#me before: i don't really care about superheroes

[heybiji]

double life

[writerfromthestars]

DP X DC PROMPT: DANNY'S AN ASSASSIN?!

So Danny gets adopted by the Waynes somehow.

Now, he's a teenage vigilante, he knows all the signs. And he can clearly tell that Damian and Tim are sneaking out under the cover of night to fight crime as Robin and Red Robin.

While ordinarily this would lead to the connection between the Waynes being Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood, and various other assorted vigilantes, that's not what we're here for, so instead, what happens is that Danny thinks that his two absolutely normal little brothers are sneaking out, meeting strange people dressed in spandex and Kevlar on rooftops, and punching criminals.

He has no issue with this.

The only issue he has is that Tim and Damian are inexperienced, I mean, Damian's twelve or something like that, he can't have been Robin for long. He's not particularly willing to get back into heroism himself, though, so this leads to him casually dropping random tidbits of information that only an ex-vigilante/hero/assassin/other part of the caped community, would know into regular conversation.

Like, if Tim's using bandages on his hand, Danny will suddenly drop the fact that that particular brand is very absorbent and works really well to take care of large, bloody wounds, like bullet holes in important places.

If Damian's reading a book about different knives, and their creation processes (because be real, he totally would) Danny will read over his shoulder a bit and then just point out a knife that would particularly good for stabbing someone in the stomach, or slitting someone's throat. (he knows this because of a. his rogues trying to kill him and b. Dan likes sharp things.)

The three of them are watching some superhero movie or something, and Danny goes on a twelve-minute rant about how the fight scenes would never work that way.

Tim and Damian come to the conclusion that their new brother has been trained by the League of Assassins or something.

Here's the issue. Danny hasn't.

So Damian starts dropping little hints that he knows that Danny was part of the League, for example a reference to a technique that only a League member would know. Danny, who has been trained in hand-to-hand by Dan, who was trained by dead League assassins in the alternate timeline, knows the moves.

Danny is just happy that his baby brothers are taking his advice, and opening up to him too. Damian is even starting to talk about fighting with him, and he thinks that they might actually tell him about their nighttime activities soon.

Finally, the two confront him on it. And by that, I mean that like the emotionally constipated bats they are, they utterly fail in their interrogation because they can't just come out and say it out in the open.

Tim: so Danny, I noticed how you know a lot about fighting. and first aid, and stuff.

Damian: I have noticed this as well. Might I inquire as to where you gained these skills?

Danny just thinks that they have figured out his past as a vigilante and that they are worried about him being hurt.

Danny: Don't worry about it. I don't do that type of thing anymore.

Now that's a deflection if Tim's ever heard it.

Damian, digging for more information: I wish to know. Maybe I can learn from whoever it was that taught you?

Danny grimaces slightly before answering.

Danny: Trust me, kiddo, you don't wanna learn from the people who taught me this stuff. They squash you like a bug.

Tim and Damian take this as confirmation that Danny was involve in the League. Danny just means that pitting his rogue gallery, which consists of exclusively ghosts, against living boys would be unfair.

[amethystarachnid]

BET

⤷ JAMES B. “BUCKY” BARNES

ᯓ★ Pairing: James B. “Bucky” Barnes x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, angst and fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: not requested but taken from MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 10k (damn this surprises me too)

ᯓ★ Summary: When Bucky Barnes suddenly starts talking to you you don't think much of it and when he asks you out on a date you couldn't be happier, Bucky truly is everything you could ever want in a man, a man that really loves you...At least that's what you thought until you discovered that it was real all just a bet.

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of virginity and virginity loss, small mentions of a smut scene

ᯓ★ AU: college au

ᯓ★ Request: not requested

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests closed)

ᯓ★ Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier fan click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language and this isn’t proof read

The music is loud, pulsing through the walls of the frat house as Bucky sits slouched on a couch, one arm draped lazily over the back. The night is already wearing on him, but he knows he’s going to be here until Sam and Steve call it a night, which—based on the collection of red solo cups by their feet—might be a while.

They’re all trading stories from the semester, voices buzzing with that blend of laughter and cheap beer. Sam is in the middle of recounting his latest dare when he nudges Bucky’s arm, catching his attention.

“Bet you couldn’t last a month with someone like her,” Sam says, nodding toward the corner of the room.

Bucky glances up, following Sam’s gaze until he spots you. You’re perched near the bookshelf, alone and fidgeting with your drink as you flip through a book someone left behind. He’s seen you around campus before, usually with your nose buried in a novel or surrounded by a pile of textbooks. There’s something unassuming about you, something quiet and untouchable. His friends know he’s more the type to go for a party girl—someone loud, someone who doesn’t ask too many questions.

“What, the bookworm?” Bucky scoffs, raising an eyebrow. But his friends don’t let up, and soon Steve and Sam are egging him on.

“You’re always chasing the same type,” Steve chimes in. “What are you afraid of, that she’d actually challenge you?”

Bucky laughs, rolling his eyes. He knows he should shut it down, but their teasing digs at him, scratching at that competitive edge that’s always lurking just beneath his smirk.

“All right,” Bucky finally says, shrugging. “I’ll do it. One month.”

His friends exchange knowing grins, slapping him on the back. But as soon as the words leave his mouth, Bucky feels a strange knot settle low in his stomach—a feeling he’s not used to. He brushes it off. It’s just a game, a challenge. It’s not like he’s actually going to care.

The next day, you’re tucked into your usual corner in the library, surrounded by a fortress of books. You barely notice him when he walks up, leaning against the edge of the table with a casual confidence that doesn’t match the usual quiet of the space.

“Mind if I join you?” His voice is smooth, low enough that you almost have to lean in to hear him clearly.

You glance up, surprised to see Bucky Barnes standing there, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You’ve seen him around campus—he’s hard to miss with that leather jacket and effortlessly messy hair, the type of guy who always has someone laughing beside him.

“Sure,” you murmur, unsure of what else to say as you move your books aside, offering him a seat. You’re used to people mostly ignoring you here. It’s your refuge, your sanctuary. So when he sits across from you, stretching out as if he belongs there, it feels jarringly out of place.

“You look like you’re buried in work,” he observes, nodding at the mountain of papers in front of you. “What’s got you so busy?”

You hesitate, but something in his easygoing manner convinces you to answer. “Just…assignments. Trying to keep up with everything.” You give him a small smile, your guard still up but feeling oddly curious.

“What’s your major?” he asks, and the question catches you off guard. Most people don’t bother to ask; they assume or don’t care enough to wonder. He listens as you talk about your studies, nodding, asking small questions. Before you know it, you’re telling him more than you intended, falling into an easy rhythm that surprises you.

It becomes a pattern. Over the next few weeks, he finds reasons to run into you—at the coffee shop, in the library, even in the quad between classes. Each time, he stays a little longer, asks a little more, his eyes holding yours with that subtle intensity he wears so well. At first, you’re wary, cautious of his attention. But Bucky is good, easing his way in like he has all the time in the world, his jokes and questions slowly weaving a thread of trust between you two.

And Bucky? He’s surprised at how much he finds himself drawn to you. Each time you laugh, he catches himself watching, feeling something strange and warm unfurl in his chest. There’s a gentleness in you, a quiet intelligence, that keeps him coming back even as he reminds himself this isn’t supposed to mean anything.

But the longer he spends time with you, the more he feels the weight of what he agreed to, creeping up on him every time he catches your smile, every time you look at him like he’s someone worth knowing.

He tells himself it’s just part of the bet. But deep down, he knows he’s starting to cross a line he never meant to touch.

It’s been a few weeks since Bucky started spending time with you, and against every reminder he gives himself, he’s found himself looking forward to it more than he wants to admit. He tells himself it’s harmless—he’s just getting to know you, just finding ways to pass the time. But he knows he’s lying, especially when he starts finding excuses to see you outside of the library or when he catches himself glancing at his phone, hoping for a text from you.

One night, back at the frat house, he’s lounging with Sam and Steve again, half-listening to their conversation when Sam nudges him.

“So, Barnes. How’s it going with the bookworm?” Sam asks with a knowing smirk. Bucky rolls his eyes, trying to brush it off, but Sam isn’t so easily deterred. “Don’t tell me you’re catching feelings.”

Bucky scoffs, forcing a laugh to keep the truth buried. “It’s going fine. Like I said, a month’s no problem.”

Sam exchanges a glance with Steve, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Let’s make this interesting then. If you really want to win this thing, you’ve got to take it further.”

Bucky’s jaw clenches. “Further?” He has a bad feeling about where this is going.

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Come on, Buck. You’ve been hanging out with her, sure, but we’re talking about actually making her fall for you. Ask her out, and, you know—” He raises an eyebrow meaningfully.

“Sleep with her,” Sam adds bluntly, laughing. “Seal the deal, and there’s two hundred bucks in it for you.”

Bucky hesitates, that uncomfortable knot tightening in his stomach again. He tells himself it’s just a stupid bet. He’s done things like this before—gotten close to people just to prove he could, had plenty of meaningless hookups that never meant a thing. He’s Bucky Barnes, the guy who doesn’t do commitment or complications. But for some reason, picturing it with you makes him feel…off.

“Fine,” he says after a beat, his voice steady, betraying nothing of the uncertainty he’s trying to ignore. “Two hundred bucks. Done.”

The next day, he texts you, his fingers hovering over the keys a little too long before he finally sends, Hey, you free Friday? Let me take you out somewhere nice.

When you see his message, your heart skips a beat. It’s been a while since anyone has asked you on an actual date, and even longer since you’ve felt genuinely excited about someone. Bucky’s been different from the start—warm, attentive, and surprisingly easy to talk to. You’ve caught yourself looking forward to his company, replaying the moments he laughs at one of your jokes or leans in close enough for you to catch a hint of his cologne.

After a second, you type back, Yeah, I’d love to! You add a smiley face, feeling almost giddy as you press send.

The days leading up to Friday drag by, each one marked with bursts of nerves and anticipation. You spend a little more time getting ready than usual, finally deciding on a simple but pretty dress that makes you feel confident. When Bucky picks you up, his usual leather jacket replaced with a dark button-up, you feel a thrill of excitement. He looks genuinely happy to see you, his eyes scanning over you appreciatively as he gives you a lopsided grin.

“You look amazing,” he says, his gaze warm. There’s something softer in his eyes, something that makes you blush.

“Thanks,” you mumble, smiling as you walk beside him. He leads you to a small Italian place tucked away from campus, the kind of cozy, dimly lit restaurant you wouldn’t have expected him to know about. The conversation flows easily between you two, laughter spilling out as you talk about classes, hometowns, and childhood memories.

The night feels magical, almost surreal, and you start to wonder if maybe, just maybe, there’s something real here. Every time his hand brushes against yours, a spark shoots up your spine. And when he reaches across the table, fingers lightly grazing your wrist as he laughs at something you said, your heart flutters in a way that’s both thrilling and terrifying.

After dinner, he suggests taking a walk, and soon you’re strolling through the quiet streets, the chill of the night air making you shiver just slightly. Without a word, Bucky slips his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. It feels so natural, like you belong there.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been on a date this nice,” you admit, smiling up at him, your voice soft.

He chuckles, though it sounds slightly strained. “Really? I find that hard to believe.”

You shrug, trying to brush it off. “I guess I’ve just never…met anyone like you before.”

There’s a flash of something in his eyes—guilt, maybe, or regret. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced with that charming grin. He steps closer, his arm slipping from your shoulders, and you hold your breath as he cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“You’re pretty amazing, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice low.

You feel like the world has stopped, your heart pounding in your chest. This is the moment you’ve been dreaming of, the moment where everything finally falls into place.

But for Bucky, something sharp and painful twists inside him. He can feel the weight of what he’s doing pressing down on him, can see the way your eyes look at him with such unguarded trust, and it’s enough to make his stomach turn. He’s never felt guilty over a stupid bet before, but right now, the idea of hurting you feels unbearable.

“Hey,” he says softly, his hand still on your cheek. “You trust me, right?”

Your eyes widen, and you nod slowly, too caught up in the moment to notice the tension in his gaze. “Yeah,” you whisper, a small smile forming on your lips.

He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours as he takes a steadying breath. “Good,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. Because if he’s going to go through with this, he tells himself he has to believe that none of it matters—that he won’t let himself care. But even as he kisses you, his lips soft and warm against yours, he knows he’s lying to himself.

The days after that first date drift into a series of moments that feel surreal, almost like they’re happening to someone else. You find yourself checking your phone at odd times, waiting for his texts, smiling down at your screen whenever his name lights up. Bucky is a part of your routine now, and it feels strange, thrilling even, like there’s this magnetic force that draws you to him despite every bit of caution you try to hold onto.

Every time you’re with him, the outside world fades. He makes you laugh with stories about his friends, leaning in close, his voice warm and low as if he’s sharing some secret just for you. You catch yourself stealing glances when he’s not looking—at the way his jaw clenches when he’s lost in thought or how his eyes soften when he looks at you, a mix of curiosity and something you can’t quite name.

It’s after one of your study sessions at the library that Bucky invites you over to his dorm room for the first time. He tells you he’s got some old movies you’ve probably never seen, and, honestly, he’s right—you’d never pictured Bucky as the type to own black-and-white classics, but that’s exactly what he has, a surprisingly large collection lined up on a low shelf near his TV. He insists you pick one, and soon you’re sitting side by side on his couch, your legs tucked up beneath you, feeling almost shy in the soft glow of the screen.

The movie starts, but his arm stretches along the back of the couch, barely brushing your shoulders. The faintest touch sends electricity through you, but you stay quiet, not wanting to ruin the moment. Then, halfway through the movie, he shifts, glancing at you.

“You can get closer, you know,” he murmurs, his eyes glinting with something mischievous yet gentle.

Your heart flutters as you scoot closer, until you’re tucked into his side, his arm draped around you in a way that feels possessive yet comforting. He smells faintly like cedar and something distinctly him, a scent that’s becoming familiar. Before you know it, your head is resting on his shoulder, his hand absently tracing patterns on your arm, and you feel like you could stay there forever.

Time slips by in a collection of small, perfect moments. There are more dates—little coffee shops tucked away from campus, a bookstore where he buys you a copy of a novel you mentioned in passing, a late-night diner where you both end up after laughing so hard that you can’t breathe. You never expected him to be so attentive, so eager to listen to your stories and learn every detail about your life. He even surprises you with your favorite snack on study nights, tossing it to you with a grin before leaning in close to steal a bite for himself.

One evening, after a long day of classes and a surprise text from Bucky inviting you over, you find yourself curled up on his couch once again. This time, he’s stretched out beside you, one arm tucked under his head while the other rests around your shoulders. His fingers brush against your arm absently, and you can’t help but notice how natural this feels. It’s terrifying, too, the way he seems to melt into your life so effortlessly, as if he’s always been there.

You glance up at him, catching him mid-laugh as he recounts an embarrassing story about Sam, who apparently tried to show off on a skateboard and ended up with a sprained ankle.

“You’re terrible,” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder, though you’re laughing too.

“Oh, come on. It was hilarious,” he insists, grinning down at you. He tilts his head, his gaze dropping to your lips for just a second, and your laughter fades as something shifts between you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He shrugs, the corner of his mouth twitching in a faint smile. “I just…can’t believe you’re real sometimes.”

The words catch you off guard, and for a moment, you’re too stunned to reply. But then he leans down, his lips brushing yours with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. The kiss deepens slowly, each touch feeling like a promise, and you lose yourself in the warmth of his embrace, forgetting every doubt, every insecurity that ever kept you guarded.

As the weeks pass, you find yourself falling harder than you ever expected. Bucky seems to find every crack in your armor, every scar and hidden fear, and instead of pulling away, he draws closer, listening to your stories and letting you into his own in ways that leave you breathless. He’s there to listen on your tough days, wrapping his arms around you and murmuring words of reassurance. He’s there on your good days, too, laughing with you, pressing kisses to your forehead as if he can’t believe his luck.

One night, you’re back on his couch, cuddled up under a thick blanket as a storm rages outside, the rain tapping against the windows. You’re nestled against him, his arm holding you close, and he’s quiet, his fingers tracing patterns along your shoulder absentmindedly.

“Bucky?” you ask, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Hmm?” he murmurs, his gaze dropping to yours, his eyes soft and warm in the dim light.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “For everything.”

He frowns slightly, shifting so he can look at you fully. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he says, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Being with you…it’s the easiest thing in the world.”

You smile, warmth spreading through your chest, and he kisses you again, slow and soft, like he’s savoring every second. It’s moments like this that make you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re finally safe with someone, that this is something real.

But for Bucky, each moment with you is a double-edged sword. He’s never felt this way before—this calm, this…connected. Every time you laugh at one of his jokes or lean against him, trusting and unguarded, he feels that awful twist of guilt, the memory of that stupid bet lurking in the back of his mind.

He’s supposed to ask for more. That’s what Sam and Steve were expecting, weren’t they? They wanted him to win the bet, to seal the deal and prove he could pull this off. But every time he thinks about going further, about pushing this relationship into a place where he can’t turn back, he feels that nagging ache, that quiet, gnawing feeling that he’s crossing a line he can’t uncross.

He knows he needs to tell you. He needs to come clean, but every time he opens his mouth, the words get stuck in his throat. You look at him with those bright, trusting eyes, and he can’t bring himself to shatter the way you see him. So he holds his silence, hoping that somehow, he can bury the truth forever, that maybe you’ll never have to know.

One evening, as you’re lying together on his couch, you let out a contented sigh, resting your head on his chest as his hand traces lazy patterns along your back.

“Bucky?” you whisper, your voice soft.

He glances down at you, his fingers pausing as he meets your gaze. “Yeah?”

You hesitate, then take a steadying breath. “I…I think I’m falling for you.”

The words hang in the air, vulnerable and open, and for a second, his face goes still, his eyes widening just slightly. Then, his expression softens, and he tightens his arms around you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. But as he kisses you, the warmth of his touch hiding the flicker of guilt behind his eyes, a single thought haunts him.

She deserves the truth.

That night, Bucky barely sleeps, lying awake with the knowledge that he’s in far too deep to ever come out of this unscathed. Every soft breath you take beside him reminds him of how much he’s risking by staying silent. He knows he has to tell you, but he’s terrified—terrified that this fragile, beautiful thing you’ve built together will shatter, that you’ll look at him with betrayal instead of trust.

In the morning, he makes a decision. He’ll find a way to tell you, he promises himself, but he wants one more day, one more memory before he risks everything. Just one last perfect day where he can pretend that none of it was ever a lie.

So he takes you out, leading you down to the pier just as the sun begins to set, casting the sky in hues of pink and gold. You laugh, leaning into him, and he wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, watching the waves lap against the shore.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice soft. “It is.”

But as he stands there, holding you close, he knows that the beauty of this moment is fleeting, that the truth waiting in his chest is too big to ignore. And tonight, when he finally gathers the courage to tell you, he knows there’s a chance he’ll lose you forever. But for now, he lets himself savor this last quiet moment, memorizing the feeling of you in his arms, the warmth of your laughter as it fills the air.

For now, he holds onto the hope that maybe, somehow, you’ll understand.

The sunset fades, leaving the world painted in muted purples and blues, but neither of you seem ready to break away from each other. Bucky holds you close, feeling the steady rhythm of your breath against his chest as if it’s his own. He knows he should say something—that he needs to say something—but the words seem so impossible now, tangled up in his chest. The truth would ruin this moment, shatter whatever he’s built with you. And so, he tells himself it can wait just a little longer.

As the evening slips into night, Bucky leads you back to his dorm room, his hand intertwined with yours. You can feel the heat of his palm, the way his fingers wrap around yours as if he never wants to let go. The air feels charged, every touch electric, each shared glance simmering with something that feels fragile and exhilarating. Neither of you says much, as though speaking would break the quiet spell between you.

Once you’re inside, Bucky hesitates. He turns to you, his expression vulnerable, softer than you’ve ever seen it. "You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand.

“I want to,” you say, the words escaping before you can even think. There’s no hesitation in your voice, only a gentle certainty that makes his chest tighten. The way you look at him, so open and trusting, makes his heart ache with a mix of guilt and longing.

Bucky’s eyes search yours, lingering for a moment that stretches into forever. He reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before his fingers trail down to your jaw, cradling your face as if you’re something fragile and precious. Slowly, he leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s softer than any before. It’s unhurried, tender, as if he’s savoring every second.

The kiss deepens, and you can feel yourself melting into him, your heart pounding so hard you think it might burst. His hands move to your waist, steady and grounding, and he pulls you closer until there’s no space left between you. You can feel the strength of him, the warmth radiating through his clothes, and it makes your head spin.

Before long, you find yourselves tangled together on his bed, the world outside fading into nothingness. Each kiss is deeper than the last, each touch laced with a longing neither of you can deny. There’s a gentleness to Bucky’s movements, a quiet patience as he explores the curve of your shoulder, the softness of your waist, as if he’s memorizing every inch of you. He’s slow and careful, constantly looking at you as if to make sure this is what you want.

“Are you okay?” he whispers, his voice rough with barely-contained emotion.

You nod, feeling breathless but certain. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

His eyes darken, filled with a tenderness that makes your chest ache, and then he’s kissing you again, deeper this time, his hands skimming over your skin with a reverence that leaves you feeling cherished. You lose track of time, surrendering to the way he makes you feel—safe, wanted, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

When you finally fall back against the bed, your bodies wrapped around each other, you’re exhausted yet filled with a warmth that feels all-encompassing. The reality of what just happened settles in, but instead of feeling nervous, you feel at peace, secure in the quiet intimacy that has grown between you.

Bucky shifts beside you, pulling you closer until your head rests against his chest, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders. The steady thump of his heartbeat lulls you into a peaceful daze, and you feel his fingers trace small circles on your back, soothing and grounding.

You’re both quiet for a long time, the silence comfortable as you bask in each other’s presence. Eventually, though, you feel a need to tell him something you’ve been holding back, something you hadn’t planned on revealing but that feels right to share in this moment.

“Bucky,” you begin softly, lifting your head to look at him. He gazes down at you, his eyes warm and attentive, as if you’re the only thing he sees. “I…I want you to know that this was my first time.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re afraid he’ll pull away, that he’ll think you were too inexperienced or that you should have told him sooner. But he doesn’t flinch or hesitate. His hand moves up to gently cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin.

“Your first?” he echoes, his voice filled with a mixture of surprise and something that sounds almost like reverence.

You nod, feeling your cheeks heat as you look down, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah…I wanted it to be with someone who made me feel safe. Someone I trusted.”

Bucky’s chest rises and falls slowly as he takes this in, his expression softening. He seems almost humbled, like he’s just been given something rare and delicate. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting his own against yours.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. There’s a vulnerability in his gaze, as if he’s holding back a hundred things he wants to say but can’t find the words for.

You smile, the last traces of your nervousness melting away. “Thank you, Bucky…for making it so special.”

He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you like he’s afraid to let you go. “I’d do anything to make you feel special,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

You nestle into his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling safe and cherished in a way you never have before. And as you lie there, drifting between sleep and wakefulness, you wonder if this is what it feels like to be truly, deeply in love.

But as you fall asleep in his arms, Bucky lies awake, his heart heavy with the weight of everything he’s kept from you. He knows he should be content, that he should just let himself savor this night and the closeness you’ve shared. But the memory of that stupid, careless bet gnaws at him, a dark cloud looming over everything.

He runs a hand through his hair, staring up at the ceiling, feeling torn between the desire to protect you from the truth and the fear that he’s already crossed a line he can’t uncross. The realization that you trusted him enough to give him something so deeply personal makes the weight of his lie even heavier, almost unbearable. He swallows hard, tightening his hold on you as he resolves to tell you the truth—soon, somehow, even if it means risking everything.

But tonight, he lets himself stay silent. He closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of your hair, the warmth of your body against his, and allows himself to believe, if only for a moment, that this can last.

The morning sunlight filters softly through the blinds, casting warm, golden patterns across the bed. You stir beside him, your movements gentle as you wake up, and Bucky watches you with a quiet awe, his heart racing as he takes in the peaceful expression on your face. For a moment, it feels like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

You blink up at him, your face lighting up with a sleepy smile that makes his chest tighten.

“Good morning,” you murmur, your voice soft and a little shy, as if the night is still too fresh, too beautiful to fully believe.

He grins, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Morning,” he replies, his voice low and warm. His fingers trail down to your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, and you squeeze back, a shared moment of silent understanding passing between you.

The morning stretches on in a gentle haze of quiet touches and soft words. Bucky makes you coffee, insisting you stay curled up under his blanket while he brings it over to you, and you laugh, watching him with a mix of affection and disbelief. This side of him—the playful, thoughtful side—is something you never expected to see, and it makes you fall for him even harder.

You’re both lounging on his bed, your legs tangled together, talking in low voices about everything and nothing. He tells you stories about his childhood, tales about him and Steve getting into trouble, and you share your own memories, laughing as he reacts with wide eyes and exaggerated shock.

It feels so real, so natural, that you almost forget about everything outside this room, about the possibility that this could be something fleeting. You feel like you’ve found a place that’s safe, a person who makes you feel more like yourself than you ever have before.

But in the quiet moments, when you catch him staring at you with that far-off look, you wonder if there’s something he’s not telling you, a hesitation lurking behind his gaze. You don’t press, not wanting to shatter the peace between you. But part of you wonders if you’re seeing a glimpse of something deeper, something you’re not yet ready to confront.

As you leave his dorm room later that morning, he kisses you softly, lingering as if he’s trying to memorize the taste of your lips, the feel of your hand in his. There’s an unspoken promise in his touch, a silent assurance that this isn’t the end.

Later that afternoon, you make your way back to the frat house, humming softly as you climb the steps to Bucky's door. You left your notebook there, a little blue book you’re pretty sure you’ll need for your upcoming assignment. You barely slept last night, too caught up in the warmth of his touch, the memory of his whispered words that lingered long after you left his dorm this morning. You’re nervous, too; you feel so much for him that it scares you.

As you approach his room, laughter drifts out into the hallway, low voices filtering through the partially open door. You recognize Bucky’s laugh, the familiar sound stirring warmth in your chest, but the laughter feels different, carefree and loud. And then you hear a familiar voice—Sam’s—cutting through, low and joking.

"Guess she fell for it pretty hard, huh?" Sam’s voice sounds amused, lighthearted, as if he’s talking about something trivial.

You freeze, your hand hovering inches from the door. Something about his tone makes you hesitate, a strange, unsettling feeling creeping into your chest.

"Come on, Bucky," Sam presses, “don’t act all innocent now. I saw you this morning, looking like you just won the lottery.” You can hear the grin in his voice, a laugh bubbling beneath it. “So? How was it?”

Bucky laughs, the sound uncomfortable, but he doesn’t argue. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, his voice casual, light. “It was… good.”

You feel a stab in your chest, a faint panic that tells you to leave, to walk away before you hear any more. But your feet don’t move, and you find yourself listening, every word driving another splinter into your heart.

Steve’s voice joins in, chuckling. “Well, you earned it, man. She had no clue, huh?”

“No clue,” Bucky murmurs, his voice softer now, almost unreadable. You can picture him there, maybe rubbing the back of his neck the way he does when he’s nervous. But the words are there, undeniable.

Sam laughs again, louder this time. “And hey, bet’s a bet,” he says, and then there’s a pause before you hear the unmistakable rustling of bills being exchanged. “Two hundred dollars, as promised. Can’t say you didn’t earn it, though—you even managed to get her into bed. Didn’t think you had it in you, but here we are!”

Your vision blurs, the words echoing in your mind, distorting into something raw and jagged. Every affectionate touch, every gentle kiss, every whispered promise from the past few weeks twists into something ugly, something unrecognizable. You feel sick, the image of Bucky’s earnest smile, his soft words about wanting to make you feel special, tainted beyond repair. Everything you felt for him, the trust you’d handed him so freely, crumbles beneath the weight of their laughter.

Slowly, you turn and leave, gripping the strap of your bag tightly as you make your way out of the frat house. You don’t let yourself cry, not yet, not when you still feel the echo of his betrayal throbbing in your chest, too raw, too painful to acknowledge fully.

Hours later, you’re back in your dorm room, your heart aching as you sit in silence, the truth settling over you in waves. Part of you wants to believe it was a misunderstanding, that maybe there’s an explanation you’re missing. But the memory of their laughter, the casual way Sam handed him that money, makes the truth impossible to ignore.

A knock on your door interrupts your thoughts, and your heart skips a beat as you hear Bucky’s voice calling your name softly from the hallway. It’s just him now, his voice hesitant, almost as if he senses that something’s wrong. You take a steadying breath, steeling yourself before you answer the door.

When you open it, Bucky’s eyes light up, and he steps forward, a soft smile on his face as he reaches for your hand. “Hey, you,” he murmurs, his voice warm. But when he sees the look on your face, he pauses, his smile fading. “What’s wrong?”

For a moment, you can’t bring yourself to speak. You can only look at him, trying to reconcile the gentle, caring person you thought you knew with the man who took a bet to seduce you. You pull your hand away from his, ignoring the confusion in his gaze as he watches you.

“Were you even going to tell me?” Your voice comes out quieter than you intended, a dull ache threading through every word. “Or were you just going to take the money and pretend it never happened?”

Bucky blinks, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Tell you what? I—I don’t understand.”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips, and you look away, wrapping your arms around yourself as if it’ll keep you from falling apart. “Don’t play dumb, Bucky. I heard you. I was at the frat house earlier, and I heard everything.”

He freezes, his face going pale, and you see the truth in his eyes, clear as day. He opens his mouth, stumbling over his words. “Y/N, I—I didn’t… I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

The admission twists the knife deeper, and you feel yourself trembling as you look back at him, tears stinging your eyes. “So, it’s true, then? All of it? This whole… this whole thing was just for some stupid bet?”

He reaches for you, his expression desperate, his hands hovering just inches from your arms. “Y/N, please. Just let me explain. It wasn’t like that, I swear. It started that way, but then… then it became real. I fell for you, okay? Everything we did, everything we shared—it was real.”

You shake your head, pulling away from him, the anger and betrayal simmering beneath the surface. “Real? You think that makes this okay? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Your voice breaks, and a tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it. “I trusted you, Bucky. I thought… I thought you cared about me.”

His face crumples, and he takes a step closer, his hand reaching out as if to wipe away the tear on your cheek. “I do care about you. More than anything, Y/N. That’s why I wanted to tell you, I just—”

“Wanted to tell me?” you interrupt, your voice shaking. “When, Bucky? After you cashed in your winnings? After I found out on my own?”

The silence stretches between you, heavy and unbearable, and Bucky’s shoulders sag as he looks away, guilt etched deeply into his face.

“Do you even realize how humiliating this is?” you continue, your voice a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “I trusted you with something… something I’d never given anyone. And the whole time, it was just part of a game to you.”

His eyes snap back to yours, filled with anguish, his voice barely a whisper. “It was never just a game, not after the first night. I swear, Y/N, I was going to tell you everything. I just… I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You didn’t want to lose me?” you repeat, laughing bitterly. “You lost me the moment you made that bet. You had no right to… to play with me like that, to make me believe that any of it was real.”

He looks at you, his blue eyes full of desperation, his voice breaking. “Y/N, please. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, but I need you to believe me when I say I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Just stop,” you whisper, the weight of it all crashing over you. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to make me feel sorry for you when you’re the one who lied.”

Bucky’s face falls, and he drops his gaze, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I know. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But please, just… give me a chance to make it right.”

Your heart aches, torn between the memories of every gentle touch, every whispered word, and the undeniable truth of his betrayal. Part of you wants to believe him, wants to believe that somewhere in all of this, there was something real. But the pain is too deep, the wound too fresh, and you don’t know if you can ever look at him the same way again.

“I can’t do this,” you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t just forget what you did. You hurt me, Bucky. And right now, I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

He flinches, as if your words physically hurt him, and he nods slowly, a look of resignation in his eyes. “I understand. I’ll… I’ll leave, if that’s what you want.”

You nod, wrapping your arms around yourself as he takes a step back, his gaze lingering on you one last time before he turns and walks toward the door. Just as he reaches it, he pauses, his hand resting on the doorknob as he glances back at you, his voice soft, broken.

“For what it’s worth, Y/N… I love you. I know I don’t deserve to say that, but it’s the truth.”

You don’t reply, staring at him with tear-filled eyes as he finally steps out of your dorm, the door closing softly behind him. The silence that follows is deafening, and you sink to the floor, the weight of everything crashing down as you realize that the person you thought you loved never truly existed.

The days blur together in a haze of heartbreak and emptiness. You go through the motions, attending classes, completing assignments, and showing up to study groups, but it all feels mechanical, like you’re on autopilot. It’s as if something inside you has shut down, leaving only an echo of who you were before you met him, before he became the center of your world.

It doesn’t take long for your friends to notice the change. They ask if you’re okay, if something happened, if maybe you just need a break. But you give them the same answer each time—a nod, a small smile, and an assurance that you’re just tired. It’s easier than explaining the mess of emotions tangled inside you, the hurt that seems too big to fit into words.

Late at night, lying alone in your dorm room, you can still feel the warmth of his arms around you, the softness of his voice in the quiet hours when he’d whisper promises you thought would last forever. The memory feels cruel now, tainted by the knowledge that it was all built on a lie. And yet, despite everything, you miss him. You hate yourself for it, but you miss the way he looked at you, the way he made you feel safe, special, as if you were the only person in the world who mattered.

Bucky isn’t doing any better. In fact, he’s a mess. Days have passed, but the guilt, the emptiness—it lingers, gnawing at him, refusing to let him move on. He can barely sleep, haunted by the look in your eyes, the betrayal, the hurt he put there. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees you, hears the way your voice cracked when you told him you didn’t know who he was anymore. And the worst part is, he doesn’t blame you. He knows he did this, that he ruined everything, and now he has to live with the consequences.

Sam and Steve notice almost immediately. Bucky, the confident, charming guy they’d known for years, looks hollow, as if he’s carrying a weight he can’t shake. He barely speaks, keeps to himself, and they rarely see him at the frat house anymore. Instead, he spends most of his time shut up in his dorm, a shadow of the person he used to be.

One evening, as the sun dips below the horizon, Sam and Steve exchange a glance, silently agreeing that they need to intervene. They knock on his door, and when he doesn’t answer, Sam pushes it open, finding him lying on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Hey, man,” Sam says, stepping inside. Steve follows, closing the door behind them as they both approach Bucky’s bed.

Bucky doesn’t react right away, his gaze still fixed on the ceiling. But eventually, he sits up, running a hand through his hair, looking exhausted and defeated.

“What’s up, guys?” he mumbles, though his voice lacks any real curiosity.

“We should be asking you that,” Steve says, his tone softer than usual. “You haven’t been yourself lately. Ever since things ended with Y/N, it’s like… you’re a completely different person.”

At the sound of your name, Bucky’s face falls, and he lets out a long, shaky breath. “Yeah,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “That’s because I am.”

Sam frowns, studying Bucky’s expression, the guilt etched into every line of his face. “Look, man, we didn’t mean for things to get this serious. But if you cared about her, really cared… why didn’t you just tell her the truth from the start?”

Bucky shakes his head, his hands gripping the edge of the bed so tightly his knuckles turn white. “I don’t know,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I was scared, I guess. I knew I’d screwed up, and every time I tried to tell her, I just… couldn’t. I thought I could fix things, somehow, make it up to her without her ever finding out.” He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Stupid, right?”

Steve sighs, sitting beside him on the bed. “Not stupid, just… a mistake. A big one, yeah, but you’re not the first guy to mess up. You’re just… Bucky, this isn’t like you. I’ve never seen you like this over anyone before.”

Bucky looks away, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That’s because I’ve never felt this way before. Not like this. I love her, Steve. And I threw it all away over some stupid bet that meant nothing. I hurt her in ways I can’t even fix.”

Sam places a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “So what are you gonna do about it? You can’t just sit here, wallowing. If she meant that much to you, then maybe you owe it to her—and to yourself—to try and make it right.”

Bucky laughs, but it’s empty, hollow. “And how am I supposed to do that, Sam? She told me herself she doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t trust me. I don’t deserve another chance.”

Steve exchanges a look with Sam, and then he says, “Maybe. But you can’t just give up without trying. If you really love her, Bucky, you have to prove it. Show her that you’re not just the guy who hurt her, that you’re willing to fight for her. And if she doesn’t take you back… at least you’ll know you tried.”

Bucky sighs, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stares at the floor. “I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me. I don’t even know if I deserve it.”

Sam crosses his arms, his expression softening. “Look, man, I get that you’re hurting. But don’t you think she’s hurting, too? She’s probably out there feeling just as broken, wondering if anything between you was ever real.”

Bucky swallows hard, his chest tightening at the thought. He knows you’re hurting, knows you trusted him with something precious, something he didn’t deserve. And knowing that he’s the reason for your pain… it’s a feeling he wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Over the next few days, Bucky wrestles with himself, caught between the fear of making things worse and the desire to show you that he’s truly sorry, that he wants to be the man you thought he was. He writes and rewrites texts he never sends, shows up outside your dorm but never works up the courage to knock. He’s terrified, but he can’t ignore the way his heart aches for you, the empty, gnawing feeling that only seems to grow with each passing day.

Finally, he decides to try one last time. He doesn’t know if you’ll listen, doesn’t know if you’ll even give him a chance. But he has to try—to give you the truth, no matter how painful it might be.

And so, as the evening sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over campus, Bucky finds himself standing outside your dorm, his heart pounding as he gathers the courage to knock. He knows this is his last chance, that this is the moment that will decide everything. And he only hopes, as he takes a deep breath and raises his hand to the door, that you’ll give him the chance to show you that he’s not the man who hurt you—that he’s ready to fight for you, no matter what it takes.

The knock on your door is soft, almost hesitant, but it’s enough to pull you from your thoughts. You’ve been lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to find the strength to move forward, to somehow patch yourself up after everything that happened. When you open the door, you see him standing there, his eyes filled with an uncertainty that’s almost heartbreaking. He’s gripping a small notebook in his hands—your notebook, the one you left in his room—and his gaze is fixed on you with a desperation you’ve never seen before.

“Hi,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t reply right away, the sight of him dredging up the familiar ache in your chest. Part of you wants to slam the door and hide, to keep yourself safe from any more hurt. But you don’t. Instead, you meet his gaze, forcing yourself to remain steady.

“Hi,” you reply, your voice guarded.

He shifts on his feet, glancing down at the notebook before offering it to you. “I, uh… you left this. Thought you might need it.”

You take it from him, feeling the familiar weight of it in your hands. “Thanks.”

A heavy silence hangs between you, one that neither of you seems willing to break. Bucky swallows, his face creased with an anxious, uncertain look that makes him seem vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Can we… can we talk?” he asks, his voice almost pleading. “Please. I know I don’t deserve it, but I just need to say a few things. If you don’t want to listen, I’ll understand, and I’ll leave you alone. I just… I need you to know the truth.”

You hesitate, but finally, you nod, stepping back to let him into your room. He steps inside, closing the door softly behind him, and takes a seat in the small chair by your desk while you remain standing, arms crossed protectively over your chest.

For a moment, he just looks at you, his gaze heavy with regret. Then he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“I know you have every right to hate me,” he starts, his voice barely steady. “I know I messed up in ways I can’t even fix. And I know… I know what I did was horrible. I just—” He swallows, his throat tight. “I just need you to know that it wasn’t all a lie. When we started this… when we first got close, I didn’t expect any of this to happen. I didn’t think I’d feel the way I did.”

You look down, his words stirring a fresh wave of pain in your chest. “But it was a bet, Bucky,” you murmur, your voice trembling. “You… you did all of that just to win some money. To you, it was just a game.”

He flinches, guilt flashing in his eyes, and he nods. “I know. I won’t make excuses for it—I was stupid, and I hurt you. But somewhere along the way, it stopped being about the bet. It stopped being a game. And I started… I started caring about you, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you force yourself to keep your voice steady. “Then why didn’t you just tell me the truth?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair again, his expression tortured. “Because I was scared. I was terrified that you’d look at me the way you’re looking at me now, that I’d lose you. I know that doesn’t make it better, but it’s the truth. I tried to find the right time, tried to find the right words, but I kept putting it off, thinking maybe… maybe I could make it up to you before you ever found out.” He looks down, his voice breaking. “But that was stupid. I should’ve just been honest with you from the start.”

You take a shaky breath, feeling the full weight of everything he’s saying. Part of you wants to believe him, wants to forgive him, but the wound he left is still fresh, still raw. “I trusted you, Bucky,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I thought… I thought what we had was real.”

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with a desperate sincerity that takes you off guard. “It was real. For me, it was real. And I know that doesn’t change anything, but I need you to know that. I never meant to hurt you, and I’ll spend as long as it takes to make it up to you if you’ll let me.”

You study him for a long moment, searching his face, trying to find some indication of sincerity, something to show that he’s truly sorry. And when you see the remorse in his eyes, the sadness that mirrors your own, you feel something in your chest soften, just slightly.

“Bucky,” you begin softly, forcing yourself to stay strong, “I can’t just go back to how things were. I can’t pretend this didn’t happen. You hurt me more than anyone ever has, and it’s going to take time for me to get past that.”

He nods, his expression resigned, but he doesn’t look away. “I understand. And I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. I just… I just want the chance to prove to you that I’m more than the guy who hurt you. Even if we can’t go back, I want to be there for you, even if it’s just as a friend.”

You let his words sink in, feeling a flicker of hope amidst the ache in your heart. Part of you still longs for what you had, for the closeness you shared, but you know that you can’t rush back into it. If Bucky truly wants a second chance, he’ll have to earn it, piece by piece, day by day.

“Maybe…” You hesitate, feeling vulnerable but determined. “Maybe we can start as friends. Just… friends. No promises, no expectations. If you’re willing to do that, to rebuild things from the ground up… then maybe, someday, I’ll be able to trust you again.”

Relief floods his face, and he nods, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll take that. Anything you’re willing to give, I’ll take it. I’ll prove to you that I can be better. I’ll prove that I’m worth your trust.”

You give him a tentative smile, and for the first time in days, you feel a flicker of hope. It’s small and fragile, but it’s enough to remind you that maybe healing is possible.

Over the next few weeks, Bucky becomes a constant but careful presence in your life. He shows up when you need help with an assignment, offers a listening ear when you need to vent about a long day, and joins you for coffee on campus, keeping the conversation light and easy. He respects your boundaries, never pushing for more, never expecting anything beyond friendship. You’re surprised at how attentive he is, how willing he is to wait, to prove that he’s serious about making things right.

Slowly, the walls around your heart begin to crack. You start to feel comfortable with him again, to let your guard down, if only a little. You catch him glancing at you sometimes, a soft, almost wistful look in his eyes, as if he’s seeing something precious he thought he’d lost forever. It’s in these moments that you remember why you fell for him in the first place, why his smile used to make your heart race, why his touch felt like home.

One day, as you’re both sitting on a bench by the campus pond, he turns to you, a hesitant smile on his face. “I know we’re just friends right now, and I’m okay with that. But I want you to know that I’m grateful for every moment I get to spend with you, even if it’s just like this.”

You feel a warmth spread through you, a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time. “Thank you, Bucky,” you say softly. “For not giving up. For being patient with me.”

He reaches out, hesitating for a moment before resting his hand on yours, his touch warm and steady. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. I’ll prove to you that I’m here for you, no matter what.”

And as you look into his eyes, you feel a flicker of something you thought was lost—a tentative, fragile hope that maybe things could be different this time. That he could truly be the person he’s trying to be, the person you wanted him to be all along. And though you know there’s a long road ahead, you’re finally willing to take that first step with him, trusting that maybe, this time, he won’t let you down.

The night is alive with music and laughter as you step into the crowded frat house. It’s your first time back here since everything happened, and you can’t deny the nervous flutter in your stomach as you take in the familiar scene. But tonight feels different—Bucky is by your side, watching you with a gentle smile as he guides you through the chaos of people, his hand warm and steady on your arm.

Over the past few weeks, things between you and Bucky have been slowly mending. He’s proven himself time and time again, showing up when it mattered, respecting your boundaries, and never pressuring you for more than you were willing to give. He’s become someone you can lean on, someone who’s earned back your trust bit by bit. And, to your own surprise, you feel something new blossoming between you—something deeper, stronger, and more genuine than before.

When you reach the main room, you spot Sam and Steve near the keg, both of them giving you a thumbs-up as soon as they see you with Bucky. You laugh, rolling your eyes, but Bucky just grins, shrugging as if to say, They’re harmless.

“Glad you came tonight,” he says, leaning closer so you can hear him over the noise. “I was worried you might skip.”

You shrug, glancing up at him. “Well, I figured it was about time I faced the frat house again.”

He chuckles, a warm, rich sound that sends a spark of something familiar through you. It’s the same feeling you used to get when you first met, when you were just getting to know him, before anything got complicated. Only now, it feels even better—because you’re finally on solid ground with him, without secrets or lies standing between you.

As the night goes on, you find yourself enjoying the party, laughing with friends, and even dancing a bit. Bucky stays close, his presence a comforting, steady anchor amidst the noise and chaos. He’s attentive, offering you drinks and glancing over every so often to make sure you’re comfortable. And every time you catch his gaze, you feel your heart race just a little faster.

At one point, as you’re talking with a friend, you feel Bucky’s hand gently touch your arm, and he leans in close, his voice soft and intimate against your ear. “Want to get some air?”

You nod, letting him lead you through the throngs of people until you step out onto the back porch. The cool night air is a welcome relief from the warmth inside, and you breathe deeply, taking in the quiet calm of the evening. Bucky leans against the railing, watching you with a soft, almost nervous smile, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you something,” he begins, his voice low and steady, as if he’s thought about this moment a thousand times. “I know we’ve been rebuilding things, and I know you wanted to take it slow. But, Y/N… being with you these past few weeks, even just as friends, has been everything to me. And I can’t stop thinking about you. About us.”

Your heart stirs at his words, and you feel a warmth spread through you, a sense of longing that’s been building quietly since the day he asked for a second chance.

“Bucky,” you say softly, stepping a little closer. “I… I feel the same. It’s been hard, letting go of the past. But I think—no, I know—I’ve forgiven you. You’ve shown me who you really are, and… I like that person.”

His eyes brighten at your words, and he reaches out, his hand brushing your cheek as his thumb strokes gently across your skin. He leans closer, his gaze searching your face as if to make sure you’re truly ready for this.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, his voice barely audible in the quiet night air.

You feel your heart skip a beat, and you give him a small, almost shy nod, your pulse racing as he leans in, closing the distance between you. The moment his lips meet yours, it’s like the world melts away, leaving only the warmth of his touch, the softness of his mouth against yours. It’s gentle at first, tentative, as if he’s afraid of breaking the spell. But as you respond, his hand slips to the back of your neck, pulling you a little closer, deepening the kiss with a quiet, aching intensity.

When you finally pull away, he rests his forehead against yours, both of you catching your breath, sharing a smile that’s equal parts relief and joy.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice full of warmth, “I promise, I’m not going to mess this up again. I want this with you—for real, no games.”

You smile, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “Good, because you’re stuck with me now.”

He laughs, pulling you into a tight hug, and you bury your face in his shoulder, feeling a happiness you haven’t felt in a long time. You’re finally ready to move forward with him, to start fresh, knowing that this time, it’s real.

maybe I should've made it more angsty? I love angst, request angst people! lol

[deadsetobsessions]

Snart Jr.

Lovely prompt by @stealingyourbones in her long prompts list, in which Danny Phantom meets the Rogues of Central City! This will have multiple parts, I just haven't written them yet.

Disclaimer: I know very little about Captain Cold and Mirror Master despite having watched some of the Flash. The general vibe I get from Flash is that Flash just really cares about his rogues as evidenced by how he talks to them and doesn't immediately one-shot them like I'm pretty sure he could do. And that Captain Cold is a snarky asshole that just wants to steal things and follow his plans as planned? Tbh, the whole mini-arc/episode with him just felt like Snart was trying to coordinate the world's riskiest group project. He was so done by the end lmao

"Huh. That's new."

Danny hovered an inch off of the ground, having just been spat out by swirling green portal. He was going to have to get back to the Zone later to hot potato Skulker through a couple of portals in revenge. He had a math exam he had to study for, dammit.

Danny sighed. Might as well see what's happening. The portals rarely lead somewhere boring, and Danny was bored. He floated further in, form going intangible and invisible as he passed through thick but insulated marble walls. See, Jazz? He could totally plan ahead. He's also learning that he could probably rob a bank easily, but Danny would never.

"Never been spat out in a bank before," he hummed, eyes flickering on the numerous forms of cowering people in the lobby. The goons scattered about don't see him, but it would take another ghost to even detect his presence so it was to be expected. He moved further in with little hindrance and soon touched down onto polished floor behind two incredibly suspicious individuals.

"What-cha do-ing?"

The two figures, currently and obviously robbing a bank, whirled around in surprise. Their respective weapons whirred to a start before they stopped, baffled by the meta teen standing there with his white hair waving about and innocent look pasted all over his face.

Leonard Snart knew instinctively that the kid was so full of shit. He'd bet his entire plan on the fact that the kid knew exactly what kind of shit he was stirring. Still, Snart was guilty of a lot of things but direct child-endangerment wasn't ever one of them.

"How'd you get in here, kid?" Mirror Master raised his laser pistol, ready to distract and divert the kid with threats of violence- which Snart glared at him for- or with his hall of mirrors that he'd run to.

Danny shrugged. "I walked. If you guys didn't want me here, you should have guarded the place better."

"They were supposed to," Snart drawled. He cased the kid. Teen. The kid had a weird halo effect, that seemed to draw the eyes to the stylized letter on his hazmat suit. The kid was young. Meta. Non-hostile. "You trying to stop us?"

Danny shook his head. "Nah. Came from the Ghost Zone so 's really non'a my business. I was just being nosy."

Snart gave a curt nod and nudged Mirror Master back into cracking the security measures.

Mirror Master scoffed. "What the hell is a ghost zone?"

"I mean, it's pretty self explanatory, right? It's a zone where ghosts live. Hence, you know, Ghost Zone." Danny did a little jazz hands (oh, yeah, he was definitely gonna get Jazz to make that joke sooner or later) for emphasis.

Snart paused for the slightest bit before continuing with his task. Did ghosts exist?

"...Did the Flash send you here, kid?"

"I'm not a kid," Danny scowled, walking right up to them. He got enough of that from his own Rogues, thank you. "And what's a Flash?"

"The Flash, kid." Mirror Master corrected, shoving monitors and PC's and expensive looking office chairs into... a mirror dimension? Danny shrugged and rolled with it.

"Who's that? Your boss?"

"Local superhero, not our boss. You're not from here," Snart quickly deduced as a small smile wormed onto his face from successfully cracking the security without setting off an alarm. They'd have ten minutes before the system cycles the access codes again and flags the fraudulent ones. That should be enough time.

"Superhero? Are they fast? Actually, where is here?" Danny glanced around at the now bare security office like the Flash would show up.

The guy in green and yellow took everything not nailed down to the ground. Danny respected that, even if he kind of wanted to stop the robbery. But he's not really supposed to interfere. That would be uber rude, since it looked like the guy in the fur jacket seemed like he had planned everything precisely.

"You're in Central City, kid. Did you take a wrong turn trying to get to Keystone or something?" Green-yellow guy snorted.

"Gonna be real honest with you, I've got no idea where that is. What state are we in?" Danny followed as the pair rushed to the safe doors. He could offer to phase them through but no matter how flexible Danny's morals have become over the years, he was going to draw a line at actively helping a person commit crime.

"Kansas. Do you teleport? Are you a teleporting meta?" Snart asked, eyes intense as he both glared at Danny and pressed an ear to the safe door.

"Nah, I wish I could teleport. Getting to school would be so much faster. Kansas? Huh, I've never been."

"How lost are you, kid?" Mirror Master incredulously paused from robbing the packages that were delivered to the bank.

Danny shrugged. "Oh, I'm Danny. Who are you guys?"

"Captain Cold. That's Mirror Master."

Danny shifted as the safe clicks open. "So, uh, are you guys the villains here?"

Captain Cold shot him a weird look. "We're actively robbing a bank, kid. That should be obvious."

"Also, you're acting real calm for a kid speaking to two of Fawcett's best super-villains." Mirror Master chimed in, laser-ing off locks on deposit boxes and shoving cash and stuff into his mirror dimension.

Danny padded in after them. "Eh, you haven't shot at me- not even on sight- yet, which is more than I can say for law enforcement, so you're pretty chill in my book."

Captain Cold snorted, pointedly taking his freeze gun and breaking off a large manual lock. "I believe it's my job to be the chill one. Plus, we don't kill. The Flash would be up our... business if we did. It's not worth the trouble."

"You can say ass. I've heard worse."

"Not from me, kid."

Danny hadn't had that kind of consideration from anyone in a long time. Even if it's a bit... mother-hennish, the halfa couldn't find it in him to be annoyed. "Ah, okay. Well, you also haven't kidnapped me or tried to stop me from following you, so..."

Mirror Master shoved a giant painting into his dimension. "You haven't tried to stop us; it'd be weird trying to stop you."

"Makes sense."

"Heh. You're alright, kid. Though... who's kidnapping you?"

"My fruit loop of a godfather. It's a thing," Danny avoided the searching gaze like a pro.

"Hold this." Captain Cold said suddenly, giving Danny a massive dufflebag.

"Wait, what?"

Captain Cold began stuffing the bag with cash and once the money in the vicinity (not that much) went in, he said "Go look around. Having another person in here is a risk so you might as well make up for it."

Danny's calling it. Captain Cold was full of shit. The guy's a big softie. Danny smiled sheepishly and agreed. Danny circled the place, pointing out expensive looking stuff- "for fun" and not because they were nice to him- when he felt the tell-tale zaps of an anomaly in Clockwork's domain.

"Move!" He shouted at the two villains, both of whom dove out of the way. Instinctively, Danny threw out his gloved hands and iced the floors, instincts bristling at the incoming danger. His jaw dropped as a blur encountered the ice and went ass over tea kettle onto the floor, unable to stop its own momentum.

"Oh shit!" Danny uttered, eyes wide as the blur slammed into the opposite- reinforced- wall with a pained shout. The stopped person was wearing red, with a lighting bolt motif all over their uniforms. That implied speed. Speed implied "The Flash." Danny knew a hero when he saw one and he just iced him. Shit.

"What-" The Flash groaned. Mirror Master and Captain Cold gaped.

"OhmyancientsI'msosorrygottagobye!" Danny shouted.

"Hey, wait, kid-!" Captain Cold shouted. Danny ignored him, going invisible in a panic and sank into the ground, mortified. After thirty seconds of self-hatred, he zoomed out and away. Danny held his head in his hands as he flew back to where Amity was...

Only to stare down at the empty plots of land where his city was supposed to be. Danny shoved a hand into his chest and pulled out his phone.

[No results for Amity Park. Did you mean "Amity Arkham"?]

"What."

Any research he did after that only turned up a Jasmine Fellona, a budding neurobiologist in her field, and other people that were adjacent to the people Danny knew. But nothing, nothing from Amity Park.

"Oh, yeah, we're definitely not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy."

---

As the Flash stood around to keep an eye on the hand-cuffed villains, he couldn't help but ask.

"So, uh, Snart. Did you... get a kid?"

"What." Snart asked, incredibly done with this shit.

"You know. Snart junior? With the ice and everything?" Flash gestured at the un-melting ice that covered the floor leading into the safe. "I mean, I'm not thrilled you're pulling your kid into a life of crime..."

"No."

"Wait, you had a kid and didn't tell me?" Mirror Master asked, mildly offended. "That was your kid? No wonder no one shot at him!"

"He's not my kid." Snart gave Flash the stink-eye. "And don't you have a couple of baby sidekicks running around?"

"C'mon dude, you're so obviously fond of him. It's okay, you don't have to hide it." Flash avoided the topic... in a flash.

"Can someone arrest me right now so these idiots can be removed from my vicinity?" Snart snarked to the approaching officer, jerking his head to point at the beaming Flash.

"You and me both, buddy," Officer West sighed.

---

One trip to the zone and a stressful conversation with Clockwork later, Danny was found in his keep, smacking his ghost head into the ghost wall of his ghost keep. Danny would unleash a Wail if it didn't have the nasty habit of bringing everything around him.

Apparently, he got "Amity'd," a process which meant Amity spat him out like an over chewed dog bone and refused to take him back.

"That doesn't even make sense! I left there a bunch of times! And came back!"

"The city has decided that it was your time to leave, Danny." Clockwork spared a wane smile for the curled up boy-king.

"I have people to protect there! My entire life! My haunt!" Danny yelled, breaths that he didn't technically need coming shorter and shorter. The neon green of the Zone whirled in and out of his vision in a dizzying shudder of anxiety and incoming panic.

"It wasn't your haunt, I'm afraid. The city nurtured you as a young spirit- thus shared her haunt- and has decided that it was time for you to... leave the nest, so to speak."

That stopped Danny's panic in its tracks. "Are you telling me she NightVale-d me? Some kind of involuntary coming-of-age bs?"

If he weren't on the edge of hysterical laughter, Danny would take a moment and proudly say to Mr. Lancer that he had paid attention in class.

"...Yes."

"Fuck." Danny dropped his head down in despair. His head made a loud thunk. The bag of cash he'd accidently made away with sat innocently at his feet. Further proof that it wasn't some nightmare he'd wake up from anytime soon.

---

Danny slumped over the desk, exhausted. Technus had lent him a ghostly hand and hacked into government data bases to re-establish his social security number and all the other dumb bits and bobs that he needed to establish his identity because Amity was an actual ghost town. Ghost to reality, ghost to real life. Ancients, Amity even had their own data network, which he couldn't access outside of Amity itself. This meant that Danny couldn't even call anyone. Ugh.

"I gotta find a place to live," he mumbled to himself. Danny, despite knowing that he needed to do things, did not move for another ten minutes.

Then, as his phone alarm went off, buzzing on the table. Like... Clockwork... Danny sat up straight and wiped all traces of wallowing self pity off his face. The people in the library- students- gave him solemn nods of solidarity. Danny nodded back and left the library.

He wandered around Fawcett City, somewhere Clockwork had recommended he stayed. With Clockwork, recommendations tended to be life-important (plot-important?) orders. Danny liked the place, really. It gave off the weird and settled "what-the-fuck,-Box-Ghost-did-you-have-to-destroy-the-mall?" vibes Amity constantly gave off after the ghosts started coming through. He thought he even saw a talking tiger! Awesome.

"Hey, are you new here?"

Danny looked down. His reflection stared back at him.

Did he have another kid? Did someone clone him again? Ancients curse you, Vlad!

"Uh- yeah."

"Oh. Do you need help getting around? I was born and raised here all my life, so I can totally do that!"

Oh thank the Ancients, this wasn't another Dani. Just a weirdly similar looking kid.

"You know I'm a stranger, right?"

"I don't think anyone helping Nanny Mae pick up her oranges would hurt kids," the kid said archly, but with a grin so like Dani, it made Danny miss his younger sister.

"Okay, you got me there. But still."

The kid sighed. "I know how to be safe, thanks. I'm Billy!"

"Danny. Nice to meet you."

"Okay, Danny, where you off to?"

"I'm actually trying to find a place that'll be cheap to rent." He's sixteen, but Danny could totally pass as eighteen. "I'm thinking about moving to Fawcett. It's nice here, with all the ambient magic and stuff."

This got him a wide-eyed look. "Do you use magic?"

"Something like that."

"Cool."

Danny took in the considering glint in Billy's eyes and decided that it was future!Danny's problem. Present!Danny was currently occupied with trying to stay off the streets. That giant bag of cash he'd accidently absconded with would be helpful and Danny felt kind of bad... but his growling stomach had chased that away quickly.

"This way!"

Danny shrugged his wavering morality off and followed the kid, shouldering his new and stolen duffle bag. If anything happened, he could just go ghost. It wouldn't be the weirdest thing that's happened in this city, Danny made sure to check.

"Have you been by the zoo?" Billy began to rattle off his favorite details about the Fawcett city zoo as he wove around the city.

Danny didn't think he'd actually have to go ghost.

"Not yet, actually. Is it true that there's a talking tiger there?"

"Yeah! Tawky Tawny! He's my friend!"

"Awesome."

[aamircoeur]

just distressed (still not a damsel) ー ultraman, ken sato.

ultraman getting to know his damsel as kenji sato, the baseball player.

SEQUEL. PART 1.

sfw, female reader. UNEDITED.

you smiled at the chef and sat down on a stool, looking around to examine the place. it was clean and the lighting inside was warm, and the place had a lingering smell of fried eggs and soy sauce, which you really liked.

it was seven in the evening and you were at tonkatsu tonki for dinner, as per ultraman's suggestion. you had small chats with the chef as he made your order, with you being the only customer that he had as of the moment.

a few weeks have passed since your lengthy chat with japan's superhero. although you had been in the scene when yet another kaiju attacked this week, you weren't as involved as the previous times, which made you sad about not having the chance to talk to ultraman again. it was for the better, though, you thought. the poor guy sounded like he needed all the rest he could have.

he handed you your bowl of tonkatsu and poured water to your glass. while you were talking to the chef, a replay of this morning's baseball game was playing on the television that hung on the wall of the restaurant. you took a peek every now and then whenever the chef made reactions about the game, making you curious. "are you a fan of baseball?" you asked, taking a bite of your tonkatsu.

you got to know the chef for the past thirty minutes that you've been in the restaurant. he's a sarcastic man who genuinely cared for the food of the customers and their well-being, saying that his regulars had been coming in and out of his restaurant for more than twenty years.

"huge fan. i used to watch the games held in tokyo dome with my daughters," he said, his eyes never leaving the television. "but they've grown older, and we only watch together when they're free."

you hummed in response. "i was a huge tigers fan, and my daughters were even bigger fans of the giants." he laughed, and you smiled at him. "what about you? you like baseball?" he asked, wiping the spatula that he used.

you drank water to help you swallow your food before answering. "ah, not really. it never really piqued my interest." you said.

in the middle of your conversation, a group of rather tall men walked into the restaurant, greeting the chef before sitting down, who only waved his hand at them as he focused on his conversation with you.

"what do you mean it never piqued your interest?" the chef echoed, his eyebrow raised in a rather animated way which made you laugh at him.

"i-it just never crossed my mind much."

"baseball never crossed your mind much?" the chef asked in disbelief. "it's the best sport there is! don't tell me you're one of them basketball people."

"i have nothing against baseball. personally, i just don't like it. it looks fun though!" you explained yourself.

"you hate baseball?" the chef asked in front of you.

"i donー"

"you hate baseball?" the guy who sat near your stool chimed in.

"i don't!" you said, rubbing your cheek to show light-hearted annoyance.

the chef looked at you and faked a scoff, before walking to the group of men further from you to ask for their order. you laughed at him and sighed before drinking from your glass of water.

"so," the guy from beside you called out. "what was the "you hate baseball" argument with the chef?" he asked, taking off his sunglasses before hanging it at the front of his shirt.

you smiled and playfully rolled your eyes. "what i was saying is that i don't hate baseball." you said, taking a bite of your food after. "it's just not in my area of, uhm, interest or expertise."

the guy chuckled, running his hand through his jet-black hair. "i don't think i've ever met anyone who told me that they don't like baseball."

"what is it with guys and baseball?" you joked.

"hey, everyone likes baseball." he responded. he reached out his hand in front of you, offering a handshake. "i'm kenji." he said.

you accepted the handshake and held his hand, shaking it. "i'm [name] [surname], pleasure being baseball buddies with you."

"don't think that us being baseball buddies would work, considering how you don't like baseball," he joked with a forced frown on his face.

you groaned and he just laughed at you.

kenji ordered his usual and kept quiet, listening to his teammates as they debriefed the game that they had earlier. he was happy to have a close friendship with each and every one of them after struggling with adjusting to moving back to his home town two years ago.

but what made him the happiest is this restaurant, and seeing you in it. the night after his talk with you downtown, was the only time that he got a good night's sleep the whole week despite him getting only five hours.

not in a million years would he admit it, the chances of seeing you during a kaiju attack was the thought that made him feel light on his feet and eager to protect the city (to see you). but to his surprise (he was bummed the whole day), he didn't catch at least a glimpse of your [color] hair, but it was fine, he thought.

he didn't need to see you all the time, he thought. that would be greedy and desperate, he thought. your safety is what matters, it's a good thing that you weren't near another kaiju attack, where he had the chances of talking to you again, he thought.

"so, were you near the kaiju attack last week?" kenji asked.

why the fuck did he ask that.

you looked at him and tilted your head. "uhm," you said, chewing on your food and swallowing it as your facial expression questioned the weird conversation starter.

great, kenji. now she probably thinks you're a freak, he thought.

on the outside, kenji was as cool as ice with his unbothered look and relaxed body language. but internally, he was on his way to drive his motorcycle off mount fuji.

"i was near it, actually." you said, drinking your water. "i was a few streets down from the kaiju, so thankfully i didn't have any trouble getting to a safe place."

kenji sighed out of relief, thankful that you were safe, and that you didn't seem to think of him as a freak. "that's good," he said.

"funny you mentioned kaijus," you said. kenji looked at you with shock in his eyes, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

did you figure it out . . ?

"i've recently gotten my old apartment building ruined by one just a few weeks ago." kenji sighed.

"oh, i'm sorry," kenji said and you just waved your hand to let him know that it was okay. "how are you holding up?" he asked.

"alright, i guess. the landlord was kind enough to give us back two months worth of rent back for the inconvenience and exposure to danger. i guess the kdf offered their aid to him." you said as you continued eating your meal.

kenji hummed. "what about you?" you asked, placing the back of your forearms against the table counter, your elbows brushing against his.

kenji took notice of this and cleared his throat. "i haven't been near one," an obvious lie. "there was one time when a kaiju attacked the arena that i played in, it was gigantron, i think?" kenji said.

"oh, that's unfortunate. glad to know you're safe." you said.

"oh, no, i'm really not. the kaiju now holds me hostage in my own home."

"huh . . ?" your eyebrows knit together in worry, your [color] eyes staring into his purple ones.

kenji stared back into your pretty eyes and felt warmth on his cheeks. he looked at how your expression says that you believed every word he said. kenji covered his smile with the back of his hand and laughed, squinting his eyes.

you immediately frowned at the joke and gave his shoulder a soft punch before taking another bite at your food.

suddenly, the lights of the restaurant started swinging and flickering. you felt the ground shake and you looked at the people in the restaurant, before locking eyes with kenji once again who gave you a worried look.

a speaker that came from the street alerted everyone of the happening. "this is the kaiju defense force. evacuate the area immediately." the speaker repeated.

the roof of the restaurant broke, a red-colored foot piercing into it. you heard the people that kenji came in with shouting as they guided to help each other scurry to exit the building. as the others left, everyone was divided and you were with the chef and three other people. the chef led you all to the back exit of the restaurant and you all ran into the street, gathering with the other people in the neighbouring buildings who went out for their safety.

"are you all okay?" the chef asked, beads of sweat forming on his forehead from the sprint.

you gasped for air, trying to ease your breathing as you threw him a thumbs up.

"kenji and the others went out into the street to where the kaiju is," one pointed out.

another held onto his shoulder and gave him a worried look. "i'm sure they're alright." he said.

the crowd talked amongst themselves while the tmpd (tokyo metropolitan police department) made sure that everyone was okay and that the injured were provided aid. ultraman appeared as always, his glowing eyes acting as the sun in the cold night.

after an hour, ultraman had guided the kaiju back to where it came from. the kdf gave the tmpd the green signal and told all the civilians to go home for the night, asking those with the damaged properties to stay behind to discuss insurance and such. you bid farewell to the chef who asked you to stay safe before he was guided by the policeman to talk in an office.

a man tapped your shoulder and bowed farewell to you along with his mates, hoping for your safe travels. they were the people you were separated with in the restaurant. you greeted them good bye and started walking home.

alone again, you sighed to yourself and rested your hands in the pockets of your jacket.

this was probably the first time that you were dangerously near a kaiju attack without talking to ultraman, you thought.

turning right into a dark street, you saw a big motorcycle parked on the side as you were about to pass it, and before you knew it, a huge being emitting a beam of light was falling from the sky.

what the fuck?!

you covered your face with your arms before it landed to spare yourself from accidental blindness, and you were surprised to lower your arms just to see the man that you met earlier at the restaurant instead. "little ma'am?" he called out, eyes widened as he panted.

you stared at him with complete shock visible on your face. "kenshi?!"

taglist: @ttulipwritezz @c-losur3 @saeyari @taleiak @spencerrxids

[phoenixyfriend]

Somewhere out there is an essay about superhero movies where villains co-opt, misuse, or even just misunderstand the language of the left to push methods and goals that are incompatible with the actual theory of the left, but that sound Right And Good to viewers who aren't thinking it through entirely. And the essay is not just about how they compare to each other, but how they are a litmus test for viewers to know how susceptible they are to propaganda.

Co-opt: Most obvious example and the inspiration for this post is the Riddler in Batman (2020, the one with RPatt). The Riddler recites leftist rhetoric about corruption, wealth hoarding, and redistribution, but his actual actions and goals are unrelated. He's an accelerationist who's more interested in tearing down a system that didn't benefit HIM than in actually rectifying the problems, and who cares if a few kids get traumatized or even killed along the way?

Misuse: Easy mode, this one's Thanos. He talks about ensuring there's enough for everyone to eat, but like. Bro.

Misunderstand: Erik Killmonger, who has the benefit of both some incredibly legitimate grievances and a pretty face, but also kind of fails at the idea of intersectionality, proportionality, or Start With Words Before You Escalate. He's the easiest to sympathize with, because he has some really good points and ultimately does appear to be legitimately pursuing those goals... but he's also a misogynist, jumped to international terrorism before "call up my cousin who doesn't know I exist," and there's something in there about the role played by his time in the US military, which gave him emotional trauma, head trauma, and a sincere belief in the validity of US-style insurgency operations based on hostile takeovers of inconvenient countries. He's charming and pretty and sincere... he's just also, in many ways, wrong. And the parts where he's right makes it easy to try to ignore the bits where he's wrong if you're predisposed to like him and prefer some absolutism.

Anyway, yeah, there are definitely other examples, but the ones that were suggested to me didn't quite vibe with the base idea (Mysterio and Vulture both had disgruntled union moments in the MCU, but they left those roots so quickly that I don't think the concept of using leftist rhetoric as cover/justification for the crimes really applies since, they very quickly shift gears into revenge and greed respectively).

Someone's probably done this better orz.

[infinizero]

Danny as The Ghostly Informant TM except nobody realizes it's the same person

Danny after retiring, maybe because the portals are closed or maybe because he became Ghost Royalty or Important Ghost TM who told everyone not to come to Earth, decides to go travelling like or with Dani/Elle

Its really up to anyone whether it was reveal gone right after graduation and dude wants to find himself before doing the whole college thing or reveal gone wrong and is running away maybe in another dimension maybe in the same and Amity Park is a blind zone in any case he goes travelling

The first one he encounters is a more easygoing JL member maybe Flash maybe Wonder Woman trying to figure out how to defeat a Realms ghost so Danny, seeing them struggling, decides to help and either talks the ghost down or soups them

In both cases he opens a portal to the realms and lets them go back through.

They talk a little, Danny as Danny introduces Infinite Realms ghosts as they are trying his best to figure out if they also want to hunt down ecto-entities. The JL member would want to learn more so they exchange information details just in case something like this happens again

Around this time, a JLD member gets wind of the new Important Ghost around the area and needs to find out more about them. After scouting around a little, he finds a way to summon what seems to be a young protective spirit who seems close to the Important Ghost.

Spoiler alert: the protective spirit and Important Ghost are both Danny. All the time travel stuff are attributed to Important Ghost and the beating up other ghosts who come near a specific place to protective spirit. Bonus points if there is a misunderstanding that Important Ghost is protective spirit's parent that's why they beat up Pariah Dark

So they summon Danny as Phantom to ask questions and eventually get the ok to summon him again just in case they need to know things, with the understanding that neither will hurt each other (the JLD member also has the vague idea of asking Phantom to bring Important Ghost over to their side if another worldending thing happenes again)

Soon enough, Danny as Danny meets one of the younger JL adjacent teams (Teen Titans or Young Justice when they're babies? Maybe even Damian's team that I don't know the name of? Maybe the Outlaws?) and helps them out against one of his rogues.

If it's the same dimension, Danny sees that they are younger superheroes and/or not as connected to the government as the older ones, so he warns them about the anti ecto acts and being careful since being so close to death is very slowly making them more liminal/if they're liminal then tells them to stay away from GIW

If not the same dimension then he just gets talking to them about ecto-entities and does basically the same thing as the first JL member he met, eventually exchanging contact information

This pattern continues for a while as Batman receives reports from whichever Robin about ecto-entities being a thing and either holding a meeting because of the anti ecto acts or because there is an entire species that could destroy all of us by possessing Superman and none of you JLD thought to inform me???

At this point of time, most of the JL has met and some even asked for his help and they talk about the various things they've learned from their Informant(Danny) and because it's Danny they slowly get a full picture of everything because he talked about obsessions with one person and cores to another and so on so forth

They all eventually come to the conclusion that they should ask for more details from their Informant

Cue Danny being bombarded by text messages of all the people he's helped asking him about the Realms while being summoned as Phantom.

[meltedheartz]

thinking about ftm!reader and mean!izuku who thinks it's so cute how they just can't defend themselves against him :((

tw : college!au, dub-con, condescension, mild bullying (in a way), chubby reader, reader wears glasses, reader's a bit of a loser, dacryphilia, creampie, no protection (don't be silly, wrap that willy!), mating press, izuku's a whore for reader, praise and petnames, don't care how big you are cuz izu's bigger, gn pronouns used :3

word count : wrote this on a whim, so i honestly don't know..

it starts when you accidentally bump into him, stumbling back yet he was barely even startled. you apologize profusely, and izuku just waves you off at first.

you think it's rude, before rushing off to wherever you were trying to get too—forgetting about it.

but izuku spots you around that coffee shop near the campus, sees you in the hallways with books nearly stumbling from your arms, watches as you take notes as the professor speaks.

a couple of people whisper about you, how you never bother speaking to anyone, and how nervous you seem when someone approaches you.

it's like cornering a bunny, izuku thinks when he decides to speak to you.

well, it's more like being passive aggressive than actually conversing.

"wow, you're soo smart. you must be real fun to be around, huh? your voice is really high pitched, are you sure you're alright?"

you tell him to stop being a dickhead, if he doesn't wanna be around, he doesn't have to be. izuku waves you off and laughs, says you're like a startled animal that thinks it's intimidating, and it makes you frown.

"you're an ass," you poke at his chest, before picking up your bag and adjusting your glasses.

"hm? where are you going?" izuku pointedly ignores your insult, but it feels more ticklish than insulting or hurtful.

you ignore him right back, attempting to storm out of his dorm room. of all the people you get to work with, you get paired with him. it's annoying—more an inconvenience, than anything.

izuku watches as tears well up behind those clear rims you wear, sees the furrow in your eyebrow and nearly laughs at it, wants to call you a crybaby for it; just like everyone used to do to him.

he can sort of see why they did it, and when it comes down to someone as soft and quiet as you, it's nearly impossible to resist.

"we're not done with either of our parts. you don't need help on yours?"

when you don't answer, izuku takes it upon himself to grab you hard enough to stop you, but not enough to hurt. it causes a slight discomfort, makes your breathing stutter a bit as you sniffle and try to pull away—but you physically can't.

izuku speaks again, looming over you with a small scowl. "why are you ignoring me? i thought you wanted to get this done, what happened to that?"

you just wanna slap him for asking that. he knows the answer — knows exactly what he did wrong and why you got fed up.

"let go of me. i'll work on my part by myself, dickweed."

"nuh-uh, that's not fair to either of us, is it?" izuku coos, grabbing your bag for you and tossing it onto the futon he has sitting just a little bit away.

you sniffle again, more tears welling up and threatening to tip over and down onto your chubby cheeks, and you can't even wipe them away cuz you're arguing with such an asshole.

you seem so frustrated and angered, but he knows that instead of yelling, you cry. it's pathetic, makes him wanna bite your cute face and boop your nose just to see you sniffle some more.

"you mad at me?" izuku asks, tugging you back into the small apartment that you stupidly decided to visit to get your joint assignment done.

"this is stupid — let me go, midoriya." he frowns at that, his grip loosening just a bit before it tightens again.

he clicks his tongue and drags you right back to his room, with all the superhero posters and expensive collectors items that can't be found anywhere else.

izuku sits you down but doesn't let you go—hasn't let go of your arm since he got a hold of it. "what happened to calling me by my name?"

"that is your name," you snark back. you watch as his eyes narrow a bit and he makes his way on to the bed, looming over you.

you feel.. small. it's not like you were ever bigger than him, he goes to the gym more times a week than you can keep track of and is over 6'0" — of course you aren't bigger than him.

"don't get smart with me honey. you know you don't wanna do that." izuku sighs and makes you lay down, and you feel your heartbeat speed up as your eyes widen.

you struggle and squirm, but he just smiles and puts more of his weight on you, making it near impossible to even move.

"m-midoriya—"

"izuku. say it," he breathes out, tucking his face into the crook of your neck almost forcefully.

he hears you hiccup, sees as the tears flow over and how your eyes get all glassy—all doe-eyed and he laughs.

"izuku, get off me—" you try to move again, you feel the grip around your wrist tighten more and it feels more and more uncomfortable as it does.

"i love you. you're so cute, what would you have done if it was someone else on top of you? hm?" izuku raises his head to look at you, and feels bad.

feels that guilt of actually making you cry, seeing how scared you are of him. "ah-ah, shh. i'm sorry. i didn't mean to make you upset, okay?"

that doesn't make the tears stop, but izuku thinks it's fine. the apology sounds genuine—more genuine than the usual sarcastic 'sorry' he gives you, more genuine than the mean laughs he gives you after making you throw a crumbled paper ball at him.

"i hate you, you're s-so mean," you hiss, wanting to kick and scream at him.

you feel the hold he has on your wrists loosen, but he doesn't let go entirely. but it's more than enough for you to wriggle free.

izuku smiles again, "i know. i know, 'm sorry."

the words that leave his mouth make you hiccup and stare at him, the typical scowl you always give izuku on your lips.

"you never show that you're actually sorry." you sniffle, and have to move to wipe the onslaught of tears the stumble down your pretty face.

izuku pauses when you say that, eyes grazing over your face before he lights up.

"how about i prove it, would that make you feel better?"

"s-slow down—"

"mgh—s-sorry," izuku gasps, but doesn't make any move to slow down, hips stuttering into yours as he watches you shake and clutch at the sheets.

it's been a little over thirty minutes, you think, but you're not sure. it's not like you can think when you can feel izuku's pretty cock all the way in your tummy—making sure you know he's actually sorry.

he spent all his time before this slurping at your pretty cunt, fingering you to completion as he sucked at your cute clit and made sure you felt good.

even now, izuku was trying to make sure you felt as good as you possibly could with him, watching your eyes roll back with every thrust into you.

"love you s'much, soo soft n pretty-" izuku whines, kissing you all sloppily yet so lovingly.

it makes you clench up around him, trying to close your legs but you jus can't because of the mean mating press he has you in.

"such a good boy for me, yeah?" the words paired with his dick stirring up your guts make you wail.

it's almost too much, but it's not enough as you cream around his cock—a milky white ring forming at the base of it as he pants and gasps right next to your ear.

he pounds a little faster—a little harder before his thrusts get sloppier and nearly lose rhythm. you can barely see his face without your glasses and the tears blurring your vision further.

but izuku makes sure that you can hear him good and well as he moans and whines, feeling the blunt tip press against your cervix as though it never wants to leave.

"shit, shit— 'm cumming," he gives short little thrusts as he does, cumming harder than he has in months just knowing that he finally has you.

you're both sweaty and you feel a little icky, embarrassed at all the crying you did. izuku kisses you—softer than he did before, wiping some hair from your face as he does.

"love you." izuku mutters. he doesn't care if you don't say it back, just as long as you know he loved you at the very least.

"i love you too."

A/N ; i haven't written smut or anything in MONTHS. i hope this is good in some parts, it's very rushed and not well thought outt :((

b4 anyone asks, minors are allowed to interact with my account. i don't care, as long as you aren't under 15. i fully understand that you guys have hormones, and the "minors dni" thing is straight bullshit to me. luv you guys, i will be making an account intro, but it won't be anytime soon cuz i'm lazy.. ＼(≧▽≦)／

[fuctacles]

hi!!! congrats on 500 followers!! you deserve them and so many more! i love your writing sm. i will take some more from crazy cat lady stevie 💛

thank you, thank you! 💚 It's a joy to write for y'all. Here's the next 500 words of CCLS(lmao):

Prev: 😺😺 Next: 😺😺😺😺

"Here." Steph pushes back the notepad after setting down a string of digits. Her handwriting is small and neat. It suits her. "Feed the little shits twice, today evening and tomorrow morning, water the plant once today. They should be fine alone, but stay with them to make sure they eat their food and, I don't know…" she waves her hand in the air. "Scratch them if they get really whiny or something. Call me if anything's wrong."

Eddie nods along at her instructions.

"Don't worry, I got this. I've befriended Jeff's hateful little Siamese in a day. I think cats like me," he assures her. "We'll be fine."

She puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes.

"Of course you will. I trust you."

This touch and her words are all he can think of while they talk for the ten minutes Steph has left. Mostly her and his uncle, because his brain is running wild while trying to soak in the information they share.

He finds out that Robin lives in Indianapolis with her girlfriend. Wayne isn't surprised by that information, but Steph gives Eddie a cursory glance. He gives his best to show how much he doesn't care she's friends with a lesbian. He wants to scream that he's bisexual but it doesn't seem like time and place for that.

He also learns that Dustin is around five years younger than her and married, and she seems to be both proud and jealous of that.

Eventually, she looks at her watch and makes a distressed noise, before hastily gulping down the rest of her coffee.

"I gotta go," she informs them, standing up. Eddie follows.

"I'll walk you off."

"You don't have to—"

But he ends up grabbing her duffel, putting his slippers on, and opening the door in front of her anyway.

"M'lady." He bows, earning himself an amused huff.

"Goodbye, Wayne!" she says, leaning into the kitchen.

"Have a safe trip!" Wayne offers back, and then they're off, walking down the stairs.

Steph grabs the duffel near the front door, basically prying it away from his grasp.

"Thanks again for stepping in. Wayne is lucky to have a family like you."

To have a family.

"No problem," he assures her. "I wouldn't just help anyone, though. You seem like a good person."

"Thanks." She smiles timidly. Then, she leans in, and brushes his cheek with her lips. "See you soon. Don't kill my cats."

"Uh-huh," he agrees eloquently. The heady smell of her perfume must have dazed him.

On her way out the door, she turns.

"Love your pants, by the way. Though I'm more of a Captain America fan." She disappears after that, giving him one last wave.

He's about to swoon. Gorgeous, queer-friendly, and likes superhero comics? He could fall in love.

But he's not going to swoon for a lady that's at least ten years older than him, and probably still single for a reason. And it goes the other way too.

[astroboots]

EVERY YOU EVERY ME: ISSUE #4

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: Miguel O'Hara saves you from falling off the Chrysler building for a second time, and he's not very happy about it.

Word count: 4,400 words.

Content: Slow burn so slow we're getting a reverse speeding ticket, Spidey-boy has a lot of emotions and really needs therapy, he also swears a lot, tiny speck of angst.

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

It's shocking how fast the ground approaches from a height of 72 stories. You always imagined it would take longer given the distance. In movies, the freefall is always captured in a hypnotizing slow motion, but real gravity is brutal and unforgiving.

This time, as you fall through the sky, you don’t see the New York concrete grow wider or nearer. All you see is the vast gap between you and the crystal blue sky rapidly pulling away from you. The buildings looming higher with every second. The blinding sun reflected in the thousands and thousands of glaring windows towering above.

You can't feel your heartbeat or the wind beating against your face. There should be panic. But at the sight of familiar inky-blue piercing through your view, an eerie calm takes over until a comforting numb spreads through your limbs.

Call it misguided naivety. No one should ever place this much trust with their life on a stranger they don't even know to come and save them.

But misguided or not, there's no fear in you this time around. You don't think about how you are plummeting down to your death. Not when you see him speeding after you. Diving head-first into the vast empty space as he closes the distance between you, hand outstretched, reaching for you.

His hand catches around your wrist in mid-air. It's a firm grip like he never means to let go. He reels you in until you're defying gravity, gliding up through the air to meet him until he can wrap his arms around you.

Everything decelerates. The reflection of the rows and rows of windows no longer flashing by. It's a gentle descent as the breeze flows pleasantly through your hair, and if you don't think too hard about how you can't control the direction of movement, you can almost believe you’re flying.

The landing is gentle. He sets you on your feet with such great care that it takes you a second to adjust to the feeling of firm concrete beneath your soles.

Once again, you find yourself standing face to face with the masked superhero who has saved your life more times than you can count on both hands.

You crane your neck to meet his gaze, head tilting upwards until your neck strains, and it strikes you that you've forgotten how tall he was. His head tips down, the dark outline of his masked eyes staring down at you, and it makes the hair on the nape of your neck prickle.

Say something. 

You rack your brain, trying to remember all the questions you had meticulously written down in the notepad hidden in your desk as you planned for this very moment. But they’re missing, wiped cleanly from your mind now that he's here in front of you. Your mouth parts, trying to remember how to use your vocal cords again.

Before you find it, the blue fabric recedes until it reveals his face again. You're met with cutting eyes that glow an otherworldly crimson and the bared sharp canine teeth of a predator as he growls at you. 

"What the hell were you thinking?!" 

The low rumble of his words scrapes down your spine and locks you in a fight or flight response. Except you're doing neither. Fixed in place, unable to move.

One of his hands reaches up to pull at his hair in frustration, as he starts to mumble to himself. He's tugging it so hard you think he's going to yank them out by the roots.

"I can’t believe you! Me estás matando. Casi me da un ataque cardíaco–"

You blink up at him dimly, confused until you realize that he's broken into Spanish. But he's speaking too low and too fast. You can only make out about half of it.

"–No puedo más! I am dying of stress. You're impossible! I turn away for one second…” 

One sentence flows directly into the next without stopping for a single breath, and you're surprised he doesn't go lightheaded from lack of oxygen with how long he goes on.

You raise your hand slightly, reminiscent of a gesture you used to pull in school when you wanted to get the teacher's attention to ask a question. But he doesn't notice. Doesn’t even throw a glance in your direction.

“... and you go Anna Karenina on me. I can't with you, I can't, I can't–"

You try to follow along, looking for an appropriate break in his rant to get a word in edgewise. But like the line of tourists lining up for the Statue of liberty, there doesn't seem to be an end in sight. As rude as it is, the only thing you can think of is clearing your throat, loudly, trying to draw attention to yourself, but that's soundly ignored as well.

"Me vas a sacar canas verdes–-"

One broad hand covers his face as if he's trying to scrub away the beginnings of a migraine, and he keeps going.

Listening to him makes you feel like a child on the receiving end of a scolding by an exasperated parent. Any lingering thread of fear or intimidation gives way to irritation at this man who is so subsumed by his tirade that he doesn't even seem to be aware of your presence, not three feet away from him.

"–Siempre haces esto, una y otra y otra vez–"

You don't know exactly how long he’s been going on for by now, but you know that it's long. You could even swear the shadow by your feet has shifted to the opposite end of the patch of concrete at your feet in the time he’s been talking.

"Well? Aren't you going to say anything?" he asks, apparently finally done. He stands there, arms crossed, with a condescending set to his jaw as he looks down on you.

And god, where to even start with this man? You have enough material about his difficult and avoidant behavior to make a powerpoint presentation out of it. You should block out the boardroom for three whole hours and hold a Q&A after.

How, if he had just spoken to you after you left him not one, not two, but several requests to meet with him, then things could have ended up a lot more civilized.

How, if he hadn't been hiding from you this whole time—gaslighting you— you wouldn't have had to spend over $200 on budget DIY spy crap (in this economy!) on an utterly wasted attempt to catch him. And, to add insult to injury, you’re sure you are never going to use any of that stuff ever again!

How, if he hadn't been talking non-stop and had the self-awareness to take a second to observe others, he'd have realized that you had plenty of things to say to him, if only he had paused long enough to let you.

But somehow in the face of his expectant expression, all that comes out of your mouth is, "I don't know what you want me to say."

His face falls. There's a split second of disappointment, raw and anguished, that flitters across his face. Then it's gone as quickly as it appeared, and he turns away from you. Whatever he was expecting from you, that was obviously not it.

When he speaks again, his voice has turned calm and quiet. He almost sounds resigned.

"Yeah. I don't know either." 

There's a sluggish, awkward silence that lingers on the three feet of concrete stretched between the two of you. The echo of traffic below, the cab horns and chatter swarms the space. After everything that’s happened, it all feels very anti-climatic somehow.

"Can you take me back to my apartment and we can talk? I have coffee. Cake too," you say, trying to break the silence.

"I don't drink coffee." His tone is curt, severing the olive branch you were trying to extend with a sharp snap, and your shoulders sag in defeat and disappointment. But then his face tips back in your direction and meets your eyes. The line of his mouth twitches as if he’s war with himself. 

"But I'll have some cake," he concedes. 

Had you known that a superhero was coming over for a visit, you'd probably have done a better job of cleaning up and making the place presentable.

You would have put away the heap of unfolded, wrinkly laundry that's piled up on your bed, granny panties in full sight. Would have washed the dirty dishes stacked up in your sink like a dangerous game of porcelain Jenga. Or at least cleared out the sad looking take out box where your half-eaten pizza is still resting in a greased up spot on the table.

Still, you're not sure how impressed he would be even if you had. Your studio apartment is a standard size for NYC, meaning in most other places it would be classified as a closet. With his height, he has to duck to make it through the threshold of your door and can barely stand upright without banging his head against the ceiling. It’s ironic that the window entrance is probably less hazardous for him.

You get him a plate of cake and set it on the table in front of him, delicately placing the dessert fork on the side.

"Sorry, I don't have any cookies for you today, just coffee cake."

The sight of him sitting hunched over your Ingatorp IKEA dining table is slightly comical. The table looks like a miniature doll set against his broad frame, and as he picks up the small dessert fork in his large hand, that only adds to the absurdity of the situation. He looks like he’s playing at having a tea party with a child’s play tea set. 

You sit down across from him, watching him intently, trying to gather the nerve to ask the questions you've been dying to ask since this all started. But you're hesitant and fumbling, stumbling on your words like an idiot, "Uhm, so I wanted to ask if you– if you knew why all of this is happening to–"

"No."

You frown at his interruption. "You didn't let me finish," you protest.

He leans back against his chair, waving away your protests dismissively into the air. "I didn't need you to. The answer is no. Next question."

You bite down on your lip to stave off the curse stuck in your throat, trying to force its way out. You hold it. Stemming the tide, as you focus on the task at hand.

"Who are you?"

His head tilts to the side at your question, as his hand draws up and gestures vaguely over the spider emblem of his costume draped over his chest. "Isn't it obvious?" he snarkily responds, "I'm Spiderman"

Great, he's a rude and sassy superhero. You narrow your eyes at him

"You're not the Spiderman I know of."

He doesn't respond to that. Just glares down at the cake as he pierces it with a sharp stab of the fork, making the porcelain underneath clank. Then he scoops a large spoonful and shovels it into his mouth.

God, who eats cake so angrily?

"Why did you save–" you start, but he holds up one finger, motioning for you to pause. 

He cleaves off another piece of cake and shoves it into his mouth, chewing slowly. You watch as he beats the Guinness record of slowest chewer across the table from you, before you finally get to repeat your question.

"Why do you keep saving me?"

"I'm a superhero. I save people. It's what I do."

Bright irritation pings through you at his sarcastic attitude. 

This is like playing the world's shittiest game of 20 Questions, except here the whole goal of the game is to see whose sanity cracks first.

Naively, you had thought that being able to sit down with him in person would mean you could finally start getting some answers. You hadn't been expecting the need to deploy strategic maneuvers, and you pause, taking your time before you speak. 

You need to pick a question he won't be able to evade. You think back at the footage of the nanny-cam, that time he carried you to bed. The worry when you weren't where he expected you to be. The over-familiarity that seeps out of his every action with you as if he already knows you and that the last thing you heard as you fell off the ledge was his voice calling out your name.

"How did you know my name?" you finally ask him.

His back stiffens at the question, jaw grinding down until the small muscle there flexes with irritation.

"I don't."

Liar.

"You called my name when I fell," you remind him.

This time instead of answering, he slides the now empty plate at you across the table.

"Can I have another slice?"

You frown. It's an obvious ploy to buy himself some time to avoid answering your question. But you can't deny his request either.

With a sigh, you push away your chair to bring the plate to the counter. You cut up an obscenely big slice so that he won't be able to use this as an excuse a second time.

Turning back around, you find that the gluttonous self-proclaimed Spiderman is pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks a little worse for wear, a pained expression etched into those tightly knitted brows.

"Are you okay?" you ask, concerned.

"No. I–" He breaks off, his broad palm gripping the back of the chair, and you notice a slight tremor in his fingers. "Something’s wrong." 

He pushes the chair back, trying to get to his feet, but to your surprise, he stumbles and sways. 

He seems just as surprised as you are at his newfound lack of coordination. 

"What the–" He looks down on his feet with concentrated effort. Then he takes another step. It's wobblier than the one before, his knee giving way, and his arm shoots out to grip at the edge of your table for balance.

Alarm bells start to go off in your head. You don't understand what's happening, but he's definitely right, something is wrong. A man that can gracefully scale down the Chrysler building from 72 floors down shouldn't be struggling this much just to take two steps back in your living room.

"Maybe you should sit back down," you suggest, looking up at him. There’s a slight sheen of perspiration that's settled on his forehead. The beginnings of a rosy flush tinting his cheeks. "Do you have any food allergies?"

"No. I don't. No. Super metabolism kind of cuts down on that sort of–” he’s stumbling over his words, each syllable slurred on his tongue, as he shakes his head at you. “No, no allergies. No food sensitivities of any kind except...."

He glares around wildly and his eyes land on the remaining slice of cake perched on your kitchen counter. 

"Did you put fucking coffee in that cake?!?!"

“"Yes?” You whip around, and look at the cake on your counter, not understanding the relevance of his question. “I mean... It's a coffee cake? I told you that!" 

You push aside your growing panic as you try to remember if the EpiPen stored away in your kitchen cupboard is past its expiration.

"You didn't tell me there was coffee in it!"

Is he serious?

"I said ‘coffee cake’! What else would be in there? It's in the name," you snap. 

And god, you can't believe this is what you're arguing with him about at this moment.

"Okay, yeah," he concedes testily, "but coffee cake is its own thing too! Isn’t coffee cake just… cake... that you, like... serve with coffee? It doesn't have coffee in it! Why the fuck does it have coffee in it?"

Does the man even hear himself? You're trying to figure out if you need to call an ambulance, and he is arguing with you on the technicalities of what constitutes coffee cake.

"Okay, wait, but are you dying?" you ask, trying to stay calm despite the pandemonium of panic ringing in your head. 

"No! I'm just intoxitac– intocita– intoshica– I'm just fucking drunk okay!?" he spits out.

Your brain stalls at his statement. Intoxicated!? When did he have time to drink? He seemed fine just a few minutes ago, but now he's slurring and about to topple over.

"You're drunk? How–"

"Spiders get drunk on coffee," he interrupts, and the flush on his cheek deepens to a deep alarming red. If you didn't know better, you'd almost think he was blushing.

"Okay, let's sit you down." You rush over, rounding your dining table as you reach for him.

At the sight of your extended hands, his eyes widen in alarm, He steps back from you, eyeing you like you're something dangerous.

"No. No, I'm–" he takes another step backwards, flinging himself away from your touch, but loses his footing in the process. He tilts over, hand grappling for the edge of the table as he goes, but instead of the edge he manages to take the cake plate with him on the way down.

There's a clank of shattered porcelain, followed by the loud thud of his body hitting the ground.

With the large size of him in your tiny studio apartment and the breaking of porcelain left and right, this feels like the idiom of a bull running wild in a China shop, come to life.

You reach out your hand to help him get up, but he doesn't acknowledge it, anchoring his elbow to the floor for leverage, only to wobble and fall flat against his back again with an angry curse.

Why is he so goddamned stubborn? 

You glance down at him, this gigantic man that is lying sprawled out on the floor with the gravitas of a turtle trapped on its back. He's so huge that he's eating up half of the floor space of your entire home. If he doesn’t get up, you won't be able to take two steps without accidentally stepping on him.

Shaking your head in disbelief at the ridiculousness of the situation, you hunch down on your knees beside him.

There's hesitation etched in those otherworldly crimson eyes as you come near. But as much as he's scowling at you, baring his fangs and trying to look scary, there isn't much he can do from the floor.

"Let me help you," you insist, "let's get you in bed until it wears off. I can't have you passed out on my floor like this."

He takes your outstretched hand, and you pull backwards, trying to bring him up with you. Between the two of you, you manage to get him on his feet again. Barely. 

Whoa.

You crane your head up, up, up til you meet his eyes. Yup, the man is still huge. Must be damn near 7 feet tall and heavy, and you quickly realize there's not much you can do but try to steer so that he falls in the direction of your bed.

Somehow you manage to shepherd him in the right direction, until his knees hit the edges of your bed. He lands with a dramatic thud and you hear your bed frame groan in protest. 

“Do you need anything?” you ask, but he doesn’t answer you. His broad arm drapes over his eyes, blocking you out. 

You sigh, turning on your heels to clean up the mess of coffee cake and broken plates off your floor.

You barely manage to finish sweeping up the floor before you hear soft snoring filling your home.

Knock-off Spiderman is sound asleep, his large shape curled up on your mattress, entirely still.

You settle yourself back at the dining table, eating the leftover coffee cake as you pull up a book on your phone and wait for him to wake.

This was not how you had imagined your first extended interaction would turn out.

Honestly, you can't make sense of any of your interactions with him. How he's constantly avoiding you, yet can't seem to stay away and routinely checks in on you.

How he acts overly familiar in one instance and excessively rude and put off by you the next.

Maybe you remind him of someone else... Maybe even an ex? It feels weird to speculate, but it would explain a lot of things. His belligerent attitude towards you. The way he looks at you with eyes full of resentment, even as he's saving you from certain death. That look in his eyes like he knows you, even though you've never met him.

It doesn't explain how he knows your name though.

From the bed, you can hear him stir, shifting against the mattress with a quiet groan muffled into your pillow. He's softly murmuring something that you can't quite make out, and then he turns in his sleep again, making a pained noise that makes worry squeeze tight in your chest.

Maybe letting him sleep it off wasn't the brightest idea you've had. You probably should've called for the ambulance as soon as he showed physical signs of distress.

You're not a biologist. You don't know how a hybrid spider-human’s physiology works.

What if he's not just drunk? Whoever heard of coffee making someone drunk! And how could it affect him so quickly? There was barely a minute between him stuffing his face and falling all over the place. Some quick, panicked googling confirms that coffee makes spiders a kind of drunk, but it doesn’t say if it’s outright toxic to them.

Oh fuck, what if he's dying!? Oh god, what if a superhero dies in your bed? How will you explain this to your landlord? Or the police! “I fed him coffee cake, and it killed him, officer.” Right, that’s going to go over like a lead balloon! It’ll probably look like you poisoned him. TMZ will be swarming the place. You'll be classified as a supervillain.

Setting down the book, you make your way over to sit on the edge of your bed. You lean over his sleeping form and peer down at him, checking for any signs of physical distress.

That red flush from earlier is still riding high on his cheeks, looking like the beginnings of a fever. You reach out your hand to rest it on his forehead to check his temperature.

Warm.

He stirs at the touch, turning his face and practically nuzzles into your palm. It’s almost endearing as he buries his sharp nose into your wrist.

You hold your breath, worried that exhaling would be loud enough to wake him as you gaze down on him. Up close like this, when he's not being rude, and stubborn and defensive, he's... quite attractive.

He has the kind of sculpted face that Hollywood dreams are made of, angular jaw and a prominent nose that makes him look regal. Not to mention those chiselled cheeks of his are a fucking marvel to look at. But more than that, curled up asleep in your bed, there’s a gentle softness to his features that hadn’t been noticeable when he was awake.  

Now that  he’s not frowning down at you and the line of his mouth isn’t pulled into an angry snarl, you can see that his lips are full and luscious, delicate even. His heavy brows look less intimidating now that his face has relaxed from its perpetual scowl. 

He looks... soft, somehow.

There's a spark of something heated in your veins that has you feeling flushed and warm. You have to turn your eyes, shaking your head and tutting at yourself, because you’re creeping on the drunk guy passed out on your bed, and it’s not a good look on you. 

The commotion makes him stir, his eyes blink softly open. He looks up at you, with half-lidded eyes, and it's different from how he's looked at you up until now. His gaze is still so…. soft.

"Nena," he says quietly.

Your cheeks warm at the warmth in his voice , and you gently pull your hand away from his forehead.

"Sorry, I was just checking if you were okay," you explain awkwardly as you start to back away from him, sliding your knee along the mattress to climb off the bed.

At your movement, he darts upright into a seated position and pulls you to him, clinging onto every inch of you as he buries his face to your side. 

“Don't go,” he murmurs into your neck. His voice is trembling, and you can feel the panic radiating from him as the grip he has on you tightens until it’s bruising.  

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he says, keeps repeating it. You don’t know what he’s apologizing for but the guilt and sadness in his voice tugs at something deep inside your chest. 

Nena, he said, and you realize that even though you're the one he's holding in this moment, he's not talking to you. He thinks you're someone else.

"Please don't leave me again. I-I can't–" he chokes out the words into the hollow of your throat where he's pressed his face tight into your skin. You can't help but notice the damp wetness that gathers there. "I'm trying, but I can't– I don't know how to do this without you."

The words are raw in his throat, and despite your confusion, your chest squeezes tight with a sympathetic ache at the man's obvious heartbreak.

You don't know what's going on here or who he thinks you are. The only thing you know is that you want to make him feel better. To make his hurt a little less painful. To make the consuming guilt you can hear in his voice a little bit smaller. 

"It's okay," you say. 

What the it refers to, you have no idea. But the least you can do is to give the man who has saved your life over and over, a tiny crumb of comfort.

You return his embrace, circling an arm around his shoulder, matching the tightness with which he’s holding you. Your other hand slides into his hair and he shivers at the touch, face burying deeper into your neck.

"I'll protect you,” he murmurs into your skin, “I can do better this time. Keep you safe. I promise.”

"It's okay. It’s okay. I’m already safe," you reassure him, giving him the only truth you know for sure in this moment, "You saved me."

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: as always to my collaborator on this series, who helps me brainstorm, write, edit and beta-read and everything in between and over with this series. This exists because of her, and I am so grateful to her. The hours I spend shouting into her DMs and bother her on the daily since this series infected my mind. You guys don't know what I put poor @thirstworldproblemss through.

Also to @guruan who was kind enough to read through this and steer me in the right way with the spanish, but also for giving me porn that has kept my brain buzzing for days!!!

Please follow both of these insanely lovely, kind and talented people.

Author's note: the Spanish in this chapter has been left untranslated on purpose, so that it's left ambiguous whether reader speak/understand Spanish. The idea is that if you as a reader understand it, then so does the reader, and vice versa 🥰

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[lustspren]

P.S.T EP. 9 | Superhero (Heroes & Villains) ft Ningning.

length: 7.9k words✦

Ningning & Male Reader

genres: little bit fluffy, oral sex, daddy kink, massage, blowjob, creampie, rescue mission lol

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Nothing more than a damn punished dog. That's what you were.

As expected, things took a drastic change from the night of the incident with Giselle. To begin with, the special treatment towards you by Noze and the rest of the staff was completely revoked, you still had your room and absolutely all the benefits you had before, but it was the tasks assigned to you that changed, this of course meant that now you were much busier than before, and the time you had to talk to the girls was quite little.

Giselle took some of the blame regarding the incident, and just like you she apologized to Noze for being so reckless, but Noze's Bitch Boss meter was through the roof. She completely forbade you from speaking to each other, not even by text message, for that she made sure to pick up both of your phones and delete your respective contacts, the punishment would only be in effect until you left San Francisco, but still it didn't make you or Aeri happy at all.

Karina, Winter and Ning were not very social towards you during those days either, the group was quite busy with agendas to attend to here and there, so you very rarely met in person, of course, this was the bird cage in which they had you locked up fault, all the time sending you along with the support staff and purposely keeping you as far away from the girls as possible. Ning, however, always left you a good night message and cared about you. You were very grateful for her closeness and warmth, but she wasn't the only bright part of that ordeal.

"And why are you in the dog house?" Yeji asked you on the other side of the screen while you were on FaceTime. You were in your room, lying on the back of the bed with the blanket up to your belly.

"Well..." you couldn't help but let out a small laugh at how ridiculous it was, "It was already after midnight when I received a message from Aeri, she wanted to meet at the hotel pool," you began to tell them, watching as everyone gathered to pay attention to what you were saying, "as you can imagine, things happened and well, when I took off the bottom of her swimsuit and the buttplug I forgot to leave them on the edge of the pool to take them later, I simply left them there, floating in the water," Yeji, Ryujin and Yuna couldn't help but laugh at you.

“You men really only think with your dick sometimes, damn,” Yeji mocked you between laughs.

"Hey hey, wait a minute," Ryujin intervened, "tell the story properly, I don't have any use for 'things happened', what did you do to her?"

"Why is it important for you to know?" you asked.

"Curiosity," she said, and at that moment you saw Chaery, who looked everywhere as if wanting to flee. Poor baby.

"Well, we kissed... I rubbed her pussy, and then I went under the water to eat her ass and pussy," as you told the story Ryujin and Yuna didn't even bother to hide their arousement, taking off their cotton shorts pajamas to put a hand in her panties, "then we went to her room and I fucked her ass."

"Fuck, I miss you eating my pussy daddy," Ryujin said in a seductive tone, rubbing her pussy under her panties just like Yuna.

"Julia unnie has been helping me play with my ass, daddy," Yuna said next to her, "I can't wait for you to come back so you can test me."

"Uh... I have to take a call, sorry," Chaery said, pointing to her phone, then disappearing from the frame. You sighed, knowing she wouldn't do such a thing, she just looked for an excuse to leave.

"Wonderful, now you've made these sluts really horny," Lia said with a sigh, even though you knew she was just as turned on as the two of them. You were about to respond when you heard a couple of knocks on your door. You already recognized that form of knocking, small knocks meant small hands. Noze.

“Fuck, I have to go,” you whispered into your phone’s microphone.

"Don't worry bitches, I'll take care of you two," was the last thing you heard Yeji say to Ryujin and Yuna before you hung up the call. You quickly stood up and went to open the door, meeting the dictator herself.

"Hello..." you said, watching as she entered your room in hasty steps without even asking first.

"Look, if it were up to me I would make you wait longer so you could get what you deserve," she said, crossing her arms in front of your bed.

"And?"

"You deserve a chance to redeem yourself," she said with a sigh, giving in in exchange for her pride.

"Wow... big bad bug got a bit of a soft spot huh?" you teased.

"Shut your mouth," she warned, and you smiled, going to sit on your bed, "look, the girls had dinner a few hours ago with some fashion brands representatives, you know, discussing contracts and stuff, everything was perfect with the other girls, but it happens that Ning ate something that made her very sick and now she is sick to her stomach."

“Oh, shit,” the smile faded from your face, and your protective instinct kicked in.

"I need you to go pick her up, as discreetly as you can, and bring her here without anyone noticing how bad she looks."

"How do you know she looks bad?"

"How do you look when you're sick to your stomach? Like a Prada model?" Noze raised both eyebrows.

"Fair enough," you said, letting out a breath of worry as you stood up, "and why aren't you there with them? It sounds like something you should be a part of."

"I'm just their manager, I'm in charge of their schedules and group activities, so their personal dealings don't concern me."

"Well, understood," you sighed, grabbing your wallet, your phone, and the cap you wore a few days ago, "where am I going?" you asked Noze walking towards the door.

"Write to her, she'll give you the location," she sat cross-legged on the bottom edge of the bed, "hey, I'm serious, there won't be any third chances, so don't screw this thing up... you can do it,” her tone of voice softened at the end, as if she were putting aside her bossy role and speaking to you like the Noze you had dinner with a few nights ago.

"Everything will be okay, I promise... and thank you," you nodded, with a small smile as you opened the door and prepared to leave, "Wait, wait, are you going to stay here or what?" you asked with a confused frown.

"Yep, I'll sleep naked here while you're gone, and I'll be gone before you can see me," she said with her hands resting on the mattress. You put on a poker face.

"You cannot be serious."

"It's part of your punishment, now get out and close the door."

And so you did, leaving the room with a face of disbelief and closing the door behind your back, walking down the hallway you daydreamed for a second, imagining the scene of Noze sleeping naked between your sheets. You quickly shook your head, remembering that you had a damsel in distress to rescue. You ran towards the reception.

You had to contact one of the staff members to get you the fastest car they had rented, you waited for a few minutes at the reception until the car keys were given to you. You went out to the street, and pressed a button on the key control so that this beep, the car turned out to be a sedan (a Nissan Altima, that year's version. They spared no expense, apparently) in black chrome and tinted windows, perfect for your mission.

Getting into the car and settling into the seat, you took out your phone to write to Ning.

Seven Hills was a very famous restaurant in San Francisco, so the mission was going to be a bit complicated, but you quickly opened Maps and set the course there, driving as fast as you could within the legal limits. When you arrived you stopped on the opposite side of the street where the restaurant was, as expected, you saw people with cameras positioned at strategic points that were more than obvious to the naked eye, you couldn't just walk in. You wrote to Ning again.

Before getting out, you made a U-turn with the car and parked right in front of the aforementioned wide alley. You turned off the car and put on your cap so that it covered your eyes and almost your nose before entering the alley. Ning wasn't completely wrong with her assumption, it wasn't a window, but a large green door that you assumed was where they took out the trash. You made sure that no one was watching you and entered, inside everything seemed calm and clear, and after searching for a few seconds you arrived at the bathrooms. You took out your phone again to let her know you were inside.

You waited for a few minutes until she finally caught up with you. She looked incredibly beautiful, with part of her hair tied up in a high bun and the rest hanging down her back; a short black dress, with prints of white circles and colored butterflies; she also wore a golden jewel necklace, and carried a handbag in her hand.

"Oh my god, thank you so much for coming," she said as soon as she saw you, going to give you a shy hug that you reciprocated.

"It's nothing, cutie," you said, separating yourself from her, looking in all directions, "do you need to use the bathroom before we go?"

"Part of maintaining my image is that I can last until we get to the hotel, so no, let's go," she said, holding onto your arm with both hands, her voice didn't sound convincing at all, and she looked dizzy too.

"I don't think that affects your image at all, you're human," you insisted, looking into her eyes.

"Honey, please just get me out of here," she asked you with desperate eyes, breathing through her mouth, a sign that she felt like throwing up.

"Alright, let's hurry," you took her hand and took the lead.

Time proved you right, because as soon as you left the alley Ning stopped dead, took a few deep breaths, and finally let go of your hand to run behind a large trash can, she fell to her knees, and vomited. You quickly knelt down next to her and made sure to gather all the hair from her face while you caressed her back.

"Fuck, this is so bad," she muttered between labored breaths, her face pale and looking down.

"You're with me, don't worry, you'll be fine," you reassured her, giving her a few small back massages with your only free hand.

You stayed watching over her for a few more long seconds, you would stay with her as long as necessary, but the sound of a shutter whipped you back to reality. You quickly turned around to see a paparazzi you hadn't seen sneak into the alley standing right in the middle of it, pointing the camera at you both and taking photo after photo. This was really bad, very bad.

You hated having to leave Ning there alone, but if you didn't do something right then and there, everything was going to go to hell. You stood up and like lightning you ran towards the paparazzi, a short man in his thirties with tan skin, greasy black hair and dressed like an NPC from GTA V.

"Oh boy, you don't know how much these photos will put a guillotine around your neck," the man said as soon as you approached, looking at the photos on his camera. His voice reminded you of Gargamel's, which made you even more disgusted, "Not only will she have her image ruined, but any intelligent person can spin enough dots and conclude that you're more than a friend." 

You clenched your fists tightly, controlling yourself not to give him the beating of his life right then and there. He wouldn't learn the hard way, his language was money.

"Listen to me, dog," you began, facing him less than a meter away, "do you know how much money is backing me?" Extreme situations required desperate measures, and that meant lying whenever necessary, "I can pay you three times what any journalist can pay you, and unless you want to get a life-ruining lawsuit, you're interested in negotiating with me."

"Then I listen to you, boy, because a juicy payment awaits me as soon as I deliver these babies," his laugh, disgusting and evil, screeched in your ears and made you snort.

"How much will they pay you for the photos?"

"Well, those are great shots and I'm the only photographer here, I'd estimate about 20 or 25k," as soon as you heard the figure your head hurt, you didn't know if he was lying to gain or what, but it was too much.

"I can offer you more than that, I assure you, I am SM's representative here in the United States."

“I don't care who you are, kid, talk to me about figures,” he seemed completely uninterested in the conversation, never looking you in the eye and always focused on something else. You took a deep breath.

"I offer you 30k."

"30k?" He laughed in disbelief, "I'm sure you in your position can offer more than that."

"50k."

"Make it 60k."

“50, you son of a bitch, don't play with my patience,” you threatened, jaw clenching. The man remained silent and for the first time he looked into your eyes, seeing a threatening and extremely angry face. He thought about it for a few seconds, then finally spoke.

"Alright, 50k then," he nodded, and then took out the SD card from his camera to throw it on the ground between your feet, then he took out a card from his back pocket and handed it to you, you looked at it, seeing that it was a presentation card with his phone number and his photograph, "you have one week to fulfill the deal, otherwise you will find a leading article on the Internet about a prominent SM man who beat up a photographer so that he would not leak inappropriate things to the public."

"You're a fucking bastard," you said, holding all the rage in your chest, and then picked up the SD card from the floor. Before he left, he hit himself in the forehead with his own fist, which took you by surprise, "What the fuck are you doing?!"

"I must have insurance in case you want to scam me," he laughed, somewhere between triumphant and pained by the blow, "see you later, kiddo, take good care of that girl."

As soon as the man left you ran towards Ning, who was leaning with her back against the wall looking terrible. Her gaze was completely lost and weak.

"We're leaving, baby, come here," you wrapped one of your arms around her waist to secure her to your body and walked as fast as you could with her towards the car. You made sure no one was watching you several times and opened the passenger door, reclining the seat as much as possible so that Ning could sit relaxed and comfortable. You placed her inside the car, put the seat belt on her and you rushed inside too, you started the car, and you started driving again on the streets of San Francisco, thinking about how the hell you were going to fulfill that deal without getting into big trouble.

As soon as you arrived at the hotel, you parked the car right where you had taken it when you left, you got out and picked up Ning to take her to the entrance of the hotel that they had prepared for you in case of emergency. You were able to make her walk during that first stretch, but when you barely entered through the service entrance her legs trembled and she almost fell, you had to carry her on a piggyback ride to her room.

When you entered Ning's room you dropped her on top of the extremely messy bed, full of small mountains of clothes in every corner.

"Fuck… thank you, really," she said in a small voice, her head resting on a pile of clothes.

"You have nothing to thank me for," you began to gather up all of Ning's clothes and stuff them into your open suitcase, "I would feel terrible if something happened to you."

"I heard a camera taking pictures… did you get them?"

"Yep," you grabbed Ning's head, lifted it to remove the pile of clothes from under it and replaced it with a pillow, "It wasn't easy," you threw the clothes into the suitcase.

"How?"

"Don't worry about that," you leaned down to give her a kiss on the cheek and went to the bathroom, inside you opened the shower glass and turned on the water, adjusting it to a warm temperature, then you returned to her, "Come on, there's hot water waiting for you in the bathroom."

"Would you help me undress?" she asked, managing to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Uh... sure," you offered her your hands to take and help her stand up. Once she did, you closed your eyes and reached for the straps of her dress to start pulling it down in a rather clumsy way.

"May I know why you close your eyes, silly?" she asked with a weak giggle.

"You're vulnerable right now, I don't want to be a jerk and take advantage of it," you responded, managing to pull her dress down to her heels.

"You've already seen every part of my naked body, and that was consensual."

"I know, but this time you're sick," you groped her fleshy body looking for her waist, when you found the hem of her panties, you also lowered them to her heels.

"Honey, you're so cute, really, but you can see," she insisted, giving you a peck on your chin before you opened your eyes and admired her incredibly beautiful and hot body.

"God, I'm impressed by how good you look despite feeling this bad," you said, staring at her pretty round tits as you removed the rings from her fingers and the necklace from her neck.

"My legs and feet are sore from the last show," she sighed, "this was the last thing I needed."

"You'll be better soon, now go to the shower, I have to tell Noze that everything is okay," you nodded towards the bathroom, and she nodded.

"Will you come back?" She said taking small steps as she looked at you.

"Of course, I won't be long," you assured, and then turned your back on her to walk towards the door. You turned one last time, watching her beautiful figure as she went into the bathroom, then you walked out of the room to write to Noze.

When you sent the messages you rushed to your room to go get some things you had brought on the trip in case of emergencies, massage oil, skin cream, moisturizer, and a pain relieving ointment that you personally used. You returned to Ning's room, and as you closed the door you heard that the shower was still running and that Ning was not outside the bathroom. You quickly left all the things you had gone to get from your room on the bed and ran to the bathroom, finding Ning still inside the shower, standing perfectly with her entire body wet, including her hair now loose.

"I was starting to think I'd run out of water before you got here," she said when she saw you, "would you join me?" you sighed in relief.

"I almost had a heart attack, I thought you had fainted," you said, taking off all your clothes.

"Oh come on, you're exaggerating," she said with a giggle.

"I've passed out for less," as soon as you entered the shower she turned around and carefully got on her knees, taking your flaccid cock in one hand and bringing it to her mouth, "Hey, what are you doing?" you said taking a quick step back.

"What? I already brushed my teeth and I feel better," she said, looking at you with eyes like a scolded puppy, "I wanted to reward my golden armor knight."

"It has nothing to do with your mouth or anything like that, you have nothing to reward me for darling," you took her by the arms and carefully lifted her to her feet, "the only thing I want right now is to take care of you," you said, looking into her eyes and cradling her face with both hands. Your gazes were fixed on each other's for a few long seconds until you broke the ice, "Can I… kiss you?"

"As much as you want..." she said softly, looking at your lips, and you leaned forward to kiss her. She pressed her chest against yours, and you wrapped your arms around her body to deepen the slow, loving kiss you shared at that moment. The moment she wrapped her arms around your neck and caressed the hair on the back of your neck you felt things in your stomach, strong feelings fluttering and growing gradually. A point of no turning back that would bring you more than one problem later.

"Alright... enough, princess," you murmured against her lips, and you both smiled, "turn around, please."

"Sure," she nodded before turning her back on you. It was time to bring out the skills that had put you where you were in the first place.

You put your hands on Ning's shoulders and began to apply pressure with your thumbs on her shoulder blades. She sighed in satisfaction, and you slowly moved your hands up to her neck and then back down to her shoulders. You continued lower, massaging up her ribs and down to her lower back, always with slow, nice movements for her.

"Are you enjoying it?" you murmured in her ear, noticing that she had her eyes closed and her mouth slightly open.

"My god, yes..." she said, taking a deep breath, "You know? I've been putting others first for so long that I don't even know what it feels like to be pampered... I'd like to know what it feels like to be put first," That reminded you so much of a person that it even hurt your heart a little, but you preferred not to say anything.

"I'm putting you first right now," you said, massaging her waist.

"And I thank you for that, you really are like an angel."

"Well, I'm far from being an angel, darling, I just do what I think is right," you placed a small kiss on her neck, and continued with the massage for a while until you reached out to turn off the shower faucets, "Come on, I'll help you dry off."

"You have magic hands, you know?" She told you as you got out of the shower.

"That's just a little sample," you smiled, grabbing a towel and running it all over your body to dry it off, "go to bed and lie on your stomach, I'll be right there."

She nodded and left you alone in the bathroom, where you took advantage of the moment to wash your face thoroughly before going out to the room, where you found Ning already face down, her head resting on a pillow and her arms underneath it.

"Don't blame me if... you know, you see something wet," she said, hearing that you had left the bathroom.

"Oh don't worry, I know that's going to be my fault," you said with a smile, grabbing the pain ointment you'd brought with you to start spreading it over her feet, her calves, and her thighs as you massaged every little tense muscle. Ning's body began to relax more and more, and it was time to apply the ointment now all over her back and her arms.

The massage oil you had brought was quite light, perfect for situations where you wanted it to dry quickly and not leave the person's body oily for a long time. You began to pour it, first on her feet, massaging between her toes, sole and heel, then you went up to her calves, from where you poured long lines of oil that reached her ass, where you ended up with a couple of circles.

You massaged her calves, the back of her knees and her soft thighs, spreading all the oil very well in a delicate and silent way. When you were done there it was time to move on to what you knew would be your favorite part. You began to spread the oil over her two cute round buttocks, squeezing them every few seconds and rubbing parts of her pussy with your fingers or the backs of your hands. Her slit was visibly wet now, and you saw fit to move out of there so she wouldn't get too horny.

You now concentrated on her back, applying the same process as with the rest of her body, it was when you were massaging her shoulders that she started to fall asleep.

"Hey... can you stay the night with me?" She asked in a small, sleepy voice, as you gently worked her arms.

"Of course princess," you leaned forward, tucked her hair behind her ear and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

You continued the massage for a few minutes until she fell fast asleep, with her body now perfectly moisturized, relaxed and smelling very good. You took the things you had used and left them on the nightstand, to take your phone and lie down next to Ning and write to Noze again.

When you finished the conversation, you left the phone next to your pillow, right on the edge of the bed, and carefully covered yourself and Ning with the blanket, to put an arm over her naked body and snuggle warmly against her. Her skin was extremely soft, and her body was like a small moldable cloud, you breathed in the smell of her hair, and when you gave her a kiss on her forehead she stirred until she lay on her side and put her face on your neck; her chest pressed against yours, and she raised one leg so that you could put yours between her, an extremely intimate position that once again revived your memories.

You tried to fall asleep, but you didn't get more than a light sleep for a very long time. All the stress of the day and the thoughts fluttering in your head like a furious wasp's nest kept you awake for hours that seemed eternal, you would fall asleep for about half an hour, and you would wake up again, when you were going for the fifth time you checked your phone, realizing that there were only two hours left until you had to be in the lobby.

You knew that you weren't going to get any more sleep than that, so you resignedly ran your fingers continuously along Ning's lower back, with your face resting on your hand and your elbow on the pillow. You admired her beauty in complete silence, watching her pretty face as she slept so peacefully that even she made you envious. She moved a little, and you stopped immediately not wanting to wake her, but when she returned to her sleep you continued running the tips of your fingers over the soft skin of her waist and her lower back under the blanket.

In one of those movements your fingers reached her ass, and there you found no turning back, beginning to trace soft circles on her buttocks before going up again to her back, where you caressed her from top to bottom with your full palm.

"Don't even bother stopping anymore..." she murmured just loud enough for you to hear, and you were surprised.

"How long have you been awake?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Since you started touching me like that..." she said with a mischievous smile, her eyes still closed.

"God, I'm sorry I woke you up," you sighed.

"You don't have to apologize at all, I like it," when she said that she put a hand on your abdomen, caressing it slowly, "go ahead, keep going."

You continued as she asked, gently caressing her back for a few seconds and purposely moving down to her butt to rub it with the palm of your hand, feeling the soft flesh of each buttock between your fingers. Ning sighed softly and began to pant, that was when she brought her hand to your cock, using her palm to rub it from your tip to your balls.

"Mmm... good morning then, I guess," you murmured, and she slowly opened her eyes to look at you with a little smile.

"Morning sweetheart," she murmured back, bringing your cock to full hardness in a matter of seconds. She wrapped her fingers around it and started moving her hand very slowly, making you gasp at how warm she felt. You unconsciously brought your hand between her buttocks, and with your fingers you began to gently rub her slit, feeling how her folds were beginning to get wetter and wetter.

"Fuck… is this what every morning is like with you?" you asked between gasps, rubbing her pussy as she slowly masturbated you.

"With you, yes," she whispered before leaning in to kiss you. Your lips were involved in a sensual and passionate dance that made Ning moan, while your hands slowly worked on each other's intimacy. You laid your head back on the pillow, and she rested half of her torso on top of yours, one of her tits pressing against your chest, "Can I suck your cock this time, sweetheart?" she asked against your lips after a while of masturbating each other.

"I'm all yours right now, so go ahead," you nodded, pulling the blanket off you with a single tug, revealing your two naked bodies.

"So all mine huh? I like the sound of that," she pulled away from you and positioned herself so that the side of her body was resting on one of your thighs, her ass facing you and her face just centimeters from your cock.

"And you? Would you be all mine?" you shot, grabbing one of her buttcheeks and caressing it gently, seeing her pretty wet pussy and her beautiful back. She looked at you over her shoulder.

"I've been yours since you looked into my eyes on that plane, you just didn't realize it."

-Oh my fucking god- you thought, completely blown away by how completely crazy about her you were becoming. Without noticing it your cheeks became hot, but you didn't have time to blush when she took your cock inside her mouth.

Her warm mouth made you moan loudly as she slowly took in every inch of your throbbing cock. You brought your hand to her waist, gripping it with your fingers and delighting in how Ning's soft lips clung just inches from your base. She began to gently suck up and down, using her tongue to swirl around your tip each time she went up and to lick the front of your shaft each time she went down.

You knew she was good at sucking cock from your episode on the plane, but there, the two of you alone, with the bright light of the California morning sun filtering through the sides of the blinds illuminating the room, and the cold temperature of the air, she turned your comfortable intimacy into confidence when it came to demonstrating her skills and pleasing you.

Her pumps sent shivers all over your body because of how good they felt, taking almost all of your cock in and out of her mouth with slow and sensual movements. You brought your hand to her ass to squeeze her buttock again, and wanting to return the favor you licked your index and middle fingers to take them directly to her wet slit, running your fingers between her folds again and again until you stopped to rub her clit in circles.

Ning began to moan softly against your cock, sending vibrations along your shaft and urging you to continue rubbing her pussy the best way you could considering what her sensitive spots seemed to be. Your fingers were soaked in a matter of seconds, and you took advantage of this to slowly introduce them into her pussy, which gave way without any complications so that your fingers could be impaled to the core.

Ning's response was to slowly take you deep into her throat, her nose resting against your pubes.

"Oh my fucking god Ning..." you said loudly, using your free hand to squeeze her butt cheek as you gently but consistently pumped your fingers in and out of her pussy.

After a few seconds, Ning coughed a few times against your cock and took you out of her mouth with a strong gasp of air. She looked at you again over her shoulder with eyes full of desire and her mouth half open, letting you see your cock soaked in saliva and how the tip connected to her lips with thin white threads. She dove back in, considerably increasing the pace of her blowjob for less than a minute until you stopped her.

She looked confused, but you subtly grabbed the back of her neck so she could bring her face closer to yours and you could kiss her. You shared a sloppy kiss for a few long seconds, your arm around Ning's waist and her hand running up and down your slick cock.

"Would you eat me, daddy?" She asked you with a low and sensual voice in the middle of a moan, while she ate your mouth.

"Why are you suddenly calling me that?" you asked back, visibly turned on by that. More kisses.

"I don't know… it just came out naturally," more kisses and more moans, "don't you like it?"

"Fuck, you drive me crazy, how can I not like it?" you squeezed her butt, "and yeah, of course I can eat you, baby."

With that you subtly moved away from her and left her with her head resting on her pillow. You settled between her legs and lay face down, with your head between her thighs and your face a few centimeters from her pussy. You dedicated yourself to first placing small kisses on her thighs, licking the inside of them while you and she looked into each other's eyes every few seconds. She bit her lower lip, and gently played with her tits, imploring you with her eyes to devour her.

You had no intention of making her wait, so after a few more kisses around her pussy you planted your tongue flat between her silky folds and licked very slowly upwards, finding your way to her clit to kiss, suck and lick it again and again. Ning's moans were your cue to know which spots to hit and which not to hit, and before long she completely melted thanks to your mouth.

You grabbed your hands on each of her thighs, putting gentle pressure on them while your tongue worked as best you could on her clit. Ning brought one hand to your head and tangled her fingers in the strands of your hair to pull it gently, her body squirming very slightly, and her other hand playing with one of her tits, then you realized that was the only part of her that you had not touched yet.

You let go of Ning's thighs and moved your hands up to rest on her pair of soft, round mounds, squeezing them like two stress balls and using your fingers to play with her hard nipples, all while attacking her pussy with the dedication and perfection that a princess like she deserved.

Ning brought her hands on top of yours as you massaged her tits, and as the pleasure built inside her body, her thighs slowly closed to the point of making a sandwich with your head in the middle. Her skin felt soft on either side of your face, like two clouds that you were more than delighted to be between.

You doubled your efforts, eating out her pussy with rapid licks and perfectly controlled sucks that drove her crazy in a matter of seconds.

"Oh god daddy!" she moaned loudly, holding onto your wrists tightly, "I'm going to cum, please don't stop!" Her pretty prayers did nothing but urge you to continue eating her pussy ferociously, and in a matter of a few seconds Ning exploded in a maelstrom of moans and spasms. Her thighs pressed on either side of your head, and you had the feeling that she was holding back with the intention of not hurting you, a detail that you found adorable.

You collected her juices and licked her with gusto throughout her orgasm, and when her body relaxed she released your head from between her thighs. You stood up and knelt between her legs.

"Did my princess like that?" you asked before leaning forward and Ning grabbed your face to kiss you between gasps.

"Fuck, I loved it," she moaned against your lips, "but I need your cock inside me, daddy," she reached between your bodies and grabbed your cock to rub it between her folds, "fuck me, I'm begging you," she continued kissing your lips, and placed small kisses on your chin.

"You don't need to beg so much, baby," you said softly, returning her kisses but all over her face, "go ahead and put it in yourself," you dove into her neck, giving her little kisses and licks. Ning obeyed your order, and guided your cock to her entrance so that you only had to push forward slightly and bury yourself completely inside her silky pussy.

"Fuuuuuuck!" Ning whimpered, desperately searching for your lips to kiss between heavy pants. You reciprocated her kiss, your senses completely overwhelmed by how soft and wet her pussy felt around your cock, completely disappeared between her folds.

You had never felt a pussy like hers, so silky, soft and wet, she already drove you crazy, but that only made you now completely obsessed and at her mercy.

Ning grabbed her legs around your torso, and you began to slowly pump back and forth, your cock sliding in and out of her pussy as if it were molded especially for you. You rested your forearms on either side of her head, and she wrapped her arms around your neck as you moaned into each other's mouths.

You gradually increased your speed, and that led to more muffled whimpers against your mouth. She caressed the hair on the back of your neck, and then moved her hands down your back to do exactly the same, other girls would have scratched you there in all the pleasure, but she made sure not to hurt you in any way, she just limited herself to press your skin with her little fingers.

You lowered your head and took one of her tits into your mouth, it didn't surprise you to realize how extremely good it felt to suck on her nipples and lick around them, at this point you knew that every corner of Ning's body was like manipulating a cloud of cotton candy.

Her moans were released into the air, loud and passionate as you fucked her at a faster and more consistent pace, without reaching the point of being harsh with her but giving her deep thrusts that she felt in every hidden corner of her body. She grabbed your head with both hands and tangled her fingers in your hair, pressing your head down to sink between her delicious tits, which you sucked and put into your mouth hungrily.

You continued thrusting in and out for about another minute until Ning gently tugged at your hair; you knew she was going to cum, so you lifted your head from her tits and dove back into her lips, lovingly cradling her face in your hands as you gave her the final thrusts. Ning soon exploded a second time, this time around your cock.

Her spasms were present once again, this time stronger, more intense and abundant, she whimpered loudly against your lips, and her legs wrapped around your torso to hold herself in place as you continued to pump slowly through her orgasm. After a few seconds, her spasms stopped, and you separated from her lips to straighten your back, she let go of your torso and opened her legs wide open, staring into her eyes with a blushing face. 

"You... you fuck me so well... and you don't treat me like I'm an object," she murmured, looking at you with bright, loving eyes, "you're so... so... god, you drive me insane," you You were holding back as best you could from running away and screaming at the sky, once again your cheeks felt hot, but this time you did blush.

"Once I cum inside you you'll feel like heaven, then," you said with a mischievous little smile, hiding your red cheeks. You pulled your cock out of her pussy, and being already quite well lubricated and slippery, you pressed it against her butthole slowly, but Ning stopped you with a hand on your abdomen.

"No, honey," she said breathlessly, "I want to give you that, but I'm not ready right now, I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for, I will gladly fill that pretty pussy of mine," you leaned down to give her another small kiss on the lips before knelt up, grabbing her legs by the back of the knees and putting them together to insert yourself again inside her pussy.

"Oh yes daddy, please fill my pussy!" Ning moaned as she felt you again deep in her pussy, "your princess needs that load."

Concentrated and determined to give her what she was demanding, you began pumping in and out of her again, resuming your rapid thrusts but this time adding a bit of roughness which she received without the slightest complaint. Her tits began to bounce, and her body began to shake with each of your crashes against her.

Ning had started moaning too loudly, so she grabbed the pillow her head was resting on and used it to bite it, muffling squeals and grunts against it as you fucked her fast and hard. Your breathing was extremely agitated between your gasps and your moans, a product of how good her wet pussy was making you feel.

You put her legs over your shoulders and leaned forward, pressing her knees against her tits as you began to pump now up and down, your hands resting on the mattress on either side of her body. Ning held on tightly to the pillow, biting it and looking at you with crystallized eyes that let you know how extremely good you were making her feel.

All the pleasure she had been building in you soon took its toll, you felt a tingle in your stomach, and completely unaware of yourself, you began to fuck her now with absolutely all your strength. Ning bit the pillow again, now muffling screams against it, and a few furious thrusts were enough until with a strong thrust you began to spill your thick, hot load into Ning's pussy.

As soon as she felt your cum inside her walls, Ning had another orgasm, twice as strong and intense as the previous one, she buried her face against the pillow, and her pelvis began to shake and tremble up and down. You couldn't do anything but moan like crazy at the overwhelming sensation of cumming inside a girl you felt so attracted to.

"Do you like daddy's cum inside your pussy, princess?" you asked between gasps, moving slower as you made sure to leave absolutely every drop of your seed inside her. Ning removed the pillow from her face and threw it on the floor.

"My god, you don't know how much I love it, daddy!" she responded with a squeal, arching her back and throwing her head back.

You let her legs free and she spread them out to the sides of her so you could lean forward and kiss her, and when you stopped pumping your cock you realized how exaggeratedly wet she felt.

"Wait, you squirted?" you asked in the middle of the kiss, looking into her eyes. She looked confused.

"I don't know, I didn't even know I could do that," she replied, and you stood up again to slowly pull your cock out, letting the cum flow freely down her slit and onto the sheet.

"Well, apparently," you said with a giggle, "I'll go get you something to clean-"

"No! Wait," she said, bringing two fingers to her pussy and collecting a significant amount of thick liquid to take it to her mouth, taste it and swallow it, "give me the rest with your fingers," you were speechless for a few seconds.

"F-fuck, sure," you said, scooping up as much cum as you could with your fingers to bring it to Ning's mouth, she sucked them hard, looking into your eyes until she got them completely clean.

"I've been wanting to swallow your cum ever since that time on the plane when that bitch Jimin took what was mine," she said matter-of-factly, as if she hadn't made you rethink what the hottest thing you'd ever seen was. your life.

"The wait was worth it?"

"It was worth every second, that was amazing," she sighed with a small smile, "if I have to get sick to be pampered and feel loved, I will definitely do it more often."

"God, please don't do it," you laughed, and lay down next to her, "there's no need, believe me," she picked up the first phone she could get her hands on (yours) and checked the time.

"We still have 45 minutes before we have to leave, can you cuddle with me a little longer?" she asked you in a small, adorable voice.

"Of course, sweetie," you gently took the phone from her hand and settled a pillow behind your heads. Ning rested her head on your chest, wrapping an arm over your torso and a thigh over your abdomen to cuddle warmly against you. You hugged her with both arms, snuggling her against you to give her a small kiss on the head.

"Would you... tell me more about yourself?" she asked shyly, and you smiled.

"I'll happily do it, ask and I'll answer."

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

[canirove]

Pedri Imagine

Author’s note: This is a request I got on Wattpad, something sweet and cute after he got injured at the Euros. Hope you like it and thank you for reading! 💜

Masterlist

“Hi.”

“Hello.”

“Are you feeling a bit better?”

“Yeah” Pedri says over facetime. “I'm sorry about earlier, tho.”

“Uh?”

“When I kept ignoring your calls and texted you that I wanted to be left alone. I was kind of rude.”

“Pedri, you had just left the game with an injury that meant that the tournament was over for you. It is normal to be angry and frustrated and to want to be left alone.”

“Yes, but… I don't know” he shrugs. “I feel like I was a bit rude with you. With the person who is always there for me on the good and bad days.”

“It's ok” I smile. “But urgh, don't remind me of how much it sucks that I am stuck here with work and that I've only gotten to watch you play once. I should be there taking care of you, not about to start a 24 hour shift at the hospital.”

“I miss you too. But I'm fine, I'm taken care of. Your patients need you a lot more than I do” he says.

“You are being taken care of by who? Nurse Ferran?” I chuckle.

“Among others. Unai has been offering to carry me around.”

“Lucky bitch” I whisper.

“What?” Pedri laughs.

“Nothing.”

“I heard you. Who is a lucky bitch, me because I get to be carried around by Unai, or him because he gets to carry me?” he smirks.

“What do you think, Pedri?”

“Him, obviously. Carrying me is an honour.”

“What are you now? A prince?” I laugh.

“A king, actually. King of your heart” he winks, making me laugh again.

“I'm glad you are making jokes, tho. That means you are feeling a bit better.”

“I'm not joking. I am the king of your heart.”

“Of course you are” I smile. “Have they told you when are you coming back?”

“Actually…” he says, running a hand through his hair. “I'm not.”

“What?”

“They are allowing me to stay with the team and start my recovery here.”

“Oh, that's… that's really nice of them.”

“It is. See how De La Fuente isn't that bad?” he says with a teasing smile.

“Yeah, whatever” I reply. “But if you are staying…”

“We won't be seeing each other in person until they've made me champion of Europe. Which they will.”

“I see…”

“Aren't you happy about it?”

“Of course I am, Pedri. Seeing you this positive after what happened makes me really happy. Relieved too. But I just… I just wished I could get to at least see you once before you come back. Get to enjoy the atmosphere of the Euros together and not just through a screen.”

“Me too… But this isn't my last Euros or international tournament. There will be more in the future, and we will experience them together. I promise you.”

“Ok” I say, forcing myself to smile. “Anyway, I gotta go. My shift is about to start and I need to finish getting ready. Can I leave you in the hands of nurse Ferran and nurse Unai?”

“You can” he chuckles. “But what about you?”

“Uh? What do you mean?”

“Are you ok? You looked a bit gutted after I told you I'm staying in Germany.”

“I'm fine, Pedri. Don't worry. I'll call you tomorrow, ok?”

“Ok. Go be a superhero” he smiles. “I love you.”

“I love you too” I smile back before hanging up.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

A few days later…

“They are very optimistic about the injury. They say that if I work hard during the summer, I'll be back sooner than I think” Pedri says.

“Yeah, well. Let's not rush things.”

“Oh, hello!” Ferran says, showing up on the screen next to Pedri.

“Hello” I smile. 

“How are things in Barcelona?” he asks me.

“Same as always. Over there I've been told you've been so good at your job as a nurse that you may steal mine.”

“Yeah… But I don't think there will be a second time. I don't know how you can deal with him, Pedri is the worst patient ever.”

“Hey!” Pedri complains, giving Ferran a little push and only managing to make him laugh.

“It's the truth, bro” he shrugs. “Anyway, have you shared the news yet?”

“The news? What news?” I say.

“I… ummm…” Pedri says, nervously touching his face. “I've got a surprise for you.”

“Ok…”

“It's a good surprise, of course. It doesn't have to do with my injury or anything.”

“Pedri, c'mon!” Ferran urges him.

“Yes, ummm… I got you a ticket for the final.”

“You what?” I say.

“I made some calls, and you are gonna be free for a couple of days, which means that you can come watch the Euros final with me and my family.”

“Pedri, that's… how… I mean…”

“Someone is speechless” Ferran chuckles.

“But how… How did you manage to do this?” 

“Perks of being Pedri González” he shrugs. 

“I… I don't know what to say, I…”

“See? Speechless?” Ferran says again.

“Just say yes. Say that you are coming to watch them make me champion of Europe and then celebrate with us” Pedri says.

“I… Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Pedri. I'm going to Germany” I smile.

“Thank God” he sighs. “I thought you were going to say no.”

“And miss the chance of being carried around by Unai while celebrating that Spain has won the Euros? No way” I say with a teasing smile. 

“What?” Ferran says with a confused look.

“Inside joke” Pedri says. “Will I see you in a couple of days, then?”

“You will. Germany, here I come!”

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“See? I told you the will make me champion of Europe!” Pedri says, limping towards me.

“They did, yes” I laugh. “But please be careful” I say, nodding towards his knee.

“I'm fine, don't worry” he smiles as he reaches me. “Did you enjoy the game?”

“It was the best. I still can't believe I'm here, to be honest.”

“You're welcome” he says, still smiling. “Now, before the boys come kidnap me again… Can I get my first kiss as champion of Europe?” he smirks.

“You can. But” I say, stopping him as he wraps his arms around me. “First I need to say something.”

“Yes, Unai will carry you somewhere if that's what you want.”

“What?” I laugh. “I mean, I do want a photo with him later. And maybe we could take it while he is carrying me… But that's not what I wanted to say.”

“Then?”

“I wanted to say that I am so proud of you, Pedri. And not only because of that medal around your neck. I am really proud of you because of everything you've done during this tournament even if you didn't manage to finish it on the pitch, and especially because of how positive and strong you've been. Not many people are capable of doing that after what happened to you, you know?”

“Yeah, well” he says with a shy smile.

“I love you, Pedri.”

“And I love you too. Can I get that kiss now?”

“Yes, you can” I laugh before kissing him.

[melissa-kenobi]

🎃 Kinktober 2024 🎃 Peter Parker + Sex Pollen

Waheeyyy, 2nd part of Kinktober, we've got Peter Parker up next!

Under 18s, DNI

Warnings: Breeding, Web Fluid, Dirty Talk, Sex Pollen, Possessiveness.

Word Count:

🎃 Kinktober 2024 MasterList 🎃

***

Peter was causally making this way through the room filled with hunters. His spidey instincts were on fire, and every inch of him itched to rid his city of these people. But he couldn't, not now. He had a job to do, to find Kraven.

He made his way through the Hunters, making sure that he maintained his cover as a waiter trying to serve Mr Kravinoffs bodyguard.

Peter was getting anxious. He carried the platter on one hand before heading through the door, looking behind before rushing inside and accidentally bumping into the other servers.

"Oh no! I'm so sorry!" Peter apologises, putting the platter down, trying to help before the other waiter yells at him for not looking where he was going.

"Hey! Why don't you watch where you're going?"

"I'm sorry!" Peter apologises and backs up before the doors open again, and another waiter crashes into the two of them, making the tables topple over each other. The waiter curses and yells at the other man, making Peter's eyes go wide at the mess.

Quickly scanning the area for an out, he spots the elevator.

Bingo.

Peter backtracks to the elevator, hoping that he will finally find Kraven. Once the elevator reaches the final stop Peter hesitantly steps out eyes flickering around before he senses there's no-one there.

"All clear." He whispers to himself as he stalks around the room, noticing all the trophys and animal heads hung up as prizes, "Spider-Spy to the rescue."

"Spider-Spy? Really?" A sickly sweet voice echoes from behind him.

In an instant, Peter feels the hairs on his arms stand up as he whips around, only to come face to face with a real-life tiger.

"Hey, so at least you're real and alive..." Peter mummers under his breath, eyes wide before they fall upon a female hunter sat atop the tiger, watching Peter carefully. Needing to be cautious, Peter casts a glance at female hunter.

"I've been watching you, Spider-Man. You're not as slick as you think you are." You say before flipping off the tiger and standing right in front of Peter. You'd been watching the little spider make his rounds. You had to admit was pretty fit under that mask of his. He had a cute, handsome face. "You ought to be more careful with the way you walk around, you stuck out like a sore thumb."

Peter is slightly speechless, he thought he was more slick and undercover, "What do you want?"

"I want a lot of things little Spider, but mainly I want your head on a platter for Kraven." You say tilting your head at him whilst stroking the tiger, eyes still on the Spider.

"Well, I can't say its the first time I've heard that." Peter retorts, "How about I apologise and leave swiftly before you unleash that tiger on me and we pretend I was never here?"

"No can do." You say before lunging at him with your bladed knife. Peter swiftly jumps out the way, shooting a web at your arm which you block and flip over.

Your eyes follow the Spider's every move, waiting for him to throw another attack at you. Within seconds, he attacks, shooting web after web at you. You grimace as you dodge each and everyone but not before some of it lands on your thigh.

"That is disgusting. Is this stuff coming outta you?" You say as you swipe off the remains of his webs on your thigh.

Spider-Man shrugs, "It's complicated." He swings up in the air, being held up by one of his web as he hangs upside down, "Look I don't really want to hurt you."

"I do." You growl, eyes focused on his mask before gesturing for your tiger to approach. You watched as the eyes on his mask widened as he watched your tiger approach him, with a menacing glare.

"Hey kitty, good kitty..." Spider-Man said, slowly lifting himself up but not before you threw a knife at his web, instantly cutting through it, making the superhero tumble to the floor as he landed on a vase of something. The vase broke under the weight of Spider-Man, and a yellow puff of smoke erupted from it. Your tiger growled as she inched forwards in front of you, closer to the Spider, almost as if she was protecting you.

You inched closer, gently kicking at his thigh whilst he lay still on the broken vase. He didn't move.

Was he- Was he dead?

You moved closer and bent down to look at him, "Hey- wake up. You can't die that easy." Sighing, you got up to grab some rope to tie the Spider up only to turn around and find that he was gone.

"Fuck- where'd he go?" You spin around to ask your tiger only to find that she too was gone. You curse under your breath as you find your animal gone and the smell of meat lingering. Shit, he had gotten rid of her too.

Before you knew it, you were being swung in the room and webbed up against the wall, and Spider-Man hanging above you as he slowly decended and watched you. You growled as you tried to rid yourself from the webs.

"Let me go." You hiss at him, noticing a slight change in his demeanour.

"Where is Kraven?" He growls, tone darker and voice more gravely as he inched closer to you, pressing his chest to yours. He traced your face with his finger, swiping at the yellow substance.

"You'll never find out from me." You smirk, taking in the yellow powder that coated the bottom half of his suit. You sniffed the air only to cough and spit out the scent. Your eyes fell upon a bulge that was poking through the crotch element of his suit, "Oh fuck-"

Of course he had to fall into that pot.

"Look- Spidey, you're not well. You need to- "You begin to say before you're cut off by him sniffing at your neck. He lifted the bottom half of his mask off and kissed at your throat, moaning softly at your sweet scent.

"You- what did you do to me? I feel-" He hisses, sniffing at your neck, loving the smell of you. It surrounded him like a hoard of bees. The sweet, tangy scent of you was stuck in his mind, in his head, he ached to feel it around his cock, "What is that? It smells so good. You smell so good."

"I-" You begun but was cut off as Spider-Man pushed his lower body against you, slowly rutting his hips against your thigh, "Wait- Spider-Man, you don't want this."

"What was that substance I fell into?" He growls in your ear. Fuck that was hot. Nope. No you shouldn't be- oh shit, now you were going to be affected too.

"It was the pheromones from a plant. A very dangerous plant, one that Kraven used to use to help our population increase." You admit, suddenly feeling your core ache and become wet.

"What does that mean?" He growls again, still not understanding. He moves back a little bit, but not enough to give you room to escape.

You watch his reaction, almost as if he was having a mental conversation with himself about something. His head tilts as he mutters to himself, "Ours?"

Suddenly, his eyes fall upon you, "Her?" He says, sniffing and licking at your neck once more.

"Mine." He growls once more in that low baritone voice, one that sounded so unlike the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man you had seen. He rips his mask off before lunging forward and sucking on your neck, almost possessively. His hands tear at your outfit, ripping it to shreds leaving you exposed whilst his own suit opened up to reveal his cock.

"Holy fuck-" You curse, eyes widening with shock as you watch him pump his cock. That thing was huge, and leaky and red and angry. Fuck, the pollen must have really affected him.

He glances at you before positioning his cock against your lower lips, the head of his cock tapping light against your clit making you moan softly.

"Soaked." He whispers in awe whilst sliding his cock back and forth between your lips before plunging himself in, in one go. You scream and roll your head back against the wall as he penetrates your pussy.

He moves with quick rapid thrusts, not caring at all about your pleasure, only wanting to find his release, and if you weren't so horny you would care. But you enjoyed the way he filled out your pussy, the way you could feel him in your stomach, almost as if he was going to break you. His thick length pushes against your walls, and you loved the way it hurt but felt so good. You wanted more of him.

Peter wasn't holding back. He wanted you. His instincts wanted him to breed you, to fill you, to claim you. You were his, and this was the only way. He didn't care that you were one of Kravens hunters. You were his now. Reaching his peak, he gripped your throat gently, pulling you to his lips before placing a soft kiss on them.

"Mine. You belong to us." He whispered before letting out a low growl of your name and filling you with his cum.

***

[dyns33]

No Fear

Being a while since I wrote about Homelander. I want to do a second part for this story, but I'm not sure about the ending yet.

Homelander didn't have a soulmate.

That was what was written in his file, written by scientists who had brought him into the world, raised him in a lab, studied him for years, in order to make him the ultimate superhero.

If you had asked Y/N for her opinion, she would have said that they hadn't done a great job, and that the report could be thrown in the toilet.

For the most part, Frenchie's partners seemed to agree with this conclusion.

When he had called her to ask for a favor, she had hesitated. Vought was a big fish, and Y/N had never liked fishing.

The job paid well, as well paid as it was dangerous. But that wasn't the problem. because danger didn't scare her. She wasn't afraid of anything.

If she had to thank her father, it was for showing her that soulmates were bullshit, that no one should be trusted, and that there was no reason to be afraid.

The worst thing that could happen was death, relentless, certain, and since she had died in their basement during the time he had kept her locked up, there was nothing left to make her tremble.

If she hesitated, it was because she didn't know Frenchie's companions well, he wasn't always reliable himself, and she hated wasting her time with undoable jobs.

She had followed from afar the adventures of the small team against the big bad corporation that created fake heroes, and they had never really had any results.

For her part, Y/N didn't give a damn about the supes. She had no direct grievance against them. They were assholes like billions of others in the world, the only difference being that they were harder to kill.

Butcher's rage against Homelander was understandable, after what he had done to his wife, his soulmate. If he didn't try to stab her in the back to achieve his ends, everything would be fine.

The supe didn't have a soulmate, since he was superior to everyone, he came out of a tube and he had no soul. It was possible to use the information to hurt his fragile ego in constant demand for love, but nothing else.

It seemed smarter to avoid annoying Homelander, or even if possible not to attract his attention so that the job would go well.

But Butcher was not able to keep his distance nor his tongue in his pocket, to the point that his best enemy could recognize his scent on other people.

"How's dear William ?" Homelander purred as if everything was normal, while he was alone in the Vought elevator with Y/N, who had posed as a delivery girl.

"Dying but still a pain in the ass."

"I don't think we've met before. He recruits into his little gang of losers and they send them to get killed instead of him ? That's heartbreaking."

"Hmm." was Y/N's response who hadn't looked at him for a single second, focused on counting the time left for Serge's creation to hack the building's systems.

"… Excuse me, I'm telling you I'm going to break your neck."

"That's great, big guy. I would believe it if there wasn't a camera, no proof that I'm a criminal or a danger, and you didn't look like you were totally having a blast. This is my floor, bye."

She even had the audacity to pat him on the shoulder as she left, which left him speechless.

It had really happened without her thinking about it. The problem with being afraid of nothing and not caring at all about Homelander.

If she had been a little more interested, Y/N would have known that he hated being ignored more than anything, but that he was also very intrigued when people weren't scared in front of him.

Since he didn't have a soulmate, he quickly and dangerously latched onto people who made him feel something other than disgust.

It was Frenchie who had insisted on installing surveillance cameras in the small apartment she was renting for the duration of the mission, since she refused to stay with them longer than necessary.

Half-laughing, she had told him that he was a pervert. Since she didn't see the need for this surveillance at all, Y/N had never looked at the footage.

No point in looking at empty rooms or herself sleeping, the rare times she was there.

"Maybe you should look, love." Butcher muttered with a serious look that he rarely displayed, almost as if he was worried about another human being.

"Because you have access to the images ? Do I have to charge you a subscription ?"

"Haha, you're not my type. But obviously, you had an effect on the super cunt."

Since the elevator, Y/N had seen Homelander two or three times. They hadn't really talked, she had continued to talk to him as if he were just a harmless guy with a big maniac smile and his eyes that never left her.

There had been a tiny change the last time. A strange feeling in her chest, a buzzing in her ears, and Y/N had felt like he was coming, which was impossible.

With his vision passing through walls, his sense of smell and his obvious paranoia, Homelander also always seemed to know where she was.

That didn't explain his recurring presence in her apartment.

He had first come when she wasn't there. According to Billy, the supe loved doing that, to study the enemy, mark his territory, prove that he could do what he wanted.

Like a big cat, Homelander could be seen wandering around the rooms, touching absolutely everything, searching the fridge, testing the couch, sniffing her clothes.

Y/N wasn't going to pretend that it made her happy. But they were just objects, nothing really important. While he was having fun like a child, she could enter protected areas with the certainty of not running into him.

The problem was rather when he came while she was there.

Sometimes while she was showering, he could be seen through the window, or who remained in the entrance, staring at the wall, before leaving. It was ridiculous to feel uncomfortable, because he could see through her clothes absolutely all the time.

More and more often, he came while she was sleeping. Y/N had had nightmares for a large part of her childhood. It still happened sometimes, waking her up with a start, feeling stupid.

While she was tormented by her inner demons, her body continued to not give a damn about the superhero standing right next to her. Sometimes, when she was agitated, he would put his gloved hand on her cheek, as if he wanted to reassure her. You couldn't say that it had any effect, but it seemed to please her.

He didn't touch her as much as he could have. Most of the time, he just looked at her, standing more or less close.

Obviously, he sometimes talked to her. The video didn't pick up the sound, so it was impossible to tell what he was saying.

Homelander was in the middle of a long monologue when he strangely froze, leaning over Y/N, and kissing her without warning. A quick, simple kiss, so simple that it hadn't woken her up despite a slight flinch.

It had been several weeks already. Since then, he came regularly, almost all night long, and by hacking into a few surveillance cameras, it was obvious that he also followed her during the day whenever he had the chance.

Y/N had often had this strange feeling when he was around, without ever being able to determine what it was.

"… Shit." she murmured as she looked at the images.

"Shit indeed."

"This is going to be a problem, a real problem. I mean, he was already keeping an eye on Butcher, so now it's going to be impossible to move without that motherfucker on our backs."

"We could use that."

"No, Butcher !" Hughie said with his expression of constant worry that was bordering on constipation. "It's too dangerous !"

It took Homalander coming just to save her for Billy to admit that there was indeed a problem.

For the cunt to save him from the explosion of Stilwell's house to laugh and show him Becca and Ryan, okay. But for him to break the sound barrier, traveling all over town, just to catch Y/N, when he had no way of knowing she was in danger ?

That bastard was known for having no heart, but at that moment, he thought of his wife, he thought of what she had been through, and even if he didn't know Y/N well, he didn't want her to end up like that.

"You have to get out of here."

"And what ? I hide in a zinc-walled dungeon for the rest of my life, praying that he doesn't find me or that he gets tired of me ? Please, Butcher. Because he will get tired of me, I'm sure of it."

She wasn't sure. She knew these types of guys. For a long time, she had hoped that her father would come to his senses and let her go. Then she had stabbed him thirty-two times before burning down the house.

After several attempts, it was obvious that it would not be possible to do the same thing with Homelander. But he hated humans, it could only be a passing fascination.

A way to fill the boredom and emptiness, since he had no other women to harass, all the others having been killed or committed suicide.

Running away could have been a good option, since it would have indicated that Y/N was afraid and it would have been a disappointment to Homelander. But he could have still chased her away just for that.

"Why does it always have to end like this with you Serge ?"

"What can I do, chérie ? It's all your natural charm. You broke my heart the first time we met, so it's not that incredible that you seduced the great fucking Homelander."

"You fall in love with everyone. He hates 'mud people'."

"You're not 'people'. I shouldn't have brought you here, désolé."

Frenchie spoke to her as if she were already dead. The whole team looked at her with sad and resigned eyes.

The receptionist looked at her the same way when Y/N showed up at the reception of the ridiculous Vought tower, asking to see the flying cunt. In fact, the request had made the woman laugh at first, a mocking laugh, but she had still called Homelander's apartment, and that's where she had looked panicked.

But maybe it was more about the fate he had reserved for her for speaking badly to Y/N, and not for the future of the woman who got into the elevator, armed only with her courage and a small knife hidden in her shoe.

Homelander's bright blue eyes looked at it with a small smile, as if he found it adorable, before returning to her face.

"We need to talk." Y/N said calmly as she stood in the middle of the hallway.

"I think so."

And if at the end of their little discussion, there was no way to reason with him, then one of them wouldn't be leaving this apartment, even if she had a pretty good guess as to which one it would be.

[wilwheaton]

One very simple question :)

(Tv/comics)

Marvel. Or DC?

I have liked them both and disliked them both, at different points in my life, for a variety of reasons. At the moment, I'm not paying attention to them at all.

When I was a kid, I was all about Xmen and Fantastic Four from Marvel and, Batman and Justice League (Marv Wolfman's run in the late 80s) from DC. Never really cared for Superman. The 1967 Spider-Man was awesome as a cartoon, but I rarely read the comic book.

In the 70s, I was only allowed one comic per week, usually picked out from whatever was left on that spinning rack at the drugstore. So more often than not, I ended up with something like House of Secrets or House of Mystery or one of those horror anthologies that didn't need me to read the issues before or after, like the serialized superhero comics did. I got a lot of replay value from those books.

In the 80s, I had my own money and the ability to drive myself to comic conventions, and that's when I fell in love with Sandman, Watchmen, pretty much the entire Prestige Format that became Vertigo. I recall feeling like Marvel was for kids, then, and DC was serious. I was only 16, so take that for what it's worth.

But speaking of being 16, I'm gonna focus on Batman for a sec. I loved Batman 89, and I think all the efforts to make a Batman movie ever since have fallen short in ways I couldn't predict back then. It's gotten better with age and by comparison, for me. Michael Keaton is my favorite Batman, the way Christian Bale is my favorite modern Bruce Wayne (they both pale next to Pure. West. if anyone asks me).

The OG Batman series is maybe my favorite series of all time not called Star Trek or The Prisoner, and the 1966 movie is my favorite of all the Batman movies. Of course I love the animated series, and I get to be Blue Beetle in Brave and the Bold, so that's pretty awesome and its whole own thing.

Turning to the current moment, with rare exception, all the MCU and DCU movies do nothing for me. I thought I must have been missing something, so tried really hard to give them a chance to knock me out. I watched as many of the MCU movies as I could stand, and I just felt exhausted and bored by all of it, by the time I got to ... I can't even remember. Something with maybe Thanos and Ant-Man? I felt like it was a big, complicated mess of fan service and meetings that could have been e-mails, resulting in in a stew full of interesting ingredients that have all blended together into a flavorless paste. I do enjoy all the James Gunn movies, though, even if Chris Pratt is the worst Chris, because James always centers the characters and their conflicts, then uses the action and stunts to support the story.

I feel like a lot of this sounds harsh, but even Star Wars, my favorite movie when I was a kid, has grown into something I don't recognize or care about. I'm old. I know what I like and what I don't like. I'm not patient like I once was, and it's clear I'm not the person those studios want in the theatre, anyway. I could make that joke about how it's the children who are wrong, but I accept that I am not in the demo, and I am genuinely happy for everyone who loves the spectacle and the experience of seeing those films with an enthusiastic audience. I just won't be there with you, but you can find me in the parking lot, yelling at a cloud.

...wow that's a very big answer to a very simple question.

[sweetmodel]

hiii ! out of curiosity , do you know how many years you have spent outside of this reality ? like you could be 18 ( for example ) here , but your consciousness has actually lived for 33 years ( another random example ) - also you dont need to share your real age because that is personal information !!! thank you so much and you are literally my favourite tumblr account

Hello! I'm going to be honest but I don't really add up time together. It just stopped making sense to me once I started shifting. Because like, okay you add the time you were in your intended reality, but what about the years before? I mean, you lived there too in the past, you now have all the memories and knowledge, do you add those too? Also to me time is just really 3D-centric so I really don't care about it. The more I shift the more I feel like I know less and less lol.

But rambling aside cause that's not what anyone asked for, here's how much time I consciously spent in each reality, without counting the past of each life and all of their memories:

1-Canon Winx reality, from January 2022 to March 2022, my very first reality;

2-Fairy-Demon reality (based on a book I'm writing), from January 2023 to December 2023. This is the longest I stayed in a reality without shifting back and forth;

3-Superhero reality (not based on any sort of media here, Its mostly a niche reality I built off a dream I had long ago), okay this one is tripping me up because Its also a TV series I'm filming and I'm not sure what has and hasn't happened yet but I would say... During June-July 2022, then I was there again from March 2023 to September 2024... But I skipped a few weeks because I was going through a break up there, if you read one of my posts you might understand what I'm talking about ;) ;

4-Wizard reality (based on the game Wizard101), January 2024 to end of May 2024;

5-Fame reality/life, from September 2023 to October of 2025. Technically the longest, but also I would shift back and forth from my fame life to the next reality I'm listing, so it wasn't two years straight;

6-Fairy-Angel reality (A fusion/mashup between Winx and the book reality), this is the one I currently keep shifting to and so far it has been from January 2024 to May 2024, and probably the one I will stick to because I'm still trying to digest my fame life lol.

I don't use/have "time ratios', when I shift back to a reality (whichever it be, this one or any other one) is exactly when I "left it off";

But anyway, thanks for the compliment! (And sorry for any typos Its really late here).