#i was waiting for this to see the web pattern..!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hyunsvngs · 1 year ago

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𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞-𝐚-𝐡𝐨𝐞! - spiderman!han jisung x fem!reader

wc: 11.1k

cw: han jisung is spiderman, a brief attack of an alien in school, both characters are 18+ (legal) but are intended to be in high school, friends to lovers, jisung calling mc baby at any given moment

synopsis: you’re obsessed with spiderman, but after a certain event takes place, you become convinced your best friend and spiderman are the same person.

a/n: after a long wait… HEHE smut warnings under the cut and as usual 18+ MDNI!!!!!!!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: brief mention of masturbation (both), oral (fem!rec), slightly switchy both parties, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, loss of virginity (both), cumswapping, relatively tame given that its me

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’re intrigued.

Interested seemed like too little of a word to use for how you feel whenever you see the latest news report. In a world full of superhuman serums and bulletproof skin, he is still intriguing. Maths homework could be ignored, as far as you’re concerned - and that’s bold for you, because you love maths. You wonder if he likes maths, too.

Every night at 6pm sharp, you settle in front of the television and wait for the news. Spiderman, the hero in question, is always up to something. He loves shooting his webs across the tallest skyscrapers in the city, dangling from them precariously without a care before he lets out a loud, earth-shattering giggle and beats the newest bad-guy that your world has attracted. You always wince at the reports, wondering just how he healed from the injuries he must sustain. It had to be down to the spider venom, you supposed.

“He’s dangerous,” Your dad huffs. He’s lounging on his normal armchair, peeling leather be damned, munching on a bag of crisps. You grimace at his crisp covered digits motioning towards the television. You love your dad, really, and your mum - you just always differed in opinions when it came to Spiderman. He was so fucking cool, and you seriously feel like a child saying that all of the time, despite your best friend Jisung telling you that we all have our interests. “I mean, he’s putting normal civilians in danger. Friendly neighbourhood Spiderman my ass.”

“Honey,” Your mother admonishes, digging through her own bag of crisps. You briefly consider why you haven’t been offered one. They look tasty, when your father isn’t rubbing luminous orange dust onto his previously crisp white shirt. “You know she doesn’t like it when you say bad things about him. He- what was the word again, baby?”

“He intrigues me,” You mumble, pretending to erase equations from your homework. Your cheeks blaze crimson when your mother hums in agreement, nodding triumphantly to your father. You wish you could be as sassy as her sometimes. You’re more timid, hiding behind oversized hoodies and Jisung. He is a lot more confident than you, more loud and exuberant - you suppose that’s why he had adopted you as his all those years ago.

Your mother had been best friends with Jisung’s aunt, Sohee. She’s just like Jisung, zipping around the place at an insane pace to offer you snacks and drinks at every second. When you and Jisung had first met in preschool, you’d been drawing patterns in the mud with your grubby little fingers, hiding from the bullies. He’d criticised your drawing. He helped you fix it, though, chubby cheeks puffing out with a grin when it was good enough for his taste. Looking back now, that behaviour was so Jisung, but your mother had been delighted to find out that you’d already met her best friend’s son.

It had been easy becoming friends with him after that. Every day, he’d drag you by your wrist and take you to the yard, insisting on doing your co-operative drawings together. The teachers had a fit everyday on the state of you two by the end of your break, but your mothers had loved it, taking a million and one pictures a second. He stuck up for you both to the teachers, and then he stuck up for you to the bullies and it was like you’d known each other since birth. Inseparable at the hip, you’d been glued together throughout preschool, primary school and now high school - it doesn’t look like you’re getting rid of him anytime soon, either. You’d applied for the same colleges.

You don’t particularly want to be rid of him anyway. He’s alright, really, and you had a bit of a girly, high school crush on him. You would rather jump off of a building like Spiderman sans the webs if anyone found out.

Another thing Jisung is good for is listening to your rants. He waits for your call every night after the news had been on, and you clamber on your bed obediently after the report finishes to press on his contact.

“Jisung!” You squeal. There’s a lot of feedback on his end, and you hear a low ‘shit, fuck, oops, oh God’, until there’s a loud thud and he giggles, chiming through your tinny phone speakers. “... Ji? Are you okay?”

“Yep, sorry, baby,” He sounds out of breath, but you smile when he speaks anyway. Whenever he calls you baby, his designated nickname for you, it makes your heart flutter and you have to grimace to ignore it. His face pops into the little square designated to him, his cheeks blushing pink and round eyes wide. His hair is slightly damp, from what you’re not sure - but he looks cute. “I just got home. I was- I was running some errands for my aunt.”

“God, she’s got you running like crazy lately,” You mumble, still jotting down numbers on your homework. It’s taken you hours, but you always get distracted on nights like this. “Did you see it?”

Jisung hums, and then you hear him groan. He’s stretching, slightly toned honey-skinned arms appearing above his head in the plain oversized t-shirt he’s wearing. You try not to stare. “Did I see what?”

“The- the news, Sungie,” You feel shy mentioning it so outright. It is a weird interest, a weird thing to be obsessed with - Jisung often reassures you that it really isn’t, and his anime obsession was a lot worse. It was. You sigh, clearing your throat. “Spiderman. He was- he was super cool tonight.”

“Ooh, was he?” Jisung teases, chuckling when you groan in protest. “I’m only playing with you, baby. I saw it. He was super cool, wasn’t he?”

“Ha-ha, super cool, ‘cause he’s a superhero. You’re funny.”

“That’s why you keep me around,” Jisung chirps. “Hey, have you done the maths homework? I haven’t had time, because of the errands, y’know.”

“Hmm, yeah, I’m almost finished,” You aren’t. You’re far from it, really, but he doesn’t have to know that. “I can let you copy it tomorrow morning, before class.”

“No, that’s alright, baby. We can just cross-check our answers tomorrow,” His voice sounds tired, but you don’t comment. It’s better not to question Jisung when he’s like this.

His aunt has him doing a lot these days. You haven’t wanted to ask about it because you know it must be tough for her to look after Jisung since his parents passed, especially when Jisung is always going at full speed and is probably seconds away from giving his aunt a heart attack. He was always clumsy as a child, too, snapping his glasses in half and having a few broken bones to tell long stories about. He always means well, but sometimes you wish that he had something else to get his energy out of his system rather than stressing his aunt out.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“Jisung, surely you know who Spiderman is, like, underneath the mask,” Seungmin quips through a mouthful of dry, government regulated school food. “You spent all that time with Bang Chan in the internship.”

Seungmin is a lanky boy that just came along one day and decided to be yours and Jisung’s friend. With him, he brought a younger, smiley guy named Jeongin, and Jeongin brought Felix. Felix is just Felix - nothing else can describe him. Before long, you’d found yourself in a de facto group of misfits that you weren’t even sure you could call friends. Apart from Jisung, of course.

Jisung simply raises an eyebrow in response to Seungmin. “I mean, sure. I met Mr Bang a few times, but I never met Spiderman. Not out of his suit, anyway.”

You gasp. Jeongin startles from the nap he was taking on the cafeteria table, raising his head to look at you angrily. Felix pushes his head back down from the hood on his jumper and Jeongin immediately falls back to sleep. “You met him in his suit?”

“Well, yeah,” Jisung shrugs. When he turns to look at you, your mouth is agape, feeling slightly betrayed. Jisung shoves another spoonful of cheese - was it really cheese? - pasta into his mouth, and then he’s sighing. “It’s not a big deal, baby. If I really met him, the real him, you’d be the first to know. I promise.”

“You still got that fat crush on Spiderman?” Felix chirps. You meet his amused gaze with your own steely glare, pouting over your packed lunch.

“It’s not a crush-”

“It’s an interest,” Jisung clarifies for you, and you smile. He’s always jumping to your defence like that. You bite into an apple, savouring the crisp, fruity taste on your tongue, and then the bell rings. Sighing, you watch as the boys around you get up - including Jeongin, fox like eyes bleary from sleep - and swing their bags on their shoulders.

“I’ll see you later,” You murmur to Jisung, who throws his arm around your waist in a quick hug. “Enjoy English.”

Right. You and Jisung didn’t have the same classes. He has English now, and you have chemistry, which is probably your least favourite of all classes. You just weren’t a fan of the whole blowing shit up scenario, unlike Jeongin was, and the boy trundles behind you towards your chemistry class.

The class is boring. The teacher drones on and on about some experiment you couldn’t care less about, and you pretend to care. You’re taking notes, sure, ever the diligent student - but you can’t get anything other than Spiderman out of your mind. Jisung met him, and didn’t tell you, and who even is this guy? You’d love to know. You’d love to just see him, even once, just to be able to tell the story.

A massive crash stops the teacher’s speech. He turns to the door, confused, and the students do the same. You do too, furrowed eyebrows staring at the door. Another crash causes people to begin to rise, and the teacher starts ushering everyone out of the class to the closest exit route. You’re frozen in confusion and fear, pencil halted in your fingers, even as another noise makes the teacher run out behind the class.

It’s quiet for a moment, and you’re still sitting in your seat, eyes wide and heart racing. Then, you spring up to follow the rest of your cohort, sneakers squeaking against the tiled floor as you run to the door. Swinging it open, you stick your head out the door and look around, trying to see if the coast is clear. With a planet full of interdimensional attacks, you can’t be sure, and looking left leads you to see a scaly, large animal type of thing. You squeak, startled, and immediately retreat into the class before it notices you. What the fuck do you do? What are you meant to do?

The whole room begins to shake, and you have a feeling the creature’s getting closer. Beakers are thrown to the floor from the vibration ringing throughout the room, glass shattering loudly, and you feel like you’re about to scream, or cry, or run, and you can’t run.

Doing the only thing you can think of, you cower to the floor, hiding underneath a table donned in smashed beakers. You’re curled up in a ball, watching students standing outside murmuring and discussing their own safety, and then the shaking stops.

The door swings open. Everything outside the classroom is too intimidating, items being thrown everywhere, and you can’t even bring your legs to move with how badly they’re shaking. Who’s just walked in? You pray for Jisung. You pray for someone who’s going to help you hide, someone who’s going to keep you safe, and then-

A masked face pops underneath the table. He’s lithe, slender, but the tight red and dark blue suit highlights the hint of abs and sculpted biceps on his body. Holy fucking shit. Your eyes widen. Spiderman is in your school.

“Are you okay?” His voice is deep, but it sounds almost like someone putting on a deeper voice to hide their identity. You nod hesitantly, and then he’s extending a gloved hand towards you, pulling you out from underneath the table. You’re unable to speak. Once you’re standing in front of him, you notice he’s around a head or so taller than you, but definitely not as tall as you thought he’d be. He sighs, chest heaving with panic. You suppose it must be pretty tough work fighting aliens from outer space. “I’ve webbed him up for now, but it won’t hold much longer. Go- please, go and run. Please, anywhere, just- go and hide, or run.”

“I-I-”

“Promise me, b- um, you. I can’t let you get hurt.”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “I- Yes, I promise, I’m going to- I’ll go, thank you, thank you-”

“Wait, no!” He shouts, rubbing his temples - or at least, you’d imagine he was but he’s just rubbing the mask in frustration. You watch as he bounds over to the window, kicking it open, and the students outside turn to the classroom in awe. You’re rooted in place, as if vines are circling your ankles and securing you to the floor, mouth agape. You wait for him to give you further directions, and you gasp when he runs back over to you, picking you up and carrying you over to the window. You feel light as a feather, and all you can think is how he’s even carrying this amount of strength in that small body. “Too risky. Outside.”

“O-Outside?” You stammer, cheeks bright red, and he nods. He leans to place you out of the window, delicately placing you on your feet, and then he speeds off, shouting a quick “see you later!”.

You blink. You can hear the noises of walls breaking and windows shattering as Spiderman fights, and Felix runs up to you from the crowd outside and slings an arm over your shoulder. You’re still staring inside the classroom as if you can see through walls and watch the fight. What did see you later mean?

What’s the likelihood, honestly? You knew he was the friendly neighbourhood guy, and all that, but why not Bang Chan, in his sleek nanotech suit? This was a big fight. You find yourself getting worried, biting your nails in concern for the man you don’t even know. You have to remind yourself of that. He saved you because you’re any other citizen, not for any other specialty - you don’t know this guy.

“C’mon, over here,” Felix ushers you over, tone soft. When you’re with him, Seungmin and Jeongin, he sighs, rubbing your back. “Crazy, right? At least you can say you met Spiderman now.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Jisung is safe, thank god. You kind of feel guilty for not worrying about him at the moment, but he’d text you shortly after, saying he’d left just before it all kicked off because he felt a little under the weather. He wanted to make sure you were okay, though, so he texted you as soon as he could. You’d never admit the blush that rose to your cheeks when you read it.

It’s quiet in your room. Your parents had sprinted to you as soon as you’d come through the door, having seen the situation on the news, and you’d reassured them that Spiderman had saved you. It definitely changed your dad’s perspective of him, and now you lie on your bed feeling more than relieved.

Your fingers tap on your tummy in thought, though. He was making his voice deeper, that much you could tell, but why? How was he there so quickly? There’s no fucking way he was a student. Still, that body in the tight suit… you’d definitely been looking. You’re a woman, of course you were going to look. He had a figure enviable to every man. Broad shoulders, abs just slightly visible, strong legs that carried you over to the window…

In your dreamlike fantasy, you’re considering something you previously never would’ve thought of. What if Jisung was underneath that suit? Now, that would be perfect. Both of your crushes being one being, Jisung pulling that suit up his lithe thighs and letting it settle over his broad pecs.

Before you know it, your hand is dipping under the hem of your pyjama pants, unable to feel guilty for thinking about your best friend in this way. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time, with many of your nights spent whimpering into your pillow and coming apart on your own fingers wishing they were his. He had such nice hands… What if it was him who had grabbed you from underneath that table? Your hand trails down to find your folds, slick and ready for whatever you had in store, but you focus on your clit, swollen and aching between your bottom lips. Would he finger you in the gloves if you asked, let you ride his abs in the suit until completion? Would he kiss you upside down, hanging from the-

A tap on your window makes you jump. The room is dark, save for your bedside lamp, and you turn rapidly to see a faceless figure just about popping in from the corner. You yank your hand out of your bottoms, squeaking, and then you squint to try and see the figure closer.

Holy shit. Spiderman is at your bedroom window.

Your cotton tank top is revealing, so you turn immediately to reach for your dressing gown and tie it around your figure. You pad over to the window in your socks, still wide-eyed and completely baffled, and then you turn the handle to allow him access. What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” You blurt, toes curling against your floor. Spiderman swings inside instead of responding, walking around your room like he’s been there a million times before. “No, seriously, what the fuck?”

He turns to you, shrugging. “I said I’d see you later, didn’t I?”

You blanch. He did say that, yes, but that still doesn’t explain the million questions you have right now. “Well, yeah, but- how do you know where I live?”

“I- uh, found it in the school office,” He hops up onto your bed, sitting cross legged. His mask hides his face, but he hums in pleasure at the feeling of the bedsheets on him. “After the fight, I went in there. Glad you’re okay, by the way.”

He’s still making his voice deeper, and you blink, nodding in response. “I’m great. Can I- can I ask why you’re here?”

He shrugs again, fiddling with a loose thread on your duvet. “No reason. Got bored. I was swinging around and remembered I saw your address on the computer.”

“Right,” You shake your head, still baffled. Instead of questioning him further, you jump onto the bed in front of him and copy his position, cross legged. “Don’t you have, like, recovering to do? I heard you got beat pretty bad.”

“Nah, no way,” He scoffs, rolling his neck. You suppress a smile. Cocky. “Spider venom, y’know? It repairs everything super quick.”

You were right. You can’t suppress a smile at his response, clicking your fingers at his masked face. “I fucking knew it! I guessed it was the venom.”

He stops fiddling with the duvet, turning to you and tilting his head in question. “You’re smart, aren’t you? Hey, are you the one that’s friends with that kid?”

You narrow your eyes. Jisung’s a liar. If Spiderman knows who he is, that means they’ve met more than once, and Jisung lied. You reach for your phone, ready to bitch him out via text, but Spiderman knocks your phone out of your hand. You turn to him, confused.

“Talk to me,” He whines. “I told you I was bored!”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, damn. Yes, I’m friends with Jisung. Why?”

“No reason,” He wiggles forward on your bed, grabbing your hand. You’re confused, but then he launches you into an intense thumb war, one that you were never going to win. Everytime you go to move your thumb in response to his, he’s got you pinned, and before he speaks again you’re five rounds down. “He’s pretty cool, right?”

“Who?” You ask, still focusing on the thumb war.

“Jisung,” He clarifies, clearing his throat. Making his voice that deep must be taking its toll on his vocal chords. “He’s kinda cool. Super smart, I thought.”

“He definitely is,” You laugh when he pins your thumb down again, swatting at his wrist to get him off of you. “He’s smarter than me.”

“And, uh,” He clears his throat again, leaning back on your bed. Leaning back like that, you have a full view of his body in his suit, and you have to stare at the posters on your wall to avoid looking at him. He puts his hands behind his head, the full picture of relaxation, and you wished he’d stop throwing you this random curveball behaviour. “Is that all you think of him? Just smart?”

You blush, finally reverting your eyes to him. “What do you mean?”

“I just mean… Do you have a crush on him, or?”

“Who wants to know?” You bristle, playing with your hands in your lap. You look down at your chipped nail polish, awkwardly shifting on the bed in your pyjamas. “I don’t even know who you are.”

“No one knows who I am,” He responds easily. “I want to know. Tell me. Do you have a crush on him?”

“I’m not telling you that-”

“I’m bored!” He whines again, sitting up. You let him grab your hand again, pulling your pinky finger into a promise. You swear you see the mask smile. “Tell me!”

“Okay, damn,” You sigh, exasperated. Was he on molly or something? Are you dreaming? “I guess so. I guess I always have, yeah, I don’t know. I don’t think he’d ever like me like that.”

He coos at that, taking your hand in his. It’s strangely comforting. “Why not?”

“He’s- well, I don’t think I’m good enough for someone like him,” You admit, scratching the back of your neck. “It’s awkward. He’s my best friend. It would ruin things, and I guess I’ve never let myself think about it like that.”

“You should,” He hums. You blink, staring at him. What the hell is he on about? “I just mean you should. Maybe he likes you too, y’know? I like my best friend. I’d love to know if she likes me back.”

“You do?” You wiggle closer, eager to know more. “You like your best friend? What’s she like?”

“Well,” He strokes your hand again before pulling away, leaning his chin on his hand. “She’s super pretty. Smart, too. I’ve known her since like, forev- for a few years, I think, in total.”

“It’s kind of the same with me and Jisung,” You sigh again, pouting. “I’ve known him for my whole life, basically. I’m just scared it’ll ruin things, but I think about him a lot when I’m on my own.”

He snickers. “Really? Like when you’re doing what you were doing when I got here?”

You swat at his shoulder, blushing bright red. “Shut up, oh my god! I thought you- shut up. Just don’t.”

“Maybe he thinks about you then too, I don’t know,” He shrugs nonchalantly, and then he’s getting up and pacing around. You watch him fiddle with a few photo frames on your desk, humming at ones of you and Jisung when you were younger and even fiddling with a few of your academic medals and prizes. “I won’t tell him, by the way.”

“You see him often?” You ask, voice soft. “He said-”

“Nah, I’ve only seen him once or twice,” He stretches his arms above his head, still staring at your desk full of trinkets. “He doesn’t know who I am.”

“Can I know?”

He turns to you. “Know what?”

“I want to know who you are,” Your voice is confident, but you feel anything but, teeth chewing your bottom lip nervously. “You saved me, and now you’re in my bedroom. I feel that I deserve to know.”

He sighs loudly this time, walking towards the window. “When we get to know eachother better, maybe.”

“Wait, hang on,” You watch him sling a foot out of the window, exasperated. He can’t leave! “Where are you going? I thought you said you were bored-”

“Things to do, baby,” He replies quickly. You blink. That ‘baby’ sounds awfully familiar, and you stand up quickly to walk towards the window, but he’s already webbing away. “Bye!”

You stand there, shocked and confused. He’s swinging from building to building away from you, and you’re just standing there like an idiot. You were interrupted before you could even start touching yourself, forced into a thumb war and coerced into admitting your deepest, darkest secret, and then he just… leaves? Just like that?

Your life is proving to be a little more interesting than you thought, but your dreams were filled with familiar round cheeks beneath a red and blue mask.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“Baby, is there a reason why your eyes are burning holes into the side of my head?”

You’re convinced your best friend is Spiderman. There, sitting beside you with his glasses sliding down his nose and comfortable in a grey hoodie and pink Hello Kitty pyjama bottoms on, it’s hard to believe. But you’re not stupid.

First of all, since he started that internship with Mr Bang, he’s been weird about letting you inside his room. This is the same person that you had many sleepovers with growing up, and as recently as a few months ago you’d been cuddling in bed together watching Howl’s Moving Castle. He has something to hide, but you’d been let down when you’d arrived at his house earlier and shouldered past him to find literally nothing of suspicion inside his room, other than an anime girl mouse pad with the boobs to rest your wrist on. You knew that existed though, ever since his birthday last year when Felix had gifted it to him, so what gives?

Secondly, Sohee is more stressed out than ever. You’d caught sight of her flitting around the kitchen when you arrived for your homework friend-date, scrubs on and ready to head to the hospital but still panicking about something. Jisung said multiple times that he’d been helping her out more and that’s why he’s been so busy lately. She shouldn’t still be panicking.

Thirdly, Spiderman wouldn’t make his voice deeper to you unless you knew him. He wouldn’t need to, or you wouldn’t recognise his voice - unless it’s a habit he’s picked up, perhaps. That doesn’t change that the way he called you baby last night sounded a little bit too familiar, too comfortable. It came out of his mouth like second nature.

Still, it makes no sense. Surely Jisung would have told you? You’re his best friend, he said so, so he’d tell you. Or would he? Maybe Felix knows. You’re also hoping deep down that it isn’t true, because if it is, you told your crush last night that you liked him.

You can’t even be mad at Jisung for it. He’s still staring at you, and you’re staring blankly back while shoving snacks into your mouth. There’s crumbs all over your homework.

“Jisung,” You begin, and he hums in response. “Would you tell me your deepest, most serious secret if I worked it out?”

He chokes on his energy drink, spluttering neon blue liquid all over his bed. You want to giggle, to make fun of him, but you’re sure you’ve gotten somewhere here. He wipes his mouth, clears his throat, and turns back to you. His hands are shaky where they clutch his textbook, and his eyes are almost blurry through the glasses. “I tell you everything anyway.”

“I don’t think you do,” You respond, quick as a beat. He blinks, lips parting. “Not by that reaction, Jisung. I think you’re hiding something from me.”

He scratches his nose with the end of his pen, looking down at the textbook again. You raise an eyebrow. “I’m not hiding anything.”

“Okay,” You hum. He sighs, scribbling something on the paper. It’s so quiet in the room that you can hear his pen scribbling, but you’re speaking again before you can even think. “Did I tell you Spiderman came to my room last night?”

He gulps audibly. “Nope.”

“Yeah, it was kinda weird,” You take a sip from your energy drink, still staring at him vacantly. Jisung’s eyes flit up to you, and then back down to the textbook. Oh, he knows. He knows that you know. He knows that you know that he knows. “He saved me in school, when that alien thing was there, and then he came to my room and asked me about you.”

“He, uh- really? Did he?”

“Mhm,” Your gaze is steely. “Jisung, I know you’re Spiderman.”

Jisung bursts out laughing. It would be believable, but you’ve known him since you were four years old and it’s a fake laugh. He’s cackling, loud as brass, and he lets out a little “ooh” afterwards as if he can’t believe you. “Baby, that’s the craziest theory you’ve ever come up with.”

“Is it?” You question, head tilting to the side. Then, in the smartest moment you’ve ever had, you pick up Jisung’s energy drink from the floor. He’s still looking at you, a fake smile on his lips, and you take a sip from it casually. Sharing drinks isn’t new for you. You glug back the artificial blue raspberry flavour, and then keeping eye contact with him, you let go.

Before the can is able to fall and spill the rest of its contents over your own textbook, and inevitably Jisung’s One Piece bed sheets, he reaches out and grabs it, hand wrapping around the can, quick as a flash. It all happens in about a second, and you gasp. Jisung gasps. His hand tightens around the can and it crinkles, an impossible show of strength, and then he’s blinking at you. You raise an eyebrow.

“I knew it.”

He puts the can safely on the bedside table, and then he’s slamming his textbook shut. You watch in confusion as he paces back and forth on his bedroom floor, running his hands through his hair over and over.

“Okay!” He points at you, victorious. “That was a reflex. I knew you were going to do that, I’m smart, duh! I knew you were going to drop the can to prove something, and-”

“Jisung,” You say, voice soft. He stops pacing, sock clad feet rooted on the carpet to stare at you. You’re going to get him. You’re going to get him good. “Do you not want me to know? Is that what this is?”

He immediately falls to the floor, head resting on your knee as he looks up at you. You can’t even feel sorry for him, because your plan is working perfectly. His eyes are round and vulnerable, and then he clenches them shut in distress. You think he’s probably a second away from crying. “Baby, it’s not that. I wanted to protect you. It would be dangerous if the bad guys knew who you were, knew that you knew, and I know I shouldn’t have come to your room, that was wrong of me, and-”

You giggle. Jisung furrows his eyebrows, eyes opening. “I knew I was right.” He gasps, pointing at you again.

“Judas! You’re a judas!” He’s shocked, leaning back on his haunches and staring at you. “I can’t- I can’t believe you, that was so-”

“Sneaky? Good? Smart?” You list, leaning back on his twin bed. He stands up, hands on his hips. You’re ready for him to bitch you out, but you don’t care - you knew that you had to know, had to have it confirmed. He taps his foot, and then you see a smile break out on his lips.

“Okay, yeah, that was pretty good,” He hums, returning to the bed. You let him shut your own textbook and sprawl across you, head in your lap. “I’m sorry, baby. I should’ve told you.”

You sigh, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair. “That’s okay, Ji. It’s fine. I’m just a little embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed? Why?” Jisung asks, his eyes fluttering shut from the feeling of your nails on his scalp. You want to scoff. Embarrassed for two major reasons - one, because you’ve been gushing about how cool Spiderman is for weeks, maybe even months, and two because you told Spiderman last night that you liked Jisung. Spiderman and Jisung are the same person. Sure, it makes things easier. You no longer have a crush on two people, only one, but it doesn’t change the fact that Jisung knows and is yet to say anything.

“I’ve been talking to you about Spiderman for weeks,” You blush, pushing his hair off of his forehead. He whines, thrashing his feet and shaking his head like a dog to hide his forehead again. He’s so dramatic. You like him so bad. “And- and you- it was you, then. You came to my room last night.”

“Yeah, that was risky,” He responds, exasperated. “I just had to, baby. I don’t know, you always seemed so interested in Spiderman and not me. I needed to know if you saw me like you saw him.”

You pause your movements on his head, blinking at the wall in front of you. When you turn back to him, he’s blushing, teeth gnawing his bottom lip. His eyes are conveniently staring at the window, away from you.

“Jisung,” You start, hesitant. “What do you mean?”

He sits up sharply. “Wanna go on the roof?”

“T-The roof? Jisung, how are we gonna- oh. Oh.”

Jisung jumps up from the bed, toeing his sliders onto his feet and pushing the window open. It gives you deja vu - that same figure was pushing the window open just like this to place you safely outside in school yesterday, and then he was coming through your window to see you late at night. It’s hard to believe that they’re the same person, the man you admired so much and your best friend who’s standing by the window expectantly waiting for you to join him.

You hesitantly stand up, brushing off imaginary crumbs from your joggers and looking at Jisung. He smiles, a soft, reassuring smile, and then he’s scooping you up from the floor and wrapping your legs around his waist. It’s slender, the plush flesh of your thighs almost obscuring it, and you squeak in surprise at being in the air.

“I- Jisung?!”

“You have to hold on tight,” He says. His face is inches away from yours, plush lips looking more than appealing and his glasses making him look so endearing. “I need my hands for this, so hold onto my shoulders.”

You nod, face blushing crimson at the realisation of just how close you are. Would he have you like this if he fucked you? Legs around his waist, hands on his shoulders, his face so close to yours as he pants and whines and moans-

You squeak again when he slides out of the window, and then you see him in action. His hands stick to the outside of the apartment building, feet kicking up against the concrete wall. Your heart is racing so badly it feels as though it could burst out of your chest, but you’re not sure if it’s because of the height or because you’re tightly pressed against Jisung.

When he swings you both over the side ledge on the roof, you notice the sun’s set already. Time always goes by quickly with Jisung, but the stars are already out, and the air is crisp and biting against your limbs despite the layers. Once he’s safely stood on the roof, he places his hands underneath your thighs and detaches you from his firm body, placing you on your feet.

You’re disorientated, shocked at the sheer height of the building and at the way Jisung seems to be swinging you around like it’s nothing, but he’s simply staring at you. A wide smile stretches from ear to ear, and he blinks when you don’t say anything. “It’s cool, right?”

“Y-Yeah, super cool,” You admit, chest heaving. “Really high up, but cool. Jisung, why are we on the roof?”

He’s wrangling you, hands on your arms and pushing you to the floor. It feels firm, but with what you now know about him, you know he’s holding back. He plops down next to you, eyes wide and expectant.

“I wanted to do it properly,” He begins. He pauses for a moment, licks his lips, pushes his glasses up his nose, and then he’s speaking again. “I like you, so that’s why I asked. Is it romantic up here? It feels romantic, but I’m not too sure-“

He stands up and begins pacing around the roof before you realise he’s even moved. You raise an eyebrow. “Jisung?”

“I wanted to do this right, y’know?” He pauses, hands on his hips. He looks comical, trying to assert dominance over you like that in those Hello Kitty pyjama trousers. “I- I wanted to swing by and like, grab you, or something? But then you worked it out, and now I’m just standing here with you on a roof…”

He continues mumbling like a mad scientist, eyes focused on a spot next to your head. You stand up, making your way towards him, and he still refuses to look at you. He likes you back. He likes you back, and he’s still your best friend - he’s still Jisung, but he’s also Spiderman, and you’re okay with that. You don’t have to like two people. You only like one, and it’s your goofy best friend.

“Is this even romantic? You know, we could just forget about it and-“

You press your lips to his. He doesn’t make any form of surprised noise, only cupping your cheeks with his hands and pulling you close to him. His glasses bump against your face, his lips pouty against yours and plush and maybe a bit too wet for a first kiss, but you’d always figured he’d take it too far. That’s what you like about him. Jisung never does anything by halves.

It’s brief, too brief for your liking, but then he’s pulling away with a satisfied grin on his face. You blink. Wait.

“Wait, your stupid- your stupid spidey things. Did you know I was going to kiss you?” You pout, and he giggles. “No, seriously! Could you like- I don’t know, feel it coming?”

“Not until you were like, a few inches from my face,” Jisung admits, and his teeth gleam in the brilliance of the evening. “I had a feeling you might.”

You sigh. “So why didn’t you stop talking?”

“Dunno,” He shrugs. “I couldn’t stop once I started.”

The statement is so true to Jisung, so in character for your best friend that you can do nothing but accept it.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

It’s easy to fall into a different routine with Jisung.

He never asked you to be his girlfriend. You’re pretty sure you’re fine with that, though - things have had a natural manner of progressing, and now your best friend slash boyfriend slash superhero turns up at your window every night after he’s been on his neighbourhood patrol. Sometimes he’s a little bruised, and sometimes he’s just looking for consolation kisses.

It’s a normal night for you when it happens. Jisung’s halfway out of your bedroom window on his way to perform perfect justice, pulling his mask down over his annoyingly beautiful face. You’re standing a few feet away grinning like an idiot.

“I’ll see you later, my baby,” You can see his grin through the mask. The eyes on his mask form beautiful crescent moons with his happiness. He falters, legs swinging on your windowsill. “Wait. I am coming back here, yeah?”

“Of course,” You giggle. He sends you two fingers in a mock salute, and you watch him begin his journey up the wall to your roof. A beat passes and you’re still standing there, smiling, hands on your hips, and then the masked head of your best friend pops back down into your window, upside down, tilting to the side in confusion. You blink, confused. “What is it, Sungie?”

“Well, where’s my goodbye kiss? Damn,” He huffs, and you roll your eyes playfully. You make your way to the window, sock-clad feet padding on your carpet, and you pull his mask down to his eyes with two fingers. It miraculously stays on his head, and his lips form a teasing grin.

Despite him being upside down, you place a chaste kiss to his lips, and you watch in amusement as he swings away afterwards. You can still hear him giggling with glee from a few buildings away.

It’s a few hours later when he comes back. You’re flicking through a book for English, scrawling notes and highlighting words on sticky notes. It’s started to rain, and the city lights only look brighter in the dusk with the pattering of water on your window. You left it open, of course, for your superhero, but the cold air bites at your arms even through the fluffy blanket you’ve got wrapped around yourself.

Just as you’re beginning to contemplate closing it, a louder, more prominent tap hits the glass. When you turn to the window, Jisung is slouched against your windowsill, chest heaving beneath red lycra and forehead pressed against the glass. He’s got his mask between his teeth, and his hair is dishevelled, floppy brown locks obscuring his eyes. You can still catch sight of the bruising on his cheekbones and you gasp, rushing towards the window.

You drop your blanket in shock, but you swing the window open, pulling Jisung inside with one hand. He stumbles through, disoriented and confused, and you lead him to sit on the edge of your bed.

“Got hurt,” He explains, huffing out a breath. The mask drops from his teeth unceremoniously, with a wet plop to your carpeted floor, but you don’t care. You rush to sit next to him, fingers gripping his chin to pull him to face you. His eyes are round, sincere, and he gives you a soft smile. “It’ll heal before long, baby, don’t panic.”

“I am panicking,” You say, resolute, because you really are. Bruising is scattered across his cheekbones, fading into green on the plush of his cheeks and his lip looks like it had been burst, but is already healing. “Will it- will it take long? Do you need me to get the first aid kit, or-“

“Baby,” He shakes his head, grabbing your hands. You watch with parted lips as he leans forward, both of you cross legged on the end of your bed. It reminds you of when Spiderman first visited you, when you weren’t quite sure of his identity. Jisung presses his forehead against yours, and you let him look into your eyes. It’s like he’s demanding everything that’s ever gone through your head to be vocalised. You’d tell him if he asked. “I’m really okay. I’m a little shaken up, but I’m fine. Most of it is on my ribs from falling, to be honest.”

“Your ribs?!” You shriek. “Show me. Let me see, I need to help you-“

You’re already trying to wrangle Jisung out of his suit, and he giggles, clearly thinking this is all just some game. He holds his arms up pliantly, though, and you don’t have the thought processing ability within you to realise that Jisung’s suit is an all-in-one and you’re currently stripping him down to his boxers.

The suit is wet too when you drop it to the floor, and before long you’re blinking at your best friend in his plain black boxers and he’s grinning at you as if this is any other day. There’s no bruising on his ribs. You’re staring at his abs, regardless, so you’re not sure you would’ve even noticed.

“You look fine.”

“I told you it heals quickly, baby,” He grins. You blink when he wriggles on your bed, laying on his back and stretching his arms above his head again, this time to get comfortable. His legs stretch out too, and you avoid looking anywhere below his waist.

His body is a spectacle. You can’t stop looking. Broad shoulders taper off into an extremely defined chest and a tight, thin waist adorned with prominent abdominal muscles, before reaching a v-line that leads into his boxers. You’re wide eyed, wanting nothing more than to reach out and run your fingers down his honey toned skin.

“Why-“ You cough, clearing your throat. Jisung raises an eyebrow. He’s grinning from ear to ear, teeth gleaming. “Why did you let me strip you if you’re literally fine?”

The bruising on his cheek is already fading. He shrugs nonchalantly, crossing his arms over his chest. His biceps bulge with the movement and you think you might choke on your own spit. “You seemed pretty determined, so I just allowed it. You wanted to see me naked, I assumed, so-“

“Jisung!” You wail, slapping his shoulder. He groans in pain, catching your hand, and he grits his teeth with a hiss.

“My shoulder! Fuck, that hurt, ouch, baby! What was that for?!”

You gasp. He clutches his shoulder, letting out little pants of hurt sounding noises. You let your head fall to his chest, engulfing him with a hug. “Jisung, I’m so sorry-“

“Hehe,” He giggles. When you look at him, he’s sticking his tongue out, completely fine. You groan, annoyed you fell for it, and then he’s grabbing your forearms and pulling you upwards on top of him.

Your breasts press against his chest like this, due to your lack of bra in your sleep shirt, and his eyes widen when he feels it. Instead of letting you go, his hands move to your back, encompassing you in his strong hold.

You gasp, wiggling in his grip, and he licks his lips. His eyes go to your lips, and then back up to your eyes, as if he’s hesitant.

“I-“ He begins, faltering. “Are you my girlfriend?”

You scoff out a laugh. “I don’t know, am I?”

“I hope so,” Jisung admits, his facial expression vulnerable. His eyes dart to something behind you, as if he’s not sure, almost shy. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him shy. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask, but I want you to be, if you want to be.”

“I want to be,” You nod. He nods in response, and you watch his eyes flicker to your lips again. It’s silent for a moment, and then he leans in, pressing his lips against yours.

The kiss is more charged than usual. Before now, you’re used to chaste, fleeting kisses from your superhero, but now he lets his tongue tease against the seam of your lips. Your eyes flutter shut, and his eyelashes brush against your skin where he does the same. You let your lips part, and Jisung’s quick to grip your back harder, tongue darting inside your mouth with impatience.

You’ve made out with someone before. You’d never had sex with someone before, but you had made out with someone. It was only once at a party when you were a little bit younger but it had felt like a good idea at the time. You’re sure Jisung’s lost his virginity though, but when he whimpers against your lips and his hips squirm a little you’re not too sure.

You pull away from the kiss, lips a little wet, and Jisung’s mouth goes to your neck. You allow him to suck a mark into the expanse of skin just underneath your jaw, his fingers grabbing impatiently at your back. “Sungie, are you a virgin?”

Jisung pulls away, licking his lips. You feel something hard pressing against your thigh where you lay on top of him. You’re thanking every entity ever that your parents are out for a work dinner. “Yeah, I am. I would have told you if I wasn’t,” He confirms, a little breathless. His hips wiggle again. “Is that- is that okay, baby?”

“Yeah, of course,” You smile, comforting. You peck his lips again and he grins back at you. “I am too.”

“I know,” He responds, quick as a flash. You blush. That’s embarrassing. “No, I just mean- you also would’ve told me, y’know?”

“That’s true,” You shrug. You’re feeling a little overconfident, and you move in his hold, having felt it gone a little lax with your kissing. You let your thighs spread over his hips, his hard shaft pressing against your core through your pyjama bottoms and his boxers. You still feel it, though, and it makes your pussy gush a little. “Is- is this okay?”

He’s blushing. His lips part, and he nods, perhaps too eagerly because he clutches his neck afterwards like he’s got whiplash. “Baby, you’re- I have a pretty girl in my lap. This is so okay. Like, so okay, I might have a heart attack and die, probably.”

You shift, and he winces. “Sorry,” You say. It’s a fake apology. You want to swallow his cock down your throat until he cries, and you don’t even know how to. You’d try your best though. “If I lost my virginity, I’d want it to be with you.”

“Damn,” Jisung whistles, eyebrows raised. “Let me hit?”

You giggle, tilting your head to the side. “I’ll let you hit right now, Jisung.”

Jisung shoots upwards into a seated position. His eyes are wide. “Right now?”

“Right now,” You confirm. You go from straddling his lap to laying on your back on your bed in a flash, and Jisung looms over you, all tight, toned muscles and broad shoulders.

“I’ll make it so good, baby, I promise,” He says, and then he’s kissing you again. It’s even messier this time, lips pressing against yours over and over and his tongue adding a collection of spit to the mix. You let your thighs fall apart, his hips quick to fill the space and press his cock against you. His hands go to your waist as he kisses you, sucking and biting on your lips until you’re whining with it, but he doesn’t let up. He’s desperate, messy, and it’s only making your pussy drool even more.

The rain hits the window still, cooling off a little but still providing a calming effect to your room when combined with the orange-pink of your lamp. He inches his palms up your shirt, the softness of his hands surprising you, and then he’s pulling away from your mouth to yank the fabric over your head.

You’re left in just your pyjama bottoms, lips kiss bitten and nipples pebbled against the cool air of your bedroom. You never had shut your window, after all.

“Oh,” Jisung says, exasperated. You finally open your eyes to see him staring at your tits, and you think he might be drooling. “Oh, yeah, my baby. They are so fucking good.”

You almost laugh, but you’re cut off by your own strangled moan when his pouty lips engulf your right nipple. He sucks on it, hard, and when your back arches he lets it slip out of his mouth with a wet popping noise. It’s only a brief moment of reprieve before he’s letting his teeth skim along the bud, and you keen, fingers moving upwards from his shoulders to grip onto the pillow behind your head.

“Oh, that’s so- Sungie, baby, that feels good,” You whine, and he hums against your breast. When he moves to the other one, he tweaks your wet nipple between two fingers. It’s experimental, but the whole thing is, and you buck your hips up impatiently.

His hands move to your ass, scooping underneath you and making you grind slightly against him. The movement makes him moan, your nipple leaving his mouth. A string of drool attaches to his lips and his tongue lolls out lazily, and before you can process it, he’s grinding his cock into your clothed centre.

“Oh- oh, fuck,” He whines, eyes clenching shut. You whimper in response, arms wrapping around his shoulders. “Baby- baby, baby. Baby, I’ve thought about this so much, I- fuck, you’re gonna feel so good around my cock.”

His words are so crude that they make you keen, nodding enthusiastically. “I thought about it too. I- I touched myself thinking about it, Sungie, did you?”

He gasps sharply, and there’s a fumbling between your legs. He rocks backwards on his haunches, and you see him gripping his cock impatiently underneath his boxers, fingers wrapped tight around the base.

“I will literally cum if I imagine that,” He huffs, breathless. “But yes. I did, many times, and- and- baby, can I see your pussy?”

It’s so bold that you can’t say no. You never would have dreamed of saying no anyway, and you nod, wiggling your bottoms down your legs. You never wear a bra or panties underneath your pyjamas, and your pussy is revealed to him in all its drooly glory, folds sticking together with your arousal.

Jisung’s jaw goes slack. You watch him jerk his cock, eyes fixated on your wet hole, and you shift impatiently.

“I showed you mine, Sungie,” You huff. “Show me yours.”

He nods, eyes still glued to your pussy. Your clit is swollen with arousal, some wetness stuck onto it, and you reach down to trace your fingertips over it absentmindedly while he pushes his boxers down. His cock slaps up against the bottom of his tummy, cockhead leaking beneath his foreskin, precum slicking the smattering of hair at his base. His balls look heavy, shaft swollen and fat between lithe thighs, and you can’t help but go a little googly eyed at the thought of him stretching you out.

He grabs it, pumps his cock a few times while you rub your fingers over your clit. “Is- is it okay, baby?” He gasps, cock leaking steadily in his fist.

“You’re so sexy, Sungie, ‘s so big. I- oh,” You whine, spreading your arousal over your folds. You prop your feet up, letting your legs fall wide, and the movement must expose your soppy hole to Jisung because his eyes widen even further. “I want you inside of me so bad. I’ve wanted it for so long, I just- shit, Jisung, what are you-“

You’re cut off by him diving between your legs. His cock is forgotten, his hands looping around your ass again to spread you wide, and his tongue presses against your core. He moans at the taste, and you whimper out loud, head rolling against your pillow. It’s messy and you can tell he’s inexperienced, but when he sucks your clit between his lips you can’t find it in you to care.

“Oh, oh- baby, baby! You’re good at that, so good at that, baby,” You babble, trying your best not to grind up into his mouth. His mouth is just as wet as your pussy, his lips drooling all over you. You’re cut short when he flattens his tongue against your core, moaning out loud, and his hands move your ass just a bit. “I- you- Sungie-?”

“Grind on my face, baby, c’mon,” He murmurs, muffled by your folds, and you oblige. Your hand goes to his hair, yanking on the dark brown strands, and you hold him in place while you grind your pussy senseless on his tongue. Your boy is good with his mouth, you realise - he’s pliant, letting you make yourself cum on his tongue and lips, and after only a few grinds you’re sure you’re going to fall apart for him.

“Ah! Ah, oh, baby, your mouth is- Sungie, Sungie,” You whine, feet kicking on the bed. Your legs go flat, but as the pleasure builds up in your core, your thighs tighten around his ears. He likes this, moaning loud to the point the vibrations make you jolt. It’s all so wet, your pussy dripping with arousal and his saliva, dripping down to your asshole. It has you wondering if Jisung would eat your ass further down the line, and your eyes flicker to his - would he let you eat his? He probably would, with how submissive he’s being.

His hips buck downwards on the bed and he keens into your pussy, and you realise he’s humping your mattress. He’s so desperate for you that he just can’t help himself, and you moan, loud and unabashed. The sight has you hurtling towards your orgasm.

“I’m gonna fucking cum, baby,” You warn, and he finally lets up, pulling back to suck on your clit. His hand moves over to the top of your pussy, pulling your mound backwards, and the exposure of your clit directly to his lips is your downfall. You wail, bucking your hips into his mouth, and you can hear yourself talking and moaning but you’re not sure what you’re saying, only able to feel your hole gushing into Jisung’s mouth over and over.

Jisung licks over your clit a few times comfortingly, and then he’s on top of you again, face looming over yours. His right hand holds him up steadily and the other stays downwards, hooked on your thigh to keep you open.

“You taste delicious, baby,” He grins, mouth wet. When he presses his lips to yours he’s desperate, tongue darting into your mouth to let you taste your own cum. You let your hands fall to his chest, fingernails digging into the muscles. The filthiness of it all has you wriggling around impatiently again, and Jisung’s cockhead slips against your clit, making you whine into his mouth. He pulls away, gasping for air with the sensation, and you kiss the beauty spot on his cheek for good measure. “Baby. M-my baby, shit, can- can I fuck you now? Have you got a condom, I- shit, I need to fuck you?”

He’s breathless, giggling at his own desperation, and you nod eagerly. You’re on the pill, and realistically you’d want nothing more than him to creampie you, but you have a shred of logic still left in your brain. “No condom. I- I don’t have any, can you pull out? I know it’s not-“

“Don’t care,” He huffs, legs moving to prop himself up more securely. His knees dig into your bed, and he pulls your thigh further apart, letting his eyes fall down to your pussy. His face is more than pornographic when he sees the visual of his cockhead sliding through your folds, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted. He lets his eyes flutter shut, a small profanity leaving his mouth. “You’re sure I can fuck you raw? I- please, p-please, baby. I need to be inside.”

“Jisung,” You whine. He lets his tip bump against your clit again, and you grow too desperate, reaching down yourself to grab his cock. The feeling makes him whimper, his fingers ripping into the pillow beside your head with his superhuman strength, but you’re too out of it to care. You position his cock by your hole, soppy and wet with your own cum, and he can’t hold himself back - he pushes in, all of it at once, a long, anguished noise leaving his mouth. “Oh. Oh- Oh, Jisung, that’s-“

“Is it okay? Are you okay?” Jisung asks, breathless. “Does it hurt? I- baby, baby-“

He’s still completely stationary, but he can’t stop talking, chest heaving and flushed pink. You shake your head. It doesn’t hurt. You’re wet enough that he glided in so easy, stretching your pussy in the most pleasurable, delicious way. You didn’t think it would ever feel this good, but you’re sure it’s because it’s Jisung.

“God, is it- does it feel good?” He questions you, and you nod eagerly, hands moving to rest on his biceps. He repositions you both so that your legs are wrapped around his waist, his arms holding himself up over you, and the movement has him sliding deeper, making you whimper. “Can I-“

“Fucking hell, Jisung, can you just move?” You huff, annoyed, and he giggles. He shakes his head fondly, and then he’s thrusting into you, slow but steady.

“Oh, that’s good,” He slurs, eyes rolling back into his head. “That pussy’s good. Jesus, you’re- you’re tight on my cock, baby, like a fuckin’ vice.”

“Your cock is so good,” You whine, trying to fuck yourself back on him. Your pussy is so wet that every thrust makes an audible noise, ringing throughout your room. If anyone walked past now they’d hear the debauchery, and you’re not sure you’d even care. “Fuck, Jisung- Jisung, you’re big. Please, please, more, I need more!”

“Okay, okay,” He moans, and then his hips speed up. His balls slap against your asshole with every thrust, his cock pistoning into you at a pace that has you wailing. The headboard slams against the wall. “Oh, fuckin’- baby, this puusssy.”

“It feels so good. Your cock is stretching me out so good, baby-“

“Fuck, wait,” He whines, pulling out sharply. When you look down between his legs his cock is painfully hard, and his pubic hair is drenched with you. The sight makes you even more eager to get him back inside of you, but Jisung grabs the base of his cock tightly, his chest heaving. “I- I’ll cum if you talk like that. Fuck, this is so embarrassing!”

“I want you to cum,” You insist, leaning up on your elbows. Your pussy is still leaking steadily onto your bedsheets, and you make grabby hands at your boy to try and get him back inside of you. “You made me cum so good in your mouth, Sungie, c’mon. Make yourself cum with my pussy.”

“Oh my God,” He moans, eyes half lidded, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re dirty. My fucking dream, holy shit.”

He leans over you once more, pushing his cock inside of you. It slides back in easily with another wet noise, and you moan, smiling with delight. “Mm, fuck this pussy, baby, c’mon.”

“I- fuck, okay,” He keens, nodding. His teeth bite into his lower lip almost painfully, and you kiss his neck while he starts to fuck into you again. With a quick reposition you let your thighs fall apart and further back, and his cock starts to hit your g-spot incessantly. He pulls away from you, head lolling into your neck. His breaths fan over your skin, hot and heavy. “You’re so wet, why are you- how are you so wet, baby? This pussy, fucking- I’m gonna cum. I’m so close, I’m so close, please-“

The shred of logic has left your brain. His cock feels so good, thick and pressing inside of you. You have to let him do it. “Baby. Baby, do y’wanna- I’m on the pill, baby,” You say, breathless. His pace stops, hips halting, and he makes a confused noise. “Cum inside. Creampie this hole, Sungie, I know you want to.”

“Oh my fucking- baby? My baby, can I?” He wails, head pulling up to look at you. You catch sight of tears brewing in his eyes, glassy and unshed. “Baby, please, I’m gonna cum, please, where-? Baby?”

“Inside of me, Sungie,” You wrap your legs around him, pulling him inside of you, deep. You know he could get out of it if he wanted to, but he doesn’t, hips starting to pick up inside of you again. It’s fast, desperate and he keens, nodding. “You gonna fill me up, yeah?”

“Yeah. Y-yeah, yes, oh- I’m gonna fill you up,” Jisung’s words are slurred, quiet, and you let him fuck into you over and over. With a sharp noise, his hips slow once more, and you feel a rush of additional wetness inside of you. It’s warm, and you run your fingers through his hair while he fucks his cum inside of you. “Fuck. Baby, you’re so good to me, so good. Lettin’ me breed your cunt, and- and- oh. I’m still-“

He’s still cumming. It floods out of his cock and into your pussy steadily, and you giggle, feeling sated. Your delighted state of mind only lasts a second, because he pulls out sharply and wiggles down on the bed, attaching his mouth to your cunt. He’s eating his own cum out of you.

“Oh! Oh, Jisung, you’re- you’re dirty, Sungie, ah-“ You whine, fingers moving to his hair again. He licks you over and over until you’re wailing with it, your own tears brimming in your eyes from the overstimulation. Your hole feels stretched, a feeling you’re sure you could get used to, and you shake through a second orgasm.

Jisung’s quick to lean over you again, and then his thumb moves to your chin. He opens your mouth firmly, spitting your combined release into your mouth, and you moan, letting him press his tongue between your lips afterwards.

It’s messy and you let him kiss you for a bit, slow, languid, passionate kisses that have your core almost throbbing for more, if you weren’t so satisfied. Jisung’s soft cock presses against your tummy, wet with your combined arousal, and then he flops down next to you with a huff.

“God, I could go again,” He admits, hand running through his sweat mussed hair. When you turn to him, he’s grinning from ear to ear, and you giggle. He looks at you with a satisfied expression. “You’re the best. That was literally like, the best thing I’ve ever felt in my life. Even more than when I win some fight against an alien, or something.”

“Alien?” You ask, and then you remember. “Oh, yeah. Kinda forgot about that.”

“You forgot about me saving your life?!” He shrieks, thrashing around on the bed in a tantrum. “Seriously, if I wasn’t in love with you I would- ah. Oh.”

You blanch, blinking at him. It’s easy to ignore that you’re both naked when he’s just dropped a bombshell on you like that, and you let out a giggle. “That was sweet. I’m in love with you too, for the record.”

You’re attacked in a flurry of kisses, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re sure Han Jisung intrigues you just as much as his superhero alterego does, so it’s easy to accept.

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gatorbites-imagines · 5 months ago

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wait come back-

please expand on that one tasm!peter parker dirty secret hc and the injecting venom thing, I actually can't get it out of my head. peter and his spider thoughts and tendencies

Peter Parker (TASM) spider behavior

Headcanons

I had to look up different spider facts and look at so many pictures of spiders and now I feel icky. Ive always loved how they made Peter extra spidery in TASM and I miss it. I may have caught myself spending too much time on mating behavior…

Spiders don’t have ears and do a lot of their hearing through hair on their body. But we all know that Peter has ears, instead he just has heightened senses and is very sensitive to vibrations and physical touch.

I believe that he would be able to turn off parts of his sensitivity to be able to make it through the day, like an instinctive reaction to settle. But when he’s in a situation with high emotion or stress his senses heighten to assist in survival, or so his body thinks.

Peter doesn’t have actual fangs, but his canines are just a bit sharper than the average person. It’s nothing too extreme or enough to be weird, but it’s there. His teeth will also ache sometimes, and he will salivate when he sees food he likes, or you.

I said in the alphabet that he doesn’t produce venom or poison, but I could imagine his saliva could cause a mild tingle if his adrenaline or hormones are very high. If you find yourself in a situation where the spider mutation advances, he grows venom glands though.

One of spiders main ways to communicate is through pheromones, so Peter would be very sensitive to it. Like his hearing, I think it’s something he instinctively turns on and off without noticing. If he finds himself in a situation where he needs extra attention the ability flicks on.

it’s also almost always on when around his partner, since his instincts are saying “we need to keep an eye on our mate and make sure they are thriving”

Peter doesn’t have claws on the bottom side of his fingers like Miguel, but I do believe there would be some small unnoticeable ones if you looked at his fingers and feet under a microscope, like on actual spiders. It’s to assist him in climbing. But it also helps him in hanging on when you ride him too quickly or he’s feeling a little more feral in his rutting.

Peter doesn’t personally produce his webs unless the mutation advances, where he develops silk glands in his wrists. His abdomen is still a bit more sensitive than average, but it’s mainly spider instincts that’s telling him to protect his eggs, even if he doesn’t have any.

His abdomen also allows him to eat a lot of food and not feel too full, its kinda cute when he gets a little food bump when he just indulges himself. Peter always gets extremely embarrassed, but his speedy digestion means it’s not there for long.

Since he doesn’t normally produce venom, he salivates a lot when it comes to food or you. After the bite he gains an attraction to foods he can drink with a straw, so expect a lot of smoothies.

Did you know humans have stripes and patterns in our skin, we just can’t see them? Well, peter can, to a certain degree. It’s not that they’re right there in his face, but if he focuses hard enough and is in a situation where all his senses are turned on, they become more noticeable. He obviously thinks your pattern is the prettiest.

Peter will love to curl up on a web when he’s stressed or just needs to hang out and think. He doesn’t do it a lot because he thinks it’s embarrassing, but sometimes you’ll catch him hanging in a massive pretty web he’s spun on the ceiling. It freaked you out the first time.

He can also jump extreme distances and heights, but most people think that comes from his super strength. It does, to a degree, but it also comes from his whole spidery thing.

Peter is extremely flexible, sometimes you think hes bones are liquid in the ways he can bend and turn, it’s amazing in the bedroom though. It also means he can easily curl up in your lap in a small seat, no worries.

Peter also purrs, because I want him to so he will. It’s not anything loud and can sound a little weird sometimes, but you love it. think of that little almost popcorn noise newborn kittens make, that hasn’t fully become a purr yet. Peter only does it when hes really comfortable and without stress, so its rare, as hes always stressed.

Now we have come to his dirty secret. Did you know some spiders commit cannibalism? Especially the females after mating have a tendency to eat the male. This is why peter has had a thought once or twice to bite you and eat you. And that one fever dream, that felt like something out of an erotic gore movie.

Peter also likes to hunt. Its not something hes proud of, but theres a thrill in hunting down criminals (prey) and webbing them up (for later). He never does eat anybody obviously, but the thrum it puts in his blood is used elsewhere (with you).

If you ever offered to play prey/predator with him, Peter would act hesitant but you can see the interest in his eyes and the way he starts moving from foot to foot, and swallowing the spit gathering in his mouth.

If he tops or bottoms would also change his behavior in some ways, and how strong his instincts are in that moment.

When he tops, Peter would set a fast pace, his instincts telling him to breed his partner before hes eaten, since that’s what a good chunk of female spiders. He might even use his super strength or webs to restrain you, if you guys are into that.

When he bottoms, different results can happen. Did you know that some male spiders go limp and play dead when breeding, to avoid being killed and/or eaten by the female? The first time Peter went from moaning and groaning to just going limp scared the life out of you.

Turns out its just because he was really in tune with his spider side and the excitement and pleasure had made him black out for a moment. You guys make a deal that you will keep going if its clear its just one of these moments, since he wakes up a few moments after.

He can also become quite bitey and demanding when bottoming, depending on his mood. There are times where you just gotta lay back and let him ride you, his eyes clenched shut and drool running down his chin as he digs his canines into his lip. You’ll feel wrung out afterwards, but its great.

Peter has a thing for tying you up as well, or himself, if you guys can find something that will hold him when he uses his full strength. This is almost impossible, outside of maybe his own webs. You end up learning to use his web shooters.

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thewertsearch · 1 month ago

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DAVE: wait has the juggalo troll been giving you guys fits like this or something DAVE: like this is a thing DAVE: like a pattern KARKAT: NICE GUESS SHIT HEAD! DAVE: oh man one of you has got to sit me down and tell me what actually happened here it all just sounds fuckin amazing in sort of the stupidest way possible

Dave, it's so much worse than you think.

Enjoy the next three years, dude. You'd better get really fucking good at recognizing the faint honking of a distant clown.

KARKAT: YEAH, HE DOES THIS KARKAT: HE SORT OF COLLECTS BODIES AND DECAPITATES THEM AND STUFF KARKAT: STICKS THEM IN BIG SCIENCE JARS, FOR SOME REASON?? KANAYA: Im Pretty Sure He Kisses Them Too Sometimes

Sorry, let me get this straight. You were fully aware of this behavior, but you still tried to form a quadrant with him?

Like... Karkat. The whole universe is telling you that this guy's a little beyond the help of your average moirail. If you want to do something for Gamzee, it's going to need to be a group effort - and if I were a betting gal, I'd guess that the Seers will be the key to his recovery, particularly Terezi.

KARKAT: YOU KNOW HOW EVERY NOW AND THEN YOUR LUSUS WILL BRING SOME RANDOM ASS DEAD ANIMAL BACK TO YOUR HIVE FOR NO FUCKING REASON KARKAT: AND THEY DON'T EVER STOP DOING THAT NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU YELL KARKAT: IT'S LIKE THAT, YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN DAVE: not really DAVE: oh wait DAVE: against all odds i sorta do DAVE: mine actually did do that once

This revelation is not even slightly inconsistent with the established personality of Bro 'Bigger Dirk' Strider.

DAVE: when i was really young DAVE: he made this stupid leather bib for me out of a goddamn horse […] ROSE: Was that the one you mentioned had a pink heart on it? DAVE: yeah […] ROSE: It's just that with the clarity afforded by my new abilities, it occurred to me just now that dead horse was likely the beautiful pet pony my mother gave me recently.

...alright, I don't have a clue how knowing about Maplehoof's death applies to Rose's Path to Victory ability. How does this help her achieve anyone's personal goal?

Maybe Rose obtained multiple Seer abilities upon ascension. After all, God Tier John has a bunch of Breath powers, so there's no reason why Rose should be restricted to one single Light ability, powerful as it is. Maybe this 'clarity' is another facet of Light, then, allowing Rose to see the connections between disparate pieces of information, and tie it all together, like a web of string on a Pepe Silvia evidence board.

DAVE: well shit DAVE: thats a hell of a mystery no one thought was a mystery and didnt even really need solving DAVE: but damn if it didnt just get solved so nice work

...holy shit.

Holy shit, this is the line!

Anyone who's used Tumblr in the last ten years has seen The Line - probably dozens of times, in dozens of different contexts. It's part of Tumblr's vernacular - and, up until this moment, it had completely slipped my mind that it was a Homestuck line.

Forget about Cascade, Act 6, or the comic's official halfway point. This is my greatest milestone as a Homestuck reader: learning that The Line is (and always was) about skinning a time-travelling pony.

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 6 #s204 #4357 #gee rose. how come your author lets you have *two* iconic thinker abilities?

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reidsplain-to-me · 3 months ago

Text

a light in the dark

summary: Sometimes, the darkness of a case follows Spencer home. This time, he looks to you for help banishing it.

pairing: spencer reid x reader

genre: hurt/comfort

wc: 3.7k

cw: off screen child death, mentions of gun violence, vague case details, spencer crying, the weight of the job

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You never sleep well when Spencer’s away on a case. This thing between you is too new for you to be settled into the anxiety of knowing he’s out there in the field, miles away from where you can reach.

You’ll get used to it. You can tell by the way the knot of anxiety has shrunk in your throat, noticeable even after only three months of the ever-changing routine. But for now, you sleep lightly, as if keeping one foot in consciousness might help ensure his safe return to you.

It must be that lightness that lets you sit up in bed, phone pressed to your ear before the second ring has finished sounding in the silence of your bedroom.

“Spence? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” It comes out in a breathless rush, the words tripping over themselves on the way out. Your heart beats loud and frantic in your chest and your hand shakes on its way to flick on the lamp nestled on your night stand.

“No, no, I’m okay. Sorry, I know it’s late.” The cadence of Spencer’s voice over the static convinces your heart to soften its gallop. A relieved sigh slips past your lips before concern starts to creep in once more.

You pull your phone away just long enough for the screen to flash up at you. He’s right, it is late. Or, early rather.

It isn’t unusual for Spencer to operate in a different time zone when he’s away. It’s even less unusual for him to lose track of any semblance of time when he’s trapped in the spiral of crime scene photos and searches for a pattern. Only, Spencer is considerate to a fault. His mind moves fast, always four moves ahead, and nine times out of ten, he’s already considered where you are, what you’re doing, what he might interrupt, before he calls.

You shake your head, adamant despite him being miles away from seeing it. “You can always call me, you know that. I don’t care what time it is, Spence.”

There’s a beat of quiet down the line, a moment where all you can do is drink in the sound of his breathing. Then, ever so softly, you ask, “Are you okay?”

His draw of breath is an audible thing. One that shakes. One that forces him to clear his throat before he risks speaking again. “There was a break in the case. We just touched down a few minutes ago.”

“You’re home?” The relief of it is almost enough to overpower the sense that something’s wrong. Almost.

“Do you think… Would it be okay if I stopped by? I was going to wait until the morning to try to see you, but I—”

The words are weighted, bogged down with a layer of water you’ve never heard from him before. It’s enough to crack your heart. “Spencer, baby, stop. Of course you can come over. You can always come here. Always.”

Another sniffle of air, another crack spider-webbing through your chest. “I won’t stay too long. I’ll be quick.”

“You can stay as long as you want. Stay the night, if you want. I have the whole weekend free.”

“Yeah?” His voice sounds so small. It’s frayed at the edges and bubbling with so much vulnerability that you forget for a moment, in the way you often do when it’s just you and Spencer, that this is a man that has faced down the embodiment of evil and walked away more times than you care to consider. You forget all the qualifications and hours spent in a shooting range. You forget all the lives he’s saved, and the ones he’s taken.

Right now, the only thing he is is yours—yours to comfort, yours to protect in whatever infinitesimal way you can.

“Yeah,” you assure once more. “Come over. I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you echo, and the rest of it is right there. The rest of it would be so easy to let loose. A careful string of eight syllables neither of you have put into words quite yet. But that isn’t what Spencer needs right now. “Be safe. I’ll see you soon.”

Your body moves on autopilot the minute the call closes out. You peel yourself out of bed, not bothering to straighten out the layers of soft blankets and warm sheets. Your bare feet find their way into your slippers. They pause only long enough to slip into the cavern of pink fluff before they’re shuffling forward.

You make your way through your apartment, flicking on lights as you go, making a detour to unlock the door before circling back to the kitchen. Still, you barely register any of it.

Your mind is too caught up in the tornado of concern your thoughts keep circling around. You’re no stranger to the “What If” game. You’ve heard too many stories, read too many tales not to catastrophize. Spencer could be hurt, or had to watch as a member of his team, his family, got hurt. The unsub could’ve gotten away, and killed an agent, or two, or three, on their way out.

“Stop it.” The words to yourself, spoken in the stillness of your kitchen, aren’t harsh. They’re simply a reminder, a tether back to shore. Because this won’t help Spencer. This isn’t what Spencer needs. And he’s trusting you to be what he needs tonight. It’s not a responsibility you intend on taking lightly.

The long drag of air you take in is cool, grounding in its crispness. You square your shoulders and throw your hair up into a bun before setting to work. And it comes more easily after that, quieting your mind in favor of ensuring this place Spencer has chosen as his safe haven provides everything he needs.

You light a candle, the one with the subtle notes of parchment and tobacco that Spencer liked enough to buy a matching jar for his own apartment, while you wait for a pot of water to boil. You toss in some noodles and double back towards your bedroom while they cook.

Spencer has a drawer in your dresser. It wasn’t really something that was discussed or decided. More something that just happened—another piece of the puzzle slotting into place. The same way that a tin of Spencer’s favorite tea has become a permanent fixture in your cabinet. The same way a bottle of your shampoo has set up constant residence on the shelf in his shower.

Your hands make quick work of pulling out a pair of worn flannel pajama pants and Spencer’s favorite long sleeve Caltech t-shirt. You set the pile neatly at the edge of the bed, easy for him to find.

The rest comes together quickly—the filling of the kettle and switch on the burner, the drain of pasta water and stir in of sauce. You’re pulling out Spencer’s favorite of your mugs—the one spattered with constellations against a mosaic of dark blues and purples—when you hear the front door open.

When you find Spencer, he’s toeing off his Converse in the entryway, letting his satchel fall onto the floor beside them. It takes a second for his eyes to find you—another telltale sign of something being off. Even from the first time you met, both hands reaching for the same sugar-ladden coffee passed across the counter by a barista, there’s been a careful sense of attunement in each move Spencer makes.

It’s unsettling, seeing him stripped bare of something you’ve come to understand as an intrinsic cornerstone of the way he interacts with the world. That unease only gains weight in your chest the longer you catalogue the view of Spencer in front of you. There’s tension singing in every line of his body, a rigidity where his shoulders would normally slump. He looks pale, more pale than you’ve ever seen him. And his eyes… God, his eyes. The soft, whisky hue has muddled down to something darker, made darker still by the purple shadows streaked underneath.

He looks like he hasn’t slept in days. And it breaks your resolve entirely.

“Oh, Spence,” you mutter in a barely-there hush, already moving to step in close.

Relief paints itself over his features the second your voice pulls him out of his thoughts. He tries for a smile, but it won’t meet his eyes. You don’t hold it against him. You only step across the final few feet separating you and wind your arms around his neck.

He’s around you in an instant, tall frame folding down to duck his face into the crook of your neck. His own arms band around your waist, pulling you in impossibly close.

It’s not all that different than how he normally holds you. But it’s tighter, more desperate than you’re used to. He still pulls in a deep breath of your perfume, the way you’ve come to expect. Only this time, you can hear the way it wavers, shaking and unsteady.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re home. I’m right here.”

He nods into your skin, arms tightening just a fraction more. He doesn’t pull away. Neither do you. You let him hold you, and you let your hand fall to card through his disheveled mop of curls. You let your nails skate against his scalp in feather-light circles. And you wait.

It’s long minutes before Spencer speaks, and even then, it’s quiet. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” You match his volume, nearly whispering, like you’re children trading secrets under the blanket long after you should’ve been asleep. “I’m getting more used to it, you being away. But I feel like I can finally catch my breath once you’re back.”

He lifts his head and loosens his grip. Still, he doesn’t let you go too far. He pulls back just enough to press a soft kiss to your forehead and murmur against your skin, “I know the feeling.”

Your hands fall to his tie, already set askew where it peaks above his sweater vest. Your fingers move on instinct. They fiddle with the silken material until it’s loose enough to reveal the button at his throat. You slip it through its hole and christen the skin underneath with a quick kiss.

“Have you eaten?” You already know he hasn’t, but you ask it anyway.

Your voice carries the same tone it always does; it’s something light-hearted and eager, tinged with adoration at the edges. It’s an intentional choice not to let the concern seep through to taint the words, an effort to keep it corralled. You do it anyway.

He’s not ready to talk about it, whatever ‘it’ is. Not yet anyway. There’s a reason he’s here, standing in your apartment and not in the comfort of his own, You haven’t had enough time to learn everything that has made Spencer into the man he is today. But you know enough. You know just how much of his life he’s spent alone, and you know that now, he craves company in equal measure as he needs the solitude he's grown so accustomed to. You know how much he revels in the idea of belonging to something normal.

And so, you’ll be that. An oasis of perfect, ordinary normalcy for him to shelter in, regardless of what he faced in the field.

“No, not in a while,” Spencer admits.

You tangle your fingers into his and pull him gently. He follows without question, only squeezing softly while you lead him into the kitchen.

“I had a craving for pasta. Want some?” It’s not exactly the truth. Shockingly, you don’t have much of an appetite at three a.m.. But you know Spencer, and you know the best chance of getting something into his stomach is making yourself a bowl too.

You don’t give him a chance to answer before you pull two bowls down and start spooning out noodles. Over your shoulder, you can see Spencer settling down into one of the chairs at the island. Except, he doesn’t start talking the way you’ve grown accustomed to once he finds his way home.

He doesn’t tell you everything after a case. Even if confidentiality and ethics didn’t play a part, there are moments from each case that you know Spencer has no interest in revisiting. Still, there are pieces he always recounts with you—the most compelling tiles that construct the mosaic. The way they look disjointed until they come together into one clear picture.

Tonight, he doesn’t say anything.

So, instead, you talk for him. You fill the quietness of the room with soft anecdotes about your 9 to 5. You fill him in on the senseless drama floating around the office and the fires you’ve had to put out while he’s been away. You slide into the chair next to him, close enough for your knees to brush, and you tell him about the novel you’ve started reading in between bites.

All of it is entirely foolish in the grand scheme of what you know he must’ve been doing the past few days. But Spencer doesn’t act like it’s silly. He doesn’t treat it like it’s any less riveting than the literature he pores so attentively over. He watches you while you speak and nods to let you know he’s listening. He asks you questions like he’s invested, and the best part of it is that you know he actually is. And fraction by fraction, you watch the way your words start to anchor him back to himself.

He doesn’t eat much at the start. But the longer you talk, the more small smiles you manage to tug across his lips with your dramatic flair, the easier it seems to come. He starts to feel just a little bit less further away, and by the time you make it into bed, you think he might finally be close enough to let you inside.

You leave the string lights draped above your bed flicked on to break through the darkness of the room, and under their gentle glow, you map out the panes of Spencer’s face. The pad of your thumb skates down the ridge of his nose, charters the gentle valley of the divot above his lip, memorizes the arc of his brow and subtle rise of his cheekbone.

His lashes, long and dark, cast a ray of shadow down when his eyes flutter shut. And he’s beautiful like this. Heartsick and haunted under the surface, but still so beautiful in the dim glow and wrapped in your sheets. He turns into your palm, consecrates the skin there with a kiss, and then he’s looking at you.

Even in the darkness, his eyes look glassy. Tired and red. But under that, there’s a layer of surrender. And then, ever so softly he says, “I couldn’t save her.”

It’s heavy. So, so heavy in the air. There’s no denying the waver in it, the tinge of pain that creeps in to vignette the edges. Your throat burns in answer, but you swallow down the tightness. You don’t let your fingers stop their gentle motion. You carry on the brush of messy hair away from his forehead.

“It’s not your fault, Spence.” You keep your voice quiet, but there’s conviction lacing the words. Enough that there’s no room left to argue or doubt. “You did everything you could.”

“I know,” his voice wobbles, the way it does when he’s fighting off tears, “I know we can’t save everyone. I just… I really thought I could talk him down.”

You’ve never seen him in the field, but you can picture it. Spencer with his quiet intensity and million mile an hour words. A faceless man beyond reason. The thunder crack of a gunshot. The thud of a body falling to the floor.

“Her birthday would’ve been next week. She would’ve been seven.”

And there, you can see that, too. The way each line of the file, each detail of what made this girl who she was, will be tattooed into the warren of his mind. The lone curse of his brilliance—an inability to forget.

There’s a quiet sniff, and then the dam breaks. The words pour out, along with the tears finally trailing down his cheeks. “She won’t get a chance to decide who she wants to be in the world, or travel to somewhere new. She won’t get to go to college, or get a job. She’ll never fall in love.”

It’s the last one that breaks you, tears of your own slipping from the corners of your eyes. You pull him closer in. You wrap an arm around his shaking shoulders and pull his face back into the sanctuary of your shoulder, and you hold him.

He comes apart slowly at first, with silent tears and shaky breaths. But then, his hands fist in the soft cotton of your shirt and he clutches on to you while his body heaves broken sobs. They rack his shoulders in juddering shakes and drench your skin with salt. Tears of your own fall to join the mix.

You hold on to one another, and you cry. You cry for the girl that was stripped of her chance to become someone, and the family that’s left to mourn her. You cry for the string of girls that came before her, and the ones that will suffer the same fate at different hands sometime, somewhere else in the world. You cry for Spencer, and the way you know that he will always feel there’s something he could’ve done differently, and the way he’ll never really forget.

Still, through your blurry eyes and iron coil throat, a mumbled litany falls from your lips. You murmur to him, hushed but firm, that you’re sorry. That it wasn’t his fault. That the world is awful, and cruel, and unfair, but he is good. That he makes it better every day he exists in it.

It takes a long time for Spencer’s cries to calm enough for your words to sink in, but eventually they do. You watch the way he melts into them and the way your voice brings him back into his body once more. His eyes stay glassy and red, but the moisture in them dries.

His mop of curls, frizzed from the relentless paths your fingers have forged, finds its way to his own pillow. But he doesn’t pull his hands from the tangle of your clothes, and his eyes never stray from yours.

“Do you remember when I told you about Gideon?” His voice sounds scratched raw, even in the whisper he gives you.

You skate the back of your hand up and down the column of his throat like you might be able to soothe the chafe left behind even through the skin. “The mentor that recruited you from the academy, right?”

You don’t say the last part, “The one that left.” You don’t need to. You already know that’s where Spencer’s mind has gone.

“I never used to understand how he could walk away.”

You study him for a long beat, the exhaustion weighing him down, the toll of the job that sometimes lingers no matter what he does to banish it. “And now?”

Spencer draws in a deep breath. He shakes his head, not bothering to lift it from the pillow. “Now, sometimes, it’s all I think about.”

You nod your head in answer. Your fingers push a strand of hair away from his eyes. “Do you want to know what I think?”

One of his hands finally falls from its grip. Instead, it finds yours. His palm, broad and warm and steady, slots into place against yours. “Please.”

“I think after everything you see, all the evil you watch unfold, I would worry if you didn’t think about leaving sometimes.”

A great breath falls from his lips, and with it his shoulders deflate. In relief, you realize with a start.

You aren’t a profiler, not even close to it. But you can see Spencer with crystalline clarity in this moment, under the sheen of amber light and the weight of the tears shed. “You look into the face of the worst that humanity has to offer everyday, Spence. No one expects you to be unaffected. It doesn’t make you weak, or a bad agent. It just makes you human.”

Spencer’s eyes drop down to where your fingers tangle together. This thumb casts slow arcs across the back of your hand, and then he gives a gentle squeeze.

“How do you do this?” His eyes cut to yours. There’s still ghosts swimming around the tawny irises, but there’s a softness there, too. “How do you make even the worst days feel manageable?”

Your shoulder pulls up in a shrug. “I guess the same way you do for me. By being here.”

You’ve watched the way Spencer’s face transforms when he’s searching for answers. You’ve seen the look of consternation that furrows his brow and tilts the corners of his mouth down into the most minuscule of frowns. You’ve studied the way his eyes chart every detail he can find. He looks at you that way now, like somewhere in the tangle of your pillow-mussed hair or in the sleep-weary sheen of your eyes a new secret of the universe is carved.

You let him look, only giving a small smile in answer until he whispers, “How did I survive this long without you?”

Your breath stumbles in your throat, catching on its way down. There it is again, those three little words dancing at the tip of your tongue. But you can see the way exhaustion is finally starting to pull him under. He’s been through too much today, and those three little words will be no less true tomorrow, or the day after.

“I catch myself thinking the same thing about you everyday,” you admit with a sheepish smile. “But I don’t think it matters much anymore. We have each other now.”

“Yeah,” Spencer smiles, still quieter than normal, but still there, “We have each other now.”

It’s more than words spoken in a quiet room, or some salve to soothe the ache of the day. It’s an oath and a prayer curled into one. And when Spencer’s eyes finally fall shut beside you, breathing evening out to something steady, you know you’ll spend each day for the rest of your life making good on it.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fic #hurt/comfort

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sramoonlight · 3 months ago

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What if the batfam had their own spidey?

Content you’ll see here: Batfam, neutral!reader, subtle crossover, weird romcom.

English it’s not my first language so please be patient

An hour already passed and you’re sitting on the roof, your head in your hand as you looked at the building bored, you hear how Conner taps something on his phone probably used to wait

But let’s be realistic, usually you don’t wait for something to happen, your intuition tells you to go somewhere and magically it happens

— So, how did you become this? —he asked moved closer to him, now your shoulder against yours

You sighed, fixing your posture to look at him

— I was biten by a radioactive spider, existential crisis, “a great power comes with a great responsibility” blah, blah, my origins are just like everyone else, you’ll get bored about it — but that didn’t stop you from laying more closer to him

Probably is the cold, or probably is your mind clinging in every sensation you feel, even so, you found yourself tapping your thigh to pass time faster

Conner analyze your words, there’s nothing he should ask not when is that specific.

— Well, I can’t get bored of hearing your voice — He chuckled taking you hand to place it on his thigh

A bold move actually, you saw him tracing the web patterns on your fingers, until his finger found the lump on the palm

He hummed, touching the seams like they were about to fall apart

— You’re a Wayne but you don’t look like one — He said more for himself, of course your suit looks kinda cheap

But you won’t change it for anything, I mean, this is the first one you ever had and the one with the most love you can give to a nonliving thing

Speaking of cheap, you look at his hands just covered by gloves without fingers, you moved to be closer to his face

— You do express your style, don’t you? — You asked, looking at him through the mask

He chuckled understanding your words, he knows that his choice of clothes isn’t something he could act normal about it but it’s the way he does the things

Kinda look naked without his jacket, but you look even more beautiful than him with it

— Could you imagine me with just a plain black t-shirt and jeans? — he forced a shiver across his back

Your giggles where enough to make him smile, now you don’t have that dark aura around you and it suits you better than being sad

He could grow used to see you being happy

— Anyways, don’t you ever thought about putting some things to you suit? I mean, the original suit kinda slay but you could make something yours —

You looked at the building, thinking about it you don’t have anything that could stand you out of the usually vigilantes, I mean, of course the spider suit makes you stand out but there’s a lot of things you could use

Is there a version of you who uses a hood? You bite your cheek looking at Conner, he uses primary colors and that seems like is his thing

Should you change your colors?

— Probably — You mumbled, the colors you chose were the ones your mother liked but red and blue just makes it hard for you to hide on the shadows

What about purple?

You thought for yourself before your eyes catches something, instantly you moved away from Conner going to the edge, you heard him how he complained about not being close anymore.

It does not matter anymore!

— That’s Dr. Octavia! — You pointed turning to see Conner who moved quickly at your side, a woman with curly hair left a car exchanging a hand shake with some of Lex Luthor’s man

You thought about everything, you’re sure you just put her on jail two months ago! This can’t be, how could she be out so soon?

— I thought she was in jail — Conner whispered just as confused as you, of course, seeing a great woman like her isn’t something you can just put aside

Quickly you pressed the comm on your ear praying for it to work at this distance

— Tim? Tim! Dr. Octavia is out! — you spoke as fast as you could feeling your hands trembled

You know Kingpin and Octavia worked together before and it won’t be a surprise if they do it again, but now that she’s at Metropolis you can only think she’s going to convince Lex Luthor

— Fuck, fuck, I can’t let this happen —

— Excuse me? —

Before you could answer to Conner you shot your web to the building climbing to the next window you could see, Conner shouted your name but you don’t care

This is bad, this is so bad and if you let this happen you won’t see a way to resolve the problem.

Moving stealthy through the halls you peeked to see where they just went, Octavia is moving to a meeting room and you saw the briefcase on her hands, that probably is what is going to convince Lex to help

— Sweetheart you really need to work on communication — You didn’t notice when Conner appears on your side

You looked everywhere to find a way to avoid this, ventilation, a secretary briefcase that looks exactly like Octavia’s, that’s it

— I need you to create a distraction — You shot a web to bring the briefcase, post-its and a marker, quickly you wrote something before sticking it inside.

Another web shot, it now sticking to your chest as you climbed to the roof

— Woah?! You can do that? No, okay! I’ll put the lights out, you’ll have 15 seconds before the generator goes on —

Just enough time to do what you wanted, you waved at him before drag your self through the ventilations, quickly as you could you tried to find the way at the room

Swoosh

The lights are out and you had to move quicker

15, 14, 13

You found the place, everyone there is freaking out as you look Octavia protecting the briefcase, she knows better than anyone to not let anything without a proper care

Think! Think!

12, 11, 10

You shot a web to open the door, you made it just perfect so you could open the ventilation without bringing their attention

9, 8, 7

— A web? — Octavia asked moving to hold the web

— Got ya — Quickly you exchanged the briefcases but the web is stuck on the ventilation, fuck fuck, you can’t let them know you changed the briefcases

What?

6, 5, 4

— Hey, are you okay? — Conner made it to the room with his glasses on, no one thought about avoiding him to enter

Instead, he moved across the room and quickly he wiped the web out of the briefcase, Octavia moved her hand ready to stop him but she couldn’t

— Superboy, please don’t touch that —

— Why? Is it something important? — he teased moving to see her eyes closer

Your heart is beating as fast as it could and you had to move away from the room crawling through the vents.

That was close, it is a nice thing that Conner is known in the building or you’ll be dead by now, speaking of that

The lights got on as you climbed out of the building, the briefcase is safe in your arms and you had to shot a web to move to the other roof where you left yourself breath normally.

— That was close… — you mumbled taking off the mask, for a moment it felt impossible to breath with it on

You moved to tap the comm on you ear, you want to open the suitcase but you need to inform Tim first

— I.. I got whatever Octavia brought, I’ll bring it to Gotham —

— Got it, please take care — Finally he responds, you looked at the briefcase

There’s a code lock that you need to find a way to open, shit, puzzles aren’t your thing and still you have to make your way to work it out

— They almost got you, don’t you think? — Conner made his way back at the roof where he moved to see what you got there

Like he didn’t notice that you don’t have your mask on, whatever you showed it to him and he held it close to his face

— I can break the lock — Before he could do something you moved to stop him grabbing the briefcase from his hands

— Wait! This probably would destroy itself if you use force, I know Dr. Octavia’s business —

Better than anything, you remember how many times something from her exploded in your face just because you thought about opening it just like that

And you can’t let it happen again, not when it’s not only your city in danger

You were ready for a question, but Conner kept looking at your face

— What? — probably he’s thinking about your choice of words

But instead he plays with the belts on his hips

— You kinda look like Tim, but better y’know?— you made a confused groan before moving to bring a lock of hair to your eyes

Probably it is similar to Tim’s, but you don’t understand why does it make you so happy

Whatever, you bring the briefcase close to your chest as you sighed, your body is starting to feel tired and you have to rest in the next two hours or you won’t be feeling good for tomorrow.

— Can we go home? — You whispered before taking your mask, you’re ready to put it on before Conner stops you

Mid way, your mouth is only showing now

— Keep it like this, you look better without it— you raised an eyebrow

He took off your mask now showing him your full face, you had to tilt your head to show him how confuse you are

— You even make your expressions without the mask — he chuckled amused by your face

And that only makes your cheeks red, do you? You know you do funny faces but enough for it to match your mask?

That is something else.

You opened your mouth ready to fight back but he holds you in his arms using his own body to hide yourself

— Let’s get going — He ruffled your hair before starting to flow, you had to hug hum by the neck like a scared cat.

Was it necessary to be in bridal style?

Once you arrived at the manor you’re yawning as Tim puts a cup of coffee on the table, he sits down in front of you.

The jacket Conner gave you is zipped all the way up to hide your suit, at the same time you’re wearing sweatpants probably the first one Tim saw before you arrived, it would be a shame if the family saw you on uniform.

You’re looking at the briefcase, and next to it there’s a notebook with so many number that just makes your head hurt, the only thing you know is that Tim took it and he has been trying to open it with all he could

You think you just saw him but Monster on his coffee.

— I tried 1056 possible codes, how could no one worked? — he ruffled his hair very tired of not being able to do it

You don’t look surprise, you know Octavia isn’t someone you can easily read

— What about if it’s 1234? — Superboy suggests and you look at him like he just said the biggest stupidity in the world

But he moves to try the code

You want to cry when it works, not like Tim who shouted as loud as he could

That was possible, Octavia is known for doing things that no one would guess and only a person with her level of knowledge can guess it, but what Conner did? It only took him 2 minutes to find it out

You feel like the dumbest person.

— Okay, okay, let’s see what we got here — Tim opened the briefcase

There’s a lot of papers that he held to read, probably what Octavia was supposed to give to Lex Luthor

So many to read, the letters doesn’t look like nothing you can comprehend, god damn the doctors and their lack of knowledge in calligraphy, surprising, Tim can read them

You blinked seeing something in a small glass, you opened the jar, is that a hole? How can you capsule a hole in a jar?

— Bug, don’t touch it —

Too late, you made your way to take it off of the jar and everything went blank.

Three times where the times you blinked, your eyes grow used to the light and you could see how there was no light

You can’t tell if it’s Gotham because it’s too dark or if it’s New York, you moved to the next window and by the way the snow is covering the streets, you can guess is New York but then you realized, this place doesn’t look good

You turned to see whatever is going on, but this is place is so empty

— Hello? — You asked but no one answered, a smell of iron filled your nose making you feel desperate

That’s not.. that’s not you

You walked around the building, this place looks like it just exploded, you had to walk for a while until you found a way to a room, wait? Is that your mother’s voice?

You ran, almost tripping with your own feet and there she is, a piece of ceiling is not letting her move now you realized, it wasn’t snow, it was the Alchemax way to stop a fire

That doesn’t matter! You moved to help your mother who looked at you with a horrified face

— No! You’re not supposed to be here! — she shouted pushing you away, you feel how the brick cut the glove of your suit — Mom, just let me help you —

The tears are making your eyes hurt, you desperately try to move her out of there but she pushed you once again not letting you help her by any chance

— Put on your mask! Don’t let them see you! — the desperation in your mother’s voice only makes your whole body tremble, what’s going on? You’re just trying to help her get out of it

You need to get her out of it, if not she’ll be dead

She can’t die, not in front of you, you don’t care if this is just an illusion or a dream, she can’t die!

— Mom! Please — your voice doesn’t sound yours anymore, not when a pair of arms held you pushing you away from the room — No! Get off me! Mom! — You shouted trying to let go

You turned to see this man, ready to punch his face but you don’t know him, still he wears a blue spider suit that makes you want to throw up

— Go home, kid — his voices sounds too raspy like he is holding back something you can’t understand

And finally, your body gives up as you felt it coming back to life

— (Reader)! (Reader)! — Tim is shaking you by your shoulders.

Conner is looking scared, not because you just went out for minutes but because he was closing the jar without touching the hole inside

Whatever made you cry even in that state, isn’t something to joke about

— That… that shit is cruel as hell — you wipe out the tears with your sleeves, weirdly, you felt how the tears make it into your suit

When did you break it? No, that’s not the real question, how did it broke even here?

Tim rubs your back trying to make it better, but you can only replay what just happened, your mother was there and you couldn’t even do anything about it

It was cruel, but that makes you notice why Kingpin wants it so bad

— This thing.. sends you to the time your heart yearns to see, I- I didn’t even ask to see my mother’s last moments but it sent me there — You explained, pulling your fist closer to your heart

The seam you always found confort on it is gone, your heart feels so empty.

There’s been two years since that moment you’re back at school, well, not at school you actually decided to walk home just to clear your thoughts

Let’s think about this, you saw your mother last moment’s and someone just pulled you out of it, there was something at the scene? You don’t think so, it feels like he was there just because you were there, someone who saved you from seeing the light leaving your mother’s eyes

She was so scared, but not about dying, about you being there and the way your glove ripped makes you realize that it wasn’t a dream

You were there, you made your mother’s last name horribly for her

You still feel bad for it, but you can’t blame yourself about it, you just want to cry.

But the show must go on, you still have to live as a person even if you don’t want to, and being Spidey is out of the game until you fix the hole on the glove

You sighed, not wanting to do this anymore is killing you, you’re too tired to even think about being yourself

— Hey, are you (Reader) (Last name)? — You turned to see a man, one with locks and a style very similar to Conner’s

You raised an eyebrow, if he was a journalist he wouldn’t call you by your mother’s last name so he knows you from somewhere else

— The blue guy sent me — he knows? Your hands shake as you tried to keep your calm, but you can’t just act like nothing

You need answers

— Yeah, that’s me, what do you need? —

— Let’s go for a walk, shall we? — This man is too calm and it pisses you off.

So let’s organize this, this man just told you that you’re not the only one but like, he’s a spider too

And apparently he’s from another universe where everything is different, what weird thing but you don’t have any chance to not believe in him.

Anyways! Now you’re putting your suit in, quickly as you could because Hobie (what is supposed to be his name) told you that he needs to take you somewhere, a place where you need to be in your suit

You took your mask out of your backpack and once you put it on you saw something laying on the bottom, Conner’s jacket, should you? Fuck it, quickly you put it on fixing it to for you just fine.

Once you’re ready you shot a web to your backpack attaching it to a near tube

— Please, please don’t get robbed — you prayed like it could hear you, the thing is, Hobie chuckled at your words — Geez little prince, you need to work on that trust issues —

You sighed trying to be ready for this but you can’t seem to be ready, you just can’t understand why this is happening to you

But he walked at you rubbing your shoulder in a way to calm your heart, after a seconds he tapped his watch and a portal appears in front of you

— Let’s get going — you just wish that you could trust him enough to be lead into an unknown place

Whatever, you walked through it now standing in a building huge as the whole universe, you look around it very excited before Hobie started walking again so you had to follow him.

The way back there was silent as you looked around, it was amazing until your eyes found something

You kept looking at Hobie’s shoes

— What’s up little prince? — He asked, his hands on his pockets as he looked at you

You cleared your throat, not knowing how to ask it

— I had a friend back at New York who is punk too so uhm, does your shoe ties mean..? — you were scared of asking but he didn’t look like me minded

— Yup, it is what you think —

A shiver goes through your back and you tried to ignore it, but now you can’t think nothing out of it.

Now that you need to find a new thing to think, you see how everybody at this place has their own spider suit, feels weird to be matching Hobie with the colors

Your hands are sweating before you get into a room, Hobie sighed

— Hey Mig, I have what you wanted — you made a confused hum before looking at the person in the top

The man you saw just a few days ago, he was seeing something on his computer before he turns to face you and you felt incredible small

He approached, how can a man be this big? You had to look up

— Hey uhm, my name is (Reader) — you tried to make a conversation but instead he extended his hand to you

It felt.. kind, you took it as he moved pulling you into the platform he was just in, instinctively you shot a web to keep balance

— We met before, and I know what you’re being through but I need you to focus — that has you spinning

An hologram shows your mother, the exact moment you saw just days ago

But in there you’re not wearing what you were wearing, you’re with your completely spidey suit even mask on as you hug your mother’s body

— That’s how it was supposed to happen, but instead we had that moment — He explained with a patient that doesn’t look normal on him

Is he being kind because of the situation? You feel like he’s used to being with people of your age

— So you mean, the timeline changed? — You shot whatever came into your mind receiving a hum as a response

— You weren’t meant to leave New York, you had to see what the accident did but.. that changed — that makes you wonder even more things but you can’t have an answer

Until you hear foot steps, you turn to see a group of people who where talking to each other, the man groaned annoyed

— Miguel! Are we doing it? Oh god, you didn’t let us prepare — a man with a pink coat fixes his looks

That… didn’t help much, but you appreciate the gesture

— The thing is, it was suppose to happen an accident on Alchemax but not the one is happening now — he tried to ignore the other people making you see the holograms again

The replay of the accident happening is sending you a shiver through your back, it doesn’t feel good at all

— But why? —

— Well, someone messed with the multiverse — he almost yelled that part looking at one of the people, specifically the boy with a black suit

— I said I was sorry! —

But before you could center your attention there, the man shuts the hologram now looking at you

— your universe adapted to this changes so now you have this problem about different cities —

You think about everything, the information now spinning in your head as you tried to find an answer that could make this easy and not just lots of information that would confuse you

— I.. wasn’t meant to meet my father? — You finally asked, and the man moved to see the ceiling

That was your answer.

The platform takes you down again and you’re looking at the floor, it feels to much, you were supposed to see your mother die and you won’t be able to meet your family, you wouldn’t meet Tim and your father wouldn’t hold your hand when you feel now

It feels wrong, heartbreaking

— But we’ll help you — Hobie hugged you by your shoulders holding you close as a way to stop your like to wonder — What? — You couldn’t look more confuse

— That is an anomaly, the spider society deals with them, so we’ll take your case — oh, so that’s what he meant, you mumbled a quiet thank you to the man in the pink coat

Uh… now that you see closely, is that a child?

Doesn’t matter, the thing that keeps making you wonder is the way they said it

— That means.. I won’t do anything? — You pray for the answer to be no

— No, you still need to do your spidey thing, but we’ll help you — The man said to you walking to face you

He sighed before tilting his head to see you better, for a man this talk he’s sure making an effort for his neck

— Okay, I can do it, what comes first uh.. —

— Miguel —

— Mr. Miguel! — you smiled at him

— So that means the team is getting bigger! — You chuckled extending your hand in front of Miguel

He looked at you before extending his, you jumped to high give him before turning to see the other spidey people

— Hi! I’m (reader) (last name) Wayne! It’s so nice to meet you all —

The hours passed and you were getting to know everyone, there’s a lot of things that you don’t understand like the canon events and stuff but you want to think if you don’t understand it it’s because you’re not mean to do it

But now it’s time to go home, you said goodbye to everyone even Miguel who only looked at you

— Oh by the way, we can’t control the portals in your universe —

— What? —

— Goodbye little prince — Hobie pushed you through the portal and in seconds you were falling

Falling?! Oh god! The portal opened in the middle of the hair, quickly you looked for your mask putting it on badly but enough to cover your identity

Shoot! You shot your web but because you were in the middle of the city there was nothing you could use to swing

— Fuck, fuck, fuck! Conner! — you closed your eyes ready to feel the pain

But you didn’t feel anything, instead of feeling a heavy pain in your bones you could feel you laying on something hard

— Itsy Bitsy, it isn’t raining for you to fall — you opened your eyes looking how Conner was holding you tightly — And I see you kept my jacket, is it comfy? —

— Kon! Get them down! — Tim shouted using his hand like a megaphone, it didn’t work much but you were able to hear them

Conner sighed floating down where Tim approached to help you get down

— What were you thinking? No, wait, how did you get up there? — he looked so confused

Almost like your mother when you did your first leap of faith, the face she made when she saw you fall from the Empire State was something you laughed for days

— Oh! I have good news! —

This is going to take a while…

Anyways! Back to the manor

…

You just finished explaining all the new information you got to your trio who listened in silence

They don’t seem like they’re buying what you’re saying, Tim sighed

— So you’re saying there’s more spidey people who are saying that we weren’t supposed to meat — he only cared about that last part, of course it sounds bad

You pulled out of your closet a t-shirt putting it on top of your suit, it was weird how you managed to change without taking it off but yeah, spidey privileges

— Can I enter now? —

— No! —

Speaking of that, Tim made Conner go out of the room even if you said that it was okay, I mean he didn’t like the idea of you getting dressed in front of a male

And he counts him too covering his eyes if maybe he opens them in a bad timing

— The important thing is, we’ll get help from them — you said looking at Tim who looked serious

Ah, right, he only works with Batman so having to work with people he doesn’t know must be hard

Anyways, you put your suit on the back of the closet before fixing your hair on the mirror, instinctively you see the watch on your wrist trying to supress a smile

— I see your point, but they’re going to help just if we can’t control the “anomalies” but stopping Kingpin and Black mask? — Tim sounded hesitant about it, only making you wonder

That is something else, their spidey things can’t help you stop this madness and even if you want they won’t interfere until they need to

You sighed, you still can’t figure out how to get into Alchemax and steal whatever they’re testing.

— Ah, Conner what are you doing here? — you heard Dick asked before he opens the room letting Conner enter the room

He has a towel around his neck, probably he just went out of a shower

— You’re pretty rude to let him outside — Dick enters the room too ruffling your hair

It’s been a time since he last spoke to you, maybe because he isn’t at the manor as much as you do, that makes sense, you live there

— You three are always together, I’m starting to think you’re plotting an attack — he jokes before leaving the room

That doesn’t sound like a bad idea..

You looked at Tim, he had the same idea as you and both were staring at each other before nodding

— Is this a bat thing? C’mon! You can’t leave behind —

This is going to blow up.

Little prince is a reference to the child’s tale The little prince, if you feel uncomfortable with the nickname please feel free to change the nickname.

This story has me writing everyday, but I’m so happy to do it if you like it as much as I do <3

#batsis!reader #batbros #batsiblings #batsib!reader #spider oc #spider reader #tim drake x reader #tim drake #kon el x reader #kon el luthor #kon el kent #kon el #across the spiderverse #spider punk #batboys x batsis #batfamily #batfam #kon el superboy

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sanjisluvbot · 7 months ago

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As Above So below

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Synopsis: You had your entire life just beginning, fresh into college, and as a treat, you were going on a trip across the world where you find out what your father truly does for work and why you were able to move into a nice new home. A normal young girl thrust into a world where she needed to relearn everything she ever knew and escape the clutches of an assassin clan who wanted her as a wife.

The next few days following your run-in with Raian in his hotel room left you uneasy. As time flew by in a blur, you tried your best to stay in your hotel room with your mother. Making eye contact with your mother every time she needed to go somewhere made you feel like a dog waiting to be adopted in the pound.

The island, with its golden sands and crystal-clear waters, now felt suffocating, like an elaborate cage designed for your entrapment. Your mother, despite all the stress and her growing suspicions about your father’s involvement in this web of chaos, kept her usual facade of politeness up, not fully understanding the danger you were in.

But you knew. You felt it in every look Raian gave you, in every near encounter you had when you tried to escape him. He never gave up. Even when you were alone, you felt his presence looming in the background. It was a constant asphyxiating reminder that you couldn’t hide, not for long that is.

It was late evening when the inevitable happened. You were walking to the lobby, trying to sneak away to the beach for some brief solace, when you turned a corner and found yourself face-to-face with Raian. The hallway was empty, but you could feel the weight of his stare like he had been waiting for this moment. He was dressed in all black once again, his presence imposing, his gaze dark and intense. "Where do you think you're going?" His voice was low, almost a growl as if he was daring you to lie.

You froze, panic rising in your chest. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to run, to get away from him. But you knew that wouldn’t work. He’d just chase you down again. So, you stood your ground, defiant yet trembling on the inside.

"I'm going for a walk," you muttered, but it sounded weak even to your own ears.

Raian stepped closer, his height towering over you. He seemed almost unfazed by your resistance as if he already knew how this would end.

"I think you're missing the point, wife," he said, his lips curling into a faint, dangerous smile. "You belong to me now, and no matter where you go, I'll always find you." His voice softened for a moment as if savoring the words. "I told you, you can't escape me. You're mine."

You took a step back, eyes wide with fear, but there was nowhere to retreat. He was blocking the exit.

“I’m not your wife,” you snapped, your words biting despite the knot in your throat. “And I’m not yours to claim.”

Raian's grin only grew wider, more predatory. “You’ll learn soon enough.”

Before you could react, he grabbed your wrist, his grip hard enough to bruise. “We’re going back to the room,” he insisted, his voice a growl as if the conversation was over. He didn’t give you a chance to protest, dragging you toward the elevator with the ease of someone accustomed to getting his way.

"Raian, please," you pleaded, your voice trembling. "Don't do this."

You wanted to slap yourself silly, you had never in life been a woman who backed down—especially when it came to men, no matter how big, how strong, and how much they tried to mold you into being this docile little thing they get to control. You struggled in his grip, reaching out and grasping the walls and anything in your vicinity. He laughed at you when you slipped, almost colliding face-first with the shiny patterned flooring. In the last moment, he yanked you by your already bruised wrist into his chest.

“ See wife, you need me.”

The moment you stepped foot inside the room, he slammed the door behind you, locking it with a click that made your heart race.

“Sit down,” Raian commanded, his tone a stark contrast to the softness he’d shown earlier when he’d dried your hair. He was done playing nice.

“I’m not going to stay here,” you said, defiance creeping into your voice. “I’ll leave if I have to.”

Raian’s eyes darkened further, his jaw tightening. “You’re not fucking going anywhere.” His words were simple, yet they carried the weight of an unspoken threat.

Before you could react, the door to the suite opened, and a voice you recognized—though barely—cut through the tension.

"Raian."

Your breath caught in your throat. The man who stepped into the room was an older version of Raian, his posture commanding, his eyes sharp with authority. The resemblance between the two was undeniable, but this man exuded something darker, something more terrifying. The way he surveyed you, his gaze not just critical but calculating, sent a chill down your spine.

The older man was calm, his presence heavy with the kind of power that made the room feel small and it slowly crept into your chest to smother you.

"Grandfather," Raian murmured, his voice taking on a more respectful tone than you’d ever heard him use.

The old man’s gaze flickered briefly to you, taking in your shaking form, before turning back to his grandson. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice smooth but laced with an edge. "She doesn’t seem to be cooperating and her mother is even more of a hassle, I plan to speak to her father in the morning.”

Raian didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his eyes lingered on you, possessive and unwavering. "She’s stubborn," he said, "but she’ll come around."

The grandfather’s gaze remained cold as he stepped further into the room. "You know what I want, Raian. This family is counting on you to make this work. I don't care how you do it. But you will make her yours. One way or another."

The words hung in the air, suffocating you.

"You understand, don’t you?" The grandfather's eyes narrowed. "If you fail, this family will suffer. “We have spent centuries to create you Raian and your offspring will surpass anything we’ve ever seen, this ordeal needs to be settled before the Kengan tournament is over."

Raian’s expression darkened, his hand clenching at his side. “I’ll handle it,” he said through gritted teeth.

"You better," his grandfather replied, voice firm. "We don’t accept mistakes."

As the old man turned to leave, he glanced back at you with an unsettling look of satisfaction. "We wouldn’t want any unfortunate incidents with our new extended family, granddaughter. Don't make me come back here to remind you."

Raian’s jaw clenched as the door shut behind his grandfather. The weight of his words lingered like a shadow of a demon in the room, and you realized just how trapped you were.

Raian’s hand gripped your arm once more, this time with less gentleness. "You heard him," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "You're mine. And you will learn to accept it."

You tried to pull away, tears brimming in your eyes but his grip tightened. "I will never accept this," you spat, your words heavy with defiance.

Raian’s eyes flickered with something darker, something obsessive. "You will," he said with certainty. "You’ll learn, sooner or later."

And as he led you to the bed, every part of you screamed for freedom. But you knew it wasn’t coming. Not yet. He threw you on the bed and before he could fully loom over you, you kicked him right where the sun doesn’t shine with all the strength you could muster. He choked and fell over clutching his pants, you took this sliver of a chance and raced to the door jerking it open.

You never once looked back as you ran, tears freely falling, and more bruises to appear in the morning when you collided with the walls. When you finally made it back to your hotel room your mother was waiting impatiently with the phone in her hand. She saw your face riddled with fear and immediately knew you had another run-in with Raian.

In her arms, you cried. Everything that was supposed to be amazing and beautifully filled with memories on this trip turned into something out of a nightmare on Elm Street and Raian was playing Freddy. Having your father betray and sell you off for money had been fully realized at this moment and it felt like your heart was being torn in half. You had always thought that by this age you would meet a nice guy and he would romance you like you met once upon a dream. Everything you knew meant nothing in the face of the Kure clan, you were their new prey, and they planned to do everything to make you bend and mold to their will. When you finally calmed down and changed out of your clothing your mother told you about her most recent phone call that led to a small lunch she had today.

“ Today I had lunch with the CEO of Nogi group, I had called up every contact I had that I believed could help me and after a lot of awkward ‘no’s’ I was given the contact of Mr.Hideki. We met more lunch in the lounge at a private table,”

you nodded, trying to process everything she was saying as you picked at the edges of your shirt, the remnants of your earlier panic still coursing through you. You were safe for the moment, but you couldn't escape the feeling that you were walking a tightrope, with Raian and his family waiting on either side.

"So, Mr. Hideki," your mother continued, after a brief pause. "He’s not a man to be trusted easily, but he has connections. More importantly, he has leverage. It’s why the Kure clan hasn’t been able to touch him directly, at least not yet."

You frowned, still not quite understanding. "But why would he help us? What does he get out of this?"

Your mother sighed, glancing down at her hands. "When we met, he didn’t want to talk openly. There were too many eyes around, so we communicated through notes, in code. It was a way to make sure we weren’t being listened to."

You raised an eyebrow. "Code?"

"Yes," she said, a faint smile crossing her lips as she relived the memory. "Mr. Hideki is old school. He had a small notebook with him, a few sheets of paper, and a pen. At first, he didn’t speak. He just wrote something down and slid it across the table to me. A simple line: The walls have ears."

You blinked, uncertain. "The walls...?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "He meant there was a possibility of surveillance—someone watching us. And just like that, we were speaking in code. Each note after that, he’d write something down and I’d follow up with my response, using subtle phrases that we both understood. He wanted to make sure that even if someone was listening, they wouldn’t be able to piece things together."

Your mind raced, the picture of a clandestine meeting forming in your head. You could imagine your mother’s unease, the weight of being in a room full of danger, yet having no choice but to play the game. She looked exhausted, but there was an undeniable sense of determination in her eyes.

"He asked about your father. You know, the jackass who I thought was just a business man, working on all those high-profile contracts. And he made it clear he knew exactly what the Kure clan was doing. He told me that he could help us—get us out of here and make sure the Kure family couldn’t reach us again."

A lump formed in your throat. "How? How can he help us? I don’t understand."

Your mother leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper, as though the walls might still be listening. "He said the Kure clan doesn’t just deal with assassination and criminal work. They have a network—an entire web of power and influence that stretches far beyond what we see. Mr. Hideki's connections run deep. He has allies who owe him favors, and he has people who would move heaven and earth to get their hands on the Kure clan's secrets."

She paused, making sure you were following, and you nodded silently, waiting for her to continue.

"He promised he could get us out. But not just in the way you’d think. If we disappear now, if we run away, they’ll send their best after us. Raian, especially... he’ll stop at nothing to make sure we stay. But if we let Mr. Hideki leverage the right people, if we make the Kure clan believe we’re gone for good… they’ll think they’ve lost. And that will be our window of escape."

You exhaled sharply. Your mind was spinning, processing this new possibility. You’d always dreamed of escaping, but you never imagined it would be like this—like slipping out of a spider’s web without it even realizing.

"Mr. Hideki wants us to disappear—completely," your mother continued, her voice tightening. "But it won’t be easy. The Kure clan is relentless, and if they find out what we’re planning, it’ll be over before we even start. He wants to be sure that no one can track us, not even Raian. He’s already made arrangements to get us somewhere no one will think to look."

"And what do we have to do?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"We need to trust him," your mother said, her eyes meeting yours. "We need to play along with his plan, be patient, and make sure we don’t give the Kure clan any more reason to suspect that we’re trying to escape. It’s going to be dangerous, but if we can get out of their sight long enough... then we can take our next step and leave all of this behind."

You felt your heart racing in your chest as you considered the weight of your mother’s words. It was a plan, a fragile one, but a plan nonetheless. And as uncertain as you were, you also knew that without it, you’d be trapped forever in the Kure clan's grip.

"And Raian?" you asked quietly. "What about him? What if he finds out?"

Your mother’s face hardened, the calm resolve returning to her features. "Raian is a complication we’ll have to deal with. But for now, we need to keep our distance, and we need to make sure he doesn’t suspect anything. Once we’re out of his reach, we’ll handle the rest."

You could see the exhaustion in her face, but there was something else there—an unmistakable resolve. You couldn’t deny it. Your mother was going to do whatever it took to protect you, even if it meant playing a dangerous game with people like Mr. Hideki.

It wasn’t going to be easy. In fact, it would likely be the hardest thing you’d ever do. But if there was even a chance—just a small chance—that you and your mother could escape the Kure clan, then it was a risk worth taking.

And so, together, you began to plan your escape. One careful step at a time.

🏷️: @ninacutebee16 @arans-princess-reblogs @imaginarydreams @black-girl-anime-lover (anyone else wishing to be tagged please lmk in the replies <3)

A/N: Well… do you perhaps want MORE ??? with that…😊 enjoy and comment pls !!!! quick edit: I hope everyone realizes just how funny Y/n and her mother are and are going to be throughout this story, this will be unlike many arranged marriage stories before especially having Raian as my lead.

#x black fem reader #kengan ashura #raian kure x reader #kure clan #kure raian x reader #kenganverse #kengan omega #yandere imagines #arranged marriage #tokita ohma #ohma tokita #raian kure #baki vs kengan #kengan x reader #kengan oc

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whiteeyes-is-a-mad-scientist · 9 months ago

Text

The new seawing in the reef

Sunhunter waited silently in the sand. She hated being so… out in the open. Especially now. She jumped hearing a dragon rise from the water.

"Relax. Just me." Snapping turtle shook off a stray piece of seaweed. His spots gave a faint yellow flash in the moonlight. "If your here just to tell me that I'm in danger I know…" sunhunter frowned at the familiar look the seawing held.

"I'm here to offer you a way out actually." He trudged through the sand as it began to clump on his wet talons. He shook the sand off and opened his talon. Within it was an earring, a shiny pearl carved in the shape of a star. "Oh its beautiful… but how is jewelry supposed to help me?" Sunhunter took it into her talon to further examine.

"Argile made it so he could come with me into the deep palace. He doesn't really come into the ocean these days." He glanced toward the deep blue "it's enchanted. It'll turn you into a seawing as long as you wear it."

Sunhunter felt her scales shiver "Snapping turtle… I can't… all my visions... they come in water I don't want to imagine how awful it would be in the water…" she shook her head. "How do you know? You've never been in the ocean." He leaned forward "Sunhunter you don't really have a lot of options here. The skywings are after you… they can't go into the ocean."

Snapping turtle was right. The mercenaries and assassin's were getting more crafty. Even those against the skywings would give longing glances at her. No doubt gaging whether or not the bounty was worth it. "I..I dont know how to be a seawing.." she frowned "I don't know aquatic or how to swim or or-" "I'll teach you." Snapping turtle flashed a rare smile. "What about the talons? I still want to help the peace effort…" she looked at the earring. "Oh for moons sake forget the talons! This is your life in danger!" He exasperated "Sunhunter… please… I dont want to see you become some trophy for the skywings.." His eyes were weirdly desperate.

Sunhunter sighed and slipped the earring on. A deeply cold chill ran through her scales. She shut her eyes tightly as the world spun, she stumbled forward and met Snapping turtles chest. Past the pounding in her head she could hear him "Its alright… Argile struggled a bit as well…"

Her scales stopped tingling and the pounding headache faded. She felt snapping turtles wing on her back, brushing softly. She also felt her new gills, webbed toes, and flashy spots. She opened her eyes to find her new night vision. Also finding herself needing to look up toward snapping turtle "Oh making me shorter than you is unfair." Snapping turtle snorted "Welcome to being the short and stocky tribe."

Sunhunter stumbled steadying herself. She used to be shoulder heavy but now her weight was all over. She felt stronger despite being shorter. Snapping turtle stared and sunhunter rolled her eyes "I know I look stupid don't I.." "No.. I think you look good as a seawing. I like that the earring chose a mix of more saturated green-ish blue scales. Unique in pattern but not out of place for a seawing." He smirked "but I do miss your original look."

Sunhunters face scales felt faintly like her sandwing warm ones but it went away quickly. She smiled "I have a great hunger for fish now." "Beats those awful roasted tarantulas you used to eat." He stuck his tongue out. "You never tried them so don't start." Sunhunter raised her head, her shiny sea ready scales catching the moonlight. Watching the moons for a moment she turned back to snapping turtle "Well what should my new name be? Sunhunter isn't... seawing... like."

He glanced away "hm.. clam?" "Clam?" Sunhunter retracted "Are you saying I have a big mouth?" She glared. "No! I just- ugh ill get something else…" He rubbed his chin "I'm not good at names…"

Sunhunter sighed before flopping into the sand. A faint dizzy feeling hitting her like a wave "So when does the dizzness stop?"

Snapping turtled perked up as she curled into a C "Cove! Your new name should be cove." He smiled as sunhunter titled her head "Hm... I do like it... but it doesnt mean something dumb does it?"

"No no... A cove is just a small bay often secluded. The waters often have a greenish blue look." He nudged her with a wing "I can show you."

"Ok... but dont let me drown..." She steadied herself and headed toward the water

Snapping turtle chuckled "Of course."

#wings of fire #wings of fire oc #wings of fire art #wof art #wof #wof ocs

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kabr0ztrousers · 2 months ago

Note

Here's a spin on a request you've done before.

Established relationship between a Minotaur and girlfriend/wife (preference on wife, but I trust your instincts). The partner discovers that the Minotaur has a hucow kink, and leans into it, starts teasing them by wearing cow print bikini's or cow horn headbands, that sort of thing.

I know you've done hucow stories before (all amazing as per usual), but I think this is an interesting spin on it. I've seen some other people give this a go, and I want to see how you would do it.

Keep up the great work!

Kabr0z Writes episode 105: Browser History

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

I'm working on the Ao3!

CWs: light invasion of privacy; lactation; artificially inducing lactation; oral sex; drinking breastmilk; excessive cum; cumflation; impregnation; enthusiastic consent;

A/N: I feel like the Tumblr fun police is coming down hard on me, which is interesting when I see actual hardcore porn on this site *all the sodding time* Hopefully once I've got the AO3 fully up to date that'll help me continue to get these out to you all!

#########################################

Freddie's laptop hummed on the table. The one he always took on his business trips. You tried to be good, really you did. You know it's his business what's on there, and you know how much of an invasion it can feel like when someone pokes through your stuff. That didn't change the fact that he'd left it unlocked while he was in the shower. It didn't change just how damn tempting it is, sitting there open.

You put your ear to the bathroom door. The deep baritone of your minotaur lover was audible, singing the same few bars of Pavarotti to himself. You probably have ten or fifteen minutes. You opened his web browser, pulling up the history. Is it such a crime to peek?

Your hand shot to your mouth as your jaw dropped an inch. Freddie was holding out on you, it seems. Always pretending he was into cuddly vanilla intimacy, while every time he was away from home he was looking at this. Dozens of searches for large breasted women, milking, pregnancy... The works. To think, you'd been trying to get him to open up to you about his kinks for as long as you'd been together. You were almost worried it'd be something bad but this? This you can use.

The benefits of working from home are numerous, especially when one's husband has to go into the office every day. One by one, deliveries started arriving. You even got chance to try pumping your breasts, supposedly with enough direct stimulation, and enough fennel tea, you'd start getting some real progress.

Now you can't speak for every woman out there, but by the time the rest of the outfit had arrived, you were really making progress. If you weren't pumping a half pint from each tit every day, you'd start leaking, and that'd ruin the surprise. Now just to pick your day.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. A cow-print chemise, horned headband, even a long tuft-ended tail attached to a buttplug and slipped into your rear entrance. You hadn't pumped today, your nipples felt tender, every move brushing them past the satin of your scant clothes, building a throbbing desperation in your loins. You bit your lip. He couldn't get home soon enough.

The front door opened, heavy footfalls thumped inside. You'd recognise that leaden step anywhere, he's home.

"Freddie! Can you come upstairs and help me with something?"

You heard him put down his bag before calling back to you "Sure, let me just get my shoes off"

You retreated back to your bedroom, waiting until you heard him on the landing "Just in here honey!"

He crossed the few square feet of hall, before pushing open your bedroom door. He stood a moment, taking in the scene in front of him. You looked at one another, him staring at your swollen tits, erect nipples pointing through the thin patterned satin of your chemise. You on the other hand watched as the seven-foot tall, four foot wide, long horned bull-man slowly went mad with desire as all of his Christmases came at once.

You hadn't realised he could move that fast. He almost tackled you flat on the bed, kneeling over you, tearing off his clothes. Button pinged off him as he disrobed, clattering on the laminate floor. He lifted you up, pulling your top over your tits, exposing your naked body underneath. His hand closed around your tit, squeezing gently. He let out an excited braying as the first few drops of ivory liquid rolled from your nipple.

Almost dropping you onto the mattress, he locked his lips around the leaking nipple as he pressed two fingers against your cunt. You could feel him suckling milk from you as he rubbed your moistening folds. You gasped as his fingers slipped in. You cooed at him between your moans, holding his head to your teat. "That's it, sweetheart, just like that"

He didn't reply, but his thumb brushed against your clit, hand twisting to reach in and up. His fingertips pressed your g-spot as he rubbed circles around your clit. You held him to you, one hand cradling his head as the other rested on the hand knuckle-deep in you. You felt your legs starting to clench as your toes curled, your cunt tightening around him, squeezing the fingers inside you.

Your head lolled back as your cunt sprayed liquid release over the sheets. Moans turned to screams of rapture and delight as your lover kept squeezing you just right. Your legs were shaking by the time your spasms let up, flopping back down onto the plush sheets.

He wasn't done yet though, far from it. He lifted your legs, holding them apart as his tongue lapped at your cunt. Every lick over your buzzing clit made your leg twitch, your toes pointed and flexed as he drove you over another aching peak. His fingers were still buried in your twitching quim, giving you something to clench against as he drove you to another aching climax. He smiled up at you as your moans turned to wails and your white-knuckled hands gripped his horns.

You were begging him to take you by the time he did, flipping you over and lifting your hips just a touch, positioning his flared tip against your swollen, drooling cunt. He tugged the tail attached to your plug, listening to your whines as it pulled against your asshole before putting his weight behind his hips.

His hands gripped your waist, pulling you into him. Your cunt accepted him with aching, throbbing, squelching gusto. Your eye refused to focus, threatening to roll back into your head. Your words had long since abandoned you.

"Cum in me" you repeated it like a mantra, dumbly asking to be filled. Every thrust of his thick cock radiated warmth into you. Every inch of him stretched you, making your head spin faster and faster. Your whole body was a pile of sweating, quivering jelly under him, wringing him out, begging for him. Yearning for him, even as he was a foot deep in you.

At last, he roared above you. His cock grew even harder, even thicker. The tip, already wider than the rest, flared out in that wonderful way. Your cock-drunk brain exploded in yellow and purple stars as you brayed into the pillows. You wanted to hold him in, keep him from doing anything but filling you with the gallons of hot spunk you needed. You didn't have to. His arms wrapped around you, pushing you to the very hilt of him. Your limbs dangled uselessly as you were squeezed against his belly, breathing in the smell of his fresh sweat. Your belly was starting to swell up, full of thick, white-hot cum.

You stayed like that. You're not sure how long it took before he got soft enough to try and pull out. He came loose with an audible pop and a jet of cum. The room would never smell the same again. You felt your belly receding, deflating as the fluid filling it was pushed out by your abs. It couldn't get it all, though, you still bore a little bump from your achingly full womb.

You collapsed on the bed together, you on top of him. You dozed off, the fullness in your belly soothing you to sleep.

Four weeks later, you're late. It's still too early for a test. You're pretty confident either way

########################################

Sorry this one took a while! I wanted to take the Easter weekend to recharge a little, and look what happened!

2 days without fresh smut killed the Pope!

In all seriousness though, I'm super happy how this one turned out, and hope you enjoy it too

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kitten4sannie · 1 year ago

Text

ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴘʟᴀɴᴇᴛ

ᴛᴇɴᴛᴀᴄʟᴇꜱ/ᴛɪᴛꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ➠ ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ

pairing: intergalactic alien idol! wooyoung x cyborg call girl! reader (fem) feat. ai! san

genre: futuristic au, idol au, smut

summary: your company pleasureplanet™ gets a call from the most sought after idol in your galaxy, requesting you for an evening. he shows you a side his fans have never seen before.

w.c: 2.5k

warnings: switch! wooyoung, reader adapts to whatever woo wants for her own pleasure ^^, alien heat cycles, woo’s got an big alien cock, implied voyeurism, praise, begging, tentacle sucking + fucking, deep-throating, titfucking, choking kink but not in the way you think, unprotected sex, just…so much cum and alien goo lol, breeding/impreg kink, actual impregnation (in this economic climate??), oviposition, creampie, cum inflation

a/n: i’m giving my lord and savior cthulhu all the credit for bestowing this idea upon me,, it’s not like i’ve been wanting to write something this heinous for months and months… where’d you even get that idea from?? haha…ha. but fr im so happy i finally got to write out something that’s akin to a hentai lol i’m living my best smut writer life rn. please heed the warnings and if you did so i hope you enjoy :3

Now Playing:

ᴘʟ4ʏɢ1ʀʟ ʙʏ ʟᴏʟᴏ ᴢᴏᴜᴀÏ

0:01 ❍─────── 4:28

Volume: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 100%

ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

Wooyoung woke up from his sleep in a cold sweat, the flashing lights projecting from the room’s flatscreen making patterns on his glistening skin as he sat up, his body filled with an odd, though familiar heaviness that he knew he would have to take care of sooner than later.

“Shit, is it happening already?” he whispered to himself, groaning as he pulled himself to the edge of the king-sized bed to sit comfortably. “San, do a body scan.” Wooyoung rubbed his tired eyes, waiting for his in-house AI system to kick in, a familiar ding suddenly ringing out inside the empty room.

A projection of a youthful man with sharp, feline-like features appeared on the wall closest to Wooyoung’s bed. He looked in Wooyoung’s general direction, giving him a cordial smile and a bow. “Good evening, Wooyoung.” Blue rings of light formed along the edges of San’s brown eyes, studying Wooyoung’s form. “It appears that your BPM is above normal range. Abnormal body temperature and cortisol production have been detected. Unusually high levels of arousal and semen production are recognized as well,” the AI stated matter-of-factly, blinking. “You seem to be exhibiting symptoms of a hormonal cycle that members of your sector are susceptible to displaying during this time of year. Would you like to see an in-depth analysis?”

“Yes, San.” Wooyoung waited for a prompt to appear on the small computer built into his wrist, tapping a few options, various images being peojected to him. The application showed him what he was in denial about discovering, the bright red letters indicating that he was indeed smack dab in the middle of an intense heat, and to make things worse, he was carrying. To make matters even worse, he knew his kind was required to transfer his offspring to a willing partner, or else his own body would become a birthing ground.

Knowing that he had too many fans relying on him in the intergalactic entertainment world, it simply wasn’t an option for him to retire. He would have to find someone that could host them for him, but where? And so late in the night? Who could possibly–

“Hey, sexy, are you looking for a late-night lover?” an ample-chested member of the spider dimension with eight hooded eyes and fearsome mandibles questioned Wooyoung from the bright TV screen, bringing a bit of their web together into a pattern that formed a heart.

“Oh?” Wooyoung murmured, realizing that just perhaps his reluctant, desperate prayers to his galaxy’s god were in the process of being answered.

A curvy gray alien leaning seductively against a bar table continued the spiel, “Someone you can unload your deepest desires onto? Someone that can make your wildest dreams come true?”

“Well, look no further.” An enthusiastic, though automated voice took over this time, as the screen showcased the company’s shiny logo, while it flipped through a slew of optional playmates across the screen like pages of an open book, showcasing the wide range of choices Wooyoung had. “Our playmates at Pleasure Planet will take good care of you. For price options, call (XXX)-XXX.”

Wooyoung bit his lip, about to look away from the TV when you popped up on the screen, drawing his attention to you, your human-like beauty mixed with the metal intricacies of a robot standing out to him.

“Well, what are you waiting for, baby?” you asked Wooyoung through the screen, laying across a plush velvet couch in only a small black slip, your back arched, running your fingers up along your sleek body, until you brought them into your hair to push it behind your ears, your fingers brushing against the small lit-up chrome circle near your temple. “Give me a call~”

Wooyoung gulped so hard, he almost swallowed his Adam’s apple, knowing what he had to do. He rubbed at his sweaty neck, feeling more beads of sweat trickle down along his collarbone to his chest, the loose sleep t-shirt that was hanging off his shoulders now tinted a darker color. “San, call Pleasure Planet and book me an appointment with the cyborg girl.”

“Right away, Wooyoung,” San obeyed, bowing at the waist, before his image dissipated, the wall returning to a blank state.

࿏࿏࿏

A soft ding sound filled the empty space of Wooyoung’s expansive cyber chamber after some time went by, finally distracting the overheated alien from his current predicament. He continued to lay in a fetal position on the side of his bed, too overwhelmed by the dizzying amount of arousal that was swirling around his insides like a shoal of fish. “Is…nnngh…she here, San?”

San’s form materialized onto the wall once more, scanning his Master’s crumpled up body, running a number of tests, finding that the situation was beginning to grow imminent. “Yes, she is, Wooyoung. Please begin the mating ritual as soon as possible, to prevent less favorable outcomes. I’m sure your company wouldn’t want you–”

“You think I don’t know that, San?” he snapped back, holding a hand to his disruptive abdomen, groaning in both pain and unexplainable pleasure, as what Wooyoung could only describe as molten-hot lava churning around inside his core, just aching to spill out of him. “Where the fuck is she? I need to–”

“I’m here for you, Wooyoung. Please, put your worries to rest,” you replied as you entered his room, Wooyoung’s eyes following your movements like a moth to a flame, taking slow steps up to his bed, shedding various articles of your clothing until you were bare for him.

“O-oh, hi,” Wooyoung croaked, doing his best to sit up in his bed with his head against his pillow, beads of sweat already soaking into it, strands of black hair sticking to his forehead. He watched you climb onto his bed and crawl towards him, his eyes shifting from your face to your body, trying to get his spinning mind to stop for a moment. “Wh-what’s your name?”

“Y/N, but you can call me whatever you want. I’m yours for tonight~” You mounted him, lowering yourself down to feel his aching length pressing into your heat through his boxers.

“Y/N…” he repeated softly, entranced by you.

Smiling down at him, you gently ran your hands up his rapidly rising abdomen, feeling up his soft body along the way, eventually slipping him out of the sweater he was in, eliciting a whine from the alien below you. You brought your lips near Wooyoung’s parted ones, whispering against them, “Oh, baby, you’re in bad shape, huh? Need me to take care of you?”

Wooyoung nodded weakly, his hands on your thighs, feeling your soft skin underneath his heated grasp. He squeezed into it, swallowing harshly, his Adam’s apple visibly bobbing inside his throat. “Y-yes, please, it hurts so bad…”

San, who was still watching from the wall, cleared his throat, doing his duty and informing his Master of important information. “Master, please return to your body’s natural state soon. Your vitals are starting to worry me.”

“I got it, San,” Wooyoung grunted, glaring at the AI, before returning his attention to you. “Oh my god…” He groaned at the sight of you running your hands up and down your perfectly created body, your fingers slipping past the metal, glowing seams that sealed you together, until you got down to your glistening cunt, your fingers spreading yourself open for his viewing pleasure, all while grinding back and forth against his slippery, clothed length. “Y/N…fuck…I just…don’t want to scare you…”

“You won’t, trust me. Please, let yourself go, Wooyoung, it’s okay,” you reassured him softly, licking at your fingers before they returned to your perfect pussy, rubbing at your clit, feeling zaps of electricity course through your body, your artificial synapses firing off inside your brain. “I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

Inhaling sharply, Wooyoung closed his eyes for a moment to ground himself, knowing you wouldn’t judge every inch of him like people on the Universal Net did. Little by little, he let his body return to its natural state, small, ridged scales growing in patches along his skin, which exhibited an electric blue tint wherever his blood settled in the most, long, slick-covered tentacles emerging from his form, some of them idly curling around different parts of your body — the most notable change to his body being his cock, which tore out of his boxers from its size. It was no longer human-like, but instead resembled his wriggling appendages, had prominent ridges, leaked a steady flow of blue, viscous pre-cum, and had an obvious girth to it, thick, heavy-looking, and perhaps capable of stretching you open to your particular model’s max capacity for cock.

“Oh, Wooyoung,” you sighed, small digital hearts forming within your hooded eyes, cupping the alien’s flushed face, bringing your lips to his. “You're beautiful.”

Wooyoung melted into your kiss and body respectively, bringing his hands up to your own face, holding it, his tentacles exploring the rest of your form for him, a few curling around and in between your tits, others sliding along your thighs and hips, while his slippery cock idly rubbed back and forth along your cunt like it had a mind of its own, sending waves of pleasure into the both of you. “Fuck, I need you so bad, Y/N…”

A string of saliva broke your kiss as you pulled back, squeezing your tits together around the tentacle that was between them, licking at the wriggling tip. “How bad, baby? How bad do you want to fill me up with your cock?” you asked breathily, feeling the tentacle begin to thrust faster and faster, dripping blue pre-cum onto your slick skin. “You want to fuck your cum into me, Wooyoung? Fuck me so deep, it reaches my womb?”

“Y-esss, please, oh my god, please,” Wooyoung moaned out, grabbing at your hips, continuing to grind his large, ridged cock against your cunt, unable to stop gasping for air from how hard he was breathing.

“Then, come here,” you purred, reaching down to grab Wooyoung’s cock and pushing it inside you, feeling it fill you up inch by inch until your hungry cunt swallowed it in its entirety, your bodies essentially becoming one.

Any semblance of composure completely left Wooyoung’s burning body in that moment, encouraging him to grab onto your hips like handlebars and drive his cock deep into your cunt over and over, his tentacles still eagerly exploring the expanse of your skin, some rubbing into your clit, others still preoccupied with your now bouncing tits, an additional tentacle loosely wrapping around your neck, the tip of it sliding along your cheek like it was licking you. “Feels so fucking good being inside you, Y/N, I’m gonna melt.”

“Take me, Wooyoung, do whatever you want to me,” you told the alien in between pants, opening your mouth when Wooyoung’s tentacle rolled down your other cheek and across your lips, eventually slipping inside your mouth when you opened up, the small round disk built into your temple continually flashing blue the longer your body short-circuited with pleasure, your sensitive flesh squelching lewdly each time they joined together in slick, gooey harmony.

Wooyoung watched you with a fondness that bordered obsession, drooling at the sight of his appendage fucking itself into your bulging throat that it was wrapped tightly around, still bringing you down onto his cock at an unnerving speed, the heaviness swirling around inside his lower abdomen growing more and more prominent. “I’m going to breed you, Y/N, did you know that? I’m going to fill you to the fucking brim with my kids.”

You gurgled happily around the thrusting tentacle that was currently stretching out your lips and throat, your body shuddering with pleasure once load after load of blue goo spilled into your willing mouth, dripping down the sides of your chin and traveling along the rest of your slicked-up body. The tentacle left your mouth with a lewd pop and slowly wrapped around your waist instead. “Fill me up, Wooyoung, please, fuck it in me, deeper, I need it,” you begged him, desperately driving yourself down on his thick cock, cupping your own overheated cheeks, the hearts inside your eyes growing more and more bright each time the alien’s cock slipped deep inside your sloppy cunt.

“Gonna fuck you so full, Y/N, gonna plug you up with my cock so you have to be my breeding bitch again and again,” Wooyoung mindlessly moaned out, simply driven by his overwhelming lust and instinctual urge to procreate, the heaviness moving closer and closer to his pulsing cock.

“Yes, give it to me, please…!”

San, who had been silently observing the entire time, cleared his dry throat up to announce, “Delivery of offspring will be completed in…three…two..one…”

Neither you nor Wooyoung could tell who had came harder between the both of you, your joined moans and pants filling up the heavy air in the room. Wooyoung’s hands were cemented against your lower abdomen, able to feel as each warm, egg-like object had been deposited into your contracting cunt. “Feel them?” he asked under his breath, looking up into your barely open eyes.

“Yeah, I feel them,” you breathed, feeling dizzy just from the sensation of being filled to the absolute brim, Wooyoung’s cock acting as a dam until he knew that nothing except loads of his cum would come out afterwards, a small bulge present inside your stomach being the proof of what had been done to you.

Wooyoung let out a small whine, slowly pulling out of you, his cock flopping lifelessly onto his pelvis, his eyes focused on the way your used hole fluttered around nothing, dribbles of electric blue cum dripping out, until a flood of it came seeping out in between your sticky bodies. With a blissful smile on his face, Wooyoung rubbed your stomach with gentle circles, humming to himself. “Let me know when you’re ready for another round, okay, baby?”

You smiled softly down at him, placing your hand over his, ready to ask him for another round as soon as possible when San spoke instead.

“I hate to interrupt, but you have quite the schedule tomorrow, Wooyoung…practice at 9, vocals at 11, a fan meeting in the Twilight Quadrant at 3….” San slowly informed in a disheartened tone, a drop of sweat cascading down the side of his sleek face.

Wooyoung growled, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at the wall, the image of San blurring temporarily. “Shut off! Shut down, San!” He looked back at you, rubbing your hips gently, unable to stop smiling at your pretty cybernetic face.

San disappeared from the wall, but his voice remained. “Just so you know, I don’t actually have a shut-off button, Wooyoung. I’m sentient…”

Wooyoung’s fingers clenched into your hips, his eyebrows twitching downwards. “Oh my god, San, just wait till I fucking figure out how to hack your programming…”

San cleared his throat, shaking his head, though it wasn’t visible to either of you, especially since you were both too busy eye-fucking each other. “Again, I’m sentient. That’s out of the realm of possibility.”

“San!”

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0wlettie · 3 months ago

Text

based off this tweet that kind of just hijacked my brain and now i’ve gotta jot something down for it, with my own added spin ofc; warning, messy asl and incredibly self indulgent idk man i just love reader being down bad and unhinged for the boys ;;;;

professor!rafayel x obsessed stalker!reader

you love art. though your own skills are mediocre at best, you still find joy through creating and observing.

your love for art leads you here now, in your final year of high school and on a field trip to a nearby pop up exhibit filled with rookie artists looking to showcase their works. and, as one of the few kids actually engaged in the different mediums shown and being the only senior in the class, your teacher allows you a bit more freedom to wander on your own. so you casually meander down the different exhibits, fascinated by the sculptures and different paintings you come across. there are even a few of the artists loitering about, and you have a conversation here and there with them about their pieces and other things like that. eventually, you find yourself in a small corner of the pop up, drawn in by the red velvet ropes blocking off people from getting closer, as well as the few envious and awed whispers you can pick up from nearby gossiping rookies.

curious, your eyes sway over to the area. your breath hitches and your mouth drops a little in shock at what you see.

stretched to fit the wall from top to bottom, it’s the largest painting at the pop up. half the painting is cut by dark, rolling waves, the other half covered by a jagged cliffside. moonlight reflects off the top of the ocean, the stars dotting across the sky in abstract patterns. you even think you can make out a few constellations nestled among the sparkling white dots.

you can almost hear the gentle ‘whoosh’ of the waves as they crash against the bottom of the cliff. can almost feel the sea breeze as it brushes against your cheeks, cool and akin to a lover’s caress. can almost smell the sea salt rising on the cold dark of the night. there’s a profound feeling emitting from the painting, one that surprises you in its intensity.

‘loneliness.’

the beauty you see is absolutely breathtaking, but the loneliness stands out to you the most. there’s a sorrow buried within the dark shade of the ocean, empty despite reflecting the brilliant light of the moon. a yearning found within the jagged strokes of the cliff, like it’s sitting there and waiting for someone they know won’t return. the differing shades of blue that make up the piece echo out strong notes of melancholy, and your eyes burn the longer that feeling lingers around you. tears prick the corners of your eyes and a lump forms within your throat. its visceral, the ache you feel looking at this painting. you understand intimately how crushing and all consuming that feeling of loneliness can bring.

you instantly fall in love with the painting.

your eyes flick to the plaque sitting in front. there’s no name for the painting you can see, but the artist name is printed in flowing cursive script that you easily read. ‘rafayel’ sprawls across the starch white of the card, and you have the sudden need to meet this person. to see them and figure out just what made them create such a painting like this. a painting that seems to speak directly to you.

it doesn’t take you long to search up the artist online.

rafayel qi is a few years older than you are and hails from verona. he’s a newbie in the art scene, a nobody really, but his natural talent and skills quickly make him somebody. you understand why, seeing one of his paintings first hand. what you don’t understand, however, is the lack of information about him besides his name, age and his birth city. there’s basically nothing about him on the web; no pictures, social media, no interviews or q&a’s, not even a website for him to showcase his art. nothing! it drives you insane that you can’t seem to find out anything about him, and for a week straight you try your damndest too. even begging/bribing your nerdy techie of a classmate to try and dig up something, but even she can’t find much more. which leaves you out of two hundred dollars and with no answers.

so you desperately keep your ear out while weeks turn into months and you graduate from high school. when you get the barest of news that rafayel signed with an agent and is now doing more galleries, you nearly cry from joy. you try your best to get tickets to his future galleries, but they’re all so stupidly expensive and high class that your poor wallet can’t afford to spare the money—not when you’ve got to pay for the university expenses that your scholarship can’t cover.

(and yes, you did manage to skirt by just well enough to snag the art scholarship you have. you don’t personally think you have what it takes in terms of talent, but your hard work pays off when you really set your mind to it and buckle down. your medium of choice is a bit old fashioned and tricky to maneuver, but you like the feeling of charcoal and how pretty you can make those dark smudges look. you even experiment a little when it comes to adding color to your sketches, though your various attempts are abysmal and you vow to never show anyone how bad they look.)

so you try and wait for another opportunity, stalking forums and art news websites for any other information you can possibly get your hands on. it’s here, one random wednesday afternoon while scrolling through your social feed in the university library, that you come across an article. they’re talking about up and coming artists, and your fingers are already clicking on the link before you can even think about it. it takes a moment for the page to load, but when it does, you choke your spit.

there’s a picture there to greet you, one that sets your face ablaze and makes your chest throb with how fast your heart is beating. in the lower right hand corner, you can see in tiny text words that frazzle your mind. ‘rafayel qi (left) posing with interviewer lea smith (right) in front of his newest piece.’

your eyes bounce back and forth from the painting you see to the ethereally beautiful man shooting the camera a slight smirk. his arms are crossed, one hand buried within the crook of his elbow, the other almost playfully clutching a paintbrush. his hair looks artfully tousled, colored a pretty purple that compliments the strange color of his eyes that you can just barely make out from behind the screen of your phone. you still aren’t sure what color they are, and no matter how many times you crop and zoom in, you can’t be certain if they’re purple or blue. fitted in an unbuttoned white shirt and tight black slacks that emphasize the length of his legs and the tight shape of his waist, with flawless pale skin and an unfairly pretty face, you know that you’re immediately gone.

the need coursing through you to finally meet this man is intense. you feel as if you’re about to shake out of your skin the longer you look at the photo, and you don’t hesitate to download it and crop out the lady, until it’s just rafayel staring back at you. you immediately switch back to the article and read through it, taking your time to admire the newest piece to his collection before rereading the article a few times—just to really cement the information in your mind. as lame and bland as the questions are, you feel as if you’re accomplishing something anyway. the little information you get paints a picture of the artist that’s captured your attention so thoroughly. of rafayel, who is hands down the most gorgeous person you’ve ever come across.

it becomes sort of a…compulsion, after that. you use that picture you’ve gotten as your home and lockscreen. and your idle time outside of school work and your part time job is spent endlessly searching for more crumbs. as the months morph into a year, then two, your collection of rafayel pictures grows exponentially. the artist chooses to somewhat engage with the outside world more, and you honestly can’t be more grateful. you don’t get many interviews after that, unfortunately, so your information is still limited even now. but still! any piece you gather feels like a win, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem.

you know he’s a pisces and that his birthday is march 6th. you know that he never officially went to any art school, and that he’s got a natural gift for picking apart color swatches and shades. you know that he’s charismatic enough to carry conversations, and while you can see someone playful peak through his aloof demeanor every now and again, he more often than not stays distant when being interviewed. you know that he truly has a passion for art of any kind, and that his own speaks deeply for him. he continuously paints about lemuria, the recently discovered ancient ruins of a civilization long thought to be a myth. you know he holds that place close to him, based off the haunting and sorrowful energy radiating from his works, but the why of it still escapes you.

you think you know him as well as a certified stranger can, and it gnaws at you that you don’t know more. you feel like a beast, really, with how much you hunger for more of him. with how strong the desire to meet with him, to speak to him is. it frightens you, these intense feelings you have. but that fear easily gets pushed to the wayside whenever you catch a glimpse of rafayel’s picture in your phone, or when you happen to catch sight of a lake or ocean wide enough for the reflection to glimmer underneath the sun. there’s just something about him that captivates you entirely, and you have no choice but to give in to that desire to be near him. but he rarely makes physical appearances outside of private galas and exhibits. so you’re stuck watching him through your screen, constantly checking for updates or idly staring at his pretty face captured in various subtle expressions.

you glance at your phone screen as you stick close to the walls of the university hallway. it’s a picture of him, caught in a side profile and wearing an expensive dark blue suit. a candid caught by a fansite you’ve been following—a fansite that takes commissions for a hefty price. a price you were more than willing to pay two weeks ago. as bad a financial decision that was, it still makes you happy regardless. you’ve got two brand new pictures of rafayel, two pictures that only you have access too. it’s like you were the one to take those pictures, if you really think about it.

because you feel like it, you flick open your phone and look at the second picture you paid for. rafayel’s face is turned to the side and some of his hair is obscuring his eyes, so you still can’t determine the damn color, but the visual of his defined and exposed collarbone more than make up for it. you sigh a little, a smile curling up the corner of your lip as you click your phone closed. you shake it a little and wait for it to briefly light up, sighing again when you get another glimpse of the first photo.

looking at rafayel so early in the morning is like a shot of espresso for you. this particular course—art theory & critical studies—is one that’s criminally early, and you’re dead fucking tired from being up the night prior reading the latest article about rafayel. nothing new for you was found, but it’s hard for you to ignore things like that, not when there’s a chance you could find out something new. you notice the time and grimace a bit, picking up your slow walk to more of a power walk/light jog mix.

you’re on your way to class now, and while you aren’t exactly late, you will be if you don’t hurry. it’s the beginning of your third year at university and while you feel like your artistic sense has grown, you still don’t feel super confident in your work. not enough to want to deal with professor kim and his harsh critiques and boring lectures. but, unfortunately, if you want to continue being in school at such a steep discount, you have to follow the rules and guidelines to your scholarship. so here you are, power walking into class with a grim look on your face more suitable for a soldier rather than a uni student.

you walk so fast in your haste that you actually end up tripping over the lip of the door to class. your phone slips out of your hand like it was especially greased for you to drop, and it clatters to the floor with a loud noise. the sound immediately draws stares to you, and you can feel your face burn from embarrassment. and because your day can’t get any worse, you watch as your phone slides across the ground until they land at an unfamiliar pair of loafers. you frown, eyes trailing up mile long legs clad in brown slacks. up, up, up your eyes go until you land on a face you never imagined you’d see in person.

you swear that everyone in the room can hear how your heartbeat stutter and stops, like the dying engine of a motor as you stare into the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen. you understand why you’ve never been able to place the color now, the bright blue of rafayel’s iris mingles with a soft pink, producing a hypnotizing effect as he blinks. you’re suddenly reminded of sunsets; of those moments right before the sun fully peeks over the horizon, the sky blazing in various hues of purple, pink and blue.

embarrassingly, you find that your throat is completely dry as you watch him glance down. with a raised eyebrow and a decidedly unamused quirk of his lip, he bends down and picks up your phone. your jerk forward, but it’s already too late because as soon as your phone jostles, your screen lights up and rafayel is faced with your lock screen.

he freezes in place, the look in his eyes going unreadable as he stares down at his own photo.

your entire body tenses, and you feel like the entire class is staring at you two, which only serves to make you even more nervous. you didn’t think this day would come. never in your life would you have imagined seeing him here if all places, in your uni class. and dressed like that? a smart brown suit that molds to his lean figure, black leather gloves, sparkling silver glasses and small black gauges to top off the look. you think you might actually just keel over and die—either from the fear, embarrassment or the sudden wash of horny thoughts flooding your mind. you honestly don’t know which one you’d prefer.

he finally moves what feels like years later, but was in actuality only a few moments of awkward silence. you’re expecting him to be grossed out, maybe even a little scared and uncomfortable. it can’t feel good to come across a complete stranger and see that they have you saved as their lockscreen, like some creepy fan. what you aren’t expecting, however, is the smug curl of his lips. his eyes flick to meet yours, and your rapidly pounding heart stops at the look he gives you. full of something dark and hot enough to make you twitch.

‘you dropped this, miss…?’ he easily hands over the phone, bending down slightly like…like he wants to get a better look at you. the musical lilt of his voice turns the slightest bit playful as he lightly cocks his head to the side. it’s a cheeky gesture, and you awkwardly fumble for your phone, keeping his stare the entire time. your fingers brush against his skin and you can’t fight off the shiver that travels down your spine and up your arms, goosebumps raising long your skin. you go to take your hand back, but you freeze when you can feel the slightest hint of resistance. he raises an eyebrow, and you nearly short circuit at the sight of his pretty eyes staring at you over the slouch of the silver frames hanging low on his nose.

right, your name. he’s asking…oh my god fucking rafayel qi is asking for your name—

‘[✦].’ you shakily tell him, and your phone easily goes with you next time you pull. he hums, eyes giving you a full once over before standing to his full height. he gives you a smile, the expression polite and distant as he nods. his entire body language screams professionally cold, but the stare he gives you is the complete opposite.

‘alright then, have a seat miss [✦]. class is about to start.’

your brain turns to complete mush, and you move on autopilot as your name in his voice echoes in your mind. before you realize it, your seated in the front row of the lecture hall. it’s only after rafayel introduces himself to the class, after he begins a powerpoint on art theory and what it means, after you’ve been dazedly staring at him for nearly half the class, do you finally understand what this means.

rafayel is here, teaching your uni course on art theory.

rafayel is going to be your professor.

yah so, uh, this is a thing i hope ya’ll like it >_< i really like how this turned out and am v proud of it so maybe this will get a part two ??? we’ll see, but for now enjoy this lil bit !!

i am a 18+ blog so if you follow and are a minor/ ageless you will be blocked

#owlettie writes #owlettie's works #lads rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace #rafayel x you #rafayel x reader #lads x you #lads x reader #l&ds rafayel #l&ds #love and deepspace rafayel

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