rukas-things

[rukas-things]

INTERRUPTING THEM WITH A KISS ✶ 𝒽𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇 & 𝒷𝖺𝖼𝗄

﹙ ⌕ ﹚ 𝓅𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌 ㅤ𝑜𝑓. enhypen melting into you like it's a habit. contains fem!r, fluff, lots of kissing, pg 15. wc 1657, approximately 0.24k each. check out the d𝒾rectory? stat requested.

──────𝑎𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇.

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

lee heeseung swears he's never found anyone or as a matter of fact, anything as annoying as you. you're like a roach up his ass, the bane of his existence. yet when he looks at your cherry stained lips as you crash into him outside the club— he can't deny: that the idea of them against his own doesn't seem half as bad. probably the alcohol, heeseung convinces himself.

"if you don't get off and at least a hundred feet away from me right now, i swea—" and your lips crash into his. intentionally, to get under his skin? accidentally, because of the shots? who cares! heeseung can literally feel the breath leave his lungs as you move your lips against his.

but you pull away before he can do anything,"shut up jer—" and it irks him for some god forbid reason, alcohol again? oh fuck the alcohol! imma kiss that attitude outta her. not even a fraction of second passes before heeseung is grabbing your jaw and pulling you back into a kiss.

you want to breathe? forget it. lee heeseung is not having it anymore. a chance to put you in your place, he's not letting it slip through his fingers. he does not want to.

"you shut up." the tendencies of an enemy with his deepest desires unknown to him; kissable lips on an enemy is the most sinful and irresistible thing ever. probably why you annoyed him.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

jay's thighs feel warm against your own as you sit still on his lap, his legs shaking subtly while he rambles about some clothes. the tiny smear of vanilla ice cream near the corner of his lower lip, bothering you more and more with the seconds ticking by.

"and then i had to get the pants exchang—" you don't even realize it yourself when you lean in to capture his lips and lick at the sweetness. his own words dying down as he stares down at your face, completely dumbstruck. come on, that's your girlfriend idiot! kiss back! it's probably the twelfth time you both have kissed since you got together three months ago; it's not like he's keeping track of the kisses but... yeah you make him too nervous so, he is.

"b-baby..?" your hands cup his cheeks and he shuts down again. ears burning hot, and lips parted to let you do what you want. if there's one thing jay can't help, it's letting you have your way. whenever, wherever.

it takes him approximately ten seconds to overcome that nervousness and respond to the kiss. mouth closing in on your chocolate flavored lips in a soft and gentle smooch. after smooch. after smooch. the tendencies of a new boyfriend still reeling in; having the girlfriend of your dreams is not something you can get used to just like that.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

jake has been hanging out and around you for months now. it should have gotten easier by this time, he thinks. but no, every look, every conversation, every subtle touch feels like it burns hotter than the last time. are these the side effects of a crush? of getting closer to them? or of behaving normally after accidentally pecking? jake checks all the boxes.

"yeah so it's supposed to go like this. did you get i—" jake looks up from the project files on the desk, his voice and his life dropping down to his ass at the touch of your lips on his. what the hell is happening? are you actually? is he dreaming? jake cannot decide on what he should think. kiss back obviously! what's more to think?!

the kiss is short and sweet, and it doesn't satisfy him. hand immediately grabbing your throat to keep you from pulling away as he begins responding to the kiss. lips engulfing yours in a deeper and longer one, like it's the nth time you are kissing. like he's so used to it, like he's addicted?

“what— what was that?” jake pants out, somehow managing to pull away. his demeanor shifting drastically from the one that had just possessed him. the tendencies of a crush finally getting a taste; once you get hooked, there's no going back. not after a kiss uncalled for like that.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡

he has slept once with you, just once sunghoon reminds himself— grounds himself; for he feels way too obsessed with the thought of you for having only had you once in that way. is it normal? probably not. will he do something about it? probably not.

so he acts like normal, tries to. his hands in his pockets as he walks with you to his car, head hanging low even though his eyes keep stealing glances at you while he tells you about his upcoming tournaments. stopping to open the passenger seat door for you, still speaking of his fears of lack of perfectionism.

"there's still parts i need to work extra o—" but instead of getting right in, you get onto your tiptoes and pull him by his collar into a kiss. if a body can function with a disjointed heart, sunghoon swears it's him.

his heart skipping beats in a row and all of a sudden feeling like it's stopped entirely. yet his hands and lips move without a second thought, without waiting for even a millisecond. grabbing you by the back of your neck and kissing you right back, nibbles and suckles and tongue and everything.

"you'll do well, don't worry too much," the tendencies of a one night stand turned friend; it's probably not the best idea to become buddies with someone you slept with, especially if you want more.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗪𝗢𝗢

the hallways are crowded as always, loud and bustling, drowning out your and sunoo’s laughs and giggles. talking about anything and everything while you wait for another friend.

sunoo's known you for a few years now, not a lot but enough to know when something's up. “he didn't check it properly and then.. hey? are you oka—” and he notices it on your face a fraction of a moment before you pull him into an abrupt kiss— mid conversation.

frozen, nervous and confused. yet all he thinks is actually how uncannily decent it feels, almost encroaching a feeling way too good. “i’m so sorry sun. i told my ex we are dating and he looked our way when he passed by and i panicked—” sunoo shushes you all too quickly, regretting not having kissed back properly.

“i get it, we can pretend. i don't mind it,” he doesn't know what comes over him as he proposes the idea, but he definitely expects to get into situations like these. why? he has no clue. he just wants it.

“everything you need to do to convince him, i’m all in,” his gaze trails over your lips, leaning closer unintentionally. another kiss right in the middle of the hallway. the tendencies of a friend offering to help in a non friendly way; fake dating a friend you feel like you could possibly develop feelings for is like digging your own grave.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

four months, seventeen days, twelve hours and probably thirty-six minutes. jungwon’s counting with all he has. this relationship, or whatever is going on between you two; beyond friends and bordering lovers, is bugging him down to his core. it's eating away at him.

“you just called me your friend,” leaning against the elevator wall, hands in his pockets, jungwon tries to behave— be as nonchalant as he can. jealousy? what's that? look me in the eyes and tell me i'm just a friend look.. no he isn't looking at you like that. snap out of it yang jungwon!

“you really think i’m just a friend? after all that we have don—” two steps closer, bodies pressed, eyes locked and your kiss that shuts him up. oh to hell with being normal with you. your hands slide around the back of his neck and his words die down against your lips like kissing you is his second nature.

“boyfriend? you want that label?” the mumbles against his lips, the sound of your soft breaths and the taste of your lipbalm, it's like jungwon is high.

“again.” catching your lower lip between his in a languid nibble. he can't help but keep wanting to kiss you, the ding of the elevator drowned out behind all his thoughts of you. the tendancies of a situationship with obvious feelings; being friendzoned by your girlfriend-to-be gets you jealous, he'll admit it now.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

friends. friends. friends. riki chants internally, again and again. and again. poopy diaper, runny nose, screeching tantrums— he thinks everything unpleasant about you, everything he possibly can. childhood friends ripping each other's hair out, neighbours annoying each other across the bedroom windows, classmates snitching out on each other's crushes. everything that's just friends.

nothing more. never— impossible. riki soothes himself, his mind and heart still jumbling all around after your question earlier, ‘what if we kissed?’ disgusting! right? he's not sure if he's answering or questioning his sanity.

and though the conversation is stirred clear of the topic, both of you nestled on your bedroom floor talking about club applications; his eyes staring right at you, seeming as unfazed as ever, his psychological state is nowhere near willing to calm down.

“what do you think about the drama clu—” your lips don't last even a second on his, before he is pushing you away, like he's allergic to kisses.

“w-what are you doing!” riki exclaims, fingers rubbing over his mouth,”i told you earlier,” and then slowly reaching forward to brush them against yours as he leans back in, involuntarily he insists. “i know but this is, so weird.. i’m not supposed to like it,” soft mumbles and lips grazing. the tendencies of a lifelong friend crossing an improbable line. locking lips with your childhood friend just for a ‘what if’ is the worst plan ever, or maybe not so much.

taglist 。open! @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz @shawnyle @potato0579 @enhastolemyheart @ro-diaries @aaa-sia @enhabooks @criminalyun @oddracha @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @jayjw16enxp

[rukas-things]

( 박종성 ) . . . TASTE LIKE DANGER park jay

black spiderman!jay x fem!reader

❪ synopsis ❫ after another dangerous mission, jay finds himself coming back to your apartment, injured and in need of help. you, pure at heart, can’t help but offer to treat his wounds despite the internal dilemma that consumes you – giving in to the black spiderman or reject him for the good of your family.

❪ warnings ❫ SMUT ! mdni. sexual tension. making out. grinding. mutual masturbation. slight fingering. handjob. slight dirty talk. jay & y/n almost getting caught ,, ANGST ! jay’s spiderman is not a typical superhero, so he’s a morally gray character. he’s not bad tho, promise 🤞🏻 injuries. mention of fights. y/n’s dad deserves his own warning, yikes… there’s probably gonna be a part 2 🤭

The city of New York sprawls beneath you, its skyline a jagged silhouette against the night sky. The streets are alive, buzzing with the faint hum of traffic and the occasional siren wailing in the distance.

But up here, in your small corner of the world, everything feels quieter – almost too quiet. The only sound in the room is the soft rustle of pages as you scribble down notes for the assignment that have been weighing on your mind all evening.

You sit at your desk, the faint light of your desk lamp casting long shadows across the scattered textbooks, but your gaze keeps drifting from the paper to the window. Through the half-drawn blinds, you can see the city below, its neon lights flickering like a heartbeat, a sign that the city you so love – and yet despise – never truly rests.

Your focus wavers, the words on the page blurring as your thoughts drift, always circling back to him – Park Jongseong.

Jay.

The boy who sat across from you in class, the incredible smart kid that always got paired up with you in science class.

The one who had kissed you at the top of your building after he confessed to you that he wasn’t like everybody else – that he was Spiderman.

The memory of that moment plays in your mind – how his lips had tasted, how the world seemed to vanish as you kissed him under the night sky. That kiss had left you breathless, confused, and yet it still lingered, a warmth you couldn’t shake, even now as you try to concentrate on your homework.

You’d told yourself it was a mistake, that it couldn’t happen again. He was dangerous. He was Black Spiderman, the very vigilante your father – the chief of the police – had been hunting for months.

The same boy who’d saved you from a near-attack once, and who you’d later discovered wore the same mask you saw in the headlines. But it didn’t matter how many times you told yourself to stay away.

Every single thing reminds you of him, as if a part of him is always with you and within you. Like the hoodie you find yourself wearing tonight, the one he usually wears at school – the one he kindly gifted you after saving you the very first time.

But then, as always, your thoughts wandered back to that kiss. You could still feel it, the heat of his lips against yours, the quiet intensity that said so much more than words ever could.

Your heart clenches. You like him. You really like him. Especially because you know – he knows – you can’t be with him. Not with the way your father is closing in on his trail.

And now here you are, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach as you stare at your homework, as if any of this actually matters when everything in your life feels so out of control. When your heart is tethered to someone who might be the very thing that could tear it apart.

The sudden knock at the window shatters your thoughts, making you jolt in your seat. You freeze, staring at the glass, your heartbeat quickening. It’s late.

Too late for anyone but him.

You slowly rise from your desk, your legs suddenly feeling heavy as you cross the room, each step seeming to echo in the quiet room. The knock comes again, more insistent this time, and you don’t need to look to know who’s on the other side.

Your fingers hover over the window latch, hesitation gripping you, but before you can talk yourself out of it, you unlock it and pull the window open.

He stands outside, cloaked in darkness, his silhouette barely visible in the dim light. His usual confident stance is gone, replaced by something… weaker. His shoulders are hunched, one arm pressed against the wall for support as if he’s holding himself together just long enough to make it to you.

“Jay?” You whisper, your voice catching in your throat.

He looks up, his eyes meeting yours with a look that sends a jolt of panic through you. Blood stains his suit, dark and sticky, and there’s an unmistakable tension in the way he moves. He’s hurt, badly.

“I need help,” he says, voice strained and raw. His words are simple, but the desperation behind them hits you like a wave.

You blink, heart hammering in your chest, and for a moment, you just stand there, paralyzed by the sight and the twirling of emotions.

But then he takes a step closer, his hand reaching out, and you feel the weight of his gaze on you, pleading.

You step back instinctively, making space for him. He doesn’t hesitate, stepping through the window with a fluid motion, despite the evident pain in his movements. The moment he’s inside, the full extent of his injuries becomes clear – blood drips from his side, staining the edges of his torn suit, and his breathing is ragged.

You swallow hard, trying to push down the panic rising in your chest. This is wrong. This is so wrong.

But you can’t look away, not when he’s standing there in front of you, vulnerable and waiting for you to do something. “Where can I…?” His voice is barely above a whisper, soon interrupted by his panting.

“Sit,” you say, your tone sweet yet authoritative. You motion towards a small couch next to the window, where the soft light from your desk lamp casts a warm glow. His eyes flicker to it briefly, then back to you, and without a word, he moves to sit down, wincing as he does.

You take a steadying breath before going to your dresser, pulling out a first aid kit you’ve had for years, unused – until now.

As you walk back to him, your hands tremble, the weight of the situation settling heavily on your shoulders.

His gaze never leaves you as you sit next to him on the couch, failing to keep the distance. You can feel the heat of his presence, the tension between you thick and palpable.

He’s so close, too close.

Your heart hammers in your chest, your mind racing, but you force yourself to focus on treating his wound.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you murmur, though the words feel hollow, and you know they won’t stop what’s about to happen.

Jay doesn’t respond immediately. He just watches you with those intense, haunted eyes. “I had no choice,” he finally says, his voice strained. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Sunghoon?” you ask, your voice sharp with a mix of concern and confusion. You’ve seen him around, of course. Jay’s ridiculously rich friend – the one who was always lurking in the shadows, despite his social status. But you never thought much about him, not until now.

Jay flinches slightly at the mention of his name, his jaw tightening. He shifts on the couch, his hand instinctively going to the side where the blood flows, but he doesn’t seem to care much about the pain.

“He’s… busy,” Jay mutters, his tone dark, as if the words leave a bad taste in his mouth. “He’s got his own things to deal with.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to read between the lines, but Jay doesn’t elaborate further. Instead, he seems to close off, his gaze flickering to the window as if he’s listening for something. Or maybe he’s just lost in thought, trying to process everything that led him here.

To you.

The silence stretches out, thick and uncomfortable, but you force yourself to focus. You open the first aid kit, your fingers trembling just a bit as you pull out antiseptic and bandages.

You turn to him, staring the wet patch on his dark suit. The blood seems to flow out from the lower side of his chest, making you wonder how to treat the wound effectively.

“I need you to take your suit off,” you say quietly, but it’s not a suggestion. His injuries are too severe for you to treat them through the fabric, and you don’t want to make this more awkward than it already is, but the words feel like a dare.

He hesitates for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. His eyes flicker to yours, searching for something. A sign that you’re not uncomfortable.

Finally, with a slight groan of discomfort, he shifts, peeling off the outer layers of his suit. The movement causes him to wince, his face tightening in pain as his hand hovers over the cut on his side, clearly still fighting to stay composed. But you can see the blood seeping through the fabric, sticky and dark. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of it, the severity of the injury suddenly hitting you full force.

“Careful,” you murmur, reaching out to steady him, your fingers brushing against his chest as you help him with the last of his suit. It’s all you can do to keep your hands from shaking, but the feeling of his skin under your touch sends an unfamiliar warmth rushing to your face.

Jay doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he’s too caught up in his own pain to care. He leans back against the couch, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. You keep your focus on his wounds, but you can’t help but notice how his body moves, how close you are now, your hands hovering just inches from his skin.

You reach for the antiseptic and dab a cotton ball, pressing it gently to the cut on his side. He flinches, his breath hitching in his throat, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he stares at you, those dark eyes never leaving your face.

It’s almost as if he’s studying you, trying to gauge every reaction, every breath you take.

The intensity of his gaze sends a shiver up your spine, and for a moment, it’s hard to focus on anything other than him. His sharp features seem even more defined in the soft light of your room, and you can’t help but notice how handsome he looks – even in pain.

You keep your movements steady, trying to ignore the heat between you. As you press the cotton ball against the wound again, your fingers graze his skin. He tenses, just a little, and the air feels thicker as he unconsciously lets out a groan of pain.

“I don’t know why you keep coming back here,” you murmur, your voice betraying a trace of uncertainty. The words escape before you can stop them, and you immediately regret them. You know what you’re really asking – why me?

Jay’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at you now, like he’s searching for the right words. He exhales slowly, as if the weight of your question settles on his chest.

Before he can respond though, you continue. “I told you not to come back,” you say, your sweet tone contrasting the harshness of your words.

They slip out before you can stop them, but you regret them the moment they’re spoken. You don’t want to hurt him, but the fear that comes with knowing your father is still hunting him is too much to ignore. You don’t want Jay getting caught in the crossfire, and you certainly don’t want to be the one who has to face the consequences.

He doesn’t flinch at your tone, though. He just watches you, his eyes dark and intense. For a moment, you wonder if he’s angry, if your words have stung. But instead, his face softens just a little, the weight of the moment settling between you.

“Y/N…” he calls your name, his voice low, almost soothing. One of his hands reaches up, gently cupping your cold cheek. The touch is so unexpected, so tender, that it makes your breath catch in your throat.

He guides your face toward his, making sure you hold his gaze, his thumb brushing against your skin in slow, deliberate motions. It’s almost as if he’s trying to steady you, to ground you in this moment.

“I know you’re scared,” he murmurs, his voice thick with something raw, something you haven’t heard before. “I can see it in your eyes. But pushing me away won’t make it go away.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten. You want to look away, to retreat into the safe distance you’ve tried to keep between you both, but something about the way he’s looking at you – vulnerable, yet unwavering – makes it impossible.

You swallow, trying to find your voice. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” you whisper, though the words feel weak even to your own ears. “I don’t want my father to–”

“I’m not scared of your father,” Jay cuts in, his tone harder now, like the weight of your concern for him is something he can’t accept. His thumb brushes a lock of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. “I’m scared of losing you.”

The words hang in the air, sharp and unexpected. You don’t know what you expected from him, but it wasn’t that.

You open your mouth to respond, but the words get caught in your throat, unable to make it past the rush of emotions crashing through you.

You try to shake it off, to remind yourself of all the reasons why you should keep your distance, but with him so close, with the heat of his hand on your cheek and the intensity in his eyes, it feels impossible to hold onto that resolve.

There’s a quiet moment where neither of you says anything, as if the world has paused and everything around you has faded into the background. His eyes, dark and intense, stay locked on yours.

You know what he’s waiting for, and the thought sends a nervous flutter through you.

You can feel the heat rising between you both, the tension building with every second. You want to look away, but you can’t. His gaze pulls you in, like a magnetic force you can’t escape.

He shifts slightly, wincing as pain shoots through his side, but he doesn’t pull back. If anything, it only brings him closer. His face is inches from yours now, and you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.

“I know I shouldn’t be here…” he says genuinely, as his eyes flicker to your lips and you see the desperation in them.

“But I can’t,” he continues, almost like a plea. His hand still rests on your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw in slow, deliberate strokes. “I can’t stay away from you.”

His voice breaks slightly on the last words, the vulnerability in his tone making your heart ache. You want to tell him to stop, to pull away before things go too far – but you can’t find the words.

You’re dangerously close now. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, the ragged rise and fall of his chest as his breathing quickens. The wound on his side doesn’t seem to matter anymore, not with how much he needs you in this moment. How much you need him.

His eyes flicker between yours, and the intensity in his gaze only makes it harder to breathe.

“Jay…” The word slips out of your mouth, but it’s soft, uncertain.

He doesn’t let you finish. His face leans in, and for a split second, you think he’s going to kiss you – but then, he stops, just a breath away, as if waiting for permission.

You want him, you want him so much, but you don’t know if you can let go of everything else. You don’t know if you can give him the power to tear down all the walls you’ve built around your heart, especially when you know what’s at stake.

But as his hand slides from your cheek to your exposed neck, your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, it's as if nothing else matters but the heat of his touch.

Jay's face inches closer, his lips so near that you can feel the warmth of them without even touching. His eyes search yours, dark and full of something raw, something that makes your heart pound.

“I don't want to hurt you,” he says, the words soft but heavy, like a confession. It feels more vulnerable than anything he's said, as if he's revealing a part of himself he's never shown anyone before. “But I don't think I can stop myself anymore.”

You feel your pulse quicken, the tension between you almost unbearable now. The walls you've fought so hard to maintain begin to crumble, piece by pierce. And even though every rational part of you know this is dangerous, you find yourself leaning into him.

He knows this will hurt you.

He knows he will hurt himself too.

But he doesn’t care as he’s so close to what his heart desires.

The world outside your room feels so far away now, a distant memory as your senses sharpen to every little detail. The way his hand grips your neck just slightly, the heat of his body, the way his gaze never wavers from yours, hungry and desperate.

And then, finally, Jay closes the distance.

His lips meet yours in a kiss that's soft at first, tentative, like he's waiting for you to pull back.

But you don't.

Instead, you let yourself melt into it, the heat of his kiss flooding you with everything you've been holding back.

His hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer, and you feel the desperation in his movements, the way he can’t hold himself back.

He deepens the kiss, his lips urgent now, as if he can't get enough of you, as if he needs you more than anything. You let him, giving in to the feeling, giving in to the wild, intoxicating pull between you.

You're not sure how much time passes, how long the kiss lingers, but when you finally break away, your breath is ragged, your chest heaving. Jay rests his forehead against shoulder, panting heavily as you try to back away but his hand holds you by the neck gently.

“Don't make me leave,” he whispers, his voice hoarse, his warmth breath hitting your neck. “Please.”

For a moment, you close your eyes, trying to steady your racing heart, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions crashing through you. You know the dangers. You know this is reckless. But looking at him, feeling him so close, you know you're not ready to let him go, either.

You want to say something – tell him he can’t stay.

That this can't happen. But the words don't come. Instead, you close the space between you once more, your lips finding his again. It's not gentle this time; it's hungry, messy, as if both of you are trying to make up for lost time, for all the moments you've spent pushing each other away.

Jay's hands find your hair, tugging you even closer, as if he can't get enough of you. He tilts your head back slightly, deepening the kiss, and you melt into him, feeling the ache in your chest grow stronger the longer you stay like this. The feeling of his lips, his body, his presence – it's overwhelming, intoxicating.

You pull away for a brief moment, gasping for air, but Jay's forehead presses against your forehead this time. His eyes are dark, pupils dilated, and he's breathing as heavily as you are, his chest rising and falling with each shaky inhale.

Without thinking, you shift, your hands pressing against his chest as you straddle him, feeling the heat of his body beneath you.

The action is bold, unexpected, but it feels like the only thing that makes sense right now. His breath hitches as you settle on top of him, his hands instinctively resting on your hips, pulling you closer, his fingers digging into the fabric of your hoodie as if he's trying to hold onto you, to keep you from slipping away.

His lips hover near yours, but he doesn't kiss you just yet. Instead, his gaze flickers from your lips to your eyes, his expression a mix of desire and restraint. He's holding himself back, just barely.

“I don't know how to stop,” he admits, his voice hoarse, vulnerable. His hands trace the sides of your waist, slowly, as if he's memorizing the shape of you, the feel of your skin. “Every time I try, you make it harder.”

You swallow, trying to steady your breath, your heart hammering in your chest. His touch is electric, sparking through every inch of your body, leaving trails of warmth in its wake.

You lean in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, “Then don't stop.”

His breath catches in his throat, and the tension between you both snaps. His hands tighten on your hips, and without another word, he pulls you closer, closing the small space between you, kissing you again – this time it's desperate, urgent, like he's been starved for it.

You respond in kind, your hands threading into his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss, feeling the weight of everything fall away. It's just the two of you now, tangled up in each other, lost in the heat of the moment. There's no thinking, no consequences, only the pressure building between you with every kiss, every touch.

Jay's hands move to the hem of your hoodie, his fingers brushing against your skin as he lifts it slightly, his touch light but eager.

Your body hums with anticipation as his calloused hands graze your exposed skin, sending shivers down your spine. You arch into his touch, craving more. With deliberate slowness, you begin to grind your hips against his, the friction of his suit against your clothed cunt igniting a fire within you.

The fabric of his costume rubs tantalizingly against your core, each subtle movement heightening the pleasure. You bite back a moan, not wanting to break the heated kiss. Instead, you deepen it, playing with his tongue while your hips continue their sinuous movements.

“Fuck,” Jay groans against your lips, his voice strained with barely restrained desire. The sound sends a thrill through you, fueling your movements as you grind harder against him. His hands grip your waist tighter, guiding your motions, urging you on.

Your breaths mingle hot and heavy between kisses, the air thick with the scent of arousal. Jay's fingers trail higher up your back, slipping beneath the fabric of your hoodie to caress the sensitive skin there. Each brush of his fingertips against your flesh ignites new waves of pleasure, making you ache for more.

“God, you feel so good,” he pants, breaking the kiss momentarily to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. His teeth graze your pulse point before he soothes the sting with his tongue, drawing a shudder from your lips. “I can't get enough of you.”

Despite the haze of lust clouding your senses, you can't help but remember the wound on Jay's chest. A pang of guilt pierces through the pleasure as you realize how reckless you're being.

“Jay…” you whisper against his lips, trying to pull away slightly. But he tightens his hold around you, keeping you close.

“Don't worry about me, baby,” he murmurs, pressing soft kisses along your jawline. His hands travel lower, sliding beneath your pyjamas shorts to cup your ass. He gives it a gentle squeeze, eliciting a whimper from you.

“But... your wound–” you start to argue, only for Jay to silence you with another searing kiss. His tongue invades your mouth, tasting every inch of its warmth before retreating just as abruptly. He breaks off the kiss only when he needs to catch his breath.

“You're driving me crazy,” he growls out, his voice hoarse with pent-up desire. His hand moves from your ass to the front of your shorts, tracing over the damp spot where your arousal has soaked through the fabric.

Despite your protests, you don't make any move to stop him. Instead, you arch into his touch, silently begging for more. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest, echoing the rhythm of Jay's fingers against the fabric of your shorts.

“I'm fine,” he reassures you again, leaning in to capture your lips once again in a bruising kiss. As if to prove his point, he slides one finger underneath the elastic band of your shorts before hesitating briefly.

Feeling bold, you press your hips further onto his hand, encouraging him to go further. Your breath hitches in anticipation as his finger finally slips inside your shorts, grazing the edge of your panties.

“Mhmmm…” you moan softly into his ear, biting down lightly on his lobe. The sensation of his touch combined with the words he whispers in response send shivers down your spine.

As you press into his touch, Jay lets out a low chuckle, his free hand moving to the small of your back to steady you. His fingers trace circles on your skin, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

“I can feel how wet you are, baby,” he murmurs against your lips, a smirk tingeing his words. His finger dips lower, skimming across your clit before retreating. He does it again, this time lingering longer as he teases the swollen bud.

The heat between your thighs intensifies, making you squirm restlessly atop him. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you struggle to maintain control.

You whimper softly at the sensation of his finger circling your clit, your hips twitching involuntarily. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying to stifle the sounds threatening to spill from your lips.

With a husky chuckle, Jay guides your hand to the bulge straining against his suit. He grinds into your palm, a low groan rumbling deep in his chest.

“Do that to me,” he orders, his eyes dark with lust. “Touch me like I'm touching you.” His finger continues its tantalising movements on your clit, circling faster now at your responsive whimpers.

You let your hand wander lower, finding the hard length straining against the fabric of his suit. You give a tentative squeeze, testing the water before moving your hand up and down in slow strokes.

You blush at his hardness, almost in awe as you realise you made him that hard.

“Oh fuck yes,” Jay groans out, his head falling back as you work his length through the fabric of his suit. The friction of your hand against him sends jolts of pleasure straight to his already throbbing cock.

He matches your movements, grinding his finger against your clit in time with your strokes. “Just like that,” he encourages, his breathing ragged.

As your bodies move together in sync, a wave of pleasure washes over you. Your breaths come out in short gasps, and you can't help but let out a series of needy whimpers.

“J-Jay...” you stutter out, struggling to form coherent sentences. His touch is driving you wild, alongside the feeling of his hard erection on your hand.

At your stuttered plea, Jay smirks against your lips before pulling away slightly. His eyes are dark with desire as they roam over your flushed face.

“Tell me what you want, Y/N,” he commands huskily, tracing idle patterns on your skin with his fingertip. “Say it, baby.”

The demand hangs heavily between you, the anticipation making your heart pound even harder in your chest.

You swallow, your breath shaky as you prepare to answer, to finally let go and admit what you've both been holding back for so long.

But just as you part your lips to speak, the unmistakable sound of footsteps reaches your ears – the heavy, familiar rhythm of your father's approach.

You freeze, your body tensing, the air between you and Jay instantly shifting. His eyes widen slightly, his smirk fading as the sound registers with him too.

“Shit, is that...” he whispers, the question hanging in the air as he pulls his hands away, already on high alert.

You nod, barely able to breathe. “He's home,” you murmur, panic creeping into your voice.

Jay doesn't waste a second. He's already moving, pulling himself up from the couch, every trace of desire replaced by urgency. He glances around, assessing his options, looking for a quick escape.

He puts his suit back into place with swift, practiced motions, the intensity in his gaze replaced with the careful composure of Spiderman. He stops, though, as he reaches for the window, turning back to look at you one last time, his eyes softening.

“I’ll be back,” he promises, his voice low and full of something unspoken. However, he can’t find himself from leaving you as you look at him with your kind, doe eyes, as if you’re silently telling him not to go.

He launches himself to you, not giving you time to process what’s going on as he gives you one last passionate kiss.

“Take care, my sweet Y/N.”

You give him an honest smile, bringing a hand to his cheek, your thumb tracing the scar carved from a previous battle.

“You too, Spiderman.”

Then, with one last lingering look, he slips out the window, disappearing into the night just as quickly as he came, leaving you alone with the echo of his presence and the pounding of your heart.

Just as you close the window and turn around, your father's voice calls out from down the hall.

"Y/N? You're still up?"

You take a steadying breath, hoping he won't notice the lingering flush on your cheeks or the slight tremor in your voice.

You quickly compose yourself, taking another deep breath before you answer. “Yeah, just finishing up some homework, Dad.” You force your voice to sound steady, casual, but your pulse still races from what just happened.

Your father’s footsteps come closer, and he enters the room, his tired eyes scanning you briefly before he sighs, rubbing his face with one hand. “You should get some rest. You’ve been up late every night this week.”

You nod, but your gaze lingers on him for a moment longer, as if you can sense that something is off.

“Long day for you too, Dad?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze shifting to the wall as he rubs his temples. You notice how tired he looks, the weariness settling deeper into his features than usual. For a moment, the weight of the world seems to hang on his shoulders.

Finally, he exhales and drops his hand.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

You pause, a small knot forming in your stomach. You know what’s been eating at him for months now, and despite everything you’ve tried to bury, the question slips out before you can stop it.

“Is it about Spiderman?” Your voice is low, tentative as your heart races as soon as the words leave your mouth.

He looks up at you sharply, the sudden tension in his body making you regret asking. But then his shoulders relax just slightly, and he lets out a heavy sigh, the frustration clear in his eyes.

“Yeah, Y/N. It’s about him,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m getting close, I can feel it. I just… I need one break, one damn mistake from him.”

You force yourself to meet your dad’s eyes, trying to push away the fear gnawing at you. “Do you really think he’ll slip up?”

Your dad’s eyes harden, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “I have to believe it. He’s too careful, too smart, but everyone makes a mistake eventually.” He pauses, his expression softening just a little. “I just need to be there when it happens.”

Your stomach turns at the thought. You know your father won’t stop. He’s not going to give up until he’s found him.

“Dad, don’t you think… maybe you should just let it go?” The words feel strange on your tongue, but you push them out anyway. “You’re getting too close to the edge.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t get it. This isn’t about being close, or right, or anything. This is about making sure he can’t hurt anyone else.” His jaw clenches, the lines around his face deepening. “This is about keeping you safe, Y/N.”

You nod, feeling the weight of his words, but the knot in your stomach tightens. You want to tell him the truth, to confess that the man he’s hunting is the same one who makes your heart race, the one who was about to claim you, the one who’s too close to your heart for comfort.

But you can’t. You can’t betray him. Not when you know the consequences.

“I know, Dad. I trust you.”

He seems to relax at your words, his shoulders loosening just slightly, but you can feel the underlying tension still hanging between you. You wonder if he can sense that something’s off, but he doesn’t press further.

“Get some rest, okay?” he says, his tone softer now. “I know you think he’s some kind of superhero. But superheroes don’t exist in our world so don’t worry your sweet little head about him, alright?” His gentle voice trails off, betraying the hatred he actually feels.

You watch him leave, the door clicking softly behind him, and a deep breath escapes you as you sit back on the bed. Your hands tremble slightly, the weight of your promise to your father sinking in as you look out the window, hoping for a glimpse of Jay, but knowing he’s gone.

The city below is alive with its own noise, its own chaos, but all you can hear is the deafening silence of the truth that keeps pulling you in two different directions.

But a part of you knows.

That no matter how much you try to stay away, you’ll always be drawn back to him.

[rukas-things]

I introduce myself

Kawai Ruka (sorry can't tell my real name :(..)

well, 19 years old

November 12, 2005

from Earth

I'm a big fan of enhypen and babymonster

heeseung and ruka stan

ot7 stan!!... I'm not solo stan!!

i love all of them!!

nothing interested in me though actually!!