himself.

You: Yeah. Are YOU okay?

Mark: Me? Of course. Just checking on you. I saw your location said you were outside.

You chastise yourself for not remembering he had your location. You’d have probably done the same thing if his location said he was outside in the middle of the night. Though, you’d never had the habit of checking his.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

Saturday nights are sacred.

Since middle school, you and Mark have had this unspoken rule: no matter what, Saturday nights are yours. Whether it’s binging your favorite show, building Legos, or debating which movie series is superior, it’s the highlight of your week.

You’ve been looking forward to tonight all day. After tossing a blanket over the couch and setting out snacks—chips for you, candy for him—you settle in, phone in hand, waiting for Mark’s familiar knock.

He’s usually punctual, arriving right when he says he will. But tonight, the minutes stretch into an hour, and he’s still not there.

You glance at your phone. No texts, no missed calls.

You: Where are you? I’m starting to think you forgot about me.

No response.

You frown but try not to overthink it. Maybe he got caught up with something. You wait another fifteen minutes, then send another text.

You: Mark?? You better not be ditching me for one of your dumb guy friends.

Still nothing. Anxiety begins to creep in, though you try to push it aside. He’s probably just running late.

An hour later, you’ve run out of chips and excuses for his absence.

You: I’m officially mad at you.

By the time midnight rolls around, you’ve all but given up. You leave one last text before tossing your phone onto the coffee table.

You: Hope you’re okay. Call me when you see this.

Sleep doesn’t come easily that night. Your mind races with possibilities—some silly, some serious. Is he okay? Did something happen? You brush them off as anxious thoughts running wild and try to fall asleep.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

The next morning, your phone buzzes with a message from Mark.

Mark: I’m so sorry, Y/N. I got sick out of nowhere last night. Took some medicine and completely passed out. I didn’t even see your texts until now.

You exhale, relieved but annoyed.

You: SICK? You ditched me because you were sick? I’m so offended.

Mark: I’m sorryyyyy. 😭 I’ll make it up to you, I swear.

You: You better be glad I didn’t watch our show without you.

Mark: You wouldn’t dare.

You: Guess you’ll never know. 

His usual playfulness makes you smile, but the knot in your chest hasn’t completely loosened. You know it’s dumb, but a small part of you wonders if there’s more to the story. Mark never misses your hangouts. You’re always the first to know if something’s wrong. And as much as you want to believe his excuse, the insecurity that’s been gnawing at you for years whispers otherwise.

He’s your only real friend, and deep down, you’re terrified of losing him. You’re terrified that one day he’ll outgrow you, that he’ll find someone cooler, funnier, or just... better.

You shake your head, trying to push the thoughts away. Mark said he was sick, and you believe him. There’s no reason to think otherwise. But as you put your phone down and get ready for the day, you can’t help but feel like something isn’t adding up.

You stare at your phone, willing it to buzz with a new message from Mark, but it stays silent. You’ve already texted him a few times this afternoon, and while he usually responds by now, today it’s been almost two hours since your last message. Your thumb hovers over your screen, ready to send something, but you stop yourself. Maybe he’s busy. It’s fine. It’s not like you need him to text you back right away, right?

But you can’t shake the growing discomfort in your chest.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

Ever since his message about getting sick a few weeks ago, he’s been a little off. Sure, he’d apologized for missing your hangout, but now, it’s like nothing has changed. During the day, he’s the same—always goofy, friendly, and acting normal when you see him at school. But by the time night falls, he’s almost always gone—his responses slow, often one-word answers, and sometimes, he doesn’t respond at all. And this has gone on for almost a month now.

The more time passes, the more you can’t help but feel like he’s distancing himself from you, like you’ve somehow become a burden on him. You try to tell yourself you’re overthinking it. He’s probably just busy, right? But deep down, there’s a voice whispering that maybe he’s just getting tired of you. You wish you could ignore it, but the insecurity festers, eating away at your confidence with every minute he doesn’t reply.

By the time midnight rolls around, you’ve already sent him two more texts, no response. You try to sleep, but your mind is spinning. Is he with someone else? You hate that thought, but it keeps creeping in. Maybe he’s found new people to hang out with. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore.

You throw your phone aside, frustrated with yourself, with him, and with the situation. Why do I care so much? You’ve never been the type to need constant validation from someone else, but with Mark? It’s different. You’ve always been there for each other, always shared your time. You didn’t need anything more from him, but now… it feels like you’re losing him.

Then, you get a message.

It's from Mark. Your heart jumps into your throat as you open it. “Hey, sorry. I got totally wrapped up in homework, we still on for tomorrow?”

You read it over and over, but something feels off. It’s a good excuse—too good, maybe. You want to believe him, but part of you wonders if he’s just avoiding you now. He was so there for you, always texting and hanging out after school. But now? It feels like he’s just gone, like a ghost. You don’t know what to believe.

“Can’t, sorry. I have plans with Giselle.”

There’s a pause before his reply comes through. You can almost hear the indifference in his words, even though you know you’re probably reading into it too much.

“Ah, alright. Have fun.”

The message feels too short, too casual. You frown at your phone, biting your lip. The nagging feeling in your chest grows stronger. Has he really just become that indifferent?

You text him back quickly, trying to keep things light, trying to ignore the hurt that lingers in your words. “Yeah sorry, we’ll definitely hang out later this week though, haha.”

But even as you send the message, a part of you wonders if this week is going to be just like the last—another week of him acting normal at school, you trying to text him all night, waiting for responses that don’t come, waiting for a friendship that doesn’t feel the same anymore.

You let out a sigh, toss your phone aside, and climb into bed, your angsty playlist drifting through your ears as you struggle to sleep.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

The bass from the music thumps through your chest as you step into the crowded living room. The lights are dim, the room filled with a haze of colored neon and swirling bodies moving to the rhythm. It’s your first real party in a long time, and the unfamiliar atmosphere is slightly overwhelming. You spot Giselle across the room, her blonde hair shining under the strobe lights as she waves you over.

You smile, grateful for her invitation. The group of people she’s hanging with seems friendly enough, laughing and chatting as they pass drinks around. Giselle introduces you to a few of her friends, and you slip into the crowd easily enough, trying to shake off the tension that’s been building in you ever since Mark stopped replying to your texts.

You’ve been pushing it down all night, focusing on the fun of the party, but it’s hard to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of your mind. Is he really busy with homework? Or is he avoiding me? You try not to dwell on it. After all, he’s always been a little unpredictable—he’s probably just caught up with his own stuff.

As the night wears on, you find yourself getting along with Giselle’s friends. You chat with a girl named Ningning who shares a class with you, and you laugh at her sarcastic humor. It’s nice. It feels good to be out and talking with people who aren’t just classmates or distant acquaintances. But still, in the back of your mind, you’re aware of the emptiness Mark’s absence has left. Every few minutes, you glance at your phone, hoping to see a message from him, but there’s nothing.

You tell yourself it’s fine—he’s just busy. But every time you check, you feel a little more disappointed. 

The music pulses louder, and you take a deep breath, shaking off the thoughts of your best friend. Giselle is pulling you toward the makeshift dance floor, laughing as she drags you into the crowd. You let yourself get swept up in the fun for a while, your body moving to the beat, the drinks in your system giving you a comfortable, carefree buzz.

You laugh, enjoy yourself, and even manage to pull out a few impressive dance moves—at least according to Giselle, who’s cheering you on. The night seems to go by in a blur of music and people, the few drinks you’d had adding to the fuzziness of the night’s events.

But as the night winds down, you find yourself standing near the door, chatting with Ningning again. You glance down at your phone for what feels like the hundredth time, a little embarrassed that you’re still hoping for a text from him.

You frown when you see the time: it’s late, and you still haven’t heard from him. You were starting to wonder if you should text him, maybe check in, when Giselle appears beside you. “Hey, you okay?” she asks, her eyes narrowing with a knowing look. You smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just... thinking about stuff,” you say vaguely, slipping your phone back into your pocket.

She nods. “You know, it’s okay to have fun without him. Sometimes you gotta do your own thing, right?”

You nod along, but her words hit deeper than she probably intended. Why does it feel like I can’t? you think, but you don’t say it out loud. Instead, you force another smile. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Giselle offers to drive you home, but you shake your head. “I think I’ll walk. Get some fresh air. Plus, I’ve got pepper spray, just in case,” you joke, trying to ease the mood.

She laughs, but her eyes linger on you for a moment. “Alright, take care of yourself, okay?”

You wave her off as she heads toward the car with her friends. You linger by the door for a moment, a small hesitation gnawing at you, but then you push it aside. Walking will help clear your head.

As you step out into the cool night air, the city streets are alive with the usual hum of late-night activity. There’s a slight chill to the breeze, but you don’t mind it. You wrap your jacket tighter around your shoulders, feeling the effects of the alcohol beginning to wear off as the cold air helps sober you up. The walk is quiet, and for the first time tonight, you feel like you can breathe a little easier.

But even though the night is peaceful, your mind still drifts back to Mark. His silence feels like an anchor in your chest, something heavy and uncertain, and as you walk, you can’t stop wondering what’s going on. You’ve spent every Saturday night together for as long as you can remember. And now... now he’s just disappearing.

You try to shake off the feeling, telling yourself it's nothing. Maybe you’re just overthinking. Again. But the more you walk, the more your thoughts spiral, until you hear the footsteps behind you.

Before you can even react, a hand grabs your wrist, spinning you around so quickly that your heart jumps into your throat. Your breath catches in your chest, and for a split second, you can’t even process what’s happening. The streetlights cast long shadows on the sidewalk, and for a brief, terrifying moment, you can’t make out the guy’s face. All you feel is the cold, tight grip on your wrist.

Your heart starts pounding in your chest, panic surging through you. You try to pull away, but his hand tightens, and a sickening, familiar feeling spreads through you.

"Hey! Let go of me!" you shout, your voice shaking.

“Quiet, bitch,” the man growls, his breath hot against your neck. You struggle, but his grip tightens, and your pulse quickens.

Just as the fear begins to settle over you, you hear a soft whoosh, followed by a thud that’s too heavy to be anything but a person.

Without warning, the man’s grip on you loosens, and before you can even react, you're yanked off the ground and pulled up a nearby fire escape ladder, higher and higher until you’re standing on a rooftop. Your heart pounds in your chest as you try to steady your breath. You glance around, completely disoriented, when the voice of the masker figure breaks the silence. 

You let out a breath, in awe of the Spiderman being right in front of you.

But before you can say anything, he speaks.

“Stay here,” he orders, his tone sharp as he drops you onto a crate by the edge of the roof. “I’ll handle it. Don’t move.”

You don’t even have time to ask him what’s going on before he’s gone, leaving you sitting there alone in the dark, your mind spinning. What the hell just happened? Is this... real? You glance around, still trying to process the fact that Spiderman—the very same guy you’d heard about in the news, the one everyone in the city seems to talk about—just saved you from some creep.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear the sound of struggle below, muffled voices, and a distant thud as Spiderman confronts the man you were just seconds away from being attacked by. It’s all over within moments, and before you can fully grasp the situation, Spiderman returns, landing effortlessly on the roof beside you.

He glances at you, his mask giving nothing away, but you notice the way his chest rises and falls a little too fast for someone who should be used to fighting.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice softer now. You nod quickly, trying to push the terror away.

“Yeah,” you reply, swallowing hard. “Thanks for saving me.”

A long silence stretches between you before you, almost hesitantly, ask, “Did... did you... kill him?”

The question comes out before you can think better of it, but the moment you say it, his head whips toward you in complete shock.

“What?!” he exclaims, his voice full of disbelief. “No! I—no, I didn’t kill him! I just... I knocked him out. I’m not... I don’t... that’s not what I do.”

You blink, surprised at how horrified he sounds. Maybe you’ve underestimated him.

“Oh,” you murmur, feeling sheepish. “Sorry, I... I don’t know how these things work.”

Spiderman’s shoulders visibly relax, and he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s fine. Just... just stay safe, okay? I’ll get you home.”

You nod, your heart still beating erratically in your chest. Part of you is still processing everything, but another part of you is grateful. Grateful for Spiderman being here tonight, for protecting you when no one else would have been able to.

“Um, thank you again,” you say, your voice softer this time.

His eyes behind the mask seem to soften, but you’re not sure. “I can take you home,” he offers, voice low, almost too gentle, slightly familiar but you’re unable to place exactly where you’d heard it before.

You blink up at him, still in shock, and then remember where you are. “I’m almost home… I can walk the rest of the way.”

But the more you think about it, the more you realize you really don’t want to walk. Not after what just happened. Plus, his presence feels safe in a way you can’t explain.

Spiderman seems to notice the hesitation in your expression, and before you can change your mind, he’s already swooping down, his webbing attaching to a nearby building. “Hold on tight.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you barely process his words. Before you can question how he knows where you live, he shoots another web, pulling you along with him. Your feet leave the ground, and you’re soaring through the city. The wind rushes against your face, and everything is a blur of lights and rooftops.

The whole trip is a disorienting whirl, but it’s somehow comforting in its chaos. Spiderman moves like he’s done this a thousand times, his grip tight around your waist as he swings from one building to the next. The world below you is a distant hum, but your thoughts are still clouded with questions.

And then, as quickly as it began, you find yourself standing on the fire escape of your apartment building. Your legs are a little shaky, but it doesn’t matter. You’re safe.

“Here we are,” he says, glancing up at your window.

You stare at him, still slightly tipsy from the night’s events, but not questioning how he knows where you live. After all, it’s just one of those things that doesn’t make sense, and you don’t really care. All that matters is that you’re safe now.

“Thanks,” you say quietly, feeling oddly vulnerable under his watchful gaze.

He nods again, his hand slipping back to his side as he stands a little straighter. “Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t walk alone at night again. It’s... not safe. Especially for pretty girls like you.”

You nod, still too stunned to respond properly. You watch as he shoots a web up to the fire escape and swings back into the darkness. You stand there for a moment, your thoughts racing, wondering if the whole thing really just happened. It’s only when you step inside your apartment and hear the quiet of the night that it hits you. Spiderman just saved me, not only that but he’d called you pretty too.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

The next Monday morning at school, everything feels a little surreal. You’re walking through the hallways, mind still reeling from that night’s events. You still haven’t told anyone, and you feel like you’re about to burst. How in the world had Spiderman been so close to you? And you were actually talking to him, like... you know, a real conversation.

As you sit down next to Mark in homeroom, you can’t help but grin. You need to tell someone about the whole thing, and who better than your best friend? You tap his shoulder and lean in close, trying to act casual but failing miserably.

“Oh my God, Mark, you won’t believe what happened last night,” you blurt out, eyes wide with excitement.

He raises an eyebrow, a slight chuckle escaping him as he looks over at you. “What happened? You go to a party or something?”

You shake your head, not able to contain the grin that stretches across your face. “Worse. I got mugged.” You pause for dramatic effect, watching his eyes widen with concern. “But wait—before you freak out, I was saved. By Spiderman.”

Mark freezes for a second, blinking at you in disbelief. “Spiderman? You’re serious? Like, the Spiderman?”

You nod, leaning back in your chair, arms crossed as you recount the entire wild encounter, from the guy grabbing you to being yanked onto the roof and saved by Spiderman. You try to make it sound as casual as possible, but you can’t help but feel the thrill of telling someone about your personal brush with New York’s most famous hero.

“That’s insane,” Mark mutters, clearly processing the details. “Wait, so... what happened next?”

“Well, he saved me,” you say, leaning in like you’re sharing a secret. “But... I’m not gonna lie, Mark, he was lowkey hot.” 

Mark splutters, his face twisting with confusion. “What? You don’t even know what he looks like.”

You shrug dramatically, twirling your pen between your fingers. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not about looks. It’s how he was so protective, you know? The way he grabbed me and made sure I was okay... it was hot.”

You watch Mark's face turn a shade of red as his expression shifts from surprise to something else entirely—discomfort, maybe? You can practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to hold it together.

“No way. You’re a freak, bro,” Mark says, shaking his head and trying to laugh it off. “Like, seriously? You’re crushing on a guy you don’t even know?”

You roll your eyes, letting out a short laugh. “I don’t judge your crushes, so don’t judge mine. It’s called appreciating someone for more than just their looks.”

Mark scowls, but there’s a nervous twitch in his eyes. “I’m not judging. But... I don’t know, it’s just a little weird. You’ve got a crush on Spiderman?”

You smile, feeling a little awkward. “I guess. He’s mysterious, heroic... and I mean, he was pretty hot for someone wearing a mask.” You nudge him playfully, watching the way he looks more and more flustered.

Mark shrugs, but you can see the slight hesitation in his eyes. “Whatever, man. You’re weird. But... I guess if he saved you... that’s... kinda cool.”

It’s hard to ignore the little spark of something else in his voice, even if he’s trying to mask it with humor. You grin to yourself, filing the moment away. You’re not sure why, but it feels like there’s a shift between you two—something you can’t quite put your finger on.

You press the issue no further, but the day goes on, and you can't stop thinking about Mark’s weird reaction. Sure, he’s your best friend, but the way he acted just now... it made you wonder. Could he possibly feel something more for you?

You find yourself entertaining the idea of Mark having a crush on you, before shaking your head and brushing the thought away. There’s no way Mark liked you, if he did, he would have told you.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

As the week drags on, you can't shake the thought of Spiderman. Sure, you were trying to move on, but it’s hard when you keep running into him every time you step out of the apartment at night. You’ll be walking home from the store, or maybe grabbing dinner with Giselle and Ninging, and bam—there he is, swinging between buildings or dropping down from some rooftop. It’s like he’s everywhere.

At first, you try to brush it off, telling yourself it’s just a coincidence. But then, it starts feeling a little too suspicious, almost like he’s... following you? Or looking out for you?

One night, you’re walking back from your favorite coffee shop, the crisp air of early fall making you hug your jacket tighter. You’ve been texting Mark, as usual, but his replies are slow—too slow. You roll your eyes at the screen, sighing. You swear, it’s like he’s avoiding you or something.

As you round the corner toward your apartment building, you feel that familiar shift in the air, that sensation of something just slightly off. You glance up and sure enough, you spot him—Spiderman—perched on a rooftop above you, his figure silhouetted against the dim streetlights.

You pause in your tracks, raising a brow. “Really? Again?”

Spiderman tilts his head, as if amused by your reaction. He crouches down and lands lightly in front of you, his movements fluid and graceful.

“You’re following me, huh?” you tease, crossing your arms over your chest. “I mean, I appreciate the protection and all, but you don’t have to babysit me.”

Spiderman straightens, a soft chuckle escaping from behind the mask. “I’m not babysitting,” he says with a playful edge. “Just making sure you don’t run into any... unsavory people.”

You roll your eyes, but there's a slight smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, well, I’m fine. Been walking these streets for years now.”

There’s a pause, as if he’s considering your words. “I’m still here. Just in case.” His voice is a little warmer than usual, though it’s hard to tell beneath the mask.

You feel a mix of amusement and frustration bubbling up. “You’re a real hero, huh?” you quip. “Just swinging in, saving the day. But honestly? I’m starting to get tired of it. I mean, you’re cute and all, but this whole ‘mysterious stranger’ act? It’s getting old.”

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, and as soon as they do, you realize—you’ve just said that to Spiderman.

You quickly recover, trying to act casual. “It’s fine, I guess. I’m just getting a little tired of feeling like I’m in some weird superhero movie, you know?”

Spiderman doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he steps a little closer, his posture still relaxed but with a certain intensity in his eyes—well, you imagine that’s what’s behind the mask.

“Maybe I should back off for a while then,” he says after a beat, his tone more thoughtful. “You’ve got it all under control, right?”

You scoff, crossing your arms in an attempt to cover up how your heart is suddenly beating a little faster. “Yeah, I’ve got it under control, obviously.”

“Really?” Spiderman says, his voice a little too calm for your liking. Before you can even process what’s happening, he webs your phone right out of your hand, and you gasp, stumbling back in surprise as it hovers in midair for a second before landing gently in his palm.

You blink up at him in disbelief, your mouth hanging open. “What the hell? Give that back!”

He shrugs, unfazed. “What if someone mugs you again? No offense, but your reflexes suck.”

Your jaw clenches at the jab, but you can’t help but laugh bitterly. “Thanks, I feel so much safer now. I wasn’t even worried about it.”

You reach for your phone, and he hands it back to you, but there’s a look in his eyes—concern, maybe? Or just frustration. “You might not worry, but I do. You seem like you’ve got your act together, but... I don’t know. Maybe I’m just looking out for you.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real heat in the gesture. "Fine," you say, a little too quickly. "I guess I can let you walk with me then. But just so you know, you’re not my personal bodyguard, alright?”

Spiderman grins behind his mask, a little triumphant, but he falls in step behind you. You try to ignore the way his presence feels different—more constant now, like it’s a part of the night itself. You walk for a few minutes, the quiet of the city streets pressing in on you. You try to focus on the rhythmic sound of your footsteps, but the weight of the past few days catches up with you, and you find your shoulders slumping a little more with each step.

Spiderman notices, of course. You can feel his eyes on your back, studying you, but he doesn’t say anything for a while.

Finally, he speaks up, his voice softer than usual. “You wanna talk about it? I mean, you’ve been acting a little... off tonight.”

You look over your shoulder at him, surprised that he even noticed. But you don’t hesitate. Maybe it’s the anonymity of the mask. Maybe it’s the strange comfort of having a stranger to vent to. But suddenly, you just want to unload.

“Yeah,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair, “I mean, I’ve been dealing with some... stuff lately.”

You kick a rock along the sidewalk as you walk, the soft scrape of it filling the silence. “I’ve got this friend, Mark, right? We’ve been close for years—like, best friends. We have this thing where every Saturday, no exceptions, we hang out. Watch movies, talk... whatever. We’re just... us. But lately? He’s been acting weird. Like, really weird.”

Spiderman doesn’t interrupt. He just walks beside you, giving you the space to talk.

“It’s like he’s avoiding me,” you continue, your words gaining momentum. “I get that people get busy, but he’s never like this. He’s slow to reply, sometimes doesn’t even respond at all, and when he does, it’s like he doesn’t care anymore. I don’t even know what happened. It’s just... really frustrating. And I don’t even know if I should ask him about it, because I don’t want to come off as desperate or clingy.”

You kick another rock, your frustration spilling over, and for a second, you feel a little ridiculous. Here you are, talking about Mark to a guy you don’t even know, someone who wears a mask and swings from rooftops. But the words come tumbling out anyway, all of your insecurities and confusion finding a strange kind of release in the cool air of the city.

Spiderman stays quiet for a moment, processing. When he finally speaks, his voice is calm, like he’s trying to make sense of your ramblings. “Sounds like he’s pulling away for some reason,” he says thoughtfully. “But I’m sure there’s a reason. Maybe he’s just going through something, you know?”

You shrug, feeling the weight of the uncertainty settle in your chest. “I don’t know. I just... I want things Spiderman listens quietly, his footsteps matching yours as you walk. You don’t notice the way his posture shifts, or the way his mask seems to obscure any hint of emotion—though somehow, you feel like he’s really paying attention.

After a few beats of silence, he finally speaks again, his voice thoughtful and a little gentler than before. “You know, I think you should just talk to him. Mark, I mean.”

You stop in your tracks, looking over at him in surprise. “What?”

Spiderman shrugs, his tone almost casual, but his words don’t match the nonchalance. “I get it. You’re frustrated, and you don’t want to be the one to chase him down. But sometimes, people just need a nudge. If you really want things to go back to the way they were... maybe you should just be honest with him. Ask him what’s up.”

You frown, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, suddenly feeling a little vulnerable. “But what if I look desperate? Or, I don’t know... what if he doesn’t care?”

Spiderman stops walking too, his voice quiet but steady when he answers. “He cares. I’m sure of it.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, surprised by how certain he sounds. “How could you possibly know that? You don’t even know him.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “I don’t need to. I can tell from the way you talk about him. The way you light up when you mention him. You’re not the kind of person who just forgets someone you care about. And trust me, it’s obvious he doesn’t want to lose that either. Whatever’s going on, I’m sure it’s nothing personal.”

You let out a long sigh, leaning against the nearest streetlamp. His words stir something inside you—something you’ve been avoiding all week. The idea that Mark really does care makes your heart feel a little lighter, but the fear is still there. “But what if he doesn’t? What if I make things worse by trying to talk to him?”

Spiderman leans against the wall next to you, his posture relaxed. “Look, I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. But you know him. I’m sure you’ve been through rough patches before and you worked through them. You just need to give him the chance to explain himself. I think that’s all he needs—someone to really talk to. And if you don’t do it, you’ll always be wondering what could’ve happened.”

You chew on your lip, his words hanging in the air between you. There’s a weight to them, something that feels... true. Something that makes you want to listen to him, to take his advice. But still, there’s a stubborn part of you that wants to push it all aside. “I just... don’t want to get hurt. Again.”

Spiderman straightens up, his tone surprisingly gentle. “You won’t. Not if you’re honest. Trust me.”

You glance up at him, your gaze softening as you look into the mysterious eyes behind his mask. He sounds so sure of himself.

“Thanks,” you mumble, more to yourself than to him. “I’ll think about it.”

He nods once, giving you an almost encouraging smile beneath the mask. “I know you will.”

You both fall silent as you continue walking, but the weight in your chest doesn’t feel quite as heavy anymore. Maybe, just maybe, Spiderman is right. Maybe you do need to talk to Mark.

Maybe it won’t be as scary as you think.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

A few days after your conversation with Spiderman, things between you and Mark seem to settle down a bit. He’s still a little distant at times, but when he’s around, you notice he’s more present, his smiles more genuine, his conversations less distracted. It’s not the same as before—things can’t just magically go back to normal—but there’s something warmer there, something more honest.

One afternoon, as you’re sitting at your favorite spot in the courtyard, you catch him coming toward you, looking a little tired but still smiling like he’s actually glad to see you. You can’t help but feel a pang of relief. It’s been a while since you’ve had one of these simple, casual hangouts, and you’ve missed it more than you care to admit.

He sits beside you, just like old times, and you both start talking like you haven’t missed a beat. But the conversation isn’t just surface-level anymore. He seems more open, more real.

After a while, you can’t hold back anymore. The thought has been gnawing at the back of your mind for days, and it’s finally time to ask.

You clear your throat, trying to sound casual, though your heart is thumping in your chest. "Hey, Mark. Can I ask you something?"

He glances at you, his brow furrowing slightly, but he’s still listening. “Of course. What’s up?”

You take a deep breath, trying not to come off too confrontational. "Why did you ghost me before? I mean, I know you were busy, but... you weren’t even texting me back. I didn’t want to push, but it felt like you were avoiding me."

His expression hardens for just a moment, like he's bracing himself. He looks away for a second, running a hand through his hair. "I was... going through something. Something personal."

You wait, your heart rate picking up. The words hang between you two, waiting for him to elaborate. But he doesn’t.

You want to press him, ask for more details, but you don’t. There’s something about the way he said it—quiet, almost hesitant—that makes you feel like he’s not ready to share. You nod, leaning back against the bench. “Okay... But you know, you can always talk to me, right?”

Mark hesitates, eyes flicking back to you, a mix of gratitude and something else passing through his gaze. "I know," he says, his voice soft but firm. "But right now, I really can’t. I wish I could, but..." He lets out a sigh, his shoulders dropping. "It’s complicated, and I don’t want to drag you into it."

You feel the weight of his words, something about them striking you deeper than you expected. There’s an intensity there, a desperation almost, that you weren’t prepared for. You stare at him for a moment, your gaze softening as you consider his words.

"I trust you, Mark," you say quietly. "And I know you’re not lying to me. So... if you can’t tell me yet, it’s okay. Just know that I’m here, whenever you’re ready."

There’s a long pause as he looks at you, like he’s trying to read the sincerity in your eyes. Finally, he looks away, nodding slowly.

"Thanks. That... means a lot to me." His voice cracks a little, and you can tell how much he appreciates your understanding. "I really am sorry for pulling away, though. I never wanted to hurt you."

You smile softly, feeling the tension between you two finally start to ease. "I know you didn’t. But I’m here, okay? Just like you said—whenever you’re ready, I’m not going anywhere."

He gives a small, grateful smile, his eyes warmer than they’ve been in a while. "Thanks... I really mean it."

From that moment on, things slowly start to return to a sense of normalcy. Mark isn’t completely open with you yet—whatever is going on with him still seems like something he’s not ready to share—but there’s a shift. There’s no more distance. He’s trying, and you’re trying, and that’s enough for now.

And as you walk to class together the next day, you feel a little lighter. Maybe things aren’t perfect, and maybe they never will be, but you’re still here for each other. And somehow, that’s all you need for now.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

Things have started to settle into a new rhythm, one that’s almost comfortable. You and Mark are hanging out again, like before, laughing and joking and just enjoying each other’s company. But now, there's something different in the air—something lighter, maybe even flirtatious. It’s subtle, but it’s there. He'll tease you, throw out little compliments that make your heart race, and you’ve noticed the way he looks at you when you’re talking, his eyes softer than usual.

You can’t deny it—you’re starting to feel the spark again, that chemistry you thought you had maybe lost when things got weird. But you're also talking to Spiderman regularly now, and every time you do, you feel like you’re walking this tightrope between two worlds—one where everything feels so right with Mark, and one where he is a complete mystery. You don’t even realize it yet, but you're starting to fall for both of them in very different ways.

You hadn’t expected to run into him tonight, but here he is, perched on the fire escape across the street, casually leaning against the rail. It’s become a weird sort of routine lately—your nightly walks where you’d end up talking to Spiderman. It’s comforting in its own way, even if you still don’t know who’s behind the mask.

You slow your pace and look up at him, raising an eyebrow. “You’re stalking me now?”

Spiderman chuckles, the sound muffled by the mask but still warm enough to make your chest flutter. “If I’m stalking you, then you’re stalking me, too,” he teases, swinging down lightly to land in front of you. “What’s up tonight?”

You shrug, adjusting the straps of your bag over your shoulder. “Not much. Just out to clear my head.”

The city feels quieter at night. The hum of the busy streets seems far away, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you standing there in the stillness. You’ve gotten used to his company in the past couple of weeks, and there’s a sense of comfort in the anonymity between you. A part of you almost wishes you could talk to him more. After everything with Mark, it’s nice to have someone to listen, someone who isn’t involved in the mess.

He notices the shift in your demeanor, and you can tell by the tilt of his head that he’s waiting for you to speak.

You let out a deep breath, gathering your courage. You hadn’t planned on telling him this, but somehow it just comes out. “I think I’m in love with Mark,” you say, voice quieter than usual, almost scared to even say it out loud.

His posture stiffens for a second, though you can’t see his expression under the mask. “Mark?” he repeats, sounding genuinely surprised. “Like, your best friend Mark?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Yeah. I mean... I don’t know. It’s confusing. We’ve been friends forever, and now it’s like I can’t get him out of my head. Lately, he’s been like flirting, I think?”

“Flirting?” he asks, his tone curious, almost teasing. “What do you mean?”

“Yeah,” you say, laughing nervously. “I don’t know, he’s just been way nicer lately? Texting me more, teasing me... It’s like he’s trying to get closer to me or something.”

You glance around, unsure of how to continue, suddenly feeling a little silly talking about your boy problems to Spiderman. You rub the back of your neck and look away, trying to gather your thoughts. “But I don’t know if I’m imagining it. Maybe I’m just reading into things. I mean, we’ve been friends for so long. He’s always been nice to me, but now it’s... different. It’s making me crazy. I don’t know what to think.”

Spiderman watches you quietly, his posture still, though there’s something in the way he holds himself that makes you feel like he’s really paying attention. “You deserve an answer,” he says after a pause, his voice low but certain. “You deserve to know how he feels, one way or the other.”

You look up at him, surprised by his words. “You think so?”

He gives a slight nod. “Yeah. You can’t keep guessing forever. I mean, I’m not saying it’s easy to talk about feelings, but it’s the only way to know for sure.”

You bite your lip, nodding slowly. You want to believe him, you want to believe that talking to Mark is the right thing to do, but the idea of being rejected still stings. “Yeah... I guess you're right. I’ve been avoiding talking to him about it. I’m scared of what might happen if I do.”

Spiderman steps closer, his voice soft and reassuring. “If he’s your friend, he’ll understand. And if he doesn’t... then at least you’ll know where you stand.”

You sigh deeply, feeling the weight of his words. He’s right, of course. You’ve been avoiding the conversation with Mark because you’re afraid of what might happen, but maybe it’s time to face it.

“Thanks,” you say, feeling a little lighter. “I’m not sure I’d have the courage to do it if you hadn’t said something.”

“No problem,” he replies, a teasing note in his voice. “I mean, I’m just a friendly neighborhood Spiderman. Helping people is kind of my thing.”

You laugh a little, but it’s a mix of relief and gratitude. “You’re way too nice to be a superhero.”

He shrugs, though you can’t see it through the mask. “I do what I can. But seriously, take my advice. Talk to him. He’s probably just as confused as you are.”

You smile, feeling a little more confident now. “I will. I promise.”

Spiderman gives you a nod of approval before his posture shifts, signaling that it’s time to go. “Alright. Go get some sleep. You’ve got this.”

You watch as he swings up to the rooftops, disappearing into the night, and for the first time in a while, you feel like maybe—just maybe—you can start figuring things out with Mark.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

You don’t even see it coming.

One moment, you’re walking back from the corner store with a bag of snacks, minding your own business. The next, someone grabs you, and your heart leaps into your throat. A rough voice snarls in your ear, “Where’s your friend Spiderman?”

Panic overtakes you, and all you can manage is a confused stammer. You’re shoved into the back of a van, heart racing as you piece together what’s happening. Someone must’ve seen you with him that night, or maybe they’ve been watching for longer than you realized.

Your captors don’t wait long to make their demands clear. “You tell him to show up, or things get messy,” one says, holding up your phone. They want you to call him. The problem is, you have no idea how.

You stutter, trying to explain that you literally don’t have his phone number.

“Don’t play dumb,” the second man snaps, holding up your phone. “We’ve seen him with you. Call him.”

“I can’t—”

Your words are cut off as the van jerks to a halt. The two men exchange alarmed glances, and then you hear it: a thud on the roof.

“What the hell was that?” one mutters, pulling out a weapon.

The next sound is unmistakable—the sharp thwip of a web. The van rocks violently as the door is ripped clean off, light flooding the cramped space.

And there he is.

Spiderman is a blur of red and blue, launching himself into the van with an acrobatic flip. He webs the first man’s weapon before the guy can react, yanking it away and tossing it aside. The second man lunges at him with a crowbar, but Spiderman ducks, the crowbar smashing into the wall behind him with a deafening clang.

“Stay down,” Spiderman warns, his voice firm but calm.

The first guy doesn’t listen. He charges at Spiderman, only to get a web shot to the face. Spiderman kicks him backward, sending him sprawling onto the van’s floor.

“Are you okay?” Spiderman asks, glancing at you briefly.

You nod, too stunned to speak.

The second guy doesn’t go down as easily. He’s bigger, meaner, and surprisingly agile. He swings the crowbar again, catching Spiderman in the side. The sickening sound of metal against his ribs makes your stomach turn.

Spiderman grunts in pain, stumbling but recovering quickly. He blocks the next swing with his forearm, webbing the crowbar and yanking it from the man’s grasp. “You really don’t learn, do you?” he quips, his voice strained.

Before he can finish, the first guy is back on his feet, armed with a knife. He slashes at Spiderman, who dodges narrowly but takes a glancing cut to his arm.

“Two against one,” Spiderman mutters, “that’s not very fair.”

He shoots a web at the knife, disarming the man, then uses a second web to yank him forward. Spiderman spins, using the man’s momentum against him, and sends him crashing into the wall of the van.

The second guy charges, tackling Spiderman to the ground. They grapple, fists flying, and you can see Spiderman slowing down, his movements less precise. Blood stains his suit where the knife grazed him, and he’s holding his side—likely from the earlier hit.

Your breath catches as the second guy pins him, but Spiderman surprises you, using his legs to flip the man over his head. He’s back on his feet in an instant, delivering a punch that knocks the guy out cold.

Spiderman turns to you, his breathing heavy, his posture slouched. “You’re safe now,” he says, but his voice wavers.

“Safe? You’re bleeding!” you exclaim, rushing to his side.

“It’s fine,” he says, trying to wave you off, but his movements are sluggish, and he’s gripping his ribs tightly.

“It’s not fine,” you argue, your voice rising. “You’re hurt. You need help. Come on, let’s go to my place.”

He hesitates, but when he stumbles slightly, he lets you guide him out of the van.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

You practically drag Spiderman up the fire escape to your bedroom. He’s limping, trying to downplay the extent of his injuries, but you can see the pain etched into his body language—even through the mask.

“Sit,” you order the moment you’re inside, gesturing to your bed. He hesitates, scanning the windows and doors like he’s expecting someone to burst in.

“Relax,” you add. “Nobody followed us.”

With a reluctant nod, he sinks into the couch, groaning softly. You rush to grab your first-aid kit, returning to find him still gripping his side, his masked head tilted back against the cushions.

“Alright,” you say, kneeling beside him. “I need to check your injuries. You’re gonna have to take off the mask.”

He tenses immediately, shaking his head. “I can’t do that.”

“Spiderman,” you say firmly, “you can’t breathe properly. I need to check if you’re okay. I swear, I won’t tell anyone.”

“No,” he says again, his voice edged with frustration. “I can’t. It’s... complicated.”

You sit back on your heels, crossing your arms. “Complicated? You just saved my life, and now I’m trying to save yours. What’s complicated about that?”

He looks at you for a long moment, the lenses of his mask narrowing slightly. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’ll be fine. I’ve been through worse.”

You huff, annoyed. “Fine. At least let me patch up what I can see.”

He allows you to clean the cut on his arm, wincing slightly as you dab antiseptic on it. You notice how quiet he’s gotten, his usual witty banter replaced by a tense silence.

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know,” you say softly, glancing up at him.

“I do,” he replies immediately, his tone clipped.

The words hit harder than you expect. You lean back, giving him space, and he stands, wobbling slightly.

“Thanks for the help,” he says, moving toward the window.

“Wait—”

“I’ll be fine,” he cuts you off, stepping onto the ledge. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

And then he’s gone, leaving you staring at the empty space where he’d been, your chest tight with frustration and worry.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

It’s been days since you last saw Spiderman. Days of walking home late at night and feeling the eerie absence of the one person who always made you feel safe. You tell yourself it’s fine. That he’s busy saving the city or maybe just giving you space. But deep down, you feel the sting of being shut out.

Mark’s been acting strange too. Not like before, when he outright ignored you, but there’s something guarded about him again—like he’s keeping secrets. You don’t know how much more of this you can take.

One evening, as you’re walking home, the silence feels unbearable. The air feels colder, heavier, without the usual sense of someone watching your back. By the time you reach your apartment, your chest feels tight with frustration. You pull out your phone, scrolling through your recent conversations.

Nothing from Spiderman.

Mark’s last text was a brief, “Can’t hang tonight, sorry.”

You shove your phone in your pocket and head straight to Mark’s apartment

When Mark opens the door, he looks surprised—and maybe a little nervous—to see you.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asks, trying for casual, but there’s a stiffness in his tone.

“Are you avoiding me again?” you blurt out, crossing your arms.

He blinks, clearly caught off guard. “What? No. Why would I—”

“Don’t lie to me, Mark,” you cut him off. “You’ve been weird. You’re barely texting back, and when you do, it’s like you’re walking on eggshells. What’s going on with you?”

He runs a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze. “I’m just... dealing with stuff, okay? It’s nothing to do with you.”

You step closer, lowering your voice. “You told me to trust you. To believe that you care about me. And I do, Mark. But it feels like you’re shutting me out again, and I can’t take that.”

He lets out a long sigh, leaning against the doorframe. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then make it simple!” you exclaim. “You’re my best friend, Mark. You don’t have to do everything alone.”

For a moment, he looks like he’s about to say something—something big. But then he stops himself, his jaw tightening.

“I can’t,” he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stare at him, heart sinking. “Why not?”

“Because if you knew...” He pauses, swallowing hard. “It would change everything. And I can’t risk that.”

Your mind races, frustration boiling over. “Do you even realize how hard it is for me to feel like I can’t talk to anyone? To feel like I’m losing you and—” You stop yourself, clenching your fists. “You know what? Forget it. I’ll stop asking.”

“Y/N...”

“No,” you say firmly, stepping back. “When you’re ready to actually be honest with me, let me know.”

Before he can respond, you turn and walk away, leaving him standing in the doorway, his expression conflicted.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

Mark can’t stop replaying the look on your face as you walked away. The hurt in your voice, the weight of your words—it gnaws at him. For the first time in his life, he’s truly afraid he might lose you.

He paces his room, running a hand through his hair. Every excuse he’s made to keep his identity a secret feels hollow now. You deserve the truth. And if it costs him everything? At least you’ll know how much you mean to him.

Grabbing a small bouquet of flowers—ones he spotted on the way home earlier—he suits up and swings toward your apartment. The city rushes by beneath him, but for once, he doesn’t revel in the thrill of it. His heart pounds in his chest as he lands on your fire escape, crouching just outside your bedroom window.

With a deep breath, he knocks.

You look up, confused at first, but then your heart skips a beat when you see the familiar figure crouched on the fire escape. Spiderman.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should even let him in after how things ended the last time. But then you sigh, walking over and unlocking the window.

“What are you doing here?” you ask flatly, crossing your arms as he steps inside.

He straightens, holding out the small bouquet of slightly squished flowers. “I, uh... I messed up,” he says, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. “And I needed to make it right.”

You glance at the flowers, then back at him, skeptical. “You think flowers are gonna fix everything?”

“No,” he admits quickly, shaking his head. “Not at all. But I’m here because... I need to tell you the truth. The whole truth.”

You raise an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. “You’re finally ready to take off the mask?”

“Yes,” he says firmly, stepping closer. “But only if you promise not to freak out.”

“Why would I freak out?” you mutter, but your curiosity is piqued.

“Just—close your eyes,” he says, a nervous edge to his voice.

You hesitate for a second but do as he asks. You hear the faint rustle of fabric, the sound of him taking off his mask. Then, gently, he takes your hands in his and places them on his face. His skin is warm under your fingertips, and you can feel the slight tremor of his nerves.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Open your eyes.”

You do—and your breath catches in your throat.

“Mark?”

He winces, giving you a sheepish smile. “Surprise?”

Your hands fall from his face as you take a step back, staring at him in utter disbelief. “What the actual hell?! Mark, you’re Spiderman?!”

“Yeah...” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wanted to tell you, I really did. But I couldn’t. Not until now.”

You blink at him, processing. Suddenly, all the weird behavior, the ditching, the injuries—it all makes sense. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time,” you say, your voice shaking slightly.

“I wasn’t lying,” he says quickly. “I was just... protecting you. I didn’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

You open your mouth to argue, but then you stop, taking a deep breath. “Why now, then? Why tell me now?”

“Because I couldn’t lose you,” he says, his voice raw with sincerity. “I know I’ve messed up a lot, and I’ve hurt you, and I hate myself for that. But you’re the most important person in my life, and if being honest is the only way to fix this, then... here I am. No more secrets.”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his words. You take a step closer, searching his face. “You’re an idiot,” you say quietly.

He nods, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. “I know.”

“But I guess... I can forgive you,” you add, your voice softening. “Eventually.”

The tension in his shoulders eases, and he lets out a breath of relief. “Thank you.”

There’s a pause, the air between you heavy with unspoken feelings.

“So...” you say, tilting your head. “What now?”

“Well,” he says, his smile growing, “I was kinda hoping we could start over. But, like, as more than friends this time.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling now too. “I guess saving me from a mugger earns you some points.”

“Good,” he says, stepping closer. “Because I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you meet his gaze, the truth in his eyes making your knees feel weak.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I think I’m in love with you too.”

Before either of you can overthink it, you close the distance between you, pulling him into a kiss that feels like it’s been years in the making. His arms wrap around you, holding you close, and for once, everything feels right.

Maybe for once Spiderman can have a happy ending.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

author's note 𝟅𝟈 this was a bitch to finish i'm ngl but i think i'm pretty happy with how it turned out so yay! i love spiderman sm so yk i love spidermark too. anyways leave suggestions for fics in the comments or my inbox pls.

masterlist.

[anon-vester]

Ivan could feel the constant squirming in his butt. He thought that Kysic was done trying to escape from his ass. It was punishment for always taking his stuff without permission.

48 hours ago.........

Ivan had found several things missing again from his room. He knew who had done it. His roommate Kysic had a nasty habit of borrowing his stuff without even asking. Sometimes, he would return them not the way he had taken them. It really pissed him off about that. He often told him not to take anything from his room unless he asked. Yet time and time again Kysic kept doing it over and over. He decided to put a stop to it and teach him a lesson in leaving his things alone.

As Kysic was in the living room watching tv, Ivan brought him an open soda can. "Here, you must be thirsty." He handed him the soda can.

"Thanks roomy, I thought you would be really upset over my nasty habit." Kysic spoke as he drunk the soda. It was so delicious that he guzzled down the whole thing in seconds. "That was tasty and refreshing." He added as he noticed Ivan smiling back at him. "What's with the smile?" He asked.

Ivan looked at him, "You will see. And I also am still upset over your nasty habit. But I decided to put you in a place to break that nasty habit of yours." He spoke as he waited.

Kysic didn't know what exactly he meant by that. Suddenly thought the whole room was spinning all around him. Everything grew in size, even the couch he was sitting on. He looked over at Ivan who was now like a giant to him. "What's happening?!" He exclaimed in a tiny voice as continued to shrink in size.

Ivan laughed this time. "Soon, you will be small enough to fit in my ass. It will be you prison for the next two days at least. This will teach you the value of personal space." He paused. "You will be my personal butt toy." He added.

Kysic soon found himself centimeters tall, and the world around him extremely huge. He saw Ivan lower his shorts and underwear. He realized that his roommate wasn't lying to him. He began to run, but was already too late. Ivan snatched him up and stuffed him in his butt crack towards his hole. He then stuff part of him into his hole for good measure. "Enjoy your new home for the next two days." He heard him say before closing his butt cheeks, leaving him in a total dark and sweaty prison.

The last 48 hours had been a place of torture for Kysic. There wasn't an ounce of light unless Ivan parted his butt cheeks. It was stuffy and sweaty. Him passing gas made his prison almost unbearable to be there. The worst of it was when Ivan workout. It made it extremely sweaty and slippery. He had to work hard not to get swallowed in his hole. At night, Ivan would fart in his sleep, causing him to pass out and wake up frequently in his hole. Ivan was careful to make sure he couldn't escape his ass when he showered. He would plug him in, keeping him from any means of escaping his prison.

Kysic felt like he learned his lesson. He would leave his roommate's things alone for now on. He hoped some squirming would help Ivan realize he wanted out and learned his lesson.

Ivan was enjoying how much Kysic was squirming in his hole. He really did make the perfect butt toy. He had initially planned just a 48 hour stay in his butt but decided to enjoy his tiny prisoner a little longer. He could tell him his plan, but it would be more fun for the little butt toy to found out on his own. That thought really amused him as he continued to work on his computer.

[sunfairiess]

𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 | 𝐣𝐣 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

tropes: 3rd person narration | soft boy jj | best friends to lovers | comfort | fluff

synopsis: reader’s battling against anxiety and during one of her anxiety attacks, jj’s there to help her.

warnings: heavy depiction of anxiety, anxiety attack.

wc: 2.1k

writing this as someone who suffers from anxiety and deals with it on her own, was really emotional; if you find yourself in this position too, please don’t be afraid to ask for help. mental health matters <3

song rec: breathin - ariana grande ♡

everyone fights their own monsters, some are physically visible, others are perceived. some people have to fight against their families, some against their friends. but one of the biggest and worst challenges, was to fight against your own head.

everyone is tormented by their own monsters. hers is called anxiety, the beast who had ruined her life.

at school, her grades started to drop because she was just so tired all the time she couldn’t even bring herself to open the textbook; half of the foods she used to love were cut out of her daily routine because she would get constant heartburn and stomach problems to the point where she wasn’t able to consume a full meal for days.

when it came to sleeping, she couldn’t fall asleep because her mind was always racing with awful thoughts. what if i don’t wake up tomorrow? do my friends hate me because i didn’t go out with them today? is my heart supposed to beat so fast? my back is hurting, is this a health condition? am i going to be alone forever? usually she would go on for hours, reaching three or four in the morning, until she either cried herself to sleep or she almost passed out because of how tired she was.

going out of the house became hard. she became afraid of taking public transportation because what if someone tried to rob her or kidnap her. she couldn’t take long walks anymore because what if something happens and i’m alone. she even had to stop going to parties because she couldn’t stand big and loud crowds of people anymore.

her mental pain became physical: constantly having back problems, her chest and throat always felt too tight to breathe, her body tingling out of nowhere all the time.

it would’ve been a lie to say all of this didn’t reflected onto her relationship with others; she never told anyone about her own problems, not that they could help anyway. so when she started to hang out less with her friends, she always had to lie. i’m grounded, i can’t go out. sorry, i have too much homework to do. i have the flu, i can’t come. my dad needs my help, i’ll come next time. eventually though, she would run out of excuses, and that’s how she ended up for the first time in a month at the château, surrounded by her best friends.

“girl, we haven’t see you in forever, i almost forgot your face.” kiara joked, nudging her a bit with her elbow.

“i know, i’m so sorry guys. past month has been crazy.” which wasn’t a lie per se, she had spent the last weeks having constant anxiety and panic attacks. in the morning, in the afternoon, at night. and every single time she felt like she was about to die, the impending fear of doom creeping inside her. it really started to become unbearable, to the point where she didn’t even notice how many days would go by.

“well you’re here now, that’s what matters.” pope chimed in, giving her a smile. somehow that made her feel a little bit more lighter, knowing that her friends didn’t actually hated her. anxiety made her overthink every little detail of her life.

even though she tried to appear relaxed the whole night, she still felt like she was being chocked by an imaginary hand, pressing harder every time she breathed. she was grateful that none of her friends noticed the stiffness in her body, it would’ve been to hard to explain everything.

at least she thought no one noticed. jj noticed, he always did. he would observe every little detail about her. and from the moment she stepped into the château he hadn’t been able to keep his gaze off of her, not even for a second. he missed her. he hadn’t seen her in weeks and he had become restless. day and night he would think about her, what she was doing, if she missed him, if she too dreamed about him like he did about her. that’s how it felt being in love with your best friend.

jj knew something was up with her. she was always full of joy and energy, but bow it seemed like she had lost her spark. he knew there was something wrong, especially when he saw her fidgeting with her rings, gazing anxiously around her. he knew something was wrong when she got up, excusing herself from the conversation, and almost running to the bathroom.

following her wasn’t probably too good of an idea, but jj was impulsive, so he did it anyway. amen to that, he would’ve dealt with the consequences later, like his confused friends asking him what the heck was going on.

as he entered the bathroom, she was sat on the toilet. her face so pale you would think she was about to pass out.

he sees her as she stares into the wall, her eyes fixed in front of her, full of fear. he notices as she bring her right hand to her throat, sliding slowly down her chest and pressing hard. he hears her breathing going faster and heavier, like she couldn’t catch a full breath. her hands shaking as she tries to ground herself and not slip into the arms of her anxiety.

jj had no idea of what an anxiety attack looked like, he had been fortunate enough to never had one, but he always thought they had to feel awful for whoever got them. but seeing her, his sweet little sunshine, shaking all over the place and being surrounded by a cloud of darkness around her, made his heart break into a thousand millions pieces. he wanted to help her, but he didn’t know how to do it in the right way. he just wanted to do something, and so he did.

“sunshine, hey. baby, look at me. c’mon lemme see your pretty eyes.” he kneeled in front of her, placing both of his hands on her knees and gently rubbing his thumbs against them.

everything was spinning around her, thoughts racing with all the emotions she bottled up and all the fears she always had. she couldn’t stop them, it felt like she was going to be swallowed up by a black vortex. but then she heard his voice, it was like hearing an angel talking. her gaze slowly shifted from the white wall to his eyes, his gorgeous blue eyes, usually shining like stars when they looked at her, but now they were the depiction of concern. she felt a sharp feeling of guiltiness running through her your veins, because the last thing she wanted was to make him sad.

“that’s it, baby. you are so pretty, my pretty girl.” he gave her a soft smile, slowly moving his hands from her knees to her thighs. he wanted to pull her close and hug her, but one time— and thank god for him and the one time jj actually listened to what he said— pope told him that when people had anxiety or panic attacks, most of the time they didn’t wanted to be touched. so, instead of being the usual impulsive jj he was with everyone, he took baby steps with her, not wanting to scare her or make her even more anxious.

her breath was slowly calming down, but the aching in your chest and the lump in her throat were still there, still feeling like she was going to suffocate any moment now, but jj pulled her out of her thoughts again.

“alright pretty girl, i need you to do something for me, ‘kay? i need you to take deep breaths with me, i know it’s hard but i’m here. you’re safe, i won’t let anything happen to you. breathe with me, baby.” his voice was so sweet and gentle, she actually thought she was going to cry because of how soft he was speaking to her and how he was trying to handle the situation. she nodded slightly, following his example as he took one deep breath and then exhaled. one deep breath and exhaled. inhale and exhale. and they went on, and on, until the tension she felt before started to leave her body, making her shoulders and back relax and her hands stop shaking.

jj didn’t say anything this time, he just looked as she regained consciousness of her surroundings. even though the attack was gone, it usually took hours before she could actually calm down completely. it was hard and she always handled them alone, but this time having him with her felt like a blessing from heaven.

feeling like she had just been pulled out of a dark hole, she launched herself into his arms, wrapping hers around his neck. he let out a sigh as soon as he felt her flesh touch his own, his arms reaching for her hips and his face buried deep into the crook of her neck. they stayed like this for a almost twenty minutes. he only pulled her in tighter, not wanting to let go of her because he knew as long as she was into his arms, she was safe.

30 minutes later they were laying next to each other in the hammock, her head resting on his chest, the sound of his heart beating calming her, like a lullaby. his hands were both placed on her back, rubbing small circles against the thin fabric of her shirt.

jj really didn’t want to break the peacefulness that surrounded them, but he had to ask her why she never told him anything. he felt like he was failing at being her best friend. “why did you never tell me?” his voice was low, sounding almost like a whisper.

“i- i don’t know. i didn’t want to bother anyone, didn’t want to be a burden.” jj stopped moving his hands on her back, instantly lifting his head to look at her.

“okay, know that i’m not mad, but, firstly, i’m not anyone. i’m your best friend, you would never be a burden to me.” his hands moved to her cheeks, lifting her face. “i’ve been through hell and back these past weeks. not seeing you, not talking to you for more than 5 minutes on the phone, not touching you. it nearly killed me, y/n. i was always on the edge of a breakdown, constantly snapping at everyone because i didn’t know how you were doing. were you safe? were you alright? not knowing made me go insane.”

he stopped for a moment to catch his breath. he was pouring his heart out, which he never do, but he just felt like he had to do it now. “and i’m not saying this to make you feel guilty, that’s the last thing i want. i just wish for you to know how much you mean to me. you’re the most important person in my life, you’re my best friend, my ride or die, my partner in crime. you- you’re my first love, and hopefully you’ll be my last one too.”

her eyes went wide at his words, and honestly she thought she heard him wrong. “jj, what- what are you saying?”

“i know the night wasn’t perfect, but please just lemme say this now because i don’t know when i’ll get the same courage again. i love you, y/n. i love everything about you. i love that weird sound you make when you laugh too much, i love how your eyes shine when you’re talking about things you like, i love how after surfing your hair become all curly. hell, i love even the things you do that should piss me off, like when you throw away my joint because i’ve been smoking too much or when you scream at me because i got in a fight with some kooks again. i love you so much it physically hurts.”

her eyes were watery now, tears threatening to coming out in flows. she didn’t know what to say. because seriously, what do you say to someone who sees you as the most incredible human being, when you can’t even love a quarter of yourself?

you say nothing. but you can do something.

that’s why, in the quietness of the night, under the stars and while she was feeling at peace for the first time in weeks, she closed her eyes and pressed her lips against it.

she wasn’t magically healed, she still had things to deal with. but now, she wasn’t on her own anymore.

[unknownati]

iv. ekko x gn!black!reader hcs

a/n: they got me yall.

sorry for whoever followed me for tlou content we'll be having a brief intermission i'll come back to them in a minute js let me get this out my system 😭🙏🏾

warnings/tags: no use of y/n, no mention of reader's features (except for being black, but it's only in a few points 🤷🏾‍♀️ so it can be read otherwise), arcane s2 spoilers (minor), sfw and nsfw hcs, (oral sex, kinks, riding), in some au where everyone is happy and nothing bad ever happened 😊, never proofread we ball 🔥

______________________________________________

sfw:

- i feel like ekko is a bit shy (awkward shy though, not shy-shy...does that make sense) when you first get into a relationship with him, and it's just because he's shocked that he's managed to get with you. at first he's stumbling over words, playing off your compliments, desperately trying to keep eye contact with you but if he does he just keeps smiling because you look so good.

-one time, while riding past you on his hoverboard, you waved at him. he waved back, but even as you walked away his eyes kept following you. if it wasn't for scar warning him at the last second, he would've crashed straight into a wall.

- his cockiness comes later into your relationship, every successful action he does followed by a grin that you roll your eyes at.

-and did y'all see the way he looked at powder in ep. 7? his puppy dog eyes are LETHAL.

-he doesn't even know it either. every time he wants something, he just looks at you with those eyes and murmurs "please, ☆?" you fold so quick.

-(you've tried to learn to resist his eyes as they are what caused you to sprain your ankle in a hoverboarding accident since he begged you to race him. he just wanted to show off, too. he didn't stop apologizing for weeks.)

-he usually doesn't really like people touching his hair. he's fine with the kids doing it from time to time, but in general it's not his favorite thing in the world.

-you, however

-you get a pass because you get it. you know how it feels for your hair to just be like a petting zoo from time to time. you know exactly how to help him care for his hair, so much so that he's stopped doing his own retwists. (not like they stay in for very long, you immediately help him sweat it out 😊)

-he's made a lot of random little things for you, like a small chain necklace with an empty locket. he kind of sucks at wrapping gifts though, so he just handed it to you with a stupid smile while you two were perched at the top of the firelight tree.

-"ekko, this is so cute," you mutter, your bottom lip jutted out in adoration as you inspect the delicately crafted chain. small mistakes here and there, but you loved it.

-he also learned how to sew just so he could make you a bonnet/durag. he even sewed a crude little "e" in the corner of it, and made himself one with your initial in it as well.

-will randomly shadow box you out of no where. it's some form of cuteness aggression or something, because you'll be talking about your day while absent-mindedly twiddling with the hem of your shirt, and suddenly there are fists flying towards you that he knows to never let connect.

-"...ekko, the fuck are you doing?"

-he makes small noises that sound like "shoo" every time his fist flies, watching you stare at him with an unimpressed look.

-saw someone else say this but yeah ekko can't hoop. sorry

-he CANNOT hide his facial expressions. he may tell you one thing, but his face will never lie. if you're out eating and you feed him a bite of your food, you can watch his face contort into one of disgust, so much so that he almost looks offended. upon realizing that he doesn't want to yuck your yum, he'll fix his face into the fakest smile you've ever seen and nod.

-"...ekko, go spit it out."

-you've never seen him reach for a napkin any quicker.

-idk who the arcane universe's michael jackson is but, when he was younger he absolutely learned all the dances.

-probably the biggest softie the world has ever seen. he's very tough in public, but once he closes the door behind you two and climbs into bed with you, he's clinging onto you like a sloth.

-if you like painting your nails, he'll (hesitantly) allow you to paint his nails to match yours.

-(these next few ones are sliiightly for me 🤭)

-loves when you draw on his arms.

-until he can't get whatever marker you used off of his skin in the shower, so now he's walking around looking like a coloring book with little flowers, hearts, and signatures on his arms.

-he hangs up all the drawings you make of him up along his work space. sometimes he forgets one and leaves it on his desk, so it's a pleasant surprise to find a drawing of himself among scattered and disorganized papers while he was cleaning up.

-has gotten used to you randomly biting him. you'll come up behind him while he's working, and he already knows it's coming when you rest your chin on his exposed shoulder. 2 seconds later, your teeth are sinking into his skin. he just chuckles, but he does ask once.

-"why do you do that?"

-"oh, i dunno. i just like doing it. 's how you know i like you."

nsfw (very brief i'm sorry):

-praise kink. you couldn't tell me otherwise

-loves giving praise, loves receiving praise.

-when he's giving you head, he almost does it for his own pleasure. feeling your hand rub against his undercut while you whine and mutter "fuuuck, ekko, you're so good. don't stop please" is all he needs

-and i'm glad we've all agreed he's a thigh guy too 🙌🏾

-and IK we say this about every fictional man but HE WHIMPERS.

-he starts off with groans and grunts, but the closer he gets, the more his voice starts to shake and his words start to become whines.

-he looooves when you ride him holy shit

-looking up at you while your face contorts in pleasure is absolutely on his top 10.

-and if you stare into his eyes while you do it? his soul has left thanks!

-in general he loves eye contact. when you look up at him with his length between your lips, you can see his brain start to short-circuit.

-he's definitely the type to make sure you finish first before he even gets to think about his own pleasure.

-he's usually super sleepy afterwards too, but he refuses to lay down for a second until he makes sure you're all cleaned up and comfortable before he's out cold on your chest.

______________________________________________

[ohithankyou]

decided to watch all of buck’s breakups last night and here are (part) of the conversations/how each of the breakups played out to compare and contrast if you so desire. i didn’t include the entire conversations because it would be too long and i think the parts i included capture the core of the breakups well enough.

note: information in square brackets is just some context i included since i didn't add the full conversations

buck and abby, breakup, 1x10:

[after abby’s mom passes and she books a ticket to ireland in an effort to find herself and what she wants]

abby: “. . .i care about you so much. you’re amazing. and these last few months, i think you've gotten me, at least halfway, to the person i want to be. but I've got to do this [go to ireland/travel] so that i know i have something to give.”

buck: “i’m excited for you. almost as much as i am, um, sad for me. i’m gonna miss you.”

abby: “i’m gonna miss you, too.”

[when buck is dropping her to the airport]

abby: "you're not gonna come in with me?"

buck: "i learned a while ago, you never go beyond the glass doors."

abby: "i must be crazy to be leaving you behind."

buck: "you're not leaving anything behind. you're moving toward something. and i'm gonna be right here when you come back, okay? go on. you got this, okay?"

abby: "take care of yourself, okay?"

buck: "you, too, abby."

buck and abby, ‘closure’, 3x18:

[after abby and buck meet for the first time since 1x10 when she and her finance are in a train derailment and buck + the 118 save his life]

abby: “. . .i just had no sense of self. i had to leave everything that i knew so that i could remember who i actually am.”

buck: “and you did, right? i mean, you did remember, but you still didn't come home.”

abby: “yeah, i know. i think i was afraid that if i came back, i would become that person again. because i missed you. i wanted to see you. but i didn't trust myself.”

buck: “because being here, being with me, you might lose yourself again?”

abby: “yeah.”

buck: “i’m glad to see you happy, abby. you deserve it.”

—

buck and ali, 2x18:

[after buck’s leg gets crushed under the fire truck and it hits ali what it means to be with a firefighter]

ali: “. . .look, it’s not like i didn't know you were in a dangerous line of work when i met you, you know, ten stories up of a collapsing high rise.”

buck: “exactly.”

ali: “that was one day. one day of my life, evan. it’s every day for you. i’m just starting to really understand what that means.”

buck: “wait, so-so you want me to quit my job, that's what you're asking me to do?”

ali: “no, i would never, i would never ask you to do that. listen. i know it's who you are. i’m just not sure. if it's…”

buck: “…who you are.”

ali: “hey. i don't know yet. okay?”

—

buck and taylor, 5x18:

[after taylor publishes the story about jonah buck had asked her not]

taylor: “. . .i’m sorry you're still upset about the story.”

buck: “you’re not sorry for what you did, though.”

taylor: “the story was gonna come out regardless. if i hadn't have broken it, someone else would have.”

buck: “you couldn't have called me first? no. you-you just, you figured i’d be fine. i’d get over it.”

taylor: “buck, i wasn't trying to hurt you or anyone else. i was just trying to get the truth out there. a truth the public has every right to know.”

buck: “this is literally our first argument all over again.”

taylor: “which is why we shouldn't be having it. you knew who i was when we started dating.”

buck: “i guess i thought i could learn to live with it.”

taylor: “i don't want to be something you have to learn to live with.”

buck: “and i don't want to keep on making the same mistakes. i need things to be different, taylor.”

taylor: “okay. i’m willing to try that. clean slate.”

buck: “yeah. just not together.”

—

buck and tommy, 8x06:

[after bucks tells tommy that he also dated abby]

buck: ". . .my relationship with abby was—it was the most transformative of my life. until now. look, i-i think one of the reasons that i am so comfortable with you is-is 'cause you're so comfortable with you."

tommy: "i wasn't always that way."

buck: "i know, i-i do. and honestly, it just makes me admire you more."

buck: "i want you to move in with me. i want you to move in with me. i-'m ready to take the next step. and i'm not saying let's get married or engaged, even though we would have the right, thanks to the brave people who came before, including you. all I'm saying is, why be apart when we can be together?"

tommy: "evan, that is so sweet but I can't move in with you."

buck: "and why not?"

tommy: "because, i know how this ends."

buck: "uh, wh-what's that supposed to mean?"

tommy: "look, evan. you're an incredible guy. big-hearted. hot as hell. funny. impulsive. but what you're feeling right now is... is new. and it's exciting, and it feels like forever. but you're still figuring yourself out. and that's good."

buck: "what are you saying?"

tommy: "i'm saying no matter how bad i wanted to be, i'm not your last. i'm your first."

buck: "well, hey, they-they can be the same thing."

tommy: "but they usually aren't. if i were to move in with you, you wouldn't mean to, you wouldn't plan for it but you'd end up breaking my heart. and i, i don't think that i could deal with that."

tommy: "i should go."

buck: "wait, wait, wait, hey, hey, um... wait, d-did you just break up with me?"

tommy: "yeah. i guess i did. believe me, i didn't see it coming, either. should've known that parking spot was too good to be true. i'll see you around, buck."

[faeriekit]

tw: child death, baby death, chronic illness, grief, medical stuff etc. (it ends fine but we get into heavy topics)

Damian was an active, if sweet little boy. He wanted Alfred to inspect every one of his soft animals Bruce had given him upon his arrival to their new home every time Alfred went to wake him in the morning, and would hold them up for the butler to view them properly. He had particular favorites of meals (NOT carrots), activities (anything to do with Ace) and caregivers (Alfred). He agreed to be carried only so long that he could engage with whatever Bruce was up to at the time; otherwise, it would be demanded that Bruce would put him down for him to roam around Bruce's office to dislodge his many valuable knickknacks. Bruce loved his son more than he loved himself.

Danyal, on the other hand...

"It'll be alright," Bruce reassured the boy, whose fingers were still shoved in his mouth. The boy's big, blue eyes stared up at him with a solemnity that worried his father. Leslie had implied that Dany should have been beyond that self-soothing stage already, at the age of two, where his brother was already independent and almost social; Dany, however, seemed loathe to walk, and gestured to be carried often, and sucked on his fingers and rarely spoke.

Bruce clamped down on the diagnosis balled up in his fist.

Congenital heart defect. There was no easy solution.

(Bruce wasn't sure who, exactly, the reassurances were for.)

"We'll figure it out, buddy," Bruce whispered, bouncing his son ever so slightly. The boy's gaze hardly budged from his father's face. "We're very lucky; there are good doctors in Gotham. Some of them even knew your grandfather. Have I shown you your grandfather's portrait...? He was a doctor downtown, so he could help people. The last time I saw him, I wasn't that much other than you..."

Damian always wanted to hop, run, swing sticks in the yard, be tugged around by Ace or tug on the dog's tail when he wasn't willing to play with the human puppy any longer. Dany grew nervous the more active he got; when Damian tried to coerce his twin into play, Dany resolutely ignored him.

It was probably for the best. It was always terrifying.

The lethargy made the boy ever-so-patient when Bruce went to introduce his son to Bruce's long-gone father's portrait, but...Bruce would rather have a healthy, happy son than a quiet one.

If it was possible.

When it was possible.

...Seeing Damian so young, so happy, and so free from the League and its expectations made Bruce want to cry, some days. Someday soon, all his children would be home in some manner or another. Dick. Jason. Cass. Stephanie. Barbara, if she was willing to follow the same path as her previous life. Tim. Even Duke, if only in passing— unless Bruce was doomed to fail the boy's parents in this new chance at life.

Danyal may or may not be there on that future day to see it: the house filled with joy, laughter, and family.

The fear tightened around Bruce like a noose.

*

The first surgery went okay.

Some doctor of Ra's had already inserted a shunt into his little boy at some point after his birth; it increased the amount of oxygen Dany could receive from his heart's fruitless pumping to his lungs, but eventually the shunt would need to be replaced with actual surgical repair to his boy's heart.

Dany went under. Alfred had to stop Bruce from storming into the OR at random intervals throughout the procedure.

Damian didn't understand the change in the routine or where his brother had gone over several nights, and often looked for Dany in his room, but Dany lay lethargically in his hospital bed, patient and drowsy-eyed.

He asked for the constellation encyclopedia the most out of all the titles Alfred had packed. Bruce began to memorize the articles within.

And then came the complications.

...And then came the second surgery.

*

Damian didn't know where Dany had gone.

Bruce didn't know how to explain it to him. Did Talia's family hold burials? Did they burn pyres? Were they simply submerged into the Lazarus Pit beneath her father's feet? Bruce realized that he didn't know. He didn't know how to tell Damian where Dany had gone, only that Dany wouldn't be coming back.

Damian threw a fit. It was developmentally appropriate for his age, no matter how much it hurt to watch his son rage. He couldn't understand. Bruce could hardly understand; how could this happen? How could it have happened to Dany? Dany hadn't deserved this. Damian didn't deserve to lose his brother.

Bruce dialed for a pediatric therapist, but no matter how reasonably Alfred begged, he didn't call one for himself.

*

"Baba?"

Bruce was dreaming. He had to be.

"Dany," he whispered. It was night. He was asleep, in bed— and was more exhausted than he thought, if he was already imagining the voice of his dead son. "Dany, aren't you sleeping?"

There were little hands on his bedspread. Dany had never been willing to climb anything; this was a new dream, then, if Bruce was imaging things Dany might have done if he were well. "M' scared. Iss lone'y."

Bruce's heart cracked. Yes. He could imagine that Dany was lonely, out in the family cemetery out back. Still... "Your grandparents aren't keeping you company?" Dany wasn't alone out there. Bruce never would have done that to him.

Dany's fragile little form popped over the side of Bruce's king-size bed, hair aglow with moonlight, eyes a lazarus green. Still, though, he looked like Bruce's baby. How could Bruce not recognize him, even if he came in a different form than usual?

"S' too kwiet." Dany's voice was a whisper— the rough little thing that children do, when they aren't old enough to be quiet yet. Tears pricked at the corners of Bruce's eyes.

"Okay." Bruce had done this routine a thousand times, even with children he had yet to meet: he opened the covers up to the ghost of his son, and Dany crawled right into the warm space left for him by his father.

The little yawn in his ear broke Bruce's heart. He wouldn't have this in the morning. Damian deserved to be more than a vessel for his father's grief, so Bruce would sit up, alone, until the worst of this had passed.

Sleep. Bruce closed his eyes. This dream, too would pass. So would his grief. So would this night.

...But when sunlight woke him at six in the morning, as it had the morning before, there was a black-haired boy in Bruce's arms, his irregular heartbeat and little breaths entirely audible to Bruce's ears.

I have seen batfam fics and ideas where time traveling Bruce gets the kids earlier and stops all the bad things from happening to them. But I can't help but want to combine this with the DCXDP demon twins AU.

Imagine time traveler Bruce showing up at the league of assassins years early demanding his son... Only for two children to come out. Now he is forced to learn he had another son no one told him about. He has no clue what happened to Danny in the original timeline, only that it must have been bad for Damian to have never mentioned it.

[justkending]

Pink or Violet? (Part two of "It's just a papercut..." Drabble)

(All gifs are from Pinterest)

(Part two of "It's just a papercut..." Drabble)

Pairing: Grumpy Bucky x Avenger Reader (Enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 2600+

A/N: Well, wow-ie wow, wow... Y'all blew up the last little drabble connected to this one, so I had to grant myself some writing time today to come up with a follow-up drabble. This one is a lot more lighthearted and a good 5-8 months in the future (your choice, really). Thank you, guys, for all the love on the last one, and I hope this one is a nice extension of it ;)

________________

“Have you ever considered going brunette? Whoa!” I sense the knife before I see it and manage to expertly dodge it with a laugh. “Hey, my teammate said I’m not allowed to get stabbed anymore, big guy,” I note, turning in my spot, kicking the man in the nuts, and as he folds over in pain, I hold his head perfectly to knee him in the face, hearing a satisfying crunch, causing him to land with a thump by my side. “Rude to interrupt conversations, too, dude.” 

Currently, we were in the middle of a stakeout… Or what started as a stakeout and now is a full-on brawl. 

Nat and I were rudely interrupted in our conversation about disguises we wanted to try, when an explosion in the facility we were monitoring took over the west wing. 

“I’ve done a wig,” Nat answers as she jumps, doing one of her classic moves where she’s sat on the shoulders of her assaulter, choking him out with her thighs before flinging her body to where she’s standing again casually and the man is incapacitated passed out on the floor. “Not that I didn’t find it flattering, but it’s harder to dye back with such a dark color.” She shrugs as she moves on to her next victim. 

I bend grabbing the knife from the man I just took down and flip it a few times in my hand. “Makes sense.” I nod with a convinced look. “On your right,” I hum, and she ducks while I throw the knife perfectly to where it lodges itself in the thigh of her attacker. 

A blood-curdling scream sounds at his pain, and I pout at him in fake sympathy as Nat shoots her widow bite as he falls, making him shake in shock before passing out. 

“What about you?” she asks with a breath, brushing her hair out of her face. “Ever considered a neon green?” 

“What? No. Am I trying to get caught in this undercover scenario?” I reload my gun before holstering it, and we start jogging to our next spot. 

“I just think it’d be fun to venture away from the neutral tones for once. Maybe there would be a mission where you did need to be found and-” Nat’s cut off by coms in our ears. 

“Ladies, enough salon talk,” Tony’s voice comes through. “We have a situation on the northeast corridor where we could really use your help!” 

“We’re coming!” Nat groaned. “God. Micromanager is in full force today.” 

“Besides, Y/N’s skin complexion wouldn’t work with a neon green. Maybe a pink, though…” Tony continues before his coms cut out, and he’s back to shooting things from the sky.

“Oh, pink would be really good with your skin tone,” Nat seconds as we turn a corner. 

“No one is dying their hair pink! I could use some backup!” Bucky’s shouts come from the comms next.

“Where’s Steve?” Nat asks, pausing at a fork in the halls and signaling for me to follow. 

“Caught up at the moment,” Steve’s grunts came through my earpiece. 

“Almost there, Barnes!” I note as we come to the hall where he’s supposedly located. “And I’ll have you know, if I want to dye my hair pink, I’ll damn well dye my hair pink!” 

“Guns, Y/N,” Bucky groans. “I have guns going off around me and at me. I’m not worried about a fake scenario right now. I’m worried about a really real one that’s-” He’s cut off and grunts a few times. “Please just-” 

The two men he was up against fall slack to the ground, and he’s left panting with relief as he turns back to me, standing at the end of the hall with my gun lowering back to my side. 

“Please, what? I like it when you use your manners,” I smirk as I walk up proudly to him. 

“You need to be humbled a touch,” he notes, shaking his head as he checks his weapons and reloads them while I walk to stand by him. 

I roll my eyes before assessing our surroundings as he gears up. “You’re just jealous because the girls have more fun with undercover makeovers. You want a pink wig too?” I tease, poking his shoulder. 

He playfully shoves my own and makes me teeter some as I laugh. 

“I got the information!” Steve’s shout comes through the comms. “We can wrap this up.” 

“Thank God,” I groan, adjusting my holster on my hip. “I have dinner plans.” 

“Sorry to interrupt your schedule,” Tony snarks. 

“It’s ok. You can compensate by paying for my meal,” I say back, pushing the button in my ear to keep it in place. “Speaking of compensation…” 

“Y/N, I swear if you say you stole my credit card information again,” Tony groans. 

“What, me? No… I would nev-” 

“Shut it. I don’t even have the energy to fight you.” 

I turn to Bucky and wink, and he’s biting back a laugh with a wide smile. 

“You’re a mess, you know that?” he says lowly, the comms not picking up on us. 

“You like it,” I shrug and start moving down the corridor, where Nat’s waving us on to follow. 

“That I do,” he hums, following behind me and playfully kicking my ass with the tip of his boot. “Now, these dinner plans…” 

“Interested?” 

“More than you know…” 

____________________

Back at the compound, freshly out of the shower, I hear a knock on my door. “Just got out of the shower, but the doors unlocked!” I shout. 

“Dinner’s arrived!” Bucky shouts, shutting the door behind him carefully. 

“Thank God. I’m starving,” I grumble, throwing my sweatshirt over my head after getting dressed. “I’ll send Tony a thank you card later for covering tonight's meal,” I hum, drying my hair with a towel as I come into the room. 

The greased takeout bag smells fresh of hole-in-the-wall dinner food, making my mouth water. I grin as Bucky places it on the coffee table in front of my couch and starts arranging the containers for us to splurge. 

“No, you won’t,” Bucky responds to my thank you card comment. 

“No, I won’t,” I agree, jumping over the back of the couch and bouncing into the seat next to him. “Hmm, you smell nice.” I’ve come to learn, and so has Bucky, that his body wash might as well be my kryptonite. 

“I can say the same for-,” he bumps me with his elbow before his eyes narrow on my exposed shoulder, and without a second thought, he grabs my arms and moves my body to face him. “What’s that?” 

“What’s what?” I ask, looking down at the spot he’s glaring at as best as I can. 

“You got a cut,” he points out, hovering his fingers around the area and moving my sweatshirt out of the way. 

Damn, I knew I shouldn’t have cut the neckline to half my sweatshirt after that stupid TikTok trend I saw the kids doing… Or at least worn one that wasn’t butchered tonight.

“Buck, it’s literally a scratch. And I’m genuinely not downplaying it at all,” I note, grabbing his wrist and trying to move his hands away, but they have an iron grip on me. 

Or should I say, vibranium grip on me?! Haha! Get it?.. No? Ok, moving on…

But seriously. The cut was just that. A cut. It wasn’t anything like the night we talked things out months and months ago. That one had become slightly scarred, whereas this one will be scabed over in the morning and likely be gone in 2-3 days. I might as well have gotten into it with a cat who was pissed when he figured out he’d been put on a diet. 

“A cut’s a cut,” Bucky argues, looking up at me. “Did you clean it?” 

“Yes, I cleaned it in the shower with the rest of my body. I disinfected it, and it has that balm on it. And before you ask,” I say just as he opens his mouth. “Yes, it’s that special medical cream you had Banner make for me. I’m set.” 

Bucky had become a little more intense when it came to my injuries since about three missions ago, I had moved at the perfect time to redirect a knife headed right at him, but it sliced my palm in the redirection, and much to my misfortune, it was laced with something. 

To add to the list of medications he’s had Banner concoct specifically for my clumsy self (which were in the double digits at this point), I now have a poison control cream that counteracts most toxins and keeps me from saying hello to Heaven sooner than I hope. 

“You don’t feel weird or anything?” His eyes are scanning mine and my face for any lies or other injuries I haven’t told him about, and I’ve come to learn if it makes him feel better to double-check up to 20x before being satisfied, I’ll allow it. 

“I’m right as rain,” I nod, smiling at him softly, squeezing my grip on his wrist in reassurance. “The only thing I’m feeling is hungry and tired. So, what movie are we watching that I’ll inevitably fall asleep on you during?” 

He hesitates for a moment and then nods, dropping his hands and going back to the food. 

“I was thinking Tombstone,” he answers, grabbing one of the to-go containers with fries and a burger and handing it to me. 

“Another Western? What’s got you on the cowboy kick?” I ask, taking it and popping it open, instantly assaulted by the smell of freshly seasoned fries. 

“You keep nicknaming me cowboy, so I figured I should have a little background knowledge of the profession,” he winks at me over his shoulders as he gets his own food together. 

“Oh, yeah? You like the nickname?” I ask, nudging him with my knee. 

“When it comes from you? Yeah. Sam? No. Without hesitation, I will start adding laxatives to his protein shakes if he keeps it up.” 

I laugh at their friendship, and we start up the movie, diving into our much-deserved greasy meal. 

_____________

The next day, Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Wanda are lounging on the living room couch, all doing their own thing. Wanda and Sam are watching Sex in the City. Steve was reading a book called The Secret War of Laos, and Bucky was on his computer, fully engrossed in whatever was on the screen.

Nat clears her throat, and I stand next to her in a baseball cap with my hair completely hidden underneath. Everyone looks up, and instantly, Bucky’s eyes fall on me. He smiles for a split second before it drops, and he furrows his eyebrows at my appearance. 

“We have an announcement,” Nat smiles mischievously. 

“Oh God…” Bucky rubs his temples and looks down in his lap in seconds. 

“You don’t even know what we’re going to say,” I argue, not able to hold back my laugh. 

“I can use context clues,” he grumbles before looking up, his eyes squinted as if he had a bad headache forming, and it was already making his eyesight worse. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Nat waves him off as Sam and Wanda chuckle, and Steve looks oblivious to what is happening. “Anyway. Y/N and I made a bet and, well… Y/N lost.” 

“Surprisingly, not mad about it,” I shrug, arms crossed over my chest.

“Of course, you’re not…” Bucky mumbles, shutting his computer and putting it to the side.

“What did I miss exactly? Because everyone seems to know what’s happening…” Steve asks, confused, taking in everyone’s reactions. 

“Come on. Let’s see it.” He interlaces his hands and rests them in his lap as he watches me. 

I smile at Nat, who’s also grinning wide, and move to take the ballcap off.

“Awesome,” Sam is the first to say something, and Wanda claps and gushes. 

“Oh wow, that’s so cute!” She smiles widely. 

“Whoa. That’s…” Steve turns his head to the side.

“Pink,” Bucky finishes for him. His eyebrows raise in what looks like surprise as he takes in my new hair. 

“Do you like it?” Nat asks the group, and there’s a mix of reactions as they talk over each other. 

I laugh with them for a little before walking over to Bucky’s side of the couch. Plopping down next to him, the crew talks about their own personal transformations they’d like to take and quickly forget about us in the corner. 

“Thoughts?” I ask, smirking up at Bucky as I sit almost wholly tucked into his side. His arm comes around my shoulders, resting there as he looks at me from the side. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” he chuckles once, taking it in up close now. 

“Eh, I thought a change-up would be fun. Change. Is. Good,” I shrug, poking his chest with each word. 

He moves to touch my hair, and as soon as his fingers touch it, his face contorts into an investigative look. 

“What?” I ask, biting my lip as he’s already catching on to my ploy. 

“This isn’t,” he rubs a piece of hair in between his fingers, studying the texture. The crease in between his eyebrows drops instantly, and he deadpans to me. “It’s a wi-” 

“Shhh!” I hush him, almost jumping in his lap as I cover my hand over his lips. He freezes, eyes wide, and his hand instinctively goes to my hip to balance me. “Let me live this fantasy a little longer,” I smile, holding back a giggle. 

“This is a fantasy of yours?” He asked behind my hands, words muttered and raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe fantasy isn’t the right word-” 

“Because it’s starting to turn into one for me,” he cuts in, and I can feel his smirk in the palm of my hand. 

I slowly drop it, astonished at his confession. “I’m sorry. Did I hear that right?” I ask, peering at our friends who are now arguing with Sam about growing an afro, which he is all for, apparently. 

Instead of answering, he licks his lips as he brings his hands to the wig and plays with strands of it.

“Maybe not the pink, but… How’d you feel about a violet?” he asked, eyes slowly rising to mine. 

“Oh. My. God…” I say lowly, sinking back in my seat, pressed to his side. “Did we just discover a new kink of yours?” 

“I fear we may have…” His voice was low and made a shiver go down my back. 

“I hold no fear at all,” I smirked back at him, looking him up and down. “All I feel about that statement is excitement…” 

“Where exactly did you get this? Because it looks pretty realistic…” His fingers still play with the wig, which, thanks to Nat, is a higher-end one. How he caught on to it being a wig is impressive. 

“Doesn’t matter,” I shrug. “What matters is I happen to know they carry all the colors…” I smirk. 

“Interesting.” 

“Interesting indeed.” 

He starts to stand up, and I’m confused by the action until he turns and offers me a hand up, and once I’m standing, he leans down to whisper in my ear, my hand still in his.

“We can keep this one for now. I have a few ideas still.” 

I look up at him, pleasant surprise on my face. “You know how I said change is good?” He nods with a smirk, his hand squeezing mine in response. “This,” I motion between us. “This is a change I’m glad happened.” 

“Same here,” he winked, pulling my arm to I’m be flushed with him, and he wrapped an arm around my shoulder, escorting me out of the room.

“Where are they going?” Nat asks, confused at our sudden leave. 

Everyone turns to see the tail end of us leaving, and Wanda laughs after a second and quickly covers her mouth. “God, pray for her,” she says under her breath, and Nat gives her a look. She tries to play it off by coughing and shaking her head. “Sorry, something in my throat.”

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @death-unbecomes-you @mythos-writes​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @srrymydood​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @xa-dia​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @redhairedfeistynerd​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @morganclaire4​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @connie326​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @captain-asguard​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @mollygetssherlockcoffee​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @livstilinski @basicallylool​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @starryeyeseunbyul​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

My Lovelies Forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravicente​ @kakakatey​ @traceyaudette​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @thefaithfulwriter1​ @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​  @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​​ @alyispunk​​ @billyseye @hallecarey1​​

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge​ @jbarness​ @bellamy-barnes​ @katiaw2​ @aikeia​ @stopjustlovethemcu​ @enchantedbarnes

[torturedlexdepartment]

The Last Time (JJ's Version)

JJ Maybank x fem reader

Author's note: I apologize in advance 💀

Warnings: ANGST, fighting, toxic JJ, break up

Summary: after a turbulent relationship with JJ, you finally hit your breaking point

Six months is nothing. Six months flies by. You’re on the back end in the blink of an eye. But when you’re young, it’s everything. When he’s your first, he’s everything.

You were so sickenly in love with him that you couldn’t see anything else. Red flags morphed into pink while you wore rose colored glasses. Up until this point you were living in a bubble of that honeymoon phase. But things couldn’t stay perfect no matter how much you saw the stars in his ocean blue eyes.

The first time

JJ found himself at your front door after a fight that took place at a party earlier in the evening. Your disagreements usually ended in bickering or slightly raised voices. But nothing had ever gone this far. Nothing had ever hurt you this bad. He chased after you almost immediately, instantly regretting his behavior. When he knocked on your door, you couldn’t help but run to greet him with tears in your eyes.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. Please come here.” He grabbed you gently, pulling you into his arms and holding you tightly. You melted into him and when he grabbed you by the face to wipe away your tears, you suddenly forgot why you were so upset in the first place. All that mattered was that he was here now, taking the blame and showcasing the sweetest side of himself.

The next time

A couple of months have gone by and things have slowly begun to grow more complicated. The patience you once had for one another was starting to dissipate.

“You’re being fucking ridiculous.” JJ paced around the kitchen in the chateau while you stood by the sink, your stomach in knots at the start of another argument.

“How? You keep treating me like shit when everyone else is around and ignoring me.” You fought to hold back tears as you grew more frustrated.

“No Y/N, you’ve just been super clingy lately and refuse to give me room to breathe!” He spit out and the floodgates opened.

“So I’m clingy for wanting to spend time with you now? You’re fucking unbelievable!” You screamed, not caring who would hear.

“I’m not dealing with your childish shit right now Y/N. Grow up.” He stormed out of the shack, leaving you to weep alone. You sunk down to the floor, burying your head in your hands wondering if there was any truth to his words. When you finally calmed yourself down, you went into JJ’s room, packed all your things, and headed home.

A few hours had passed and now he was blowing your phone up. The calls and texts went unanswered as you continued to spiral. Were you really being stupid and pathetic? Or was he just turning into someone you never thought he’d be?

You just needed more time before you could deal with him. But JJ was stubborn and never knew when to just let things be. He always had to get his way. Yet you were the “childish” one. He showed up to your house at 10pm pounding on your front door. You stood close by, praying he would just leave but he continued.

“Y/N!” He yelled from the other side of the door.

“What do you want JJ?” You heard him sigh, relieved you had finally answered him.

“I want you to open the door baby, please. Let me talk to you.” He pleaded.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now J.” Up until this point, that was true but the begging in his voice was breaking you down.

“I’m not leaving until you open the door and talk to me Y/N. I’ll stay out here all night, you know I will.” You sighed heavily because you did know that. He wasn’t gonna leave until you at least heard him out. When you opened the door and saw him standing there, you felt yourself instantly soften. It was like magic, the effect he had on you. And it was the worst thing in the world at times like these. Times that you needed to be strong. You could never stay mad at him.

“J-”

“I am so sorry, okay. When I came back and saw that you were gone and you took your stuff, I freaked. I know I’ve been an asshole lately and I promise you baby, I will do better.”

And that’s all it took. That’s all he had to say. All he had to do. And you forgave him…again.

Countless times in between

Your one year anniversary was ruined by JJ getting nearly black out drunk and being obnoxious. You were driving home when you started arguing and at some point, he demanded that you stop so he could get out and walk the rest of the way. And no matter how much you pleaded, he wouldn’t get back in. He walked all the way to the chateau and the next morning, he was mad at you for abandoning him.

A huge blowup of a fight erupted when you caught him flirting with another girl at a party. You have been on the rocks lately, struggling to have even one good moment. But this was taking things too far. You swore you were gonna end it after that. But then he showed up crying at your door.

He got mad at you for going to the beach with John B without him. It’s been over a year and a half and at this point, you didn’t even bother apologizing anymore. You both just continued on like it never happened, like it was a normal occurrence. All he did was make you sad or angry. You struggled to remember why you had put up with this and for so long. It had gotten to the point where you both claimed to want to end things, but they were always empty threats. You’d come right back, the same way he would. Every single time…

You couldn’t count on one hand how many more times have happened since then. Big, small, stupid, pointless. It was everyday by the time you passed your two year anniversary.

The last time

You were arguing about something stupid, you couldn’t even remember what started it. And it blew up into the worst fight you have ever had. You were so tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of trying. Tired of not remembering what happy felt like.

“I swear to god JJ, I’m so done with this shit.”

“Then fucking leave!.” The words cut deep like a knife straight through your heart. Those words and the cold expression on his face, finally made something inside yourself snap.

“If I leave right now, I’m not coming back.” You searched his face for any signs of emotion besides anger, but you couldn’t find any.

“But you say that every single time, don’t you?” He mocked as you desperately tried to hold back your tears.

“I promise you…this is the last time.” You had never meant something you said to him more, other than the words “I love you”. He didn’t respond. He wouldn’t even lift his head to look at you. You knew he was never going to beg you to stay, no matter how much you wanted him to. You wouldn’t bother with your things left behind. All you had to do was walk past him, right out the door.

You both stood there in silence for what felt like an eternity. He hadn’t uttered a word and you didn’t expect him to move an inch as you headed for the door. But he surprised you when he blocked your path. You scanned his eyes as he looked down at you, searching for any glimpse of the man that you fell in love with. You knew in your heart that he was still in there but he was buried so deep that you couldn’t help him come back to the surface. You could tell that he struggled with what to say and you knew that if you didn’t leave now, you’d both be stuck in this cycle of heartbreak. Before you could give it another thought you pushed past him and ran out the door, refusing to look back.

A few days later you were in a new hell after ending things with JJ. It took everything in you not to go back. Not to pick up the phone. You’d love to just hear his voice. But you knew you deserved better. You both did, so you resisted. Dealt with the worst pain imaginable to prevent further trauma. You had to love yourself more than you had ever loved him.

It was just past midnight when you heard him banging on your door. He had finally broke down and realized that you weren’t gonna come crawling back. That you meant what you said. A few minutes passed without you answering and he started yelling through the door.

“Please Y/N, I know you’re there.” You sank down on your side of the door with tears in your eyes. You could hear it in his voice that he was crying too and you fought with every part of yourself to open that door. After a moment, he stopped knocking and you heard him slide down his side of the door. You both sat there in silence, as close as you could allow yourself to get.

You let yourself reminisce about the good times. How he swept you off your feet on your first date. How he kissed you in the rain after he told you he loved you for the first time. How he swore he couldn’t wait to give you his last name.

“I told you.” You whispered loud enough for it to travel through the wood.

“I know baby. I know. And I won’t hurt you anymore.” You heard him stand up as you fought to keep it together. “I love you.” He said softly and made his way down your porch. And your heart shattered…for the last time.

[didyoulookforme]

though i wish i could

you and matty decide to help each other out. because that's obviously what best friends do. slightly based on letter T of the nsfw alphabet

7.7k words

warning: 18+, smut, smoking. grammatical errors, typos.

other bf matty blurbs & rambles here.

-----

it was one of those nights—the kind where matty showed up unannounced, a cigarette tucked behind his ear and some super genius plan to pass the evening. maybe it’d be a god awful movie, maybe a record you’d practically worn out together. it didn’t matter. it never did. it was familiar, easy, predictable. best friend stuff—or at least that’s what you told yourself.

except best friends don’t usually lie on your lap with their head resting softly as you run your fingers through their wild, curly hair. they don’t absentmindedly toy with the rings on your hand like they’re trying to memorize the way they feel. and they certainly don’t slip a casual “baby” into every other sentence, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. no, that’s not normal best friend behavior. but this was matty. he was different. always had been.

you’ve convinced yourself that this is just how the two of you are. how you’ve always been—so close you know each other inside and out, with almost no boundaries left to cross. so, what’s wrong with placing a half-finished joint between his lips while his eyes pierce into yours like he’s searching for something you’re not sure you want him to find?

because, after all, he was just your best friend. nothing more.

right?

-----

so there you were—half-baked on the floor of your living room, matty’s head resting on your legs like it belonged there. he’d just come back from tour, and, let’s be honest, keeping you two apart afterward was practically impossible. no matter how long he’d been gone, the second you were together again, it was like no time had passed.

not that it didn’t absolutely wreck you when he was away. facetime calls and texts were fine, sure, but they weren’t him. they weren’t his stupid laugh echoing through your tiny flat, or the way he’d complain about your snack choices while demolishing half the bag anyway. having him here again, sprawled out on your carpet like he’d been there all along, felt… right. comfortable.

you missed him more than you’d ever dare admit, so this—him, a joint lazily passing between you, his voice weaving into the crackle of the record spinning nearby—felt like something you didn’t want to let go of. he felt like home… within your home...? something like that. whatever it was, you were maybe too stoned to overanalyze it right now.

his hair was different since the last time you’d seen him in the flesh. it had that purposeful, messy-but-not-really look—soft curls held in place with just enough gel to make him seem like a bad boy who’d totally just rolled out of bed. you’d seen it for the first time on twitter when a photo of him mid-concert popped up on your feed. it took exactly three seconds before you were calling him, demanding why he’d chosen to ruin your life with the audacity of that look.

“thought you’d like it,” he’d said, all smug.

and you did. of course, you fucking did.

your fingers slid through those same curls now, twirling a strand here, tucking another behind his ear. his eyes fluttered shut as he let out a soft hum. that stupid, crooked smile of his practically begged for it. you knew this was the kind of thing you only let yourself do when you were high—or drunk, or tipsy enough. it was the only time your guard dropped enough to touch him like this. 

and then there were his lips. moving. saying something. but you weren’t listening. you were too busy internally freaking out because, only a few days ago, you’d finally admitted to yourself that maybe—just maybe—you didn’t see him as just a friend. that perhaps you lo—

“hey, so… i found your arsenal of vibrators earlier today.”

and just like that, you were yanked back into reality.

“for fuck’s sake, matthew. you can’t just say that.”

“not my fault you keep your weed and sex life in the same drawer.” his grin was unholy. “kind of asking for it.”

your hand instinctively tugged his hair in protest, earning a wince and a laugh from him. “stop that!”

“stop what? speaking the truth?”

you groaned, already regretting letting him in your apartment. well, maybe not, but still. “i can’t believe you went snooping.”

“wasn’t snooping. was looking for weed and happened to find your box.”

you tried to glare at him, but it lasted all of two seconds before you cracked, laughing despite yourself. you hid your face in your hands again, groaning. “god, you probably saw the new one too, didn’t you?”

“oh, you mean the one that looks like it was designed by an aerospace engineer?” you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “yeah. terrifying, honestly. but also, kind of impressive. good for you, babe.”

“kill me now.” you slumped back against the couch, mortified.

“why? better me finding it than someone else, right?” he tilted his head back against your legs, looking up at you.

“okay, sure,” you said, trying for nonchalance, “but ‘arsenal’? really? it’s a perfectly normal amount.”

he snorted. “baby, there are at least seventeen in there. and in all shapes, sizes, colors—hell, i’m pretty sure one of them was glowing.”

“first of all, it’s not glowing—it’s neon,” you corrected, crossing your arms over your chest. “and second, so what if i enjoy options?”

“options, huh? right. i’ll keep that in mind,” he took a slow drag from the joint, cheeks hollowing in a way that made you forget why you were mad for half a second.

it was infuriating, really. matty, who was usually sweet and soft-spoken, had an alarming tendency to let loose when he was high. most of the time, it was harmless. occasionally, though, he’d push his luck. like tonight, apparently. maybe this was payback for the years you’d spent grilling him about his girlfriends you’ve never liked.

you sighed, leaning back against the couch as he passed the blunt back to you, his eyes never leaving yours. and even though he’d just embarrassed the hell out of you, you couldn’t help but smile.

“so, how often do you even use them?” the question came out easy, casual, like it was no big deal to pry into the most intimate corners of your life. typical best friend behaviour, sure.

“what, you want an exact schedule? why?”

“just curious. purely educational. broadening my horizons.”

you rolled your eyes, the spliff perched loosely between your fingers as you handed it back to him. “couple times a week. three if it’s been a particularly boring stretch. maybe more if i’m in the mood.”

he exhaled a slow stream of smoke, staring up at the ceiling like he’d just solved the world’s greatest mystery. “three times a week,” he repeated, his lips twitching. “that’s… respectable. consistent.”

“you’re such a dick.” you laughed, swatting at his arm. “and you?”

he hesitated as he scratched the back of his neck. “uh… couple times a week too, i guess. but it’s tricky on tour, y’know? not a lot of privacy when you’re sharing a bus with others.”

you raised a brow, the corner of your mouth tugging up. “oh my god, you’ve been walked in on, haven’t you?”

and his cheeks flushed instantly, a deep, satisfying pink. “hann.”

that was it—you were gone, full-on laughing, your body shaking so hard you nearly toppled over. the weed didn’t do you any favours. “hann? no way. what did he do?”

“just… stared,” he groaned, covering his face with one hand. “and then, after a solid five seconds of the most soul-crushing silence, he goes, ‘at least close the door next time, mate.’”

“poor adam. scarred for life.”

“poor me,” he countered, but his voice was softer this time, the kind that slid under your skin and lingered. your fingers found his curls again, and he didn’t protest, just let you touch him like it was something that was meant to happen. the air around you shifted, heavier somehow, the haze of smoke thickening it.

you weren’t sure who moved first, but his head turned slightly, his cheek pressing against your thigh, and suddenly you were all too aware of every point of contact between you. his curls against your hand, the warmth radiating from him, the way your own body was buzzing, humming with something you still didn’t want to name. you adjusted your position, trying to ease the growing ache low in your stomach, but it didn’t help. not when he was right there.

“when’s the last time you had sex?” the words tumbled out before you could stop them, and you instantly regretted it. your voice sounded too curious, like you actually cared about the answer. which, of course, you did, you just didn’t want him to know.

he laughed, a short, sad sound. “been months.”

that caught you off guard. “really? but you’re matty.”

“yeah, and?” he looked up at you, his eyes almost amused. “what, you think i’m shagging my way through the world or something?”

“kinda,” you admitted with a shrug. “i mean, isn’t that, like, part of the job?”

“not really my thing,” his voice was quieter now. “done it a couple times, but… i don’t know. feels a bit shit after. not worth it.”

you didn’t know what to say to that, so you didn’t say anything, just let your fingers keep moving over his scalp. he reached for your hand after a moment, his thumb brushing over the rings you wore. it was a small, mindless gesture, but it made your chest tighten all the same.

“what about you?” he asked finally, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

“a few months ago,” you murmured, your eyes fixed on where his hand held yours. “with my ex.”

he nodded, his thumb still tracing the curve of your ring. “sorry. about him.”

“don’t be,” you said quickly, trying to push past the lump in your throat. “i’m better off.”

he didn’t respond, just gave you a faint smile that said he understood in a way words couldn’t. the silence stretched between you again, the static of the record the only sound. his fingers kept brushing over your hand, and every now and then you caught him shifting, adjusting his position on the floor.

you stared at him for a long moment, your mind racing, the words forming before you could stop them. “you ever think maybe…”

he turned his head slightly, “maybe what?”

“maybe we could, i don’t know…” you hesitated, your pulse thundering so loudly in your ears it almost drowned out your voice. “help each other out. just… take the edge off.”

he froze, mid-drag. his brows furrowed, his eyes sharp even through the haze of smoke. “you’re fucking with me now.”

“i’m not,” you said, surprising yourself with how steady your voice came out. “just think about it. no big deal. two friends helping each other out.”

“you’re actually joking.” his voice cracked on the last word, which would’ve been funny if your heart wasn’t beating so fast.

“i’m not,” you leaned back, feigning nonchalance as your heart clawed its way into your throat. “we’re both adults. both single. both… frustrated.”

“frustrated,” he repeated, the word hanging heavy in the air. “and this is your solution?”

“it’s a solution,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes slightly. “what, you’ve got a better idea?”

he laughed, but it wasn’t his usual easy, warm laugh. this one was stilted, like he wasn’t sure if he found this funny or terrifying. “this feels like some teenage bullshit, honestly. like, next you’re gonna ask me to pinky swear it won’t ruin our friendship.”

“oh, grow up,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “it’s not that deep.”

but it was. at least for you. the idea had been sitting at the edge of your mind for months, years now, clawing its way forward every time he looked at you with those big, earnest eyes that made your chest feel too tight. maybe it was the weed, or the way he was looking at you now, like you’d just flipped his world upside down, but for the first time, the thought slipped out into the open.

“you’re not worried it’ll get weird?” 

“doesn’t have to,” you said, your heart still jackhammering with every syllable. “it’s just… an itch to scratch. no strings. no awkward aftermath. unless, you know, you’re not into it.”

he scoffed, sitting up and resting his elbows on his knees. “don’t put this on me. you’re the one who started it.”

“and i’ll end it if you want,” you said quickly, your pulse racing as he turned his head to look at you. “just say the word.”

but he didn’t say the word. he just stared at you, his gaze softer now, less sharp but still so him. like he was trying to figure out if you were serious—or maybe if he was.

“i don’t know,” he muttered finally, sitting back against the couch now. “this is… fucking mental.”

“you’re overthinking it,” you forced a small smile. “like you always do.”

“and you’re underthinking it,” he shot back with no real heat. “like you always do.”

“that’s why we’re friends, isn’t it?” you smirked, though the weight in your chest wouldn’t let you inhale properly. “we balance each other out.”

he let out a feeble laugh, his head tipping back against the sofa, exposing the curve of his neck. your fingers itched to touch him again, but this time with the excuse of… what, exactly? this favour you’d just proposed? it sounded ridiculous when he said it, but deep down, part of you wondered if you’d suggested it for more than just convenience. part of you wondered if it was because you’d always wanted to be his, but you’d never been brave enough to find out if he wanted the same.

“you’re sure about this?” his voice cut through your thoughts, softer now but still laced with that edge of uncertainty. “like, really sure?”

“yeah,” you said, even though you weren’t entirely sure of anything anymore. “are you?”

he didn’t answer right away, just took a long drag and stared at the ceiling like it might have some hidden wisdom to offer. “fuck,” he muttered, finally exhaling. “yeah, okay. fine. let’s do it.”

you blinked, caught off guard by how quickly the air shifted between you. “wait, really?”

“don’t make me say it again,” he muttered, though there was a faint smile tugging at his lips now. “but, like… no weird shit tomorrow, okay?”

“no weird shit tomorrow,” you promised, though the words felt hollow even as you said them. the truth was, everything about this already felt weird. not bad weird—just… heavy. 

“good,” he took another hit, holding it for a moment before passing it to you. “so… how do we start this?”

you took the joint from him, your fingers brushing his as you brought it to your lips. the air felt too warm, the space between you now way too small. “i don’t know,” you exhaled slowly. “you’re the one with all the bright ideas.”

“oh, i’m the one with bright ideas?” he let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “this was your idea, babe.”

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the way your lips twitched. “fine. guess we’ll just have to wing it.”

he smiled then, that small, weird smile that always made your chest ache. “wing it, huh? sounds about right for us.”

the tension hung heavy between, your gaze flicking to his lips before darting away. his hand brushed your knee, a casual, almost thoughtless gesture, but it made you freeze in place. your lungs pounded in your chest as you passed the joint back to him, your fingertips trembling slightly.

“just… promise me one thing,” he said finally, his voice almost hesitant.

“what’s that?” your own barely above a whisper.

“promise me this won’t mess us up.” he wasn’t looking at you now, his gaze fixed on the blunt as he turned it over in his fingers. “because i… i don’t want to lose this. lose us.”

your chest tightened, the weight of his words settling over you. “we won’t,” you said, the lie slipping out easily, even though you weren’t sure if you believed it. “we’re too stubborn for that.”

he laughed softly, a small, insecure sound that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “yeah. too stubborn.”

-----

the two of you ended up in your bedroom. you weren’t entirely sure how you’d gotten here—well, you did, technically, but the reality of it was still setting in. your pants had been the first to go, leaving you in a baby tee and a thong that felt absurdly small given the circumstances. no bra, of course. matty had tugged his shirt off with practiced ease, but you caught the slight hesitation in his movements, the tension coiled in his shoulders.

and now here you were, lying side by side, your heads level on the pillows. the rules you’d managed to set earlier echoing in your mind: no getting completely naked, no penetrative sex, no kissing on the mouth. the essentials of staying detached, you’d thought, though the warmth radiating from his body told you this was anything but.

his face was so close, just inches away, his gaze darting between yours and the ceiling like he wasn’t sure where to settle. your own focus wandered, tracing the line of his jaw, the faint scruff dotting his chin, the steady rise and fall of his chest. everything about him felt sharp and tangible, and the haze of being high didn’t soften it nearly enough.

you reached out before you could overthink it, your fingers slipping into his hair the way they had so many times that night. he let out a quiet breath, his eyes fluttering closed almost immediately. the sound sent a thrill down your limbs, and you let your touch drift lower, tracing the back of his neck.

“you like that?” it felt like a stupid question. he always leaned into your touch. still, tonight you needed his confirmation.

his nod was small, almost imperceptible.

you lingered there, your thumb grazing his skin in slow, deliberate circles. you could feel how stiff he was, the way his body held itself just a little too still. “you’re nervous,” you murmured. it wasn’t accusatory—just an observation.

his lips curved into the faintest, self-deprecating smile. “yeah. a bit.”

“we don’t have to do this,” your voice low and steady. “i mean it, matty. say the word, and we’ll stop.”

his eyes stayed shut a moment longer before he opened them, looking at you like he was trying to make up his mind. “no, i—” he paused, licking his lips. “just… need a second to get out of my head.”

you smiled softly, your thumb skimming along his jaw as you gave him the time he needed. silence filled the space between you, but you didn’t let go, your fingertips tracing his face like you were committing it to memory for the first time. the slight arch of his brows, the slope of his nose, the hollow of his cheek—everything that had always been familiar but somehow felt brand new at this second.

when your thumb brushed over his lips, his eyes met yours again, darker now but still impossibly tender. he caught your hand in his, his fingers wrapping loosely around yours, and pressed a light kiss to your knuckles. it was fleeting, barely there, but it sent a spark to your toes.

“what about you? what do you like?”

the question made your stomach flip, and you laughed nervously, biting your lip. “you’re gonna make me spell it out?”

“maybe.” there was something behind his voice—something tentative, like he didn’t quite trust himself. “just… help me out here.”

“okay, okay,” you said, your laughter fading into something quieter. you guided his hand to your side, just below your ribs. “like this, start here.”

his palm settled on your skin, warm and solid, his fingers spreading wide as if trying to feel every inch of you at once. his thumb traced the curve of your ribs, slow and tentative, and your breath hitched as your body leaned into him without a thought in your brain.

“like that?” 

you nodded, your head sinking deeper into the pillow as you let out a shaky laugh. “yeah. like that.”

his touch stayed light, his hand moving in lazy, meandering paths along your side. when his fingers skimmed your spine, your body arched slightly, the sensation making you shiver. the room was impossibly still, save for the sound of your gasping. you let yourself sink into the feeling, your eyes closing as his hand pressed firmer, the heat of him searing into your skin.

your own touch moved instinctively, sliding from the nape of his neck to his chest, your fingertips tracing the familiar lines of his tattoo. you paused at the heart inked over his skin, following its shape carefully, reverently, like it might crack under too much pressure. “this one’s always been my favourite,” you murmured, almost shy. you weren’t sure if it was okay to admit it out loud. 

his lips twitched into a faint smile, a quiet laugh escaping him. “you were there when i got it. squeezed your hand so hard i thought i’d break it.”

“you were being a baby about it,” you teased, though the memory made you grin. “all that whining over a needle.”

“so what? it hurt like hell.”

“mmhmm. sure it did.”

your hand wandered lower, brushing over the ridges of his stomach, the faint trail of hair leading down from his navel. his muscles tightened under your touch, and then—god—he let out the softest moan, barely audible but enough to make your heart ache.

your fingers stilled for just a moment before your gaze flicked up to his face. his eyes were closed, his jaw tight, his mouth slightly open like he was trying to hold himself steady. his hand came up suddenly, catching yours. for a second, you thought he was going to stop you, but instead, he guided your arm around him, pulling you closer until your chest pressed against his. his face buried itself in the curve of your neck, his breath warm against your skin, and you could feel every exhale ripple through you.

“matty,” you whispered, unsure of what you even wanted to say. your fingers curled instinctively into his back, your nails dragging lightly against his skin. goosebumps rose under your touch, the realization that you’d done that sending your head spinning.

then his lips grazed your collarbone—barely, just the faintest hint of a kiss. it felt more like a question than an answer, but it shattered something inside you all the same. he kissed you again, and again, his mouth moving along the slope of your shoulder, each one feather-light yet impossible to ignore. your head fell back against the pillow, a satisfied sound escaping your throat—not quite a moan, but damn close.

his name hovered on your tongue, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it again. not yet. your body moved on instinct instead, your leg sliding over his until you were tangled together, the press of him against you making it nearly impossible to concentrate. 

“you’re—” his voice was rough, muffled against your skin as his lips kept moving. “you’re making it really fucking hard to stick to the stupid rules right now.”

“you’re one to talk,” your voice coming out breathless as your hand slid back into his hair. “you’re the one kissing me.”

“not on the mouth,” he countered, his lips brushing the curve of your shoulder. “that was the rule, wasn’t it?”

“semantics,” and you gasped as his teeth grazed your skin, light but sharp enough to send a shockwave through you.

whatever restraint had been holding the two of you back started slipping, unraveling faster than you could catch it. his hands roamed now—your waist, your ribs, your hips—like he couldn’t decide where to stop. your body arched into him, you gasped rapidly, your skin tingling with every touch. it was like stepping into some unspoken, forbidden space, a place neither of you could—or wanted to—leave.

his palm slid lower, curving over your ass, his fingers squeezing lightly at first, testing. the moment they dug in, the air caught in your lungs, your body going rigid for just a second. he halted immediately, his hand retreating like he’d been burned.

“shit, ’m sorry. i—”

“don’t stop,” you interrupted, your voice trembling but sure. you shifted closer, your leg brushing against his thigh as you said it again. “don’t stop. please.”

he didn’t need any more convincing. his hand was back, firmer this time, gripping and kneading, his touch bolder now that he knew it wouldn’t scare you off. you felt his thumb hook under the waistband of your thong, tugging it just enough to stretch, then letting it snap back into place. it was nothing, really, but the deliberate tease of it—the knowledge of how close he was—drew a low moan from you before you could stop it.

“fuck.” his hips pressed forward against you, seeking something, anything, to take the edge off. the weight of him, even through his pants, made your head spin, the haze of your high amplifying every sensation until it felt like you might float right out of your body. his hips moved again, slower this time, but there was no mistaking his intent—the pressure of him, hard and insistent against your hip, set every inch of you alight.

you shifted, needing something to hold onto, and your hands found their way to his neck. you tugged gently, drawing his face closer until your lips were grazing the curve of his throat. you kissed him there, gentle against his skin. his jaw tensed beneath your lips, and you couldn’t help but smile as you worked your way up, your mouth brushing over his ear.

“remember when you told me you liked this?” your lips caught the lobe, your teeth grazing it lightly before you sucked it into your mouth.

and that’s when he completely lost it.

his grunt was low and guttural and his hips jerked forward sharply, grinding against you. his hand tightened on your ass, fingers digging in hard enough to promise bruises tomorrow. you couldn’t bring yourself to care—not when his other hand was sliding up your side, his fingers gripping your ribs like he was trying to steady himself. 

“fuck,” he rasped, his head dropping forward, his forehead pressing into your shoulder. “you’re—shit, you’re gonna kill me.”

“you’re the one grinding on me,” you shot back, though your voice was only a whisper. you slid your leg over his again, hooking it around his hip to pull him closer. the movement dragged a sharp gasp from him, the sound muffled against your skin, and the way he reacted—like he couldn’t get enough of you—made you grateful for suggesting this precarious idea in the first place.

his hips moved faster now as he pressed against you through the rough fabric of his jeans. it wasn’t enough—not for him, not for you—but the friction was good, so good, and you felt yourself arching into him, your body moving on instinct.

you tilted your head back, gasping as his lips found your collarbone again, his mouth soft and hot as he kissed his way down to the curve of your shoulder. his breath was ragged, uneven, brushing against your skin in bursts as he muttered something you couldn’t quite make out. you wanted to ask, but then his teeth grazed your skin and everything in you short-circuited.

“matty,” his name slipping out like a prayer. you weren’t sure what you wanted—his mouth, his hands, all of him—but you knew you needed more. your hand moved to his wrist, guiding it upward. you pressed his palm against your breast, the thin fabric of your tee doing little to mask the heat of him.

his hips stiled for a moment as he stared down at where his hand was now. “fuck me,” his voice trembled as his thumb brushed over you experimentally. his gaze flicked up to yours, his eyes dark and glassy, lips parted slightly. “you are gonna be the death of me, baby.”

you let out a faint laugh, your hand still resting over his, encouraging him to move. “then stop overthinking and touch me.”

he didn’t need to be told twice. his hand squeezed gently, his thumb circling over your nipple through your shirt, and the feeling—his hand, his touch, the way he was looking at you like you were something to be worshipped—made you start coming undone. he let out a nervous laugh, the sound shaky and uncertain. “jesus, you’re—”

“you talk too much,” you muttered, pulling him back down to you, your lips brushing over the shell of his ear. the tension between you was unbearable now. a thread pulled so tight it could snap at any given moment. 

his hand squeezed your breast as his head dipped lower, his lips brushing over your throat, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to learn your body. the heat of his breath sent goosebumps racing across your skin, and by the time his mouth found its way down to your chest, you were already aching for him.

he paused, hovering just above your nipple, his face half-hidden by your shirt as his eyes flicked up to meet yours. “can i?” he was barely holding himself together.

you nodded, biting your lip, your fingers slipping into his hair to pull him closer. “please.”

the second his mouth closed over you, even through the thin fabric of your shirt, your back arched, a soft gasp slipping out before you could stop it. his lips worked slowly, testing you, his tongue brushing over your nipple before his teeth bit lightly.

“fuck, matty. that—feels so good.”

“yeah?” he murmured, his lips curving into a faint smirk before he moved to your other breast. he sucked harder this time, his teeth catching just enough to make you gasp again, your hands tightening in his damp curls. he alternated between the two, making sure not to neglect either while savoring every single sound you made.

the room felt impossibly hot, and so did he. you could feel the sweat slicking his skin, sticking to yours, and it should’ve been uncomfortable, but it wasn’t. it was perfect. raw and messy and real, and you were so fucking turned on you could hardly think straight. 

“don’t stop,” you urged him closer. you didn’t care that your shirt was clinging to your tits now, soaked with his sweat and spit. it was intoxicating—the heat of him, the way his mouth moved against you, the little sounds he made as he pleased you.

every now and then, he glanced up at you with lips swollen and pupils blown wide. and that look—fucked-out and so completely focused on you—made your heart stutter, your chest tightening with that thing again. you didn’t let yourself think about it too much. you couldn’t.

the tension was building, unbearable, and you couldn’t hold back anymore. you fumbled blindly for your drawer. matty didn’t stop, his mouth still on you, but you could feel him pause for a second, his hand tightening on your hip.

“what’re you doing?” he muttered against your breast, his voice muffled, almost distracted.

“just—give me a bit.”

you finally found what you were looking for. you pulled out a vibrator and grabbed his hand, pressing it into his palm. “make me come,” you whispered. “please.”

his head lifted, his hair a mess, his lips shiny and red. he stared at the toy in his hand like it was some foreign object before his gaze flicked back to yours, his brows furrowed. “oh my fucking god,” he said to himself. but then he nodded eagerly, “okay, baby. yeah. i’ve got you. i’ve got you, darling.”

matty laid you back against the pillows, his movements more deliberate as his lips found yours for a fraction of a second—just a brush, not a kiss, but enough to make you both pause. you swore you saw a flicker of longing in his eyes. perhaps you were imagining things given what was happening. given that your best friend was now currently kissing down your body, his lips trailing along from your chest to your stomach, skimming the sensitive skin there before his tongue darted out. you squirmed under him, your hips lifting slightly, but he held you down with firm hands.

he moved lower, his weight shifting as he settled between your legs. his hands pushed your thighs apart gently, his lips finding the inside of one and kissing his way upward.

then you heard the familiar buzz of the vibrator. he pressed it to the inside of your thigh first, the sensation soft and teasing. “this okay?” 

you nodded quickly, gripping the sheets beneath you. “yes. please.”

he smirked, dragging the toy slowly up your thigh before pressing it against your clit through your underwear. the vibrations hit immediately, and your hips jerked as a moan slipped from your lips. he kept the pressure light at first, moving the silicon toy in small circles, watching you closely the entire time.

“you’re so fucking pretty,” he murmured, almost like he didn’t realize he was speaking out loud. his free hand stroked your thigh softly, grounding you even as the vibrations sent shivers up every bone of your spine.

he dragged the toy lower, sliding it through your clothed core, making you squirm. his head was now resting against your thigh as he teased you. “feel good?” 

“yes.” your fingers twisted in the sheets almost uncontrollably. “fuck, matty, it feels so good.”

he kept it up for a while, working you up mercilessly as you felt your underwear get drenched because of him. every now and then, he pressed it firmly against your clit, holding it there just long enough to make you gasp before pulling it away again. it drove you absolutely insane. every movement felt precise. he seemed to know exactly how to keep you tethered on the fucking edge.

and just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled away entirely. you whined, your hips lifting instinctively, but then you felt his fingers hooking under the waistband of your thong. he glanced up at you, his eyes dark and questioning, and you nodded quickly, helping him slide it off.

the cool air hit you, and for a moment you felt exposed, vulnerable, but the way his eyes raked over you—reverent, almost in awe—eased the knot inside of you.

“jesus christ,” his voice barely audible, you almost didn’t catch it. “you’re perfect.”

he turned the vibrator back on, pressing it directly to your clit, and the sensation made you cry out, your hips bucking against him. he didn’t stop, didn’t pull back this time, just kept the vibrations steady as he dragged it up and down your warmth.

his hand shifted, pressing the plastic against your entrance, holding it there just long enough to make you tremble. the sensation was soft but relentless. “can i?” and those simple words sent a ripple of heat to your core.

you nodded quickly, unable to find your voice.

he pressed it in slowly, the toy stretching you inch by inch. the drag was agonizingly good, the ache sharp and perfect. your head tipped back against the pillow, lips parting as your breath caught. he didn’t rush it, watching because you knew he couldn’t help himself, his mouth hanging open slightly as it disappeared into you.

your hips tilted toward him, desperate for more, and when it was finally all the way in, he paused to ensure you were alright, that it wasn’t too much.

“don’t stop.”

he started to move, slow at first, the toy sliding in and out of you with an almost maddening rhythm. your thighs trembled against his grip, your entire body hypersensitive to the push and pull of him. the haze of your high blurred the edges of everything else until all that remained was matty and the relentless pace he set.

the thrusts grew deeper, faster, and you felt the faint roll of his hips against the mattress. the sight of him, flushed and desperate, grinding down for his own relief while his focus stayed entirely on you, made heat pool low in your stomach. he was swearing under his breath now, little fragments spilling out between wobbly breaths. 

then his mouth was on you, his tongue pressing flat against your clit before he sucked gently, pulling a broken sound from deep in your chest. it wasn’t enough—not even close—but when he found his rhythm, licking you slow and deliberate in time with the toy, you swore you could’ve died right then and there and that would’ve been alright. 

your hands flew to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. “fuck, matty.” his lips curved against you, smug even, but it didn’t matter because his tongue flicked over you again, then again, until you couldn’t think straight.

when he started sucking, harder this time, you bucked against his face, completely out of your control. he groaned into you, the sound rippling through your core. it was filthy, the way he worked you—his mouth, the vibrator, the subtle roll of his hips against the bed. 

his teeth scraped your clit, light but sharp enough to send a jolt through your entire body as you yelped. he froze for half a second, pulling back just enough to mutter, “shit. sorry—”

“don’t care,” your body already arching toward him again. “just—don’t stop.”

he didn’t. if anything, he got bolder, his lips dragging over your bud before his tongue circled it in ways that had your thighs quivering. ever so often, he’d wipe his mouth against your leg before diving back in, as if he couldn’t eat you out enough. it was messy, overwhelming, like he was making out with your cunt because he couldn’t kiss you properly, and you fucking loved it. no one had ever touched you like this. he wanted to ruin you just as much as you wanted to be ruined. completely and utterly.

you couldn’t stop convulsing, couldn’t stop moaning, your hands grabbing at anything—his shoulders, the sheets, your own hair—just to keep yourself grounded. the toy inside you was relentless, his rhythm perfect, and his mouth—god, his perfect mouth—was almost too much now. he was groaning into you, grinding harder against the sheets attempting to chase his own orgasm. 

“fuck,” he muttered again, his voice muffled against your skin. he sounded completely gone, like he was drowning in you, and that sent you hurtling over the edge. your whole body tensed as the pleasure crashed into you, sharp and overwhelming. his name spilled from your lips in broken gasps, and he didn’t stop, didn’t let up, his tongue and the toy still working you through it.

he only pulled back when your thighs started trembling uncontrollably, his lips swollen, his face shiny with your come, his chest heaving like he’d just run one hundred thousand miles. he looked absolutely wrecked, and it was the hottest fucking thing you’d ever seen.

you couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, still lightheaded from the aftershocks as you reached for him with shaky but determined hands. “fuck it,” you were barely coherent, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him up.

“wait—what—” he started, but you didn’t let him finish. your lips crashed into his, messy and desperate, and your world came crumbling to a halt when he froze. you thought you’d messed up everything. but when you felt his body melt into yours and finally kiss you back, it was everything and more than you had dreamed of all those lonely nights ago. his lips parted against yours, his hands sliding up to cradle your face like he, matty himself, was terrified you might disappear. like he’d been waiting for this as long as you had.

he shifted, bringing your heads level on the pillows, his mouth never leaving yours. the kiss was fast and uncoordinated, a little too much teeth and tongue, but you didn’t care. it was perfect. you muttered his name against his lips, and he answered with yours, his voice heavenly and breathless.

matty’s hands found your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. you didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, not until you were gasping for air, your lips now puffy and bruised. his forehead dropped to yours, your breaths mingling in the silence that followed, but his hands never left you, still holding on. maybe he wasn’t ready to let go.

his lips barely left yours, back to kiss you over and over again, just like two horny teenages who wanted to devour each other because it was all so new. when his teeth caught your bottom lip, tugging just enough to draw a pathetic whimper from you, your palm slipped between your bodies, brushing over the rigid line of him beneath his jeans. the second you touched him, his hips jerked sharply, and he let out a sound—desperate, so devastatingly beautiful it made you whole.

you touched him again, harder this time, and he whined, another sharp, broken noise that sent a thrill straight to your gut. you’d never seen him like this—so undone, so out of control—and you just needed more. 

“help me,” you whispered, your fingers brushing over the button of his jeans. “i can’t—just—help.”

he swore under his breath, fumbling with the button with clumsy digits. he got it undone after what felt like an eternity, the zipper catching slightly before it finally gave way. but he didn’t pull them down, didn’t even try. instead, his hands were back on you, tangling in your hair, pulling you closer like he needed your lips to stay alive. “should’ve done this years ago,” he muttered between kisses, his words slurring together. “fuck—wanted you for so fucking long.”

your heart raced, your chest tightening at the weight of his words, but you didn’t have time to process them. your hand slipped inside his boxers, wrapping around him, and the groan that tore out of him made you clench. he was burning under your palm, thick and hard, and when you stroked him, his whole body shuddered.

“jesus christ,” he gasped, his forehead pressing against yours as his hips bucked into your hand. “fuck, baby, you’re—.”

you stroked him again, firmer this time, your fingers sliding up his length and then back down, the slickness of him making it easier. “you’re so hard,” you whispered, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

his head tipped back, his jaw tight, his mouth falling open as another moan ripped through him. he wasn’t holding back, wasn’t trying to be quiet at all, and it was the most gorgeous thing you’d ever heard. “can’t fucking help it,” he muttered, his voice breaking. “you—fuck—you don’t even know.”

“then show me,” you murmured, your hand working him faster now, matching the frantic rhythm of his hips. he swore again, louder this time, his grip digging into your waist like he was holding on for dear life.

“i’m not—” he broke off with a choked groan as your thumb brushed over the head of him. “fuck, i’m not gonna last.”

“you don’t have to,” you said sweetly. “it’s okay. just let go.”

he groaned again, his hips snapping forward, twitching in your hand as you stroked him faster. his body was a mess, his skin slick with sweat, and every breath he took was uneven, his whole chest heaving as he chased his high. you kept going, your pace relentless, until he finally broke, a loud, growling moan spilling out of him as he came. 

it was warm and sticky on your fingers, but you didn’t stop, not until he was completely spent, his body twitching in the aftermath. “shit,” he managed finally, “fuck, ‘m sorry, i—”

“don’t apologize,” you interrupted, leaning in to kiss him again, “please don’t.”

he sighed into your mouth, his hands sliding up to cradle your face as he kissed you back. when you finally pulled away, just enough to catch your breath, he pressed his forehead to yours, his lips brushing against yours. “what the fuck are we doing?”

your heart ached, your chest tight as you stared at him, his face so close to yours it felt like the world had disappeared. “i don’t know,” you admitted. “but i don’t want to stop.”

“me either,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours before kissing you again.

it was slower now, lazier, but just as intoxicating. his hands stayed on your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he kissed you deeply, like he was trying to memorize the taste of you. your body melted into his, the heat of him, the weight of him, grounding you in a way that felt both impossible and completely inevitable.

you were dizzy, hazy, every nerve in your body still buzzing from what had just happened. but for the first time in years, you felt completely, utterly content. like this was exactly where you were supposed to be. with him. always him. 

then you made the mistake of resting your come-covered hand on his back, and he groaned, his body jerking slightly. “oh, god,” he muttered, his voice half-laugh, half-whine.

you couldn’t help but giggle, your head dropping back against the pillow. “sorry.” you didn’t sound sorry at all, though.

“you’re disgusting,” he teased, but his lips twitched into a soft smile as he leaned in to kiss you again. it was even slower this time, deeper. and you let him. you let yourself sink into the warmth of him.

this was it. this was everything. and for the first time, it was yours. he was yours.

[daniiiboo]

mv1- champion

summary- after the last vegas gp, you and max have a cute moment :,)

dani's thoughts- AHHH! sorry it took me so long to post this, my procrastination boooo :( but congrats to max!!! im so happy for him :D

warning- uh nu uh nothin :)

word count- 1139

Bright lights of the Las Vegas Strip shone through the night, casting colorful luminescence across the city. The neon signs and the hustle of the crowd seemed almost like a world of their own, but inside the race paddock, everything was laser-focused on one thing: Max Verstappen's chance at his fourth World Championship.

It was an intense weekend, the energy palpable in the air, with fans lining the grandstands, their eyes fixed on the Red Bull driver. You’d been by Max’s side throughout the season, traveling the globe, sharing in both the highs and lows of his journey. Tonight, it all came down to this. If he could finish strong and secure the points he needed, he’d be crowned World Champion once again.

You were in the paddock, your heart racing as the laps ticked down. Max had been flawless all weekend, his precision in qualifying, the strategy in the race. You could see it in his eyes. He was on the edge of greatness. The fourth title was within his grasp.

From your vantage point alongside the pit wall, the roar of the cars passing was barely audible, yet tension hung thick in the air. You saw Max flying past every lap as he overtook the others with his gliding Red Bull through corners. Each turn was proof of the amount of work and commitment he has been putting into this. The end of the race was close by. He had done it. Max Verstappen was going to win the 2024 Formula 1 World Championship. He had secured enough points to clinch the title with a race to spare, an achievement few drivers could boast. The whole Red Bull garage erupted into a chorus of cheers, but you didn't hear them, not really. The only sound one could hear was the beating of one's own heart, like a drum with excitement and pure pride.

When Max crossed the line with the checkered flag waved above him, time literally came to a standstill. It all felt like a dream-a surreal moment when the world stopped for the feat that was just accomplished by this driver. Suddenly, the radio crackled as his race engineer's familiar voice cut through, congratulating Max on his fourth World Championship.

Max let out a deep, heavy breath, and on his lips, a beaming smile formed. Not a celebrating-after-a-win smile, but something a bit deeper, something that had been earned.

A few moments later, Max pulled into the pits, his Red Bull team surrounding him, ecstatic, clapping him on the back. You stood there, frozen for a moment, watching him as he climbed out of his car. His face was hidden behind the helmet, but you could see the way his shoulders relaxed, a quiet relief washing over him.

And then, his eyes met yours.

And then there it was-the look so familiar yet so full of emotion, love, and gratefulness. He walked up to you while the people surrounding him chanted and cheered, but at this moment, nothing else mattered but the two of you.

You stepped forward as he approached, your heart swelling with pride. You'd always believed in him, in his ability to be the best-but watching him win his fourth World Championship, standing right there in Las Vegas, made it all so real. The fact that you were here for the entire journey was what really hit you.

Max came to a stop right in front of you, yanking his helmet off to reveal wet hair and a tired, yet triumphant expression.

"Max," you whispered, your voice hoarse from emotion.

He didn't say a word, instead reaching for you, pulling you into a tight hug. His hands were trembling, a rare show of vulnerability for the usually composed driver.

“I did it,” he whispered, his voice full of awe. “I really did it. Four titles…”

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, brushing your fingers gently across his face. “You’re incredible, Max. You’ve worked so hard for this. I’m so proud of you.”

A smile stretched across his face, his eyes glowing with both joy and disbelief. “We did it together.”

You shook your head, laughing through the tears that were threatening to fall. 

“You did it, Max. You’re the one who put in the work, who never gave up, who fought through everything. I’m just… I’m just lucky to be here with you.”

Max chuckled, wiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

 "Lucky? I'm the lucky one. You've been by my side through every race, every challenge, every sleepless night. I couldn't have done it without you.”

There was something so grounding about Max in that moment. In the midst of celebrations, press, and flashing cameras, he remained the same old Max one had always known. He was humble, dedicated, and unyielding in his way to greatness. Yet what made him so special was how he never forgot the people who had been there to support him-especially you.

As the cheers from the Red Bull garage grew loud, you could feel the pull of the moment, the whirlwind of emotions, the feeling of watching history. The team swarmed around them, and Max turned back toward them, giving high-fives and accepting congratulations, but his hand was still in yours. His fingers were tangled with yours, holding onto you like he did not want to let go.

It was all happening so fast, and yet you were in no hurry. You would savor this moment, the moment when Max Verstappen became a four-time World Champion in Las Vegas, with you by his side.

As the celebrations had died down, and the crowd started to clear out, Max took your hand and led you out of the paddock. Above, the lights of Las Vegas shone brightly on the Strip, and with them, Max turned that very same smile to you.

"What do you say we head out and celebrate?" he asked, full of excitement, yet strangely quieted.

You smiled, knowing this moment would stick in your head forever. "I think we've earned it."

Max tightened his grip on your hand, leaned in to brush a kiss against your mouth, and then he'd take you out into the night, together, off to celebrate his win really like Max Verstappen style. The world had come to see his greatness-again-but you? Just there, sharing in this victory with the man that you loved.

And as you walked hand in hand down the streets of Las Vegas, all lit up, you could not help but feel your chest swell with pride. This was his moment, yes-but it was also yours, because in the end, it was about the journey that you have shared together.

Max Verstappen had his fourth title in the bag, and with you by his side, nothing was impossible.

[all4minnie]

ew LMAO. this was something i made at like 4am a few days ago, I didn’t know what to do with it so i’m posting it. This is literally my very first post 😭🙏

A Forgotten Place, A Familiar Face

PAIRING : former UA student!reader (who lost their quirk) x class 1-A

SUMMARY : After the war, you lost your quirk and faded from the world of heroes, retreating into a small, forgotten life running a diner. Years pass, and your old friends from Class 1-A have moved on—except, they never truly forgot you. One day, unexpectedly, they walk into your restaurant, small-group-reunion being held, and the emotional weight of their return shatters the walls you've built around yourself. As you struggle with the feeling of being forgotten and unimportant, they remind you that you’ve always mattered to them. Over time, with their support, you rebuild your sense of belonging and finally find peace in knowing you are truly seen and loved.

WARNINGS : emotional/angsty content, mentions of self-doubt and self-criticism, mild injury (cutting finger), depictions of tears and breakdown, themes of Isolation and feelings of being forgotten, mentions Inability to keep up with others, emotional recovery and reconnection. (If i forgot anything, lmk!!)

THEME : angst, isolation, reconnection, self-worth & validation, regret & acceptance, fluff (?) at the end. (girl idfk, this my first time)

The clock on the wall ticks steadily. The greasy kitchen exhaust fan hums, and the sizzle of a fresh batch of fries fills the air. You wipe your hands on the apron, an over-worn, faded thing that’s seen more than a few messes. The restaurant you run isn’t much—a hole in the wall, really. It used to be a bustling place, full of potential. But now? It’s the same old regulars, the same tired faces. You had to let go of the hope that you’d ever make it big.

Your quirk—the one that once made you stand out among heroes—was gone. Disappeared when you almost didn’t make it out of that final battle. That was years ago. You weren’t a hero anymore. Hell, you weren’t even really a part of the world you once fought for.

You used to be close to them. To everyone. Class 1-A. You were all a team once, fighting side by side. All kinds of situations were you all, inevitably, pulled together even more. By tears? Stronger. By laughs? The bond was one you couldn’t imagine breaking. But that was before your life changed, before you were forgotten— A shatter of the world off somewhere new. But it wasn’t new to you anymore, years in this dump of a place. You couldn’t even remember the last time anyone reached out. It didn’t matter though, did it? You couldn’t force people to care. They had moved on, just like the world did after the war.

The bell above the door rings, cutting through the usual quiet hum of the diner. You don’t think much of it at first. Another customer, maybe. The door opens with that familiar creak, and you glance up automatically, your attention barely wavering from the plates in front of you. But something stops you—a voice.

“Hey, is this the right place?”

You freeze.

Your heart skips a beat. It’s so familiar—so unbelievably familiar that you feel like you've slipped through a crack in time. You look up, your eyes locking onto a face you haven’t seen in years. Izuku. His green hair, his nervous smile—it’s all the same, just as you remember. And behind him? Faces hard to forget. You almost can’t believe it. For a moment, your mind refuses to process what’s happening. But then, it hits you—the reality of the moment crashes down.

You weren’t expecting them. You hadn’t even thought about seeing them again. Yet here they are, standing in the doorway of your small, worn-down restaurant like a dream you once had, a dream you couldn’t quite let go of.

Before you can react, the plate in your hands slips, the porcelain crashing to the floor with a sharp, deafening sound. You gasp, eyes wide, your heart racing in your chest. The room feels too small. Too tight.

You kneel to pick up the pieces, your fingers trembling with the weight of everything that’s suddenly come flooding back. You reach for the shards, but as you do, your finger brushes one of the edges. A sharp pain slices through you. You barely register the blood beginning to trickle down your hand as you pull the glass pieces into your palm.

It’s funny. The glass is sharp, but it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as the emptiness in your chest.

You let out a shaky laugh, but it’s hollow—empty. Like a laugh you’ve been practicing for too long. A joke you’ve told so many times that it doesn’t mean anything anymore. “Look at me... pathetic, huh?”

You don’t even try to wipe away the blood. The cut is small, but it stings, and it’s enough to remind you how much you’ve been pretending. You’ve been pretending to be okay for so long, acting like this quiet life you built for yourself was all you could ever have. But now, it’s so painfully obvious that you aren’t okay.

“I... I didn’t think anyone would come looking for me,” you murmur, almost to yourself. “Guess I was wrong. I mean, you’re here, right?” You wince as the blood keeps trickling down your finger, but you don’t even care anymore. “Huh. What a coincidence..” A scoff of a laugh escaped you, a deep sorrow tugging at your heart strings.

The rest of the group seemed to be frozen in place. That’s funny. Just like how you’ve been feeling for years. Then, as if something had clicked, Izuku steps forward, his voice soft but full of a sorrow you haven’t heard in years. “we... we thought you were lost. No one could find you. No one knew where you went.”

You chuckle bitterly, a tear slipping down your cheek that you hadn’t even meant to shed. “I guess I wanted to be lost,” you whisper. “I didn’t want anyone to find me. I didn’t want anyone to remember me... because I didn’t remember who I was anymore.” You wipe at your cheek, as if the tears are somehow less real if you ignore them.

Katsuki’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife, surprisingly gentle. “You think we forgot you? After everything, you think we’d just moved on?”

You shake your head, the laughter slipping into something darker. “I didn’t even move on, Bakugo. I couldn’t. I just... stopped mattering. People forgot, and it was easier that way. Easier to pretend I was never meant to be part of all that hero stuff. I wasn’t a hero, not without my quirk. Not after everything.”

You shrugged.

You stop talking, the words sticking in your throat. It doesn’t matter anymore, does it? The world’s gone on without you. They’ve gone on without you. New lives. Beautiful ones, too. You’re too deep in the excuse of yours to even envy them anymore.

But then, before you can close off again, Ochaco steps forward, her voice soft and warm. “You don’t get to decide you don’t matter. We get to decide that. You’ve always mattered. You always will.”

Tears fill your eyes again, more freely this time. “I thought... I thought I was just... forgotten.” Your voice cracks.

“I’m sorry,” Izuku whispers, kneeling beside you, his hands gently taking yours. “We should’ve tried harder. We should’ve done more.”

You pull your hand away slightly, shaking your head. “It’s not your fault. I... I was the one who disappeared.” You swallow, trying to force the lump in your throat down, but the words spill out anyway. “I didn’t think I was ever going to be here again. I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you guys again.”

“We’re here now. We’re not going anywhere. You don’t have to carry this by yourself anymore.”

And then, in that moment, it all falls away. The weight of the past, the years of solitude, the feeling of being invisible, all of it disappears. You’re not the same person you were when you lost everything. You’re someone who is finally seen— truly seen. And for the first time in so long, you can breathe again.

The restaurant is busier now, the scent of sizzling food mixing with the laughter of old friends catching up. The once worn-down walls are brightened, the mismatched tables now having the touch of home. Your apron is cleaner—neater—but it still bears the marks of a life lived in small moments, a life rebuilt piece by piece.

And they’re all here— your people, not just as memories but as the living, breathing souls you thought you'd lost forever. Izuku, with his ever-present smile; Ochaco, light and bubbly; Bakugo, still as blunt as ever, but with an unspoken warmth underneath; Shoto, Mina, Kaminari, and just a few other people you’ve fallen close to, back into the piece of the puzzle board once missing. They’re not just visitors. They’re friends. Molds of your soul.

You stand behind the counter, wiping down the counter when Sero calls you over. “Hey! come sit with us. We’ve got something to talk about.”

You look at them—each face as familiar as your own reflection. But this time, there's no doubt. No fear of being forgotten. No sense that you don’t belong.

You smile, that same old, genuine smile that had been buried for so long. “I’m coming,” you reply, your voice steady now, the cracks filled with something solid—hope, maybe. Or maybe just the quiet joy of knowing you’ll never be forgotten again.

As you join them at the table, the weight of the years lifts. It’s just a group of old friends now, no longer separated by time, by distance, by the fractured memories of the past. You are seen. You are loved.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel... whole.

ALRIGHT this was low-key gonna just sit in my damned drafts but i’m fighting that urge. maybe AT LEASSTTT one person will like this so 🤷‍♀️ we ball nonetheless. it’s low-key poorly written, barley even authentic and genuine but i just wrote it to feel something. ANYWAY!

[ggreactionsandscenarios]

Hi can you do a smut with CEO! Karina and female! reader who is her secretary ?

Karina x Reader

Chinese couch

Late nights.

It was starting to feel a little bit too usual for Jimin to work until night lately. Being the CEO of a worldwide renowned company for sure comes with the prerogative but it was slowly messing with her sleep schedule and nothing good happens when Jimin is sleep deprived.

As her assistant you witnessed it all, her temper slowly getting worst and worst, the number of people getting fired slowly rising up.

Usually you wouldn't say anything, afraid to loose your job and even more afraid to face an angry Karina but it's been days and you're slowly feeling responsible.

It might be a tiny bit because of the S.O.S. looks from all the people getting kicked out that pass by your desk everyday.

Anyway you figured out you might as well try to calm your boss down before becoming the very last person employed here.

So when the clock hit nine, you made your way to her office. Stopping right in front of the door, contemplating whether you should enter or not. After building up the courage, you finally decided to knock.

But of course the door opened wide right when you were about to, revealing your boss in all of her intimidating self. Her face only a few inches away from yours.

"Please tell me you weren't coming to tell me some bad news, because I swear I'm gonna kill myself if anything goes sideways again."

You couldn't help but chuckle a bit at her frown but were fast to remember she was your boss.

"No actually I was coming to ask you if you'd like to eat with me, I'm ordering."

For a second there Jimin was bewildered, not expecting the offer but she was fast to put on her serious face.

"I don't have time to eat I have better things to do."

She was about to go back to her office when you suddenly grabbed the door keeping it opened.

"Chinese it is."

You don't know what's gotten into you, it's like you're trying to get fired.

Karina stared right at you for a minute, probably waiting for you to back down but you didn't.

"Fine."

And with those words she went back inside letting you choose what to order. You settled for a restaurant that was just down the street, hoping it would be delivered faster.

Sadly it didn't, you waited for almost an hour at your desk before the delivery guy came up.

You went to Karina's door knocking on it carefully, not wanting to interrupt a phone call.

Even though you got no answer you pushed the door opened, after all you did warned her you'll be treating her food.

When you entered the room you were surprised not to find your boss in her chair where she would always sit.

She was laying down on her luxurious couch, she probably got too tired to notice she was falling asleep before it was too late.

You set the food on the table before shaking her shoulder to wake her up but it didn't work.

She did not move nor did she said anything. She actually remained so still that for a second you wondered if she might have passed out of exhaustion.

It's only when you got close to her face to see if she was breathing that she suddenly opened her eyes.

"Getting comfortable there I see, you should have told me you weren't talking about food when you ask me for dinner."

You frowned not knowing what she meant until you took a closer look at your position noticing how you were pretty much all over her.

You took a step back and an other just to be sure.

"Excuse me for checking if my boss is still alive."

You tried to play it cool but you knew you were blushing at this point so you turned your back at her to hide your embarrassment.

Her face closed up, the movement upsetting her. She took a hold of your waist, turning you around and getting insanely close to you.

"Don't ever turn your back on me like that."

Once again you don't know what went on your mind because for some reason you couldn't help but to provoke her.

"Thought you liked my backside."

She stare at you before answering.

"Careful sweetheart, I don't like brats."

As you were about to argue back she shut you up, kissing you hard, her teeth sinking into your bottom lip so she could have access to your tongue.

As much as you'd like to resist her, you've been waiting for her to make a move on you forever so you weren't going to back down now.

So you kissed her back, pushing her back to the couch where she has been sleeping except now you were on top of her, kissing her neck.

You would've continued if it wasn't for her switching positions.

"I'm on top."

You couldn't careless all you wanted to do was for her to kiss you right now.

"Stop talking and start kissing."

And so she did, trailing her kisses down your neck to your breast, getting rid of your top on the way.

She cupped your mount, tasting them and playing with your nipples as you tugged on her hair asking for more.

You might have marks of her lips tomorrow because of how hungrily she was kissing every inch of your skin.

As she was kissing your lips again you decided to stop her.

"Wait, let's eat."

Jimin looked at you with confusion in her eyes.

"What do you mean 'let's eat' ? What do you think I was about to do ?"

She was now clearly frustrated as you sat up on the couch ans started unpacking your order.

"You need to eat, you haven't even eaten lunch today."

"Who cares ?"

Seeing her frustration wasn't getting to you she changed tactics, brushing her hand on your thigh and kissing your neck.

It was indeed tempting but as you let out a content sigh, you broke contact.

"Eat your food and maybe you'll have dessert."

Not really a smut but here is a little something -Ael

[cconfusedkat]

Hi! I exert too much time and energy into very unnecessary things, and So this happens to be One of those things,

This post will cover the following; the ancestors/the six sheep of sanheim, paloma & mystic seller, and an abrupt timeline summary :> here is my bishop refs post

Year -1000, a Rise of Meliora and early beginnings of Columbidae

These people we are looking at are considered Archangelic Lambs, Six Sheep of Sanheim, or simply just Archangelo. They all try to compliment one another regarding each individual God's personality.

Archangelo, God of Courage & Freedom, they/them. Algerian sheep

Balam, God of Cunning & Past/Present, she/they. Braunes Bergschaf sheep

Callicantzaros, God of Feast & Festival, they/them. Valais Blackneck goat

Decarabia, Demigod of Singing & Drinking, he/they. Bizet sheep

Gaap, God of Love/Hatred & Tides, she/her. Bergamasca sheep

Zagan, God of Witt, they/them. Askanian sheep

Lastly, they're all inspired off of demons from demonology :-) hence the repeating number of 6 and the name "Archangelo" in reference to Satan before being damned (since he was an archangel)

Year -600, the death of two beloved rulers, yet the rise of a new one

Paloma, who took over her kingdom after her parents died to old age, was a God of Tranquil & Grain (or vice versa). Columbidae is an independent nation, unlike Meliora who is ruled by walking Gods

Though, in rough times, Paloma couldn't cope properly with the loss of her parents. Archangelo and Paloma stumbled across each other in -600, the lamb being there for the dove for as long as possible.

However, a Particular shadow-being didn't like the closeness of their relationship, of whom we talk of;

Mystic Seller, who once was known as Mystique, a shadow who ran away from their old home (Mystici) to pursue being a disciple under Paloma.

Mystic had been Paloma's disciple ever since -1000. When they saw Archangelo and Paloma get closer and closer to their almost engagement, Mystic had a major issue with it.

And so, they would do anything to prevent them getting engaged ,,, which did cause the butterfly effect of the lamb genocide 😭😭 lamdalcjskc i like how im srs with everything else and then here Its Just. Yeah the development of paloma and archangelo uniting nations as both lambs & doves lead to an eventual lamb genocide- yep- Yeah Man,

Soooo Essentially for a better summary of timelines rather than my excessive yapping, here's a little something I've gathered over their history: (of course other major events happened but Still)

-1000 ； Beginning of Lamb (Archangelo) and that's mainly the true species for some time

-900 ； Thriving country of Meliora, Mystici's (the country Mystic is from/shadow being's lurk) begins to form due to the Gods Boundary Line of there needing to be other species

-800 ； Rise of Columbidae's Empire which eventually is a nation lead by doves and a couple of other leading land animals

-700 ； War breaks out for a couple of years between Columbidae, The Lands of the Old Faith (which are a five state colony), and Archangelo trying to make peace

-600 ； Monarch and Queen of Columbidae, now leaving the entire nation of Columbidae under Monarch Paloma. She had yet to ascend to Godhood, and she still didn't know how to continue running her parents cult after they pass away from old age. Archangelo offers his hand to working with Paloma and combining their countries as well as cults ++ religions, thus Paloma ascends to Godhood as a former Bishop.

(The Lands of the Old Faith are still beefing with both Meliora and Columbidae. The colonies chose to leave Mystici alone)

-500 ；Everything in society is about to collapse. The Betrayal happens (where Narinder gives his siblings his injuries and gets sent to Below), Mystic killed all the Archangelics and saved Archangelo for last (ripping off their horns), and Paloma falls into another deep depression.

-500 — -20 ； Lamb Genocide. Each and every Lamb is now almost gone, leaving Allure and Zainab to be the only lambs left, who ran away for so long.

Year 0 ； Allure and Zainab are captured by the colonies. Zainab gets executed first, Allure gets executed a day after, but the twist is of course Allure being able to bare the Red Crown with the help of TOWW/Narinder. Year 0 is the beginning of- get ready- Cult of the Lamb YEAHHHHHHHH🗣🗣🗣 or also their cult is called Alluring/Allureable Lamb lmaoxaldjdkm

And with that, Mystic had already set everything into place. They outright planned the lamb genocide, they told Shamura about Narinder betraying them, they got Paloma killed by Shamura, and now all they had to do was visit the little lamb five years into their cult. Not even Ratau knew about Mystic's existence.

Mystic Pursuit!! An eventful AU that is all under Mystic's control of a silly little butterfly effect !!!! Yayyyy

Next post will be Allure lore with a liiiitttle animatic and their own refs again C:<< I have yet to cover the three witnesses (i still havent drawn them) but they have loads of lore as well :-]

[cryptid-killjoy]

Babyface was nodding like yeah what she said.

"Exactly."

He meant it though. He had not come to take her away. He'd gotten in the mind set before he stepped off the boat and he made up his mind when he gave Ellie his parting last words of just in case. He had no intentions of making Mazzie leave. He also had no intentions of making any decisions for Ellie. He was done thinking he knew what was best for anyone. That's what fucked things up.

Once both Ellie confirmed neither one of them were there to try and take her away Mazzie's body language started to relax. She still seemed at the ready, but after realizing zombies were on this island now that made sense to Babyface. He was just glad she started to talk to Ellie even if it wasn't to him right off.

"He's at the control center with the donkeys and our Papas."

Babyface's eyes bugged. "You mean the Coachman survived?"

"I didn't say that."

He glanced over at Ellie unsure what that meant.

"You mean? Honest John and Gideon? They're here?"

"Something like that. You'd be surprised who's here."

Mazzie was still focused on what Ellie said. How things went before. It made her stare at Babyface despite them saying they weren't going to try and make her leave.

"The Coachman's not happy with you. He was ready to give it all to you. He wants to know why we would trust you now?"

"I thought you said he didn't survive?"

"I didn't say that." Mazzie spoke stern and slow.

Babyface looked at Ellie more than once. He wasn't always the quickest on the uptake in these situations, but he understood something strange was going on.

A part of Babyface was hoping this conversation would play out a little differently. He was hoping for more wiggle room before he put all his cards on the table. He wasn't even completely sure he understood what was going on, but he decided he didn't care. He knew he made the decision before stepping foot off that boat. It had been in his head for months. If he ever had a do over, he knew what he would do. Here he was with a real do over.

"Look Mazzie, please. I don't know what the Beagle is going on here. I almost don't care. All I know is I wrecked it right up. I want to stay here with you like before. Just like we talked about. I don't want to be a donkey. I want to be like you. I'll stay. I'll take care of it with you."

He glanced back at Ellie with every other statement.

"You know I loved it here. That part doesn't have to change. What can I do to make it up to the island? I just want to stay with you."

That was the most disarming confrontation Mazzie could have been hit with. Several island boys started to pop up out of the candy woodworks as if the island itself understand the ramifications of the conversation.

"You'd stay?"

The half a dozen or so boys began to line up behind Mazzie. She waved a hand downward to stave them off. The island listened to Mazzie.

"Yes." He looked at Ellie again knowing this time around the boys were some extensions of the magic that was the Coachman's wife embodied in this cursed place. It was knowledge they didn't have the first time.

She looked passed Babyface to Ellie. "Is that why you're here too? You want to stay too?"

Babyface hadn't meant to put Ellie on the spot, but to him this was the only way. It was his only regret in his entire life. He didn't regret pulling the trigger, but he sure did regret fleeing the scene. He was so scared of becoming a donkey he left his crew behind.

Every Beagle for himself. Get out alive. That's all he could think at the time. Hindsight after juvie and seeing his mother made him realize there was another role a Beagle could take that was just admiral to the family. It was why he was in juvie. He took the fall. He was ready to take the fall now.

“It was probably some douchebag boy who was sent here,” Ellie said, resolutely. That, she could believe. There were so many here that were ripe for the taking. The boys that would probably come up with a game like ‘Poke the zombie’. Ten points if you get it’s stomach. Twenty points if you get it’s head.

She had her hand on Babyface’s back, the two of them using one another to steady themselves as they looked up at Maz. The hair was definitely a big change and Ellie thought back to the slumber parties that they had - how fun it would be to do something like that again and be girly and cute and braid each other’s hair now that hers was long enough. But that felt like a part of a Oogie-induced lifetime dream now. Making her yearn, making her nostalgic for something that probably would never happen.

All things considering - Mazzie’s reaction seemed fair from her point of view. They had tried to talk to her and Jax until they were blue in the face about how wrong the situation with the Magic Man was. But no words had been able to convince her. That’s why Babyface had did what he did. It seemed kind of foolish now to expect that just because their lives had changed - they had become street kids in other towns, misplaced, an orphan, losing a whole family - that her mind might have.

“We’re not here to take you away,” Ellie affirmed, with a nod of her head, her blue eyes trying to meet Mazzie’s darker ones. “We’ve just - we’ve been thinking about you. And how things went the last time around. And then there’s been this whole zombie epidemic and we had to leave New Orleans and -” She shrugged with a sigh. “It’s been this whole big thing.”

She looked up at the candy-canes again, that Mazzie had been climbing, and then asked one of the many questions that had a hold on her heart right now.

“Where is Jax?"