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mygnolia · 3 months ago

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to weave my love ⭒ n. riki

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Nope.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And they’re silenced immediately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn't like it one bit.

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

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

A spark.

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

What the hell was that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That scared the shit out of him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jake gawks. “You must really like her,”

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

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

“Gross.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s attracted to the power plant.

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

Bam.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blurts, “He just got badly hurt.”

Immediately, Jake knows he’s fucked up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

RIKI'S TO-DO LIST BEFORE PROM

☐ talk to ____ regularly

☐ don't make it awkward

☐ be..cute?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You. He still needs to save you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Riki. Spark. Spider-Man.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What. The. Fuck.

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

Until now.

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

His blood runs cold.

“You think this…why?”

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

Riki was going to strangle his best friend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you for saving me tonight.”

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

“Goodnight, Spiderman.”

—-

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

The machine was scheduled to be completed tomorrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the solution hits him. Literally.

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

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

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

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

Maybe this is where Spider-Man dies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ll understand after he explains everything, right?

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

Do not say it’s true.

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

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

“Holy shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pause. “For being Spider-Man?”

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

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

“I really want to ask you to prom.”

You simply stare at him, surprised.

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

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

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

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

“Jake.”

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

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

“For what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“How’d Jake find out?”

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

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

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

“Not stupid. Keep going.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But first, he has to try something out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought girls liked this.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED AND ALWAYS READ!

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

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

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chosok-amo · 23 days ago

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LITTLE LOOSE TO SAVE THOUSAND, g. suguru

☆ sum. your roommate ’bout to show you have to make easy-money and become rich in one night, wonder how? no? have no idea? probably not. but geto has lots of lamps hanging around his head and he’s about to show you how easy it is to make money, psst. . . you may not be able to walk after— but you don’t know, yet.

warning. non-sorcerer au, roomate-geto, sqūirting, exhibitionism, anāl, spanking, praises, dirty talk, pet-names, fingēring, dōuble-penetration, degrāding, name-calling, geto is dirty mannnn.

sitting in the kitchen, a bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of you, you held chopsticks in one hand and your phone in the other, scrolling endlessly through job listings, searching for another side gig to earn extra money. apparently, everything seems to revolve around money these days.

you sighed, setting your phone down on the table—not too roughly, though; you couldn’t afford a replacement if it broke, especially with your student loans hanging over you.

a chuckle made you look up, and there stood your roommate, suguru geto— a medical student at your university, clearly amused by the frustrated look on your face.

you frowned as geto walked over to the fridge, bending down to grab a bottle of water. only then did you really take in his appearance—he was wearing nothing but a pair of snug, black calvin klein boxers that hugged his muscular, toned body— toned cock, a fucking huge one.

you shifted your gaze to the window to avoid staring, but when he moved closer and took a seat across from you at the small, round dining table, it was impossible to ignore his presence. scowling, you poked at your now almost-cold chicken noodle soup with your chopsticks and muttered, “you’re not funny, you know that, right?”

geto just smirked, unbothered by your irritation. he was well-known around campus for his striking looks, his intelligence, and his impressive physique. everyone knew him not only for his kindness and calm nature but also because he was best friends with another popular figure, gojo satoru. yet, there was another side to geto that added to his reputation—he was a live streamer, and not just any streamer, he is a fucking porn star.

geto ran a successful channel that catered to an adult audience, where he would occasionally show off that sculpted body and let people get a taste of his rich, honeyed voice. he had a loyal fanbase willing to pay for the privilege of watching him, and his popularity only seemed to grow each day.

people paid good money to watch him become a whimpering, trembling mess, undone by pleasure until he was left breathless. they’d pay to see him moan and shiver, eyes rolling back as choked sounds escaped his throat, his adam’s apple bobbing as he struggled for air.

to see his, massive, veiny cock; how it’s twitching and throbbing around another veiny, muscle hand of his. geto is sooo beautiful when he drowns in pleasure, you almost want to see it to yourself.

they paid to see him in that state—to see sweat and tears glisten on his flushed cheeks, his face turning that deep, crushed-cherry red. his toned chest would rise and fall in desperate gasps, every inhale and exhale a battle to steady himself. it was intoxicating for his viewers to witness the way he fell apart on camera, giving them every last bit of him.

and you? you were one of the few who could hear it all through the thin walls you shared, every broken sound slipping through. he never even bothered with soundproofing his studio, claiming he just wanted to “help you out a little,” in case you ever wanted to listen in.

he was utterly shameless.

you were pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of geto's smooth, velvet voice. a chuckle escaped his lips, a teasing smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. he took a sip from the bottle of water he was holding in his hand, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his jaw flexed with each swallow, only adding to the smugness in his expression.

“what’s with the attitude?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you. you knew he was enjoying this; he liked it when you were riled up. it was a game to him, a way to get under your skin, maybe under you.

you scoffed, crossing your arms as you shot him a glare. “i don’t have an attitude,” you bit back, though your narrowed eyes and scowl made it clear you weren’t exactly in a friendly mood. even though you denied it, your glare only seemed to fuel his amusement, his smirk growing wider as he watched you struggle not to react.

there was a brief moment of silence, the only sound filling the air was the gentle bubbling of your chicken noodle soup and the soft slurping coming from geto as he took another sip of his water. his eyes never left your face, a playful glint in his violet irises as he studied you, taking in your every move.

“you’re really grumpy when you’re looking for a new job, you know that?” he said, his words were casual, as if he was commenting on the weather.

you rolled your eyes, letting out an exasperated huff. “well, not everyone can make money as easily as you,” you muttered, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

his words were so casual, so nonchalant, as if he were pointing out the color of the sky, and that only irked you more, like you want nothing but slap his beautiful face, thinking maybe, just maybe. . . he will let out a pleasure moan like you after heard. meanwhile, he kept studying you with that amused, knowing look in his violet eyes, as though your frustration was his favorite form of entertainment.

geto’s smirk widened, clearly finding your reaction amusing. he took another sip of his water before responding, his voice low and smooth.

“hmm,” he hum, eyes glinting with mischief. he leaned back in his chair, casually draping his toned arms over the back of it, completely at ease in his near-naked state. his muscles flexed subtly with each movement, drawing your gaze no matter how hard you tried to resist.

“i could help you, you know?” he said, his tone almost sweet. he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he looked at you with a deceptively innocent expression, batting his lashes at you.

“that is, if you’re interested in making some easy money. there is a catch, though.”

you scowled, trying to focus on your soup instead of his physique— his chest, his glisten abs, the growing bulge underneath the black, stretch fabric, in general, just him. but it was difficult to ignore the way the muscles in his arms and chest flexed with even the slightest movement.

it was infuriating how effortlessly attractive he was, and how nonchalantly he seemed to show it off. he knew the effect he had on people, and he was clearly enjoying the reaction it drew out of you.

geto leaned back in his chair again, looking at you with a knowing smile. his arms were still raised, showing off his well-defined biceps and triceps, like a lion flaunting its strength.

“the catch is,” he said, pausing for a moment as he took a sip of his water, “it’s a little bit more. . . hands-on, shall we say?”

his words left a lot up to interpretation, and he was clearly enjoying how you were trying to decipher what he was suggesting. his expression was a mixture of mischief and amusement, as if he was watching an interesting social experiment unfold before him.

“but, if you're interested,” he added, his tone turning almost suggestive, “i could introduce you to my side gig.” he licked his lips, tongue darting across his lower lip in an almost sensual way, before taking another sip of his water.

and for a moment, just a beat, you wonder how his tongue feels licking your dripping cunt.

you raised an eyebrow, fighting to keep your expression as indifferent as possible, even though his suggestive tone and the lewd imagination was starting to get to you. humming softly, you leaned back a bit, feigning complete nonchalance.

“yeah? who, yourself?” you replied, voice smooth and dismissive, as if his little game had no effect on you. but the way he licked his lips—slow, deliberate—had your heartbeat picking up and your thighs flushing against one another, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it.

geto’s violet eyes narrowed, a sly smile playing on his lips. he leaned forward, his chair scraping slightly against the ground as he moved closer to you. the distance between you two felt like it had suddenly shrunk, and you caught a whiff of his cologne—spicy, musky, and distinctly masculine.

“oh sweetheart,” he purred, his voice dripping with honey-sweet condescension, “it’s a bit more involved than that.” he paused again, savoring the moment, his eyes locked on yours. he lifted his hand and ran his fingers down his neck, tracing the lines of his defined collarbone, before resting his hand lightly on his chest.

geto leaned back once more, his casual smirk widening as he took another sip of his water. his eyes never left your face, though, and you could see the challenge in them. he was trying to test you, to see if he could break you, to see if you were as indifferent as you were trying to appear.

he licked his lips once more, his tongue tracing a slow, deliberate path across his lower lip. his gaze dropped to your neck for a moment, taking in your visible gulp before his eyes flicked down to your breast, a little nipples peeking through your baby tee. cute.

“but if you’re up for it,” he continued, his tone teasing, “i could show you just how hands-on it can be.”

and in a beat. . .

geto had you naked, looking all pretty and flustered on his lap, fingers slowly teasing your little bud with precise strokes— thighs spread wide open for the world to see with your back kissing his broad chest, intertwine with his soft skin.

you freeze up momentarily, taken aback by the sudden intimacy and exposure. your heart races as you glance around the room, hoping no one outside these walls might stumble upon this bizarre situation. the warmth of geto’s body against yours and the gentle pressure of his fingers make it hard to think straight.

“uh, hi... everyone,” you manage to stammer out, trying to sound casual despite the awkwardness. “i guess i’m here now.”

your gaze flickers between the camera lens and geto’s face, searching for any sign of mockery or exploitation. but all you see is his usual calm demeanor, albeit with a hint of excitement. it’s disconcerting yet strangely reassuring.

as he mentions donations influencing their actions, a mix of trepidation and curiosity swirls inside you. what exactly does he have planned? and should you care, given the financial benefits?

“there there, relax,” geto murmurs into your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin as he pulls you closer against his bare chest. “it’s just us and our lovely audience. nothing to worry about,” he chuckles softly, clearly amused by your nervousness.

his fingers continue their slow, teasing dance across your slick folds, sending shivers through your body despite the growing unease. “you’re doing great, by the way. sooo natural in front of the camera already,” he praises, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

“our viewers are going to love you.”

on the screen, the donation counter begins to climb rapidly as curious minds tune in, eager to witness this unexpected twist of the new star. geto grins wickedly, relishing the attention.

the live chat starts to fill with messages, some requesting specific acts, others simply expressing their enthusiasm for the new addition to geto’s streams. the atmosphere in the room shifts, becoming more electric and charged with anticipation.

“looks like we’ve got some early requests coming in, let’s see...” geto purrs, scrolling through the increasingly lewd suggestions flooding the chat. “it seems our viewers have quite the imagination.”

he selects a particularly generous donation from someone requesting a deep kiss, smirking as he turns his attention back to you through the screen in front. “well, looks like we have our first task. shall we oblige?”

without waiting for a response, geto leans in close— drawing his fingers from your dripping cunt, mindlessly smearing your juice on your cheek the way he pushes your head to the side, lips brushing against yours in a feather-light caress before capturing them fully. his tongue teases the seam of your mouth, coaxing you to part your lips and grant him entry.

his other hand makes a home on your stomach to keep you pressed over his chest— fingertips leaving trails of fire on your sensitive skin, and the kiss deepens, becoming more heated and passionate as geto pours all his focus into this intimate act.

the initial shock fades into a strange sort of numbness as geto’s lips claim yours, his skilled tongue exploring the depths of your mouth. it’s both thrilling and terrifying, the intensity of the kiss overwhelming your senses.

despite the chaos swirling in your mind, you find yourself responding instinctively, meeting his passion with a tentative eagerness of your own. your hands come up to grip the muscles of his arm on your stomach, fingers barely curling into the soft flesh as if anchoring yourself to reality.

when geto finally breaks the kiss, leaving you panting and dazed, you notice the audience eagerly devouring every second of this private display. a wave of self-consciousness washes over you, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the lingering heat of his touch and the intoxicating scent of his cologne.

“mmm,” you hum, satisfied— eyes down to his glistening lips before meeting his hungry irises.

geto is a veryyyy good kisser.

“my my,” geto purrs, a low, sultry tone rumbling through his chest and into your body pressed so intimately against his. “color me impressed,” geto praises lowly once he pulled away from your messy kiss, his fingers lightly brushing across your jawline, smearing your juices over the path.

the contrast between that innocent gesture versus how your slick fluids shone across your cheek has him chuckling under his breath. geto was tempted to lick it clean but held himself back for later.

“the chat loves you already, don’t they?” geto points out playfully as he turned the angle to show off you completely sprawled across his lap in nothing. the circles around your nipples was evident and the sheer number of requests wanting to watch him toy with them, pinch and pull only added to his perverse glee.

“ah, yes,” geto says with a smirk, noticing your gaze drifting down to his hand still resting on your stomach. “’m quite fond of touching you myself, these little beauties need some attention,” he remarks, his voice laced with amusement and arousal. geto’s fingers drift lower, tracing the curves of your breasts before pinching and rolling your hardened nipples between thumb and forefinger. he tugs gently, watching with a smirk as you gasp and arch into his touch.

his thumb grazes over the swell of your breast, circling the hardened nipple before giving it a light pinch. “mmm, you’re so responsive.”

he leans in to whisper huskily in your ear, “our viewers seem to agree. they’re begging for more.” geto glances at the screen, where the donation counter continues to rise and the chat fills with pleas for him to explore your body further.

with a wicked grin, he slides his hand lower, fingers trailing down your quivering belly and dipping into your wet slit for the second time. “shall we give them a show?” he asks, stroking your sensitive folds with deliberate slowness, building the tension within you.

a soft whimper escapes your parted lips as geto’s fingers tease your most intimate area, the each delicate strokes igniting sparks of pleasure throughout your cunt. your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction, more contact with his skilled digits.

the combination of his skilled touch and the voyeuristic thrill of performing for an unseen audience sends waves of heat coursing through your veins.

the sensation of his calloused palm cupping your breast, the subtle pinch and tug on your nipple, sends jolts of electricity coursing through your veins. your back arches, pressing your chest further into his touch as you let out a breathy moan.

when geto whispers in your ear, promising to give the audience a show, a flush spreads across your cheeks and down your neck. the thought of performing for strangers, of letting them bear witness to your most private moments, is both mortifying and exhilarating.

geto’s knowing smile and the way his eyes gleam with mischief only fuel the desire burning within you. you feel powerless yet exhilarated, surrendering to the moment and the talented hands guiding you towards ecstasy.

“yes,” you manage to whimper, the word barely audible over the pounding of your heart— heavy with desire. “show ‘em. . .”

along the way geto continues to tease your most sensitive areas, you can’t help but imagine the faces behind those screens, the fantasies they must be conjuring based on the live spectacle unfolding before them. the thought adds a layer of eroticism to the experience, making you acutely aware of your naked vulnerability.

geto lets out a pleased hum at your eager affirmation, fingers continuing their sensual exploration of your wet folds. he rubs slow, firm circles over your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your legs tremble and your hips jerk reflexively against his hand.

“that’s it, baby,” he coos, voice dripping with seduction as he watches your reactions closely. “let them see how much you enjoy this.”

as if to prove his point, geto slides two fingers inside your clenching heat, pumping them slowly while his thumb keeps up its relentless stimulation of your swollen nub. he curls his fingers, searching for that spot deep within that always seemed to send you over the edge.

at the same time, geto captures your lips in another searing kiss, swallowing your mewls of pleasure as he tastes the sweetness of your arousal.

your head falls back against geto’s shoulder as he claims your mouth, the dual sensations of his fingers plunging deep within your core and his thumb rubbing insistently over your clit becoming almost too much to bear. you moan into the kiss, the vibrations echoing through your chest as your inner walls begin to flutter and clench around his invading digits.

geto’s words of encouragement only add to the intensity, the knowledge that you’re putting on a show for an unseen audience heightening the thrill. you can’t help but imagine the lewd thoughts racing through their minds as they watch you lose control, the filthy fantasies they must be conjuring based on the live feed.

as geto hits that sweet spot inside you, your entire body seizes up, back arching sharply as a powerful orgasm rips through you. “mmm— sugu, fuck.”

geto grins wickedly as he feels your pussy clamping down on his fingers, your cries of ecstasy filling the air. he doesn’t let up, continuing to pump and twist his digits within your spasming channel, drawing out your little climax for the viewing audience.

“look at her, she’s cumming all over my fingers,” he announces, voice rough with arousal as he brings the slick digits to his mouth, sucking them clean. “she tastes divine.”

he turns his focus back to you, purple eyes blazing with hunger as he takes in your flushed face and heaving chest. geto slides one hand up to cup your chin, tilting your head back as he leans in for another dominating kiss, tongue delving deep to claim every inch of your mouth.

“my, aren’t you just the prettiest thing when you’re all worked up?” geto purrs, breaking the kiss to trail his lips along your jawline and down the column of your throat. he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as if savoring your scent.

“and you smell incredible,” he murmurs, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. geto’s hands roam over your body, mapping out every curve and dip, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

“but i think our audience wants more,” he reminds you, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze through the screen. you gasp as geto pulls away from your neck, his husky praise and the lingering heat of his lips making you ache for more. the sight of him licking his fingers clean, savoring the evidence of your pleasure, sends a fresh wave of desire crashing through you.

there’s a mischievous glint in his amber eyes, a promise of debauchery to come. “she’s such a slut, eh? already cum a minute after i finger fuck her,” he talks to the audience, pretty little smug covering his face.

his words, spoken directly to the camera, make your cheeks burn with embarrassment and arousal. the idea of being reduced to nothing more than a sexual object for these strangers’ entertainment is both humiliating and intensely erotic.

you squirm under geto’s roaming touch, skin prickling with goosebumps as he explores every inch of you. his teasing comments and the predatory gleam in his eyes leave no doubt about what he intends to do next.

geto smirks at the viewer's reaction to calling you a ‘slut’, clearly enjoying the power dynamic between you two and the effect it has on the audience.

“looks like someone likes watching me defile you,” he taunts, trailing a finger down your chest to circle your pert nipple, giving it a playful tweak. “shall i keep going, or have we got a winner for who blows their load first?”

his words are provocative, aimed directly at the camera, as if daring anyone to challenge him or try to outdo him in this twisted game of sexual tit-for-tat. the cocky confidence in his tone is intoxicating, making you feel small and vulnerable beneath his dominant gaze.

as he speaks, geto’s other hand roams lower, fingertips dancing across your belly before slipping between your thighs once more.

his fingers dance over your slick folds once more, gathering more of your essence before trailing upwards to circle your puckered rosebud. “and then, maybe, i’ll take this tight little hole next,” he teases, applying gentle pressure, “just to show everyone how versatile you are.”

geto’s words are laced with lust, and the thought of submitting to such intense degradation in front of a live audience has you panting and squirming in anticipation. the notion that these strangers are witnessing your utter submission, your complete loss of control, only heightens the eroticism of the situation.

“oh— suguru,” a choked moan escapes your lips as geto’s fingers tease your sensitive flesh, the prospect of being taken in such a filthy way sending jolts of electricity straight to your core. you can feel your own arousal coating his digits, easing the path as he circles your virgin entrance.

the humiliation of being spoken about so crudely, of having your most intimate acts broadcast for the world to see, is almost too much to bear. yet there’s something undeniably thrilling about surrendering to geto completely, letting him use your body however he sees fit while an audience looks on.

your nipples harden into stiff peaks, aching for his touch as you writhe helplessly against him. you know he can feel how wet you are— practically dripping down to his thighs— how desperately your body craves more of his ministrations.

geto chuckles darkly at your helpless moans, clearly relishing the power he holds over you in this moment. he continues to torment your rosebud, pressing and circling the sensitive bud until you’re writhing and mewling like a needy kitten.

“such a good girl, getting so excited over the idea of taking my cock in your tight ass,” he praises, his voice low and seductive. “i wonder... should i give the folks at home a preview?”

without waiting for a response, geto guides the tip of his middle finger past your resistant ring muscle, sinking slowly into your clenching heat. he pauses for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the intrusion, before beginning to push in deeper.

“shit, feels so good wrapped around me,” geto groans softly as he sinks his finger deeper into your tight rear passage, relishing the way your muscles grip him like a vice. he starts to thrust in and out, gradually increasing the pace as he works you open.

“watch her stretch around my finger,” he instructs the camera, his voice thick with lust. “she’s so fucking tight, but i bet she’d take my cock even better.”

geto’s free hand reaches up to fondle your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers as he continues to finger-fuck your ass. the dual sensations of his probing digit and the stimulation to your sensitive nipple send sparks of pleasure shooting through your nerves.

a high-pitched whine tears from your throat as geto’s finger pushes deeper, stretching your anal walls to accommodate the intrusion. the burning sensation is intense, but not unpleasant, and you find yourself arching back against him, seeking more of that delicious friction.

“ahh, s-suguru! not there, fuck—” you cry out, your voice trembling with a mix of pain and pleasure. the feeling of being so thoroughly penetrated, of having your most private area exposed and used for the amusement of others, is overwhelming.

geto’s filthy talk only adds to your arousal, the knowledge that he’s watching you suffer (or enjoy) this degrading act for the benefit of his online fans making you feel like a cheap whore. and yet, you can’t deny the thrill that courses through you at the thought of being seen in such a compromising position.

geto’s eyes gleam with sadistic glee as he watches you squirm and whimper under his touch. he loves seeing you brought to the brink of discomfort, knowing that it’s all part of the twisted game he’s playing with you.

“shhh, don't worry, baby,” he coos, his voice dripping with false concern. “i’m just getting you ready for my big cock. you’ll love every inch of it buried deep inside you.”

with that promise, geto begins to pump his finger faster, driving it in and out of your stretched asshole with ruthless efficiency. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your breathless cries and the hum of the webcam.

“look at her, guys,” he addresses the camera, his gaze never leaving your flushed face through the screen of his computer.

geto’s free hand snakes around to the front of your body, seeking out your throbbing clit. he finds the swollen nub easily, rubbing firm circles around it as he continues to finger your ass.

“doesn’t she look pretty like this?” he asks the audience, his voice a low purr. “all spread out and filled, taking everything i give her like a good slut.”

he presses a second finger alongside the first, scissoring them apart to stretch you further. the burn intensifies, but so does the pleasure, and you find yourself rocking back onto his hand, chasing both.

“fuck, watch her beg for it,” geto growls, his thumb now rubbing rough circles over your clit. “she’s loving this, aren’t you, whore? loving being used for everyone to see?”

your mind reels as geto’s fingers plunge deeper, the double penetration sending waves of intense pleasure crashing through your body. you can feel yourself teetering on the edge of climax, your inner walls clenching rhythmically around his invading digits.

“fuck, fuckkk,” you wail, no longer caring about the lewdness of your words, head thrown back to his shoulder blade. “deeper. . . please.”

the admission slips out before you can stop it, and you flush with shame, realizing the whole world must have heard your desperate plea. but the humiliation only fuels your desire, making you grind back against geto’s hand with renewed urgency.

“fuck, just like that,” he encourages, his fingers curling to hit that sweet spot inside you. “ride my hand, slut. show these perverts what a greedy little cumslut you are. let ’em watch as i prepare your sweet little ass for my cock, yeah?”

geto smirks wickedly at your submission, pleased by how easily you succumb to his dominance. he picks up the pace, fingering you harder and faster as he watches you lose control.

“that’s it, come undone for me,” he urges, his voice husky with lust. “let go, you dirty little cumwhore. i want to see you squirt all over my hand while you plead for my cock. are you a squirter, baby?”

his fingers move in tandem with his thumb, stroking your clit and prodding, pumping his fingers at your g-spot relentlessly. the combination proves too much, and with a keening wail, your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave of ecstasy coursing through your veins, threatening to overwhelm you entirely.

spasms rip through your sex, your juices gushing out to soak geto’s fingers and palm.

your entire body seizes up as the intense climax rips through you, every nerve ending alight with electric pleasure. you thrash wildly, unable to contain the convulsions that wrack your frame as wave after wave of euphoria washes over you.

“ah, fuuck!” you scream, the sound torn from your throat by the sheer force of your release.

your hips buck erratically, grinding your soaked pussy against geto’s hands as if trying to milk every last drop of pleasure from the intense orgasm. your inner walls clamp down hard on his fingers, milking them for all they’re worth as you ride out the aftershocks.

“ah, there there, we’ve got a squirter, everyone,” geto grin to the camera, slapping your cunt while you lean against his chest, panting heavily, body quivering with residual pleasure.

geto chuckles darkly, clearly enjoying the sight of you coming undone so spectacularly. he keeps his fingers buried deep inside you, letting you grind against them as you float down from your high.

“now that’s what i call a money shot,” he remarks to the camera, holding up his drenched hand for all to see. “this slut really knows how to make a mess, doesn’t she?”

withdrawing his fingers slowly, he brings them to his mouth, making a show of licking your essence off each digit. “mmm, delicious. but i think our viewers deserve a real treat.”

in one smooth motion, geto stand and spins you around and bends you over the desk, kicking your legs apart. the cold surface against your heated skin makes you gasp. “arch your back, baby.”

your breath hitches as geto positions you over the desk, the cool wood a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your cunt. you instinctively arch your back, presenting yourself to him as instructed, your thighs trembling slightly from the aftermath of your intense orgasm.

your legs tremble, presenting your dripping cunt to geto. the cool wood of the desk and the ac feels stark against your sensitive flesh, heightening your awareness of your vulnerability.

“sugu,” you whimper, not even sure what you're begging for anymore— more humiliation, more pain, more pleasure? all you know is that you crave whatever geto has planned next.

behind you, you hear the rustle of fabric, followed by the unmistakable sound of geto freeing his erection. the anticipation is agonizing, your body aching with need even as fear coils in your stomach at the prospect of taking his massive cock.

geto is fucking huge.

“hurry,” you breathe, looking back at him over your shoulder with pleading eyes.

geto’s lips curve into a cruel smirk as he takes in the sight of you presented so wantonly before him. he runs a hand up your spine, nails digging in just enough to leave faint red marks on your skin.

his eyes darkened with lust the moment his big, veiny hand found a place on your ass, grasping the plushy meat eagerly before giving you a mean slap. slap, slap, slap, until it is angry in red. the sight of your splayed form, ass in the air with his hand visibly printed, dripping wet and ready for him.

his thick cock juts out proudly, the tip already glistening with pre-cum, bobbing menacingly between his thighs. he grips the base, giving himself a few slow strokes, coating his length in pre-cum.

“patience, darling,” he purrs, trailing a finger down your spine to rest between your shoulder blades. “we don’t want to rush this. not when the perverts are so eager to see me fuck you.”

with a firm grip on his cock, he notches the bulbous head at your entrance, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. “sshh, breathe,” he commands softly, voice hush and the vibration of his chest when he leans down to give your shoulder a kiss making you softly groan. “you can take it. just relax and let me in.”

slowly, inexorably, he begins to push forward, stretching your opening wider than ever before. geto sheaths himself to the hilt, burying his length inside you with a low groan. the tight squeeze of your cunt envelops him, and for a moment, he simply savors the feeling, letting you adjust to his size; his head is thrown back, and eyes closed as he is too, adjusting to the feeling of your warm cunt around his cock. “fuckkk,” a low whisper could be heard.

geto is good at fucking, his cock has been through a bunch of cunt, but never quite like yours. god, you feel heaven.

the sensation of geto pushing into you is overwhelming, his thickness stretching your walls wide to accommodate him. you grit your teeth, biting back a moan as he buries himself fully within you, filling you completely.

each vein and ridge of his engorged shaft is a brand against your sensitive walls, marking you as his. the fullness is intoxicating, leaving you dizzy with pleasure and desire.

you know geto is big, but fuck.

“oh god... sugu...” you whimper, your body trembling under the weight of his domination. your hands curl into fists, knuckles white as you fight back the urge to push back against him.

but despite the discomfort, despite the pain, there’s no denying the pleasure that courses through you with him just treasure the feeling of your cunt hugging his cock. your cunt climates around him, gripping tightly as if trying to keep him inside you forever.

geto lets out a guttural groan as he bottoms out inside you, relishing the way your hot, slick walls clutch at his throbbing cock. he stays still for a moment, savoring the exquisite feeling of being buried to the hilt in your willing body.

with a satisfied grunt, geto starts moving, his hips rolling in a slow, deliberate rhythm designed to drag out both his pleasure and yours. each thrust is deep and measured, the heavy swing of his balls slapping lewdly against your clit.

he reaches around to grasp your throat with one hand, squeezing just hard enough to make you gasp and arch your back further, presenting yourself even more enticingly. his other hand finds your breast, roughly palming the soft mound before pinching your nipple between thumb and forefinger, tear a high-pitched squeal from you.

“that’s it, good, good,” he growls, his voice muffled slightly by his gritted teeth. “take my cock like a good little cumslut,” he added, drawing another softly gasp after gasp.

“fuck, pussy feels amazing wrapped around my cock like this,” geto grunts, picking up speed as he pounds into you relentlessly. the desk creaks beneath the force of his thrusts, and you can feel every inch of his massive cock dragging against your inner walls.

he releases your throat to slide a hand down your belly, fingers dipping into your dripping slit to circle your clit. “gonna make you cum on my cock, then fill this tight cunt with my seed,” he promises, his voice rough with lust.

geto’s grip move to your hip, tightens as he drives into you harder, the room filled with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and your needy whimpers. he leans over you, his chest pressing against your back as he captures your earlobe between his teeth, nibbling and sucking. “do you like that, baby?”

geto’s words send shivers down your spine, his filthy promises igniting a fire within you. each brutal thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing through your body, your cunt clenching greedily around his pistoning cock.

the dual sensations of his fingers teasing your clit and his teeth grazing your earlobe are almost too much to bear. you can’t help but buck wildly against him, desperate for more friction, more stimulation.

“uh, mmm,” you cry out, your voice low and breathless, barely a word as there your mind goes somewhere.

geto’s grip on your hip is bruising, his fingers digging into your flesh as he fucks you with reckless abandon. the desk rattles ominously beneath you, the wood creaking in protest at the force of his thrusts.

geto’s lips twist into a cruel smile at your inability to speak coherently, clearly enjoying the effect he's having on you. “cat got your tongue?” he taunts playfully, giving your clit a sharp pinch. “don’t worry, i’ll fuck some sense into you soon enough.”

he picks up the pace, hammering into you with ruthless intensity. the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes obscenely through the room, mixing with your garbled moans and pleas for more. sweat beads on his brow as he chases his own pleasure, lost in the primal act of claiming what’s his.

“look at you,” he pants, admiring how your body yields so perfectly to his desires. “taking my cock like you were made for it.”

“hng,” you let out a high-pitched wail as geto continues to pound mercilessly into you, each thrust sending jolts of electricity through your entire body. your mind is foggy, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the pleasure coursing through your veins.

all you can focus on is the feeling of geto’s thick cock splitting you open, the delicious stretch of your walls around his girthy length. your legs tremble uncontrollably, threatening to give out from under you as he relentlessly fucks you into the desk.

your fingers scrabble desperately at the surface, searching for purchase as geto’s powerful thrusts rock your entire frame. droplets of sweat trickle down your face, mingling with the tears that prick at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming sensations.

“ahh, f-fuuck!”

geto’s eyes gleam with wicked delight as he pulls you upright, forcing you to face the camera head-on. he keeps a firm grip on your arms with one arm, holding you steady as he presses close behind you.

“there we go,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your neck possessively. “let them all see what a desperate little slut you are for me.” his free hand drifts down your body, fingers dancing teasingly across your slick folds.

you can feel the heat of his gaze on you through the screen, drinking in your debauched appearance— hair mussed, cheeks flushed, lips swollen from biting back your cries. he licks a slow stripe up the column of your neck, tasting the salt of your sweat.

“you look so beautiful like this,” he murmured only for you to hear.

he holds you firmly in place, your back pressed against his chest as he keeps you positioned in front of the camera. your face is flushed, eyes glazed over with lust, and mouth hanging open in a silent scream— the perfect picture of a woman thoroughly ravaged by her dominant roommate.

“everyone, doesn’t she look adorable when she’s stuffed full of cock?” geto purrs into your ear, loud enough for the audiences to hear, his warm breath making you shiver. his free hand reaches around to cup your breast, kneading the soft flesh as he continues to fondle you for the audience’s viewing pleasure.

“tell them how much you love taking my cock, baby,” he commands, his voice dripping with sadistic amusement. “be a good girl and tell those perverts.”

he applies pressure to your nipple, twisting and tugging on them mercilessly, forcing a strangled moan from your throat.

geto’s words send another wave of shame and arousal washing over you, your face burning hot as you realize just how exposed and vulnerable you are right now. the knowledge that hundreds, maybe thousands of people are watching you in this state— completely owned and used by your roommate— only heightens your desperation.

you whimper pathetically, unable to form coherent words as geto continues to torment your sensitive nipple. your whole body quakes with the effort of staying upright, your knees threatening to buckle at any moment.

“good. . . feel so good, your cock inside me,” you manage to stammer out, the word torn from your throat on a ragged breath. “i love... i love your cock...” tears spill down your cheeks as geto’s relentless stimulation pushes you closer and closer to the edge. the humiliation of being so exposed, so vulnerable, only serves to heighten your arousal.

“i... i l-love it,” you whimper, your voice trembling with need. “i love takin’ your cock, suguru. it feels so good inside me...”

as if to emphasize your point, your hips twitch involuntarily, seeking reconnection with the thick shaft still throbbing with need mere inches away. your hands come up to clutch at geto’s wrists, nails digging into his skin as you try to anchor yourself amidst the storm of sensation.

“p-please, sugu... i need... i need to cum...” you beg, your voice cracking with desperation.

geto chuckles darkly at your pitiful begging, clearly relishing the power he holds over you. “need to cum, huh? well, who am i to deny such a desperate plea from a dirty girl?”

he spins you around to face him, one hand gripping your chin as the other wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against his hard body. his amber eyes bore into yours, glinting with sadistic intent.

“but first, i think it’s time for a little show.“ with that, he lifts you effortlessly back to his chair, spreading your thighs wide apart after planting you in his lap once again with your back against his hard, sweaty chest. the camera zooms in, capturing every intimate detail of your soaked, swollen sex.

geto sinks to the chair, one arm around your waist while the other letting the fingers dancing around your trembling thigh before kissing your cunt, spread the lips open, a wicked grin playing on his lips. “let’s give these pervs something to really jerk off to, shall we?” and that, everyone can see your cunt clenches, unclenches around nothing.

geto smirks as he reads through the barrage of comments flooding in, many of them praising his rough treatment of you and demanding more. he clicks on a few particularly enthusiastic ones, letting the crude messages wash over you.

geto lets out a low, appreciative hum, clearly enjoying the attention and validation from his online fans. his fingers continue their maddening exploration of your most sensitive areas, dipping and circling around your entrance without ever quite breaching you.

“oh my, looks like the chat is absolutely ravenous for more,” geto says with a smirk, leaning in close to the screen to glance at the flood of comments scrolling past. “it seems a lot of our viewers have very... specific requests for our little live show.”

his eyes flicker over the text, a devious smile growing wider on his face. “well, well, well. looks like someone wants to see me fuck your ass next,” he teases, giving your cheek a playful pinch. “how about that, baby? ready to let me split you open from both ends?”

the suggestion sends a jolt of trepidation mixed with forbidden excitement through your body. the thought of geto’s massive cock invading your most private, taboo hole is undeniably filthy—and terrifyingly arousing.

your stomach churns with a mix of dread and anticipation at the idea of geto claiming your virgin asshole. the thought alone is enough to make your pussy clench and gush, soaking his fingers as they tease your entrance. despite the terror, there’s an undeniable thrill building within you, a dark desire to surrender to his dominance and submit to whatever depraved acts he might demand.

“but..” you whimper, barely audible over the pounding of your heart. “sugu. . . i- never,” the words taste bitter on your tongue, but you can’t deny the hunger driving them. your body is already preparing itself for the brutal invasion, muscles fluttering and relaxing in anticipation.

geto’s fingers press harder against your rim, probing gently at the tight ring of muscle. a pink color spread underneath your skin, a bashfulness kissing your face, and your gaze darted from the camera.

geto laughs cruelly at your shy admission, clearly delighted by the prospect of being the first to claim such a naughty part of you. “never been touched back here, huh?” he muses, rubbing teasing circles around your clenched pucker. “well, i guess it’s lucky you’ve got me to pop your anal cherry then.”

the crowd in the chat goes wild at this revelation, dozens upon dozens of users flooding the screen with lewd encouragement and explicit demands. geto grins as he reads through some of the top replies aloud:

“someone wants me to stretch out your slutty little ass real good,” he drawls, applying pressure until the tip of his finger breaches your resistant ring. “make you scream for my cock.”

he works the digit deeper, pushing past the initial resistance and sinking knuckle-deep into your tight heat. he presses two fingers against your puckered hole, applying gentle yet insistent pressure. “but don’t worry, baby,” he coos, his voice dripping with false reassurance. “i’ll take good care of your tight little ass. just relax and trust me.”

geto glances up at the camera, a wicked gleam in his eye as he addresses the audience. “seems our girl here is a total anal virgin. can you believe it? she’s never had anything inside her pretty little ass.”

he gives your cheek a patronizing pat. “but don’t worry dirty girl, i’ll make sure to break you in nice and slow.” his lips leave a gentle kiss on your bare shoulder despite his filthy words and mean ministrations.

the sensation of geto’s fingers penetrating your untouched hole is overwhelming, sending waves of intense pleasure-pain coursing through your body. you bite your lip to stifle a moan, not wanting to encourage him further, but it’s no use— a strangled gasp escapes your throat as he pushes deeper, stretching you open inch by excruciating inch.

despite the discomfort, there’s an undeniable thrill building within you, a dark satisfaction in knowing you’re experiencing something so taboo and forbidden for the first time. geto’s words only add fuel to the fire, his taunts and promises of breaking you in igniting a hunger deep within your core.

“u-no, mmm,” you manage to choke out, shaking your head frantically even as your hips instinctively buck against his probing fingers. “please, sugu... i don’t know if i can...”

the sensation of geto’s fingers violating your untouched hole sends waves of discomfort and arousal coursing through your veins. each gentle prod and push stretches the tight ring of muscle, making your breath hitch and your body tremble. despite the pain, there’s an undeniable thrill building within you, a dark pleasure in submitting to his control and surrendering your most private parts to his use.

“a-anal...” you whimper, the word feeling foreign and dirty on your tongue.

your cheeks burn with shame and embarrassment as you confess your inexperience to the world. the knowledge that hundreds of viewers are watching, vicariously experiencing your degradation, only heightens your mortification. and yet, there’s a twisted part of you that craves their approval, their lurid fascination with your defilement.

geto watches intently as you squirm and tremble beneath his touch, your reactions only spurring him on. he crooks his fingers slightly, searching for that sweet spot deep inside that will make you lose all control.

“shhh, it’s okay, baby,” he coos, his tone a soothing balm despite the brutality of his actions. “just breathe through it. you’re doing so well.”

as he speaks, geto begins to thrust his fingers in and out of your stretched hole, gradually picking up speed. the wet sounds of his penetration fill the room, mingling with your ragged breathing and the constant chatter of the live stream.

“look at that,” he purrs, addressing the camera once more. “our little anal virgin is taking it so well. she’s practically begging for more.”

geto’s fingers plunge deeper, curling to rub against that sensitive bundle of nerves inside you. your body responds instinctively, clenching and unclenching around the invading digits as pleasure starts to override the initial discomfort.

“see how she’s trembling?” he continues, his voice low and husky with lust. “her tight little ass is loving every second of this. and just listen to those sweet noises she’s making...”

he leans in closer, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispers, “i think our girl is starting to enjoy being claimed, don’t you?”

the camera zooms in on your flushed face, capturing every twitch and shudder as geto’s fingers work their magic. the live chat erupts with lewd comments and cheering, urging him on as he takes you further into the depths of anal pleasure.

your mind reels as geto’s fingers continue their relentless assault on your virgin hole, the sound of your own desperate whimpers filling the air. the pleasure is intense, bordering on painful, but you can’t bring yourself to stop him. somehow, the depravity of it all only serves to heighten your arousal, your body craving more even as your brain screams in protest.

“sugu’, please...” you beg, but the words lack conviction. your hips roll involuntarily, meeting each thrust of his fingers as they plunder your depths. the sensation of being filled, of having something finally breach the last barrier of your innocence, is overwhelming.

geto’s praise only fuels the fire within you, his words painting a vivid picture of your submission and the twisted desires it satisfies.

“such a needy little thing,” geto praises, continuing his relentless pace. his thumb finds your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bud as his fingers curl inside you. “begging for more, aren’t you? dirty girl.”

as if to emphasize his point, he slides a third finger into your clutching heat, stretching you even wider. the added girth has you crying out, your nails digging into his shoulders as you struggle to accommodate the intrusion.

“oh, look at that,” geto coos, his eyes locked on where your body meets his. “she’s trying so hard to take it all. such a good little anal slut for me.”

tears prick at the corners of your eyes as geto’s fingers stretch you to your limits, the burning ache in your rectum intensifying with each brutal thrust. your body feels like it’s being torn apart, the pleasure and pain blending into an all-consuming agony that leaves you breathless and helpless.

“oh, fuuck!” you sob, almost scream, your voice cracking with desperation. the humiliation of being called a ‘slut’ only adds to your shame, but the way geto says it, with such reverence and adoration, makes you feel powerful in a way you never have before.

your hips jerk wildly, trying to meet his punishing rhythm even as your muscles strain to contain the invasion. the pressure builds at the base of your spine, coiling tighter and tighter until you’re certain you’ll snap in two. your body is about to fall forward, overwhelmed with his fingers stuffed in your little hole, but geto quick enough to hug your body, enveloped in the warm and secure embrace of his.

“it’s okay, it’s okay. you are good, pretty, sooo good,” he whispered a mantra in your ear, your ear only— thumb circling your stomach.

the live stream captures your writhing form, the sight of you lost in ecstasy sending the chat into a frenzy. viewers lavish praise upon you, some even placing bets on how long it’ll take before you reach your climax under geto’s skilled ministrations. but the man pulled his fingers out, “take a deep breath and pray baby, you’ll need that,” he whispered, and without further ado, his angry tip kissing your anal sex.

geto pauses for a moment, allowing you to catch your breath and steel yourself for what comes next. he reaches over to the bedside table, retrieving a bottle of lube from the drawer. you watch wide-eyed as he coats his impressive length generously, the clear fluid glistening obscenely in the dim light.

“i know it hurts, babygirl, but i promise it’ll feel so much better soon,” geto reassures as he positions himself between your spread cheeks. the head of his cock nudges insistently at your fluttering entrance, slick with pre-cum and primed for penetration.

with agonizing slowness, he begins to push inside, the thick crown breaching your sphincter with a muffled groan from both parties involved. inch by excruciating inch, he sinks deeper into your resisting flesh, pausing occasionally to let you adjust to the enormous size stretching you open.

“fuck, you’re so tight,” geto groans, his grip on your hips tightening possessively. he holds still for a moment, allowing you to acclimate to the intrusion before slowly withdrawing until just the tip remains nestled between your cheeks. then, with a sharp snap of his hips, he plunges back in, setting a brutal pace that has you seeing stars.

the pain is indescribable, like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. it borders on unbearable, your body screaming in protest as it’s invaded so ruthlessly.

your vision blurs as the pain overwhelms you, tears streaming freely down your face. it feels like you’re being split in half, impaled on geto’s massive cock as he pounds into you mercilessly. your body is no longer your own, reduced to a vessel for his pleasure as he uses you like a cheap fleshlight.

and yet, beneath the agony, there’s a flicker of something else— a dark, twisted desire that thrills through your veins like poison. the degradation, the humiliation, the utter debasement of it all... it sets your soul ablaze with a perverse sense of euphoria.

“oh my-my god!” you hear yourself cry out, your voice ragged and desperate.

geto grunts in approval, his movements becoming even more forceful as he senses your reluctant surrender. he leans over you, his chest pressed against your back as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, panting heavily.

“that’s it, thereee, fucking good,” he growls, nipping at your skin. his hands roam your body, squeezing and kneading your breasts roughly before sliding down to grasp your thighs, pushing your legs flush to your side. he uses them to pull you onto his cock with each thrust, driving himself impossibly deep.

“look at this ass, stretched out so beautifully around my cock,” geto pants, his gaze fixated on where your body meets his. “what a-fuuck a beautiful girl.”

the sound of flesh smacking against flesh fills the room, punctuated by your choked moans and geto’s animalistic grunts. the chair creaks ominously beneath you, straining to contain the frenzied activity. through the screen, geto, perfectly clear can see your glistening cunt and his cock ball deep inside your anal, a white ring around the base. his fingers bent your skin, hands grasping the flesh underneath your knees.

overwhelmed by sensation, you can barely process the words spilling from geto’s lips. his praise, his hunger, his complete and utter domination of your body—it all swirls together into a dizzying cocktail of pleasure and pain that threatens to consume you whole.

your mind goes blank, focused solely on the relentless pounding of his cock and the searing heat of his breath on your skin. you’re nothing more than a receptacle for his lust now, a mere conduit for his pleasure as he fucks you with ruthless abandon.

“suguuuuu, harder,” you manage to gasp out, your voice barely coherent. the thought of getting caught, of being exposed to the world as geto’s willing plaything, only serves to heighten your arousal. your body starts to quake, the coil of tension within you winding tighter and tighter.

geto chuckles darkly, pleased by your desperate plea. he complies eagerly, slamming into you with renewed vigor. the chair scrapes loudly across the floor as he picks up speed, the wooden frame creaking ominously under the force of his thrusts.

“oh, you want it rough, huh?” geto sneers, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “you like being used like a dirty little slut, don’t you?”

he punctuates his words with particularly harsh jabs of his hips, the blunt head of his cock dragging mercilessly against your sensitive inner walls. you can feel every ridge and vein, every throbbing inch of him claiming you as his own.

“fucking hell, you’re so close, aren’t you?” geto growls, his hot breath fanning over your neck.

yes, yes! you wanted to cum. you wanted to lose yourself completely, to forget everything except the raw, unfiltered pleasure coursing through your veins. you wanted to be used, to be fucked hard and fast until you saw stars.

“fuckkk,” you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper. “wanna cum, gonna cum.”

your body writhes beneath geto, a silent plea for release. your mind is a whirlwind of sensations, each one sharper and more intense than the last. the pleasure is overwhelming, bordering on pain.

the sheer depravity of the situation sends you hurtling towards the brink of ecstasy. the knowledge that hundreds of strangers are watching you degrade yourself, submitting so shamelessly to geto’s sadistic whims, pushes you over the edge.

as he senses your impending climax, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips. he redoubles his efforts, pistoning into you with reckless abandon, chasing that sweet release.

geto’s grip on your under knees tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh as he senses your impending climax. he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “cum for me, babygirl. let go and make a mess for all these perverts to enjoy.”

his words are the final trigger you need. with a keening wail, you shatter, your orgasm ripping through you with the force of a tsunami.

“do it, cum for me,” he commands, his voice low and gravelly with lust. “let go, babygirl. show these perverts how a real slut squirts.”

his filthy words send you careening over the precipice. your entire body seizes up, convulsing violently as a torrent of pleasure crashes over you. wave after wave of ecstasy rips through your core, your pussy clenching rhythmically around the thick shaft buried deep inside you.

geto groans in satisfaction, feeling your walls flutter and milk his cock. he continues to pound into you, riding out your orgasm with brutal intensity, prolonging your pleasure for his own twisted amusement.

your mind is a blank slate, consumed entirely by the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. your orgasm seems to last an eternity, each pulse of pleasure more intense than the last.

“ahhh,” you moan helplessly, your voice a high-pitched whine of ecstasy. tears of bliss stream down your face as you tremble and shake, lost in the maelstrom of your own climax. a span of your juice spurting the air, wetting the screen and camera as you squirt.

geto’s filthy encouragement only adds fuel to the fire, his crude words igniting a dark, shameful thrill within you. the knowledge that you’re making a spectacle of yourself, that you’re performing for an audience of voyeurs, sends a fresh wave of arousal crashing over you.

your body is a live wire, every nerve ending singing with pleasure. you can feel geto’s cock throbbing inside you, his own release imminent.

the sight of you coming undone so spectacularly, the feel of your pussy clamping down on him like a vice—it’s too much for geto to resist. with a guttural groan, he buries himself to the hilt inside you and lets go.

“fuck, ’m cumming!“ he snarls, his hips stuttering erratically as he empties himself into your waiting hole. jet after jet of hot, thick seed floods your insides, painting your walls with his essence.

geto’s grip on your legs becomes almost bruising as he rides out his climax, his cock pulsing and twitching with each spurt. he grinds against you, ensuring every last drop is deposited deep within your battered ass.

geto stood tall, barely clothed, his still-hard cock in view, a smug sense of pride in his stance now that the camera was finally off. his gaze was fixed on his phone screen, scrolling through the latest comments from his audience with a small, satisfied smirk. a cigarette rested between his fingers, the faint glow casting shadows along his jawline.

meanwhile, you, now, lay sprawled out on his bed, a thin sheet draped over your still-trembling form as you tried to steady your breathing. the room was filled with the soft, lingering haze of smoke and the residual heat of the moment, your heart still racing as you attempted to regain your composure.

geto takes a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly as he reads through the deluge of comments flooding in. the praise and adoration from his fans never fails to boost his ego, and tonight was no exception.

he glances over at you, noticing your disheveled state and the way the sheet clings to your sweat-dampened skin. a wicked grin spreads across his face as he imagines the scene playing out in the minds of his viewers—the powerful, dominant man taking what he wants from a willing, if not desperate, partner.

getting bored with simply looking, geto sets his phone aside and saunters over to the bed. he looms over you, the cigarette dangling from his lips as he trails a finger down your cheek.

“not bad for a first timer, eh?” he teases, his tone laced with now amusement.

you let out a soft, tired hum, a small, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you looked up at him. “did i do a good job?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper, laced with a hint of playful innocence despite the exhaustion in your eyes.

geto chuckles softly, his eyes glinting with mischief as he takes another drag from his cigarette. he leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your skin as he speaks.

“oh, you did more than just a good job, sweetheart,” he purrs, his voice low and sultry. “you were absolutely exquisite. those moans, those screams... they’re going to haunt my dreams for weeks.”

he reaches out, tracing the curve of your jaw with his free hand before tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. there’s a hunger in his expression, a primal desire that sends a shiver down your spine.

“and the best part? knowing that all those perverts out there are jerking off to the memory of watching me claim you, watching you fall apart so beautifully for me.”

geto takes another deep drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing bright orange in the semi-darkness of the room. he flicks his ash into a nearby tray, his gaze never leaving yours as he studies your expression.

“you have no idea what you look like right now, do you?” he continues, his tone rough and husky, the tone that never fails to make chills race across your skin. “a flushed, messy, trembling mess, all because of me. and i love every bit of it.”

geto takes one last drag from his cigarette, the ember at the end burning brightly, before stubbing it out in the ashtray on the nightstand. he settles down beside you, his cock stand tall and his body radiating heat as he moves closer, draping one arm casually around your shoulders.

“speaking of those perverts out there,” he says, his tone still low and sultry, “they’re already begging for more.”

he picks up his phone back, scrolling through the latest comments from his fans, his smirk widening with each new lewd comment he reads.

geto scrolls through the endless comments on his phone, snickering at some of the dirtier ones. his eyes glance over at you as he reads, a smug, almost wicked grin on his face.

“wow, they really liked what they saw tonight, didn’t they?” he comments, his tone thick with amusement. he scrolls down a bit more, the screen casting a faint glow over his features, illuminating his perfect face in the shadows.

“they can’t get enough of you. they’re pleading for more, begging for a repeat performance. and how could they not?"

he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your forehead, a rare moment of tenderness breaking through his usual dominance. the gentle press of his lips against your forehead felt like a reward, a sign of his approval that filled you with a sense of pride and contentment.

at his words, you managed to lift your head slightly to peek at the chat, taking in the sea of emojis and the occasional message praising your performance. a small, tired smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. despite the exhaustion weighing heavily on your limbs, you couldn’t help but feel a thrill of accomplishment. you had pleased geto, and by extension, his loyal fanbase.

“that was good” you murmured, your voice hoarse from screaming. geto chuckled darkly as he scrolled through the chat, picking out some of the juiciest comments to share with you. “well, for starters, @sexyslayer89 says, ‘best fuck session ever! that dirty talk had me rock hard.’ and @cumhungrycutie remarks, ‘i wish i could squirt that much. so damn sexy.’”

he paused to smirk at you, clearly enjoying your blush at the explicit praise. “oh, and @suguruslut wants to know when you’ll be available for a threesome. apparently, she and her girlfriend are huge fans of yours.”

geto’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he continued reading aloud. “and this one’s my personal favorite: ‘@dickdrain3000 claims you’re the best cocksleeve he’s ever seen. he’s already planning his next visit.’”

taking a moment to scroll through the endless messages, geto chuckled, finding the right ones to read aloud. “look at this one— ‚best camgirl debut ever! she’s a natural.’ and here, ‘she’s got talent!’ they’re loving this, aren’t they?” he teased, flashing you a smirk before turning his attention back to the device in his hand.

“wow, looks like everyone loved seeing you take my cock like a champ,” geto said with a smirk, scrolling through the chat. “one user says, ‘damn, she took that dick so well! can’t wait to see more of her.’ another one says, ‘best stream ever, suguru! please have her come back soon!’”

he glanced at you, his eyes glinting with mischief. “seems like you’ve got quite the fanbase now too. maybe we should make this a regular thing, hmm?”

geto set his phone aside and leaned in closer, his hand trailing teasingly along your side. “of course, we’d have to practice a lot more to keep our viewers satisfied. think you’re up for the challenge?”

you let out a soft moan as geto’s fingertips traced patterns along your sensitive skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. the idea of becoming a regular feature in geto’s streams, of having an entire fanbase eagerly awaiting your next appearance, sent a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins.

“mmm, i think Iicould get used to this,” you purred, arching into his touch. “practicing with you doesn’t seem like a chore at all.”

your eyes fluttered closed as geto’s hand drifted lower, skimming over your hip and coming to rest possessively on your thigh. the heat of his palm seeped into your skin, reigniting the embers of desire that had been smoldering since your explosive climax.

you look at his eyes before chuckling, “but you wish,” you mutter, giving his lips a peck before standing up. you take the rob that pools on the floor before slipping through the silk material.

geto watched you with darkened eyes as you stood up, the silk robe slipping over your naked body, the fabric caressing your curves in a way that made his mouth water. he couldn’t help but let out a deep, wanting moan, his eyes raking over your form as he leaned back against the headboard.

“you know, you look even more stunning in that robe,” he remarks, his voice a low rumble. “like a delicious little present, all wrapped up and ready for me to unwrap.”

he rises to his feet, towering over you with an air of confident dominance. his hands settle on your hips, fingers digging in gently as he pulls you flush against him.

his hands slide down to cup your ass, giving it a firm squeeze as he grinds his hips against yours. you can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against your stomach, hot and still hard and ready.

“hey,” he called out, his voice rough with annoyance, “where are you going?” he asks, his tone suggestive, his hot breath fanning over your face.

his hands squeeze a bit tighter, making it clear that he doesn’t intend to let you leave so easily. he leans down, pressing his lips to the sensitive spot on your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down to your shoulder.

“you know, you’re not getting very far,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice taking on a possessive edge. “especially not when you look like that, all wrapped up in my robe, smelling like me and looking absolutely delectable.”

you let out a soft, contented hum, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he continued to trail kisses along your skin. “i’m tired, you know,” you murmured, your fingers lightly tracing patterns on his back. despite the exhaustion weighing on you, his possessive tone and the warmth radiating from him made it hard to resist.

nestling closer, you tilted your head to rest against his, savoring the comfort of his embrace. “you wore me out,” you added with a faint smile, giving in to the way his presence made you feel so anchored, so thoroughly his.

geto chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and reverberating against yours. he pulled you impossibly closer, his arms encircling you possessively.

“yeah, i know i did,” he replied, his voice taking on a proud, cocky edge. “but you were just too good to resist, weren’t you, baby?”

his fingers brushed against your cheek, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. he leaned in to nuzzle against your neck once more, his lips skimming over your skin, leaving a trail of hot, damp kisses down to your pulse point.

geto’s lips curved into a crooked smile, his chest rumbling with a low, satisfied chuckle. he pulled you a bit closer, his arms wrapping tightly around you— hard cock pressed against your stomach, holding you snugly against his firm, toned body.

“i’ll take that as a compliment, sweetheart,” he murmured into your hair, his voice taking on a cocky, self-assured tone. “i did work you pretty hard, didn’t i?” he chuckles, his hand trailing down your spine, fingers dancing over your skin.

you rolled your eyes with a soft hum, cupping his cheek as he continued nuzzling into the crook of your neck, his lips brushing warm against your skin. “you act like you’re my boyfriend,” you murmured, a teasing smile playing on your lips.

geto chuckled at your remark, the sound deep and amused. he lifted his head to meet your gaze, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

”oh, do i?” he teased, arching a brow at you in mock surprise. “is that what i’m acting like, huh? a doting, sappy boyfriend?”

he leaned in closer, pressing his mouth against your neck, again, his lips brushing against your pulse point as he nipped playfully. “guess i can’t help it, sweetheart. you bring out the boyfriend material in me.”

you let out an exaggerated tch, rolling your eyes as you gave him a playful shove. “ugh, you’re so cringe,” you muttered, a smirk tugging at your lips despite yourself. slipping out of his hold, you turned to make a break for the door, feigning an attempt to escape the teasing.

but before you could take another step, you felt his hand catch your wrist, and in one smooth motion, he pulled you back into his arms, holding you firmly against his chest.

geto laughed, a deep, hearty rumble, as you tried to escape his grasp. he wrapped an arm around your waist, effectively trapping you against his muscular frame. his other hand came up to cup your cheek, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

his eyes glittered with a mix of mischief and something deeper, something darker and more primal.

“oh no, you’re not going anywhere,” he murmured with a grin, his arms locking around you as he leaned down, voice low and teasing. “besides, i haven’t even gotten to the sappy part yet.”

his arm tightened around you, pressing you firmly against him, the expanse of his chest against your back. his lips grazed your ear, his voice low and sultry. “you said i was acting like a boyfriend, sweetheart. aren’t you going to let me show you how good of a boyfriend i can be?”

geto’s hand slowly crept down to your hip, pulling your body flush against his. he let his hands roam, tracing down your body with a possessive, greedy touch, as if he was determined to map out every inch of you with his fingertips.

as his lips brushed against your ear, he continued, his voice dropping even lower as he teased you.

“see, sweetheart, i was planning on whispering sweet nothings in your ear, telling you how cute and irresistible you are.” his teeth grazed your earlobe before he moved downward, his lips trailing hot kisses down your neck.

his hands roamed over your body, tracing patterns on the exposed skin of your shoulders, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “but you had to go and try to escape, didn’t you?”

you let out a soft hum, leaning into his touch for a moment before slowly turning around in his arms, pressing your back against his chest. feeling his warmth behind you, you took a step forward, guiding him toward the door while he still held onto you, refusing to let go.

“oh, i wouldn’t dream of escaping now,” you teased, glancing over your shoulder with a sly smile. each step you took brought you both closer to the doorway, his arms wrapped securely around you, following your lead as if he couldn’t bear to let you slip away. “just seeing if you’d keep up,” you murmured, daring him to match you stride for stride.

the feeling of your body against his chest sent a ripple of electricity through geto, stirring something primal and dominant within him. he tightened his arms, drawing you closer against him as you led him toward the doorway.

“little tease,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your neck with a smirk. “you know i wouldn’t dream of letting you go. not after tonight.”

he willingly followed your lead, his muscular frame pressing against your back as he allowed you to guide him. his hands continued to explore your body, mapping out every curve and contour, as if he could never get enough.

you let out a playful groan, feigning annoyance at the grown man practically glued to your back. “ugh, you’re so annoying,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as you reached for his bedroom door. with a little smirk, you stepped into the family room, feeling his weight still pressing against you.

“you really are acting like a boyfriend right now, you know that?” you teased, glancing back at him as he kept his arms wrapped around you, a mischievous spark in his eyes. though you tried to sound exasperated, there was no hiding the warmth in your voice, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as he held you close.

before geto could even get a word out, a familiar voice cut through the room. “wow, suguru, you couldn’t even bother to put on pants after your little... steamy session?”

both you and geto whipped your heads toward the source of the voice, only to see gojo standing there, an all-too-satisfied grin plastered on his face, phone in hand. he tilted the screen just enough for you both to catch a glimpse—it was a page open to geto’s live stream from earlier, replaying a snapshot of the two of you caught in the act— of course, he watched the streaming.

a flush crept up your cheeks as you turned to geto, whose expression had shifted from smug confidence to stunned surprise. gojo let out a low chuckle, clearly amused at having caught the two of you. “and here i thought i’d just come over to borrow some sugar,” he teased, raising an eyebrow as he held up the phone for emphasis. “but it seems like i’ve stumbled onto... way more than i bargained for,” he trails off, looking down to geto’s still-hard cock in view.

gojo, geto’s best friend, was no stranger to you. he practically lived at the apartment, often popping in even when geto wasn’t home, as if he had his own invisible key. he had a habit of making himself comfortable—raiding the fridge, stretching out on the couch, or pestering you with his endless teasing whenever he saw you.

now, he stood there with that infuriatingly smug grin, clearly enjoying the way he’d caught you both off-guard. he raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and geto, clearly savoring every second of your embarrassment.

geto only hummed, unfazed, as he resumed pressing lazy kisses along your neck, his lips warm against your skin, completely ignoring gojo’s presence. he knew all too well that gojo watched his streams—and this wasn’t the first time his best friend had conveniently found a reason to drop by. after all, gojo didn’t even live in the same building, and borrowing sugar was the last thing he’d come for.

“figured you’d show up sooner or later, satoru,” geto drawled between kisses, his tone amused and unbothered, hands still holding you close. “couldn’t resist seeing her up close, could you?”

gojo smirked, stepping closer. “guess i wanted to see if it was just as good in person,” he quipped, eyes flicking between the two of you, clearly entertained by the situation.

gojo’s smirk deepened as he observed the scene before him, his eyes sparkling with mischief. it was no surprise to find geto and you in a compromising position—he knew his friend all too well.

he approached, his casual gait exuding arrogance as he drew closer. geto, ever unbothered, continued to press his lips to your skin, his hands still holding you possessively, completely unruffled by his best friend’s presence.

“well,” gojo said with a chuckle, crossing his arms over his chest. “looks like i picked the right time to pop in.”

geto only hummed in response, his kisses still lingering on your neck, his tone aloof and cocky. “yeah, go figure,” he replied, not even bothering to look up. “always had a knack for perfect timing, don’t you?”

gojo chuckled again, his eyes roaming over the sight of you, half-naked and pressed up against geto’s bare chest, the silk robe doing little to hide the evidence of your earlier activities.

geto pulled back slightly, his arm still snug around your waist, fingers splayed possessively on your hip. he looked at gojo with a knowing smirk, amusement dancing in his dark eyes.

“bet you enjoyed the show, didn’t you?” he teased, voice low and taunting as he raised an eyebrow at gojo.

gojo shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “what can i say?” he replied, a playful tone in his voice. “it was damn entertaining. gojo chuckled, his smirk widening as he met geto’s gaze. “can’t help but appreciate a good performance, especially when it’s got the star of your stream in it.”

he took another step closer, his eyes flickering over your form, taking in every inch with a devilish grin. “and she didn’t disappoint, that’s for damn sure.”

his talk figures just a beat, loam over you, looking down with dangerous glint, eyes sparkling like a blue flame before his eyes drifting down over your form, lingering on the silk robe that did little to conceal the marks on your skin.

“i gotta say,” he added, shifting his gaze to geto, a hint of tease in his voice. “you really did a number on her, didn’t you, man?”

geto’s chuckle was low and satisfied, a hint of pride in the sound as his fingers flexed against your hip, feeling the soft silk under his touch. his gaze drifted down to you, lingering on the marks he’d left—a visual reminder of just how completely you’d been his. a cocky grin played at his lips as he spoke.

“yeah, i did,” he confirmed, his tone dripping with self-assurance. he met gojo’s gaze, a smirk quirking at the corners of his mouth. “hard not to with a doll like this, you know?”

he gave your ass a gentle squeeze after gentle smack, his gaze sweeping over you with open admiration before flicking back to gojo. “can’t blame me.”

his arm around your waist tightened slightly, his hand possessively gripping your hip, as if he was silently staking his claim over you.

goto’s gaze drifts behind, down your form, taking in the way the silk of the robe clings to your skin, revealing more than it conceals, lift the edge of the robe to show your pretty ass to the cold air. his eyes settle on the marks and bruises that litter your body, evidence of his own rough possession and passion.

he spread the cheeks just a little before his fingers finding its way to your puckering hole, now a bit loose from the earlier physical contact. the ministration earning a moan from you, without thinking, having you clutch to gojo’s shirt and geto’s arm.

you are whimpering, whining a complaint, still too sensitive from his rough intimacy. but geto just smirk, eyes finding gojo’s, “a little loose to save thousand,” he said.

#suki ☆ #geto x reader #geto smut #geto #geto x y/n #geto x you #anime smut #geto suguru smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru

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