AN: Semester still isn't over yet, but soon...
Here we are, something to finally earn that shiny new M rating I've been considering and teasing since a long while back! Since some people will read in spite of the new rating (and don't you dare complain; I warned you. Don't like, don't read/comment for your own sake)... *WARNING* Section/Scene/Perspective One is safe, Two is less safe and SUPER suggestive, but technically not crossing the line, and avoid Three at all costs (except for maybe the tail end). There will be a TL;DR at the end, too. Enjoy!
The title of this chapter was taken from a Canadian song with a sick baseline, by Ria Mae.
Hours had passed since Yuri's fleeting visit with her mother, and still her thoughts lingered on it. Grinding her teeth, she gazed aimlessly out on the small corner of Chinatown that she could see. Dusk had settled over the city, but New York was a nocturnal creature, reborn with each night anew. Alone on the station's roof, Yuri tried to come to terms with her retreat. She'd been a coward, running away like that, unable to deal with the unpleasant memories that were only half her mother's fault.
Mrs. Watanabe had always been a bit overbearing, but things took a turn for the worse when Mr. Watanabe landed himself in legal trouble. Instead of supporting her daughter, Mrs. Watanabe withdrew from the world into herself. When she eventually bounced back, it was with a vengeance. She was as strict as ever and just about unbearable to live with.
Something like teenage rebellion spiked through Yuri. Back in the day, whenever Yuri was sick of maternal smothering or paternal pressure from her policeman-father, she'd act out. Usually she would sneak out for some harmless fun—find weed with her friends, sleep over at her boyfriend's—stupid stuff to keep her happy at home. Except Yuri wasn't a teenager anymore, and she'd outgrown those childish distractions. She lived alone, away from her mother, and no amount of frustration would make her...
Oh, fuck it.
Only one person could help Yuri forget her worries. Before she could stop them, Yuri's fingers were punching in Peter's phone number. The tone in her ear was interrupted by his punctual answer. Already at his opening line, Yuri felt the stress start to slip away.
"Nyeh, what's up doc?"
"I want to go swinging," Yuri said bluntly. "How fast can you get to the temp precinct?"
"Pretty fast. Just have to wrap up this foiled drug deal." A deep, almost desperate inhale rattled through the speaker, followed by a snicker. When next he spoke, it was with Spider-Cop's guttural growl. "Yep, that's definitely cocaine, Cap'n. No doubt."
Yuri's sputtering gasp was slightly less loud than his snort.
"Though maybe I'd better test it again," he sniffed. "...ReLAX. I'm just teasing."
"You're a brat."
"But you love me," retorted Peter as he usually did, and when his smug claim when unchallenged, he added, "I'll be there in ten."
Those ten minutes were going to be torture; Yuri just knew it. Her eyelids slid closed, but thoughts continued to play out on the insides of them. She imagined Spider-Man leaving the drug deal, triumphant, muscles rippling under his suit as he swung. Pull your mind out of the gutter, the cop chided herself, but these thoughts proved to be as persistent as her previous mopings about her mother.
Her blood began to heat, concentrating in pools around each cheek. A third reservoir was collecting at her crotch before Yuri snapped back to her senses. This was just a swing around town, nothing more. She wouldn't allow it to become something more. Not yet. Not, yet, she repeated to her beating heart when it raised its protest.
JLA619: -embedded image- Begone, illicit drug dealers. Spidey's on the block. #spideyshots
Reply from Alcatraz1998: Sick shot! Why do his webs look strangely comfortable?
Reply from TheSecretRecipe01: I want Spider-Man to web me.
Reply from Jef_Mar: Same honestly. Edit: Wait, that sounds wrong. Not that way LOL.
Reply from TheSecretRecipe01: Yes, in that way.
Reply from NYCWallCrawler: You kids are gross :/. Fun fact though Alcatraz1998, the webs are, indeed, very comfy.
Reply from PscSharkSarah: WEB ME PLS
Reply from NYCWallCrawler: gO To YOUR R O Om
"Going to get my girl," Spider-Man sang to himself as he hurried. He was halfway to the station and still impatient. In his mind's eye he could see Yuri waiting for him on the roof, effortlessly stunning and dressed in that leather jacket that he envied. Not many people could pull off leather without looking like a douche, in his opinion, but damn it did she do that jacket justice. That image of her never left his mind, eventually becoming a reality as he approached the precinct.
Spider-Man scarcely had his feet on the roof before Yuri threw herself into his arms. Taking her weight, Spider-Man reeled back a bit to stare at her. The act, though uncharacteristically clingy, was not at all unpleasant. He wondered what had her so high-strung; he wanted to ask, too, but never had the chance.
"Let's go," she said shortly.
"Any preference in mind for a place?"
"Anywhere so long as you take us there fast."
In the past, Spider-Man had always taken it slow with those rare passengers that he acquired. He never went full-tilt, even for MJ, always holding back for her own well-being. Giddy at his partner's permission, and at the prospect of entertaining her at a whole new level, Spider-Man chimed, "You got it. Hold on."
After fashioning and outfitting her with a web-harness, Spider-Man started slinging as per her request. The harness was crudely created, a simple silk band across her chest and shoulders that she could hold to if necessary, and an extra loop coming off the front to keep her attached to him. Although Yuri didn't vocally object to the webs, Spider-Man could see the slight disgust on her face. Still, she didn't complain, probably because her petition warranted an additional precaution.
They were blazing by buildings at breakneck speeds. As their momentum steadily increased, unbroken by obstacles, so too did his and Yuri's gasps. Their mounting velocity stole Yuri's breaths straight from her mouth, but for Spider-Man, it was merely a matter of exhaustion. Whooping with abandon, Spider-Man weaved through a fire escape and bounced off an adjacent wall. In the process, they disturbed one individual from their sleep. The person peered out their window to shake a fist, but Spider-Man was nonplussed by the offended witness. No one would see Yuri's face like this, and most New Yorkers never looked up anyhow, only ahead.
Somehow it wasn't enough. The squeeze around Spider-Man's waist demanded more, and that worried him. This thrill-seeking crusaded was highly atypical of her. Hell, Spider-Man remembered when she was too terrified to even try swinging, and that was fairly recent. Something was off, or something must've upset her. Why else the sudden heel-turn?
Time to cheer her up, he thought. She wanted a real ride? Fine. He was more than happy to humour her. Determined to resolve the situation, Spider-Man tightened his turns and headed in a new direction.
Avengers Tower loomed in front of them, ninety-three stories of steel, concrete, and glass. Dimmed windows indicated to Spider-Man that the occupants were either asleep or not at home. Constant as a lighthouse's beacon, the brilliant red "A" logo illuminated the entire structure. Not even the peak of his swing was sufficient to get them halfway up the structure. Spider-Man landed on slick glass and seamlessly transitioned into a run, reminding himself not to roll for the sake of the woman he wore as a backpack.
Within seconds the two of them were at the top, and yet Spider-Man showed no signs of stopping. "What are you-" exclaimed Yuri before her words gave way to a scream. Webs like elastics and coiled body like a slingshot, Spider-Man catapulted them over the very tip of that man-made mountain. They dropped like some misshapen anvil, going down, down, down. As the seconds passed the summit shrank behind them, becoming a speck whilst the streets grew into startling focus.
Spider-Man caught them with a web when they were close to the ground, and consequently saved them from splatting. Arms somewhat strained by the action, he smoothly curved their fall into another arc. Giggling shakily, Yuri buried her head in that space between Spider-Man's neck and shoulder. It was a good thing, too. There were some teenagers strolling the sidewalks close by who could've spotted her. Because of their phone obsessions, teenagers were the worst for catching pictures of Spider-Man at the most inopportune times. He was still bitter about the underwear incident...
A little shaken by the stunt himself, Spider-Man asked, "You g-good?"
"Oh yeah. W-wow. I'm either going to kill you or kiss you. That was crazy. Never do that again."
A pause, then a relenting sigh. "...Not without warning me."
"I thought you might like it," he cackled. "Nothing pleases me more than conquering that glorified bachelor pad that Stark calls a superhero-company headquarters. It's huge."
"Overcompensation, much?" snickered Yuri slyly, much to Spider-Man's surprise.
He choked out, "Y u r i," then recovered enough to talk normally. "You're bad today. Terrible."
"A bit. But thanks to you, I'm feeling much better."
Hearing that made all of his weariness worthwhile. Smile hidden by his mask, Spider-Man changed course for the precinct. Partway there he carefully conveyed Yuri from his back to his front so as to better monitor her. If he was being honest with himself, it was just because he wanted to have a view of her face. Thankfully it didn't take them long to make it back. Straight lines, less tricks, and more shortcuts had significantly truncated their travel time.
Limbs quaking a little, Spider-Man landed solidly on a stretch of wall under the roof. There he paused, shifting in place and adjusting his passenger. Her arms were around him, and her head hadn't left the crook of his neck for the entirety of the return trip. He could feel her legs over his, using him for support, not unlike a chair. They were close, closer than they'd been for a while.
Sometime later Yuri lifted her head so that their gazes were level. Her arm reached around and grasped his mask. Seeing as how their backs were to a near-empty parking lot, and high above it besides, Peter had no problems tolerating her taking it off. One moment he was seeing through the HUD of his mask, and the next his eyes were opening as if for the first time, unobstructed by any barriers. Now they were truly eye-to-eye, and Yuri seemed content to just stare at him for the moment. Peter wasn't about to complain; the view from his end was just as fascinating.
God, she was hot. Eloquence couldn't quite convey how hot she really was.
Adrift in these thoughts as he was, Peter hardly noticed the first time she really moved. She shifted a second time, and Peter registered with a start that she was practically in his lap. Excitement tingled at the tips of his toes and other extremities. He tried to shove it down, but his blood had begun to boil, unbidden. Within moments the heat grew into a familiar fever-ache, and he hardened.
She had to have felt. She had to. The Spider-Man suit had many useful features, but hiding a boner wasn't exactly one of its saving graces. In a fit of irrationality, Peter jolted and tried to dislodge her, mortified and horrified. He'd forgotten how high up they were, or the fact that jerking around at this particular moment would only make things worse. Yuri took it in stride, tightening her grip on him. It was almost soothing, and once Peter realized that she wasn't staring at him with scorn, he stilled. Yuri, on the other hand, had no intentions of staying stationary.
Reassured somewhat, Peter immediately reciprocated. At first it was just small movements, vertical and unidirectional. When their mutual timidity had worn off, they progressed into more bold movements. They ground against each other for a time, learning the rough outlines and basic shapes of their most hidden parts, completely silent if not for the loudness of their lungs and the hitches in their throats. Peter was acutely aware all the while of just how close they were, of just how flimsy a barrier their clothes were against their perfervid gyrations. Each layer felt ready to fall away at a moment's notice.
Over time their heads drifted together, taking cues from the rest of their bodies. Yuri's mouth hovered above his shoulder, not to kiss, but simply to share space. Drawn by a similar desire, Peter's teeth found her ear and tugged. One particularly potent lurch made Peter lose his balance. He compensated by blindly slapping a hand onto the bricks beside her head, where it promptly stuck. That seemed to be the signal Yuri needed to shake herself back to the present. Peter sheepishly came to his senses at the same time, stopping before he could push himself too close to the edge. The last thing he needed was to scrub clean the inside of this costume.
The sound of a door opening into the lot swiftly killed his erection. Remembering where they were, Peter rushed on all fours up the rest of the wall, depositing Yuri on the other side of the railing. A police officer, unaware of his audience, was rummaging in the back of a patrol car. Peter watched in a terse crouch, arousal temporarily doused and deflated. The darkness of the parking lot was barely a hindrance to his eyes. Having retrieved the item he needed, the officer returned to the building.
There was no chance of resuming their former activities now—not after such a scare. Peter forced himself to take deep breaths, mind racing in jumbled circles. Yuri squeezed his shoulder while he snatched his mask back from her free hand. The danger had passed, but not his panic or internal scolding. Stupid. Definitely stupid. So, so stupid.
Since when did he decide to dabble in near-exhibition? Sure, he'd done shit like this with Felicia, but never as the instigator, and never with such risky abandon. This location was far from ideal for that sort of fuckery... pun intended. Humping like teenagers right outside the police station... it was a precarious position, to say the least. What if they'd been caught like that? Shit, what had he been thinking?
You weren't, his mind reminded him. And neither was she. It's happened before.
He flushed at the remembrance of their first kiss, that 3AM encounter that had happened not far from here. Apparently this newest stunt was not an isolated incident. It was a problem they shared, but a pleasant one nonetheless. Peter just hoped it wouldn't get them into any trouble in the long term.
"Sorry," he muttered to Yuri.
"I started it. It was my fault." The contents of Yuri's words were apologetic, in theory. However, the tone with which she delivered them suggested otherwise. There was no hint of an apology in that respect. She tugged him to his feet, eyes blazing, but not with anger.
Brows briefly meeting above the bridge of his nose, Peter pulled her into a quick, hungry kiss. It lasted for a few frenzied seconds, broken only by Yuri's stern grunt. He ceased by her request, and their temples rested together. Without breaking the contact, she spoke. "I'm going to drive home so my coworkers don't wonder where I am. I want you to follow me to my apartment in fifteen minutes."
A nod in the dark disturbed the touch of their foreheads.
Tenesprim: Does Spider-Man usually carry people around?
Reply from analyticaloxymoron: Wouldn't be the first time.
Reply from Isplecen: Sometimes it's because he's rescuing them/carting them to the hospital
Reply from Tenesprim: This looked more like a joyride
Reply from analyticaloxymoron: Wouldn't be the first time either.
Reply from SpiderCat: Think it was Black Cat?!
Reply from Laughable_Lenelle: SpiderCat Could've been anyone honestly. God, I hope Black Cat isn't back.
Reply from Obadijah: I'd pay good $$ for a Spider-Uber service.
The tap of knuckles on Yuri's window roused her from her repose. She left her seat and strode through the black of her apartment, dodging the shadow-shapes of furniture. Her gait bordered somewhere between a speed-walk and a jog, and she could scarcely stop her hands from trembling as she let Spider-Man in. There was a smoothness to his movements as he slithered inside, but that elegance was soon shattered when his ankle got caught on the bottom rail.
Yuri saved him from stumbling by catching him by the shoulders, then instantaneously shoved them into the wall. Without skipping a beat, Peter clutched her with equal fierceness and fervour. His mask came off with a swipe of her fingers and fell soundlessly to the floor. Impossible to see as it was, Yuri still felt a certain thrill when her thumb grazed Peter's face. His skin was burning hot to the touch, and his breaths were furnace-heated.
Apologetic and awkward, Peter started to say, "I don't have any-"
"I'm on the-"
As soon as the exchange ensued, it ended. No more words were necessary. Their lips and tongues clashed together with a vehemence that bordered on violence. Like a gasoline-lit fire, however, the kiss quickly died down into the steady warmth of a hearth. Somehow, in the midst of that madness, Yuri had lost her shirt. It was discarded somewhere in the room, but at the moment she could care less where it was, or who was the culprit. Peter already felt overdressed, and she told him as much with the way she clutched at his chest.
With a handful of cloth, she lead him along to the bedroom. They nearly tripped over one of her bags while walking backwards, but recovered quickly. Soft, nervous giggles dissipated the tension. There proved to be no substantial difference between the bedroom and the main living space; both were dimly lit, which Yuri appreciated. She was irrationally self-conscious, what with the walking around in a t-shirt-bra whilst steering a maskless superhero in tights. The lighting, or lack thereof, did a little to ease her nervous energy.
At the same time as her legs bumped the bed frame, Yuri's knees buckled. She was sitting on the mattress, observing in a sort of out-of-body manner as Peter pulled down her pants. "Hurry," she managed, and her permission prompted Peter to do just that. Just before they came off completely, Peter dipped his hands under the front of her jeans to play with her. Her concentration fogged, and a pleased sound voiced her approval. She tried to work on undoing his suit, but to her frustration, couldn't find a zipper or buttons or anything else to make the job easier.
Peter was quick to pick up on her attempt. "Shit," he swore, stumbling backwards. An amused Yuri leaned over the side of the bed to behold his struggle. Laying stretched out on the floor was the mighty Spider-Man, desperately trying to kick off his too-tight one-piece. The spectacle, with all its ridiculousness, was enough to send Yuri into giggle fits. Peter shot her a dirty look, bare legs burgeoning into the limited light. The look was too playful for her to take seriously, but she flattered him all the same. "Chastised" into silence, Yuri sat on the bed again, Peter soon following suit.
Her eyes didn't linger long on his naked body. Nothing she saw particularly surprised her; the suit had already given her imagination a fairly accurate impression of what was underneath. All of it was appealing, but it wasn't like seeing his face for the first time. This felt slightly inconsequential, less personal, though more compelling in other ways. Peter stretched out a hand, paused, and then slid her bra straps off her shoulders. Yuri undid the back of it herself and idly tossed it.
Darkness shrouded them like a protective cloak. Although they were alone, the dark alleviated Yuri's anxieties—both the irrational fear of being caught, and the novelty of being bare before him. She felt exposed, both in body and soul, but the lack of light helped.
"We sure?" whispered Peter, and suddenly Yuri felt a lot more brave by comparison. He sounded at least twice as uncertain as she, though there was an unmistakable undercurrent of lust. His question also had a pinched quality to it, like he was dutifully preparing for disappointment.
"I want this." She spoke confidently, and before her courage could fail her, gently bowled him over.
A whine whistled through his teeth at the change in position, though he permitted it with no less excitement. Clambering atop him, Yuri grasped his length with her left hand. For a moment she just fondled it, feeling out where everything was. Then, when she was ready, she carefully lined herself up and eased him inside. Taking the tip made her moan ever so modestly, and Peter sighed softly on his end.
They were together, physically and figuratively. Yuri could feel every contour of him, and he her. The intensity of feeling started at her entrance, where she was most sensitive, before fading as the penetration went deeper. Neither one of them seemed compelled to rush. There was minimal movement as they quietly acquainted themselves with each other. If there was any pain, Yuri never noticed it, too lost in the feeling of him. "Hold me," she ordered. He obliged, and then that state of shared rest was over.
Pinning Peter's shoulders, she started to raise herself off his erection. About halfway there, she slid downwards again. That seemed to be Peter's cue to participate, because on the next, teasing lift, he contributed a thrust. A flash of sensation momentarily froze her where she was, and Yuri chewed the inside of her mouth to muffle a moan. Taking pity on Peter's quiet, complaining cry, she let him fill her again.
Ever-so-gradually, they established a set tempo, but one that would build and subside according to her impulses. Every movement was tailored to her comfort, and Peter was just along for the ride. She swayed, rocked, and rolled her hips in a rhythm that only she could hear. Her body was calling all the shots; whatever it craved, she gave. When it asked, she obeyed, and when the urge hit her, she acted. Peter was hitting all the right spots for his part, and, if his breathing was anything to go by, was enjoying everything just as much as she.
Face flushed, Yuri felt the fast thrusts slow and soften in their force. A shaky gasp escaped Peter's agape mouth, followed by a deep inhale, and she knew he was fighting not to finish. Truthfully, it was kind of adorable, and Yuri took a certain pleasure in watching him squirm and struggle. Once he'd staved off his orgasm and rallied sufficient confidence, he sat up with her and resumed. His arms flowed around her, hands clasping behind her back.
Continuing with him so close offered a novel opportunity to stifle her groans. Yuri leaned in to kiss him. He met her halfway, a hum thrumming in his throat. Chests pressed together, they kissed in relative silence, continuing their synchronous dance until Yuri had to reel back.
Something was happening inside her, something she wanted, badly. Yuri was perched on some precarious cliff. Each stroke, each wriggle, nudged her closer to climax. Extending the pauses between each reunion helped to coax it out, so she took the time to grind her clit against Peter's belly. His hands brushed her stagnant pelvis, daring to curve over her folded calves.
Working as a team, they managed to encourage her to that much-yeared-for crescendo. The culmination of their efforts was outstanding, even if her outward reaction was rather underwhelming. She came with a quiet mewl, throwing her head back before bowing it. Her thighs trembled on either side of him, resting over his toned hips.
It was all the more pleasant because it was a surprise. In the beginning she hadn't expected to reach such a potent end. Nothing in her past realm of experience could've made her predict it, or entirely prepare for it. Sure, she'd hoped, but never banked on crossing that threshold, at any time or with any partner.
Still basking in the afterglow, Yuri barely realized that Peter had rolled them back over. Her delirium didn't last long. Freed from his former obligations, Peter pistoned into her, hard. Yuri welcomed the pounding with choked squeaks and spread legs, though she got the impression that even now he was holding back, going at a gentler pace for her sake. This was a man who could carry cars, so she had no doubt that if he miscalculated for even a moment, he could break a human body in half.
Unsurprisingly, Peter's final stretch was a short one, seeing as how he'd been so close before. Quite frankly Yuri was impressed that he'd endured as long as he did. There was a period of frenzied speed that petered out into frequent pauses. Yuri's nails scrabbled at his spine, and as he finished pumping into her, the clawing turned into tender rubs. Peter shivered under her ministrations, slumping against her when he was spent. His stomach was wet for more reasons than one, but Peter didn't seem to mind. As she absently ran her fingers through his hair, Yuri made a mental note to wash the sheets sometime tomorrow.
Over time the two untangled themselves from each other. Their eyes met, and Yuri nodded her assent for him to stay. Sidling up to her, Peter rested his feet on hers and pulled the covers over their sweat-drenched bodies. In his embrace, Yuri reflected on how fast everything had happened, marvelled at the fact that she was cuddling Spider-Man in her own bed. Spider-Man had never been a stranger, exactly—not since their first introduction on the docks. Back then her only priority was putting away the Kingpin, but in the span of a few days she'd learned Spider-Man's name, seen his face, and slept with him in short succession.
And she wouldn't trade a single, wonderful moment... not for the whole world.
Sleep came swift and easy for them. So easy, in fact, that Yuri slept in an extra hour. Her usual alarm had gone off some time ago, only for Yuri to switch it off and fall back asleep. In the end, the thing that truly roused her was a loud knocking on the door.
Peter sprang out of bed at the same time as Yuri jolted upright—naked, hair mussed, and all. He collapsed to the floor with a crash, cursing colourfully. Meanwhile, Yuri was focusing on who could possibly be in her building. Few people were allowed to be buzzed in on her behalf, and all of them were friends.
Right then the confused voice of Detective Lee drifted through the door, confirming her suspicions. "Hello?"
Too late, Yuri thought. She must've heard Peter. The woman was a cop, and a dedicated one at that. Unless Yuri answered the door, she might panic and break it down herself. Time to act fast.
"Yuriko? Are you in there?" an uncertain Terri continued to call, growing more alarmed by the second.
Legs like jelly, Yuri tossed the sheets aside and made a break for the door. Halfway there she hissed at a pale-faced Peter, jerking her arm at the bathroom even as she slipped into a housecoat. "Grab your shit and get dressed."
He saluted, scrambling to gather bits and pieces of his costume from around the bed. Yuri shut the bedroom off from the rest of the apartment, effectively hiding him from prying eyes. This was not the awakening she would've wanted, especially after the perfection that was the previous night. She would have to summon all of her acting abilities to not appear dishevelled in front of one of her top officers. Perhaps, if questioned, she could pass Peter's voice off as a random bedmate. Terri had a gossipy streak to her, but Yuri could trust her to at least keep that a secret. When she was somewhat decent, she unlocked and opened the door.
Framed in the doorway and clutching a DVD case stood Terri Lee. Upon further inspection, Yuri recognized the cover of the DVD as her own copy of Grease. Dumbfounded as she was, Terri regained enough of her composure to speak. "You told me to drop this off sometime before work, remember?"
"That I did. I'll just take that, then..." replied Yuri, receiving the offered movie. On the outside she was cool, calm-faced, and collected. Internally, she was screaming at herself for not remembering this detail of their earlier conversation.
The movie may have passed hands, but Terri only dimly acknowledged the exchange. Her eyes were wide and a tremor travelled down her shoulders. It was like she was in another world, far removed from the current one. Concern for her friend and paranoia over Peter overcame Yuri. Then, Terri tilted her head to the side, gawking at something over Yuri's shoulder. Yuri instinctively mimicked her, turning to see the thing that had her friend so immobilized.
Right by her window was Spider-Man's mask. The brilliant red, textured material was a dead giveaway. It was inside-out on one side from its hasty removal, exposing the inner circuitry of a lens. Though crumpled and creased, it was undoubtedly the real thing. Stepping past Yuri, Terri raised a single, incriminating index finger.
"What the hell is that."
AN: TL;DR: Peter and Yuri swung around, had a few close calls with almost being caught, boinked, and then Terri showed up and saw a Spider-Man mask on the floor. Not a lot of plot is missed if you choose to skip this chapter, but it sets up a few things that are important later on.
Thanks for being so patient with me! I promise that things will pick up more when my exams are done this month. Hoping that I still have some readers after such long gaps in-between updates lol. Let me know if you're still reading in a comment or review; they really encourage me to keep going through all the life bs hAHa ;w;
Here's your regular reminder: if you see your name in the fake social media feed and you're not comfortable with it, let me know so I can remove it ASAP.