𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐎𝐟 𝐀 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐨
Pairing: spiderhan x afab!reader, established relationship, superhero au
Synopsis: when he's done being the hero of the city, he needs saving from the only one who can.
Warnings: fluff, suggestive but make it tooth rotting, injuries, sappy makeout sesh, comfort
a/n: I love this genre of han. I was such a spiderman girlie when I was younger so this just makes the most out of my inner fangirl 🥺 if you have extra eyes for errors, no you don't
The city hummed with life even in the dead of night. Neon signs flickered, car horns blared in the distance, and somewhere, a siren wailed—just another melody in the chaotic symphony of Seoul.
Jisung crouched on the edge of a rooftop, chest heaving as he took a moment to breathe. His suit was torn at the shoulder, a deep gash stinging against the cold night air. Blood smeared against his glove as he wiped the corner of his mouth. The mission had been rough—a bunch of amateur criminals trying to move weapons through a dockside warehouse. He took them down, but not without a fight.
He flexed his fingers, feeling the ache in his knuckles. His body screamed for rest, but his mind was already somewhere else—home. More specifically, her.
A shaky breath left his lips as he fired a web and swung into the night.
--
By the time he reached your window, his limbs felt like lead, but the second he saw the soft glow of your bedside lamp, warmth bloomed in his chest. The window was unlocked—just like always. He slipped inside, taking off his mask being careful not to make too much noise.
“Baby?” Your voice was groggy, thick with sleep, but the second your eyes landed on him, they sharpened with concern. “Oh my God, Jisung.”
You were out of bed in seconds, hands cupping his face as you took in his bruised cheek, the cut on his lip, the way his suit clung to his battered body. His lashes fluttered as he melted into your touch, a breathy chuckle escaping him.
“Hi, pretty girl.”
You huffed. “Don’t ‘hi, pretty girl’ me when you look like you got thrown into a blender.”
He grinned, eyes twinkling despite the exhaustion. “You should see the other guys.”
“Jisung,” you warned, but he just let himself collapse onto your bed with a dramatic groan, arms spread wide. “Baby, I think I’m dying.” You rolled your eyes, already moving to grab the first-aid kit from your desk. “You’re so dramatic.”
He cracked one eye open, smirking. “What if I need mouth-to-mouth?” You snorted, tossing a clean towel at his face. “Shut up and take off your suit.”
A slow grin stretched across his lips. “You tryna get me naked, sweetheart?”
You smacked his arm lightly, cheeks heating. “For medical reasons, dumbass.”
Jisung let out a laugh but did as you asked, wincing as he peeled off the upper part of his suit. Your breath hitched at the sight of him—his toned chest, the way his muscles flexed under the soft light, the angry bruises blooming across his skin. Your fingers trembled as you pressed a damp cloth against his wounds, cleaning the dried blood away. He winced as you carefully dabbed at the gash on his shoulder, your brows furrowed in concentration. He sat on the edge of your bed, suit discarded, his bruised torso illuminated by the soft glow of your bedside lamp.
"You need to be more careful," you murmured, biting your lip as you wiped away the dried blood.
Jisung gave you a lopsided grin, though fatigue dulled its usual playfulness. "Occupational hazard, babe."
You shot him a look but said nothing, focusing on applying antiseptic. He hissed at the sting, and your free hand instinctively cupped his jaw, thumb brushing soothing circles against his skin. "I know it hurts. Just a little more, okay?"
He nodded; eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into your touch. Your hands moved with gentle precision and he watched you, eyes soft, lips parted slightly. He loved this part—not the pain, not the injuries—but you. The way you touched him so gently, the way your brows knitted together in concentration. It was the same way you’d look at a math problem or a particularly hard piece of literature.
Like he was something to be studied. Understood. Loved.
His heart clenched. “Y/N?”
You hummed in acknowledgment, still focused on bandaging his shoulder.
“I love you.”
Your hands froze. Slowly, you looked up, lips parting slightly. His eyes never wavered, his face raw with exhaustion but still so undeniably his all sunshine and sincerity.
A smile broke across your face. “I love you too, you idiot.”
Jisung let out a soft breath, like he’d been waiting to hear you say it again. He reached for you then, pulling you onto his lap, careful not to jostle his wounds. His arms wrapped around you; face buried in your neck as he sighed in contentment. “Baby,” you whispered, giggling as he nuzzled closer, lips brushing your skin.
“Mm?”
“You need rest.”
“This is rest,” he mumbled, voice drowsy. “Holding you, it’s the only thing that makes me feel human again.” Your heart squeezed. God, he had you wrapped around his finger. You shifted slightly, threading your fingers through his messy hair. “You really are a sappy little thing, huh?”
He hummed, placing a lazy kiss on your collarbone. “Only for you.”
You rolled your eyes but didn’t pull away, instead leaning down to kiss his temple, his cheek, then finally, his lips—soft and slow, like the world wasn’t constantly trying to take him from you.
Jisung sighed into the kiss, his grip tightening around your waist. He tasted like exhaustion, like battle-worn love, like home. And if his kisses turned a little more desperate, if his hands traced the familiar curves of your body, if his sighs deepened into something more—neither of you were complaining.
It really was innocent lips pressing, parting, meeting again. But you felt the energy shift when his hands slipped under the hem of your shirt. His fingertips traced your skin, cautious at first, then more purposeful. A soft moan escaped your lips, and that was all it took for him to tilt his head, deepening the kiss. His mouth moved against yours in slow, deliberate strokes. The taste of him slightly salty from sweat, sweet from the mint gum he’d chewed earlier flooded your senses. Your heart hammered in your chest, matching the quiet desperation in his kisses.
“Missed you,” he murmured between kisses, voice catching on the last syllable.
You gently raked your fingers through his messy hair, nails grazing his scalp. “You’re home now, baby.” Jisung’s response was a low hum as he pressed his forehead to yours. You could see the swirl of emotion in his eyes; relief, desire, love, and a flicker of something else: the lingering rush of danger from his mission.
His kisses trailed across your jaw and down your neck. Each press of his lips was warm, reverent like he was memorizing your taste, your pulse, the way you whispered his name.
A shiver rippled through you as his mouth found a particularly sensitive spot at the base of your throat. He paused, letting his breath fan over your skin, and you felt the goosebumps rise in response.
“You okay?” he asked softly, hands now splayed across your lower back, keeping you close.
You nodded, leaning into his touch. “More than okay.”
With your silent encouragement, Jisung shifted his weight, guiding you backward until your spine met the pillows. He hovered over you, mindful of his bandaged wounds, careful not to strain or jar anything. Yet, there was an undercurrent of urgency—like he needed this closeness to remind himself that he was safe, that you were safe, that everything was okay.
Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. The kisses turned more fervent, a steady escalation that ignited the air between you. You let your hands wander down the hard lines of his back, feeling the taut muscles tense beneath your touch. Every press of your fingertips earned you a quiet groan from him.
He dipped down again, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was slow and deep, yet it felt like it was barely holding back a flood of need.
Jisung was a mess of soft sighs and quiet chuckles beneath you, his bruised body melting into your hands as you traced over his newly bandaged wounds. His skin was warm beneath your fingertips, his breath catching every time you pressed a kiss against a still-tender spot.
"You're so damn pretty," he murmured, eyes lidded with exhaustion and love. His lips chased yours, stealing quick, lazy kisses between every whispered praise.
"You say that every time."
"And I mean it every time," he countered, grinning against your mouth before giving a playful growl. His weight settled between your legs, careful and controlled, but still with that familiar boyish eagerness. You gasped as he kissed down your neck, laughter bubbling up when he deliberately nuzzled into the crook of your shoulder. "Jisung, that tickles!"
"Oops," he said, completely unapologetic, lips twitching as he kissed your collarbone again, lighter this time. His hands explored your body with a tenderness that made your heart ache.
The heat between you built naturally, slow and unhurried, full of shared breaths and teasing touches. But just as you shifted against him, eager for more, your elbow pressed just slightly against his side.
Jisung yelped. Loudly.
You both froze. Your eyes widened in horror. His mouth parted in surprise. And then pure, uncontrollable laughter. Jisung collapsed onto you, his head burying in your shoulder as his whole body shook with giggles. "Ow—oh my God—ow—"
"I'm sorry! Oh my God, I didn’t mean to!" you gasped, laughing too, even as you cupped his face in apology. He lifted his head, eyes glassy from laughter. "Babe, you almost killed me."
You pouted dramatically. "You’re literally Spider-Man. You’ll live."
Jisung let out a wheezing laugh, then playfully collapsed on top of you again. "Barely," he mumbled into your skin, making you giggle as his fingers found your waist, tickling you in revenge.
Between soft kisses and breathless giggles, your hands resumed their slow exploration, guiding each other back into that quiet, intimate rhythm. It was messy, full of whispered ow’s, poorly timed kisses, and Jisung dramatically clutching his side every time you moved too suddenly just to make you laugh.
But through it all, the love remained the way his lips lingered against yours, the way your fingers brushed through his hair, the way you both melted into each other despite the laughter still bubbling up between every touch.
By the time you were tangled up in each other, limbs intertwined and breaths slowing, Jisung pressed one last, lingering kiss to your forehead.
"Best. Mission. Debrief. Ever."
You snorted. "Shut up and sleep, hero."
His arms tightened around you, a quiet hum of agreement slipping from his lips. "Only if you promise to not assassinate me in my sleep."
You grinned, pressing a kiss to his chest, right above his heart. "No promises."
Jisung let out a dramatic groan. "I'm doomed."
Tonight, he wasn’t Spider-Man. He wasn’t a hero. He was just your Jisung. And for now, that was all he needed to be.
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