#and there was teaching in the homework sometimes

[mk-wizard]

This. So this.

This is why I find it is important to teach our children the beauty of hard work. Homework sucks, chores suck and sometimes, waiting sucks, but the end result of doing things right is awesome.

Quote of the day

[thoughtsforsoob]

Enha as nerdy!bf’s

Note: i've been rewatching the big bang theory and i'm so into it. I couldn’t stop thinking about the enha members being little nerdy bf’s so let's dive into it :) please enjoy and let me know what you think

edit: thanks to a beautiful anon I have realized I FORGOT SUNGHOON’S PART?!?! This is not intentional at all (I love him so much. His smile is so precious). His part will be added in soon! Please forgive me.

wc: ~900

Jungwon

He’s on the premed route so he's getting a bachelors in biochemistry. He drives himself nuts with homework and labs every single day and night. People are surprised that he manages to have both high grades and a very happy girlfriend, you! He always shows up to dates, even if he has to take a break from homework or even if he shows up with dark circles under his eyes. He never leaves you hanging, not his special girl. Your kindness and loyalty is really what pulls him through his difficulties. He is also so grateful that you’ll help him study and listen to him when he needs to talk. His goal is to become a doctor and then give you the lifestyle you deserve, one with nice things and happiness. 

Heesung

Math major (everyone point and laugh…jk i just hate math). He originally just wanted to study math but after becoming a substitute teacher one summer, he decided to add on the teaching part of the program into his program. He is such a sweetheart and loves helping people. He is a little insecure about his abilities sometimes but you're always there to pick him up. He is also a great tutor if you're taking any math lessons. He is the most patient math assistant you will ever come across (plus, for every right answer you get, it's one more kiss he owes you!). When he’s a teacher, he gets so excited when you come to assist with little class parties. It may not be math related but seeing you in his element sparks something inside of him.   

Jay

I hate to say it but jay is so business major coded. His official major is of course business but he chose to have his emphasis in finance, therefore making him a fiance bro. Jay can be a little bit of a dickhead but that is only because he's constantly surrounded by them. You met him when you were visiting your advisor, whose office happened to be in the business building. You ran into Jay, causing him to drop his bag and water bottle. At first, he freaked out but when he pulled his head out of his ass, he realized you were both beautiful and injured. He quickly helped you up and rushed you to the campus health center. Once you were better, he asked you on a date to repay you for being an asshole and it went from there. Even if on occasion he still acts like a meanie, he loves you and wants you to know he never means any ill will. 

Jake

Jake would be the cutest little nerd. He wears these big, square glasses with the thickest lenses. He is constantly pushing them up and looking around at people with his big, shiny puppy eyes. Of course, attendance is so important to him and he knows all of his professors on a first name basis. He studies physics, specifically astrophysics. He’s always so busy with homework and labs so making time to hang out with one another can be a little hard. He always finds little pockets of time for you and he's so sweet to you. He typically greets you with your favorite drink and a kiss. His favorite thing to do is tell you all about his current work and possibly research. You taking interest in him and the things he loves makes him fall even more in love with you. He really enjoys taking you outside at night and telling you more about the astronomy side of things. All the facts about planets, galaxies, stars, solar systems, etc… 

Sunoo

This sweetie is a nursing major. He is so dedicated to his studies because he really wants to help other people and make their days a little bit brighter. The endless amounts of biology and chemistry work leave him bone tired at the end of the day. Most of your dates with sunoo are either quizzing him for his next exam or sitting on the couch while venting about his clinicals or your life happenings. You love buying him cute little scrub tops and even though he can't wear them as a student at clinicals, he makes it his mission to wear them when he officially becomes a nurse. He likely ends up as a pediatric nurse so he drags you stickers shopping with him so he can have little goodies for his patients. 

Niki

The ‘nonchalant outcast’ who studies computer science. He is typically either alone, with his girlfriend, or with his few other friends. He never allows himself much time outside of his studies, mostly so he can lock in, but also because he wants to keep his nonchalant appearance. Due to the nature of his major, he is always stressed out. He is so, secretly, happy to have you because you take so much worry off his shoulders. You're always there when he feels like he is going to break down. You're the only one he trusts to be vulnerable around. He's also the most dripped out comp sci major you've ever seen in your life. You would never guess his major just by looking at him and his fashion choices. 

[kiyomitakada]

[to the tune of where is the justice's first lines] this world is rotting from the surface to the core / am i the only one whose life feels like a chore / this whole society needs someone for repairs every day's a little worse and i don't think anyone cares

[sunny-the-intern]

I HATE BIOLOGY

anyways the answer is in the nucleotide sequences. Humans and monkeys are considered the same genus because we share the most amount of nucleotides in the same sequence I believe.

Also a factor of ancestry of the species (what ‘parent’ species did the two split from and how far apart are they? Technically humans and chickens are the same ‘species’ if you go back far enough.). Polar bears and like grizzly bears are still close enough related with their ancestry (not many mutations) that like, they can make pizzly bears because it’s not like a fish and bird tryna make a baby.

I also got a B- in Bio cuz I never studied sooo uhhh- yeah. You decide wether to trust me

Hearing my name be yelled out across the street makes me think someone is in danger. Not that you need help with biology homework.

That being said, What are the "rules" for being the same species?? both me and this kid over here are so confused.

[boomerang109]

happy aro awareness week

[disdaidal]

I don't want to brag or sound too optimistic about it, but after three weeks of training at a private college, I think my lessons with this one particular immigrant student (who has serious motivational problems lemme tell ya) are finally starting to get through and there's been improvement.

Only slight improvement so far but I have spotted some, so maybe not all hope is lost yet.

Remains to be seen I guess.

[kellystar321]

.

[a9saga]

Two math/physics students I have tutored in the last year have been hired as peer tutors this semester. Both of them took calc 2 in the spring and are taking calc 3 and differential equations now. They have the same instructor for those classes, and he's the head of the math department as well as the person who got me my job. He's known me since I was in precalculus in 2019 and I had him when I took calc 3 and diff eqs too. Well both of those classes for this semester just got back their first exams and one of my little tutor boys didn't do so hot. Let me be clear, I respect this professor but he is the biggest hardass in the world. He told my now coworker that his calc 3 exam was the biggest disappointment in both of those classes and I wanna throw hands.

[fracturescope]

every day i think about that teaching evaluation i got that said "i wish you taught more from the textbook. also, i wish you used more powerpoints." feedback i never thought i would get from a student truly.

[ninisdollie]

kiss it better - nishimura riki 𓈒ིུ ❤︎ ˖ ݁

‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

“In which reader teaches her dear friend how to treat a woman right. Or in which reader teaches ni-ki how to give head” 

‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❤︎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⊹　₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ͏͏✧ Content: +18MDNI

fem! reader x ni-ki, friends to lovers, usage of riki and ni-ki, oral sex (f. rec), masturbation (f), reader is in charge, fingering, spitting, face riding, needy! ni-ki, pussy drunk! ni-ki (he’s a mess) grinding, coming undone, slight voye.

hate comments will be deleted and blocked !! likes and reblogs are appreciated <3

Summer trip was always fun with your friend group. But this year was one of your favourites, there was nothing like spending the day on a tanning bed beneath the burning sun, chewing on fresh watermelon after a dive in the beautiful clear waters of the ocean, surrounded by your favorite people in the whole world. 

The hotel pool glowed under the summer night, wrapped in string lights and the kind of drunken laughter that only came when everyone forgot about the world outside vacation. Music pulled from a speaker, bass steady. The air smelled like sunscreen and chlorine and you were tasting something fruity on your tongue from the drink you just finished. 

You had just slid back into the water, the chill clinging to your skin as you moved through the shallow end. Your bikini hugged your body, still damp from earlier, and your hair stuck to your shoulders in soft waves. Most of your friends where on the deck now, draped across pool chairs or sprawled on towels, passing a bottle of tequila back and forth and yelling about nonsense. 

Ni-ki was the only one still on the water. 

He floated on his back with his eyes closed, legs lazily moving to keep him afloat, looking so relaxed like he didn’t have a single care in the world. So him. 

You swam closer, water swirling around your waist, and nudged his side with your hand. 

“You’ll drown” 

“Let me.” He murmured, not even opening his eyes “Feels like a good way to go.” 

A small laugh left your lips. 

“Dramatic.” 

Ni-ki opened one eye then, just enough to flash you a lazy smile 

“Says the girl who almost cried when we splashed on her drink.” 

“That was an expensive drink.” 

“You’re expensive” He shot back, quickly. 

That caught you off guard, and you blinked. 

It wasn’t even that serious, just Ni-ki being Ni-ki. But still, it stuck. Hit something strange and sudden in your chest. Maybe it was the way he said it, or the way his gaze lingered a bit too long before flicking away. You’d always thought he was cute. Objectively, anyways. It wasn’t like you were blind, Ni-ki was tall and lean and had that perfect face that made even simple hoodies and cotton sweatpants look good. He was your friend, sure, you’d known him for years now. The same friend that threw up on your lap in Sunghoon’s backseat last summer, the same friend that stole your notes because he never did his homework on time. But that never stopped the thoughts that stuck in your head sometimes, thoughts you never let stay. 

But for some reason, tonight felt different. 

He ducked under the water suddenly, disappearing from your view. You barely had time to react before strong hands grabbed your waist from behind and lifted you with a splash, so easily. 

You shrieked, laughing, trying to escape. 

“Ni-ki!” 

He just laughed, breathless and smug as you turned and splashed him back, right in the face. You were both soaked now, your bikini clinging tighter to your tanned skin, water streaming down your neck. 

Ni-ki was still close, enough to feel the warmth radiating off him even in the cool water. His hands already dropped from your waist, but you could still feel them. 

You felt your breathing shake as your eyes met his. There was something in his expression you couldn’t quite name. Like heavy and charged. 

Then he blinked, swam backwards, and said casually. 

“Alright. I’m bored.” 

You barely had time to ignore the feeling before Heeseung called out from his chair, arms spread like he was announcing something big. 

“Let’s play a game.” He said “Truth or dare.” 

Jake made a face. 

“We always do that. I’ve lost the count on the amount of times I’ve licked Sunghoon’s neck” 

Your friends laughed at him, and you chuckled under your breath. 

“Never have I ever then. Loser has to buy all our drinks tomorrow.” 

Groans followed, but no one said no. You all gathered near the edge, some wrapped in towels and half-drunk already. 

You ended up sitting next to Ni-ki, still damp, still trying to ignore the echo of his hands on your waist. 

The game started innocent as always. 

“Never have I ever lied to a date.” 

“Never have I ever faked an orgasm”

“Never have I ever cheated” 

The group slowly loosened between sips, laughter and more laughter, getting louder and messier by the second. 

“Okay, I have one.” Heeseung then leaned in, grinning. “Never have I ever gone down on someone” 

A few hands went up, including yours. 

You didn’t look around, didn’t think much of it, but then you noticed that Ni-ki didn’t move. 

He just sat there, calm, fingers tapping slowly on the ground. Then you turned your head. 

“Wait, seriously?” 

He looked at you, then shrugged. 

“Yeah.” 

Heeseung just stared. 

“Wait wait wait - you’ve never gone down on a girl?” 

Ni-ki shook his head. 

“Nope.” 

Sunoo gasped, hand flying to his chest 

“What? Riki, oh my god!” 

Heeseung was already laughing 

“Bro. That’s practically illegal.”

Jake leaned in like he was interrogating him. 

“You scared of it or something?” 

Ni-ki scoffed and pushed him. 

“Shut up.” 

Sunghoon smirked

“So, what’s the reason?” 

Ni-ki leaned back on his elbows, his expression unreadable. He didn’t look embarrassed, but he didn’t look thrilled by their teasing either. You didn’t expect it, to be honest, Ni-ki wasn’t exactly a playboy, but he wasn’t a saint either, you’d seen him a thousand times shoving down his tongue in random girls throats at parties. 

“I just haven’t found the right person yet.” 

That only made the boys laugh louder. Heeseung clutched his chest and someone said something about how he was a “certified mouth virgin”. 

You watched Ni-ki stay still through it all, quiet. 

Something in your chest pulled tight, and you sat up a little straighter. 

“Okay, enough.” You said, cutting through the noise “What are we? Twelve?” 

The group quieted a little, eyes turning to you. 

“He’s just waiting for the right person, that’s not a bad thing.”  You glanced at Ni-ki, met his eyes again. He looked back at you like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or grab your hand. “It’s not that deep. Honestly, most guys think they know how to do it, just doing it doesn’t mean you’re good at it.” 

Ni-ki still hadn’t looked away from you. 

But as the group moved on, laughing at the next prompt, the air between you didn’t shift back. It felt heavier.

The hotel was quiet now, after the chaos of earlier. You could still hear faint laughter from somewhere down the hall, someone’s speaker muffled behind the closed doors, but for the most part, you started to settle. 

Your skin smelled like sunscreen and coconut from your body spray as you stood at the sink in your oversized tee and underwear, hair half-damp and twisted into a towel, the bathroom mirror foggy from your shower. Your limbs ached in a satisfying way that only summer could bring. 

You were just about to crawl into bed when the knock came. 

One, two, three soft raps, hesitant. 

You froze for a second, staring at your reflection wondering who could it be this late at night. Then you padded across the room and peeked through the peephole, opening the door without thinking. 

Ni-ki stood there, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, hair damp and curling slightly around his ears. 

“Hey.” He said. 

You blinked, a bit surprised about his visit and the unsettling look on his face. 

“Hey. Everything okay?” 

He nodded, but didn’t move. 

Then you stepped back, opening the door a little wider.

“Wanna come in?” 

He didn’t answer, just walked in, quiet, his presence filling your small hotel room instantly. You shut the door behind him, suddenly too aware of how you were dressed, and the silence between you two. 

He looked around, then sat on the edge of the bed like he’d done it a thousand times before. 

But now it felt different. 

“You good?” You asked again, crossing your arms trying to play it cool. 

He nodded again, slower this time. 

“Yeah. I just… couldn’t sleep.” 

You leaned against the dresser, watching him. He was staring at the carpet, then at his hands. Then up at you. 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said.” He admitted and your heart thudded. 

“What part?” 

“That it’s not about doing it, it’s about knowing how to treat someone.” He paused. “No one’s ever said that to me before.” 

You swallowed, his voice was lower now, like each word was deliberate. 

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you” you said. 

“I wasn’t embarrassed.” He replied “I just… never talked about it out loud.” 

There was a long pause, and you waited, but he didn’t look away. 

“I think that’s why I came here.” 

Your pulse skipped. 

“To talk?” you asked, even thought you were sure that wasn’t what he meant. 

He smiled a little but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Kind of.” 

You stepped a little closer before you could overthink it, the soft carpet sinking under your feet. You were standing between his knees now, and he was looking up at you from the edge of the bed. 

“Riki” You said softly “Why did you come here?” 

You knew the answer.

But the silence that followed cracked open something between you, something thick and heavy and real. You felt it settle over your shoulders, wrap around your ribs. Your skin prickled with awareness, his breath, your proximity, the weight of what you weren’t saying.

“Because I want to know what it’s like.”

Your breathed deep. 

“What what’s like?”

His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. 

“To be with someone who actually wants to teach me. Who doesn’t think I’m weird for not knowing. Who… wants me to get it right.”

You stared at him.

He wasn’t smiling now. He wasn’t teasing. He looked serious, vulnerable, even. And it did something to you. Twisted something deep in your stomach. This was your friend, that not only trusted you enough to ask you this but you also thought he was cute and hot and perfect. 

The room felt hot. Too small. Too quiet. His thumbs rubbed slow circles into your thighs now, and you realized he hadn’t looked away from you once.

“Okay,” you breathed. “Then come here.”

Ni-ki shifted before he could even think, his hands sliding up to your hips like instinct. And when he leaned forward, lips brushing yours, it was cautious at first. Feather-light. Testing.

You tilted your head and leaned into it.

The kiss deepened slowly, like water spilling over the edge of a full glass. His mouth was warm, hesitant but eager, lips moving with just enough pressure to make your knees weaken. You could feel the tremble in him, like he was holding back, waiting to be told it was okay to want this. To want you. So you gave it to him. One hand slipped into his hair, anchoring, and the other trailed down his jaw, guiding him as your mouths melted into each other. His breath hitched against your lips when you sucked gently on his bottom one, and he made the softest, most desperate sound, half whimper, half groan. He opened his mouth and his tongue crashed with yours, wet sounds as you tasted his saliva on your own, sighing softly against him feeling how his fingers dig into the bare skin of your thighs. 

You pulled back just enough to whisper against his mouth.

“Get on your knees, Riki.”

He blinked up at you, dazed, lips red, eyes wide.

And then he obeyed.

His hands slid down your thighs as he sank slowly to the floor in front of you. Kneeling. Breath shallow. Waiting.

Completely at your mercy.

He looked up at you, already breathless. You could see it in his face, that eager, desperate curiosity masked by restraint. Like he was doing everything he could not to touch. Not to beg.

You didn’t say anything at first.

Just reached for the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly, intentionally slow. You felt his gaze drag over every inch of skin as it was revealed, your bare breasts in front of him, nipples hard the second the cold air of the room touched them. His pupils were already blown wide, jaw clenched like he was trying so hard not to react. You dropped the shirt beside you, left in just your panties. 

The overhead light was off, but the warm hotel lamp behind him painted your skin gold, throwing soft shadows along your collarbones, the curve of your stomach, the tops of your thighs.

Ni-ki looked like he’d stopped breathing.

“You okay?” you asked softly.

He nodded too fast. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I just—fuck.”

The sound of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. Rough and a little hoarse, like it had scraped his throat just coming out.

You slipped your thumbs under the waistband of your underwear.

His eyes dropped instantly.

You swore you saw his fingers flex again, digging into his jeans like it physically hurt not to reach for you.

You slid them down slowly, stepping out of them with a grace that felt foreign even to yourself, because god, the way he was looking at you was doing something to your head. Like you were the first naked girl he’d ever seen. Like he didn’t know what to do with the sight of you. Your bare intimacy was in front of him now, and you were dripping, glistening arousal that you hadn’t even noticed until that point, pulsing and needy and wanting him. 

When you stood fully bare in front of him, you saw his throat bob as he swallowed. Hard.

“Still okay?” you asked again, voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up at you like you were unreal. Like you weren’t even part of the same world.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he breathed out, like it slipped from him without warning. “I don’t—what the fuck.”

Heat crawled up your chest. You weren’t used to being looked at like that. Not with that kind of reverence. Not like he was wrecked by just seeing you.

“You wanna learn how to do this right?” you asked, stepping closer until your knees touched the edge of the mattress.

He nodded, already breathless. 

“Yeah. I want to learn everything.”

You smiled, heart pounding, then gently climbed onto the bed.

“Then watch me,” you whispered against his lips, not kissing him yet. “And listen to me. I’ll show you exactly how it’s supposed to feel.”

Settling back against the pillows until you were laying flat, you parted your legs just enough to keep him staring.

His breath audibly caught.

From below, he had the clearest view. Your skin glowing under the dim bedside lamp, the soft rise and fall of your chest, your thighs spread open with nothing hidden. Your dripping, swollen pussy. You watched his eyes flick from your face to between your legs, and stay there.

“You still with me?” you asked, your voice low and teasing.

He nodded slowly. “I’ve never—fuck, I’ve never seen anyone like this. Like you.”

Your core tightened at the way he said it, raw, reverent.

You bent one knee, dragging your heel up onto the mattress, spreading yourself more for him, breathing heavily, your heart pumping against your chest and your pussy pulsing under his gaze.

“Then pay attention,” you murmured, bringing your fingers between your thighs. “I’m gonna show you how I like it.”

Ni-ki looked wrecked already, and you hadn’t even touched yourself yet.

You started slow, fingers gliding down to part yourself gently. Your other hand gripped the sheets beside your ribs as you circled your clit, slow and lazy. Soft breaths fell from your lips.

You let your eyes drift shut for a moment, focusing on the warmth building low in your stomach. But you could feel his eyes on you. Could almost hear the tension in his throat as he swallowed thickly, breathing uneven.

“Can you see?” you asked, voice hazy, cracked at the edges.

“Yeah,” he said, too fast. “Yeah, I can see everything.”

You glanced down at him through your lashes. He looked dazed. Kneeling obediently between your legs, jaw tense, his hands fisted at his sides like touching himself would break whatever spell you’d put him under.

“Does it make sense now?” you breathed, dragging your fingers lower to gather slick and bring it back up, circling with a bit more pressure. “It’s not about being rough. It’s about paying attention.”

Ni-ki exhaled hard. 

“You’re fucking unreal.”

A faint smirk tugged at your lips. You were soaked already, turned on by your own touch—but also by him. The way he looked at you. Like he was watching something sacred. Like he’d get on his knees for you again and again if it meant seeing you like this.

You kept your eyes on him as your fingers moved, lazy, deliberate circles that made your hips twitch every now and then. You weren’t putting on a show. This was real. You wanted him to see what it looked like when it was good. When someone took their time. When someone cared.

And judging by the look on his face, Ni-ki was already on the edge of losing his mind.

Still on his knees, his jaw was tight, lips parted like he kept forgetting how to breathe. His hands had fisted into the hem of his hoodie, knuckles pale from the grip. You could see how tense his thighs were. You could see the bulge against his jeans, hard and throbbing. How his chest rose and fell too fast.

You tilted your head, voice smooth and low. 

“You want to touch me, don’t you?”

His eyes shot up to yours, wide and ruined. 

“So bad.”

You let out a soft hum, letting your fingers slow, just enough to keep the pleasure alive.

“I know,” you said. “You’ve been staring like you’re starving.”

“I am,” he groaned, frustrated. “You’re—fuck, you’re driving me insane.”

You gave him a slow, lazy smile. 

“Good. That means it’s working.”

He let out a strangled breath, his hands twitching again, like he didn’t know whether to beg or fall apart.

“Can I… please?” he tried, his voice rough. “Just a little—let me touch you.”

“You are touching me,” you said sweetly, dragging your fingers through your slick just to show him. You brought them to your mouth, tasting yourself on them before sliding them between your legs again “With your eyes. Can’t you feel it?”

He looked like you’d punched the air out of him.

“Don’t worry,” you added, voice a little lower, “I want you desperate.”

He exhaled shakily, dropping his gaze to your thighs again. His whole body was tense, on edge, like he was fighting every urge in his body to crawl up the bed and ruin the distance between you.

“You said you wanted to learn,” you reminded him. “So listen when I tell you this, Riki.”

He looked up again. Waiting. 

“Pussy isn’t about technique. Not really. You can memorize all the tricks, flick your tongue every direction—but none of it matters if you’re not obsessed with the way she tastes. The way she feels when she’s shaking under you. The way she moans when you find the spot that makes her legs tremble.”

He blinked like he wasn’t breathing again.

“And if you’re not ready to worship her,” you whispered, dragging your fingers slow and deep between your folds, “then you’ve already failed.”

“Holy fuck,” he choked out, his voice barely a sound.

Your smile turned wicked. 

“I haven’t even let you touch me yet and you’re falling apart. What do you think’s gonna happen when I put your mouth here?”

He groaned and tilted forward slightly on his knees, like the weight of your words pushed him closer.

You paused your hand and raised a brow. 

“Getting needy?”

He nodded quickly, voice rough. 

“Please. You’re killing me.”

Your chest rose with slow, smug satisfaction. He was so close—so close to breaking.

“You wanna taste me that bad?” you asked.

He licked his lips. 

“So bad I think I’m gonna fucking lose it.”

You let your hand drop from between your legs and spread your thighs a little wider, baring yourself completely for him, your wetness dripping between your folds until you were soaking the bed beneath you.

“Then come closer,” you said softly.

He crawled forward the second you gave him permission, kneeling between your legs like it was the only thing in the world he wanted to do. His hands hovered just above your thighs, like he still wasn’t sure if he could touch you yet. You reached down and threaded your fingers into his hair, gently tugging until he looked up at you. 

“Slow,” you murmured. “I want you to take your time.” 

He swallowed hard. 

“Okay.”

 “Start soft,” you said. “Don’t rush. Just… taste.”

He nodded, breath catching like he was trying to anchor himself, but his hands were already trembling as they finally landed on your thighs. His touch was reverent, almost like he thought you’d vanish if he wasn’t careful. He leaned in slowly, plump and wet  lips brushing the inside of your thigh first, and you gasped at the contact. Just a kiss. Just barely there. But it lit up your nerves like a fuse.

The warmth of his breath followed, and your skin prickled with goosebumps. His mouth moved again, pressing another kiss, this time closer. He wasn’t rushing. He was listening. To your voice. To your breathing. To the way your thighs tensed when he got nearer to where you really wanted him.

You threaded your fingers tighter into his hair, guiding him, not forcing, just showing him you were there.

He looked up once, like he wanted to be sure, and when you gave the smallest nod, he lowered his head again, mouth finally dragging over your pussy, hot and open.

It was slow.

So slow it burned.

The first lick was cautious, just a flick of his tongue, but you moaned softly anyway, hips twitching up toward him. You could feel how his breath hitched in response, how the small sound you made seemed to fuel him. 

His lips parted again, tongue sliding a little firmer now between your soaked folds, tasting like he’d never tasted anything before. Like he was memorizing every part of you. The way your thighs shook. The way your breath caught. The way your fingers gripped tighter at his scalp when he hit the right spot, tongue licking wet and hot and perfect over your swollen clit. 

“Good,” you whispered. “That’s good… just like that.”

He let out a low sound against you, something desperate, something needy. His hands slid up to your hips like he couldn’t help himself anymore, holding you in place, mouth pressing deeper. The flat of his tongue moved in slow, indulgent strokes, and your stomach clenched, your toes curling against the sheets beneath you.

You exhaled shakily, fingers still buried in his hair, the sight of him between your legs already enough to keep your head spinning. He was trying, so hard, too. Tongue warm, mouth open, but a little unsure still, like he wasn’t convinced he was doing it right even though your thighs kept clenching around his ears.

“Riki,” you murmured, voice a little breathless, “slower—press your tongue flat. Yeah, like that.”

You felt him pause, adjust, and then try again, this time dragging the full weight of his tongue through your folds, slower, deeper, like he was tasting you properly now. Your hips lifted off the bed without meaning to.

“Mhm, fuck—just like that,” you whispered, your voice catching as a sharp pleasure lanced through your core.

You kept your eyes on him, watching the way he reacted to every sound you made. Like he was feeding off them. His lashes fluttered, lips shiny and swollen now, and when he glanced up at you, it was like he needed more. Needed to hear it from you.

“Circle your tongue around,” you whispered, tugging gently at his hair to keep him exactly where you wanted him. “There… slower. Keep it soft. I want to feel everything. Spit on it baby, get me soaked.”

His groan vibrated against you as he obeyed, the wet glide of his tongue sending another wave through your stomach, and then a thick string of saliva fell on your already soaked pussy. His hands clutched your thighs tighter now, nails pressing into your skin just enough to ground himself, like he was getting lost in it. In you.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” you whispered, letting the praise drip from your lips. You saw the way his eyes rolled back slightly when you said it. How his movements got a little more confident, a little messier, but somehow still just right. “Taste me—really taste me. Don’t just lick, use your mouth.”

He obeyed with a quiet desperation, sucking gently on your clit, tongue slipping lower before dragging back up again, slow and thick, like he wanted to devour every inch of you.

You gasped. Moaned. Tugged harder at his hair.

“Fuck, Riki—don’t stop—”

He didn’t. If anything, he got hungrier, greedier. His tongue started moving with more pressure, his lips sucking softly at the spots that made your thighs shake.

You didn’t even have to look down to know he was gone.

You could feel it, in the way his mouth moved, in the way his grip had turned bruising on your thighs, in the low, desperate sounds he kept making every time his tongue dragged through you like he couldn’t help himself.

But when you did look down, your heart almost stopped beating.

Riki’s eyes were barely open, glossy and wild, lips swollen, wet from you. His face was flushed, hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, and he was panting between licks like he physically couldn’t get enough.

And he kept talking.

Mumbling between mouthfuls, between kisses to your soaked skin, between long, obscene licks like he was drunk on the taste of you.

“Fuck—you taste so good…” he breathed, voice hoarse and wrecked. “S’fucking good… I can’t—god, I can’t stop.”

You moaned softly, hips rolling toward his mouth, and he whined into you. Actually whined.

“It’s the best,” he said again, more to himself this time, like he couldn’t believe it. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever had. I swear—fuck, I need—need to keep tasting you.”

His tongue flattened again, dragging up, slower this time, like he wanted to savor it. He licked you like it was holy.

You gasped, gripping his hair, pulling him tighter to you.

And he loved it.

Didn’t even flinch. He moaned loud into your cunt, licking deeper, rougher, sloppy now, his mouth messy and wet and insistent. Every word he slurred out came like a prayer, like he was in some trance.

“I wanna eat you every day,” he groaned. “Fuck, please let me—I’ll be so good for you, I’ll learn everything—just don’t make me stop—”

Your head fell back against the pillows, legs shaking. He wasn’t even listening anymore, just moving off instinct, tongue flicking exactly how you taught him, sucking just enough to make your stomach twist with heat.

“You like it that much?” you teased, your voice barely holding steady, but it was still firm. Still in control.

His eyes fluttered open, unfocused but burning.

“I love it,” he said immediately.

Your legs trembled around his shoulders, and still—still—he didn’t stop. His tongue was relentless now, messy and hot and wet against you, every slow stroke making your stomach twist tighter, your breath hitch faster. But you wanted more. You could feel your body hovering right on the edge, just one touch away from snapping completely.

You slid one hand down, gently brushing your fingers through his hair, guiding him just enough so you could breathe. 

“Riki,” you panted. He blinked up at you, dazed and glassy-eyed, his mouth still open, his chin glistening. “Use your fingers too.”

He nodded without hesitation, licking his lips like he didn’t want to waste a drop.

“I—I don’t wanna mess it up,” he said, breathless, hand twitching at your thigh. “Just tell me what to do.”

You grabbed his wrist gently, brought it between your thighs, your own fingers wrapping around his to help him feel you.

“Start with one,” you whispered. “Slow. Let me open up to you.”

He swallowed hard and did exactly that—one long finger slipping into your heat, careful, reverent. The moment he did, a soft sound escaped your lips, your walls fluttering around him.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, almost choking on the words. “You’re so warm. So—fuck—tight. Is that okay? Is that good?”

“So good,” you gasped, voice trembling. “Now curl it—just a little. Mhm… yeah, right there.”

He groaned at the way you clenched, and then his mouth was on you again—tongue working in tandem with his finger now, stroking inside while he sucked and licked and moaned like he was starving.

You let out a high, breathy moan, your hand still guiding his wrist, helping him learn the rhythm. Your hips rocked up to meet both touches, tongue and finger now perfectly synced, and he responded instantly, desperate to give you exactly what you needed.

“Add another,” you said, your voice shaking but firm. “You can take it.”

He hesitated only a second before easing a second finger in, slowly, and when he felt your body stretch around him, another broken groan left his throat.

“Fucking perfect,” he murmured, his voice wrecked. “You feel so perfect—I wanna stay here forever.”

Your back arched, thighs trembling around his head, and he fucked you with his fingers just like you taught him, curling them right, keeping his mouth exactly where you needed it, letting you grind against his tongue shamelessly.

“That’s it, baby,” you moaned. “Just like that. Keep going—you’re gonna make me come.”

And the second those words left your lips, Riki lost it again, messy, moaning into you, thrusting his fingers harder, tongue flicking faster. You felt your climax building like a wave you couldn’t stop.

His lips were slick and red, cheeks flushed, hair clinging to his forehead. But it was the way he was moving that really undid you, hips rocking slowly against the mattress beneath him, grinding like he didn’t even notice he was doing it. Like he physically couldn’t stop.

He was moaning into you, low, broken, filthy sounds muffled by your thighs, and every time you tugged his hair or praised him, his hips pushed down harder, desperate for friction.

“Fuck,” you breathed, your whole body twitching under him. “You’re so needy, baby. Can’t even control yourself, can you?”

He moaned again, loud and desperate, and nodded just barely, face still buried in you.

“I—can’t,” he slurred between licks. “You taste too good—I need it—need to make you come—please, I can’t stop—”

The grind of his hips sped up, his fingers curling perfectly inside you while his tongue flicked your clit again and again, completely in rhythm, completely feral. His thighs were trembling from the way he was using the friction beneath him, like he was getting off just from serving you. From the taste. From your voice.

From the fact that he was the one making you fall apart.

“That’s it,” you groaned, hips bucking up toward his mouth. “Keep grinding, baby. Fuck yourself while you eat me. God—look at you…”

But he wasn’t looking anymore.

His eyes were squeezed shut now, brows furrowed in focus, mouth and fingers soaking wet, hips stuttering with every moan. And from the way his body was shaking, you knew, he was so close. Without even being touched.

You were shaking, heart hammering, your breath catching in short, ragged gasps. Every flick of his tongue, every curl of his fingers sent sparks rushing down your spine, your thighs trembling around his head. Ni-ki didn’t slow down, if anything, he was more focused than ever, like every sound you made fueled him. Like he needed to pull you apart, needed to feel you break for him.

You could barely keep your eyes open, barely breathe with how good it felt, how intense it was. His hands gripped your thighs like lifelines, grounding himself there, mouth working like he was starved and you were the only thing he’d ever wanted to taste.

Your hips jerked. You were so close it hurt.

“Riki,” you gasped, your voice cracking. “I’m gonna—”

“Come, please, need to feel you come on my mouth baby” He whispered, breathless, sucking your clit so hard that you cried out.

That did something to him. He moaned again, deep and wrecked, and it vibrated against you, just enough to push you over.

Your back arched off the mattress, your fingers tightening in his hair as the world blurred and broke around you. The orgasm tore through you in waves, sharp, warm, overwhelming. You cried out his name, legs closing around him, but he didn’t move, didn’t stop. He held you through it, mouth still soft, slow, working you gently as you came down. 

 When your muscles finally stopped trembling and your breathing slowed, he looked up at you.His lips were swollen, eyes glassy, flushed and ruined, and he was still panting because he came too, hard and soaked and messy against his jeans from just eating you.

You reached down and stroked your thumb over his cheek.

“You did so good,” you whispered, still breathless. “So, so good.”

And the look in his eyes when you said it? Like it was the only thing he’d ever wanted to hear.

You were sure you created some kind of monster. 

It was like something had snapped open between you and Riki that night, something hungry and undeniable. He hadn’t touched you in front of anyone since, but you could feel it: the way his gaze followed you when you walked past in your bikini, the way he’d bite his lip when he thought no one was looking.

But it was worse when you were alone.

Because now, it wasn’t just once. Now he wanted you constantly.

You hadn’t even made it out of the hotel earlier that morning without him pulling you back into the bathroom, dropping to his knees like it was the only place he belonged. He’d barely said a word, just looked up at you with those dark, desperate eyes and mumbled something about “missing the taste of you.”

It had been messy. Rushed. You had to muffle your moans into your hand and clamp your thighs tight around his head just to keep quiet.

Now, three days later in the afternoon, you were sitting under a beach umbrella with a drink in your hand, pretending like you weren’t still flushed from the memory. Pretending like your legs weren’t shaking.

Ni-ki was stretched out on a towel a few feet away, sunglasses on, the sea breeze lifting his hair. He looked calm to anyone else—maybe a little too calm—but you saw the truth. The tension in his jaw. The slight curve at the corner of his mouth when he caught your eye.

And then he mouthed something at you across the space between your friends.

Please.

You blinked. 

What?

He glanced toward the beach showers. Then back at you. And mouthed it again:

Please. Just five minutes.

Your heart stuttered.

You shook your head. Barely. But your thighs pressed together instinctively, heat blooming low in your belly. He tilted his head, still pleading, like he was barely holding it together.

He wanted it again.

He wanted you again.

And it hit you then, this wasn’t just about curiosity anymore. This wasn’t a one-time thing.

Ni-ki was hooked.

The sun was beginning to dip lower, casting everything in a hazy gold, and the breeze off the ocean carried laughter and music from your friends further down the beach. You were pretending to still be sipping your drink when Ni-ki brushed past you, close enough that your knees touched for a second.

No one noticed. Or so you hoped.

He didn’t say anything, just walked towards the showers without looking back.

But you followed.

Your heart pounded as you crossed the sand, the faint sound of water trickling from a half-open faucet masking your footsteps. The beach shower area was quiet, stone walls, open-air, private enough if you were quick.

You slipped inside, and there he was.

His back was against the tiled wall, hair tousled, lips parted, like he’d barely been breathing since he left you on that beach chair.

“I thought you said five minutes,” you whispered, stepping in closer.

He shook his head, chest rising and falling beneath his shirt. 

“That was a lie.”

You raised a brow, teasing.

“So you dragged me out here to lie to me?”

“No,” he said, voice low, hoarse. “I dragged you out here because I need you.”

And that was all it took.

You kissed him first, quick and hot, stealing his breath. But he dropped to his knees before you could blink, already pushing your swimsuit bottoms down your legs with shaking hands, reverent and hungry.

“Wait,” you breathed, glancing toward the open side of the shower. “Someone could—”

“I don’t care.” His voice was wrecked, hands firm as he pulled your thighs over his shoulders. “I’ll be fast. I promise. I just—fuck, I missed you.”

And then his mouth was on you.

The rush of it stole your breath. The contrast of the cool tile behind you and the burning warmth of his tongue had you clutching the stone wall for balance. He moaned into you, shameless, like the taste of you alone was enough to undo him. You bit your lip, trying not to make a sound, failing as a gasp slipped out when he flattened his tongue and really got into it.

“God, you’re so good,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “So greedy—”

He groaned, grinding against nothing, his fingers digging into your thighs as he pulled you impossibly closer. His mouth was wet, messy, insistent, and every time you tried to look down at him, you saw how gone he was, red cheeks, glassy eyes, flushed and panting like he needed this more than air.

“Riki,” you warned, breath hitching as the pressure built again, sharp and fast. “We don’t have long—”

“I don’t care,” he mumbled against your skin. “Let them see. I’d still stay right here.”

That nearly ended you.

You didn’t even hear the footsteps pass nearby over the sound of the waves and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You just held his face, riding the edge, knowing it wouldn’t take long.

By the time you stepped out of the beach showers, your legs were still trembling.

You’d tried to fix your hair in the tiny mirror, smooth out your expression, but your mouth was swollen and your swimsuit still clung awkwardly to your damp skin. Riki walked a few steps behind you, his shirt thrown over one shoulder, cheeks still flushed, his lips a little too red.

And worst of all, he was smiling.

You elbowed him as you walked, muttering under your breath, 

“You’re being obvious.”

“I am obvious,” he said softly, brushing your fingers with his as you passed a stray towel on the sand. “And you liked it.”

You glared at him—only half-serious—and picked up the pace, ignoring the way your thighs still ached.

When you reached your friends, Jake was the first to spot you.

“Well, well, well,” he grinned, raising his sunglasses. “Look who finally decided to rejoin society.”

“We weren’t gone that long,” you said quickly, dropping your towel back down like nothing happened.

Jake squinted. “You guys missed the watermelon. And Sunoo was telling this insane story about—wait.” He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. “Why do you look like that?”

Your stomach flipped. Riki coughed behind you.

Sunghoon glanced up from where he was drying his hair. 

“Yeah. You guys look kinda… flushed.”

“Hot out,” Riki mumbled.

“Hm,” Jake said slowly, like he didn’t quite believe it.

You sat down quickly on your beach chair and took a sip of your drink, trying to will your heart rate back to normal. But Riki flopped down next to you, casually propping his sunglasses on top of his head, lips still a little too pink.

You glanced at him. 

“You’re enjoying this.”

He smirked. 

“A little.”

“Don’t say anything.”

“I won’t.” He leaned closer, voice dropping so only you could hear. “Unless you want me to tell them how good you taste when you—”

“Riki.”

He grinned wider and leaned back like nothing happened.

You tried to look normal. Innocent. Unbothered.

But the looks your friends kept throwing your way said one thing clearly:

They knew something was up.

And if they didn’t know now, they would soon, because Riki’s knee was already brushing yours under the towel, and the second you leaned towards him, he gave you that look again.

Hungry.

Summer trip this year had just started. 

[delugyu]

by a string

summary: Yeonjun’s got a lot on his plate. Not only does he have to worry about being a star student, but he also has to be the city’s web-slinging hero. And a lab intern. And a semi-decent roommate. And a little bit in love with you.

pairings: yeonjun x fem!reader

word count: 18.9k

tags: fluff, smut (mdni), some angst, spiderman!yeonjun, his webs shoot from his actual wrists like tobey maguire’s spiderman, college au, yeonjun is a cute awkward charming nerd, inaccurate science stuff sorry, blood, physical violence, lots of spidey shenanigans, campy weird action scene teehee, small arguments

smut tags: making out, heavy petting, webs as cuffs LOLLL, thigh riding, edging, fingering, praise, unprotected sex, cum eating, oral (f rec.), yeonjun is so playful and such a tease

notes: omg she’s finally here!!! i am so excited to get this out to u guys hehe<3 tysm for all the love on the teaser, i hope spideyjjun steals ur heart. enjoy the fic !!!

Saving the city can suck sometimes. Homework sucks significantly more. If Yeonjun had the option to zip through the city chasing some bad guys instead of sitting here trying to finish his calculus assignment, he’d be flying out his window in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, responsibility is a virtue, and Yeonjun cannot swing through the city for no good reason.

The one good thing about this tedious, awful calculus homework is that if it’s hard enough, he always gets a text from you. His body springs to life when he hears his phone buzz, rushing to pick it up and check the notification.

[you] have u done the calc homework

[you] how do you solve #4 :(

Do most of your conversations revolve around your shared class? Yes. Does Yeonjun ever get tired of teaching you the concepts? No, never. In fact, he stretches out his explanations as long as possible to keep you talking to him longer. Yeonjun never knew before that math talk could make his heart flutter.

“So, does that make sense?” he asks after a long-winded explanation. He’s almost out of breath after spewing out so much math jargon, but being on a call with you for ten minutes has similarly breathtaking effects.

“Yeah. Thanks, Yeonjun.” He bites back a giggle upon hearing your words. “You should seriously be teaching this class,” you say with a laugh.

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t—I mean, I’m—I’m more of a science guy,” he stammers out, lips tightening into a thin line at the embarrassment of stumbling over his own sentence. “Our professor’s pretty cool, too,” he adds as if that saves him at all.

“Is he? Maybe I should start going to his office hours,” you muse.

Oh. Well in that case, your professor sucks. Yeonjun can’t have you stop coming to him for math help; you’d never talk to him at all if it came to that!

“He’s not that cool,” Yeonjun says. You laugh, and he huffs out a short chuckle too.

“Noted. I’m gonna go now, but thanks for helping me. You’re the best.” Your praise goes straight to Yeonjun’s head, making him feel like the greatest man to ever live. He doesn’t even feel this accomplished after going out on his little spidey-missions.

He’s a beat too late to say goodbye or good night to you, the call already hanging up as he opens his mouth to speak. He melts into a puddle over his desk, sighing out as he plays back his conversation with you in his head. He thinks you have the prettiest voice he’s ever heard. You’re so smart, too. He never has to over exert himself to get you to understand, though he would happily do that for you.

He jolts up as his roommate walks into his dorm. Yeonjun glances at him quickly as he straightens out his posture, picking his pencil back up and returning to his homework.

“Hey,” his roommate, Soobin, greets quietly. Yeonjun didn’t know Soobin prior to this semester, but he’s been pretty nice. He’s very quiet, but very respectful of Yeonjun’s space. It’s much appreciated, considering Yeonjun’s hiding a few of his red and blue spandex suits in his closet.

“Hey. How was your day?” Yeonjun asks, only half-interested in the conversation.

He watches Soobin shrug from his peripheral as he slides off his shoes. “Normal,” he answers.

Yeonjun nods. “Cool.” The conversation kind of dies after that, which is fine. Soobin isn’t the most extroverted person, and Yeonjun doesn’t push him to talk more than he’s willing to. He sometimes forgets he even has a roommate with how quiet it gets in the room.

Yeonjun regains his focus a minute into the silence. His eyes widen when he realizes that there’s now a doodle of your face on his calculus homework—when did that get there..? His face heats up as he grabs an eraser from his desk’s drawer. Thank god he didn’t do this assignment in pen.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Yeonjun’s not really paying attention to the professor, finding more interest in taking quick glances at you. You’re wearing a different bracelet today. It’s really pretty—maybe he should compliment you on it. Is it weird to lean in and tell you that? Are you close enough where he can compliment you without looking weird and creepy?

He rests his head in his hand and starts doodling in his notebook, mindlessly scribbling on the page while he waits for the lecture to end. He thinks of quick conversational things to say, something to discuss in a few minutes when it’s time to pack your bags and leave. Interesting class, right? Who would’ve thought—Yeonjun looks up at the projector to see the professor’s notes—the shell method… would be so cool… Maybe he shouldn’t say that, actually.

He’s honestly better off not trying to strike up a conversation with you at all; the chances of it leading to total and utter embarrassment lean greatly towards one hundred percent. He just wishes he had a little more spine, or that he was naturally a little cooler. The only interesting thing about him is something he can’t even talk to you about, or with anyone at all.

Yeonjun barely registers it when the professor dismisses class. He steals one last glance toward you, lips parting like he finally built up the courage to speak, but the words build up in his throat and die on his tongue. He seals his lips and focuses his gaze back on his own things, closing his notebook and shoving it in his bag. It’s not worth it. He decides he’ll just keep his mouth shut.

“Hey Yeonjun?”

Yeonjun almost jumps out of his seat, and he has to fight away his nerves as he turns to you. You’re packing your things back into your bag, not even looking at him. A part of him thinks he might be hearing things until your eyes meet his, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah?” he responds, voice coming out strained. He clears his throat.

“We’re friends, right?” you ask. He blinks, feeling like this is some kind of trick. He analyzes your face, making sure there’s nothing snide or teasing hidden in your question. You look honest enough, which puts him at ease.

“Yeah, for sure.”

“I hope that’s not sarcasm,” you say, getting up from your seat and adjusting your bag over your shoulders.

“It’s not! Really, we’re friends,” he reassures. You walk past him and he follows, leaving the classroom and entering the busy hallway.

“Well, good. I wanted you to go with me somewhere.” Your statement is wildly cryptic, and it leaves Yeonjun’s mind whirling with the possibilities of what you might offer.

“Right now?” he asks. “I-I have class…” As much as he likes you, he really can’t risk dropping his grade due to missed attendance.

You laugh, “No, tonight. There’s this party, and I”—you keep talking, but Yeonjun barely registers it. He’s never partied in college before. What would he even do at a party? He can’t handle his drinks well, and he’s not sure how well he’d blend into that kind of environment. He’s scared he’d make a fool of himself.

As you leave the academic building, you turn to Yeonjun, raising a brow in question. You must have asked him for his confirmation. Yeonjun forces his brain to rack up a response.

“Could you text me the details..?” Yeonjun asks. You relax a little at his words, nodding happily. You pull out your phone, ready to text him now. Yeonjun feels his heart pounding. He catches sight of the time on your phone, noticing he’s only got five minutes until his next class. The hall he’s supposed to be in is at least a three minute walk from here.

“There,” you say, awarding Yeonjun with a grin so bright that being late to class might just be worth it. “I really hope to see you there.” You tilt your head a little, and Yeonjun feels starstruck.

“You will,” he promises mindlessly.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Yeonjun feared he might’ve been in trouble when his professor asked him to stay after class. Turns out, it’s something much worse.

“Yeonjun, do you think you could help in the lab later today?”

Yeonjun doesn’t think much before he nods. “Yeah, of course, how much later?”

“Around 6 this evening,” his professor answers. Yeonjun’s heart drops. That would be perfectly fine any other day, but he promised to go out with you today. Of course the party would start at the same time Yeonjun’s professor wants him to stop by the lab.

“I’m not sure I have the time,” Yeonjun says quickly, suddenly fidgety and feeling antsy to leave the room. “I’ve got this… thing to do.” His professor doesn’t look too convinced. Yeonjun wants to facepalm himself. Yeah, great excuse.

The professor sighs, but Yeonjun starts up again before his professor can say anything. “I can come in earlier! I’m free right now, so I could just go over after this.”

“The cells we’re working with need a full 24 hours in culture for the sake of our research. Are you sure you can’t push your plans forward? Or back?” he asks.

Yeonjun’s stomach twists with guilt. He knows he shouldn’t let his professor down. Yeonjun’s kind of counting on him to write his recommendation letter for a graduate program, too.

“I’ll push the plans back,” Yeonjun says, giving in. He hopes the dejection isn’t too evident in his voice. His professor smiles and pats Yeonjun’s shoulder in thanks. He half-listens as his professor gives him the usual rundown of what to do during and after the process, nodding along and holding back the frown that tries to tug at his lips.

When Yeonjun finally leaves the building, he lets out the heaviest sigh of his life. His shoulders sag, and he feels like he might be the unluckiest person in the world. You finally give him attention outside of just asking for homework help, and the universe just had to intervene. This is laughable. It’s also stupid. Annoying. Frustrating.

There’s a pout etched onto Yeonjun’s face as he walks back to his dorm. He’s got a couple hours until he needs to go to the lab, so maybe he can take a nap or tidy up his room a little. His head hangs low, gaze transfixed on the sidewalk, kicking along a small pebble that keeps him company on the way.

He only picks his head back up as he walks past a certain field of grass, one he often finds you sitting in. Sometimes you’re on your laptop, sometimes you’re taking notes in a textbook, but most of the time you’re just lounging and doing nothing. It’s almost inspiring. Yeonjun would probably benefit from relaxing and decompressing more.

You’re there, sitting cross-legged on the grass, peaceful and silent. You look up suddenly, making eye contact with Yeonjun. His face flushes, but before he can turn his head in embarrassment, you raise your hand and wave. Yeonjun almost stops in his tracks. You’re waving at him, acknowledging his existence yet again.

He smiles and waves back, failing to tame his heartbeat as he takes the sight of you in. He’s forced to look away when he nearly stumbles over the pebble he’s been kicking around—“Oh, shit!” he utters, quietly enough to not draw attention to himself.

He glances back at you casually, making sure you didn’t witness him tripping. Fortunately, you’re on your phone, no longer paying him any mind.

Back at his dorm, Yeonjun stands by his closet, contemplating what exactly to wear tonight. He also has to make sure his outfit is lab-friendly, so the loose sweater he’d been eyeing is a no-go. He sighs, looking at himself in the mirror. Maybe the t-shirt and jeans he’s wearing now will suffice.

Time passes slowly, slow enough for Yeonjun to clean his half of the room, make himself a small meal in the communal kitchen, and even read a chapter ahead in his calculus textbook. He almost feels relieved when his alarm sets off to go to the lab, eager to get his work over with.

He’s determined to get this done quickly enough to still see you tonight. The thought of letting you down the one time you ask him to hang out is almost painful. He imagines the frown you’d wear next time he sits next to you in class. He can’t let that happen; he has to make sure he gets to you.

He throws on his lab coat and adjusts the goggles to fit onto his face. He sighs as he grabs containers of various chemical compounds from the cabinet, leaving them on the counter as he fetches the other materials he needs. With everything set out in front of him, he grabs the petri dish of cells and glances at the procedural note his professor left.

Yeonjun’s done this enough times to get into the swing of things, so he’s not too concerned with double checking his every move. His bigger priority is getting this done as fast as possible so that he can get to you. Lab work is never particularly fun or interesting, so he passes the time thinking about you.

The smell of the chemicals burns Yeonjun’s nose a little, and he wonders for a second if he’d been zoning out too much. He picks up the procedural note and glances over the measurements again, making sure he’s been adding the right amounts of everything. If he does something wrong and messes with the cell culture, he risks not being allowed back in the lab. He should probably slow down a bit, even if it means making you wait longer.

He’s more careful throughout the rest of the process, pushing back the worries that he might’ve messed something up. He continues to reassure himself that everything’s okay as he finishes up his work, placing the lid back on the petri dish and storing it away. He writes the date and time on a piece of tape that he sticks onto the lid, then finally lets his body relax as he steps back.

He cracks his knuckles to alleviate the stiffness that had been building there and rolls his shoulders back, groaning at the soreness of his muscles. All the fine motor movements from working in a lab does a number on his arms and fingers.

He hears a rattle, and he turns quickly to make sure he didn’t knock anything over in his haste. His eyes scan the room, but nothing looks amiss. He shakes the feeling and sheds himself of his lab gear, eager to head to you at the party already.

It’s been over an hour, and the thought of you waiting so long for Yeonjun’s arrival strikes guilt inside his chest. He opens his phone to find the path he needs to walk to get to the house the party’s being held in, eyes bugging out when he sees that it’s a twenty minute walk from the lab. Shit, by then you’ll have been waiting an hour and a half for him to show up!

He groans, trying to think if there’s a better way to get to you. The buses around campus don’t stop at the street he needs to get to, and it’s not like he has one of those electric bicycles or scooters that everyone seems to love. He wonders now if it might be a worthy investment. He pouts and throws his head back, totally drained from everything happening today. His eyes land on the tops of the academic buildings and the tall trees overhead. Maybe there is another way to get there after all.

No, he shouldn’t. That would be way too reckless. He’s already gone through the whole power and responsibility spiel, and he’s not in the mood to get himself in trouble for acting rashly. But if no one sees…

He turns his head and scans for people in each direction. No one’s around. No one would know, and he really needs to get to the party before he makes himself look like an asshole. He checks for anyone one last time, then aims his wrist towards the sky.

“Yeonjun! What’s up!”

Yeonjun startles and brings his arm back to his side hastily. He whips around to see who’s talking to him and lets out a breath when he sees his friend who had just exited the lab building. “Taehyun, hey man,” he says, ignoring the anxious pounding of his heart. That was way too close. Lesson learned.

“Didn’t catch you at the physics meet last week. Everything alright?” Taehyun asks. Yeonjun really hopes this conversation doesn’t take too long. The last thing he needs is another ten minutes piled on top of how late he already is.

“I’m good, I was just”—controlling a fire set by some idiot arsonist, then trapping said arsonist with his webs until the cops arrived—“uh, kind of sick.”

Taehyun hums and nods. “Well, we missed you bro, hope you’re feeling better. I’ll see you around!” Yeonjun waves and returns the smile his friend gives him, then walks as fast as he can to the location you sent him. He manages to get there in fifteen minutes instead of twenty, only at the expense of heavy breathing like he just finished a marathon.

When he gets to the entrance, there’s two men Yeonjun has never seen in his life guarding the door. He almost scoffs. What is this, some kind of nightclub?

“You got the money?” one of the guys ask.

“What?” Yeonjun scrunches his brows and leans his head forward a little, thinking he might have misheard him.

“No money, no entrance,” the other man says.

“Dude, come on!” Yeonjun whines.

“House rules. Stop wasting our time and get out of line.”

“No, no, I’ll”—Yeonjun sighs, reaching into the back pocket of his pants to fetch out his wallet. “How much?” he asks. The men tell him, and he bites back the complaints that almost push past his lips. Yeonjun slaps the bills into the guy’s open palm. They finally open the door for him, and Yeonjun steps inside.

He’s taken aback by how many people are cramped into this place. The house is pretty big, but there’s at least a hundred people mingling around, which makes space tight. He squeezes past the crowd with muttered apologies, but no one seems to pay him any mind. He scans every room for you, but it’s a little hard to do it efficiently when there’s so many faces to check. A part of him fears you might’ve left already.

He pulls out his phone, ready to text you and ask, before he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns at the action and smiles when he’s met with your pretty face. “Hey, you!” you exclaim. “I thought you bailed on me.” There’s no real bite to your words, but it still makes Yeonjun frown.

“I’m sorry. I had to do this lab thing, and”—

“It’s alright, don’t explain. You’re here now!” you say. “Did you have anything to drink?”

Yeonjun shakes his head. “I don’t drink much.”

“Me either,” you say. You look out the window, then grab onto Yeonjun’s hand. His brain short-circuits, and he has to stop his eyes from going all dumb and wide. “It’s kinda stuffy in here. Let’s go outside.”

Yeonjun puts up no fight as you lead him out the back door, walking out into the yard. There’s almost as many people out here as there are inside, but the lack of walls means there’s more space to move. It’s much more breathable.

He takes quick glances at your face, trying to decipher what you’re staring so hard at. Your gaze is fixed on a small group of people just sitting and laughing. All the guys have girls in their laps, and a few girls stand around them, sipping their drinks. They all look happy. And drunk.

“Did you want to join them?” Yeonjun asks. He doesn’t know any of those people, but he’ll go if that’s what you’d like. It’s not like there’s much else to do when you’re not drinking or dancing.

The LED lights that line the house reflect in your eyes, making them dazzle extra bright. Your eyes dart to the group one last time before you shake your head. “Nah. Let’s just sit down and talk.” Yeonjun gladly obliges.

You find an empty spot to sit at, looking up at Yeonjun after you situate yourself. He laughs a little, “You really like sitting on the grass, huh?”

You smile at him and pat the ground next to you. “Don’t act like you’re too good to connect with nature.”

“It’s more about getting grass stains on my pants,” Yeonjun says, but sits beside you anyways.

You turn your head to him, and something about seeing your face this close makes it hard for him to keep eye contact. It’s quiet for a few seconds before you speak up, “So how come you said yes to the party?”

Something about your question strikes fear inside Yeonjun. Did you find him out? Do you know he likes you? Maybe this is some kind of humiliation ritual you’ve set him up for.

“Cause you asked,” he answers, voice a little meek as he fidgets with his hands in his lap.

“And if it was someone else who asked?”

Yeonjun thinks for a second, but he can’t come to an answer. “I don’t know. Like who?”

You hum and look into the crowd of people. Your head turns back to him after a couple seconds. “Like Yerim,” you say.

Yeonjun laughs as if the scenario is ridiculous, mostly because it is. Yerim would never even give him the time of day. She’s notorious for being cold to anyone who she isn’t interested in. Somehow, that seems to attract a bunch of guys to her. Not Yeonjun, though.

“No chance I’d go,” he says.

“So what makes me different?” you ask.

A lot of things. You’re nice, and you’re smart, and you’re down to earth, and you’re a beacon of warmth. Everything makes you different.

“Cause we’re friends,” he says instead. He wants to punch himself after the words leave him. This was his chance to flirt with you, yet he couldn’t even muster up the courage to give you a single compliment.

You nod. “I’m just asking cause… well, I guess I’m just surprised you agreed to come.” Your eyes meet his, warm and kind. “Thank you for that, by the way.”

Yeonjun’s stomach does flips when you look at him like that. “You’re welcome.” It goes quiet for a moment, so he continues, “I think this was worth handing over the last of my cash for.”

You burst out laughing. “They made you pay?! Why didn’t you just say you’re here with me?”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” he says. He bites his tongue after the words leave him. Who is he to assume there will be a next time? He hopes you don’t call him out on it.

“We should just go somewhere else next time. There’s a lot of places downtown that I want to visit,” you suggest, bumping his shoulder with yours. Yeonjun almost explodes.

“We should do that then,” he agrees. He’s not sure what suddenly drew you to him as more than some kind of tutor, but he thanks the universe for bestowing him with all this luck.

“There’s that bakery that opened a couple months ago,” you mention.

Yeonjun lights up. “Oh my god, I’ve been wanting to go there too!”

You squeal in excitement and clasp your hands together. “Let’s do that next. Tell me you’re free on Sunday,” you say.

“I don’t know, things come up last-minute sometimes. I’ll let you know.” It’s hard to make plans when he’s basically living a double life. Then again, he did agree to going out with you tonight on a whim. He’s not very consistent with his rules. He pushes the thought back.

Your eyes land back on the group of people hanging out and laughing. Yeonjun frowns, and he wonders if he’s not entertaining you enough. He doesn’t want to keep you from having fun.

“Why do you keep looking at them?” he asks, curious and soft. He hopes he’s not prying.

“They’re just some friends,” you answer.

“Oh. Why don’t we go say hi, then?” he offers.

You pull your lips into a tight line. “I’d rather not.”

“That’s alright,” Yeonjun says. You give a small smile in appreciation.

“What about you?” you ask. He tilts his head, not knowing what you mean. You continue, “Who’s in your friend group?”

Yeonjun laughs awkwardly and shrugs. “I mostly hang out with the physics honor society,” he admits.

“That’s cool. You must have a good bond.”

“We do,” he says. “How’d you meet your friends?”

You smile at him, and something in your face tells Yeonjun that it’s a complicated story. You sigh dramatically and lean back a little, “I met them at parties. Does that surprise you?”

Yeonjun’s not sure if that’s a rhetorical question. “No. You’re friendly. I can see why people come to you,” he answers.

“Thanks,” you say, voice a little quieter.

“Are you friends with your roommate?” he asks.

“I don’t have one. I live in a single dorm.”

Lucky. If Yeonjun had the extra money to spare, he’d be dorming alone too. It would definitely make heading out as Spider-man easier; he’d just be able to change in his room and jump out his window. Assuming no one is around to see, that is.

“That must be nice,” he says.

You shrug. “It’s alright. What about you? You got a roommate?”

“Yeah. We’re…” Yeonjun struggles to find a word to describe his relationship with Soobin. They’re not exactly friends, but they’re peaceful with each other.

You laugh and finish the sentence for him, “Roommates and nothing more.” There’s a lilt to your voice when you say that, and you wiggle your eyebrows like that’s supposed to suggest something.

“Ignoring your insinuations, yeah, pretty much.”

“I’m just kidding,” you say. He’ll let you make jokes at his expense all you want, it doesn’t bother him. Especially not when it means he gets to see you all giggly and happy. He thinks that you look the prettiest like this. Yeonjun would stare at you smiling up at him forever if he could.

The sound of a guy calling your name pulls Yeonjun from his stupor. He blinks at the man standing before the two of you, then looks at you with scrunched brows as if to ask who is that?

His unspoken question is answered the next second. “Hey, Kai,” you say. When Yeonjun gets a better look, he realizes that this is one of the dudes in the group you kept looking over at.

“Who’s this guy?” Kai asks, jutting his chin toward him.

“I’m Yeonjun.” He goes to hold out his hand for Kai to shake, but quickly puts it back down upon realizing that might be weird.

“Oh, Yeonjun from calculus. I know you,” he says.

“I didn’t know you’re in that class too,” Yeonjun muses.

Kai laughs, “I’m not. Y/n just talks about you.”

Yeonjun nearly melts. You talk about him. This is the best day of his life.

“Anyway,” Kai continues, looking at you again. “I need a couple more people on my beer pong team. You guys down?”

Yeonjun turns to you to gauge your reaction. He can’t really tell what you're feeling, not even when you face him as you contemplate your answer. Yeonjun shrugs, as if to tell you that he’s down for whatever you want to do.

“I think I’m good,” you say.

“Ah, alright, you bummer,” Kai jokes, stepping back and sending you a bright smile. “Continue your convo with the calc lord, I insist.” He’s gone after that, jogging off to the rest of his friends, setting up the game.

“Calc lord?” Yeonjun repeats, amused.

Your laugh is accompanied by a roll of your eyes. “He means it nicely, I swear.”

“Well, depending on how well he does in this game, I might start calling him beer pong lord,” Yeonjun says. You push at his shoulder as your laughter continues.

Yeonjun already knew he likes you a lot, but as the night goes on, he finds out that you’re even better than he thought. Conversation unfolds easily with you, even if Yeonjun’s answers are dorky and awkward at times. He feels exactly how he thinks you look when you sit in the grass alone: content and peaceful.

He’s not sure how many minutes or hours have passed when you ask him to walk you back to your dorm. All he knows is that tonight could have stretched into infinity, and that would’ve been fine. He follows you into the building, then into your room. He’s not sure why. It just feels right.

“Thanks for bringing me back,” you say. Yeonjun smiles and nods. He leans against the wall and stares out the window. You live on the top floor of your building, so the view’s pretty different from Yeonjun’s second story view. This would be a fun room to swing out of.

“Do you need anything else?” Yeonjun asks. A smile slowly takes over your face, and you cross the room to stand in front of him. You blink up at him, and something about it feels flirty. If he wasn’t biting his tongue so hard, his thoughts would have slipped right past his lips: you look cute.

You break the short moment of silence with a giggle. “Just for you to promise me we’ll hang out again,” you say, voice barely over a whisper.

Yeonjun has to remind himself to breathe and be normal. “I promise,” he says. He even holds out his pinky to seal the deal. You curl your pinky around his, accepting the playful gesture.

“Did you want to stay?” you ask. You look out the window, then back at him. “I’m okay with sharing my bed.”

That definitely flusters Yeonjun. “Oh, no, I’m—I was gonna just walk back to my dorm or something. Or take a bus. I don’t know. Thank you, though.”

You laugh. Hopefully not at his sputtering and rambling, but Yeonjun has a feeling that might be why. “Alright, then. Good night, Yeonjun.”

Your soft voice has Yeonjun wanting to backpedal and say he’ll stay the night, but he swallows down the words. He smiles at you as he backs away toward your door. “Good night,” he says, standing in your doorway.

“Yeonjun,” you call, stopping him before he could leave. He turns, waiting for your words. He’s surprised to see that you look a little shy. “I’m really happy I asked you to come with me. Tonight was fun.”

Butterflies erupt in Yeonjun’s stomach, and he feels like he could float from how giddy he is. “I’m happy too,” he says.

He steps out into the hall, thoughts lingering on how overwhelmingly good his time with you was. His mind is clouded with rosy memories of his night with you, and he finds himself repressing the urge to twirl around and jump for joy. He’ll probably be skipping all the way home, imagining all the possibilities of what could come next between you.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

It’s Sunday, and Yeonjun knows exactly why you’re calling. He stares at his phone, then back at the man in front of him tangled up in webs. Yeonjun shoots another web over the guy’s mouth.

“Sorry, gotta take this,” he says. “Stay right here.” He slings himself onto a branch of a tall tree nearby, just to make sure no one can listen in as he accepts your call.

“Hey Yeonjun!” Your voice is so cheerful that it makes Yeonjun giggle. He even swings his feet in the air as he sits on the branch.

“Hi Y/n,” he greets, hoping his voice isn’t too muffled through the mask of his suit.

“Did those last-minute plans end up showing, or are you down to try out that bakery?” you ask. Yeonjun frowns, hating to let you down when you sound so happy.

“I’m really busy today, I’m sorry,” he says, shoulders sagging from how awful he feels. He’s got a whole lab procedure to write once he’s done sorting out the crime scenes of today.

“No worries, maybe we can go after class sometime.”

He frowns. “I wish I could, but I got another class right after ours. Let me check my schedule, I might be able to”—

“Are those sirens?” you interrupt, and Yeonjun looks out to the street. He’s grown so accustomed to the sound of those things that it didn’t even register. “Where are you?” you ask.

“I’m… uh,” Yeonjun stammers, focusing on the cops getting out of the car and making their way towards the criminal.

He tunes into the cops’ conversation. “Looks like Spider-shit’s been here already,” one of them comments in a gruff voice.

The other cop huffs out a laugh. “He’s always meddling in with petty crimes. What do you think this guy did?”

“Jaywalking?” The cops chuckle.

“Not like he can explain with that over his mouth.” He points to the web Yeonjun placed on the man a minute ago.

Yeonjun scowls. He’s not sure why the cops hold so much scorn for him, but if they’d like to know, then the petty crime that Spider-shit helped stop was an armed robbery. If these guys were a little better at their jobs, he wouldn’t have to meddle in all the time.

“Hello?” you ask, and Yeonjun reels his attention back to his conversation with you.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m just coming back from the store. Crazy stuff going on today.”

“Oh. Well, stay safe,” you say.

“Thanks, I will.” He sees the cops looking around, probably trying to spot him, so he flattens his back against the tree and tries to talk a little quieter. “I’ll see you in class, I gotta go.”

“See you!”

Yeonjun sighs once the call ends. His suit doesn’t even have pockets, he just carried his phone with him today in case you contacted him. Stupid? Mildly. Inconvenient? Very. He had one less hand to work with when dealing with today’s crime culprits. To hear your voice, though? Worth it. He smiles like an idiot as he swings over to the next nearest building, making his way back to his dorm.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Yeonjun’s professor accompanies him to the lab today, overseeing the procedures for the day. The feeling of his professor watching over his shoulder is more nerve-wracking than any day spent fighting crime on the streets. He’s usually careful with his work in the lab, but he’s extra, extra careful on these days.

He pauses when he retrieves the petri dish of cells. He briefly considers the possibility that he’s crazy and just seeing things, but Yeonjun’s pretty sure that the clump of cells just moved. Like, uncanny movement. He holds his breath.

He stares at the clump, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. It doesn’t jerk around anymore, so maybe it was just his imagination. Fear still creeps up his neck at the idea of the research going wrong. He remembers feeling like he messed up at some point last time he was here, and the realization is making his skin grow clammy.

“What is it?” his professor asks, taking a step closer to Yeonjun.

“Nothing, I was just thinking,” he quickly responds, keeping his voice calm and steady. He brings the petri dish to the table and does his best to forget what he saw earlier. Yeonjun fears how his professor would react if he told him something unprecedented might be occurring. It happened so quickly that he can’t even tell if his mind was just playing tricks on him. Maybe he’s just extra nervous today.

He wipes the sweat off his palms onto his lab coat, bringing the necessary materials to the table to continue the research. His professor reads off the instructions slowly, and Yeonjun pretends he doesn’t feel his stomach twisting as he works with the cells.

He tries to calm down as he walks back to his dorm, but there’s a permanent chill shooting down his spine. There’s no way the clump should have moved like that—it shouldn’t show any observable motion at all, not without some kind of electrical stimulation.

Maybe he just jerked the dish too harshly. He was pretty nervous, so it would make sense. He must have been shaking and just didn’t realize. That would explain it. That would put Yeonjun at ease.

He can try to convince himself that everything’s fine, but he can’t stop the anxious thrum of his heart. Apparently the fear reads on his face, too, because Soobin’s quick to notice it when Yeonjun enters the dorm.

“Are you okay?” Soobin asks. Yeonjun’s not sure what must have given himself away. He pays more attention to breathing slowly and talking casually.

“I’m good,” he answers. He doesn’t expect Soobin to push the subject considering how quiet he always is, but Soobin’s gaze isn’t leaving Yeonjun. He must be really concerned.

“Did something happen?” Soobin asks. Yeonjun sinks into his desk chair, covering his face with his hands as he groans. “Sorry,” his roommate apologizes, turning away from Yeonjun to look at his laptop instead.

“No, you’re good, it’s just…” Yeonjun sighs. He might as well get this off his chest. “Some lab thing.”

Soobin nods, not asking any further. Now that Yeonjun’s started though, he doesn’t feel like stopping.

“I think I might’ve fucked up,” Yeonjun admits.

“How?” Soobin’s playing some video game on his laptop as he talks, which actually puts Yeonjun at ease. It feels less pressing, less like an interrogation or a confession and more like a normal conversation.

“The cells I’m working with are being weird. I don’t know. I don’t even know if I saw it right. I just feel crazy now.” Yeonjun rubs his palms against his eyes in frustration and exhaustion, soothing the headache he’s got building up.

Soobin hums. The little shooting sounds and animated voices coming from Soobin’s game fill the room until Soobin speaks again, “Did anyone else see?”

“No. My professor was there, but he didn’t notice.”

Soobin shrugs. “You’re probably fine then.”

Honestly, Soobin’s nonchalance to the situation eases Yeonjun’s worries a lot. He knows he can get in his head sometimes, especially when it comes to doing everything right, so to hear he’ll be fine lifts a weight from his shoulders.

“Yeah, probably,” he agrees. He basks in comfortable silence for a minute now that his heart isn’t beating so hard.

“By the way, have you bought more laundry detergent yet?” Soobin asks.

Ah, shit. “Tomorrow, I promise.”

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Being Spider-man is tasking, but it’s usually pretty cool. Not everyone gets to zip around the city and restore peace in people’s neighborhoods. Not everyone, however, has to worry about getting stabbed by a criminal in the middle of the night.

Yeonjun always stays until the cops arrive. It almost feels essential, just to make sure justice gets served. This time, he can’t.

He has to stop himself from groaning too loud when he feels the knife pull out from his side. The man in front of Yeonjun is already stuck to the side of a building, held there with a thick layer of web, so there has to be someone else. He turns around to look at the perpetrator, but the world moves a lot slower than normal.

Yeonjun blinks hard, focusing on breathing and staying conscious. The coward who stabbed him is wearing a ski mask, and he’s running away quickly. Yeonjun can’t let him leave. He moves forward and ignores the searing pain that sets his body alight. He straightens out his shaky arm and aims his wrist at the man, but the web that shoots out is just as weak as Yeonjun is.

Frustrated, Yeonjun growls and forces himself to move faster. It burns, he’s never felt any kind of pain like this, but he can’t let this man walk free. He can’t let this man stab another innocent person. Even with his staggered pace, limping as he tries his best to catch up to the man, he advances quickly.

He breathes hard and holds the air in his lungs as he aims again at the man, brows furrowed with angry determination beneath his mask. He lets out a loud grunt as he shoots his web out, and finally, it lands. The criminal falls as the web captures his ankle, keeping his leg stuck to the ground.

Yeonjun huffs as he traverses the rest of the way toward the man, nothing but fury in his veins as he shoots another web out. This one’s bigger, covering the man’s back and securing him to the pavement. He picks up his head and looks at Yeonjun with fear in his eyes, but he doesn’t care. He can’t. All he feels is pain and anger and pain and pain and so much fucking pain.

Yeonjun’s not the vengeful type, but getting stabbed really tests a person’s limits. He shoots more webs over the guy, making sure he won’t be able to move a muscle until the cops arrive.

Yeonjun doesn’t waste his breath making snide comments, though he does have a few choice words for him. He takes off the man’s ski mask and resists the urge to deck his face. He’s got fear etched into his expression, but Yeonjun finds it hard to feel sorry for him. The man starts begging for his life, and Yeonjun scoffs. Of course he’s not going to kill this man—no matter what, he doesn’t end people’s lives. A city’s hero shouldn’t get to decide who lives and dies.

Yeonjun stumbles away after finding a passerby to call the police. Now that the adrenaline’s gone, Yeonjun feels less mad and more scared. He’s really bleeding now; his hand comes up soaked when it presses against the wound. What the hell does he do? He can’t die like this.

He can’t go to the hospital with a stab wound. There’s no way for him to make up some alibi that wouldn’t just trace Spider-man’s identity back to him. He hisses through gritted teeth as he frantically scans his surroundings, looking for somewhere to go. The only thing that’s coming to mind is you, and it’s aggravating. He could be dying right now, and all his useless mind can do is think of you. Maybe it’s all the blood loss, and he’s just getting delirious, or maybe it’s a sign. It’s not like he has many good options right now.

There’s not enough time to think about it. He zips through the city and back onto campus as fast as he can, ignoring the splitting pain in his side that shoots up his body every time he moves. It’s getting harder to breathe, suddenly feeling suffocated by his mask, but he has to hold on. He’s not far away now.

He remembers the view from your window. He remembers exactly which room to shoot himself up to. He adheres himself to the wall outside your room and pulls his mask off, leaning his forehead onto the cold glass of your window with a sigh of relief. He catches his breath and knocks with a shaky fist. He’s really sorry for having to wake you up at this hour, but he has a feeling you’ll understand.

He doesn’t wait long. You're trudging out of bed and making your way toward the window, tired eyes blinking slowly. You look really cute. Everything is spinning around him, but he focuses on you. You’re still groggy and out of it until you meet Yeonjun’s eyes through the glass. As soon as you see him, it’s like you wake up immediately.

He watches your jaw drop, your frantic hands racing to open your window. His vision is nearly blacking out, and he tries to blink away the dizzy feeling in his head the best he can.

“Yeonjun?!” you squeak as he drags himself through your window and into your room. He can’t even hold himself up anymore, weak body collapsing to the floor. He groans and leans against the wall, clutching his side. He ignores the sickening feeling of blood dampening his hand, sticky and warm against his palm and between his digits.

You pick him up by the underarms, grunting as you heave him toward your bed. He notices how shaky your arms are, and he tries his best to pick up his own weight, even if it hurts like hell. He’s burdening you enough as is coming here so late.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to go to,” he says, catching his breath as you guide him to lay on your bed. He’s half-aware of how bloody and dirty he is, but you seem fully ready to let him stain your sheets. Concern and confusion fill your wide eyes, and Yeonjun can hear every word that you don’t say.

Luckily, you save the unnecessary questions for later. “What do I do?” you ask. Your hands tremble as they peel the shirt of his suit up, just enough to expose his midriff and the nasty damage to his side. You gasp upon seeing how bad it is, hardly able to stomach it, opting to look into his eyes instead.

He wants to respond to you, if not to answer your question then just to comfort you, but breathing is enough of a chore on its own right now; talking seems almost impossible. Watching you panic about this is shattering him. He makes an effort to move his arm out toward you, just to hold your hand and reassure you, but he doesn’t have enough strength.

You lift from the bed and open up a bottle of water, pouring some of the cool liquid over his head. It’s relieving against his burning skin and keeps him from losing consciousness. It also makes him realize how dehydrated he is.

“Please sit up,” you beg, placing a hand underneath his head to lift it a bit. He comes up just enough to drink some of the water you feed to him, swallowing down the rest of the bottle. He collapses back against your pillow once he’s finished, feeling much better just from that.

You come back with another bottle of water and pour small bits at a time over the gash in his side. He hisses and tenses up each time it hits his skin, but he knows you have to do this. He doesn’t want to make it harder by thrashing around and complaining, so he bites his tongue and keeps his body stiff.

The sheets soak beneath him as you continue emptying the water bottle over the wound. He should help you clean up after this; he doesn’t want you dealing with his mess all alone. A few minutes pass before you discard the plastic bottle and grab a t-shirt from your dresser.

You press the bunched up cloth against his injured skin gently, and he holds back any grunts that threaten to slip out. It’s like you can sense his pain despite his efforts to hide it, because you keep murmuring apologies to him.

“I’m okay, don’t be sorry,” he reassures. He doesn’t think you believe him, judging by the way lips stay tugged into a frown.

A quietness falls over the room. You pull your t-shirt away from his body and observe the wound, and your fingertips on his torso send electricity throughout his body. It doesn’t hurt so much now.

“You’re not bleeding anymore,” you point out.

He hums. “That’s good.” Your hand grazes the skin just outside the gash. There’s a soothing effect in the way your fingers glide against him, pressure so light that it’s barely there.

“You need stitches,” you say quietly, like you hate to break the news to him.

Yeonjun doesn’t mind. “You got a needle?” he asks. You fidget with the fabric of Yeonjun’s suit as you sigh and look away.

“I do,” you say. You don’t sound too confident, though. He doesn’t know what to do to make you feel better.

You grab his hand like it’s second nature to do so, and the action would be romantic if only you didn’t have that nervous look on your face. He can practically feel your heart pounding, and he’s dying to let you know that everything’s okay.

“I trust you,” he breathes out. He makes sure he’s looking you in the eye so you can see how much he means it. He’s risking everything by trusting you, but he’s not scared. He feels safe even with his life in your hands, his secret identity in your knowledge. If there was something more sacred and dangerous to give up than that, he’s sure he’d be okay lending that to you too.

It feels much more real when you have your needle and thread in hand. Yeonjun can’t contain his noises anymore, whimpering in pain when he feels the sharp tip pierce his skin.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you say quickly and desperately. “I’ll do it fast.”

He hisses as he feels the thread start to tug his wound shut. He throws an arm over his eyes, as if not watching you treat him will stop the piercing feeling. All his muscles are tensed up no matter how much he tries to relax, but he keeps his breathing steady and lets you do your work.

It’s not too long before you’re tying off the final knot and discarding your needle onto your nightstand. You run your thumb over the stitch, gentle and slow. Yeonjun takes his arm off his face and fixes his gaze on you, watching you scrutinize your work with scrunched brows.

“It feels fine. You did perfect,” he says, wanting to keep you from judging yourself too harshly. He wants to thank you, but the words feel so awkward building up in his throat.

“I don’t have a big enough bandage to put over this,” you say, still fixated on his injury. Yeonjun tries to sit up, but your hand on his shoulder eases him back down. “Don’t move too much.”

“Y/n…” he starts, but you give him a pointed look, and he decides to shut up and listen. He relaxes against your mattress.

“I wish I had some clothes to change you into,” you mutter after he pulls the shirt of his suit back down. The spandex isn’t super comfortable against his fresh stitches, but it’s easy to ignore in comparison to the searing pain of the open wound. He’ll have to throw out this suit; it’s bloodied beyond repair, and he has plenty of back-ups anyway.

“It’s alright,” Yeonjun says. You shuffle on the mattress until you’re laying down beside him. “Aren’t the sheets wet?” he asks, surprised at how unfazed you seem.

You let out a small laugh, and that frown finally leaves your face. “I don’t mind. I wanted to lay down.”

“I’ll buy you new sheets,” Yeonjun promises. “And a new needle. And I’ll explain everything to you, I swear. Please don’t”—

“Yeonjun,” you cut off. He shuts his mouth. “That stuff doesn’t matter. Are you okay now?”

He nods. “I’m okay.”

“That’s all I care about.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence. Yeonjun stares at the ceiling and wonders how much this is going to change things between you. He has some hope that this will make you two even closer, but a small part of him fears that you won’t want to associate with him anymore. He wouldn’t blame you; it’s not like being close to Spider-man isn’t a riskless situation. He doesn’t regret coming to you tonight, though.

He feels your eyes on him a moment later, and he can only bring himself to look at you for a second before returning his gaze to your ceiling. You must find that funny, because he hears you chuckling beside him.

“You know, I wasn’t expecting this when you said you’d hang out with me again.” There’s a softness in your voice that makes Yeonjun feel lightheaded. Not the losing-too-much-blood kind of lightheaded, but the oh-god-I-really-like-her kind—this one’s much more preferable and much more welcome than the former.

“I’ll have to make it up to you,” he says.

“How do you plan on doing that?”

He turns his head to face you, and something feels awfully domestic about getting to lay this close to you in your bed. It’s hard to breathe when you’re smiling at him so eagerly, when there’s a glint in your eyes that tells Yeonjun you’re having fun. There’s an itch all the way down to his bones that begs him to push forward and kiss you already, but he resists.

“I’ll find a way,” he whispers.

The room gets quiet again, and Yeonjun supposes he should leave. It’s not like he can wait for the sun to rise and walk out of your room in his bloodied Spidey-suit glory. He’s not sure what time it is right now, but he knows that if he doesn’t leave soon and get some sleep, he’ll be passing out in his classes.

“Thanks for fixing me up,” he says, pushing himself off your bed and stretching his limbs. He feels beyond sore, wincing at the pain that shoots through his body. You sit up immediately, scrambling to stop him.

“You’re leaving? Are you crazy? Stay here!” you insist, trying to drag him back to the bed. He turns his head to you and smiles, and something about the silent plea in your eyes lights up his heart. He keeps his feet on the ground and resists your efforts, even though he wants nothing more than to spend the night with you. It’s just not smart and not worth the risk.

“I can’t,” he says. You pout and stand before him, blinking up at him so prettily that he almost changes his mind. “It’s dangerous.”

“I know. I just wanted to keep you.” That makes Yeonjun giggle.

“Sorry. Maybe next time.”

You swat his chest. “Don’t let there be a next time. You almost scared me to death.”

“I’ll make sure to tell the next knife-bearer you said that,” Yeonjun jokes. It gets the laugh that he was hoping for out of you.

“Well…” you start, eyes darting between his own. He barely has time to register it when you press a kiss against his lips, your movement so hesitant and shy. It’s soft. It’s sweet. It’s over before he knows it. He blinks at you dumbly—it’s all he can do to not pass out like a dork in front of you. Your smile is just as soft and sweet as your kiss was. “Just stay out of trouble,” you finish, patting his chest gently.

“I’ll try.”

“I guess I’ll see you in class, then,” you say.

“Yeah,” he agrees. He should go now. He should make use of his feet and back away, but he stays planted in his spot. You sway girlishly in front of him, hands clasped behind your back.

“Good night,” you whisper. Yeonjun can’t help it—he pulls your face in so he can feel your lips on his again, more properly this time. They’re pillowy and dreamy, and Yeonjun could just melt into you. He doesn’t linger longer than he has to, backing up just enough to see your face. You mirror the glee that he feels in his own expression.

“Good night,” he echoes. He backs away and grabs his mask, slipping it back on. He opens your window back up and slings himself to the nearest tree. Each time Yeonjun looks over his shoulder, he sees you leaning at your window smiling right back at him. His heart does a little flip. On second thought, maybe getting stabbed is kind of cool.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Despite how well last night went, Yeonjun wakes up with a heavy weight on his shoulders. Every ounce of confidence that his interaction with you last night might have given him is completely gone the moment he remembers it, and sheds away at itself further when he notices you skipped class. A dreadful thought creeps up his spine: are you avoiding him?

Maybe you woke up regretting it all. Maybe you realized how ridiculous and stupid getting involved with Spider-man is, and you’re just protecting yourself before you can be burdened further. The classroom feels hot and suffocating, and fresh air sounds really nice right now, but Yeonjun stays put in his seat. He doesn’t want to make a scene and start freaking everyone out. To the best of his ability, he pushes his fears down and saves his panic for later—preferably for after he talks to you and gets some answers.

He doesn’t even open his notebook in his last class of the day. He shows up just for attendance purposes, then zones out staring at his desk for the rest of the hour. Time passes far too slowly; Yeonjun’s itching for the lecture to end so he can talk to you already. He’s practically running out of class as soon as it’s dismissed, but finds himself slowing down the moment he’s outside the building.

He’s pretty sure he knows where to find you. The bigger issue is figuring out what the hell he’s going to say. Is there any way to start this conversation without being awkward? Hey, thanks for saving my life last night. Also I am indeed that hero or whatever taking care of criminals in the city, hope you don’t mind! He feels so lame.

It’s wishful thinking to hope that you won’t care about what happened last night—well, except for the kissing part, but that’s probably not as important right now. He’ll push aside that conversation until the more important one happens.

He wants to run away the moment he sees your figure in the distance, sitting exactly where he thought you’d be. His tongue suddenly feels like lead, too heavy and useless to try talking to you. He gathers his breath and walks across the field, not letting himself back out now. You deserve to be given a little peace of mind. He’s sure today must have been confusing for you, that clarity hit you like a train this morning the same way it did to him.

You look over your shoulder when he reaches you, staring up at him and squinting your eyes from the sun. “How’d I know you’d come find me?” you ask, half-amused.

Yeonjun gives you a short laugh, unsure of himself as he sits on the grass beside you. It feels a little like he’s invading your space. He’s seen you sitting alone on this field as if it was all yours so many times.

“I thought I should thank you again,” he says, a little shy. He feels like he owes you a lot for last night. The whole city probably owes you a lot for saving him, honestly.

You look at him with a small smile, leaning your head on your bent knees. “Mhm. Shouldn’t I be thanking you, Spider-man?” There’s a teasing quality to your voice, and it makes Yeonjun laugh nervously. He should probably address that.

“I really hope you won’t tell anybody.”

“I won’t. I’m still finding it hard to believe anyway,” you say. Your sentences are all laced with a tiredness and exhaustion that Yeonjun can’t help but to feel at fault for. “It’s just weird to know it now.”

Yeonjun hums. He can sympathize with you on that—it must be really bewildering to know your classmate is the one swinging around town shooting webs at criminals. He just hopes you can forgive him for dragging you into this.

“Spider-man’s a little less cool now, huh?” he jokes, keeping his voice quiet even though no one’s around.

Your smile is full and genuine, and Yeonjun’s heart skips a beat. “I always thought he was a little lame,” you answer. Yeonjun’s ego bruises at that. You continue, “But I think he’s kind of interesting now.”

He can only hope that you don’t see the blush that takes over his face. He looks away to hide it, but he feels your gaze on him. “I don’t know if I’m that interesting,” he says, acting all humble. It’s clearly bait, and he hopes you’ll catch it.

“I can be the judge of that. Let me get to know you more,” you offer. Yeonjun bites his cheek to stop himself from grinning at this massive win.

“Well, we still have that bakery to go to,” Yeonjun mentions, and judging by the way your eyes gain a new sparkle, you seem to like the idea.

“You don’t have any more classes today, do you?” You already look ready to go.

Yeonjun doesn’t bother hiding his excitement anymore, letting his smile take over his face. “I don’t.” You’re standing up the next second, and Yeonjun’s quick to follow.

The bakery is a cute, cozy little place near some other restaurants downtown. There’s no seating inside due to the lack of space, but that’s made up for by the giant row of sweet selections to choose from. Yeonjun’s stomach rumbles in anticipation as his eyes jump around to look at each confection.

After buying your treats, you lead Yeonjun to a nearby bench. You both open your pastry boxes and bite down on the baked goods eagerly. You hum in satisfaction, nodding at the taste. “Wow, we should go here again,” you say, going in for another bite.

Yeonjun chose a sweet cheese bread, which he completely devours within a couple minutes. You don’t eat as fast as him, but he doesn’t mind waiting for you. He makes conversation in the meantime: “How come you skipped class today?”

You laugh a little around your mouthful of food, swallowing before you answer, “I barely slept. There was no way I could’ve focused if I went.”

Yeonjun hums in understanding. “I barely slept too,” he says.

“But you still went,” you add. “I guess you’re better than me.”

Oh god, he hopes you didn’t take it that way. “Not at all!” he rushes to say.

You smile and pat his shoulder. “I know. You’re just a star student, that’s all.”

Is that a compliment? Yeonjun blushes anyway. “I like to do well,” he says.

“I mean, considering everything you’re balancing, yeah, you are doing pretty well.”

Yeonjun laughs awkwardly in response, barely able to take your praise. He’s pretty sure you’re alluding to what you found out about him yesterday. “Thanks,” he mutters, all humble.

“Do you wanna talk about last night?” you ask, finishing your last bite.

“Sure,” Yeonjun answers, feeling a smidge of nervousness returning to him. It’s quiet for a few seconds. “Did you have any questions?” he asks. He feels more bashful than anything else, but it’s better than coming off as braggadocious.

You hum in thought, pouting your lips while you conjure up some ideas. “Was that your first kiss?”

He’s completely taken aback by your question—and a little embarrassed, quite frankly—and he scrambles to spit out a response. You’re stifling your laughter before he can even get his defense out. “No! I had my first kiss in, like, high school!”

“I’m just teasing,” you admit. “You’re a good kisser.” The compliment goes to Yeonjun’s head, playing in a loop while he floats on cloud nine. You liked kissing him. He should do it again and again, just to keep you happy. And for more selfish reasons, too.

Your voice breaks through his thoughts when you speak again, “Do you feel better today? Are you healing alright?” The joking tone leaves your voice, replaced with genuinity and care.

“I feel fine,” he answers. He pulls up his shirt to show you the wound, all stitched up and starting to heal over.

You wince. “Good thing I finished my food already. That killed my appetite.” Yeonjun laughs at your grimace and releases his shirt, falling back into place. “You should really put a bandage over that,” you suggest.

“I don’t have any.”

You shake your head in disbelief, though your amusement reads on your face. “You should be more prepared.”

Your concern is cute to Yeonjun. “I know,” he says.

“So who stabbed you?” you ask.

He shrugs. “No clue. He’s probably in a cell now.”

“Did it hurt?” you ask, though the answer is obvious.

“Like hell,” he says.

“How’d it even happen?” Honestly, Yeonjun’s not too sure about that either. He can usually sense imminent danger before it comes, but maybe he was too focused on the crimes he’d already been dealing with.

“He came up behind me while I was handling another criminal,” he answers.

You hum, getting off the bench and tossing your trash in a bin nearby. You start walking off then, and Yeonjun follows mindlessly. “Must be tough being Spider-man,” you say.

“Careful how loud you say that.” Yeonjun tenses as someone walks past the two of you, praying they were out of earshot when you said that. He sighs in relief when he sees the person had headphones in.

“Right, sorry. There’s just so much I wanna know now.” You turn a corner, taking a path leading back to campus.

Your curiosity excites Yeonjun, and he’s ready to answer whatever question you come up with. Some of his stories have serious entertainment value to them.

“Ask me, then,” he invites. You twist your head to smile up at him for a second.

“How’d you get like this? Were you just born this way?”

Yeonjun laughs at the idea. He swings his head around to make sure no one’s around when he answers, “No, a radioactive spider bit me.”

“When did that happen?” you ask. Yeonjun reminisces the first few weeks after the bite, thinking back to those initial feelings of fear and dread when he realized something had happened to him.

“In high school,” he says. It was super bewildering back then to change so drastically, yet be forced to act so normal. It’s much easier now—he’s had years to adjust—but he was a teenager when it first happened. That’s a lot for a kid to take on. He had to act like he was the same Choi Yeonjun his classmates had grown up with, and not some mutated superhuman dealing with the stresses of his new identity. Of course, he did that whole Spider-man thing to himself, but it was the right thing to do. He doesn’t regret it.

“Does anyone else know?”

“My uncle did, but he’s gone, so now it’s just you.” He looks at you, lips twitching upward.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you apologize, voice growing soft. He realizes that you’re in front of your dorm building now, and he supposes this is where he should leave. His eyes dart between yours, like he’s waiting for you to tell him to go. To ask him to stay.

“Are you doing anything today?” he asks. Maybe he sounds desperate. He doesn’t really care.

“Catching up on some work,” you say.

“I’ll give you my calculus notes.”

You smile. “That would be nice.”

Yeonjun didn’t even take notes in calculus today. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

“Can I stay?” He’s teeming with hope and bravery today. You open the door to your building and signal him inside, and he has to hold back the victorious giggle that almost escapes him as he trails behind you.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of questions and answers. Yeonjun’s never talked so openly about being Spider-man before, and a part of it feels healing. You study hard while he rambles about stories of the little things he’s done throughout the years. Some are funny and make you cackle, and some draw your attention away from your textbook so you can look at him in shock. It’s impossible for Yeonjun to wipe the grin off his face—not when he bids you good night, not when he walks back to his dorm, not even when lays in bed to sleep. His heart never lets up on that jittery rush it has for you.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

A quintessential part of the college experience, Yeonjun’s come to find out, is trying out all the different ramen brands to see which one is the best. He’s a fan of whichever one he’s chowing down on right now, and a 5-pack of this barely puts a dent in his bank account. Seems like a winner.

He glances over at his dorm’s door when it opens, curious to see that Soobin brought someone over. Yeonjun isn’t bothered by that, though; if this guy is anything like Soobin, he’s not worried about getting annoyed.

“You can remember to buy ramen but not detergent?” Soobin asks, chuckling. Yeonjun chooses to read that as a joke instead of a passive aggressive comment.

“Ugh, dude, I keep forgetting, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. Yeonjun points at Soobin’s friend and continues, “This your friend?”

“Yeah, I’m Beomgyu,” the friend introduces. Something about him looks a little familiar.

“Nice to meet you,” Yeonjun greets with a nod.

Soobin grabs some clothes from his closet then turns to the door. “I’m gonna go change and then we can head out,” he says to Beomgyu, then heads off to the bathroom.

When the door shuts, Yeonjun returns his attention to his ramen and ignores Beomgyu’s presence as best as he can. That doesn’t last too long, though, cause soon enough, Beomgyu’s breaking the silence: “Are you still hanging out with Y/n?”

Yeonjun turns in his seat to face Beomgyu. He’s not sure how Beomgyu would know that, but Yeonjun entertains the question nevertheless. “Yeah. You know her?” he asks.

“She’s my friend,” he says. “Kind of.”

Yeonjun already feels something weird in the air. He’s waiting for the turn that this conversation is bound to take. He finally pieces together why this guy looks so familiar; he’s one of the boys at the party in the group that you kept looking over at. Now Yeonjun’s really curious.

“Why do you ask?” The question comes out a little hesitantly.

“I’m telling you this man-to-man, I think you might be getting played,” Beomgyu says.

Yeonjun’s immediate reaction is only confusion. How would you be playing him? You’ve been nothing but sincere with your feelings—or, that’s what it seemed like, at least. Now Yeonjun’s doubting himself. A part of him doesn’t believe it and doesn’t want to indulge in this conversation any further, but he’d start spiraling whether or not Beomgyu explains himself now. Worry swirls in Yeonjun’s stomach.

“Why?” he asks despite himself.

“This is just what I’ve heard, but apparently she had a thing with Kai, and he started talking to another girl, so she wanted to get back at him. I don’t know, though.”

Kai. That boy who came up to you at the party. Yeonjun remembers him.

He doesn’t want to show how much those words affect him, but shit. Hearing that hurts. His body feels weightless, like he’d be falling over if he wasn’t sitting at his desk. He nods as he exhales slowly, keeping his heart from going haywire.

“Huh,” is all he says. Soobin comes back the next second, and Beomgyu heads out with him after that, and the world keeps spinning on, but Yeonjun feels trapped in that moment. He waits to wake up in a sweat, hoping this is all some nightmare that’s going to end, but the wake never comes. He’s forced to deal with his whirling thoughts instead.

None of this can be true. It wouldn’t make sense. You kissed Yeonjun. You said you were interested in him. If this was all a lie, how will Yeonjun ever trust anyone again? When he came to you bleeding out, you saved his life. When you found out his secret identity, you kept it safe. Yeonjun miscalculated something that night—there is something more sacred and dangerous to trust you with than those things: his heart.

He doesn’t even want to finish his ramen anymore. His fingers brush against the wound that’s healing pretty well thanks to you, and a thought crosses his mind. The night that you kissed him was the night you found out he was Spider-man. An especially sickening question starts to haunt him. Did you only start liking him because of that?

Yeonjun feels played. He’s always known that he was a fool, so he doesn’t know why he’s so surprised, but really? Beer pong lord?

Five minutes is hardly enough to process the information Beomgyu dumped onto Yeonjun, but that’s all he gets, because now his alarm is going off and telling him to go over to the lab. He drops his head to his desk with a groan. It’s like an anchor’s been tied to his heart, sinking further and further until it makes him his stomach churn.

The fresh air feels good in Yeonjun’s lungs as he walks over to the lab. A permanent pout is etched onto his lips, unable to stop thinking about you. Good things. Bad things. Everything. Each memory hurts now.

He probably looks like some depressed college kid, walking around with his hood up and head down. He should be less pathetic, pick himself up and get himself together. It’s not like you two were really anything anyway. A kiss doesn't always mean something to everyone. Maybe it’s his fault for assuming that for you, it did.

It’s not just that, though. Yeah, kissing you made Yeonjun feel alive in a way that only swinging through the city could compare to, but there’s so much more to you than that. It’s the way you talked to him, the way you cared for him, the way you looked at him. How the hell do you fake that kind of connection? Hurt splits him at the seams like he’s being torn in two, but he keeps walking like nothing’s wrong.

“Yeonjun!” He recognizes that voice immediately. He pulls his eyes off the sidewalk and catches sight of you walking up to him. He almost forgot that he walks past your little field on the way to his lab.

It feels like he’s the one keeping a secret, palms clamming up as you stand in front of him. He stops in his tracks to allow you the conversation. “Hey,” he says.

“What are you up to?” you ask. He fidgets with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Should he just act normal? Should he let you get away with using him? When he thinks about it like that, it puts a sour taste in his mouth.

“I’m headed to the lab. Got some stuff to do, and it’s time sensitive, so…” he trails off awkwardly, looking off into the distance instead of at you.

“Oh, okay,” you say, sounding a little dejected. Yeonjun shouldn’t be feeling bad for you right now, but he can’t help it. It makes his chest clench to hear the joy leave your voice. “Maybe we can hang out after? Just to study or something,” you offer.

Yeonjun sighs, “Maybe.”

You’re quiet for a second as you assess him. “Are you okay?” Concern fills your voice, and when he brings his vision back to you, he can see it in your eyes too.

“I’ll talk to you about it later,” he says.

You frown, taking in his flat expression. You must gain some insight from that, because then you’re asking, “Did I do something?”

He wants to hold his head, feeling defeated and frustrated and sad and a million other different things. He’s not sure how to label it. He’s never felt emotions this complex before, probably because he’s never liked anyone this much before.

“Oh god, did I?” you repeat, more fear in your voice at Yeonjun’s lack of a response. It strikes him and deflates his will to be dismissive about it, not wanting you to sit here worrying for the rest of the day. Curse his soft heart.

“Just come with me,” Yeonjun says, continuing on the path to his lab building. You follow beside him, taking long strides to match his quick pace. He notices you struggling to keep up, so he slows down, even though it might make him a few minutes late.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. He can feel you looking at him, but he keeps his eyes ahead.

“You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for,” he mumbles.

“Tell me then,” you plead. The thought of having to talk about this with you makes him feel sick. He doesn’t know if he can even choke up the words without getting nauseous.

“Let me clock into my lab first.” The rest of the walk is silent; you keep quiet even as you enter the room with him, watching him take off his sweatshirt and put on his lab coat. You’re quiet even as he goes through the study procedure, not even lingering near him to see what he’s doing. He feels a little cruel for it, wondering if he’s just torturing you by forcing you to stand silently and worry about what he must be upset at you for.

He steals a glance at you. You’re leaning against the wall by the door, so many steps away, keeping so much distance. He bites his lip and looks away, figuring it’s time to start the conversation.

“I want to talk to you, but I don’t want you to lie to me,” Yeonjun says, breaking the long stretch of silence. He walks toward you, stopping before he gets too close.

“I won’t. I’m not gonna hide anything from you.” It’s funny you say that.

“Do you like Kai?” His question catches you off guard, your frown leaving your face.

“No,” you answer.

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not.”

“Okay. So why did Beomgyu tell me you used me to get back at him?”

He watches you stiffen at the question. “How do you know Beomgyu?” you ask.

“Please just answer me,” Yeonjun says. He doesn’t want to run around in circles, he just wants to hear the truth from you.

“I don’t like Kai anymore.” Something about that sentence hits like a stab to the gut. Yeonjun would know the feeling.

He tsks and shakes his head, ready to walk away and end the conversation, but you continue, “Please let me say the whole story.” Yeonjun sighs and meets your eyes. He decides to hear you out, only because a part of him is dying for you to make this right.

“Go ahead,” he says.

“I invited you to the party because you’re my friend, and I think you’re cute, but also for really petty, stupid revenge. It was so dumb and I’m so sorry, I feel so fucking bad for that now,” you explain. Yeonjun thinks back to how excited he was when you asked him. He remembers the rush of butterflies, the nervousness that pooled in his stomach, the adrenaline through his veins when he realized he finally had your attention.

You continue, “But I swear on my life, Yeonjun, the second we went outside at that party, I realized how unfair it was. I wanted to make Kai jealous, but when we were standing out there, I couldn’t do it. You’re a good person, and I felt fucking awful, and I didn’t go through with anything, and I’m glad I didn’t. You gave me one of the best nights of my life that day. I mean that. Seriously.”

There’s sincerity in your eyes, so Yeonjun knows you’re not lying. The ache in his chest is dull now, but still there. He can’t believe you planned to use him as some pawn to get back at Kai.

“Why’d I have to hear it from someone else? Why couldn’t you tell me yourself?” he asks. It’s pathetic how his voice carries more heartbreak than anger.

“Cause I didn’t want you to misunderstand and leave!” you explain, desperate. “Yeonjun, please. I don’t care about Kai anymore. I haven’t even talked to him since the party.”

Yeonjun wishes he could feel comforted by your words, but all he feels is hurt. He has this terrible thing where he can’t stop asking questions that will only batter him worse. “So you didn’t really like me?”

You take a step closer to him, placing both hands over your heart. Yeonjun’s not blind; he can see the fear in your eyes, the worry that he might walk away. He doesn’t have it in him to relieve your stress right now.

“I always liked you. I like you more every day,” you answer. There’s honesty in your words, which Yeonjun appreciates. It doesn’t quite melt away his insecurities, though.

Yeonjun can’t bear looking at you any longer, dropping his gaze to the floor and stepping back. He’s ready to leave, thinking he needs the night to himself to stare at the ceiling and contemplate this whole situation.

You stop him before he can get too far. Your hand hooks onto the sleeve of his lab coat, shaking as you cling to him. It’s so pitiful that it ruins the monstrous image Yeonjun’s trying to fit you into in his mind. Against his better judgment, his eyes meet yours again.

He’s about to speak—maybe to console you, to get some of that sadness out of your eyes—but the sound of glass breaking behind him makes him turn with wide eyes, searching for the damage. He’ll be the one stuck replacing any broken equipment; he can only pray that it wasn’t a more expensive piece.

His eyes flit across the room, but he finds nothing. Is he seriously losing his mind? Every time he’s in this lab, there’s something new giving him a mini heart attack. He brushes this off as some kind of paranoia. He considers talking to his professor about taking a break from the lab, just until he can restore his sanity.

“Let’s just head out of here,” Yeonjun says, unable to rid himself of the chill down his spine.

“Do you still like me?” you ask, unable to move on from the conversation. You stay planted in your spot as Yeonjun takes off his lab gear. He groans internally at your question—of course he still likes you. Do you think his feelings are so malleable? His adoration for you feels like an immovable boulder. He can’t even stay mad at you for as long as he wanted to, though he tries not to let you win too easily.

He sighs out your name instead of answering. He waits for you at the door as he throws his sweatshirt back on, and you trudge forward with a pout. Once his sweatshirt is slipped over his head, he catches sight of something behind you, heart stopping entirely.

“What the hell—?!” he emits, eyes growing wide as the cell clump he’d been working with expands out past its storage spot, spilling out onto the floor. The broken glass earlier must’ve been from the petri dish—shit, he should’ve checked. It’s discolored now, so dark it’s nearly black, and growing more rapidly than it should be able to.

You spin on your feet to see what Yeonjun’s looking at, yelping when you see the growth. You back up quickly and bump into Yeonjun’s chest. “What’s happening?” you ask, turning your head back to look up at him.

“I don’t know,” he answers. He has to think fast, because it doesn’t look like the cell replication is stopping any time soon—if anything, it looks like it’s growing exponentially. The clump is a goo-like substance, slowly spilling out further and further onto the floor, looking something like tar as it expands out. “We’ll have to trigger rapid apoptosis,” he says.

“How do we do that?” you ask. Yeonjun’s not sure either, so he doesn’t bother to answer. He opens one of the cabinets and pulls out all the different liquid chemicals he can find. One of these is bound to do something.

You hold yourself and watch him carefully, still looking shy and desperate and nervous from your argument. Yeonjun’s not sure why you seem to be more bothered by him not reassuring you that he likes you than by the clump that grows behind you. Your attention remains on him the whole time.

“Are you mad at me?” you ask.

“No,” he answers sharply and quickly. He has bigger issues to be worried about than staying mad at you.

“I promise I wasn’t lying. I won’t talk to Kai ever again.”

“Why are we having this conversation right now?!” Yeonjun asks, frustrated.

“Because it’s important to me that you know!”

He ignores you in favor of unscrewing the lid to one of the acids, hoping it could digest the cells. When he pours it onto the clump, a loud hiss rings through the room and smoke comes up from the mass. It doesn’t seem to dissolve the cells, though.

He emits an exasperated groan, opening the lid to another chemical substance, and you rush to do the same. He can’t stop to think about how dangerous this is, too focused on controlling the problem before it gets irreparable. You and Yeonjun pour chemicals onto it at the same time, and it seems to react. The tar-like blob thickens now, erecting itself up from the floor languidly.

You and Yeonjun back up, watching with fearful eyes as it stands. It moves like it’s alive, like it’s a living organism. It’s eerily silent for a room as you two stare at the mass in shock. Then, rapidly, it comes charging at you, attaching itself to your cardigan as you shriek. Yeonjun acts fast, running to you and grabbing your waist, adhering his feet to the floor to keep you from getting dragged any more. You shed your cardigan quickly before tugging it back from the blob. It tears from how harsh you pull it, but you don’t seem to care, chucking it to the opposite side of the room.

This is an unfortunate time to see you in a tight-fitting tank top. Your chest heaves from the panic of being grabbed by the organism, rising and falling as you start to steady your breath. You look over at him, and he finds himself blushing and removing his gaze from you in embarrassment. God, now he’s the one struggling to focus on the bigger problem.

Yeonjun directs his wrist at the blob, shooting a web at it to keep it from charging at you again. The web sends the mass flying back until it collides with the wall. Though it can’t remove itself from the confines of the web, it still slowly grows, and it will be able to expand enough to attack again soon. Still, this should buy you two some more time.

“You should leave,” Yeonjun says, coming to you and cupping your face. His eyes beg you to go, strung up on the possibility of you getting hurt.

“I won’t,” you say, grabbing onto his wrists.

“Please. You’re too important.” His hand strokes through your hair like you’re something precious.

You take his hand and kiss it. “You are too. I won’t leave.”

He sighs. He knows he’s not winning this, there’s too much determination in your words. Before he removes his focus from you, he thinks he should tell you one last thing. “Just so you know, I like you too.”

You’re barely able to hold back your smile, but Yeonjun can’t stay and watch your reaction. The mass continues to grow over the confines of the web, and he has to find a way to control it before it overcomes the binds. He opens the binder that holds the descriptions of all the lab materials, hoping he can find something useful in there. His eyes flit across the words, scanning for the chemicals that will be his saving grace.

He stops when he reads the description for nitric acid. The words digest and dissolve kick his body to life, hope stirring inside of him. “Come here with the nitric acid!” he shouts over his shoulder.

“Which one is that?” you ask hurriedly, scanning through the different bottles of chemicals.

“It’s in a brown translucent bottle. Quick!” Before he can panic further, you’re racing to his side with a bottle of the acid. Yeonjun quickly pours it over the mass, watching it shrivel when the liquid hits its surface. A weight lifts off Yeonjun’s shoulders when he realizes he finally found something that works. The bottle doesn’t hold nearly enough, though, because Yeonjun empties it out before he can melt the organism completely.

He turns to you expectantly, and you’re rushing back to the counter where all the chemical substances are held. You’re turning each to read the labels, growing more aggravated as you fail to find another container of nitric acid. You curse as you swing the cabinet doors open, checking if there’s any stored away in there.

You pull out a bottle from the cabinet, reading it quickly. “Would sulfuric acid work?” you ask, looking at Yeonjun like you need him to say yes.

“It would react with the nitric acid,” he answers. You groan.

“You think I know any of this stuff?!” You go back to searching through the cabinet.

“Yes! You’re, like, the smartest girl I know!” Yeonjun exclaims, equally as frustrated.

“You must not know a lot of girls then,” you huff. You finally pull out a bottle that seems to match, running over to Yeonjun. He takes it from your hands and pours the liquid over what remains of the clump, watching it dissolve until all that’s left is a murky puddle on the floor. He plops the nitric acid onto a table, finally letting himself take a full breath. He tastes the chemicals swirling in the air, but he can’t bring himself to care about any toxins filling his lungs. He’s worn out, crouching down in exhaustion with a groan.

When he picks his head up from between his arms, he searches for you. You’re bent over one of the tables, head tucked between your arms as half your body rests over the surface. You must be just as drained as him. He stretches his body out as he stands back up, then approaches you at the opposite side of the table. He rests his elbows onto the tabletop, leaning forward to be closer to you.

“You get feisty when you’re working under pressure,” Yeonjun teases, breathless laugh escaping him. You lift your head to look at him, and he can see how you hold back your amusement.

“I could say the same about you,” you respond. You seem winded, still breathing hard as you push yourself off the table and pick up your cardigan from the floor. You hold up your cardigan and examine the damage. It’s stained and ripped and looks disgusting. You pout. “This was my favorite one…”

“Don’t worry, you’re pretty good at stitching things back up,” Yeonjun says, coming up to you and taking the cardigan from your hands to tie it around your waist. You look up at him, something fond shining in your eyes.

“I guess I am,” you say, tugging on Yeonjun’s sweatshirt to pull him closer to you. You wear a dopey smile as you stare at him, hands resting on his shoulders, and Yeonjun really hopes that you do what he knows you’re both thinking about right now.

You don’t leave him waiting long; your hand comes to his jaw to bring his face to yours, and the next second, Yeonjun’s having the best kiss of his life. It feels like a reward after the shitshow that today’s been. For it to come to this, he’d relive it a dozen more times.

“Wait,” Yeonjun says, pulling back. “Are we dating now?”

“Haven’t we been dating?” You look at him like he’s a fool, and it endears Yeonjun endlessly.

“I mean, boyfriend-girlfriend dating,” Yeonjun explains.

“Oh, I’ve already told, like, three people that you’re my boyfriend.” There might be real hearts in Yeonjun’s eyes right now.

“Good,” he says, coming in for another quick kiss. “I’m all yours.” His words are uttered against your lips, since he can’t seem to pull himself away from you.

You gladly accept his kisses, and he has to keep himself from getting too drunk off your taste. He has to remember he’s still in a lab with a bunch of chemicals filling the air—it’s probably a good idea to get out. Even though he doesn’t want to, Yeonjun steps back and looks around at the mess throughout the room. Given everything that happened, it’s not awful. A mop would take care of ninety percent of the problem.

“We should clean this up,” he sighs.

“Yeah,” you agree. Neither of you make a move. You start laughing after a few seconds, and Yeonjun returns his attention to you with a cheeky grin.

“No, let’s just leave,” he suggests. He’s exhausted. He’ll explain everything to his professor tomorrow, he can’t take any more of this today.

“Should we go back to my place then?” you ask. Yeonjun does a very poor job of hiding his excitement. He wants more than anything to hold you to his chest and zip across campus to get to your dorm, but alas, he does the smart thing instead. A ten minute walk has never felt more like ten hours in his life, and seeing your dorm building finally come into view has his heart racing in anticipation.

Yeonjun’s all over you the minute your door closes behind him. He doesn’t let your lips disconnect for a second—not to talk, not to breathe, because nothing’s more important than tasting your lips on his.

Your back falls to your mattress, and Yeonjun’s mind briefly wanders to the last time you two were here. Having you sprawled out beneath him is quite different than you patching him up above him. In a way, that moment felt like the start of something bigger between you. The initial spark came long before it, but that night is what caused fire to catch. He feeds the flame now, fingers untying the cardigan at your waist and throwing it to the floor. Your shirt’s the next thing to go, and he only pulls away long enough to shed the cloth off of you.

His mouth on yours is ravenous and unwilling to waste any more time. He feels up your stomach, cherishing the warm flesh with eager fingers. He trails his hands up to your chest, feeling your breasts over your bra. You gasp when he squeezes experimentally, and it encourages him to continue, movements growing hungry.

You break away from the kiss, panting for air while Yeonjun latches onto your jaw. He’s insatiable, sucking your skin and placing kitten licks over the mark after. He hovers his face over yours, biting back his grin when he sees how hazy your eyes have become.

You catch his face in your hand, cupping his jaw and thumbing his cheek. The action makes his heart soar, and he leans into your warm touch. Your smile turns from soft to wicked when you push your thumb between his lips, and he engulfs the digit without a fight.

“I like you,” you say as he sucks your thumb, blinking up at him adoringly like he’s not doing some lewd act right now. He swirls his tongue around you before popping it out of his mouth, kissing your fingertip then taking your hand in his own.

“I like you too.” His free hand goes behind your back to search for your bra clasp, fumbling with it clumsily until he gets it to disconnect. You pull the material off, and Yeonjun’s cock twitches in his pants when he takes in the sight of you. A part of him feels wrong for doing this, like this is too dirty, but a larger part of him can’t wait to indulge in you. He’ll just make sure to take you out for dinner after.

Yeonjun throws his sweatshirt and shirt to the floor, pride swirling inside him when he sees the way you ogle at his skin. You lay your hand over his chest, trailing your fingers over the expanse teasingly. He takes your wrist and drags your hand away.

“You don’t deserve to touch me. I’m still upset about Kai,” he says. It’s a lie, but he’s in a playful mood. Your hand makes its way back to his chest despite that, so he grabs it and brings it to the bed, shooting a web over your wrist so you can’t move it. He giggles. The whole web-slinging thing comes with some perks.

“Oh, come on,” you sulk as he does the same to your other wrist. He leans back for a moment, looking down at you all proud. A few different sights flash through his mind, endless possibilities of how he could make the most of your hands being restrained. Maybe he should punish you for ever liking Kai in the first place, keep you on the edge until you’re chanting apologies into the air. He could also just indulge in your body greedily, taste every inch of you without your hands pulling him away. The ache in his pants grows at the thought.

You sigh in satisfaction when his hand meets your clothed core. Your hips grind against his hand, and he allows you to use him to find your pleasure. Your hands close into fists as Yeonjun lets you ride his open palm, still fighting against your restraints.

“How much do you like me?” Yeonjun asks. His free hand holds your waist, fingers brushing against your skin gently.

“So much,” you answer, never abandoning your rhythm. “You’re so smart, and handsome, and funny, and—nngh—and good to me…” Yeonjun’s hand travels from your waist to your chest in reward, thumb rolling over one of your nipples.

“Yeah, I am good to you. I stay with you even though you’re mean to me.”

You shake your head at his statement. “I’m not mean to you,” you say.

He laughs at how you try to control yourself, how serious your tone gets. Your hips slow, so he takes measures into his own hands and moves his palm against your cunt instead. If he presses down hard enough, he can feel how wet you are even through your pants.

“You are,” he says. “You use me to get other men.” He knows that’s not true now, but a part of him is still a little bruised by the idea. He figures that airing out his insecurities like this might help him, and it makes him feel less vulnerable.

“No! That’s not true!” Yeonjun ignores you and takes off your pants, letting them join the other articles of clothing on your floor. He short circuits when he sees the wet patch on your panties. A sense of shame must fill you then, because your legs clamp shut to block his view.

“Hey, be nice,” he says, opening your legs back up. He holds you open as he presses his knee to your folds, and he can feel your arousal even through the fabric of his sweatpants. He’s squealing internally, overjoyed to have you soaking for him, but he keeps his calm on the outside.

Your hands push against the webs again, shaking the mattress a little. You pout at him. “I want to touch you,” you whine.

“Sorry about that,” he says. He matches your pout as his hands smooth down your legs, lazily exploring your flesh. He grabs your hips and positions them up a little so that you’re pressing into his thigh. He hears the moan that gets caught in your throat as he drags your cunt against him, holding back a satisfied smirk.

“Should I tell you what I like about you?” Yeonjun asks, something silky and smooth in his voice. You nod, rolling your hips over his thigh. “Say pleaseeeee,” he prompts.

“Please,” you echo. He giggles.

“Again.” He’s having fun.

“Please, Yeonjun,” you beg, sweet voice dripping with need.

He releases your hips so he can pull off your panties, tugging you back onto him once you kick the cloth off your ankles. He can really feel how wet you are now, and it makes a knot form in his stomach. He wants you more than anything.

“I like how pretty you are,” he starts, leaning over you to press kisses against your neck. “And I like how cool you are.” His mouth travels a little lower, sucking at your collarbone. “And I like how I can talk to you for hours and never get bored.” His lips smother your chest, just above your tits, familiarizing himself with every inch of your skin. Your hips buck against him when he presses his thigh more firmly between your legs. “And I like how wet you get,” he laughs.

His mouth finds your breasts then, tongue swirling teasingly around one of your buds. Your nipples perk up, begging for his attention. He drags his tongue over to your other mound, sucking at the swell of flesh, moaning against you. The taste of your skin in his mouth makes him feel high.

You whine, hips rolling more fervently against him, chasing your approaching high. Yeonjun busies himself with delivering kitten licks to your nipples, watching the way they glisten with his saliva after he runs his tongue across them a few times. He peels himself off of you when your rhythm gets unsteady, not wanting you to cum yet. There’s a look of betrayal on your face as he disconnects from you, not touching you at all anymore.

“Yeonjun,” you moan, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him in. “I need to cum.” Your needy cunt grinds against the tent in his boxers, hungrily trying to get yourself off. He lets you have your fun for a minute, enjoying the feel of your warm, wet slit coating his clothed cock, before holding your hips still and keeping you from moving. That doesn’t stop you from digging your heels into his back, pushing him harder against you.

He removes your legs from him, holding you open as he plunges two fingers into your cunt. Your heat takes him in so nicely, the slide of his digits inside you made so easy from how slick your cunt is. You arch your back, moaning out as he curls his fingers inside you.

“Tight girl, gotta stretch you out,” he says, scissoring his digits to prepare you. Your arousal pools out of you, dripping onto the mattress as Yeonjun fucks you on his fingers. “Need to get you ready for me.”

“Mhm, need your dick,” you say. You look so helpless like this, laying back and letting Yeonjun fuck his fingers into you however he wants. He increases his speed just because he can, knowing you can’t pry his hand away, grinning when you emit a surprised gasp. Your walls start tightening around his fingers, a warning of your orgasm, and Yeonjun pulls his hand away before you can get there.

You’re whining his name again, thighs clamping shut to relieve the pressure. He shushes you as he tugs his boxers out of the way, stroking his cock as he watches the way you tremble. Poor thing.

“You want me to fuck you?” he asks. Your legs spread open immediately in invitation. He watches as a glob of arousal drips out from your core.

“Yes,” you breathe out. He pumps his shaft a few more times before bringing it to your folds, letting your wetness coat his tip. “Put it in,” you beg, jerking your hips up. He ignores your plea, bringing the head of his cock to your clit to tap on it a few times. The stimulation sends a buzz through you, and Yeonjun coos at you sweetly.

“Want you to feel so good,” he says, aligning his tip to your hole and starts pushing in. You throw your head back and groan, and he gives your neck a wet kiss. “Wanna be the best you’ve had.” He sinks in slowly, letting your walls adjust to him inch by inch. You feel like heaven around him, and his fingers dig into your hips to keep himself from losing his mind. He wants to meld himself into you.

He grinds his pelvis against you when he bottoms out, steadying his breaths so he doesn’t lose himself too quickly. His moans are deep and airy, while yours are whiny and pathetic. He trails a hand up your body until he’s cupping your face, bringing your attention to him. You look dazed, and he wants to watch you fall apart. He needs to see your perfect face scrunched up with pleasure, eyes glassy and mouth open, going stupid from how fucked out you are.

He presses a light kiss against your lips, then leans his face into the crook of your neck. He finally starts pulling back, slamming back into you with a whimper. Your cunt takes him so readily despite how tight you are, your arousal making him glide in and out of you so easily.

“Gonna be perfect for you,” Yeonjun promises. “Be a good boyfriend. Fuck you every day. Keep you happy.” He lifts himself up to watch your mouth fall open as he thrusts into you. He presses against your stomach to feel himself inside you, moaning whorishly when he does. It makes him fuck you harder, desperation coursing through his system.

You can barely speak from how far gone you are, stuttering out curses and whimpers of his name. He brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing at the swollen bud to get you clenching around him. He groans at how tight you get, sucking him in like your body was meant to take him.

“Need you to cum now,” Yeonjun says, feeling his high looming over. “Gotta feel you milking my cock, let me see it.”

“Kiss me,” you say breathlessly, mouth hanging open as you wait for him to take it. He obliges eagerly, shoving his tongue into your mouth with a needy whine. He licks into you as if this will coax your orgasm out, and it does. Your walls clamp around him, and he’s barely able to move from how tight you get. He circles your clit diligently, only letting up when your body jolts in overstimulation.

He pulls out soon after, only having to stroke himself a few times before he’s spilling his seed onto your stomach. He groans as he milks himself for every last drop, hand shaking as he releases the last of it. You look hot painted with his cum; he bites his lip and squeezes your thighs, needing more and more of you.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he says, making you turn your head away shyly.

“Thanks. You are too.” His stomach flips, feeling proud that he earned your praise. He lowers himself to your torso, lapping at the milky strands of his cum. He cleans you nicely, swallowing down his own release until your stomach’s coated in only his saliva. He brings himself to your slit to lap at it languidly, loving the little whines you emit at the sensation.

“Did so good for me, thank you,” he murmurs into your cunt. He pushes his tongue into your entrance, slowly fucking the muscle inside you. You sigh and roll your hips against his face, relaxed and melting into the feeling.

“Y-you’re good too,” you praise. He licks his way up to your clit, taking it into his mouth and letting his tongue roll over the bud. He likes to hear that he’s being good for you, it makes him feel like he’s worthy of you. He thrives off your happiness, so he feels content as he pleases you with his mouth.

He never wants to let you go. He wants you in his arms forever, he wants to stay in this room and live the rest of his life with just you by his side. This much is enough for him. He glides his hands down your thighs, letting his fingers lightly drag along your skin. He opens his mouth a little more to taste more of you, to kiss your folds more hungrily. He presses the tip of his tongue to your bud, focusing the pressure right against it until he hears you mewl.

“Right there!” you gasp out, pressing yourself further into Yeonjun’s face. He hooks his arms around your thighs to keep you in place, making sure you don’t jolt away when your orgasm creeps up on you. He flicks his tongue over your clit repeatedly, feeling your thighs shake in his grasp. He doesn’t stop until you’re releasing on his face, coating his mouth and chin with your essence.

He detaches himself after a minute, licking his lips and letting go of your legs. He sits up and smiles at you, taking in how pretty you look. He holds your jaw so he can kiss you, and he can’t help but to giggle into the kiss. This is so surreal. He would have fainted if he knew one month ago that this would be happening to him.

“Hi,” you say when he finally pulls his face from yours. This feels like a dream.

“Hi,” he echoes, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He cherishes the smile you give him.

“So when does this dissolve?” you ask, tugging at the webs holding your arms in place. Yeonjun scratches his neck bashfully. That's enough of an answer for you. “Yeonjun…” you sigh, body deflating.

“Less than two hours!” he rushes to say.

“Two hours?!”

“It’s not that bad. I think we can pass the time,” he says, failing to hold back his smile.

Your eyes flit down to his stirring cock. “I guess I have nothing better to do,” you give in. Yeonjun sees right through your nonchalant act, but he lets you get away with it. He has better things to busy himself with than arguing about that.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

You bring Yeonjun to the market after learning about the laundry detergent debacle. You place the item in your basket, shaking your head at him as you do. “I can’t believe your roommate had to tell me to get you to buy this.”

Yeonjun raises his hands in defense. “I get busy sometimes,” he says.

“With coming to my dorm every other night?” you ask with a raised brow, walking into the next aisle.

Yeonjun drops a candy bar into the basket alongside the detergent. “No, with lab stuff, and class stuff, and Spidey stuff,” he corrects. He picks up a bottle of your favorite drink as he passes by it on the shelf. “And with girlfriend stuff,” he adds sweetly.

“Right,” you say unconvincingly, smiling as you nod your head.

Yeonjun grabs a pair of sunglasses off a rack, placing them on his face and turning to you with a grin. “How cool are these?” he asks, pointing at himself.

You laugh and lift the sunglasses up so they rest on his head. “So cool,” you answer. You tilt your head to check the price on them. “You should totally spend the last of your money on them.”

He pulls the glasses off his face to check the price tag, eyebrows raising in reaction. He puts them back on the rack. He can’t get rid of the smile on his face as he watches you shop, endeared and swooned by every little thing you do. It’s small moments like these that make him feel like the luckiest guy on earth.

“We should get bandages. I can’t believe you don’t have any,” you say, looking for where the item would be in the store.

“There’s a lot of things I don’t have. I’m operating on a limited budget,” he explains. It’s not like he can tackle a job on top of everything else he does. He’s grown accustomed to his ways of living, accepting that he’s become the male college student stereotype.

“I’m glad I stepped into your life then,” you say, throwing a box of bandages into your basket. “I’m actually scared you’d die without me.”

Yeonjun can’t help but to laugh at that. “I would die without you,” he agrees. He follows you as you continue walking around the store, aimlessly searching for anything you might need. You stop when you feel your phone buzz, pulling out your phone upon receiving a notification, checking it curiously. He reads the message over your shoulder; it’s an alert from your local news station about some rescue mission for a bunch of dogs that ran loose from their shelter just now. You turn to him with a knowing smile.

“That’s your cue, Spider-man.”

notes: god i loved writing this so much…. i hope u like spideyjjun just as much as i do<3 i would love to hear ur thoughts if u have anyyy!!! tysm for reading hehe

taglist: @ambsphoria @bananasdiary @beaabz @beomgyusluver @beomsdoll @brrytears @bumgyuz @dawngyu @enhastolemyheart @estrnrea @fancypeacepersona @fatbixchwithanopinion @heejamas @heesmiles @insanityz @i4tzy @jellyyjn @kejingken @lilbrorufr @lovesickchoi @mrsjohnnysuh @raspberrii @sanscupid @saraalovestxt @soobinieswife @starrynightgyu @starstrucktae @taebatu @taysfairies @tubatukimoa @tyongyuta @usuallyunlikelyfox @verco @vvjolyneee @xylatox @younbeanz @yourenzoo @yunverie 🤍

© delugyu 2025, do not translate or reupload

[fruitlicense]

The cosmology class I took this past spring briefly covered parallel universes/multiverses, and while I’m not gonna share my prof’s lecture slides on tumblr, I am going to summarize the concepts he went over because that shit is fascinating!!!

DISCLAIMER: I just finished a degree in physics, so I have more background in this than the average layperson, but I’m still a student and not an expert by any means. If something in this explanation is wrong, it’s cause I was cross-referencing my class notes instead of citing academic papers. This is for fun, guys. :)

So, there’s four levels of multiverses - basically, four frameworks to think about ways we could have different universes existing in parallel. Reminder: this is THEORY, but it’s based on mathematical logic and our current observations of the Universe, so it’s not cold hard fact but it’s not complete conjecture either.

A Level 1 multiverse hinges on the difference between our observable Universe and our actual full complete Universe. The observable Universe encompasses the limits of what we can see and detect, and it has a hard boundary based on the age of the Universe as a whole. The Big Bang was 13.7 billion years ago, and being a singularity, no information can get to us from “before” it, if “before” the Big Bang is even a thing. Effectively, time in the Universe started from zero 13.7 billion years ago. That’s a finite age, and light has a finite speed that it can travel at (3 x 10^8 m/s), so there’s stuff in the Universe as a whole that isn’t part of our observable Universe because there’s no possible way that light from it could have reached us yet. No information travels faster than light, so anything outside of the horizon of the observable Universe will always be unknown to us in every sense. And this is before accounting for the expansion of the Universe and the fact that as space expands, stuff is going to zoom away and disappear behind that limit even as the limit grows with time. TLDR: we will never see most of the vast infinity of the Universe.

Now, the Universe overall is infinite. I know that makes me referring to it as “complete” very hand-wavey, but whatever. The point is, just over from the boundary of our observable Universe is another observable universe that’s in the same overall Universe as us, but we’ll never see them and they’ll never see us. Think of the Universe like a sheet of cookie dough and each observable universe as a cookie - if you’re making your cookies right, none of them will overlap, but they’re part of the same sheet of dough. If you’re working with a standard baking sheet, none of those cookies will be identical, but think about an infinite sheet of cookie dough. Eventually, in an infinite cookie dough Universe, you’ll run out of ways to uniquely arrange your chocolate chips, and you’ll have two identical cookies separated by many cookies in between. Particles in the Universe are just like chocolate chips in your dough. We only have so many kinds of fundamental particles in the Universe, and there’s an unthinkably large amount of ways they can be arranged, but eventually, statistically, you will get patches of Universe that will never detect each other, but that are identical down to the quark. You’ll have even more patches of Universe that are very nearly identical save for a few particles. So in an infinite Universe with infinite parallel observable universes within it that don’t overlap, there are identical AND near-identical versions of every one of us somewhere out there!

Personally, I think that’s cool as fuck. :)

Since all universes in a Level 1 multiverse are part of the same cookie dough sheet, if you will, they have the same physical constants, laws of physics, dimensions, fundamental particles, etc. If you could go into another universe in a Level 1 multiverse, it wouldn’t have a different law of gravitation or speed of light or anything crazy like that, because it’s just a different piece of the same larger Universe. In a Level 2 multiverse, you don’t have that guarantee that the laws and constants are the same.

Explaining a Level 2 multiverse takes some understanding of our early Universe right after the Big Bang and how it influences some weird shit about the Universe now. Our problems include that we can’t explain why the average temperature of the Universe (and of the Cosmic Microwave Background, which you can look up because it’s too much to go into detail about here) is more or less the same everywhere we look, we can’t explain how that could happen in regions that are too far away to communicate with each other (ex. places on opposite sides of our observable Universe), and we can’t explain why our Universe appears to be exactly flat when it’s had a lot of time for any not-flatness to become very detectable. Except that we can explain all of those problems (and one more that I don’t feel like explaining but you can look up magnetic monopoles if you’re curious) with the theory of inflation. In the very early Universe, if the Universe had an inflationary period where it went from a more “normal” expansion rate to expanding exponentially and then went back to a normal expansion rate, all of those problems would make a lot more sense. Areas that look the same used to be in causal contact, any fluctuations in flatness were smoothed out, etc.

Level 2 multiverse theory asks, “well, why the hell do we assume that inflation works the same in all parts of the Universe?” The universes in a Level 2 multiverse are separated by their different inflationary periods. One might have expanded exponentially for much less time than ours, or for far more. Another might not have been flattened out by the exponential expansion enough to avoid having curvature. Situations like that could lead to very different-looking Universes because fundamental constants like curvature actually determine a lot about the way things work in our Universe. Level 2 multiverses are harder to explain with the cookie dough analogy, but I guess it’s like if you rolled out the dough kind of funky? Each universes of a Level 2 multiverse can also be its own Level 1 multiverse, so the cookie dough metaphor kind of starts to fall apart there. :/

Level 3 multiverses are somehow easier to understand than Level 2 multiverses, which I find lowkey hilarious, but I think it’s because the idea made its way into the pool of general knowledge a little more easily than the ideas of Level 1 and 2 multiverses. You know the concept that every choice you make could split off an alternate universe where you made a different choice than the one you actually did? Level 3 multiverses are based on the quantum mechanical version of that. In the Many Worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics, every time a particle makes a “choice” about what state to be in, a parallel universe splits off where it’s in the unchosen state (or parallel universes, if there were more than two options). Quantum particles change state all the time, so that’s a lot of universes! I won’t lie though, I don’t really understand Level 3 multiverse theory beyond what I’ve typed here. How do the parallel universes split off of our Universe? What “space” are they splitting off into? How would we know if we’re in the original Universe or not? Search me, I don’t know.

Speaking of things I don’t know, Level 4 multiverse theory is impossible for me to explain because I don’t understand shit about it. Paraphrasing from my prof’s slides, “if the underpinnings of mathematics change and we have different mathematical structures, we get different fundamental equations of physics.” What does that even mean??? How would that work??? I’m no mathematician, so it may just be a mystery to me forever (or at least until I beef up my understanding of the type of crazy abstract math that people with PhDs in it do, which I don’t anticipate happening anytime soon).

Anyway, this has been the very very basics of multiverse theory with @fruitlicense! Level 1 multiverses are my personal favorites, if anyone was curious. :)

[feinyan]

DATING HEADCANONS ft. kinich, kazuha, xiao, scaramouche, childe and diluc.

kinich, who is blunt with his words and forward with his actions. who catches you off guard when he initiates without hesitation, or when he tells you what he wants in such a monotone voice as if his words didn’t make your heart skip a beat. kinich, who finds himself returning home from work exhausted, immediately collapsing within your arms, kisses gentle against your skin as he loses himself within your warmth. he isn’t necessarily too touchy, sliding his fingers where they find themself the most comfortable against the fabric of your shirt, his lips wet as he presses them against the nape of your neck, leading up to your chin. kinich, who is a listener. a boy who doesn’t speak much, but constantly has his attention on you. whether or not you think hes paying attention to you, he is. he remembers every detail you’ve spoken to him, important or not. kinich, who is the jealous type. despite not expressing it much — or at all, he can’t help but stare at people who talk to you too much, or get close for comfort. almost instinctively, he’ll reach for your waist, sliding himself almost perfectly in place beside you, hands grasped tightly against the fabric of your clothing whilst his eyes remain narrowed. kinich, who desperately craves your touch. would he express it? god no. hes quiet, rather keeping those feelings to himself, but hes such a sucker for the way you make him feel, all fuzzy and warm inside.

kazuha, who has the words to describe anything, who can turn anything into something romantic. but with you, for the first time, he’d struggled. struggled to come up with the proper words to describe the way he felt toward you. could words even explain these feelings? kazuha, who is a charmer. who writes love letters to you, a play of words coming from him that are so romantic, that put just the right feelings in your chest, that have you wanting more from him. nobody gets more sweeter than him, its sickening. kazuha, who is so reassuring and affectionate. soft kisses against your wrists and forehead which are his favorite places, affirmations and praise even for the littlest things. who wraps his hands around your waist or buries his head into the crook of your neck when you’re alone, losing himself in your warmth. kazuha, who is like a hero to you in a sense. it seems like this boy can do practically anything, an issue with something? fixed. help with homework? he knows it well enough to teach you. speaking of teaching, hes such a patient teacher! rewards you with sososo many kisses. kazuha, who has a daring imagination, hidden behind such a kind and innocent face. a bot who sure, comes off as someone who’d be good with words, but god the things he says are far much more than what you’d expect. hes a tease sometimes, romantic and coy both physically and with words, yet never forward with it. always dancing around being direct.

xiao, who always pays for you, no matter the cost. who surprises you with gifts that put you into his mind, who doesnt hesitate to spend if its for you. xiao, who struggles to express how he feels. who is overwhelmed with the feelings you put within him, yet its not necessarily a bad thing. who isnt good with words, yet expresses himself with actions. who holds your hand wherever you go, who opens doors for you and takes you to fun places some could only wish to venture to. xiao, who gets flustered over the smallest actions. you tying a scarf around his neck? hes avoiding eye contact, your smile might make him lose whatevers left of his head. even the hand holding hes oh so used to catches him off guard when the thought crosses his mind. xiao, who is sooo sweet. always dotes on you .. a little awkward, but thats okay. he adores you a ton, always catching himself zoning out in your direction or losing himself within your presence.

scaramouche, who is overprotective. not necessarily a new fact, but god nothing irritates him more than the way hungry freaks gaze at you. or the way people extend their hand with pathetic introductions in order to make attempts to seduce you. he doesn’t mind stepping in, nor does he mind putting people in their place. scaramouche, who couldn’t comprehend his feelings at first. should puppets even have the capability to feel this way? yet the way he felt around you, basking in your presence and warm touch, a kindness he wasn’t used to, these feelings felt so unusual yet unmistakable. scaramouche, who is direct. freakishly direct. when he wants something, he’ll tell you. he doesn’t avoid saying things, nor is he scared to speak whats on his mind. scaramouche, who finds himself concerned for you constantly. its not that he finds you incapable, but rather a fear on his own mind. a fear that something will cause him to lose you, something that affects him to think about more than he’d like to admit. he monitors your actions, lectures you for things he believes were irrational — some could call it possessive, but its in best interest. scaramouche, who flicks you on the forehead as a method of teasing or punishment. maybe its a little unusual, but it doesnt hurt that much! in a way, its a form of affection, special toward you.

childe, who is a big cuddler. hes such a lovebug, clinging to your side in bed, messy hair pressed against your cheek. his long limbs, sprawled out everywhere. night time talks are a big thing for him, sharing little stories and talks as you both find yourself slipping deeper into slumber. childe, who is a major kisser. who, if you forget to kiss him, whines and pouts like a child until hes given what he wants. who kisses you just about everywhere, who doesn’t have a favorite place to kiss because he loves everything about you! childe, who is suuuuch a act all nice guy. who finds himself jealous at the slightest interaction that isnt with him, giving such a cruel, threatening gave from behind, yet the minute they express a reaction or you turn to him, confused, he puts on such a sweet, endearing smile. childe, who adores your interactions with his family. he loves nothing more than his family members, and seeing you get along with them makes him feel something unexplainable. with you, he hopes to oneday have a family as endearing as his own.

diluc, who spoils you. who wouldn’t dare allow you to buy something cheap (unless it truly makes you happy) and doesn’t mind spending thousands for something little. he doesn’t typically irrationally throw money around, but maybe if its for you, he doesn’t mind. diluc, who calls you love, sweetheart, darling. words that leave your stomach feeling like its spinning diluc, who endearingly stares at you. who finds himself smiling by just being within your presence. who, when you smile in return, finds himself melting. diluc, who isnt a fan of pda yet will still give you small kisses in public. forehead kisses, lip kisses, hes not ashamed nor embarrassed, he’d rather just keep the deep parts of your relationship for your eyes only.

@ feinyan

[st7rnioioss]

INTRODUCING... BEST FRIEND!CHRIS x INEXPERIENCED!READER ۶ৎ

— a bsf!chris x inexperienced!reader moodboard

INEXPERIENCED!READER... who's been friends with chris since birth. your mom is best friends with chris's mom, and coincidentally enough, they both had kids at the same time. even though chris has three brothers, you always went to him, rather than anyone else—being neighbors was also a huge plus. if you got in a fight with your mom or dad, you bet chris is there to comfort you whenever you knock on his door.

INEXPERIENCED!READER... who always received snarky comments from girls throughout high school. they always put her down or asked if she was dating chris, some even going as far as bullying her, telling her she wasn't pretty enough for him—he is fairly attractive, there's no denying that. but what they didn't understand, is that you’re just friends... right?

INEXPERIENCED!READER... whos high school experience definitely affected her social life. she was always too shy to ask out any guys she found remotely attractive, and most of them assumed she was dating chris anyway from all the gossip anyway. and on top of that, she liked to keep her tight-knit friends close. whenever she wasn't hanging onto chris, it was matt. and if it wasn't matt, it was nick. and if it was neither of them, which it rarely was, it was her few girlfriends.

INEXPERIENCED!READER... who always avoids the talk of relationships, kissing, crushes- all that jazz. you’re aware chris has had a girlfriend once or twice, and you didn't mind at all. yet, sometimes you felt that pit in her stomach, almost aching to have that close of a relationship with someone that wasn't just best friends since birth. or was it really just jealousy you felt?

BEST FRIEND!CHRIS... who is best, best friends with you. sure, chris has his brothers, nate, and a few other friends, but he's always prioritizing you. and he didn't care that some of his friends thought he was your biggest admirer, always asking when he'd finally get to his senses and ask you out, when really that was his biggest struggle.

BEST FRIEND!CHRIS... who really is a lovestruck idiot. he's completely wrapped around your finger, always helping you out with literally anything, helping you stand up for yourself whenever someone gets too nosy in your friendship, always the first one to help you out with homework, though he barely got the hang of it.

BEST FRIEND!CHRIS... who didn’t stay with his girlfriend for too long. it could get a little messy at times when he wanted to hang out with you more and had to cancel a date. yes, he loved his girlfriend, but his sick and twisted mind always drifted toward you whenever she kissed him. how stupid of him to think that getting a girlfriend would get his mind off of you. in reality, he tried to fill that pit in his chest he felt whenever he knew that you guys weren't more than friends, which only turned out to ruin his relationship completely. that friday he stayed in your bed all weekend, which obviously was because he needed the comfort after a toxic breakup... right?

BEST FRIEND!CHRIS... who always kept his feelings for you a secret. he’d been so, so sure he would never tell you, too nervous that he’d scare you off and ruin your perfect friendship, and lose his best friend since diapers. instead, he just tried to act normal around you, though he was dying to just pull you in for a kiss.

MASTERLIST

۶ৎ when best friend!chris can’t keep his hands and mind off inexperienced!reader 𓂃 ֹ genre,,smut

۶ৎ inexperienced!reader giving bsf!chris head for the first time 𓂃 ֹ genre,,smut

۶ৎ bsf!chris guiding inexperienced!reader how to ride 𓂃 ֹ genre,,smut

۶ৎ bsf!chris being not-so-subtle when putting sunscreen on inexperienced!reader 𓂃 ֹ genre,,fluff + suggestive

۶ৎ bsf!chris teaching inexperienced!reader how to finger herself, but he can't seem to hold back 𓂃 ֹ genre,,smut

۶ৎ bsf!chris wanting inexperienced!reader to sit on his face 𓂃 ֹ genre,,smut

۶ৎ the types of videos bsf!chris sends inexperienced!reader 𓂃 ֹ genre,,smut

۶ৎ bsf!chris taking inexperienced!readers virginity 𓂃 ֹ genre,,fluffy smut

۶ৎ bsf!chris x girly!reader history/lore post 𓂃 ֹ genre,,fluff+very light angst

۶ৎ bsf!chris and inexperienced!reader's kinks 𓂃 ֹ genre,,smut

۶ৎ "all yours” - when inexperienced!reader is scared bsf!chris is cheating 𓂃 ֹ genre,,smut

۶ৎ bsf!chris helps inexperienced!reader out with the ache between her legs 𓂃 ֹ genre,,smut

۶ৎ inexperienced!reader cockwarms bsf!chris for the first time 𓂃 ֹ genre,,smut

𝜗𝜚˚࿔ notes: he's a little sick and twisted but ohhhh he's in love!!!!

۶ৎ taglist: @jetaimevous @missmimii @mattscoquette @pearlzier @witchofthehour @elizasturn @loveparqdise @delilahsturniolo @phone4pills @sturnsmia @hearts4werka @cayleeuhithinknott @strnilolover @sturnvxz @lovergirl4gracieabrams @ifwdominicfike @toftomgmf @emely9274 @sturnioloangell @blushsturns @forgottxen @slut4chris888 @marrykisskilled @sophand4n4 @sturnihoelooo @strnsvhx

© ST7RNIOIOSS est. 2023

[fear-is-truth]

THE BOWERS GANG . . . as boyfriends .ᐟ

content warning: mentions of domestic abuse. patrick is a warning himself. toxic relationship

HENRY BOWERS

henry craves validation like a starving dog. if you so much as compliment him, he’ll spend the rest of the day thinking about it.

needs to feel like a man around you. if you ever imply he’s less than masculine, he takes it personally. even something small, like opening a jar for yourself instead of asking him, will put him in a pissy mood.

if you get mad at him for something he did (e.g. for bullying little kids) and give him the cold shoulder? he doesn’t know how to handle it, so he either storms off or does something stupid & reckless just to get your attention back.

carves your initials into the kissing bridge the summer you started dating.

when he gets jealous (which is often), it’s not just petty annoyance—it’s irrational rage. at you, at the perceived “threat”. he won’t hesitate to start a fight over it.

deep down, he doesn’t believe he’s good enough for you. although he covers it up with arrogance and acts like you’re his property, there’s a constant fear in the back of his mind that someday you’ll realise you can do so much better.

when his old man beats the shit outta him, henry doesn’t go home. sometimes he crashes at victor’s, but more often than not, he ends up at your window, one hand gripping the frame, the other cradling his ribs. he never says what happened; just a curt “lemme in.”

you’ve gotten good at patching him up. cleaning the cuts, pressing ice to the bruises. he always hisses when you touch him, tells you to quit babying him.

some nights, henry climbs through your window reeking of cheap beer, barely making it inside without cracking his skull open. flops onto your bed fully clothed, mumbles nonsense into your pillow. you pull his boots off, and let him sleep it off. in the morning, he’s already gone.

wants to be the kind of guy you deserve, but he doesn’t know how.

genuinely believes you’re the only good thing in his life. (you are)

VICTOR CRISS

as the second in command of the bowers gang and your boyfriend, he’s fiercely loyal to both henry and you. this sometimes puts him in uncomfortable positions.

won’t actively go looking for trouble, but if someone messes with you, he’ll put them in their place.

his stoicism can be unsettling. he’ll stand by and watch seemingly unbothered when henry does insane shit, and he’ll never intervene unless he really has to.

respects that you don’t like the bullying. obviously, victor doesn’t stop when he’s with the rest of the gang, but when you’re around, he keeps it to a minimum.

has a dry, deadpan sense of humour, but when he’s with the guys, he can get a bit mean-spirited. might tease you more than usual, especially if henry or patrick egg him on, but he always apologises and tries to make it up to you afterward.

probably the only one in the group who would genuinely apologise if he upset you.

actively listens when you talk. not much of a talker himself, but he remembers practically every tidbit you’ve ever told him.

asked you (somewhat awkwardly & tentatively) to help him re-bleach his hair, rubbing the back of his neck like he was already regrets asking. but when your fingers started combing through his hair, spreading the bleach, he say still, eyes closed, maybe enjoying it a little too much.

he’ll shrug off his jacket and hand it over when you’re shivering. if you try to say no, he just gives you a look like don’t be dumb.

tries to teach you how to skateboard.

actually pretty good at school. he’s not a nerd but he’s smart and pays attention. if you ever get stuck on something, he’ll help.

patrick often points out how much time vic spends with you, calls him pussy whipped whenever he ditches the rest of the gang to walk you home or helps you with homework. victor gives little to no reaction, just rolls his eyes and ignores them, but the tips of his ears go pink.

PATRICK HOCKSTETTER

patrick doesn’t believe in love—hell, on some level, he doesn’t even believe you’re real. no one is, not really. the world is just a dull, empty playground for him to fuck around in. but whatever he feels when he looks at you, it’s close enough.

he’s interested in you, the way a biologist would be interested in a new insect specimen.

has zero sense of boundaries. he touches you whenever he wants—grabs your ass when you walk by, hooks a finger through your bra strap before letting it snap back, slides his hand up your thigh under the table, all while looking you dead in the eye.

loves playing with his zippo, always flicking it open and shut, rolling the flame between his fingers. sometimes, he’ll hold it just inches from your face, watching how your pupils dilate, how you go perfectly still. “relax,” he drawls, letting the fire dance inches from your cheek. “i’d never ruin that pretty face. unless i felt like it.”

will flirt with (harass) other girls in front of you just to see your reaction, and if you retaliate, he finds it hilarious.

there’s no jealousy with him. if another guy looks at you, pat doesn’t get mad, he just gets amused. sidles up behind you, slides a hand up your side, grins at the poor bastard watching. “she’s cute, huh?” he says, almost conversational. “wanna see what she looks like on her knees?”

loves it when you grab his hair during sex.

pain doesn’t register for him. he plays super rough—yanks your hair hard like he’s trying to rip off your scalp, grabs your wrists so tight that it bruises. he doesn’t understand why it hurts you, but he likes it. very much.

he’s a total freak. into bdsm, knifeplay, wax play, blood play and more.

his nicknames for you are slut and bitch.

patrick’s version of a date is breaking into abandoned breaking into abandoned buildings, to spray-paint obscene words on the sides of houses, to steal shit from supermarkets.

says the creepiest, most out-of-pocket shit when he’s feeling “introspective”.

disappears for hours without telling you where he’s going, then shows up like nothing happened.

the only reason he even sticks around is because you amuse him. if that ever changed, he’d drop you like nothing.

BELCH HUGGINS

reg is definitely the least cruel one in the group. by no means a saint but compared to the others, he’s a damn angel.

loooves his car. when you hang out while he’s fixing up his ride, he’ll put you to work—“hand me that wrench. no, not that one. jesus, do you even know what a wrench looks like?”

would drives you anywhere, no questions asked except for “where to?”

loyal to a fault. once he’s decided you’re his girl, you’re stuck with him. through thick and thin, through blood and bruises, he’s got your back, no matter what.

big on physical affection.

actually plans nice dates.

remembers and celebrates your anniversary and valentine’s day.

is the kind of guy who, after a couple months of being close, is already picturing forever with you.

takes you to meet his family early on—his mom, his siblings. just randomly brings you over like “c’mon, ma’s makin’ meatloaf.” it’s just that simple.

his mom simply adores you. dotes on you, tells you embarrassing stories about reginald as a kid.

[quiznak-ofgrayskull]

My refusal to sell my soul for the sake of homework is going to cause me to fail math again isn't it. I should sell my soul probably