ellsblue - Tumblr blog

ellsblue · 7 days ago

Note

Ever you think about camboy!yeonjun? 🥺

just chillin'

summary: alone on a saturday night, you stumble upon a camboy's stream by pure accident. what begins as innocent curiosity spirals into an irresistible addiction, especially when he seems to notice you among the thousands. and when he reaches out to you personally... you realize that some fantasies are too tempting to leave behind.

pairing: camboy!yeonjun x fem!reader

genre: smut, strangers to lovers, slight angst (insecurity), heavy tension, slow burn turned fast, eventual public sex (streamed), slight exhibitionism.

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), camboy themes, masturbation (m and f), sexting, sextalk, blowjob, vaginal sex, multiple positions, dirty talk, slight choking, spanking, use of sex toys, praise + possessiveness, masking identities (reader wears a mask, yeonjun wears sunglasses) during public stream, emotional insecurity (reader worried about appearance), reader is implied to be inexperienced or shy, mild degradation (very soft, mostly praise kink), slight breeding kink talk, heavy mentions of viewer comments/donations.

wc: 4,6k

notes: baby, thank you so much for this amazing request, i was blushing like crazy thinking about all the ways i could handle the story, wow, not gonna lie, my favorite request ever, bae, yeonjun camboy is such a concept 😭💗

it’s saturday night, and the house is dead quiet.

your parents left earlier for some family dinner party—you had no interest in small talk with distant cousins or watching your dad argue about politics over cheap wine. your brother, predictably, is out with his girlfriend, probably halfway into some movie or already making out in his car. either way, he’s not coming home anytime soon.

you’ve got the whole house to yourself. all night.

at first, it felt nice—freedom. silence. you curled up on the couch, made popcorn, browsed netflix like it was an olympic sport. but after an hour of half-watching three different movies, nothing could hold your attention. not even the romcoms with shirtless leads.

you switched to tiktok. scrolled. scrolled more. a couple thirst traps. a couple puppies. nothing hit.

you huffed and opened your laptop, fingers drifting without purpose. maybe a gameplay stream would help pass time. something soft. chill. maybe even fall asleep to it.

you searched “streamers live now” and clicked a random site link that looked slightly sketchy.

only—it wasn’t for gaming.

the homepage was dark. black background, bright red accents. pulsing icons and neon outlines. bold letters reading “18+ only. enter responsibly.”

you blinked. hesitated. your heart kicked once in your chest.

then curiosity won.

you clicked.

the page opened with a grid of livestream thumbnails. too many skin tones. too many soft moans bleeding through overlapping audio. most thumbnails showed women—arched backs, lace underwear, fingers between thighs. the kind of content you’d only ever dared to peek at by accident.

you licked your bottom lip without realizing. eyes glued to the screen.

and then you saw him.

a stream titled “just chillin’”. the thumbnail was cropped just below the neck, showing a toned chest in a tight black tank top, arms flexed casually as he leaned back in a gamer chair. loose, light-wash jeans slung low on narrow hips, exposing a hint of red boxers.

his username: yawnzzn.

something about it made your fingers freeze.

there weren’t too many viewers inside. only a few hundred, way less than the others. maybe that was better. maybe you wouldn’t get noticed.

you clicked the stream.

your screen went black for a moment—then it loaded.

he was talking already, laughing softly, the kind of voice that scraped low and slow against your ears. the room was mostly dark, lit only by the glow of his monitor and faint neon strips behind his desk. it cast shadows across his collarbones, the slope of his shoulders.

you quickly plugged in your headphones, pulse jumping.

he leaned forward, adjusting something on the desk, and that’s when the camera caught his chin. his mouth.

his lips were plush, pink, and curved into a lazy smirk.

your whole body froze when you heard it:

“huh,” he chuckled. “who’s ‘babygrl87’?”

your username.

your dumb, randomly chosen username.

you nearly slammed your laptop shut, face burning, heart jackhammering inside your chest.

“didn’t think we had new viewers tonight.” his voice dipped lower, teasing. “you shy, babygrl?”

you didn’t answer.

his chat was wild. emojis, donations, constant messages.

“take the tank top off!” “the new girl better tip if she’s gonna stare.” “yo, yawnzzn, we want the show.”

he ignored most of them. or teased them back.

“which one should go first?” he mused aloud. “shirt or pants?”

your thighs pressed together. he wasn’t even doing anything yet, and your body was already betraying you.

then—slowly—he stood up.

his tank top hugged his body in all the right places. tight against his chest, his waist slim. he stretched, letting his arms lift overhead, showing a sliver of skin above the waistband of his jeans. the v-line below his abs? obscene.

you didn’t even realize you were holding your breath.

then he reached down, thumbs hooking into his belt loops.

“you wanna see more?” he asked, looking directly into the camera. it felt like he was looking straight at you.

“say please.”

his viewers spammed please, but you stayed quiet.

and yet—you couldn’t look away.

he unbuttoned his jeans. dragged the zipper down slow. the denim slid off his hips, falling to his ankles with a dull thud.

your breath hitched.

tight red boxers. snug. low. the bulge underneath them? impossible to ignore. thick, heavy-looking. twitching slightly under the fabric.

you pressed your thighs tighter.

he sat back down, shifting slightly, letting one leg rest wide open on either side of the chair. spread just enough to show off the outline pressing against the boxers.

“you guys are fucking filthy,” he muttered with a smirk. “but lucky for you... so am i.”

his hand dipped under the waistband.

not all the way—just enough to tease.

his fingers brushed over himself, then pulled out, gripping through the fabric, pressing against the hardness. you watched the muscles in his arm tense.

he exhaled softly. deep. like he really needed to touch himself.

you couldn’t stop staring.

his palm moved slow at first, just rubbing the base, then stroking up and down along the outside. the fabric grew darker at the tip. he was leaking already.

you bit your lip hard, your own thighs twitching.

he kept going. breathing heavier. head tilted back, exposing his throat.

“fuck, babygrl,” he groaned suddenly. your eyes widened.

did he just—

“you’re still watching, right?” he said between shallow breaths. “don’t look away. i’m doing this for you.”

he reached into his boxers, finally pulling himself out.

thick. veiny. flushed red at the tip.

he spat into his hand. started stroking—slow at first, then faster.

the slick sound of skin on skin filled your ears through the headphones.

you were hypnotized.

his moans were low and filthy, hips shifting as he fucked into his hand. his tank top bunched up higher on his chest, exposing his abs, the muscles in his thighs tensing as he got closer.

his eyes were heavy-lidded now, lips parted.

“wish i had you here,” he muttered. “wish i could see you... touching yourself too.”

you were. not even sure when your hand slipped under your shorts. but it was there now. fingers rubbing, too fast, too needy.

he got louder.

he leaned forward, panting, fisting himself hard.

“you want it?” he growled. “want me to come for you?”

you gasped. the tension snapped.

you came first.

trembling, breath caught, hand soaked.

he moaned—loud, raw—and came a second after. cum spilling over his knuckles, streaking his abs. he didn’t stop stroking until every last drop was out, breathing like he’d run a mile.

for a second, it was quiet.

only his ragged breath. and yours.

then he talked to the camera again.

“thanks for watching, babygrl.”

you slammed your laptop shut.

you never meant to stay.

at first, it was just curiosity—an accident on a saturday night, when the house was too empty and the silence wrapped too tightly around your neck. you stumbled into his stream, yawnzzn, because it was late, and you were bored, and the thumbnail showed more skin than anything you were brave enough to click before.

you should’ve closed the window. you should’ve gotten up, made tea, gone to bed.

but you didn’t.

you stayed. wide-eyed and still, staring at the boy who leaned back lazily in his gamer chair, the room bathed in the low glow of his monitor, his body relaxed, his fingers moving with casual, devastating confidence over himself.

you didn’t even know his name.

all you had was a username. a voice. a body that looked carved by hands more careful than god’s. long fingers. full pink lips. shoulders wide enough to carry the whole damn world.

you never commented. not once.

you just watched.

he noticed, somehow.

your username would blink into the list of viewers and he’d smile, low and wicked.

“looks like babygrl87’s here,” he’d tease once in a while.

the chat would explode with laughter.

"silent watcher’s back." "she's loyal but shy." "say something, girl!"

but you never did.

you stayed hidden, frozen, cheeks burning, fingers trembling at the sight of him.

and he kept performing for you anyway.

stroking himself slow in the shadows, spreading his legs wide so you could see everything, moaning under his breath, letting his pleasure spill into the microphone until it felt like he was touching you through the screen.

sometimes he'd say things like—

"bet she's watching real close..." "wish she'd tell me what she likes..." "i'll just have to guess, baby."

every time he said "baby," something deep inside you twisted.

you touched yourself to him more times than you could count. memorized every shift of his hips, every flex of his thighs, every low curse that spilled from his throat. his face stayed mostly hidden—just his mouth, his jaw, the curve of his nose—but it didn’t matter.

he had you wrapped around his finger without ever seeing his whole face.

until tonight.

the notification buzzed on your phone and you didn’t hesitate. you flung your laptop open and clicked into his stream before your fingers could even register it.

live now: yawnzzn — "friday chill."

it was late. almost midnight. but it was friday, and you could stay up all you wanted.

the stream loaded—and immediately your breath caught.

yeonjun was different tonight.

he wore a black hoodie, the hood pulled up to shadow most of his face. only the sharp line of his jaw, the tempting curve of his lips, and the glint of an earring peeked out.

his posture was lazier than usual, sprawled low in his chair, legs spread wide.

and—

only two viewers.

just you. and someone who quickly left.

you were alone with him.

your heart pounded so loud you barely heard him speak at first.

“well, look who it is.” he smiled, a little softer this time. “thought you’d come."

you swallowed hard.

he leaned closer to the camera, tapping his fingers on the desk.

“guess it’s just you and me tonight, babygrl.”

your hands shook.

for the first time, you typed something.

hi.

the word looked tiny in the chatbox. pitiful. but yeonjun froze when he saw it.

his mouth parted.

then—

he laughed.

god, the sound was warm. real. his whole body tilted a little, like he couldn’t believe it.

“no way,” he said, eyes shining. “you’re real. you actually talk.”

you bit your lip so hard it hurt.

he grinned wider, teeth sinking into his bottom lip for a second. he looked—happy. excited. like you just made his whole night.

"fuck, i should do something special for you," he mused. "loyal watcher deserves a reward."

you hesitated. then, shaky fingers flying across the keys, you typed:

can i see your face?

for a second, the world stopped.

he leaned back, tapping his chin, pretending to think. then he smirked, eyes glinting under the hood.

"only because it’s you," he said, voice low. "only because you’ve been good."

he reached up, gripping the hood—and slowly pushed it back.

you forgot how to breathe.

he was beautiful.

no. beyond beautiful.

his face was unfair.

sharp, slanted cat-like eyes, framed by thick lashes, glinting dark and dangerous under the soft light. a high nose bridge, cheekbones cut clean enough to bleed on. his mouth, god, that sinful mouth—full and pink, curled into a smirk that promised ruin.

he was the kind of beautiful that wasn’t supposed to be real.

the kind that hurt to look at.

your stomach flipped violently. your whole body flushed hot.

he tilted his head, messy dark hair falling into his eyes, and smiled.

"what do you think, baby?" he teased. "worth the wait?"

you couldn’t even type.

he chuckled, low and raspy.

“i’ll take that silence as a yes.”

he leaned in closer, so close the camera almost fogged.

"don’t disappear on me now," he whispered. "you’re mine tonight."

and you knew—deep in your bones—you’d never escape him.

not now.

not ever.

you should’ve closed the laptop.

you should’ve logged off the moment he smiled at you like that—dangerous and sweet, like he already knew what you tasted like.

but you stayed. frozen in your seat, trembling, helpless.

yeonjun leaned back, dragging his palm down his chest, over his stomach, slow enough to make you whimper.

"you know," he said, voice dropping, "i've been saving something… just for you."

he reached under the desk and pulled out something unexpected—not just a toy, but a miniature torso made of soft, rosy pink silicone, barely the size of his hands.

it was shaped like a woman’s lower half, smooth thighs tapering into the curve of hips, and right between them, the detailed, glistening folds of a pussy. obscene. delicate.

lewd in a way that made your stomach twist. the soft rubber glinted under the light as he turned it in his hand, spreading lube over it like he was preparing you instead.

a thick stream of it spilled out—over his hand, over the soft pink opening of the toy, dripping lewdly.

your breath caught.

he grinned lazily at your silence, clearly enjoying the way you were glued to the screen.

"thought about using it a couple times," he murmured. "but it didn’t feel right without you here."

your thighs pressed together, trying uselessly to ease the heavy, aching heat between them.

your mouth went dry.

he groaned under his breath, squeezing some over his own cock. it was already hard, thick and flushed red at the tip, veiny and heavy between his thighs.

your whole body clenched at the sight of it.

yeonjun caught the way you froze.

he chuckled, low and warm.

"you like watching, don’t you?" he teased, voice velvet-soft. "such a dirty little thing, just sitting there all quiet for me."

you couldn’t even type back. your hands were gripping the edge of the desk, knuckles white.

he slicked himself up slowly, deliberately, hissing as his fingers wrapped around the base.

then he grabbed the toy.

"gonna pretend it’s you," he said, smiling in that way that made your head spin. "gonna fuck you so good, baby."

he eased the tip of his cock into the toy, slow, teasing.

the lube made everything shine under the dim light, making it look so wet, so messy.

a broken moan left his mouth as he pushed deeper.

"fuck..." he whispered, hips twitching. "you'd feel so fucking good around me."

he started moving, thrusting lazily into the toy, one hand gripping it tight, the other braced against his thigh. his head dropped back, lashes fluttering, mouth parting on soft, desperate sounds.

your name fell from his lips like a prayer.

"babygrl," he moaned, hips stuttering. "wish you were here... wish you’d let me hear you."

you pressed your thighs together harder, trembling, burning with need.

he moved faster now, fucking the toy like it was real—like it was you.

the wet sounds were filthy. obscene. echoing through your headphones like he was right there in the room with you.

"bet you’d be so tight," he panted, thrusting harder. "all hot and wet for me… fuck, i’d ruin you."

he gripped the toy tighter, biting down on a groan.

you watched every second—hypnotized, devastated.

watched his hips buck, watched the muscles in his arms flex, watched the way his stomach tensed up when he got close.

he didn’t look away from the camera once.

he fucked that toy like he was making love to you.

slow, deep, passionate.

like you were the only thing he ever wanted.

your chest heaved with every breath, nipples aching, panties soaked beyond salvation.

and when he finally shuddered, spilling hot and thick into the toy, moaning your username again in that wrecked, desperate voice—

you knew you were already ruined.

he slumped back in his chair, panting, hair a mess, lips swollen and wet from how hard he’d been biting them.

and then—

he smiled at you. soft. sweet. devastating.

"thanks for staying with me, baby," he whispered.

the screen went dark a few seconds later, leaving you staring at your own reflection, wrecked and trembling.

alone.

but never lonely again.

you hadn’t gone back.

not because you didn’t want to.

god—you did. more than anything.

but it was too much now.

something had shifted in you after that night. after watching him fuck that toy like it was yours—moaning your username like it was sacred, like he needed you to breathe.

you couldn't stop thinking about it.

the way his hand moved. the way his voice cracked when he came. the way he smiled right before the screen went black.

he ruined you, and he didn’t even know it.

you tried to forget him. muted the notifications. ignored the replays. avoided even opening the app, like a coward. like a girl who couldn’t trust herself not to break down and need again.

because now when you thought about him, it wasn’t just lust—it was hunger.

two weeks passed.

you didn’t watch a single live.

but you did think about him. in the shower. in your bed. in the quiet moments when no one was around. and every time, you pressed your thighs together and tried to chase the ghost of his voice in your head.

you thought you were safe. that this distance would protect you.

until the dm.

at first, you didn’t believe it. you were half-asleep, phone in hand, thumb swiping lazily through random memes—until the little red dot appeared in your inbox.

no one ever messaged you. even though you were kind of known in his chat, everyone respected the line. no dms. no creepiness. everything stayed inside the stream.

but this—this was different.

you opened it slowly, heart thudding.

yawnzzn [11:32 PM]: been kinda sad u haven’t joined the lives lately :( miss seeing ur name pop up every night.

your heart stopped.

it was him.

he messaged you first.

and now everything inside you was heat and panic and that same damn ache he always left behind.

you stared at the screen, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, your whole body on fire from just one line.

he missed you.

he noticed you.

and worst of all—he cared.

you stared at the screen for what felt like an hour.

your thumb hovered over the keyboard, mind racing, heart hammering. he’d messaged you. yeonjun—yawnzzn. the boy you’d been secretly watching for months, who moaned your username like a lover, who made you cum more times than you could admit.

and now he was in your inbox. waiting.

you breathed in, deep and shaky. then finally, you typed. slowly. carefully.

you [11:46 PM]: i’m sorry i disappeared… i’ve just been feeling a little overwhelmed lately.

your chest felt tight when you hit send.

you almost didn’t expect him to answer right away—but less than a minute later, the typing bubble popped up.

yawnzzn [11:47 PM]: overwhelmed? like… because of me?

your face burned.

fuck.

you should’ve lied.

but maybe it was the way he asked it—gentle, teasing, soft.

you hesitated for a second, then typed again. a little braver.

you [11:49 PM]: yeah. i think watching you became… a little too much for me.

you hit send before you could regret it.

then added one more line.

you [11:49 PM]: you make me feel things i don’t know how to deal with.

there was a long pause.

long enough to make your stomach twist. long enough for you to want to unsend everything and run.

but then:

yawnzzn [11:53 PM]: …fuck. that’s probably the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me.

your breath hitched.

yawnzzn [11:54 PM]: i thought maybe i was imagining it. the way you looked at me. how you never talked but always stayed until the end. i always felt like… you were watching differently.

you swallowed hard, heart in your throat.

yawnzzn [11:54 PM]: can i ask what it is exactly i make you feel?

his words lingered on your screen, sweet and dangerous.

you could lie.

or you could tell the truth, even if it made your skin burn and your thighs clench and your whole body betray you.

you told him.

typed it all out, trembling fingers and flushed skin—how much he turned you on. how just watching him made you ache. how you’d touched yourself to the sound of his voice so many times it scared you.

he didn’t tease you.

he just replied:

yawnzzn [12:02 AM]: you don’t know how long i’ve wanted to hear that from you.

the next night, he asked if he could call you. just for a second. just to hear your voice.

you hesitated. but then said yes.

the screen lit up with his face—hoodie on, smile soft, and it was dark in his room.

you couldn’t show your face right away.

your camera stayed off while you whispered hello.

you expected him to sound different. more confident. more teasing.

but he didn’t.

he sounded gentle. nervous. warm.

“can i see you?” he asked softly. “just a glimpse?”

your heart pounded as you turned your camera on. you were in a hoodie. no makeup. hair a mess. you hated the way your stomach twisted.

but he smiled.

really smiled.

“wow,” he whispered. “you’re… so much prettier than anything i ever imagined.”

you only lasted five minutes before you panicked and hung up, stammering out an apology.

he didn’t push you.

he just texted:

yawnzzn [12:28 AM]: you looked beautiful. thank you for letting me see you.

the days after that were soft. messy. hot.

late-night texting turned into slow, sticky sexting.

he’d ask if you were touching yourself. you’d ask what he was wearing. sometimes, he’d send you voice notes, low and breathy, moaning your username until you were whimpering into your pillow.

eventually, he asked to see you again. in person this time.

you said yes.

but something about it scared you—the way your heart twisted at the idea of being real to him. what if you weren’t enough?

and then, the idea.

he texted you in the middle of the night:

yawnzzn [1:03 AM]: what if we did a stream together? i could blur your face. or you could wear a mask. sunglasses. anything. i just want them to see that i’m finally fucking the one person i actually wanted.

your heart stopped.

you said no, at first. embarrassed. shy. it felt too raw, too exposing.

but that night, in the dark, with your hand between your thighs and his voice playing in your head, you imagined it.

imagined being on his lap. riding him in front of the same camera that once made you weak. imagined hearing him moan your name into your neck while the whole world watched.

you texted him at 2:11 AM.

you [2:11 AM]: i’ll do it. but only if i wear a mask.

his room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of his monitor and a red led strip that cast everything in that deep, sinful color. your silhouette, perched on your knees between his thighs, looked unreal—masked, trembling, mouth parted in anticipation. he was already hard, the thick outline of his cock pressing against his grey sweats, and the stream had barely started.

yeonjun leaned back in his chair, lazy smirk on his lips as he brushed a thumb across your cheekbone.

“they’ve been begging for this,” he murmured low, his mic catching every syllable. “but they don’t get you. i do.”

your fingers tugged at the waistband of his sweats, dragging them down with teasing slowness. the chat was explodingalready—hearts, donation pings, horny messages flying too fast to read.

his cock sprang free, hard and flushed and leaking, and you didn’t waste time—your lips wrapped around the head while he hissed through clenched teeth.

“fuck—yes, baby. just like that,” he moaned, voice rough and trembling.

you bobbed your head slowly at first, tongue circling the tip, making sure to be loud about it—each wet suck and messy slurp caught by the mic, echoing through the stream like the soundtrack to a dream. he groaned and held your hair back, letting everyone see the way your lips stretched around his cock, eyes glossy behind the lace mask.

“look at her,” he murmured, gaze flicking to the camera. “taking it so good, like a perfect little slut. you’re so fucking pretty like this, baby.”

you moaned around him, the vibration making his thighs twitch. spit dripped down your chin as you took him deeper, and he let out a breathless chuckle.

“they wish they were me,” he said, licking his lips. “but only i get to feel this mouth. only i get to fuck it raw.”

you choked a little when he gently thrust into your throat, but you didn’t stop—you loved it. you loved knowing thousands were watching you drool and gag around him, craving something they could never have.

he pulled you up by your arms, lips crashing onto yours in a messy kiss. his cock was wet between your bodies, twitching, desperate.

“get on my lap,” he growled, voice thick with need.

you straddled him, one hand guiding him to your entrance as you slowly, so slowly, sank down.

the stretch was unreal, every inch of him filling you up, and you both moaned into each other’s mouths.

“oh my god,” you gasped, hips rolling instinctively.

he grunted. “fuck, baby… fuck, you’re tight—been dreaming about this cunt since the first time i saw your name in my chat.”

your hands clung to his shoulders, bouncing gently on his cock as he held your waist and thrust up, hard and deep.

“yeah? you like showing them what they can’t touch?” he panted. “you like knowing they’re all jerking off to you being mine?”

you nodded, dazed, flushed all over.

“say it,” he growled, slapping your ass.

“i’m yours,” you whimpered. “all yours, yeonjun…”

“that’s fucking right.”

he adjusted the camera angle, making sure it caught your pussy swallowing his cock over and over as you rode him in a rhythm that made your thighs shake.

“fuck, baby, i can see how wet you are,” he groaned. “dripping down my balls—look at this mess. they’re fucking jealous, huh?”

you moaned loud, thighs burning, your mask slipping slightly but you didn’t care—you were too far gone.

he dragged you up, twisted your body so your back was against his chest, legs spread wide as he pistoned up into you.

your head dropped back onto his shoulder, a string of helpless cries leaving your lips.

he reached down, thumb circling your clit fast and tight.

“you gonna cum like this?” he panted in your ear. “with all of them watching? gonna cream on my cock while the world sees who really owns this little pussy?”

your body jerked, climax rushing over you in a tidal wave of heat and noise, clenching hard around him as he grunted and chased his own.

then he flipped you over onto the desk, bending you forward, ass up for the camera.

“still not done,” he murmured, slipping back in. “they’re gonna watch me fill you up.”

he fucked you hard, fast, raw. each thrust loud and wet, your body shaking, hands gripping the edge of the desk.

“so tight, baby—gonna cum so deep—gonna knock you the fuck up on stream, yeah?”

“yes, yes, please—cum in me, yeonjun—fuck, i want it—”

he groaned, shuddering, cock pulsing deep inside as he came, buried to the hilt.

and right before he reached over to end the stream, he leaned in, kissing your masked cheek.

“mine,” he whispered.

then the screen went black.

but your moans still echoed in the dark.

1K notes · View notes

ellsblue · 9 days ago

Text

Closer To You

*pairing: frat boy Spiderman Jake x student Girl

*trope: she fell first, he fell harder

*synopsis: Jake Sim isn't just the sexy next-door neighbor, the captain of the varsity soccer team, and the older brother of your best friend. He’s also the guy who broke your heart at fifteen… and has enjoyed teasing you whenever he can ever since. Too bad that now you live in the same building, you attend the same course, you share the same project at the university and that every cheeky joke, every golden look to hold back every damn random touch makes your knees tremble. Jake has a secret though..one big one, one about cobwebs, nights in red overalls and mysterious bruises appearing out of nowhere and you have a problem: you're still in love with the guy you swear you hate.

*tags: fluffy, clingy Jake, he's obsessed with the protagonist, secret, at first the protagonist finds it annoying, they like each other but are afraid to admit it, Jake loves physical contact, kisses, masturbation (F.M) unprotected sex (don't horny ppl) vulnerability, Jake cries and also the protagonist, they are truly in love, presence of a scene where there is blood, cure, pet names (baby, wren) (jakey) double personalities, +18

You thought, deep down, that it would be a summer just like all the others: the kind that began with suitcases packed to the brim, ready to head to the airport and fly to the Sims’ beach house on the Gold Coast, the ocean breeze rushing in through the car windows, a smile plastered on your face as you drove along the Australian coastline to reach the Sims’ place just like every year. Every summer was like that, a kind of ritual that for over ten years had given you memories of endless, beautiful days, and every time you returned, it felt like coming home. The Gold Coast was a breath of fresh air compared to the hectic life back in Sydney. You and Mia, your best friend since your very first year of elementary school had grown up side by side: shared lunches in the cafeteria, losing your baby teeth almost in sync, school trips to see kangaroos or sailing out on boats, swapping those long, colorful sugary candies and the twisted strips you refused to share with anyone else. Sticky fingers full of sugar were always part of the deal. Then came middle school: longer afternoons, your first movie dates, your first nights out biking through Sydney neighborhoods, hamburgers eaten while watching the ocean waves, an endless stream of photos taken with Retrica only to be posted on Instagram with captions stolen from Tumblr. And then… boys. First crushes, whispered secrets under the stars about who was the cutest guy at school. And among all of them, there was one who never really left your mind: Jake Sim. Mia’s brother. The first time you saw him was at their house: chubby cheeks, crooked buck teeth, and a tacky haircut for a seven-year-old but there was already something about him that seemed to shine. From that moment on, Jake was always there, like an unwritten constant of the universe. He showed up in every photo from the beach or the amusement park, in every story Mia told you about how smart he was at school, how good he was at sports, how popular he was with friends, or how reckless he could be. And with the years came his reputation as a heartbreaker. Love letters slipped into his locker by girls, eyes following him during soccer matches as if the golden boy was destined to become team captain. What made you frown most was that he seemed to excel at everything, especially in science and math, as if a scientist or mathematician lived inside him. On top of that, he could play almost any instrument you put in his hands: from guitar (easy for him, though not for you!) to piano, even violin. Compliments seemed to follow him everywhere, along with stolen smiles and laughter.

Everyone wanted him, and you… Deep down, you weren’t any different. But he was your best friend’s brother, and you would never risk fighting with her over a boy. That was reason enough to hold yourself back. So you watched him from afar, saying nothing, just observing as he grew more handsome with each passing day and more unbearable, too and him? He seemed to know it. Maybe that’s why he tormented you from morning till night, with that infuriating way he had of hovering around you. He teased you, made fun of you, hid your phone, called you ridiculous nicknames in front of everyone (“shrimp,” “little girl”…). He was a serious threat to your sanity, and yet, beneath all that annoyance, there was attention. At least Jake noticed you, and for you… that was enough. Deep down, you knew you were nothing more than the loving little sister’s best friend to him—someone he would never look at differently. But maybe what you didn’t know was that Jake loved to tease you and demand your attention because, secretly, he had always liked you. He hid your bikini. He sprayed you with freezing water from the beach shower just when you were about to relax in the sun. He snatched the book out of your hands while you were reading, holding it hostage until you “gave him a smile.” He mocked everything: your heart-shaped sunglasses, your tinted lip balm, the fact that you wouldn’t dive into the water at night with the others.

The summer you turned fifteen, when Jake was seventeen, everything between you changed. You thought it was just adolescence one of those delicate phases every teenager goes through. You told yourself it was normal that he came home late at night, slammed doors, locked himself in his room without a word, stopped eating with you, hid behind his headphones, made endless calls with friends, or played online matches where he cursed under his breath. From the very beginning of that summer, Jake had grown grumpier, distant, disconnected from the world. And you, who had known him for more than ten years, had never seen him like that, especially not with you. Jake had always been lively, sarcastic, and loud, both on his own and with his friends. He was the type to talk to Layla, his golden retriever, in a cartoon voice, to sneak into the kitchen at midnight to make toast and bring it up to your room, to tease you about your obsession with braiding your hair, or about how you added ginger to your tea. He was the guy who stayed up until two a.m. watching documentaries about ancient Egypt especially mummies—and then couldn’t sleep, who brought comic books to the beach, who fell asleep in his pajamas in front of the TV before anyone else, who gave you his gray hoodie the night it started to rain while you were walking home alone, who told you stories about what he wanted to be “when he grew up.” But then that summer… he vanished. Not literally, he was still there, in the same house, the same rooms. But it was as if he’d been taken over by two different versions of himself:

Some days he was completely absent; other days he sat in the sun with you all as if nothing had happened, as if everything was still fine. And then… he disappeared again. It was as if Jake had created a loop to survive: cold and distant for days, then suddenly warm and friendly but you noticed the way he looked at you had changed. As if you were becoming something invisible, or maybe something dangerous, and you had started to lose your grip, what had you done wrong? Why wouldn’t he talk to you? Where had the boy gone who teased you about pouting, who pushed you into the pool just to laugh at your screams, who complained that you always stole the blanket on the couch? Where was the Jake who had made you fall for him before you even knew what love meant? The Jake who laughed until he coughed, who smeared shaving cream on his face like a mask just to make you laugh, who talked to his golden retriever as if she were a spoiled princess?

That evening, you saw him sitting high on a small dune, staring out at the ocean with Layla curled up beside him, as always. Layla seemed like the only one who truly understood him, maybe because she was faithful, silent, and asked no questions. You pulled his hoodie tighter around you and felt inside the front pocket the fizzy candy he loved to share with his friends and with you. With your heart beating harder each day for that boy, and with the hope of finding a fragment of the old Jake, you walked over and sat down beside him. The ocean breeze tangled your hair as you broke the candy in two. “I bet this one will cheer you up: it’s the new fruity mix edition, a little sour but fizzy on the tongue, just the way you like it…” You said with a smile. But he didn’t move, didn’t even look at you. You lowered your eyes—it was strange for Jake not to notice you. The silence was painfully awkward, especially for you, the more introverted of the two. Even Layla looked at you, as if to say she didn’t understand what was happening to the boy she was leaning against. Timidly, you brushed his arm with your fingers. Jake flinched, as if your touch had burned him, then stood up and towered over you. When he spoke, his voice was pure venom and you had never heard him speak to you that way before: “Stop acting like you mean something to me.” He looked at you as though you were the last person in the world he wanted to see, and your heart broke in silence. “You’re just my sister’s best friend, that’s all you are… God, you’re always there, always everywhere I turn at tutoring, in my house, at school, at every single one of my friends’ parties, every damn family dinner, and even at my games. It’s like you think you have the right to stick around me all the time.” His words cut through you like knives, making you feel so small and wrong that all you wanted was to run away and wake up from the nightmare. But Jake kept going: “You know what you are? An annoying shadow. You’re not special, you’re not interesting, and stop trying to get my attention because I don’t like you, Y/N. And stop looking at me like I’m something good, because I’m not.” You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out. You watched him walk away, leaving you there with the candy still in your hand, melted, sticky, useless. The tears came slowly at first, then faster, streaming down your cheeks in silence. You never turned to look at him again, and you certainly didn’t chase after him to ask why he had said such cruel things. But deep inside, you swore that no boy would ever make you feel that way again… especially not Jake Sim.

The years went by, and even though you tried to erase that night, that dune, that candy, that sentence that still pricked at you like a needle under your skin, Jake Sim’s presence never disappeared. He never once apologized for those words that haunted you every time you wanted to hurt yourself reminding you how cruel he had been. Like a scar you stop touching but that never fades, his words never left your mind. You were sixteen when he graduated—top grades, fake smiles, surrounded by girls taking pictures with him, kissing his cheeks in gratitude, some of them knowing they would never see him again because they were leaving for other cities or even abroad. When he announced he would take a gap year to work as a volunteer on farms in the Australian outback, you almost laughed it seemed like a joke. You couldn’t imagine Jake… with cows and dust. But he did it. Or maybe he left home for a year just to figure himself out—not only fighting with who he was inside, but also with the poison he carried, the one that pushed him toward you while fear kept him away. While he was gone, you finished high school with Mia, and together you made the decision you had promised each other as kids: to live together during university in Sydney. Far from everything and everyone—or almost everyone. Because, of course, your loving but overprotective parents agreed to the plan… with one condition. “An apartment for the two of you is fine, since you’ve been friends for more than ten years,” your father said, “but it has to be in the same building as Jake’s. That way, if anything happens, he can step in.” At first, you thought it was a rational idea, the kind of mature decision responsible adults made. But for you, it was a nightmare. The building where Jake lived wasn’t very big not even tall. Just a four-story red-brick place near the metro, fifteen minutes from campus. And Jake didn’t live there alone. He shared it with all his closest friends.

- On the first floor: Jungwon and Sunoo. - On the second floor: Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon the 02 trio. - On the third floor: you and Mia the only girls in the building. - On the fourth floor: Heeseung and Riki.

As if that weren’t enough, you and Jake ended up in the same university building. Different majors, of course you had chosen Economics and Marketing, while he was studying Advanced Mathematics, with only about thirty people in each year. And by some cruel twist of fate, there was one class you had to share: Statistics. A nightmare of compulsory credits, twice a week. Too much for your heart to handle, seeing him so close. Because Jake Sim had become a full-time problem. His hair was perfectly fluffy, the kind of effortless mess that looked like it had been styled by a professional every morning, though it was just genetics. His eyes were warm and dark, but when they landed on you, they were dangerous capable of melting half the female population. He had that boy-next-door smile, always with a streak of cockiness hiding behind it. And his hands big, strong, veined, heavy with silver rings slammed against the desk every time he wrote. And you hated him. You hated him because he was beautiful. You hated him because he ignored you on some days and then looked at you as if he remembered how much he’d hurt you. You hated him because girls followed him everywhere. You hated him because he didn’t seem like the boy who had once broken you. This was the Jake Sim who had learned to love himself again. The Jake who had returned to being the boy you had once fallen for and you… You had sworn to yourself you would never fall again but every time you heard him laugh in the hallway, every time you saw him coming down the stairs in soccer shorts, a half-open water bottle in hand, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder, and that small tattoo in memory of Layla and your heart beat just like it did back then.

You were sitting exactly where you wanted to be that day in class: not close enough to the front to look like the perfect model student, but not so far in the back that it seemed like you didn’t care. You were right in no-man's land, otherwise known as “the unwanted socialization danger zone.”

Your laptop was open on Pinterest, your fingers tapping lightly on the keys just to fake productivity, while the course slides for Statistics I sat on the left side of the screen slides that already made your skin crawl. Because you, a Communication and Marketing student obsessed with branding, pH-balanced skincare, and the color palettes of Jacquemus’ latest campaigns, were forced to endure 120 minutes of logistic regression and standard deviation and thenalmost as if your body and mind had sensed it, you saw him walk into the lecture hall.

Jake: Wearing an oversized navy hoodie, baggy jeans that looked casually thrown on yet somehow fit like they were custom-made, and that damn smirk that screamed: “I just woke up, but I could emotionally destroy you in under two minutes.”

His hair was thick, fluffy, still slightly mussed from too many hours of sleep, and when he casually ran his fingers through it, you swallowed hard. In your head, you thought: No, no, no, Y/N. Don’t look. Ignore him. Pretend he doesn’t exist. So you dropped your gaze back to your laptop, opening a random file to look busy anything but looking at how unfairly handsome and infuriating Jake Sim was but then you heard the squeak of a chair being pulled out and felt a rush of warm, clean scent, sandalwood and citrus wash over you.

“Good morning, shrimp.”

The nickname he had used since you were kids slipped out of Jake’s mouth, and immediately, you remembered the very first time he said it. You must have been six, wearing a purple tracksuit with lime green pants (a hideous outfit) and your usual messy braids, missing baby teeth and all. From that day on, he never stopped calling you that. You didn’t answer. You didn’t even look at him. You wanted..no, needed to ignore him with every ounce of strength you had. But Jake Sim didn’t accept indifference, and you knew it. So, he did what he always did when he wanted your attention.

He tugged gently on one of your braids. You whipped around, lips pressed tight, eyes sparking like Thor on a bad day.

“If you pull one of my braids again, I swear I’ll stab a pencil in your eye.” He chuckled, and you hated yourself a little for the way something fluttered in your stomach at the sound of his laugh the sight of those perfect dimples etched into his golden skin as if designed by some obsessive artist.

“Fate, shrimp. It always keeps us together. What can we do?” he teased.

“Poor me. My sanity’s been at risk since I was little, thanks to you,” you muttered, jaw tight. He leaned back in his chair, stretching, running his hand through his hair again. His hoodie lifted just enough for you to catch a glimpse you didn’t mean to look at… or maybe you did. Sun-kissed skin, the color of honey from the end-of-summer tan… and just above his hipbone, a dark purple bruise. Small, fresh, but unmistakable. Your eyes lingered a second too long, and Jake noticed.

“What happened to you?” you asked as he slowly tugged his hoodie back down, then turned to look at you.

“So now the shrimp, my sister’s best friend, no less, cares about me?” he said with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes. “No.” You sighed. “I was just asking a simple question, Jake. Did you get hurt playing soccer?” Jake shrugged slightly, tilting his head.

“Could be that… Or maybe… I saved a damsel in distress from a pack of psychos. Who knows?” His grin widened. You stared at him, unsettled. Jake wasn’t the type to throw out random nonsense. He didn’t tell meaningless lies, didn’t stage little acts. If he said something, there was usually a reason behind it and yet the words “damsel” and “pack of psychos” lodged themselves in your brain.

It sounded like a joke but something in your body shivered, as if it knew a truth your mind was trying to ignore and that’s when he came back to mind.

Spider-Man.

That bizarre guy who had been appearing in viral TikTok and Instagram videos for at least four years. Always masked, always stopping robberies, thefts, high-speed chases. Most of the time, saving kids or women. Sometimes leaping across rooftops. The shaky phone videos of him always went viral. Other times, he simply disappeared into buildings to avoid capture. Everyone had an opinion about him: some said he was insane, others believed he was a real superhero, and others thought he was just a very committed troll. The problem was this guy had powers nobody could explain.

Especially not your father: the head of Sydney’s police department. For him, Spider-Man was nothing but a pain in the ass. “Spider-Man” ruined everything: he arrived before the police, saved everyone, knocked out the criminals… and then vanished, leaving nothing but paperwork behind. Your dad hated him, called him “that idiot in pajamas.”

But you? You couldn’t stop following the updates. Watching the videos, reading the theories, listening to the interviews of people who’d seen him. And, honestly, a part of you admired him. Deep down, you wanted to know who was behind that mask. But Jake? Jake Sim? The team captain with golden hands and a cocky grin? Impossible. Jake wasn’t Spider-Man he was just… Jake and yet, your thoughts were cut short by the snap of fingers right in front of your face.

Jake was watching you, hand raised, his expression amused. “Caught you staring. Mesmerized by all this beauty, huh?” You scoffed. “I was just wondering how big one person’s ego could be. Yours beats everyone else’s.”

He laughed softly, those cursed dimples appearing again, and you regretted not having a pillow or better yet, your Statistics textbook to throw at his face.

And you thought: No, Jake Sim wasn’t Spider-Man. He didn’t have superpowers. He was just… my super problem. Jake had been sitting in the statistics lecture for over an hour, his leg bouncing restlessly against the floor, his eyes far more fixed on you than on the whiteboard. Statistics was torture on its own. But statistics with you sitting beside him with your scent, your loose hair, those soft little braids framing your face? That was divine punishment.

Jake had never been one to sit still. Even as a kid, he was the first to jump off cliffs, climb trees, and defy gravity on a skateboard. But ever since the bite had sunk into his blood? His body had become a weapon in constant alert. Every fiber of him was tight, every muscle ready to react and right next to him, you were his quiet obsession. You had been for years.

Sure, he’d always thought you were cute. But then you got your braces off. Your hair grew longer. Your curves started showing a little too much in fitted shirts or swimsuits. You stopped acting like a little girl and began, piece by piece, to grow into a woman and that’s when you became his undoing. He couldn’t stop thinking about you. Couldn’t stop wanting to know where you were, what you were doing. He glanced sideways at you like he always did when he thought you weren’t looking. He watched your hair fall over your shoulders, slightly wavy, two braids framing your face. The scent of chamomile and honey drifted to him, and with it… Something inside Jake stirred.

The spider. Or his alien side, as he called it...because let’s be real, not everyone got bitten by a damn spider at seventeen. That was the part of him always in motion, always on edge. The part that made him react before his brain even decided and it was that spider inside him that whispered thoughts he shouldn’t be having about you. How badly he wanted to run your braids through his fingers, tug them just to tease you. How badly he wanted to press his lips against your ear, to hear that small, shy sound you’d make. How badly he wanted to pull you onto his lap, your legs straddling him while he explained some random equation, just so he could murmur: “You need me, shrimp.”

And every time you bit your lip because you didn’t understand a graph, every time you flushed because he teased you, Jake felt less human and more animal and it wasn’t supposed to be like this. He had to stay away from you. He’d decided that summer, at seventeen, when the bite had changed him. You had found him in the backyard, eyes glassy, staring into nothing. He regretted every word he’d said to you that night—he’d told you to leave, he’d hurt you. Then he heard you crying in Mia’s room, and he hated himself for every tear he’d caused but over the years… you had built a wall. And Jake hated himself even more, because you were further away than ever and yet, fate was a stubborn bastard.

Every time Jake tried to let you go, you came back, in the hallways, at parties, in class Always you and always too close for his liking.

The professor got up from the podium to say something, but Jake had been ignoring him for at least twenty minutes. Still, his ears caught the words that mattered most: "For the final project, pairs will be made of students sitting next to each other. You’ll work together from October to December, and I don’t want any pouting or complaints. You’re all grown and vaccinated, so I expect good work from everyone whether in groups or pairs."

There was a moment of silence in the classroom. Then Jake grinned that grin, the one that said, “This is my chance.” He immediately turned to you, leaning in slightly, like a predator approaching its favorite prey, and whispered in your ear:

"Perfect, shrimp. From today on… we’re study partners too." He looked straight into your eyes, waiting for your reaction. Your gaze was pure venom first aimed at the professor, then shifting to him. You sighed.

"What did I do in a past life to deserve this?"

Jake smiled, leaning back in his chair with his usual fake nonchalance but inside… the spider was celebrating. Now he had a legitimate reason to be close to you, to invade your space and you, even if you wouldn’t admit it weren’t immune. You could see him, feel him… and even if you tried to push him away, fate was always lurking around the corner, determined to keep you two together.

The top-floor apartment was buzzing with noise and music (Jay, Sunghoon, and Jake), all born in 2002, knew how to throw a party worthy of Sydney's student scene. The rooftop terrace glowed with warm lights, blasting 80s hits like "Cherry Cherry Lady " by Modern Talking, while the scent of burnt marshmallows added a cinematic touch to the night.

Overlooking the Parramatta River, the terrace offered a view of the moon shimmering on the water. You stepped outside with Mia, fingers playing with the hem of your black sequin skirt as the sea breeze tousled your hair, making your two side braids dance lightly over your bare shoulders. Your black boots gave you height, and your tight retro crop top hugged your figure almost too perfectly to be accidental. Jake noticed you instantly; you felt his gaze before you even saw him. His eyes slowly roamed up from your calves to your thighs, lingering a moment too long on your hips before meeting your eyes, as if he could read your mind.

The group of seven was gathered around a small rooftop fire pit, laughing as marshmallows melted in the flames. A few tipsy girls tried catching the boys’ attention, but Jake wasn’t interested his eyes were only on you. He leaned forward slightly, lazily parting his long legs, and gave a subtle nod first to his sister, then to you as if saying, “Come join us.”

You and Mia walked over, and Jake immediately wrapped his arms around his sister with the same affectionate, slightly possessive way he always had.

"Hey, little sis." He kissed her forehead, and you glanced at him sideways, torn between smiling at the sweet gesture and wanting to slap him for being so effortlessly charming when he was genuine like that.

"God, you're clingy. You need a girlfriend who’s as obsessed with physical touch as you are," Mia said, trying to pull away. But truthfully, neither of them was shy about affection; you still weren’t sure which of the two was more obsessed with it. Jake gave her a dramatic pout, and the group burst into laughter. You scanned the circle: Jay, Sunghoon, Heeseung, Jungwon, Sunoo, Riki, and Jake the whole squad. Close friends, each with their personality, yet somehow they moved like one seamless unit.

Sunoo immediately made space for Mia beside him, and you bit the inside of your cheek; there were no spots left. Jay stood up and gave you a soft look. "You can take my seat, I’ll grab a chair from Niki and Heeseung’s place downstairs." You lifted a hand, stopping him.

"No. Don’t worry. I’m fine on the edge of the couch." Lie. It was hard, unstable, and awkward. You tried to settle behind Heeseung, who was leaning on the backrest, until he turned slightly and raised an eyebrow.

"If you want, you can sit on my lap. There's space, Y/n," he said, chuckling.

Silence. You watched Jake shoot him a death glare, and before you could even respond, Jake moved. Without a word, his large, warm hands grabbed your waist, fingers brushing the bare skin just under your shirt. The touch made you jolt; your eyes widened, and your mouth parted. In a single motion, he pulled you onto his lap, as if you weighed nothing. You landed sideways, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, your heart pounding like crazy.

"Jake?! Are you insane?" you whispered, cheeks burning as you adjusted yourself between his legs. He just shrugged and looked you dead in the eyes.

"You looked uncomfortable half-standing like that." Then he held you closer, like it was the most normal thing in the world as if you weren’t sitting in his lap.

His hands stayed in place. You could feel the heat of his skin under the denim, the slow but alert rise and fall of his chest and worse, you felt everyone was watching but no one said a word, not even Heeseung. Because in that moment, Jake was claiming you. With just one subtle move pulling you onto him, holding you tight, your body pressed into his, your scent driving him insane and deep inside him, the spider purred with satisfaction.

You sat still, perched between his legs, watching everyone laugh, drink, and roast marshmallows, feeling your cheeks flush. You didn’t know what to do with your hands, and your thighs pressed together as you felt his hand resting on your bare leg. You could feel his slender finger tracing small circles over you, and the coldness of his ring against your skin sent tiny shivers from your spine down to your toes. Jake noticed you couldn’t stop moving your leg, and after a few seconds, his hand stopped stroking you and rested on the edge of the couch, as if sensing your discomfort. He leaned close to your ear and murmured,

"Relax… stop moving your leg so much. Nothing’s going to happen." You swallowed and nodded, but inside, you had no idea how to act with him so close.

Then Jungwon’s voice broke the tension as he stood up and asked everyone, "How about we play spin the bottle?"

You instinctively rolled your eyes, knowing exactly where this would lead: awkward moments, silly dares, kisses with strangers, and truths you didn’t want to reveal. Jake shifted slightly behind you, his body molding to yours as if you’d done this a thousand times before. When you slowly turned to look at him, you saw a small smirk on his face.

"Yeah, why not… let’s spice up the evening," he said, glancing at Jungwon.

"We’re not in high school anymore," Sunghoon said, looking around. You nodded and added,

"Exactly, Sunghoon’s right." But Mia, sitting next to you with a devilish grin, looked at Jungwon.

"I like Jungwon’s idea!"

You shot her a glare, and that’s when you realized Jake’s hand the one that had just lifted off your skin was back on your thigh, gripping lightly, as if he knew you were about to react, as if he wanted to keep you anchored to him, you looked down. His hand was big, warm, strong, with thick veins rising from his wrist along his forearm, spreading like roots around your leg. When you raised your eyes to him, Jake was smiling with that smirk that promised nothing good.

The bottle spun the classic empty Corona twirling quickly in the center of the circle, hissing along its glass axis, glittering under the warm terrace lights. Then… it stopped at a red-haired girl wearing a white tank top and overly glossy lips, someone you’d seen in Sociology class but had deliberately ignored. Jungwon asked,

"Truth or dare?"

The girl tilted her head, smiling, and Jungwon said,

"Kiss the guy you find the most attractive among the seven of us."

You widened your eyes as a murmur of approval spread through the circle. The girl stood and edged a little too close to Jake, but just before, she turned her head toward Heeseung, who slightly furrowed his brows. Then she rose with a half-smile, leaned toward him, and they shared a quick kiss neither innocent nor romantic, just… charged. Jake’s hands tightened slightly on your thigh. You couldn’t ignore how tense his body behind you seemed, as if every fiber of him was ready to react, as if he hated the idea that the bottle might eventually point to you.

The game had been spinning out of control for half an hour now. In a few turns, it had escalated from “innocent” games to “ridiculous” dares.

Sunoo had been forced to eat a marshmallow dipped in mayonnaise.

Jay and Heeseung had shared a kiss on the cheek, slow almost theatrical, with a hand on the face and someone had posted it on Ig

Jungwon had to declare his love to a girl who didn’t even know he existed.

The bottle spun as if guided by a mischievous spirit, and it hadn’t stopped on either you or Jake. It felt like fate was playing a cruel joke between you two. At first, you were even a little relieved… until Jay spun the bottle. He did it nonchalantly, sipping from the beer neck and giggling, and the bottle scratched along the wooden table before finally stopping, pointing straight at the tip of your black cowboy boot. Jay grinned slightly.

"Truth or dare?"

You swallowed, silently thanking him for not choosing "truth or kiss." Jay had known you forever; he was your friend, but he always had that look—“I’ll ruin you, but I still care!”

You couldn’t risk a truth tonight, not sitting on Jake like this, so you answered, "…Dare."

He scratched his chin theatrically, as if fishing through the depths of his mind, then looked you dead in the eyes with a wicked smirk: "I dare you to kiss the person you hate most or can’t stand in this room."

Boom. Jay had dropped a bomb. You heard murmurs around you, some laughter, some whispered Jake’s name before anyone even had to say it. Your stomach tightened of all the dares, he had chosen that one?

No explanation was needed: you “couldn’t stand” Jake or at least… that’s what you told everyone, what you tried to tell yourself every time you saw him. You slowly turned toward him. Jake was still, but his eyes were less bright than usual. Behind that barely-there smirk… there was something painful, because he wanted to be kissed by you—not for some stupid dare, but because you actually wanted to. Not because Jay had dared you to kiss the person you “hated most,” but because he was the guy you actually liked the most.

You looked at him and said, “I don’t even have to get up. The guy I’ve ‘hated’ for at least five years is sitting right here.”You pointed at him, and Jake smiled, relaxed. “Happy to serve the cause.”

Everyone burst out laughing, some girls shouting, “Kiss! Kiss!” while Sunghoon hid behind a cup so you wouldn’t see him laughing. You raised a hand toward Jake, your pinky finger extended right in front of his face. "No tongue, no hands in weird places, no surprises. Jake has to be… standard. Got it?"

Jake raised an eyebrow, making a dramatic face. "You seriously think I wouldn’t be respectful? Scricciolo, don’t you trust me at all?"

His tone was sweet and teasing, but in his eyes there was a mischievous glint. "I don’t trust you, Sim." You offered him your pinky, like a symbolic childish contract—your way of saying: swear.

He shook his head with a small smile, took your pinky in his, slid it slowly between his fingers, and then squeezed it gently while looking at you.

"I accept the pact, wren…" But his other hand the one that had been resting on your thigh the whole time moved slightly, and with the tips of his index and middle fingers… he made the horns. A small hidden gesture behind your back, a silent signal to anyone who noticed and yes, Heeseung and Jay saw it and tried not to burst out laughing, making it clear to everyone that Jake… was not going to respect your pact at all. And you still didn’t know it.

The moment your lips met Jake’s, it was like an explosion inside him. You had one hand on his shoulder, the other on his chest, and under your palm, you could feel his heart racing. The contact between your lips was initially cautious, delicate, almost tender, as if he were afraid you might disappear at any moment.

He tasted like beer and lime, and you… Like a slightly burnt marshmallow, a mix of both sweet and sensuous. Jake didn’t need to do anything more because that was the agreement, but for a fleeting moment, it felt eternal, and you wanted to feel him truly, to slide a little closer, to have a real kiss from the boy you’d liked forever. It seemed Jake read your mind, because the hand on your thigh tightened with more intention, and the one that had been lightly on your cheek moved with certainty behind your neck, guiding you closer. With that movement, his lips crashed onto yours, breaking the pact you’d sealed just moments before, ignoring everyone else because he simply wanted you all to himself.

His mouth opened slightly, his warm breath hitting you, and as his lips pressed against yours with more purpose, you didn’t pull away. On the contrary, you tugged lightly at his hoodie, as if to hold him there, silently asking for more. Jake, who had imagined this kiss a thousand times in his life, felt a dizzying thrill. The “spider” inside him, that instinctive, hungry, visceral part awakened. That alien beast he despised when it tried to control him in moments like this crept into his mind:

"Look how desperate she is for your touch, Jake. She wants you. Look at how she pulls you closer with those tiny trembling hands. Her eyes are closed because she’s afraid if she opens them, she’ll realize she’s completely undone, that she desires you with all her being, and we can give her everything. We could touch her, claim her, hold her, slide inside her."

Jake tried to keep himself in check, but your hand gripping his hoodie was the permission he didn’t dare to ask for. His hand slid from your neck, down your back, then between your hips, settling firmly in the space between your shirt and skirt.

You felt his warm skin against yours, and still, you didn’t move. The spider in him twitched with lust.

"See? She likes you, she wants you… Stop holding back. She loves the way you touch her, she loves being yours, and she’s not pulling away, so she feels safe with you—but you never listen to me. This girl’s wanted you for years, but you’re too stupid to realize it fully, so don’t let her slip away she’s yours."

Jake struggled with himself, but that hand on your skin and the way you returned the kiss without resistance gave him certainty: you were no longer just his best friend’s sister, no longer just the grumpy girl next door, you were his little obsession for five years, and sooner or later, he’d make you entirely his.

Your hands moved almost on their own, sliding across his chest and then around his neck, pulling him closer. Jake didn’t hesitate: he held you against his chest as if having you there were the most natural thing in the world. He tilted his head slightly, a mischievous smile forming, and gently bit your lower lip, making a subtle, almost involuntary moan escape your throat like a broken sigh. He chuckled, almost smugly, while his lips immediately returned to yours, hungrier than before. The kiss became a slow, intimate chase, tongues exploring with confidence, leaving no hesitation only hunger and desire. He kissed you like it was the only thing that mattered, your mouths parting only for seconds, yet even then it seemed you sought each other, as if your bodies were molding together. Jake’s tongue brushed yours lightly, slow and exploratory, while his hands caressed your bare back, where your shirt rose slightly with every movement. You hated how much you liked it, hated how much you wanted him and at that moment, someone coughed.

Two sharp, fake coughs behind you snapped your attention. You pulled away abruptly, lips swollen, heart hammering in your chest, and saw Jake with a shameless grin plastered across his face. Turning around, you were met with the most humiliating scene of your entire life.

All six boys were staring at you, shocked, amused, and astounded. In the middle of them, Mia your best friend and Jake’s sister, had her hand over her mouth, eyes wide. When she saw your slightly embarrassed expression, she gave you a thumbs-up. You moved to slip away, but Jake held you firmly at the waist, his deep, brazen, slightly husky voice whispering in your ear:

"Don’t even think about running from me, wren, not after this."

You swallowed, short of breath, legs weak. Jay, of course, was the first to break the silence. He raised his hands and laughed:

“Well, guys… the ‘enemies-to-lovers of the year’ award goes to them. Maybe we should have forced them to kiss sooner!”

Heeseung followed with a sly grin and added:

“Looks like the enemies have finally become lovers. And thanks for this little movie scene, I missed seeing my best friend making out in front of everyone, Y/n!”

The others burst out laughing, and even Jungwon, Sunghoon, and Sunoo tried to cover their laughter with fake coughs, while you just wanted to disappear, teleport to your room, and scream into your pillow until your lungs emptied because that kiss had been the best of your life.

And now everyone had seen it. Meanwhile, Jake was watching you with serious eyes, a thousand questions running through his mind, but one in particular seemed almost written on his lips: “Why do you hate me?”

But maybe he already knew, and maybe… it was all his fault—the spider, the poison, the way he had lost control over himself… and over you. From that moment on, though, he would never let you slip away from his life again.

Ever since Jake had kissed you and not kept the agreement to give only a peck, he had become more intrusive in your life… and he had already been that way, but it seemed like fate was playing cruel tricks on you. Whenever you didn’t want to think about him—or especially about that kiss on the terrace that day, you couldn’t help but remember how his hands wrapped around your body, how his full lips fit perfectly with yours, how he was gentle yet sexy as he smiled between your lips. Part of you had to admit that you thought about it far too much, that your crush on him had never gone away, while another part of you was terrified at the idea of having something real with him, because you thought he saw you as just a game.

At that moment, you were nibbling on the tip of your pen, sitting in a corner of the library, trying to figure out some rather strange Statistics formulas. Your pout wrapped around your face, and Jake approached on tiptoe as usual. But when he saw that “I can’t take this anymore” pout and the pen between your lips, nervously bitten, he couldn’t hold back. He rested a finger right next to the wrong number on your exercise and whispered in a low, husky voice so close that you could feel his warm breath on your neck: “This is where you went wrong, wren. You need to be more careful when doing your exercises… or when you get lost in thoughts about me.” He said it with a shameless, provocative grin that grin that made you want to slap him… or kiss him again. Irritated, but with your heart already doing somersaults, you turned slightly and gave him a look over your glasses: “I was focused. It’s not my fault if math hates me, and I certainly wasn’t thinking of anyone in particular...not you.” Jake shrugged and sat down right next to you without asking permission, and you raised an eyebrow. “Who said you could sit here? The library is empty.” He made a fake pout and leaned even closer, his voice low and amused: “It’s a public space, right? I can sit wherever I want, and I want to sit… right here, next to you.” He said, pointing at you with a finger, and you sighed in exasperation, though your racing heartbeat betrayed you. Jake stretched, letting his hoodie ride up slightly, revealing a hint of abs and that classic V at his hips the same one you couldn’t stop staring at when he surfed or swam. Then he looked at you, his eyes slowly traveling down your body.

He noticed how your straight hair fell naturally over your shoulders, those two little braids you always wore drove him crazy, and your glasses… the glasses were a hit to his heart. They gave you that air of a good little nerd, brilliant at school, but in his dirtiest imagination, he knew very well how you behaved behind closed doors. He lowered his gaze and saw the Ralph Lauren sweater hugging your waist and chest so delicately that he had to clench his jaw to avoid commenting out loud. But the real torture came when his eyes landed on your slightly raised black skirt, revealing those soft, toned thighs he hadn’t been able to get out of his head for weeks. Above your knees… those white socks reaching halfway up your calves were the final blow. His inner spider flared like a live flame in his chest. He imagined you sitting on his lap like that evening, how beautiful you would look on him with just that skirt, how he’d slide his hands slowly under your sweater, caressing your warm skin up to your bra, how he’d place you on the library table with books scattered everywhere, your legs wrapped around his hips as you tugged his hair and moaned against his mouth. He licked his lower lip slightly, dangerously aroused. Unaware of the dark thoughts running through his mind, you continued sighing over the wrong numbers but Jake hadn’t looked at your exercises for a while, because in his mind, there was only you.

Jake pulled out his notebook with apparent calm, though inside he was a storm, forcing himself to focus on formulas, graphs, and variables. He was too good to pretend to struggle in science subjects, and within twenty minutes, he had completed all the drafts for the project. You, still stuck on the second step of the first exercise, looked up at the snap of his fingers in satisfaction, mouth slightly open in mock offense. "Not fair…" You groaned. "How did you finish that so fast? Are you even human?" Jake chuckled, pride barely hidden, and twirled a braid of yours between his fingers the same gesture he’d done for years, but now charged with a different meaning. "You should know I’m a math wizard. I used to tutor you and my sister when we were kids, remember?" You nodded, feeling a pang of awkward nostalgia, then returned to your paper, torn between pride and a desperate need for his help. Jake scooted closer, his chair scraping the nearly empty library floor, his leg brushing yours. Without a word, he took your pencil and pointed to the exact spot. "The step was right, but you swapped x and y," he murmured gently, pointing out the small mistake. "And it should’ve been negative, tiny one." You held your breath, watching his hands move with precision—veins along his forearm, elegant knuckles, the way he gripped the pencil like a scalpel. Then his eyes met yours. "Try the next one yourself and read carefully. This is a quadratic equation—pay attention." You inhaled deeply, focused, and after a few attempts, solved it. You glanced at him shyly. "Thanks," you whispered. Jake leaned in a little too close. "For you? Anything, tiny one." Your eyes drifted to his hands, cold rings glinting under the library lights. You bit your lower lip without realizing it, and Jake noticed. He leaned even closer, invading your personal space. His knee brushed yours, his fingers touched the edge of your notebook, and his scent. sandalwood, lime, something dangerously masculine enveloped you.

"You’re driving me crazy…" he murmured, low and husky near your ear. You couldn’t meet his eyes, cheeks burning. "W-what’s driving you crazy?" you stammered. Jake swallowed, jaw tight, then spoke deliberately, each word measured. "Years of not seeing you, not touching you like before, that wall you built after the summer you turned fifteen… your scent filling my chest, your pouts, your hands shaking as you write… your body…" He paused, voice dropping lower. "Your body seeking mine even when you pretend it doesn’t, and my body? My body is made for yours." Then his hand the same that held the pencil, slid slowly under your skirt, caressing your bare thigh. You shivered at the warmth against your skin, the small charms on his ring brushing sensitively against you. You felt trapped… yet unwilling to escape. Jake saw it in your eyes and, with a cocky smile, whispered, "Sit on me." You glanced around discreetly. It was 6:30 PM. The library was nearly empty, silent except for distant pages turning and a pen tapping, but in your corner, there was only you and him. Nervously, you bit your inner thigh, then, almost instinctively, climbed onto his lap. His legs were slightly apart, just enough to fit you perfectly. You tugged your skirt down as much as you could, futilely trying to cover yourself, while the tension between you grew inch by inch, palm by palm.

Jake didn’t flinch at the sensation of you sitting on him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He wrapped an arm around your waist the same gesture from that night on the terrace and with his other hand, he gently stroked one of your braids with an almost… tender care, as if he wanted to protect you. Then his eyes settled on yours.

He leaned in slowly and whispered, “You’re beautiful.”

Your cheeks burned, and it felt as though your skin had lost all filters, responding only to him. You didn’t know whether to look at him, trust him, run… or stay. His hand brushed against your cheek, warm and protective, his thumb tracing a circle under your eyes, his voice hitting precisely the right spots.

“You’re even cuter when you blush because of me.”

“That’s not true…” You murmured, half embarrassed, half smiling. Jake chuckled softly, his gaze drifting back to your lips.

“I want to kiss you,” he said, husky. “Ever since that night… I can’t think of anything else.” Your heart skipped, eyes widening with both fear and excitement. You didn’t want to be just another fling but the way he looked at you, the way he held you, the warmth of his body against yours… everything screamed he was no longer the boy who had hurt you at fifteen.

He had become a man, and maybe… maybe you were ready to rewrite that story. Without a word, you leaned in, and your lips found his. The kiss was silent, intimate, and slow a kiss that spoke louder than anything you could have said. Jake stiffened for a moment, surprised by your initiative, then melted completely when he tasted the familiar sweetness of your strawberry lip balm against his slightly chapped lips from training.

Your hands rose, trembling, wrapping around his neck. With a slightly deeper breath, you deepened the kiss, your tongue sliding against his with a mix of tenderness and desire. Jake sighed against your lips, a sigh not just of pleasure… but of relief: finally, the girl I’ve loved forever is kissing me.

A low groan escaped him as his hands slowly slid under your skirt, finding the warmth of your bare thigh. His fingers traced gentle circles, as if caressing his favorite new treasure, sending shivers up your spine. You gasped into the kiss, and when Jake felt it, he made it count.

“This is the effect you pretend you don’t have on me, tiny one,” he murmured.

The kiss continued, but now you weren’t just receiving, you were responding. He was your chaos in an otherwise slightly monotonous life. When your tongue brushed his lips, his inner storm exploded, shouting: She’s the one. Take her, keep her, make her yours. You found the courage to tease him a little, nibbling his perfect, full lower lip. Jake moaned.

“God, why do you do this to me, Y/N?” he groaned as you kissed like the library wasn’t there, like it was your private den of love.

Then… a sound. Everything stopped. A tic-tic, followed by a soft alarm from Jake’s phone. Something snapped in him, as if someone had pressed pause. He pulled away from your lips, breathing hard, jaw clenched.

“Not now… damn it,” he muttered, voice low. You stared at him, confused, heart racing, lips still swollen from his kiss.

“Jake…?” you whispered.

He stared at his phone as though life hung in the balance, hands on your hips, lifting you gently to your feet. Then he rose quickly, already half in motion.

“I have… I have to leave. Can you sort the stuff? Bring it home for me, please,” he said, gesturing helplessly.

You opened your mouth in disbelief. “Jake, where are you going?”

He just grabbed his soccer bag, adjusted his hoodie over his chest, turned sharply, and pressed a light kiss to your hair. Without meeting your eyes, he said, “See you, little one.”

And he ran out of the library, his shoes clattering on the pavement. You tried to follow him with your eyes through the window, but within seconds… he was gone, vanished between the buildings. You stayed behind, slightly dazed, whispering more to yourself than anyone else:

“What are you hiding, Jake Sim?”

You put away both your things and Jake’s, then headed to the taxi stand. The air was warm, the sky thick with golden light, clouds like gray cotton candy with hints of purple and orange. That evening, you were supposed to have dinner at your parents’ house, so you got into a taxi and asked the driver to take you to Paddington, a charming neighborhood in Sydney where you had grown up, full of low houses, artsy cafés, and tree-lined sidewalks.

A song by Enhypen, Fate, came on the radio, and when it ended, the young female announcer’s bright, confident voice filled the cab:

“Attention! Happening right now: a skyscraper in downtown Sydney has caught fire! The flames are visible for miles… and, unsurprisingly, guess who’s on the scene with the firefighters? That’s right—the one and only Spider-Man! Yes, Sydney’s Spider-Man has been spotted swinging between buildings and appears to be trying to reach the rooftop where many people are trapped. Stay tuned for updates!”

The taxi driver cleared his throat and looked at you through the rearview mirror.

“Ah, Spider-Man! I’d love to see him in person. But if you see him up close… well, it means you’re right in the middle of the chaos… and probably in danger.”

You gave a small, amused smile. “I’m curious to see him… but mostly, I want to know who’s under that mask.”

He glanced at you briefly, a sharp look in his eyes. “I bet it’s a young guy. You can tell by the build… agile, lean. As a human, it could be anyone… maybe even someone you know.”

His words sent a chill down your spine, a cold shiver sliding across your back. One person in particular came to mind: Jake.

The way he disappeared, his vague excuses, the unexplained bruises, the dark circles… he had been acting strange since he was seventeen. And Spider-Man had appeared five years ago. Coincidence? And those sudden disappearances, the days he vanished without a trace, then came back as if nothing had happened?

You shook your head, trying not to overthink it, paid the taxi, and got out. Walking up the driveway, you saw your mom at the door, arms open, holding you as if she’d been waiting all day for this moment.

“How’s my darling?” “All good… Is Dad home?” you asked, already knowing the answer. She lowered her eyes, saying nothing, and that gesture was enough. “He promised,” you murmured as you walked inside. “He promised he’d be here tonight.” Mom sighed and turned toward the kitchen. “There was a fire downtown. He had to make an urgent inspection.” “But he’s not a firefighter...he’s a sheriff,” you said aloud. She remained silent.

You collapsed onto the couch, turned on the TV, and sank into the cushions. The images spoke for themselves: a skyscraper in flames, a blackened sky, sirens, chaos. And then… Spider-Man.

The TV showed him swinging between two tall buildings, his webs cutting through the smoke. His movements were precise but frantic. He reached the rooftop, grabbed a trembling woman, comforted her, and brought her to safety. A man with a little girl clung to him; another leap, another dash, another life saved. Every motion was swift, fluid… and there was something about that body, the shoulders, the hips, the way he moved. It looked like Jake.

You closed your eyes, and for a moment you saw him: Jake, in red and blue, face covered, breathing hard. But the vision vanished when your mom brought dinner.

Your dad came home as the sky turned a deep velvet blue. You were sitting on the porch swing, mom beside you, holding two glass bowls of fresh fruit salad, juice dripping down your fingers, the spoons making soft clinking sounds against the glass.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, your mother stood up immediately and looked at him with a gaze that was half reproach, half relief. But he walked down the hallway with the weary air of someone carrying the weight of the world, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek as if his mind was already somewhere else. Then he bent down to kiss your head, right where Jake had kissed you just a few hours before, and ruffled your hair slightly with his rough hand. “How was the inspection?” your mother asked, and he let himself sink into one of the wrought-iron chairs next to you, stretching his shoulders with a deep sigh.

“Good…” he said, then added with a hint of annoyance, “…too good. The legendary Spider-Man did all the dirty work, everything that should have been the police’s job, and especially the firefighters’!” You still had the spoon in your mouth and asked, “And you’re not happy about that, Dad?” You looked at him with an innocent expression, but your heart was racing inside, and he huffed. “Happy? No. People study for years, train, break their backs to serve the state… and then this kid shows up with his webs and saves everyone… everyone clapping like he’s some god come down to Earth.” You let out a small, amused laugh. “Are you jealous? Do you want superpowers too?” He gave you a look that wasn’t exactly angry but wasn’t light either. “I’m not jealous at all. But if that kid ever gets caught, they’ll experiment on him more than a lab rat. They’ll open his skull, his chest, isolate every fluid inside him… and what’s in there isn’t human.” A shiver ran up your spine, because that kid… he saved lives, threw himself into flames, thought of others before himself. In your mind, he had Jake’s smile, and you didn’t want anything bad to happen to him. “But if he doesn’t hurt anyone, then even the police shouldn’t hurt him.” Your voice was sterner than expected, and your father shook his head. “It’s all a facade, sweetie. He has poison in his veins, and maybe he doesn’t show it, but it’s there. His webs? We brought samples to the lab. You know what we found?” He looked you straight in the eyes. “They contain a very fine toxin, slow-releasing. It’s not lethal… but it can alter mental states, inject confusion, excite you through physical contact, and it almost becomes addictive. It’s like his own biology… manipulates him. That kid is a monster, Y/n.” You looked at your father, slightly frightened by his words, and you didn’t fully believe everything he was saying. But if Spider-Man were in front of you, you wouldn’t lock him up, you wouldn’t tear his mask off by force, you wouldn’t hand him over to anyone. You would let him into the house, clean his wounds, gently stroke him, and when he let himself collapse in your hands… You would tell him it was all okay. With you… He would be safe.

It had been a few days since you last saw Jake, and when you went up to the apartment to drop off your Statistics notes, you only found Sunghoon and Jay. They smiled at you a little awkwardly and thanked you, saying that Jake was sleeping. “You know, he had a tough training session yesterday because the championship starts soon, and he said he doesn’t want to be disturbed.” You nodded without asking any questions, not wanting to seem intrusive, but inside… a little worry had started gnawing at you. A kind of anxiety you couldn’t explain, that sixth sense only girls seem to have, was crawling under your skin. So today, you had texted him: “Are you in class today?”

But minutes passed, and while the professor closed the door and started talking about functions, standard deviations, and incomprehensible parabolas… you pouted a little, staring at your phone with no reply. Those two cursed hours of formulas and numbers without Jake beside you were unbearable and boring, so as soon as the professor said class was over, you were already on your feet, backpack in hand, ready to fly home. All you wanted was a hot bath and to crawl under the covers for some happy dreams. You caught the metro just in time, running with only a narrow margin, and as usual, the car was full. You managed to carve out a small corner near the doors, put on your headphones, and closed your eyes for a moment. But after just two stops… You felt a violent jolt and saw a small smoke bomb inside your car. The lights went out, then the emergency lights flickered on weakly, and you heard people asking, “What’s happening?” “Why have we stopped?

Then… a woman’s scream made everyone turn, and at the end of the car, there were three masked people, dressed in black with ski masks and knives in hand. One was banging the knife handle on the metal of the train, producing a sharp, terrifying sound, while another had a baseball bat behind his back. You swallowed hard because this was nothing like what you had expected after hours of studying. “Everybody shut up! Empty your bags, backpacks, phones, watches, and wallets. If you do exactly what we say, no one gets hurt!” You held your breath, feeling anxiety wrap around your body and mind as a woman in front of you started crying, a man tried to protest, and was shoved to the floor. One of the three came toward you, black eyes behind the mask watching you carefully, and you lowered your gaze to the ring on your finger. A simple white gold ring with a small daisy in the center—it had belonged to your grandmother while she was alive, and after she passed, your dad had given it to you. You slipped it off gently, hiding it in your palm, but the man suddenly turned and looked at you. “What’s that?” he said, eyeing your hand tucked behind your jeans. You stammered, “N-nothing… it’s just my university bag.” He stepped closer, and though he didn’t see the ring fall into your jeans pocket, he grabbed at your bag, yanking it. “Give me the bag!” he shouted, but you held onto it tightly because it contained your laptop, phone, portfolio with money, your glasses—both prescription and sunglasses. “I swear, I have nothing… I’m just a student,” you said, but the robber looked you up and down and raised his voice even more. “Spoiled little brat. All of you walking around with thousand-dollar phones, pretending to be poor, give it to me now, or you’ll regret it!” You didn’t let go of the bag, your hands trembling, and you replied, “I’m not spoiled. There’s only math notes and my laptop in here, what do you want with it?” But you didn’t even finish speaking before he yanked you and shoved you to the ground, your back hitting a subway seat. They grabbed your bag forcefully. You tried to get up, but he gave you a look and brandished a knife. You swallowed hard in fear. One of the robbers shouted at another to hurry, while passengers surrendered their phones, earrings, wallets… until you heard someone scream from the back of the car.

“SPIDER-MAN!” You heard the roar again, and the train jolted as the metal above your head vibrated, as if something or someone was running… or rather, crawling at incredible speed along the roof of the train. One of the robbers began shouting, panicking. “Shit, he’s here! He’s above us!” The emergency lights flickered, your heart pounding, and then an explosion of glass made everyone scream. But something fell into the car with the agility of a panther and the precision of lightning. Everyone heard the snap of webs. “Zzzzap!” And there, standing in the middle of everyone, as if facing a theater scene or a movie, in his black and red suit, chest heaving under the effort… Spider-Man was there, trying to save you and protect everyone from these three criminals.

“Were you waiting for me?” he said, his voice bold and almost cheerful. His voice was audacious, almost joyful, as if he weren’t facing three armed men but attending a party, and the entire train car held its breath. But you… you had your hands pressed to your chest, eyes fixed on him. The way he moved, the broad shoulders covered by that suit, the way his gaze even through the mask, seemed to pierce straight into your eyes, and in your mind there was only one name that could belong to him: Jake. The masked men tried to escape, pushing people aside to make a path toward the only unlocked door, but they hadn’t even taken two steps before Spider-Man’s voice filled the car. “You’re not leaving that quickly, my friends.” Spider-Man stretched out his arms, and from each wrist, with a precise and calculated snap, long webs shot out, intertwining in the air like white snakes. “Zzzzzip!” One by one, the robbers were immobilized by the webs, their arms bound to their bodies and their legs trapped thanks to the stiffening fluid of the webbing. One struggled, trying to shake off the webs; another fell with a thud, screaming that Spider-Man was a monster and that people should fear him, not a few robbers. One still didn’t surrender and lunged blindly at Spider-Man, a knife piercing slightly through the suit just under his ribs. You held your breath, seeing the cut in the suit, a tremor running through the boy in the center of the car, and a trace of blood showing on his body. But Spider-Man didn’t scream or falter instead, he immobilized him with a deadly grip, wrapping him in more webs that appeared in an instant and slammed him into the car.

And the knife? He broke it with two fingers as if he had done it hundreds of times. All the bags the robbers had stolen from the passengers fell to the floor: phones, wallets, bracelets, rings ordinary life’s belongings. Spider-Man turned toward you, raising an eyebrow under the mask. “It’s seriously kind of embarrassing to ‘rob’ the subway. You could’ve chosen a more upscale location, my friends!” Someone chuckled from relief, a man sank onto the floor, and a little girl stared at him wide-eyed before giving him a small wave. Spider-Man approached her gently, ruffling her hair, and said, “You’ve been a super brave princess.” Then he slammed the robbers’ backpacks down with a sharp movement and said loudly, “Take back your things. They’re not going anywhere they’re tied up like salami.” He helped an elderly woman to her feet. “All good, ma’am?” “Yes… thank you, you’re an angel,” the woman said, giving him a slight hug. He replied, “Don’t tell my mother, because if she knew I was Spider-Man, she wouldn’t let me be the guardian angel for all of you anymore!” You smiled even though your hands were still shaking. And when he turned to you… time seemed to stop. He looked at you for only a few seconds, and you wanted to step closer, to touch him and say, “Thank you, Spider-Man.” But a voice behind you broke the spell: “The police are here!”

Spider-Man leaned slightly toward the people and whispered, “It’s been a pleasure… as always.” Then he turned, broke a side window with a push, and jumped out. But before disappearing completely, he turned his face and whispered: “See you around, baby!” You widened your eyes at that “baby,” a shiver running down your spine like an electric wave because… that voice, that manner, that slightly cocky but also sweet tone...it was Jake’s. Your heart skipped a beat. Your gaze fell on his left side, where he held his hand… and there was blood. Not enough to kill him, but enough to tell you he was alive, that behind Spider-Man was a real person who felt pain, and perhaps all the emotions you felt too… He was human, but also something more. A few seconds later, the police stormed the car. Two officers cut the webs with the robbers’ knives and arrested them. One of them asked, “Should we take a sample of this webbing to the lab?” The other waved his hand, almost annoyed. “We’ve already got it. In my opinion, maybe it’s better not to dig too deep… as long as he keeps doing his work and we get to go home alive and not be in danger 24/7, that’s fine.” You heard every word, your stomach tightening, because they wanted to study Spider-Man as if he were an experiment. And your father’s words crept back into your mind: “He’s got poison inside.” But you… You knew that beneath that mask was a heart, perhaps wounded, perhaps lonely, and if one day he let you get close enough… you wouldn’t put him on trial. You would heal him, and love him.

When you got home, your father was desperate to see you. He had sent three messages and tried calling twice when he discovered you had been on that same subway to get home. In the end, you responded calmly, making it clear that nothing had happened and that you were safe.

“I’m fine, Dad. I’m with Mia and the others. No need to come; I’ll rest a bit and tomorrow will be like any other day,” you said over the phone. There was a pause before your father sighed.

“When they told me you were on that subway… you have no idea the chill that ran through me. I imagined the worst.”

You gripped the phone between your fingers and stared at the ceiling of your room. You were lying on your bed, with a slight ache in your back, but nothing serious. Once your father had made sure you were okay, the memory hammering in your chest was Spider-Man’s blood on his suit, his gaze fixed on you, and above all, the way he had said, “See you around, baby.”

And then you jumped up because there was one person you had to see: Jake Sim. You ran up the staircase separating your apartment from his and bit your lip nervously before ringing the doorbell. Once, then twice, five times it seemed no one was home. But you knew in your heart that Jake was there. You kept ringing until, after a while, the door opened, and Jake appeared. His hair was slightly damp, as if he’d just taken a shower, a white towel draped around his neck. You caught a glimpse of his bare chest and saw him flinch slightly, but when he saw you… hesmiled.

“Shrimp… what are you doing here?”

You tried to step inside, but he moved half a step, blocking you with his shoulder.

“Jake… let me in,” you said, your voice steady.

He gave a tight, half-smile. “I don’t think this is the best moment. I’m… shirtless, you know… I don’t want to scandalize you.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Are you serious? I’ve seen you at the pool, at the beach, and in the gym. Don’t play games with me.”

Jake bit his lip, then ran a hand through his hair a gesture he always made when he lied or felt uncomfortable. He stepped aside and let you in, but suddenly spun around and ran to his room. You didn’t wait. You slammed the door shut and followed him with purposeful steps, entering his room just in time to see him pulling on a large sweatshirt with nothing underneath. One glance was enough to realize: he was hiding something.

You moved closer. He stepped back, but with your small stature and determined stride, you caught up. His body pressed against the edge of the desk, hands gripping the surface, and you loomed over him not physically, but with your firmness and, most importantly, with your gaze.

“What are you hiding, Jake?” Your voice was low but firm, and you noticed he wasn’t looking at you. His cheeks had turned red not the usual blush of embarrassment… no, it was the redness of hesitation, almost a battle within him that seemed unwilling to end. He leaned both hands on the edge of the desk, looked down, and whispered, “I didn’t want to hurt you,” stammering. Your eyes widened, and you stepped closer to him. “What are you saying? Jake… I’ve trusted you since the first day we met, and I know you would never hurt me. Never.” You touched his cheek with a trembling hand, and he leaned into it gently, as if your touch were the only thing keeping him safe from the world. You saw his eyes close, his lips slightly parted, and his chest rising and falling unevenly. “Does anything hurt?” you asked, sensing his body stiffen. He stayed silent for a moment, then nodded. You stroked his soft cheek. “Can I lift your sweatshirt?” “Yes,” he muttered through gritted teeth. When you felt his consent, you lifted the hem of the sweatshirt, and inch by inch, his skin appeared. On the left side, right where that robber had stabbed Spider-Man with a knife, there was a deep but perfectly bandaged cut. You couldn’t understand one thing, it was clear he hadn’t gone to the hospital; who had helped him? You were afraid to ask. But it was obvious it hurt him, and the worst part? Purple bruises were climbing almost to his stomach, stretching under his ribs like a spreading shadow.

“From kicking,” you said softly, “you don’t get hurt like this.” Jake let out a faint laugh, then lowered his gaze. You watched him, one hand still on his side while your other caressed his face gently. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you whispered. But he shook his head, and you could see he wanted to pull away from you. “You don’t understand… You should stay away from me. I’m not just Jake…I’m something people chase, destroy, or idolize. Sometimes I’m a hero, but at the same time, I’m a criminal. It’s not just me… inside me… there’s also… something else… a part that…” You saw his eyes grow wetter, and honestly, you didn’t know what to do. “That isn’t human.” You took his face in your hands and, without hesitation, pressed your forehead against his. “So inside you, there’s both Jake and Spider-Man?” Your breath brushed his, and he whispered, “You found me out, shrimp.” He gently wrapped his arms around your waist, his fingers clutching your sweater, holding you close as if afraid you’d slip away from him. “Exactly,” he whispered. “Inside me is Jake the one you know, the one who laughs, makes mistakes, gets lost in your eyes but there’s also… that part. ‘Alien,’ so to speak. The part that can do things it shouldn’t, that saves people, but every time drifts further from itself. And…” His breath trembled as he buried his face in the hollow of your neck. “I’m not afraid of myself, but I’m afraid of that part. I’m afraid that one day it might grow too strong, take everything… even you.” His words tore through you—they were so simple, yet unique. You rested your head on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart, and he shivered slightly. “I’m sorry for all of this,” he murmured against your skin. “For not telling you, for hiding everything, for putting you in danger… I’m sorry, shrimp,” he said, holding you tight. “Jake…” you began to tell him he didn’t need to apologize, but he lifted his head, and you saw his face streaked with tiny tears. “No, listen to me. I… I have to, because I know it’s not right. You didn’t choose this, and I… I’m dragging you into something bigger than myself.”

You slowly kissed the small tears in his eyes, and he murmured something unintelligible, whispering that he didn’t deserve you—but you didn’t care about what he said, until you heard another truth… perhaps the truth you’d wanted to hear all along. “I was an asshole that summer with you… because I was scared of myself.” His voice was rough, saturated with pain, as he looked at you intensely, his fingers moving gently against your cheek as if afraid you might vanish. “Before I was bitten by the spider… I wanted to ask you out. I wanted to do all those things normal boys did: take you to the arcade, buy you an ice cream, and see whose melted first—mine or yours.” He gave a melancholic smile while your gaze struggled to meet his. “I wanted to spend hours wrapped in each other’s arms talking on the dunes, I wanted to walk with your hand in mine to the sea, teach you to surf, make you laugh. I wanted to ask you to be my girlfriend that summer… but before I found the courage, I got bitten.” He clenched his jaw and lowered his gaze. “The venom running through me was strong. Not just in the body… in the mind too. It knew you were my weakness, and so… I kept you away. I did everything to push you away because you could truly see me, and it would make me crumble in an instant.” He lifted his gaze again, his fingers trembling slightly as they continued to caress your face, tracing it as if mapping his home onto you.

You opened your mouth to speak, to reply, but no sound came out—just a tremble, then tears slid down your face like rain on a summer night. “Shrimp…” Jake whispered, leaning slightly toward you. “Don’t cry… please.” But you couldn’t stop, and you didn’t even know why; it was as if every word he had spoken had opened a dam you’d kept closed for far too long. Jake looked at you for a moment with an expression you’d never seen before: fragile. Then he leaned down slowly, saying nothing, and his lips pressed softly, warmly, precisely against your cheek, kissing every falling tear. One by one, each kiss was a way of saying “I’m sorry” without words, and every touch was a caress that gathered you in pieces. On the corners of your lips, under your eye, at the edge of your nose, on your chin, he kissed with the devotion of someone who knows he doesn’t deserve you… But can’t help loving you. “Please,” he whispered. “Stop…” You nodded, sobbing softly. He gave a faint, wry smile. You took his hand, holding it in yours as if it were the only anchor you had, and guided him gently toward the bed. “What are you doing?” he asked, surprised but not resisting. “I just want you to lean back…” You murmured, indicating the headboard with your eyes. Jake swallowed and sat slowly on the bed, letting himself rest against the dark wooden headboard. You sat beside him, your hips barely touching, and when he turned, he whispered: “Stay, please. Just this once… or forever, until you get tired of me.”

You moved closer, your hands brushing against his legs to gently part them as if asking for permission without words, and you sat between them. “Can… I take off your sweatshirt?” you asked in a trembling voice because he had put it back on, and Jake ran a hand through those same hairs that made you want to bury your fingers in them. He nodded. “Of course, you can do whatever you want.” You smiled with a shy little grin and slowly pulled down the zipper. “…You’re beautiful.” He rolled his eyes and sighed because he didn’t see himself as very handsome with all those bruises, but if you liked him, he liked himself too. “Lie down a bit,” you whispered as you nudged him lightly, and he asked, “What are you doing?” You could see he was a little nervous but also curious, but you didn’t answer; you bent down and started placing kisses on the first purple mark, another on his side, and then lightly on the place where the robber had hurt him, and you felt Jake flinch, but you didn’t stop, so you ran your tongue along his abs and started touching him while still leaving playful kisses on his golden skin. Jake was extremely shocked by your initiative, and his inner Spider stirred, thinking: “Go for it, Jake, make her yours in this moment of vulnerability.” But he shook his head no because you were more than a simple game, and he swallowed, clenching his jaw. “Wren…” The nickname slipped out while he looked at you, bent over him, with your mouth on his wounds, your tongue both soothing and igniting him, and he gently stroked your hair.

“Christ, Y/n, you have no idea what you’re waking up inside me,” he said with a sigh as light shivers ran over his skin while you rubbed slightly against him and kissed him. His fingers clenched in your hair, not to pull but to feel that you were there with him, and you giggled with your cheeks burning and slowly lifted yourself, and his eyes looked at you desirously for more. “Look how red you are, Scricciolo…” His hand slid down your back and pulled you closer, and you sat more comfortably straddling him, feeling your heart race as he caressed your skin, yet smiled softly with your foreheads touching. You fiddled with the drawstrings of his sweatpants and whispered, “Who else knows about your powers?” Jake bit his lip and then whispered back: “Heeseung, Jay, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Jungwon… and Niki. Only them, and now you too.” You nodded slowly, letting your fingers brush against his side. “And Mia? Your sister?” Jake shook his head and looked at you carefully. “No, not yet. I’m seriously afraid of putting the people I love most in danger,” he said softly, and you caressed his cheek gently, and he let himself relax at your touch as if it were home. “I trust you… I know you won’t tell anyone,” he said, stroking your hair, and you replied, “I won’t tell anyone, Scout’s honor!” Jake chuckled and linked his pinky with yours, and neither of you made any “crossed fingers” behind your backs. He said: “Good for you… because when I go ask your dad for permission to be your boyfriend… I want to do it as Jake. Not as Spider-Man, a fugitive in Sydney.”

You rolled your eyes and said with a wry grin. "And who said I'd be okay with it if you asked my dad?" Jake looked at you with narrowed eyes, his hand slowly sliding up your thigh and leaning towards your ear. "No one… but your body's telling me a whole different story, baby." You huffed, your hands still fidgeting with those laces, and you looked at him with a crooked half-smile. "You're showing off too much, you know that?" Jake chuckled, leaning back a little more against the pillow behind him, his gaze glued to you as if you were about to explode in his hands. "I can afford it, little one. Look where you are," he said, pointing to where you were, a smile plastered on his face with that confidence that drove you crazy and made you want to throw pillows at you at the same time. Jake bit the inside of his thigh gently and swallowed, his Adam's apple visibly moving beneath the skin, and then he heard your voice give him an order. "…Lift your hips a little." His pupils dilated, but he didn't say anything, and he obeyed. He slowly raised his hips, and your small, trembling hands grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants and pulled them down, sliding them down his thighs. When he was down to his boxers, Jake grinned. You were there, in front of him, kneeling astride him, and a lock of hair had fallen in front of your eyes, which you tucked behind your ear with such a sweet gesture that he wanted to kiss your hands. He could see you: small, red-faced, and staring at his erection pressing hard against the fabric. "Is something wrong, little one?" You didn't look at him and just shook your head. "No… it's just…" You licked your lips at the sight of his V-line and his boxers. "Your V-line is… damn sexy, and that strip of hair… that starts from your belly button and… goes underneath… is the hottest thing I've ever seen." Jake's eyes widened for a moment, and then he laughed that low, chuckling laugh because he knew the effect it had on you. "I'm a little surprised… You're paying me a compliment." He leaned his head back against the headboard, his cheeks slightly rosy, and then turned to you. "…Want to see where that trail of hair leads, little one?" You looked up, and your yes was silent but unmistakable, so you lowered your hips a little, your knees slightly trembling, and then you touched his penis, still covered by his boxers. Your hand slid slowly along his entire length, feeling the heat, and Jake moaned at the sensation of your hands touching his length. You smiled slightly as your hand repeated that slow, careful motion, then took the initiative and looked at him with eyes filled with both desire and sweetness. "Lift your hips again." Jake couldn't wait, so he raised his hips with a shudder, and the spider inside him exploded.

"Show her everything you can give her, make her feel good, and make her adore you for who you are, because you think she's yours… but she's ours. Remember that, Jake." Jake obeyed, and with trembling fingers, you pulled down your boxers and bit your lip, your eyes widening for a moment before widening.

"Oh… my God…" you whispered without thinking. "Don't be afraid, it's just skin…touch it. I want you to get to know every part of me…even this one." He said, indicating his bulge, and you didn't say anything, just gave a small nod as your fingers returned to brush that taut, warm flesh, now completely exposed before you. Jake gasped and gritted his teeth because your touch was still timid but also real. "You can squeeze it a little, if you want…" he said in a husky voice, and you did so like a diligent student. Jake threw his head back against the pillow and put his fist in her mouth. “Fuck, so… you’re so small, shy, and cheeky all at the same time, you’re driving me crazy.”

In Jake’s chest, the spider hissed filthy words about how he wanted to sink into you, make you his, show you his spider nature so you would never forget him again. You leaned down, your soft lips brushing the rosy tip with a messy little kiss, and when Jake felt your mouth wrap around him, his eyes widened in shock. “Wait, what are you…?” But then he saw your tongue part slightly to take him in, your hands around his length, your flushed cheeks betraying that this wasn’t something you usually did. His body… his body trembled inside. “You don’t have to take it all, okay? Just… let me show you what it feels like when someone wants you. Breathe through your nose, take your time,” he murmured as he watched you lick and suck timidly, yet with the determination of a girl who knew exactly what she wanted. You nodded, sliding him slowly into your mouth, twisting your tongue, and he moaned.

“Fuck, wren… keep going,” he stammered, fingers sinking into your hair, guiding you gently further down. You followed his rhythm, feeling him move inside your mouth while his hoarse moans filled the room. “Tighter… God, yes, like that…” he whispered. You squeezed a little harder, grazing him with your teeth for a second. He pulled your hair tighter, groaning louder, then noticed your thighs clenching together on their own and chuckled. “You like driving me insane, huh? Look at me while you do it… Look how you’re destroying me, and at the same time enjoying it yourself,” he rasped, staring at you bent over him. “I’m close… fuck, I’m…baby, I should pull out. My body isn’t normal… the poison… It’s there too.” You looked up at him, tears of pleasure streaking your cheeks, and he moaned harder. “If you don’t stop… I’ll come in your mouth, Christ… please…” And then, like a wave crashing over him, he tensed beneath you, one hand gripping your hair, the other clutching the sheets, as he spilled into your mouth.

You felt the warmth of his release sliding across your tongue but it wasn’t what you expected. It was different, with an intense, almost electric taste: dark honey mixed with something metallic and burnt; sweet at first, then hot. Within his seed was a trace of venom, not harmful, but making your body throb even harder. Exhausted and trembling, Jake collapsed back on the bed, his length resting against his abs, stray drops of release marking his belly. He looked at you, stretched out his arms, and pulled you against him. “You were perfect, wren. Such a good girl… and now that you’ve tasted me, especially my poison you’ll never run away from me again,” he whispered, before kissing you once more.

Ever since you had discovered that Jake was Spider-Man, things between you had changed just a little, but not too much. You couldn’t keep pretending to hate him anymore: that childish game was useless now, because deep down you loved him. And him? He seemed so clingy, almost obsessed with you. In class, you always sat at the back, only because Jake needed to keep his hand on your thigh. It looked like a sweet gesture, but you knew it carried a hint of territoriality. He even did it while the professor explained neuroscience theories, and you desperately tried to take notes. His fingers traced softly over your bare skin under your skirt, and now and then he would glance at you and whisper things—sometimes naughty, sometimes tender—that made you blush to your ears. He loved seeing you like that: shy, yet completely lost for him. At his soccer games, you always wore his number 5 jersey, oversized on you but something that made you proud, because his name was printed on the back. Every time he scored, he searched for you in the stands and made a heart with his fingers. Your cheeks would always burn red, and he’d laugh like a kid, only to run to you at the end of the match, sweaty and breathless, lift you off the ground and kiss your forehead.

Evenings together were your favorite moments, especially in his room: dim lights, pillows everywhere, endless piles of Lego sets you two would never finish, and instant ramen that was somehow worse than either of your cooking skills combined. You’d sit on his lap, face resting in the crook of his neck, while he played online with his friends. “Jake…” you murmured, curling closer to him. “Just a sec, I’m winning,” he muttered, hands moving over the controller and even that, the way his fingers moved, turned you on. Everything about him drove you crazy. “I’m ignoring you,” you whispered, kissing behind his ear, then again, then a tiny playful bite at his neck. He dropped the joystick and shot you a look, but when he saw your pout, he sighed. “Okay, okay… I’ve been playing for two hours, I should probably give my girl the attention she deserves.” With that, he scooped you up effortlessly something that always made your heart race and tumbled onto the bed with you. He cuddled you, squeezed you, touched your legs, your back under your shirt, your stomach. Between touches, he whispered that he’d become addicted to feeling you. And yet… the ringtone of his phone always froze you inside. It was the call of duty. Sometimes it came at two in the morning while you slept wrapped in his arms; other times right in the middle of a kiss, or when his hand slipped under your pajamas to make you melt. Once, clinging to him, you whispered almost fearfully, “What if you don’t come back?” Jake kissed your forehead and drew you closer. “I’ll always come back, Y/N, because of you. Out there, I’m Spider-Man. But with you… I want to be Jake. Your Jake. The boy who fell in love with you the very first day he saw you, back when he was seven and didn’t even know what love was.” And you believed him. Because Jake was the only boy you had ever loved, and you knew it when he kissed your belly before falling asleep, when he woke you with a kiss at the curve of your neck, when he made you blush, when he walked into class at university with that puppy-like smile, carrying your favorite drink in one hand and his in the other.

That evening, you were in front of the mirror, looking at your hair perfectly styled in soft waves framing your face without the usual two little strands you normally left out. Your makeup was light: just a touch of gloss on your lips and a rosy lip liner that added a bit of color and fullness. The dress you had carefully chosen draped perfectly over your figure elegant but not too much, ideal for the dinner Jake had promised: a rooftop restaurant in Sydney with a breathtaking view of the city lights. Jake had, well, asked your parents for their “blessing” to take you out on a proper date as if you hadn’t been seeing each other for months or sleeping over at each other’s places.

On the bed, lying on her stomach, was Mia, your best friend and not an unimportant detail, Jake’s sister, watching you with a critical look. “You know you’re way too pretty for my brother, right?” she muttered, swinging her legs in the air, her head hanging down as she eyed you all dressed up to go out with him. You turned, laughing, and asked, “And what about you tonight?” She gave a mischievous smirk. “Well… if neither you nor he is around… I might invite some cute guys over, or maybe tease a certain someone,” she said, biting one nail with a little grin. You raised an eyebrow and shook your head. Mia was completely different from you; while you were a little shy, she was bold, drove boys crazy, and had a small crush or obsession on one of Jake’s friends. Not a teammate or study friend, but a friend who lived with Jake and seemed to lead a double life, like your boyfriend. Only this friend was more pragmatic and cheekier than Jake. “If Jake found out you liked one of his best friends…” “Oh, please!” she interrupted, shrugging. “Jake doesn’t control me like he used to, and it’s not my fault if I find a slightly grumpy guy… secretly obsessed with me… irresistible,” she said, scrolling through that boy’s Instagram profile, both annoying and thrilling her at the same time.

You shook your head, amused, and checked the time: 6:40 PM. Jake was supposed to be there ten minutes ago, but maybe he was just running late to get ready. It wouldn’t be the first time he took a few extra minutes to “look his best.” Minutes passed, and you tried calling him. The phone rang once… twice… three times, but no answer. You even tried the intercom at the apartment he shared with Jay and Sunghoon, but nobody answered. That’s when Mia, lying lazily on the bed, suddenly sat up.

“Wait… oh my god…” Mia suddenly said, sitting up, and you leaned closer, noticing the alarm on her face. On her screen, Twitter was showing a live stream: shaky footage of a downtown bank, flashing red and blue lights, confused shouting in the background. Your eyes immediately caught the word Spider-Man in the comments, and your blood ran cold.

“Some people in the comments… say there’s a robbery happening,” Mia murmured, scrolling quickly. You leaned in beside her, heart racing, because there was no need to say it out loud: you knew Jake wouldn’t make it to your date not because he didn’t want to, but because somewhere out there, he was saving lives. You stayed frozen, watching the live stream with Mia.

Mia sprang off the bed and opened her laptop. “We’ll see it better from here,” she said, fingers flying over the keyboard. As she pulled up the live feed, the bank filled the screen: blue and red lights flashing, people screaming in the background, journalists trying to get close. That’s when you saw him.

“Dad!” you exclaimed, recognizing him running among the police lines.

Mia’s eyes went wide as she pointed at the screen. “It’s him, right? Your dad?” You nodded, trying to smile, but it vanished immediately when an officer shouted through the crackling audio:

“There are four inside! Four robbers! One has taken a pregnant woman and her daughter hostage!” Your blood ran cold, and you felt Mia take a sharp breath next to you, placing her hand on your back. But deep down, it should have been you comforting her—her older brother was out there somewhere.

Suddenly, the shaky camera lifted, following a shadow moving incredibly fast. You saw an agile figure swinging between buildings, then hovering above the bank. Everyone’s faces turned upward to see Spider-Man. The chat exploded immediately from 4,000 viewers, it jumped to 80,000. That was the effect this superhero had, and the comments flooded in:

“IT’S HIMMMMM!”

“OMG SPIDEY IS HERE!!!”

“Go, web-slinger! 💥🕷️”

“Marry me, Spider-Man!!!”

“Guys, if Spider-Man saves these people, too, we need a statue in his honor!”

Mia smirked as she watched the boy swing through the webs. “Okay… I admit he’s super hot, but imagine if there are more of them out there.”

You spun to her, frowning. Jake had never mentioned “others” like him… but what if they existed?

If you knew it was your brother, you wouldn’t call him hot, trust me, you thought, watching Jake land on the bank rooftop. Spider-Man crouched gracefully, and a few officers glared at him, visibly annoyed.

“Don’t interfere!” one shouted through a megaphone. But Spider-Man’s voice cut through, firm and commanding: “How many people are inside? How many robbers?”

There was a brief silence, then two officers stepped forward, almost shouting at the same time: “Thirteen hostages! And four robbers! One of them is threatening a pregnant woman and her daughter!”

Spider-Man nodded quickly, decisively, and said, “Thank you.” Then, without another word, he disappeared into the shadows of the building. Your breath caught, anxiety gripping you, you hated this feeling now nowing Jake’s life could be at risk any second.

The whole world watched: from homes to every meter of street, even on digital billboards. Screens showed the hostages emerging three hours later, all alive some staggered, supported by police or paramedics, some silently crying, some running to relatives. Most faces were marked by terror: small cuts, hands still trembling while clinging to loved ones. You leapt from the couch as you saw your dad approaching the reporters.

“All hostages are safe. But…” he paused, looking at everyone, “one of the robbers was killed and in particular… by Spider-Man.”

Your eyes widened, hands flying to your mouth. “No…” You whispered, shaking your head in disbelief. Jake would never hurt anyone. Your father continued, voice steady, gaze tense. “One of our officers had already shot the suspect in the leg, but it didn’t stop him from pointing a knife at the young pregnant mother. Spider-Man, in an attempt to ‘be the hero,’ stopped him with his webs… until he strangled him.”

A murmur ran through the crowd. Your stomach twisted. It’s not his fault… it can’t be his fault!

Next to you, Mia stayed silent, slightly shocked by your reaction. You sprang from the couch.

“I’m going out.”

“Wait, where…?”

You didn’t give her a chance to finish and grabbed your bag, rushing down the stairs to the subway. The trains were crowded, every screen, every voice, spoke only of it. “Did you see? Spider-Man saved them all!” “He did what had to be done. If he hadn’t stopped him, the woman would have died.” “An assassin is still an assassin, costume or not.”

You nearly covered your ears with your headphones, thinking no one was talking about Jake—no one was wondering how he was, if he had been caught… if he was hurt. Half an hour later, you arrived in front of the bank. The flashing lights were still on, barricades lined the area, and journalists jostled to get interviews. Through the crowd, you spotted your father. “Dad!” you shouted, running toward him. When he turned and saw you, he opened his arms, hugging you tight, momentarily washing away the chaos around you. “You okay?” he asked. “Yes… yes. And you?” you said, trying not to show your panic. “I’m fine, sweetheart.” He stroked your hair, trying to reassure you, but his gaze was tired, slightly grim. But you weren’t fully listening; your eyes were drawn past him, toward the blackened facade of the bank. There was no sign of him, no red-and-blue mask but then, something made your blood run cold.

You looked up, and atop a nearby skyscraper, a dark figure watched you. Wearing a sharp, pointed black mask and a black cape fluttering in the wind, this was not Spider-Man… not Jake. It was someone else. Another “hero”? Another vigilante? Your pupils narrowed as you noted the figure’s build: slightly taller than Jay, dark hair not long and when he turned, for a split second, you glimpsed a familiar face. It looked eerily like Jay but impossible. Could it be him? Maybe it was just the adrenaline making you read too much, worrying about Jake and whether your dad was okay. You looked down to catch your breath and clear your head. When you looked back up at the skyscraper, the figure was gone. A shiver ran down your spine.

Three days had passed…three long, exhausting days without Jake. The first night, you had rung the doorbell at the 02s’ apartment several times, but no one answered. Then you had tried calling them one by one: Jay, Sunghoon, Heeseung… but it was as if they had vanished from the face of the earth. On the second day, only one message arrived, not to you, but to Mia from her brother: “Hey, me and the others are at Jay’s. (Boys’ stuff!) Don’t worry.”

Don’t worry. You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop worrying: you filled his chat with messages, missed calls, short voice notes that remained unchecked until the third day, when you finally stopped not out of pride, but sheer exhaustion. That evening, you sat on your bed, head resting against the pillow, eyes fixed outside the window where the Sydney skyline shimmered in distant, blurred lights, a world moving on while yours was frozen. In your headphones, Lisa’s “Dream” played, and for a moment, you let her voice soothe you… until you heard three knocks. You whipped around to the door, but it never opened. You ripped off your headphones, and when you turned again, a shiver ran down your spine. There he was: a dark silhouette, a tuft of fluffy black hair falling across his forehead, his face shadowed Jake. He wore a black Thrasher hoodie, sweatpants, and a light jacket. You opened the window, and he slipped in with a swift movement. You barely had time to speak before he came toward you and rested his forehead against your shoulder. You froze, unsure whether to feel anger at his silence, hurt at his absence, or sadness at seeing him like this. In the end, only a small gesture slipped out: your hand tracing gentle circles along his back, the other resting lightly on his.

“How are you, Jake?” you whispered, and he shook his head. You kept massaging his back as if trying to ease the weight he carried, until his voice broke the quiet. “I’m a monster.” Your breath caught in your throat. You stiffened, hands hovering midair at the rawness of his confession. “Don’t say that,” you said, hugging him tightly. “It’s the truth.” He pulled back slightly to look at you. “I… I’m ashamed of myself.” You grabbed his face with both hands, holding him even as he tried to pull away. “Look at me,” you said, trying to reason with him. His eyes, usually bright, were veiled with tears he refused to shed. His full, soft lips were chapped, as if he’d been biting them for days from anxiety. Faint dark circles marked his face, and the hands you held bore tiny cuts and bite marks—wounds he had inflicted on himself. Your heart broke. “It’s not your fault, Jake… that robber was already hurt. They had shot him. You… you only tried to save that woman.” He shook his head angrily. “I ended it. It was me. Your dad… your father was right. I’m a monster… I don’t deserve anything.” The silence hit like a punch. His words were so harsh, so cruel against himself, that deep down you hated the alien part that had bitten him because your Jake didn’t deserve this. You brought your face closer to his and said,

“Don’t you dare say you don’t deserve anything. You saved lives, Jake. If it weren’t for you, we’d be talking about a funeral or two. You’re not a monster… you’re…” Your voice cracked. “You’re the only one who never gives up, the only one brave enough to always help everyone, putting your life at risk before anyone else’s.” He closed his eyes, letting himself go for a moment. You felt his body tremble against yours, a small sob escaping his lips. The sound was brief, but it made your heart clench. Without thinking, guided by instinct, you rose on tiptoe and pressed your lips to his. Jake flinched for a moment, resisting, as if every fiber of his being wanted to protect you from himself. But then the most fragile and selfish part of him melted into your embrace, and the warmth of your kiss completely disarmed him.

Your soft, slightly glossy lips that tasted of strawberry the flavor he loved so much, made him collapse, and Jake let himself go, responding with a sweet kiss, charged with everything he had never dared to say to you. You entwined your fingers in his soft, black hair, and he mumbled something indistinct as his hands slid to your hips, pulling you close. His tongue brushed your lips, and the kiss shifted rhythm: from hesitant to intense, from shy to desperate. Jake completely lost himself in you, his warm breath enveloping you as he whispered between sighs: “I… need you.” The words hit you like an electric shock, your heart pounding so hard it felt as if it might burst from your chest. You answered with a stronger kiss, and as you continued, you both stumbled toward the bed. Jake couldn’t pull away from you, as if breathing were less important than feeling you there, close. He helped you sit on your bed, lips still pressed to yours, while his hands slid slowly under your hoodie. A sigh escaped you against his mouth, and in a low voice, you murmured: “I want you too, Jake.” He paused for a moment, holding your face in his hands. In his eyes, there was a whirlwind: fear, desire, and vulnerability you had never seen before. You realized that even though the spider had bitten him, there was more humanity in Jake than in many fully “human” people. “Are you sure? Are you ready to want… both Jake, the one you’ve known forever… and Spider-Man? With everything that entails?” You stroked his face with your thumbs, forcing him to meet your gaze. Your smile was gentle but firm. “I want all of you, Jake all the light and all the dark, the beautiful… and the parts you think you have to hide… I want you, forever.”

His fingers sank just at the edge of your panties with a slow, tension-filled gesture, enough to reveal you and drive you wild. He paused for a moment, amused, as he began teasing your clitoris through your panties with his slender hands.

“Already this wet?” His voice was a mix of amusement and desire, and seeing you so alive under his hands drove him crazy. “Tell me, little one… who’s the boy that makes your panties like this?”You swallowed, cheeks flaming, as he leaned over the bed to admire you better. “J-Jake…” He chuckled, a small smirk on his face. “Good girl… I love hearing you say my name. One day, you’ll even have a damn ring engraved with my name on the back.”

Then he added, with that cheeky arrogance that drove you crazy: “You should see yourself… lying here with your legs open and me in the middle… all for me.”

His fingers brushed you, and your legs wrapped around his waist to stay close to him. “Do you want my hands?” He leaned close to your ear and whispered. “Or my tongue?”

You blushed and looked away, whispering: “…tongue.” Jake smiled, satisfied, as his hands firmly gripped your hips. He slowly lowered himself between your thighs; his warm breath brushed your bare skin, making you shiver. He began kissing the insides of your thighs, alternating soft kisses with light bites that left small marks, while his fingers traced invisible circles on your taut skin.

“Jake… keep going… please…” Then, without warning, he attacked with his tongue, slow and deep; your body arched, and a muffled moan escaped your lips. “Oh… God… Jake!” He chuckled and continued tracing perfect circles with his tongue over your vaginal lips, increasingly precise, making every nerve in your body respond only to him. You felt the urge to grab his hair, and disjointed words escaped your lips between sighs and trembles.

“Don’t… stop… please… Jake… never stop…” Jake lifted his gaze slightly, an arrogant smirk on his lips. “Who’s the only one that can touch you like this?” “You… Jake… only you…” “Good girl.” He said, licking you and kissing you gently as if rewarding you. A small sigh escaped your lips as he moved his head slowly, almost cruelly, and began sucking your swollen clitoris, mixing sweetness with animalistic desire in every motion.

His fingers sank just at the edge of your panties with a slow, tension-filled gesture, enough to drive you crazy, and he moved them just enough to uncover you. He paused slightly as he began teasing your panties and lightly brushing your clitoris with his slender fingers.“Already this wet?” His voice was amused, and seeing you so alive under his hands drove him wild. “Tell me, little one… who’s the boy that makes your panties like this?”

You swallowed, cheeks burning, as he leaned over the bed to admire you. “J-Jake…” He chuckled, a small smirk on his face. “Good girl… I love hearing you say my name. One day, you’ll even have a damn ring with my name engraved on the back.” Then he added, as he began tracing the inside of your thighs with that typical boldness that drove you crazy: “You should see yourself… lying here in your bed with your legs open, me in the middle, and you… all for me.”

His fingers brushed against you, and your legs wrapped around his waist to keep you close. “Do you want my hands?” He leaned close to your ear and whispered. “Or my tongue?” You blushed, looking away, and whispered: “…tongue.”

The word escaped in a soft whisper, and Jake looked at you with a proud, satisfied smile as his hands settled firmly on your hips. He lowered himself between your thighs; his warm breath brushed your bare skin, making every fiber of your body tremble. He began kissing the insides of your thighs slowly, alternating soft kisses with light bites that left small marks, while his fingers traced invisible circles on your taut skin.

“Jake… keep going… please…” Then, without warning, he attacked with a slow, deep, wet stroke; your body arched at the sensation of his tongue on your wet center, and something between a moan and a held breath escaped your lips. “Oh… God… Jake!”

He chuckled, and with the tip of his tongue, he began drawing small, perfect circles—slight figure eights, slower and more precise each time—on your vaginal lips. Every nerve in your body seemed to respond only to him, as if it had always been programmed to be his. You grabbed his hair, and disjointed words escaped your lips between sighs and trembles.

“Don’t… stop… please… Jake… never stop…”

You said, sighing at the beautiful sensation of him bent over you, his hair tickling you pleasantly. He lifted his gaze slightly, an arrogant smirk forming on his lips. “Who’s the only one that can touch you like this?” He teased. “You… Jake… only you��” “Good girl.” He said, licking you and kissing you gently as if rewarding you a small sigh escaped your lips as he moved his head slowly, almost cruelly, and began sucking your swollen clitoris.

Jake let himself fall on top of you, elbows planted beside your body, his skin marked with small cuts and bruises. Instead of looking away, you leaned in slowly and placed gentle, lingering kisses along his jawline, down his collarbones, gliding to his chest and ribs. You felt his muscles quiver beneath your lips, as if every touch was a little drug that healed him from his inner pain, and you wanted so badly to show him that you wanted him completely too, caring for him as best as you could.

“You’re… unbearable,” he murmured with a growl, though his body trembled as you continued kissing him, clearly yielding. The “spider” inside him seemed to writhe, craving contact, and Jake clenched his jaw, as if to keep it in check.

“You sure?” he asked in a quiet voice, and you nodded, gripping his messy hair in your fingers. “I want you, Jake. Both your beautiful parts and the parts where you’re vulnerable, like before.” He paused, a serious look fixed on you. “Are you sure you’re ready to handle both the boy you love… and the monster I carry inside?”

His pants slid down quickly, the fabric falling somewhere unimportant in the room, leaving only his black Calvin Klein boxers clinging to his statuesque body, swollen to the point of seeming ready to burst. Your hands trembled as you slowly pulled them down, freeing him completely. There, before you, his cock was red, throbbing, alive, the mushroom tip already glistening with the sticky substance dripping in thin strands. He ran a hand through his messy black hair, slightly embarrassed, but also because you were the only one driving him crazy. You took his hot shaft in your hand and began stroking him slowly.

A deep growl escaped his throat, and he clenched his jaw at the sensation of your small hands around him. He sighed: “Don’t play with me… if you really want it, don’t dare tease me like that.” He leaned over you, lowering his torso until his mouth brushed yours for a soft kiss, while his cock began rubbing slowly between your swollen folds, soaking in your heat. Each stroke drew a moan from your chest, small shivers making you wrap your thighs around his hips. The tip rubbing against your entrance made you flinch, and you tugged his hair, gasping: “Don’t… don’t play anymore… I want you now. I want all of you… inside. I’ve been waiting too long.”

A flash of pleasure lit up his eyes, and he whispered: “Then grip me tight. I want to feel your nails in my skin when you moan from pleasure, little one!” He grabbed you by the hips and positioned you under him a little better. “Grab my shoulders or my biceps and don’t let go.”

And like an obedient student, you did, your hands pressing into his black hair. He pushed in slowly at first, but every inch of him made you moan, spreading you open with a rough yet dominant sweetness at the same time. “Like this… feel how I’m opening you? No one will ever take you like I do. You were born for this, for me, little one, from the very first moment I saw you.”

His shaft filled you completely, making you instinctively press your thighs against his broad hips. You could feel every vein pulsing inside of you. His “spider” wasn’t just in his mind: every time his cock throbbed inside you, it was a different kind of heat, almost poisonous, making you addicted.

“Are you okay, baby? Can I move?” You nodded with a trembling whisper: “Yes… but slowly… you’re too big…”

Those words made him groan louder, almost a growl that rolled from his chest. He pulled out just slightly, then pushed back in slowly but deeper each time, and every thrust made you moan. Broken moans echoed through your room as he filled you so completely it felt like there was no space left, yet you wanted him deeper. His skin glistened with sweat, muscles taut, veins on his arms pulsing as he held you steady. “God, feel how tightly you’re holding me… let me know you’re mine…”

When his thrusts started to get faster, less controlled, two bodies fitting perfectly together, you gasped and looked into his eyes, begging: “More… give me more, Jake… don’t stop… I want it all…” He leaned down over you, lightly biting your neck to drive you crazy, and started fucking you more intensely. He lifted one of your legs onto his shoulder, and in that angle, you could feel his full length against your stomach. When you lowered your eyes, you saw the shadow of his tip and sighed with pleasure as you drew him closer to you.

Jake smirked at the sight of his cock sliding in and out of you so perfectly. “I need to come inside you, little one. You’ll let me, right?” he said, as he started fucking your G-spot. When he found it, little cries of pleasure echoed through the room, along with obscene sounds escaping from both of you.

You nodded and told him you wanted to come too, right there. He indulged you with a satisfied grin, and his skilled fingers immediately returned between your thighs, finding your swollen, trembling clit. His touches were slow but deliberate, guided only by the moans you gifted him. Every stroke was fire that took your breath away, and every time he touched you, your body shuddered. When you finally gave in, pleasure exploded inside you, and you screamed as you came, your legs clamping around his hips, feeling him sink even deeper into you as if he’d been waiting his entire life to claim you. After three more thrusts, Jake held you close by your hips, pushing his release deep inside you. The warmth of his cum, combined with the sensation of being filled both by him and by the “spider,” made you moan even louder.

When he pulled out, he put his shirt on you and stayed wrapped around you, as if he feared you might disappear at any moment. You stroked his slightly sweaty hair, and he buried his face in the hollow of your neck, planting small, delicate kisses, seeking comfort and security. “Are you still mad at me for disappearing for days?” he asked, hugging you even tighter. “No, I’m not mad at you. In fact, I haven’t been for a long time. I was just worried about you physically and mentally. I know you have your friends, but I also want to be part of your life.”

Jake nodded, and as he shifted slightly, he looked at you and gave a small smile that lit up his full lips, making you melt a little inside. "Promise me that if there’s another emergency, you’ll at least send a simple ‘I’m okay,’ so I can stay at peace."

With a sweet gesture, you offered him your pinky, and he chuckled, remembering that when you had kissed, he had crossed his fingers behind his back, and both Jay and Heeseung had seen it because he would never truly respect your “stamp kiss decision.” Jake intertwined his pinky with yours and gently swayed it. “You know, maybe out there Spider-Man needs a little break, and surely there are other good vigilantes in the city like him.”

Your eyes widened, and you said incredulously, “Wait… are you telling me that it’s not just you, but there are other guys with powers too? Like, for example, a guy with a sharp mask, a cape, and who looks like Batman?”

He slightly opened his mouth and brought a hand to his face. “God, that guy is only going to cause trouble with his stubbornness and his need to show off even when it’s not necessary!” Jake looked at you, slightly curious and with a hint of surprise. “Wait… you know about Batman?” You shrugged casually and then, with a sudden move, he pushed you to the side and started tickling you, laughing and saying, “I want to know what you know about Batman!”

You tried to defend yourself between bursts of laughter, attempting to push him away, but eventually, you said, still giggling softly, “I saw him… on the rooftop near the bank. He really looked like Batman… and… also someone we both know.” Jake paused, took a deep breath, and exhaled, looking at you intently. “And who do you think it could be?” he asked, his voice calm but curious.

You brought a finger to your lips thoughtfully. “Mmm… maybe someone who can silence half the female population with just a look, a guy with a black Lamborghini, and the person who loves teasing your sister the most.” Jake burst out laughing, shaking his head and commenting jokingly, “Ah, Spider-Man and Batman… they could really be a great duo!”

taglist:) @ikeupups @akaris3 @miauumin @en-chantedtomeetyou @7789995323567322 @wonlogy @luvgrained @w2hoonki @outroherrr @lilawritess @summer190 @jakesbabymomma @sunishake @woonivr @kiunlov @hollxe1 @firstclassjaylee @ikeuheartz @skzenhalove @kirakun

Rebblog and comments are appreciated

2K notes · View notes