#spiderhan

it had been a few months since you found out your boyfriend was spider-man.

a few months of processing. a few months of adjusting. a few months of realizing your academically gifted nerd was not only a secret superhero but also extremely smart in ways that made you want to file a complaint against the universe.

jisung designed his own suit and engineered half the tiny gadgets in his room from spare parts he borrowed from the university lab. and somehow still couldn’t remember where he left his airpods. somehow, you had also become his personal medic. he’d collapse onto your bed, half asleep, and let you clean him up, trusting you to handle it while he drifted off like nothing hurt.

you weren’t fully used to it—no one gets used to dating spider-man—but it wasn’t as crazy to you anymore. half the time he climbed through your window at 3 a.m. mumbling “baby i think the sewer mutant broke my rib” while you were brushing your teeth.

so yeah. you’d adjusted.

and not just to him. to the rest of it too.

weird robots weren’t rare anymore. property damage became so routine that your campus group chat now had a weekly “whose lecture hall did spider-man accidentally barricade this time?” poll. entire streets got blocked off because something exploded again. crime waves kept coming in bizarre batches. 

your city wasn’t the predictable, peaceful seoul you grew up with. everyone knew that now. and you knew it more than most.

most mornings, walking to your physics lecture felt like a coin toss.

maybe he’d be there. maybe he’d be dangling off a building three blocks away. maybe he’d be asleep on his couch with an ice pack taped to his ribs. you never knew, and weirdly, that stopped bothering you a while ago. you were used to it.

you pushed open the lecture hall doors and angled toward your usual row, already mentally preparing for the disappointment. it was fine if he wasn’t there. absolutely, totally fine. you’d sit. you’d take notes. you’d text him later something casual like hey did you survive today and he’d reply with a selfie from somewhere medically concerning.

then you looked up.

your seat. a familiar dusty backpack was dumped onto it as a territorial marker. there was an open notebook on the desk, half filled with notes. a pen between fingers. 

there he was.

jisung looked up at the exact same moment you did, and his face changed instantly. his eyes lit up. 

he scrambled immediately. fumbled with his stuff. yanked his bag off your chair, nearly dropped it, whispered a frantic sorry sorry like you’d caught him committing a crime instead of saving you a seat. you walked up the steps grinning to yourself.

you slid into the chair beside him, your tote landing at your feet.

he opened his mouth like he was about to say something. probably a lot of things. you could see it lining up behind his eyes already.

you didn’t give him the chance yet. you wrapped your arms around him, cheek pressing into his shoulder, like your body got there before your brain could remember all the reasons you were usually weird about PDA.

he froze for half a second.

then he let out a soft, surprised chuckle, sounding more pleased than he was trying to be, and slid his arm around you. he bent his head and pressed a kiss into your hair.

“i missed you too,” he said quietly.

“i didn’t know if you’d come,” you admitted.

he huffed a laugh under his breath. “y/n, i’m not skipping the lecture on curved spacetime.”

you pulled back just enough to look at him with a smile. “fair.”

you finally let go, tugging your notebook out of your tote. he watched you for a second longer than necessary, expression soft and a little guilty, then looked back down at his notes.

“you missed the last two,” you said, flipping to a fresh page. “we started lagrangians and generalized coordinates. it’s not forgiving if you fall behind.”

“yeah,” he said. “i noticed that when i realized my textbook notes just say ‘ask y/n’ with hearts beside it”

you glanced at him with your pen between your teeth. “wow. incredible study strategy.”

“hasn’t failed me yet,” he said, then hesitated. “but i do actually need help catching up.”

“mhm,” you said, uncapping your pen with your mouth. “we can do that tonight.”

he went quiet after that. 

you waited a beat, then another, before tilting your head. “…or is tonight full of duties?” 

he shook his head quickly. “no, no, tonight’s good. i was just thinking.”

you leaned your head into your hand and turned fully toward him, elbow on the armrest, giving him your complete and undivided attention.

he stalled immediately. his eyes flicked over your face like he forgot what language he spoke. the thin navy sweater you were wearing fit you in that unfair way that made you look so pretty and put together and completely distracting. his brain short-circuited.

he let out a small, nervous chuckle. you raised an eyebrow, amused.

he cleared his throat and tried again. “we just… haven’t really gotten to see each other much lately. like, properly. so i was wondering if you wanna go out tonight?”

“yes,” you said instantly. “we can go to that place near campus that only opens after eight, perfect for studying.”

he blinked. “no,” he said, laughing. “i mean, yes, eventually. but i meant like… dinner. somewhere nice.”

“oh,” you said, the word soft and surprised.

his smile turned teasing. “yeah. no textbooks. no laptops. just you and me.”

you swallowed, suddenly very aware of the way your heart had started beating faster. it had honestly been so long since you and jisung had gone out to dinner like that. not because he never wanted to—he had, especially in high school—but somewhere between university and spiderman duties bleeding into every corner of your time, your “dates” had turned into being together all the time instead. studying side by side. eating whatever was closest. 

“yes!” you blurted, a little too loud because the people in front of you turned around.

his eyes widened, amused. “yes?”

you nodded quickly, lowering your voice. “yes,” you mouthed.

his grin spread, bright and giddy, and he reached over, squeezing your hand once. you squeezed back, smiling down at your notes, trying and failing to focus as the lecture began.

mina was sprawled comfortably on your bed, shoes kicked off and your desk chair stolen for her bag. she always treated your place like a second home and showed up whenever she felt like it, especially because you had your own bathroom. you obviously didn’t mind. she was your best friend, and she always brought life into your room.

you tugged lightly at the hem of the top you just changed into.

mina looked up.

“oh my god,” she said. “you’re so hot i might actually bite you.”

you scrunched your nose. “thanks.”

the off shoulder white top was way nicer than anything you usually wore to class. paired with the black pleated skirt and boots. you’d bought the top for a conference months ago and then panicked last minute, convinced bare shoulders were somehow too much. only to show up and realize everyone else had theirs out like it was nothing. 

“yeah. he’s not surviving this.” she grinned, then tilted her head. “wait. are you matching?”

you blinked. “with him? i don’t know what he’s wearing.”

she rolled her eyes. “no. you. underneath.”

“oh,” you said, the realization hitting. you laughed. “oh. yes. of course i am.”

“good,” mina said, flopping back onto your bed. “because if this turns into anything like the last time seojun took me out…”

you groaned. “do not bring your feral boyfriend into my pre date nerves.”

she ignored you completely. “i’m serious. animal behavior. no decorum. zero shame. we were in public.”

you grabbed the nearest pillow and launched it at her. she laughed, muffled, tossing the pillow back at you.

then, one knock came. 

four more. a pause. another three.

mina blinked, sitting up. “who knocks like that,” she said flatly. “what a weirdo.”

“shut up.”

you crossed your room, palms suddenly warm, and reached for the door.

then you opened it.

jisug was there.

white button up, black tie. slacks sitting just right on his hips with a belt you absolutely noticed.

your brain lagged and so did his.

“you’re so beautiful, y/n,” he said softly, slipping out before he could stop it.

you smiled and stepped closer, one hand lifting to his jaw. you kissed him once, quick and warm. then he inhaled, lips parting, and he kissed you back. 

you pulled back. “hi.”

he smiled, a little dazed. “hi.” 

he brought his hand forward from behind his back.

the flowers came into view. small blue blooms tucked between red roses, dotted with tiny white buds. 

you gasped. “jisung.”

“too much?” he asked quickly. “i panicked a little. but it’s still romantic. i think.”

you laughed and kissed his cheek. “they’re perfect.”

you took the flowers from him carefully and stepped aside, already heading toward the counter to get a vase. he followed you in, watching you fuss with the stems. 

you filled the vase at your bathroom sink and set the flowers down on your desk, then paused.

you turned slowly. “jisung. these are very specific colors.”

he let out a quiet chuckle behind you.

before you could press him on it, mina wandered into the bathroom.

jisung groaned the second he saw her. “oh. of course you’re here.”

she snorted. “what a dick,” she said, then reached up and smacked the back of his head.

you laughed, watching them glare at each other, the bouquet bright on the counter and your heart feeling full.

“are you ready?” jisung asked, glancing at you.

you nodded, grabbing your bag and slipping your boots on. “yeah.”

mina waved a hand at both of you. “i’ll lock up, y/n” she said.

you both called goodbye at the same time and she shooed you out, laughing as the door closed behind you.

by the time dessert came out, the plates from dinner were long gone. you’d both been yapping nonstop. stories. jokes. tangents that spiraled into other tangents. a slice of cheesecake sat between you. you’d agreed to share it and immediately abandoned any sense of structure, forks crossing as you stole bites from opposite sides. 

at some point the conversations fizzled out. the noise of the restaurant softened into background hum. your fork hovered over the plate, then lowered without taking a bite.

you traced the edge of the plate with your fork. “do you ever think about what we’re supposed to do after we graduate?”

he blinked, surprised. 

then he leaned back in his chair, eyes flicking up toward the ceiling like the answer might be written there. “all the time.”

you looked up at him. “really.”

“yeah,” he said. “i try not to, but it sneaks up on me. like when i’m doing homework or… eating cheesecake.”

you smiled faintly.

he let out a quiet breath and shrugged a little, fingers absently nudging the edge of the plate. “i don’t really know what i want yet.”

you reached across the table without thinking, your fingers brushing the watch on his wrist. “that makes two of us.”

he tilted his head. “yeah?”

“i used to be so sure,” you admitted. “and now i’m studying all this stuff and realizing there’s so much out there.”

he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, eyes warm and earnest. “whatever you end up doing, you’re gonna be incredible at it. i know that.”

you smiled, the kind that crept in slowly and stayed. “don’t say that so confidently.”

he reached across the table anyway, fingers closing around yours like it was the most natural thing in the world. he lifted your hand, pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“it’s true,” he said simply. “i know you.”

your chest warmed.

“do you think you’re gonna stay here?” he asked.

you glanced down at the plate again. at the smear of cheesecake. your mind did that thing it always did lately, flipping through images you never asked for. sirens echoing down main roads. buildings taped off. people whispering about moving somewhere quieter. safer. somewhere that didn’t make the news every other week.

everyone was thinking about leaving the city.

you’d heard it in lecture halls and cafés and half drunk conversations at parties. 

you took a breath.

“yeah,” you said. “i do.”

he stared at you, genuinely stunned. “you’re serious.”

you nodded. “i know it’s dangerous. I get first hand experience from you of telling me just how dangerous it is. i know it’s loud and unpredictable but this is my home.”

he shook his head a little, like he was trying to recalibrate. “most people can’t wait to get out.”

“i know,” you said. “that’s all anyone talks about.”

he looked down at your joined hands, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“you don’t ever wish it was safer?” he asked.

“sometimes,” you admitted. “when it’s so loud outside at night i can’t sleep.”

he nodded slowly, still not looking up. 

you squeezed his hand, a little tighter. “but… you’re here.”

his thumb stilled.

“you’re here,” you said again, softer because you’re getting into the topic of his identity. “and you’re protecting it.”

“y/n—”

“i know you can’t just leave,” you said, rushing a little now, nerves creeping in. “so if you’re here, then i don’t want to be anywhere else. i don’t want a future that doesn’t include this city if it means it doesn’t include you.”

the restaurant noise faded completely for him. “are you being serious right now?”

you nodded. “completely.”

his eyes searched your face, like he was trying to find the joke. when he didn’t, his voice came out carefully. “are you saying you wanna stay because of me?”

“i’m saying i’m staying with you,” you said. “wherever that actually ends up being.”

he swallowed hard. “you’re saying that like it’s… long term.”

you laughed quietly, nerves and excitement tangled together. “is that scary?”

“a little,” he said honestly. then his mouth curved into a stunned smile. “but also kind of amazing.” he paused, then said it, half joking and half not at all. “are you saying you wanna spend the rest of your life with me?”

you didn’t hesitate. “yeah. i am.”

he squeezed your hand again, excitement bubbling through him now. “so like. hypothetically.”

“mhm.”

“someday,” he said, trying and failing to sound casual, “would you want to get married.”

you smiled so hard your cheeks hurt. 

his grin went wide and giddy. “really.”

“really.”

he let out a breath that sounded like he’d been holding it for years. “we used to joke about it all the time back in highschool. but i meant it.”

your chest tightened.

“i’m serious now,” he added quietly. “like… actually serious.”

you searched his face, then smiled, soft and steady. “me too.”

he hesitated, then laughed under his breath, nerves leaking through. “i’ll do it for real someday.”

you raised an eyebrow. “do what.”

“you know,” he said, cheeks warming. “proposing.”

“as long as you don’t do it during finals week.”

“i’d never.” he snorted. 

you smiled, warmth blooming in your chest. you finally picked up your fork again and took another bite of cheesecake. 

it tasted even sweeter than before.

you were starting to think the matching lingerie had definitely been the right call.

jisung’s door shut behind you with a soft click. his jacket was half-off his shoulders, but he hadn’t bothered with it before you were on him, pulling him in by the front of his shirt and kissing him like dinner had been a century ago. which, fair. your boyfriend was stupid hot. criminally unaware of it, too, which made him even hotter. 

his mouth crashed into yours as his dick jumped. he’d be lying if he said he’d hadn’t been semi bricked since he handed you those flowers three hours ago. his lips dragged slow across yours before returning hard again, like he couldn’t decide between savoring and starving. his hands found your waist fast, then moved down, pressing into the dip of your spine, dragging your hips flush to his with a low groan.

you reached for his tie without breaking the kiss, fingers curling into the loose knot. it was still done all neat from dinner, but that lasted maybe two more seconds. you tugged—harder than you meant to—and the soft whine that tore from him in response went straight to your core.

“y/n,” he breathed, lips brushing yours as his eyes flicked open just barely, “you’re unreal.”

you loosened the knot with one hand, sliding the silky fabric from his collar, your other hand already dragging down his chest, feeling the press of lean muscle under crisp cotton. you swear he was getting noticeably buffer by the day. you were starting to think all this neighborhood-saving, wall-crawling, car-lifting spidey business was doing you a favour. because every time he crashed through your window lately, that suit looked a little tighter.

he shrugged his jacket off with a bit too much urgency—nearly gotten stuck in one sleeve—and laughed against your mouth. 

you backed him up into his bedroom, both of you half-stumbling over the edge of the rug. his legs bumped the side of the bed, and you pressed forward until he dropped onto it with a soft oof, eyes wide, hair mussed already from your fingers. his chest rose and fell, the shirt a little wrinkled now, the top few buttons undone from your impatient hands.

“come here,” he murmured, voice hoarse.

you climbed into his lap without needing the invitation twice, hands braced on his shoulders, knees on either side of his hips, and his mouth found your throat instantly. warm lips dragged under your jaw, tongue dipping into the hollow behind your ear, and your fingers tangled in his hair like you’d been aching to touch him for hours.

you giggled as his nose nuzzled your neck like he was trying to live there, warm puffs of breath hitting just below your ear, and he groaned quietly when your fingers scraped his scalp just right. you were both straddling that gorgeous edge between desperation and softness, so tangled up in each other it was like you were breathing in sync. his lips brushed your jaw, your throat, lower, and then back up again like he couldn’t decide where to land.

“spidey,” you whispered, tugging at his hair gently to make him look at you.

he lifted his head immediately, flushed and glowing, hair sticking up in ridiculous directions, and he blinked at you. 

“yeah?” he said, and there was a smile curling at the edge of his mouth.

your fingers rested at the back of his neck, the other sliding to the open collar of his shirt. his tie still half-hanging, loosened by your earlier tug, and you glanced at it, then at him.

“i love you,” you said. it was probably the gazillionth time you said it to him since dinner. but it never lost its meaning.

“i love you too,” he said, without even hesitating. his smile deepened, gaze fixed on you like you were all he wanted to see. “so much, baby.”

his hand slipped under your top, fingers spreading wide against your back. he kissed you again like he was drinking you in. you moaned when he kissed you deeper, and he responded with a soft noise of his own, hips shifting under yours.

“god, you’re so pretty,” he whispered between kisses, voice breaking on the last word. his fingers threaded through your hair, then slid to your waist, holding you like he didn’t want to let go. “you always are. but tonight—fuck, y/n…”

you hummed against his mouth, tugging the tie the rest of the way off. he helped you with it, slipping it from around his neck and tossing it blindly toward the floor without ever taking his eyes off you.

“you like it?” you murmured, brushing your lips along his cheek, then back to his mouth. 

he groaned a little, pulling you tighter into his lap, and he nodded, like words weren’t even good enough. “i’ve been losing my mind since the second you opened the door. that top, your boots, i didn’t even know i had a thing for skirts and now i’m never gonna recover.”

you laughed, wrapping your arms tighter around his shoulders. 

you felt him breathe you in, his nose nudging your pulse point before he exhaled, voice barely audible. “god, i’m so in love with you.”

your hands found his hair again and he let you guide him, let you lean him back onto the bed, mouths never parting. he reached for your thighs again as you straddled him, both of you shifting on instinct, and you ground down onto him slowly, dragging a moan from his chest so sincere it made your head spin.

he threw his head back, throat exposed, the muscles of his neck flexing as he exhaled through gritted teeth. every time he did that, you had the urge to bite his adam’s apple which probably wasn’t standard behavior, but here you were. the sheer pressure of your body rolling against his cock had him panting already. every tiny shift of your hips made him harder, straining against the front of his slacks so painfully he couldn’t think straight.

you slowly began to unbutton the rest of his white shirt. the last few were still tucked into his slacks—neat, perfect, just like he was when he showed up at your door—but they didn’t stay that way. you tugged the last bit of fabric free from his waistband and spread the shirt open fully, your palms skimming down the now-exposed plane of his chest.

you stalled.

he looked so…different. not just hot. not just flushed and needy and panting under you with his chest rising in uneven, shivery breaths and sweat collecting along his collarbone. that part, yes. but it was more than that.

his shirt was open, collar spread beneath his shoulder blades, and the sleeves still cuffed neatly at his wrists. his slacks still sat on neatly his hips, belt still looped. he was just disheveled enough to hint at what you’d been doing. what you were about to do.

what a man.

“you’re looking at me weird,” he whispered, teasing and gentle.

you bit your lip. “just thinking.”

“about?”

you gave him a sly, secret smile, fingers grazing the dip of his stomach, feeling him tense under your touch. “how insanely hot you look right now.”

he laughed, warm and flustered and so in love.

but then your voice softened, lips brushing his jaw.

“and maybe…” another kiss, just under his ear. “…how i want this every day.” your nose bumped his. “how i want you.”

“you have me,” he echoed, voice rough.

then you smiled—just a little, like you couldn’t help it—and your hands slid up his chest again, over the sweat-warmed rise and fall of him. “but when you’re laying here, all dressed up with your shirt open like that…”

he swallowed hard.

“you look like you’re already my husband.”

he shuddered. visibly.

“holy fuck,” he whispered, head tilting back, mouth parted. “y/n.”

you kissed his throat, right where it bobbed with the way he swallowed again. “you do,” you whispered. “and i think i want to see you like this. every day. for years.”

he made a noise that wasn’t even a full word—more like a gasp fused with a groan—and his hips bucked up into you before he could stop them. you could feel the hard, desperate press of him through his slacks, right between your legs, throbbing hot against your still-laced center.

“baby, you can’t,” his eyes fluttered closed like he was trying not to completely unravel. “you can’t say shit like that while you’re still on top of me like this,”

“i’m just being honest,” you teased, rolling your hips the slightest bit, just to feel the way his breath hitched again. “i want you for good.”

he groaned, long and low, and gripped your hips like he was trying not to come from words alone.

“i’ve never been this turned on in my life,” he breathed. “you call me your husband again and i might not last.”

you leaned down, lips at the corner of his mouth.

“my husband,” you whispered, slow, savoring the sound. “han jisung.”

he whimpered.

and then his hands were at your back, fumbling but gentle. “can i take this off? please?”

you had no idea what he meant but you just nodded, dazed, ready for him to undress literally anything. 

he slid his hands beneath your nice top and eased it up, pausing once as it passed your shoulders, then tugging it gently off. he placed it neatly on the bedside table.

when he turned back to you, the sight knocked the breath out of him.

black lace. delicate, stunning, hugging every curve of your body and he didn’t even know you were wearing a set.

you reached down, and slid your skirt off your hips, letting it fall. 

he didn’t say anything at first. just stared like his brain was buffering.

his eyes dragged over your body like he didn’t know where to land. the black lace clung to your chest, your hips, soft and sheer in all the places that made his breath stutter. the kind of set that looked dainty at first glance—just a bra and panties, thin straps and delicate trim—but now, on you, it was dangerous.

then he moved and rolled you gently onto your back, hands never leaving your waist, lips brushing your shoulder as he shifted over you. he was on top, hovering, eyes dark and reverent, hair falling in front of his face as he looked down at you like you were all his.

“you wore this for me?”

you nodded, fingers brushing his jaw. 

“you’re so fucking perfect. i don’t wanna take it off—i really don’t.” his eyes dropped back to your chest, then lower, to the soft lace hugging your hips. 

his mouth trailed down your body like he was already mourning the loss of it. he kissed between the swell of your breasts, and his hands rose to the clasp of your bra. he undid it smoothly, reverently, and when it fell open—he sucked in a breath so sharp it cut the air.

“but i have to.”

you were completely bare to him now, chest rising, nipples flushed from the cool air, and he was already dipping down again, kissing between them first, then lower.

he kissed your ribs. your stomach. and when he reached the waistband of your panties—he looked up, eyes locked on yours as he hooked his fingers into the lace. he slid the fabric down your thighs, over your knees, down to your ankles. when he finally had them off, he tossed them aside and then he settled between your legs, eyes wide.

your legs were open, and your pussy glistened under the low lamplight, soaked from everything that had come before.

you gushed from the way he looked at you. literally. you could feel the slick build as his gaze settled between your legs, dark and awed. like the heat in his eyes alone could make you fall apart. 

“jisung,” you breathed. “please.”

his eyes shot up, like your voice alone dragged him from a trance. he blinked, cheeks flushed. 

“beg again,” he rasped.

you blinked down at him, breath catching. “please, jisung.”

he groaned and then he lowered his head, kissed your inner thigh, then again—closer, closer—until his mouth met your pussy with a soft kiss of his lips.

you gasped.

he kissed again, open and warm, then dragged his tongue through your folds in one long, unhurried lick that had your back arching off the mattress. he groaned again then he went back in, deeper this time, licking into you with hunger.

the taste of you was driving him crazy. when he moaned into your cunt again, it vibrated straight through your core.

“jisung—” you gasped, hips rolling against his face, hands flying to his hair as he buried himself deeper.

he started fucking you with his tongue. he reached up, hooked his arms around your thighs, and held you there. his mouth pressed flush to you, his nose nudging your clit just right every time he drove his tongue in, and you cried out, loud and high-pitched as your thighs closed instinctively around his head.

you knew you weren’t being quiet, but no one cared on his floor. you’d heard it all before—moans and thuds from behind paper-thin dorm walls coming from his floormates. 

if anything the thought that people might hear and know exactly what he was doing to you right now turned him on more. he groaned again at the sound of your cries, cock twitching hard in his slacks, aching to be inside you but too drunk on your taste to stop now.

he grinned against you. “you taste so fucking good,” he breathed, voice wrecked. “i could eat this pussy forever, baby.”

“jisung,” you gasped. “i’m gonna cum.”

your orgasm, curling up from your core and ripping through you. your back arched off the bed as your moan broke. he didn’t stop. not when you bucked against his mouth, not when your fingers clawed at his hair, not even when your legs trembled violently around his head.

“that’s it, baby,” he murmured against you, lips still brushing your clit, tongue gentler now and lapping strokes. “i’ve got you. just like that.”

you gasped, overstimulated, blissed-out, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as your thighs twitched around his shoulders.

he kissed the inside of your thigh again—softer this time—and lifted his head just enough to see your face.

“you okay?” he whispered, voice so gentle, so sweet, as his hands rubbed slow circles into your hips. “still with me?”

you nodded, dazed, hair sticking to your cheek. “mhm. i’m good. so good.”

you were completely bare while he was still fully dressed, save for the open shirt like he’d forgotten about it completely.

but not for long.

he leaned back onto his knees, pulling his shirt the rest of the way off as you watched it fall down his shoulders. then his fingers went to his belt—unbuckling it slow, metal clicking—and your mouth went dry watching it come loose.

he looked down at you, eyes dark but soft. you nodded, eyes wide. you didn’t even have to think.

you saw that familiar heart-shaped smile—the one that made him look like your sweet boyfriend again for half a second before he leaned forward, gripped both your wrists, and brought them gently up over your head.

you blinked at him, heart jumping, but didn’t resist. 

“trust me, baby?” he whispered.

“yeah,” you breathed.

he kissed your forehead and raised his hand when you heard a thwip.

and suddenly webbing bound your wrists and stuck you to the headboard above you. 

you tugged once. no give.

he rubbed the back of his neck, a little sheepish, a little proud, eyes flicking between your wrists and your face. “uh. yeah. it’s… it’s not going anywhere,” he said, trying to sound casual and failing. there was a smile tugging at his mouth, the kind that said he knew exactly how that looked. “still okay?”

you swallowed, heat pooling low in your stomach, and nodded. “more than okay.”

his jaw clenched. his eyes dropped to your spread, glistening pussy and then back up to your bound wrists—your body laid out for him with nothing but want in your voice. he’d seen you naked more times than he could count but he’s still in awe every time.

you squirmed beneath him, wrists tugging uselessly against the webbing, your thighs rubbing together. “please,” you gasped, breath hitching. 

your voice cracked around it and it sent a shiver down his spine. 

“fuck, y/n,” he groaned, eyes blown. he was moved aside to shove his slacks down, boxers with them, cock springing free, already leaking at the tip from how worked up you’d made him. he reached blindly to the top drawer of his nightstand, pulled out a condom, tore it open, rolled it on fast with shaking hands.

and then he was back over you.

one hand gripped your thigh. the other slid along your waist. he lined himself up, the thick head of his cock sliding through your slick folds.

and he moaned, head dropping to your shoulder. you whimpered. you felt the pressure of him right at your entrance. 

he pushed in and your breath caught in your throat as the stretch filled you. your wrists tugged instinctively at the webbing, muscles clenching with the sheer pressure of him pressing into your soaked, needy cunt.

“fuck,” jisung groaned into your neck, hips rolling forward until he bottomed out, his cock buried to the hilt. “you feel so good,”

you whimpered, already fluttering around him, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist.

he pulled back just enough to thrust again, slower this time, a deep drag that left you gasping, arching up to chase more.

then his eyes locked onto your bound wrists.

his mouth curled into something dark and smug.

“you like being pinned, baby?” he rasped, voice thick with arousal.

you nodded fast, barely managing a moan as he fucked up into you again, making the webbing above your head pull taut with every movement.

“yeah?” his voice was low and rough now. “webbed to the fucking bed frame like one of my enemies. my villains.” his lips brushed your ear. “do i need to put you in your place?”

you whimpered, completely undone. jisung might seem like your average nerd but boy could he talk in bed when he wanted to.

“yes, jisung, go faster, please,”

his rhythm changed instantly—thrusts harder now, faster, his body pressing into yours. your bound wrists held you still, helpless beneath him, but your thighs clenched around his waist, your cries getting higher, every time he hit that perfect spot deep inside you.

but even through it, his voice softened, turned sweet again through the grit of his thrusts.

“you’ll never be one of them,” he panted, pressing a kiss to your jaw, then your mouth. “you’re too good for this world, baby. you hear me?”

you nodded, overwhelmed. “yes, yes, jisung—”

“my good girl,” he whispered, kissing you again. “so pretty. so perfect. you’re all mine.”

you pressed your face into his shoulder, words tumbling out between breaths. “don’t stop, please. i think i’m gonna cum.”

he nodded, barely like even he couldn’t manage words anymore. he started to hyperventilate, breath coming hot and fast against your ear, chest shuddering with the effort of holding himself together even as your thighs gripped him tighter.

“let go, baby. just let go.” he whispered, barely audible, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. 

you did.

your back arched beneath him as the climax tore through you, your legs locking tight around him. a sound ripped from your throat, your teeth clenched against the intensity of it. he buried himself to the hilt and came hard, spilling into the condom with a guttural groan that sounded like it’d been ripped from his chest.

his whole body shook as he came, forehead falling to your shoulder, mouth open, breath stuttering hard against your skin. he rode it out slow, hips rocking with the aftershocks.

he kissed you, his lips warm against yours, not frantic anymore. your breaths were still uneven, shaky from how hard you’d both come, but slowly, it evened out. his chest rose and fell in time with yours, your skin still sticky with sweat, the smell of sex hanging in the air.

he pulled out gently, carefully, his hips rolling back. you winced just slightly at the sensitivity, the drag of him leaving your body completely. he sat up, still over you, as he reached down to remove the condom, tying it off and tossing it into the small trash bin beside his desk. 

and then—

“fuck,” jisung muttered suddenly, pulling back just enough to blink up at your wrists. “fuck, y/n.”

you tilted your head.

he looked guilty. slightly panicked. “i—uh. i forgot something. kinda important.”

“what.”

“i can’t undo your wrists.”

you stared at him.

“the webs kinda need to dissolve on their own.” 

“what?!”

he winced. “it’s fine! it’s totally fine! they’re biodegradable—it just takes like two hours max. maybe ninety minutes if your skin’s warm enough—uhh, don’t look at me like that—”

“jisung.”

“i’m kidding,” he laughed, already rolling off the bed and grabbing something from the drawer beside it. “i have solvent.” he held up a sleek, pen-sized sprayer and wiggled it in the air. “synthesized it myself. reactive to the silk structure. breaks the polymer tension and reverts it to liquid phase.”

you blinked up at him, wrists still stuck above your head as he’s running his mouth.

“…jisung.”

“yeah?”

“shut up.”

he grinned. “yes, ma’am.”

and then he leaned over and sprayed with a faint hiss. the webbing slackened instantly, and your arms dropped, finally free. he caught one of your hands gently before it hit the mattress.

“welcome back,” he said, pressing a kiss to your knuckles like a dramatic prince.

you chuckled, then reached for his wrist and tugged gently. you nudged him in the ribs, then crawled up slowly into his lap, making him sit back against the headboard. he let you move him, watching you with hungry, wide eyes, his chest still bare, his lips still pink from kissing every inch of you.

he was hard again. already.

his stamina must’ve been a side effect to getting bitten. somewhere in that genetic mutation, his sex drive had dialed itself as well as the rest of him. his cock was flushed and you hadn’t even touched him yet.

your hand slipped between you, fingers curling around the length of him, warm and sticky from before, and aligned the head below your entrance.

“y/n,” he gasped, voice sharp with urgency. “wait, wait, baby, i’m not wearing a condom—”

you froze.

“right,” you said, blinking.

“yeah,” he said, still breathless, already halfway to going cross-eyed from how good it felt to almost be there.

“i’ll get one,” he mumbled, reaching toward the drawer again.

but for some reason, you stopped him. you put your hand on his chest and gently pressed him back enough to stop his reach. you didn’t even know why you asked it until it came out.

“…do you want to try without it?”

he stilled like a statue. blinking up at you like the words didn’t register.

you tilted your head. “would you? if i let you?”

his mouth opened—then closed—then opened again. “we’ve never—”

“i know.”

“i—fuck,” he whispered. “that’s not something i get to decide. that’s you. it’s always your call, baby.”

your whole body heated at the way he said it like he’d rather explode than make a single move without your say. you knew exactly how much he wanted this. you could sense it. but still, he held back.

you looked at him, lips parted, voice soft.

“i mean…”

you bit your lower lip and smiled—small, teasing, like you weren’t about to change everything with a few words.

“i already told you i want to marry you someday.”

his breath caught.

you continued, sliding your hands up his chest, your voice dangerously sweet. “so what’s the big deal if we just act like it just for tonight?”

his eyes widened, color rising high in his cheeks. his hands squeezed your thighs once—tightly—and he let out a shaky exhale.

“you ever think about it?” you murmured, mouth brushing his, teasing but deliberate. “how it would feel?”

his hips jolted at your words.

and then you felt it—a sudden, thick heat between your thighs as he choked on a noise and rutted into you once without meaning to. his cock slid between your folds and left his own mess on you.

he went still.

“oh my god, fuck, y/n, i’m so sorry,” he blurted out, voice cracking as he pulled back instinctively, hands scrambling like he wasn’t sure whether to hold you or move. “i didn’t mean to.”

you looked down at him, then between your thighs. you smiled.

“well,” you said, almost sing-song, tilting your head at him like you hadn’t just fried every neuron in his body. “you already got your cum on me.” you dragged your nails lightly over his shoulders, down his chest. “might as well finish the job.”

his eyes snapped back to yours.

you leaned closer, your mouth ghosting along his cheek, warm breath right against his ear. “do you want to fuck me raw, spidey?”

he looked like he was barely hanging on.

“what if—” his voice cracked. he swallowed hard. “what if you get pregnant?”

your smile was slow. dangerous.

“then you better pull out,” you whispered. “you’ve got super control, don’t you, spidey?”

he groaned and grabbed your hips with both hands, tight but trembling. his restraint cracked, your teasing catching up to him all at once.

“fuck, just get on, y/n,” he muttered, voice wrecked.

you took it as a sign to sink down onto him slowly because everything was different now.

his breath left him in one harsh, stuttering exhale. 

you could feel everything. every twitch, every throb. the slick slide of your body around his cock. the stretch. the shock of skin to skin. he was deeper than you remembered. hotter. you can’t believe you’ve been fucking him for the last year with the goddamn latex.

he was panting beneath you, “i won’t last,” he whispered, voice hoarse.

you let out a soft whimper and buried your face in his neck, overwhelmed by sensation. your whole body was shaking from the sheer intensity. he turned his head to kiss your temple. his fingers rubbed slow, soothing circles into your spine, even while his cock twitched hard inside you.

the moment you shifted your hips experimentally, the sensation shot up your spine like lightning. he exhaled sharp through his teeth, hips twitching once, and you both stilled.

you could feel him twitching inside you, hard and hot and bare.

“jesus,” he said under his breath, voice fraying. “y/n, i—”

“what?” you asked, but it came out like a whine.

his grip tightened. “if you keep moving like that, i’m gonna bust a web.”

you snorted, then winced because laughing while you were still filled to the brim with him didn’t help the sensitivity. “jisung.”

“no, i’m serious. like i have no defenses right now. you’re my kryptonite.”

“and you call yourself a superhero.” you breathed, biting your lip. 

“technically, i’m enhanced, not a mutant,” he muttered, eyes glassy with focus as he watched the way your body squeezed around him. “but i’m about to have a very human problem in like, ten seconds, so please don’t—fuck, don’t clench like that—”

 “what, like this?” you echoed, tilting your head just slightly.

and then you did it again.

you tightened around him, and his entire body shuddered like you’d shorted a circuit. his hands clenched on your hips, hard enough to bruise, but he didn’t stop you.

“oh my god, y/n,” he gasped, hips jerking helplessly. “what the hell did i ever do to you?”

you leaned forward, mouth ghosting over his, and whispered, “you webbed me to your bed.”

“worth it,” he groaned.

you lifted your hips slowly, feeling every inch of him drag along your walls, sticky and hot, no condom to dull it. and when you sank back down—harder this time, deeper—your breath stuttered out and his head dropped back with a broken sound.

he looked wrecked beneath you. sweaty hair clinging to his forehead, throat exposed, jaw tight with restraint. you knew him well enough to know what that meant—he was close already, and he was trying to hold off for you.

you couldn’t help it. that knowledge alone made your thighs clench tighter around his waist, made your pussy flutter around him as you rocked again, slow and deliberate.

you rode him like you’d forgotten how to be cocky.

your nails bit into his chest for balance, head bowed, and the softest whine escaped your lips with every motion. “j-jisung…”

his hands came up to your waist again, sliding to your ass, gripping you tight as he tried to help guide you—lift you, drop you back down. “that’s it, baby. just like that. you’re doing so fucking good. you’re so tight around me,”

you lifted your head and looked at him again, eyes glazed, cheeks flushed, your lips parted like you wanted to speak but forgot how. you moved again, rolling your hips in slow, deep circles, grinding your clit against the base of him, and his cock throbbed inside you. his hands flew to your waist again, trying to hold you still.

“breed me,” you whispered.

he went still as stone.

you said it again, slower this time, just to make sure he really heard it.

“don’t tempt me.” he gritted his teeth. his hips jerked once. “don’t fucking tempt me like that.”

“breed me, jisung.”

“you don’t,” he hissed, trying to convince himself more than you. “you’re just, fuck, you’re close, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“then pull out,” you challenged, looking him dead in the eyes. “go ahead. pull me off. if you can.”

he didn’t move.

didn’t even blink.

“this is some evil villain shit.” he breathed, forehead pressed to yours, voice shaking. 

“then stop being a hero and fill me.”

he snapped.

his grip shifted, his hips slammed up into you hard, and the sound that tore from his throat was primal. he gritted his teeth as your body squeezed him like a vice, riding high on the edge of orgasm already, and his voice was wrecked when he spoke.

“you want me to breed this pussy? want me to cum in you and fuck it deep, fill you up and make sure it stays?”

you gasped, whole body clenching again. “yes, jisung please,”

“you want to walk around dripping with me for days?” he growled, snapping his hips up again. “you want my cum leaking out of you, knowing i could’ve gotten you pregnant?”

your voice was a high-pitched cry now, barely coherent. “please, i want it,”

“fuck, i’m close,” he grunted, thrusts losing rhythm. “you’re gonna make me cum,”

he shoved up into you once, twice—then held you down on him, cock buried to the hilt, and came so hard he saw stars. he gasped your name, voice cracking as he pulsed inside you, hot and thick, ropes of cum filling you in slow, deep waves.

it was the first time you felt him cum inside you. the moment he spilled, you gasped. the warmth flooded you so hard it felt like it reached your stomach.

it sent you over the edge as well, your orgasm crashing through your body like a tidal wave. you could feel it inside you, his cock still twitching as it throbbed with the final pulses of release. 

you were still gasping, forehead pressed to his. 

“i love you.”

“i love you too,” jisung said, voice low, raw, and certain. “i fucking love you.”

you leaned into him instinctively, pressing your mouth to his, your kiss slow and tender, laced with heat and awe, his breath still ragged against your skin.

“fuck y/n…” he ran both hands down your back “i just came inside you.” he blinked like the full realization hit him now that the fog of orgasm had lifted. 

you smiled. “again?” you said. “it doesn’t matter now that the damage’s already done.”

“oh, fuck you,” jisung laughed before flipping you and pressing you into the mattress. you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. he kissed you hard, voice wrecked against your lips. “you’re evil.”

“you love me,” you whispered, smiling.

his eyes met yours.

“i always will.”

the sunlight crept in slow and soft, casting gentle lines across tangled sheets. your body ached. the scent of him was still on your skin.

but the space where he’d been was empty. cold.

you reached out anyway, hand brushing nothing but the imprint he left behind.

you lay there for a moment, blinking against the light, letting the quiet settle in your chest. the city outside was already awake. distant traffic. a muffled horn. the city always came first for him.

and then—

BANG

the window slammed open and a loud thud echoed through his bedroom.

you jumped. “son of a—”

and then you saw him.

jisung stood beside you, hair wild. there was a coffee in one hand, a dessert bag crumpled in the other, and a box clenched between his teeth. he was in his spider-man suit up to his neck. he looked like he’d just run five blocks, fought a guy, and then sprinted through traffic. which, knowing him, he probably had.

you squinted.

“…what’s in your mouth?”

he crossed the room fast, yanked it out of his teeth, and dropped it onto the mattress beside you.

you stared at the box.

it was the morning-after pill.

he flopped dramatically onto the mattress, groaning like he’d been stabbed. “i meant to be back before you woke up,” he huffed. “i had to swing, like, six blocks. the pharmacy didn’t open till seven. and then some guy tried to mug a woman outside the deli and he threw a fucking rock at me, and obviously i couldn’t just—ugh, why is the city so much?”

you launched yourself onto him, grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him stupid.

“ow, ow, baby, i’m still bruised—”

“you absolute idiot,” you laughed, forehead pressed to his. “you didn’t have to!”

“i love you,” he mumbled through a smile, eyes fluttering shut. “and i brought coffee.”

you rolled your eyes and flopped sideways onto his chest, grabbing the slightly smushed plan b box.

you pulled out the instructions, unfolded them with unnecessary drama, then cleared your throat.

“oooh,” you purred, fluttering your lashes. “levonorgestrel, 1.5 milligrams.” you glanced up at him and wiggled your brows.

jisung groaned. “please don’t dirty talk the plan b.”

but you were already flipping over the instructions, tongue between your teeth as you continued.

“should be taken within seventy-two hours after unprotected sex,” you whispered, emphasizing the words. “but the sooner, the most effective.”

his hand slid down his face.

“take one tablet by mouth as soon as possible,” you read, then opened wide and plopped it on your tongue, chasing it with a sip of the coffee. “there. clean-up crew’s arrived.” you tossed the wrapper in his garbage can and then stretched with a little satisfied hum, glancing over at him sprawled across the bed like he’d just fallen out of the sky.

which, honestly, wasn’t far from the truth. 

“alright, spider-boy. out of the suit, medic’s here. let’s see what damage that rock did.”

“just say you want me out of the suit.”

@star-my @seungminnieinthebuilding @internetmemeofficial @imnota-bot-iswear @feelikecinderella @hyunjinniemylove @fabdancer34 @estella-novella @jinniezret @bangchans-girl @7sunny07 @hanjisrockstar @chansguittar @shadequeen712 @skzophreniic @i-bitch-you-bitch @thequeenofdramaqueens @pineapple-in-a-burgah

When he awoke, everything was wrong. The sky was different. The city stood above him. It was cold. His body was half-submerged in the river, clothes missing. Three days had passed, but there were no memories. Where he had gone, what he had done, was lost.

He went home.

Upon arrival, his first heartbreak came the moment the door opened. You collided into him with a force that should’ve knocked the air from his lungs. You weren’t someone who cried but now the sound of it tore through you. You held onto him like he might vanish again if your grip loosened even a little.

The second time his heart shattered, all he did was try to hold you. Having thought he’d never get this chance again, his arms wrapped around your back like he’d done thousands of times, pulling you close, his fingers sinking into your soft flesh. But the moment he applied even the smallest bit of pressure, you flinched under him. The sounds you made would haunt him - your ribs cracking underneath a cry like a cornered animal.

You had been so overcome with misplaced grief that you hardly registered the exchange; you were only focused on him. Even later, it would take you days to notice the bruises. You could be absentminded like that, but he didn’t miss anything anymore.

He couldn’t.

Now, the world constantly pressed in on him from all sides - every one of senses were heightened to an inhuman degree. He also seemed to develop a secret sixth one which made him hyper-aware of everything around him. It was like he simply knew the world around him.

Even then, the worst of it was actually his strength. He couldn’t measure or trust it. The first night back, he snapped his glasses (useless anyway) without meaning to. Then the bathroom counter. Then his skateboard, split clean in half. Then some expensive equipment at the lab. And if he could do that without trying, he didn’t want to risk again what might happen if he couldn’t control himself around you.

You tried to stay close. Never said out loud, a part of you thought that if he was never too far from you, he’d be safe. But safest thing was distance, according to Jisung. Stay away. Don’t touch. Just until he could make sense of things or fix them.

He tried to fake normal with a little kiss or a brief hug but there were lines he wouldn’t cross. At night, he’d lay beside you long enough to see you fall asleep. Watching you was the only indulgence he’d permit himself. But then - when he ached to reach over - he’d leave. At first, it was to the couch, then it was out of the apartment entirely. He’d convinced himself it was for the best, going against the one thing you wanted.

But it still hurt you.

One night, three months in to his self-sentenced quarantine, he had gotten home before you, a rare feat. The quiet tempted him and he fell asleep in the bed he hadn’t let himself touch in weeks. He woke to you curled into him like nothing had changed. Instinct took over; he kissed you, soft at first, then deeper when you leaned into him. Your hands followed. For a moment, he almost let it happen. Then it hit him, where it was going and what he could do, so he caught your hand, too hard.

“Ji, are you okay?” you had asked, startled.

“Yeah,” he muttered, avoiding your eyes as he pulled away. “I just remembered something I have to do.”

“It’s late, Ji.” He tried to get up, but you held onto him. You had grown to hate when he left after dark. “Stay,” you whispered. Just one word, but it was loaded like a gun.

“It’s not and it’s for my final, y/n. The deadline is soon—”

You sucked in a breath. “It can wait, can’t it? ‘Til the morning?” Your grip tightened, even if it didn’t really hold him there.

“It really can’t. I have to go to the lab. You know - before they lock up.”

“It probably is already. It’s the holidays. Just st—”

“Y/n, no. I gotta—”

“What do you mean ‘no’?” The sob broke through before you could stop it. There was so much you had to say, to scream at him, but the words stayed lodged in your throat. You shoved his arm away and folded in on yourself. Your hands pressed to your face. Your voice was so small, “What am I doing wrong?”

“Baby,” he said quickly as he dropped to his knees in front of you. “You haven’t done anything, I swear.”

“Then what is it?” You looked at him, not disguising the anguish you had been enduring. “Because if it’s not my fault, then it’s yours and I don’t know what to do if it is.”The tears came all at once after that.

He hesitated exactly three seconds before pulling you into him, pulling your face to his chest. He hoped time had passed in that way only he could have noticed, but you pushed him back. Hard. You didn’t need superpowers to tell time.

“You can go,” you said, your voice shaking despite the effort to steady it. You said it more to yourself than him. You wiped at your face, breathing rough. He didn’t move so you did. You stayed at your best friend’s place for a week.

If anything, he made it worse.

Whatever he’d been doing to distract himself started to consume him. He vanished at hours that didn’t make sense, came back just as unpredictably, marked up in ways he couldn’t hide.

When you went back home upstate together for Christmas, he forced you to carry the semblance of normalcy for him. You smiled through questions asking if Jisung was really still in grad school, laughed when they’d joke about his new physique, swallowed the prying that came in too sharp and too often. You defended him, defended you, being the only one trying to keep things from unraveling.

So you finally let it fall apart.

You pulled back. No more check-ins when you got home. No texts in the middle of the day just to see if he was okay. His injuries went unnoticed. Any new changes, unacknowledged. You were still polite, but there was a distance now, cold and deliberate. You’d finally matched what he’d been giving all along; it was not like he had anything warmer to offer.

The realization he had fucked up took maybe two weeks to sink in. He kind of thrived in your silence, flourishing with all the new freedom he had to himself, ignorant of the cause. The realization came one evening, walking home with you. He let himself feel a little proud in how he was finally getting the hang of things, like maybe he could be normal again. So he reached for your waist.

And you dodged him. Quick and intentional, you nearly stepped off the curb in the process.

He froze, his chest tightening. His first thought was that he’d hurt you again, but then it clicked. You weren’t in pain at all. He hadn’t touched you. You just hadn’t wanted him to.

Weeks later, he could only watch you.

Jisung stared at you from the couch as you prepared yourself tea in the kitchen. The place was small so there weren’t very many places to look at anyway. You wore an old high school band shirt that now fit like a baby tee with plaid shorts. Jisung thought he’d be cute and wore his matching pajama bottoms, but you didn’t feel like noticing. Beneath the stretched out band, he could make out the white lace trim of your underwear. It was the pretty floral pair, the one with the little flower where a button should’ve been. You were always so pretty.

You walked past to make your way to the bedroom when he held you by the hips and yanked you swiftly on the couch. Instinct helped him save the mug. He’d been practicing lately, not that you really cared it seemed.

“We should start planning something for Valentine’s,”Jisung pitched.

“No,” you retorted. “I’ll be planning what to catch up on during the break.” 

“Hey, just stay.”

You shot him a mean look, unfiltered, unkind. Jisung averted your gaze, so guilty his ears were turning red.

You attempted to leave and got a few steps away, before Jisung took advantage of your lowered guard and guided you down again, so that you straddled one of his thighs.

The movement startled you. In the soft glow of the tiny tree that was still up, it lit him just enough for you to really look at him. Some things hadn’t changed - the shadows under his eyes, his mouth pulled into a tired pout, his unruly bangs. But you were sure the rest of him had changed. His neck looked thicker. His shoulders were broader, more solid than you remembered. Even that ugly Fall Out Boy shirt clung to him now, stretched across his chest instead of hanging loose. And his hands - they felt different when they found your hips. Bigger. Rougher.

So much was different.

Ten years ago, on the first day at Midtown School of Science and Technology, Jisung had tripped and ate absolute shit, taking you down with him. Before the bell had even rung, you were both at the nurse. His hands were fidgety in his lap and he had an aggressive stammer he couldn’t control. He wouldn’t look at you. He was so small back then, hidden behind fluffy bangs and oversized headphones, like he wanted to disappear. Where was that Jisung?

You touched a hand to him, the version in front of you. Your hand hesitated for a second before it moved, slow and uncertain, tracing the line of his collarbone, then over his chest, over his abs. You kept going, like you were trying to map him. You traveled slowly down until you reached his waistband—

“Ow!” you yelled.

Jisung flinched and caught your wrist. Again, like he was repulsed by you, you thought bitterly. He let go almost immediately, guilt written all over him. His mouth opened and closed, searching for an excuse, but nothing came out. You shifted to leave. He didn’t let you.

“Y/n,”he finally mumbled. “I’m trying. I swear, I am.” He pushed his glasses up and ran a hand through his hair, pulling slightly. You saw his arms. They were so much bigger, beefier even. Why were they bigger? Why was he gone all the time?

Why didn’t he want you anymore?

You buried your head in your hands. You had never cried more than you had in those past few months. Jisung used to be the resident crybaby in the relationship. Five years back, he confessed by sobbing uncontrollably in the rain the first time he had gotten super drunk. He’d cry when he’d watch movies, after sex, when he’d see a disabled pigeon. Now it was you who was hiding your breakdowns. Not that there he was ever there to risk seeing them.

None of these words could pass through your lips, but sobs did. Jisung attempted to rock you. He could only gingerly cradle you, wrecked by fear and guilt. He was too stiff. You needed him. He needed you.

He didn’t know what else to do.

So he kissed you. Your forehead first - soft, careful - then your cheeks, and finally, your mouth. You didn’t pull away or resist. It was like your body knew it needed him. Your breathing was uneven, panicked, but he stayed there, steadfast against your lips like he could breathe for you.

Slowly, your arms came up around his neck, and his hands settled at your waist. He felt like he was in a lucid dream. Every movement was deliberate, every sensation too present. He was aware of everything - every shift, every breath, every inch of you. He decided he’d let you lead. He’d follow carefully, adjusting, holding himself in check with everything he had. If this was what you needed, he’d do it. Anything to keep you from crying.

It was like a pact; you moved together. Your fingers tangled in his curls, pulling him closer, and he let you part his lips against yours, tasting like salt. It made his breath hitch, low and quick. His hands stayed at your waist, wary, but then they slipped beneath the edge of your shirt, brushing warm skin. He hesitated for half a second, yet you leaned into him anyway.

When your lips broke apart, it was just to move, to find something better. His hands steadied on your hips as he guided you fully onto his lap, and suddenly there was no space left at all. You took advantage of it before he could process his next move, hands dragging restlessly over him - his face, his chest, his arms.

He felt every bit of it, even the sting. That was the dangerous part because he liked it, missed it. Somewhere in the blur of it, he let himself fall back against the couch, pulling you with him without thinking. You followed easily, settling against him, your hands back in his hair. His grip tightened on your thighs and ass, so you grinded into him, slow.

He felt like he was coming apart. Every cell in his body was vibrating, like his body didn’t know how to contain any of it. Control was slipping.

And it was like you could sense it, so you pressed closer, rolling onto to a very obvious bulge beneath you. The change dragged something out of him, a strained sound catching in his throat. He let go of you instantly, back arching, hands hovering uselessly in the air.

But you didn’t stop.

You moved against him, even closer, grounding and undoing him all at once. Your mouth found his neck, and he exhaled shakily, words breaking apart before they could form. Your name slipped out of him like it hurt.

That’s what broke you. You hadn’t heard him say your name like that in so long - soft and wrecked.

You pulled back, using his chest to balance yourself as you sat up. The distance pained you immediately. He looked up at you, dazed, flushed.

“Hey, you alright?” His voice came too fast, still catching his breath. His hair was a mess, his lip bruised from where you’d bitten it, color still high in his cheeks.

“I am,” you whispered, though your throat tightened again. “Are you?”

He swallowed hard. This was where it could fall apart. He knew it. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, hands settling leerily on your thighs.

“I’m fine, baby. I promise. Don’t worry—”

“Are you sure?” Your voice wavered, quieter now. “You…you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” You wouldn’t quite look at him, your fingers brushing the hem of his waistband, longing.

“Y/n…” He exhaled, softer this time. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

You looked at him then. And he held your gaze, as fragile as it was.

“I’m here,” he said, even quieter now. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You searched his face. You’d never called him liar, but the truth had been stretched so thin lately.

“Y/n,” he tried again, gentler, his thumbs brushing slow, meticulous circles into your skin. “You have to trust me.”

He wanted it to be enough. He just didn’t know if it was.

You leaned down, pressing a slow, soft kiss to his chest - a question more than anything else. When you lifted again, your fingers caught at the edge of his pants and boxers. You both paused there, just looking at each other, making sure.

Jisung answered gently.

His hands came over yours, shaking ever so slightly, not stopping you, just guiding. He helped you unleash him.

You thought you imagined it, but no, he had gotten longer, thicker, veinier. His member sprang free with a graceless slap against his abs. But it was still just as pretty as before, with precum glistening the pink tip. You looked at Jisung again nervously. As delicately as he could, he guided your hand to his cock.

You brushed your thumb across the tip, hesitantly. Jisung sighed a low groan, polite like a secret. Was that good? You wrapped your fingers around him slowly, admiring how little you could hold. Your grip barely tightened. You moved bit by bit, inch by inch. His own hand didn’t speed you up, so you kept your delicate pace. These past few months made you doubt yourself.

Suddenly, Jisung’s hand moved and gently held your wrist, a ghost of a touch. You knew what he meant - you gripped tighter and watched him twitch.

“Fuck,” he exhaled. His abdomen flexed, in and out.

That was enough.

You pumped him harder, wanting to see his body jerk. It did. His hips bucked into your fist as you pumped, encouraging you to hold him tighter and go faster. You missed the feeling of him throbbing in your hands, him searching for mercy. You’d edge him for over an hour sometimes, just to watch him squirm. Tonight, he wouldn’t allow him himself the grace of losing himself to you, but his head was thrown back, mouth hanging open, struggling to catch his breath. You twisted, earning a broken moan.

Jisung’s free hand clawed at his thigh, hoping the pain would distract him. You were doing so well; you were even considerate. But he was so overwhelmed by you. He could feel your heat radiate onto him. Your knees already shook above him. He could hear how your heart was beating against your chest, the sweat falling down your breasts, how wet you grew by the second. He could feel the blood pulse your fingers as they stayed unrelenting around him.

“Y-y/n,” he whispered lowly. “’m going to get a condom.”

Your eyes widened. You stopped. “Ji, don’t force yourself,” you said as he got himself up. “We don’t have to—“

“Hey.” He was already sweaty, his large chest heaving against flimsy fabric. He spoke with a restless look in his eye. “I said to trust me.”

He was a lot less cool than he planned as he got up with a groan and hobbled away, but it was only because every nerve in his body was ready to combat. He ended up pushing the bedroom door open too hard on his way, the hinges whining in protest. “Shit.” He forced himself to breathe, slow it down. He reached for the bedside drawer and missed the control he wanted.

“Shit, shit—”His fingers dragged through his hair, resetting. He could do this. He’d been preparing for this.

He emerged from the room to you still knelt on the couch, wringing your hands together. He let a long exhale before returning, landing with an audible creak. He spread himself wide and handed you the condom.

“You may do the honors.”

You were momentarily incredulous. You couldn’t remember the last time he’d been funny. You scoffed.

He smiled.

You pulled his pants and underwear down again and removed your shorts altogether. But not the panties out of habit - he always liked pulling them to the side. As you ripped open the condom with your teeth, his hands found your hips, his fingertips heavy against your soft flesh. It was hard to roll it on, the condom getting caught on how tacky his cock was from all the precum. When it finally fit, he groaned with a hop, shifting himself to get comfortable.

You positioned your hands on his shoulders. Before you could check in one more time, he lifted up and on to his tip. The initial stretch sent a ripple through your spine, he could feel it. You gasped at how little effort it took to slide down him; you wanted him so bad.

He actually needed you be as slow as possible, though. His mind was already jelly. He wanted to fuck right into you right then and there and make up for lost time. He’d take you there on the couch, the floor, the kitchen counter, the bed, later in the shower. The thoughts raced like visions. It was so difficult not to grip you hard and slam you down, but he kept himself in check.

“Good fucking girl,” he rasped as you slid down.

You were so full. Your wetness made it so easy to let him bottom out. It was like he was in your organs. Your forehead dropped to his shoulder, the both of you wordlessly admiring how it like it was like he was born to be buried inside you.

The stretch was intoxicating. Your fingers dug desperately at his shoulders, down his arms, while trying to regain your breathing. Jisung didn’t rush you at all as you took your time, his fingers drumming against your waist patiently. Good for him, but you were losing yours. Your movements began, languid and subtle.

It was like a slow burn, like a candle with a broken wick, but Jisung was alight. It was a simple affair; you never had to be fancy to drive him insane. You would drag yourself up almost to the tip, almost drowsily, and then glide back down, leisurely. Every so often you’d grind him demurely, with not enough pressure to provide more than modest friction. You loitered on his cock, making every inch of him feel every drop of you through the latex. Your idle pace made his nerves raw, hypersensitive. Each tiny motion, each flutter of your walls, roll of your hips, was electric and hot. You were all he sensed - all he heard, all he felt, all he knew. 

“Fuck, I missed you.”

His hands gripped you roughly in a fit of anguish. The pressure startled you out of your lazy stupor. Your eyes locked with his, as he revered you from below. Yours were blown wide, his were watery and red.

No one needed anything more to be said.

Jisung, abandoning all he had worked toward, began to push into you, a fast-paced rhythm snapping into you. All he could think about was you - you, who waited for him to come home when it was clear he wouldn’t. You, who rushed from work everyday to check if he was still there. You, who didn’t ask why he was bruised and cut up. His thrusts grew from slow to frenzied, knocking the air from your lungs, but plastered a smile on your face. Every impact was a jolt of pleasure.

Your nails scraped down his broad, sweaty back, drawing your signature. He was yours, you thought. As wet, sticky sounds mixed with breathless moans, choked gasps, and cut-off curses, you surrendered to him, at the mercy of his chaos.

“Y/n,” he whined, “look at me. Watch me.”

He held your face in his hand, forcing you to meet his gaze. He was the most beautiful you had remember ever seeing him. His eyes were teary and glazed. His hair damp, his lips bitten and bloody.

“…all because of you.”

Each slam into you tore through you with absolutely no grace - you couldn’t control how loud you screamed and he could barely control himself. He was erratic at this point, choosing to let himself be consumed by you.

All coherent speech dissipated into muffled moans as you collapsed into him, your high hot and unstoppable as it dared to crash. You didn’t even possess the strength to announce it, you merely trembled violently as your needy cunt tightened around him.

Jisung had the foresight to held you closer, his own rhythm faltering but not stopping. You shook, your core tightening violently, but he was still chasing his own pleasure. He was greedy. He was enveloped in you - you were scorching and strangled around his cock, as your back arched. You whined so gently against his ear, too. Your shaky breaths were the prettiest sounds he’d ever hear.

“I’m close, too, I promise.”

He knew he couldn’t be here forever. The way your heart beat against ribs was a sign you were growing too stimulated and needed your own release right then. He willed a few desperate thrusts, deep and hard, pounding into you a little bit more. With a jagged groan, he lost control and slumped against the couch, your walls clenching around him, squeezing out the last dredges of his orgasm as you fell victim to yours.

Silence.

Except for your uneven breathing and the fading thud of both your heartbeats, the apartment was quiet. Not the awful kind that had lived between you these past few months. This felt familiar. The kind built and softened over eight years together.

Jisung lifted you off him easily. You landed beside him with a graceless little flop, groaning tiredly before giving him a weak thumbs-up that made his chest loosen. You looked exhausted - flushed, damp with sweat, completely worn out. He probably looked just as rough, though his body had already started recovering.

“I’m gonna reheat your tea, babe,” he murmured as he got up. “And grab the baby wipes.”

You shifted like you wanted to follow him, or maybe stop him, but your body barely cooperated. Your lips parted around some unfinished thought before you looked down instead, guilt flickering across your face.

Jisung understood anyway.

“Or,” he said softly, settling back down beside you, “I can stay here a bit. Or a while.”

You smiled then - small and wobbly. Tears welled before you even noticed them, and Jisung brushed them away with confidently careful hands.

By the time he reached your window, his limbs felt like lead, but the second he saw the soft glow of your bedside lamp, warmth bloomed in his chest. The window was unlocked—just like always. He slipped inside, taking off his mask being careful not to make too much noise.

“Baby?” Your voice was groggy, thick with sleep, but the second your eyes landed on him, they sharpened with concern. “Oh my God, Jisung.”

You were out of bed in seconds, hands cupping his face as you took in his bruised cheek, the cut on his lip, the way his suit clung to his battered body. His lashes fluttered as he melted into your touch, a breathy chuckle escaping him.

“Hi, pretty girl.”

You huffed. “Don’t ‘hi, pretty girl’ me when you look like you got thrown into a blender.”

He grinned, eyes twinkling despite the exhaustion. “You should see the other guys.”

“Jisung,” you warned, but he just let himself collapse onto your bed with a dramatic groan, arms spread wide. “Baby, I think I’m dying.” You rolled your eyes, already moving to grab the first-aid kit from your desk. “You’re so dramatic.”

He cracked one eye open, smirking. “What if I need mouth-to-mouth?” You snorted, tossing a clean towel at his face. “Shut up and take off your suit.”

A slow grin stretched across his lips. “You tryna get me naked, sweetheart?”

You smacked his arm lightly, cheeks heating. “For medical reasons, dumbass.”

Jisung let out a laugh but did as you asked, wincing as he peeled off the upper part of his suit. Your breath hitched at the sight of him—his toned chest, the way his muscles flexed under the soft light, the angry bruises blooming across his skin. Your fingers trembled as you pressed a damp cloth against his wounds, cleaning the dried blood away. He winced as you carefully dabbed at the gash on his shoulder, your brows furrowed in concentration. He sat on the edge of your bed, suit discarded, his bruised torso illuminated by the soft glow of your bedside lamp.

"You need to be more careful," you murmured, biting your lip as you wiped away the dried blood.

Jisung gave you a lopsided grin, though fatigue dulled its usual playfulness. "Occupational hazard, babe."

You shot him a look but said nothing, focusing on applying antiseptic. He hissed at the sting, and your free hand instinctively cupped his jaw, thumb brushing soothing circles against his skin. "I know it hurts. Just a little more, okay?"

He nodded; eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into your touch. Your hands moved with gentle precision and he watched you, eyes soft, lips parted slightly. He loved this part—not the pain, not the injuries—but you. The way you touched him so gently, the way your brows knitted together in concentration. It was the same way you’d look at a math problem or a particularly hard piece of literature.

Like he was something to be studied. Understood. Loved.

His heart clenched. “Y/N?”

You hummed in acknowledgment, still focused on bandaging his shoulder.

“I love you.”

Your hands froze. Slowly, you looked up, lips parting slightly. His eyes never wavered, his face raw with exhaustion but still so undeniably his all sunshine and sincerity.

A smile broke across your face. “I love you too, you idiot.”

Jisung let out a soft breath, like he’d been waiting to hear you say it again. He reached for you then, pulling you onto his lap, careful not to jostle his wounds. His arms wrapped around you; face buried in your neck as he sighed in contentment. “Baby,” you whispered, giggling as he nuzzled closer, lips brushing your skin.

“Mm?”

“You need rest.”

“This is rest,” he mumbled, voice drowsy. “Holding you, it’s the only thing that makes me feel human again.” Your heart squeezed. God, he had you wrapped around his finger. You shifted slightly, threading your fingers through his messy hair. “You really are a sappy little thing, huh?”

He hummed, placing a lazy kiss on your collarbone. “Only for you.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t pull away, instead leaning down to kiss his temple, his cheek, then finally, his lips—soft and slow, like the world wasn’t constantly trying to take him from you.

Jisung sighed into the kiss, his grip tightening around your waist. He tasted like exhaustion, like battle-worn love, like home. And if his kisses turned a little more desperate, if his hands traced the familiar curves of your body, if his sighs deepened into something more—neither of you were complaining.

It really was innocent lips pressing, parting, meeting again. But you felt the energy shift when his hands slipped under the hem of your shirt. His fingertips traced your skin, cautious at first, then more purposeful. A soft moan escaped your lips, and that was all it took for him to tilt his head, deepening the kiss. His mouth moved against yours in slow, deliberate strokes. The taste of him slightly salty from sweat, sweet from the mint gum he’d chewed earlier flooded your senses. Your heart hammered in your chest, matching the quiet desperation in his kisses.

“Missed you,” he murmured between kisses, voice catching on the last syllable.

You gently raked your fingers through his messy hair, nails grazing his scalp. “You’re home now, baby.” Jisung’s response was a low hum as he pressed his forehead to yours. You could see the swirl of emotion in his eyes; relief, desire, love, and a flicker of something else: the lingering rush of danger from his mission.

His kisses trailed across your jaw and down your neck. Each press of his lips was warm, reverent like he was memorizing your taste, your pulse, the way you whispered his name.

A shiver rippled through you as his mouth found a particularly sensitive spot at the base of your throat. He paused, letting his breath fan over your skin, and you felt the goosebumps rise in response.

“You okay?” he asked softly, hands now splayed across your lower back, keeping you close.

You nodded, leaning into his touch. “More than okay.”

With your silent encouragement, Jisung shifted his weight, guiding you backward until your spine met the pillows. He hovered over you, mindful of his bandaged wounds, careful not to strain or jar anything. Yet, there was an undercurrent of urgency—like he needed this closeness to remind himself that he was safe, that you were safe, that everything was okay.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. The kisses turned more fervent, a steady escalation that ignited the air between you. You let your hands wander down the hard lines of his back, feeling the taut muscles tense beneath your touch. Every press of your fingertips earned you a quiet groan from him.

He dipped down again, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was slow and deep, yet it felt like it was barely holding back a flood of need.

Jisung was a mess of soft sighs and quiet chuckles beneath you, his bruised body melting into your hands as you traced over his newly bandaged wounds. His skin was warm beneath your fingertips, his breath catching every time you pressed a kiss against a still-tender spot.

"You're so damn pretty," he murmured, eyes lidded with exhaustion and love. His lips chased yours, stealing quick, lazy kisses between every whispered praise.

"You say that every time."

"And I mean it every time," he countered, grinning against your mouth before giving a playful growl. His weight settled between your legs, careful and controlled, but still with that familiar boyish eagerness. You gasped as he kissed down your neck, laughter bubbling up when he deliberately nuzzled into the crook of your shoulder. "Jisung, that tickles!"

"Oops," he said, completely unapologetic, lips twitching as he kissed your collarbone again, lighter this time. His hands explored your body with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

The heat between you built naturally, slow and unhurried, full of shared breaths and teasing touches. But just as you shifted against him, eager for more, your elbow pressed just slightly against his side.

Jisung yelped. Loudly.

You both froze. Your eyes widened in horror. His mouth parted in surprise. And then pure, uncontrollable laughter. Jisung collapsed onto you, his head burying in your shoulder as his whole body shook with giggles. "Ow—oh my God—ow—"

"I'm sorry! Oh my God, I didn’t mean to!" you gasped, laughing too, even as you cupped his face in apology. He lifted his head, eyes glassy from laughter. "Babe, you almost killed me."

You pouted dramatically. "You’re literally Spider-Man. You’ll live."

Jisung let out a wheezing laugh, then playfully collapsed on top of you again. "Barely," he mumbled into your skin, making you giggle as his fingers found your waist, tickling you in revenge.

Between soft kisses and breathless giggles, your hands resumed their slow exploration, guiding each other back into that quiet, intimate rhythm. It was messy, full of whispered ow’s, poorly timed kisses, and Jisung dramatically clutching his side every time you moved too suddenly just to make you laugh.

But through it all, the love remained the way his lips lingered against yours, the way your fingers brushed through his hair, the way you both melted into each other despite the laughter still bubbling up between every touch.

By the time you were tangled up in each other, limbs intertwined and breaths slowing, Jisung pressed one last, lingering kiss to your forehead.

"Best. Mission. Debrief. Ever."

You snorted. "Shut up and sleep, hero."

His arms tightened around you, a quiet hum of agreement slipping from his lips. "Only if you promise to not assassinate me in my sleep."

You grinned, pressing a kiss to his chest, right above his heart. "No promises."

Jisung let out a dramatic groan. "I'm doomed."

Tonight, he wasn’t Spider-Man. He wasn’t a hero. He was just your Jisung. And for now, that was all he needed to be.

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When he reached the floor he was going to have his interview on, he looked around.  The place was very chaotic.  There were people running around like chickens with their heads cut off.  But in all the chaos he saw something or someone.  You.  Not only his best friend since elementary school, but also his crush since elementary school.  You were sitting at one of the desks typing away, glasses on looking focused.  You looked up for one second and her eyes met Jisung’s.  He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks.  “Jisung,” you said, running over, “what are you doing here?”

“I came to interview for the junior photographer position.  Kind of nervous though.”

“Don’t worry.  You’ll do great.  Go get em Quokka.”

After the interview, Han got the interview as a photographer.  He was thankfully partnered with you.  “So,” you asked leaning back in her desk chair, “what do you wanna write about?  Not much is really going on.”

“I’m gonna get some pictures of Spider-Man.  Really impress Mr. Park,” he answered.  When he had first found out about this job, he knew he could impress everyone by getting pictures of the illusive Spider-Man.  After two weeks of figuring out how to, he figured out the perfect way to do so.

“Okay.  I guess I’m covering the opening of the new bakery on 7th.  Don’t get yourself killed.  I’d like to still have a best friend.”

Han nodded and headed off to get pictures of “Spider-Man.”

“You know, spiders are arachnids and not insects.  Maybe if you’d pay more attention in school, maybe you’d be able to do more with your life than stealing from people,” Han argued as he pinned the criminal to the wall with his webs.

But the criminal wasn’t giving up too easily.  He pulled a knife out of his pocket.  “Oh no,” Han said sarcastically, “not a knife.  That’s my weakness.”  He pinned the criminal’s other hand down.  Han jumped up and grabbed his camera looking at the pictures.  They were perfect.

He shot some web at a building and flew back as he could to the Daily Bugle.

You and Han were sitting in their usual booth at Geno’s.  Every Thursday the two of you came here, ate pizza and talked about anything and everything.  “I still can’t believe that you somehow managed to get pictures of Spider-Man,” you complained as you took a drink, “you’re such an overachiever.  I wish I could be there.”

“I’m just lucky.  Maybe I’ll introduce you to him, seeing you have such a crush.”

You rolled her eyes, “he’s just another vigilante who just so happens to not suck as much as others.  He’s probably so lame.”

“For your information, he’s super cool.  I should know, I’m the one who’s always around to take pictures.  I’ve even talked to him a few times.”

You got up, “maybe you can bring me next time and we’ll get an interview. I’m gonna head home.  See you tomorrow?”

“I can walk you home,” Han offered, getting up from the booth.  You shook her head, “I’ll be fine.  It’s only 3 blocks away.”

You walked out of Geno’s into the coldness of the night.  It was quiet which you enjoyed.  It gave you time to think and enjoy the city around you.  As you walked down the sidewalk, you felt eyes on the back of your head.  You turned around and saw a man dressed in all black.  You started to walk faster.  Maybe I’m just losing it, you thought, he’s probably just walking home like me.  But you were not losing her mind.  The man started picking up his pace as well.  However, when you decided to run, it was too late.  The man grabbed her arm and dragged her into an alleyway.  He slammed you hard against the brick wall.  “Give me all your money,” he yelled, holding a knife up to your neck.

You closed your eyes waiting for him to slice your throat and take everything you had.  But you didn’t feel any pain, all you heard was, “you know, if you really need money that badly, I heard they’re looking for people to work almost everywhere.”  She opened her eyes and looked up.  It was Spider-Man hanging upside down from the building's fire escape.  He didn’t take long to jump into action.  Upside down, he shot web at the man, causing him to hit his head on the brick wall, falling unconscious.  Knocking him out cold.  You stood there in disbelief.  You had never seen him in action and it was amazing.  Once Spider-Man was finished tying up the man in his webs, you approached him,“umm…thank you.  For saving my life and all.”

“No problem,” he replied, “It is my job after all.  You know, saving beautiful girls…I mean all of New York’s citizens and that.”

You started to pull down his mask uncovering his lips.   You moved in closer.  Then it happened.  Their lips collided.  It was soft and sweet, but still romantic.  You pulled away, both of you breathing heavy and smiling.  “I should probably get going,” Jisung said, fixing his mask, “get home safely.”  He shot another web, flying off into the night.  “Be safe,” you yelled at him.  Jisung couldn’t help but smile under that mask.  It was the best day of his life.

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