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that-foul-legacy-lover · 4 months

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Childe isn't from Fontaine. unlike some of his coworkers, he was born and raised in Snezhnaya, his homeland, and would proudly serve it until his death. because of this, he's rather nonplussed about the prophecy in Fontaine- in the absolute worst-case scenario, he's an excellent swimmer, and will be able to get to safety with no fear of being dissolved, unlike the people of the Nation of Justice. so the Eleventh Harbinger doesn't pay much thought to all the rumors he keeps hearing during his trip to the Court- not that he could if he wanted to, though, with distant whale song and Foul Legacy's quiet growls filling his head at all times. it gives Childe horrible headaches, enough to not care about an entire city being flooded. the people of Fontaine are surrounded by water, they can take care of themselves, he reasons, and ignores his surroundings.

but then he meets you, and his whole world gets flipped upside down.

if Childe, being Snezhnayan, embodies ice and snow, then you certainly embody water and rain. you meet him when you're both out for a hot drink in the morning, recommending your favorite blend of tea to him, and the Harbinger is immediately enamored with your kindness and go-with-the-flow demeanor, so he immediately takes the opportunity when you extend a hand and ask to show him around the Court. it winds up being the most fun Childe, and Foul Legacy, by extension, have had in months, running around the grand city with you and trying various different foods and treats, and at the end you both promise to meet again, leaving Childe with a sappy smile on his face. Foul Legacy adores you, chittering and chirping with delight inside Childe's mind, and Childe can't even bring himself to tell his Abyssal half to be quiet because he likes you, too.

and as you promised, you continue to meet day after day, your tour extending outside of the Court and to the rest of Fontaine to spend more time together. Childe often drags you into more dangerous situations, always protecting you and emerging with rain in his hair and a triumphant smile on his face, which only grows wider when you praise him. and when he trusts you enough, he introduces you to Foul Legacy, and oh, how the moth-like monster loves you. he sweeps you into his arms and stares adoringly into your eyes, nuzzling his forehead against yours with a trill- that's how half of your walks with Childe become walks with Foul Legacy.

sometimes Childe wishes he'd never met you, wishes that your paths had never crossed. but then he despairs, knowing that his world would have been so much darker without the time you had together. and yet... perhaps, if you never met, he and Foul Legacy would not have to endure heartbreak. they wouldn't have had to watch, Childe screaming from inside their shared body as Foul Legacy howled and grasped for you, your body slipping through his claws and disintegrating into a curious pool of starry water you had come across by chance.

and the Fontaine prophecy claimed another life.

#genshin impact #childe #tartaglia #foul legacy #foul legacy childe #genshin tartagalia #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #genshin x reader #childe x reader #me: hm only fontaine people dissolve into water #me: but childe's not from fontaine... but what if YOU ARE....#evil giggling #i am not sorry at all for this #short scenario #wifi's brainrot #good evening :)

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ectologia · 5 months

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I don't know how to explain this but bear with me! Reader and Tomura have a dynamic of a popular girl who is secretly a total masochist and a nerdy incel guy who is a degenerate freak and gets off humiliating and degrading the reader. Not sure if that was coherent but it's been rotting my brain and I needed to share

♱ ˖ ࣪࿐ 𝒟𝐼𝒞𝐻𝒪𝒯𝒪𝑀𝒴 ؛ 𝓉𝑜𝓂𝓊𝓇𝒶 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝑔𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓀𝒾

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 ؛ dubcon ﾉ noncon ﾉ quirkless au ﾉ college au ﾉ bullying ﾉ abuse ﾉ graphic violence ﾉ unhealthy relationship ﾉ blood ﾉ profanity

“Hey, Tomura.”

Blood-reds peer up at you through fluttery, moth-like lashes. Pale and silken like an angel’s. He tugs his headphones down to rest around his neck before setting his phone in his lap. “Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?” You thumb a lock of hair behind your ear.

He’s dubious by the way your friends chitter behind you. Petite hands and manicured nails swat at each-other, hissing between smirks. His ankles uncross, planting themselves firmly on the ground as though in preparation. He winces through his response. “Yeah.”

“What’s wrong with your skin?”

You’ve barely finished your sentence before you’re doubling over with witchy cackles, the girls behind you following suite.

Tomura doesn’t find it funny at all, in-fact, he doesn’t even understand the joke. Dull nails rake at his protruding collarbone before sinking further into the pool of his hoodie, swimming nose deep in the black fabric. “I have a skin condition..”

A piggish voice squeals from behind you. “What’s it called? Not washing?”

He scowls, biting a scabbed-over chunk of blood from his lip, shrinking further into his hunched position in an attempt to make himself as small as possible, or as small as you can be after being picked apart by a bunch of snot-nosed bitches.

You get the last laugh as you strut off with your group, leaving him boiling with rage. Clutching his phone between a set of white knuckles and wringing the strap of his bag in the other. His palms split inside his fists, wretched and shaking with ire.

Of course, that was only the first of many instances.

He remembers on another account, when you’d pulled his hood down in-front of everyone and sneered in disgust at the powdered nest of matted white hidden beneath. Or when you and your gaggle of other titless twats thought it would be fun to fling food at him during lunch, sealing the deal by dumping a fresh load of apple juice into his lap. He’d waddled home that evening, quivering at the sticky feeling of liquid squelching in the pocket of his underwear. Or another time, when you’d tripped him up on the way to his seat, howling with laughter along with everybody else as he laid face down in the middle of the classroom, snivelling with a scuffed chin and bruised cheek.

But, despite everything.. all these things added up — just makes it that much more delicious when he finally gets to face you alone.

Tomura’s palm collides with your face, once on the left side and then on the right, knocking you about with a heavy hand bludgeoning you to the brink of death.

Your whimpers only spur him on as he kicks your heels in, sending you flying, knees splitting atop the sharp gravel coating the ground. “Tomu—”

“Shut the fuck up.” A rubber sole plants itself onto your cheek, imprinting it’s swirled pattern into your skin in a heap of dust. He stands above you, stoic and proud, uncaring of the sickening crunch that erupts from your broken cartilage. “You shut your fuckin’ mouth, I can’t be asked to listen to your whinin’ right now. I’ve already got a fuckin’ headache.”

You heave through the stream of bubbling crimson pooling on your tongue. “I’m sorry, Tomur—”

“Oi, what’d I just say?” He kicks you again, digging the tip of his red sneakers into your stomach. Swinging his leg back, he clobbers you, battering your, no doubt, already bruised body further. “Stupid — fucking — dumb — ass — bitch.”

A spill of blood accompanies your gasps, left retching and writhing and clutching at the ground, clawing at the loose stones dotted about the pavement.

“You like that, huh?” He crushes your fingers, twisting and grating them into the concrete as you scream, clinging to his shins in prayer. “Yeah, you do. You fuckin’ love it.”

He squats down to cradle your chin in his palm, craning your neck back into a painful arch. “Who’s my little bitch? — That’s right you are.” He coos at you through grit-teeth, pressing down on your popped lip with the pad of his thumb. “You are..” He whispers before letting the weight of your head fall again.

“I hope you’re thirsty.”

The zip of a fly has your ears perking, squinting through your lashes at the pale length throbbing in his palm, slit already frothing with pre. “Get that fucking tongue out.”

“Wait, Tomura, please!—”

“What? — I don’t think I asked you, you cock-sucking little bitch.” He brandishes his cock like a weapon, squeezing it between dangerous fingers. “Get that tongue out now, before I do it myself.”

You comply with a whimper. Statuesque as you point your tongue out wide, leaking thick globs of drool over your chin and onto your shirt.

“Better.”

It wouldn’t be uncommon to expect the plush velvety feel of a salty tip prodding at your mouth, snaking its sweaty shaft down your gullet. But this time, you’ve been particularly naughty.

“You think it’s fuckin’ funny, huh? Gettin’ your little boyfriends to jump me in the bathroom?” He clutches your neck in a vice grip, jostling your spooked form. “Well, since you seem to like playin’ around toilets so much — I’ve got you a little gift.”

His fat dick jumps while a stream of urine accompanies his harsh jerking. “Yeah, get it down ya’.” He whistles, shooting the acidic stream of piss straight to the back of your throat, making a game of it as you gag and cack at the air.

“Had enough?” He angles his cock down, allowing you a burst of air but soiling your clothes in the process.

You nod frantically, gurgling with bubbles foaming.

“That’s cute.”

He sprays the last few acrid droplets over your forehead, letting it drench your hair to the root and then some.

Your nose wrinkles at the smell, putrid and pungent and most likely undiluted by the amount of water you know he drinks, or lack of.

You’re hoisted onto your feet by a pair of hands. Looking down, you see how the curve of his cock slaps against your hip. Propped up against the wall, he hikes your legs up over his elbows, pinning you into a tight hold where you’d have no chance at escape. He only peels the crotch of your underwear to the side, letting your chubby folds do the rest of the work by holding it in place while sliding his uncut prick up and down the little triangle placed between your thighs.

“Preparation isn’t needed when you don’t deserve it”, Is what he whispers into your ear, stale breath warm and ticklish against your canal as he begins to sheath himself inside, chunky mushroom tip popping through the first ring of muscle before feeding the rest through. It’s akin to being impaled in the awkward position, sat without a centre of gravity on a hot, girthy pole, just twitching to tear you through the middle and come out the other end.

Tomura’s eager to hurt you, already humping you against the bricks, bouncing you up and down with guttural and down-right animalistic grunts. The noises are purposeful, he doesn’t need to make such strange sounds but he much prefers the curl between your brows to the foggy look in your eyes.

“I’m fuckin’ you.” It’s an odd but factual statement. “I’m fuckin’ your pussy. My dick is inside you. You get that? Raw.”

“Uh, huh.” Your jaw whips up and down, soft as your tongue hangs out.

He’s unsure whether to scowl or smirk — so he settles for a bit of both, catching a lip between his stained teeth. “You’re a freak.“ Forehead to forehead, he puffs into your mouth, loving you down with a thumb digging into your crack “What would all your friends say, hm? That you like gettin’ your ass beat and raped after school everyday.”

Sharpened fingernails dig into the flesh of his striped neck, crying out with dewy eyes falling, rolling behind sunken eyelids. “Ngh.. I’m.. I — gonna’..”

He smacks your face for the umpteenth time, a litter lighter than the others. Perhaps even a tap. “Don’t you dare.”

“Ca..”

Your toes curl inside your socks and your pussy tightens, twisting and pulling on his engorged manhood despite his obvious protests. He drops you on your rear, startling your spinal cord as you hit the concrete with a thud, legs still shivering and clitty still pulsing with the shattered remains of your ruined orgasm.

Tomura growls with a livid expression as his cock spurts, still throbbing with the remembrance of your gummy hole massaging him. His balls tighten and he throws his head back, canines bared as he lets the white darts shoot out onto your face.

“God — shit — wasn’t meant to fucking cum..” He murmurs, dabbing a knuckle over the damp sheen across his forehead.

He cracks his neck, then zips up his pants, shaking off the tension held between his shoulders before snapping his fingers, nudging your crouched form with the toe of his shoe. “Come on then, hand it over.” He demands with an almost exasperated sigh.

Panting, you turn to rummage through your bag. With two $20 notes crumpled in your palm, you offer them to the man with timid, shaking hands.

Enthusiastic as he snatches the paper from you, he eyes the green with scrunched carmines before clicking his tongue. “Seriously, $40 bucks? That’s it? I even made you cum you stingy cunt.” He looms over you with a menacing glare.

“Uhm.. I.. there’s..” You search through your pockets in a frenzy. “I don’t have any more on me..”

“Well, that’s gonna’ be a problem then, isn’t it?”

“I.. I can give it to you tomorrow! I’ll get you another 20!”

He tuts, narrowing his eyes at you before turning on his heel. “Make it 30.”

As he moves to make his leave, you begin to crawl with desperation, reaching out for him with an outstretched arm. “Wait!”

“What.”

“..Do.. Do you want to hang out this weekend?..” He thinks you resemble a love-sick puppy with the way you blink up at him. “..Please?.. Tomu-kun?..”

There’s a hint of a smile that plays on his cracked lips as he looks down at you, still thumbing the creased bills in his pocket. “Hm.. Actually—”

“Make it another 40.”

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cryptidm0ths · 10 months

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himenui is back with his brethen

#dont rate my setup of books i litterally dont have a bookshelf this is an old fireplace top thing #oh and fun fact that len was one of the few things i got at my first convention!#when moth was like 14 #moth chitters

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spookykestrel · 3 months

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Somebody finalllyyyy asked me what kind of moth my earrings are >:)

#kestrel calls #chitter chatter #text post #they’re tiger moths btw

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mxthbladed · 8 days

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"Wrong number texts are always the weirdest, I think."

#moth chitters | ic #verse | main #open

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coleopterabyte · 1 year

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ABP 2023

Round 2 Masterpost

#aletris #caterpillar #social moth #alice in wonderland #anthro bug poll 2023 #chittering

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spdrvyn · 7 months

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https://youtu.be/VYFxeZQhe5Q

Cough cough miguel

Cough cough angst/fluff

⁠(⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)

me gustas tu — MIGUEL O'HARA

☆ in where miguel finds himself hopelessly pining for you, he tries ever so hard to deny his feelings but it just seems like everything around him reminds him of you.

fluff. pining. hopeless romantic miguel. i'm so insane about him!!! whoever sent this request reveal yourself because i'm about to get you JOKE

Miguel wasn't in love with you. Not at all. Not in a million years.

His ego was severely wounded from the amount of times that he's been teased in conversations for having this supposed crush on you. Even in meetings, very serious and professional meetings, where tasks were distributed and stations assigned, the whole room of spiders would chitter whenever your name slipped from his mouth.

To make matters worse, you were well aware of this little charade that went on with your coworkers. Chipping into these mindless games, you sling an arm around Miguel's shoulder (somehow) and loudly proclaim that you were his lover.

How he loathed you for it, you stuck onto him like a parasite. Stalking behind him at headquarters and when he turns a corner, boo! You're there. You surprise him in the darkness of his office with a giddy smile, not even giving him the opportunity to kick you out before you hop onto his platform and ramble about how your day went.

Whenever you pushed his buttons, he'd push you away with a growl. It was infectious, your laugh echoes and bounces off the walls and he especially hates how you sometimes get him to laugh a little in turn.

He was just unable to escape you, whenever he left his spider-cave to get a snack from the cafeteria, he could catch you sitting at a table with a bunch of other Spider-People. Laughing, giggling as you dished out jokes like a chef on a line, and whenever you caught him, you'd call him over to say hello and which he'd always reply to get back to work otherwise leave.

Not to mention that you were all the gossip too, people would acclaim you for your impressive displays of strength and cleverness during missions and which Miguel would always walk the other way before his cheeks got too red.

Even in the sanctity of his own home, he wasn't safe. After making himself a cup of coffee, he'd get a peek of the cityscape before him and watch idly as the sun rises over the skyscrapers and buildings. It's radiance shone on whatever it could find, making everything in Miguel's apartment look a pretty golden including himself. To which Miguel would occassionally close the blinds and plunge himself in the gloom once more.

It only really caused him to despise you even more, he couldn't catch a moment of peace when a piece of you was bursting from every corner. Your tenacity, your energy, your preciousness, it was the breeze in the air and the blood in his veins. He hated it.

He hated you.

By this point, he'd run out of words to describe you. There were only so many words in the dictionary yet an endless amount of your spark.

You weakened him, you truly did. His subtlety was passable at most before, but the moment that you entered his life, it was like you reset all of his stats back to zero. Whenever you came striding in now, the littlest details on his face gave him away, the smallest of grins tugging at his lips, the slight relaxation of his brows, and the slacking of his shoulders.

Not to forget Lyla either, the moment you left the room, she'd be pulling up monitor after monitor of how alarmingly high his heart rate is going that he has to chase after her like moth to a flame.

As he slept at night, when he was able to sleep anyway, he knew that she was right. That everyone was right. No matter how hard he pouts, no matter how long he stood still in his chambers all day, the way his heart sang for you was all too much.

He knew he couldn't take it much longer, he could barely stand being in your presence. Each day he's tempted by the melodious sound of your voice, to just grab you by the shoulders, and skip the logic for once but he knows that he can't.

"Miguel," the sing-song sound of Lyla's voice breaks through the eerie silence of the room like hammer to glass. "You've got a priority call."

He practically sags against his desk, his coffee growing cold each passing second. He turns to her, squinting at the brightness of her hologramic body. God, it was too early for this.

"Who is it?"

Lyla doesn't say anything, her cheeky smirk creeps Miguel out for a bit before another screen pops up before his very eyes and he sees your contact vibrating with the options to accept or decline.

No unhealthy amount of caffeine could have energized Miguel as much as right now, he straightens his posture (for once), looking into the reflection of one of his monitors before smoothing his ruffled hair over with his palm. Lyla all but giggles at it.

His talons almost scrape the screen as he presses the accept button, trying to bring his expression to something more down to earth. He was cool, he was fine, he was okay.

Once the feed opens up, the camera isn't even focused on you. Instead on the crook of your shoulder as it shakes violently, judging from the way the wind blows into the microphone, you're in the middle of a scuffle right now.

"Hi, vamps!" Your voice is barely comprehensible among the sounds of monstrous roaring and debris falling, he's about to scold you for being so reckless during a fight but he finds it hard to do so. He just resorts to scowling at you through the camera.

"You know there's always time to contact me after your duties, I'll still be here." That's a lie. He knows damn well that at any given moment, the gates of hell will break lose and he'll have to put out all the fires, but he'll make time for you. Like he always does.

"Jeez, glad to know that you're so excited to me." you grunt, before delivering another punch to whatever beast you're fighting. Miguel has to fight back the amazement that seeps into the muscles in his face when he doesn't hear any more roaring, all from one blow.

"I'm just really excited, okay? I have something for you, I'll be in HQ in five." you beam at him, but the call comes to an abrupt end and Miguel is left pouty once more.

However, you're not the type to go back on your word and it gives him even more reason to be attracted to you when you come striding into his office with your hands behind your back. You're scheming.

He doesn't lower his platform for you, there's no point because you'd just go swinging up anyway and that you do. A long strand of your webbing sticks to the ceiling as you pull yourself up, you tip over the edge a little and Miguel immediately moves to stabilize you with two hands on each side of your waist.

"Careful," He doesn't scold you this time either. When he says it, it's not to reprimand you. He says it as if you're an art display, the magnum opus of someone's fruitful work that he adores. His touch lingers for a moment before he backs off and takes a step back.

"Sorry, post-battle adrenaline is still doing its thing." You chuckle, your smile really is contagious. "Anyway, are you excited for my gift?"

"If it's a gun to end my misery then I'm absolutely ecstatic for it," Miguel scoffs, his fingers go for his holographic to pretend that he's actually doing something and definitely not admiring your voice.

"Don't be like that, vamps. I promise it's good," You slide over to him still keeping your hands behind your back as your smile widens. "I just need you to close your eyes for me."

"If you actually did bring a gun, I swear to god, I'm going to—"

You shake your head frantically, trying to stifle your thunderous laughter. "No, no! It's totally innocent, I swear."

All he really does is look at you for a few moments, even tilting to the side a little to see if he could get the slightest peek of what you're holding but you don't allow him that. He rolls his eyes and relents. "Fine, don't do anything destructive please."

He's lucky he closes his eyes before he gets to see you smile, it's hazardous, bright enough to blind him as you clap your hands softly before taking a step closer to him.

Gently, you reach for his forearm, fingers brushing lightly against his wrist and he wants to shiver. Like he did earlier, your touch stays for a while, burning into his skin and it'll keep him up at night later. He'll think about what he could've done, how badly he wanted to touch you back.

"You can open them again," Angelic. He wants to say. You could tell him to jump off a cliff and he'd listen but opening his eyes would do.

His gaze flickers down to his wrist where it's lined with beads, red and blue. Not just the classic Spider-Man red and blue, his red and blue. He turns the bracelet a little and there's lettered beads that spell out his name too, he doesn't know what to say.

You hold your wrist next to his, you have the exact same bracelet, but it's your colors and your name. "Now, we match. I impulsively bought a bracelet making kit last weekend and it just arrived last night."

Which meant that you were up with the moon fully out, bruising your fingers over making a bracelet. For him. His bracelet.

You tilt your head to the side, "Earth 928 to Miguel?"

"Don't keep your hopes up, this thing might break in a week."

"Ah, there he is."

You cross your arms over your chest, mimicking the frown that trademarks his face. "So I don't get a thank you for making you such a beautifully handcrafted gift? With beads from trees I planted and chopped down myself? Miguel, you have no manners."

It takes him a moment. Maybe two. He keeps switching between the accessory and then you, the accessory and then you. How could he think? Let alone speak right now?

"... Thank you." was all he could pathetically muster, letting his hand drop to his side as his eyes shifted around the room uncomfortably.

"You're welcome, vamps. Besides if your bracelet breaks, I ordered a shit ton of beads. Just ask, okay?" You don't say it like how you usally do, teasing and confident. It's gentle and reassuring and Miguel knows that he doesn't deserve it but he can't help but be selfish.

He gives you a curt nod and the both of you stand in silence for a few seconds before you cut in saying that brooding wasn't really your style, you leave his place once more but not the place in his mind. You will never leave the place in his mind.

Lyla pops up, above the screen of his gizmo where she coos. "You know I'd ask if they could make me one too but this kinda feels like a Miguel exclusive, don't you think?"

"Yeah," he huffs dejectedly, twiddling the beads between his fingers. His screens long discarded, enabling your role as workplace disturbance again.

"It is."

#spiderman: across the spiderverse #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara #lyla #x reader #x gn!reader #x gender neutral reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #fluff #romance #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara fanfiction

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wishuroses · 1 year

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.⠀ ݁ ⸜⸜ 𓂃 𓇼 make a wish, spider soccoro.

✶ pairings: spider x sully!reader

✶ warnings: fluff, lovesick fools, confessions, reader is a cutiepie and spider agrees wholeheartedly, you fell first he fell harder type deal, uppercase intended!

✶ word count: 854

✶ na’vi glossary: tawtute – human.

✶ a/n: i remember seeing a post asking for more spider fics, so i thought why not feed all my spider lovers out there? i’ve also been breathing down jack champions neck a lot recently (he is so fine) happy reading! :-)

“C’mon Spi, keep up!”

“Ugh. I’m trying, your legs are too long!”

The forest glowed beautifully beneath your feet with every step you took, pointed ears fluttering from the echoed sounds of chittering flora and fauna. You and Spider had fallen into the steady, yet risky rhythm of sneaking out past eclipse; disregarding the fact that your mother would skin him and then knot your tail right after if she ever caught both of you out, alone for that matter. Yet you–stubborn and hardheaded– never listened to what your mother had to say, easily blocking out her irritated hisses of frustration when you openly expressed your interest in the little tawtute.

Little did you know, that little tawtute also took interest in you. Much more than you did him, for that matter.

You giggled at his exasperated comment, looking over your shoulder and flicking your eyes downward to find that he is, indeed, struggling to catch up with you. Spider was, for a fact, small compared to your lithe 7ft frame, but if you plopped him next to the rest of the sky people, he beats at least a handful of them in the height department.

“Want me to carry you?” You asked genuinely, coming to a complete halt as you watched him trail beside you carefully. Spider scoffed at your silly question, not missing the way his heart rattled in his chest at the fact that you cared for him, looking up at you with mirth and adoration shining in his eyes. “No need for that, not yet at least. We’re here anyway.”

At his words, you craned your neck to look around, beads thudding together in a chorus at the sudden movement, a smile blooming on your face as quick as it came. The familiar stream of crystal clear water and shroud of colorful flora confirming that you both were here. Your secret spot.

“Look Spider, look!” You stretched your arm and pointed a strong finger towards the darkened sky, tracing over the rushing streak of light that ran across the horizon. “Make a wish!”

He turned his full attention to you with a furrowed brow, tilting his head. “Make a what?” Like a moth to a flame, he leaned into you, happily taking in your presence.

“A wish! It’s just.. something you really want that you don’t already have. Something you long for. Dad said it was a tawtute tradition! Make one, quickly!” Spider hummed in understanding, watching you with a lovesick expression etched on his face. His eyes traced over your wide eyes filled with astonishment, twinkling stars reflecting off adored pools of honey.

“Well..” Spider paused and licked his chapped lips, “What if it’s.. someone I long for?” His palpating heart only increased violently when you locked eyes with him, the pretty smile on your face only widening further, gasping softly at his bashful confession.

You shuffled closer to the boy, warm thighs pressed against each other. “Spider,” You cooed, proud of him for finding a person to give his heart to, “You like someone? Who, who!” You wrapped your four-fingered hand around his forearm, tugging at it with excitement. “You must tell me!” He flushed strawberry pink, dipping his chin down to shy away from the intensity of your gaze–making a pout form on your face.

“C’mon, I won’t tell! Swear it!”

Spider then looked at you with a playful grin, heart soaring like a multitude of shooting stars when you quickly reciprocated his grin. He exhaled, and with a random surge of confidence, he intertwined his hand with yours, the obvious difference in size making it quite tricky–but he made it work.

You wonder how much he needed to hype himself up to go through with going so far as to hold your hand–he’s never been this bold, up until now, at least.

You looked at your entangled hands with raised eyebrows, wide, curious eyes flickering back to stare into his softened brown ones. Spider nodded briskly, answering your wordless question with a nervous look on his face. In your eyes, he looked slightly constipated–like he was worried about what your reaction would be– and if you two weren’t tangled up in each other, you would’ve laughed at him.

But realistically, in your eyes, he was the prettiest he could ever be. You smiled, eyes forming crescent moons.

As if you two hadn’t already popped your personal space bubbles, you scooted even closer, leaning your forehead over the sleek glass of his exopack. Spider never wanted to kiss you more than he did now–to press his lips against your face, trailing down to your neck, and onto the expanse of your striped tummy, all while thumbing gentle circles into the jut of your hips. He found you so beautiful, no words could ever suffice.

“My wish..” Spider started breathlessly after a long beat of silence. Your ears flicked forward to selfishly take in his next words, watching as his pupils dilate the more he took in your appearance, eyes already so brown that if you didn’t have such good eyesight–you would’ve missed it.

“My wish is you.”

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