mrsjjongstby

[mrsjjongstby]

🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇲​​🇸​ & ​🇨​​🇴​​🇳​​🇩​​🇮​​🇹​​🇮​​🇴​​🇳​​🇸​ - S.JY

p: roommate!jake x fem!reader

warnings: gore, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT!, medical horror, stalking, obsession, non-con medical procedures, implied drugging, graphic depictions of violence, psychological manipulation, restraints, mild language, cursing, creepy roommate behaviour, body horror, disturbing, needle usage, mentions of blood, internal organs, disturbing methods of medical procedures, medical horror, gore descriptions, yandere themes.

synopsis: When you move in with Jake, a charming scientist offering cheap rent and easy company, you agree to his one condition—never enter his bedroom. But as you continue to live with him, you uncover the dark truth: Jake isn’t just handsome and sweet—he’s dangerously obsessed with you, and his “experiments” hide horrors you were never meant to see.

Wordcount: 11.1k

The ad came to you by luck. You just got accepted into this new university which is away from home, and you were looking for a place to stay.  

The uni dorms aren't as reliable as they seem- considering the many break in stories and unhygienic living conditions told by the residents. You could stay at home and attend uni but that would mean for you to wake up before the sun rises and get on a two hour journey- yea, no way.  

So, you began roommate hunting after you realized that living alone in an apartment is out of your budget. And that's when the ad found you. A pretty huge loft's owner is searching for another tenant- to fill out the huge place.  

You would've skipped past the ad easily just like how you did for the past fifteen ads, but the rent caught your eye- it was cheap for the huge space- and in your budget.  

Just like that, you called the number given without thinking twice and arranged a meeting at a local coffee shop.   

The bell chimes above you as you walk in the café- your eyes dart around to find a person wearing, "navy blue hoodie with black washed jeans" just like he said. Soon, you found a hand waving at you wearing the description given to you by the owner. You wave back a little and go over to where he is.  

You took a good look at him and- damn, he looks divine. As if the gods themselves carved his face with deliberate precision. He could easily pass as a model, and the thought hits you like a punch: if luck’s on your side, you might actually be living with him after this talk.

"Sorry, Did I make you wait?" You ask after saying thanks to for pulling your chair back so, you can sit. 

He goes over to the other side and sits while closing his laptop, "Oh no, of course not. I just was doing some research." 

You nod. A beat. He rubs his hands together and then outstretches it to you smiling, "Sim Jaehyun, you can call me Jake."  

You accept it- his hand rough and large compared to yours, "Y/n."  

His grip tightened just as you say your name but you don't think of it much, brushing it off as an accident. You retrieve your hand back as he talks again, "Lets order something before we start our talk?"  

"Yeah, sounds cool." You say as your eyes skim through the menu card.  

Jake calls the waiter and orders for both of you after you tell him what you want. Once the waiter leaves, he turns his attention back to you.  “I’m a scientist, sooo… don’t be surprised if I blurt out random biological facts sometimes.” 

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Thanks for the heads-up. I’m studying agricultural science, so I may not know as much as you, but I do know that the tea you ordered comes from leaves that only grow in very specific weather conditions.” 

His smile widens at that, "Good to know that we have a common ground."   

"Yeah. Anything else I need to know?" You ask as the waiter sets down your latte and his tea.  

"Oh yes. They aren’t much. Just that I come home late at night—you know how it is, working for science. But most of the time I’ll be home. I can cook us meals, do the laundry, you don’t have to worry about that. And while we’re on that topic—most of my work is done at home, in my room. I have a workspace there, which is why I don’t want you to enter my room. At all." 

"Oh, interesting. We could take turns in doing the chores and yeah, I will not even dare to go near the premises!" You say, trying not to miss this perfect stay with a perfectly fine af roommate.  

"Thanks. Then, I'm sure we'll get along pretty well. So, when are you planning to move in?"

And just like that you moved in after some adult- financial talks and documents which usually bore you but Jake made it easy for you to follow up. The first day wasn't weird- sure it was new, different but it felt nice having your 'technically' own space and not having to wake up before the sun.   

Jake was nothing but sweet, he cooked meals for you, packed lunch for you if he had to. cleaned the house- even your room and just wasn't fan of the 'hook up culture' considering that he never once bought up about a girl.  

You wonder if he's got a girl or not, but you shrug those thoughts away. He even did your laundry before you got to it, folding everything with eerie precision — even garments you wouldn’t normally want someone touching. 

True to his word, when Jake did go to work outside, he comes late at night- most of the time you're already in your dreamland and realize he was home the next day morning when he's making coffee for both of you in the kitchen.  

He never mentions anything too deep about his work, just talks about this new 'project' which he's starting, and he can't wait to work on it.  

You never pried; just grateful you were getting more than you bargained for. If only you knew—soon, you’d be getting far more than you bargained for. 

Today was one of those nights where he went out, you didn't even look in the direction of his room, just working on your thesis near the kitchen counter.  

You hear the door click, huh, weird you thought looking at the time in your laptop, 1:45 a.m. damn, you didn't realize you've been working for three hours straight.  

You hear shoes shuffling and soon see Jake walking towards the kitchen where you are at, his hair was damp from the drizzle outside, but the faint metallic smell of iron lingered as he passed you and new cuts on his fingers you don’t know the root cause to.  

His eyes meet yours and you see them flicker with surprise- "You're still awake?" He asks, his eyes moving to your laptop.  

You look at the screen as he goes over to the refrigerator, "Yeah, I didn’t realize the time- been working on this research."  

He gets a bottle nodding and closes the door while opening the cap, he turns- his front facing you, "How was the dinner with your friends?"  

Odd. 

You didn’t tell him you had dinner with your friends. matter of fact. it was a last-minute plan. 

"Um yea, it was good, how'd you know?"  

"Just a guess." He said, unbothered.  

Few days pass just like that, it was starting to get weird. The initial sounds you heard when you first moved in didn’t stop, they only grew weirder and louder. And Jake wasn't helping either, he would dismiss your creeps saying your exhaustion was getting to you and that he isn't hearing any thing and you believed, you truly did. cause why wouldn't you?  

Midnight rolls by. The sounds stopped—but the silence felt heavier than the noises ever did. You went to the kitchen, to get yourself a glass of water. The cups are cleaned neatly and kept up by Jake but the only problem was that he kept it high, and you need one of the glass. You get on your tip toes, trying to reach the glass. You huff after not being able to get it and try again.   

You didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear his door open. A hand reaches past you as you feel a presence behind you.

You turn your face to see Jake- shirtless and in his grey sweatpants that always made you think of things you shouldn't. His eyes are fixed on your face, your cheeks turn red at the close intimacy, you quickly turn your face to the front again to avoid his eyes.  

Jake's another hand is kept on the counter, beside your hip. He moves closer- his chest touching you back, "Here you go."   

Your breath hitches, as you shakily take the glass from his hand- your fingers grazing his. "Thanks."  

He leaves the glass as you take it and holds your elbow, his face in the side of your neck- his nose grazing your skin as he nods. Your brain shuts off, his breathe hitting your neck- you gulp, unsure what to say as you shiver at his touch.

He brushed the lightest kiss against your neck, lingering a moment too long—as though he was memorizing your pulse and slowly retracts away taking his time.

You let out a breath at that which you didn't know you were holding in.   

"Good night" He says and leaves to his room while your mind was unravelling.  

You clutch the counter at the intense situation that just unfolded. You fill your glass with water and ice to get you out of the shock.  

With that, you went to your room, sure that you aren't getting any sleep tonight. 

Your skin burned where his lips touched, but your stomach twisted. You couldn’t tell if it was desire—or dread. 

Nothing changed. You thought the days after that night would be awkward, but if anything, Jake got closer. Too close. Shirtless in the mornings, sometimes only in his boxers, brushing past you with touches that lingered too long.

But the voices at night—they didn’t stop. If anything, they grew louder. Bolder. As if they knew the house belonged to them as much as it did to him. 

8 p.m. Rain lashed against the windows, the steady rhythm almost soothing. You curled into the couch, laptop balanced on your knees, the glow of the screen painting your face in blue.

The hallway stretched empty, the kitchen swallowed in shadow, Jake’s bedroom door sealed shut—like always. 

Tap. 

You stilled, convincing yourself it was nothing, and kept typing. 

Tap. Tap. 

Your hands froze over the keys. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. 

That wasn’t rain. Too slow. Too deliberate. Too… patient. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. 

Your breath shortened, the sound threading into your nerves like a hook. With trembling fingers, you lowered the laptop onto the couch and stood. Each step toward the hallway dragged heavier than the last. The noise grew sharper. Clearer. 

Jake’s door. 

TAP. 

The door jolted, the wood shuddering against its hinges. Your pulse crashed in your ears. 

Then— 

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG! 

The entire frame rattled violently, as though something—or someone—inside was trying to claw its way out. 

And then the power died. 

Darkness devoured the house. The hallway was pitch-black, except—except for the faint sliver of light beneath Jake’s door. In it, you saw a shadow Writhing. Twisting against the crack like they were desperate to escape. 

Your hand, shaking uncontrollably, reached for the knob— 

"Y/N." 

The voice cut through the dark like a blade. 

It was Jake. But it wasn’t. His tone was deeper, stripped of warmth, laced with something that made your stomach twist. And just like that, the banging stopped.

As if whatever or whoever was on the other side sensed Jake’s presence. The silence that followed was worse. Suffocating. 

The lights sputtered back, weak and flickering. 

Jake stood at the end of the hallway. His face unreadable, jaw tight, eyes shadowed. Every stutter of the bulbs painted him differently—one second human, the next… something else. 

"I told you not to enter my room," he said, his voice low, each word deliberate. "Didn’t I?" 

Your throat closed. Heat crawled up your neck. "I—I know, but the banging, I thought—I’m sorry." 

His sigh was quiet, almost tired. His gaze fell to the floor, then slowly rose back to yours. He stepped closer. Step by step, the space between you vanished until his presence was all-consuming. 

His hand lifted, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, knuckles grazing your skin with chilling care. “I’ll take care of it.” 

"But—" 

"I said something, Y/N." His palm cupped your cheek, warm but iron-firm. His grip hovered on the edge of pain. 

You nodded quickly, fear clamping down on your chest. 

He leaned down, lips ghosting your hairline. A kiss so soft it felt wrong. 

"Of course. Now go. Your assignment won’t finish itself." 

His hand patted your head lightly before retreating. You turned on shaky legs, clutching your laptop like a lifeline, retreating to your room with your heart pounding out of rhythm. 

Behind you, Jake lingered by the door, the faintest curve at his lips. A smile that never reached his eyes. 

You didn’t sleep. Not really. Every creak of the house, every gust of rain against the glass had your nerves on edge. By the time morning light bled into your curtains, your body ached from tension more than rest. 

Jake was already in the kitchen, moving with casual ease. Shirtless, grey sweats slung low on his hips, he poured himself a cup of coffee like nothing had happened. Like the night before hadn’t existed. 

You hovered by the counter, fingers tight around your glass of water. “Jake,” your voice cracked, too thin. You swallowed and tried again. “Last night… what was that sound?” 

He didn’t look up immediately. The silence stretched, heavy, deliberate. Then, finally, he chuckled low under his breath. 

“Ah,” he said, as though you’d asked about something mundane, like a leaky faucet. He took a slow sip of coffee, eyes lifting to yours over the rim. “Probably just the lab rats.” 

Lab rats. 

You blinked. “Lab… rats?” 

“Mm.” He set the mug down with a soft clink, stepping closer. “They get restless sometimes. Scratching. Banging around. Nothing you need to worry about.” 

His words were smooth, rehearsed almost, but his eyes didn’t match the ease in his voice. They lingered on you, too sharp, too knowing. 

A laugh bubbled nervously from your throat, brittle. “Rats don’t bang doors like that, Jake.” 

The corner of his mouth curved, not quite a smile—more like a warning dressed up as one. He leaned down, close enough that his breath warmed your ear. 

“Curiosity, Y/N,” he murmured, “is dangerous.” 

Your stomach knotted. 

He pulled back, the mask of nonchalance snapping back over his features as he grabbed his mug again. “Drink your water. You’ll feel better.” 

And just like that, the conversation was over. 

But the echo of last night—the shadows, the voice, the pounding—hung between you, unanswered. 

Days pass just like that. The sounds weren’t as prominent as before. And Jake is just being different.  

The room was too quiet now. The hum of the machines had dulled, leaving behind an eerie stillness that pressed against your eardrums. Your skin prickled.

You weren’t sure if it was the cold air or the way Jake’s eyes had been fixed on you for far too long. 

He finally broke the silence, his voice low and oddly casual. 

“Tell me,” he said, tilting his head slightly, like he was genuinely curious. “What’s your pain tolerance?” 

Your throat went dry. The question was delivered too softly, too calmly, as if he were asking about your favourite colour. You forced a laugh, hoping it didn’t tremble. 

“Why would you even ask me that?” 

Jake’s lips curled into a faint smile, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together as though waiting for a confession. 

“Because,” he whispered, the syllables dragging out, “sometimes people think they can handle more than they actually can. And it’s… fascinating to see the truth.” 

You caught a flicker of something metallic behind him on the tray—a glint of steel. Surgical instruments, lined up too neatly, too deliberately. Your stomach turned. 

“This isn’t funny, Jake.” 

“Oh, it’s not a joke.” His voice was firm now, smooth as glass but edged with something sharp. “You’re strong. I can tell. But I wonder…” His fingers traced invisible patterns in the air. “…are you strong enough when the nerves start screaming?” 

He leaned back, letting the silence stretch, watching you as if waiting for you to crack. 

The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, but underneath it, there was something else—something coppery, raw. Your chest tightened. You didn’t want to know where that smell came from. 

And yet Jake smiled again, like a predator amused by its prey’s trembling. 

“Don’t look so scared,” he murmured. “I only want to understand you better.” 

"I'm going to bed" you say, getting off the chair and following the path to your bedroom. 

'It's probably his dark humor acting up on him again' you thought as you shake off the words.  

You twist and turn in bed, unable to actually; shake those words off. His voice, his words, his face when he said that- the whole scene replaying in your head repeatedly with clear details.  

With the fact that it's two in the morning and that you have college early, you close your eyes and force sleep to knock you out and forget whatever the hell just happened.  

Morning comes early, the sunlight peeking through the shades, the room unusually quiet. Your feet hit the clean marble floor, padding your way to the bathroom to get ready for the day. 

The door closes behind you with a click, you brush your teeth looking at your reflection in the mirror. You look a little worn out- not the kind that comes with exhaustion but the kind that wears out every inch of you. 

Slipping out of your clothes, you enter the shower. Keeping the temperature high- just as you like. The water drizzles down your form and once you are fully drenched, you feel a sharp pain on arm- on your bicep specifically.  

You quickly move your left hand away from the water- which is causing it to sting and take a look at your bicep. Nothing, no trace of anything. Did you hit yourself without noticing? I mean that's common, but this pain, its different.  

Your whole hand isn't hurting, only a certain spot on your bicep is stinging. The kind of sting when you put anything on the area you got injected. 

Your thoughts cut off, due to the shower suddenly stopping. Concluding that you accidently hurt yourself or slept weird you tried to turn off and on the shower. 

It wasn't working.  

Groaning, you get out, wrapping yourself in a towel and started getting ready. 

You reach the kitchen with your bag on your shoulder and phone in your hand, Jake's there, making breakfast as always.  

"Took you long enough" He says without turning around.  

Keeping your bag aside, you sit on the chair, "Shower broke" 

"Broke?" He questioned, finally turning around and bringing the plated pancakes to you.  

You nod, digging in as he does the same after sitting, "Yeah, I was taking a shower, and it stopped working the midway"  

"I'll look into it once you are back home" he says, his gaze dropping to your left hand and then back to your face. 

You nod, muttering a small thanks and leave with your bag. Your day didn't have evening classes, so, Jake didn't cook lunch for you. It always amazed you how perfectly he remembered your habits and schedules but then again, he's a science student... probably good at remember things.  

But you know, you are fooling yourself cause truth? truth hurts, and to not expect the worst, you conceal it with lying to yourself.  

Evening rolls by, you come back home. House quiet except for the faint clicking, air cold and lights on. You remove your shoes and move into the living room to see Jake seated on the sofa with his laptop, typing away. He looks up, "Hi sweetheart"  

"Hey" You reply not really surprised by the nickname since he’s been calling you things recently. 

"Come here, you look tired." He says patting beside him.  

You lazily throw your bag on the couch and go over, plopping yourself down beside him. 

"Hungry?" He asks, pushing your hair back from your forehead.  

"No" you mutter, eyes closing and stiffening lightly at his touch.  

He frowns but doesn't comment on it. "Then, let's look at that shower fix after some time?"  

You nod, already drifting into sleep. Few minutes pass by and you are knocked out. He closes his laptop slowly, keeping it aside and turns to look at you. He pulls a stranded hair behind your ear and gets up after.  

Lowering himself, he takes you in his arm and lifts you up. Walking to your bedroom and opening the door with a light push of his leg, he places you on the bed. He pulls the blanket up to your chin.  

He takes a glance at your room- the one where he often goes to when you aren't around. He goes over to the laundry basket like he's done it a thousand times before. Digging through it, he takes out your black lace bra, bringing it to his nose and smirking as he takes a breath in. 

He looks back at you, the smirk still planted on his face and leaves your room.  

The vibration and sound of your phone ringing in the back pocket of your jeans woke you up. You get up and take your phone into your hands. 

You decline the call as you learned that it was spam and notice the time.  

It's been two hours, you slept for a good two hours, you get out of the bed and out of the room to hear, blender noises. Jake wasn't in the kitchen; the grinding noises stop coming from Jake's room. 

Few minutes pass as Jake comes back from his room, his hands wet as if he just washed his hands. "You're up already?" 

You nod, "What was that?" 

"What was what?" He asks innocently, jutting his bottom lip out as if he has no clue what you are talking about.  

"Oh, you know what I'm talking about" You ask narrowing your eyes.  

His eyes darken, his expression changing immediately from cute, innocent face to daring, dangerous one.  

"Careful with your tone, doll." his voice deep, carrying that depth and then instantly, he goes back his normal, innocent boy facade which you fell for in the start,  

"I was just trying a new smoothie recipe"  

You frown, "In your... room?"  

He smiles, his eyebrow raising, his tone teasing, "What did I say about curiosity, doll?"  

"I- uh whatever, about my shower, you said you-" 

"Yep, wait for me there, I'll be back" he says disappearing into his room. 

You are leaning against the sink, your arms folded when Jake walks in with a huge box in his hand.  

He keeps the box beside you on the sink and opens it. He opens it, the box revealing quiet some variety of tools you’ve only seen in movies- some you've never seen at all.  

"Why do you even have these?"  

He looks at you and smiles noticing the look on your face,  

"Oh you know, for times like this" 

"Yea sure." You say skeptically as he gets to work. 

 Your gaze got lost in admiring the view in front of you. His veiny hands worked deftly on the tool—a weapon that seemed almost out of place in his otherwise perfect hands. 

His face was concentrated, the rings on his fingers clinking softly against the showerhead, his bracelet sliding down his forearm. His neck stretched as he leaned forward, the loose shirt revealing the curve of his collarbone.  

Oh man, it was almost laughable how turned on you were just from watching him 

The sound of water brings you back from your thoughts.  

"Thanks, Jake" you say as Jake turns it off and places it back in its place. 

He steps out of the shower, and arranges his tools in the box beside you, "Anything for you, doll" 

You unfold your hands as he searches for something on the sink's counter.  

His gaze locks onto yours and his gaze darkens a bit. He moves towards you slowly, his hand shifting to your side, effectively caging you.  

Your hands grip back against the counter as he lowers, your faces near, your heart racing. His eyes look into yours as he tilts his head a bit moving his face closer to yours. Your chest heaving up and down lightly while your knuckles turn white as you grip hard onto the counter.  

You gulp, as his nose grazes yours very lightly. 

"Spencer" He mutters, his voice hoarse. 

Lost in his eyes and the moment, unable to comprehend what he said,  

"Huh?"  

"Spencer, baby." He says as he backs away showing you the spencer he took from behind you. 

You clear your throat, embarrassed and remove yourself from the counter.  

His face carrying that knowing smirk as he puts the spencer back in the closes the huge box with a click, "What do you want for dinner?"  

"Um anything's fine" you say quickly trying to get him out as soon as possible. 

"Alright, I'll call you when it's done." He says taking away the box.  

You nod quickly as he leaves.  

Scrolling through your TikTok FYP, you try to erase what happened. The closeness, his face, his presence, his hands caging you— 

"Dinner's ready!"  

Jake shouts from the kitchen. You get out of bed, away from your room, away from your thoughts.  

You sit yourself near the counter and Jake plates your food.  

You adjust yourself on the highchair. Your calf touches the cold metal of the chair's legs, and you wince at the contact. Frowning, you look at your leg to see a small cut. 

What the actual fuck?  

You think as you inspect it further.  

Jake's voice brings you back to your senses again, "Here you go, doll" he plates the freshly made pasta in front of you. 

You both complete the dinner talking about random stuff. 

After dinner, Jake began tidying up the living room while you remained seated, scrolling through your phone—still desperate for a proper explanation for your cut. 

Google wasn’t much help, so you forced your brain to replay every possible cause. 

Nothing. 

Your gaze drifted toward Jake. Could he...? - no 

Stupid. Sure, he’s weird but he isn't a psycho.  

Only if you knew... 

Days went by without incident—or at least, that’s what you told yourself. 

You get out of your bedroom, bored and see Jake seated on the couch.  

“Wanna watch a movie, baby?” Jake asks as he catches your gaze.  

You nod, thinking it would be a distraction with the whirlwind of thoughts running through your mind. You turn off the kitchen lights making the whole house dark, the living room’s lights were already off. The only source of light, coming from the TV. You go over and sit beside him. 

“What do you wanna watch?” He asks, his hand going onto the couch- just behind your shoulder.  

“Anything’s fine” you say as he hums.  

He puts on a classic, horror thriller. Weird, but okay. It’s a good movie after all.  

You lean back, the bare back of your neck touching his hand. He doesn’t move, neither do you. Halfway into the movie,  

“It’s hot, isn't it?”  

You frown. It’s anything but hot and that’s why you have a huge ass blanket on your lap. 

“No, it’s-” Before you can continue, he retracts his arm which was supporting your neck and removes his shirt.  

Just.Like.That.  

He throws the shirt away on the couch and moves closer to you.  

He wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer to his bare front. His other hand going around your stomach, locking you.  

“What? Didn’t you say it was hot?” You ask looking up at him. 

He hums thoughtfully, his gaze on the TV as he pulls you closer, “Well, now I’m cold.” 

Rolling your eyes playfully, you continue to look at the film rolling. The proximity making your heartbeat race.  

A sensual scene plays, the main leads kissing eachother with passion and hunger. You clear your throat trying to avoid the fact that his hands tightened around your form. You look up at him to see that his gaze was already on you.  

You face close. Reminding you of the day he caged you against the sink. 

His eyes drift to your lips as he moves closer, his breath hitting your face. You let your gaze dip down to his plump lips, imagining how they’d feel and taste.  

He tilts his head, your lips just a breath away. You close your eyes at your lips grazing eachother.  

And just as you were about to kiss- the doorbell rings, breaking the spell. 

Jake closes his eyes in frustration, “Fuck” 

He looks at the pathway and gets up from the couch, going towards the door to see who the hell cock blocked them.  

You run your hands through your hair, What the fuck just happened. 

Shaking your head, you leave to your room.  

Days passed by quickly. The only class you had today got cancelled, and you don't have any plans either. Meaning, you are free the whole day. 

Nothing changed after that day. He only grew more clingy, if that's even possible. 

Your body though, it grew more sore than ever as each day passed by. 

Currently, you are in the living room vacuuming since Jake went out for work. Your body isn't cooperating at all, but it's the least you can do when he does every work. 

You soon reach his room. You don't go in, of course, with number of times he I warned you- you wouldn't dare. 

You were cleaning the pathway to his room, focused on the steady hum of the vacuum. Too focused to notice the thin wire stretched across the floor. 

The moment you twisted the vacuum and stepped forward, your foot caught. 

You stumbled—hard—crashing against a door. 

It swung open at once, unlocked, and you tumbled inside, landing flat on the floor with a thud. 

Groaning, you rubbed your elbows, checking for any injuries. 

Happy to see none, you finally stand and look up. Only to realize, you were in Jake's bedroom. Your heart stopped beating.  

His room- the one which he warned not to go, was there, calm and still in your presence. Everything was normal- a bed, closer, table- just a typical bedroom... right?  

You look back, out of fear. To see if he’s there, confirming that you are alone, you enter further into his room. There was a door to the side. It wasn’t the bathroom, cause his lies on the outside of the room.  

Curiosity kills the cat. But you went for it anyway. You slowly walked towards the door, each step echoing louder than the previous one.  

The house eerily quiet behind you.  

You place your hand on the doorknob. A beat.  

You turn the knob and open the door to be hit with a chemical smell.  

You quickly cover your nose with the neck of your shirt and dared to look inside. Your heart stopped. Your eyes widen. You stumble back at the sight infront of you.  

There were, numerous glass jars, each containing hearts, lungs, kidneys- multiple, different organs. Bones placed neatly on the walls of the room. Blood marks everywhere. Parts of human body lines up on a table. The sight sent a shiver down your spine.  

And most of all, a girl on a clinical bed, held back with restraints and is unconscious.  

Your eyes teared up, your hands trembling, your breath quickened.  

You shake your head, No, no, no, I have to inform the police, I have to-  

You think as you turn, your chest heaving up and down, heavily. Then here he was, Jake. With that innocent look on his face and in your personal space. 

You scream at his sudden appearance and move back. He takes small, tentative steps to you. Shake your head and with your trembling, “No, no! Don't come near me!” 

He chuckles at that, “Well, I told you to not enter my room. But you did. Why should I listen to what you said when you didn’t?”  

You move around the room, toppling over things. Jake winces and puts on a worried facade, “Shh, slowly. We don’t want you hurt, do we?” 

You run straight to the door and just as you reach the door and get out- Jake holds your wrist from behind. He pulls you back onto his chest, “Not so easy, Y/N”  

You wriggle in his grip as he locks the bedroom’s door. You manage to get out of his grip and turn to him.  

His eyes darken, “The roommate agreement works both ways. You broke my rule. Now I get to break you.” 

He takes a syringe from the table beside you and before you can do anything, he gets a hold of you and injects it into your neck. You wince at the sharp sting as your energy drains, and your head feels lighter. Your eyelids flutter close, you collapse in his arms, losing consciousness.  

The faint sound of muffles in the background wake you up. Your whole-body sore, never like before. Your vision blurry as you open your eyes. Your head pounding, your throat dried up and burning.  

You try to bring your hand up to hold your head only to notice that both of your hands and legs are tied to the chair you are seated in. Your mouth taped as you finally register your surroundings.  

You shake your head, clenched your fists to make your vision clear and see the sight infront of you. 

Oh, how you wish you were still unconscious.  

There he was, Jake, near the clinical bed. The girl on it, awake, wriggling and screaming.  

Jake hisses putting on his gloves, “Shh, you’ll wake my love up” 

The girl looks at you and increases her screams and wriggles. Jake follows her gaze to notice you, staring at the scene infront.  

“Oh, sorry for the disturbance, baby. This’ll be quick, I promise.” he says, his voice dripping with honey and then, turns to the girl. 

“I told you to stay quiet, didn’t I? Now, she woke up. How many mistakes will you make Jung-ha? Be ready to pay for it”  

The girl- whose name is Jung-ha, shakes her head, “No! No! I’m sorry, I'm sorry”  

“Hmm, too late. You should’ve thought twice before betraying my brother and for killing him.” 

Jung-ha widens her eyes, “No! What?! No! I didn’t kill him! It was a suicide!”  

“And, why do you think he committed it? Because of you. He couldn’t handle the betrayal done by his, Oh, so dear, Jung-ha" 

“That doesn’t mean it’s my fault!” 

“Oh, but it is, your fault. And you’ll pay for it by sacrificing  yourself and helping me use you in my experiment.”  

Before Jung-ha can let another word out, he silences her by giving her an injection.  

Confirming she’s not fighting back, he takes a blade, twisting it, the light making the sharp tool gleam. He then went straight for the throat. The sharp of the blade in contact with her neck. 

He doesn’t wait. He digs the blade deeper until her skin is cut and drags it back as if he’s drawing- the blade his lead and her throat- his canvas.  

The blood seeps through as a huge cut forms on her neck. The nerves being cut and pulled, her skin on neck- once joint- now divided into two separate pathways.

He takes another syringe and moves the nerves. Her literal nerves with his fingers which are now pressed deep into her open skin. 

He doesn’t pause. Another syringe appears in his hand. He pushes his fingers—gloved but already slick with her blood—into the wound, pressing past tissue that should never be touched.

He hooks her nerves aside, lifting them like wires, and clears space to drive the syringe needle directly into the raw cut. 

Then his fingers keep going. They fumble downward until they find the delicate rise of her larynx. “This is what you get for waking my girl up” he mutters to himself and continues.  

He scrapes. Not with the blade, but with his nails—raking against the cartilage until it powders, flecks of bloody white calcium catching on his fingertips. He collects them carefully, almost reverently, into a waiting petri dish. 

You try to scream, but only heat rises in your throat. Your mouth is sealed shut, and your voice—the one thing that should save you—dies before it can even begin. 

He doesn’t stop there. The blade lowers again, and with a swift flick he retracts the torn flesh wider, exposing the pale shimmer of her larynx. Metal hooks dig in, prying her throat open like the cover of a book no one should read. 

His gloved fingers move with sick precision, tugging until the fragile strands of her vocal cords come into view—thin, trembling filaments, slick with blood. He smiles, humming softly as he pinches them between forceps. 

“Delicate little strings,” he whispers, almost tender. “No wonder he loved you.” 

A clean snip, and the cords fall limp. He holds them up to the light as if inspecting jewellery, then drops them into a glass vial of preservative fluid. The cords coil at the bottom like worms drowned in amber. 

But the hollow space left behind isn’t enough. Jake digs into his box, pulling out a reel of fine wire. With practiced ease, he threads the metallic lines into the raw cavity, stitching them where flesh once vibrated.

The wires glint with each movement, humming faintly when plucked, a mechanical voice that will never speak. 

“Better,” he murmurs, tugging the last knot tight. “Now you’ll sing for me forever.” 

He doesn’t bother closing the wound properly. Instead, he threads the needle through skin and muscle at random, crossing layers that were never meant to meet.

Veins bulge where they’ve been pulled into the wrong place; cartilage juts under puckered seams. Each stitch puckers her flesh into warped ridges, like a doll made by unsteady hands. 

By the time he ties off the last suture, her neck is no longer human. From a distance, it might almost pass for healed—but up close, the seams twist into deliberate shapes. A crooked smile carved into her throat. An ugly emblem of ownership. 

Jake steps back, admiring his work, his gloves dripping crimson. He tilts his head as though he’s painted a masterpiece, then wipes the blade clean with slow, meticulous strokes. 

“You’ll never betray anyone again,” he tells the ruined body, his voice low, reverent. 

And then, as though remembering you’re still watching, his dark eyes flicker up—locking on yours, shining with that same satisfied smirk. 

The other girl’s body was still on the table, neck sewn up in jagged, crooked lines that looked more like a child’s handwriting than stitches.

He peeled off one glove finger by finger — slowly, deliberately — but left the other still clinging, soaked red. 

His gaze slid to you. You froze as he stepped closer. 

He crouched in front of you, grabbing your chin with the bloodied glove. Your skin burned where it smeared across. He ripped the tape of your mouth with so much care as if he were handling porcelain.  

Before you can utter anything- his mouth was on yours—hot, unyielding, swallowing every protest you tried to push out. 

“Mm—stop—don’t—” Your words broke against his tongue, muffled and useless. 

He tightened his hold, thumb pressing almost painfully against your cheekbone. His kiss was frantic, not lustful but obsessive, like he needed to consume every part of you. 

When he pulled back for air, he kept your face locked in his grip, eyes boring into yours with feverish intensity. His breath fanned over your lips. 

“You taste like life,” he whispered hoarsely, smearing the smear of blood from his palm against your skin as though marking you. “So warm, so alive… mine.” 

You shook your head, your voice shaking. “Please… don’t…” 

He leaned in again, his lips grazing your trembling ones, but this time he slowed—mocking gentleness, a predator pretending to soothe. “Shh… I’ll take care of you. I’ll keep you beautiful… even if I have to cut you open to do it.” 

Your head spun, the taste of his kiss still clinging like poison. His hands—hot, sticky with blood—cupped your face until the world tilted sideways.  

The room swam, black at the edges, and your body gave up before your mind could. Darkness rushed in. Your eyes closed as you lose consciousness.

When you woke again, it wasn’t the cold steel of the operating table beneath you. Soft sheets pressed against your skin. A blanket—thick, heavy, suffocating in its warmth—was pulled up to your chest. The air smelled faintly of lavender and antiseptic. 

For a split second, you thought you were safe. 

Then your eyes adjusted. Curtains nailed shut. Every window barred. The vents sealed with screws. Even the clock on the wall had no hands, frozen forever in silence. 

Your stomach knotted. 

The door clicked before you could move. He walked in—Jake—carrying a tray. Fresh clothes draped over his arm, steaming food balanced carefully beside them. He looked at you the way someone looks at something they’ve already claimed. 

“Good morning, love,” he said softly, as if you hadn’t just seen him slit open another girl days before. His smile stretched warm, but his eyes burned. “You fainted, but don’t worry. I’ve taken care of everything. You’re safe now. With me.” 

You tried to push yourself up, throat dry, but he was already there. He pressed a hand against your shoulder, holding you down with ease, the way someone holds down a restless patient. 

“Shh.” He smoothed your hair back, fingers lingering too long against your temple. “Don’t strain yourself. You’re still weak. That’s why I’m here—to do everything for you.” 

His hand slid from your temple to your jaw, thumb brushing your lips in a mockery of tenderness. 

“See? I take care of you. You don’t need the world anymore. Just me.” 

Your gaze flicked toward the locked door, but he noticed. Of course he noticed. His smile didn’t falter, but his grip on your face tightened. 

“Why do you look at the door like that, hm? It’s locked for a reason. The world out there would only hurt you. Here, you’ll never be hurt again.” 

Your chest rose, trembling, words caught in your throat. He leaned closer, so close you could feel the heat of his breath. 

“Don’t cry,” he whispered. “Don’t scream. You’ll only make me tighten the locks… and I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Why are you doing this?” you ask, your throat threatening to escape a sob.  

His eyes darken and said as if it's the most obvious thing ever, “Because I love you, silly.” 

Your lips trembled, the word love scraping raw inside your ears like broken glass. He said it so easily, so gently, as if it weren’t a chain tightening around your neck. 

Jake set the tray down on the nightstand with careful precision. Steam curled from the bowl, the smell of rice and broth filling the air. He picked up the spoon, stirred slowly, then blew on it before lifting it toward your mouth. 

“Open,” he coaxed, his tone sweet, almost teasing. “You need your strength. For me.” 

You turned your head aside, a sliver of defiance sparking in your chest. But his hand was already at your chin, firm, forcing you back to face him. The metal spoon hovered at your lips like a threat disguised as kindness. 

“Don’t make this difficult,” he murmured, smile still painted on but his eyes hardening. “You don’t want me to be upset, do you?” 

Your jaw clenched. Slowly, reluctantly, you parted your lips. The taste of broth slid across your tongue, warm but heavy, like swallowing surrender. His smile bloomed, proud, radiant. 

“There,” he praised, voice low and honeyed. “Good girl. See how easy that was? You don’t have to think anymore. I’ll do it all for you.” 

He fed you another spoonful, then another, watching every swallow with the intense focus of a man savoring possession. Occasionally, his thumb stroked your cheek, smearing the dampness of your silent tears as though wiping them away. 

When the bowl was finally empty, he set it aside with a satisfied sigh. “Perfect,” he whispered. “Now… let’s get you dressed.” 

The clothes he had carried in waited on the tray—soft fabric, delicate lace, not yours. They looked less like comfort and more like costume.

He picked them up carefully, holding them against your body, measuring them with his eyes, his smile twisting into something reverent. 

“You’ll look beautiful in this,” he said, almost dreamily. “Like you were made for me.” 

Your hands clutched the blanket, knuckles white, but he peeled it back with practiced ease. His hands on your shirt, tugging it off and removes your bottoms after all while taking in every inch of your bare skin- your body.

The air bit cold against your skin as he stripped away what you were wearing—too clinical to be lustful, too lingering to be innocent. His blood-stained tenderness made your stomach twist. 

“Don’t be shy,” he crooned, slipping the fabric over your head, guiding your arms through as though you were a doll. “There’s nothing of you I haven’t already seen.” 

His hands smoothed the fabric down your sides, adjusting every wrinkle, every fold, until you stood wrapped in the clothes he had chosen. His gaze roamed you, satisfied, possessive, and when his eyes met yours again, they gleamed with a dangerous sort of joy. 

“Yes,” he whispered, leaning in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Perfect. Mine.” 

The first few days were silence and locked doors. Jake would come in with food, speak softly, and watch you with those unnervingly tender eyes. He brushed your hair back like you were porcelain — breakable, precious, his. 

But as the days stretched, your resistance was like knives to him. You looked away when he tried to hold you, flinched when he touched your cheek, refused to answer when he murmured “I love you.” 

Tonight was different. His grip wasn’t careful anymore when he caught your wrist, dragging you closer. His other hand slammed the tray of food against the wall, the crash ringing in your ears. 

“Why would you do that?” His voice cracked, equal parts fury and despair. He shook his head, forehead pressing against yours with desperate force. “Why would you make me hurt you? I love you so much—don’t you get it?” 

When you tried to pull away, he snapped—backhanding you so suddenly your head whipped to the side. The sting burned, your breath shaky. Jake froze for a second, horrified at himself, then cupped your face with trembling hands, almost frantic. 

“Don’t make me do this,” he whispered, thumbs smearing against the tear slipping free. His lips brushed your temple, a shudder running through him. “It kills me to hurt you. Don’t… don’t push me away, please. Just love me back… that’s all I need.” 

But even as he begged, his fingers dug into your skin, bruising in their need to keep you close. 

The days that follow are strangely quiet. Jake wakes up earlier than you, his humming drifting from the kitchen, the faint smell of pancakes and coffee sneaking into your room. 

When you finally get up, he’s already waiting with a plate, pulling out a chair for you. His tone is careful, almost sweet. 

Jake starts, “Morning, sunshine. You slept in today. That’s good—your body needs rest.” 

You hesitate, your arms brushing against the long sleeves you’ve chosen to hide the marks. He notices, his eyes flickering for the briefest second, but his smile stays fixed. 

He sets the plate infront of you, “Eat well, okay? I made them just the way you like… soft in the middle.” 

He sits across from you, watching every small movement like you’re something delicate. His hand occasionally reaches out, brushing yours, or tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The gentleness almost makes you forget the sting that still lingers beneath your clothes. 

Later in the day, he leads you to the garden. It’s fenced off, tall hedges surrounding the space, but it’s still outside, the fresh air wrapping around you for the first time in what feels like forever. 

“See? I told you I’d let you out. You’ve been good… so I’ll let you walk around. Breathe.” He says smiling softly. 

You glance at him, uncertain, testing the distance. He doesn’t stop you when you take a few cautious steps away. But his gaze never leaves you. You can feel it pressing into your back no matter where you move. 

He follows after a while, slipping his arm around your shoulders, gentle but firm enough that you can’t shrug him off. 

He keeps his chin on your shoulder, “Moments like this… don’t you think they prove it? That we can be happy here, just the two of us? No one to hurt us. No one to take you away.” 

His tone is soft, almost convincing. For anyone else, it might sound like devotion. But the bruises hidden under your sleeves remind you of the cost of saying no. 

As the sun dips, he presses a kiss to your temple and whispers, “Don’t ever forget—you’re mine. And I’ll take care of you. Always.” 

The room was quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioner. You sat at the edge of the bed, your hands clutching the blanket tightly, trying to make yourself smaller, trying not to provoke him. But Jake noticed everything. 

He stepped closer, his bare feet silent against the floorboards, and crouched in front of you. His fingers tilted your chin up, but the grip wasn’t gentle this time—it was hard enough to leave a mark. 

"Why… why are you pulling away from me again?" 

You didn’t answer, your lips pressed shut. The silence made his jaw tighten. 

"Do you know how much it hurts when you look at me like I’m a monster? I’m not a monster. I love you. Don’t you understand that?" 

When you still wouldn’t answer, he stood abruptly. The sudden movement made you flinch, which only seemed to trigger something deeper in him. He grabbed your wrists and yanked you up from the bed. 

You stumbled, your arm colliding with the edge of the nightstand. A dull pain shot up against your already bruised arm as you gasped, but Jake didn’t let go. He pressed you against the wall, his hands pinning your shoulders. 

"Why would you make me do this? Don’t you see? It’s killing me to hurt you… but you’re forcing me. If you just loved me back the way I love you, I wouldn’t have to—" 

He cut himself as tears welled up in your eyes, partly from the pain, partly from the shock. He saw them, and instead of guilt, something twisted appeared in his gaze—an almost frantic tenderness. He cupped your face with the same hand that had pushed you hard against the wall, his thumb brushing away the tears. 

"Look… I hate this. I hate hurting you. But you’re not listening to me. Don’t make me go further. Please, baby, don’t do this to us." 

You swallowed hard, your voice breaking as you whispered: "Jake… please. You’re hurting me." 

His grip only tightened, his forehead pressing against yours, breath uneven. 

"I know. I know, baby. But it’s only because I love you so much it drives me insane. These bruises… they’re proof. Proof that I can’t live without you. Proof that you’re mine." 

He pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth—rough, forceful, not seeking permission. His body caged you against the wall, and when you tried to turn away, his hands clamped harder on your arms. The pressure left deep, blossoming bruises beneath his fingers. 

"Don’t fight me. Please. Don’t push me away anymore. I’ll do anything, I’ll bleed for you, I’ll kill for you. But don’t make me feel like this again. Don’t make me hurt you like this again." 

Your chest heaved, the air thick and suffocating, as you realized—this wasn’t just love anymore. This was Jake’s twisted version of it, a love that left marks on your skin, and a cage around your heart. 

Months slipped by before you even realized it. Days blurred into one another, the edges of time softening. What had started as a cage of fear had shifted—subtly, frighteningly—into something else. 

He wasn’t cruel anymore, not like that first night. Jake had become… gentler. He didn’t lock you away, didn’t raise his voice. Instead, he spoke to you like you were fragile porcelain, like he couldn’t risk breaking you. 

Somewhere along the line, your resistance had dulled. Your body still remembered what it felt like to fight, but your mind… your mind had started to give in, weaving small, hesitant threads of false comfort. 

It was nightime when it happened. The lamps in the living room cast a low amber glow, bathing everything in warmth. 

Jake sat on the couch, a book in his lap he wasn’t really reading, while you lingered on the other end. Silence stretched, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable but heavy, charged. 

You caught yourself staring at him—the relaxed curve of his jaw, the way his lashes lowered as he pretended to skim the page. 

And then his eyes lifted to meet yours. 

You froze, your lips parting just slightly. Something in his gaze was different tonight. Not sharp. Not possessive. But intent. His book slipped closed, his hand resting on it lazily, and he leaned forward just a little, like a predator testing the waters. 

“You’ve gotten quiet,” he said softly. His voice was smooth, almost coaxing. 

Your throat tightened. “Just… tired.” 

A small smile tugged at his mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “No. Not tired.” He tilted his head. “You’re thinking.” 

The weight of his words made you avert your eyes, but you could still feel his gaze burning into you. He stood then, slow, deliberate steps carrying him closer. You held still, your body tense but unwilling to move away. He stopped right in front of you, his shadow falling over your frame. 

“Look at me.” 

You obeyed before you even thought about it, your eyes lifting back to his. And then it happened—his hand rose, fingers brushing against your jaw. 

His touch was feather-light at first, almost cautious, and it made your chest ache in confusion. How could someone who broke you hold you so carefully now? 

His thumb traced the edge of your lower lip, and your breath hitched. The silence wrapped tighter around you, the space between you collapsing inch by inch. 

“Do you know,” Jake whispered, voice low and warm, “how long I’ve been waiting for this?” 

Your lips parted, but no words came. Your heart pounded in your ears as he leaned closer, so close you could feel his breath fan across your cheek, smell the faint hint of cologne lingering on his shirt. 

And then his mouth touched yours. 

It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t rough. It was slow—agonizingly slow, like he wanted to savor every second of you giving in. His lips pressed against yours gently at first, testing, as though he needed your body’s permission even if he already owned you. 

You froze, your lashes fluttering shut, your mind screaming at you to push him away—but your body betrayed you, melting into the warmth of his mouth. 

When he felt you respond, even slightly, he deepened the kiss. His free hand slid to the back of your neck, anchoring you as his lips moved against yours with more intent now. The kiss stretched, long and intoxicating, pulling the air right out of your lungs. 

Your hands gripped the edge of the couch, knuckles white, because you didn’t trust yourself not to reach for him. His tongue brushed against your lips, teasing, asking for more, and without even realizing it, you granted him access. 

The taste of him flooded your senses—familiar and overwhelming—and you shivered, letting out a small, unintentional sound into his mouth. 

That sound seemed to shatter whatever restraint he’d been clinging to. His kiss grew hungrier, more insistent, like he wanted to consume every piece of you until there was nothing left. 

And still, he never let go of the gentleness—his grip at your neck was firm but not harsh, his other hand ghosting along your jaw like a promise. 

When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t sudden. He drew away slowly, lips parting from yours with the faintest brush, as though reluctant to let the moment end. Your chest rose and fell sharply, breath stolen, lips tingling and swollen from the heat of his kiss. 

Jake’s forehead pressed against yours, his voice a whisper in the dark. 

“See? You belong here.” 

And in that moment, with your heart racing and your lips trembling from the kiss, you almost believed him. 

It was a random day. You were sitting on the bed- his bed, going through your phone. 

He does let you use your phone but only after weeks of you proving you can be ‘trusted.’ You used to scroll through your contacts, your thumb hovering over names you once thought you couldn’t live without… but somehow, you don’t press call.  

You don’t even text. Maybe it’s because you know he’ll see. You’re scared, wondering if you are going to be the next Jung-ha. You never asked him, what she did to his brother- hell, you didn’t even know he had a brother.  

But it’s best to stay quiet and not let curiosity take over you.  

It was 9pm, the door opens with the click. He comes by slowly, closing the door behind him. His eyes find yours as he immediately climbs into the bed next to you.  

“Missed me?” he asks, his voice soft as his hand goes over your stomach pulls you closer to him.  

You nod, not really meaning it.  

He doesn’t see it. Maybe he does, maybe he’s pretending not to notice your non-meaninful responses. He snuggles his face in your neck as you scroll through your phone.  

His hand slips to your chest, cupping your breast over your clothes as he starts, “I was looking through your contacts yesterday,”  

You finger stops mid-way scrolling. This is not going to end well.  

He caresses your breast with his thumb, “And I got curious, and went through your chats with him. Tell me why he is so interested in you?” 

You pause. 

“Ja-Jake, I don’t see him like that- I-I don’t like him like that.” you say hoping you’d find a way out from this mess. 

“But he does. He does see you and like you like that, and I don't like it.”  

“Y-You’re the only one I care about! Right? You know that right, Jake?” you ask desprate to convince him that only he’s there in your heart when you don’t even know if you have a heart anymore. It’s so bland. It’s like everything is under his control- Jake's control.  

“But he doesn’t!” he says, angry and moves as his hand hovers over the bedside table.  

Before you can say anything, you see it- the knife. The blade glinting, sharp and reflecting your face.  

“Jake w-what're you doing?” you ask, backing away.  

“Oh, just reminding that you’re mine” he says he crawls to you.  

Your back hits the headboard as you franticly try to escape.  

He keeps his knees of either side of your legs while holding your wrist, making it hard for you to move away. Your phone long gone on the mattress somewhere. 

He brings the knife slowly towards your inner forearm. He caress the skin there with the sharper side of the blade gently as you shake from fear. 

“Jake-Jake please” 

He shakes his head, “Lemme teach you a lesson, yea?” 

The point tip of the knife against your skin now. He digs it deeps as you wince, your breath quickening. He drags the knife back against your skin, the skin tearing apart as blood surfaces.  

You hiss at the extreme pain, tears rolling down your cheek as you try to pull your hand back. 

Sobs breaking out, and with your breathing heavy, “Jake- please- ah- I can’t t-take it” 

“Should've thought twice while interacting with someone, sweetheart.”  

The blood’s dripping down, staining your clothes, the sheets and your memory.  

And in that moment of desperation, you say it. 

“Baby? Baby! I- I love you-I-I really do-yea? P-please, t-that's what you want right?”  

He stops. The knife not digging into the layers of your skin anymore.  

He looks into your eyes, to see through you- if you really mean it or not.  

“Say it again.”  

You swallow, your energy draining, “I-I love you” 

He grips on your open skin, as you wince at the sharp pain.  

He says with his jaw clenched, “Say it again while calling me that.”  

You sob, the pain unbearable, “Jake- Baby, I love you, so much. Please, stop”  

He throws the stained knife on the floor recklessly, the force causing blood to splatter across the floor as he takes you in his arms, looking suddenly sympathetic  

“Tch. Tch. That wasn’t so hard, wasn’t it?”  

He cradles your face as he looks down at you with a pout as if he wasn't the one who literally made you bleed.  

“Ah my poor baby, you wouldn’t have gone through all that if you were just honest to me. Look what happened now.”  

Jake doesn’t let go. His arms stay wrapped around you, pulling you tighter against him despite your trembling. His breath fans hot against your hair as he rocks you slightly, like he’s trying to soothe a crying child. 

“You see, baby?” he whispers, almost crooning. “You do love me. You just keep forgetting. And that hurts me more than this hurts you.” 

Your forearm throbs, blood warm against both of you. He doesn’t even try to stop it at first—just holds you, smearing red across your clothes, across his shirt. Finally, after long moments of silence where your sobs echo in the locked room, he pulls back enough to press his lips against your wet cheek. 

“Shh. No more tears. You’ve given me what I wanted… that’s enough for today.” 

His hands, still sticky with your blood, cradle your face as he kisses you—slow, possessive, swallowing your broken breaths. When he pulls away, he looks almost triumphant. 

He stands suddenly, retrieving a rag and bandages from the dresser. You flinch when he reaches for you again, but his voice softens, almost playful: 

“Don’t be scared, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you. Always.” 

He cleans the wound with deliberate slowness, the sting sharp enough to make you jolt, but every time you try to pull away he tuts and presses you back down. 

“Stay still, baby. Let me fix what you made me do.” 

When he finishes wrapping your arm, he presses a kiss to the bandage, like sealing his claim. His smile is too warm for the situation, too proud, as if he’s pleased you’ve finally “learned.” 

“See? Now you’re mine properly. No more testing me. You’ll love me the way I love you… or I’ll make you remember again.” 

He pushes you back against the pillows, lying beside you, one arm tight around your waist so you can’t slip away. His head rests against yours like you’re lovers, not captor and prisoner. 

“Say it once more before you sleep,” he murmurs into your hair. “Say you love me, baby.” 

Your eyes flutter close- not out of comfort but out of tiredness. You submit.  

“I love you.” 

You say it, knowing you don’t really mean it. He probably knows it too, but pretends not to. In the end, that’s what you two are—pretense. Pretending to be something you’re not. But that’s the only way you both can survive. And for survival? You’ll do anything. 

©mrsjjongstby all writing belong to me. do not copy, modify or repost my works.

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A/N: aaaaaaaaaaand thats a wrappp lol, it got gore-y towards the ending.......... ATLEAST I THINK SO. the starting is just idk i dont like it but its fine i feel like but i loveeeeeeeeeeee the ending. anyways, sorry for taking so long nd hope y'all liked it!

[mrsjjongstby]

OH I LOVE WHERE THIS IS GOING

THE GIRLFRIEND CHRONICLES, ENHA HYUNG LINE SERIES - MASTERLIST

• SYNOPSIS: A university campus that doesn't know how to stop talking whether it is about who's dating who, who's faking it, and who's already fallen. Here secrets spread like wildfire, friendships get messy, and somehow, the chaos always leads to the same thing: love, whether you are ready for it or not.

🎧 A Campus Romance Series of Campus Boyband - HYPHENIX.

➻ Four boys, one band, and just too many love twists.

╭── 🎙 Setting:

│ University AU: Home of Hyphenix, the most popular campus boy band.

│ Status: On going... | Started: 19/06/2025 | End: TBD

╰───────────────────────────────────

🎸 𝗝𝗮𝘆 — The icy guitarist.

🎹 𝗦𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗻 — The silent keyboardist.

🎤 𝗛𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 — The golden voice frontman.

🥁 𝗝𝗮𝗸𝗲 — The golden retriever drummer.

⦿ VOLUME 1: PARK JONGSEONG (COMPLETED)

◇ I DON'T LIKE YOUR GIRLFRIEND | PART 2

• SYNOPSIS: A fleeting encounter with Park Jay at a high school party leaves a quiet imprint on your then broken heart. Years later, you find him again, now as an icy guitarist of the campus boy band, HYPHENIX. You never spoke again, but you remembered his eyes, his words, his presence and how he lingered at the back of your mind years after. You wanted to reach for him, but he was so far, popular, untouchable that you decided to pour your heart to him in secret, until the secret was revealed but someone else claimed it before you could.

Or in which you pour your heart into anonymous letters for the cold, distant guitarist, Jay, only to watch your best friend claim every word as her own.

⦿ VOLUME 2: PARK SUNGHOON

◇ I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND? | PART 2 (upcoming)

• SYNOPSIS: Sunghoon thought nothing could make his life worse than the flood of anonymous love letters cramming his locker thanks to Jay and his girlfriend's legendary campus romance, until a rumor sparks that he's dating you, the campus's sharp-tongued, designer-draped cautionary tale he can't stand. The feelings? Entirely mutual. You're not sure why Park Sunghoon, the painfully breathtaking keyboardist of HYPHENIX, seems to have personal vendetta against you. Especially when you've never even had a proper conversation, you didn’t even know he had such an expressive talent for glaring. But if he wants to act cold, you aren't about to play nice either.

Now, in a twist neither of you saw coming, the rumor you were supposed to deny has turned into a full-blown fake relationship and it's spiraling way more than it should have.

⦿ VOLUME 3: WHO'S NEXT?

[This masterlist will be updated regularly, so if nothing is linked then be free to assume that part isn't out yet.]

[mrsjjongstby]

🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇲​​🇸​ & ​🇨​​🇴​​🇳​​🇩​​🇮​​🇹​​🇮​​🇴​​🇳​​🇸​ - S.JY

p: roommate!jake x fem!reader

warnings: gore, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT!, medical horror, stalking, obsession, non-con medical procedures, implied drugging, graphic depictions of violence, psychological manipulation, restraints, mild language, cursing, creepy roommate behaviour, body horror, disturbing, needle usage, mentions of blood, internal organs, disturbing methods of medical procedures, medical horror, gore descriptions, yandere themes.

synopsis: When you move in with Jake, a charming scientist offering cheap rent and easy company, you agree to his one condition—never enter his bedroom. But as you continue to live with him, you uncover the dark truth: Jake isn’t just handsome and sweet—he’s dangerously obsessed with you, and his “experiments” hide horrors you were never meant to see.

Wordcount: 11.1k

The ad came to you by luck. You just got accepted into this new university which is away from home, and you were looking for a place to stay.  

The uni dorms aren't as reliable as they seem- considering the many break in stories and unhygienic living conditions told by the residents. You could stay at home and attend uni but that would mean for you to wake up before the sun rises and get on a two hour journey- yea, no way.  

So, you began roommate hunting after you realized that living alone in an apartment is out of your budget. And that's when the ad found you. A pretty huge loft's owner is searching for another tenant- to fill out the huge place.  

You would've skipped past the ad easily just like how you did for the past fifteen ads, but the rent caught your eye- it was cheap for the huge space- and in your budget.  

Just like that, you called the number given without thinking twice and arranged a meeting at a local coffee shop.   

The bell chimes above you as you walk in the café- your eyes dart around to find a person wearing, "navy blue hoodie with black washed jeans" just like he said. Soon, you found a hand waving at you wearing the description given to you by the owner. You wave back a little and go over to where he is.  

You took a good look at him and- damn, he looks divine. As if the gods themselves carved his face with deliberate precision. He could easily pass as a model, and the thought hits you like a punch: if luck’s on your side, you might actually be living with him after this talk.

"Sorry, Did I make you wait?" You ask after saying thanks to for pulling your chair back so, you can sit. 

He goes over to the other side and sits while closing his laptop, "Oh no, of course not. I just was doing some research." 

You nod. A beat. He rubs his hands together and then outstretches it to you smiling, "Sim Jaehyun, you can call me Jake."  

You accept it- his hand rough and large compared to yours, "Y/n."  

His grip tightened just as you say your name but you don't think of it much, brushing it off as an accident. You retrieve your hand back as he talks again, "Lets order something before we start our talk?"  

"Yeah, sounds cool." You say as your eyes skim through the menu card.  

Jake calls the waiter and orders for both of you after you tell him what you want. Once the waiter leaves, he turns his attention back to you.  “I’m a scientist, sooo… don’t be surprised if I blurt out random biological facts sometimes.” 

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Thanks for the heads-up. I’m studying agricultural science, so I may not know as much as you, but I do know that the tea you ordered comes from leaves that only grow in very specific weather conditions.” 

His smile widens at that, "Good to know that we have a common ground."   

"Yeah. Anything else I need to know?" You ask as the waiter sets down your latte and his tea.  

"Oh yes. They aren’t much. Just that I come home late at night—you know how it is, working for science. But most of the time I’ll be home. I can cook us meals, do the laundry, you don’t have to worry about that. And while we’re on that topic—most of my work is done at home, in my room. I have a workspace there, which is why I don’t want you to enter my room. At all." 

"Oh, interesting. We could take turns in doing the chores and yeah, I will not even dare to go near the premises!" You say, trying not to miss this perfect stay with a perfectly fine af roommate.  

"Thanks. Then, I'm sure we'll get along pretty well. So, when are you planning to move in?"

And just like that you moved in after some adult- financial talks and documents which usually bore you but Jake made it easy for you to follow up. The first day wasn't weird- sure it was new, different but it felt nice having your 'technically' own space and not having to wake up before the sun.   

Jake was nothing but sweet, he cooked meals for you, packed lunch for you if he had to. cleaned the house- even your room and just wasn't fan of the 'hook up culture' considering that he never once bought up about a girl.  

You wonder if he's got a girl or not, but you shrug those thoughts away. He even did your laundry before you got to it, folding everything with eerie precision — even garments you wouldn’t normally want someone touching. 

True to his word, when Jake did go to work outside, he comes late at night- most of the time you're already in your dreamland and realize he was home the next day morning when he's making coffee for both of you in the kitchen.  

He never mentions anything too deep about his work, just talks about this new 'project' which he's starting, and he can't wait to work on it.  

You never pried; just grateful you were getting more than you bargained for. If only you knew—soon, you’d be getting far more than you bargained for. 

Today was one of those nights where he went out, you didn't even look in the direction of his room, just working on your thesis near the kitchen counter.  

You hear the door click, huh, weird you thought looking at the time in your laptop, 1:45 a.m. damn, you didn't realize you've been working for three hours straight.  

You hear shoes shuffling and soon see Jake walking towards the kitchen where you are at, his hair was damp from the drizzle outside, but the faint metallic smell of iron lingered as he passed you and new cuts on his fingers you don’t know the root cause to.  

His eyes meet yours and you see them flicker with surprise- "You're still awake?" He asks, his eyes moving to your laptop.  

You look at the screen as he goes over to the refrigerator, "Yeah, I didn’t realize the time- been working on this research."  

He gets a bottle nodding and closes the door while opening the cap, he turns- his front facing you, "How was the dinner with your friends?"  

Odd. 

You didn’t tell him you had dinner with your friends. matter of fact. it was a last-minute plan. 

"Um yea, it was good, how'd you know?"  

"Just a guess." He said, unbothered.  

Few days pass just like that, it was starting to get weird. The initial sounds you heard when you first moved in didn’t stop, they only grew weirder and louder. And Jake wasn't helping either, he would dismiss your creeps saying your exhaustion was getting to you and that he isn't hearing any thing and you believed, you truly did. cause why wouldn't you?  

Midnight rolls by. The sounds stopped—but the silence felt heavier than the noises ever did. You went to the kitchen, to get yourself a glass of water. The cups are cleaned neatly and kept up by Jake but the only problem was that he kept it high, and you need one of the glass. You get on your tip toes, trying to reach the glass. You huff after not being able to get it and try again.   

You didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear his door open. A hand reaches past you as you feel a presence behind you.

You turn your face to see Jake- shirtless and in his grey sweatpants that always made you think of things you shouldn't. His eyes are fixed on your face, your cheeks turn red at the close intimacy, you quickly turn your face to the front again to avoid his eyes.  

Jake's another hand is kept on the counter, beside your hip. He moves closer- his chest touching you back, "Here you go."   

Your breath hitches, as you shakily take the glass from his hand- your fingers grazing his. "Thanks."  

He leaves the glass as you take it and holds your elbow, his face in the side of your neck- his nose grazing your skin as he nods. Your brain shuts off, his breathe hitting your neck- you gulp, unsure what to say as you shiver at his touch.

He brushed the lightest kiss against your neck, lingering a moment too long—as though he was memorizing your pulse and slowly retracts away taking his time.

You let out a breath at that which you didn't know you were holding in.   

"Good night" He says and leaves to his room while your mind was unravelling.  

You clutch the counter at the intense situation that just unfolded. You fill your glass with water and ice to get you out of the shock.  

With that, you went to your room, sure that you aren't getting any sleep tonight. 

Your skin burned where his lips touched, but your stomach twisted. You couldn’t tell if it was desire—or dread. 

Nothing changed. You thought the days after that night would be awkward, but if anything, Jake got closer. Too close. Shirtless in the mornings, sometimes only in his boxers, brushing past you with touches that lingered too long.

But the voices at night—they didn’t stop. If anything, they grew louder. Bolder. As if they knew the house belonged to them as much as it did to him. 

8 p.m. Rain lashed against the windows, the steady rhythm almost soothing. You curled into the couch, laptop balanced on your knees, the glow of the screen painting your face in blue.

The hallway stretched empty, the kitchen swallowed in shadow, Jake’s bedroom door sealed shut—like always. 

Tap. 

You stilled, convincing yourself it was nothing, and kept typing. 

Tap. Tap. 

Your hands froze over the keys. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. 

That wasn’t rain. Too slow. Too deliberate. Too… patient. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. 

Your breath shortened, the sound threading into your nerves like a hook. With trembling fingers, you lowered the laptop onto the couch and stood. Each step toward the hallway dragged heavier than the last. The noise grew sharper. Clearer. 

Jake’s door. 

TAP. 

The door jolted, the wood shuddering against its hinges. Your pulse crashed in your ears. 

Then— 

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG! 

The entire frame rattled violently, as though something—or someone—inside was trying to claw its way out. 

And then the power died. 

Darkness devoured the house. The hallway was pitch-black, except—except for the faint sliver of light beneath Jake’s door. In it, you saw a shadow Writhing. Twisting against the crack like they were desperate to escape. 

Your hand, shaking uncontrollably, reached for the knob— 

"Y/N." 

The voice cut through the dark like a blade. 

It was Jake. But it wasn’t. His tone was deeper, stripped of warmth, laced with something that made your stomach twist. And just like that, the banging stopped.

As if whatever or whoever was on the other side sensed Jake’s presence. The silence that followed was worse. Suffocating. 

The lights sputtered back, weak and flickering. 

Jake stood at the end of the hallway. His face unreadable, jaw tight, eyes shadowed. Every stutter of the bulbs painted him differently—one second human, the next… something else. 

"I told you not to enter my room," he said, his voice low, each word deliberate. "Didn’t I?" 

Your throat closed. Heat crawled up your neck. "I—I know, but the banging, I thought—I’m sorry." 

His sigh was quiet, almost tired. His gaze fell to the floor, then slowly rose back to yours. He stepped closer. Step by step, the space between you vanished until his presence was all-consuming. 

His hand lifted, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, knuckles grazing your skin with chilling care. “I’ll take care of it.” 

"But—" 

"I said something, Y/N." His palm cupped your cheek, warm but iron-firm. His grip hovered on the edge of pain. 

You nodded quickly, fear clamping down on your chest. 

He leaned down, lips ghosting your hairline. A kiss so soft it felt wrong. 

"Of course. Now go. Your assignment won’t finish itself." 

His hand patted your head lightly before retreating. You turned on shaky legs, clutching your laptop like a lifeline, retreating to your room with your heart pounding out of rhythm. 

Behind you, Jake lingered by the door, the faintest curve at his lips. A smile that never reached his eyes. 

You didn’t sleep. Not really. Every creak of the house, every gust of rain against the glass had your nerves on edge. By the time morning light bled into your curtains, your body ached from tension more than rest. 

Jake was already in the kitchen, moving with casual ease. Shirtless, grey sweats slung low on his hips, he poured himself a cup of coffee like nothing had happened. Like the night before hadn’t existed. 

You hovered by the counter, fingers tight around your glass of water. “Jake,” your voice cracked, too thin. You swallowed and tried again. “Last night… what was that sound?” 

He didn’t look up immediately. The silence stretched, heavy, deliberate. Then, finally, he chuckled low under his breath. 

“Ah,” he said, as though you’d asked about something mundane, like a leaky faucet. He took a slow sip of coffee, eyes lifting to yours over the rim. “Probably just the lab rats.” 

Lab rats. 

You blinked. “Lab… rats?” 

“Mm.” He set the mug down with a soft clink, stepping closer. “They get restless sometimes. Scratching. Banging around. Nothing you need to worry about.” 

His words were smooth, rehearsed almost, but his eyes didn’t match the ease in his voice. They lingered on you, too sharp, too knowing. 

A laugh bubbled nervously from your throat, brittle. “Rats don’t bang doors like that, Jake.” 

The corner of his mouth curved, not quite a smile—more like a warning dressed up as one. He leaned down, close enough that his breath warmed your ear. 

“Curiosity, Y/N,” he murmured, “is dangerous.” 

Your stomach knotted. 

He pulled back, the mask of nonchalance snapping back over his features as he grabbed his mug again. “Drink your water. You’ll feel better.” 

And just like that, the conversation was over. 

But the echo of last night—the shadows, the voice, the pounding—hung between you, unanswered. 

Days pass just like that. The sounds weren’t as prominent as before. And Jake is just being different.  

The room was too quiet now. The hum of the machines had dulled, leaving behind an eerie stillness that pressed against your eardrums. Your skin prickled.

You weren’t sure if it was the cold air or the way Jake’s eyes had been fixed on you for far too long. 

He finally broke the silence, his voice low and oddly casual. 

“Tell me,” he said, tilting his head slightly, like he was genuinely curious. “What’s your pain tolerance?” 

Your throat went dry. The question was delivered too softly, too calmly, as if he were asking about your favourite colour. You forced a laugh, hoping it didn’t tremble. 

“Why would you even ask me that?” 

Jake’s lips curled into a faint smile, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together as though waiting for a confession. 

“Because,” he whispered, the syllables dragging out, “sometimes people think they can handle more than they actually can. And it’s… fascinating to see the truth.” 

You caught a flicker of something metallic behind him on the tray—a glint of steel. Surgical instruments, lined up too neatly, too deliberately. Your stomach turned. 

“This isn’t funny, Jake.” 

“Oh, it’s not a joke.” His voice was firm now, smooth as glass but edged with something sharp. “You’re strong. I can tell. But I wonder…” His fingers traced invisible patterns in the air. “…are you strong enough when the nerves start screaming?” 

He leaned back, letting the silence stretch, watching you as if waiting for you to crack. 

The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, but underneath it, there was something else—something coppery, raw. Your chest tightened. You didn’t want to know where that smell came from. 

And yet Jake smiled again, like a predator amused by its prey’s trembling. 

“Don’t look so scared,” he murmured. “I only want to understand you better.” 

"I'm going to bed" you say, getting off the chair and following the path to your bedroom. 

'It's probably his dark humor acting up on him again' you thought as you shake off the words.  

You twist and turn in bed, unable to actually; shake those words off. His voice, his words, his face when he said that- the whole scene replaying in your head repeatedly with clear details.  

With the fact that it's two in the morning and that you have college early, you close your eyes and force sleep to knock you out and forget whatever the hell just happened.  

Morning comes early, the sunlight peeking through the shades, the room unusually quiet. Your feet hit the clean marble floor, padding your way to the bathroom to get ready for the day. 

The door closes behind you with a click, you brush your teeth looking at your reflection in the mirror. You look a little worn out- not the kind that comes with exhaustion but the kind that wears out every inch of you. 

Slipping out of your clothes, you enter the shower. Keeping the temperature high- just as you like. The water drizzles down your form and once you are fully drenched, you feel a sharp pain on arm- on your bicep specifically.  

You quickly move your left hand away from the water- which is causing it to sting and take a look at your bicep. Nothing, no trace of anything. Did you hit yourself without noticing? I mean that's common, but this pain, its different.  

Your whole hand isn't hurting, only a certain spot on your bicep is stinging. The kind of sting when you put anything on the area you got injected. 

Your thoughts cut off, due to the shower suddenly stopping. Concluding that you accidently hurt yourself or slept weird you tried to turn off and on the shower. 

It wasn't working.  

Groaning, you get out, wrapping yourself in a towel and started getting ready. 

You reach the kitchen with your bag on your shoulder and phone in your hand, Jake's there, making breakfast as always.  

"Took you long enough" He says without turning around.  

Keeping your bag aside, you sit on the chair, "Shower broke" 

"Broke?" He questioned, finally turning around and bringing the plated pancakes to you.  

You nod, digging in as he does the same after sitting, "Yeah, I was taking a shower, and it stopped working the midway"  

"I'll look into it once you are back home" he says, his gaze dropping to your left hand and then back to your face. 

You nod, muttering a small thanks and leave with your bag. Your day didn't have evening classes, so, Jake didn't cook lunch for you. It always amazed you how perfectly he remembered your habits and schedules but then again, he's a science student... probably good at remember things.  

But you know, you are fooling yourself cause truth? truth hurts, and to not expect the worst, you conceal it with lying to yourself.  

Evening rolls by, you come back home. House quiet except for the faint clicking, air cold and lights on. You remove your shoes and move into the living room to see Jake seated on the sofa with his laptop, typing away. He looks up, "Hi sweetheart"  

"Hey" You reply not really surprised by the nickname since he’s been calling you things recently. 

"Come here, you look tired." He says patting beside him.  

You lazily throw your bag on the couch and go over, plopping yourself down beside him. 

"Hungry?" He asks, pushing your hair back from your forehead.  

"No" you mutter, eyes closing and stiffening lightly at his touch.  

He frowns but doesn't comment on it. "Then, let's look at that shower fix after some time?"  

You nod, already drifting into sleep. Few minutes pass by and you are knocked out. He closes his laptop slowly, keeping it aside and turns to look at you. He pulls a stranded hair behind your ear and gets up after.  

Lowering himself, he takes you in his arm and lifts you up. Walking to your bedroom and opening the door with a light push of his leg, he places you on the bed. He pulls the blanket up to your chin.  

He takes a glance at your room- the one where he often goes to when you aren't around. He goes over to the laundry basket like he's done it a thousand times before. Digging through it, he takes out your black lace bra, bringing it to his nose and smirking as he takes a breath in. 

He looks back at you, the smirk still planted on his face and leaves your room.  

The vibration and sound of your phone ringing in the back pocket of your jeans woke you up. You get up and take your phone into your hands. 

You decline the call as you learned that it was spam and notice the time.  

It's been two hours, you slept for a good two hours, you get out of the bed and out of the room to hear, blender noises. Jake wasn't in the kitchen; the grinding noises stop coming from Jake's room. 

Few minutes pass as Jake comes back from his room, his hands wet as if he just washed his hands. "You're up already?" 

You nod, "What was that?" 

"What was what?" He asks innocently, jutting his bottom lip out as if he has no clue what you are talking about.  

"Oh, you know what I'm talking about" You ask narrowing your eyes.  

His eyes darken, his expression changing immediately from cute, innocent face to daring, dangerous one.  

"Careful with your tone, doll." his voice deep, carrying that depth and then instantly, he goes back his normal, innocent boy facade which you fell for in the start,  

"I was just trying a new smoothie recipe"  

You frown, "In your... room?"  

He smiles, his eyebrow raising, his tone teasing, "What did I say about curiosity, doll?"  

"I- uh whatever, about my shower, you said you-" 

"Yep, wait for me there, I'll be back" he says disappearing into his room. 

You are leaning against the sink, your arms folded when Jake walks in with a huge box in his hand.  

He keeps the box beside you on the sink and opens it. He opens it, the box revealing quiet some variety of tools you’ve only seen in movies- some you've never seen at all.  

"Why do you even have these?"  

He looks at you and smiles noticing the look on your face,  

"Oh you know, for times like this" 

"Yea sure." You say skeptically as he gets to work. 

 Your gaze got lost in admiring the view in front of you. His veiny hands worked deftly on the tool—a weapon that seemed almost out of place in his otherwise perfect hands. 

His face was concentrated, the rings on his fingers clinking softly against the showerhead, his bracelet sliding down his forearm. His neck stretched as he leaned forward, the loose shirt revealing the curve of his collarbone.  

Oh man, it was almost laughable how turned on you were just from watching him 

The sound of water brings you back from your thoughts.  

"Thanks, Jake" you say as Jake turns it off and places it back in its place. 

He steps out of the shower, and arranges his tools in the box beside you, "Anything for you, doll" 

You unfold your hands as he searches for something on the sink's counter.  

His gaze locks onto yours and his gaze darkens a bit. He moves towards you slowly, his hand shifting to your side, effectively caging you.  

Your hands grip back against the counter as he lowers, your faces near, your heart racing. His eyes look into yours as he tilts his head a bit moving his face closer to yours. Your chest heaving up and down lightly while your knuckles turn white as you grip hard onto the counter.  

You gulp, as his nose grazes yours very lightly. 

"Spencer" He mutters, his voice hoarse. 

Lost in his eyes and the moment, unable to comprehend what he said,  

"Huh?"  

"Spencer, baby." He says as he backs away showing you the spencer he took from behind you. 

You clear your throat, embarrassed and remove yourself from the counter.  

His face carrying that knowing smirk as he puts the spencer back in the closes the huge box with a click, "What do you want for dinner?"  

"Um anything's fine" you say quickly trying to get him out as soon as possible. 

"Alright, I'll call you when it's done." He says taking away the box.  

You nod quickly as he leaves.  

Scrolling through your TikTok FYP, you try to erase what happened. The closeness, his face, his presence, his hands caging you— 

"Dinner's ready!"  

Jake shouts from the kitchen. You get out of bed, away from your room, away from your thoughts.  

You sit yourself near the counter and Jake plates your food.  

You adjust yourself on the highchair. Your calf touches the cold metal of the chair's legs, and you wince at the contact. Frowning, you look at your leg to see a small cut. 

What the actual fuck?  

You think as you inspect it further.  

Jake's voice brings you back to your senses again, "Here you go, doll" he plates the freshly made pasta in front of you. 

You both complete the dinner talking about random stuff. 

After dinner, Jake began tidying up the living room while you remained seated, scrolling through your phone—still desperate for a proper explanation for your cut. 

Google wasn’t much help, so you forced your brain to replay every possible cause. 

Nothing. 

Your gaze drifted toward Jake. Could he...? - no 

Stupid. Sure, he’s weird but he isn't a psycho.  

Only if you knew... 

Days went by without incident—or at least, that’s what you told yourself. 

You get out of your bedroom, bored and see Jake seated on the couch.  

“Wanna watch a movie, baby?” Jake asks as he catches your gaze.  

You nod, thinking it would be a distraction with the whirlwind of thoughts running through your mind. You turn off the kitchen lights making the whole house dark, the living room’s lights were already off. The only source of light, coming from the TV. You go over and sit beside him. 

“What do you wanna watch?” He asks, his hand going onto the couch- just behind your shoulder.  

“Anything’s fine” you say as he hums.  

He puts on a classic, horror thriller. Weird, but okay. It’s a good movie after all.  

You lean back, the bare back of your neck touching his hand. He doesn’t move, neither do you. Halfway into the movie,  

“It’s hot, isn't it?”  

You frown. It’s anything but hot and that’s why you have a huge ass blanket on your lap. 

“No, it’s-” Before you can continue, he retracts his arm which was supporting your neck and removes his shirt.  

Just.Like.That.  

He throws the shirt away on the couch and moves closer to you.  

He wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer to his bare front. His other hand going around your stomach, locking you.  

“What? Didn’t you say it was hot?” You ask looking up at him. 

He hums thoughtfully, his gaze on the TV as he pulls you closer, “Well, now I’m cold.” 

Rolling your eyes playfully, you continue to look at the film rolling. The proximity making your heartbeat race.  

A sensual scene plays, the main leads kissing eachother with passion and hunger. You clear your throat trying to avoid the fact that his hands tightened around your form. You look up at him to see that his gaze was already on you.  

You face close. Reminding you of the day he caged you against the sink. 

His eyes drift to your lips as he moves closer, his breath hitting your face. You let your gaze dip down to his plump lips, imagining how they’d feel and taste.  

He tilts his head, your lips just a breath away. You close your eyes at your lips grazing eachother.  

And just as you were about to kiss- the doorbell rings, breaking the spell. 

Jake closes his eyes in frustration, “Fuck” 

He looks at the pathway and gets up from the couch, going towards the door to see who the hell cock blocked them.  

You run your hands through your hair, What the fuck just happened. 

Shaking your head, you leave to your room.  

Days passed by quickly. The only class you had today got cancelled, and you don't have any plans either. Meaning, you are free the whole day. 

Nothing changed after that day. He only grew more clingy, if that's even possible. 

Your body though, it grew more sore than ever as each day passed by. 

Currently, you are in the living room vacuuming since Jake went out for work. Your body isn't cooperating at all, but it's the least you can do when he does every work. 

You soon reach his room. You don't go in, of course, with number of times he I warned you- you wouldn't dare. 

You were cleaning the pathway to his room, focused on the steady hum of the vacuum. Too focused to notice the thin wire stretched across the floor. 

The moment you twisted the vacuum and stepped forward, your foot caught. 

You stumbled—hard—crashing against a door. 

It swung open at once, unlocked, and you tumbled inside, landing flat on the floor with a thud. 

Groaning, you rubbed your elbows, checking for any injuries. 

Happy to see none, you finally stand and look up. Only to realize, you were in Jake's bedroom. Your heart stopped beating.  

His room- the one which he warned not to go, was there, calm and still in your presence. Everything was normal- a bed, closer, table- just a typical bedroom... right?  

You look back, out of fear. To see if he’s there, confirming that you are alone, you enter further into his room. There was a door to the side. It wasn’t the bathroom, cause his lies on the outside of the room.  

Curiosity kills the cat. But you went for it anyway. You slowly walked towards the door, each step echoing louder than the previous one.  

The house eerily quiet behind you.  

You place your hand on the doorknob. A beat.  

You turn the knob and open the door to be hit with a chemical smell.  

You quickly cover your nose with the neck of your shirt and dared to look inside. Your heart stopped. Your eyes widen. You stumble back at the sight infront of you.  

There were, numerous glass jars, each containing hearts, lungs, kidneys- multiple, different organs. Bones placed neatly on the walls of the room. Blood marks everywhere. Parts of human body lines up on a table. The sight sent a shiver down your spine.  

And most of all, a girl on a clinical bed, held back with restraints and is unconscious.  

Your eyes teared up, your hands trembling, your breath quickened.  

You shake your head, No, no, no, I have to inform the police, I have to-  

You think as you turn, your chest heaving up and down, heavily. Then here he was, Jake. With that innocent look on his face and in your personal space. 

You scream at his sudden appearance and move back. He takes small, tentative steps to you. Shake your head and with your trembling, “No, no! Don't come near me!” 

He chuckles at that, “Well, I told you to not enter my room. But you did. Why should I listen to what you said when you didn’t?”  

You move around the room, toppling over things. Jake winces and puts on a worried facade, “Shh, slowly. We don’t want you hurt, do we?” 

You run straight to the door and just as you reach the door and get out- Jake holds your wrist from behind. He pulls you back onto his chest, “Not so easy, Y/N”  

You wriggle in his grip as he locks the bedroom’s door. You manage to get out of his grip and turn to him.  

His eyes darken, “The roommate agreement works both ways. You broke my rule. Now I get to break you.” 

He takes a syringe from the table beside you and before you can do anything, he gets a hold of you and injects it into your neck. You wince at the sharp sting as your energy drains, and your head feels lighter. Your eyelids flutter close, you collapse in his arms, losing consciousness.  

The faint sound of muffles in the background wake you up. Your whole-body sore, never like before. Your vision blurry as you open your eyes. Your head pounding, your throat dried up and burning.  

You try to bring your hand up to hold your head only to notice that both of your hands and legs are tied to the chair you are seated in. Your mouth taped as you finally register your surroundings.  

You shake your head, clenched your fists to make your vision clear and see the sight infront of you. 

Oh, how you wish you were still unconscious.  

There he was, Jake, near the clinical bed. The girl on it, awake, wriggling and screaming.  

Jake hisses putting on his gloves, “Shh, you’ll wake my love up” 

The girl looks at you and increases her screams and wriggles. Jake follows her gaze to notice you, staring at the scene infront.  

“Oh, sorry for the disturbance, baby. This’ll be quick, I promise.” he says, his voice dripping with honey and then, turns to the girl. 

“I told you to stay quiet, didn’t I? Now, she woke up. How many mistakes will you make Jung-ha? Be ready to pay for it”  

The girl- whose name is Jung-ha, shakes her head, “No! No! I’m sorry, I'm sorry”  

“Hmm, too late. You should’ve thought twice before betraying my brother and for killing him.” 

Jung-ha widens her eyes, “No! What?! No! I didn’t kill him! It was a suicide!”  

“And, why do you think he committed it? Because of you. He couldn’t handle the betrayal done by his, Oh, so dear, Jung-ha" 

“That doesn’t mean it’s my fault!” 

“Oh, but it is, your fault. And you’ll pay for it by sacrificing  yourself and helping me use you in my experiment.”  

Before Jung-ha can let another word out, he silences her by giving her an injection.  

Confirming she’s not fighting back, he takes a blade, twisting it, the light making the sharp tool gleam. He then went straight for the throat. The sharp of the blade in contact with her neck. 

He doesn’t wait. He digs the blade deeper until her skin is cut and drags it back as if he’s drawing- the blade his lead and her throat- his canvas.  

The blood seeps through as a huge cut forms on her neck. The nerves being cut and pulled, her skin on neck- once joint- now divided into two separate pathways.

He takes another syringe and moves the nerves. Her literal nerves with his fingers which are now pressed deep into her open skin. 

He doesn’t pause. Another syringe appears in his hand. He pushes his fingers—gloved but already slick with her blood—into the wound, pressing past tissue that should never be touched.

He hooks her nerves aside, lifting them like wires, and clears space to drive the syringe needle directly into the raw cut. 

Then his fingers keep going. They fumble downward until they find the delicate rise of her larynx. “This is what you get for waking my girl up” he mutters to himself and continues.  

He scrapes. Not with the blade, but with his nails—raking against the cartilage until it powders, flecks of bloody white calcium catching on his fingertips. He collects them carefully, almost reverently, into a waiting petri dish. 

You try to scream, but only heat rises in your throat. Your mouth is sealed shut, and your voice—the one thing that should save you—dies before it can even begin. 

He doesn’t stop there. The blade lowers again, and with a swift flick he retracts the torn flesh wider, exposing the pale shimmer of her larynx. Metal hooks dig in, prying her throat open like the cover of a book no one should read. 

His gloved fingers move with sick precision, tugging until the fragile strands of her vocal cords come into view—thin, trembling filaments, slick with blood. He smiles, humming softly as he pinches them between forceps. 

“Delicate little strings,” he whispers, almost tender. “No wonder he loved you.” 

A clean snip, and the cords fall limp. He holds them up to the light as if inspecting jewellery, then drops them into a glass vial of preservative fluid. The cords coil at the bottom like worms drowned in amber. 

But the hollow space left behind isn’t enough. Jake digs into his box, pulling out a reel of fine wire. With practiced ease, he threads the metallic lines into the raw cavity, stitching them where flesh once vibrated.

The wires glint with each movement, humming faintly when plucked, a mechanical voice that will never speak. 

“Better,” he murmurs, tugging the last knot tight. “Now you’ll sing for me forever.” 

He doesn’t bother closing the wound properly. Instead, he threads the needle through skin and muscle at random, crossing layers that were never meant to meet.

Veins bulge where they’ve been pulled into the wrong place; cartilage juts under puckered seams. Each stitch puckers her flesh into warped ridges, like a doll made by unsteady hands. 

By the time he ties off the last suture, her neck is no longer human. From a distance, it might almost pass for healed—but up close, the seams twist into deliberate shapes. A crooked smile carved into her throat. An ugly emblem of ownership. 

Jake steps back, admiring his work, his gloves dripping crimson. He tilts his head as though he’s painted a masterpiece, then wipes the blade clean with slow, meticulous strokes. 

“You’ll never betray anyone again,” he tells the ruined body, his voice low, reverent. 

And then, as though remembering you’re still watching, his dark eyes flicker up—locking on yours, shining with that same satisfied smirk. 

The other girl’s body was still on the table, neck sewn up in jagged, crooked lines that looked more like a child’s handwriting than stitches.

He peeled off one glove finger by finger — slowly, deliberately — but left the other still clinging, soaked red. 

His gaze slid to you. You froze as he stepped closer. 

He crouched in front of you, grabbing your chin with the bloodied glove. Your skin burned where it smeared across. He ripped the tape of your mouth with so much care as if he were handling porcelain.  

Before you can utter anything- his mouth was on yours—hot, unyielding, swallowing every protest you tried to push out. 

“Mm—stop—don’t—” Your words broke against his tongue, muffled and useless. 

He tightened his hold, thumb pressing almost painfully against your cheekbone. His kiss was frantic, not lustful but obsessive, like he needed to consume every part of you. 

When he pulled back for air, he kept your face locked in his grip, eyes boring into yours with feverish intensity. His breath fanned over your lips. 

“You taste like life,” he whispered hoarsely, smearing the smear of blood from his palm against your skin as though marking you. “So warm, so alive… mine.” 

You shook your head, your voice shaking. “Please… don’t…” 

He leaned in again, his lips grazing your trembling ones, but this time he slowed—mocking gentleness, a predator pretending to soothe. “Shh… I’ll take care of you. I’ll keep you beautiful… even if I have to cut you open to do it.” 

Your head spun, the taste of his kiss still clinging like poison. His hands—hot, sticky with blood—cupped your face until the world tilted sideways.  

The room swam, black at the edges, and your body gave up before your mind could. Darkness rushed in. Your eyes closed as you lose consciousness.

When you woke again, it wasn’t the cold steel of the operating table beneath you. Soft sheets pressed against your skin. A blanket—thick, heavy, suffocating in its warmth—was pulled up to your chest. The air smelled faintly of lavender and antiseptic. 

For a split second, you thought you were safe. 

Then your eyes adjusted. Curtains nailed shut. Every window barred. The vents sealed with screws. Even the clock on the wall had no hands, frozen forever in silence. 

Your stomach knotted. 

The door clicked before you could move. He walked in—Jake—carrying a tray. Fresh clothes draped over his arm, steaming food balanced carefully beside them. He looked at you the way someone looks at something they’ve already claimed. 

“Good morning, love,” he said softly, as if you hadn’t just seen him slit open another girl days before. His smile stretched warm, but his eyes burned. “You fainted, but don’t worry. I’ve taken care of everything. You’re safe now. With me.” 

You tried to push yourself up, throat dry, but he was already there. He pressed a hand against your shoulder, holding you down with ease, the way someone holds down a restless patient. 

“Shh.” He smoothed your hair back, fingers lingering too long against your temple. “Don’t strain yourself. You’re still weak. That’s why I’m here—to do everything for you.” 

His hand slid from your temple to your jaw, thumb brushing your lips in a mockery of tenderness. 

“See? I take care of you. You don’t need the world anymore. Just me.” 

Your gaze flicked toward the locked door, but he noticed. Of course he noticed. His smile didn’t falter, but his grip on your face tightened. 

“Why do you look at the door like that, hm? It’s locked for a reason. The world out there would only hurt you. Here, you’ll never be hurt again.” 

Your chest rose, trembling, words caught in your throat. He leaned closer, so close you could feel the heat of his breath. 

“Don’t cry,” he whispered. “Don’t scream. You’ll only make me tighten the locks… and I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Why are you doing this?” you ask, your throat threatening to escape a sob.  

His eyes darken and said as if it's the most obvious thing ever, “Because I love you, silly.” 

Your lips trembled, the word love scraping raw inside your ears like broken glass. He said it so easily, so gently, as if it weren’t a chain tightening around your neck. 

Jake set the tray down on the nightstand with careful precision. Steam curled from the bowl, the smell of rice and broth filling the air. He picked up the spoon, stirred slowly, then blew on it before lifting it toward your mouth. 

“Open,” he coaxed, his tone sweet, almost teasing. “You need your strength. For me.” 

You turned your head aside, a sliver of defiance sparking in your chest. But his hand was already at your chin, firm, forcing you back to face him. The metal spoon hovered at your lips like a threat disguised as kindness. 

“Don’t make this difficult,” he murmured, smile still painted on but his eyes hardening. “You don’t want me to be upset, do you?” 

Your jaw clenched. Slowly, reluctantly, you parted your lips. The taste of broth slid across your tongue, warm but heavy, like swallowing surrender. His smile bloomed, proud, radiant. 

“There,” he praised, voice low and honeyed. “Good girl. See how easy that was? You don’t have to think anymore. I’ll do it all for you.” 

He fed you another spoonful, then another, watching every swallow with the intense focus of a man savoring possession. Occasionally, his thumb stroked your cheek, smearing the dampness of your silent tears as though wiping them away. 

When the bowl was finally empty, he set it aside with a satisfied sigh. “Perfect,” he whispered. “Now… let’s get you dressed.” 

The clothes he had carried in waited on the tray—soft fabric, delicate lace, not yours. They looked less like comfort and more like costume.

He picked them up carefully, holding them against your body, measuring them with his eyes, his smile twisting into something reverent. 

“You’ll look beautiful in this,” he said, almost dreamily. “Like you were made for me.” 

Your hands clutched the blanket, knuckles white, but he peeled it back with practiced ease. His hands on your shirt, tugging it off and removes your bottoms after all while taking in every inch of your bare skin- your body.

The air bit cold against your skin as he stripped away what you were wearing—too clinical to be lustful, too lingering to be innocent. His blood-stained tenderness made your stomach twist. 

“Don’t be shy,” he crooned, slipping the fabric over your head, guiding your arms through as though you were a doll. “There’s nothing of you I haven’t already seen.” 

His hands smoothed the fabric down your sides, adjusting every wrinkle, every fold, until you stood wrapped in the clothes he had chosen. His gaze roamed you, satisfied, possessive, and when his eyes met yours again, they gleamed with a dangerous sort of joy. 

“Yes,” he whispered, leaning in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Perfect. Mine.” 

The first few days were silence and locked doors. Jake would come in with food, speak softly, and watch you with those unnervingly tender eyes. He brushed your hair back like you were porcelain — breakable, precious, his. 

But as the days stretched, your resistance was like knives to him. You looked away when he tried to hold you, flinched when he touched your cheek, refused to answer when he murmured “I love you.” 

Tonight was different. His grip wasn’t careful anymore when he caught your wrist, dragging you closer. His other hand slammed the tray of food against the wall, the crash ringing in your ears. 

“Why would you do that?” His voice cracked, equal parts fury and despair. He shook his head, forehead pressing against yours with desperate force. “Why would you make me hurt you? I love you so much—don’t you get it?” 

When you tried to pull away, he snapped—backhanding you so suddenly your head whipped to the side. The sting burned, your breath shaky. Jake froze for a second, horrified at himself, then cupped your face with trembling hands, almost frantic. 

“Don’t make me do this,” he whispered, thumbs smearing against the tear slipping free. His lips brushed your temple, a shudder running through him. “It kills me to hurt you. Don’t… don’t push me away, please. Just love me back… that’s all I need.” 

But even as he begged, his fingers dug into your skin, bruising in their need to keep you close. 

The days that follow are strangely quiet. Jake wakes up earlier than you, his humming drifting from the kitchen, the faint smell of pancakes and coffee sneaking into your room. 

When you finally get up, he’s already waiting with a plate, pulling out a chair for you. His tone is careful, almost sweet. 

Jake starts, “Morning, sunshine. You slept in today. That’s good—your body needs rest.” 

You hesitate, your arms brushing against the long sleeves you’ve chosen to hide the marks. He notices, his eyes flickering for the briefest second, but his smile stays fixed. 

He sets the plate infront of you, “Eat well, okay? I made them just the way you like… soft in the middle.” 

He sits across from you, watching every small movement like you’re something delicate. His hand occasionally reaches out, brushing yours, or tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The gentleness almost makes you forget the sting that still lingers beneath your clothes. 

Later in the day, he leads you to the garden. It’s fenced off, tall hedges surrounding the space, but it’s still outside, the fresh air wrapping around you for the first time in what feels like forever. 

“See? I told you I’d let you out. You’ve been good… so I’ll let you walk around. Breathe.” He says smiling softly. 

You glance at him, uncertain, testing the distance. He doesn’t stop you when you take a few cautious steps away. But his gaze never leaves you. You can feel it pressing into your back no matter where you move. 

He follows after a while, slipping his arm around your shoulders, gentle but firm enough that you can’t shrug him off. 

He keeps his chin on your shoulder, “Moments like this… don’t you think they prove it? That we can be happy here, just the two of us? No one to hurt us. No one to take you away.” 

His tone is soft, almost convincing. For anyone else, it might sound like devotion. But the bruises hidden under your sleeves remind you of the cost of saying no. 

As the sun dips, he presses a kiss to your temple and whispers, “Don’t ever forget—you’re mine. And I’ll take care of you. Always.” 

The room was quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioner. You sat at the edge of the bed, your hands clutching the blanket tightly, trying to make yourself smaller, trying not to provoke him. But Jake noticed everything. 

He stepped closer, his bare feet silent against the floorboards, and crouched in front of you. His fingers tilted your chin up, but the grip wasn’t gentle this time—it was hard enough to leave a mark. 

"Why… why are you pulling away from me again?" 

You didn’t answer, your lips pressed shut. The silence made his jaw tighten. 

"Do you know how much it hurts when you look at me like I’m a monster? I’m not a monster. I love you. Don’t you understand that?" 

When you still wouldn’t answer, he stood abruptly. The sudden movement made you flinch, which only seemed to trigger something deeper in him. He grabbed your wrists and yanked you up from the bed. 

You stumbled, your arm colliding with the edge of the nightstand. A dull pain shot up against your already bruised arm as you gasped, but Jake didn’t let go. He pressed you against the wall, his hands pinning your shoulders. 

"Why would you make me do this? Don’t you see? It’s killing me to hurt you… but you’re forcing me. If you just loved me back the way I love you, I wouldn’t have to—" 

He cut himself as tears welled up in your eyes, partly from the pain, partly from the shock. He saw them, and instead of guilt, something twisted appeared in his gaze—an almost frantic tenderness. He cupped your face with the same hand that had pushed you hard against the wall, his thumb brushing away the tears. 

"Look… I hate this. I hate hurting you. But you’re not listening to me. Don’t make me go further. Please, baby, don’t do this to us." 

You swallowed hard, your voice breaking as you whispered: "Jake… please. You’re hurting me." 

His grip only tightened, his forehead pressing against yours, breath uneven. 

"I know. I know, baby. But it’s only because I love you so much it drives me insane. These bruises… they’re proof. Proof that I can’t live without you. Proof that you’re mine." 

He pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth—rough, forceful, not seeking permission. His body caged you against the wall, and when you tried to turn away, his hands clamped harder on your arms. The pressure left deep, blossoming bruises beneath his fingers. 

"Don’t fight me. Please. Don’t push me away anymore. I’ll do anything, I’ll bleed for you, I’ll kill for you. But don’t make me feel like this again. Don’t make me hurt you like this again." 

Your chest heaved, the air thick and suffocating, as you realized—this wasn’t just love anymore. This was Jake’s twisted version of it, a love that left marks on your skin, and a cage around your heart. 

Months slipped by before you even realized it. Days blurred into one another, the edges of time softening. What had started as a cage of fear had shifted—subtly, frighteningly—into something else. 

He wasn’t cruel anymore, not like that first night. Jake had become… gentler. He didn’t lock you away, didn’t raise his voice. Instead, he spoke to you like you were fragile porcelain, like he couldn’t risk breaking you. 

Somewhere along the line, your resistance had dulled. Your body still remembered what it felt like to fight, but your mind… your mind had started to give in, weaving small, hesitant threads of false comfort. 

It was nightime when it happened. The lamps in the living room cast a low amber glow, bathing everything in warmth. 

Jake sat on the couch, a book in his lap he wasn’t really reading, while you lingered on the other end. Silence stretched, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable but heavy, charged. 

You caught yourself staring at him—the relaxed curve of his jaw, the way his lashes lowered as he pretended to skim the page. 

And then his eyes lifted to meet yours. 

You froze, your lips parting just slightly. Something in his gaze was different tonight. Not sharp. Not possessive. But intent. His book slipped closed, his hand resting on it lazily, and he leaned forward just a little, like a predator testing the waters. 

“You’ve gotten quiet,” he said softly. His voice was smooth, almost coaxing. 

Your throat tightened. “Just… tired.” 

A small smile tugged at his mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “No. Not tired.” He tilted his head. “You’re thinking.” 

The weight of his words made you avert your eyes, but you could still feel his gaze burning into you. He stood then, slow, deliberate steps carrying him closer. You held still, your body tense but unwilling to move away. He stopped right in front of you, his shadow falling over your frame. 

“Look at me.” 

You obeyed before you even thought about it, your eyes lifting back to his. And then it happened—his hand rose, fingers brushing against your jaw. 

His touch was feather-light at first, almost cautious, and it made your chest ache in confusion. How could someone who broke you hold you so carefully now? 

His thumb traced the edge of your lower lip, and your breath hitched. The silence wrapped tighter around you, the space between you collapsing inch by inch. 

“Do you know,” Jake whispered, voice low and warm, “how long I’ve been waiting for this?” 

Your lips parted, but no words came. Your heart pounded in your ears as he leaned closer, so close you could feel his breath fan across your cheek, smell the faint hint of cologne lingering on his shirt. 

And then his mouth touched yours. 

It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t rough. It was slow—agonizingly slow, like he wanted to savor every second of you giving in. His lips pressed against yours gently at first, testing, as though he needed your body’s permission even if he already owned you. 

You froze, your lashes fluttering shut, your mind screaming at you to push him away—but your body betrayed you, melting into the warmth of his mouth. 

When he felt you respond, even slightly, he deepened the kiss. His free hand slid to the back of your neck, anchoring you as his lips moved against yours with more intent now. The kiss stretched, long and intoxicating, pulling the air right out of your lungs. 

Your hands gripped the edge of the couch, knuckles white, because you didn’t trust yourself not to reach for him. His tongue brushed against your lips, teasing, asking for more, and without even realizing it, you granted him access. 

The taste of him flooded your senses—familiar and overwhelming—and you shivered, letting out a small, unintentional sound into his mouth. 

That sound seemed to shatter whatever restraint he’d been clinging to. His kiss grew hungrier, more insistent, like he wanted to consume every piece of you until there was nothing left. 

And still, he never let go of the gentleness—his grip at your neck was firm but not harsh, his other hand ghosting along your jaw like a promise. 

When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t sudden. He drew away slowly, lips parting from yours with the faintest brush, as though reluctant to let the moment end. Your chest rose and fell sharply, breath stolen, lips tingling and swollen from the heat of his kiss. 

Jake’s forehead pressed against yours, his voice a whisper in the dark. 

“See? You belong here.” 

And in that moment, with your heart racing and your lips trembling from the kiss, you almost believed him. 

It was a random day. You were sitting on the bed- his bed, going through your phone. 

He does let you use your phone but only after weeks of you proving you can be ‘trusted.’ You used to scroll through your contacts, your thumb hovering over names you once thought you couldn’t live without… but somehow, you don’t press call.  

You don’t even text. Maybe it’s because you know he’ll see. You’re scared, wondering if you are going to be the next Jung-ha. You never asked him, what she did to his brother- hell, you didn’t even know he had a brother.  

But it’s best to stay quiet and not let curiosity take over you.  

It was 9pm, the door opens with the click. He comes by slowly, closing the door behind him. His eyes find yours as he immediately climbs into the bed next to you.  

“Missed me?” he asks, his voice soft as his hand goes over your stomach pulls you closer to him.  

You nod, not really meaning it.  

He doesn’t see it. Maybe he does, maybe he’s pretending not to notice your non-meaninful responses. He snuggles his face in your neck as you scroll through your phone.  

His hand slips to your chest, cupping your breast over your clothes as he starts, “I was looking through your contacts yesterday,”  

You finger stops mid-way scrolling. This is not going to end well.  

He caresses your breast with his thumb, “And I got curious, and went through your chats with him. Tell me why he is so interested in you?” 

You pause. 

“Ja-Jake, I don’t see him like that- I-I don’t like him like that.” you say hoping you’d find a way out from this mess. 

“But he does. He does see you and like you like that, and I don't like it.”  

“Y-You’re the only one I care about! Right? You know that right, Jake?” you ask desprate to convince him that only he’s there in your heart when you don’t even know if you have a heart anymore. It’s so bland. It’s like everything is under his control- Jake's control.  

“But he doesn’t!” he says, angry and moves as his hand hovers over the bedside table.  

Before you can say anything, you see it- the knife. The blade glinting, sharp and reflecting your face.  

“Jake w-what're you doing?” you ask, backing away.  

“Oh, just reminding that you’re mine” he says he crawls to you.  

Your back hits the headboard as you franticly try to escape.  

He keeps his knees of either side of your legs while holding your wrist, making it hard for you to move away. Your phone long gone on the mattress somewhere. 

He brings the knife slowly towards your inner forearm. He caress the skin there with the sharper side of the blade gently as you shake from fear. 

“Jake-Jake please” 

He shakes his head, “Lemme teach you a lesson, yea?” 

The point tip of the knife against your skin now. He digs it deeps as you wince, your breath quickening. He drags the knife back against your skin, the skin tearing apart as blood surfaces.  

You hiss at the extreme pain, tears rolling down your cheek as you try to pull your hand back. 

Sobs breaking out, and with your breathing heavy, “Jake- please- ah- I can’t t-take it” 

“Should've thought twice while interacting with someone, sweetheart.”  

The blood’s dripping down, staining your clothes, the sheets and your memory.  

And in that moment of desperation, you say it. 

“Baby? Baby! I- I love you-I-I really do-yea? P-please, t-that's what you want right?”  

He stops. The knife not digging into the layers of your skin anymore.  

He looks into your eyes, to see through you- if you really mean it or not.  

“Say it again.”  

You swallow, your energy draining, “I-I love you” 

He grips on your open skin, as you wince at the sharp pain.  

He says with his jaw clenched, “Say it again while calling me that.”  

You sob, the pain unbearable, “Jake- Baby, I love you, so much. Please, stop”  

He throws the stained knife on the floor recklessly, the force causing blood to splatter across the floor as he takes you in his arms, looking suddenly sympathetic  

“Tch. Tch. That wasn’t so hard, wasn’t it?”  

He cradles your face as he looks down at you with a pout as if he wasn't the one who literally made you bleed.  

“Ah my poor baby, you wouldn’t have gone through all that if you were just honest to me. Look what happened now.”  

Jake doesn’t let go. His arms stay wrapped around you, pulling you tighter against him despite your trembling. His breath fans hot against your hair as he rocks you slightly, like he’s trying to soothe a crying child. 

“You see, baby?” he whispers, almost crooning. “You do love me. You just keep forgetting. And that hurts me more than this hurts you.” 

Your forearm throbs, blood warm against both of you. He doesn’t even try to stop it at first—just holds you, smearing red across your clothes, across his shirt. Finally, after long moments of silence where your sobs echo in the locked room, he pulls back enough to press his lips against your wet cheek. 

“Shh. No more tears. You’ve given me what I wanted… that’s enough for today.” 

His hands, still sticky with your blood, cradle your face as he kisses you—slow, possessive, swallowing your broken breaths. When he pulls away, he looks almost triumphant. 

He stands suddenly, retrieving a rag and bandages from the dresser. You flinch when he reaches for you again, but his voice softens, almost playful: 

“Don’t be scared, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you. Always.” 

He cleans the wound with deliberate slowness, the sting sharp enough to make you jolt, but every time you try to pull away he tuts and presses you back down. 

“Stay still, baby. Let me fix what you made me do.” 

When he finishes wrapping your arm, he presses a kiss to the bandage, like sealing his claim. His smile is too warm for the situation, too proud, as if he’s pleased you’ve finally “learned.” 

“See? Now you’re mine properly. No more testing me. You’ll love me the way I love you… or I’ll make you remember again.” 

He pushes you back against the pillows, lying beside you, one arm tight around your waist so you can’t slip away. His head rests against yours like you’re lovers, not captor and prisoner. 

“Say it once more before you sleep,” he murmurs into your hair. “Say you love me, baby.” 

Your eyes flutter close- not out of comfort but out of tiredness. You submit.  

“I love you.” 

You say it, knowing you don’t really mean it. He probably knows it too, but pretends not to. In the end, that’s what you two are—pretense. Pretending to be something you’re not. But that’s the only way you both can survive. And for survival? You’ll do anything. 

©mrsjjongstby all writing belong to me. do not copy, modify or repost my works.

perm taglist: @gnarlyhoons @stormlit-pages @himynameisraelynn @see-c @shra-vasti @heesbbygurl @elikajinnie @jwyoceans @jaylaxies @hees-h0e (open! comment or send an ask if you want to be added!)

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A/N: aaaaaaaaaaand thats a wrappp lol, it got gore-y towards the ending.......... ATLEAST I THINK SO. the starting is just idk i dont like it but its fine i feel like but i loveeeeeeeeeeee the ending. anyways, sorry for taking so long nd hope y'all liked it!

[mrsjjongstby]

🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇲​​🇸​ & ​🇨​​🇴​​🇳​​🇩​​🇮​​🇹​​🇮​​🇴​​🇳​​🇸​ - S.JY

p: roommate!jake x fem!reader

warnings: gore, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT!, medical horror, stalking, obsession, non-con medical procedures, implied drugging, graphic depictions of violence, psychological manipulation, restraints, mild language, cursing, creepy roommate behaviour, body horror, disturbing, needle usage, mentions of blood, internal organs, disturbing methods of medical procedures, medical horror, gore descriptions, yandere themes.

synopsis: When you move in with Jake, a charming scientist offering cheap rent and easy company, you agree to his one condition—never enter his bedroom. But as you continue to live with him, you uncover the dark truth: Jake isn’t just handsome and sweet—he’s dangerously obsessed with you, and his “experiments” hide horrors you were never meant to see.

Wordcount: 11.1k

The ad came to you by luck. You just got accepted into this new university which is away from home, and you were looking for a place to stay.  

The uni dorms aren't as reliable as they seem- considering the many break in stories and unhygienic living conditions told by the residents. You could stay at home and attend uni but that would mean for you to wake up before the sun rises and get on a two hour journey- yea, no way.  

So, you began roommate hunting after you realized that living alone in an apartment is out of your budget. And that's when the ad found you. A pretty huge loft's owner is searching for another tenant- to fill out the huge place.  

You would've skipped past the ad easily just like how you did for the past fifteen ads, but the rent caught your eye- it was cheap for the huge space- and in your budget.  

Just like that, you called the number given without thinking twice and arranged a meeting at a local coffee shop.   

The bell chimes above you as you walk in the café- your eyes dart around to find a person wearing, "navy blue hoodie with black washed jeans" just like he said. Soon, you found a hand waving at you wearing the description given to you by the owner. You wave back a little and go over to where he is.  

You took a good look at him and- damn, he looks divine. As if the gods themselves carved his face with deliberate precision. He could easily pass as a model, and the thought hits you like a punch: if luck’s on your side, you might actually be living with him after this talk.

"Sorry, Did I make you wait?" You ask after saying thanks to for pulling your chair back so, you can sit. 

He goes over to the other side and sits while closing his laptop, "Oh no, of course not. I just was doing some research." 

You nod. A beat. He rubs his hands together and then outstretches it to you smiling, "Sim Jaehyun, you can call me Jake."  

You accept it- his hand rough and large compared to yours, "Y/n."  

His grip tightened just as you say your name but you don't think of it much, brushing it off as an accident. You retrieve your hand back as he talks again, "Lets order something before we start our talk?"  

"Yeah, sounds cool." You say as your eyes skim through the menu card.  

Jake calls the waiter and orders for both of you after you tell him what you want. Once the waiter leaves, he turns his attention back to you.  “I’m a scientist, sooo… don’t be surprised if I blurt out random biological facts sometimes.” 

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Thanks for the heads-up. I’m studying agricultural science, so I may not know as much as you, but I do know that the tea you ordered comes from leaves that only grow in very specific weather conditions.” 

His smile widens at that, "Good to know that we have a common ground."   

"Yeah. Anything else I need to know?" You ask as the waiter sets down your latte and his tea.  

"Oh yes. They aren’t much. Just that I come home late at night—you know how it is, working for science. But most of the time I’ll be home. I can cook us meals, do the laundry, you don’t have to worry about that. And while we’re on that topic—most of my work is done at home, in my room. I have a workspace there, which is why I don’t want you to enter my room. At all." 

"Oh, interesting. We could take turns in doing the chores and yeah, I will not even dare to go near the premises!" You say, trying not to miss this perfect stay with a perfectly fine af roommate.  

"Thanks. Then, I'm sure we'll get along pretty well. So, when are you planning to move in?"

And just like that you moved in after some adult- financial talks and documents which usually bore you but Jake made it easy for you to follow up. The first day wasn't weird- sure it was new, different but it felt nice having your 'technically' own space and not having to wake up before the sun.   

Jake was nothing but sweet, he cooked meals for you, packed lunch for you if he had to. cleaned the house- even your room and just wasn't fan of the 'hook up culture' considering that he never once bought up about a girl.  

You wonder if he's got a girl or not, but you shrug those thoughts away. He even did your laundry before you got to it, folding everything with eerie precision — even garments you wouldn’t normally want someone touching. 

True to his word, when Jake did go to work outside, he comes late at night- most of the time you're already in your dreamland and realize he was home the next day morning when he's making coffee for both of you in the kitchen.  

He never mentions anything too deep about his work, just talks about this new 'project' which he's starting, and he can't wait to work on it.  

You never pried; just grateful you were getting more than you bargained for. If only you knew—soon, you’d be getting far more than you bargained for. 

Today was one of those nights where he went out, you didn't even look in the direction of his room, just working on your thesis near the kitchen counter.  

You hear the door click, huh, weird you thought looking at the time in your laptop, 1:45 a.m. damn, you didn't realize you've been working for three hours straight.  

You hear shoes shuffling and soon see Jake walking towards the kitchen where you are at, his hair was damp from the drizzle outside, but the faint metallic smell of iron lingered as he passed you and new cuts on his fingers you don’t know the root cause to.  

His eyes meet yours and you see them flicker with surprise- "You're still awake?" He asks, his eyes moving to your laptop.  

You look at the screen as he goes over to the refrigerator, "Yeah, I didn’t realize the time- been working on this research."  

He gets a bottle nodding and closes the door while opening the cap, he turns- his front facing you, "How was the dinner with your friends?"  

Odd. 

You didn’t tell him you had dinner with your friends. matter of fact. it was a last-minute plan. 

"Um yea, it was good, how'd you know?"  

"Just a guess." He said, unbothered.  

Few days pass just like that, it was starting to get weird. The initial sounds you heard when you first moved in didn’t stop, they only grew weirder and louder. And Jake wasn't helping either, he would dismiss your creeps saying your exhaustion was getting to you and that he isn't hearing any thing and you believed, you truly did. cause why wouldn't you?  

Midnight rolls by. The sounds stopped—but the silence felt heavier than the noises ever did. You went to the kitchen, to get yourself a glass of water. The cups are cleaned neatly and kept up by Jake but the only problem was that he kept it high, and you need one of the glass. You get on your tip toes, trying to reach the glass. You huff after not being able to get it and try again.   

You didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear his door open. A hand reaches past you as you feel a presence behind you.

You turn your face to see Jake- shirtless and in his grey sweatpants that always made you think of things you shouldn't. His eyes are fixed on your face, your cheeks turn red at the close intimacy, you quickly turn your face to the front again to avoid his eyes.  

Jake's another hand is kept on the counter, beside your hip. He moves closer- his chest touching you back, "Here you go."   

Your breath hitches, as you shakily take the glass from his hand- your fingers grazing his. "Thanks."  

He leaves the glass as you take it and holds your elbow, his face in the side of your neck- his nose grazing your skin as he nods. Your brain shuts off, his breathe hitting your neck- you gulp, unsure what to say as you shiver at his touch.

He brushed the lightest kiss against your neck, lingering a moment too long—as though he was memorizing your pulse and slowly retracts away taking his time.

You let out a breath at that which you didn't know you were holding in.   

"Good night" He says and leaves to his room while your mind was unravelling.  

You clutch the counter at the intense situation that just unfolded. You fill your glass with water and ice to get you out of the shock.  

With that, you went to your room, sure that you aren't getting any sleep tonight. 

Your skin burned where his lips touched, but your stomach twisted. You couldn’t tell if it was desire—or dread. 

Nothing changed. You thought the days after that night would be awkward, but if anything, Jake got closer. Too close. Shirtless in the mornings, sometimes only in his boxers, brushing past you with touches that lingered too long.

But the voices at night—they didn’t stop. If anything, they grew louder. Bolder. As if they knew the house belonged to them as much as it did to him. 

8 p.m. Rain lashed against the windows, the steady rhythm almost soothing. You curled into the couch, laptop balanced on your knees, the glow of the screen painting your face in blue.

The hallway stretched empty, the kitchen swallowed in shadow, Jake’s bedroom door sealed shut—like always. 

Tap. 

You stilled, convincing yourself it was nothing, and kept typing. 

Tap. Tap. 

Your hands froze over the keys. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. 

That wasn’t rain. Too slow. Too deliberate. Too… patient. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. 

Your breath shortened, the sound threading into your nerves like a hook. With trembling fingers, you lowered the laptop onto the couch and stood. Each step toward the hallway dragged heavier than the last. The noise grew sharper. Clearer. 

Jake’s door. 

TAP. 

The door jolted, the wood shuddering against its hinges. Your pulse crashed in your ears. 

Then— 

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG! 

The entire frame rattled violently, as though something—or someone—inside was trying to claw its way out. 

And then the power died. 

Darkness devoured the house. The hallway was pitch-black, except—except for the faint sliver of light beneath Jake’s door. In it, you saw a shadow Writhing. Twisting against the crack like they were desperate to escape. 

Your hand, shaking uncontrollably, reached for the knob— 

"Y/N." 

The voice cut through the dark like a blade. 

It was Jake. But it wasn’t. His tone was deeper, stripped of warmth, laced with something that made your stomach twist. And just like that, the banging stopped.

As if whatever or whoever was on the other side sensed Jake’s presence. The silence that followed was worse. Suffocating. 

The lights sputtered back, weak and flickering. 

Jake stood at the end of the hallway. His face unreadable, jaw tight, eyes shadowed. Every stutter of the bulbs painted him differently—one second human, the next… something else. 

"I told you not to enter my room," he said, his voice low, each word deliberate. "Didn’t I?" 

Your throat closed. Heat crawled up your neck. "I—I know, but the banging, I thought—I’m sorry." 

His sigh was quiet, almost tired. His gaze fell to the floor, then slowly rose back to yours. He stepped closer. Step by step, the space between you vanished until his presence was all-consuming. 

His hand lifted, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, knuckles grazing your skin with chilling care. “I’ll take care of it.” 

"But—" 

"I said something, Y/N." His palm cupped your cheek, warm but iron-firm. His grip hovered on the edge of pain. 

You nodded quickly, fear clamping down on your chest. 

He leaned down, lips ghosting your hairline. A kiss so soft it felt wrong. 

"Of course. Now go. Your assignment won’t finish itself." 

His hand patted your head lightly before retreating. You turned on shaky legs, clutching your laptop like a lifeline, retreating to your room with your heart pounding out of rhythm. 

Behind you, Jake lingered by the door, the faintest curve at his lips. A smile that never reached his eyes. 

You didn’t sleep. Not really. Every creak of the house, every gust of rain against the glass had your nerves on edge. By the time morning light bled into your curtains, your body ached from tension more than rest. 

Jake was already in the kitchen, moving with casual ease. Shirtless, grey sweats slung low on his hips, he poured himself a cup of coffee like nothing had happened. Like the night before hadn’t existed. 

You hovered by the counter, fingers tight around your glass of water. “Jake,” your voice cracked, too thin. You swallowed and tried again. “Last night… what was that sound?” 

He didn’t look up immediately. The silence stretched, heavy, deliberate. Then, finally, he chuckled low under his breath. 

“Ah,” he said, as though you’d asked about something mundane, like a leaky faucet. He took a slow sip of coffee, eyes lifting to yours over the rim. “Probably just the lab rats.” 

Lab rats. 

You blinked. “Lab… rats?” 

“Mm.” He set the mug down with a soft clink, stepping closer. “They get restless sometimes. Scratching. Banging around. Nothing you need to worry about.” 

His words were smooth, rehearsed almost, but his eyes didn’t match the ease in his voice. They lingered on you, too sharp, too knowing. 

A laugh bubbled nervously from your throat, brittle. “Rats don’t bang doors like that, Jake.” 

The corner of his mouth curved, not quite a smile—more like a warning dressed up as one. He leaned down, close enough that his breath warmed your ear. 

“Curiosity, Y/N,” he murmured, “is dangerous.” 

Your stomach knotted. 

He pulled back, the mask of nonchalance snapping back over his features as he grabbed his mug again. “Drink your water. You’ll feel better.” 

And just like that, the conversation was over. 

But the echo of last night—the shadows, the voice, the pounding—hung between you, unanswered. 

Days pass just like that. The sounds weren’t as prominent as before. And Jake is just being different.  

The room was too quiet now. The hum of the machines had dulled, leaving behind an eerie stillness that pressed against your eardrums. Your skin prickled.

You weren’t sure if it was the cold air or the way Jake’s eyes had been fixed on you for far too long. 

He finally broke the silence, his voice low and oddly casual. 

“Tell me,” he said, tilting his head slightly, like he was genuinely curious. “What’s your pain tolerance?” 

Your throat went dry. The question was delivered too softly, too calmly, as if he were asking about your favourite colour. You forced a laugh, hoping it didn’t tremble. 

“Why would you even ask me that?” 

Jake’s lips curled into a faint smile, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together as though waiting for a confession. 

“Because,” he whispered, the syllables dragging out, “sometimes people think they can handle more than they actually can. And it’s… fascinating to see the truth.” 

You caught a flicker of something metallic behind him on the tray—a glint of steel. Surgical instruments, lined up too neatly, too deliberately. Your stomach turned. 

“This isn’t funny, Jake.” 

“Oh, it’s not a joke.” His voice was firm now, smooth as glass but edged with something sharp. “You’re strong. I can tell. But I wonder…” His fingers traced invisible patterns in the air. “…are you strong enough when the nerves start screaming?” 

He leaned back, letting the silence stretch, watching you as if waiting for you to crack. 

The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, but underneath it, there was something else—something coppery, raw. Your chest tightened. You didn’t want to know where that smell came from. 

And yet Jake smiled again, like a predator amused by its prey’s trembling. 

“Don’t look so scared,” he murmured. “I only want to understand you better.” 

"I'm going to bed" you say, getting off the chair and following the path to your bedroom. 

'It's probably his dark humor acting up on him again' you thought as you shake off the words.  

You twist and turn in bed, unable to actually; shake those words off. His voice, his words, his face when he said that- the whole scene replaying in your head repeatedly with clear details.  

With the fact that it's two in the morning and that you have college early, you close your eyes and force sleep to knock you out and forget whatever the hell just happened.  

Morning comes early, the sunlight peeking through the shades, the room unusually quiet. Your feet hit the clean marble floor, padding your way to the bathroom to get ready for the day. 

The door closes behind you with a click, you brush your teeth looking at your reflection in the mirror. You look a little worn out- not the kind that comes with exhaustion but the kind that wears out every inch of you. 

Slipping out of your clothes, you enter the shower. Keeping the temperature high- just as you like. The water drizzles down your form and once you are fully drenched, you feel a sharp pain on arm- on your bicep specifically.  

You quickly move your left hand away from the water- which is causing it to sting and take a look at your bicep. Nothing, no trace of anything. Did you hit yourself without noticing? I mean that's common, but this pain, its different.  

Your whole hand isn't hurting, only a certain spot on your bicep is stinging. The kind of sting when you put anything on the area you got injected. 

Your thoughts cut off, due to the shower suddenly stopping. Concluding that you accidently hurt yourself or slept weird you tried to turn off and on the shower. 

It wasn't working.  

Groaning, you get out, wrapping yourself in a towel and started getting ready. 

You reach the kitchen with your bag on your shoulder and phone in your hand, Jake's there, making breakfast as always.  

"Took you long enough" He says without turning around.  

Keeping your bag aside, you sit on the chair, "Shower broke" 

"Broke?" He questioned, finally turning around and bringing the plated pancakes to you.  

You nod, digging in as he does the same after sitting, "Yeah, I was taking a shower, and it stopped working the midway"  

"I'll look into it once you are back home" he says, his gaze dropping to your left hand and then back to your face. 

You nod, muttering a small thanks and leave with your bag. Your day didn't have evening classes, so, Jake didn't cook lunch for you. It always amazed you how perfectly he remembered your habits and schedules but then again, he's a science student... probably good at remember things.  

But you know, you are fooling yourself cause truth? truth hurts, and to not expect the worst, you conceal it with lying to yourself.  

Evening rolls by, you come back home. House quiet except for the faint clicking, air cold and lights on. You remove your shoes and move into the living room to see Jake seated on the sofa with his laptop, typing away. He looks up, "Hi sweetheart"  

"Hey" You reply not really surprised by the nickname since he’s been calling you things recently. 

"Come here, you look tired." He says patting beside him.  

You lazily throw your bag on the couch and go over, plopping yourself down beside him. 

"Hungry?" He asks, pushing your hair back from your forehead.  

"No" you mutter, eyes closing and stiffening lightly at his touch.  

He frowns but doesn't comment on it. "Then, let's look at that shower fix after some time?"  

You nod, already drifting into sleep. Few minutes pass by and you are knocked out. He closes his laptop slowly, keeping it aside and turns to look at you. He pulls a stranded hair behind your ear and gets up after.  

Lowering himself, he takes you in his arm and lifts you up. Walking to your bedroom and opening the door with a light push of his leg, he places you on the bed. He pulls the blanket up to your chin.  

He takes a glance at your room- the one where he often goes to when you aren't around. He goes over to the laundry basket like he's done it a thousand times before. Digging through it, he takes out your black lace bra, bringing it to his nose and smirking as he takes a breath in. 

He looks back at you, the smirk still planted on his face and leaves your room.  

The vibration and sound of your phone ringing in the back pocket of your jeans woke you up. You get up and take your phone into your hands. 

You decline the call as you learned that it was spam and notice the time.  

It's been two hours, you slept for a good two hours, you get out of the bed and out of the room to hear, blender noises. Jake wasn't in the kitchen; the grinding noises stop coming from Jake's room. 

Few minutes pass as Jake comes back from his room, his hands wet as if he just washed his hands. "You're up already?" 

You nod, "What was that?" 

"What was what?" He asks innocently, jutting his bottom lip out as if he has no clue what you are talking about.  

"Oh, you know what I'm talking about" You ask narrowing your eyes.  

His eyes darken, his expression changing immediately from cute, innocent face to daring, dangerous one.  

"Careful with your tone, doll." his voice deep, carrying that depth and then instantly, he goes back his normal, innocent boy facade which you fell for in the start,  

"I was just trying a new smoothie recipe"  

You frown, "In your... room?"  

He smiles, his eyebrow raising, his tone teasing, "What did I say about curiosity, doll?"  

"I- uh whatever, about my shower, you said you-" 

"Yep, wait for me there, I'll be back" he says disappearing into his room. 

You are leaning against the sink, your arms folded when Jake walks in with a huge box in his hand.  

He keeps the box beside you on the sink and opens it. He opens it, the box revealing quiet some variety of tools you’ve only seen in movies- some you've never seen at all.  

"Why do you even have these?"  

He looks at you and smiles noticing the look on your face,  

"Oh you know, for times like this" 

"Yea sure." You say skeptically as he gets to work. 

 Your gaze got lost in admiring the view in front of you. His veiny hands worked deftly on the tool—a weapon that seemed almost out of place in his otherwise perfect hands. 

His face was concentrated, the rings on his fingers clinking softly against the showerhead, his bracelet sliding down his forearm. His neck stretched as he leaned forward, the loose shirt revealing the curve of his collarbone.  

Oh man, it was almost laughable how turned on you were just from watching him 

The sound of water brings you back from your thoughts.  

"Thanks, Jake" you say as Jake turns it off and places it back in its place. 

He steps out of the shower, and arranges his tools in the box beside you, "Anything for you, doll" 

You unfold your hands as he searches for something on the sink's counter.  

His gaze locks onto yours and his gaze darkens a bit. He moves towards you slowly, his hand shifting to your side, effectively caging you.  

Your hands grip back against the counter as he lowers, your faces near, your heart racing. His eyes look into yours as he tilts his head a bit moving his face closer to yours. Your chest heaving up and down lightly while your knuckles turn white as you grip hard onto the counter.  

You gulp, as his nose grazes yours very lightly. 

"Spencer" He mutters, his voice hoarse. 

Lost in his eyes and the moment, unable to comprehend what he said,  

"Huh?"  

"Spencer, baby." He says as he backs away showing you the spencer he took from behind you. 

You clear your throat, embarrassed and remove yourself from the counter.  

His face carrying that knowing smirk as he puts the spencer back in the closes the huge box with a click, "What do you want for dinner?"  

"Um anything's fine" you say quickly trying to get him out as soon as possible. 

"Alright, I'll call you when it's done." He says taking away the box.  

You nod quickly as he leaves.  

Scrolling through your TikTok FYP, you try to erase what happened. The closeness, his face, his presence, his hands caging you— 

"Dinner's ready!"  

Jake shouts from the kitchen. You get out of bed, away from your room, away from your thoughts.  

You sit yourself near the counter and Jake plates your food.  

You adjust yourself on the highchair. Your calf touches the cold metal of the chair's legs, and you wince at the contact. Frowning, you look at your leg to see a small cut. 

What the actual fuck?  

You think as you inspect it further.  

Jake's voice brings you back to your senses again, "Here you go, doll" he plates the freshly made pasta in front of you. 

You both complete the dinner talking about random stuff. 

After dinner, Jake began tidying up the living room while you remained seated, scrolling through your phone—still desperate for a proper explanation for your cut. 

Google wasn’t much help, so you forced your brain to replay every possible cause. 

Nothing. 

Your gaze drifted toward Jake. Could he...? - no 

Stupid. Sure, he’s weird but he isn't a psycho.  

Only if you knew... 

Days went by without incident—or at least, that’s what you told yourself. 

You get out of your bedroom, bored and see Jake seated on the couch.  

“Wanna watch a movie, baby?” Jake asks as he catches your gaze.  

You nod, thinking it would be a distraction with the whirlwind of thoughts running through your mind. You turn off the kitchen lights making the whole house dark, the living room’s lights were already off. The only source of light, coming from the TV. You go over and sit beside him. 

“What do you wanna watch?” He asks, his hand going onto the couch- just behind your shoulder.  

“Anything’s fine” you say as he hums.  

He puts on a classic, horror thriller. Weird, but okay. It’s a good movie after all.  

You lean back, the bare back of your neck touching his hand. He doesn’t move, neither do you. Halfway into the movie,  

“It’s hot, isn't it?”  

You frown. It’s anything but hot and that’s why you have a huge ass blanket on your lap. 

“No, it’s-” Before you can continue, he retracts his arm which was supporting your neck and removes his shirt.  

Just.Like.That.  

He throws the shirt away on the couch and moves closer to you.  

He wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer to his bare front. His other hand going around your stomach, locking you.  

“What? Didn’t you say it was hot?” You ask looking up at him. 

He hums thoughtfully, his gaze on the TV as he pulls you closer, “Well, now I’m cold.” 

Rolling your eyes playfully, you continue to look at the film rolling. The proximity making your heartbeat race.  

A sensual scene plays, the main leads kissing eachother with passion and hunger. You clear your throat trying to avoid the fact that his hands tightened around your form. You look up at him to see that his gaze was already on you.  

You face close. Reminding you of the day he caged you against the sink. 

His eyes drift to your lips as he moves closer, his breath hitting your face. You let your gaze dip down to his plump lips, imagining how they’d feel and taste.  

He tilts his head, your lips just a breath away. You close your eyes at your lips grazing eachother.  

And just as you were about to kiss- the doorbell rings, breaking the spell. 

Jake closes his eyes in frustration, “Fuck” 

He looks at the pathway and gets up from the couch, going towards the door to see who the hell cock blocked them.  

You run your hands through your hair, What the fuck just happened. 

Shaking your head, you leave to your room.  

Days passed by quickly. The only class you had today got cancelled, and you don't have any plans either. Meaning, you are free the whole day. 

Nothing changed after that day. He only grew more clingy, if that's even possible. 

Your body though, it grew more sore than ever as each day passed by. 

Currently, you are in the living room vacuuming since Jake went out for work. Your body isn't cooperating at all, but it's the least you can do when he does every work. 

You soon reach his room. You don't go in, of course, with number of times he I warned you- you wouldn't dare. 

You were cleaning the pathway to his room, focused on the steady hum of the vacuum. Too focused to notice the thin wire stretched across the floor. 

The moment you twisted the vacuum and stepped forward, your foot caught. 

You stumbled—hard—crashing against a door. 

It swung open at once, unlocked, and you tumbled inside, landing flat on the floor with a thud. 

Groaning, you rubbed your elbows, checking for any injuries. 

Happy to see none, you finally stand and look up. Only to realize, you were in Jake's bedroom. Your heart stopped beating.  

His room- the one which he warned not to go, was there, calm and still in your presence. Everything was normal- a bed, closer, table- just a typical bedroom... right?  

You look back, out of fear. To see if he’s there, confirming that you are alone, you enter further into his room. There was a door to the side. It wasn’t the bathroom, cause his lies on the outside of the room.  

Curiosity kills the cat. But you went for it anyway. You slowly walked towards the door, each step echoing louder than the previous one.  

The house eerily quiet behind you.  

You place your hand on the doorknob. A beat.  

You turn the knob and open the door to be hit with a chemical smell.  

You quickly cover your nose with the neck of your shirt and dared to look inside. Your heart stopped. Your eyes widen. You stumble back at the sight infront of you.  

There were, numerous glass jars, each containing hearts, lungs, kidneys- multiple, different organs. Bones placed neatly on the walls of the room. Blood marks everywhere. Parts of human body lines up on a table. The sight sent a shiver down your spine.  

And most of all, a girl on a clinical bed, held back with restraints and is unconscious.  

Your eyes teared up, your hands trembling, your breath quickened.  

You shake your head, No, no, no, I have to inform the police, I have to-  

You think as you turn, your chest heaving up and down, heavily. Then here he was, Jake. With that innocent look on his face and in your personal space. 

You scream at his sudden appearance and move back. He takes small, tentative steps to you. Shake your head and with your trembling, “No, no! Don't come near me!” 

He chuckles at that, “Well, I told you to not enter my room. But you did. Why should I listen to what you said when you didn’t?”  

You move around the room, toppling over things. Jake winces and puts on a worried facade, “Shh, slowly. We don’t want you hurt, do we?” 

You run straight to the door and just as you reach the door and get out- Jake holds your wrist from behind. He pulls you back onto his chest, “Not so easy, Y/N”  

You wriggle in his grip as he locks the bedroom’s door. You manage to get out of his grip and turn to him.  

His eyes darken, “The roommate agreement works both ways. You broke my rule. Now I get to break you.” 

He takes a syringe from the table beside you and before you can do anything, he gets a hold of you and injects it into your neck. You wince at the sharp sting as your energy drains, and your head feels lighter. Your eyelids flutter close, you collapse in his arms, losing consciousness.  

The faint sound of muffles in the background wake you up. Your whole-body sore, never like before. Your vision blurry as you open your eyes. Your head pounding, your throat dried up and burning.  

You try to bring your hand up to hold your head only to notice that both of your hands and legs are tied to the chair you are seated in. Your mouth taped as you finally register your surroundings.  

You shake your head, clenched your fists to make your vision clear and see the sight infront of you. 

Oh, how you wish you were still unconscious.  

There he was, Jake, near the clinical bed. The girl on it, awake, wriggling and screaming.  

Jake hisses putting on his gloves, “Shh, you’ll wake my love up” 

The girl looks at you and increases her screams and wriggles. Jake follows her gaze to notice you, staring at the scene infront.  

“Oh, sorry for the disturbance, baby. This’ll be quick, I promise.” he says, his voice dripping with honey and then, turns to the girl. 

“I told you to stay quiet, didn’t I? Now, she woke up. How many mistakes will you make Jung-ha? Be ready to pay for it”  

The girl- whose name is Jung-ha, shakes her head, “No! No! I’m sorry, I'm sorry”  

“Hmm, too late. You should’ve thought twice before betraying my brother and for killing him.” 

Jung-ha widens her eyes, “No! What?! No! I didn’t kill him! It was a suicide!”  

“And, why do you think he committed it? Because of you. He couldn’t handle the betrayal done by his, Oh, so dear, Jung-ha" 

“That doesn’t mean it’s my fault!” 

“Oh, but it is, your fault. And you’ll pay for it by sacrificing  yourself and helping me use you in my experiment.”  

Before Jung-ha can let another word out, he silences her by giving her an injection.  

Confirming she’s not fighting back, he takes a blade, twisting it, the light making the sharp tool gleam. He then went straight for the throat. The sharp of the blade in contact with her neck. 

He doesn’t wait. He digs the blade deeper until her skin is cut and drags it back as if he’s drawing- the blade his lead and her throat- his canvas.  

The blood seeps through as a huge cut forms on her neck. The nerves being cut and pulled, her skin on neck- once joint- now divided into two separate pathways.

He takes another syringe and moves the nerves. Her literal nerves with his fingers which are now pressed deep into her open skin. 

He doesn’t pause. Another syringe appears in his hand. He pushes his fingers—gloved but already slick with her blood—into the wound, pressing past tissue that should never be touched.

He hooks her nerves aside, lifting them like wires, and clears space to drive the syringe needle directly into the raw cut. 

Then his fingers keep going. They fumble downward until they find the delicate rise of her larynx. “This is what you get for waking my girl up” he mutters to himself and continues.  

He scrapes. Not with the blade, but with his nails—raking against the cartilage until it powders, flecks of bloody white calcium catching on his fingertips. He collects them carefully, almost reverently, into a waiting petri dish. 

You try to scream, but only heat rises in your throat. Your mouth is sealed shut, and your voice—the one thing that should save you—dies before it can even begin. 

He doesn’t stop there. The blade lowers again, and with a swift flick he retracts the torn flesh wider, exposing the pale shimmer of her larynx. Metal hooks dig in, prying her throat open like the cover of a book no one should read. 

His gloved fingers move with sick precision, tugging until the fragile strands of her vocal cords come into view—thin, trembling filaments, slick with blood. He smiles, humming softly as he pinches them between forceps. 

“Delicate little strings,” he whispers, almost tender. “No wonder he loved you.” 

A clean snip, and the cords fall limp. He holds them up to the light as if inspecting jewellery, then drops them into a glass vial of preservative fluid. The cords coil at the bottom like worms drowned in amber. 

But the hollow space left behind isn’t enough. Jake digs into his box, pulling out a reel of fine wire. With practiced ease, he threads the metallic lines into the raw cavity, stitching them where flesh once vibrated.

The wires glint with each movement, humming faintly when plucked, a mechanical voice that will never speak. 

“Better,” he murmurs, tugging the last knot tight. “Now you’ll sing for me forever.” 

He doesn’t bother closing the wound properly. Instead, he threads the needle through skin and muscle at random, crossing layers that were never meant to meet.

Veins bulge where they’ve been pulled into the wrong place; cartilage juts under puckered seams. Each stitch puckers her flesh into warped ridges, like a doll made by unsteady hands. 

By the time he ties off the last suture, her neck is no longer human. From a distance, it might almost pass for healed—but up close, the seams twist into deliberate shapes. A crooked smile carved into her throat. An ugly emblem of ownership. 

Jake steps back, admiring his work, his gloves dripping crimson. He tilts his head as though he’s painted a masterpiece, then wipes the blade clean with slow, meticulous strokes. 

“You’ll never betray anyone again,” he tells the ruined body, his voice low, reverent. 

And then, as though remembering you’re still watching, his dark eyes flicker up—locking on yours, shining with that same satisfied smirk. 

The other girl’s body was still on the table, neck sewn up in jagged, crooked lines that looked more like a child’s handwriting than stitches.

He peeled off one glove finger by finger — slowly, deliberately — but left the other still clinging, soaked red. 

His gaze slid to you. You froze as he stepped closer. 

He crouched in front of you, grabbing your chin with the bloodied glove. Your skin burned where it smeared across. He ripped the tape of your mouth with so much care as if he were handling porcelain.  

Before you can utter anything- his mouth was on yours—hot, unyielding, swallowing every protest you tried to push out. 

“Mm—stop—don’t—” Your words broke against his tongue, muffled and useless. 

He tightened his hold, thumb pressing almost painfully against your cheekbone. His kiss was frantic, not lustful but obsessive, like he needed to consume every part of you. 

When he pulled back for air, he kept your face locked in his grip, eyes boring into yours with feverish intensity. His breath fanned over your lips. 

“You taste like life,” he whispered hoarsely, smearing the smear of blood from his palm against your skin as though marking you. “So warm, so alive… mine.” 

You shook your head, your voice shaking. “Please… don’t…” 

He leaned in again, his lips grazing your trembling ones, but this time he slowed—mocking gentleness, a predator pretending to soothe. “Shh… I’ll take care of you. I’ll keep you beautiful… even if I have to cut you open to do it.” 

Your head spun, the taste of his kiss still clinging like poison. His hands—hot, sticky with blood—cupped your face until the world tilted sideways.  

The room swam, black at the edges, and your body gave up before your mind could. Darkness rushed in. Your eyes closed as you lose consciousness.

When you woke again, it wasn’t the cold steel of the operating table beneath you. Soft sheets pressed against your skin. A blanket—thick, heavy, suffocating in its warmth—was pulled up to your chest. The air smelled faintly of lavender and antiseptic. 

For a split second, you thought you were safe. 

Then your eyes adjusted. Curtains nailed shut. Every window barred. The vents sealed with screws. Even the clock on the wall had no hands, frozen forever in silence. 

Your stomach knotted. 

The door clicked before you could move. He walked in—Jake—carrying a tray. Fresh clothes draped over his arm, steaming food balanced carefully beside them. He looked at you the way someone looks at something they’ve already claimed. 

“Good morning, love,” he said softly, as if you hadn’t just seen him slit open another girl days before. His smile stretched warm, but his eyes burned. “You fainted, but don’t worry. I’ve taken care of everything. You’re safe now. With me.” 

You tried to push yourself up, throat dry, but he was already there. He pressed a hand against your shoulder, holding you down with ease, the way someone holds down a restless patient. 

“Shh.” He smoothed your hair back, fingers lingering too long against your temple. “Don’t strain yourself. You’re still weak. That’s why I’m here—to do everything for you.” 

His hand slid from your temple to your jaw, thumb brushing your lips in a mockery of tenderness. 

“See? I take care of you. You don’t need the world anymore. Just me.” 

Your gaze flicked toward the locked door, but he noticed. Of course he noticed. His smile didn’t falter, but his grip on your face tightened. 

“Why do you look at the door like that, hm? It’s locked for a reason. The world out there would only hurt you. Here, you’ll never be hurt again.” 

Your chest rose, trembling, words caught in your throat. He leaned closer, so close you could feel the heat of his breath. 

“Don’t cry,” he whispered. “Don’t scream. You’ll only make me tighten the locks… and I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Why are you doing this?” you ask, your throat threatening to escape a sob.  

His eyes darken and said as if it's the most obvious thing ever, “Because I love you, silly.” 

Your lips trembled, the word love scraping raw inside your ears like broken glass. He said it so easily, so gently, as if it weren’t a chain tightening around your neck. 

Jake set the tray down on the nightstand with careful precision. Steam curled from the bowl, the smell of rice and broth filling the air. He picked up the spoon, stirred slowly, then blew on it before lifting it toward your mouth. 

“Open,” he coaxed, his tone sweet, almost teasing. “You need your strength. For me.” 

You turned your head aside, a sliver of defiance sparking in your chest. But his hand was already at your chin, firm, forcing you back to face him. The metal spoon hovered at your lips like a threat disguised as kindness. 

“Don’t make this difficult,” he murmured, smile still painted on but his eyes hardening. “You don’t want me to be upset, do you?” 

Your jaw clenched. Slowly, reluctantly, you parted your lips. The taste of broth slid across your tongue, warm but heavy, like swallowing surrender. His smile bloomed, proud, radiant. 

“There,” he praised, voice low and honeyed. “Good girl. See how easy that was? You don’t have to think anymore. I’ll do it all for you.” 

He fed you another spoonful, then another, watching every swallow with the intense focus of a man savoring possession. Occasionally, his thumb stroked your cheek, smearing the dampness of your silent tears as though wiping them away. 

When the bowl was finally empty, he set it aside with a satisfied sigh. “Perfect,” he whispered. “Now… let’s get you dressed.” 

The clothes he had carried in waited on the tray—soft fabric, delicate lace, not yours. They looked less like comfort and more like costume.

He picked them up carefully, holding them against your body, measuring them with his eyes, his smile twisting into something reverent. 

“You’ll look beautiful in this,” he said, almost dreamily. “Like you were made for me.” 

Your hands clutched the blanket, knuckles white, but he peeled it back with practiced ease. His hands on your shirt, tugging it off and removes your bottoms after all while taking in every inch of your bare skin- your body.

The air bit cold against your skin as he stripped away what you were wearing—too clinical to be lustful, too lingering to be innocent. His blood-stained tenderness made your stomach twist. 

“Don’t be shy,” he crooned, slipping the fabric over your head, guiding your arms through as though you were a doll. “There’s nothing of you I haven’t already seen.” 

His hands smoothed the fabric down your sides, adjusting every wrinkle, every fold, until you stood wrapped in the clothes he had chosen. His gaze roamed you, satisfied, possessive, and when his eyes met yours again, they gleamed with a dangerous sort of joy. 

“Yes,” he whispered, leaning in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Perfect. Mine.” 

The first few days were silence and locked doors. Jake would come in with food, speak softly, and watch you with those unnervingly tender eyes. He brushed your hair back like you were porcelain — breakable, precious, his. 

But as the days stretched, your resistance was like knives to him. You looked away when he tried to hold you, flinched when he touched your cheek, refused to answer when he murmured “I love you.” 

Tonight was different. His grip wasn’t careful anymore when he caught your wrist, dragging you closer. His other hand slammed the tray of food against the wall, the crash ringing in your ears. 

“Why would you do that?” His voice cracked, equal parts fury and despair. He shook his head, forehead pressing against yours with desperate force. “Why would you make me hurt you? I love you so much—don’t you get it?” 

When you tried to pull away, he snapped—backhanding you so suddenly your head whipped to the side. The sting burned, your breath shaky. Jake froze for a second, horrified at himself, then cupped your face with trembling hands, almost frantic. 

“Don’t make me do this,” he whispered, thumbs smearing against the tear slipping free. His lips brushed your temple, a shudder running through him. “It kills me to hurt you. Don’t… don’t push me away, please. Just love me back… that’s all I need.” 

But even as he begged, his fingers dug into your skin, bruising in their need to keep you close. 

The days that follow are strangely quiet. Jake wakes up earlier than you, his humming drifting from the kitchen, the faint smell of pancakes and coffee sneaking into your room. 

When you finally get up, he’s already waiting with a plate, pulling out a chair for you. His tone is careful, almost sweet. 

Jake starts, “Morning, sunshine. You slept in today. That’s good—your body needs rest.” 

You hesitate, your arms brushing against the long sleeves you’ve chosen to hide the marks. He notices, his eyes flickering for the briefest second, but his smile stays fixed. 

He sets the plate infront of you, “Eat well, okay? I made them just the way you like… soft in the middle.” 

He sits across from you, watching every small movement like you’re something delicate. His hand occasionally reaches out, brushing yours, or tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The gentleness almost makes you forget the sting that still lingers beneath your clothes. 

Later in the day, he leads you to the garden. It’s fenced off, tall hedges surrounding the space, but it’s still outside, the fresh air wrapping around you for the first time in what feels like forever. 

“See? I told you I’d let you out. You’ve been good… so I’ll let you walk around. Breathe.” He says smiling softly. 

You glance at him, uncertain, testing the distance. He doesn’t stop you when you take a few cautious steps away. But his gaze never leaves you. You can feel it pressing into your back no matter where you move. 

He follows after a while, slipping his arm around your shoulders, gentle but firm enough that you can’t shrug him off. 

He keeps his chin on your shoulder, “Moments like this… don’t you think they prove it? That we can be happy here, just the two of us? No one to hurt us. No one to take you away.” 

His tone is soft, almost convincing. For anyone else, it might sound like devotion. But the bruises hidden under your sleeves remind you of the cost of saying no. 

As the sun dips, he presses a kiss to your temple and whispers, “Don’t ever forget—you’re mine. And I’ll take care of you. Always.” 

The room was quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioner. You sat at the edge of the bed, your hands clutching the blanket tightly, trying to make yourself smaller, trying not to provoke him. But Jake noticed everything. 

He stepped closer, his bare feet silent against the floorboards, and crouched in front of you. His fingers tilted your chin up, but the grip wasn’t gentle this time—it was hard enough to leave a mark. 

"Why… why are you pulling away from me again?" 

You didn’t answer, your lips pressed shut. The silence made his jaw tighten. 

"Do you know how much it hurts when you look at me like I’m a monster? I’m not a monster. I love you. Don’t you understand that?" 

When you still wouldn’t answer, he stood abruptly. The sudden movement made you flinch, which only seemed to trigger something deeper in him. He grabbed your wrists and yanked you up from the bed. 

You stumbled, your arm colliding with the edge of the nightstand. A dull pain shot up against your already bruised arm as you gasped, but Jake didn’t let go. He pressed you against the wall, his hands pinning your shoulders. 

"Why would you make me do this? Don’t you see? It’s killing me to hurt you… but you’re forcing me. If you just loved me back the way I love you, I wouldn’t have to—" 

He cut himself as tears welled up in your eyes, partly from the pain, partly from the shock. He saw them, and instead of guilt, something twisted appeared in his gaze—an almost frantic tenderness. He cupped your face with the same hand that had pushed you hard against the wall, his thumb brushing away the tears. 

"Look… I hate this. I hate hurting you. But you’re not listening to me. Don’t make me go further. Please, baby, don’t do this to us." 

You swallowed hard, your voice breaking as you whispered: "Jake… please. You’re hurting me." 

His grip only tightened, his forehead pressing against yours, breath uneven. 

"I know. I know, baby. But it’s only because I love you so much it drives me insane. These bruises… they’re proof. Proof that I can’t live without you. Proof that you’re mine." 

He pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth—rough, forceful, not seeking permission. His body caged you against the wall, and when you tried to turn away, his hands clamped harder on your arms. The pressure left deep, blossoming bruises beneath his fingers. 

"Don’t fight me. Please. Don’t push me away anymore. I’ll do anything, I’ll bleed for you, I’ll kill for you. But don’t make me feel like this again. Don’t make me hurt you like this again." 

Your chest heaved, the air thick and suffocating, as you realized—this wasn’t just love anymore. This was Jake’s twisted version of it, a love that left marks on your skin, and a cage around your heart. 

Months slipped by before you even realized it. Days blurred into one another, the edges of time softening. What had started as a cage of fear had shifted—subtly, frighteningly—into something else. 

He wasn’t cruel anymore, not like that first night. Jake had become… gentler. He didn’t lock you away, didn’t raise his voice. Instead, he spoke to you like you were fragile porcelain, like he couldn’t risk breaking you. 

Somewhere along the line, your resistance had dulled. Your body still remembered what it felt like to fight, but your mind… your mind had started to give in, weaving small, hesitant threads of false comfort. 

It was nightime when it happened. The lamps in the living room cast a low amber glow, bathing everything in warmth. 

Jake sat on the couch, a book in his lap he wasn’t really reading, while you lingered on the other end. Silence stretched, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable but heavy, charged. 

You caught yourself staring at him—the relaxed curve of his jaw, the way his lashes lowered as he pretended to skim the page. 

And then his eyes lifted to meet yours. 

You froze, your lips parting just slightly. Something in his gaze was different tonight. Not sharp. Not possessive. But intent. His book slipped closed, his hand resting on it lazily, and he leaned forward just a little, like a predator testing the waters. 

“You’ve gotten quiet,” he said softly. His voice was smooth, almost coaxing. 

Your throat tightened. “Just… tired.” 

A small smile tugged at his mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “No. Not tired.” He tilted his head. “You’re thinking.” 

The weight of his words made you avert your eyes, but you could still feel his gaze burning into you. He stood then, slow, deliberate steps carrying him closer. You held still, your body tense but unwilling to move away. He stopped right in front of you, his shadow falling over your frame. 

“Look at me.” 

You obeyed before you even thought about it, your eyes lifting back to his. And then it happened—his hand rose, fingers brushing against your jaw. 

His touch was feather-light at first, almost cautious, and it made your chest ache in confusion. How could someone who broke you hold you so carefully now? 

His thumb traced the edge of your lower lip, and your breath hitched. The silence wrapped tighter around you, the space between you collapsing inch by inch. 

“Do you know,” Jake whispered, voice low and warm, “how long I’ve been waiting for this?” 

Your lips parted, but no words came. Your heart pounded in your ears as he leaned closer, so close you could feel his breath fan across your cheek, smell the faint hint of cologne lingering on his shirt. 

And then his mouth touched yours. 

It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t rough. It was slow—agonizingly slow, like he wanted to savor every second of you giving in. His lips pressed against yours gently at first, testing, as though he needed your body’s permission even if he already owned you. 

You froze, your lashes fluttering shut, your mind screaming at you to push him away—but your body betrayed you, melting into the warmth of his mouth. 

When he felt you respond, even slightly, he deepened the kiss. His free hand slid to the back of your neck, anchoring you as his lips moved against yours with more intent now. The kiss stretched, long and intoxicating, pulling the air right out of your lungs. 

Your hands gripped the edge of the couch, knuckles white, because you didn’t trust yourself not to reach for him. His tongue brushed against your lips, teasing, asking for more, and without even realizing it, you granted him access. 

The taste of him flooded your senses—familiar and overwhelming—and you shivered, letting out a small, unintentional sound into his mouth. 

That sound seemed to shatter whatever restraint he’d been clinging to. His kiss grew hungrier, more insistent, like he wanted to consume every piece of you until there was nothing left. 

And still, he never let go of the gentleness—his grip at your neck was firm but not harsh, his other hand ghosting along your jaw like a promise. 

When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t sudden. He drew away slowly, lips parting from yours with the faintest brush, as though reluctant to let the moment end. Your chest rose and fell sharply, breath stolen, lips tingling and swollen from the heat of his kiss. 

Jake’s forehead pressed against yours, his voice a whisper in the dark. 

“See? You belong here.” 

And in that moment, with your heart racing and your lips trembling from the kiss, you almost believed him. 

It was a random day. You were sitting on the bed- his bed, going through your phone. 

He does let you use your phone but only after weeks of you proving you can be ‘trusted.’ You used to scroll through your contacts, your thumb hovering over names you once thought you couldn’t live without… but somehow, you don’t press call.  

You don’t even text. Maybe it’s because you know he’ll see. You’re scared, wondering if you are going to be the next Jung-ha. You never asked him, what she did to his brother- hell, you didn’t even know he had a brother.  

But it’s best to stay quiet and not let curiosity take over you.  

It was 9pm, the door opens with the click. He comes by slowly, closing the door behind him. His eyes find yours as he immediately climbs into the bed next to you.  

“Missed me?” he asks, his voice soft as his hand goes over your stomach pulls you closer to him.  

You nod, not really meaning it.  

He doesn’t see it. Maybe he does, maybe he’s pretending not to notice your non-meaninful responses. He snuggles his face in your neck as you scroll through your phone.  

His hand slips to your chest, cupping your breast over your clothes as he starts, “I was looking through your contacts yesterday,”  

You finger stops mid-way scrolling. This is not going to end well.  

He caresses your breast with his thumb, “And I got curious, and went through your chats with him. Tell me why he is so interested in you?” 

You pause. 

“Ja-Jake, I don’t see him like that- I-I don’t like him like that.” you say hoping you’d find a way out from this mess. 

“But he does. He does see you and like you like that, and I don't like it.”  

“Y-You’re the only one I care about! Right? You know that right, Jake?” you ask desprate to convince him that only he’s there in your heart when you don’t even know if you have a heart anymore. It’s so bland. It’s like everything is under his control- Jake's control.  

“But he doesn’t!” he says, angry and moves as his hand hovers over the bedside table.  

Before you can say anything, you see it- the knife. The blade glinting, sharp and reflecting your face.  

“Jake w-what're you doing?” you ask, backing away.  

“Oh, just reminding that you’re mine” he says he crawls to you.  

Your back hits the headboard as you franticly try to escape.  

He keeps his knees of either side of your legs while holding your wrist, making it hard for you to move away. Your phone long gone on the mattress somewhere. 

He brings the knife slowly towards your inner forearm. He caress the skin there with the sharper side of the blade gently as you shake from fear. 

“Jake-Jake please” 

He shakes his head, “Lemme teach you a lesson, yea?” 

The point tip of the knife against your skin now. He digs it deeps as you wince, your breath quickening. He drags the knife back against your skin, the skin tearing apart as blood surfaces.  

You hiss at the extreme pain, tears rolling down your cheek as you try to pull your hand back. 

Sobs breaking out, and with your breathing heavy, “Jake- please- ah- I can’t t-take it” 

“Should've thought twice while interacting with someone, sweetheart.”  

The blood’s dripping down, staining your clothes, the sheets and your memory.  

And in that moment of desperation, you say it. 

“Baby? Baby! I- I love you-I-I really do-yea? P-please, t-that's what you want right?”  

He stops. The knife not digging into the layers of your skin anymore.  

He looks into your eyes, to see through you- if you really mean it or not.  

“Say it again.”  

You swallow, your energy draining, “I-I love you” 

He grips on your open skin, as you wince at the sharp pain.  

He says with his jaw clenched, “Say it again while calling me that.”  

You sob, the pain unbearable, “Jake- Baby, I love you, so much. Please, stop”  

He throws the stained knife on the floor recklessly, the force causing blood to splatter across the floor as he takes you in his arms, looking suddenly sympathetic  

“Tch. Tch. That wasn’t so hard, wasn’t it?”  

He cradles your face as he looks down at you with a pout as if he wasn't the one who literally made you bleed.  

“Ah my poor baby, you wouldn’t have gone through all that if you were just honest to me. Look what happened now.”  

Jake doesn’t let go. His arms stay wrapped around you, pulling you tighter against him despite your trembling. His breath fans hot against your hair as he rocks you slightly, like he’s trying to soothe a crying child. 

“You see, baby?” he whispers, almost crooning. “You do love me. You just keep forgetting. And that hurts me more than this hurts you.” 

Your forearm throbs, blood warm against both of you. He doesn’t even try to stop it at first—just holds you, smearing red across your clothes, across his shirt. Finally, after long moments of silence where your sobs echo in the locked room, he pulls back enough to press his lips against your wet cheek. 

“Shh. No more tears. You’ve given me what I wanted… that’s enough for today.” 

His hands, still sticky with your blood, cradle your face as he kisses you—slow, possessive, swallowing your broken breaths. When he pulls away, he looks almost triumphant. 

He stands suddenly, retrieving a rag and bandages from the dresser. You flinch when he reaches for you again, but his voice softens, almost playful: 

“Don’t be scared, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you. Always.” 

He cleans the wound with deliberate slowness, the sting sharp enough to make you jolt, but every time you try to pull away he tuts and presses you back down. 

“Stay still, baby. Let me fix what you made me do.” 

When he finishes wrapping your arm, he presses a kiss to the bandage, like sealing his claim. His smile is too warm for the situation, too proud, as if he’s pleased you’ve finally “learned.” 

“See? Now you’re mine properly. No more testing me. You’ll love me the way I love you… or I’ll make you remember again.” 

He pushes you back against the pillows, lying beside you, one arm tight around your waist so you can’t slip away. His head rests against yours like you’re lovers, not captor and prisoner. 

“Say it once more before you sleep,” he murmurs into your hair. “Say you love me, baby.” 

Your eyes flutter close- not out of comfort but out of tiredness. You submit.  

“I love you.” 

You say it, knowing you don’t really mean it. He probably knows it too, but pretends not to. In the end, that’s what you two are—pretense. Pretending to be something you’re not. But that’s the only way you both can survive. And for survival? You’ll do anything. 

©mrsjjongstby all writing belong to me. do not copy, modify or repost my works.

perm taglist: @gnarlyhoons @stormlit-pages @himynameisraelynn @see-c @shra-vasti @heesbbygurl @elikajinnie @jwyoceans @jaylaxies @hees-h0e (open! comment or send an ask if you want to be added!)

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A/N: aaaaaaaaaaand thats a wrappp lol, it got gore-y towards the ending.......... ATLEAST I THINK SO. the starting is just idk i dont like it but its fine i feel like but i loveeeeeeeeeeee the ending. anyways, sorry for taking so long nd hope y'all liked it!

[mrsjjongstby]

hehehe glad i was able to give it to u bby

🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇲​​🇸​ & ​🇨​​🇴​​🇳​​🇩​​🇮​​🇹​​🇮​​🇴​​🇳​​🇸​ - S.JY

p: roommate!jake x fem!reader

warnings: gore, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT!, medical horror, stalking, obsession, non-con medical procedures, implied drugging, graphic depictions of violence, psychological manipulation, restraints, mild language, cursing, creepy roommate behaviour, body horror, disturbing, needle usage, mentions of blood, internal organs, disturbing methods of medical procedures, medical horror, gore descriptions, yandere themes.

synopsis: When you move in with Jake, a charming scientist offering cheap rent and easy company, you agree to his one condition—never enter his bedroom. But as you continue to live with him, you uncover the dark truth: Jake isn’t just handsome and sweet—he’s dangerously obsessed with you, and his “experiments” hide horrors you were never meant to see.

Wordcount: 11.1k

The ad came to you by luck. You just got accepted into this new university which is away from home, and you were looking for a place to stay.  

The uni dorms aren't as reliable as they seem- considering the many break in stories and unhygienic living conditions told by the residents. You could stay at home and attend uni but that would mean for you to wake up before the sun rises and get on a two hour journey- yea, no way.  

So, you began roommate hunting after you realized that living alone in an apartment is out of your budget. And that's when the ad found you. A pretty huge loft's owner is searching for another tenant- to fill out the huge place.  

You would've skipped past the ad easily just like how you did for the past fifteen ads, but the rent caught your eye- it was cheap for the huge space- and in your budget.  

Just like that, you called the number given without thinking twice and arranged a meeting at a local coffee shop.   

The bell chimes above you as you walk in the café- your eyes dart around to find a person wearing, "navy blue hoodie with black washed jeans" just like he said. Soon, you found a hand waving at you wearing the description given to you by the owner. You wave back a little and go over to where he is.  

You took a good look at him and- damn, he looks divine. As if the gods themselves carved his face with deliberate precision. He could easily pass as a model, and the thought hits you like a punch: if luck’s on your side, you might actually be living with him after this talk.

"Sorry, Did I make you wait?" You ask after saying thanks to for pulling your chair back so, you can sit. 

He goes over to the other side and sits while closing his laptop, "Oh no, of course not. I just was doing some research." 

You nod. A beat. He rubs his hands together and then outstretches it to you smiling, "Sim Jaehyun, you can call me Jake."  

You accept it- his hand rough and large compared to yours, "Y/n."  

His grip tightened just as you say your name but you don't think of it much, brushing it off as an accident. You retrieve your hand back as he talks again, "Lets order something before we start our talk?"  

"Yeah, sounds cool." You say as your eyes skim through the menu card.  

Jake calls the waiter and orders for both of you after you tell him what you want. Once the waiter leaves, he turns his attention back to you.  “I’m a scientist, sooo… don’t be surprised if I blurt out random biological facts sometimes.” 

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Thanks for the heads-up. I’m studying agricultural science, so I may not know as much as you, but I do know that the tea you ordered comes from leaves that only grow in very specific weather conditions.” 

His smile widens at that, "Good to know that we have a common ground."   

"Yeah. Anything else I need to know?" You ask as the waiter sets down your latte and his tea.  

"Oh yes. They aren’t much. Just that I come home late at night—you know how it is, working for science. But most of the time I’ll be home. I can cook us meals, do the laundry, you don’t have to worry about that. And while we’re on that topic—most of my work is done at home, in my room. I have a workspace there, which is why I don’t want you to enter my room. At all." 

"Oh, interesting. We could take turns in doing the chores and yeah, I will not even dare to go near the premises!" You say, trying not to miss this perfect stay with a perfectly fine af roommate.  

"Thanks. Then, I'm sure we'll get along pretty well. So, when are you planning to move in?"

And just like that you moved in after some adult- financial talks and documents which usually bore you but Jake made it easy for you to follow up. The first day wasn't weird- sure it was new, different but it felt nice having your 'technically' own space and not having to wake up before the sun.   

Jake was nothing but sweet, he cooked meals for you, packed lunch for you if he had to. cleaned the house- even your room and just wasn't fan of the 'hook up culture' considering that he never once bought up about a girl.  

You wonder if he's got a girl or not, but you shrug those thoughts away. He even did your laundry before you got to it, folding everything with eerie precision — even garments you wouldn’t normally want someone touching. 

True to his word, when Jake did go to work outside, he comes late at night- most of the time you're already in your dreamland and realize he was home the next day morning when he's making coffee for both of you in the kitchen.  

He never mentions anything too deep about his work, just talks about this new 'project' which he's starting, and he can't wait to work on it.  

You never pried; just grateful you were getting more than you bargained for. If only you knew—soon, you’d be getting far more than you bargained for. 

Today was one of those nights where he went out, you didn't even look in the direction of his room, just working on your thesis near the kitchen counter.  

You hear the door click, huh, weird you thought looking at the time in your laptop, 1:45 a.m. damn, you didn't realize you've been working for three hours straight.  

You hear shoes shuffling and soon see Jake walking towards the kitchen where you are at, his hair was damp from the drizzle outside, but the faint metallic smell of iron lingered as he passed you and new cuts on his fingers you don’t know the root cause to.  

His eyes meet yours and you see them flicker with surprise- "You're still awake?" He asks, his eyes moving to your laptop.  

You look at the screen as he goes over to the refrigerator, "Yeah, I didn’t realize the time- been working on this research."  

He gets a bottle nodding and closes the door while opening the cap, he turns- his front facing you, "How was the dinner with your friends?"  

Odd. 

You didn’t tell him you had dinner with your friends. matter of fact. it was a last-minute plan. 

"Um yea, it was good, how'd you know?"  

"Just a guess." He said, unbothered.  

Few days pass just like that, it was starting to get weird. The initial sounds you heard when you first moved in didn’t stop, they only grew weirder and louder. And Jake wasn't helping either, he would dismiss your creeps saying your exhaustion was getting to you and that he isn't hearing any thing and you believed, you truly did. cause why wouldn't you?  

Midnight rolls by. The sounds stopped—but the silence felt heavier than the noises ever did. You went to the kitchen, to get yourself a glass of water. The cups are cleaned neatly and kept up by Jake but the only problem was that he kept it high, and you need one of the glass. You get on your tip toes, trying to reach the glass. You huff after not being able to get it and try again.   

You didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear his door open. A hand reaches past you as you feel a presence behind you.

You turn your face to see Jake- shirtless and in his grey sweatpants that always made you think of things you shouldn't. His eyes are fixed on your face, your cheeks turn red at the close intimacy, you quickly turn your face to the front again to avoid his eyes.  

Jake's another hand is kept on the counter, beside your hip. He moves closer- his chest touching you back, "Here you go."   

Your breath hitches, as you shakily take the glass from his hand- your fingers grazing his. "Thanks."  

He leaves the glass as you take it and holds your elbow, his face in the side of your neck- his nose grazing your skin as he nods. Your brain shuts off, his breathe hitting your neck- you gulp, unsure what to say as you shiver at his touch.

He brushed the lightest kiss against your neck, lingering a moment too long—as though he was memorizing your pulse and slowly retracts away taking his time.

You let out a breath at that which you didn't know you were holding in.   

"Good night" He says and leaves to his room while your mind was unravelling.  

You clutch the counter at the intense situation that just unfolded. You fill your glass with water and ice to get you out of the shock.  

With that, you went to your room, sure that you aren't getting any sleep tonight. 

Your skin burned where his lips touched, but your stomach twisted. You couldn’t tell if it was desire—or dread. 

Nothing changed. You thought the days after that night would be awkward, but if anything, Jake got closer. Too close. Shirtless in the mornings, sometimes only in his boxers, brushing past you with touches that lingered too long.

But the voices at night—they didn’t stop. If anything, they grew louder. Bolder. As if they knew the house belonged to them as much as it did to him. 

8 p.m. Rain lashed against the windows, the steady rhythm almost soothing. You curled into the couch, laptop balanced on your knees, the glow of the screen painting your face in blue.

The hallway stretched empty, the kitchen swallowed in shadow, Jake’s bedroom door sealed shut—like always. 

Tap. 

You stilled, convincing yourself it was nothing, and kept typing. 

Tap. Tap. 

Your hands froze over the keys. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. 

That wasn’t rain. Too slow. Too deliberate. Too… patient. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. 

Your breath shortened, the sound threading into your nerves like a hook. With trembling fingers, you lowered the laptop onto the couch and stood. Each step toward the hallway dragged heavier than the last. The noise grew sharper. Clearer. 

Jake’s door. 

TAP. 

The door jolted, the wood shuddering against its hinges. Your pulse crashed in your ears. 

Then— 

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG! 

The entire frame rattled violently, as though something—or someone—inside was trying to claw its way out. 

And then the power died. 

Darkness devoured the house. The hallway was pitch-black, except—except for the faint sliver of light beneath Jake’s door. In it, you saw a shadow Writhing. Twisting against the crack like they were desperate to escape. 

Your hand, shaking uncontrollably, reached for the knob— 

"Y/N." 

The voice cut through the dark like a blade. 

It was Jake. But it wasn’t. His tone was deeper, stripped of warmth, laced with something that made your stomach twist. And just like that, the banging stopped.

As if whatever or whoever was on the other side sensed Jake’s presence. The silence that followed was worse. Suffocating. 

The lights sputtered back, weak and flickering. 

Jake stood at the end of the hallway. His face unreadable, jaw tight, eyes shadowed. Every stutter of the bulbs painted him differently—one second human, the next… something else. 

"I told you not to enter my room," he said, his voice low, each word deliberate. "Didn’t I?" 

Your throat closed. Heat crawled up your neck. "I—I know, but the banging, I thought—I’m sorry." 

His sigh was quiet, almost tired. His gaze fell to the floor, then slowly rose back to yours. He stepped closer. Step by step, the space between you vanished until his presence was all-consuming. 

His hand lifted, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, knuckles grazing your skin with chilling care. “I’ll take care of it.” 

"But—" 

"I said something, Y/N." His palm cupped your cheek, warm but iron-firm. His grip hovered on the edge of pain. 

You nodded quickly, fear clamping down on your chest. 

He leaned down, lips ghosting your hairline. A kiss so soft it felt wrong. 

"Of course. Now go. Your assignment won’t finish itself." 

His hand patted your head lightly before retreating. You turned on shaky legs, clutching your laptop like a lifeline, retreating to your room with your heart pounding out of rhythm. 

Behind you, Jake lingered by the door, the faintest curve at his lips. A smile that never reached his eyes. 

You didn’t sleep. Not really. Every creak of the house, every gust of rain against the glass had your nerves on edge. By the time morning light bled into your curtains, your body ached from tension more than rest. 

Jake was already in the kitchen, moving with casual ease. Shirtless, grey sweats slung low on his hips, he poured himself a cup of coffee like nothing had happened. Like the night before hadn’t existed. 

You hovered by the counter, fingers tight around your glass of water. “Jake,” your voice cracked, too thin. You swallowed and tried again. “Last night… what was that sound?” 

He didn’t look up immediately. The silence stretched, heavy, deliberate. Then, finally, he chuckled low under his breath. 

“Ah,” he said, as though you’d asked about something mundane, like a leaky faucet. He took a slow sip of coffee, eyes lifting to yours over the rim. “Probably just the lab rats.” 

Lab rats. 

You blinked. “Lab… rats?” 

“Mm.” He set the mug down with a soft clink, stepping closer. “They get restless sometimes. Scratching. Banging around. Nothing you need to worry about.” 

His words were smooth, rehearsed almost, but his eyes didn’t match the ease in his voice. They lingered on you, too sharp, too knowing. 

A laugh bubbled nervously from your throat, brittle. “Rats don’t bang doors like that, Jake.” 

The corner of his mouth curved, not quite a smile—more like a warning dressed up as one. He leaned down, close enough that his breath warmed your ear. 

“Curiosity, Y/N,” he murmured, “is dangerous.” 

Your stomach knotted. 

He pulled back, the mask of nonchalance snapping back over his features as he grabbed his mug again. “Drink your water. You’ll feel better.” 

And just like that, the conversation was over. 

But the echo of last night—the shadows, the voice, the pounding—hung between you, unanswered. 

Days pass just like that. The sounds weren’t as prominent as before. And Jake is just being different.  

The room was too quiet now. The hum of the machines had dulled, leaving behind an eerie stillness that pressed against your eardrums. Your skin prickled.

You weren’t sure if it was the cold air or the way Jake’s eyes had been fixed on you for far too long. 

He finally broke the silence, his voice low and oddly casual. 

“Tell me,” he said, tilting his head slightly, like he was genuinely curious. “What’s your pain tolerance?” 

Your throat went dry. The question was delivered too softly, too calmly, as if he were asking about your favourite colour. You forced a laugh, hoping it didn’t tremble. 

“Why would you even ask me that?” 

Jake’s lips curled into a faint smile, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together as though waiting for a confession. 

“Because,” he whispered, the syllables dragging out, “sometimes people think they can handle more than they actually can. And it’s… fascinating to see the truth.” 

You caught a flicker of something metallic behind him on the tray—a glint of steel. Surgical instruments, lined up too neatly, too deliberately. Your stomach turned. 

“This isn’t funny, Jake.” 

“Oh, it’s not a joke.” His voice was firm now, smooth as glass but edged with something sharp. “You’re strong. I can tell. But I wonder…” His fingers traced invisible patterns in the air. “…are you strong enough when the nerves start screaming?” 

He leaned back, letting the silence stretch, watching you as if waiting for you to crack. 

The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, but underneath it, there was something else—something coppery, raw. Your chest tightened. You didn’t want to know where that smell came from. 

And yet Jake smiled again, like a predator amused by its prey’s trembling. 

“Don’t look so scared,” he murmured. “I only want to understand you better.” 

"I'm going to bed" you say, getting off the chair and following the path to your bedroom. 

'It's probably his dark humor acting up on him again' you thought as you shake off the words.  

You twist and turn in bed, unable to actually; shake those words off. His voice, his words, his face when he said that- the whole scene replaying in your head repeatedly with clear details.  

With the fact that it's two in the morning and that you have college early, you close your eyes and force sleep to knock you out and forget whatever the hell just happened.  

Morning comes early, the sunlight peeking through the shades, the room unusually quiet. Your feet hit the clean marble floor, padding your way to the bathroom to get ready for the day. 

The door closes behind you with a click, you brush your teeth looking at your reflection in the mirror. You look a little worn out- not the kind that comes with exhaustion but the kind that wears out every inch of you. 

Slipping out of your clothes, you enter the shower. Keeping the temperature high- just as you like. The water drizzles down your form and once you are fully drenched, you feel a sharp pain on arm- on your bicep specifically.  

You quickly move your left hand away from the water- which is causing it to sting and take a look at your bicep. Nothing, no trace of anything. Did you hit yourself without noticing? I mean that's common, but this pain, its different.  

Your whole hand isn't hurting, only a certain spot on your bicep is stinging. The kind of sting when you put anything on the area you got injected. 

Your thoughts cut off, due to the shower suddenly stopping. Concluding that you accidently hurt yourself or slept weird you tried to turn off and on the shower. 

It wasn't working.  

Groaning, you get out, wrapping yourself in a towel and started getting ready. 

You reach the kitchen with your bag on your shoulder and phone in your hand, Jake's there, making breakfast as always.  

"Took you long enough" He says without turning around.  

Keeping your bag aside, you sit on the chair, "Shower broke" 

"Broke?" He questioned, finally turning around and bringing the plated pancakes to you.  

You nod, digging in as he does the same after sitting, "Yeah, I was taking a shower, and it stopped working the midway"  

"I'll look into it once you are back home" he says, his gaze dropping to your left hand and then back to your face. 

You nod, muttering a small thanks and leave with your bag. Your day didn't have evening classes, so, Jake didn't cook lunch for you. It always amazed you how perfectly he remembered your habits and schedules but then again, he's a science student... probably good at remember things.  

But you know, you are fooling yourself cause truth? truth hurts, and to not expect the worst, you conceal it with lying to yourself.  

Evening rolls by, you come back home. House quiet except for the faint clicking, air cold and lights on. You remove your shoes and move into the living room to see Jake seated on the sofa with his laptop, typing away. He looks up, "Hi sweetheart"  

"Hey" You reply not really surprised by the nickname since he’s been calling you things recently. 

"Come here, you look tired." He says patting beside him.  

You lazily throw your bag on the couch and go over, plopping yourself down beside him. 

"Hungry?" He asks, pushing your hair back from your forehead.  

"No" you mutter, eyes closing and stiffening lightly at his touch.  

He frowns but doesn't comment on it. "Then, let's look at that shower fix after some time?"  

You nod, already drifting into sleep. Few minutes pass by and you are knocked out. He closes his laptop slowly, keeping it aside and turns to look at you. He pulls a stranded hair behind your ear and gets up after.  

Lowering himself, he takes you in his arm and lifts you up. Walking to your bedroom and opening the door with a light push of his leg, he places you on the bed. He pulls the blanket up to your chin.  

He takes a glance at your room- the one where he often goes to when you aren't around. He goes over to the laundry basket like he's done it a thousand times before. Digging through it, he takes out your black lace bra, bringing it to his nose and smirking as he takes a breath in. 

He looks back at you, the smirk still planted on his face and leaves your room.  

The vibration and sound of your phone ringing in the back pocket of your jeans woke you up. You get up and take your phone into your hands. 

You decline the call as you learned that it was spam and notice the time.  

It's been two hours, you slept for a good two hours, you get out of the bed and out of the room to hear, blender noises. Jake wasn't in the kitchen; the grinding noises stop coming from Jake's room. 

Few minutes pass as Jake comes back from his room, his hands wet as if he just washed his hands. "You're up already?" 

You nod, "What was that?" 

"What was what?" He asks innocently, jutting his bottom lip out as if he has no clue what you are talking about.  

"Oh, you know what I'm talking about" You ask narrowing your eyes.  

His eyes darken, his expression changing immediately from cute, innocent face to daring, dangerous one.  

"Careful with your tone, doll." his voice deep, carrying that depth and then instantly, he goes back his normal, innocent boy facade which you fell for in the start,  

"I was just trying a new smoothie recipe"  

You frown, "In your... room?"  

He smiles, his eyebrow raising, his tone teasing, "What did I say about curiosity, doll?"  

"I- uh whatever, about my shower, you said you-" 

"Yep, wait for me there, I'll be back" he says disappearing into his room. 

You are leaning against the sink, your arms folded when Jake walks in with a huge box in his hand.  

He keeps the box beside you on the sink and opens it. He opens it, the box revealing quiet some variety of tools you’ve only seen in movies- some you've never seen at all.  

"Why do you even have these?"  

He looks at you and smiles noticing the look on your face,  

"Oh you know, for times like this" 

"Yea sure." You say skeptically as he gets to work. 

 Your gaze got lost in admiring the view in front of you. His veiny hands worked deftly on the tool—a weapon that seemed almost out of place in his otherwise perfect hands. 

His face was concentrated, the rings on his fingers clinking softly against the showerhead, his bracelet sliding down his forearm. His neck stretched as he leaned forward, the loose shirt revealing the curve of his collarbone.  

Oh man, it was almost laughable how turned on you were just from watching him 

The sound of water brings you back from your thoughts.  

"Thanks, Jake" you say as Jake turns it off and places it back in its place. 

He steps out of the shower, and arranges his tools in the box beside you, "Anything for you, doll" 

You unfold your hands as he searches for something on the sink's counter.  

His gaze locks onto yours and his gaze darkens a bit. He moves towards you slowly, his hand shifting to your side, effectively caging you.  

Your hands grip back against the counter as he lowers, your faces near, your heart racing. His eyes look into yours as he tilts his head a bit moving his face closer to yours. Your chest heaving up and down lightly while your knuckles turn white as you grip hard onto the counter.  

You gulp, as his nose grazes yours very lightly. 

"Spencer" He mutters, his voice hoarse. 

Lost in his eyes and the moment, unable to comprehend what he said,  

"Huh?"  

"Spencer, baby." He says as he backs away showing you the spencer he took from behind you. 

You clear your throat, embarrassed and remove yourself from the counter.  

His face carrying that knowing smirk as he puts the spencer back in the closes the huge box with a click, "What do you want for dinner?"  

"Um anything's fine" you say quickly trying to get him out as soon as possible. 

"Alright, I'll call you when it's done." He says taking away the box.  

You nod quickly as he leaves.  

Scrolling through your TikTok FYP, you try to erase what happened. The closeness, his face, his presence, his hands caging you— 

"Dinner's ready!"  

Jake shouts from the kitchen. You get out of bed, away from your room, away from your thoughts.  

You sit yourself near the counter and Jake plates your food.  

You adjust yourself on the highchair. Your calf touches the cold metal of the chair's legs, and you wince at the contact. Frowning, you look at your leg to see a small cut. 

What the actual fuck?  

You think as you inspect it further.  

Jake's voice brings you back to your senses again, "Here you go, doll" he plates the freshly made pasta in front of you. 

You both complete the dinner talking about random stuff. 

After dinner, Jake began tidying up the living room while you remained seated, scrolling through your phone—still desperate for a proper explanation for your cut. 

Google wasn’t much help, so you forced your brain to replay every possible cause. 

Nothing. 

Your gaze drifted toward Jake. Could he...? - no 

Stupid. Sure, he’s weird but he isn't a psycho.  

Only if you knew... 

Days went by without incident—or at least, that’s what you told yourself. 

You get out of your bedroom, bored and see Jake seated on the couch.  

“Wanna watch a movie, baby?” Jake asks as he catches your gaze.  

You nod, thinking it would be a distraction with the whirlwind of thoughts running through your mind. You turn off the kitchen lights making the whole house dark, the living room’s lights were already off. The only source of light, coming from the TV. You go over and sit beside him. 

“What do you wanna watch?” He asks, his hand going onto the couch- just behind your shoulder.  

“Anything’s fine” you say as he hums.  

He puts on a classic, horror thriller. Weird, but okay. It’s a good movie after all.  

You lean back, the bare back of your neck touching his hand. He doesn’t move, neither do you. Halfway into the movie,  

“It’s hot, isn't it?”  

You frown. It’s anything but hot and that’s why you have a huge ass blanket on your lap. 

“No, it’s-” Before you can continue, he retracts his arm which was supporting your neck and removes his shirt.  

Just.Like.That.  

He throws the shirt away on the couch and moves closer to you.  

He wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer to his bare front. His other hand going around your stomach, locking you.  

“What? Didn’t you say it was hot?” You ask looking up at him. 

He hums thoughtfully, his gaze on the TV as he pulls you closer, “Well, now I’m cold.” 

Rolling your eyes playfully, you continue to look at the film rolling. The proximity making your heartbeat race.  

A sensual scene plays, the main leads kissing eachother with passion and hunger. You clear your throat trying to avoid the fact that his hands tightened around your form. You look up at him to see that his gaze was already on you.  

You face close. Reminding you of the day he caged you against the sink. 

His eyes drift to your lips as he moves closer, his breath hitting your face. You let your gaze dip down to his plump lips, imagining how they’d feel and taste.  

He tilts his head, your lips just a breath away. You close your eyes at your lips grazing eachother.  

And just as you were about to kiss- the doorbell rings, breaking the spell. 

Jake closes his eyes in frustration, “Fuck” 

He looks at the pathway and gets up from the couch, going towards the door to see who the hell cock blocked them.  

You run your hands through your hair, What the fuck just happened. 

Shaking your head, you leave to your room.  

Days passed by quickly. The only class you had today got cancelled, and you don't have any plans either. Meaning, you are free the whole day. 

Nothing changed after that day. He only grew more clingy, if that's even possible. 

Your body though, it grew more sore than ever as each day passed by. 

Currently, you are in the living room vacuuming since Jake went out for work. Your body isn't cooperating at all, but it's the least you can do when he does every work. 

You soon reach his room. You don't go in, of course, with number of times he I warned you- you wouldn't dare. 

You were cleaning the pathway to his room, focused on the steady hum of the vacuum. Too focused to notice the thin wire stretched across the floor. 

The moment you twisted the vacuum and stepped forward, your foot caught. 

You stumbled—hard—crashing against a door. 

It swung open at once, unlocked, and you tumbled inside, landing flat on the floor with a thud. 

Groaning, you rubbed your elbows, checking for any injuries. 

Happy to see none, you finally stand and look up. Only to realize, you were in Jake's bedroom. Your heart stopped beating.  

His room- the one which he warned not to go, was there, calm and still in your presence. Everything was normal- a bed, closer, table- just a typical bedroom... right?  

You look back, out of fear. To see if he’s there, confirming that you are alone, you enter further into his room. There was a door to the side. It wasn’t the bathroom, cause his lies on the outside of the room.  

Curiosity kills the cat. But you went for it anyway. You slowly walked towards the door, each step echoing louder than the previous one.  

The house eerily quiet behind you.  

You place your hand on the doorknob. A beat.  

You turn the knob and open the door to be hit with a chemical smell.  

You quickly cover your nose with the neck of your shirt and dared to look inside. Your heart stopped. Your eyes widen. You stumble back at the sight infront of you.  

There were, numerous glass jars, each containing hearts, lungs, kidneys- multiple, different organs. Bones placed neatly on the walls of the room. Blood marks everywhere. Parts of human body lines up on a table. The sight sent a shiver down your spine.  

And most of all, a girl on a clinical bed, held back with restraints and is unconscious.  

Your eyes teared up, your hands trembling, your breath quickened.  

You shake your head, No, no, no, I have to inform the police, I have to-  

You think as you turn, your chest heaving up and down, heavily. Then here he was, Jake. With that innocent look on his face and in your personal space. 

You scream at his sudden appearance and move back. He takes small, tentative steps to you. Shake your head and with your trembling, “No, no! Don't come near me!” 

He chuckles at that, “Well, I told you to not enter my room. But you did. Why should I listen to what you said when you didn’t?”  

You move around the room, toppling over things. Jake winces and puts on a worried facade, “Shh, slowly. We don’t want you hurt, do we?” 

You run straight to the door and just as you reach the door and get out- Jake holds your wrist from behind. He pulls you back onto his chest, “Not so easy, Y/N”  

You wriggle in his grip as he locks the bedroom’s door. You manage to get out of his grip and turn to him.  

His eyes darken, “The roommate agreement works both ways. You broke my rule. Now I get to break you.” 

He takes a syringe from the table beside you and before you can do anything, he gets a hold of you and injects it into your neck. You wince at the sharp sting as your energy drains, and your head feels lighter. Your eyelids flutter close, you collapse in his arms, losing consciousness.  

The faint sound of muffles in the background wake you up. Your whole-body sore, never like before. Your vision blurry as you open your eyes. Your head pounding, your throat dried up and burning.  

You try to bring your hand up to hold your head only to notice that both of your hands and legs are tied to the chair you are seated in. Your mouth taped as you finally register your surroundings.  

You shake your head, clenched your fists to make your vision clear and see the sight infront of you. 

Oh, how you wish you were still unconscious.  

There he was, Jake, near the clinical bed. The girl on it, awake, wriggling and screaming.  

Jake hisses putting on his gloves, “Shh, you’ll wake my love up” 

The girl looks at you and increases her screams and wriggles. Jake follows her gaze to notice you, staring at the scene infront.  

“Oh, sorry for the disturbance, baby. This’ll be quick, I promise.” he says, his voice dripping with honey and then, turns to the girl. 

“I told you to stay quiet, didn’t I? Now, she woke up. How many mistakes will you make Jung-ha? Be ready to pay for it”  

The girl- whose name is Jung-ha, shakes her head, “No! No! I’m sorry, I'm sorry”  

“Hmm, too late. You should’ve thought twice before betraying my brother and for killing him.” 

Jung-ha widens her eyes, “No! What?! No! I didn’t kill him! It was a suicide!”  

“And, why do you think he committed it? Because of you. He couldn’t handle the betrayal done by his, Oh, so dear, Jung-ha" 

“That doesn’t mean it’s my fault!” 

“Oh, but it is, your fault. And you’ll pay for it by sacrificing  yourself and helping me use you in my experiment.”  

Before Jung-ha can let another word out, he silences her by giving her an injection.  

Confirming she’s not fighting back, he takes a blade, twisting it, the light making the sharp tool gleam. He then went straight for the throat. The sharp of the blade in contact with her neck. 

He doesn’t wait. He digs the blade deeper until her skin is cut and drags it back as if he’s drawing- the blade his lead and her throat- his canvas.  

The blood seeps through as a huge cut forms on her neck. The nerves being cut and pulled, her skin on neck- once joint- now divided into two separate pathways.

He takes another syringe and moves the nerves. Her literal nerves with his fingers which are now pressed deep into her open skin. 

He doesn’t pause. Another syringe appears in his hand. He pushes his fingers—gloved but already slick with her blood—into the wound, pressing past tissue that should never be touched.

He hooks her nerves aside, lifting them like wires, and clears space to drive the syringe needle directly into the raw cut. 

Then his fingers keep going. They fumble downward until they find the delicate rise of her larynx. “This is what you get for waking my girl up” he mutters to himself and continues.  

He scrapes. Not with the blade, but with his nails—raking against the cartilage until it powders, flecks of bloody white calcium catching on his fingertips. He collects them carefully, almost reverently, into a waiting petri dish. 

You try to scream, but only heat rises in your throat. Your mouth is sealed shut, and your voice—the one thing that should save you—dies before it can even begin. 

He doesn’t stop there. The blade lowers again, and with a swift flick he retracts the torn flesh wider, exposing the pale shimmer of her larynx. Metal hooks dig in, prying her throat open like the cover of a book no one should read. 

His gloved fingers move with sick precision, tugging until the fragile strands of her vocal cords come into view—thin, trembling filaments, slick with blood. He smiles, humming softly as he pinches them between forceps. 

“Delicate little strings,” he whispers, almost tender. “No wonder he loved you.” 

A clean snip, and the cords fall limp. He holds them up to the light as if inspecting jewellery, then drops them into a glass vial of preservative fluid. The cords coil at the bottom like worms drowned in amber. 

But the hollow space left behind isn’t enough. Jake digs into his box, pulling out a reel of fine wire. With practiced ease, he threads the metallic lines into the raw cavity, stitching them where flesh once vibrated.

The wires glint with each movement, humming faintly when plucked, a mechanical voice that will never speak. 

“Better,” he murmurs, tugging the last knot tight. “Now you’ll sing for me forever.” 

He doesn’t bother closing the wound properly. Instead, he threads the needle through skin and muscle at random, crossing layers that were never meant to meet.

Veins bulge where they’ve been pulled into the wrong place; cartilage juts under puckered seams. Each stitch puckers her flesh into warped ridges, like a doll made by unsteady hands. 

By the time he ties off the last suture, her neck is no longer human. From a distance, it might almost pass for healed—but up close, the seams twist into deliberate shapes. A crooked smile carved into her throat. An ugly emblem of ownership. 

Jake steps back, admiring his work, his gloves dripping crimson. He tilts his head as though he’s painted a masterpiece, then wipes the blade clean with slow, meticulous strokes. 

“You’ll never betray anyone again,” he tells the ruined body, his voice low, reverent. 

And then, as though remembering you’re still watching, his dark eyes flicker up—locking on yours, shining with that same satisfied smirk. 

The other girl’s body was still on the table, neck sewn up in jagged, crooked lines that looked more like a child’s handwriting than stitches.

He peeled off one glove finger by finger — slowly, deliberately — but left the other still clinging, soaked red. 

His gaze slid to you. You froze as he stepped closer. 

He crouched in front of you, grabbing your chin with the bloodied glove. Your skin burned where it smeared across. He ripped the tape of your mouth with so much care as if he were handling porcelain.  

Before you can utter anything- his mouth was on yours—hot, unyielding, swallowing every protest you tried to push out. 

“Mm—stop—don’t—” Your words broke against his tongue, muffled and useless. 

He tightened his hold, thumb pressing almost painfully against your cheekbone. His kiss was frantic, not lustful but obsessive, like he needed to consume every part of you. 

When he pulled back for air, he kept your face locked in his grip, eyes boring into yours with feverish intensity. His breath fanned over your lips. 

“You taste like life,” he whispered hoarsely, smearing the smear of blood from his palm against your skin as though marking you. “So warm, so alive… mine.” 

You shook your head, your voice shaking. “Please… don’t…” 

He leaned in again, his lips grazing your trembling ones, but this time he slowed—mocking gentleness, a predator pretending to soothe. “Shh… I’ll take care of you. I’ll keep you beautiful… even if I have to cut you open to do it.” 

Your head spun, the taste of his kiss still clinging like poison. His hands—hot, sticky with blood—cupped your face until the world tilted sideways.  

The room swam, black at the edges, and your body gave up before your mind could. Darkness rushed in. Your eyes closed as you lose consciousness.

When you woke again, it wasn’t the cold steel of the operating table beneath you. Soft sheets pressed against your skin. A blanket—thick, heavy, suffocating in its warmth—was pulled up to your chest. The air smelled faintly of lavender and antiseptic. 

For a split second, you thought you were safe. 

Then your eyes adjusted. Curtains nailed shut. Every window barred. The vents sealed with screws. Even the clock on the wall had no hands, frozen forever in silence. 

Your stomach knotted. 

The door clicked before you could move. He walked in—Jake—carrying a tray. Fresh clothes draped over his arm, steaming food balanced carefully beside them. He looked at you the way someone looks at something they’ve already claimed. 

“Good morning, love,” he said softly, as if you hadn’t just seen him slit open another girl days before. His smile stretched warm, but his eyes burned. “You fainted, but don’t worry. I’ve taken care of everything. You’re safe now. With me.” 

You tried to push yourself up, throat dry, but he was already there. He pressed a hand against your shoulder, holding you down with ease, the way someone holds down a restless patient. 

“Shh.” He smoothed your hair back, fingers lingering too long against your temple. “Don’t strain yourself. You’re still weak. That’s why I’m here—to do everything for you.” 

His hand slid from your temple to your jaw, thumb brushing your lips in a mockery of tenderness. 

“See? I take care of you. You don’t need the world anymore. Just me.” 

Your gaze flicked toward the locked door, but he noticed. Of course he noticed. His smile didn’t falter, but his grip on your face tightened. 

“Why do you look at the door like that, hm? It’s locked for a reason. The world out there would only hurt you. Here, you’ll never be hurt again.” 

Your chest rose, trembling, words caught in your throat. He leaned closer, so close you could feel the heat of his breath. 

“Don’t cry,” he whispered. “Don’t scream. You’ll only make me tighten the locks… and I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Why are you doing this?” you ask, your throat threatening to escape a sob.  

His eyes darken and said as if it's the most obvious thing ever, “Because I love you, silly.” 

Your lips trembled, the word love scraping raw inside your ears like broken glass. He said it so easily, so gently, as if it weren’t a chain tightening around your neck. 

Jake set the tray down on the nightstand with careful precision. Steam curled from the bowl, the smell of rice and broth filling the air. He picked up the spoon, stirred slowly, then blew on it before lifting it toward your mouth. 

“Open,” he coaxed, his tone sweet, almost teasing. “You need your strength. For me.” 

You turned your head aside, a sliver of defiance sparking in your chest. But his hand was already at your chin, firm, forcing you back to face him. The metal spoon hovered at your lips like a threat disguised as kindness. 

“Don’t make this difficult,” he murmured, smile still painted on but his eyes hardening. “You don’t want me to be upset, do you?” 

Your jaw clenched. Slowly, reluctantly, you parted your lips. The taste of broth slid across your tongue, warm but heavy, like swallowing surrender. His smile bloomed, proud, radiant. 

“There,” he praised, voice low and honeyed. “Good girl. See how easy that was? You don’t have to think anymore. I’ll do it all for you.” 

He fed you another spoonful, then another, watching every swallow with the intense focus of a man savoring possession. Occasionally, his thumb stroked your cheek, smearing the dampness of your silent tears as though wiping them away. 

When the bowl was finally empty, he set it aside with a satisfied sigh. “Perfect,” he whispered. “Now… let’s get you dressed.” 

The clothes he had carried in waited on the tray—soft fabric, delicate lace, not yours. They looked less like comfort and more like costume.

He picked them up carefully, holding them against your body, measuring them with his eyes, his smile twisting into something reverent. 

“You’ll look beautiful in this,” he said, almost dreamily. “Like you were made for me.” 

Your hands clutched the blanket, knuckles white, but he peeled it back with practiced ease. His hands on your shirt, tugging it off and removes your bottoms after all while taking in every inch of your bare skin- your body.

The air bit cold against your skin as he stripped away what you were wearing—too clinical to be lustful, too lingering to be innocent. His blood-stained tenderness made your stomach twist. 

“Don’t be shy,” he crooned, slipping the fabric over your head, guiding your arms through as though you were a doll. “There’s nothing of you I haven’t already seen.” 

His hands smoothed the fabric down your sides, adjusting every wrinkle, every fold, until you stood wrapped in the clothes he had chosen. His gaze roamed you, satisfied, possessive, and when his eyes met yours again, they gleamed with a dangerous sort of joy. 

“Yes,” he whispered, leaning in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Perfect. Mine.” 

The first few days were silence and locked doors. Jake would come in with food, speak softly, and watch you with those unnervingly tender eyes. He brushed your hair back like you were porcelain — breakable, precious, his. 

But as the days stretched, your resistance was like knives to him. You looked away when he tried to hold you, flinched when he touched your cheek, refused to answer when he murmured “I love you.” 

Tonight was different. His grip wasn’t careful anymore when he caught your wrist, dragging you closer. His other hand slammed the tray of food against the wall, the crash ringing in your ears. 

“Why would you do that?” His voice cracked, equal parts fury and despair. He shook his head, forehead pressing against yours with desperate force. “Why would you make me hurt you? I love you so much—don’t you get it?” 

When you tried to pull away, he snapped—backhanding you so suddenly your head whipped to the side. The sting burned, your breath shaky. Jake froze for a second, horrified at himself, then cupped your face with trembling hands, almost frantic. 

“Don’t make me do this,” he whispered, thumbs smearing against the tear slipping free. His lips brushed your temple, a shudder running through him. “It kills me to hurt you. Don’t… don’t push me away, please. Just love me back… that’s all I need.” 

But even as he begged, his fingers dug into your skin, bruising in their need to keep you close. 

The days that follow are strangely quiet. Jake wakes up earlier than you, his humming drifting from the kitchen, the faint smell of pancakes and coffee sneaking into your room. 

When you finally get up, he’s already waiting with a plate, pulling out a chair for you. His tone is careful, almost sweet. 

Jake starts, “Morning, sunshine. You slept in today. That’s good—your body needs rest.” 

You hesitate, your arms brushing against the long sleeves you’ve chosen to hide the marks. He notices, his eyes flickering for the briefest second, but his smile stays fixed. 

He sets the plate infront of you, “Eat well, okay? I made them just the way you like… soft in the middle.” 

He sits across from you, watching every small movement like you’re something delicate. His hand occasionally reaches out, brushing yours, or tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The gentleness almost makes you forget the sting that still lingers beneath your clothes. 

Later in the day, he leads you to the garden. It’s fenced off, tall hedges surrounding the space, but it’s still outside, the fresh air wrapping around you for the first time in what feels like forever. 

“See? I told you I’d let you out. You’ve been good… so I’ll let you walk around. Breathe.” He says smiling softly. 

You glance at him, uncertain, testing the distance. He doesn’t stop you when you take a few cautious steps away. But his gaze never leaves you. You can feel it pressing into your back no matter where you move. 

He follows after a while, slipping his arm around your shoulders, gentle but firm enough that you can’t shrug him off. 

He keeps his chin on your shoulder, “Moments like this… don’t you think they prove it? That we can be happy here, just the two of us? No one to hurt us. No one to take you away.” 

His tone is soft, almost convincing. For anyone else, it might sound like devotion. But the bruises hidden under your sleeves remind you of the cost of saying no. 

As the sun dips, he presses a kiss to your temple and whispers, “Don’t ever forget—you’re mine. And I’ll take care of you. Always.” 

The room was quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioner. You sat at the edge of the bed, your hands clutching the blanket tightly, trying to make yourself smaller, trying not to provoke him. But Jake noticed everything. 

He stepped closer, his bare feet silent against the floorboards, and crouched in front of you. His fingers tilted your chin up, but the grip wasn’t gentle this time—it was hard enough to leave a mark. 

"Why… why are you pulling away from me again?" 

You didn’t answer, your lips pressed shut. The silence made his jaw tighten. 

"Do you know how much it hurts when you look at me like I’m a monster? I’m not a monster. I love you. Don’t you understand that?" 

When you still wouldn’t answer, he stood abruptly. The sudden movement made you flinch, which only seemed to trigger something deeper in him. He grabbed your wrists and yanked you up from the bed. 

You stumbled, your arm colliding with the edge of the nightstand. A dull pain shot up against your already bruised arm as you gasped, but Jake didn’t let go. He pressed you against the wall, his hands pinning your shoulders. 

"Why would you make me do this? Don’t you see? It’s killing me to hurt you… but you’re forcing me. If you just loved me back the way I love you, I wouldn’t have to—" 

He cut himself as tears welled up in your eyes, partly from the pain, partly from the shock. He saw them, and instead of guilt, something twisted appeared in his gaze—an almost frantic tenderness. He cupped your face with the same hand that had pushed you hard against the wall, his thumb brushing away the tears. 

"Look… I hate this. I hate hurting you. But you’re not listening to me. Don’t make me go further. Please, baby, don’t do this to us." 

You swallowed hard, your voice breaking as you whispered: "Jake… please. You’re hurting me." 

His grip only tightened, his forehead pressing against yours, breath uneven. 

"I know. I know, baby. But it’s only because I love you so much it drives me insane. These bruises… they’re proof. Proof that I can’t live without you. Proof that you’re mine." 

He pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth—rough, forceful, not seeking permission. His body caged you against the wall, and when you tried to turn away, his hands clamped harder on your arms. The pressure left deep, blossoming bruises beneath his fingers. 

"Don’t fight me. Please. Don’t push me away anymore. I’ll do anything, I’ll bleed for you, I’ll kill for you. But don’t make me feel like this again. Don’t make me hurt you like this again." 

Your chest heaved, the air thick and suffocating, as you realized—this wasn’t just love anymore. This was Jake’s twisted version of it, a love that left marks on your skin, and a cage around your heart. 

Months slipped by before you even realized it. Days blurred into one another, the edges of time softening. What had started as a cage of fear had shifted—subtly, frighteningly—into something else. 

He wasn’t cruel anymore, not like that first night. Jake had become… gentler. He didn’t lock you away, didn’t raise his voice. Instead, he spoke to you like you were fragile porcelain, like he couldn’t risk breaking you. 

Somewhere along the line, your resistance had dulled. Your body still remembered what it felt like to fight, but your mind… your mind had started to give in, weaving small, hesitant threads of false comfort. 

It was nightime when it happened. The lamps in the living room cast a low amber glow, bathing everything in warmth. 

Jake sat on the couch, a book in his lap he wasn’t really reading, while you lingered on the other end. Silence stretched, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable but heavy, charged. 

You caught yourself staring at him—the relaxed curve of his jaw, the way his lashes lowered as he pretended to skim the page. 

And then his eyes lifted to meet yours. 

You froze, your lips parting just slightly. Something in his gaze was different tonight. Not sharp. Not possessive. But intent. His book slipped closed, his hand resting on it lazily, and he leaned forward just a little, like a predator testing the waters. 

“You’ve gotten quiet,” he said softly. His voice was smooth, almost coaxing. 

Your throat tightened. “Just… tired.” 

A small smile tugged at his mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “No. Not tired.” He tilted his head. “You’re thinking.” 

The weight of his words made you avert your eyes, but you could still feel his gaze burning into you. He stood then, slow, deliberate steps carrying him closer. You held still, your body tense but unwilling to move away. He stopped right in front of you, his shadow falling over your frame. 

“Look at me.” 

You obeyed before you even thought about it, your eyes lifting back to his. And then it happened—his hand rose, fingers brushing against your jaw. 

His touch was feather-light at first, almost cautious, and it made your chest ache in confusion. How could someone who broke you hold you so carefully now? 

His thumb traced the edge of your lower lip, and your breath hitched. The silence wrapped tighter around you, the space between you collapsing inch by inch. 

“Do you know,” Jake whispered, voice low and warm, “how long I’ve been waiting for this?” 

Your lips parted, but no words came. Your heart pounded in your ears as he leaned closer, so close you could feel his breath fan across your cheek, smell the faint hint of cologne lingering on his shirt. 

And then his mouth touched yours. 

It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t rough. It was slow—agonizingly slow, like he wanted to savor every second of you giving in. His lips pressed against yours gently at first, testing, as though he needed your body’s permission even if he already owned you. 

You froze, your lashes fluttering shut, your mind screaming at you to push him away—but your body betrayed you, melting into the warmth of his mouth. 

When he felt you respond, even slightly, he deepened the kiss. His free hand slid to the back of your neck, anchoring you as his lips moved against yours with more intent now. The kiss stretched, long and intoxicating, pulling the air right out of your lungs. 

Your hands gripped the edge of the couch, knuckles white, because you didn’t trust yourself not to reach for him. His tongue brushed against your lips, teasing, asking for more, and without even realizing it, you granted him access. 

The taste of him flooded your senses—familiar and overwhelming—and you shivered, letting out a small, unintentional sound into his mouth. 

That sound seemed to shatter whatever restraint he’d been clinging to. His kiss grew hungrier, more insistent, like he wanted to consume every piece of you until there was nothing left. 

And still, he never let go of the gentleness—his grip at your neck was firm but not harsh, his other hand ghosting along your jaw like a promise. 

When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t sudden. He drew away slowly, lips parting from yours with the faintest brush, as though reluctant to let the moment end. Your chest rose and fell sharply, breath stolen, lips tingling and swollen from the heat of his kiss. 

Jake’s forehead pressed against yours, his voice a whisper in the dark. 

“See? You belong here.” 

And in that moment, with your heart racing and your lips trembling from the kiss, you almost believed him. 

It was a random day. You were sitting on the bed- his bed, going through your phone. 

He does let you use your phone but only after weeks of you proving you can be ‘trusted.’ You used to scroll through your contacts, your thumb hovering over names you once thought you couldn’t live without… but somehow, you don’t press call.  

You don’t even text. Maybe it’s because you know he’ll see. You’re scared, wondering if you are going to be the next Jung-ha. You never asked him, what she did to his brother- hell, you didn’t even know he had a brother.  

But it’s best to stay quiet and not let curiosity take over you.  

It was 9pm, the door opens with the click. He comes by slowly, closing the door behind him. His eyes find yours as he immediately climbs into the bed next to you.  

“Missed me?” he asks, his voice soft as his hand goes over your stomach pulls you closer to him.  

You nod, not really meaning it.  

He doesn’t see it. Maybe he does, maybe he’s pretending not to notice your non-meaninful responses. He snuggles his face in your neck as you scroll through your phone.  

His hand slips to your chest, cupping your breast over your clothes as he starts, “I was looking through your contacts yesterday,”  

You finger stops mid-way scrolling. This is not going to end well.  

He caresses your breast with his thumb, “And I got curious, and went through your chats with him. Tell me why he is so interested in you?” 

You pause. 

“Ja-Jake, I don’t see him like that- I-I don’t like him like that.” you say hoping you’d find a way out from this mess. 

“But he does. He does see you and like you like that, and I don't like it.”  

“Y-You’re the only one I care about! Right? You know that right, Jake?” you ask desprate to convince him that only he’s there in your heart when you don’t even know if you have a heart anymore. It’s so bland. It’s like everything is under his control- Jake's control.  

“But he doesn’t!” he says, angry and moves as his hand hovers over the bedside table.  

Before you can say anything, you see it- the knife. The blade glinting, sharp and reflecting your face.  

“Jake w-what're you doing?” you ask, backing away.  

“Oh, just reminding that you’re mine” he says he crawls to you.  

Your back hits the headboard as you franticly try to escape.  

He keeps his knees of either side of your legs while holding your wrist, making it hard for you to move away. Your phone long gone on the mattress somewhere. 

He brings the knife slowly towards your inner forearm. He caress the skin there with the sharper side of the blade gently as you shake from fear. 

“Jake-Jake please” 

He shakes his head, “Lemme teach you a lesson, yea?” 

The point tip of the knife against your skin now. He digs it deeps as you wince, your breath quickening. He drags the knife back against your skin, the skin tearing apart as blood surfaces.  

You hiss at the extreme pain, tears rolling down your cheek as you try to pull your hand back. 

Sobs breaking out, and with your breathing heavy, “Jake- please- ah- I can’t t-take it” 

“Should've thought twice while interacting with someone, sweetheart.”  

The blood’s dripping down, staining your clothes, the sheets and your memory.  

And in that moment of desperation, you say it. 

“Baby? Baby! I- I love you-I-I really do-yea? P-please, t-that's what you want right?”  

He stops. The knife not digging into the layers of your skin anymore.  

He looks into your eyes, to see through you- if you really mean it or not.  

“Say it again.”  

You swallow, your energy draining, “I-I love you” 

He grips on your open skin, as you wince at the sharp pain.  

He says with his jaw clenched, “Say it again while calling me that.”  

You sob, the pain unbearable, “Jake- Baby, I love you, so much. Please, stop”  

He throws the stained knife on the floor recklessly, the force causing blood to splatter across the floor as he takes you in his arms, looking suddenly sympathetic  

“Tch. Tch. That wasn’t so hard, wasn’t it?”  

He cradles your face as he looks down at you with a pout as if he wasn't the one who literally made you bleed.  

“Ah my poor baby, you wouldn’t have gone through all that if you were just honest to me. Look what happened now.”  

Jake doesn’t let go. His arms stay wrapped around you, pulling you tighter against him despite your trembling. His breath fans hot against your hair as he rocks you slightly, like he’s trying to soothe a crying child. 

“You see, baby?” he whispers, almost crooning. “You do love me. You just keep forgetting. And that hurts me more than this hurts you.” 

Your forearm throbs, blood warm against both of you. He doesn’t even try to stop it at first—just holds you, smearing red across your clothes, across his shirt. Finally, after long moments of silence where your sobs echo in the locked room, he pulls back enough to press his lips against your wet cheek. 

“Shh. No more tears. You’ve given me what I wanted… that’s enough for today.” 

His hands, still sticky with your blood, cradle your face as he kisses you—slow, possessive, swallowing your broken breaths. When he pulls away, he looks almost triumphant. 

He stands suddenly, retrieving a rag and bandages from the dresser. You flinch when he reaches for you again, but his voice softens, almost playful: 

“Don’t be scared, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you. Always.” 

He cleans the wound with deliberate slowness, the sting sharp enough to make you jolt, but every time you try to pull away he tuts and presses you back down. 

“Stay still, baby. Let me fix what you made me do.” 

When he finishes wrapping your arm, he presses a kiss to the bandage, like sealing his claim. His smile is too warm for the situation, too proud, as if he’s pleased you’ve finally “learned.” 

“See? Now you’re mine properly. No more testing me. You’ll love me the way I love you… or I’ll make you remember again.” 

He pushes you back against the pillows, lying beside you, one arm tight around your waist so you can’t slip away. His head rests against yours like you’re lovers, not captor and prisoner. 

“Say it once more before you sleep,” he murmurs into your hair. “Say you love me, baby.” 

Your eyes flutter close- not out of comfort but out of tiredness. You submit.  

“I love you.” 

You say it, knowing you don’t really mean it. He probably knows it too, but pretends not to. In the end, that’s what you two are—pretense. Pretending to be something you’re not. But that’s the only way you both can survive. And for survival? You��ll do anything. 

©mrsjjongstby all writing belong to me. do not copy, modify or repost my works.

perm taglist: @gnarlyhoons @stormlit-pages @himynameisraelynn @see-c @shra-vasti @heesbbygurl @elikajinnie @jwyoceans @jaylaxies @hees-h0e (open! comment or send an ask if you want to be added!)

taglist: @weepingsweep @gabrielinhaa @angelhyuka @dksfml @gigitastic @rosepetals09 @berryzoo @hollxe1 @fancypeacepersona @m3chigo @yunkiism @urfavlocalgirly @yukjin @bttrfllws @girlyeria @seungsthetic @huntisworld (closed!) thanks loves

A/N: aaaaaaaaaaand thats a wrappp lol, it got gore-y towards the ending.......... ATLEAST I THINK SO. the starting is just idk i dont like it but its fine i feel like but i loveeeeeeeeeeee the ending. anyways, sorry for taking so long nd hope y'all liked it!

[mrsjjongstby]

STOPPPPP OMG AHHHHH im sooo happy im literally giggling read this.

Trust, i read it like over 90 times already hehehehe. (SPOILERS)

Exactlyyyy like yes girll get that baggg! thats prolly something a uni student would do lol.

STAWP OMG ME TOO. like, don’t even get me started on you thirsting over Jake while also being terrified of him—YES, that’s exactly the chaos I wanted to serve. I WANTED TO DISTRACT Y'ALL IN BETWEEN EHHEHEHE.

NO CAUSE I WAS LITERALLY HOLDING MY NECK ND IMAGINING IF THTS POSSIBLE OR NOT AHAHAHAHAHA. U DID THE RIGHT THING- CHECKING UR NECK HAHAHAHAH lmao sorry for that. Y/N is stronger than most of us. period.

MASTERPIECEEEE?!??!?!?!! AHHHHHHHHH NOT U FEEDING INTO MY DELUSIONSSS. thank you sooo much for the love baby. idk when i was proofreading it, i was like ummmmmmmm idk should i post it? or not? ahhhhhhh but im gladdd.

And also! I totally get why you thought that but nope, she actually does update her parents! Jake lets her use the phone right so, it’s just that our YN isn’t the type to be rebellious cause she knows he's watching righttt, so yea. .She’s more obedient and grounded like that, not willingly- but out of fear.

ahhhhh tysm! made my tmr! thanks for the sweet words bby, hugging u thru the screen rn mwuah ilyyyy!

🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇲​​🇸​ & ​🇨​​🇴​​🇳​​🇩​​🇮​​🇹​​🇮​​🇴​​🇳​​🇸​ - S.JY

p: roommate!jake x fem!reader

warnings: gore, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT!, medical horror, stalking, obsession, non-con medical procedures, implied drugging, graphic depictions of violence, psychological manipulation, restraints, mild language, cursing, creepy roommate behaviour, body horror, disturbing, needle usage, mentions of blood, internal organs, disturbing methods of medical procedures, medical horror, gore descriptions, yandere themes.

synopsis: When you move in with Jake, a charming scientist offering cheap rent and easy company, you agree to his one condition—never enter his bedroom. But as you continue to live with him, you uncover the dark truth: Jake isn’t just handsome and sweet—he’s dangerously obsessed with you, and his “experiments” hide horrors you were never meant to see.

Wordcount: 11.1k

The ad came to you by luck. You just got accepted into this new university which is away from home, and you were looking for a place to stay.  

The uni dorms aren't as reliable as they seem- considering the many break in stories and unhygienic living conditions told by the residents. You could stay at home and attend uni but that would mean for you to wake up before the sun rises and get on a two hour journey- yea, no way.  

So, you began roommate hunting after you realized that living alone in an apartment is out of your budget. And that's when the ad found you. A pretty huge loft's owner is searching for another tenant- to fill out the huge place.  

You would've skipped past the ad easily just like how you did for the past fifteen ads, but the rent caught your eye- it was cheap for the huge space- and in your budget.  

Just like that, you called the number given without thinking twice and arranged a meeting at a local coffee shop.   

The bell chimes above you as you walk in the café- your eyes dart around to find a person wearing, "navy blue hoodie with black washed jeans" just like he said. Soon, you found a hand waving at you wearing the description given to you by the owner. You wave back a little and go over to where he is.  

You took a good look at him and- damn, he looks divine. As if the gods themselves carved his face with deliberate precision. He could easily pass as a model, and the thought hits you like a punch: if luck’s on your side, you might actually be living with him after this talk.

"Sorry, Did I make you wait?" You ask after saying thanks to for pulling your chair back so, you can sit. 

He goes over to the other side and sits while closing his laptop, "Oh no, of course not. I just was doing some research." 

You nod. A beat. He rubs his hands together and then outstretches it to you smiling, "Sim Jaehyun, you can call me Jake."  

You accept it- his hand rough and large compared to yours, "Y/n."  

His grip tightened just as you say your name but you don't think of it much, brushing it off as an accident. You retrieve your hand back as he talks again, "Lets order something before we start our talk?"  

"Yeah, sounds cool." You say as your eyes skim through the menu card.  

Jake calls the waiter and orders for both of you after you tell him what you want. Once the waiter leaves, he turns his attention back to you.  “I’m a scientist, sooo… don’t be surprised if I blurt out random biological facts sometimes.” 

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Thanks for the heads-up. I’m studying agricultural science, so I may not know as much as you, but I do know that the tea you ordered comes from leaves that only grow in very specific weather conditions.” 

His smile widens at that, "Good to know that we have a common ground."   

"Yeah. Anything else I need to know?" You ask as the waiter sets down your latte and his tea.  

"Oh yes. They aren’t much. Just that I come home late at night—you know how it is, working for science. But most of the time I’ll be home. I can cook us meals, do the laundry, you don’t have to worry about that. And while we’re on that topic—most of my work is done at home, in my room. I have a workspace there, which is why I don’t want you to enter my room. At all." 

"Oh, interesting. We could take turns in doing the chores and yeah, I will not even dare to go near the premises!" You say, trying not to miss this perfect stay with a perfectly fine af roommate.  

"Thanks. Then, I'm sure we'll get along pretty well. So, when are you planning to move in?"

And just like that you moved in after some adult- financial talks and documents which usually bore you but Jake made it easy for you to follow up. The first day wasn't weird- sure it was new, different but it felt nice having your 'technically' own space and not having to wake up before the sun.   

Jake was nothing but sweet, he cooked meals for you, packed lunch for you if he had to. cleaned the house- even your room and just wasn't fan of the 'hook up culture' considering that he never once bought up about a girl.  

You wonder if he's got a girl or not, but you shrug those thoughts away. He even did your laundry before you got to it, folding everything with eerie precision — even garments you wouldn’t normally want someone touching. 

True to his word, when Jake did go to work outside, he comes late at night- most of the time you're already in your dreamland and realize he was home the next day morning when he's making coffee for both of you in the kitchen.  

He never mentions anything too deep about his work, just talks about this new 'project' which he's starting, and he can't wait to work on it.  

You never pried; just grateful you were getting more than you bargained for. If only you knew—soon, you’d be getting far more than you bargained for. 

Today was one of those nights where he went out, you didn't even look in the direction of his room, just working on your thesis near the kitchen counter.  

You hear the door click, huh, weird you thought looking at the time in your laptop, 1:45 a.m. damn, you didn't realize you've been working for three hours straight.  

You hear shoes shuffling and soon see Jake walking towards the kitchen where you are at, his hair was damp from the drizzle outside, but the faint metallic smell of iron lingered as he passed you and new cuts on his fingers you don’t know the root cause to.  

His eyes meet yours and you see them flicker with surprise- "You're still awake?" He asks, his eyes moving to your laptop.  

You look at the screen as he goes over to the refrigerator, "Yeah, I didn’t realize the time- been working on this research."  

He gets a bottle nodding and closes the door while opening the cap, he turns- his front facing you, "How was the dinner with your friends?"  

Odd. 

You didn’t tell him you had dinner with your friends. matter of fact. it was a last-minute plan. 

"Um yea, it was good, how'd you know?"  

"Just a guess." He said, unbothered.  

Few days pass just like that, it was starting to get weird. The initial sounds you heard when you first moved in didn’t stop, they only grew weirder and louder. And Jake wasn't helping either, he would dismiss your creeps saying your exhaustion was getting to you and that he isn't hearing any thing and you believed, you truly did. cause why wouldn't you?  

Midnight rolls by. The sounds stopped—but the silence felt heavier than the noises ever did. You went to the kitchen, to get yourself a glass of water. The cups are cleaned neatly and kept up by Jake but the only problem was that he kept it high, and you need one of the glass. You get on your tip toes, trying to reach the glass. You huff after not being able to get it and try again.   

You didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear his door open. A hand reaches past you as you feel a presence behind you.

You turn your face to see Jake- shirtless and in his grey sweatpants that always made you think of things you shouldn't. His eyes are fixed on your face, your cheeks turn red at the close intimacy, you quickly turn your face to the front again to avoid his eyes.  

Jake's another hand is kept on the counter, beside your hip. He moves closer- his chest touching you back, "Here you go."   

Your breath hitches, as you shakily take the glass from his hand- your fingers grazing his. "Thanks."  

He leaves the glass as you take it and holds your elbow, his face in the side of your neck- his nose grazing your skin as he nods. Your brain shuts off, his breathe hitting your neck- you gulp, unsure what to say as you shiver at his touch.

He brushed the lightest kiss against your neck, lingering a moment too long—as though he was memorizing your pulse and slowly retracts away taking his time.

You let out a breath at that which you didn't know you were holding in.   

"Good night" He says and leaves to his room while your mind was unravelling.  

You clutch the counter at the intense situation that just unfolded. You fill your glass with water and ice to get you out of the shock.  

With that, you went to your room, sure that you aren't getting any sleep tonight. 

Your skin burned where his lips touched, but your stomach twisted. You couldn’t tell if it was desire—or dread. 

Nothing changed. You thought the days after that night would be awkward, but if anything, Jake got closer. Too close. Shirtless in the mornings, sometimes only in his boxers, brushing past you with touches that lingered too long.

But the voices at night—they didn’t stop. If anything, they grew louder. Bolder. As if they knew the house belonged to them as much as it did to him. 

8 p.m. Rain lashed against the windows, the steady rhythm almost soothing. You curled into the couch, laptop balanced on your knees, the glow of the screen painting your face in blue.

The hallway stretched empty, the kitchen swallowed in shadow, Jake’s bedroom door sealed shut—like always. 

Tap. 

You stilled, convincing yourself it was nothing, and kept typing. 

Tap. Tap. 

Your hands froze over the keys. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. 

That wasn’t rain. Too slow. Too deliberate. Too… patient. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. 

Your breath shortened, the sound threading into your nerves like a hook. With trembling fingers, you lowered the laptop onto the couch and stood. Each step toward the hallway dragged heavier than the last. The noise grew sharper. Clearer. 

Jake’s door. 

TAP. 

The door jolted, the wood shuddering against its hinges. Your pulse crashed in your ears. 

Then— 

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG! 

The entire frame rattled violently, as though something—or someone—inside was trying to claw its way out. 

And then the power died. 

Darkness devoured the house. The hallway was pitch-black, except—except for the faint sliver of light beneath Jake’s door. In it, you saw a shadow Writhing. Twisting against the crack like they were desperate to escape. 

Your hand, shaking uncontrollably, reached for the knob— 

"Y/N." 

The voice cut through the dark like a blade. 

It was Jake. But it wasn’t. His tone was deeper, stripped of warmth, laced with something that made your stomach twist. And just like that, the banging stopped.

As if whatever or whoever was on the other side sensed Jake’s presence. The silence that followed was worse. Suffocating. 

The lights sputtered back, weak and flickering. 

Jake stood at the end of the hallway. His face unreadable, jaw tight, eyes shadowed. Every stutter of the bulbs painted him differently—one second human, the next… something else. 

"I told you not to enter my room," he said, his voice low, each word deliberate. "Didn’t I?" 

Your throat closed. Heat crawled up your neck. "I—I know, but the banging, I thought—I’m sorry." 

His sigh was quiet, almost tired. His gaze fell to the floor, then slowly rose back to yours. He stepped closer. Step by step, the space between you vanished until his presence was all-consuming. 

His hand lifted, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, knuckles grazing your skin with chilling care. “I’ll take care of it.” 

"But—" 

"I said something, Y/N." His palm cupped your cheek, warm but iron-firm. His grip hovered on the edge of pain. 

You nodded quickly, fear clamping down on your chest. 

He leaned down, lips ghosting your hairline. A kiss so soft it felt wrong. 

"Of course. Now go. Your assignment won’t finish itself." 

His hand patted your head lightly before retreating. You turned on shaky legs, clutching your laptop like a lifeline, retreating to your room with your heart pounding out of rhythm. 

Behind you, Jake lingered by the door, the faintest curve at his lips. A smile that never reached his eyes. 

You didn’t sleep. Not really. Every creak of the house, every gust of rain against the glass had your nerves on edge. By the time morning light bled into your curtains, your body ached from tension more than rest. 

Jake was already in the kitchen, moving with casual ease. Shirtless, grey sweats slung low on his hips, he poured himself a cup of coffee like nothing had happened. Like the night before hadn’t existed. 

You hovered by the counter, fingers tight around your glass of water. “Jake,” your voice cracked, too thin. You swallowed and tried again. “Last night… what was that sound?” 

He didn’t look up immediately. The silence stretched, heavy, deliberate. Then, finally, he chuckled low under his breath. 

“Ah,” he said, as though you’d asked about something mundane, like a leaky faucet. He took a slow sip of coffee, eyes lifting to yours over the rim. “Probably just the lab rats.” 

Lab rats. 

You blinked. “Lab… rats?” 

“Mm.” He set the mug down with a soft clink, stepping closer. “They get restless sometimes. Scratching. Banging around. Nothing you need to worry about.” 

His words were smooth, rehearsed almost, but his eyes didn’t match the ease in his voice. They lingered on you, too sharp, too knowing. 

A laugh bubbled nervously from your throat, brittle. “Rats don’t bang doors like that, Jake.” 

The corner of his mouth curved, not quite a smile—more like a warning dressed up as one. He leaned down, close enough that his breath warmed your ear. 

“Curiosity, Y/N,” he murmured, “is dangerous.” 

Your stomach knotted. 

He pulled back, the mask of nonchalance snapping back over his features as he grabbed his mug again. “Drink your water. You’ll feel better.” 

And just like that, the conversation was over. 

But the echo of last night—the shadows, the voice, the pounding—hung between you, unanswered. 

Days pass just like that. The sounds weren’t as prominent as before. And Jake is just being different.  

The room was too quiet now. The hum of the machines had dulled, leaving behind an eerie stillness that pressed against your eardrums. Your skin prickled.

You weren’t sure if it was the cold air or the way Jake’s eyes had been fixed on you for far too long. 

He finally broke the silence, his voice low and oddly casual. 

“Tell me,” he said, tilting his head slightly, like he was genuinely curious. “What’s your pain tolerance?” 

Your throat went dry. The question was delivered too softly, too calmly, as if he were asking about your favourite colour. You forced a laugh, hoping it didn’t tremble. 

“Why would you even ask me that?” 

Jake’s lips curled into a faint smile, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together as though waiting for a confession. 

“Because,” he whispered, the syllables dragging out, “sometimes people think they can handle more than they actually can. And it’s… fascinating to see the truth.” 

You caught a flicker of something metallic behind him on the tray—a glint of steel. Surgical instruments, lined up too neatly, too deliberately. Your stomach turned. 

“This isn’t funny, Jake.” 

“Oh, it’s not a joke.” His voice was firm now, smooth as glass but edged with something sharp. “You’re strong. I can tell. But I wonder…” His fingers traced invisible patterns in the air. “…are you strong enough when the nerves start screaming?” 

He leaned back, letting the silence stretch, watching you as if waiting for you to crack. 

The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, but underneath it, there was something else—something coppery, raw. Your chest tightened. You didn’t want to know where that smell came from. 

And yet Jake smiled again, like a predator amused by its prey’s trembling. 

“Don’t look so scared,” he murmured. “I only want to understand you better.” 

"I'm going to bed" you say, getting off the chair and following the path to your bedroom. 

'It's probably his dark humor acting up on him again' you thought as you shake off the words.  

You twist and turn in bed, unable to actually; shake those words off. His voice, his words, his face when he said that- the whole scene replaying in your head repeatedly with clear details.  

With the fact that it's two in the morning and that you have college early, you close your eyes and force sleep to knock you out and forget whatever the hell just happened.  

Morning comes early, the sunlight peeking through the shades, the room unusually quiet. Your feet hit the clean marble floor, padding your way to the bathroom to get ready for the day. 

The door closes behind you with a click, you brush your teeth looking at your reflection in the mirror. You look a little worn out- not the kind that comes with exhaustion but the kind that wears out every inch of you. 

Slipping out of your clothes, you enter the shower. Keeping the temperature high- just as you like. The water drizzles down your form and once you are fully drenched, you feel a sharp pain on arm- on your bicep specifically.  

You quickly move your left hand away from the water- which is causing it to sting and take a look at your bicep. Nothing, no trace of anything. Did you hit yourself without noticing? I mean that's common, but this pain, its different.  

Your whole hand isn't hurting, only a certain spot on your bicep is stinging. The kind of sting when you put anything on the area you got injected. 

Your thoughts cut off, due to the shower suddenly stopping. Concluding that you accidently hurt yourself or slept weird you tried to turn off and on the shower. 

It wasn't working.  

Groaning, you get out, wrapping yourself in a towel and started getting ready. 

You reach the kitchen with your bag on your shoulder and phone in your hand, Jake's there, making breakfast as always.  

"Took you long enough" He says without turning around.  

Keeping your bag aside, you sit on the chair, "Shower broke" 

"Broke?" He questioned, finally turning around and bringing the plated pancakes to you.  

You nod, digging in as he does the same after sitting, "Yeah, I was taking a shower, and it stopped working the midway"  

"I'll look into it once you are back home" he says, his gaze dropping to your left hand and then back to your face. 

You nod, muttering a small thanks and leave with your bag. Your day didn't have evening classes, so, Jake didn't cook lunch for you. It always amazed you how perfectly he remembered your habits and schedules but then again, he's a science student... probably good at remember things.  

But you know, you are fooling yourself cause truth? truth hurts, and to not expect the worst, you conceal it with lying to yourself.  

Evening rolls by, you come back home. House quiet except for the faint clicking, air cold and lights on. You remove your shoes and move into the living room to see Jake seated on the sofa with his laptop, typing away. He looks up, "Hi sweetheart"  

"Hey" You reply not really surprised by the nickname since he’s been calling you things recently. 

"Come here, you look tired." He says patting beside him.  

You lazily throw your bag on the couch and go over, plopping yourself down beside him. 

"Hungry?" He asks, pushing your hair back from your forehead.  

"No" you mutter, eyes closing and stiffening lightly at his touch.  

He frowns but doesn't comment on it. "Then, let's look at that shower fix after some time?"  

You nod, already drifting into sleep. Few minutes pass by and you are knocked out. He closes his laptop slowly, keeping it aside and turns to look at you. He pulls a stranded hair behind your ear and gets up after.  

Lowering himself, he takes you in his arm and lifts you up. Walking to your bedroom and opening the door with a light push of his leg, he places you on the bed. He pulls the blanket up to your chin.  

He takes a glance at your room- the one where he often goes to when you aren't around. He goes over to the laundry basket like he's done it a thousand times before. Digging through it, he takes out your black lace bra, bringing it to his nose and smirking as he takes a breath in. 

He looks back at you, the smirk still planted on his face and leaves your room.  

The vibration and sound of your phone ringing in the back pocket of your jeans woke you up. You get up and take your phone into your hands. 

You decline the call as you learned that it was spam and notice the time.  

It's been two hours, you slept for a good two hours, you get out of the bed and out of the room to hear, blender noises. Jake wasn't in the kitchen; the grinding noises stop coming from Jake's room. 

Few minutes pass as Jake comes back from his room, his hands wet as if he just washed his hands. "You're up already?" 

You nod, "What was that?" 

"What was what?" He asks innocently, jutting his bottom lip out as if he has no clue what you are talking about.  

"Oh, you know what I'm talking about" You ask narrowing your eyes.  

His eyes darken, his expression changing immediately from cute, innocent face to daring, dangerous one.  

"Careful with your tone, doll." his voice deep, carrying that depth and then instantly, he goes back his normal, innocent boy facade which you fell for in the start,  

"I was just trying a new smoothie recipe"  

You frown, "In your... room?"  

He smiles, his eyebrow raising, his tone teasing, "What did I say about curiosity, doll?"  

"I- uh whatever, about my shower, you said you-" 

"Yep, wait for me there, I'll be back" he says disappearing into his room. 

You are leaning against the sink, your arms folded when Jake walks in with a huge box in his hand.  

He keeps the box beside you on the sink and opens it. He opens it, the box revealing quiet some variety of tools you’ve only seen in movies- some you've never seen at all.  

"Why do you even have these?"  

He looks at you and smiles noticing the look on your face,  

"Oh you know, for times like this" 

"Yea sure." You say skeptically as he gets to work. 

 Your gaze got lost in admiring the view in front of you. His veiny hands worked deftly on the tool—a weapon that seemed almost out of place in his otherwise perfect hands. 

His face was concentrated, the rings on his fingers clinking softly against the showerhead, his bracelet sliding down his forearm. His neck stretched as he leaned forward, the loose shirt revealing the curve of his collarbone.  

Oh man, it was almost laughable how turned on you were just from watching him 

The sound of water brings you back from your thoughts.  

"Thanks, Jake" you say as Jake turns it off and places it back in its place. 

He steps out of the shower, and arranges his tools in the box beside you, "Anything for you, doll" 

You unfold your hands as he searches for something on the sink's counter.  

His gaze locks onto yours and his gaze darkens a bit. He moves towards you slowly, his hand shifting to your side, effectively caging you.  

Your hands grip back against the counter as he lowers, your faces near, your heart racing. His eyes look into yours as he tilts his head a bit moving his face closer to yours. Your chest heaving up and down lightly while your knuckles turn white as you grip hard onto the counter.  

You gulp, as his nose grazes yours very lightly. 

"Spencer" He mutters, his voice hoarse. 

Lost in his eyes and the moment, unable to comprehend what he said,  

"Huh?"  

"Spencer, baby." He says as he backs away showing you the spencer he took from behind you. 

You clear your throat, embarrassed and remove yourself from the counter.  

His face carrying that knowing smirk as he puts the spencer back in the closes the huge box with a click, "What do you want for dinner?"  

"Um anything's fine" you say quickly trying to get him out as soon as possible. 

"Alright, I'll call you when it's done." He says taking away the box.  

You nod quickly as he leaves.  

Scrolling through your TikTok FYP, you try to erase what happened. The closeness, his face, his presence, his hands caging you— 

"Dinner's ready!"  

Jake shouts from the kitchen. You get out of bed, away from your room, away from your thoughts.  

You sit yourself near the counter and Jake plates your food.  

You adjust yourself on the highchair. Your calf touches the cold metal of the chair's legs, and you wince at the contact. Frowning, you look at your leg to see a small cut. 

What the actual fuck?  

You think as you inspect it further.  

Jake's voice brings you back to your senses again, "Here you go, doll" he plates the freshly made pasta in front of you. 

You both complete the dinner talking about random stuff. 

After dinner, Jake began tidying up the living room while you remained seated, scrolling through your phone—still desperate for a proper explanation for your cut. 

Google wasn’t much help, so you forced your brain to replay every possible cause. 

Nothing. 

Your gaze drifted toward Jake. Could he...? - no 

Stupid. Sure, he’s weird but he isn't a psycho.  

Only if you knew... 

Days went by without incident—or at least, that’s what you told yourself. 

You get out of your bedroom, bored and see Jake seated on the couch.  

“Wanna watch a movie, baby?” Jake asks as he catches your gaze.  

You nod, thinking it would be a distraction with the whirlwind of thoughts running through your mind. You turn off the kitchen lights making the whole house dark, the living room’s lights were already off. The only source of light, coming from the TV. You go over and sit beside him. 

“What do you wanna watch?” He asks, his hand going onto the couch- just behind your shoulder.  

“Anything’s fine” you say as he hums.  

He puts on a classic, horror thriller. Weird, but okay. It’s a good movie after all.  

You lean back, the bare back of your neck touching his hand. He doesn’t move, neither do you. Halfway into the movie,  

“It’s hot, isn't it?”  

You frown. It’s anything but hot and that’s why you have a huge ass blanket on your lap. 

“No, it’s-” Before you can continue, he retracts his arm which was supporting your neck and removes his shirt.  

Just.Like.That.  

He throws the shirt away on the couch and moves closer to you.  

He wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer to his bare front. His other hand going around your stomach, locking you.  

“What? Didn’t you say it was hot?” You ask looking up at him. 

He hums thoughtfully, his gaze on the TV as he pulls you closer, “Well, now I’m cold.” 

Rolling your eyes playfully, you continue to look at the film rolling. The proximity making your heartbeat race.  

A sensual scene plays, the main leads kissing eachother with passion and hunger. You clear your throat trying to avoid the fact that his hands tightened around your form. You look up at him to see that his gaze was already on you.  

You face close. Reminding you of the day he caged you against the sink. 

His eyes drift to your lips as he moves closer, his breath hitting your face. You let your gaze dip down to his plump lips, imagining how they’d feel and taste.  

He tilts his head, your lips just a breath away. You close your eyes at your lips grazing eachother.  

And just as you were about to kiss- the doorbell rings, breaking the spell. 

Jake closes his eyes in frustration, “Fuck” 

He looks at the pathway and gets up from the couch, going towards the door to see who the hell cock blocked them.  

You run your hands through your hair, What the fuck just happened. 

Shaking your head, you leave to your room.  

Days passed by quickly. The only class you had today got cancelled, and you don't have any plans either. Meaning, you are free the whole day. 

Nothing changed after that day. He only grew more clingy, if that's even possible. 

Your body though, it grew more sore than ever as each day passed by. 

Currently, you are in the living room vacuuming since Jake went out for work. Your body isn't cooperating at all, but it's the least you can do when he does every work. 

You soon reach his room. You don't go in, of course, with number of times he I warned you- you wouldn't dare. 

You were cleaning the pathway to his room, focused on the steady hum of the vacuum. Too focused to notice the thin wire stretched across the floor. 

The moment you twisted the vacuum and stepped forward, your foot caught. 

You stumbled—hard—crashing against a door. 

It swung open at once, unlocked, and you tumbled inside, landing flat on the floor with a thud. 

Groaning, you rubbed your elbows, checking for any injuries. 

Happy to see none, you finally stand and look up. Only to realize, you were in Jake's bedroom. Your heart stopped beating.  

His room- the one which he warned not to go, was there, calm and still in your presence. Everything was normal- a bed, closer, table- just a typical bedroom... right?  

You look back, out of fear. To see if he’s there, confirming that you are alone, you enter further into his room. There was a door to the side. It wasn’t the bathroom, cause his lies on the outside of the room.  

Curiosity kills the cat. But you went for it anyway. You slowly walked towards the door, each step echoing louder than the previous one.  

The house eerily quiet behind you.  

You place your hand on the doorknob. A beat.  

You turn the knob and open the door to be hit with a chemical smell.  

You quickly cover your nose with the neck of your shirt and dared to look inside. Your heart stopped. Your eyes widen. You stumble back at the sight infront of you.  

There were, numerous glass jars, each containing hearts, lungs, kidneys- multiple, different organs. Bones placed neatly on the walls of the room. Blood marks everywhere. Parts of human body lines up on a table. The sight sent a shiver down your spine.  

And most of all, a girl on a clinical bed, held back with restraints and is unconscious.  

Your eyes teared up, your hands trembling, your breath quickened.  

You shake your head, No, no, no, I have to inform the police, I have to-  

You think as you turn, your chest heaving up and down, heavily. Then here he was, Jake. With that innocent look on his face and in your personal space. 

You scream at his sudden appearance and move back. He takes small, tentative steps to you. Shake your head and with your trembling, “No, no! Don't come near me!” 

He chuckles at that, “Well, I told you to not enter my room. But you did. Why should I listen to what you said when you didn’t?”  

You move around the room, toppling over things. Jake winces and puts on a worried facade, “Shh, slowly. We don’t want you hurt, do we?” 

You run straight to the door and just as you reach the door and get out- Jake holds your wrist from behind. He pulls you back onto his chest, “Not so easy, Y/N”  

You wriggle in his grip as he locks the bedroom’s door. You manage to get out of his grip and turn to him.  

His eyes darken, “The roommate agreement works both ways. You broke my rule. Now I get to break you.” 

He takes a syringe from the table beside you and before you can do anything, he gets a hold of you and injects it into your neck. You wince at the sharp sting as your energy drains, and your head feels lighter. Your eyelids flutter close, you collapse in his arms, losing consciousness.  

The faint sound of muffles in the background wake you up. Your whole-body sore, never like before. Your vision blurry as you open your eyes. Your head pounding, your throat dried up and burning.  

You try to bring your hand up to hold your head only to notice that both of your hands and legs are tied to the chair you are seated in. Your mouth taped as you finally register your surroundings.  

You shake your head, clenched your fists to make your vision clear and see the sight infront of you. 

Oh, how you wish you were still unconscious.  

There he was, Jake, near the clinical bed. The girl on it, awake, wriggling and screaming.  

Jake hisses putting on his gloves, “Shh, you’ll wake my love up” 

The girl looks at you and increases her screams and wriggles. Jake follows her gaze to notice you, staring at the scene infront.  

“Oh, sorry for the disturbance, baby. This’ll be quick, I promise.” he says, his voice dripping with honey and then, turns to the girl. 

“I told you to stay quiet, didn’t I? Now, she woke up. How many mistakes will you make Jung-ha? Be ready to pay for it”  

The girl- whose name is Jung-ha, shakes her head, “No! No! I’m sorry, I'm sorry”  

“Hmm, too late. You should’ve thought twice before betraying my brother and for killing him.” 

Jung-ha widens her eyes, “No! What?! No! I didn’t kill him! It was a suicide!”  

“And, why do you think he committed it? Because of you. He couldn’t handle the betrayal done by his, Oh, so dear, Jung-ha" 

“That doesn’t mean it’s my fault!” 

“Oh, but it is, your fault. And you’ll pay for it by sacrificing  yourself and helping me use you in my experiment.”  

Before Jung-ha can let another word out, he silences her by giving her an injection.  

Confirming she’s not fighting back, he takes a blade, twisting it, the light making the sharp tool gleam. He then went straight for the throat. The sharp of the blade in contact with her neck. 

He doesn’t wait. He digs the blade deeper until her skin is cut and drags it back as if he’s drawing- the blade his lead and her throat- his canvas.  

The blood seeps through as a huge cut forms on her neck. The nerves being cut and pulled, her skin on neck- once joint- now divided into two separate pathways.

He takes another syringe and moves the nerves. Her literal nerves with his fingers which are now pressed deep into her open skin. 

He doesn’t pause. Another syringe appears in his hand. He pushes his fingers—gloved but already slick with her blood—into the wound, pressing past tissue that should never be touched.

He hooks her nerves aside, lifting them like wires, and clears space to drive the syringe needle directly into the raw cut. 

Then his fingers keep going. They fumble downward until they find the delicate rise of her larynx. “This is what you get for waking my girl up” he mutters to himself and continues.  

He scrapes. Not with the blade, but with his nails—raking against the cartilage until it powders, flecks of bloody white calcium catching on his fingertips. He collects them carefully, almost reverently, into a waiting petri dish. 

You try to scream, but only heat rises in your throat. Your mouth is sealed shut, and your voice—the one thing that should save you—dies before it can even begin. 

He doesn’t stop there. The blade lowers again, and with a swift flick he retracts the torn flesh wider, exposing the pale shimmer of her larynx. Metal hooks dig in, prying her throat open like the cover of a book no one should read. 

His gloved fingers move with sick precision, tugging until the fragile strands of her vocal cords come into view—thin, trembling filaments, slick with blood. He smiles, humming softly as he pinches them between forceps. 

“Delicate little strings,” he whispers, almost tender. “No wonder he loved you.” 

A clean snip, and the cords fall limp. He holds them up to the light as if inspecting jewellery, then drops them into a glass vial of preservative fluid. The cords coil at the bottom like worms drowned in amber. 

But the hollow space left behind isn’t enough. Jake digs into his box, pulling out a reel of fine wire. With practiced ease, he threads the metallic lines into the raw cavity, stitching them where flesh once vibrated.

The wires glint with each movement, humming faintly when plucked, a mechanical voice that will never speak. 

“Better,” he murmurs, tugging the last knot tight. “Now you’ll sing for me forever.” 

He doesn’t bother closing the wound properly. Instead, he threads the needle through skin and muscle at random, crossing layers that were never meant to meet.

Veins bulge where they’ve been pulled into the wrong place; cartilage juts under puckered seams. Each stitch puckers her flesh into warped ridges, like a doll made by unsteady hands. 

By the time he ties off the last suture, her neck is no longer human. From a distance, it might almost pass for healed—but up close, the seams twist into deliberate shapes. A crooked smile carved into her throat. An ugly emblem of ownership. 

Jake steps back, admiring his work, his gloves dripping crimson. He tilts his head as though he’s painted a masterpiece, then wipes the blade clean with slow, meticulous strokes. 

“You’ll never betray anyone again,” he tells the ruined body, his voice low, reverent. 

And then, as though remembering you’re still watching, his dark eyes flicker up—locking on yours, shining with that same satisfied smirk. 

The other girl’s body was still on the table, neck sewn up in jagged, crooked lines that looked more like a child’s handwriting than stitches.

He peeled off one glove finger by finger — slowly, deliberately — but left the other still clinging, soaked red. 

His gaze slid to you. You froze as he stepped closer. 

He crouched in front of you, grabbing your chin with the bloodied glove. Your skin burned where it smeared across. He ripped the tape of your mouth with so much care as if he were handling porcelain.  

Before you can utter anything- his mouth was on yours—hot, unyielding, swallowing every protest you tried to push out. 

“Mm—stop—don’t—” Your words broke against his tongue, muffled and useless. 

He tightened his hold, thumb pressing almost painfully against your cheekbone. His kiss was frantic, not lustful but obsessive, like he needed to consume every part of you. 

When he pulled back for air, he kept your face locked in his grip, eyes boring into yours with feverish intensity. His breath fanned over your lips. 

“You taste like life,” he whispered hoarsely, smearing the smear of blood from his palm against your skin as though marking you. “So warm, so alive… mine.” 

You shook your head, your voice shaking. “Please… don’t…” 

He leaned in again, his lips grazing your trembling ones, but this time he slowed—mocking gentleness, a predator pretending to soothe. “Shh… I’ll take care of you. I’ll keep you beautiful… even if I have to cut you open to do it.” 

Your head spun, the taste of his kiss still clinging like poison. His hands—hot, sticky with blood—cupped your face until the world tilted sideways.  

The room swam, black at the edges, and your body gave up before your mind could. Darkness rushed in. Your eyes closed as you lose consciousness.

When you woke again, it wasn’t the cold steel of the operating table beneath you. Soft sheets pressed against your skin. A blanket—thick, heavy, suffocating in its warmth—was pulled up to your chest. The air smelled faintly of lavender and antiseptic. 

For a split second, you thought you were safe. 

Then your eyes adjusted. Curtains nailed shut. Every window barred. The vents sealed with screws. Even the clock on the wall had no hands, frozen forever in silence. 

Your stomach knotted. 

The door clicked before you could move. He walked in—Jake—carrying a tray. Fresh clothes draped over his arm, steaming food balanced carefully beside them. He looked at you the way someone looks at something they’ve already claimed. 

“Good morning, love,” he said softly, as if you hadn’t just seen him slit open another girl days before. His smile stretched warm, but his eyes burned. “You fainted, but don’t worry. I’ve taken care of everything. You’re safe now. With me.” 

You tried to push yourself up, throat dry, but he was already there. He pressed a hand against your shoulder, holding you down with ease, the way someone holds down a restless patient. 

“Shh.” He smoothed your hair back, fingers lingering too long against your temple. “Don’t strain yourself. You’re still weak. That’s why I’m here—to do everything for you.” 

His hand slid from your temple to your jaw, thumb brushing your lips in a mockery of tenderness. 

“See? I take care of you. You don’t need the world anymore. Just me.” 

Your gaze flicked toward the locked door, but he noticed. Of course he noticed. His smile didn’t falter, but his grip on your face tightened. 

“Why do you look at the door like that, hm? It’s locked for a reason. The world out there would only hurt you. Here, you’ll never be hurt again.” 

Your chest rose, trembling, words caught in your throat. He leaned closer, so close you could feel the heat of his breath. 

“Don’t cry,” he whispered. “Don’t scream. You’ll only make me tighten the locks… and I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Why are you doing this?” you ask, your throat threatening to escape a sob.  

His eyes darken and said as if it's the most obvious thing ever, “Because I love you, silly.” 

Your lips trembled, the word love scraping raw inside your ears like broken glass. He said it so easily, so gently, as if it weren’t a chain tightening around your neck. 

Jake set the tray down on the nightstand with careful precision. Steam curled from the bowl, the smell of rice and broth filling the air. He picked up the spoon, stirred slowly, then blew on it before lifting it toward your mouth. 

“Open,” he coaxed, his tone sweet, almost teasing. “You need your strength. For me.” 

You turned your head aside, a sliver of defiance sparking in your chest. But his hand was already at your chin, firm, forcing you back to face him. The metal spoon hovered at your lips like a threat disguised as kindness. 

“Don’t make this difficult,” he murmured, smile still painted on but his eyes hardening. “You don’t want me to be upset, do you?” 

Your jaw clenched. Slowly, reluctantly, you parted your lips. The taste of broth slid across your tongue, warm but heavy, like swallowing surrender. His smile bloomed, proud, radiant. 

“There,” he praised, voice low and honeyed. “Good girl. See how easy that was? You don’t have to think anymore. I’ll do it all for you.” 

He fed you another spoonful, then another, watching every swallow with the intense focus of a man savoring possession. Occasionally, his thumb stroked your cheek, smearing the dampness of your silent tears as though wiping them away. 

When the bowl was finally empty, he set it aside with a satisfied sigh. “Perfect,” he whispered. “Now… let’s get you dressed.” 

The clothes he had carried in waited on the tray—soft fabric, delicate lace, not yours. They looked less like comfort and more like costume.

He picked them up carefully, holding them against your body, measuring them with his eyes, his smile twisting into something reverent. 

“You’ll look beautiful in this,” he said, almost dreamily. “Like you were made for me.” 

Your hands clutched the blanket, knuckles white, but he peeled it back with practiced ease. His hands on your shirt, tugging it off and removes your bottoms after all while taking in every inch of your bare skin- your body.

The air bit cold against your skin as he stripped away what you were wearing—too clinical to be lustful, too lingering to be innocent. His blood-stained tenderness made your stomach twist. 

“Don’t be shy,” he crooned, slipping the fabric over your head, guiding your arms through as though you were a doll. “There’s nothing of you I haven’t already seen.” 

His hands smoothed the fabric down your sides, adjusting every wrinkle, every fold, until you stood wrapped in the clothes he had chosen. His gaze roamed you, satisfied, possessive, and when his eyes met yours again, they gleamed with a dangerous sort of joy. 

“Yes,” he whispered, leaning in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Perfect. Mine.” 

The first few days were silence and locked doors. Jake would come in with food, speak softly, and watch you with those unnervingly tender eyes. He brushed your hair back like you were porcelain — breakable, precious, his. 

But as the days stretched, your resistance was like knives to him. You looked away when he tried to hold you, flinched when he touched your cheek, refused to answer when he murmured “I love you.” 

Tonight was different. His grip wasn’t careful anymore when he caught your wrist, dragging you closer. His other hand slammed the tray of food against the wall, the crash ringing in your ears. 

“Why would you do that?” His voice cracked, equal parts fury and despair. He shook his head, forehead pressing against yours with desperate force. “Why would you make me hurt you? I love you so much—don’t you get it?” 

When you tried to pull away, he snapped—backhanding you so suddenly your head whipped to the side. The sting burned, your breath shaky. Jake froze for a second, horrified at himself, then cupped your face with trembling hands, almost frantic. 

“Don’t make me do this,” he whispered, thumbs smearing against the tear slipping free. His lips brushed your temple, a shudder running through him. “It kills me to hurt you. Don’t… don’t push me away, please. Just love me back… that’s all I need.” 

But even as he begged, his fingers dug into your skin, bruising in their need to keep you close. 

The days that follow are strangely quiet. Jake wakes up earlier than you, his humming drifting from the kitchen, the faint smell of pancakes and coffee sneaking into your room. 

When you finally get up, he’s already waiting with a plate, pulling out a chair for you. His tone is careful, almost sweet. 

Jake starts, “Morning, sunshine. You slept in today. That’s good—your body needs rest.” 

You hesitate, your arms brushing against the long sleeves you’ve chosen to hide the marks. He notices, his eyes flickering for the briefest second, but his smile stays fixed. 

He sets the plate infront of you, “Eat well, okay? I made them just the way you like… soft in the middle.” 

He sits across from you, watching every small movement like you’re something delicate. His hand occasionally reaches out, brushing yours, or tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The gentleness almost makes you forget the sting that still lingers beneath your clothes. 

Later in the day, he leads you to the garden. It’s fenced off, tall hedges surrounding the space, but it’s still outside, the fresh air wrapping around you for the first time in what feels like forever. 

“See? I told you I’d let you out. You’ve been good… so I’ll let you walk around. Breathe.” He says smiling softly. 

You glance at him, uncertain, testing the distance. He doesn’t stop you when you take a few cautious steps away. But his gaze never leaves you. You can feel it pressing into your back no matter where you move. 

He follows after a while, slipping his arm around your shoulders, gentle but firm enough that you can’t shrug him off. 

He keeps his chin on your shoulder, “Moments like this… don’t you think they prove it? That we can be happy here, just the two of us? No one to hurt us. No one to take you away.” 

His tone is soft, almost convincing. For anyone else, it might sound like devotion. But the bruises hidden under your sleeves remind you of the cost of saying no. 

As the sun dips, he presses a kiss to your temple and whispers, “Don’t ever forget—you’re mine. And I’ll take care of you. Always.” 

The room was quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioner. You sat at the edge of the bed, your hands clutching the blanket tightly, trying to make yourself smaller, trying not to provoke him. But Jake noticed everything. 

He stepped closer, his bare feet silent against the floorboards, and crouched in front of you. His fingers tilted your chin up, but the grip wasn’t gentle this time—it was hard enough to leave a mark. 

"Why… why are you pulling away from me again?" 

You didn’t answer, your lips pressed shut. The silence made his jaw tighten. 

"Do you know how much it hurts when you look at me like I’m a monster? I’m not a monster. I love you. Don’t you understand that?" 

When you still wouldn’t answer, he stood abruptly. The sudden movement made you flinch, which only seemed to trigger something deeper in him. He grabbed your wrists and yanked you up from the bed. 

You stumbled, your arm colliding with the edge of the nightstand. A dull pain shot up against your already bruised arm as you gasped, but Jake didn’t let go. He pressed you against the wall, his hands pinning your shoulders. 

"Why would you make me do this? Don’t you see? It’s killing me to hurt you… but you’re forcing me. If you just loved me back the way I love you, I wouldn’t have to—" 

He cut himself as tears welled up in your eyes, partly from the pain, partly from the shock. He saw them, and instead of guilt, something twisted appeared in his gaze—an almost frantic tenderness. He cupped your face with the same hand that had pushed you hard against the wall, his thumb brushing away the tears. 

"Look… I hate this. I hate hurting you. But you’re not listening to me. Don’t make me go further. Please, baby, don’t do this to us." 

You swallowed hard, your voice breaking as you whispered: "Jake… please. You’re hurting me." 

His grip only tightened, his forehead pressing against yours, breath uneven. 

"I know. I know, baby. But it’s only because I love you so much it drives me insane. These bruises… they’re proof. Proof that I can’t live without you. Proof that you’re mine." 

He pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth—rough, forceful, not seeking permission. His body caged you against the wall, and when you tried to turn away, his hands clamped harder on your arms. The pressure left deep, blossoming bruises beneath his fingers. 

"Don’t fight me. Please. Don’t push me away anymore. I’ll do anything, I’ll bleed for you, I’ll kill for you. But don’t make me feel like this again. Don’t make me hurt you like this again." 

Your chest heaved, the air thick and suffocating, as you realized—this wasn’t just love anymore. This was Jake’s twisted version of it, a love that left marks on your skin, and a cage around your heart. 

Months slipped by before you even realized it. Days blurred into one another, the edges of time softening. What had started as a cage of fear had shifted—subtly, frighteningly—into something else. 

He wasn’t cruel anymore, not like that first night. Jake had become… gentler. He didn’t lock you away, didn’t raise his voice. Instead, he spoke to you like you were fragile porcelain, like he couldn’t risk breaking you. 

Somewhere along the line, your resistance had dulled. Your body still remembered what it felt like to fight, but your mind… your mind had started to give in, weaving small, hesitant threads of false comfort. 

It was nightime when it happened. The lamps in the living room cast a low amber glow, bathing everything in warmth. 

Jake sat on the couch, a book in his lap he wasn’t really reading, while you lingered on the other end. Silence stretched, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable but heavy, charged. 

You caught yourself staring at him—the relaxed curve of his jaw, the way his lashes lowered as he pretended to skim the page. 

And then his eyes lifted to meet yours. 

You froze, your lips parting just slightly. Something in his gaze was different tonight. Not sharp. Not possessive. But intent. His book slipped closed, his hand resting on it lazily, and he leaned forward just a little, like a predator testing the waters. 

“You’ve gotten quiet,” he said softly. His voice was smooth, almost coaxing. 

Your throat tightened. “Just… tired.” 

A small smile tugged at his mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “No. Not tired.” He tilted his head. “You’re thinking.” 

The weight of his words made you avert your eyes, but you could still feel his gaze burning into you. He stood then, slow, deliberate steps carrying him closer. You held still, your body tense but unwilling to move away. He stopped right in front of you, his shadow falling over your frame. 

“Look at me.” 

You obeyed before you even thought about it, your eyes lifting back to his. And then it happened—his hand rose, fingers brushing against your jaw. 

His touch was feather-light at first, almost cautious, and it made your chest ache in confusion. How could someone who broke you hold you so carefully now? 

His thumb traced the edge of your lower lip, and your breath hitched. The silence wrapped tighter around you, the space between you collapsing inch by inch. 

“Do you know,” Jake whispered, voice low and warm, “how long I’ve been waiting for this?” 

Your lips parted, but no words came. Your heart pounded in your ears as he leaned closer, so close you could feel his breath fan across your cheek, smell the faint hint of cologne lingering on his shirt. 

And then his mouth touched yours. 

It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t rough. It was slow—agonizingly slow, like he wanted to savor every second of you giving in. His lips pressed against yours gently at first, testing, as though he needed your body’s permission even if he already owned you. 

You froze, your lashes fluttering shut, your mind screaming at you to push him away—but your body betrayed you, melting into the warmth of his mouth. 

When he felt you respond, even slightly, he deepened the kiss. His free hand slid to the back of your neck, anchoring you as his lips moved against yours with more intent now. The kiss stretched, long and intoxicating, pulling the air right out of your lungs. 

Your hands gripped the edge of the couch, knuckles white, because you didn’t trust yourself not to reach for him. His tongue brushed against your lips, teasing, asking for more, and without even realizing it, you granted him access. 

The taste of him flooded your senses—familiar and overwhelming—and you shivered, letting out a small, unintentional sound into his mouth. 

That sound seemed to shatter whatever restraint he’d been clinging to. His kiss grew hungrier, more insistent, like he wanted to consume every piece of you until there was nothing left. 

And still, he never let go of the gentleness—his grip at your neck was firm but not harsh, his other hand ghosting along your jaw like a promise. 

When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t sudden. He drew away slowly, lips parting from yours with the faintest brush, as though reluctant to let the moment end. Your chest rose and fell sharply, breath stolen, lips tingling and swollen from the heat of his kiss. 

Jake’s forehead pressed against yours, his voice a whisper in the dark. 

“See? You belong here.” 

And in that moment, with your heart racing and your lips trembling from the kiss, you almost believed him. 

It was a random day. You were sitting on the bed- his bed, going through your phone. 

He does let you use your phone but only after weeks of you proving you can be ‘trusted.’ You used to scroll through your contacts, your thumb hovering over names you once thought you couldn’t live without… but somehow, you don’t press call.  

You don’t even text. Maybe it’s because you know he’ll see. You’re scared, wondering if you are going to be the next Jung-ha. You never asked him, what she did to his brother- hell, you didn’t even know he had a brother.  

But it’s best to stay quiet and not let curiosity take over you.  

It was 9pm, the door opens with the click. He comes by slowly, closing the door behind him. His eyes find yours as he immediately climbs into the bed next to you.  

“Missed me?” he asks, his voice soft as his hand goes over your stomach pulls you closer to him.  

You nod, not really meaning it.  

He doesn’t see it. Maybe he does, maybe he’s pretending not to notice your non-meaninful responses. He snuggles his face in your neck as you scroll through your phone.  

His hand slips to your chest, cupping your breast over your clothes as he starts, “I was looking through your contacts yesterday,”  

You finger stops mid-way scrolling. This is not going to end well.  

He caresses your breast with his thumb, “And I got curious, and went through your chats with him. Tell me why he is so interested in you?” 

You pause. 

“Ja-Jake, I don’t see him like that- I-I don’t like him like that.” you say hoping you’d find a way out from this mess. 

“But he does. He does see you and like you like that, and I don't like it.”  

“Y-You’re the only one I care about! Right? You know that right, Jake?” you ask desprate to convince him that only he’s there in your heart when you don’t even know if you have a heart anymore. It’s so bland. It’s like everything is under his control- Jake's control.  

“But he doesn’t!” he says, angry and moves as his hand hovers over the bedside table.  

Before you can say anything, you see it- the knife. The blade glinting, sharp and reflecting your face.  

“Jake w-what're you doing?” you ask, backing away.  

“Oh, just reminding that you’re mine” he says he crawls to you.  

Your back hits the headboard as you franticly try to escape.  

He keeps his knees of either side of your legs while holding your wrist, making it hard for you to move away. Your phone long gone on the mattress somewhere. 

He brings the knife slowly towards your inner forearm. He caress the skin there with the sharper side of the blade gently as you shake from fear. 

“Jake-Jake please” 

He shakes his head, “Lemme teach you a lesson, yea?” 

The point tip of the knife against your skin now. He digs it deeps as you wince, your breath quickening. He drags the knife back against your skin, the skin tearing apart as blood surfaces.  

You hiss at the extreme pain, tears rolling down your cheek as you try to pull your hand back. 

Sobs breaking out, and with your breathing heavy, “Jake- please- ah- I can’t t-take it” 

“Should've thought twice while interacting with someone, sweetheart.”  

The blood’s dripping down, staining your clothes, the sheets and your memory.  

And in that moment of desperation, you say it. 

“Baby? Baby! I- I love you-I-I really do-yea? P-please, t-that's what you want right?”  

He stops. The knife not digging into the layers of your skin anymore.  

He looks into your eyes, to see through you- if you really mean it or not.  

“Say it again.”  

You swallow, your energy draining, “I-I love you” 

He grips on your open skin, as you wince at the sharp pain.  

He says with his jaw clenched, “Say it again while calling me that.”  

You sob, the pain unbearable, “Jake- Baby, I love you, so much. Please, stop”  

He throws the stained knife on the floor recklessly, the force causing blood to splatter across the floor as he takes you in his arms, looking suddenly sympathetic  

“Tch. Tch. That wasn’t so hard, wasn’t it?”  

He cradles your face as he looks down at you with a pout as if he wasn't the one who literally made you bleed.  

“Ah my poor baby, you wouldn’t have gone through all that if you were just honest to me. Look what happened now.”  

Jake doesn’t let go. His arms stay wrapped around you, pulling you tighter against him despite your trembling. His breath fans hot against your hair as he rocks you slightly, like he’s trying to soothe a crying child. 

“You see, baby?” he whispers, almost crooning. “You do love me. You just keep forgetting. And that hurts me more than this hurts you.” 

Your forearm throbs, blood warm against both of you. He doesn’t even try to stop it at first—just holds you, smearing red across your clothes, across his shirt. Finally, after long moments of silence where your sobs echo in the locked room, he pulls back enough to press his lips against your wet cheek. 

“Shh. No more tears. You’ve given me what I wanted… that’s enough for today.” 

His hands, still sticky with your blood, cradle your face as he kisses you—slow, possessive, swallowing your broken breaths. When he pulls away, he looks almost triumphant. 

He stands suddenly, retrieving a rag and bandages from the dresser. You flinch when he reaches for you again, but his voice softens, almost playful: 

“Don’t be scared, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you. Always.” 

He cleans the wound with deliberate slowness, the sting sharp enough to make you jolt, but every time you try to pull away he tuts and presses you back down. 

“Stay still, baby. Let me fix what you made me do.” 

When he finishes wrapping your arm, he presses a kiss to the bandage, like sealing his claim. His smile is too warm for the situation, too proud, as if he’s pleased you’ve finally “learned.” 

“See? Now you’re mine properly. No more testing me. You’ll love me the way I love you… or I’ll make you remember again.” 

He pushes you back against the pillows, lying beside you, one arm tight around your waist so you can’t slip away. His head rests against yours like you’re lovers, not captor and prisoner. 

“Say it once more before you sleep,” he murmurs into your hair. “Say you love me, baby.” 

Your eyes flutter close- not out of comfort but out of tiredness. You submit.  

“I love you.” 

You say it, knowing you don’t really mean it. He probably knows it too, but pretends not to. In the end, that’s what you two are—pretense. Pretending to be something you’re not. But that’s the only way you both can survive. And for survival? You’ll do anything. 

©mrsjjongstby all writing belong to me. do not copy, modify or repost my works.

perm taglist: @gnarlyhoons @stormlit-pages @himynameisraelynn @see-c @shra-vasti @heesbbygurl @elikajinnie @jwyoceans @jaylaxies @hees-h0e (open! comment or send an ask if you want to be added!)

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A/N: aaaaaaaaaaand thats a wrappp lol, it got gore-y towards the ending.......... ATLEAST I THINK SO. the starting is just idk i dont like it but its fine i feel like but i loveeeeeeeeeeee the ending. anyways, sorry for taking so long nd hope y'all liked it!

[mrsjjongstby]

🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇲​​🇸​ & ​🇨​​🇴​​🇳​​🇩​​🇮​​🇹​​🇮​​🇴​​🇳​​🇸​ - S.JY

p: roommate!jake x fem!reader

warnings: gore, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT!, medical horror, stalking, obsession, non-con medical procedures, implied drugging, graphic depictions of violence, psychological manipulation, restraints, mild language, cursing, creepy roommate behaviour, body horror, disturbing, needle usage, mentions of blood, internal organs, disturbing methods of medical procedures, medical horror, gore descriptions, yandere themes.

synopsis: When you move in with Jake, a charming scientist offering cheap rent and easy company, you agree to his one condition—never enter his bedroom. But as you continue to live with him, you uncover the dark truth: Jake isn’t just handsome and sweet—he’s dangerously obsessed with you, and his “experiments” hide horrors you were never meant to see.

Wordcount: 11.1k

The ad came to you by luck. You just got accepted into this new university which is away from home, and you were looking for a place to stay.  

The uni dorms aren't as reliable as they seem- considering the many break in stories and unhygienic living conditions told by the residents. You could stay at home and attend uni but that would mean for you to wake up before the sun rises and get on a two hour journey- yea, no way.  

So, you began roommate hunting after you realized that living alone in an apartment is out of your budget. And that's when the ad found you. A pretty huge loft's owner is searching for another tenant- to fill out the huge place.  

You would've skipped past the ad easily just like how you did for the past fifteen ads, but the rent caught your eye- it was cheap for the huge space- and in your budget.  

Just like that, you called the number given without thinking twice and arranged a meeting at a local coffee shop.   

The bell chimes above you as you walk in the café- your eyes dart around to find a person wearing, "navy blue hoodie with black washed jeans" just like he said. Soon, you found a hand waving at you wearing the description given to you by the owner. You wave back a little and go over to where he is.  

You took a good look at him and- damn, he looks divine. As if the gods themselves carved his face with deliberate precision. He could easily pass as a model, and the thought hits you like a punch: if luck’s on your side, you might actually be living with him after this talk.

"Sorry, Did I make you wait?" You ask after saying thanks to for pulling your chair back so, you can sit. 

He goes over to the other side and sits while closing his laptop, "Oh no, of course not. I just was doing some research." 

You nod. A beat. He rubs his hands together and then outstretches it to you smiling, "Sim Jaehyun, you can call me Jake."  

You accept it- his hand rough and large compared to yours, "Y/n."  

His grip tightened just as you say your name but you don't think of it much, brushing it off as an accident. You retrieve your hand back as he talks again, "Lets order something before we start our talk?"  

"Yeah, sounds cool." You say as your eyes skim through the menu card.  

Jake calls the waiter and orders for both of you after you tell him what you want. Once the waiter leaves, he turns his attention back to you.  “I’m a scientist, sooo… don’t be surprised if I blurt out random biological facts sometimes.” 

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Thanks for the heads-up. I’m studying agricultural science, so I may not know as much as you, but I do know that the tea you ordered comes from leaves that only grow in very specific weather conditions.” 

His smile widens at that, "Good to know that we have a common ground."   

"Yeah. Anything else I need to know?" You ask as the waiter sets down your latte and his tea.  

"Oh yes. They aren’t much. Just that I come home late at night—you know how it is, working for science. But most of the time I’ll be home. I can cook us meals, do the laundry, you don’t have to worry about that. And while we’re on that topic—most of my work is done at home, in my room. I have a workspace there, which is why I don’t want you to enter my room. At all." 

"Oh, interesting. We could take turns in doing the chores and yeah, I will not even dare to go near the premises!" You say, trying not to miss this perfect stay with a perfectly fine af roommate.  

"Thanks. Then, I'm sure we'll get along pretty well. So, when are you planning to move in?"

And just like that you moved in after some adult- financial talks and documents which usually bore you but Jake made it easy for you to follow up. The first day wasn't weird- sure it was new, different but it felt nice having your 'technically' own space and not having to wake up before the sun.   

Jake was nothing but sweet, he cooked meals for you, packed lunch for you if he had to. cleaned the house- even your room and just wasn't fan of the 'hook up culture' considering that he never once bought up about a girl.  

You wonder if he's got a girl or not, but you shrug those thoughts away. He even did your laundry before you got to it, folding everything with eerie precision — even garments you wouldn’t normally want someone touching. 

True to his word, when Jake did go to work outside, he comes late at night- most of the time you're already in your dreamland and realize he was home the next day morning when he's making coffee for both of you in the kitchen.  

He never mentions anything too deep about his work, just talks about this new 'project' which he's starting, and he can't wait to work on it.  

You never pried; just grateful you were getting more than you bargained for. If only you knew—soon, you’d be getting far more than you bargained for. 

Today was one of those nights where he went out, you didn't even look in the direction of his room, just working on your thesis near the kitchen counter.  

You hear the door click, huh, weird you thought looking at the time in your laptop, 1:45 a.m. damn, you didn't realize you've been working for three hours straight.  

You hear shoes shuffling and soon see Jake walking towards the kitchen where you are at, his hair was damp from the drizzle outside, but the faint metallic smell of iron lingered as he passed you and new cuts on his fingers you don’t know the root cause to.  

His eyes meet yours and you see them flicker with surprise- "You're still awake?" He asks, his eyes moving to your laptop.  

You look at the screen as he goes over to the refrigerator, "Yeah, I didn’t realize the time- been working on this research."  

He gets a bottle nodding and closes the door while opening the cap, he turns- his front facing you, "How was the dinner with your friends?"  

Odd. 

You didn’t tell him you had dinner with your friends. matter of fact. it was a last-minute plan. 

"Um yea, it was good, how'd you know?"  

"Just a guess." He said, unbothered.  

Few days pass just like that, it was starting to get weird. The initial sounds you heard when you first moved in didn’t stop, they only grew weirder and louder. And Jake wasn't helping either, he would dismiss your creeps saying your exhaustion was getting to you and that he isn't hearing any thing and you believed, you truly did. cause why wouldn't you?  

Midnight rolls by. The sounds stopped—but the silence felt heavier than the noises ever did. You went to the kitchen, to get yourself a glass of water. The cups are cleaned neatly and kept up by Jake but the only problem was that he kept it high, and you need one of the glass. You get on your tip toes, trying to reach the glass. You huff after not being able to get it and try again.   

You didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear his door open. A hand reaches past you as you feel a presence behind you.

You turn your face to see Jake- shirtless and in his grey sweatpants that always made you think of things you shouldn't. His eyes are fixed on your face, your cheeks turn red at the close intimacy, you quickly turn your face to the front again to avoid his eyes.  

Jake's another hand is kept on the counter, beside your hip. He moves closer- his chest touching you back, "Here you go."   

Your breath hitches, as you shakily take the glass from his hand- your fingers grazing his. "Thanks."  

He leaves the glass as you take it and holds your elbow, his face in the side of your neck- his nose grazing your skin as he nods. Your brain shuts off, his breathe hitting your neck- you gulp, unsure what to say as you shiver at his touch.

He brushed the lightest kiss against your neck, lingering a moment too long—as though he was memorizing your pulse and slowly retracts away taking his time.

You let out a breath at that which you didn't know you were holding in.   

"Good night" He says and leaves to his room while your mind was unravelling.  

You clutch the counter at the intense situation that just unfolded. You fill your glass with water and ice to get you out of the shock.  

With that, you went to your room, sure that you aren't getting any sleep tonight. 

Your skin burned where his lips touched, but your stomach twisted. You couldn’t tell if it was desire—or dread. 

Nothing changed. You thought the days after that night would be awkward, but if anything, Jake got closer. Too close. Shirtless in the mornings, sometimes only in his boxers, brushing past you with touches that lingered too long.

But the voices at night—they didn’t stop. If anything, they grew louder. Bolder. As if they knew the house belonged to them as much as it did to him. 

8 p.m. Rain lashed against the windows, the steady rhythm almost soothing. You curled into the couch, laptop balanced on your knees, the glow of the screen painting your face in blue.

The hallway stretched empty, the kitchen swallowed in shadow, Jake’s bedroom door sealed shut—like always. 

Tap. 

You stilled, convincing yourself it was nothing, and kept typing. 

Tap. Tap. 

Your hands froze over the keys. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. 

That wasn’t rain. Too slow. Too deliberate. Too… patient. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. 

Your breath shortened, the sound threading into your nerves like a hook. With trembling fingers, you lowered the laptop onto the couch and stood. Each step toward the hallway dragged heavier than the last. The noise grew sharper. Clearer. 

Jake’s door. 

TAP. 

The door jolted, the wood shuddering against its hinges. Your pulse crashed in your ears. 

Then— 

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG! 

The entire frame rattled violently, as though something—or someone—inside was trying to claw its way out. 

And then the power died. 

Darkness devoured the house. The hallway was pitch-black, except—except for the faint sliver of light beneath Jake’s door. In it, you saw a shadow Writhing. Twisting against the crack like they were desperate to escape. 

Your hand, shaking uncontrollably, reached for the knob— 

"Y/N." 

The voice cut through the dark like a blade. 

It was Jake. But it wasn’t. His tone was deeper, stripped of warmth, laced with something that made your stomach twist. And just like that, the banging stopped.

As if whatever or whoever was on the other side sensed Jake’s presence. The silence that followed was worse. Suffocating. 

The lights sputtered back, weak and flickering. 

Jake stood at the end of the hallway. His face unreadable, jaw tight, eyes shadowed. Every stutter of the bulbs painted him differently—one second human, the next… something else. 

"I told you not to enter my room," he said, his voice low, each word deliberate. "Didn’t I?" 

Your throat closed. Heat crawled up your neck. "I—I know, but the banging, I thought—I’m sorry." 

His sigh was quiet, almost tired. His gaze fell to the floor, then slowly rose back to yours. He stepped closer. Step by step, the space between you vanished until his presence was all-consuming. 

His hand lifted, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, knuckles grazing your skin with chilling care. “I’ll take care of it.” 

"But—" 

"I said something, Y/N." His palm cupped your cheek, warm but iron-firm. His grip hovered on the edge of pain. 

You nodded quickly, fear clamping down on your chest. 

He leaned down, lips ghosting your hairline. A kiss so soft it felt wrong. 

"Of course. Now go. Your assignment won’t finish itself." 

His hand patted your head lightly before retreating. You turned on shaky legs, clutching your laptop like a lifeline, retreating to your room with your heart pounding out of rhythm. 

Behind you, Jake lingered by the door, the faintest curve at his lips. A smile that never reached his eyes. 

You didn’t sleep. Not really. Every creak of the house, every gust of rain against the glass had your nerves on edge. By the time morning light bled into your curtains, your body ached from tension more than rest. 

Jake was already in the kitchen, moving with casual ease. Shirtless, grey sweats slung low on his hips, he poured himself a cup of coffee like nothing had happened. Like the night before hadn’t existed. 

You hovered by the counter, fingers tight around your glass of water. “Jake,” your voice cracked, too thin. You swallowed and tried again. “Last night… what was that sound?” 

He didn’t look up immediately. The silence stretched, heavy, deliberate. Then, finally, he chuckled low under his breath. 

“Ah,” he said, as though you’d asked about something mundane, like a leaky faucet. He took a slow sip of coffee, eyes lifting to yours over the rim. “Probably just the lab rats.” 

Lab rats. 

You blinked. “Lab… rats?” 

“Mm.” He set the mug down with a soft clink, stepping closer. “They get restless sometimes. Scratching. Banging around. Nothing you need to worry about.” 

His words were smooth, rehearsed almost, but his eyes didn’t match the ease in his voice. They lingered on you, too sharp, too knowing. 

A laugh bubbled nervously from your throat, brittle. “Rats don’t bang doors like that, Jake.” 

The corner of his mouth curved, not quite a smile—more like a warning dressed up as one. He leaned down, close enough that his breath warmed your ear. 

“Curiosity, Y/N,” he murmured, “is dangerous.” 

Your stomach knotted. 

He pulled back, the mask of nonchalance snapping back over his features as he grabbed his mug again. “Drink your water. You’ll feel better.” 

And just like that, the conversation was over. 

But the echo of last night—the shadows, the voice, the pounding—hung between you, unanswered. 

Days pass just like that. The sounds weren’t as prominent as before. And Jake is just being different.  

The room was too quiet now. The hum of the machines had dulled, leaving behind an eerie stillness that pressed against your eardrums. Your skin prickled.

You weren’t sure if it was the cold air or the way Jake’s eyes had been fixed on you for far too long. 

He finally broke the silence, his voice low and oddly casual. 

“Tell me,” he said, tilting his head slightly, like he was genuinely curious. “What’s your pain tolerance?” 

Your throat went dry. The question was delivered too softly, too calmly, as if he were asking about your favourite colour. You forced a laugh, hoping it didn’t tremble. 

“Why would you even ask me that?” 

Jake’s lips curled into a faint smile, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together as though waiting for a confession. 

“Because,” he whispered, the syllables dragging out, “sometimes people think they can handle more than they actually can. And it’s… fascinating to see the truth.” 

You caught a flicker of something metallic behind him on the tray—a glint of steel. Surgical instruments, lined up too neatly, too deliberately. Your stomach turned. 

“This isn’t funny, Jake.” 

“Oh, it’s not a joke.” His voice was firm now, smooth as glass but edged with something sharp. “You’re strong. I can tell. But I wonder…” His fingers traced invisible patterns in the air. “…are you strong enough when the nerves start screaming?” 

He leaned back, letting the silence stretch, watching you as if waiting for you to crack. 

The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, but underneath it, there was something else—something coppery, raw. Your chest tightened. You didn’t want to know where that smell came from. 

And yet Jake smiled again, like a predator amused by its prey’s trembling. 

“Don’t look so scared,” he murmured. “I only want to understand you better.” 

"I'm going to bed" you say, getting off the chair and following the path to your bedroom. 

'It's probably his dark humor acting up on him again' you thought as you shake off the words.  

You twist and turn in bed, unable to actually; shake those words off. His voice, his words, his face when he said that- the whole scene replaying in your head repeatedly with clear details.  

With the fact that it's two in the morning and that you have college early, you close your eyes and force sleep to knock you out and forget whatever the hell just happened.  

Morning comes early, the sunlight peeking through the shades, the room unusually quiet. Your feet hit the clean marble floor, padding your way to the bathroom to get ready for the day. 

The door closes behind you with a click, you brush your teeth looking at your reflection in the mirror. You look a little worn out- not the kind that comes with exhaustion but the kind that wears out every inch of you. 

Slipping out of your clothes, you enter the shower. Keeping the temperature high- just as you like. The water drizzles down your form and once you are fully drenched, you feel a sharp pain on arm- on your bicep specifically.  

You quickly move your left hand away from the water- which is causing it to sting and take a look at your bicep. Nothing, no trace of anything. Did you hit yourself without noticing? I mean that's common, but this pain, its different.  

Your whole hand isn't hurting, only a certain spot on your bicep is stinging. The kind of sting when you put anything on the area you got injected. 

Your thoughts cut off, due to the shower suddenly stopping. Concluding that you accidently hurt yourself or slept weird you tried to turn off and on the shower. 

It wasn't working.  

Groaning, you get out, wrapping yourself in a towel and started getting ready. 

You reach the kitchen with your bag on your shoulder and phone in your hand, Jake's there, making breakfast as always.  

"Took you long enough" He says without turning around.  

Keeping your bag aside, you sit on the chair, "Shower broke" 

"Broke?" He questioned, finally turning around and bringing the plated pancakes to you.  

You nod, digging in as he does the same after sitting, "Yeah, I was taking a shower, and it stopped working the midway"  

"I'll look into it once you are back home" he says, his gaze dropping to your left hand and then back to your face. 

You nod, muttering a small thanks and leave with your bag. Your day didn't have evening classes, so, Jake didn't cook lunch for you. It always amazed you how perfectly he remembered your habits and schedules but then again, he's a science student... probably good at remember things.  

But you know, you are fooling yourself cause truth? truth hurts, and to not expect the worst, you conceal it with lying to yourself.  

Evening rolls by, you come back home. House quiet except for the faint clicking, air cold and lights on. You remove your shoes and move into the living room to see Jake seated on the sofa with his laptop, typing away. He looks up, "Hi sweetheart"  

"Hey" You reply not really surprised by the nickname since he’s been calling you things recently. 

"Come here, you look tired." He says patting beside him.  

You lazily throw your bag on the couch and go over, plopping yourself down beside him. 

"Hungry?" He asks, pushing your hair back from your forehead.  

"No" you mutter, eyes closing and stiffening lightly at his touch.  

He frowns but doesn't comment on it. "Then, let's look at that shower fix after some time?"  

You nod, already drifting into sleep. Few minutes pass by and you are knocked out. He closes his laptop slowly, keeping it aside and turns to look at you. He pulls a stranded hair behind your ear and gets up after.  

Lowering himself, he takes you in his arm and lifts you up. Walking to your bedroom and opening the door with a light push of his leg, he places you on the bed. He pulls the blanket up to your chin.  

He takes a glance at your room- the one where he often goes to when you aren't around. He goes over to the laundry basket like he's done it a thousand times before. Digging through it, he takes out your black lace bra, bringing it to his nose and smirking as he takes a breath in. 

He looks back at you, the smirk still planted on his face and leaves your room.  

The vibration and sound of your phone ringing in the back pocket of your jeans woke you up. You get up and take your phone into your hands. 

You decline the call as you learned that it was spam and notice the time.  

It's been two hours, you slept for a good two hours, you get out of the bed and out of the room to hear, blender noises. Jake wasn't in the kitchen; the grinding noises stop coming from Jake's room. 

Few minutes pass as Jake comes back from his room, his hands wet as if he just washed his hands. "You're up already?" 

You nod, "What was that?" 

"What was what?" He asks innocently, jutting his bottom lip out as if he has no clue what you are talking about.  

"Oh, you know what I'm talking about" You ask narrowing your eyes.  

His eyes darken, his expression changing immediately from cute, innocent face to daring, dangerous one.  

"Careful with your tone, doll." his voice deep, carrying that depth and then instantly, he goes back his normal, innocent boy facade which you fell for in the start,  

"I was just trying a new smoothie recipe"  

You frown, "In your... room?"  

He smiles, his eyebrow raising, his tone teasing, "What did I say about curiosity, doll?"  

"I- uh whatever, about my shower, you said you-" 

"Yep, wait for me there, I'll be back" he says disappearing into his room. 

You are leaning against the sink, your arms folded when Jake walks in with a huge box in his hand.  

He keeps the box beside you on the sink and opens it. He opens it, the box revealing quiet some variety of tools you’ve only seen in movies- some you've never seen at all.  

"Why do you even have these?"  

He looks at you and smiles noticing the look on your face,  

"Oh you know, for times like this" 

"Yea sure." You say skeptically as he gets to work. 

 Your gaze got lost in admiring the view in front of you. His veiny hands worked deftly on the tool—a weapon that seemed almost out of place in his otherwise perfect hands. 

His face was concentrated, the rings on his fingers clinking softly against the showerhead, his bracelet sliding down his forearm. His neck stretched as he leaned forward, the loose shirt revealing the curve of his collarbone.  

Oh man, it was almost laughable how turned on you were just from watching him 

The sound of water brings you back from your thoughts.  

"Thanks, Jake" you say as Jake turns it off and places it back in its place. 

He steps out of the shower, and arranges his tools in the box beside you, "Anything for you, doll" 

You unfold your hands as he searches for something on the sink's counter.  

His gaze locks onto yours and his gaze darkens a bit. He moves towards you slowly, his hand shifting to your side, effectively caging you.  

Your hands grip back against the counter as he lowers, your faces near, your heart racing. His eyes look into yours as he tilts his head a bit moving his face closer to yours. Your chest heaving up and down lightly while your knuckles turn white as you grip hard onto the counter.  

You gulp, as his nose grazes yours very lightly. 

"Spencer" He mutters, his voice hoarse. 

Lost in his eyes and the moment, unable to comprehend what he said,  

"Huh?"  

"Spencer, baby." He says as he backs away showing you the spencer he took from behind you. 

You clear your throat, embarrassed and remove yourself from the counter.  

His face carrying that knowing smirk as he puts the spencer back in the closes the huge box with a click, "What do you want for dinner?"  

"Um anything's fine" you say quickly trying to get him out as soon as possible. 

"Alright, I'll call you when it's done." He says taking away the box.  

You nod quickly as he leaves.  

Scrolling through your TikTok FYP, you try to erase what happened. The closeness, his face, his presence, his hands caging you— 

"Dinner's ready!"  

Jake shouts from the kitchen. You get out of bed, away from your room, away from your thoughts.  

You sit yourself near the counter and Jake plates your food.  

You adjust yourself on the highchair. Your calf touches the cold metal of the chair's legs, and you wince at the contact. Frowning, you look at your leg to see a small cut. 

What the actual fuck?  

You think as you inspect it further.  

Jake's voice brings you back to your senses again, "Here you go, doll" he plates the freshly made pasta in front of you. 

You both complete the dinner talking about random stuff. 

After dinner, Jake began tidying up the living room while you remained seated, scrolling through your phone—still desperate for a proper explanation for your cut. 

Google wasn’t much help, so you forced your brain to replay every possible cause. 

Nothing. 

Your gaze drifted toward Jake. Could he...? - no 

Stupid. Sure, he’s weird but he isn't a psycho.  

Only if you knew... 

Days went by without incident—or at least, that’s what you told yourself. 

You get out of your bedroom, bored and see Jake seated on the couch.  

“Wanna watch a movie, baby?” Jake asks as he catches your gaze.  

You nod, thinking it would be a distraction with the whirlwind of thoughts running through your mind. You turn off the kitchen lights making the whole house dark, the living room’s lights were already off. The only source of light, coming from the TV. You go over and sit beside him. 

“What do you wanna watch?” He asks, his hand going onto the couch- just behind your shoulder.  

“Anything’s fine” you say as he hums.  

He puts on a classic, horror thriller. Weird, but okay. It’s a good movie after all.  

You lean back, the bare back of your neck touching his hand. He doesn’t move, neither do you. Halfway into the movie,  

“It’s hot, isn't it?”  

You frown. It’s anything but hot and that’s why you have a huge ass blanket on your lap. 

“No, it’s-” Before you can continue, he retracts his arm which was supporting your neck and removes his shirt.  

Just.Like.That.  

He throws the shirt away on the couch and moves closer to you.  

He wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer to his bare front. His other hand going around your stomach, locking you.  

“What? Didn’t you say it was hot?” You ask looking up at him. 

He hums thoughtfully, his gaze on the TV as he pulls you closer, “Well, now I’m cold.” 

Rolling your eyes playfully, you continue to look at the film rolling. The proximity making your heartbeat race.  

A sensual scene plays, the main leads kissing eachother with passion and hunger. You clear your throat trying to avoid the fact that his hands tightened around your form. You look up at him to see that his gaze was already on you.  

You face close. Reminding you of the day he caged you against the sink. 

His eyes drift to your lips as he moves closer, his breath hitting your face. You let your gaze dip down to his plump lips, imagining how they’d feel and taste.  

He tilts his head, your lips just a breath away. You close your eyes at your lips grazing eachother.  

And just as you were about to kiss- the doorbell rings, breaking the spell. 

Jake closes his eyes in frustration, “Fuck” 

He looks at the pathway and gets up from the couch, going towards the door to see who the hell cock blocked them.  

You run your hands through your hair, What the fuck just happened. 

Shaking your head, you leave to your room.  

Days passed by quickly. The only class you had today got cancelled, and you don't have any plans either. Meaning, you are free the whole day. 

Nothing changed after that day. He only grew more clingy, if that's even possible. 

Your body though, it grew more sore than ever as each day passed by. 

Currently, you are in the living room vacuuming since Jake went out for work. Your body isn't cooperating at all, but it's the least you can do when he does every work. 

You soon reach his room. You don't go in, of course, with number of times he I warned you- you wouldn't dare. 

You were cleaning the pathway to his room, focused on the steady hum of the vacuum. Too focused to notice the thin wire stretched across the floor. 

The moment you twisted the vacuum and stepped forward, your foot caught. 

You stumbled—hard—crashing against a door. 

It swung open at once, unlocked, and you tumbled inside, landing flat on the floor with a thud. 

Groaning, you rubbed your elbows, checking for any injuries. 

Happy to see none, you finally stand and look up. Only to realize, you were in Jake's bedroom. Your heart stopped beating.  

His room- the one which he warned not to go, was there, calm and still in your presence. Everything was normal- a bed, closer, table- just a typical bedroom... right?  

You look back, out of fear. To see if he’s there, confirming that you are alone, you enter further into his room. There was a door to the side. It wasn’t the bathroom, cause his lies on the outside of the room.  

Curiosity kills the cat. But you went for it anyway. You slowly walked towards the door, each step echoing louder than the previous one.  

The house eerily quiet behind you.  

You place your hand on the doorknob. A beat.  

You turn the knob and open the door to be hit with a chemical smell.  

You quickly cover your nose with the neck of your shirt and dared to look inside. Your heart stopped. Your eyes widen. You stumble back at the sight infront of you.  

There were, numerous glass jars, each containing hearts, lungs, kidneys- multiple, different organs. Bones placed neatly on the walls of the room. Blood marks everywhere. Parts of human body lines up on a table. The sight sent a shiver down your spine.  

And most of all, a girl on a clinical bed, held back with restraints and is unconscious.  

Your eyes teared up, your hands trembling, your breath quickened.  

You shake your head, No, no, no, I have to inform the police, I have to-  

You think as you turn, your chest heaving up and down, heavily. Then here he was, Jake. With that innocent look on his face and in your personal space. 

You scream at his sudden appearance and move back. He takes small, tentative steps to you. Shake your head and with your trembling, “No, no! Don't come near me!” 

He chuckles at that, “Well, I told you to not enter my room. But you did. Why should I listen to what you said when you didn’t?”  

You move around the room, toppling over things. Jake winces and puts on a worried facade, “Shh, slowly. We don’t want you hurt, do we?” 

You run straight to the door and just as you reach the door and get out- Jake holds your wrist from behind. He pulls you back onto his chest, “Not so easy, Y/N”  

You wriggle in his grip as he locks the bedroom’s door. You manage to get out of his grip and turn to him.  

His eyes darken, “The roommate agreement works both ways. You broke my rule. Now I get to break you.” 

He takes a syringe from the table beside you and before you can do anything, he gets a hold of you and injects it into your neck. You wince at the sharp sting as your energy drains, and your head feels lighter. Your eyelids flutter close, you collapse in his arms, losing consciousness.  

The faint sound of muffles in the background wake you up. Your whole-body sore, never like before. Your vision blurry as you open your eyes. Your head pounding, your throat dried up and burning.  

You try to bring your hand up to hold your head only to notice that both of your hands and legs are tied to the chair you are seated in. Your mouth taped as you finally register your surroundings.  

You shake your head, clenched your fists to make your vision clear and see the sight infront of you. 

Oh, how you wish you were still unconscious.  

There he was, Jake, near the clinical bed. The girl on it, awake, wriggling and screaming.  

Jake hisses putting on his gloves, “Shh, you’ll wake my love up” 

The girl looks at you and increases her screams and wriggles. Jake follows her gaze to notice you, staring at the scene infront.  

“Oh, sorry for the disturbance, baby. This’ll be quick, I promise.” he says, his voice dripping with honey and then, turns to the girl. 

“I told you to stay quiet, didn’t I? Now, she woke up. How many mistakes will you make Jung-ha? Be ready to pay for it”  

The girl- whose name is Jung-ha, shakes her head, “No! No! I’m sorry, I'm sorry”  

“Hmm, too late. You should’ve thought twice before betraying my brother and for killing him.” 

Jung-ha widens her eyes, “No! What?! No! I didn’t kill him! It was a suicide!”  

“And, why do you think he committed it? Because of you. He couldn’t handle the betrayal done by his, Oh, so dear, Jung-ha" 

“That doesn’t mean it’s my fault!” 

“Oh, but it is, your fault. And you’ll pay for it by sacrificing  yourself and helping me use you in my experiment.”  

Before Jung-ha can let another word out, he silences her by giving her an injection.  

Confirming she’s not fighting back, he takes a blade, twisting it, the light making the sharp tool gleam. He then went straight for the throat. The sharp of the blade in contact with her neck. 

He doesn’t wait. He digs the blade deeper until her skin is cut and drags it back as if he’s drawing- the blade his lead and her throat- his canvas.  

The blood seeps through as a huge cut forms on her neck. The nerves being cut and pulled, her skin on neck- once joint- now divided into two separate pathways.

He takes another syringe and moves the nerves. Her literal nerves with his fingers which are now pressed deep into her open skin. 

He doesn’t pause. Another syringe appears in his hand. He pushes his fingers—gloved but already slick with her blood—into the wound, pressing past tissue that should never be touched.

He hooks her nerves aside, lifting them like wires, and clears space to drive the syringe needle directly into the raw cut. 

Then his fingers keep going. They fumble downward until they find the delicate rise of her larynx. “This is what you get for waking my girl up” he mutters to himself and continues.  

He scrapes. Not with the blade, but with his nails—raking against the cartilage until it powders, flecks of bloody white calcium catching on his fingertips. He collects them carefully, almost reverently, into a waiting petri dish. 

You try to scream, but only heat rises in your throat. Your mouth is sealed shut, and your voice—the one thing that should save you—dies before it can even begin. 

He doesn’t stop there. The blade lowers again, and with a swift flick he retracts the torn flesh wider, exposing the pale shimmer of her larynx. Metal hooks dig in, prying her throat open like the cover of a book no one should read. 

His gloved fingers move with sick precision, tugging until the fragile strands of her vocal cords come into view—thin, trembling filaments, slick with blood. He smiles, humming softly as he pinches them between forceps. 

“Delicate little strings,” he whispers, almost tender. “No wonder he loved you.” 

A clean snip, and the cords fall limp. He holds them up to the light as if inspecting jewellery, then drops them into a glass vial of preservative fluid. The cords coil at the bottom like worms drowned in amber. 

But the hollow space left behind isn’t enough. Jake digs into his box, pulling out a reel of fine wire. With practiced ease, he threads the metallic lines into the raw cavity, stitching them where flesh once vibrated.

The wires glint with each movement, humming faintly when plucked, a mechanical voice that will never speak. 

“Better,” he murmurs, tugging the last knot tight. “Now you’ll sing for me forever.” 

He doesn’t bother closing the wound properly. Instead, he threads the needle through skin and muscle at random, crossing layers that were never meant to meet.

Veins bulge where they’ve been pulled into the wrong place; cartilage juts under puckered seams. Each stitch puckers her flesh into warped ridges, like a doll made by unsteady hands. 

By the time he ties off the last suture, her neck is no longer human. From a distance, it might almost pass for healed—but up close, the seams twist into deliberate shapes. A crooked smile carved into her throat. An ugly emblem of ownership. 

Jake steps back, admiring his work, his gloves dripping crimson. He tilts his head as though he’s painted a masterpiece, then wipes the blade clean with slow, meticulous strokes. 

“You’ll never betray anyone again,” he tells the ruined body, his voice low, reverent. 

And then, as though remembering you’re still watching, his dark eyes flicker up—locking on yours, shining with that same satisfied smirk. 

The other girl’s body was still on the table, neck sewn up in jagged, crooked lines that looked more like a child’s handwriting than stitches.

He peeled off one glove finger by finger — slowly, deliberately — but left the other still clinging, soaked red. 

His gaze slid to you. You froze as he stepped closer. 

He crouched in front of you, grabbing your chin with the bloodied glove. Your skin burned where it smeared across. He ripped the tape of your mouth with so much care as if he were handling porcelain.  

Before you can utter anything- his mouth was on yours—hot, unyielding, swallowing every protest you tried to push out. 

“Mm—stop—don’t—” Your words broke against his tongue, muffled and useless. 

He tightened his hold, thumb pressing almost painfully against your cheekbone. His kiss was frantic, not lustful but obsessive, like he needed to consume every part of you. 

When he pulled back for air, he kept your face locked in his grip, eyes boring into yours with feverish intensity. His breath fanned over your lips. 

“You taste like life,” he whispered hoarsely, smearing the smear of blood from his palm against your skin as though marking you. “So warm, so alive… mine.” 

You shook your head, your voice shaking. “Please… don’t…” 

He leaned in again, his lips grazing your trembling ones, but this time he slowed—mocking gentleness, a predator pretending to soothe. “Shh… I’ll take care of you. I’ll keep you beautiful… even if I have to cut you open to do it.” 

Your head spun, the taste of his kiss still clinging like poison. His hands—hot, sticky with blood—cupped your face until the world tilted sideways.  

The room swam, black at the edges, and your body gave up before your mind could. Darkness rushed in. Your eyes closed as you lose consciousness.

When you woke again, it wasn’t the cold steel of the operating table beneath you. Soft sheets pressed against your skin. A blanket—thick, heavy, suffocating in its warmth—was pulled up to your chest. The air smelled faintly of lavender and antiseptic. 

For a split second, you thought you were safe. 

Then your eyes adjusted. Curtains nailed shut. Every window barred. The vents sealed with screws. Even the clock on the wall had no hands, frozen forever in silence. 

Your stomach knotted. 

The door clicked before you could move. He walked in—Jake—carrying a tray. Fresh clothes draped over his arm, steaming food balanced carefully beside them. He looked at you the way someone looks at something they’ve already claimed. 

“Good morning, love,” he said softly, as if you hadn’t just seen him slit open another girl days before. His smile stretched warm, but his eyes burned. “You fainted, but don’t worry. I’ve taken care of everything. You’re safe now. With me.” 

You tried to push yourself up, throat dry, but he was already there. He pressed a hand against your shoulder, holding you down with ease, the way someone holds down a restless patient. 

“Shh.” He smoothed your hair back, fingers lingering too long against your temple. “Don’t strain yourself. You’re still weak. That’s why I’m here—to do everything for you.” 

His hand slid from your temple to your jaw, thumb brushing your lips in a mockery of tenderness. 

“See? I take care of you. You don’t need the world anymore. Just me.” 

Your gaze flicked toward the locked door, but he noticed. Of course he noticed. His smile didn’t falter, but his grip on your face tightened. 

“Why do you look at the door like that, hm? It’s locked for a reason. The world out there would only hurt you. Here, you’ll never be hurt again.” 

Your chest rose, trembling, words caught in your throat. He leaned closer, so close you could feel the heat of his breath. 

“Don’t cry,” he whispered. “Don’t scream. You’ll only make me tighten the locks… and I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Why are you doing this?” you ask, your throat threatening to escape a sob.  

His eyes darken and said as if it's the most obvious thing ever, “Because I love you, silly.” 

Your lips trembled, the word love scraping raw inside your ears like broken glass. He said it so easily, so gently, as if it weren’t a chain tightening around your neck. 

Jake set the tray down on the nightstand with careful precision. Steam curled from the bowl, the smell of rice and broth filling the air. He picked up the spoon, stirred slowly, then blew on it before lifting it toward your mouth. 

“Open,” he coaxed, his tone sweet, almost teasing. “You need your strength. For me.” 

You turned your head aside, a sliver of defiance sparking in your chest. But his hand was already at your chin, firm, forcing you back to face him. The metal spoon hovered at your lips like a threat disguised as kindness. 

“Don’t make this difficult,” he murmured, smile still painted on but his eyes hardening. “You don’t want me to be upset, do you?” 

Your jaw clenched. Slowly, reluctantly, you parted your lips. The taste of broth slid across your tongue, warm but heavy, like swallowing surrender. His smile bloomed, proud, radiant. 

“There,” he praised, voice low and honeyed. “Good girl. See how easy that was? You don’t have to think anymore. I’ll do it all for you.” 

He fed you another spoonful, then another, watching every swallow with the intense focus of a man savoring possession. Occasionally, his thumb stroked your cheek, smearing the dampness of your silent tears as though wiping them away. 

When the bowl was finally empty, he set it aside with a satisfied sigh. “Perfect,” he whispered. “Now… let’s get you dressed.” 

The clothes he had carried in waited on the tray—soft fabric, delicate lace, not yours. They looked less like comfort and more like costume.

He picked them up carefully, holding them against your body, measuring them with his eyes, his smile twisting into something reverent. 

“You’ll look beautiful in this,” he said, almost dreamily. “Like you were made for me.” 

Your hands clutched the blanket, knuckles white, but he peeled it back with practiced ease. His hands on your shirt, tugging it off and removes your bottoms after all while taking in every inch of your bare skin- your body.

The air bit cold against your skin as he stripped away what you were wearing—too clinical to be lustful, too lingering to be innocent. His blood-stained tenderness made your stomach twist. 

“Don’t be shy,” he crooned, slipping the fabric over your head, guiding your arms through as though you were a doll. “There’s nothing of you I haven’t already seen.” 

His hands smoothed the fabric down your sides, adjusting every wrinkle, every fold, until you stood wrapped in the clothes he had chosen. His gaze roamed you, satisfied, possessive, and when his eyes met yours again, they gleamed with a dangerous sort of joy. 

“Yes,” he whispered, leaning in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Perfect. Mine.” 

The first few days were silence and locked doors. Jake would come in with food, speak softly, and watch you with those unnervingly tender eyes. He brushed your hair back like you were porcelain — breakable, precious, his. 

But as the days stretched, your resistance was like knives to him. You looked away when he tried to hold you, flinched when he touched your cheek, refused to answer when he murmured “I love you.” 

Tonight was different. His grip wasn’t careful anymore when he caught your wrist, dragging you closer. His other hand slammed the tray of food against the wall, the crash ringing in your ears. 

“Why would you do that?” His voice cracked, equal parts fury and despair. He shook his head, forehead pressing against yours with desperate force. “Why would you make me hurt you? I love you so much—don’t you get it?” 

When you tried to pull away, he snapped—backhanding you so suddenly your head whipped to the side. The sting burned, your breath shaky. Jake froze for a second, horrified at himself, then cupped your face with trembling hands, almost frantic. 

“Don’t make me do this,” he whispered, thumbs smearing against the tear slipping free. His lips brushed your temple, a shudder running through him. “It kills me to hurt you. Don’t… don’t push me away, please. Just love me back… that’s all I need.” 

But even as he begged, his fingers dug into your skin, bruising in their need to keep you close. 

The days that follow are strangely quiet. Jake wakes up earlier than you, his humming drifting from the kitchen, the faint smell of pancakes and coffee sneaking into your room. 

When you finally get up, he’s already waiting with a plate, pulling out a chair for you. His tone is careful, almost sweet. 

Jake starts, “Morning, sunshine. You slept in today. That’s good—your body needs rest.” 

You hesitate, your arms brushing against the long sleeves you’ve chosen to hide the marks. He notices, his eyes flickering for the briefest second, but his smile stays fixed. 

He sets the plate infront of you, “Eat well, okay? I made them just the way you like… soft in the middle.” 

He sits across from you, watching every small movement like you’re something delicate. His hand occasionally reaches out, brushing yours, or tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The gentleness almost makes you forget the sting that still lingers beneath your clothes. 

Later in the day, he leads you to the garden. It’s fenced off, tall hedges surrounding the space, but it’s still outside, the fresh air wrapping around you for the first time in what feels like forever. 

“See? I told you I’d let you out. You’ve been good… so I’ll let you walk around. Breathe.” He says smiling softly. 

You glance at him, uncertain, testing the distance. He doesn’t stop you when you take a few cautious steps away. But his gaze never leaves you. You can feel it pressing into your back no matter where you move. 

He follows after a while, slipping his arm around your shoulders, gentle but firm enough that you can’t shrug him off. 

He keeps his chin on your shoulder, “Moments like this… don’t you think they prove it? That we can be happy here, just the two of us? No one to hurt us. No one to take you away.” 

His tone is soft, almost convincing. For anyone else, it might sound like devotion. But the bruises hidden under your sleeves remind you of the cost of saying no. 

As the sun dips, he presses a kiss to your temple and whispers, “Don’t ever forget—you’re mine. And I’ll take care of you. Always.” 

The room was quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioner. You sat at the edge of the bed, your hands clutching the blanket tightly, trying to make yourself smaller, trying not to provoke him. But Jake noticed everything. 

He stepped closer, his bare feet silent against the floorboards, and crouched in front of you. His fingers tilted your chin up, but the grip wasn’t gentle this time—it was hard enough to leave a mark. 

"Why… why are you pulling away from me again?" 

You didn’t answer, your lips pressed shut. The silence made his jaw tighten. 

"Do you know how much it hurts when you look at me like I’m a monster? I’m not a monster. I love you. Don’t you understand that?" 

When you still wouldn’t answer, he stood abruptly. The sudden movement made you flinch, which only seemed to trigger something deeper in him. He grabbed your wrists and yanked you up from the bed. 

You stumbled, your arm colliding with the edge of the nightstand. A dull pain shot up against your already bruised arm as you gasped, but Jake didn’t let go. He pressed you against the wall, his hands pinning your shoulders. 

"Why would you make me do this? Don’t you see? It’s killing me to hurt you… but you’re forcing me. If you just loved me back the way I love you, I wouldn’t have to—" 

He cut himself as tears welled up in your eyes, partly from the pain, partly from the shock. He saw them, and instead of guilt, something twisted appeared in his gaze—an almost frantic tenderness. He cupped your face with the same hand that had pushed you hard against the wall, his thumb brushing away the tears. 

"Look… I hate this. I hate hurting you. But you’re not listening to me. Don’t make me go further. Please, baby, don’t do this to us." 

You swallowed hard, your voice breaking as you whispered: "Jake… please. You’re hurting me." 

His grip only tightened, his forehead pressing against yours, breath uneven. 

"I know. I know, baby. But it’s only because I love you so much it drives me insane. These bruises… they’re proof. Proof that I can’t live without you. Proof that you’re mine." 

He pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth—rough, forceful, not seeking permission. His body caged you against the wall, and when you tried to turn away, his hands clamped harder on your arms. The pressure left deep, blossoming bruises beneath his fingers. 

"Don’t fight me. Please. Don’t push me away anymore. I’ll do anything, I’ll bleed for you, I’ll kill for you. But don’t make me feel like this again. Don’t make me hurt you like this again." 

Your chest heaved, the air thick and suffocating, as you realized—this wasn’t just love anymore. This was Jake’s twisted version of it, a love that left marks on your skin, and a cage around your heart. 

Months slipped by before you even realized it. Days blurred into one another, the edges of time softening. What had started as a cage of fear had shifted—subtly, frighteningly—into something else. 

He wasn’t cruel anymore, not like that first night. Jake had become… gentler. He didn’t lock you away, didn’t raise his voice. Instead, he spoke to you like you were fragile porcelain, like he couldn’t risk breaking you. 

Somewhere along the line, your resistance had dulled. Your body still remembered what it felt like to fight, but your mind… your mind had started to give in, weaving small, hesitant threads of false comfort. 

It was nightime when it happened. The lamps in the living room cast a low amber glow, bathing everything in warmth. 

Jake sat on the couch, a book in his lap he wasn’t really reading, while you lingered on the other end. Silence stretched, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable but heavy, charged. 

You caught yourself staring at him—the relaxed curve of his jaw, the way his lashes lowered as he pretended to skim the page. 

And then his eyes lifted to meet yours. 

You froze, your lips parting just slightly. Something in his gaze was different tonight. Not sharp. Not possessive. But intent. His book slipped closed, his hand resting on it lazily, and he leaned forward just a little, like a predator testing the waters. 

“You’ve gotten quiet,” he said softly. His voice was smooth, almost coaxing. 

Your throat tightened. “Just… tired.” 

A small smile tugged at his mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “No. Not tired.” He tilted his head. “You’re thinking.” 

The weight of his words made you avert your eyes, but you could still feel his gaze burning into you. He stood then, slow, deliberate steps carrying him closer. You held still, your body tense but unwilling to move away. He stopped right in front of you, his shadow falling over your frame. 

“Look at me.” 

You obeyed before you even thought about it, your eyes lifting back to his. And then it happened—his hand rose, fingers brushing against your jaw. 

His touch was feather-light at first, almost cautious, and it made your chest ache in confusion. How could someone who broke you hold you so carefully now? 

His thumb traced the edge of your lower lip, and your breath hitched. The silence wrapped tighter around you, the space between you collapsing inch by inch. 

“Do you know,” Jake whispered, voice low and warm, “how long I’ve been waiting for this?” 

Your lips parted, but no words came. Your heart pounded in your ears as he leaned closer, so close you could feel his breath fan across your cheek, smell the faint hint of cologne lingering on his shirt. 

And then his mouth touched yours. 

It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t rough. It was slow—agonizingly slow, like he wanted to savor every second of you giving in. His lips pressed against yours gently at first, testing, as though he needed your body’s permission even if he already owned you. 

You froze, your lashes fluttering shut, your mind screaming at you to push him away—but your body betrayed you, melting into the warmth of his mouth. 

When he felt you respond, even slightly, he deepened the kiss. His free hand slid to the back of your neck, anchoring you as his lips moved against yours with more intent now. The kiss stretched, long and intoxicating, pulling the air right out of your lungs. 

Your hands gripped the edge of the couch, knuckles white, because you didn’t trust yourself not to reach for him. His tongue brushed against your lips, teasing, asking for more, and without even realizing it, you granted him access. 

The taste of him flooded your senses—familiar and overwhelming—and you shivered, letting out a small, unintentional sound into his mouth. 

That sound seemed to shatter whatever restraint he’d been clinging to. His kiss grew hungrier, more insistent, like he wanted to consume every piece of you until there was nothing left. 

And still, he never let go of the gentleness—his grip at your neck was firm but not harsh, his other hand ghosting along your jaw like a promise. 

When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t sudden. He drew away slowly, lips parting from yours with the faintest brush, as though reluctant to let the moment end. Your chest rose and fell sharply, breath stolen, lips tingling and swollen from the heat of his kiss. 

Jake’s forehead pressed against yours, his voice a whisper in the dark. 

“See? You belong here.” 

And in that moment, with your heart racing and your lips trembling from the kiss, you almost believed him. 

It was a random day. You were sitting on the bed- his bed, going through your phone. 

He does let you use your phone but only after weeks of you proving you can be ‘trusted.’ You used to scroll through your contacts, your thumb hovering over names you once thought you couldn’t live without… but somehow, you don’t press call.  

You don’t even text. Maybe it’s because you know he’ll see. You’re scared, wondering if you are going to be the next Jung-ha. You never asked him, what she did to his brother- hell, you didn’t even know he had a brother.  

But it’s best to stay quiet and not let curiosity take over you.  

It was 9pm, the door opens with the click. He comes by slowly, closing the door behind him. His eyes find yours as he immediately climbs into the bed next to you.  

“Missed me?” he asks, his voice soft as his hand goes over your stomach pulls you closer to him.  

You nod, not really meaning it.  

He doesn’t see it. Maybe he does, maybe he’s pretending not to notice your non-meaninful responses. He snuggles his face in your neck as you scroll through your phone.  

His hand slips to your chest, cupping your breast over your clothes as he starts, “I was looking through your contacts yesterday,”  

You finger stops mid-way scrolling. This is not going to end well.  

He caresses your breast with his thumb, “And I got curious, and went through your chats with him. Tell me why he is so interested in you?” 

You pause. 

“Ja-Jake, I don’t see him like that- I-I don’t like him like that.” you say hoping you’d find a way out from this mess. 

“But he does. He does see you and like you like that, and I don't like it.”  

“Y-You’re the only one I care about! Right? You know that right, Jake?” you ask desprate to convince him that only he’s there in your heart when you don’t even know if you have a heart anymore. It’s so bland. It’s like everything is under his control- Jake's control.  

“But he doesn’t!” he says, angry and moves as his hand hovers over the bedside table.  

Before you can say anything, you see it- the knife. The blade glinting, sharp and reflecting your face.  

“Jake w-what're you doing?” you ask, backing away.  

“Oh, just reminding that you’re mine” he says he crawls to you.  

Your back hits the headboard as you franticly try to escape.  

He keeps his knees of either side of your legs while holding your wrist, making it hard for you to move away. Your phone long gone on the mattress somewhere. 

He brings the knife slowly towards your inner forearm. He caress the skin there with the sharper side of the blade gently as you shake from fear. 

“Jake-Jake please” 

He shakes his head, “Lemme teach you a lesson, yea?” 

The point tip of the knife against your skin now. He digs it deeps as you wince, your breath quickening. He drags the knife back against your skin, the skin tearing apart as blood surfaces.  

You hiss at the extreme pain, tears rolling down your cheek as you try to pull your hand back. 

Sobs breaking out, and with your breathing heavy, “Jake- please- ah- I can’t t-take it” 

“Should've thought twice while interacting with someone, sweetheart.”  

The blood’s dripping down, staining your clothes, the sheets and your memory.  

And in that moment of desperation, you say it. 

“Baby? Baby! I- I love you-I-I really do-yea? P-please, t-that's what you want right?”  

He stops. The knife not digging into the layers of your skin anymore.  

He looks into your eyes, to see through you- if you really mean it or not.  

“Say it again.”  

You swallow, your energy draining, “I-I love you” 

He grips on your open skin, as you wince at the sharp pain.  

He says with his jaw clenched, “Say it again while calling me that.”  

You sob, the pain unbearable, “Jake- Baby, I love you, so much. Please, stop”  

He throws the stained knife on the floor recklessly, the force causing blood to splatter across the floor as he takes you in his arms, looking suddenly sympathetic  

“Tch. Tch. That wasn’t so hard, wasn’t it?”  

He cradles your face as he looks down at you with a pout as if he wasn't the one who literally made you bleed.  

“Ah my poor baby, you wouldn’t have gone through all that if you were just honest to me. Look what happened now.”  

Jake doesn’t let go. His arms stay wrapped around you, pulling you tighter against him despite your trembling. His breath fans hot against your hair as he rocks you slightly, like he’s trying to soothe a crying child. 

“You see, baby?” he whispers, almost crooning. “You do love me. You just keep forgetting. And that hurts me more than this hurts you.” 

Your forearm throbs, blood warm against both of you. He doesn’t even try to stop it at first—just holds you, smearing red across your clothes, across his shirt. Finally, after long moments of silence where your sobs echo in the locked room, he pulls back enough to press his lips against your wet cheek. 

“Shh. No more tears. You’ve given me what I wanted… that’s enough for today.” 

His hands, still sticky with your blood, cradle your face as he kisses you—slow, possessive, swallowing your broken breaths. When he pulls away, he looks almost triumphant. 

He stands suddenly, retrieving a rag and bandages from the dresser. You flinch when he reaches for you again, but his voice softens, almost playful: 

“Don’t be scared, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you. Always.” 

He cleans the wound with deliberate slowness, the sting sharp enough to make you jolt, but every time you try to pull away he tuts and presses you back down. 

“Stay still, baby. Let me fix what you made me do.” 

When he finishes wrapping your arm, he presses a kiss to the bandage, like sealing his claim. His smile is too warm for the situation, too proud, as if he’s pleased you’ve finally “learned.” 

“See? Now you’re mine properly. No more testing me. You’ll love me the way I love you… or I’ll make you remember again.” 

He pushes you back against the pillows, lying beside you, one arm tight around your waist so you can’t slip away. His head rests against yours like you’re lovers, not captor and prisoner. 

“Say it once more before you sleep,” he murmurs into your hair. “Say you love me, baby.” 

Your eyes flutter close- not out of comfort but out of tiredness. You submit.  

“I love you.” 

You say it, knowing you don’t really mean it. He probably knows it too, but pretends not to. In the end, that’s what you two are—pretense. Pretending to be something you’re not. But that’s the only way you both can survive. And for survival? You’ll do anything. 

©mrsjjongstby all writing belong to me. do not copy, modify or repost my works.

perm taglist: @gnarlyhoons @stormlit-pages @himynameisraelynn @see-c @shra-vasti @heesbbygurl @elikajinnie @jwyoceans @jaylaxies @hees-h0e (open! comment or send an ask if you want to be added!)

taglist: @weepingsweep @gabrielinhaa @angelhyuka @dksfml @gigitastic @rosepetals09 @berryzoo @hollxe1 @fancypeacepersona @m3chigo @yunkiism @urfavlocalgirly @yukjin @bttrfllws @girlyeria @seungsthetic @huntisworld (closed!) thanks loves

A/N: aaaaaaaaaaand thats a wrappp lol, it got gore-y towards the ending.......... ATLEAST I THINK SO. the starting is just idk i dont like it but its fine i feel like but i loveeeeeeeeeeee the ending. anyways, sorry for taking so long nd hope y'all liked it!

[mrsjjongstby]

Please comment if you want to be in my permanent tag list!

[mrsjjongstby]

​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇲​​🇸​ & ​🇨​​🇴​​🇳​​🇩​​🇮​​🇹​​🇮​​🇴​​🇳​​🇸​ - S.JY

p: roommate!jake x fem!reader

warnings: gore, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT!, medical horror, stalking, obsession, non-con medical procedures, implied drugging, graphic depictions of violence, psychological manipulation, restraints, mild language, cursing, creepy roommate behaviour, body horror, disturbing, needle usage, mentions of blood, internal organs, disturbing methods of medical procedures, medical horror.

synopsis: When you move in with Jake Sim, a quiet, soft-spoken med student offering a suspiciously cheap spare room in his kind of huge house, you think you’ve found the perfect roommate. He’s tidy, respectful, and almost obsessively considerate — the kind of person who makes you tea, checks on your health, and never oversteps boundaries. His only real rule? Never enter his bedroom.

At first, the oddities are easy to dismiss: the faint antiseptic smell in the hallway at night, his damp sleeves after late study sessions, small bandages on your body you don’t remember applying. But then Jake starts asking strangely specific questions about your pain tolerance… and casually mentions details about your past injuries you’re certain you never told him.

Soon, the apartment feels less like a shared space and more like a controlled environment. You hear muffled cries behind his locked door. You find a leather-bound notebook filled with your vitals, sleep patterns, and reaction times. He talks about a “long-term project” with quiet pride, his eyes lighting up in a way that chills you.

One night, you stumble into his room unintentionally. Harsh lights glare down on jars of preserved organs and gleaming surgical tools. The door closes behind you as Jake enters, calm and unshaken, muttering,

“The roommate agreement works both ways. You broke my rule. Now I get to break you.”

From that moment on, the apartment becomes a blood-soaked maze of Jake’s “research,” and survival means doing something before you become his final, perfected experiment.

(taglist is open! comment on this post to be added for this fic!)

©mrsjjongstby all writing belong to me. do not copy, modify or repost my works

liked this? click here for more: (∩^o^)⊃━☆

A/N: okay, so.......... kind of went MIA after the hoon fic. ngl i expected to recieve more love for "Im so proud of my ex" fic but i love, love in any quantityyyyy hahaha tysm for the notes! nd yea, took some while off (i was kind of active on my second acc which im gonna keep secret for now) and came up with this gore idea HAHAHAHA anyways, i missed y;all, trying to create a stronger bond and following so, throwing a rock in the river! hope y'all like this.

[mrsjjongstby]

Please, my friends, my children are in real danger.

My family and I are in a dangerous situation where we are. We could die at any moment. We need to evacuate to a safe place. This requires moving our belongings and a car. We urgently need to raise $1,000 for transportation costs to escape to a safe place. Donate now. 🙏🍉

I am very grateful for any response, and I apologize if this appeal is painful… but it is not random. It comes from the heart of a family in Gaza crying out for help. 🥺💙

✅ This account has been verified on the official list by @gaza-evacuation-funds and @90-ghost 🙏🫂😔

My campaign link:

lets help them as much as we can

[mrsjjongstby]

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh stop im freaking outttt!! weird way to propose BUT YESSSSS BABE YESSS!!!! ahh jokes aside (not a joke) im soooooo happy for you! ik how hard it is to dedicate time for your hobby all while life's throwing stuff at you but im glad you pushed through that and are publishing stories for us FOR FREE which we are super duper grateful for. im soooooo glad i stumbled upon idlyg its one of my most favvv series and fics on here and one of the first fic i ever wrote a whole ass para for a review. it literally stuck with me even after months of reading. you are wonderful writer and you write great! dont doubt yourself even for once. congratulations for hitting that 1k! you deserve it baby.

𝟏𝐊 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓

💌 A letter to all of my followers

Hi lovelies,

If I were to be completely honest, I really don't know how to start this letter. When I came back from my hiatus and started writing for Enhypen 3 months back, I wasn't sure how my writing journey would go here. Never in my wildest dreams I thought a thousand of you would be here with me.

Writing has always been something deeply personal to me, it's my comfort, an escape, and sometimes the only way I can make sense of my thoughts. And the fact that my words, my fics, have reached you and also in some way resonated with you is something I'll never stop being grateful for.

Every like, every comment, every reblog, and every ask in my reblog are constant reminders that this blog isn't just mine anymore. It's ours. A safe space, like a cozy corner, where we can share laughter, tears, and most importantly our delusions about Enhypen!

I'll admit I reached this milestone way sooner than I thought. I actually had something in mind which I wanted to do if I reached 1k but between life and focusing on my current wips, I wasn't able to execute it when the time arrived. So instead of a big fancy 1k event, you're getting me writing sappy love letter to you. I hope that's okay🥺🥺

Thank you, for your support, your kindness, your patience despite me testing it, for being here with me. Whether you've been following me since I was writing for Seventeen or just stumbled into my blog 2 mins ago, please know that I'll forever be grateful that you chose to stay and read my works. I don't take a single one of you for granted.

I feel like this is getting too long, so I'll conclude this letter now. Here's to more fics, more chaos, and many more memories together. And I've said this time and again that my blog is a safe space for everyone. I hope you'll be able to find comfort not only in my fics, but also in me, the same way I find comfort in writing for you.

With all of my love,

Siya♥️

[mrsjjongstby]

✨ Hello, my name is Mahmoud, and I am a father from Palestine.🙏🙏🙏

I am struggling every day to care for my three children 👶👦🧒.

My youngest needs baby milk 🍼 and diapers every month, while the older ones also have their daily needs.💔😭😭

💔 Their mother is very sick and cannot get out of bed, so all the responsibility falls on my shoulders alone.🫂🙏🙏🙏🙏

At the same time, I also need important medical treatments (cortisone and plasma injections 💉) that are very expensive and beyond my ability.💉💊💊

🙏 I am writing here with hope in my heart that kind people may read my words and lend a helping hand.🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

Any support — small or big — can make a huge difference for me and my family.💔🙏🙏🙏🙏

💙 Even your prayers 🤲 and sharing this message mean the world to us.🙏🙏

Please help me save my children's lives from genocide.🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏💔🫂🙏

Vetted here by @/gazavetters, #602.

https://chuffed.org/project/130428-help-mahmoud-travel-so-he-can-walk-again

[mrsjjongstby]

don't you take asks or fic requests?

I do! My inbox is open for asks but not requests at the moment cause im working on a fic rn but you can still send requests cause ill work on them later which may take a long time.

You can drop by my inbox anytime!

[mrsjjongstby]

From Under the Rubble... I Write My Story 🌿

I never thought I would write these words… 😔

I never imagined waking up to endless screams,

Running barefoot through smoke and fire,

Searching for my mother among the rubble,

Only to find nothing but silence… a heavy silence telling me that no one will answer me anymore. 💔

In one moment, everything changed.

Our home became a memory, my mother’s embrace became the past,

And my father's face, now absent, is the last thing I hold in my memory.

They’re gone… and left my heart burdened with unspoken grief. 😢

But despite everything, we are still here… trying.

I survived with my younger siblings.

Yes, we survived… but who are we after survival?

Children without warmth, without a roof, with no place to return to.

We were displaced to an unknown place, carrying a bag empty of everything… except pain. 🥀

We slept in the open, waking every morning to a life that holds nothing for us,

But despite everything… we keep trying. 💪

I write to you today not to cry, but to ask for hope. 🌱

I ask you to be a small light in this vast darkness,

To extend a hand that can mend what the war has broken in us.

Your donation will give my siblings a chance to sleep safely,

It will provide us with food, shelter, and maybe even a new beginning. 💖

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #586 )✅️

Any amount, no matter how small, is big for us

It’s a prayer, it’s love, it’s life. 🌟

In conclusion...

From my heart, and from the hearts of my little siblings,

Thank you to everyone who has donated,

Thank you to everyone who has read,

Thank you to everyone who has shared.

You are the proof that goodness does not die, and that humanity has no boundaries. 💚

[mrsjjongstby]

i want a life

[mrsjjongstby]

catching up! MDNI

TOO CLOSE

CHAPTER 14: SEX

*WARNING THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS STRONG SEXUAL CONTENT SOME READERS MIGHT NOT WANT TO READ*

Y/N POV

9:00 PM

After a long, warm shower, I stared at the lingerie I had set out on the right. Then my eyes drifted to the pajamas I had laid out on the left. I didn’t know what to wear—I really didn’t. I had been rejected. I knew I had been. Jay obviously did not want to keep kissing me on that beach, nor did he seem to care about the lingerie he had seen. I was deeply butt hurt. Was I just unkissable? Did my breath smell bad? Did I move my lips wrong? Whatever it was his message was quite clear he did not want to get closer physically. I sigh and my hand began to reach for the pajamas but hesitated. Ugh. I don’t know. I just really don’t know. I pulled out my phone and texted Ryujin, expressing my dilemma in a lengthy paragraph on whether or not I should wear the red lingerie. She quickly responded with: “Y/N you are hot. I know that. You know that. And obviously Jay knows that. I can’t believe you’re getting this nervous cuz at the end of the day Jay… is just a man. Men are easy. You got this. Wear the lingerie. Knowing Ryujin she probably didn’t even read the whole message, but in that moment, her unseen confidence took over me, and I grabbed the lingerie. It can’t hurt to least see how it looks. Right? My phone buzzed again, catching my attention. I picked it up—it was from Ryujin again: “Also, I finished those memos you wanted me to. Do you know the passcode to get into Mr. Park’s office to put them on his desk?” I stared at her message, confused for just a second. What memos? Had I really been so flighty in my mind that I was forgetting things I did? Honestly, there was a good chance I was. With this in mind, I quickly texted her back the passcode and turned my attention back to the lingerie. Ryujin gave me confidence, and I was going to wear it proudly. It took me a little while to figure out the clips, but eventually I got it on and stared at the mirror. I hated it. The red was beautiful. Lacy, strappy, tight—exactly what I always imagined when I thought of my ideal type of lingerie. It even looked good on me. It accentuated all my curves, and the red popped against my skin. I hated it because it felt so… performative.

I didn’t feel like myself. I felt like a wannabe. I cringed just seeing myself. I was not cut out for this, but I couldn’t help but-but at least try. I wanted to be cut out for this really badly. “No, no, it’s fine,” I told myself trying to rebuild my crumbling confidence. “I probably just need a bit of makeup and to brush my hair.” With that, I reached for my makeup bag and put on a light face of makeup, just enough to highlight my features. I brushed through my hair, making it as smooth as possible. After a minute or two, I stepped back and stared at myself. I looked worse. I wanted to look sexy so badly, but I just couldn’t. Is this what the whole night would feel like? If I couldn’t even get ready correctly how could I expect the rest of the night to go well? I leaned against the bathroom door and sank down to sit in despair. My eyes began to tear up. I was being dramatic and I knew it, but I just didn’t understand. Why did this feel so forced? But at the same time, it felt so natural. It’s like I wanted to be something I just couldn’t be and no matter how hard I tried I’d always just come off as trying too hard or trying too little or just failing. I wiped under my eyes, sighing, and glanced at my pajamas still sitting on the counter. I should probably just put them on and go to sleep. I slowly stood, reaching behind me to unclip the top piece. I tried to push the clips off—but I couldn’t. I tried using my other arm, reaching awkwardly up my back to unclip it, but to my frustration, that didn’t work either. I kept trying, twisting, fumbling, but the clasp just wouldn’t budge. After a few minutes, I let out a groan of frustration, tears reappearing in my eyes. But I refused to let them fall. This wasn’t working. The thought of asking Jay for help crossed my mind. I had done that before with a dress, well asked him to zip it up. But I ultimately decided against it. I had already been embarrassed—twice. There was no way I was doing it again. I just wanted to rip it all off. It’s not like I’d ever put it on again anyway. I glanced around, desperate for anything to get it off.

Then it came to me. There were scissors in our nightstand. All I had to do was quickly run and grab them, then get back into the bathroom before Jay came in. I’d cut off this stupid outfit, throw it away, and never think about it again. Easy. I opened the bathroom door just a crack to see if Jay was there. He wasn’t. Maybe he was still checking the villa’s lock or decided to watch a movie alone. I didn’t know. But all that mattered was that he wasn’t here—and now was my chance to get the scissors. I opened the door wider. CREAK. Damn it. It’s okay, Y/N. Just hurry, I told myself, stepping onto the cool wood floor. I quickly moved to the nightstand and opened the drawer, digging through it until I found the pair of long scissors. Finally. I grabbed them. “Y/N?” Motherfucker. I quickly turned around to meet Jay's shocked expression. He stood in the dark with just the moonlight highlighting his features and he looked well, honestly, he looked flustered. “What are you…” He trails off his eyes going down my body a warm pink beginning to fade into his cheeks. He looks back up at my face clearing his throat. “What is this?” his voice comes out breathy barely audible. I sigh the scissors in my hand getting heavier by the second. Why’d it have to be me? Why did stuff like this always happen to me? “Jay I was just about to change and I…” I stare at him practically horrified by the fact he’s even here. His eyes glance at my hand holding the scissors “with those?” he asks his face still in shock. I sigh setting them back onto the nightstand “Yeah…I just can’t get it off Jay and I’m desperate.” His eyebrows crash together and he tilts his head in slight confusion. “Why do you want to take it off?” he asks. My eyes dart around the room. I wanted to come up with a good excuse one that would explain everything without telling him the truth. Anything. I needed to think of anything, but there was nothing. “Because it’s stupid.” I finally breathe out shifting uncomfortably. “Why is it stupid?” He says his eyes brushing over my figure once more taking a step forward. My gaze met his and I knew it. There was no way to avoid it. I had to tell the truth. “Because I wore it for you.” I breathed out quickly it all almost sounded like one word his eyes widened a bit “But you don’t want it.” I add on quietly. “I don’t want it!?” he says in pure disbelief. I nod slowly “On the beach…you didn’t want to continue so I thought that..” I trail off with my eyes. Something flickers in his eyes even with the little bit of light in the room I could see it. “Y/N…” he calls softly and I stop breathing for just a moment “Yes Jay,” I say. “Did you want to continue?” he says his eyes locked completely on mine as if he were trying to see every piece of my soul. And here I was on the edge of a cliff where I’d either fall to hell or soar into heaven, but I was ready to jump and that’s all that mattered. “Yes,” i whisper quietly but confidently and something snaps in Jay.

He walks towards me in large strides once he reaches me he kisses me and gently walks me backwards. Back of my knees hitting the bed. His hands cradled my face kissing me hard one moment then achingly raw the next our tongues exploring every corner of each other's mouth. He breaks the kiss leaning his forehead against mine as we gasp for air “how could you ever think i didn’t want you?” he croaks but before I can answer he kisses me again as if he couldn’t help himself and once again our tongues were in a battle his arms moving down my body before greedily latching onto my waist and my arms moved up his chest to wrap around his neck. The kiss got sloppier as I felt saliva even on my chin as I felt his tongue desperately move against mine. He moves to my neck giving open mouth kisses against my nape as my breath increases to get heavier and heavier “I’m desperate for you.” he says kissing up to my ear before pulling back to look at my face brushing the strands of hair away from my eyes “I want every piece of you I can get.” He leaned down as if trying to swallow me whole and I lost my balance falling into bed with him coming down on top of me. He crawls on top of me leaning down to kiss me again and I kiss him back pulling the collar of his shirt to me. God, he tasted good. I was getting increasingly wetter by the second and just so desperate for him. He sits up and pulls his shirt off before leaning down to kiss me again “I love you so much darling.” he whispers between kisses “i love you too Jay.” I say my arms wrapping around his back trying to feel every inch of him as we continue to kiss his hands continuously exploring my body going to squeeze my ass then back bringing us closer the I thought was even possible then back down.

“And this outfit…” he murmurs, voice low and wrecked, his thumb brushing along the lace at my hips. His hair is tousled, lips swollen from kissing me senseless, eyes half-lidded like he’s drunk on the sight of me. “Baby, it looks so good on you.” “Does it?” I whisper, breath caught in my throat.

He leans down, pressing a kiss to the curve of my stomach through the fabric. “It does. But I need to see more.” His hands trail up, slow and reverent, until they reach the clasp at the back. He pauses, letting his fingers hover there. “Can I?” “Please,” I whisper, arching toward him. The fabric peels away, and his breath catches. “Fucking hell, Y/N…” he says, like I’m something divine. He swore Jay never swore.

He kisses me again, slower now, one hand cradling the back of my head while the other explores every inch of newly bare skin. “I love you so much. Let me show you how much.” I whimper at his voice and he smirks his arms reaching behind me lifting me a little to unclip the top piece. Jay pulls it off in no time leaving my breast completely out and exposed. He stares at them for a moment as if he he was taking it all in then he leans down kissing me again his hands desperately crawling up to grab my breast feeling them before squeezing them and i let out a loud gasp then his mouth letting out a moan and then leaving mine to go back to my neck and continue to suck leaving dark hickeys as he traveled down to my collarbone “ugh i l love you.” he moans again squeezing my breast harder “you’re so gorgeous.” I pressed my lips together desperately trying not to make the lewd sounds I was so desperate to as he continued to pinch my nipple and then twist it. “Jay.” I beg “Jay this is.” I moan again as he takes my right breast into his mouth ruthlessly sucking it while his other hand continues to squeeze my left. I moan I couldn’t help it and Jay begins to move his mouth harder his tongue swirling my nipple in his mouth before letting it go with a satisfying pop. I gasp a move my hands through his hair encouraging him as he starts to give the same attention to the left. My hips buck up slightly pussy aches for attention and I feel Jay smirk against my breast continuously licking my nipple before sucking it hard making a whimper out. He squeezes my right breast and lets my left go with a pop. “You like this?” he asks as I buck my hips up once more and I nod quickly “yes.” I moan just from saying it “I love it please don’t stop.” He smirks but instead of going back to my breast he kisses down my stomach leaving wet trails of spit down to my belly button until he reaches the band of my lingerie thong licking the skin above it “may i take these off?” he asks his voice vibrates through the room and my hips squirm showing their desperation “yes jay god please just take them off.” He smiles using one finger to hook onto the thin strap before pulling it down and off. I was completely naked now and my core was immediately me with a chill from the room jays hands gently rub up into my inner thighs his face bathed in moonlight he looks at my nudeness making me feel completely vulnerable but he comes up to my face kissing me again and whisper against my lips “you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen. especially like this.”

My eyes look into his and I feel it pass through us a feeling so deep that even love didn’t touch it. He pecks me once more before going back down between my legs and I close my eyes tightly preparing for what I knew was coming. He gently begins kissing my inner thigh whispering affirmations like “I love you.” and “you’re beautiful.” over and over again until he reaches my desperate aching core and he plants a kiss right on top of it making me hitch my breath as the feeling pulses through my whole body making me tremble. He smiles at my reaction and goes in. He begins licking through my fold slowly and I arch up at the feeling of pure ecstasy. My fingers thread down into his hair pulling him closer and His tongue then slides into my mouth fucking me and I scream out “Jay don’t stop please keep going.” I beg even though he wasn’t going to stop. I move my body down trying to rub onto his face as much as I can. “Tell me everything you want baby I’ll give you everything.” he purrs against my pulsing center as he continues brutally invading it with his tongue sliding it all around. I groan trying to speak but unable to he chuckles leaving one more kiss before pulling away and coming back up to kiss me and I eagerly accept pulling him in by his face and kissing him. I tasted myself on his lips adding to the excitement that shuddered through me. “I could spend all night just showing you how much I love you.” he says his hands sliding around my body again before finding their way between my legs making me jolt he quickly takes them away opening his mouth most likely to apologize but I lean up kissing him and grabbing his hand putting it back to my pussy. “It’s alright baby.” I say and he nods into the kiss but still not touching down their “but if you have preferences…” he says breaking the kiss to latch his lips onto my neck once more i shake my head “it doesn’t matter when it’s you Jay everything you do will be perfect.” i say and with that his finger fingers slide into my folds sliding up and down before slipping his middle one into my me making moan which is quickly shut up by him swallowing it into a kiss. His finger quickens its pace before he adds another and then another making me squeeze around practically begging to fucked and obliged moving his hand at an ungodly speed and then curling his fingers to hit that one g spot most men can’t even fathom getting to. I gasp “You like that, don’t you?” he says and he begins to stretch me more moving his hand aggressively while his other hand finds its way back to my breast feeling it again and his mouth kisses mine drinking in all my lewd sounds with pleasure. “Jay I’m going to cum.” I plead breaking the kiss as a long string of saliva connects our lips he nods moving his hand faster. I whimper moving my hips quickly against his hand working towards that heavenly orgasm and then I saw stars i arched against the mattress letting it take over me. I had never felt this good before. Jay watches in awe his hand still pumping me “God I love the sounds you make for me.” he breathes out as I finally let out one last satisfied sigh and he slides his fingers out from me. It felt amazing so amazing but I couldn’t help but want Jay to feel it too. I didn’t want to be the only one receiving here.

“Jay.” I whisper beginning to sit up and reach for swim shorts to finally get him naked now. “Yes chou?” he asks licking his fingers clean of my juices. “Let me.” I say reaching for his swim shorts “Let you?” I nod still struggling to completely articulate my thoughts “let me please you.”

He stares at me in surprise for a moment before sliding off me to lie beside me letting me get on top of him. I immediately get to work pulling his swim shorts off to just see his boxers now where he had a painfully obvious bulge. That I can’t help but I bend down to leave a gentle kiss on it making him groan. I was shocked. I wasn’t expecting that big of a reaction from something seemingly so small. I move up straddling him and kissing his lips which he quickly accepts his hands gripping onto my naked ass squeezing it and I begin to grind my wetness down onto him the thin fabric is the only thing between us making him moan breathily out. “Chou baby please don’t tease me.” he begs his eyes half lidded. I giggle turning my head to lick his jawline “I’m not my love I'm just taking my time.” I say and he whimpers as I continue to move my lips down his neck. I kiss down his body tracing his abs with my tongue watching them contract at the touch. He breaths out desperately and I gingerly pull his boxers off. His beautiful dick springs free hard and needy. I quickly take it into my hands letting it rest in my left and stroking it with my right Jay's eyes flutter close as he shudders into my hand. “y/n…” he manages but can’t finish it i smile. This felt good it boosted my confidence quite a bit to see him like this. I bend down and gently kiss his tip and lick the precum making him jerk up. “Baby please.” he whimpers I smile at him and obliged him by taking him into my mouth and heard a loud moan echo into the room i immediately deep-throated him. I thought it’d be easy but as soon as his cock hit the back of my throat I gagged and he quickly slid it out. “Are you okay Chou?” he asks his voice laced with concern as he reaches down to gently hold my cheek. I sit back on my knees embarrassed “I think i did it wrong.” I whine he shakes his head still breathless “You did it perfectly.” He runs his hands through his hair “but if it’s uncomfortable baby let's not do hmm? let’s not do anything you don’t like okay?” I quickly shake my head “no Jay I want to please just…help me?” I say and he lifts an eyebrow but nods. “Okay, my love if that’s what you want.” I nod quickly taking him back in my mouth and he slowly pushes in his fingers threading through my hair and he moans yet again. “Slowly baby slowly you don’t have to take it all.” I begin to suck slowly he groans “and your hand love if you wouldn’t mind put them around the base of my oh god.” I obey wrapping them around the base and massaging him roughly making him moan then groan then gasp a forever cycle of nasty sounds that sounded like music to my ears. I swirl my tongue around him sucking him off completely and then letting him thrust into me. He tries to speak again but can’t make me move faster taking him all the way down making me gag but I don’t take him out this time and I continue to move my tongue under his cock trying to make it feel just right. I feel his breath quicken and i know it’s coming i quicken my pace rubbing him while i sick him off twisting his dick in my mouth has he gently tugs at my hair and thrusts into my mouth.” you’re doing so good baby just like that.” he moans out and then as i slow down a bit it explodes into my mouth his sticky juices and i swallow them all and he stares at me his eyes flickering with something.

”Do you even know what you do to me?” he asks still laying back looking captivated by my i shake my head wiping under my mouth. “You’re just so perfect I love you so much yn.” he says sitting up to kiss me and we let each other taste each other's juice eating each other's faces as if we’re starving yet again his hand rubbing my waist yet and my hands wrap around his neck completely captivated by yet another intense make out session. We sit on our knees kissing each other aggressively pulling each other's naked figures towards each other until Jay gently lays me down getting on top of me. “God I need you. I need you so bad.” he gasps “Are you ready my chouchou?” he asks kissing my forehead as his cock rubs against my pussy teasing it. I k new it was time our whole night had led up to this but I was ready I was more than ready jay was about to mine in every possible way and I was ready for that. I nod firmly and peck his lips he smiles and kisses me back before whispering against my lips “If you ever want to stop just say so okay and I’ll stop immediately okay my queen?” I stare at him admiring him one last time before we do it. And he smiles leaning in kissing me as his hands find my mine to hold onto to and he slowly pushes into me. I gasp at the pain as tears sting my eyes that i can’t control and he freezes only halfway in to kiss them away on my face. “shhh it’s okay i’m here.” he comforts his thumb rubbing my hand “I love you so much y/n.” He says sucking my bottom lip i moan as the pain slowly begins to fade and he takes that as sign and pushes into me but still sits soaking in me waiting for me to adjust. “you’re doing so well for me baby. You’re just so so perfect.” he coos kissing up my away and I clench around him. “Jay start moving please.” I say moving my hips he comes back to my lips leaving one last kiss before he begins his hips rolling into my mind. It felt like heaven his large cock filled up every piece of me and he skillfully moved up hitting my G-spot making me moan. “Please don’t stop Jay.” I didn’t think he would but just in case I felt the need to beg for it “Keep going.” He moans at my breathy tone both of our whimpering mixing into the night. “I love you so fucking in love with you it hurts.” he says and I wrap my legs around him as his thrusts become animalistic chasing our climax. “Oh my god, Jay. I can’t. I’m going to…” I scream out as his face contorts to show the immense pleasure he is feeling. My legs tighten around him wanting to feel everything and his hand leaves mine to snake down to my dripping folds and rub them leaving me arching and gasping into him at the overwhelming pleasure of his sex. His fingers rub fast and aggressively matching the pace of how his is cock rammed into me. I let my free hand wander into his hair pulling him into another spit drinking kiss that was so messy as soon as our tongues met I felt saliva drip down to my chin. “I love you, Jay.” I moan into the kiss moving my hips with his. He kisses me again sucking my tongue deeply into his mouth “I love you too y/n” he says. This was it. I could feel it building in the very pit of my stomach “Jay i’m going to cum.” i say as my legs begin to tremble beneath him “then let’s do it baby together.” i look at him and he nods giving me one last peck as he turns into a frantic pace his hand leaving my folds rub my body with his other one feeling my waist breast arms making me jolt into him. And just then we came. It was the best orgasm I had ever had my eyes rolled back as Jay continued to thrust through though I could feel him coming to his cum spewing through me. Once we came down from our high he collapsed on top of me still inside me “I love you so much.” he murmured again and again as if in disbelief.

Y/N POV

2:00 AM

After a few moments Jay gently moved off of me, settling to my right before wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me close. My head rested on his chest, rising and falling with each of his steady breaths. “How was it? Are you okay, my love?” he whispered into my hair, pressing a soft kiss there. I nodded, still breathless. “That was amazing.” His cedar cologne filled my senses like a warm hug. He began to softly run his fingers up and down my back. “You’re amazing,” he said gently, looking down at me. I looked up to meet his gaze, and his breath caught slightly. He leaned in and planted a soft kiss on my forehead “You’re perfect.” Then a kiss to my lips. “I’d do anything for you, Y/N.” He pressed his forehead against mine. “I love you so much, chou.” I smiled, pecking his lips. “I love you more, Jay,” I whispered, my hands still gently exploring his chest and arms. He chuckled and shook his head. “Impossible,” he murmured, kissing the corner of my mouth. “There’s no love in the world stronger than the one I have for you.” I snuggled even closer, and a comfortable silence filled the room—until Jay broke it. “Are you comfortable?” I laughed softly. “Jay, I’m fine,” I said, looking up at him. But his lips pinched together, clearly not convinced. He pecked my cheek before slowly slipping out from under me and sitting up. Reaching for his boxers on the floor, he pulled them on. “What are you doing, Jay?” I asked, sitting up as I wrapped the comforter around myself. He gave me a soft smile. “I’ll be right back,” he said, and disappeared into the bathroom. A few minutes later, he returned holding a warm, damp towel. “May I?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes soft with care. I nodded, and he moved onto his knees between my legs. With delicate hands, he gently began wiping away the fluids on my thighs and core. The towel was warm, and the way he took his time—so careful, so patient—sent shivers up my spine. He glanced up at me and let out a soft chuckle. “Your hair… it’s a little tangled.” I laughed. “I can’t imagine why.” He grinned as he continued, then stood up and grabbed his shirt from the floor, handing it to me. I slipped it on over my head. “I’ll be right back,” he said again, and left the room. I sat waiting for him. Moments later, he returned, hands full. He carried a large platter filled with chocolate-covered strawberries, slices of pineapple, mini macarons, and bits of chocolate. He set it down on the nightstand, then picked up the hairbrush beside it. He sat behind me, carefully running the brush through my hair, making sure not to tug too hard at the knots. Every stroke was gentle, soothing. “How are you not exhausted?” I asked, biting into a piece of pineapple. “I am exhausted,” he said with a tired smile, “but I need to make sure you’re taken care of first.” My heart melted. Jay’s endless thoughtfulness showed itself again and again. Once I finished eating and he brushed out the last knot, he stood, scooping me up into his arms. He carried me into the bathroom, setting me gently on the counter, and brushed my teeth for me. Afterward, he carried me back to the bed, tucked me under the sheets, and slid in beside me. “Good night, Jay,” I whispered, curling up against him with my head on his chest. My eyelids were getting heavier and heavier “Good night, chou,” he whispered. “I love you.” I smiled sleepily, looking up and planting one last kiss on his lips. “I love you too, Jay.”

TOO BE CONTINUED…

[mrsjjongstby]

Can't stop, Won't stop-ENHYPEN

ENHYPEN ──── when they can't help themselves, even with your kids around.

husband!dad!enhypen x wife!mom!reader

Lee Heeseung:

Heeseung leans over you under the pretense of reaching for a board game piece the kids dropped, but his hand slides over your hip, brushing against your side. “Hee… stop, the kids are here,” you whisper, trying to sound firm. Heeseung smirks, his lips brushing your ear as his fingers inch under your shirt. “They won’t see. I just want to feel you… a little.” His hand traces teasing circles along your ribs, pressing just enough to make your heart race. The warmth of his chest against your back, the soft pressure of his fingers against you—it’s impossible to ignore. You try to subtly shift away, but he follows, leaning closer, brushing his lips against the curve of your neck as if testing how much he can get away with.

Park Jongseong:

Jay flops beside you, casually draping an arm over your shoulder. His other hand sneaks under your shirt, fingers ghosting across your stomach and sides. “Ah… come on, I just want to feel you,” he whispers, smirking lazily at the kids’ obliviousness. “They’re busy playing… they don’t need to know.” His touch is slow, teasing, and every time you try to pull back, he tugs you closer, pressing his body against yours. When your cheek brushes his shoulder, he tilts his head, pressing his lips softly to your temple as he murmurs, “Relax… just for a bit.”

Sim Jaehyun:

Jake leans over your lap, “accidentally” reaching for a toy, but his hand slides up your stomach, fingers brushing over your sides and pressing just below your chest. “Oops… did that hurt?” he teases, giving you the most innocent look, but his fingers are relentless. You gasp softly, trying to stay composed for the kids, but Jake only grins wider, pressing his chest lightly against yours, his warm hand tracing deliberate paths over your body. “You’re too tense… I’ll help you relax,” he whispers, the teasing tone in his voice making it hard to respond firmly.

Park Sunghoon:

Sunghoon’s calm demeanor makes everything more intense. He rests his chin on your shoulder, one hand gliding slowly under your shirt, tracing patterns over your skin with careful precision. “You’re so tense…” he murmurs, lips brushing your neck. “Relax… they won’t notice.” His fingers wander higher, exploring your sides and the curve of your chest lightly, making it almost impossible to act normal. You bite your lip, whispering a quiet protest, but his hand pauses just long enough to make you shiver before moving again, the subtle heat of his body pressing against yours amplifying every touch.

Kim Sunoo:

Sunoo’s touch is playful, chaotic, and relentless. While handing snacks to the kids, his hand constantly slides under your shirt, tracing teasing patterns on your stomach, ribs, and chest whenever he thinks you’re distracted. “Ahh… stop squirming…” he whispers, clearly enjoying your reactions. He leans closer, pressing his lips to your neck or ear, his fingers brushing teasingly against your chest. Every glance he gives you is filled with mischief, as if daring you to protest harder. His playful nips and light caresses make your breath hitch, despite knowing the kids are a few feet away.

Yang Jungwon:

Jungwon leans casually beside you, “helping” the kids with a game, but his hand finds yours, squeezing before sliding slowly up your arm and around your waist. “They’re distracted… it’s fine,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His closeness is electric; his hand drifts lower, teasing just over your hip and brushing the side of your chest. You try to sound firm, whispering that the kids are there, but he only smiles softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I can’t help it… I need you too much,” he murmurs, fingers tracing slow, teasing patterns over your body, leaving you trapped between your protests and his touch.

Nishimura Riki:

Ni-ki crouches behind you, positioning himself so the kids can’t see, one hand on your side, the other gliding over your chest. “You said stop…” you murmur, voice trembling slightly. He smirks, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “I’m not listening,” he whispers, fingers kneading lightly over your skin. The pressure is teasing but deliberate, and when you squirm, he only presses closer, letting his lips graze your neck as he whispers, “I like it when you’re flustered… don’t fight me.” The combination of his calm confidence and daring touch makes it impossible to focus on the kids.

©mrsjjongstby all writing belong to me. do not copy, modify or repost my works.

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A/N: chilll shawty, who is this writing sensual content? u sure its mrsjjongstby? idk man something in wrong with her...

@shra-vasti my pookie