jakescapes - Tumblr blog

jakescapes · 24 days ago

Text

300 notes!! thank u guys so much! 💕

𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙬𝙚𝙗𝙗𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚

pairing: spiderman!jake x reader (f)

synopsis: One night, Spider-Man saves you and you can’t stop thinking about him. His presence haunts your thoughts, and soon he becomes more than just a hero in a mask. But what you don’t know is that Spider-Man has been watching you all along. As the lines between hero and ordinary guy blur, you find yourself drawn to him, unaware of the truth he’s hiding and the complications that come with falling for someone living a double life.

genre: fluff, smut, strangers (not rlly) to lovers

warnings: pretty much none other than brief fight scene, wounding + blood, lying, explicit smut, technically inferred mutual virginity loss but it’s not rlly mentioned, mdni!!

author's note: this one is pretty chill and not as heavy as storyline goes as much as my other fics but i think it's still pretty cute :3 i know i wasn't gonna post this one until my other fic is out but i changed my mind lol anyways enjoyyy

wc: 11.8k

--------------------------------------------------------

You’ve always been the kind of girl people liked. Not the most popular, not the type who threw huge parties or walked around with a whole parade of people behind you, but people knew you. They smiled when you walked down the halls. Teachers liked you because you were smart and funny, good but not a try hard. You had your group of close friends and stuck by them. You weren’t loud, but you weren’t invisible either.

You were...just right.

And to Jake, you were everything.

You didn’t know that, of course. To you, Jake was just the sweet, quiet guy who sat a few rows back in your English class, always scribbling in the margins of his notebook, sometimes flashing you a shy smile if you caught his eye.

"Hey, Jake," you said once, a few weeks ago, when you held the door open for him after history class.

He’d blinked, startled that you even knew his name. "Uh—hi. Thanks," he mumbled, clutching his battered backpack like it might float away.

You thought he was nice. Sweet. Maybe a little awkward. You didn’t know that he spent half the class staring at the back of your head, memorizing the way you doodled in your notes when you were bored, the way you twirled your pen when you were thinking.

You didn’t know that every time you laughed with your friends, he wished he could be part of that world, yours, even just for a second.

You definitely didn’t know that Jake Sim, quiet, nerdy Jake, was Spider-Man.

Nobody knew.

And even with the whole city to protect, somehow, you were the thing he couldn’t stop watching.

You’ve always liked New York at night. It’s noisy, chaotic, but when you’re walking alone, sometimes it feels like the whole city softens just for you.

Your boots click along the sidewalk as you make your way home from your friend’s house. Your phone is tucked safely into your jacket, your bag slung across your shoulder. You hum quietly to yourself, thinking about the sleepover plans you already started setting up for next weekend.

You don’t notice the figure perched high above you, crouched at the edge of a building. From the shadowed rooftops, Jake watches you with sharp eyes behind his mask.

He should be three neighborhoods over. He knows there’s trouble brewing near the docks.

But he can’t help himself. You're walking home alone, and the idea of something happening to you when he could stop it—

Yeah. Not a chance

He could watch you laugh with your friends for hours. He knows the exact way your nose crinkles when you’re confused in class, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re concentrating, the easy way you smile at people when you pass them in the halls.

He trails you silently, heart thudding harder than it ever does when he’s fighting criminals.

Then, a sudden noise jolts him out of his thoughts. You’re about two blocks from your apartment when it happens.

Two men step out of a shadowy alley up ahead, blocking your path.

"Hey, pretty girl," one of them says with a greasy smile.

You jerk back instinctively. "Get away from me," you snap, fear spiking in your chest.

They don’t listen. One grabs your bag. The other lunges for you, trying to trap you between them.

"Let go of me!" you shout, struggling, but they’re stronger than they look. Panic flashes through you. You twist, trying to kick, and manage to knock one of them off balance, but there’s two of them and only one of you.

Jake doesn’t even think.

He dives.

Thwip! A web zips through the air, snagging the thief by the chest and yanking him backward so fast he crashes into a lamppost. You spin around, gasping, just in time to see a blur of red and blue land hard between you and the second man.

You stumble back, wide eyed, heart hammering.

It’s him. Spider-Man.

He doesn’t even hesitate, just moves. A punch. A sweep of his legs. Another thwip! and the second man is webbed to the sidewalk, groaning.

You stand frozen, staring.

You’ve heard the stories. You’ve seen the news reports. People talking about Spider-Man like he’s some kind of legend. Some of your friends even joked about what they’d do if they ever met him.

You watch, breathless, as he webs the two men up in a neat, dangling package. It’s almost...easy for him. Strong, fast, confident. You can’t tear your eyes away.

And now here he is. In front of you. Saving you.

He turns toward you, breathing a little harder than usual.

"You okay?" His voice is warm, low.

You nod, still stunned. "Y-yeah. I—thank you. Thank you so much."

He hesitates for a second, then says, "Where do you live? I'll get you home."

You stammer out your address, your voice shaking.

"Okay. Hold on tight."

Before you can react, he scoops you up by the waist. You yelp, clutching desperately onto his shoulders as he swings up into the sky.

You’ve seen Spider-Man swoop around the city before, on TV, from your window sometimes, but being in it, flying through the air, the wind whipping around you, the lights blurring below, it’s a whole different world. You tighten your arms around his neck, your face pressed close to the smooth fabric of his suit.

You squeak, clutching at him.

"I’ve got you," he says quickly, as you both rise high above the ground.

You cling tighter, feeling the muscles shifting under his suit, the heat radiating from him.

"This is insane," you breathe out. "You’re insane. You’re amazing."

He laughs under his breath, and it’s a sound you wish you could bottle and keep forever.

When he finally lands lightly on your balcony, your knees are trembling. He sets you down gently.

You stare up at him, breathless.

"Thank you," you say again, your voice small.

He shifts awkwardly, like he’s about to leave, but then he winces slightly, a hand ghosting over his side.

"You’re hurt," you notice immediately. "Wait—don’t go. Let me help."

He tries to protest. "I'm fine—really—"

“No, I owe you.” And you’re already pulling him inside your room.

You tug the door open, leading him into your bedroom. It’s cozy, filled with little things that make it you. Posters on the wall, a stack of books on your nightstand, fairy lights strung across the ceiling. He turns in a slow circle, taking it all in, his heart racing for a completely different reason now.

He’s in your room.

Jake Sim. Spider-Man. Nerdy kid who sits three rows behind you in English.

Inside. With you.

You dart into the bathroom and come back with a first aid kit.

"Sit," you command gently, patting the edge of your bed.

He obeys, sitting stiffly, still a little stunned himself.

Carefully, you peel back a section of his torn suit at his ribs, revealing a spreading bruise and a shallow gash.

You suck in a breath. "Oh my God. You’re actually hurt."

"I've had worse," he mumbles, watching you nervously.

Your hands are gentle as you clean the wound, your touch light. He doesn’t even realize he’s holding his breath.

You’re so close. Close enough that he can see every tiny detail, the little gold flecks in your eyes, the freckles dusting your nose, the worried way you bite your lip.

And for a second, he forgets about the blood, about the bruises, about everything except you.

He wishes, more than anything, that it could be Jake sitting here like this. Just Jake. No mask. No secret.

Just you, patching him up, caring for him, because you wanted to.

But he knows better.

He knows this life he chose is too dangerous. Too complicated.

Still, he can dream.

…

After he swung away into the night, you just stood there for a second, your bedroom door still half open, the first aid kit forgotten on your bed.

Your heart was racing.

You pressed your hand to your chest like that might calm it down, but it didn’t. You felt like you were still flying, like you could still feel the pressure of his arms around your waist, the rush of the wind in your hair, the firm, careful way he held you like you were something precious.

Slowly, you climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin. You stared at the ceiling, wide eyed.

You never really thought about Spider-Man before. Sure, he was cool. People at school were always gossiping about him — "Did you hear he stopped that robbery last night?" or "My cousin swears she saw him swing over Times Square!" But you never paid that much attention.

Until now.

Now, you couldn’t get him out of your head.

The way he moved. The easy strength in his shoulders. The way he didn’t hesitate to jump in and protect you. The way his voice sounded low and a little worried when he asked if you were okay.

You buried your face in your pillow, cheeks burning.

You were crushing. Hard.

Meanwhile, a few blocks away, Jake swung clumsily back toward his tiny apartment, the night air cold against his scraped skin.

He practically stumbled through his window, ripping off his mask as he collapsed onto his bed, still breathing hard.

He covered his face with his hands.

What just happened? he thought to himself.

Of all the people in New York, of all the random twists of fate, it had been you.You, walking alone. You, getting cornered. You, needing him.

And as bad as it sounded. As wrong as it was, he was grateful. Grateful you’d needed saving. Grateful he’d gotten to touch you, to hear you laugh breathlessly into his shoulder, to see the way you looked at him like he was someone incredible.

Not Jake Sim, the quiet nerd in the back of the class. But Spider-Man. A hero.

...

The next morning at school, Jake tried to act normal.

Tried to sit at his desk like his entire soul wasn’t buzzing.

You walked into class with your best friend, Maya, giggling about something. You looked a little tired, but in that soft, pretty way. Jake kept his head down, scribbling nonsense in his notebook, but his ears were straining, tuned to every word.

"You are lying," Maya hissed under her breath, eyes wide.

"I'm not!" you insisted, grinning. "I'm telling you! Spider-Man saved me last night."

Maya gawked. "You're serious?!"

You nodded, leaning in closer so no one else could hear.

Jake’s hand stilled on the page, his heart hammering.

"He was..." you trailed off for a second, your voice going soft. "He was amazing. Like, really amazing."

Maya snorted. "Amazing how?"

You bit your lip, cheeks turning pink. "I don’t know. Just, the way he fought those guys? And the way he held me? He was so...manly. And confident. It was like..." You shook your head, laughing a little at yourself. "I don’t know, Maya. I think I might have a little crush on him now."

Jake gripped his pen tighter, something inside him flipping over.

You had a crush. On him.

Well...on Spider-Man.

He should’ve been thrilled. And he was. Kind of.

But mostly, he just felt this aching sadness swell up inside him.

Because the person you met last night wasn’t Jake Sim.

It was someone stronger. Braver. Someone you could look up to. Not the awkward kid who tripped over his own feet and fumbled his words when you smiled at him.

Jake stared blankly at his notebook, a hollow pit forming in his chest.

If you ever found out the truth, if you ever realized that Spider-Man was just Jake, the kid who barely managed to survive high school without embarrassing himself — Would you be disappointed?

Would you stop looking at him like he was something special?

Jake swallowed hard, forcing himself to smile as the teacher called for attention.

He had to be okay with it. You were safe. That was what mattered.

Even if the closest he ever got to you was behind a mask.

...

After class, the hallways were packed, loud with chatter and the slam of locker doors.

Jake stood by his locker, spinning the dial lazily with one hand, half listening to his friend Mark rant about something that happened in gym.

"I’m just saying," Mark said, waving his arms dramatically, "if Coach expects me to run a mile in under seven minutes, he can —"

Wham.

You bumped into Jake's side by accident, your bag swinging wide as you tried to squeeze past the crowd.

"Oh my god, sorry!" you blurted, reaching down to grab the little notebook that had fallen out of your hands.

But Jake was already crouching down to pick it up, and the second he moved, he winced, the sharp pull of his bruised ribs making him suck in a breath.

He quickly masked it with a cough and stood up, handing you the notebook.

"Here," he said, voice a little tight.

"Thanks," you smiled, but your eyes narrowed slightly. "... Are you okay?"

Jake froze for a split second. His hand was instinctively pressed against his side, over the exact spot you had patched up last night.

He jerked it away, shoving both hands into his jean pockets like nothing happened. "Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine," he said, way too fast.

But when he moved, you caught it, just for a second. His shirt had ridden up slightly, and you spotted a white bandage taped carefully over his ribs. You blinked, heart skipping. It looked exactly like the one you’d used last night... the same pattern of gauze and tape.

You opened your mouth to say something, but Jake was already rushing to explain.

"It’s just, uh, some bruising," Jake added, trying to sound casual. "From... y'know. Soccer.”

You raised an eyebrow. "Soccer?"

"Yeah." Jake coughed again, fake, awkward. "Picked the wrong guy to guard, I guess."

You smiled politely, not totally convinced, but decided not to press. "Well, be careful," you said, slinging your bag higher on your shoulder.

"Will do," Jake mumbled, watching as you disappeared down the hall.

As soon as you were out of earshot, Mark grabbed Jake by the shoulders.

"Dude. Dude. What was that?"

Jake shrugged, trying (and failing) to act cool. "Nothing."

"Nothing?! Bro, she was worried about you! That’s not nothing!"

Mark paused, squinting at him. "Wait... why are you even bruised? What happened?"

Jake hesitated. His fingers drummed anxiously against the locker.

Finally, he muttered under his breath, "I saved her last night."

Mark’s jaw dropped. "What?!"

Jake winced. "Keep your voice down, man!"

“You saved her?" Mark repeated, quieter but no less intense. "Like, Spider-Man, you saved her?"

Jake nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, sheepishly. "Yeah. Some guys tried to mug her. I took them out. She... she helped patch me up after."

Mark looked like he was about to explode. "Dude, you have an opening. After years of crushing on her, you can finally make a move!"

Jake just shook his head, a sad little smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

It wasn’t that easy.

If he wanted to be with you, it had to be as Jake. Not as the hero you thought you knew.

It was late. Way past midnight. Your desk lamp buzzed quietly as you sat cross legged on your bed, hunched over your textbook, fighting to stay awake. You had a big exam coming up and your brain was practically melting.

That’s when you heard it.

Tap, tap.

Your head snapped up, heart lurching in your chest. The tapping came again, but it wasn’t from your door. It was your window.

You grabbed the nearest thing, a hairbrush, and crept cautiously toward the sound. And when you peeled back the curtain, you nearly dropped it.

Spider-Man was outside your window. Again.

His mask was on, but he looked... bad. One arm was clutching his side tightly, and even through the dim streetlight you could see the dark smudges of blood soaking through the red and blue suit.

You fumbled the lock open without thinking. He stumbled inside the second you lifted the window, bracing himself against your wall to stay upright.

"Are you okay?!" you gasped, rushing to steady him.

He just gave a shaky little laugh. "Sorry," he rasped. "Didn’t mean to scare you. I just—" He winced sharply. "I didn’t know where else to go."

Your heart twisted painfully at the sight of him. The city’s strongest protector, barely able to stand up straight.

"It’s okay," you said quickly. "You’re fine. I won’t tell anyone, I swear."

You helped him over to your bed, your mind already racing. Grabbing the first aid kit from your bathroom once again, you knelt in front of him, hands shaking only slightly.

You peeled back the torn fabric of his suit, biting your lip hard at the sight underneath. His side was an ugly mess of deep gashes and bruises.

It felt... different this time. More intimate. Last time, you were too caught up in the shock to notice. But now, alone in your bedroom in the middle of the night, with Spider-Man so close, it was impossible not to feel it. The air between you felt thick. Your fingers lingered a little too long against his abdomen as you cleaned the wound, brushing over the planes of muscle stretched tight under his bloodied skin. You were close enough to hear the hitch in his breath when you pressed a little too hard, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body.

It was crazy. He was sneaking into your room in the dead of night, bleeding and broken... and yet, your heart wouldn’t stop hammering in your chest.

"God," you muttered, forcing yourself to focus. "What happened to you?"

"Ran into some bad people tonight," he mumbled, head leaning back against your wall. "Really bad."

You nodded, trying to stay calm.

"You should rest here for the night," you said softly as you worked, wrapping fresh gauze carefully around his ribs. "No one would know. You could leave in the morning."

He just shook his head immediately, voice hoarse. "No, I couldn’t possibly. I’ll... just stay for a little while. Then I’ll go."

You frowned but didn’t argue. His body was tense, muscles trembling slightly under your touch. Still, he let you take care of him. He trusted you to.

"You really should be more careful," you muttered under your breath, taping the last bandage into place. "Your job’s so dangerous. You’re not invincible, you know."

You meant it seriously, but Jake couldn't help it.

Even through the pounding pain in his body, even through the blood loss, he thought you looked adorable trying to lecture him. Your brows were all scrunched up, your voice low and worried. Like you really cared.

He smiled behind the mask, even though you couldn’t see it. “Thanks, I will.”

The room fell into a heavy silence after that.

The soft hum of your desk lamp, the faint city noise from outside, it all faded into the background.

You were fidgeting without realizing it, your fingers nervously picking at the strings of your shorts. You sat on the edge of the bed, stealing quick glances at him, your heart hammering so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

You hesitated, swallowing hard before you finally spoke.

"I..." Your voice cracked slightly, and you cleared your throat, cheeks burning. "I know this is probably really stupid. And I know you probably hear this from... like, every girl you save."

You laughed awkwardly, trying to fill the space, but it just made you more aware of how close you were.

"I just—" You sighed, looking down at your lap. "I couldn’t stop thinking about you. After the first time. The way you saved me... the way you held me. I kept telling myself it was silly. You probably hear stuff like this all the time."

You glanced up at him, expecting him to nod, to laugh it off, to say something charming and easy.

But he just sat there, completely still.

Because the truth was the opposite.

Jake was used to hearing things about Spider-Man, sure, but it wasn’t always admiration. Most of the time it was fear. Hatred. Distrust. People thinking he was a threat, a vigilante who needed to be thrown behind bars. And sure, some people fawned over the idea of Spider-Man, the hero, the fantasy, but they didn’t know him.

Not the real him. Not the messy, human, hurting boy underneath the suit.

But you... You were different. You were real. You were you.

And to him, that meant everything.

He didn’t know what to say. He was completely, utterly speechless.

You must have taken his silence as an opening, because then you shifted, biting your lip. And next thing you knew, you crawled over the bed toward him slowly, carefully.

He barely dared to breathe.

Your hand reached out, trembling slightly, and you hooked your fingers at the bottom of his mask.

"Can I...?" you whispered.

He nodded once, almost imperceptibly.

With a careful touch, you lifted the mask just enough to reveal his mouth and jaw, the rest of his face still hidden in shadows. His lips were parted slightly, breathing shallow, waiting.

You leaned in, so close he could feel the warmth of you against him. You hesitated for half a second, and then you closed the distance.

The kiss was soft at first, almost shy, like both of you were afraid to break the fragile moment. But when he kissed you back, it changed.

His gloved hand rose to cup your cheek, fingers trembling slightly against your skin. You leaned into his touch instinctively, and he pulled you closer, like he couldn’t help himself. The distance between you vanished.

Your lips moved together slowly, languidly, testing, tasting. You parted yours just slightly, and he responded immediately, deepening the kiss.

Your tongues brushed, tentative at first, then with more urgency, clashing softly against each other in a dance that sent shivers down your spine. It wasn’t sloppy or rushed. It was careful, deliberate, like he was memorizing the way you tasted, the way you felt.

There was something raw and electric about the way he kissed you, like he was pouring every ounce of feeling he had ever bottled up into this single moment. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his suit, anchoring yourself to him, and you felt the way he shuddered slightly, like your touch alone was enough to undo him.

The kiss grew deeper, slower, more intense, every second stretching out between you like it was stitched with gold. It was messy in the way that mattered, the way real feelings always were. A kiss that left your head spinning, your lungs aching, your heart pounding so hard you wondered if he could feel it through your chest.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily, your faces still so close your noses brushed. Your forehead dropped gently against his, and you stayed like that for a long, lingering moment, suspended between reality and something else, something dreamlike and electric.

Neither of you spoke. You didn’t have to.

Everything you needed to say was already written between your lips.

Ever since that night, things had been different.

You couldn’t quite explain it, but somehow, Spider-Man had become a part of your life in ways you hadn’t anticipated. He wasn’t just the mysterious, masked hero who saved you that one fateful evening anymore, he became someone you talked to.

Sometimes, late at night when you were curled up in bed with your textbooks or scrolling through your phone, he would appear at your window. His silhouette would loom against the glowing city skyline, and you’d unlock it without thinking twice. You didn’t know what it was about him, maybe it was the way he seemed so untouchable yet so real in those brief moments, or maybe it was just how comforting his presence was. But whatever it was, you felt a connection, even if you knew it couldn’t last forever.

It wasn’t always about danger or saving people. Sometimes, it was just the two of you, sitting side by side, talking about the mundane things you both never got to share with anyone else. Sometimes it was silence, comfortable and easy, the kind of silence you’d never felt with anyone before. And sometimes, there were kisses. Soft, tender kisses that lingered for just long enough to make your heart race and your mind spin.

He was still Spider-Man, and you tried to remind yourself of that every time your lips met, every time you felt that spark. But deep down, you knew, you knew that it wasn’t just the thrill of being with a superhero. It was more.

It felt like something real. Something special.

But then, one night, it all stopped.

He didn’t show up.

You tried not to let it get to you. He was Spider-Man, after all. His nights were long, and his duties never rested. Maybe there was just no time for small talk or stolen kisses when he had the city to protect.

You told yourself it was okay. You told yourself that you understood.

But when night after night passed and you sat alone at your window, staring out into the darkness and hoping for a familiar figure to appear, you couldn’t ignore the disappointment that gnawed at you. You didn’t know why you’d gotten so attached to him. Maybe it was just the fact that he was there, that for a moment, he let you into his world. Or maybe it was the way he made you feel like you were the only person that mattered in those fleeting, stolen moments.

But now he was gone.

And you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

You remembered the last time he had come over, and how different that night had felt. You had been sitting together in your bed, his body pressed gently against yours, both of you lying there as if the world didn’t exist outside your room. His hands were intertwined with yours, and the quiet intimacy of the moment felt almost too much to bear.

"I know why you have to keep that mask on," you had said quietly, your voice barely a whisper. "I understand. It’s for your own good." Your fingers had traced small, absent patterns on his hand as you spoke, your mind trying to reconcile the mystery that surrounded him. "But... I can’t help but wonder... what you look like underneath.”

He had hesitated, a flicker of guilt passing through his eyes before he looked away, his gaze drifting towards the window. You felt his fingers tighten around yours, as if unsure whether to speak or to keep it all hidden. The room was silent except for your soft breaths, both of you caught in the unspoken tension.

Finally, he turned back to you, a small, almost sad smile on his lips shown underneath his mask. His voice was low, edged with something you couldn’t quite decipher. "Soon, you’ll find out," he had said, the words hanging heavy in the air.

That had been the last conversation you’d had with him, and now, as the nights stretched on without his visits, you couldn’t shake the thought of what he meant. Soon, you would find out. But until then, all you could do was wait, wondering if he’d ever show his true self to you.

...

Meanwhile, Jake was in his own turmoil.

Every time he visited your window, pretending to be the same Spider-Man who saved you, he felt the weight of his lies crushing him. He couldn’t keep hiding behind the mask. The truth was, he wanted you to see him for who he was. Not as Spider-Man, but as Jake.

The guilt gnawed at him. Every time he saw you, every time his lips touched yours, the shame washed over him, reminding him that he wasn’t being honest with you. You deserved more than this. You deserved the real him, not the superhero persona he wore like a shield.

And so, with all that guilt bubbling up inside of him, Jake decided it was time. He was going to ask you out. Not as Spider-Man. As Jake.

It wasn’t easy for him. He had spent years observing you from afar, watching you laugh with your friends, listening to your stories, memorizing the way you smiled. He had been too shy to ever approach you before, too terrified that you might not see him the way he saw you. But this? This was different. He couldn’t keep pretending any longer. He needed to know if there was a chance. A real chance with you.

So, one afternoon after class, he approached you in the hallway. His heart pounded in his chest, his palms sweating.

"Hey, uh..." Jake said, stumbling over his words, his usual calm demeanor slipping away. He hesitated for a moment, staring at the floor before he finally made eye contact. "Do you want to, I don’t know, hangout together sometime? I could really use a study buddy for the test, and, um... maybe grab some coffee afterward?"

You blinked at him, caught off guard. Jake? Asking you to hang out? You hadn’t spoken much before. He was always the quiet guy in the back of the classroom, a little nerdy and socially distant from everyone. Sure, you knew who he was, but you hadn’t really interacted. The invitation felt... unexpected. But still, he intrigued you.

You tilted your head, considering it for a moment. "Uh... sure? I mean, I guess we could.” You gave him a hesitant smile, unsure of what to expect.

Jake’s face lit up, and for a brief second, you saw a different side of him, the awkward, unsure side of him that was always hidden behind that calm, cool exterior.

He fumbled for his phone, a little nervous, before he handed it to you. "I, uh, I don’t have your number," he said, his voice soft.

You took his phone and entered your number, feeling a mix of curiosity and excitement bubbling up inside you. When you handed it back, he looked at you, trying to hold back a grin. "Cool," he said, his eyes briefly meeting yours. "I’ll text you soon." He gave you a small, awkward smile before turning to leave, his footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway, leaving you standing there, both confused and intrigued.

The day of your first official hangout had arrived. You had agreed to meet Jake at a cozy café downtown, something simple and lowkey. There was something about him, something you couldn't quite put your finger on, that had you curious, eager to know more.

You arrived a bit early and found a quiet corner near the window, tapping your fingers nervously on your coffee cup. It wasn’t like you had never hung out with a guy before, but this felt different. You weren’t sure why. Maybe it was because you’d only really interacted with Jake in class, and now you were about to spend time with him outside of that. You knew he was nice, but you’d never thought of him as someone who would ask you out.

When Jake arrived, he looked a little out of place, wearing a simple hoodie, jeans, and glasses, looking like the normal, shy guy you’d seen in school.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice soft but warm. He gave you a smile, clearly a little nervous.

“Hey,” you said, trying to sound casual, even though you were feeling a little giddy yourself.

Jake sat down across from you, looking around the café for a moment before settling in. As you both started chatting, you realized how easy it was to talk to him. The conversation flowed naturally, bouncing from classes to random anecdotes, and soon you were laughing together over something silly. His humor wasn’t dry or flashy, and it made you feel comfortable, like you had known him better than you actually did.

But then, your curiosity got the best of you, and you found yourself asking, “So, why did you ask me to hang out? I mean, not that I’m complaining, but it’s kind of... unexpected, right?”

Jake paused, his hand shifting nervously around his coffee cup. You could see a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. "I guess, uh..." He scratched the back of his neck, clearly hesitating. "I was just thinking about how... how we never really get a chance to talk much in class. You know, with everyone around. I thought it might be nice to hang out, just the two of us.”

You couldn’t help but smile, a little flattered by his honesty. You’d always noticed how he kept to himself, but you also knew he was always kind and smart. You liked that about him.

“I’ve always thought you were really pretty. And, well, I wanted to get to know you better. I’ve noticed you a lot, so.”

Your heart warmed at his confession, and you found yourself smiling, even though you didn’t know exactly what to say. You hadn’t expected him to be so open about it. You'd always thought Jake was a quiet guy, but here he was, talking to you like this.

The truth was, you didn’t know why you were so unsure when he asked you out earlier. You should’ve been glad. Jake was obviously attractive, he just didn’t know it. He had all the qualities you’d look for in someone to spend time with. And now, as you sat across from him, listening to him talk about things that made him nervous or awkward, you realized there was something different about him. He didn’t try to impress anyone. He was just... himself.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you replied, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips. "I mean, you’re kind of a great guy, Jake. Seriously."

Jake smiled, looking almost relieved. "Well, I’m glad you think so."

The rest of the evening was filled with easy conversation. After coffee, you walked around a nearby park, enjoying the cool night air. The longer you spent with him, the more you realized how comfortable you felt. He wasn’t overly confident like some other guys, but he had this attractiveness about him that drew you in. There was a certain charm to the way he made everything feel effortless, even if he was still a little shy.

As you both walked back toward your apartment, the night had started to grow colder. Jake slowed his pace, and you both stopped at the entrance to your building. There was a moment of silence between you, and you could sense he had something more to say.

“I’m glad you came tonight,” he said quietly, his hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets. “It was... nice to actually hang out without everything feeling like a big deal.”

You nodded, feeling the same way. “I’m glad too. Thanks for inviting me.”

As you both stood there, Jake’s eyes met yours, his gaze soft and full of something unspoken. There was a slight tension in the air, but it felt gentle, like the calm before something significant. You could feel the warmth of his presence, and before you could fully process what was happening, Jake took a step closer, his hand gently brushing your arm.

“Would it be okay,” he began, his voice low and hesitant, “if I kissed you goodnight?”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. It was unexpected but not unwelcome. In fact, you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips, the flutter in your chest as you nodded, too caught up in the moment to think twice.

He closed the space between you, his face soft and vulnerable. His breath was warm against your skin as he leaned in, and everything felt so incredibly intimate. You barely had time to register it before his lips met yours.

The kiss was slow, careful, as if Jake was testing the waters, making sure you felt comfortable. His lips were warm and soft, and you melted into the feeling, the tenderness of the moment overwhelming in the best way. It was a kiss full of uncertainty, but also something more, something that felt real, something you didn’t expect to feel in a first kiss.

But as his lips moved gently against yours, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of familiarity. The way his lips fit against yours, the slight pressure, the way he kissed so softly and carefully, it all felt... right. You almost felt like you’d been here before, like this moment had been rehearsed in some other life, some other time and you had a sudden rush of deja vu. There was an uncanny feeling that you had kissed him before, even though this was your first time.

Your heart beat a little faster, and for a split second, you wondered if you were imagining things. Was it the way he held himself, or was it the way his kiss made you feel as though you'd known him forever? The longer the kiss lasted, the more you found yourself lost in the sensation, until he pulled back ever so slightly, just enough to break the connection but leaving the air charged between you.

You both stayed there for a moment, not saying anything, just staring at each other, your breaths mingling. Jake’s face was flushed, but there was something in his eyes, vulnerable, but genuine. And there you were, standing in the cool night air, still feeling the lingering warmth of his lips on yours.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, goodnight,” you replied, your heart still racing. You wanted to say something else, but you couldn’t quite find the words. Instead, you watched him step back, his figure slowly fading into the shadows as he turned and walked away.

But as you stood there, still reeling from the kiss, a strange feeling settled in your chest. The kiss had felt so familiar, so much like something that was always meant to happen, and for the first time, you realized how much more there was to Jake than what you'd seen before.

You turned and entered your apartment, trying to shake the feeling that something significant had just begun.

It had been almost a month now since Jake had asked you out. Each date with him had been easy, comfortable, and filled with moments that made your heart flutter. This was your fourth date, and after grabbing takeout from your favorite local spot, you invited him over to hang out for the evening. Your parents were surprisingly laid back about it, so after a brief but pleasant introduction, they gave you both some privacy.

Now, Jake was sitting on your bed next to you, his side pressed against yours as you both snacked on the food, laughing over some inside joke you had long forgotten the origin of. As the day grew longer, you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of contentment. There was a lightness in your chest, a kind of peace you didn’t often feel, like this was exactly where you were meant to be.

You had never thought that this would be where you’d end up. When you first met Jake, he’d been just another classmate, a little shy, a little reserved, but undeniably kind. You didn’t even think about Spider-Man anymore, your thoughts were entirely consumed by Jake. Now, he was becoming a constant in your life, and you couldn’t imagine not having him around. The way he looked at you, the way he smiled when he made you laugh, it made everything seem a little brighter.

You glanced over at him, and the sight of his grin made your heart skip a beat. You could tell he was happy too, his eyes crinkling at the edges in that familiar, contagious smile.

"You know," you said, a teasing tone slipping into your voice, "I’m really glad you made a move on me."

Jake’s face lit up, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Well, I’d like to think I had a pretty good reason to," he said, his voice full of that same warmth you’d come to love.

You rolled your eyes playfully, leaning in a little closer to him. "Yeah, you definitely did," you teased, resting your head on his shoulder as you continued to laugh. The feeling in your chest was warm, comforting, a happiness that seemed to fill the air around you.

For a moment, it was just the two of you, no outside distractions, just the easy comfort of each other’s presence. Your fingers brushed against his, and you couldn’t help but feel that familiar pull between you, the kind you had felt ever since the first time you kissed him. There was a sweetness to it, an innocence that felt right.

But as you both continued to giggle, the laughter slowly faded into something softer. You found yourself looking up at him, eyes meeting his in a way that felt more intense than before. You both fell into a silence, the tension between you palpable now.

Without thinking, you reached up, your hand gently cupping his jaw. You pulled him toward you, your lips meeting his in a soft, lingering kiss. It started slow, tender, like you were savoring each moment. But then, as your lips moved together, the kiss deepened.

Jake’s hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss became more urgent, more passionate. His lips pressed against yours with more intensity, and you felt a spark of something deeper ignite in your chest. The way his touch lingered on your skin, the way his lips moved against yours, everything about this felt so right. It wasn’t just the chemistry you’d felt from the start, it was something more, something that had been building between you two without either of you realizing it.

You responded instinctively, your hands threading through his hair as the kiss became more sensual. The world around you seemed to fade away. It was just you and Jake, caught in this moment that felt so real, so powerful. His breath hitched slightly as you deepened the kiss further, and for a moment, everything else, the outside world, the worries, the questions, vanished. All that mattered was here, right now, in this quiet, intimate moment.

The kiss slowed eventually, but neither of you pulled away. You were both breathless, caught in the aftermath of something more than just a kiss, something that left you feeling dizzy with anticipation and warmth.

You reached up, tracing the sharp angle of his jaw, the slight stubble that prickled your fingertips. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, a silent question in their depths. You answered by leaning in, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. His tongue teased the seam of your lips, begging for entry. You obliged, a soft moan escaping you as his tongue met yours, dancing, exploring, claiming. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the intense, overwhelming dance of desire.

Jake's hand descended, his fingers tracing the curve of your collarbone, the swell of your breasts, before coming to rest at the hem of your shirt. His eyes, still locked onto yours, asked for permission, a silent question that hung heavy in the air. You responded by arching into his touch, a subtle movement that spoke volumes. He took it as the green light it was, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric, his knuckles brushing against your bare skin. A shiver ran through you, your breath hitching as his touch grew bolder, his hand sliding up to cup your breast, his thumb finding your nipple and circling it with maddening slowness.

Your hands, exploratory and eager, mirrored his, mapping out the planes of his chest, the ridges of his abs. You could feel the heat of his skin, the taut muscles beneath, the way his breath hitched as you traced the waistband of his jeans. He was hard, his erection pressing against your hip, a testament to his desire.

You wanted to touch him, to feel him, but you also wanted to take your time, to draw out this delicious torture. So, you contented yourself with exploring, your fingers tracing the lines of his body, your lips following the path your hands had taken, leaving a trail of soft kisses and gentle bites. He groaned, his head tilting back, giving you better access, his body trembling with the effort to maintain control. The room was filled with the sounds of your ragged breaths, the soft moans and groans that escaped your lips, the rustle of fabric as you continued your slow, sensual exploration. The tension between you was palpable, a live wire ready to snap, the anticipation almost unbearable, yet you both reveled in it, drawing out the moment, lost in the slow burn of your desire.

Your nipples began to harden into peaks beneath the thin fabric of your shirt. He took advantage, his thumbs brushing over them, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You could feel the heat building between your legs, your panties growing damp with your arousal. You gasped, begging for more.

He obliged, his thumb and forefinger rolling and pinching them gently, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You moaned, your head falling back, your hair cascading down like a waterfall of chestnut waves. He took advantage, his mouth finding yours, his tongue delving in, exploring, dancing with yours.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "You're so responsive," he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. "It's like you were made for me to touch." You couldn't respond, your mind foggy with desire, your body aching for more. He seemed to understand, his hands continuing their exploration, his lips finding that sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder, sucking gently, marking you.

You pulled back, your breath ragged, eyes locked with his. His pupils were dilated, the irises a stormy sea of desire. You reached for the hem of your top, a silent invitation. He understood, his hands covering yours, helping you pull it off. Your bra followed suit, his eyes darkening further at the sight of your naked breasts.

He leaned in, his mouth capturing one taut peak, his tongue swirling, tasting. You gasped, your head falling back, giving him better access. His hands, meanwhile, were busy unbuttoning your jeans, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your stomach, making you squirm. The anticipation was killing you, but you knew he was taking his time, drawing out the pleasure, making this a slow burn you'd never forget.

You reached for him, your hands finding the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head in one fluid motion. Your breath caught at the sight of him, his chest lean and muscular, a light dusting of hair trailing down to the waistband of his jeans. You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his chest, your tongue darting out to taste his skin. He groaned, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer.

You could feel him, hard and ready, pressing against you. The knowledge that you had that effect on him spurred you on, your hands roaming, exploring, learning the planes and angles of his body. He let you, his head thrown back, his eyes closed, a look of pure pleasure on his face.

The room filled with the sound of your ragged breaths and soft moans, a symphony of your growing desire. Jake's hands continued their exploration, tracing the curve of your waist, the flare of your hips, dipping into the hollow of your belly button. You shivered, your skin erupting in goosebumps as his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down, leaving you bare to his heated gaze. He didn't rush, taking his time, his eyes never leaving yours, a silent conversation passing between you.

Then, he lowered himself, his shoulders pushing your thighs apart, his breath hot on your most intimate place. You whimpered, your fingers gripping the sheets, your body tense with anticipation. Then, his mouth found your center, his tongue flicking out, tasting, teasing, driving you to the brink of madness.

To be honest, Jake had no idea what he was doing. He didn't have any sexual experience and he was basing all of his movements off of pure desire and instinct. However, you weren’t any more experienced, so each gentle touch and careful caress felt absolutely perfect.

Your back arched off the bed as Jake's tongue delved deeper, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you in place. You moaned, your fingers twisting in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on. He whimpered at the foreign taste, vibrating against you, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins. "Jake," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper, "Please..." Your plea was lost in a cry of ecstasy as he found that sensitive spot, his tongue circling, pressing, teasing. Your hips bucked, your body yearning for more, for him.

He responded, one hand sliding up your body, cupping your breast, his thumb rubbing against your nipple, sending sparks of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

As your body trembled on the edge of release, Jake slowed his movements, his tongue tracing languid patterns, his hand gentling its touch. You gasped, fingers tangling in the soft strands as you held on for dear life.

The room filled with the sounds of your pleasure, your moans echoing off the walls, a symphony of your growing arousal. Jake's exploring hands, gripped your thighs, holding you in place, his mouth continuing its relentless assault.

Your breath hitched as you felt a finger slip inside you, then another, your body stretching to accommodate him. He curved them slightly, hitting that sweet spot that made your eyes roll back in your head.

His hands, those clever, gentle hands, held your hips down, preventing you from squirming away, not that you wanted to. Every stroke, every lick, every suck was a testament to his patience, his control, and his unwavering desire to make you feel. You gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on. He responded with another groan, the vibration against your sensitive flesh pushing you closer to the edge. You could feel it, the coil tightening in your core, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps.

"Jake," you whispered, his name a plea on your lips. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire, his mouth glistening with your essence. It was one of the most erotic sights you'd ever seen, and it sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. "I need you," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He crawled up your body, his hands trailing fire in their wake, his erection pressing against your thigh. You could see the restraint in his eyes, the tightness of his jaw, and it fueled your desire. You reached between your bodies, wrapping your hand around him, feeling him pulse in your grip. He groaned, his head falling to your shoulder, his hips moving in time with your strokes.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, concern lacing his voice. "I don’t have a condom with me."

"I don't care," you breathed out urgently. "I need you right now Jake."

And with that, he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled his briefs down just low enough, and positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes locked onto yours, ready to take you to new heights of pleasure.

Jake's breath hitched as you guided him, your thumb circling the sensitive tip, spreading the bead of moisture that had gathered there. He watched you through hooded eyes, his pupils dilating with every pass of your thumb, as he slipped it in.

You gasped as Jake slowly pushed into you, his thickness stretching you deliciously. His eyes never left yours, the connection deepening with every inch he claimed. You felt a sense of vulnerability, but also an intense intimacy, like he was seeing into the very core of your being. He paused, allowing you to adjust, his thumb brushing away a tear you hadn't realized had fallen.

He began to move, slowly, torturously, a delicious friction building with each inch. You could feel every ridge, every pulse, as he filled you. He groaned, his hands finding yours, intertwining them together as he pinned them above your head. "Jake," you moaned, your body arching into his pleasure building like a storm. He captured your mouth, his tongue mimicking the slow, deliberate thrusts of his hips, and in that moment, you knew this was more than just physical. This was the slow burn, the tension filled dance, the promise of a love story just beginning.

Then suddenly with no warning, his hips were snapping forward as he sheathed himself fully within you. A moan escaped your lips, your back arching, pressing your breasts against his chest.

Jake's glasses fogged up, a testament to his exertion, as he continued to drive into you, his movements becoming jerky, his control fraying.

He was a sight to behold, his usually neat hair now a rumpled mess, his cheeks flushed, and his lips swollen from your kisses. The sight of him, so vulnerable and yet so powerful, sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through you. You reached up, tracing the bridge of his nose, the cool metal of his glasses contrasting with the heat of his skin. They began to wobble, trembling with the force of his thrusts. He lifted a shaky hand toward his face, about to slip the glasses off, until you reached out and steadied them. "Keep them on," you whispered.

He nodded obediently, his hand falling back to your sides as he continued to ram into you.

He let out another whimper, his hips stuttering as he tried to hold back. "Fuck," he whined, his forehead leaning against yours. “It feels too good.” He captured your mouth once more, his kiss demanding, and messy. You gasped, your body arching into his touch, your nails digging into his back.

Jake threw his head back, his own release imminent. The sight of him, so vulnerable and exposed, sent a fresh wave of desire crashing through you. You could see the strain in his jaw, the way his eyebrows furrowed as he fought for control. Your hands, still tangled in his hair, gently guided his face to your neck, allowing him to nip and suck at your skin, leaving little marks of his possession. The room filled with the sound of your ragged breaths and the wet, slick noises of your bodies coming together, a symphony of desire that played just for the two of you.

You leaned forward, capturing one of his nipples in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the hardened peak. He let out a guttural groan, his pace faltering as he fought to maintain control. "Fuck, Y/n," he gasped, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you back to his mouth. "I'm going to... I'm going to come."

You could feel him swelling inside you, his body tensing as he struggled to hold back. But you wanted him to let go, to give in to the pleasure. "Come, Jake," you whispered against his lips, "I want to feel you."

With a final, shuddering thrust, he did, his body convulsing as he spilled into you, his cries of pleasure filling the room.

He let out a guttural roar, his body convulsing as he spilled into you. You felt each hot pulse, your body milking him for every last drop. Your own orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your body arching off the bed, your fingers digging into his back. You could feel every inch of him, every ridge, every vein, as he jerked inside you, his body shuddering with the force of his release.

He collapsed on top of you, his body spent, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

You could feel his heartbeat, fast and frantic, matching your own. His glasses were askew, one lens filled with steam, the other reflecting the soft glow of the room.

As the echoes of your shared release faded, Jake collapsed onto the bed beside you, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. You turned to him, a soft smile playing on your lips as you reached up to push his glasses back up his nose. He caught your hand, bringing it to his lips, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're incredible," he murmured, his voice still ragged from your previous lovemaking.

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, not just from the physical pleasure, but from the emotional connection that was growing between you.

This was more than just sex, more than just a casual encounter. This was the beginning of something deeper, something real. And as you leaned in to kiss him, you knew that this was just the start of a journey that promised to be filled with passion, love, and a lifetime of exploration.

Jake sat on the edge of his bed, running a hand through his messy hair, still looking dazed from everything that had happened. Mark, sprawled out lazily on Jake’s desk chair, tossed a small rubber ball into the air and caught it with a loud slap.

“So…” Mark started, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You finally slept with her.”

Jake groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Dude, don't say it like that.”

Mark laughed. “What? I’m just saying! Took you long enough. But seriously,” his tone shifted, dropping the teasing, “you have to tell her.”

Jake stayed quiet, his hands still pressed into his face.

“Jake,” Mark said more firmly, leaning forward, “you have to tell her.”

“I know,” Jake muttered through his hands, voice muffled but heavy with guilt.

Mark leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms. “So what’s stopping you? You’re literally Spider-Man. You’re, like, the coolest guy ever.”

Jake lifted his head and gave Mark a hollow look. “Exactly.”

Mark frowned, confused.

Jake sighed, rubbing his jaw. “I’m scared, man. I’m scared that once she knows it’s me under the mask... she’ll think I'm just... not as cool. That she won’t see Spider-Man as this hero anymore and me as... some loser who lied to her.”

Mark scoffed. “You’re not a loser. You’re Jake. You’re the guy she likes. Not the mask. Not the suit.”

Jake shook his head slowly, voice low and raw. “It’s not just that. It’s the lying. I’ve been lying to her from the start. Every kiss, every late night conversation. She trusted Spider-Man... not Jake.”

The ball Mark had been tossing dropped to the floor with a soft thud. He stood up, seriousness written all over his face now. “You can’t keep this secret, man. It’s been what, more than a month since you first went to her window? Since you first kissed her?”

Jake swallowed hard.

Mark clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re not protecting her by hiding the truth anymore. You’re just protecting yourself.”

Jake knew he was right. Deep down, he’d known for a while. But hearing it out loud made his chest tighten painfully.

He had to tell you. No matter how scared he was. No matter what it would cost him.

You deserved the truth.

That’s why Jake found himself back here, dressed head to toe in his suit, lurking in the shadows outside your window once again. He had to tell you. He couldn’t put it off any longer.

He shifted nervously on the rooftop, his heart pounding harder than it ever did during any fight. Finally, he moved to your window, raising a gloved hand to tap softly against the glass.

You were just about to settle into bed when you heard it, that familiar, soft tap.

Your heart stopped. You didn’t even have to look. You already knew who it was.

For a moment, you just stood there, frozen in place, a million emotions crashing down on you at once. Betrayal. Confusion. Anger. But... also a terrible, aching kind of relief. And as much as you hated to admit it, you missed him.

Gathering the courage you didn’t know you had, you moved toward the window, your hands trembling slightly as you reached out and unlocked it. Slowly, you pushed it open, and there he was. Spider-Man. Crouched just beyond the frame, the city lights outlining him in silver and gold.

He started to speak, voice hesitant. "Y/n—"

But you cut him off sharply, unable to hold it in anymore. "You don’t get to just show up here like nothing happened," you said, your voice tight with hurt. "You left. You left without saying anything. I waited for you. Every night, I waited, wondering if you were okay, if you were ever coming back. But you never did."

Jake flinched under the mask. Every word hit him like a gut punch. He opened his mouth again, desperate to explain, but then you said something that made his words catch in his throat.

"But..." you continued, your voice shaking slightly, "I can't wait for you anymore."

He stared at you, not daring to move.

"I started seeing someone," you said, barely above a whisper. "He's... he's really great. He cares about me. He makes me happy. And... I really, really like him."

"Oh yeah?" he rasped. "What's his name?"

You hesitated, as if saying it out loud made it all real.

"Jake," you said quietly. "Jake Sim.”

As much as your words were meant to sting, he couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief. Even without knowing the full truth, you were choosing Jake, ending whatever you had with Spider-Man for him. For him, even though they were one and the same.

The silence that followed was so heavy, so absolute, it was almost unbearable.

You took a shaky breath and continued, "I'm starting to get somewhere with him. It feels real. It feels good. So I'm sorry, but... you can't come to my window anymore. We can't... we can't talk anymore."

There was a long beat of silence and you were about to close your window and go back inside.

Then, without saying a word, Jake lifted his hand to the sides of his mask. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched, frozen, as he slowly peeled it off.

And when he did... Your jaw dropped.

It was Jake. Jake Sim.

The boy who used to pass you in the halls, quiet and reserved. The boy who rarely looked anyone in the eye. The boy who made love to you so passionately.

He was Spider-Man. He was the one who had been at your window all those nights. He was the one you kissed under the city stars.

The room spun a little as you tried to process it all, your heart thundering in your chest, your mind screaming with disbelief.

Jake just stood there, holding the mask in his hands, his expression open, raw, and painfully vulnerable.

He was scared. Scared of how you would look at him now. Scared that you wouldn’t look at him at all.

He opened his mouth, voice rough with emotion. "I’m sorry, Y/N. I should’ve told you sooner."

You blinked at him, your mouth opening and closing as you tried, and failed, to find words. Your mind was a complete blur. Spider-Man. Jake. They were the same person.

How? How had you not seen it? You pressed a hand to your forehead, trying to breathe, trying to think through the whirlwind of feelings crashing into you all at once.

All those strange little things you'd noticed but brushed off at the time, they came rushing back to you, loud and clear.

The way being with Jake had always felt familiar, even when you barely knew him. The way his voice had this soft, distinct tone that you had heard before but couldn’t quite place.

Or that day when you had caught Jake sporting the same exact wound you had patched up on Spider-Man when the night before. You had chalked it up to coincidence. You hadn’t let yourself question it. But now? Now it all clicked into place with dizzying clarity.

Jake saw the confusion written all over your face. His shoulders sagged, and he gave a small, broken laugh. "I know," he said quickly, shaking his head. "Don't worry, I get it. I get why you're freaking out. And... I know I never should’ve made a move on you first as Spider-Man. I should’ve just... just been honest and done it as Jake." He ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling. "The whole situation was just so complicated, and I didn’t know what to do. I was scared that if I told you the truth, you’d see me differently. Or worse, you’d want him—" he gestured vaguely to the suit, "—and not me."

You stayed silent, heart breaking a little at the way he looked so small, so ashamed.

"I get it if you don’t think I’m cool anymore," he said quietly, avoiding your eyes. "I know I’m not. Without the suit, I'm just... me. I'm not that fearless or confident guy you thought you knew. I’m just Jake. And if you don't like me anymore because of that, I understand."

You finally found your voice, hoarse but certain. "Jake..." He glanced up at you, guarded, waiting for the inevitable rejection.

"No," you said firmly, taking a step closer to him. "Of course not. I’m obviously shocked because—God—this is so much to take in. But this doesn’t make me like you any less."

You saw the disbelief flicker in his eyes.

"You're still you," you said, voice softening. "The guy who’s kind and funny and awkward and... honestly, way cooler than you think you are. The suit doesn't change that. It never did."

Jake stared at you like he didn’t dare believe it, his hands still clutching the mask at his side, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

You moved even closer, until you were right in front of him. And then, without thinking too hard about it, you reached out and gently took his free hand in yours.

"You’re Jake," you said again, your voice breaking just a little. "And that’s all I ever really wanted."

Jake looked at you like you had just pulled him out of a storm he thought he’d drown in. Like he couldn't believe someone would still choose him, him, even after seeing the truth. His eyebrows knitted together, his lips parting slightly like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

"Are you sure?" he asked, voice small, almost scared.

You nodded without hesitation, your hand tightening around his. "Of course I’m sure."

For a moment, he just stared at you, eyes wide and glassy like he was memorizing every detail of your face. Then, without warning, he surged forward and kissed you. Hard, desperate, almost clumsy with how badly he needed it. You met him halfway, your fingers curling into the fabric of his suit, pulling him closer like you never wanted to let go.

Every emotion you had tried to make sense of, fear, anger, confusion, relief, love, poured out into that kiss. You kissed him like you were telling him he was enough. You kissed him like you were telling yourself that this was real.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you slightly breathless, Jake rested his forehead against yours, his hands still cupping your cheeks like he couldn’t bear to stop touching you. His voice was low and serious when he spoke next, almost a whisper meant only for you.

"I need you to know," he said, his thumb tracing slow, grounding circles on your skin, "being in a relationship with me... it’s gonna be a lot more complicated than a normal one. I mean, obviously I’ve never been in one before, but —" he gave a small, nervous laugh, "— I can assume."

You smiled, your heart so full it almost hurt.

"I won’t have a lot of time for you at night," Jake continued, his brows furrowing like he hated even admitting it. "You know, Spider-Man stuff. And... you can’t tell anyone. About me. About this."

You reached up, placing your hand over his, squeezing it. "Jake," you said softly but firmly, "I don’t care what it takes. I want to be with you. I want you."

He closed his eyes for a second, like he was holding onto your words, like they were something he never thought he’d be lucky enough to hear. And then he kissed you again. Slower, deeper, more certain. It was the kind of kiss that made your whole body hum with happiness, the kind of kiss that made all the confusion and hurt fade away.

When you finally pulled away, you couldn't help but laugh a little, shaking your head as the absurdity of everything hit you.

"I just can’t believe I had sex with Spider-Man," you said with a teasing smirk.

Jake's face flushed bright red as he groaned and buried his face against your shoulder in embarrassment. "Don’t say it like that," he mumbled, voice muffled.

You burst out laughing, the kind of breathless, giddy laughter that you only had when you were truly, stupidly happy. Jake started laughing too, his arms wrapping tighter around you like he couldn't believe you were real.

For a while, you just stayed there, tangled up together by your window, holding each other as the city buzzed quietly below. No masks. No secrets. Just Jake and you.

And it was enough.

Things with Jake were good. Really good. Your parents loved him. Your mom would always gush about how polite he was, and your dad had already invited him to watch a game together. His parents were just as warm, treating you like you had always been a part of their lives.

Of course, you didn’t get to see him a whole lot, especially at night. But you didn’t mind. You learned to love the little moments you guys shared. A stolen lunch between classes, quick texts during the day, and your favorite of all: sneaking a goodnight kiss at your window before he whipped away into the night.

Dating Spider-Man was amazing in its own way. The secrecy, the hidden smiles, the little inside jokes no one else could ever guess. It only added to the thrill.

It wasn't exactly the most normal relationship, but you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

333 notes · View notes

jakescapes · 1 month ago

Text

ain’t no way this fic is my most liked/interacted 😭

lmao but thank you guysss 🫶🏻