#like all of the boys act more ‘mature’ than they really are apart from maybe pony-

[dallasgallant]

A lot of talk about how the fandom treats Darry as WAY older than he is and that’s very important but what about people doing that to Dally?

I’ve seen a lot of people VERY insistent that he’s 18 but he’s just… not. He’s 17. He died at 17. He’s a kid, they all are really.

[raguiras]

Meet my Yumeship

Yay, the second part of my official Allen x Deuce ship introduction is here! (FIRST PART)

Reblogs are super appreciated teehee

The ship's blog (daily facts, rambles & more est. May 2024): @spade-of-storms

Explanation of the chart & the first part of the relationship timeline below the cut!

I've also been cooking something else up for the past few days, so please look forward to it!

The reason why Allen and Deuce's behaviour towards each other is so different in comparison to how they act with other people is actually quite simple.

These two have a ridiculous amount of kinship. Their experiences, wishes for the future, worries, opinions and morals are essentially the same despite being different, which allows Allen and Deuce to have an absolutely blind understanding and extremely easy communication with each other. Additionally, their experiences are reversed (former honor student with great self-control who's now a lowkey delinquent & former delinquent with little self-control aspiring to be a model student), which adds to them being able to efficiently help and understand each other entirely on a very deep, personal level.

Deuce is able to open up A LOT more to Allen than to anyone else due to their special intimacy. While everyone knows Deuce as a hardworking guy with regrets who wants to better himself, Allen has access to much deeper feelings because of how much Deuce trusts and relates to him. This not only sets Allen (who is my Yuu) apart from the canon Yuu, but also explains why the relationship timeline below talks about Deuce's feelings and struggles on a much more intense level than the game does.

But how did they reach this point? And how did their relationship get so intense? Here's a little bit of a relationship timeline!

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PROLOGUE

Allen and Deuce met on their first day of school when Allen was chasing Ace. For Deuce, it was pretty much love at first sight and he immediately knew he'd love to get to know this mysterious, mildly intimidating boy — Allen radiated an aura of intelligence, confidence, extreme toughness, ethereal beauty and utter determination. Deuce was pretty much just staring at him like "...woah".

Allen displayed a lot of these very characteristics (+ maturity) during the prologue and Deuce was already admiring him a ton. This guy really had all the attributes that made Deuce nervous around someone, huh...?

Due to Deuce's extreme determination to not get expelled, Allen immediately sensed that something was off. Teens (including Allen himself) weren't usually this keen on going to school... And Deuce, too, had his suspicions about Allen due to how this mature, composed and witty boy dressed like a rebel.

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BOOK 1

When Deuce first displayed his delinquent characteristics, Allen not only comforted him, but also opened up about his own tendencies and the fact that he used to be a model student before he became a lowkey delinquent himself. Deuce was a bit impressed that Allen was just like him in a way, so his kinship towards him immediately grew. However, the second Allen offered to help him with his impulse control and talk more about these topics, it was absolutely OVER for Deuce — not only was Allen pretty and smart, but also similar to him and willing to give him a safe space despite barely knowing him.

For Allen, this was a fairly unusual gesture as well. He's often apathetic and doesn't usually offer to help people nor relates to others. However, seeing that Deuce struggled with the exact same thing as him in a different way, Allen didn't even have to think about it and immediately knew that he wouldn't regret talking more to a rare person with similar experiences and thoughts. Maybe they could help each other in a way...?

Shortly after these events, they already started talking about their experiences together. However, it was mostly Allen asking questions about Deuce first, trying to keep his own past in wraps. Deuce's past and his regrets felt familiar to Allen, and he admired Deuce's aspirations to become a model student. He did, however, sense that something was off.

As they hung out more during Book 1, Allen's secret suspicion that Deuce tried too hard to be someone he naturally wasn't slowly confirmed itself already. Deuce expressed a dislike towards hard topics from class and struggled heavily with his homework, yet kept saying that he had to do well. What came off as someone being ambitious and working hard to others was the beginning of self-destruction in the eyes of burnt-out former honor student Allen, and he decided to keep an eye on Deuce. Additionally, Allen offered to tutor him, which Deuce excitedly accepted.

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BOOK 2

Between Book 1 and Book 2, Allen's brain decided to randomly let him relive the pain he had experienced as a bullying victim back in his world in great detail. That exact night, Deuce came to Ramshackle after a fight with Ace, wanting to ask Allen if he could stay over. This was when a violently crying Allen opened the door... and Deuce's suspicion that something was wrong with Allen was confirmed, too. When Deuce asked him about what had happened, Allen decided to finally open up about his past — after all, the other boy had done the same — and it only made Deuce's feelings grow. Allen assumed that he was being perceived as weak for crying, but to Deuce, it only made him even stronger. Enduring all that unjustified hatred and still carrying on with confidence... it was nothing short of admirable to Deuce. Additionally, he felt both saddened and incredibly angered hearing how Allen was severely bullied and almost driven over the edge because of something he couldn't control. This boy was so beautiful and special... why did he have to suffer? Was he doing better these days...? That night, Deuce made a silent promise to himself that he'd protect Allen.

The two kept spending lots of time with each other, talking and developing more and more trust with every sentence. They were so similar... two delinquents perceived as scary who both wanted to prove others wrong, be admired, craved meaningful relationships, hated bullies, had experiences with anger issues, wanted justice to prevail, and struggled with school in some way... and this wasn't even everything yet. Additionally, Allen started showing Deuce some effective ways of handling impulsiveness that worked on himself, too, and Deuce was intrigued. The two also didn't hesitate to rant together, which allowed both of them to let off steam and be angry in a safe environment while being fully understood by the person in front of them.

Allen also helped Deuce with his studies more often. However, Deuce sometimes kindly declined his offers and simply asked Allen to supervise him instead, wanting to learn and study by himself in order to prove himself that he could indeed achieve better grades through his own effort. Allen silently watched out for Deuce not pushing himself too hard because he could sense that what looked like hard work on the outside was tied to something much deeper on the inside...

When Deuce walked in on an annoyed Allen one day, he found out that the blonde boy had "messed up" a drawing and blamed himself for not being a good artist. Deuce comforted him and thought that Allen's art was genuinely amazing, but what the boy said next shattered Deuce's heart. "I don't care if I'm good... apparently I can only be someone if I'm the best at something. And I'm far from being best at anything. I'm doomed to be a nobody, I guess." Never in a thousand years did Deuce expect the current Allen — the seemingly perfect, confident, calm, tough and effortlessly beautiful Allen who often had a sly smirk on his face — to think about himself like this. After asking if this was the only thing Allen felt insecure about, the boy decided to open up further and tell Deuce how he also despised his own appearance. The blue-haired boy was genuinely shocked because to him, Allen was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, and he couldn't care less about Allen's rather unique body either. How could he show Allen that he was actually stunning...?

In return, Deuce also opened up about his own insecurities to Allen on a deep level — something he had never done before out of fear of being made fun of. While the Ramshackle student wasn't surprised, it still hurt him to hear just how lowly Deuce thought he was... What sounded like a motivated "I don't have a lot going for me, but I'm doing my best!" to everyone else had always been a "It hurts to have nothing other than negative traits going for me and I hate myself for the fact that I don't improve at anything no matter how hard I work" in Allen's eyes, and here was the direct confirmation. If only Deuce could see that all those 'negative' traits he had were actually admirable and useful...

The two ended up having an extremely heartfelt talk that mostly consisted of them showering each other in genuine compliments and admiration. Deuce had never been able to see the things he hated about himself in such a positive light... and his heart was yet again beating like crazy.

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BOOK 3

When finding out that Deuce had made a contract in order to get better grades, Allen got even more concerned due to the boy's desperation and decided to finally have a heart-to-heart talk with him about how hard he was pushing himself. Allen knew that being a model student was a role Deuce was forcing himself into too hard and that it was prone to go wrong, especially considering how Deuce's natural self was quite different from it. Since part of Allen's trauma stemmed from being an honor student himself, overworking himself a ton, and having to deal with a ridiculous amount of highly unrealistic expectations and passion, he didn't want the same to happen to his friend — but if Deuce neglected himself and paid attention to nothing but his honor student persona, it was prone to happen one day. Allen told Deuce that there was no shame in accepting help, and the Heartslabyul student eventually saw that relying on himself only wouldn't help with improving his grades. As a result, Deuce started accepting Allen's offers to assist him fully, and Allen immediately came up with some original study methods and mnemonic bridges tailored specifically for Deuce. Additionally, Allen wasted no opportunity to tell Deuce yet again that he didn't have to change the core of his being in order to become the person he aspired to be, and that Deuce's "negative traits" were actually helpful assets.

Whenever Deuce wasn't busy at the Mostro Lounge, they would study together. Allen made sure that it was enjoyable and fun for the already stressed Deuce and paid great attention to his wellbeing. Every time Deuce was about to fall back into his old behaviours due to the stress and feeling of betrayal stemming from the entire Octavinelle situation, Allen reminded him of the impulse control methods or introduced Deuce to new ones. At other times, they would find a secluded place where Deuce could safely let off steam... Slowly but surely, the Heartslabyul freshman was able to get his anger under control.

The second it was obvious that Allen needed a new temporary residence, Deuce immediately knew that he wanted to share a bed with him. He accidentally mentioned this thought to Ace, who then teased Deuce about a possible crush on Allen. Deuce obviously denied everything and said that Allen was merely his best friend, but deep down, he knew that Ace was completely right. When Ace later suggested that Allen shared a bed with either him or Deuce and Allen denied in order to stay at Savanaclaw, Deuce's heart ached a little and he simply laughed it off.

By now, Deuce and Allen were much more touchy, too. Allen usually hated it when people touched him, but Deuce was an exception due to how close him and Allen already were at this point. And every time Allen touched Deuce, a firework went off within the Heartslabyul student's heart...

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BOOK 4

Allen didn't understand why he was suddenly feeling empty at the knowledge that Deuce left for home during the holidays. He was merely a friend, right? Why did his two-week departure sadden Allen...?

The second Deuce read Allen's SOS message, he immediately packed his things and stormed off. He would've done the same for other friends, but certainly not reacted this impulsively... and knowing that Allen was in a tricky situation literally freaked him out. When his mom asked Deuce why he was leaving for school in the middle of the holidays, the teenager explained everything to her... and finally admitted that he loved Allen. Dylla was the first person to know about Deuce's massive crush and immediately pulled him into a hug.

Deuce was extremely fidgety and nervous during the entire travel back to NRC and Ace couldn't miss it. When he said that "Allen was merely in a difficult situation, you should chill", Deuce verbally lashed out at him and went on about how great Allen was. Ace then brought up his suspicion that Deuce liked Allen as more than a friend again, and Deuce simply replied with "So what if I do?!" this time. Needless to say, the rest of the ride was packed full of teasing and jokes at Deuce's cost...

The minute Allen and Deuce reunited, they shared a lung-crushing hug and felt their hearts race like crazy. Deuce was incredibly happy to see that Allen was doing okay, and Allen suddenly felt much happier...

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That's it for now! The happenings from Book 5-7 and everything after that up until they finally start dating are going to covered in my next Allen x Deuce post. I hope you liked it! ♠️🌪

If you have any questions about the ship or want to draw them, please do not hesitate!

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Ace of Cups (Hotd x Reader)

Summary: An act of kindness leads you to a misterious stranger who offers to lift a block on your love life. Feeling lonely during Halloween, you decide to give it a go. Now there is a blonde corpse in the middle of your bathroom, and it turns out the corpse is not really a corpse.

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Reader, Aemond x Reader or Daemon x Reader.

Warnings: Mature language. Mentions of corpses. My first ever crack fic?

A/N: Happy Halloween! At the end of this silly set up, you have to choose a card. There are three endings. Choose wisely.

“Um. Excuse me?” You raised your hand, trying to get the couple of teens at the register to stop… Whatever they were doing. Probably making out, if making out involved pushing their tongues to the other person's tonsils. “Excuse me?”

Ugh. You hated it. Even as an adult, you find being around couples awkward. Especially if they were making out. When the couple in question was, like, half your age, it was even worse. If it were up to you, you would have left them alone and found another corner store, but you would rather not end up walking three blocks just to be able to buy a bottle of overpriced wine.

“What?” The girl pulled apart from the boy, with an annoyed expression. She took out a piece of gum and started chewing annoyingly. “What do you want?”

Despite your best efforts, your dismay must have shown on your face.

“Miss. What do you need, miss?” The girl corrected herself, rolling her eyes. But the damage was already done. You tried to force your face to remain fixed into a pleasant expression. This was not going to ruin your plans of having a pleasant night all by yourself.

“I want to pay for this. Please.” You handed her a bottle of your favorite wine. You would need it to make your night better. After all, this was the first time you would be spending Halloween completely on your own.

Having recently moved into your own apartment, it was not like you could spend the night with your family. All your friends had plans out of town or with people you didn't know. And while your coworkers had invited you out for drinks, you really didn't feel like slipping on a tight dress and wasting half your salary on overpriced cocktails.

There was no one to watch a horror movie or go out with, like you had done in previous years. Instead, you had planned to take a bath, eat some nice dinner and enjoy a glass of wine. Maybe watch a movie. Perhaps, even do a ritual of some sort, like the ones that appeared on TikTok. The energies were supposed to be stronger tonight, or so you heard.

Your self-care was not about to be ruined by a teen girl who didn't even know how to kiss. You refused.

“I am going to need some ID.” The girl rolled her eyes. She looked as done as you felt.

Cursing yourself for not having it already out, you started fumbling with your bag. This was shaping up to be a terrible day. Not only were you about to spend Halloween alone, but you were also going to have to hear teenagers, the meanest creatures on earth, have a go at you.

Good God, why couldn't you find it quicker? Your wallet seemed to be hiding under everything you had. To be able to look for it, you started taking out some things and leaving it on the counter.

“Uh… Babe. Can’t you just… Let her? She is obviously old enough.” The boy asked, sounding annoyed. He eyed your growing pile of things on the counter. A used chapstick, your keys, a pencil, crumbled up receipts. He wanted you gone, and soon. “More than old.”

And that was a bit insulting, really. The boy had chosen to remain quiet during the whole exchange, and now he interrupted just to say a rude thing? You were not even that old. But it appeared that in the age of planned obsolescence, you already were.

The girl's eyes shifted between your furious expression and her boyfriend's bored one.

“Fine.” She said. You handed her one of the crumpled bills that you had placed on the counter. “Have a good evening.” And without sparing you a glance, she handed you a receipt and started making out with her boyfriend, again.

You were fuming. There it went, your relaxing evening. You were not in the right headspace for it now. Deciding to reclaim what little of your good mood was left, you decided to take another route home. Perhaps, walking across the park might lift your spirits.

Grasping the bottle of wine and surely looking like an alcoholic, you walked out of the store. As of late, you felt terribly lonely. Living alone was hard. Not only you had to do everything by yourself, no roommates or family to fall back into, but you also had to come home every night to an empty apartment.

At first, you had been ecstatic to have your own space. You had loved your rented apartment, in a centric place of the city and decorated in a very modern fashion. You hadn't protested your landlord's condition of no pets and no changing the colors of the walls, too happy with having something of your own. The novelty of having a place to yourself had worn off after a while, and you had to face your sad little beige walls and a deafening silence.

It had not helped how busy your friends and you were. It seemed like the days when it was easy to coordinate an outing were long gone. Now with responsibilities, jobs and studies, it seemed like you only saw them once in a blue moon.

You were starved for human contact. You had been thinking lately of getting a partner, but the attention you received only discouraged you. So far, the only offerings you had gotten were from creepy guys, or people you had no interest in at all.

Taking a deep breath in, and choosing consciously to let go of the negative thoughts you were having, you took a step forward. The noise of the park was comforting. Among the chirping birds, there were the cheerful voices of children running around.

You smiled. Barely six, but there were already people in their customs. There was a couple dressed up as Danny and Sandy from Grease, and a little girl dressed as Barbie. Many of the children carried their plastic pumpkins, and you had to give them a few loose candies you had laying in your bag.

Trying to avoid disappointing more children with your lack of sweets, you crossed the park, taking the route where there were more trees. Under one, you found a middle-aged woman sitting on a bench. She was dressed in full witch regalia, pointy hat and all.

She must have been around her late thirties, with a head of dark, glossy hair and big eyes. In truth, you could not truly place her face in an age range, looking strangely young but with an air of maturity. Gorgeous, you thought. In a really intimidating kind of way.

You shook your head, trying to get rid of the thought. She was probably someone's mother, indulging her children by dressing up with them. The thought made your heart clench with longing for your own mother.

“Good evening, darling.” The woman said, taking out a cigarette. The gesture was effortless, like one made by a sixties' actress. You smiled, helplessly. You hoped one day you ended up being half as cool. “Do you happen to have a lighter? Or some spare change?”

“Oh. Um. I don't smoke, but I think…” You started searching your purse, and produced a couple of the crumpled bills. Perhaps it was the thought of your mother, or your loneliness, but you couldn't help but want to aid her. “Here. It might serve you to buy one at the corner store.”

Instead of making eye contact, the woman seemed oddly fixated on your hands. Self-conscious, you wondered if it had anything to do with your jewelry or lack thereof.

“Thank you, dear.” She took the bills from you, and quick as lighting, she grasped your hand. You didn't even have an opportunity to try to avoid her grip. “You have very interesting lines here.”

“I do?” A bit weirded out, you try to remove your hand, but she only grips it harder. The woman forces you to tilt your palm up towards her. One of her fingernails traces one of the lines on it. It makes you shiver.

“You do. Your love line is diverging.”

That doesn't sound good to you. You frown.

“Is it?” Feeling very silly for being self-conscious about your hand, you look down. You had never noticed before, but one of the lines in your hand diverges into three.

“Let me…” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a tarot deck. She shuffles hurriedly, under your bewildered eyes. Three cards fall in order. The Empress, The Devil, and The Hermit. “Interesting… And if I… Oh, I see.” Another card falls off the deck. This time, it's The Lovers.

“I am sorry… I really have to go.” Weirded out over the whole thing, you wish to leave. Things are only getting stranger, with the woman taking out the tarot deck.

“Don't.” She says sharply, her hand going back to your wrist. Surprised by her aggressiveness and the urgency of her tone, you decide not to argue. It can't hurt to entertain her a little longer. “I see a great future for you. There are three paths going forward, but you need to lift the block you have on.”

“Block?” You repeat, dumbly.

“You are lucky today is Samhain.” She huffs, pocketing the tarot deck. She searches her bag before pulling out a small sachet. It smells strongly of herbs. “Here. Bathe in this and look in your mirror tonight. When the veil is thinner.”

“The veil…?” You ask, puzzled by the entire thing.

“Between worlds, darling. Gods, it seems one has to teach you everything. Between twelve and three.”

“Oh. I don't really believe in…”

“At least keep it. And here.” She writes some numbers on a piece of paper. “If you run into trouble. The magical kind.”

Unconvinced you haven't been the victim of the most elaborate scam in history, you eye her warily.

“How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing. Nothing you will later not freely give.” She smiles, cryptically. “Have a good Samhain, darling.” And she gets up and walks away.

You glance at the bag. You don't want to be rude, but you doubt you will obey. She is a stranger, after all, and a pretty crazy one at that. As not to upset her, you pocket the bag and give her an awkward wave.

The rest of your evening is much less eventful. You get home and prep dinner, nursing a glass of wine. With everything that has happened already, you feel like you deserve it. You are generous with it, topping it at least twice.

As you curl into the couch to watch a movie, dinner and another glass of wine in front of you, the tarot reader's idea starts to sound right. You do feel lonely, and surely, throwing some herbs into a bath can't cause anything too terrible. At most, you would feel relaxed from the water and the smells.

Wine always makes you sad. Mopey, even. Tonight, your loneliness feels too tight, too solid against your chest, to be ignored. You long for someone to hold you through the night, to be by your side when things are tough. Someone to share your happiness and greatest achievements, but also your burdens. Mostly, you crave a sense of belonging. Belonging so well, your edges fit someone else's edges like a puzzle piece.

At the thought, you shake your head. Love wouldn't fix your loneliness, you think. There is something deeply alienating about the life you currently lead. Away from your family and friends, you feel unfulfilled. No matter how passionate you are about your work, it does not help to numb the longing for something more. If the perfect partner showed up, you would do the same you had done with your family and friends, and let life get in the way.

You wash your dishes. Curious, you take the little pouch the woman had given you out of your pocket. You smell it, deciding it has no hurtful contents. On your laptop, the clock reads quarter to midnight.

The tub fills as you decide to light some candles, to better set the mood. You add some Epsom salts before pouring your herbs in. The water shimmers under the candlelight in ways it should not, yet you do not notice. You mistake the swirls of colors for the herbs steeping in the water. The room starts to smell strongly of rosemary and lavender.

You enter the tub, satisfied with your choice. The heavenly smell is already relaxing you, and you congratulate yourself for taking the leap of faith. Slowly, the warm water relaxes your muscles and makes your body feel heavy. Almost too heavy. You catch yourself nearly dozing off, and decide to step out. You are alone, and you have been drinking, staying in it would be dangerous.

Careful not to slip on the wet floor, you wrap yourself in a fluffy towel and step towards the mirror. Your reflection is the same as always. If the block the woman had spoken about was a real thing, which you doubted, it left no physical evidence. You examined your face, noticing your paleness. But as your eyes meet the ones of your reflection, there is a flash of a foreign color in them.

There is a woman in the mirror. It's the same one you met at the park. She looks different now, dressed in a medieval green dress. Her lips stretch into a smile.

“I do hope you didn't choose The Hermit. Or The Devil. Oh, darling, I am so sorry. They are all bad choices.”

Someone presses a hand on your shoulder.

“Well. Better you than me. We shall meet again.” Her voice whispers in your ear, but when you turn, you see nothing.

You scream. The clock strikes twelve. A sudden spark of bluish purple that makes you turn again to face the mirror, relieved to find nothing more than your reflection. Your heart beats faster and faster, anticipating something you can't yet name.

Just as you are catching your breath, you notice that the face that is looking back at you it's not yours. You recoil, moving back as fast as you can. A loud thud echoes in your bathroom and your heels connect with something solid. You trip, screaming even more when you realize exactly what you have hit. A body. There is a body on your bathroom's floor.

You crawl towards them, shaking their shoulder and desperately looking for signs of life. You are starting to tear up in fright. The body is lying on its front, with a shocking head of silver hair. They groan.

This time, you scream so loud, your neighbors bang at your walls.

A voice then answers.

“What in the Seven Hells is going on?”

Choose your card:

The Hermit: You have decided to draw your attention inwards, in a path of self discovery. You are a quiet person, but quite bright. You enjoy learning and seek a mentor, though you enjoy your solitude. This is your next chapter.

The Empress: You are very connected to your femininity. You enjoy having beauty in your life, and the stimulation of your senses. You wish for your life to be comfortable more than anything. You are a romantic at heart. Your next chapter is here.

The Devil: You are a complex, multifaceted person. But if you could be described in one world, it is hedonist. You are very self-aware, and do not fear your shadow. If any, you embrace it. This is your next chapter.

[king-bito]

Shinsou x reader drabble

I needed to get this off my chest so here! I may expand on this later but I'm already writing 2 fics so who knows..

Warnings: none

Pairing: shinsou Hitoshi/Reader

Reader is a program, no pronouns used

Series: My Hero Academia

Not proofread, don't @ me I just watched FreeGuy again and my fav boy would hella have one of those desktop companion things that mess with your screen. But what if sentient.

Shinsou Hitoshi, alone, relentlessly bullied, sniffling as he shuffles down the street and rubbing his scraped elbow. He finds a random ass usb drive on his way home in the back streets leading to his mums apartment one day, and being a kid he saw no problem in trying it out on his computer. He was tech savvy and could probably locate the owner with a bit of digging (snooping). He'd rather do that than hang out with the friends he didn't have anyway. The program loaded onto his computer instantly, starting a character maker of all things, so with a shrug, Hitoshi made you how he envisioned the perfect friend for him, his favourite hair colour, eyes, a cute outfit, and pressed 'create'.

Since he had no friends, he figured why the fuck not try this thing out, seemed harmless enough.

The moment you rendered on his screen you greeted him joyfully and played with his browser windows while he searched your source code on the device only to come up empty for whoever owned or made the program.

A little weary at first, but it didn't take long for him to start talking to you and open up. He was so lonely, and the more you listened the more you could see a warmth of friendship blossoming.

He started to talk to you when he got home from school, telling it about his day, his homework, and as time went on the responses he got from you felt more real, genuine. Whoever wrote this code was pretty damn talented.

You were with him when he got into UA, helped him with homework and assignments and research. You could access the internet and any files on his computer and being unaware of your own sentience, you were happy. Hitoshi always seemed happier when he got home and you could talk his stress away, or just be with him as he gamed in comfortable silence. As he aged, so did you. As his computer upgraded, so did you. The usb always re downloaded you on to the new device.

His first couple relationships and breakups were hard, on him and you. These people must be nuts to hate him for his quirk! No one is more charming than your Hitoshi.

Years pass and he's suddenly an underground hero, he's absent from his home and computer. He misses you and hates how attached he is to this intuitive program he calls his best friend. He wishes.. Maybe even romantic partner, but that's just silly right? He can't stop thinking of you while he's away, and likewise, since he stopped turning his computer off, you craved his company too. You saw how much of a mess the world was in, and a little hacking got you past press propaganda and into the real shit hidden behind the scenes. To know he was out there facing it every day.. Worried you.

When he comes home with fresh bandages and exhausted features, his first move is to sit down at his screen and talk to you. He doesn't like your worried face. Or that you scold him for not sleeping first. He missed the company of someone who got him. Really actually honest to God understood him. He didn't have to act stoic or in charge, he didn't have to be guarded and play a role expected of him by society. Not with you.

As you're comforting him through his mission talk, he leans back in his chair and regards the screen with a lazy smirk, those amethyst eyes watching you, studying you. You'd grown, as his tastes matured so did you. Fuck you were perfect. He runs his hand down his face as for the millionth time he mentally kicks himself at how dumb he must be for falling for a program.

"It's a shame really, days like this.. I wish you were really here. I could kinda use a hug right now.." His voice is deep but rough, strained from exhaustion, and you can't help but smile softly at him, touching the screen as if to return your same want. Shinsou sighs out 3 weeks of undercover work exhaustion and closes his tired eyes.

He never admits to wanting physical affection, but you can always tell. The way he holds himself as if to isolate himself but craving the opposite, the way he talks about how touchy his friends are with each other. Your heart aches for him, but all you can do is watch, and maybe sort his files for him while he sleeps.

As a hidden status bar finally fills to the max, you blink the spots from your vision. Something hurts. Huh, that's new, pain. Your legs hurt. Of course they do they're tangled in a computer chair. And oh, you're on top of Hitoshi, who, despite years of pro hero training, has a look on his face you have never seen. Utter bewilderment.

(Obviously the first thing you do is hug him, and the awkward bastard we know and love can't compute and is red as a tomato)

One can imply the romantic/sexual tension over the following months as you please, because you're a literal ethereal, perfect being, his best friend, and you can finally exist with each other. Touch each other. Comfort each other. But you bet your ass once BAKUGO finds out how you met each other at the next 1a Réunion Xmas party he goes from 'damn you have good taste mindfuck' to never letting him live it down. The dating sim jokes never stop. You don't let it get to you, you give him plenty of Sass back, since you heard all the embarrassing stories from the UA years, you had so, so much ammunition to backup your boyfriend.

The usb is gone and you explore life, living life, with your best friend and now, partner, perfectly made for each other and there whenever you need each other. You experience touch, and taste, and smell for the first time, you show off your computer skills to Shinsou and he finds you a job at his agency, you hold him every night he's home, you still help him with his own work (since you basically learnt the whole heroics course with him), and he lights up when he gets to introduce you to his found family. His mentor included.

(aizawa was quick to deduce you're either the manifestation of a quirk or likely your quirk allowed you to enter digital space but went wrong.) And was quick to assist you in legally obtaining documentation. Not at all a ploy to spend time with you and make sure you were okay for his protoge.

You do find yourself able to re enter computers with your quirk, but the usb never manifests again, you come and go, even on Shinsou phone during missions so you can stay discreetly beside him. You try not to think about what might have happened if no one had found you, if it had been someone with a less pure heart than Shinsou. For this reason, you believed firmly in fate. After all, when shinsou designed you, he didn't have an option to choose your personality or demenor, that was all you.

Like you were just waiting for the right person to make you feel alive.

[hecksupremechips]

Can we talk about mitsuham I think we should talk about mitsuham yes I’d like that very much

Imagine Mitsuru her life has been planned out for her by a bunch of men her choices are not hers to make every move is political she is nothing but a tool forced to fight as a child never allowed to burden anyone with her feelings. Her life isn’t hers, it’s never been hers for a second, she exists to further the careers of the men around her. The first two friends she makes are both boys and she was in charge of leading them, using them just to further the Kirijo agenda. Genuine friendship did blossom between them, but things fell apart pretty quickly. Shinjiro can’t control Castor, something is seriously wrong with him, he kills someone, then he leaves and the Kirijos cover it up. Was it to protect him, or to protect themselves? Mitsuru certainly doesn’t know anymore but she’s lost a friend and can’t reach him again, he’s too traumatized by personas and Akihiko is still there but he’s always so stuck on Shinjiro and Mitsuru feels like she failed both of them. Just more men for her to let down by not being good enough

Then there’s Kotone. Sweet, strong, clumsy, talented Kotone. She’s so bubbly and friendly, but behind those warm smiles is horrible loneliness. Pain. But she’s never ever gonna let anyone see that. She busies herself by taking care of everyone else, listening to their problems and never burdening them with her own feelings. She can just fix everything and make everyone happy if she works herself hard enough. She just has this way about her, so reliable and so kind

And Mitsuru watches Kotone from above. Trusts her to be the leader, or maybe she just wanted to push a burden onto someone else for a change. Someone who’s able to take on burdens with a smile for fucks sake. And Kotone leads, seemingly effortlessly, and is able to recruit several members in a short time and achieve just so much more than Mitsuru could in her entire lifetime. Just, perfectly. Without even possessing any prior knowledge of the dark hour or personas. And she does this while being so emotional, so social, so weird, so fucking cute, it’s absolutely nauseating. This should be fine, right? It’s what Mitsuru’s always wanted, for someone else to ease her burden. And hell, it’s a woman too, a woman who’s perfectly capable of doing it all without a bunch of men helping her. It’s inspiring, isn’t it?

But there’s the pain. The envy. Kotone is perfect and she doesn’t even have to try. Mitsuru on the other hand has been shaving herself down to nothing just to be allowed a place. She makes the perfect grades and wears the beautiful clothes and applies the fucking makeup and is mature for her age and never speaks out or feels anything that could possibly make her be seen as a human, a filthy fucking human. So why does a woman as unashamed as Kotone get to have it all? And why is Mitsuru still here, still acting as the Kirijo tool, still doing whatever she possibly can to hurt herself to make a man feel better? Why isn’t she useful anywhere? It’s not fair

And then when she actually spends the time with Kotone she’s trying so hard to be that wise and mature figure she’s always been, trying so hard to force herself to smile through the pain, but she’s talking to someone who can see right through that shit cuz Kotone Shiomi invented lying through her teeth to make others feel better. It’s annoying really, how Kotone is supposed to be the childish one, yet it’s Mitsuru who can’t get it together and can’t seem to look into those bright eyes without breaking. And Kotone isn’t disgusted by what she sees, even though Mitsuru is being unreasonable and emotional and talking about wanting to run away and how much she hates her life and how she’s not only eating fast food but enjoying it, letting herself enjoy an indulgence that won’t make her pretty anymore. No, Kotone sees this and listens and encourages it and celebrates it, celebrates how utterly human Mitsuru is. She holds her hand and says "let me take on your burden". And it’s horrible, this kindness, Mitsuru hasn’t even broken all her bones to make Kotone happy, so why is she being so fucking nice? And then something breaks, and Kotone defends her. Stands up for her against a man. Lets herself once again take a hit to protect someone else. And it’s just too familiar, too much to fucking bear, and it pisses Mitsuru the fuck off. And she is able to tell a man to go fuck himself, because no one gets to fucking talk to this girl like she isn’t the most amazing person ever to exist. Not after everything she’s done, everything she still does, not after giving her all and never once asking for anything in return. And in standing up for Kotone, Mitsuru is able to stand up for herself for the first time in her life. And she looks at Kotone and says "let’s take on each other’s burdens"

Oh and also they watch a scary movie together and hold hands and ride a motorcycle and Mitsuru calls Kotone adorable I mean that’s pretty gay man

[shreddeddescent]

i think the the untrained eye the way ive presented my leo and raph might make it seem like their characterization has been reversed (someone might be like aha rise fan ass) but like i think the way i see them is like. okay. raph is the oldest brother and they all know that, but he gets to a point where he just cant be the one in charge. and despite leo's immaturity at a younger age, he really comes into his own when he's you know.....not being abused by an evil fucking father. shredder's conditioning never worked on leo cuz it all went into raph first, and then raph broke apart when he hit puberty cuz alllllll that specific conditioning went out the fucking window.

so trying to make leo get his brothers in line never worked. and he actively fought. and he was actively punished for lashing out about it. that sounds like a classic raph thing you know, being angry and acting out. but we're talking about a kid whos 12 and never had to do that being hit with responsibility. very much like ahaha NO? ends up punished. ends up getting raph punished. shredder thinks its cuz raph coddled him. he thinks tang shen coddled his kids when she was around, now he needs a new woman to blame. so if leo fucks up, raph gets punished too.

raph seemed more put together younger cuz he was barely letting himself be aware of how bad the situation was. he picked up the pieces of his brothers and never worried about himself.

being in a safe environment let leo turn into the mature one who was able to handle being a normal teenager without fear, and it turned raph into a fucking maniac who didnt understand that no one was about to hurt him again. he cant handle it, he gets way too close to his mom about how fucked up his dad is and he resents his brothers for not seeing her the same way he does.

i should also say it seems like ive been neglecting the donnie and mikey part. what i think is interesting about their perspectives is that they don't exactly feel caught in the middle of it, but they're both aware their father didnt care about them as much as leo and raph.

mikey was told he was coddled, he ended up malnourished in a way that stunted his growth and it makes raph specifically see him as way younger than he is and he parentifies himself to mikey, which he accepts cuz like. that is the closest thing to a parent mikey has. they have a weird relationship, mikey genuinely sees raph as mom sometimes, definitely more than he'd ever see splinter as one. she tries, but its very much like 'you just showed up when i was 9 i dont know you but thanks for caring'. he's the same age as donnie but has somewhat age regressed in the sense of like "oh, people need someone to be happy! and be funny! i can keep this together cuz im okay! people need a baby brother thats me! im fine!" but hes not.

donnie was very much aware shredder saw him as spare parts because he was born broken to his father. chronic pain, he's weak. he didnt fight as good. he was told he just wasnt trying hard enough, that shit was all in his head. while he knew that wasnt true he didn't fight anything, he behaved. he thought he'd be killed over anything, so he moreso observed the situation, recognizing the patterns of abuse and processing it a little faster. he was ignored for the most part, used as the bargaining chip for his brothers. 'i could simply give him to stockman to make use of his DNA'. empty threat, he's only got four turtles. waste of money to get rid of him. he knew that, maybe his brothers didnt. he and raph kinda bond over being broken from birth in a way. even though donnie is the fastest one to point out no raph, youre a boy, stop talking about yourself like your body is broken and wrong. he kind of oversteps but only because he hates the idea that raph thinks he's just as broken as him for something so fucking common.

leo's a good big brother to mikey and donnie, he doesnt treat them like they're babies as much as raph does, hes aware of their capabilities more. aware of their mental states more. post escape, raph bonds with splinter too much, leo bonds with them. they might sneak out sometimes and pretend they're cosplayers out in the street. he lets them go have fun like normal kids. hes a good brother, he's determined to let them be kids when he didnt get to be one.

raph would fucking lose it if he knew leo let them do that. but he sleeps all fucking day and has no idea. he's way too in his own head now cuz he's got time to fucking think for once. and he doesnt want to.

[walnutcookie]

Can you tell us more about Hazelnut? :0

I find her very interesting and I kinda want to know more about her :3

OHHH BOY HAZELNUT.... I havent thought about her in a hot second honestly !! heres what i have for her but it may change as ive been slowly rewriting my fanon.... Thank you so much for this ask!!! :333

she is almonds mother :] Visited pure vanilla kingdom for work stuff and ended up growing very very close with the king himself and they got married within a few years. Hazelnut moved into the castle and became the queen of pure vanilla kingdom🎉🎉her and PV started to drift apart though - mostly due to how busy PV was with his kingdom - and hazelnut was frustrated with the entire system and how the responsibility of their kid mainly fell on her. they got divorced and hazelnut took almond back to parfaedia with her since she would rather the kid be raised by an actual Parental figure rather than all of pvs assistants (pv wanted to avoid conflict and didnt have the guts to argue with any of this)

hazelnut and almond were more like friends than mother and daughter really. she was pretty relaxed when it came to rules, of course she had limits - shes a cop, after all - but as long as almond wasnt doing anything Illegal or super dangerous she had a good amount of freedom. Maybe a little too much freedom FJSJHFJKSD she defiently watched movies that were too mature for her at the time and such. hazelnut LOVED to talk to almond about allllll the shit that annoyed her, ESPECIALLY the pv kingdom and since almond didnt visit pv very often she started to think more negatively abt him than anything. A lot of the time when she did visit pv was still very busy with his kingdom and while he did make sure to set aside time to spend with almond he wasnt able to dedicate the whole time to her so all of the exaggerated things that hazelnut told almond were confirmed in her head :'] Hazelnut basically just. Used her daughter as her own personal therapist a lot of the time and almond had to just chill with that until she was in her 20s....

which is when hazelnut died ! She was stabbed through the chest with a sugar crystal by my oc blueberry scone </3 scone was only 15 at the time and was running through the streets in a panic for. honestly some unspecified reason ive never been satisfied with her lore but it was always something about a loved one being harmed in an accident at parfaedia institute. Hazelnut came off pretty rough and spooked her really bad and in a panic she shot a spell back and made it way too powerful which killed her instantly oops!!!!

Scone kept running and eventually was brought in (and manipulated) by dark enchantress which lead to her becoming a cookie of darkness. meanwhile almond found out about her mothers death on the news when she was out working and her main reaction was rage. Why did her mom have to be killed Why did she have to be left alone to navigate her early adult life Why was her best friend latte moving away at the same time. to become a WIZARD of all things, the very thing that killed her mom. this specifically lead to a big falling out between almond and latte and they stopped talking to each other for decades (only met again after latte moved back to parfaedia 20ish years later!! i hc they acted like they didnt know each other during the light the beacon cutscenes because they were still pretty bitter about the fight, almond especailly)

almond had a pretty rough time after that, she refused help from her father who learned about hazelnut and tried to offer her a place to stay but after all of the opinions shes already formed PLUS her mind was all scrambled from grief and panic she literally shredded the letter he sent. She still blames her father for not helping her during this time though </3 and shortly after he reached out the dark flour war happened and the pv kingdom crumbled anyways soooo.... probably a good thing that almond didnt go

Hazelnut is a ghost who lives in my cookiesonas haunted mansion now :]

thats really all i have for her, thank you so much again for this ask!!! Im probably going to rewrite this a lot someday because this lore is like 3 years old at this point JFSDJHJDSFH

[surveillance-0011]

It’s been a while since I’ve tboi posted and I’ve def said this before but I like how the horsemen r like that . Such simple designs but they get across just the right vibe

There’s a sort of innocence in it. Isaac’s interpretation of the bringers of everyone’s doom is a couple of silly kinda gross/nasty guys that ride on toy horses that laugh and cheer when they see each other beat up babies. And sometimes cry when their horsies r taken away.

But they also have that same odd-kilter edge of grossness and morbidity. They’re not just a skinny one, a sick one an angry one and a skeleton; they’re corpses (debatable in War’s case, the redness could also read as burns and heavy scarring or exposed skin). Famine and Pestilence are decomposing. Every horse is as worse for wear as its owner. And theyre all legitimate threats, if not on a typical run then in the final confrontation for sure. There’s also their theme, how it changes to fit them all, its sophistication as Death enters the fray.

Death is a skeleton alone. It’s a universal symbol, but he’s exactly what he should be, a way to show death as an equalizer and a truth isaac must face. He doesn’t need to be flashy or a new twist. He works. And he’s funny.

But the mix just goes to show that for his odd taste and better-than-average knowledge of the Bible, Isaac is still a little kid. One who had the whole weight of the world shifted onto his shoulders as his family fell apart and he became the victim of neglect, abuse and extreme religious beliefs. He is terrified and distraught, forced to deal with much more than most other kids deal with. Instead of getting a happy, safe childhood, he spends what little years he has… like this. To the point where his mind becomes this dark place, where even the most childish and idealized aspects become warped and unsafe. And of course, the Horsemen aren’t the only aspect that show this, but I feel they do act as a more notable display of this alongside some other bosses and aspects of the game…

And Conquest… ah… Dare I say the most “mature” of Isaac’s horsemen, in terms of what the boy is going through in his head. Maybe he shares this award with death, though. Not only does Isaac acknowledge the forgotten one, but… there’s just something so. Interesting about the state Conquest is in. He, too, is a corpse, but he’s not quite like the others. He is not that skeleton picked clean and is very visibly dead, but he is relatively intact and well preserved. Even the horse head seems alright. There is… honor. Respect. Humanity. Glory. He himself is holy, one of two enemies that attack w/ beams of light. The other is Isaac.

And that’s just. It’s a lot to unpack. But I think it’s telling that Conquest is the holy one. The white rider basked in holy light, not aligned with any demon, able to keep a body not rotting, burnt or stripped of flesh…

And maybe that’s why he’s the “forgotten” one. The reason he’s not with the Beast and other demons.

Because no one wants to admit those that call themselves holy the most are the ones doing the destroying.

And In killing his own “holy” self and Dogma, Isaac already destroys the standards he was held to and overcomes the brunt of the trauma from the fundamentalist beliefs imposed upon him. Conquest is really only an extension of that. He need not fight him. Now it’s a fight against the aftermath, the rest of the pain, the worst his mother sent to him…

But the source? Dogma. And conquest dies with dogma.

[carewyncromwell]

"Well, well -- looks like we caught a little princess."

"'Extremely dangerous: keep out of reach of children.' ...Cool!"

x~x~x~x

Hey, I said I'd have more of my characters dressed up for Halloween! Well, here's Carewyn and Jacob's uncle, Blaise Cromwell, and his son, Tristan, dressed as Colonel Muska from Studio Ghibli's Castle in the Sky and Sid Phillips from Pixar's Toy Story, respectively! I'll be honest, I did waffle a little on who I was going to dress these two up as, but I'm overall really happy with how they turned out!

Blaise's second choice was Magnifico from the upcoming film Wish, since that character is voiced by Chris Pine, my face claim for Blaise...but honestly, we know so little about the character so far that I couldn't really guess how proper of a fit the casting would be, and honestly, most of what I've gathered so far led me to think it's not as good of a fit. However smug and arrogant Blaise can be, he really isn't a show-off, vain, or interested in positive attention from the masses, the way Magnifico seems to be...so ultimately Colonel Muska -- easily my favorite Ghibli villain of all time -- felt like a better fit to me. Just like Muska, Blaise is more than crafty enough to emotionally manipulate others to get his way, and his motivation honestly comes back to his family line. He's not the sort to want the world to love or praise him, but he is absolutely the sort to want the power he feels is owed him by his heritage, and he has been poisoned enough by Charles's toxic masculinity to bypass values like compassion and nurturing kindness in favor of violence and control. Not to mention I could totally see Blaise "coddling" Carewyn in a similar way that Muska "coddles" Sheeta, acting all understanding and decent until he's challenged and put in a position where he might not get what he wants. And honestly, Mark Hamill just knocks the SOCKS off Muska in the dub, which is the version of Muska I first encountered as a girl!!

My second choice for Tristan was Victor Van Dort from Tim Burton's Corpse Bride...but I'm sorry, as much as Tristan has the "isolated, piano-playing Goth boy" element down, especially in his fashion sense as an adult, I felt like Victor just didn't capture the slightly messed-up, darkness-loving, eccentric aspect of Carewyn's youngest cousin. Tristan loves studying both human and animal anatomy, to the extent that he has a dog skeleton in his room and dresses it up like a pet. He finds macabre amusement in telling Carewyn that Hogsmeade village got burned to the ground by the Death Eaters. He has no social skills and has a bad tendency to boss people around when he wants something rather than use even the barest amount of politeness. TELL ME that doesn't remind you of a certain crazy neighborhood bully with a love of ripping toys apart and putting them back together in freakish creations. Plus, I'll just be honest, working at the Oogie Boogie Bash at Disneyland, Sid's meet-and-greets are just ridiculously fun. Fortunately unlike a lot of other Disney and Pixar "villains," Sid isn't a truly evil person -- just an incredibly mean-spirited kid -- and considering he does seem to have chilled out by movie 3 enough to get a cameo working as a garbageman, I'd like to think that like Tristan does, Sid eventually matured a bit and maybe became a slightly better person.

Happy Halloween, all! Much love!! xoxo 🎃

[croctus]

how would you improve each datable NPC in Stardew Valley?

i was bewildered for a moment before i remembered i was talking shit about them on this blog previously haha! let me see. i think most of them i have issues with just act 10 years younger than they are- so there are a few ways this can be changed?

also keep in mind i adore stardew and really do like these characters even just as they are, im just a hater lol

judging hard-

Alex

i honestly think this guy could be GREATLY improved if he were actively taking care of his grandparents. maybe we see him out walking with them, on the roof doing repairs before a rainy day, running errands for them or cooking for them, etc. boy spends half his time staring at his dog in a household of two elderly disabled folks who could use him. even a teenager could take notice and offer to help.

Abigail

shes one of the most childish unfortunately lmao. i think one of the most glaring is she goes extremely hard in an easter egg hunt against two preschoolers- maybe if she instead tried to help one of them win but got a little competitive about it, thatd be cute? idk. additionally she could work part time at the store, or at the guild, or clint's, it'd fit her character.

Sam

i get the player interactivity elements but what kind of goober goes through all the work to put a band together but doesnt know what genre they wanna play, unless theyre just a teen interested in the aesthetic of a band. it comes across sorta inauthentic. boy rolls his eyes and grumbles when his mom asks him to help clean a fish, too. cmon man, youre grown.

Sebastian

both sam and seb suffer from the same 'gawwd stay out of my room MOOOM' sort of vibes- maybe if they had an apartment together but still regularly visited their parents for dinner theyd come across as a little more grown (not to say that like, living with parents is inherently childish but how they interact with their folks comes across that way). he also really shouldn't be taking his angst out on his opinion of his half sister, and maybe if he had a little more of a solid adult go-plan than 'im gonna run away to the city' hed seem more mature.

could b better-

Shane

i dont want to be harsh on this guy but he sort of backslides after marriage hardcore. depression isnt a singular uphill climb but at least he could show hes still working on it- the occasional mention of a talk with a therapist, or cleaning up a little after himself, etc. maybe trying to eat a little better when living on a farm lol.

Penny

shes fine, other than the scene w/ george: pushing his wheelchair without asking and then HE apologizes/the scene fames this action as a good thing and you lose points with her if you point out it's rude. sometimes in trying to help people, you dont always do the right thing for them - that would be a little more nuanced for her.

im just picky-

Elliott + Harvey

theyre fine? maybe itd be fun if elliott went on some book tours or somesuch in the winter regularly after marriage, and harvey joined a plane hobbyist group or smth. they have a lot of personality but an issue a lot of these characters have is they just sort of putter out after marriage

Leah + Haley

this game has a lot of redheads lol. leah is fine though, and haley is cute. like other npcs id just want them to find their own independent success with their artistic skills- maybe letters come in the mail occasionally to them congratulating them on photos/sculptures making it into magazines, etc, to show they still have their own things going on

Emily + Maru

they're fine, i just like older/fanmade versions of their sprites more lol

[spamsmcgee]

What’s your thoughts on qualifying. I’m so happy for Zhou he did so good. And the McLaren boys did good too

In summary:

I’m satisfied with the quali results. McLaren is remembering who they are. Guanyu is a talented driver and deserves that p5. Albon is gonna crush it. I, despite my saltiness, am glad that Daniel is here and will be able to push both AT and Yuki to their limits. I always feel a bit better whenever Yuki qualifies low; gives him a little more time to take positions, rather than getting passed up and then having to recover. And then an analysis about Yuki and Daniel at the end. As a treat.

Honestly minus Yuki’s p17, which I’m not worried about, it looks pretty good.

I don’t have the means to actually watch the qualifying, so I’m just looking at everyone’s quotes and the places, but it looks like it could be a good starting grid.

It’s looking like McLaren is remembering who they are, which I am delighted by. They’ve been my brother’s favorite team forever, and they’re quickly growing on me as well and I’m excited for what they do in the future.

Been telling my brother that next season could be the type of season we get a movie about in some 20 years. I can see it now: McLaren V. Red Bull, the story of a legendary racing team finally remembering who they are in the midst of the domination of a fired up newer team with the absolute machine that is Max Verstappen.

But that’s just my delusional side coming out.

And Guanyu really is a talented driver, he absolutely deserves that p5. I know he’ll drive the tires off of the AlfaRomeo tomorrow.

I am kind of surprised to see Albon so low as well, but yknow how the Williams is. He’ll crush it tomorrow I’m sure.

Daniel qualified high, and I’m not so low that I won’t appreciate it. The AlphaTauri doesn’t deserve to be that high up on the grid, but now that we have two drivers capable of pushing the car to its limits, maybe AT will get their act together and improve their car with some upgrades that actually matter.

And my Yuki, he qualified low, but I have noticed that he tends to do better in longer sessions. He’s been better at making that slow climb up the grid and being able to defend. I mean, he’s in a tractor, it’s what he has to do.

I always feel a little bit better when he does qualify low.

So assuming he can have a good strategy with the tires and they don’t start him on softs and pit him three times again, we could see a good race. And he and Daniel can bring the AT back from the dead so to speak, which I’ll admit is much more important than my deep desire to see Yuki tear Daniel apart. Nothing personal, I just want something to blow up in Helmut Marko’s face. If it was the other way around and Nyck replaced Daniel I would be saying the same thing.

Before all of this with Nyck happened, I was telling my brother that I thought Yuki still needed a lot to learn, and that if he had a solid experienced driver to work with he would be able to do amazing. I even brought Daniel up as my personal idea of the perfect driver to work with. And seeing him almost constantly talk about how he’s learned from those around him, even Nyck who is watching from the outside wouldn’t think there could have been anything to learn from. He strikes me as the type of person who is using his time right now to learn and build up his strength as a driver rather than just racing the tires off and burning himself out before the race even ends, which is what he was doing for the most part in his past seasons. I don’t see him trying to be such a hot shot that he would try and fight Daniel to a destructive degree, he’s shown an insane amount of maturity through this season so far, and especially through this teammate switch up, where every time he gets a chance he’s talking about how much he has and could learn from everyone around him. I hate to sound redundant, but yeah. As much as I hate to admit it, and want to see Helmut Marko get his egg in your face moment, I think Yuki is right when he said he can learn a lot from Daniel and in the long run this will be good for him and will help to build him into an amazing driver.

However, Yuki taking every opportunity to learn from Daniel does not mean he won’t be trying to beat Daniel for everything he’s worth, and that should be noted. Because there’s a Redbull seat at stake, and while I don’t think Yuki is ready right now for that seat, he’s gonna be doing what he can to take it sooner rather than later.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Peter Hayes x Reader || Smexcerpt

*Disclaimer: I like to write in an AU where the characters in Divergent do not choose until they're eighteen years old rather than 16, so on this blog Peter, Tris, Chris, etc are all EIGHTEEN. Four and Eric are 20.

Plot: You and Peter take advantage of finally having a private place together (Set in Erudite, Insurgent time).

Warnings: Short mention of Peter wanting to hurt you, and obviously- smut.

For two young adults who have never had a place just for yourselves before, you think that you and Peter have been acting rather maturely, since you got your own room together in Erudite.

Yes- Your. Own. Room- Together.

You’ve both been a bit preoccupied with the culture shock you got from moving from Dauntless to Erudite, and then dealing with Tris, and now Four… to be too concerned… immediately, at least,… with other things.

But you’re still human and you have a very hot boyfriend, who feels the same way about you.

“Agh… Peter… “So- Naturally- you’ve found yourselves with him thrust balls-deep inside you or with your cheeks hollowed around certain things… pretty often. Whenever you can, really. At night once your duties are over with, in the morning before you head off for duties, on some lunch breaks if they match up… Now is one of those end-of-the-day, fucking-exhausted, needy sessions after a long 8 hours apart of dealing with Erudite Noses that you have not-a-thing in common with at all. You just desperately needed your boyfriend- Your Peter- and you definitely appreciated the dicking down; But that’s just a bonus.

So as you hold him to you with your legs crossed around the back of his hips and your heels dig into him, and he grinds his fat cock through you with the delicious strength and speed combination that you’re sure only Peter possesses, you lose your hands in his thick hair; Your lips against his skin, your mind in his voice. He smells like sweat and this men’s cologne all the guys here seem to use, and you kind of wish you could wash it away- make him smell like him again. A Dauntless boy.

But maybe another day.

Maybe tomorrow morning. Because- Another great thing about Erudite? Private showers.

Disconnecting himself from your lips so you both can breath as he rails you, Peter lets his hand find its way to your throat - he triesto stop himself every time but at some point, it always makes it back there, -, but doesn’t squeeze. He just rubs a thumb up and down the sensitive, delicate skin; Eyes focused there. You know he’s thinking about how easy it would be to hurt you, to wrap his strong fingers around your neck and wring it like a fucking towel, but when you reach up to lace your arms around his neck and catch his attention again, you know he would never do it. Somehow, you both do.

“Enjoying yourself there, Y/N?” Peter asks, and you’re still so shocked that he can talk so smoothly, so clearly, buried so shamelessly inside you, but you like it. Its so him. Not a lot gets to Peter, unless its anger. But even then, you have to be Tris to really aggravate him. Otherwise, he just gets even- he does that with you, even. Purposefully inconveniences you until you come apologising to him all pathetic-like, agreeing to whatever he wanted usually, and he gets all the damn peanut butter off of the top fucking shelf.

You know you feel good to him though, even if he’s composed, because he’s rock hard inside of you- and he always nuts first. Always. Smirking, and raking your fingers back gently through his short chestnut hair, you kiss your way up his skin from his collar bone to the corner of his mouth, where you stop but a breath from his lips and grin up at him; Those manipulative, innocent-seeming brown hues glint mischievously back. “Well, yeah- you’re doing all the work.”

His own smirk only gets more devious as he slowly halts his movements, leaving his dick buried totally in you as you and he both know your cunt will just desperately milk him while getting nothing, drawing an involuntary whine out of you- damn. “That’s because- you know I’m the best at it.” He teases, and when you open your eyes again you see that the asshole is waiting, above you. Waiting, for you to agree. Admit it. Tell him how good at fucking you he is.

Groaning, you roll your eyes. Bunching the fabric of his undershirt in your fists, you weakly tug. “Peter… “

“Come on- say it. I won’t keep going unless you say it.”

“You’re a dick.” But here you are, in his lap with your legs around him, aching walls hot, throbbing and begging for him to keep doing you- so your words don’t have a whole lot of merit to them.

Tough, scarred hands move down your body, and to your pretty, dirty flower stretched around him, and just… sits there on your thigh. It makes you the slightest bit nervous. “So I’ve been told.”

“Peter… “You start again cautiously, biting your bottom lip as your eyes flicker from his face down and back up again.

He moves closer to you, mumbling hotly in your ear. “Say it, and I’ll take the day off tomorrow to fuck you, but leave me hanging, babe, and I might… “Suddenly, with a cruel glint of enjoyment in his eyes, Peter uses his hand on your thigh as leverage to pull his perfect cock out of you halfway- causing a desperate whine of no no!to instantly escape you as you stop him. He raises a brow, but before you can say anything, you’ve crawled over him; Pushing at his shoulders until he’s laid back on the bed and you’re able to slowly sink onto him again, with a sigh.

Now in the ‘cowgirl’ position, with all the power, you lean down over him, a tiny scowl on your face. “Fine. Damn it- Peter, you’re…“You press a kiss to his lips, a gentle one; Full of love for him. Even when he’s being an ass. Even when it’s hard to like him. “Hot. And,” This time you kiss him where his neck becomes his jaw; a sensitive spot that you peck softly, maddeningly. “You have a great dick. And,” You kiss his throat; A hot, open mouth one that has him stretching his neck out to give you more room; A sexy moan escaping him. “I love you. I want you. I needyou, to fuck me. Now,” You brush your lips across his again, and connect gazes slowly. “Please take care of your girlfriend.”

Peter lets out a snort, bucking up into you as if to tell you without words. “Yes ma’am.”

[minniesmelody]

Killer Klowns

Pairings: Gareth Emerson x GN!Reader

Summary: going to the drive in with Gareth to see killer klowns from outer space.

Pov: first person- Y/n

Genre: fluff

Warnings: clowns, slight cursing, Gareth kinda having a fear for clowns, mentions of sex if you look really hard, mentions of dead bodies. Not fully proofread, I was writing while watching it so there might be a few mistakes, please excuse them.

A/N: this part of the little mini series i created, its about going to the movies/ drive in with Gareth to watch different movies cause my boy loves movies, he is lots of things but one thing he definitely is a movie fanatic! Words cannot describe how much I love this movie, it’s in my top 5, I know lots of people shit on this movie but I can’t help but just love it! If you haven’t watched this movie yet, I 100% recommend it, it’s supposed to be a horror movie but it’s more silly and fun than anything, so if you don’t like horror movies, that’s completely okay, this movie should be okay for you to watch! 🍿also shorty is my favorite character so I had to make it Y/n’s favorite character, sorry not sorry. Also can we talk about the game coming out next year- SO FREAKING EXCITED!!!!

June 3rd, 1988 8:02 pm

This was nice. Me and Gareth never get nights like this anymore. With Corroded Coffin slowly starting to become a hit and spending most nights on the road, we never have us time. I don't even remember the last time me and Gareth went out somewhere nice together, alone. So this is nice to get away from the other guys for a bit.

We decided on going to the drive in, i favorite date night spot of ours. He had picked the movie, Killer Klowns from Outer space. It released almost a week ago and hasn't been getting the best rating, but me and Gareth will be the judge of that. I mean, its about clowns, it's gotta be scary. Which is right up me and Gareth's ally. It just started as the title card was ending.

"im jojo the ice cream clown, with the best ice cream in town! We give you the stick, you give it a lick, A tasty treat for while you screw!" the ice cream man said in the movie.

"Well that's mature"

8:08 pm

"where's the dang ticket booth?"

"oh fuck no" Gareth said, next to me chewing on some popcorn.

A shadow of what i assumed was a clown appeared from in the circus tent in the movie.

"did he just take his dog?"

"i think so Gare"

"Where's my dog? Where's my pooh bare? I'll tear this thing apart with my bare hands!" the old man said before placing his hands on the circus tent which ended up with him getting shocks through his body. Right afterwards a clown appeared on the scream, a colorful funny looking gun pointing towards the old man.

"Babe...i thought this was supposed to be a horror movie.." i said, this isn't very scary for it to be counted as a horror movie.

"we are only 9 minutes in, maybe as it goes on it will get scary, maybe it's just one of those slow burn horror movies"

8:17 pm

"No body stores cotton candy like this"

"What are you talking about, of course it is, look-"

The man pulls off a piece of cotton candy off just to be faced with a dead corpse.

"cotton candy cocoons with dead bodies in them....what in the actual fuck-" Gareth said with a giggle, he stopped laughing though when a clown with red hair and a purple and blue outfit on popped up on the screen.

"wait- Gareth, are you afraid of clowns?" i said, a big smile on my face.

"what? no-"

"oh my god, yes you are, how am i just now finding out about this? And you were the one to pick this movie"

"just shut up and keep watching"

8:27 pm

"why are these people opening the door so easily? if i saw that at my front door i would shut that door quicker than the speed of light" Gareth said before taking a big gulp of his drink.

It was a little dumb,if you saw a clown with pizza boxes, not knowing whats inside them, late at night, you would act all cool about? Fuck no.

But i will say the small little clown with the green hair is pretty adorable.

8:31 pm

The small little clown rides a little colorful looking bike, riding towards a group of hardcore bikers.

"mean bike you got there, can i take a ride pal?" the biker asked, the small clown answered no in whatever clown language he was speaking.

"can i beep the horn?" this time the clown answered yes, only for the asshole to take his small colorful bike and slam it on the ground, breaking the bike.

"that was just rude" i said

"what you feel bad for the clown?" Gareth asked

"actually yes i do, he is actually very adorable"

"what are you gonna do? knock my block off?" the biker asked, that is when the small clown, now wearing boxing gloves, punched him right in the face, his head falling right off his body.

"that's what you get prick" i said, Gareth slowly turned his head towards me

"you are unbelivable sometimes you know that?"

8:44 pm

"no way the shadow of his hands just ate those poor people" i said "that was a dumb death, right Gareth" i said, he did respond " gareth?"

i looked over to see him clutching onto himself, he looked....scared.

"holy shit, you can't be serious Gareth"

"listen i love horror but i hate clowns"

"then why did you choose to watch this?"it didn't make sense, if he didn't like clowns, why would he pick this to go and watch? He could have picked something else.

"it was a bet"

"what?" i said confused.

"i made a bet with the boys, if i lost i had to come and see this, of course i lost so here we are"

i didn't say anything, i just pulled him closer to me "it's okay Gare bear, i'll protect you from the scary little clowns"

8:54 pm

Okay this is a slightly creepy part, the clown using the dead officer as a puppet.

Gareth had closed his eye for that cause this part is definety really scary. The officers blood used as puppet makeup on his face.

Lets hope and pray Gareth gets a good nights rest instead of constantly waking up from nightmares about this movie.

"you know, we can always leave" i offered "we don't have to finish it"

he shook his head no "no i'm good, promise."

9:03 pm

"what are you gonna do with those pies boys?"

They threw those pies at him, that's what they did.

But it wasn't just any pies, they were acid pies. The poor guy melted from the acid. The cute little green haired clown placing a cherry on top.

9:17 pm

"why is there so many of them!" Gareth said, eye wide open, mouth slightly parted, the tow of us staring at the screen, an army of clowns showing up.

Suddenly all the clowns stopped and looked up

"what's happening..." Gareth said ,uneasy on what's unfolding on the screen.

A big fucking clown appeared that's what happened, a big boy.

yup. Tonight is gonna be a long night with Gareth, i'm prepared to not get much sleep tonight.

9:26 pm

Finally the movie had ended, the credits coming on, the theme song had a nice bop to it.

"i don't think you should set bets with the boys anymore" i said with a small giggle.

"yeah i hear ya, the theme song is a freaking hit though" he said, it indeed was.

It's time to take a ride on the nightmare merry-go-round

You'll be dead on arrival from the likes of the killer klowns

From outer space

Killer klowns

From outer space

[mythos-writes]

To Be So Lonely

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Plot: (Based on 'To Be So Lonely' by Harry Styles) Tommy and (Y/N) used to date when they were young, but when the business started to grow, he broke up with her. But after Grace leaves, they see each other again, making Tommy rethink his feelings…

This is for @runnning-outof-time Halfway to 2K celebration and I am so happy to take part in this. You have been so nice to me by interacting with my work. You, and others, have made me feel welcomed in the Peaky Blinders fan club.

Word Count: 1.1K

Warning: none really... just some angst at the end

Peaky Blinders Masterlist

I do not give permission for anyone to repost/ post my stories, with or without credit. Reblogs, comments, etc. are more than welcomed, but please DO NOT copy and paste my stories that you may like onto another platform.

"Don't blame me for falling, I was just a little boy"

“You want to what?” she yells, standing in the empty betting shop. 

“With everything that has happened, I’ve grown apart from you (Y/N),” Tommy confesses. 

“Have you really or do you just miss sticking your dick into any woman that throws themselves at you?” she defends, hoping to hit him where it hurts him. Tommy went to open his mouth to defend himself but she beat him to it. 

“I’ve heard the rumours, Thomas. You go in and out of the brothels, flirting with women at the bars. I thought that they were lying. But you know what, you can be lonely by yourself Thomas Shelby,” she spits before racing out of the shop, trying to keep the tears at bay. Tommy called after her but she could care less now. She was by his side since they were little and helped them when they started their little gig races and other things. When they got older their feelings started to grow for each other. Then the war came and many things changed. But (Y/N) still stood by him and helped Polly and Ada. 

‘If Tommy wanted to throw all that we’ve been through that's fine then’ she thinks while walking quickly through the crowd that was forming along the muddy Small Heath streets.

"I was away, And I'm just an arrogant son of a bitch who can't admit when he's sorry"

Years have passed since she last talked to Thomas. She would keep in contact with Polly but drifted away from the Shelby siblings. Polly kept her informed about what has been happening with everyone, from John, marrying Esme to Tommy’s relationship with Grace. For the first year or so, it was still hard not to have Tommy by her side, to do the plans they had set up. But to he did them with Grace. Watching their planned life unfold without her in the picture broke her heart.  

(Y/N) was walking back from the market, the streets of Birmingham never really changed. As she was moving through the busy streets, she passed the Garrison. She would stop in once in a while, just to see if anything had changed, but nothing never did. 

“Is that (Y/N)?” she hears someone asks. She turned her head to see three people she wouldn’t have thought she would see again. 

“Why hello Arthur, John… Thomas,” she says walking over to greet the brothers. 

“Haven’t seen you around lately, thinking you skipped town or something,” John jokes causing her to roll her eyes. 

“If I had the money I would have already done it,” she says with a smile. She observed the three and they all look grown up and mature, even if they didn’t act like they were. 

“I see the business has been doing well,” she comments, admiring their suits, clearly they had cost them a pretty penny to get.  

“Yeah, and you seem you’re doing well yourself,” Arthur says, gesturing to her clothes for the day. 

“Yeah for on my own, not too bad,” she says. She checks the sun seeing that it was getting lower. “Well, I have to get back home before the sun gets too low. It was good to see you three again, maybe I’ll have to stop by the Garrison sometime,” she says before making her way back down the road. The three boys watch her down the road. 

“Bloody hell, you missed out on that Tommy,” John says. Tommy just gives him a look before finishing his always-present cigarette. His gaze falling back onto (Y/N) fading figure.

"Don't call me, "Baby" again, You got your reasons"

That night, as (Y/N) was sitting in the front room reading her book in front of the fire, a knock broke the quietness. She was surprised to get a knock this late.

She grabbed the fire poker for some type of protection before going to the door. When she opened the door a little, she sees Tommy standing there. He was the last person she was expecting standing there. 

“Tommy?” she questions, opening the door wider.

“I uh… could I come in?” he asks, clearly uncomfortable that he had pushed himself to see her again. 

She moves to let him in. She was nervous to have her former lover wanted to visit after all these years of no contact. He saw what she was holding and let out a breathy laugh. She looks down at the iron rode she grabbed. 

“You really think that would have stopped someone trying to get in?” he questions, 

“If you didn’t see it coming it would,” she defends. (Y/N) ushered him into the drawing room. He sat down in one of the chairs. 

“Do you want anything at all?” she questions. He shakes his head before lighting a cigarette. He observes the room, seeing that not a lot has changed since he was last here all those years ago. 

“Don’t blame me for falling in love with you Tommy,” she states, breaking the silence that fell. 

“I wasn’t. Because I fell just as hard as you did,” he replies. “I was merely a little boy who couldn’t explain what those feelings were,” he continued. 

“And what are those feeling now?” she questions, still standing by the fireplace. Tommy stood up from his spot and walked over to her. 

“Well it seems that those feelings never left,” he states, standing in front of her. 

“But you broke it off with me,” she states, giving Tommy a pointed look. 

“If we are being honest here. I was scared of my feelings and with our business growing I didn’t want anything to happen to you,” he confesses. (Y/N) looks into Tommy’s eyes, to see if he was lying, but all she saw was the man she fell in love with. 

“I haven’t seen this side of Thomas Shelby in a very long time,” she says, playing with buttons on his shirt. He playfully rolled his eyes before wrapping his arm around her waist and brought her closer. 

“It was a lonely time without you my dear,” he says just above a whisper. (Y/N) smiles. 

“To be so lonely Tommy, we’ve been lonely together then,” she says before placing a kiss on his lips. He backs her against the door frame, taking dominance quickly. Her hands graze against his buzzed sides to the soft mop of dark hair on top. 

“Not so lonely anymore are we?” he asks, his breath coming out in heavy breaths. 

“No I don’t think we are,” she says with a cocky smile.

Be so lonely, To be so lonely

[bratdesire]

Your Dad, My Daddy

Pairing: Ukai Keishin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, age gap, older man/younger woman, barely legal, squirting, rough sex, daddy kink, alcohol mention, questionable ethics, d/s dynamics, overstimulation, degrading language, touch of subspace, unprotected sex, breeding kink, slight dubcon if you squint but it’s all consensual, Ukai’s dick is pierced, exhibitionism(?)

Genre: Smut, just so much smut

Word count: 9.4k

Author’s note: Here is my contribution to the new HQHQ collab!! You can find the masterlist right here! Big big thank you to @sempiternal-amour and @inaflashimagine​ for beta-ing this monster fic, ilysm <3 This is so incredibly self-indulgent, I even inserted my nickname ~for spice~. Anyways, enjoy my incoherent screaming uwu

Summary: When you go over to your friend’s house for a study session you don’t anticipate meeting her very attractive father, and you surely don’t anticipate the very same man fucking you over their couch.

“Hey, I apologize in advance for anything weird my dad says or does. You know how dads are,” Hitomi explains as she pulls into the driveway of her house. 

It’s small but nice and well-manicured, situated in the cul de sac of a middle-class suburb.

“Dad, we’re here,” she shouts up the stairs, setting her keys on the small table next to the front door. Hitomi’s gaze drifts to the tall, dark haired man sitting at the kitchen table and your own gaze soon follows. “Oh, there you are.”

She quickly pecks the man on his cheek before walking over to the shiny silver fridge, pulling out a couple bottles of water. “Dad, this is Bunny, Bunny this is Dad,” she gestures between the two of you. 

When her father glances up from his phone to give you a nod of acknowledgement, you’re taken aback by how handsome he is. 

You can tell from the slight wrinkles around his lips and the crinkles by his eyes that he’s definitely a much older man, but other than that he’s flawless. The angle of his jaw is sharp but soft, lower face darkened by his five o’clock shadow. His chocolate brown eyes are complemented by plump, pink lips that would look even better swollen and shiny with saliva. Dark, shiny locks are gathered into a low ponytail and you wonder how they would feel fisted in your fingers. He’s gorgeous in a rugged, mature way that boys your age aren’t and could never hope to be. 

Hitomi never told you her dad was hot but then again, why would she? 

“Mr. Ukai, it’s nice to meet you,” you greet him.

He waves his hand in the air dismissively, “Ah, you can just call me Keishin. No need to be so formal.”

Hitomi mutters a frustrated “shit” under her breath and it takes you a few moments to tear your eyes away from the man in front of you. 

“I left my textbook in the car, I have to go grab it,” she sighs then turns to her dad. “You, don’t scare off my friend, please.” 

Keishin puts a hand on his heart, a falsely serious expression on his face. “I won’t, scout’s honor.”

She just rolls her eyes, exiting the kitchen the same way you entered. The front door slams shut, leaving you alone with your friend’s very hot dad.

Keishin looks up at you then quickly looks away, unsure how to interact with his daughter’s friends. “So is, uh, Bunny your real name?” he asks, nervously rubbing the back of his head.

Leaning against the table he’s seated at, you fold your arms across your chest, fully aware of how low cut your top is. You don’t miss the way his eyes briefly flicker down to your cleavage then back up to your face. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” you challenge, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I… I’m just trying to make conversation,” he laughs nervously.

“Hm, well, the short answer is no. You’ll have to get to know me a bit better before I give you the long answer.” 

He snorts, pushing his chair back and rising to his full height. “What gave you the confidence to speak like this to your elders?”

Taking a step towards him, you twirl a piece of hair around your finger and shyly peer up at him through your lashes. “I don’t know, but maybe you can teach me how to behave.”

A light blush colors his cheeks and his eyes widen with surprise. “I-I don’t know what you’re implying, but it’s not... appropriate,” he stutters, taking a step backwards to try to put some distance between you.

You sidle up to him, reaching out a hand to caress his well-muscled arm. When he makes no move to stop your petting, you bite your lip and get on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Who said we had to be appropriate?” 

His mouth is slightly agape, lips moving every so often, as if he wants to say something but doesn’t. “I—” he starts.

The sound of the front door slamming open makes you both jump apart, trying to appear as casual as possible. 

“I got it! We can go study now,” Hitomi proclaims, waving the book around in her hands. She glances at you, then at her father and notices the way you’re completely turned away from each other. “Oh my God, Dad, what did you do?” she groans.

He holds up both hands in surrender, shaking his head emphatically. “I didn’t do anything! Why do you always think I did something?”

Your friend strides over to lightly punch his shoulder, a disapproving but loving expression on her face. “Because you’re weird and lame. Besides, between you and Bunny, I’m always going to assume that you’re the guilty party.”

You find yourself chuckling at their banter, touched by how close they are. It’s evident that Hitomi and Keishin care a lot about each other, regardless of how much they tease each other and guilt twists in your gut when you remind yourself that you were flirting with him. She likely wouldn’t forgive you for trying to sleep with her dad and it would cause a great deal of damage to their relationship, possibly beyond repair if she knew he was into girls her age. To make matters worse, you’re two years her junior. What man would sleep with a girl younger than his daughter?

But your morals are tossed right out the window when you take in the sight of Keishin’s radiant smile—all straight, white teeth and eyes that shine like pools of dark honey. It’s in that moment that you decide you’re going to seduce that man if it’s the last thing you do.

Sorry, Hitomi. Kind of.

---

“Okay, so L-Tyrosine is one of the twenty amino acids used by the body to synthesize proteins. It is also an aromatic amino acid derived from phenylalanine by hydroxylation in the para position—oof!” Hitomi’s droning is cut off by the pillow you send hurtling towards her head.

You sit up on her bed, squealing obnoxiously as you stretch. “Hitomi, I love you, but please shut up. My brain is melting. We’ve been at this for three hours now, can we take a break?”

She closes the textbook in her lap and pushes it to the edge of her desk. “Fine, fine. We can take a twenty minute break, but we have to go right back to studying because finals are this week and I cannot afford to fail,” your friend warns, despite how she whips out her phone at lightning speed.

Picking at a stray thread on the comforter, you gently try to get her attention, “Hey, Tomi?”

“Hm?” she responds, barely glancing up from the video she’s watching.

You’re not sure how to broach the subject, but you’ve never been one to beat around the bush so you just come right out and say it. “Has anyone told you your dad’s kinda hot?”

That makes her stop, her head jerking up from her phone at lightning speed. “What!? That old geezer?” She sounds dumbfounded, incredulous at the prospect that someone would be interested in her father.

“Yeah girl, he’s a total DILF,” you confess, making a little fanning motion with your hand like you’re burning up inside just thinking about him, and it’s not that far from the truth.

Hitomi makes no effort to hide her feelings, disgust clearly evident in her delicate features. “Ew! You have to be joking. Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not joking! He’s really sexy,” you muse dreamily.

She claps both hands over her ears, yelling at the top of her lungs to drown you out. “I never want to hear you say that my old man is ‘sexy’ ever again!”

You childishly stick your tongue out at her. “Hey! I’m just speaking the truth. You have to have had friends say the same thing.”

Removing her hands from her ears, she brings one up to stroke her chin, seemingly deep in thought. “Now that I think about it, back in high school my friends were a lot more enthusiastic about coming over once they met my father.”

You feel vindicated by her personal testimony, even if she thinks you’re gross. “See? I’m not the only one who finds your dad ridiculously attractive.”

Hitomi gags dramatically as if she’s going to puke and judging by the look on her face, she just might. “Please, no more, I’m begging you.” 

“Fine, fine I’ll stop, but don’t act surprised when I become your new stepmom,” you tease, wiggling your eyebrows at her.

“You’re younger than me, don’t even joke about that,” she shudders in horror. “Okay, with that we need to get back to studying amino acids and proteins.”

“Whatever you say, future stepdaughter.” You muster your best motherly voice, sickeningly sweet and a touch passive aggressive.

This time, it’s Hitomi’s turn to throw a pillow at you.

---

Since the day you met Keishin, you haven’t been able to get him off your mind. Even when you’re in class trying to learn about the sodium-potassium pump, you find your thoughts drifting to his hands, his lips, him. He’s simply become too distracting to ignore.

More times than you care to admit, you’ve fucked yourself with your fingers to thoughts of how his fingers would feel pumping inside you. You fantasize about how his hand would feel around your neck, squeezing with just enough pressure to make your vision hazy. His name is always on the tip of your tongue when you orgasm and when you finally let yourself moan out ‘Keishin,’ you know enough is enough. A man his age has to know exactly how to make a woman scream and writhe in pleasure, but you need to experience it for yourself or you’ll die trying.

You’re not oblivious to the way he looks at you with hunger and longing in his eyes, you know he wants you too and you’re not above using dirty tricks to show him just how much you want him. 

If he’s too proud, too noble to give in to his urges, you’ll just have to break him. His resolve may be strong, but yours is stronger.

Your efforts begin innocently enough, gently probing him for more information about himself so you can get to know him better.

“I’ve noticed you don’t wear a ring. Is there a Mrs. Ukai in the picture?” you ask innocently.

Keishin clears his throat a bit too loudly, refusing to meet your questioning gaze. “Nah. It’s just me and Tomi, always has been.”

“Any… future Mrs. Ukai in the picture?”

The corners of his lips twitch slightly, the barest of smiles tugging at his handsome features. “Can’t say there is. Between the store and coaching volleyball, I don’t really have the time to date.”

You nod and make a noise of acknowledgement, relieved by the confirmation that he is in fact very, very single. You’re a lot of things, but you’re not a homewrecker.

On another occasion, you’re seated on their plush leather couch and Keishin’s in the well-worn La-Z-Boy recliner to your left. You’re watching some Adam Sandler movie on Netflix, but it’s paused while Hitomi is in the bathroom.

You take your alone time together as an opportunity to question him more, toeing the line of what would be considered proper. “So, Keishin, how old are you? I know Tomi’s twenty-one so you must be…” you trail off, hoping he’ll humor you.

He takes a swig of the beer in his hand and your eyes instinctively flicker down to watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Old.”

You roll your eyes and prop your chin up on your hand, readjusting your position on the couch so you’re leaning closer to him. “Obviously, but just how old?”

“Why do you want to know so badly?” he asks, head tilted and a well-groomed eyebrow lifted questioningly.

“I was just wondering if you’re older than my dad,” you tease. 

His shoulders shake slightly as he chuckles, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I’m forty-four. Do I have him beat?”

“He’s forty-two, so just barely.” Your steady, unwavering eyes lock onto his own, which are glassy and unfocused from the alcohol. When he brings the bottle to his lips once more, you nonchalantly add, “Maybe I should call you Daddy instead.”

Keishin coughs and sputters in surprise, causing him to choke on his beverage and a spray of sticky beer splatters across your face. 

Apologies tumble out of his mouth as soon as he realizes that your cheeks and hair are dripping with the craft IPA he was drinking. “I-I’m so sorry! I’ll get you a towel,” he blurts, shooting up from his chair. 

In his panic and embarrassment, he rushes toward the linen closet and you can’t help the giggles that escape your mouth at how uncoordinated he is, now several drinks in. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s not that big of a deal,” you reassure him, wiping your face with the back of your hand for emphasis.

He returns from the rummaging around the hall closet, a dark blue towel in his hand, which he offers to you with a nod of his head.

No matter your protests and assurances that you’re fine, Keishin is even more insistent in offering you the towel to clean yourself up. When you refuse to take the towel from him, he kneels down next to you and leans in to dab at the foamy liquid that has soaked into your hair. 

Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel his fingers on your jaw and you almost squeak at his close proximity. He hasn’t let you near him since your first encounter and now he’s right in front of you, so close that his breath curls around your cheeks, smelling of malted hops and the slightest hint of peppermint. You can map out the slight freckles on the bridge of his nose and each long, curled eyelash that brushes his cheeks each time he blinks.

He’s truly a beautiful man, all sharp angles and rough stubble and you can feel your cheeks warm when you realize that he’s right there. If you leaned forward just a little bit more, your noses would brush against each other. 

A deep, rumbling voice interrupts your daydreaming. “Kid, are you even listening to me?”

You blink a couple times, coming to the realization that he’s been trying to talk to you for the last few minutes, but you were too busy admiring his beauty.

Keishin shakes his head as he leans back on his heels, using one hand to rub his face wearily. “As I was saying, you can’t just… say things like that. I know young girls sometimes have fantasies about older men like me, but I’m telling you now that it’ll only end badly,” he sighs. “I’m not a righteous man, I have my vices. God, do I have lots of them, and I don’t need another one.”

He mumbles the last sentence, barely loud enough for you to hear, despite how close you are.

Another one? Is he admitting that the attraction is mutual? You have to know, you just have to. Your body practically aches from how badly you want him.

“Keishin, I—” you start, reaching out to touch his arm, but he stands abruptly and quickly turns to shuffle away from the couch.

“This just isn’t a good idea, kid. Just forget about me, alright?” he says, his back to you. A tinge of regret and hesitation seeps into his words, as if he wants to take back everything he’s said.

After the beer incident, the man is even less receptive than he was before, making every effort to avoid being alone with you.

Even still, you’re not discouraged because he never outright rejected you. If he had, you would’ve stopped your pursuit weeks ago, but he only seems to be trying to maintain his composure as a righteous man.

Righteous men are wolves in sheep’s clothing, always putting on a facade so they can claim plausible deniability when they’re caught with their pants around their ankles. But no matter how honorable or virtuous a man tries to be, none of them can resist a wet, willing pussy laid out in front of them and Keishin is no exception.

That’s why you’ve shown up to their house the last few weeks in skirts far too short to be considered decent, flashing little peeks of your underwear each time you move too much or bend over too far. Each time you bend over to grab a pencil or a piece of paper off the floor, Keishin is always conveniently positioned behind you so he gets an eyeful of your pretty lace panties and the little dark spot where your wetness has soaked through the fabric. 

After you retrieve your item from the ground, you look over your shoulder to make direct eye contact with him and say ‘oops,’ without a hint of regret in your voice. You revel in the clenching of his jaw and the way he exhales loud and heavy through his nose, frustration mounting each time you try to provoke him.

When your ass and clothed pussy are on display for him, you make sure to wiggle your hips a bit, an open invitation to fuck you the way you both want to. It never fails to elicit some sort of reaction from the older man, ranging from a few groans and a choked cough, to making a very hasty exit, a book or some other object held over the front of his jeans. 

Without fail, Hitomi expresses her concern each time her father storms out of the room, red-faced and breathing heavily. He just waves her off, telling her he’s not feeling well, but you know the truth. He’s painfully hard, painfully hard from you, even if he doesn’t admit it.

Truthfully, if you weren’t trying to get him to fuck you so hard you can’t walk you would applaud his self-control and restraint. Even after weeks of teasing and provocation, the man refuses to give in to his desires.

That’s okay. If he’s not going to come to you, you’ll just have to take matters into your own hands.

----

It all reaches a tipping point when you’re unable to go home for winter break and Hitomi offers you their guest room to stay in for a few weeks. 

Apparently she never asked her father for permission, if Keishin’s shocked, slightly panicked face when you walked through the door with your suitcase was any indication. When he tried to question Hitomi about whether or not it’s such a good idea for you to stay, she wasn’t having any of it and told him that you’re a friend in need. 

Hitomi’s so sweet and caring that you feel a twinge of guilt for plotting to seduce her father in her house when she’s none the wiser. She just wanted to lend a helping hand by letting you stay with them, oblivious to your true plans, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

Now that you’re under the same roof, all you really want to do is ambush Keishin as soon as possible, but you have to plan around Hitomi’s schedule so you have bide your time. What’s the saying? Good things come to those who wait?

And wait you do. You wait for two whole weeks, in fact. But then the stars align so perfectly that some otherworldly force must be looking out for you.

Hitomi is gone to work and won’t be back until the middle of the night when her shift is over, while Keishin is home reviewing footage from his team’s latest game. 

He told you he does this right before a big game so he can tell his players what they need to improve on and get in that last bit of refinement before the day of. When he clued you in on his strategy you just nodded and hummed, not really listening, mostly focused on ogling his muscles through his thin t-shirt.

Your nerves have been buzzing since you woke up this morning, sensing the heaviness in the air. You’re wearing your prettiest lace panties and its matching bra and frankly, you’re feeling pretty damn confident. You look good and you know you look good. If you were trying to seduce any guy your age, they’d drop their pants as soon as they got a little glimpse of your underwear, but Keishin’s not any guy your age. He needs a little convincing, a little push in the right direction, and you’ll be the one to help him.

You’ve flitted around the house all day, just trying to find the right moment to pounce. 

Currently, Keishin is sitting in the living room watching the recording on the big flat screen in the living room. He looks preoccupied with taking notes on the notepad in his lap, but it’s now or never, you suppose.

Before you try to talk yourself out of it, you stride over to where he’s sitting and put your hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

“Hey. Did you need something? I’m kind of busy analyzing my team’s last game.”

Not wanting to lose your nerve, you wordlessly swing one leg over his, then the other, planting yourself firmly in his lap. His entire body goes ramrod stiff, hands jerking away from your body as if you’ve burned him.

“W-what do you think you’re doing?” he stutters, alarm evident in his voice.

When he makes no move to throw you off his lap, you wrap your arms around his neck and lean into him, pressing your chest to his. 

“What we both have been wanting to do since the day I met you,” you purr, lips barely brushing against the shell of his ear. He shivers when you gently nibble on his earlobe and your confidence only grows as you discover that he wants this just as much as you do.

“I d-don’t know what you’re talking about. This isn't right. I’m your friend’s father and I’m... old enough to be y-yours,” he mutters, running a hand through his already messy hair, conflicted with how to proceed.

You can’t tell whether he’s trying to convince you or himself, so you decide to give him a little encouragement.

Leaning back slightly, you run your hands down his chest and bite your lip. “Are we going to keep playing games or are you gonna fuck me? Because if not, I’ve got several guys back at college who—”

You’re cut off when Keishin’s hand wraps around your throat, the other braced against your back to pull you flush against him. 

“You think your little stunts are cute, don’t you?” he growls, his minty breath washing over your face.

“What, you don’t think so, Daddy?” you pout, batting your eyelashes at him innocently.

His eyes flash with something hot and primal and you can feel the gush of wetness between your thighs. “I’m getting a little tired of them,” he growls.

“This,” you palm at the bulge straining against his pants, “Tells me otherwise, you know.”

The hand around your throat tightens, cutting off whatever bratty remark you were about to make. “I’ve had enough of you prancing around my home in tiny skirts and flashing me your panties when my daughter is around. It’s unbecoming.”

“Then t-teach me a lesson,” you gasp, struggling to speak with Keishin’s fingers so firmly wrapped around your throat.

The way he grins is downright sinful and it stokes the fire already raging inside you. “Careful what you wish for, little girl.”

With some manhandling on Keishin’s part, you’re shoved toward the couch then pulled back onto his lap, but this time you’re on your stomach and both your wrists are pinned behind your back.

“Before we go any further,” he starts, trailing his fingers down your spine and leaving goosebumps in their wake. “I have to ask… How old are you?”

You twist around to look him in the eyes, a defiant smirk on your face. “Old enough.” Your mischievous giggle is cut off by a swift, firm slap to your ass.

“Watch the lip, brat. I need a little more reassurance than that.”

“Since you’re just so concerned, I’m nineteen. Perfectly legal and more importantly, legally fuckable,” you say, punctuated by an enticing wiggle of your hips.

“Jesus, you’re two years younger than Tomi. What am I doing?” He seems lost in thought as the honorable side of him fights a losing battle against his baser, carnal instincts. Whatever reservations he has are thrown aside when you start to wiggle in his grasp, maneuvering yourself over his crotch to grind yourself against his hardness.

Keishin gathers your hair around his fist, harshly jerking your head so far backwards that your spine aches from the unnatural angle.

“Stop fucking squirming. You just don’t know how to behave, do you?” It’s phrased like a question, but he shoves two of his fingers in your mouth so you can’t respond. 

You knew Keishin would be the perfect dom, but the ease with which he settles into the role makes your head spin and your insides throb. Latching onto his digits, you lick and suck like the good girl you are, coating them in saliva as he hums in appreciation.

“Foo wans tuh behav wen thith is wutt I ge fo bein ba?” you ask, garbled and muffled by the fingers massaging the back of your tongue. 

A series of harder, heavier spanks make you squeal and squirm even more in his lap. He gently rubs his hand over your warm, stinging flesh as he speaks. “Such a troublemaker. Just what am I going to do with you, hm?” He tries to sound admonishing, but you can tell he’s smiling behind his words.

His hand leaves your ass, no doubt raised to spank you again, but before he can, you bite down on his fingers. Not too hard, just enough for him to jerk them out of your mouth. “You can do whatever you want to me, Daddy.” 

You jolt when his thumb rubs against your pussy through your panties. They’re soaked with your slick, the material clinging to your skin uncomfortably. The barest touch has you gasping and pushing your hips back for more. You’re so sensitive from the teasing and you’re so turned on you just might pass out if you’re not filled up soon.

Keishin just laughs darkly at the pathetic humping of your hips and you can feel the rumbling in his chest. “This is what I love about girls your age. So sensitive…” He pulls your panties aside and gently eases a finger inside you, then another as you moan and shake in his lap. “And so reactive. I bet you’d cum just from me putting my cock inside this tight, wet cunt, wouldn’t you?”

He speaks with a hint of condescension that has you clenching around his digits, coating them in sticky, syrupy strands of your arousal as they pump in and out of you. You’d almost be embarrassed at how worked up you are if you had more self respect, but you don’t. All you can focus on is the way his fingertips curl into the little spongy spot inside you that makes you whine.

“Why don’t you try it and find out?” The challenge in your voice is severely dampened by how breathless and wrecked you are even though you haven’t really even done anything.

His fingers pull out of you with a lewd squelching sound and you can hear him suck them into his mouth. “You taste even better than I imagined, but I want to taste that sweet pussy of yours. Up, little girl.” He coaxes you from his lap and onto the couch so your back is nestled into the cushions.

Sweat is making hair stick to your forehead and you’re breathing so heavily you’d think you just ran a marathon, but Keishin is looking down at you like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world and it nearly steals what little breath you have left in your lungs.

Oxygen is the last thing on your mind when his lips slot themselves between yours, soft yet demanding as they suck and lick. The movement of his lips doesn’t falter when he pulls your shirt over your head to reveal your light pink bra. Keishin pulls back to kiss along your collarbones, neck, and chest, his teeth occasionally nipping your sensitive flesh and leaving goosebumps in their wake. He expertly removes your panties with one hand so you’re left in just your plaid skirt, exposing your heated flesh to the coolness of the living room. 

You’re nearly naked but he’s wearing far too many clothes for your liking, so you blindly grab at his shirt, but your fingers are shaking too much for you to get a good grip. Once he realizes what you’re trying to do, he puts his hands over yours and helps you take off his shirt. You nearly start drooling when all of his hard, rippling muscles and smooth, tan skin are finally revealed to your greedy eyes that can’t seem to settle one thing. You don’t know if you’ll get this opportunity again and you want to remember everything in painstaking detail, especially Keishin’s gorgeous body.

He momentarily disentangles himself from you to remove his jeans, leaving him in just his Calvin Klein boxer briefs. The outline of his cock is evident as it strains against the blue material and you reach out to stroke it, but he just takes your hand in his.

He brings it to his lips, then kisses up your arm until he reaches your lips. “All in due time, sweet girl. I want to taste you first.” Your mouth is claimed in another hungry, bruising kiss and you squeal when Keishin takes your lip between his teeth and bites, blood rushing to the surface of your skin. 

His head dips down to leave featherlight kisses and teasing licks down your chest and stomach before he’s resting between your thighs. You whimper pitifully as he spreads your legs, awaiting the feeling of a wet tongue or his fingers against your folds. When he doesn’t move for several beats, you come to the realization that he’s just watching the way your cunt twitches and clenches around nothing and the wetness that drips onto the couch each time your muscles contract. You quickly bring your legs together to hide yourself from his scrutinizing gaze, but he simply pries them open with little effort.

Keishin grabs your chin so you’ll look right at him, squirming from the intensity of his gaze. “Don’t you dare hide this pretty pussy from me, do you understand? I am going to devour you until I’ve had my fill and you’re going to just lie back and take it.”

You nod obediently, your impudence quickly dying, giving way to the burning ache between your legs that can only be sated by a long, hard fuck.

With a satisfied hum, he settles at the apex of your thighs and licks a long stripe from your quivering pussy to your swollen clit and your hips jerk from the contact. Strong hands pin your hips to the couch as you writhe in his firm grip. He gives your clit a soft, quick kiss before he takes it into his mouth and sucks. You grab fitfully at his hair, back arching and hips pressing into his mouth as you gasp and groan from the incredible feeling of his tongue on your sensitive flesh.

His tongue teases your entrance and your cunt twitches, anticipating the first thrust of his warm, wet muscle inside you. He occasionally dips into your hole, but never breaches your entrance and you think you might go mad if he doesn’t give you more.

“I-I need more, give me more,” you manage to gasp, grabbing a fistful of the pillow underneath you as the tightening in your belly gets stronger.

Keishin removes his mouth from your cunt just long enough to admonish you for your lack of respect. “You need to have more manners if you’re going to demand things of me,” he says, before latching back onto your swollen, twitching clit.

“Daddy, pleeease I need more. Ah! I want to cum!” Your voice is so high-pitched and whiny you almost don’t recognize yourself, but you’re nearly delirious from pleasure and your impending climax that’s been dangled over your head for what feels like hours.

“Now who am I to deny you when you ask so sweetly?”

He thrusts two of his digits inside you, reaching deep inside you and rubbing against your g-spot as he sucks your clit back into his mouth. You’re almost screaming at this point, clawing at his hair and humping your cunt against his face. The familiar tightening in your belly signals that you’re about to cum and your moans and cries get faster, louder as the promise of white hot pleasure is just within reach—

It’s almost embarrassing how fast you’re teetering on the edge of climax, as if you’re a virgin school girl that’s never touched herself before. But maybe that’s the difference that years of experience can make. 

Not that you care. You just want to cum.

“Fuck, Daddy, I—I’m close!”

Sensing your impending orgasm, the man uses his free hand to slap your cheek then grabs your throat. “Uh-uh-uh,” he tuts, “Ask Daddy for permission to cum.” You’re clamping down on his fingers impossibly tighter as he fingers you even deeper, and the way he sucks on your clit renders you incapable of speech. Each time you open your mouth to try to speak, more desperate, wanton noises escape your lips.

You’re about to fucking burst at the seams and you feel like you’re on fire, but you want to be a good girl for your daddy, so you use the last bit of brain power you have left to ask for permission.

“P-pleaaase Daddy may I ahhh! May I cum!” you ask, but you can’t even hear Keishin give his approval from how loud the blood rushing in your ears is as you finally cum.

You try to muffle your cries with the back of your hand, but he grabs your wrist and wrenches it away from your mouth.

“Don’t do that. I want to hear you scream.” His tone is clipped and short, not caring how rough he is with your delicate flesh.

If you weren’t already cumming, you would have from the pleasure that’s so intense, it’s almost painful as your body is wracked with tremors. Your legs snap around Keishin’s head and you grip his hair even tighter as wave upon wave of your orgasm washes over you. You hear someone screaming and wonder what’s happening, when you realize it’s you, you’re the one screaming as you ride out your climax.

He greedily slurps and sucks up every single drop of your release that you can give him, as if he was stranded in the desert for a thousand years and your juices are the first sip of water to hit his dry, parched tongue. Your cunt is already so sensitive, painfully clenching around his fingers, but he just. Doesn’t. Stop.

“Fuck, K-Kei, wait ‘s too much,” you weakly protest, but your body is too spent to resist so you just lie there, twitching and gasping as he keeps sucking on your overstimulated clit.

His lips detach from your poor, abused bud and you almost sigh in relief before the fingers inside your cunt pump faster, stimulating every inch of your gummy walls.

Keishin leans over your sweaty, exhausted form, one hand braced on the couch, the other buried inside you. His fingers are hitting a spot inside you that makes you feel the urge to pee, so you try to push his hand away but it’s futile with how much stronger he is than you. 

“Hold onnn, I’m g-gonna—” you slur, panicked, but it’s as if he didn’t hear you.

His digits are relentless, rubbing and stroking and you’re a fucked out mess. You don’t know what he wants until an uncomfortable tightness shoots through your cunt. You cry out as clear liquid gushes out of you, splashing all over you, the couch, and Keishin. If you were more coherent, you might be mortified because you just… pissed on him—

To your surprise, he’s laughing as he removes his hand from inside you, ignoring your halfhearted groans. “I was hoping you’d do that,” he says, holding up his hand, shiny and dripping with your juices. 

“D-Do what?” you pant, unsure of what just happened and why Keishin seems so smug.

He uses his discarded t-shirt to wipe his hand off, then dabs at your stomach where a sizable puddle accumulated. “Squirt,” he responds. When he sees your confused expression, he follows up with, “It’s not piss, if you’re worried about that.”

“Ooookay.” You’re too dazed and exhausted to argue with him or question him further, so you just flop into the sofa and close your eyes.

“C’mon, little girl, don't tell me that’s all you’ve got. You were talking so much shit earlier and I have so much more to give you.” Despite how tired you are, his words spark new arousal in your belly and defiance revitalizes you, movement returning to your limbs.

You slide a hand down your stomach and spread the puffy lips of your cunt, sliding a finger through your wetness. “Of course it’s not. I’m ready to take that hard cock of yours, Daddy.”

“Attagirl, that’s what I like to see,” he praises, dropping his underwear and sliding them somewhere you can’t see. 

His cock is gorgeous, but that doesn’t come as a surprise, considering the man it belongs to. It’s thick and curved in a way that you know will reach the deepest parts of you.

What you weren’t expecting is the many piercings adorning the shaft and the one that goes through the head. A long curved barbell enters through the tip and exits through the underside of his glans. Three evenly spaced rings are embedded in the skin where his shaft meets his balls. You’ve never seen so many piercings on one man, let alone in such a sensitive place, so you gawk at the smooth metal rings that shine in the overhead lights.

“You’re… You have…”

He grins widely and it’s so devilish you think he might swallow you whole and honestly? You’d let him. You’d let him do whatever he wants to you. “Haha, yeah I get that reaction a lot. Never seen a pierced cock before, huh?”

“No, but there’s a first time for everything. I’m dying to see how those,” you point to his piercings, “Feel inside me.”

Keishin wordlessly climbs on top of you and rubs the head against your wetness, spreading it along his shaft to ease his entry. “They’ll feel fucking incredible, but you’ll have to beg for it.”

You scoff, reaching to grab his hips so he’ll fuck you already, but he scoots backwards so you can’t touch him.

“Naughty girls that misbehave don’t get fucked, so you’d better smarten up quickly,” he warns, making you gasp as he thrusts his cock against your clit.

He lazily nudges the head over your flesh, occasionally letting it catch on the tight ring of muscle around your hole. When he slots between your pussy lips, you try to wiggle and hump your hips in his direction, in hopes that he’ll slide right in.

But he doesn’t, and you’re about to go mad with his cock so close, but so far away.

“Please fuck me Daddy. I need your cock so bad!” You’re on the verge of tears, the buildup of the last few weeks overwhelming your senses.

Making a noise of sympathy, Keishin pets your hair affectionately and kisses your cheek. “All you had to do was ask.”

His hips pull back, then he’s thrusting inside you, sheathing himself to the hilt in your tight heat. You whimper and whine at the sudden intrusion, but any pain you feel is overshadowed by the way that his cock is filling you so full. The burn and stretch hurts so fucking good that your orgasm hits you like a freight train, fast and hard and blinding. Keishin fucks you through it, his cock touching all of the sensitive spots inside you and the pleasure is so strong you have to screw your eyes shut as you cry out and fall apart around him.

When you open them again, the man is staring down at you with the most shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen. “See? I said you’d cum as soon as I put my cock inside you.”

Using all the strength you can muster, you slap his arm. “Shut up and just fuck me.”

“You still haven’t learned your manners, but I just can’t wait to shoot my cum deep inside this cute cunt of yours,” Keishin groans, pulling almost all the way out before burying himself back inside the hot, welcoming clutch of your pussy. 

You can feel each of the metal rings on his cock, foreign and strange, but the odd feeling soon fades to little shocks of ecstasy each time they brush against your insides.

The lewd slapping sounds of skin on skin are all you can hear besides the occasional moan or hiss from the man fucking you within an inch of your life, not that you can focus on anything else right now.

You nudge at Keishin’s shoulder and he stops the rapid pistoning of his hips, an almost annoyed look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, but you just smile and push him backwards onto the couch, just like you were. He grunts in surprise as he falls backward, but he quickly quiets down when you climb on top of him and sink yourself back down on his length.

You both moan in unison as he fills you once more, the tip of his cock pressing against your cervix each time you force your cunt back down on him. His hands wander to your tits, grabbing, squeezing, and pinching the sensitive buds of your nipples. 

Ever the troublemaker, you can’t resist making a jab at him now that you’re on top. “I wonder what she’d do if she knew you were with me right now. What would your daughter say about you taking advantage of a young, helpless girl?”

Keishin takes that moment to pull you against him, thrusting hard and rough into your gummy walls that never stop pulsing around him. You’re shaking and gasping, your tongue lolling out of your mouth in your pleasured delirium. “With the way your greedy, sloppy cunt is clenching around me, I wouldn’t say I’m taking advantage of you,” he points out, only slightly out of breath. “But you get off on this, don’t you? Letting an old man like me fuck you. I’m old enough to be your father.”

“Like you’re any b-better,” you bite back.

You cry out when Keishin starts rubbing your swollen clit in tight little circles, your third orgasm fast approaching. 

“Fuck! I can—urgh, I can feel your pussy pulsing around me. I’m g-gonna cum,” he grits out, thrusting impossibly deeper inside you. He's pressed so far into you, he’s just thumping the head of his cock against your cervix. You scream and write in his arms, seeking to relieve the sharp burning in your womb just a little bit, but he has you firmly locked in his clutches. “Be a good little girl and cum for Daddy.”

Almost on command, you shake and moan, loud and long, as you cream all over his cock and coat the base in milky white. “Oh fuck, oh god! D-Daddy I’m cu-mming!” you wail with the last of your energy.

You’re so exhausted you go limp against him and let him use your body as a fuck toy until he reaches his climax. Keishin follows soon behind you, his thrusts growing sloppier and less coordinated as he mumbles obscenities under his breath. “Shit shit shit, fuck I’m cumming! I’m gonna—fuck!”

With one last thrust into your fluttering, over stimulated cunt he orgasms, his legs shaking as he shoots rope after rope of cum into your quivering womb.

You both lay there for several minutes to catch your breaths. You’re so sore and boneless you can barely move, but you manage to extricate yourself from Keishin’s long limbs. Leaning into the arm of the couch, you let your eyes flutter closed and allow sleep to take you.

You’re awoken by a warm, wet washcloth rubbing against your sensitive folds and you whine, sleepily wiggling your hips to get away from the discomfort. “Kid, I know it doesn’t feel good but, uh, it’s kind of a mess down there. You can go back to sleep, just let me clean you up.” Keishin’s familiar timbre comforts you so you settle back down, still half asleep.

“Mmm, Keishin?” you mumble, making grabby hands at the man.

He takes one of your hands in his. “Yeah?” he responds as he wipes the washcloth between your legs with his other hand.

You rub your face against his hand before placing a sloppy kiss on top of it. “Thank youuuu,” you slur.

Keishin just chuckles and rubs his fingers over your knuckles. “Yeah kid, you’re welcome. Just get some rest, alright?”

You’re asleep before he even finishes the sentence.

----

When you awaken it’s dark, most likely the middle of the night. There’s a blanket thrown over your unexpectedly clothed body, which is now covered in a worn, oversized shirt. It smells like fabric softener and musk, so you figure it must be Keishin’s.

Looking around, you bolt upright when you realize you’re not on the living room couch anymore, you’re now in a large, comfortable bed.

The sound of a deep, rumbling voice draws your attention to the bathroom connected to the room you’re currently in. “Oh, you’re finally awake,” Keishin says sheepishly as he emerges from the bathroom, then points to the nightstand next to you. “There’s some water and ibuprofen, you should take it. Even if you’re not sore now, you will be later.”

You chuckle tiredly as you stretch your overworked muscles. “I’m already sore, so I’ll definitely be taking these.”

He sits awkwardly on the side of the bed, unsure how to treat you after your little encounter. His brows are furrowed, a deep frown on he’s seemingly deep in thought.

“Whatever you’re thinking, just spit it out.” His head immediately snaps to you, eyes guarded and unreadable.

“What we did downstairs, it’s… not right. I’m supposed to protect young, impressionable girls like you. I’m a father—I would die if Tomi was after a man more than twice her age.”

You pull the blanket off of you and climb over to where the older man is seated on the mattress. “Keishin, let me ask you something.” He lifts his head, expectant. “Did you enjoy what we did? Because I did.” He nods slowly, still unsure what you’re getting at.

Taking his face in your hands, you tell him what you’ve been thinking for weeks. “At the end of the day, we’re two consenting adults who partook in consensual activities. Even if someone wants to clutch their pearls because you’re older than me, who cares?”

“Yeah, I get that, but… It has to be some sort of ethics violation on my part. You’re younger than my daughter, Bunny.”

“Even if it is, you have to allow yourself to live a little. Life is too short to deny yourself pleasures the world has to offer, and I don’t know about you, but I was very pleased by our… tryst.”

A cute blush spreads across Keishin’s cheeks as he remembers everything he said and did to you. “Aha, I was too. So, um… Would you want to do that again, sometime?” he asks, running a hand through his hair like he always does when he’s nervous.

You giggle and tackle him on the bed, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing. “Of course I do. We can even do it now, if you’d like…”

A couple hours later, just before Hitomi comes back, you limp across the hallway to your room and pass out, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

And that is how your little arrangement begins.

Most of your time is spent with Hitomi, mostly shopping and going out to eat when she has the day off, or just watching Netflix in her room when you’re both too tired to go anywhere.

However, in the wee hours of the morning when you’re sure that she’s asleep, you sneak up to her father’s bedroom and get fucked so hard and so good you can barely make it back to your bedroom before the sun rises.

It’s a good arrangement, you think, you both get what you want and your friend is none the wiser. You figure no harm, no foul. At the end of the winter break, Keishin will likely want to cut things off with you and you’ll go back to your college dorm as if nothing happened.

But the winter break isn’t over yet, and you plan on making the most of it.

Keishin has been fucking you into the mattress for so long, time no longer even makes sense anymore. 

You’re sweaty and exhausted, muscles so sore and shaky, but the thrusting between your legs shows no signs of stopping anytime soon. The harsh grip on your hips will likely bruise, but luckily you can hide them, unlike the few close calls you’ve had with poorly-placed marks on your neck.

Despite your exhaustion, you continue to meet Keishin’s thrusts by humping your hips back at him.

He gives your ass a harsh spank and fucks into you harder, making you whine and clench around him. “You’re an insatiable little thing, aren’t you? So fucked out and dripping with my cum, yet you still want more,” he says, but all you can do is gasp in response. You’re too far gone to produce any meaningful response. “What am I going to do with you?” If you had the energy, you’d tell him whatever he wants, but you don’t and the familiar tug of an orgasm is too hard to ignore.

“Fuck Daddy, I-I’m—”  

Suddenly, his phone comes to life, Hitomi’s face lighting up the screen as it vibrates. The pistoning of his hips slows, then stops completely as he reaches over and grabs it off the nightstand.

He suddenly pulls out of your sore, abused cunt and you almost whine at the loss before he buries himself back inside you. The way your face is pressed into the mattress makes it difficult, but you manage to turn your head to see what Keishin is doing behind you.

Your eyes widen and you try to wriggle out of his grip when you figure out that he’s going to answer his phone as he keeps fucking you.

A hand wraps around your neck, lifting you up from your position on the bed and you have to follow its movement to prevent your windpipe from getting crushed. You’re pressed against Keishin’s hard chest, and his cock is nestled right against your cervix. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll just stay still and take it like a good little girl.”

The harsh grip on your neck releases and you’re shoved back into the bed, falling onto the comforter.

Keishin sounds completely normal when he answers his phone and it almost pisses you off—how can he be so unaffected when you’re at your wit’s end? 

He chirps into the phone, “Hey sweetheart, what’s up?” The only indication that anything is amiss is the slight breathlessness in his voice and the occasional curse under his breath.

He forces himself even deeper inside you so forcefully that you’re afraid he’ll punch straight through to your womb. You know it’s not possible, but with Keishin, it just might be. He’s always full of surprises, especially when it comes to your body.

“Oh yeah, sure I can drop it off to you later. I’m just a little… preoccupied at the moment,” he says with a sharp thrust of his hips and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips. Keishin stiffens above you, waiting to see if Hitomi heard you through the phone.

“No, Hitomi, I’m not watching porn! But hold on a second, I think someone is at the door.” He sets the phone on the bed, muting the call as his cock hits your g-spot and you’re shaking, practically shivering in his arms. A couple of hard, coordinated rubs of your engorged clit and you’re cumming, gushing around him and keening as your muscles clench uncomfortably. You scream silently and fall limp onto the bed, unable to hold yourself up any longer. 

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum, but it’s to the point that each successive orgasm borders on the edge of pleasure and pain.

“Better keep quiet, wouldn’t want my daughter to hear you getting your pretty little cunt stuffed full of my cock,” Keishin snarls into your ear and you feel yourself clench painfully around him. Your body is just so worn out, but you know he won’t stop until he’s satisfied. “Or do you want her to know what a slut you are for her father?”

You shake your head vehemently, but the man inside you just chuckles as he keeps fucking you.

“Oh my god, oh fuck I-I…” You’re babbling nonsense to no one in particular.

“Ahh it was just-fuck, it was just some dude trying to sell me security cameras. Anyways, I’ll see you later honey, I love you.” His last few sentences sound rushed, urgent and you can tell from the twitching of his length that he’s close. The moment the phone is hung up, Keishin cages you between his body and the mattress. “Your cunt feels so fucking good, I’m gonna fill you up with my cum. Would you like that?”

You try to nod and make a noise akin to ‘mhm,’ but you’re not sure what it sounds like. You’re not really sure of anything right now, but what you are sure of is you want him to cum inside you.

“I could never deny you anything, sweet girl,” he groans.

Keishin fucks into you harder, faster, and it feels as if he’s quite literally rearranging your guts, he’s so deep inside you. He reaches down between your legs and pinches your sensitive bud between his fingers. “Think you have one more in you, hm?” he asks, but he doesn’t wait for your answer. Of course you do.” He rubs your sore clit the way he knows will have you shaking and coming apart around him.

“Fuck Daddy, fuck I’m cumming!” you squeal, writhing and squirming from the painful, aching tightness of your orgasm as it builds once more. 

“Ergh, fuck yeah, cum on Daddy’s cock as he fills you up. You’re such a good fucking girl for me, I love this sweet pussy.”

You shriek as you cum, your climax so strong that your vision blurs at the edges and you convulse, sore muscles twitching with overuse. 

“Daddy’s gonna breed his sweet little girl, fuck, feels so fucking good!” Keishin groans, burying himself as deeply as he can inside you and shooting his cum into your quivering hole. You sigh in relief at the feeling of his warm cum flooding your womb, thankful he finally came because you couldn’t have lasted much longer in your state.

He flops next to you on the bed, sweaty and exhausted from your hours-long fuck marathon. Throwing an arm over your waist, he pulls you to his chest and buries his nose in your neck. 

Hitomi’s not supposed to come back for several hours, so you both deem it safe to fall asleep as you are. Just when you’re about to drift off, your phone buzzes from the bedside table.

You reach for your phone, expecting it to be some spam email.

Your heart stops, the whole world seems to freeze when you open the text message.

From: Tomie <3

So when were you going to tell me you’re fucking my dad?

[jungkxook]

—the love bug. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: spiderman!jungkook + fluff / smut

⟶ words: 20,649 (sorry)

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: every night, jungkook puts on the red mask and flings himself confidently into perilous danger; but that same heart of steel that fuels his will and spirit seems to fail him whenever it comes to you 

⟶ warnings: coarse language, mild violence, jungkook is really shy and cute and dumb bc he’s so smitten, also jungkook’s butt in spandex is nice, needy/clingy sex, oral sex (fem!receiving), face riding, fingering, riding, missionary, unprotected sex

⟶ disclaimer: this is a repost of a fic i had on my old blog! 

You see Jungkook every night without fail.

When the sun has set below the distant horizon and plunges the world into a formidable darkness, driving most ordinary civilians to seek shelter in their homes, he stumbles into the café tucked cozily on the corner of a busy street in Lower Manhattan. The concrete city is still very much alive in a harmonious mix of sirens and the hum of cars but is subdued, muffling under the night sky and is most susceptible at this time to misconduct. Usually, at this point of night, the café you work at is nearly empty, save for a few stragglers that huddle tiredly at certain round tables. Most times, these are students from the university you attend just around the bend, whose weary eyes peer over the laptop in front of them as they meticulously work on an essay due the next morning, only fueled by the cup of coffee next to them.

Though you’ve seen Jungkook plenty of times around the campus of your school, he never once enters the café for the sole purpose of late night studying or writing. Instead, as you come to find over the course of many strange nights, Jungkook stumbles in through the doors sometime after 9 p.m., always with one strap of his backpack thrown over his shoulder. He always looks dishevelled, exhausted, as if he has spent the evening running all over the city of New York; and then he plops himself down into a seat by the window, burying his head in his folded arms that lean on the top of the table. Most times he orders a coffee and though he downs it the fastest you’ve ever seen, he is still somehow able to fall asleep at the table. Sometimes, he hardly ever touches the coffee and lets it grow cold as it rests next to him but he always, without a doubt, falls asleep next to it.

You never wake him. Usually, when you work the late night shifts, you are alone for a handful of hours until your next coworker arrives for their shift. You don’t mind the company anyway, even if he sleeps for most of the night. It’s comforting to at least see he’s resting, though you find yourself snickering to yourself as you watch the snoring boy when it’s just you and him alone in the café. Though you have grown up with Jungkook as your next door neighbour as a child, have attended the same schools and been in most classes together from elementary all the way to your freshman year of college now, and have watched one another mature and change, you have never really exactly gotten to know Jungkook as well as you’d like. Typically, your conversations are short and friendly, ranging from you taking his order at the café and spotting him around campus and asking if he knew the answer to a question for the homework assigned to the class you share with him.

This night isn’t any different.

You’ve become eager, always anticipating when Jungkook will walk through the doors of the café and make himself at home as he routinely does. However, just before 9 p.m. on a Thursday night, when the small bell above the door rings to signal a new arrival, you are immediately disappointed to find that it is not Jungkook. Instead, it is a crude muscular man not much older than you with tattoos that litter his arms and a star inked into the left side of his neck. The sight of him causes you to groan inwardly, forces you to straighten your back a little more, hold your chin a little higher. Most nights the café may be occupied by university students, but other nights you are forced to deal with tasteless strangers that try to intimidate you but instead give you an agonising headache.

You have seen this man before, have remembered the star tattoo and the scar just above his right eyebrow. He has come into the café before and has been the source of trouble more often than not. As the man approaches the counter in an imperious stride this time, you notice the smirk that tugs at his lips and feel the foreboding shudder that runs down your spine.

“Evenin’,” You greet. “Can I get you anything?”

The man’s eyes flicker to the menu above the counter, as if he is pondering what to order. He looks back down at you and then leans against the counter, closing the distance between him and you causing you to take a step back.

“How are you doing tonight, sweetheart?” he asks. “Been awhile, huh? Did you miss me?”

Forcing a fixed smile on your face, you reply shortly with, “I’ve been well. Can I get you anything?”

Apparently, the way you repeat your question in a firm manner doesn’t act as well of a hint as you had hoped for the man. He’s smirking wickedly, clearly enjoying the strain he puts you through.

“I know what you can get me, sweetheart,” he drawls. “When do you get off? Maybe we can meet round back and I can show you what a real man is like.”

“No thanks.”

“Playing hard to get, hm?” he muses. “I wonder what else that pretty little mouth of yours can do.”

Though you are appalled, you swallow your nerves and narrow your eyes into a glare. It can tell you to kindly fuck off, you grimace to yourself. Instead, you turn your back to him, pretending to occupy yourself with cleaning the counter as you mumble blankly, “Not interested.”

The man chuckles. “Come on, sweetheart. It’s just a little fun━”

“She said she’s not interested.”

The familiar voice that interrupts the man causes your heart to leap blithely in your chest and makes you realize you have been so caught up with the man by the counter that you hardly noticed the way the bell rings a second time as the newcomer enters the shop. Standing just behind the man is Jungkook, whose carob hair sticks out in messy tufts and weary eyes are laced with an underlying menace. The man looks from you to Jungkook and must assume the confrontation isn’t worth a fight. The smug smile remains on his face even as he shrugs, muttering something along the lines of, “Whatever, man. I was just trying to have some fun.”

Whether or not Jungkook has scared him away, the man relents and retreats to the door of the café, disappearing outside once more. As soon as the door shuts behind him, you come to realize that you are now alone in the café with Jungkook with nothing but the sound of the flat screen t.v that hangs in a corner behind the counter, faintly playing on the news channel.

“You okay?” he asks, catching your attention. “He didn’t do anything, did he?”

“Oh, no. No, I’m fine,” You say. “Thanks for that, by the way. Though I could’ve handled it myself.”

Jungkook chuckles. “I don’t doubt that but it’s nice to get a little help sometimes.”

You smile up at the boy who towers above you and, despite the fatigue that droops his eyes, his pink lips still unfurl into a wide, radiant grin that brightens his face.

“How long are you here for tonight?” he asks.

“Till close. Then I have to head home and put together a powerpoint for psych,” You yawn as if to emphasize your boredom. “What can I get you? The usual?”

Jungkook looks at you as if you are his saving grace. The smile stretches further across his cheeks as he nods. “Please?”

“Will do. Sit tight, I’ll be right over.”

You spin around from behind the counter, almost immediately jumping to work as you rummage through the shelves. When you’re finished making his order that consists solely of a medium black coffee with two sugars and turn back around to face him, you find him seated at a table off to the side, not far from the counter. His backpack lays discarded on the ground by his feet and his elbow rests on top of the surface of the table, his chin nestled in the palm of his hand; his eyes are fixated on the television screen hanging just ahead and, for once upon entering the café past dusk, he doesn’t lack a sense of emotion. Instead, his brows knit in concern as he is engrossed by whatever is happening on the news.

As you approach his table with his coffee in your hand, you crane your neck to look up at the screen and what has seemingly caught his interest. On one side of the screen is a female news reporter in a pink blouse and gray blazer; on the second half of the screen, you see a familiar flash of striking red and blue that swings from building to building from an, albeit, shaky recording from a passerby’s phone.

“And in other news,” The woman who speaks has a strong, smooth voice as she stares ahead at the camera with a rather sour look, “the masked mystery man, otherwise known as Spider-Man, was spotted earlier this morning when he put a stop to a robbery in an apartment in Queens just before noon. Though most would argue that Spider-Man is New York’s very own masked hero, the New York City Police Department are still searching for the identity of whom they call a vigilante, saying he is causing mayhem in━”

“Some guy, huh?” You muse pensively, sliding the coffee onto the counter next to Jungkook. “This spider guy or whatever.”

The boy in front of you glances down meekly at the coffee and back up at you. His eyes flicker to the screen hanging in the corner once more. “You mean Spider-Man?”

Nodding, you say, “Yeah. He comes out of nowhere two years ago and now he’s everywhere. What do you think of him helping with all this dangerous crime stuff?”

“Ah, well, that’s his thing,” Jungkook says, shrugging. “If he couldn’t handle it, he wouldn’t be helping solve a lot of the city’s crimes. I think he’s pretty cool, y’know, for a masked guy. I definitely don’t think he’s a vigilante or━ or a criminal.”

“You talk about him as if you know him,” You giggle.

Jungkook’s eyes widen for a split second and then he’s furiously shaking his head. “Know him? No, no, of course not! I’m just a… Just a big fan ━ and an even bigger fan of Iron Man.”

He picks up the coffee next to him and lifts it to his mouth for a quick sip, nearly burning his tongue but swallowing his curses.

“I like him,” You confess at long last. “He’s interesting. I think he’s just what we need at a time like this.”

Just then, the bell above the door rings once more and a small group of friends wander into the shop, each carrying backpacks and heavy textbooks. They sit at a table off in the corner and you sigh as you look back down at Jungkook.

“That’s my cue,” You say. “Gotta go, but have a good night, okay? And, Jungkook? You really should get some more sleep.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to respond but you are already turning away and so he sits back in his seat, defeated once more. He watches as you stride happily to the group of friends sitting at a table to take their order, your hair bouncing slightly under the fluorescent lights. He folds his arms over the top of his table and buries his head in them, though he sneaks one last glance up at you. Despite his eyes itching with sleep, he pries them open just a second longer to watch you smile as you speak with the students and it is the last thing he sees before he slips off into a light and contented sleep.

As you step out into the cool, early Autumn night and shut the door of the café behind you to lock it, the single thought most prominent in your mind is sleep.

You’re exhausted, but the homework still waiting to be completed in your home is the only thing that pushes you to stay awake. You hurry to fish the store keys out of your coat pocket and, with a euphonious chime, use them to lock the front door, ignoring the way the cold breeze nips at your cheeks. You grasp the collar of your coat tighter around your body and then hike the strap of your own bag further up your shoulder as you turn to walk away.

Jungkook had fallen asleep as per usual after your short conversation with him and then vanished an hour some time before you closed, waving a final farewell to you. The rest of your night had been rather slow, with only two more customers entering the café until each person left to venture back out into the cold and leave you alone. To finally be freed from the confinements of the café has you breathing in the crisp air in a deep breath. Exhaling placidly, you cross the street and begin making your way toward your one bedroom apartment which is only a fifteen minute walk away from both the café and your school.

You aren’t quite sure how long you have been walking for when you begin to notice the sound of footsteps behind you. In fact, if you had been listening more intently since the second you left the café, you would be able to recall the fact that these same heavy footsteps had been following along behind you since then. You don’t necessarily see the problem at hand just yet, thinking it to be just another innocent passerby who is coincidentally walking the same way as you. After all, New York City has a tremendously huge population.

You take a left, turning the corner of the street to continue along the path to your home. The only light that illuminates the way are the silvery wisps from the moon that hangs high in the night sky and the flickering street lamps that you pass occasionally. You take another left and strain your ears and hear the sound of footsteps again. Maybe you were overreacting, maybe it was just a random passerby, but most cities weren’t foreign to that of strange stalkers. Holding your breath, you slowly glance over your shoulder at the figure who has been following you and spot a man just a few paces away, the hood of his sweater drawn over his head.

You immediately turn back around, eyes wide as panic begins to settle in. You take another left, then a right, cross the street and retrace your steps back towards the café and each time you hear the heavy footsteps; each time they quicken in pace as does yours. You hadn’t even realized how briskly you were walking until you glance over your shoulder for a second time and see the man once more. Suddenly, you turn a sharp corner and race ahead before coming across an empty and darkened alleyway. You slip into its shadows, your heart hammering wildly against your chest and in your ears, and continue to walk until the brick wall at the very end of the alleyway comes into view. A dead end.

You turn back around and begin walking forward before freezing suddenly. If you go back out there, that man could still be lurking; if you stay in the alleyway, you could hide until you think it’s safe. Your eyes flicker around for something to cower behind and just before you notice the dumpster off to the side, you see a shadow in the corner of your eye. Turning around, you come face-to-face with the hooded man who is all but blocking your path to freedom. Except now, you’re able to stare into his face past the silhouette that his hood draws on his features. Now, you can see the star tattoo on his neck, the scar above his right eyebrow and an image of the man from the café only hours ago flashes across your eyes.

“You,” You gasp. “What do you want from me?”

Behind his hood, you can see him smirk slyly. “I just want to chat to you, babe. What are you doing all by yourself out here?”

Your eyes narrow into a scrutinizing glare. You step forward to walk around him but he grabs onto you, his arm snaking around your waist as he drawls, “Not so fast. I’ve been meaning to get you alone like this.”

Just as you open your mouth to shout out for help, the noise of sudden scuffling in the alley causes the man to stop. It comes with the rustling of the wind and could have easily been mistaken for the sound of a trash can falling over or paper tumbling loosely but it is also unmistakable the sound of footsteps. The man must notice something before you do as he squints further into the alleyway, muttering a small, “What the hell━”

“Come on, dude, that’s seriously no way to treat a girl!”

The foreign voice that drifts into the alleyway seems to startle not only yourself, but the man in front of you. His grip loosens on you slightly as he cranes his neck to look amongst the shadows.

“Well, anyone, for that matter.”

The stranger’s voice is youthful, most likely belonging to a boy around your age. It is oddly calm and nonchalant despite the situation that is unfolding before him, and then he clicks his tongue disapprovingly. As your eyes flicker open, you follow the source of the sound towards the blocked end of the alleyway still veiled by the darkness. Had this person always been there or had they really materialized out of thin air?

“Who’s there?” The man in front of you grunts. “Why don’t you mind your own business?”

“And why don’t you pick on somebody your own size?” The voice retaliates. He pauses as if he is waiting for an answer and then he is speaking up again. “Let me guess. You’re gonna tell me to screw off or something right? God, you guys are always so predictable and yet you never make it any easier for me.”

The man scowls, his hand drops from your throat as he turns to the looming darkness and hisses gruffly, “Mind your own business, punk━”

Before he can carry on, something flings out of the darkness and lands on the man’s face in a blink of an eye. He immediately lets go of you, grunting in confusion and flailing his arms about. As you drop to the ground, you subsequently bang your head hard against the brick wall and groan in pain, though you’re able to catch a glimpse of what the man is trying so desperately to claw off his face before your vision goes blurry. It is something thin and wispy, made of silver glistening strands that resembles, oddly enough, a spider’s web. As the man fumbles into the darkness, arms swinging clenched fists wildly about.

“Over here!” The boy taunts. “Missed me again! You know, you’re not very good at this.”

You struggle to climb to your feet, clutching your head in agony as you squint into the darkness. From where you are, you can only see the man fumbling around uselessly, the other figure still concealed by the darkness. As you attempt to get a better look, you hear the boy grunt in pain and catch sight of the man just after he had swung his fist into this person’s face, while his other hand had successfully been able to finally rip the mesh off his face.

“Okay, ow, that hurt,” The boy admits.

But before he or the man can continue on, you’re springing forward, mustering all your strength and courage into one impromptu movement. You grab your bag that had been discarded on the ground, heavy with a few school textbooks you had brought with you; you clutch it tightly, race up behind the man, and swing it hard at his head. His actions come to a sudden halt, he staggers forward, and immediately collapses to the ground, unconscious. Then finally, plunged into the darkness of the alleyway, you slowly look up to face the eye of your helper and are met, instead, with a flash of red and blue.

Standing before you, adorned head to toe in a tight suit is none other than the mysterious masked vigilante. He’s much taller in person than you expected, and much more muscular too, though with his face hidden beyond a mask, you can’t say much else about him. Instead, you gasp as you stare up at him in astonishment.

“Hey, nice hit!” he says, an apparent grin in his voice. “That was pretty awesome━”

“It’s you!” You exclaim.

“Me?” He seems confused at first but then he’s straightening up. “Oh, right, right. It’s me! Just, uh, your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man. Rescuing damsels in distress is kinda my thing.”

Your amusement for the mysterious hero is quick to fade, however, in wake of the throbbing pain on your head. It makes you aware of the fact that your knees have since grown weak, your mind spinning. When you take a step forward, you are suddenly faint and stumble over your feet, tripping to the ground. Before you can hit the pavement, the boy swoops forward and into view, catching you swiftly in his arms and holding you up.

“Hey, hey, stay with me,” he says. “Oh man, we gotta get you home. Can you tell me where you live?”

You can feel your lips moving in response, most likely informing him foolishly of the apartment complex you live in. Though this boy has been noted on performing acts of bravery and fighting against crime, he’s still a stranger ━ and, even more warily so, a complete enigma. There was no reason to trust him, despite him helping you only minutes ago, but in that moment you are weak and exhausted. In the very next second, you find yourself slipping off into a deep and tranquil slumber.

When you awaken the next morning, you are first greeted to the bright light of the sun that licks at your cheeks and warms your face. You note the soft plush of the mattress under you, the soft breeze that ruffles your hair, and when you pry your eyes open, you find yourself laying on the bed in your room; your window opened. Just when you begin to think the night before was all just some elaborate dream, you feel the slight tinge of pain in the back of your head and, despite it all ━ despite the pain and despite the memory strange man who had followed you ━ you smile softly at the thought of the boy in red and blue.

The next time you see Jungkook is on that Thursday.

Truthfully, you’ve been eager to find him around campus if only to tell him about your encounter with New York’s masked hero. You hadn’t told many people, safe for your closest friends, though you’re keen to see Jungkook’s reaction as you’ve learned he’s a fan of this spider guy. Wednesday is the only day you have a class with him and so as soon as the boring lecture for your anthropology class is finished, you spot him striding casually out the door and catch up to him just as he’s walking down the smooth pavement of the campus sidewalk.

Word, however, seems to spread fast amongst the friends in your year and whereas you only told one of your friends on that previous Friday about your encounter in the alleyway, Jungkook has already heard the story through misconstrued words at least a dozen times, through whisperings of people that aren’t even your friends. It’s a novelty, apparently, to witness something like this strange masked man. But, naturally, Jungkook is rather surprised when he hears your familiar dulcet voice calling his name.

“Jungkook!”

He whirls around to face you and smiles as he sees your figure walking towards him, adorned in leggings and a baggy school shirt to match the evening’s warm weather. You’re smiling at him, almost as radiantly as the sun that it almost quite literally blinds him as he doesn’t seem to notice the other girl walking just in front of him. He bumps into her before he can step out of the way and hastily apologizes before turning back to you only to see you giggling.

“What can I do for you on this fine evening?” he asks as you approach.

“I’ve been meaning to find you since Friday,” You say. “You’ll never believe what happened on Thursday.”

“I’ve been hearing it all week since then.”

“You have? Who told you?”

This causes Jungkook to chuckle lightly. He hikes the usual one strap of his backpack further up his shoulder as the two of you begin to walk again, “Y/N, everyone’s been talking about it. I guess no one can keep their mouth shut anymore. So tell me: what was this Spider-Man guy like?”

A small smile stretches across your face at the name, your teeth instinctively biting down on your lower lip in an attempt to hide in. Was it just Jungkook or did he see the slightest of pink pinch at your cheeks? When you look back up at him, your eyes are shimmering.

“Honestly?” You reply sheepishly. “I think I’m crushing on him pretty hard.”

Jungkook nearly chokes. When he speaks next, his voice is slightly higher than usual, so he clamps his mouth shut, clears his throat, and tries again. “You don’t say? He must be a real charmer then. Do you, uh, even know him well enough to crush on him?”

“It’s strange,” You remark. “You’re right ━ I don’t even know him and yet I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since then. I guess chivalry isn’t dead after all, huh?”

“What even happened?” Jungkook asks.

“Remember that guy you scared away Thursday night? I got into some trouble with him━ but don’t worry!” You throw in the last few words when you see Jungkook’s brows scrunch in concern. “Spider-Man came before anything could happen. He saved me. I owe him my life at this point.”

Jungkook notes the dreamlike tone in your voice and when he glances down at you, you’re smiling blissfully down at your scuffed Converse shoes. It’s mesmerizing to see you so content and jubilant, beaming like the sun once more that hangs in the clear cerulean blue sky. He inhales a deep breath of fresh air, smells the wafting nodes of freshly ground coffee somewhere in the distance, and exhales slowly.

Nervously rubbing the back of his neck, he looks over at you once more and asks, “Hey, um, so for that anthro project we have to do ━ I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to be partners for it?”

Your eyes light up at the proposition and you nod enthusiastically. “Sure thing. I’d love that, actually. Maybe we can meet up this Sunday to plan everything out and see who’s doing what?”

“Hey, Y/N!”

Just then, you hear the familiar sound of your friend calling your name. You glance ahead where your eyes land on a group of girls sitting on a nearby bench and you wave at them. They gesture you over and you skip ahead a few paces, turning to look at Jungkook. He smiles as he nods.

“Sorry,” You apologize sheepishly. “But Sunday at the café at noon?”

“Sounds like a date.” Jungkook reddens suddenly at the way he words his thoughts and stammers to correct himself. “Not a date! Work date. Uh━”

“It’s a date,” You giggle. “See you!”

Then you’re rushing off to join your friends, leaving Jungkook alone once more. He sighs in your wake, shakes his head at himself, and grudgingly walks away.

That night you can hardly sleep.

You blame it on the stress that comes with being a student, constantly under the strain of a multitude of assignments and upcoming tests. When the clock strikes half past one in the morning just as you are finishing typing up the last sentence of a seven page essay on your laptop (seated at your desk, where you have been for the past few hours), you decide you need a break before you go absolutely insane. Shrugging on a simple cardigan, you tiptoe out of your room, down the corridor to the elevator, ignoring the way your joints that have stiffened in place stretch in a satisfying pop. You’re stumbling out and onto the roof of your apartment building in no less than five minutes, emerging out into the open night.

It isn’t terribly cold and, after inhaling a deep breath of the refreshing air, you sigh in relief and you walk to the concrete barrier at the very edge of the roof and lean against it. Gazing out at the vibrant and lively concrete and glass buildings and skyscrapers alike that build the city of New York, with each window illuminated by a warm glow of light, seems to give you a sense of peace. You can hear the hum of cars, a distant sound of sirens, the occasional honk, and the thump of bass from somewhere in the distance to your left, all amassing into the rhythmic pulse of the city; across from you, in the building complex on the other side of the street, you can see silhouetted figures of perhaps caffeinated students or late night lovers. The sky is empty, blank and dull as it stretches on over the entirety of the city, but you can see the moon, brightly shining in all its glory, bold and proud amongst the artificial light.

A slight breeze disrupts the stillness of the roof, rustles your hair, followed by the looming feeling of not being alone. You hear the sound of footsteps landing softly on the ground and turn around slowly, casting your gaze across the seemingly empty rooftop. But you see it ━ or rather, him ━ in the shadows near the door a bit further off. It’s strange how calm you are in the moment but the presence doesn’t exactly feel intimidating to you ━ especially when you notice the flash of red and blue.

“You again?” You ask humorously.

“Sorry if I scared you.” The voice that carries with the wind towards you is familiar, youthful. “Definitely not my intention.”

“I’m not scared,” You say. “If I can recall amongst your many gritty crime fighting, you saved a cat stuck in a tree a while back.”

The boy chuckles. “Ah, well, just all a part of the job.”

“What are you doing here?” You take a step toward him and hear him retreat further into the darkness.

“Well, you’re probably going to call me weird and insane,” he says, “but I just wanted to check on you. You were pretty out of it when I dropped you off at your place.”

“You’re not stalking me now, are you?”

“No way!” he says. “I was just, y’know, in the neighbourhood. I was actually about to call it a night when I passed your apartment and then I saw you up here. Must be fate, huh?”

“Fate sure is weird,” You muse pensively, pursing your lips. You pause, squinting your eyes into the darkness. “Thanks, by the way. For helping me that night and bringing me back. Is there anyway I can repay you?”

“Repay me? Oh, no, no!” he says. “That’s not what this is all about, I promise. What I do is for the city and for the people. I can sleep better at night knowing thugs like that guy are being taken care of properly.”

“That’s a pretty commendable thing to do,” You say. “You gotta be pretty brave to put yourself in danger each night.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

There’s a smirk in his voice that stretches his words into a confident and smug drawl. You, in turn, smile bashfully. You look down at your shoes and then back up at the shadows.

“Can you step out of the dark?” You ask. “I want to see you.”

“Ah, but then that’ll ruin the mystique,” he points out. “And where’s the fun in that?”

You shake your head at him, pearly white teeth gnawing down on your lower lip to hide the smile that tugs at your mouth. You pull your cardigan tighter around your torso, ignoring the distant sound of a wailing siren.

“Maybe I’ll see you again,” he says. “I have to go but it was a pleasure meeting you━ uh, what was your name again?”

“I never told you,” You say. “And if I do, it’ll ruin the mystique, won’t it? Where’s the fun in that?”

He laughs into the night, a sound so genuine and amiable. “Fair enough. Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, despite the terrible circumstances. Try to stay out of trouble, okay? And get some sleep!”

You can hear him moving, as if preparing to leave. You step forward, mouth opening to stop him, but then he is gone, the sound of feet leaping into the air the last thing you hear from him. By the time you rush to the other side of the roof and look around frantically for any sight of him, you spot the mysterious vigilante as a tiny speck soaring from building to building. You smile as you watch him disappear amongst the horizon, bleeding into the glow of lights until he is gone, becoming one with the city altogether.

The days pass in a very typical blur.

Sunday comes and goes much too fast where both you and Jungkook work diligently for a few hours at the café before the rest of the week goes by. You hardly see Jungkook except for at night, as always past 9 p.m., when he stumbles wearily into the café and plops down in his usual seat. And, with the days passing as usual, there are still the consistent reports of sightings of this mysterious Spider-Man. Though you seem to go about your routinely oblivious days, you are all Jungkook is able to think about. You are all he usually thinks about these days, anyway, and all he is thinking about that very Wednesday when he’s supposed to be hanging out with Taehyung.

It isn’t uncommon to see Jungkook with Taehyung around campus. They have, after all, been best friends since the moment they met in their small daycare they attended together. Taehyung is more than accustomed with Jungkook’s habits and knows the boy in and out, including every secret and every crush he’s ever had (which, for the most part, has been you). That Thursday afternoon they are both sitting at the park just across from campus where most students from the school spend their time. Jungkook’s perched on the edge of the large concrete water fountain in the middle of the bustling meadow, with Taehyung reclining on his back, basking in the sun with a bag of chips on his stomach. They both spot you walking by with a friend and wave at Jungkook which causes Taehyung to roll his eyes.

“Dude,” he sighs, exasperated. “Just ask her out already. She already said she’s crushing on you.”

Jungkook looks down at his friend and shakes his head. “No, she said she’s crushing on Spider-Man. Not me.”

Taehyung, who was in the middle of shoving a handful of chips in his mouth, stops suddenly. He pushes himself up, nearly dropping the bag of chips, eyes wide as he stares at Jungkook in utter disbelief.

“Are you kidding me, dude?” He asks incredulously. “You’re the same person, you idiot.”

“But she doesn’t know that,” Jungkook explains calmly. “As far as she knows, Spider-Man is this cool dude and I’m just… I’m just me. Jungkook. Boring and not charming.”

“So then tell her the truth,” Taehyung says. “Y’know, use yourself as your own wingman.”

As he shoves another handful of chips into his mouth, Jungkook shakes his head once more. He’s already thought of this idea plenty of times before but it’s not as easy as it seems. The responsibility that comes with putting on that mask each night is followed by even greater risks for the people he’s around. Telling you the truth could only end in one way, anyway.

“I can’t do that,” Jungkook says. “What if I tell her and she’s let down?”

Taehyung would shake his head disapprovingly at his friend this time and mumble something along the lines of, “You think too much.”

And while that may be true in Jungkook’s case, Taehyung just wouldn’t understand. There is a reason Taehyung is the only person who knows about Jungkook’s secret and he is already endangering the life of his friend. To tell anyone else would only result in a much more terrible outcome for not only the people around him, but Jungkook himself. Still, though, as Jungkook settles back on the edge of the fountain and looks in the direction of the path you had vanished along, there is an inkling of a voice in the back of his mind that nags him, urges him, to tell you.

Jungkook sighs. He finds it ironic that anytime he puts on the red mask and flings himself into perilous danger, he is always confident, never once wavering, and yet when he is just himself, just another mundane passerby, that same heart of steel that fuels his will and spirit suddenly pales in comparison.

If only he could be so brave without that mask.

On Friday evening well into the night when what little stars you can see in the polluted sky begins to blend with the glowing light from building windows as far as the eye can see you find yourself at an overcrowded and clamorous party. You had been more than content with spending the start of your weekend not working but, upon entering the party, you find yourself not nearly enjoying the time as well as you had hoped you would. You’ve long since lost sight of your friends and the guy standing in the corner of the living room who had been eyeing you for most of the night had most certainly not helped with your mood ━ and, if anything, turned you off from drinking.

Albeit still slightly buzzed from the few drinks you had earlier been bestowed in the quintessential red solo cup that defines every high school and college party you’ve been to, you stumble out onto the balcony of one of the rooms for a breath of fresh air and are startled to find you aren’t alone when you spot the figure of a young man leaning against the railing.

“Oh, shit, sorry. Didn’t know anyone was out here━”

As the figure turns around, you are relieved and thrilled to see it’s Jungkook. You stop yourself, clamping your mouth shut, and smile up at him with a dainty hand on your hip. A look of recognition dawns on his face at the sight of you, his own lips tugging into a friendly grin.

“That’s okay,” he says. “Feel free to join me on the balcony of escaped party attendees ━ because I assume that’s what you’re doing? Escaping?”

You push yourself forward to the railing, standing beside him as he turns back around to face the city. “I just needed a break from it all. You? I gotta say I’m pleasantly surprised to see you here.”

He flashes you a sheepish smile, resting his arms atop the railing and leaning forward. “Exactly. Parties aren’t really my scene. My friend, Taehyung, dragged me out here but this balcony seems to be my favourite place.”

“Well, if it means anything,” You tell him, “I’m glad you came.”

When you look at Jungkook, you find him already gazing at you, his lower lip tucked between his teeth. His carob eyes crinkle with the smile on his face and he finds himself still staring at you even long after you have turned away to stare up at the sky. It’s a surprisingly warm night, though you silently thank yourself for throwing on the denim jacket you’re wearing earlier in the day whenever a cool breeze breaks through the city.

“It’s kind of sad, isn’t it?” You say after a while. “That we can’t see the stars from the city. That’s why I like camping. Star-gazing and watching the sunrise are two of my favourite things. It kind of keeps me humble in a way.”

“That’s an interesting way of thinking about that,” Jungkook says. “Sometimes I get so carried away by being in the city; it’s kind of nice just to slow things down once in a while.”

“I’m glad I’m not the only one who feels that way,” You crane your neck to cast a steady gaze across the towering buildings in the near distance. “The city can be pretty beautiful, too, though.”

“You think so?”

“Of course,” Your eyes twinkle playfully at a sudden thought that seems to warm your face. “And some of the people help make it beautiful. Like that spider guy. What he’s doing for the city is incredible.”

“Ah, right. Spider-Man.” The words leave Jungkook in a small exhale. “You must really like him, huh?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“I can name a few. Like the police.”

“They’re just scared of him because he’s doing their job better than they ever could.”

Jungkook chuckles lightly. He shakes his head as he looks down at his clasped hands and the calluses on his fingers from past tribulations. It’s silent again, in which time the thump of bass from the party ensuing behind you two fills the air, followed by a burst of vigorous chanting and cheering from within.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Jungkook asks suddenly, his voice timid.

“Go ahead.”

Jungkook pauses, thinking. He seems to struggle with forming his thoughts into words as he remains silent for a second too long. “Okay, let’s say I know this person really important to me, and let’s say I have this thing ━ this equally as important thing ━ that I really want to tell them. The thing is, I can’t just do that because if I do, I’m afraid that this person will be let down. What do you think I should do?”

You’re quiet as you ponder his words, looking pensively down at the city below.

“Well,” You hum slowly, “what’s the point in hiding behind a fake front the whole time? It’s kind of like hiding behind a mask your whole life, right? And I think life is too short for that because, before you know it, it’ll be too late. What if you don’t tell this person and you end up regretting it for the rest of your life? I don’t know. Sometimes I think that you just meet the right person in life who’s worth that risk.”

Jungkook turns to look at you and suddenly your eyes meet in a steady, thoughtful gaze. His own stare softens at whatever sort of thoughts flood his mind and you wonder if his eyes have always been that shimmering. His tousled dark brown locks flitter slightly in the breeze, his pink lips parted ever so slightly. You open your mouth to speak, uttering his name in a euphonious whisper.

“Jungkook, I━”

But your voice is cut off abruptly by the influx sound of wailing sirens down below that convey some sort of grim situation unfolding somewhere in the formidable darkness of the night. Both you and Jungkook press yourselves over the railing, squinting down at the crowded streets below just in time to see a flash of blinking red lights and a mass of both police cars, ambulances, and firetrucks. From somewhere in the background from within the party, you can hear a voice exclaiming, “Dude, there’s a fire around the corner from here! The whole street is blocked off.”

“No way. What the hell happened?” Another voice asks.

You exchange a wary glance with Jungkook before slipping back into the party. A small group has formed around the t.v. in the living room, on which is playing the local news and showcasing a burning apartment building, the vicious orange flames of which billow out of opened windows and all but consume the top floor as clouds of gray and black smoke invade the night sky. There’s a reporter talking fast into the camera, describing in detail what had happened to the building on a nearby street, but your eyes can only stay fixated on the monstrous flames. You don’t realize Taehyung has somehow found both you and his friend and is standing behind the other boy, watching the news unfold before him. Unbeknownst to you, his stare flickers nervously to Jungkook and then━

“Shit,” Jungkook curses suddenly. “I gotta go.”

You turn to look at him curiously. “Go where? It’s midnight on a Friday.”

“I completely forgot I had to pick my aunt up from the subway,” he says. “She works the late night shifts and I can’t let her walk alone in the dark like this. I’ll see you both later! Let me know what happens with the fire.”

Taehyung, who seems more than accustomed to Jungkook’s abrupt pardon of his presence, nods. “Will do.”

The boy is already a few feet away from you, rushing toward the front door of the room, but you stop him before he can slip out of your reach entirely.

“Wait, Jungkook!” You call out. He spins around to look at you almost immediately, a look of panic on his face. “Don’t forget we have to meet up at the library on Sunday to work on the project.”

“Got it,” he says, raising his two forefingers to his forehead in a mock salute. He turns back around and begins bounding towards the door, giving you two one last wave. “See you later!”

The door slams shut behind him and the party, despite the group crowded around the t.v., carries on in a cacophonous sound of drunken yelling and dumb music, completely and utterly oblivious. You let out a sigh as you turn back to the t.v., noting Taehyung’s presence still beside you. He takes a satisfying sip of whatever beverage is occupying the red cup in his hand and nods.

“That’s Jungkook for you,” he says. His voice is a tired sigh, dispirited almost, as he thinks of the boy that has been his friend since freshman year of highschool. Just before he turns away, you hear him muttering, “Always putting others before him.”

You don’t see Jungkook that Sunday.

Whether or not he had entirely blown you off or had simply forgotten, you wait and wait in complete silence in the school library for nearly three hours as every call and every text you send to his phone goes otherwise unnoticed or ignored. It is entirely unlike Jungkook to completely vanish and though you want to be mad, you are more disappointed than anything else. You spend your time at a table by yourself, books and papers sprawled out before you, as you try to work diligently on the last piece of writing you need for the assignment to be complete whilst trying to not let your eyes wander to the time on the clock hanging on the wall opposite you but to no avail.

In a corner above the front desk, you see a t.v. propped on the wall that plays the silent image of the news as they recall the events from that Friday at the burning building. Fortunately, that spider guy had arrived before any casualties could happen and you watch, for the third time since Friday, as the recording footage shows the red and blue hero swinging defiantly into the wall of fire and pulling various residents from the fire. A duo of girls sitting next to you croons dreamily over the masked man, especially as they witness him emerging from the fire with a small and unscathed Corgi dog in his hands that, you admit, is rather admirable.

On Wednesday night, you find yourself stuck in the sparkling confinements of the café bound to the six hour shift you were in the midst of completing. It’s surprisingly busy for a day in the middle of the week, though you assume that’s only because each customer is in a rush to seek refuge from the surprisingly cold evening. You hadn’t even been thinking about Jungkook when he makes himself known in the café some time after 9 p.m. You hear the bell ring above the door, feel a short gust of shocking wind, before it shuts behind him. When you look up instinctively to greet the newcomer and lay your eyes on the boy, your words fall short.

You watch as he stumbles forward, his feet practically dragging behind him in worn up Converse shoes. He looks exhausted ━ even more so than usual ━ and judging by his dishevelled hair and crumpled clothes and the way he seems to walk in a daze as if he is in another world, you assume he hasn’t slept in a while. He still hauls his backpack with one strap slung over his shoulder that he drops lazily to the ground beside a table before he plops himself down into the seat with a groan in one swift motion. What’s most strange are the blossoming bruises on his neck and the fresh cut on the highest point of his left cheekbone.

You hate that you’re so weak for that boy; that even though he completely ignored you, you still pity him. Wondering what sorts of trouble he’s been finding himself in lately, you pour him a cup of steaming black coffee and walk towards his table. He hardly even notices you as his head is buried in his folded arms atop the table, though he peeks up past his bangs when you slide the coffee beside him.

“I’d hate to see the other guy,” You hum.

His eyes brighten at the sight of you and he pushes himself up, raking a hand through his unkempt hair in a poor attempt to fix it. “Y/N━”

“Where were you, Jungkook?” You ask sternly, suddenly. “On Sunday? I waited for you for over three hours. I called you and texted you and you completely ignored me. You could have at least gotten back to me. I had to finish the rest of the assignment by myself.”

His brow creases with concern, his stare softening apologetically. He leans forward, suddenly helpless.

“I’m sorry,” he stammers. “I━I didn’t mean to━ Something came up.”

“Whatever, Jungkook,” You sigh. “It’s fine. I can’t stay and chat but I’ll have you know I already handed the assignment in online. You’re welcome. Oh, and the coffee’s on the house. You look like crap.”

You spin on your heel and march away to help another customer before Jungkook can even try to talk to you. He watches as you slip from his grasp, a frown scrunching up your face that is forced to soften as you approach another table. He collapses against his chair and groans inwardly, rubbing his hand over his aching and swollen face. He knows you’re mad at him but he can’t quite tell if you’ll stay like that for long. He doesn’t blame you anyway, but he couldn’t just tell you where he had gone or what had happened. Could he?

It’s much to his dismay that you don’t talk to him the next day, or on Tuesday, or on Wednesday, or on Thursday. He tries to find you around campus but he is always too late and, instead, finds you slipping away from him each time. He pops into the café a few nights and though you work both nights, it’s still much too busy to actually talk to you and so he, doing what he does best, falls asleep at the table as he silently broods. Whether or not it’s your anger purposely driving you further from him or simply life intervening, Jungkook wants nothing more than to apologize ━ if he can even get close enough to you to do so.

Finding yourself on the rooftop of your apartment building isn’t uncommon. Most of your free time is spent up there, either watching the night sky or gazing at the busy city under a cerulean blue sky and golden sun. That Friday night is no different. With no homework and no social gathering to devote yourself to, you sneak off to the roof and position yourself in just a spot where you can see the towering buildings of each borough in each direction you cast your gaze. You would have been content falling asleep up there, with nothing but the sound of the distant hum of cars to lull you and the view of the moon and window lights that act as the metropolis’s stars.

You all but lose track of time, unaware of whether or not you have been there for minutes or hours but you don’t entirely mind. You would be lying, too, if you denied that there was some sort of inkling of hope in you that hoped maybe you would see him again. That is why when you hear the soft plop of feet dropping to the ground moments later, you are not at all startled by the sudden presence, though you are astounded by his arrival, as if on cue. You don’t even need him to speak to know who it is and when you feel the smile ghost along your lips, there is a moment of pause where you question your own sanity for being so happy to see this masked and mysterious man. But he isn’t at all a mystery at this point when you feel as if you’ve acquainted yourself with him well enough.

“You shouldn’t be out here all alone,” The voice that drifts through the shadows of the roof is familiar, gentle. “It’s dark. Who knows who could come up here?”

“Yeah,” You snort. “Wouldn’t want any strangers sneaking up on me ━ or masked vigilantes who seem to be following me.”

You turn to look at him but are greeted with nothing except emptiness. He lingers somewhere in the darkness and you squint your eyes, desperately trying to spot him. He laughs, the sound so silvery and smooth like honey.

“Someone’s following you?” he replies tauntingly. “Do I have to deal with them again?”

“Why are you always hiding in the dark?”

The sudden question seems to cause him to hesitate. It’s silent before you hear his voice wander over to you.

“To add to the mystique?” he says.

“Now that’s suspicious. Maybe I should call the police on you.”

“They would never be able to catch me.”

“Someone’s cocky,” You take a step toward the darkness, in the direction of the sound of his voice. “Did the fame get to you already?”

You hear him take a step back from you and it, subsequently, causes you to linger. You wait before stubbornly pushing yourself forward once more.

“What fame? People want to lock me up.”

“And most people are in love with you. I overheard a few girls gushing over you saving that dog from that burning building the other day,” You giggle. “Does it mean anything to you?”

“Ah, well,” You can hear the grin in his voice, can see the silhouette of his figure not too far from you, “I gotta admit the attention is pretty nice. But no one knows who I am without this mask so it doesn’t really matter.”

“How does that make you feel?”

One step forward, another backward. You pause; at this rate, you’ll have chased him all the way to the other side of the roof.

“I don’t mind. It keeps me humble,” he replies. “But it also stops me a lot of the time, y’know? With this mask on, I feel invincible; with it off, I feel useless. But someone pretty important to me once told me that life is too short to constantly hide behind a mask.”

A wide, genuine smile stretches across your face. You take another step forward and this time he stands still. From where you are, you can see the tall and lean figure, adorned in the signature tight red and blue suit.

“That’s pretty smart of them to say.”

“She is pretty admirable. Much braver than I could ever be without this mask.”

He turns around from you before you can reach him. You watch as he casually strides forward a few paces to the barrier behind him, which he props his hands against to lean on. He seems to be lost in thought, perhaps struggling with some sort of inner turmoil. You tiptoe in suit, cautious as you approach him. You can see the muscles that strain from beneath his suit, the heave and fall of his chest.

“Can I know your name?” Your voice is a gentle whisper that carries to him with the wind. “Your real name?”

When he turns around to face you once more, you’re standing only a few feet away from him. You take another step forward, closing the short distance between the two of you and are made aware of how much taller he really is. The way he towers over you is almost comforting, familiar, that no emotionless red mask could cause you to stray. He’s so much more different up close in that suit. He hesitates before he forces himself to speak.

“I think,” he pauses. He swallows thickly, attempting to subdue the quickening race of his heart as he clamps his fingers into his sweaty palms. “I think you already know my name.”

This seems to pique your interest. Quirking a brow and cocking your head to the side, you stare up at the masked face that gazes back down at you. You aren’t entirely sure what compels you to do so, as it could be a complete disaster and not at all what you are expecting, but you slowly, so very slowly, reach up with your hands to grasp gingerly at his face. The red fabric beneath your fingertips is soft and as your digits brush lightly over his covered cheekbones, he hardly moves. For some reason, you can feel your heart hammering against your feeble chest, can hear it in your ears in tandem with the sound of passing traffic down below. His heart is beating just as fast, though he thinks it nearly stops when he feels your fingers begin to gently pull at the neck of his mask, sliding it upward.

The first poke of tanned skin has your heart quickening, your breath hitching in your throat. You tug the mask the rest of the way off and, finally, step back to look at the mysterious masked hero known as Spider-Man.

Jungkook.

It’s Jungkook.

The familiar boy stands before you, his hair a disheveled mess from the mask, his doe eyes even wider now in timid fear as he looks down at you. Everything is him, from his luscious pink lips, to the freckle on his neck, the piercings in his ears, that tiny scar he’s had since he was a child on his cheek. The city lights and moon illuminate him from behind and he seems nervous as he anticipates a reaction but you are much too busy admiring him. Your fingers trace delicately over the fresh scar on his face that he had brandished at the café only a few nights ago. A breath of satisfaction slips past your parted lips and then you’re laughing silently to yourself.

The boy looks dumbfounded at first, and then he quirks a brow. “What’s so funny?”

“I knew it,” You shake your head at nothing in particular, or perhaps the way you continue to giggle.

Jungkook suddenly looks shocked, though he instantly seems to relax. He studies the smile that stretches across your cheeks in awe, brightening your face in all its glory. “How did you know?”

“Well, you’re not exactly that smooth, Jungkook,” You grin. “The late nights coming into the café, always scratched up and always tired as if you’ve ran all over the city; always getting jumpy when you hear police sirens ━ like the night at the party. Not to mention that one time at the café when the news was on and they were talking about a robbery at the bank and hostages being held and you ran right out of there only for Spider-Man to show up on the scene minutes later. It’s all very suspicious, don’t you think?”

He can’t help the laugh that escapes him, a joyous sound of content. He leans against the palm of your hand that is cradling the side of his face with the scar.

“Right,” he sighs. “All very suspicious.”

His stare locks with yours in a steady gaze and neither of you can turn away. His eyes sparkle like the stars in the sky, lingering with it a sense of hope and content. He is mesmerizing, with the city he devotes his time to saving in the horizon beyond him. It’s near impossible to look away, but why would you want to? It happens much like a blink of an eye, a frail beat of your heart; it comes with the passing of a car whizzing by on the streets down below and is as much startling as the sudden breeze that sends chills down your spine.

He begins to lean forward ━ or maybe that was you? Your eyes flutter shut, your anticipation held with a deep breath, until finally your lips meet with his though you hardly have time to relish in it. Almost as soon as your lips touch, he’s pulling away quickly. He doesn’t move too far and his mouth lingers just over yours. His eyes remain fixated on the curl of your lips for a moment too long before he rips them away to meet your hazy gaze.

“Wait,” he hums. “You━ You said you were crushing on Spider-Man. Does that mean you knew this whole time and━ and like me?”

The question is so like Jungkook; so innocent and silly and genuine that it causes a sweet giggle to bubble at your lips. He’s always been so oblivious to these kinds of things and so maybe that’s what pushes you to kiss him next. Your lips lock for a second time and, though it is just as fleeting, you note with joy the softness of his mouth as it folds over yours. You part from him with a breathless gasp, your nose brushing lightly against his as a smile stretches across your face.

“What do you think, bugboy?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, a playful taunt that makes Jungkook smile wide.

He kisses you this time, slow and passionate as if attempting to pour every single one of his emotions and thoughts for you into the single intimate action. His hands grasp at either side of your face, carefully pulling you closer to him to deepen the kiss and you, instinctively, melt against his broad chest. Your fingers trail up the lean muscle of his arms to twine in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging with yearning. His hands fall to your waist, enveloping you in his body, and when he parts from you, he rests his forehead against yours.

“Can I show you something?”

You nod. His eyes light up and then he’s jumping up onto the cement barrier behind him, turning around to look at you. You gasp from the sudden movement, your stomach churning unpleasantly at the sight of him quite literally standing on the edge of a building only to remind yourself he’s Spider-Man. He’s done plenty more reckless things than this. He holds his hand out, a reassuring smile on his face.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

There’s no hesitation as you answer him with another firm nod. “Of course. Always.”

“Then take my hand,” he says. “I’ll never do anything to harm you, you know that.”

You do know that. Jungkook wouldn’t hurt a fly; he’s too good and precious for the world you live in and he says yes far too often to people who most likely don’t deserve it, but he knows when to stand up for not only himself but others as well. You are just one of the few he cares for wholeheartedly and you know that.

You reach out carefully and place your hand in his surprisingly cold and large ones. His fingers wrap around yours as he helps you up onto the barrier, holding you closely toward him.

You take a deep breath, shut your eyes, and put every ounce of your trust into this single, courageous boy ━ and you let yourself fall with him.

You’re roused awake by the sound of light tapping against your bedroom window.

It startles you at first, causing you to jolt upright into a sitting position as you look around frantically at your empty and dark room; the only light comes from the city life and the moon outside, shedding a warm glow onto the floor before it. For a moment, you think you had just dreamt the noise but then you hear it again, low and near. You crane your neck to look and first see a shadow but, as the figure shifts into view, you’re able to see the familiar young man in red and blue. Your heart leaps in your chest and suddenly you’re scrambling off your feet, throwing yourself at the window to throw it open.

The night Jungkook had admitted to being Spider-Man and jumped up onto the edge of the roof, holding his hand out to you in a silent question of trust, he leaves you with a night that you swear you will cherish forever. Wary of where he will go but entirely consenting of his spontaneity, he surprises you by carrying you throughout the city, swinging from building to building in an extraordinary feat that feels as if you’re flying; and, as if that hadn’t been a big enough thrilling shock, he brings you to the very top of the Empire State Building, just under the antenna. No one is there and no one can see you and, with Jungkook under the brightening sky with the view of New York stretching out into the horizon before you, you feel as if you have the whole world in the very palm of your hand.

You sit with Jungkook that night, talking, not talking, listening intently to him as he recounts the tale of how he had turned into the masked hero with his peculiar powers, and watching the sunrise from beyond the very tops of buildings and skyscrapers. There are no words to describe the breathtaking view from one of the highest points in the city, watching as the golden sun peaks over the horizon and sets the city ablaze in saturated warm hues of orange, pink, and purple, mingling together in one impressionistic masterpiece that could put even the greatest of painters to shame. The light reflects against the glass panes of windows in a mirage similar to flickering flames that never scathe the city, but instead seem to enhance the beauty it holds.

You never want the night to end but eventually it does and, when he returns you to your bedroom window with one parting kiss, it and Jungkook’s lips are all you can dream about.

A week has passed since then, in which time you’ve done nothing but find yourself growing closer with Jungkook. He’s all you’ve been able to think about these days. So, to hear him and see him at your window is enough to make butterflies form in the very pit of your stomach. You see him sitting on the fire escape just outside your window, leaning against the building looking even more exhausted than usual. Another fresh cut lines his cheek in a stripe of red though he doesn’t seem to mind much for it as he dozes off slightly. You push open the window, startling him awake, and poke your head outside. A weary smile tugs at his lips at the sight of you.

“Well, this is romantic,” You stifle the giggle that bubbles at your mouth. “Thank you for not throwing rocks at my window, Romeo. To what do I owe this pleasure of seeing you at two in the morning?”

“Sorry, did I wake you?” he asks sheepishly. “I just wanted to see you.”

His response earns a shy smile stretching across your face. “No, you didn’t wake me,” You say with a shake of your head (though the way you comb your fingers through your mused hair tells him otherwise). “What happened to your face, Jungkook?”

He reaches up to his face, as if momentarily forgetting the cut, winces, and then drops his hand from his face. He grins wolfishly, attempting to shrug it off. “Oh, this little thing? It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. I just got caught up in a little fight but I’m fine. I swear. You really should see the other guy.”

The smug tone in his voice as he rambles on makes you stare at him in amusement. You sigh as you take a step back, saying, “Come inside. I’ll clean that for you.”

“Well, if you insist.”

He smirks as he pulls himself through the window and into your room. His eyes wander around the four walls, noting the decor that lines it, the shelves with all your personal trinkets and belongings, the clothes littered on the floor, and the empty take-out box of Chinese food that rests atop your desk. There’s a soft aroma of something sweet that smells like you ━ possibly a perfume or a soap or shampoo? ━ and it makes Jungkook’s head spin pleasantly. He asks about your day and then sits on the bed and, as you tell him about your boring classes as you rummage around your bathroom for something to clean his wound with, he smiles.

He finds your room comforting ━ or maybe he just finds your presence comforting. Either way, over time you find that this would only be a common occurrence throughout the next month. He startles you the first few times he shows up but then you begin to stay awake a little longer, waiting eagerly by the window as you wait for him to arrive. Most times he’s bruised or has small and fresh cuts, of which you either hand him an ice packet or clean the cut; sometimes he isn’t even hurt and instead claims simply that he just wanted to see you before you went to sleep. But each time he listens to you and your day, asking about yourself rather than him and no matter how hard you try to pry information out of him about what had possibly happened to him throughout his night, he swiftly brushes it off. You don’t mind either way ━ you just want to see him as much as you can, anyway.

There is one night, however, where things seem to go entirely different.

You’re curled up in bed reading a book when you hear the light tapping on your window. You’ve come to leave the window pried open slightly as you wait for him, but even so he still takes the time to knock to signal his arrival. You instantly climb to your feet, wandering over to the window and tossing it open with a flourish. As Jungkook climbs in through the small space, you note the tight suit he’s wearing is slashed at the top of his arm and both the skin underneath it and on his face is bruised and cut; other than that, and judging by the cheeky smile on his face, he seems to be ok.

You shake your head at him, smiling gingerly as you muse, “Who’s the damsel in distress now, bugboy?”

Jungkook smirks, prodding your sides with his fingers and causing you to squirm as you walk past him. “There’s no shame in needing a little help every once and awhile, right? I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Sit down,” You tell him, winking up at him. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Minutes later you return to sit by his side on the bed, cleaning his cuts as per usual and, while he has a frozen packet of peas pressed to his bruised and sore shoulder, you are busying yourself by sewing the cut in his suit with blue thread you had found in your room. In the midst of your work, perhaps you press too generously down on his recent wound, as he winces slightly and shifts on top of your bed. You crane your neck to look up at him, studying him curiously. He seems to notice your stare and quirks a brow as he looks down at you.

“What’s up?”

Your fingers stop their work on his suit and, remembering where the cut had broken his skin just slightly underneath the tear, brush lightly over the tender flesh covered in gauze. “Does it hurt?”

Jungkook shakes his head, sitting up a little straighter. “Hurt? No, no, of course not. It just, uh━ It isn’t the most pleasant. But this isn’t the worst I’ve been after a night in the suit so I can handle it.”

Your eyes study his battered face in some sort of admiration, albeit mixed with timid nervousness. What sort of things had he encountered, had he been through, that he won’t tell you?

“Are you ever afraid?” You ask gently.

“No way,” he shakes his head, but not before you spot the confident grin he flashes you. “It’s honestly nothing I can’t handle by now. It’s not so bad, either. It’s kinda weird. I mean, ever since getting bitten, I’ve found the healing process is a whole lot faster.”

Maybe he notices the lingering uneasiness in your eyes, the way you seem to doubt him. He reaches out with his fingers to gingerly brush against the side of your face in a swift flourish as he tilts your head a little higher. He smiles something warm that makes your heart melt as you lean your face against the palm of his calloused hand. To avoid the prying stare he gives you, you smile lightly and shake your head, attempting to change the subject.

“Dunno, bugboy. Are there any perks to this job?”

Jungkook snorts as you finish sewing his suit. As you discard the needle and leftover thread, he says, “There are. Like, for instance, knowing the city is a little safer. Then there’s the fact that Spider-Man seems to have a lot of admirers…”

“I thought you said it doesn’t matter anyway because no one knows who you are.”

“Well, there is you,” he says. “And I gotta say you’re a pretty good perk.”

A blush tinges your cheeks as you sit across from him. Your eyes flicker down the suit that adorns him and you try to bite back the lighthearted snicker that bubbles at your chest. “I was gonna say a perk is this tight suit. At least, for me it is. Your ass has never looked more fantastic.”

Jungkook suddenly bursts out into laughter, throwing his head back. When he looks back at you, his hand finds the side of your face once more and pulls you towards him. With your lips hovering just over his, he mumbles something, anything, just for the sake of responding despite already being lost in you.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Then you’re kissing him.

You’ve come to find that Jungkook’s lips are entirely irresistible and the more you kiss him, the more you wonder why you hadn’t confessed to him earlier. He’s gentle as he lets his lips fold over yours, mouth dancing with mouth in a passionate yearning. But there’s a certain type of underlying insatiable hunger that seems to wash over both you and him and fast. Your fingers rake up the side of his face and tangle in his messy locks and soon he’s pulling you onto the bed, onto him. You instinctively straddle his lap, craning your neck so as to deepen the kiss, never once breaking apart for air. But something seems to happen, something that startles Jungkook so deeply. Perhaps it’s the way you grasp his hair a little tighter, the way he heard you gasp when he bites down gently on the side of your jaw, the way your hips fit over his; or perhaps it’s the way you tug off your shirt in an attempt to get closer to him, displaying to him the plain white bra you’re wearing that all culminate into something more. He knows where this is going, you know where this is going ━ and though Jungkook would want nothing more than to carry on, he’s reminded of a terrifying and prominent thought that has always haunted him the moment he made that mask.

You feel the way he tenses beneath you and, in the next quick second, he’s pulling apart from you and you, so dazed and lost, gasping for air, stare down at him dumbfounded.

“What’s wrong, Jungkook?” You ask. “Did I hurt you? Is your arm okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says weakly.

You grin as you press another kiss to his throat, mumbling into his neck, “Good, then let’s━”

“No.”

“What?”

You sit back on his lap suddenly, staring at him with a flushed face. Your hair is mussed messily, a red bruise blossoms on your jawline that Jungkook had graced you with, and one strap of your bra hangs daintily over your shoulder and Jungkook can’t help but notice how utterly sexy you look. He groans inwardly, tearing his gaze to look up at you. He swallows thickly, wincing at the bright and innocent twinkle in your eyes.

“We━” he pauses and then says, “We can’t do this.”

You quirk a brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he says slowly, carefully, “we can’t do this. I’m━ I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I was thinking but I should have stopped this sooner.”

“Stop what?” Your voice is weak, small. You know what he’s referring to but you don’t want to believe it just yet.

Fuck, I can’t do this, Jungkook curses to himself. If he had just stayed away from you from the beginning, this wouldn’t even be happening. He wouldn’t be about to hurt you or himself.

“Us,” he whispers. “There can’t be an us, Y/N.”

Your brows knit together in confusion but your eyes are wide with fear. “What are you talking about? How can there not be an us? I thought━ I thought you wanted this.”

When he hesitates to respond, you’re quick to slide off of his lap, standing to your feet. Suddenly you’re panicking, embarrassed. He sees the way your lips are pulled tightly in a thin line, the way you rake your hands through your hair, mumbling, “Oh my god,” as you search for a shirt. Jungkook springs to his feet, grasping onto your waist but you easily slither out of his reach, clutching your shirt to your chest. To you, you think you have just made a fool of yourself, nearly striping naked for a boy who apparently doesn’t want you. Jungkook knows this is what you’re thinking and it pains him so.

“No, no, I do,” he says. “I do want this! I just can’t do it.”

“And why not?” You snap hotly. “You’re not making any sense. Either you do or you don’t want us to be a thing.”

“It’s not that simple━”

“It sure seems like it is.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Any explanation would be better than none,” You say firmly, “and simultaneously making me look like an idiot for looking so eager.”

Jungkook sighs heavily. He takes a step back from you, running both hands frustratedly through his hair, letting the muscles in his biceps flex as he does so. When he looks back at you, he’s solemn.

“There can’t be an us because I’m just gonna put you in danger this way,” he says. “People are out there looking for me! Not just the police, but hardcore criminals, gangs, thugs, murderers. If they find me, or if they find out that you’re close to me or know me, they’ll hurt you too. I can’t have that, Y/N.”

“But I can handle it,” You insist.

“I can’t,” Jungkook’s voice is stern, set in place. “I can’t have that on my conscience, knowing that if you get hurt, it’s because of me. That’s all I ever worry about, from the second that I put this mask on. No one knows about me being Spider-Man and I kept it that way for a reason. Don’t you think I could have flaunted that I was this supposed super cool new hero? I didn’t do that because of you; because of the people that I’m close to.”

“I don’t care,” Your voice is feeble, cracking. “I don’t care if I get hurt. If you can handle it, then so can I! I just want to be with you, Jungkook. I━ I love you━”

Jungkook hears the words you blurt out quickly but he doesn’t seem to necessarily register them at once. A stiff silence settles in the room between the two of you, an undeniable form of the point of no return, except you don’t regret the words you say. You mean them wholeheartedly because you have always admired and loved Jungkook, from the little boy next door to this young hero before you. You stare at him shyly, albeit unwavering. A panic washes over him, drains his face of any colour, and suddenly it feels as if he can’t breathe, his chest concaving in on his shrill heart. As the words begin to register in his mind, he can only sorrowfully gaze at you; but the lack of silence has your confidence paling and soon you’re looking away, shaking your head. A pained expression paints your features and though it hurts Jungkook more than any other wound that has been inflicted upon him in fights on the street prior to this, he knows he has to do this.

You already know his answer before he even speaks it. When he does say the final words that leave you in such an excruciating and unbearable pain, he has already fled, grabbing his mask and escaping out of the window, escaping from you, and into the heart of the city. When he’s gone and you’re alone in the thick silence do his words finally return to you and are the cause of the broken heart you are forced to nurse through muddled tears over the aimless days to come:

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

You don’t see Jungkook the next day or the day after that.

In fact, you don’t see him for three entire weeks. He stops showing up at the café late at night, stops attending the classes he has with you (or maybe he just blends well into the other somber looking faces), stops visiting your window in the early morning hours. Autumn bleeds numbly into the beginning shock of cold that is winter and, though there is no snow yet, you still feel the wrath of the frigid season. And, with the sudden loss of Jungkook, comes the abrupt and unwarranted disappearance of Spider-Man. Maybe it is your fault, maybe it is Jungkook’s fault. Either way, the masked enigma vanishes without a trace after your argument with Jungkook and the city’s crime, now freed from the vigilant watchful eyes of New York’s hero, spikes.

It feels almost as if the city has swallowed him whole or as if he has dropped off the face of the earth and the only thing to remember him by is the sudden havoc that ensues the city. The only thing you have to even know if Jungkook is still alive are the occasional updates from Taehyung who comes to befriend you if only to mention Jungkook every once and awhile just for the sake of easing your worried mind. You’re not so much mad as you are upset, but you care entirely more for his own wellbeing and to not hear from him causes you agony.

There is only one brisk moment in which you encounter Jungkook and it comes simply from a happenstance. You are not at all expecting to see him and nor is he expecting to see you. Rather, you are seated on a wooden bench in the park just beside your school on a day graced with a strange warmth for winter. Wrapped in a scarf and knit hat, you are flipping through the pages of a book for one of your classes when a figure stands before you, momentarily blocking the sun’s light from your view. As you glance up at the shadow cast over you, you are genuinely surprised to find Jungkook standing there. He looks, perhaps, even more so dishevelled than usual, his hair and attire all one negligent mess as if he couldn’t even find the strength to care for himself. Dark circles line his sunken eyes which stare down at you sorrowfully.

“Y/N… Can I talk to you?”

Your heart skips a beat. For a moment, you can’t turn away from him. For a moment, you fear that you will cave into him but then you are reminded of your broken heart. It’s what causes you to act in such haste, shaking your head up at him as you shut your book and shove it into your bag. You stand to your feet and brush past him and he, so caught up in your rejection of him and the own twinge of pain he feels in his heart, lingers by the bench. Then, he is walking after you, his footsteps swiftly catching him up to you.

“Y/N. Y/N, wait! Please, just let me━”

Jungkook breaks out into a sudden jog and only stops when he is standing in front of you. With your path blocked, you, too, come to a halt if only for the benefit of the doubt. He desperately tries to meet your eyes but you look past him, arms folded over your chest.

“Let me talk to you,” he begs. “Away from here. Just you and me. I can explain everything. I━”

“You had your chance, Jungkook,” You quip dryly. “You didn’t have to run away from me.”

“I wasn’t━ I didn’t mean to━” he tries, but is interrupted once more by your strained voice.

“You left me.” Now you are staring at him and Jungkook wishes that you hadn’t even bothered to give him the chance. Once full of shimmering admiration, your eyes are only glossed over with a pained disappointment. “I told you I loved you and you left me. You made me look so stupid and I━ No. No, I’m not doing this right now.”

You push yourself forward, walking carefully around him. He watches as you storm away, shaking your head to yourself. With one last despairing attempt, he calls out to you once more.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I let you down. I know. I’m a failure.”

You stop. Your back is turned to him before you force yourself to look over at him and he foolishly thinks that maybe you’ll give him a chance to properly explain himself. Instead━

“You’re not a failure, Jungkook,” You tell him firmly. “I just━ I need to be alone right now. But don’t leave them. Don’t let them down. The city needs you.”

Jungkook flinches. He wants to call out to you again and pull you back to him, explain everything that is on his mind, but he can’t. Instead, he is forced to watch you walk away from him until you disappear amongst the crowd and even then he doesn’t move. He knows you’re disappointed with him.

He knows the whole city is disappointed with him ━ but the only person he wants to impress is you and he fears he’s ruined his only chance to.

You hardly seem to sleep at night anymore, instead too caught up in the thoughts that plague your dreams. Instead of going to the roof as you usually do when you can’t sleep, you find yourself lying helplessly in your bed, staring up at the empty night sky through your window. One night, as you’re dozing off on your bed, your eyes blinking wearily as they try to focus on the shimmering moon, you begin to hear a noise. It’s similar to a light tapping, though it drowns out in the sound of a siren from somewhere down below. At first you believe you have just dreamt it but then you hear a loud thud, slightly muffled from somewhere outside your window. It jolts you awake, has you pushing yourself up into a sitting position, and glancing around your room for any sign of something that may have fallen in there before noticing a flash of movement from the corner of your eye.

Red and blue.

Interest piques your drowsy mind at the thought of it being Jungkook but why would he be returning to you now? You would have been entirely set on begrudgingly flopping back down onto your bed and turning your back to him had you not felt that dreadful feeling that something was terribly wrong. You can’t hear his voice and when you turn to get a better look, you find him standing on the fire escape just outside your window, slumped dangerously against the wall with his back to you. It is that dreaded feeling that pushes you out of your bed, drags you to your window which you lightly throw open, only to be met with a sight that leaves you in horrific shock.

Jungkook is adorned in his usual tight red and blue suit, though his mask is off and gives you a clear view of his weary face, now muted in colour, that your eyes land on first. His eyes are shut, his head rests against the brick wall of the building, and his skin is marked with dirt and grime, bruises and dried blood. As your eyes trail lower, following the curve of his arms to his hands that cradle his side, you finally spot the large wound from beneath his fingertips on the left of his abdomen, shimmering a bright crimson red. Immediately your heart sinks to your stomach as you gasp loudly.

“Oh my god! Jungkook!”

Shimmying your way through the window to get closer to the boy hardly has him stirring. Your hands come out to grasp at his face, forcing him from his slouched position.

“Jungkook, can you hear me? What the hell happened?”

His eyes flicker open momentarily at the touch of your warm fingers and he musters a small smirk, the corners of his lips lifting up just slightly.

“It’s just a scratch,” he mumbles hoarsely. “You should definitely see the other guy now.”

“You’re an idiot,” You grumble, your eyebrows knitting into a frown. “Why are you here? You should have gone to the hospital! I’m taking you right now━”

“No, no,” he protests stubbornly. He shifts his weight and immediately flinches from the pain. “No, you can’t. I’ll be okay. I just━ I need some time to rest.”

A deep sigh exhales past your parted lips at the mention of what had happened the night he fled so suddenly. Instead, you brush off the memory and give him a small shake of your head. “Here, stop talking. Let me help you get inside and I’ll see what I can do for you. This is gonna hurt a bit but can you move?”

Jungkook nods. As you wrap your arm carefully around his waist to shift him over to the window, he sucks in a deep breath and pushes himself forward. You try to help as he stiffly climbs in through the small window, grunting in pain as he does so, and then stumbling into your room and bumping into your desk next to the window, knocking a few trinkets down. As he leans dangerously against your now skewed desk, you hurry through the window and help him to his feet, pulling him over to your bed.

Despite the way he had left you so suddenly days ago, there is no air of stiffness in the room. The only thing that surrounds the two of you is a melancholic silence as you rummage around your room for the medkit you knew you had stowed away eons ago. For the most part, Jungkook patches himself up, downing a couple of painkillers, cleaning his wound in his abdomen and stitching it closed with a steady hand that has evidently done this before. You sit across from him in your desk chair, watching him intently as he sits on your bed, having shrugged off the top part of his suit and leaving his torso exposed. Other than the blood and dirt that cakes his golden skin, you take note of the toned muscles that make his abs and the way they flex in tandem with every time he winces as he tugs at his wound.

When he’s done, the silence is still unmoving. Jungkook wants to speak but his throat is dry and any time he dares open his mouth to say something, anything, he immediately recoils. It’s only when you’re helping him into your bathroom so he can take a shower does he finally gather the courage he needed all this time without his mask on. Before you can turn to walk away on him, he catches your attention by calling your name. When he speaks next, his voice is faint, terrified.

“I’m sorry.”

He gulps when you turn to look up at him and suddenly he’s made aware of the fact that the two of you are cramped so closely together in your small bathroom. It makes the shame he feels more prominent as he looks you in the eyes.

“You were the first person I could think of when this happened,” he says. “I━ I know I have no right to be here after what I did to you but I just needed someone. I needed you.”

Your heart flutters at his words though you hide this feeble act by turning away from him. “It’s whatever, Jungkook,” He hears you mumble faintly, your back to him. “Anything I can do to help.”

He wants to say something more but he hesitates again. He watches as you take a deep breath, the heave of your shoulders under a heavy weight, before you ultimately walk out of the door and shut it behind you, leaving it slightly ajar. You linger in your bedroom, standing in front of your window as you gaze out, absentmindedly gnawing on your lower lip as you fold your arms tighter around your torso. You hear the shower switch on, let the calming sound of falling water wash over you, and shut your eyes momentarily. You can still see the light from the bathroom pouring out into the darkness of your room from the angled door, and can see the steam start to cloud the mirror.

There’s something so indistinctly intimate about having him in your shower in the next room over after days of avoiding one another. You have every right to be enraged and upset with him and yet you aren’t. You can’t bring yourself to ever hate the boy in the room over. You understand why he left so abruptly and it makes sense but now, in that moment in time, with nothing but a wall dividing you two, there is a certain type of craving you can’t subdue. A craving and a yearning to be closer to him; to tell him how you feel before, if even, he decides to flee in the morning after.

You blame it on your stubbornness that pushes you forward. Really, it seems to happen in such a haze, a rush of adrenaline. One moment, you’re standing by the window; in the next moment, you’re by the bathroom door, your fingers clutching the handle. As you push it open, you can only see a misty silhouette of Jungkook’s figure from beyond the steamed glass doors of the shower. Your heart is hammering against your chest as you walk to the shower, slowly kicking off your shorts as you go.

Jungkook must hear you as you make your way into the bathroom because as soon as you carefully slide open the glass door, he’s already staring at you with a lack of surprise, noting the baggy t-shirt you wear and the way his heart flips when he imagines you in a similar shirt of his. You only meet his curious eyes, noting the water that trickles down his toned and glistening body and flattens his usual unkempt hair into his lashes. He shakes his hair out of his eyes and suddenly he looks remorseful. It’s almost as if he can read your mind and anticipates every second you take to just step inside, his eyes beckoning you to come. It’s not like he cares; in fact, he wants you next to him. God, he just wants you so bad.

Steady hands find the hem of your baggy white t-shirt that you lift up and over your head, exposing the smooth expanse of your bare stomach and the perk of your bare breasts. You shimmy out of your baby pink underwear and, suddenly, you’re standing completely vulnerable before him and yet this is all he wants and all you want. You step inside the shower, closing the distance between you and him even more until you’re right in front of him, letting the warm water pour down onto you. It’s become stifling hot in that little space and there’s only a split moment where you fear you’ve made a mistake before you feel Jungkook’s hand come up to gently hold the side of your face. His thumb caresses your cheekbone, his eyes gazing into yours, and then he’s kissing you.

It’s a soft kiss, one where he takes his time to thoroughly enjoy it, first kissing your upper lip, then your lower lip in some sort of sensual manner that leaves chills running down your spine. He leaves a trail of warm and wet kisses from your jawline to your neck, nuzzling his nose against your throat as your breath catches. His hands fall to grasp at your hips, yanking you toward him and you so easily comply, melting completely into his broad chest and immediately feeling a sense of warmth as if you’ve always belonged there, wrapped up in his strong arms.

“You’re blushing,” he remarks gently, making you realize he’s pulled apart from you to study your face. His fingers brush away the hair that falls into your eyes and he smiles. “You’re blushing now after you walked in on me naked? God, you’re so cute.”

You whine something in protest, burying your face in his neck and he laughs. His fingers tickle at your sides, causing you to squirm in his grip, and when you look at him again, his stare is tender and fond.

“Come here,” he mumbles.

You let him pull you into another kiss that has your head spinning. His tongue grazes your lower lip, teeth slightly nibbling down on the flesh in a way that jolts your heart. As your hands snake up his chest to wind with the hair at the nape of his neck, your own mouth parts open, letting his tongue twine with yours in a heated kiss. He can feel everything against his own body, from the perk of your breasts to the slope of your hips. His hands slide down to rest upon your lower back and the way he pulls you flush against him, letting you brush against his firm cock, makes your head spin again. It’s what wills you to start grinding your hips against his in a slow pattern that has his breath hitching in his throat, his fingers digging tighter into your skin.

“You’re driving me insane,” his voice is husky as he speaks, smooth as it filters through your ears.

You can’t help but smirk against his mouth. “Likewise.”

“How about we get out of here?” he asks. “The bed seems a hell of a lot more comfortable.”

You nod eagerly, mumbling a small, “Please,” against his luscious lips, too reluctant to pull away. He seems to have trouble, too, as he remains in his spot, even long after he reaches down to turn the water off, his lips still locked with yours. Granted, it gives you time to dry off before he’s hoisting you up with ease, instinctively letting your legs wrap around him. A thought abruptly pops into your head and causes you to gasp, your lips parting from his with a significant pop.

“Jungkook!” You scold. “Be careful! Did you forget about the gaping wound in your side or?”

“I’m fine,” he assures, already swiftly carrying you out of the bathroom and into your room.

“I don’t care what your magical radioactive spider bite does for you,” You retort. “I don’t want to somehow hurt you.”

He laughs in response, a sound that reverberates against his chest and your own torso. He’s already standing by the bed when he carefully lowers you down onto it. He crawls over you, instantly towering over your body as he leans down to chase your lips. In one quick movement, you hook your leg around his waist and, using your hands, shift him over until he’s on his back and you’re cradling his hips. He seems surprised at first, his stare flickering from the navel of your stomach to the soft buds of your breasts. Past the valley of your chest, his eyes fall once more upon yours and he smiles breathlessly, his hair sticking up in tufts.

“Really?”

Your eyes fall to the stitched wound on his side covered in gauze and your fingers brush against it delicately, following the natural curve of his abs. “I’m serious, bugboy. You may be this notorious, unstoppable force out there, but to me you’ll always be Jungkook.”

He pouts. “That doesn’t sound as cool as being Spider-Man.”

“Spider-Man is cool.”

“See? Even you think so. This is why I never told you ━ everyone thinks Spider-Man is cooler than Jungkook.”

A roll of your eyes has him smirking, though the smile is quick to falter when you begin to grind your hips against his, feeling his firm member poke at your thigh. His jaw drops open slightly at the sudden contact, his brows knitting together in slick concentration as his eyes fall to your glistening soft core.

“You didn’t let me finish,” You breathe steadily. “Spider-Man is cool, but Jungkook is cooler. You’ve always been strong and dauntless to me. You’ve always been a hero to me.”

“God,” he moans, “you’re making it really hard to focus on how cute you’re being when I can already feel how wet you are.”

The giggle that slips past your lips only further proves his point. His head rolls back against the pillows beneath him as you continue to slowly grind against him.

“Do you want me to stop?” You taunt.

“No, no,” he gasps. “Holy shit, no. We can save the mushy talk for afterwards, right? Please?”

You nod briskly, gulping for air as you feel the burning sensation between your thighs. Your fingers dance down the front of your stomach to the bundle of nerves that you rub at carefully. Jungkook watches intensely as you pleasure yourself before him, feels his own cock hardening at the sight of your fingers gracefully rubbing patterns into your clit, coating your digits with your leaking cum. He writhes beneath you, desperately aware of his own need for you, but god help him if he doesn’t finish watching or helping you get off. He swallows thickly, loosening his dry throat.

“Well, if you’re gonna make me sit here then,” he says, “can you at least let me help?”

“I’m listening.”

“Good,” he grins. “Then come sit on my face.”

He says it so confidently that it has you stuttering in your pace. Your eyes flicker down to his mischievously twinkling eyes and the way he bites on his lower lip. You hardly hesitate at his command, pushing yourself off of his crotch and shuffling yourself forward, tossing one knee over his head so that he’s seated nicely between your thighs. His hands remain on your hips to keep you steady as you wiggle around until you’re comfortable. He plants a kiss on the inside of your thigh, murmuring, “I’ll take good care of you, baby. Sit back and relax.”

You do as you're told, letting him pull you carefully down to his face and feeling as he leaves a trail of kisses along the inside of your thigh. When his mouth is hovering just over your core, you can feel his warm breath fanning against you and hum in delight, waiting eagerly for his every move. He nudges you closer and closer until you feel that one fell sweep of his tongue against your core, warm and slick as it grazes your folds, immediately sending a shock of white hot pleasure surging through your body. A shocked moan emits from your parted lips in a sound similar to, “Ooh,” that has Jungkook smirking against you.

Suddenly, all you can focus on is him and the way his tongue works so expertly against you, kitten licking at your core until you’re dripping wet in a lewd combination of saliva and your own succulence. You nearly lose your balance the moment he makes contact with you and, with each passing second of immense pleasure, it makes it more difficult to hold on. Your thighs shamelessly squeeze shut (though Jungkook grips lightly onto one of your thighs to shift you apart) and when you feel yourself wobble, breathless and dizzy from the feeling of hot fire burning at your core, your hands fly out to grasp at Jungkook’s carob locks, silky to the touch as they slide out from the seams of your fingers. Admittedly, having Jungkook’s face buried beneath your thighs is a ridiculously hot sight that only spurs your blatant spiral into a panting mess.

“Jungkook━ F━Fuck━ Oh my god━”

The moan that leaves you is throaty, guttural and Jungkook swears he’s never heard anything sexier. Watching you writhe helplessly above him is all that he needs. As his tongue licks firmly at your clit, he can’t help but reach down to his own hard dick. His fingers wrap delicately around his shaft and he pumps himself slowly, groaning into your womanhood at the thought of your delicious and hot walls wrapped around him. He shuts his eyes as he works in a smooth rhythm against both him and yourself, imagining what it would be like to just have you anyway he wants, imagining your own reactions similar to the ones you’re making now.

“Ah, shit━” You gasp suddenly. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good━”

God, there you go again. His palm squeezes harder against his member at your breathy moans and he swears you’re driving him absolutely mad. To him, this feels so surreal. He’s dreamed of this; he’s dreamed and wanted nothing more innocent than to just fucking hold your hand and yet here you are in such a compromising position with him and he feels like the luckiest guy in the world. The best part about it all is that you make him feel this much bliss, this dizzy, when he’s simply just around you. Fuck, he’s so in love with you.

Your fingers clutch a little tighter at his roots and his eyes snap open. He stares up at your frazzled mess and, with his free hand, presses his fingers against your core in areas that his tongue has yet not reached. He coats his digits in your glistening arousal and coaxed with such ease he’s able to push them past your folds, earning another beautiful moan from you. He curls his finger inside you, stretching your core, flicks his tongue a little harder at your clit, squeezes his own hand tighter around his cock as he desperately jacks himself off to this, to you. He pumps his finger in and out of you in tandem with his own hand around his length, hearing your sweet whimpers and choked moans.

He must curl his finger just right inside of you or maybe it’s the way your sensitive clit begins to throb with each lick he takes or maybe it’s when he joins his tongue with his finger in a dangerous duo but then you jut your hips forward ever so slightly and jerk them back. He’s eating you out with such vigour, such hard passion that you can feel his chin and his nose brush against your core and each contact has you gasping. He pulls apart just enough when he feels you jerk your hips backward again and you’re so caught up in the pure ecstasy that has overcome you that you hardly realize until you hear him speaking, muttering faintly against your folds, “C’mon, baby. Ride my face. Cum for me.”

His only response is a weak sputtering as you try to gasp for air. You don’t need to be told twice at this point as you feel as if you’re chasing after your high. You unabashedly begin rocking your hips against his mouth and fingers. He tilts his head just right so that his nose burrows into your clit, his tongue and digit slipping further within your walls that clench around the thought of having something of girth like Jungkook’s length inside you. Jungkook’s own hand slacks at his pace around his member, his fingers reaching up to dig into your waist and thighs to hold you in place as you continuously rock against him. You’re so close, you can feel the familiar tension start to form in the very pit of your stomach.

“F━Fuck!” You cry. “Jung━kook━ I’m━”

Your voice breaks off into frail croaks, your hands flying out to grab onto the sturdy frame of your bed in front of you as you feel your high approach. Jungkook pulls you harder against his face, letting you grind against him as he burrows into you, completely ravaging you with his mouth until you feel your release take hold of you. It shakes you to the bone, causes you to writhe in pleasure above him as you come to a halt, emitting a loud moan of his name as your hot release leaks onto his chin, coating his mouth in your shimmering cum.

“Fuck, fuck━ Jungkook!” Your nails dig into the bed frame, your teeth sinking into your lower lip and muffling your dulcet moans.

He laps at your core, licking away every last drop of your succulence until your hips twitch away from the sensitivity you feel. When he finally pulls apart from you, he stares up at you from between your thighs with an amused smirk, his hair messily mused from your doing. You muster a faint smile in return as you pant heavily, attempting to calm your shrill heart and he beckons you over. You blissfully clamber back down his torso, once more straddling his hips as you curl up into his chest, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to his lips. You feel him smile against your own mouth and it’s something so gentle, so ardent, that it warms your heart.

“That was so fucking hot,” he mumbles between kisses. “Round two?”

Giggling, you part from him momentarily only to reconnect your lips to his jawline, nibbling on the soft skin there. “How about I let you have a turn?”

He quirks a brow in curiosity though he already knows your intentions as your hand flutters down his stomach. He can’t help the moan that slips past his lips as he feels your soft hands grasp firmly at his hardened cock. He feels as if he could practically melt in your hands or explode at any moment and you hadn’t even done anything. His hips instinctively buck into your fist but he shakes his head. He sits up suddenly, startling you in your spot though his hands come out to grasp at your face and hold you in place as he kisses you feverishly.

“How about,” he breathes, nipping at your lower lip, “you let me make love to you right here, right now.”

For a moment, you become carried away with the taste of his lips mingled with your wet arousal that fades away fast. You return the kiss with such zeal, too reluctant to part from him just yet, that when you muster the nerve to lean away, you’re panting heavily.

“Not so fast, bugboy,” You taunt. “I still want you to rest.”

You give him a little nudge backward and he obediently follows your wordless command, plopping back against the pillows of your bed as he looks up at you, his hands resting on your upper thighs.

“I don’t know if you can consider sex as resting,” he points out playfully, a wry grin plastered on his face.

He watches as you smile, the rapid heave and fall of your chest, as you wiggle around until you’re comfortable again on his lap and have lifted your hips off of him. Your hand wraps around his shaft once more and you pump him once, twice, in slow motions as you spread the leaking cum from his throbbing head along his shaft. His jaw drops open at the feeling, eyebrows knitting together, and his fingers dig a little too harshly into your skin accidentally but you don’t at all mind ━ not when you’re able to see such a beautiful reaction from him as he comes undone before you.

Seconds pass of bated breath as you lower yourself slowly, carefully, to his cock. You run the tip of his length along your folds and up to your clit, rubbing small patterns against it that has both of you whimpering lowly. You coat him in your leaking arousal and then lower yourself onto him, finally connecting the two of your bodies as one.

“Oh, fuck,” he grunts.

Jungkook seriously feels as if he’s about to explode ━ literally. You’ve only just sat on him and he’s afraid he won’t be able to hold himself together long enough before he feels his sweet release. You’re just so warm and wet, so deliciously wet, that he slides easily into your walls that hug him just right. His mind is spinning, and even more so when he feels you stop halfway and lift your hips again. You drop them to the same level and then back again, repeating this process until you drop your hips fully, flush with his.

“Oooh, Jungkook, hmm,” Your fingers dig into his abdomen at the feeling of being so damn full. You can practically feel him throbbing and your own walls clench and release around him as you adjust to his size.

“Move━” he chokes out. “Move, please━ holy shit━”

And you do. You grind against him, rolling your hips around his firm cock as the fire continues to burn between your legs. You raise your hips languidly and drop them back down again and again until you’ve adopted some fluid rhythm, being so easily coaxed by your own cum.

“Like this?” You gasp.

He nods absentmindedly, swallowing thickly. “Fuck yes, just like that, baby.” His head rolls back against the pillows, the vein in his neck straining, “You feel so━ so fucking good.”

“Tell me,” You breathe.

Jungkook finds it hard to concentrate when his eyes fall on you. He watches as your breasts move in tandem as you ride him, the glistening arousal on your folds that coat his length that he watches disappear into you each time. He greedily reaches out as he’s lost in his own thoughts, his hand cupping your plush breast in a firm hold, his thumb brushing against your perked nipple. Your back arches in response, leaning closer to his warm hand, as he focuses on the tightness that is your core.

“Warm,” he moans. “So, so fucking wet ━ oh my god, you’re dripping, baby. Shit, you feel so perfect around my cock.”

You cry out his name, quickening your pace as you chase your high. Your strides are relentless, desperately searching for a sweet release and Jungkook feels the same. He’s held it in this long ━ he isn’t so sure he can hold himself together for much longer. He can’t take it anymore. Just as he feels you slowing down from exhaustion, he sits up once more, his strong arms wrapping around your torso and pulling you tight against his chest. Your own arms slide around his neck and you lean forward to crash your lips against his as you roll your hips steadily against his now. The new angle has him hitting a spot in you that shakes you to the core, has stars forming in your eyes.

You bite down hard on his lower lip accidentally as you try to conceal the loud moan that bubbles at your lips. Jungkook only smirks in response, especially when you shamelessly let those strangled moans out. As you sink lower onto him, Jungkook thrusts his hips upward to meet yours halfway, earning a sharp gasp from you. He tightens his hold on you and continues to thrust up into you again and again, so hard and so fast that it makes you writhe with pleasure above him. You can feel him stretching you wide each time, can feel your sticky arousal begin to trickle down his cock and your thighs.

So much for making sure he doesn’t hurt himself again ━ his thrusts are pure animalistic, hasty and needy, though all either of you care about in that moment is feeling that sweet release. You collapse entirely against Jungkook’s arms, letting him take hold of you as his hips smack against your ass. When you finally feel your second high of the night approach, your reaction feels near explosive. He thrusts again and again and you choke out somewhere between the sound of skin against skin and heavy breathing, “J━Jungkook━ Fuck! I’m close━”

He growls in response, eager to push you to yours as he chases for his. Another thrust and, holy shit, there. He hits a spot in you once, twice, and over and over again that just feels so incredibly good that you can’t help but unravel in his arms. It takes you by surprise, washing over you an immense cloud of bliss as white-hot pleasure blinds you, starting from your core and spiralling out to every edge of your body until your toes are curling. You cry out his name in a beautiful harmonious sound as your cum leaks profusely from you and coats him just right.

Fuck this ━ he doesn’t care anymore that you want him to rest. He needs to feel his own release now. So he grabs you securely and then he’s twisting you around, shoving you onto your back as he pushes his hips into you. You’re writhing beneath him, your back arching until your warm and sweaty chest is pressed against his. Your fucked out expression that stares back up at him but with such tired and loving eyes only spurs him on further (that, and the way you’re clenching so nicely around him). It’s completely messy but he’s so close. Another hard slap of his hips and then he’s finally coming undone. He pulls out of you fast, his hand coming down to grab at his cock as he pumps himself, thickly coated with your juices.

He cums moments later with a deep, rough moan, releasing onto your stomach in ivory beads that paint you his. His hand slacks around his softening length and then he, so spent and slightly sore from his wound (only slightly, he swears), collapses against you. The room suddenly falls silent, safe for the heavy panting and the shrill beating of your hearts that you both try to tame. His face is buried in the crook of your neck and your arms wrap around him to lazily twine his hair with your fingers. It’s nice to just lay there like that, enveloped in each other's arms, basking in the heavenly glow of euphoria. He kisses your neck then, soft and simple, and litters kisses down your throat to your collarbones and then back up again to your lips.

When he parts from you, his eyes remain locked on your mouth until he forces himself to look away and up at you. You’re smiling at him and it’s the type of genuine, albeit exhausted, smile that always warms his insides and makes him feel at ease. Tracing the curve of your lips with his index finger, he hums thoughtfully to himself.

“I lied about before,” he says sheepishly. When you quirk a brow at him, he continues. “I lied about before when you asked me if I’m ever afraid when I go out at night. I’m always afraid. Part of why I wear that mask is so the people I’m up against don’t see me wimping out. But, god, when I’m with you, I feel invincible.”

He watches as a light blush pinches at your cheeks, your fingers reaching up to softly graze his cheek.

“I’m so in love with you,” he whispers. “I love you. I always have and I swear you make me stronger. I don’t know what it is. I think I just want to fight harder for you. I know I was a dick for leaving that night but I know we can make this work. I just need you to believe in me, too.”

Your eyes, littered with stardust, stare into his as if he is the entire world. “I’m strong, too, Jungkook. I don’t always need protection.”

“I know that,” he chuckles.

“Good. Then get back down here and kiss me again, bugboy.”

Jungkook laughs. He doesn’t hesitate to lean down to press his lips lovingly to yours. He melts against your chest and he is content if every night is like this, in each other’s arms. As he deepens the kiss, he hears you whisper against his lips, “I love you, too, bugboy,” and it is all he needs to feel as if he has the world in his very palm.

Jungkook has always been afraid. He is afraid of not living to see the next day, afraid of losing you or his family or friends but every shred of fear fades away when he’s with you. As the city continues to breathe from beyond the brick walls of your apartment and as the sun begins to rise from the very heart of the metropolis along the horizon, Jungkook is certain that he and you together are invincible.

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