#Enhypen Jake | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

h5eavenly · 2 days ago

Text

Fallen Star┃Jake Sim

Twenty-four - a little of me, warnings: slight mention of death and descriptions of grief etc..

Masterlist ✶ prev ✶ next

You had woken up feeling awful. It doesn’t really come as a surprise not when these exact moments have been recurring like daydreams that you somehow swim through with a hazy mind and aching limbs. It all started with a slight cough and a runny nose at the beginning of the week, nothing that was too hard to handle for you. The weather was starting to turn crueler, your clothes layered more, thicker in fabric so when you woke up the very next day completely fine you had guessed that the seven cups of tea you had dawned throughout the previous day had surely done their magic.

You were so wrong.

Your body had decided to collapse on you in the middle of the day. Dizziness sneaking into your mind as if you weren’t just running away from Sunghoon with a laughter so loud you were sure you were gonna turn someone deaf. Thankfully Jake was nowhere around to see you and as Sunghoon was fanning you while you lied down on one of the dressing rooms couches you had made him swear not to tell a soul about it – given his love to announce everyone’s news like they’re his own.

So, it didn’t take you long to figure out there’s definitely something wrong with your body, perhaps it was exhaustion yet no matter how many hours you manage to drown in sleep nothing seems to be helping. You make a mental note to get a checkup thinking it might be an iron deficiency or something along these lines.

And yet each day you open your eyes there is something else wrong with you. be your aching body or a scratch in your throat you can’t seem to cough. It’s torture and it feels like your body keeps toying between the line of being sick and healthy, not sure where to lean into more.

“Jesus. You look awful.” Sunghoon comments as soon as you meet him in front of the elevator.

“Yeah, what the fuck is wrong with your face?” Sunoo adds from beside him with a look of unrestrained disgust etched into his face.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence guys.” You reply with a roll of your eyes, sniffling as you walk into the elevator, and they follow while the cold seems to trail as quickly swirling through the space, and you tighten your arms around your shaking body.

You should have taken a painkiller before leaving your apartment.

“Do you even have makeup on?” Sunoo asks, his disgust is washed away by a look of pure worrisome instead. Although the way it’s directed at you somehow feels offensive rather than warming.

“Yeah. I have concealer on.”

“Yikes.” Sunghoon coughs.

“Maybe you should try a different brand. You know something that actually covers your dark circles” Sunoo pouts, his eyebrows knitting in what seems to be pity as his hand rubs your shoulder soothingly. It takes a few counted seconds for you to register his words. The insult sneaked into it has rancor slipping into your feature just as vast as you squint your eyes at him.

“Are you worried about me or the brands of makeup I use?”

“Your makeup. Duh.” Sunoo rolls his eyes, pulling out his phone and Sunghoon snickers from beside you.

You think you’re aware that you don’t look your best. Although to be quite honest you’re not as worried about your face as how the state of your body is stamping its anxiety deep within you. You don’t get sick often, make sure to take care of yourself in that sense at least and the thought of being home, cuddled up in your bed with a snotty nose and a pounding headache isn’t very exciting and nor do you wish for that to happen.

You’re really praying to every fucking god that exists you’re not actually falling sick.

You’ll be fine though – or at least that’s what you think. That’s what you keep praying for -

Please god please please please!!

At this point you have had your fair share of showing up to work half a mess a day then fully got it together the next day so a few of perturbed coated comments from Sunoo and Sunghoon aren’t gonna bother you too much.

However, it does get to you when you’re face to face with Jay and Soojin - who seem to have tagged along after the two of them sharing a breakfast together - You don’t think Jay has ever been this surprised or is he horrified? While looking at your face as he is right now. You blink at him and as his stare stretches a second too long you wonder if you have grown a third arm in the time you walked from the elevator.

“Oh, you look...” he crosses his arms, his eyes sweeping over your figure as he tilts his head. As if finding a word to describe your state is harder than it appears to be “not every good.” He settles with. Cringing at himself or at you. You’re not very sure of anything anymore.

“For fuck’s sake guys okay! I look like an ugly duckling I get it!” you exaggeratingly whine throwing both of your arms in the air as if it expresses your distress and throw yourself onto the couch with a dry sob and bury your face into one of the pillows. Nor your cry or attempt to suffocate yourself with the awful scent of fake leather seem to be working nor gaining you any grain of commiseration because Sunghoon starts cackling from behind you. Almost as clamorous as your sob.

“Aww yn. Don’t mind these silly boys. They’re just being dumb.” Soojin coos gently, sitting down next to you and turning you on your back and you welcome her with a pout that probably does resemble an ugly duckling.

“Like always.” She adds, raises an eyebrow at Sunghoon who shuts up almost immediately, his face turns expressionless in the blink of an eye, and he pretends to be busy examining the snack table. That is empty. while Jay looks away from you. With an awkward scratch to his neck, you could almost detect the wheels in his head finding error in his words.

“Are you sick?” She asks, tone much softer and clement as she moves her hand up and down your arm. You could stare back for a few silent minutes, mouth slightly agape at the power Seo Soojin seem to contain with merely existing.

You don’t think you could ever make Sunghoon shut up this quickly even with the presence of weapons nearby (not that you’ve ever tried. You definitely would never do such a thing).

“I think I’m just a little tired.” you reply, remembering to close your mouth when it feels too dry.

“You don’t look a little tired though.” She rests the open of her palm on the skin of your forehead and you shiver “thankfully, you don’t seem to have a fever.”

“I do have a bit of a headache.” You say, sitting up probably when you almost feel your body slipping down the couch.

“Maybe you should head home.” She rubs your shoulder soothingly.

“And do what?”

“Rest.” Soojin blinks at you slowly as if the dumbest question has just tumbled out your mouth. You wonder if you have managed to lose braincells while growing a third arm.

“Oh, I’ll be fine don’t worry. Besides, I probably have so much to do and- “Soojin doesn’t even let you finish turning her head away from you towards Jay. Yet her palm remains. It’s warm against your shoulder in contrast to how freezing the weather outside is.

“Jay, does yn have anything urgent today?”

“Not really. Jake’s schedule is very light these days and I could pretty much handle it on my own.” The response comes immediately that you have trouble keeping up, eyes darting between the two.

“Great!” she turns to face you again; a smilemounts up her face and it’s somehow as warm as the heat of the missing sun “I’m getting you an uber and you’re going home to rest!”

“Soojin I’m fine seriously. “Once again, she doesn’t give room for you to argue, your words – or rather complaints melting off your tongue when she stands up from the couch, pulling you up with her.

“You owe it to yourself to take care of yourself yeah?” she says, and you hesitate for a few seconds, unsure of what to say back to such tenderness “we need to remember to be gentle with ourselves too.”

“Okay.” You sigh and she smiles “If I feel worse then I’ll leave!-“ you add and her smile vanishes, replaced by the shaking of her head.

“Jay.” She calls turning her face away from you and he straightens in his seat “call jake and tell him that yn is taking the day off.” Jay obliges almost as forthwith as your exhale. With no questions asked and you could only stare between the two, an amused smile tugging at the edge of your lips with a bigger strive to balance on your feet.

As Jay brings the phone to his ear he seems to notice your eyes on him, however he doesn’t seem to notice the sparkle that comes to life at witnessing affection tinting the air, at knowing there are deeper emotions between two people that they aren’t as aware of.

“Ivy’s the boss here. whatever she says, happens.” He says with a shrug, your eyes shift to Soojin, and you think your smile grows bigger as the slightest, lightest hue of pink settles upon her cheeks. It could be passed by as her red sweater bringing color to her face, the light of the room or maybe it’s the tint she applied carefully before leaving her house.

But you know, and she knows that such a display of sentiment comes from something a lot more cavernous and if not for her tugging you out the room while you’re still attempting to fight the decisions already made, you’d think you’re somehow intruding into a forbidden territory.

“That guy is whipped for you.” you comment, bumping your shoulder into hers with a giggle.

“No, he’s not.” Soojin denies, woven with stubborn rebuttal and a shake of her head “He’s that way with everyone.” She adds and it comes out much softer. Like a hushed conviction.

“He doesn’t even listen to Jennie the way he listens to you.” your voice grows louder in strives to prove your truth and she shushes you when you pass by a group of staff members “and she’s his actual boss!” you whisper yell.

“Shut up your uber is almost here.” She chuckles tinting the air with sparkles of affection and it brings a warm smile to your face to witness such a tale.

“Why does he call you Ivy anyway?”

“It’s my English name.”

“That’s cute. You must be special.” You wiggle your brows at her and then a sneeze interrupts your teasing, followed by her giggle as she pushes you into the backseat of the uber.

“Very cute. Now go rest and if you need anything don’t hesitate to text me.” She urges a warning in her gaze that displays her sincerity and perhaps you are a lot sicker than you thought or maybe your head hurts a lot more than when you first woke up because a very strange ache to pout and cry like a child almost takes over you.

Deep down within all the regrets and the shame you keep locked away, a strand of guilt remains there at all the times you were mean to her before. A part of you wishes you could blame your foolishness on the declining state of your health.

“Thank you.” you tell her, and you think Soojin sees through it all and you think she knows you’re about to cry so in the next moment she’s slamming the door shut and points to her ears with her index finger.

“I can’t hear you!” her voice is muffled by the glass of the window and it’s more than ample room for your chuckles to fill the car and gains you a strange look from your uber driver.

On your way home a gentle rain grazes the rooftops across the city, and the sky remains gray even when you’re inside your apartment. You change your clothes and sneak into your very comfortable warm pajamas. You sniffle as you brew your close to 50th cup of green tea this week. Silence fills every corner and despite your throbbing body you realize you’re not sure what to do if you’re not working.

You have been working for as long as you remember, have taken up part-time jobs as soon as you were conscious enough to digest the fact that money was everything. Especially in your case so you always remembered to suck it up. Even when you were sixteen waiting tables in a shitty diner and your boss had thrown inappropriate comments your way daily. You sucked it up. and sure, you have had days off and you have fallen sick before, but it’s been so long. That you feel like a stranger in your apartment when it’s light outside, when your body knows you should be working.

That, accompanied by the fact that the silence gives voice to your thoughts, for your anxiety to bloom and before you gain enough power to shut it down you have already dived into them. Your mind drifting to all the events you have been too busy to think about.

Niki.

Jake

Niki

Jake

Niki.

You rub the sides of your head with your fingers and then you’re taking your hot cup of tea into your living room. You sit on your couch with a groan at the throb persisting in your limbs. You reach for your phone and take small sips of your tea when you dial the number of your friend.

“Thick or regular?” Heeseung asks as soon as he picks up your call.

“Uh-“ you blink at the black screen of your tv “What are we talking about exactly?”

“Soy sauce.” He answers, the voice of strangers around him gives away his crowded surroundings.

“I didn’t even know there’s such thing as thick soy sauce.”

“Apparently thickness is taking over the world. That’s why bbls are a thing yn.” you snort.

“Maybe you should consider getting one.” A clear offended gasp from Heeseung cuts through and for a moment you would think you have insulted the entirety of his family tree.

“Okay I’m surrounded by soy sauce and you’re talking about how flat my ass is I’m so overwhelmed right now.” The gravity coating every word of his has you bursting out in laughter “It’s not like I’m getting backshots soon.” He adds and you choke on your laughter, your tea almost burns the skin of your thigh if you aren’t careful enough.

“I will be the one doing backshots,” you can almost hear the prideful smirk in his voice.

“Okay moving on from you and your shots.” You snort sounding somewhere between disgusted and petrified “Are you at the supermarket?” you ask, placing your cup on the table and adjusting your legs on the couch.

“Yeah. I forgot to make an order of Soy Sauce for the restaurant, so my dad is punishing me by making me go buy some.”

“You seem to be having fun so is it really a punishment?” you chuckle, leaning your head against one of the pillows and for a moment your headache subsides for a bit. Heeseung hums an agreement.

“What’s up with you? you sound like shit.” He asks after a few beats of silence.

“Thanks, I only heard that like ten times today.”

“Are you sick?”

“Probably. I’m really overwhelmed right now too.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Unalloyed concern clads his tone, and you sink into quietness for a few seconds before sighing.

“I’m honestly still really worried about Niki.” You mumble.

“What did that fucker do?” The sound of a child crying rises in the background and your head slightly pounds at the noise.

“Nothing. I’m just worried about him. I know he said he’s gonna retake his tests, but he has never failed anything in his life Hee.” You lie flat on your back and the sound of crying grows louder “Never. Even when he was in and out of hospitals so I can’t help but worry about him.” You add.

“Yeah I know – hold on-“ there’s shuffling on the other line. Heeseung’s voice grows a tad further but still coherent enough for you to hear “Hey can you stop being a little bitch?” The sound of crying abruptly stops and you blink rapidly at your ceiling with attempts to make sense of what’s going on.

“Or go fucking cry and be a little bitch in a different aisle.” He adds and then there’s an unsettling silence. It doesn’t last long, and it’s interrupted by a loud wail followed by an ear piercing “MOM!!”

“Kids these days am I right?” Heeseung says, voice clearer and tone nonchalant.

“Heeseung did you just call a kid a little bitch?”

“Yeah. Anyways back to Niki,” you open and close your mouth a handful of times, closer to speechless but then you’re shaking your heard with reminders that this is Heeseung and at this point in your lives it’s little that surprises you with him.

“Yeah anyways. I was wondering if you know anything about what's going on with him? Maybe he felt comfortable talking to you about it.”

“Not really. He’s been acting the same too.” He replies and you faintly exhale. Feeling a little defeated and lost with what to do with your worry “If you’re that worried about his grades dropping, I can talk to him about doing less shifts at the restaurant until his exams are over.” He adds with a hum, seeming a bit absentminded “I don’t know if he’ll be happy about it though.”

You try to let his words permeate your mind with inhuman effort and as you tilt your head at nothing in particular it takes you 10 seconds to comprehend what he just said. You sit up with confusion and then shock pushing you forward.

“Hold on,” you suck in a breath and your brows scrunch “What do you mean shifts? He’s been working at the restaurant?”

“Shit yeah. it’s been a while now. You didn't know?”

“What the fuck? No I didn't know. Why would you give him a job Hee? You know his body can’t handle it.” you berate, frustration woven in your tone.

“I don’t fucking know bro. he told me he needed the money, so I gave him one.”

“Did he tell you what he needed the money for? He has been selling his paintings online why would he need more money out of nowhere.” You run your hand through your hair tiredly, your body growing hot and you aren’t sure if its irritation manifesting in your veins or a fever.

“I really don’t know yn.” Heeseung sighs on the other line “But either way I’ll talk to him when he comes into work later. Don’t worry.”

“That would be good, thank you.” you reply, not worrying is an impossible task.

“Of course.”

“I’ll talk to him about everything properly once I’m over this cold or whatever it is. I don’t want him to get sick.” You say falling back onto the couch and stretching your legs. They weigh heavy and your heart feels heavier in your chest.

“Yeah, you better rest for now. I’ll talk to you later and text me if you need anything.”

“Okay.”

As soon as you hang up, your anxiety seems to have doubled, Like ghosts swarming by your feet and slowly it feels like they’re taking over every cell of your essence. A strand of penitence comes to life in the midst of it all and you can’t help but wonder if perhaps were negligent of Niki due to how messy your life has been these past few months. Did you not pay enough attention to his struggles? How long has it been and when did he ever need anything and didn’t feel comfortable to tell you? Was there a stretching distance between you that you hadn’t noticed?

The thought is terrifying to you, it shakes you from within and when you check the time on your phone, it feels like it hasn’t moved ever since you stepped foot into your apartment. You close your eyes with a shuddered breath

Somewhere along the worries plaguing your mind like permanently sharpened needles and your hands digging for solution you manage to doze off on your couch. Curled with your knees held to your chest and wrapped with your arms. You aren’t sure how long you slept. It’s long enough for the rain to subside and short enough for the gray clouds to remain. The sky, mystified by the lack of light and night, is yet to unfurl.

The only reason that’s strong enough to pull you out of your sleep is the sound of your doorbell reverberating through your walls. And at first you think it’s a part of your dream but you’re picking apples and they’re crispy red and shiny but there’s a dying fish by your feet and who the fuck is at your door?

You open your eyes with a croaky groan. Your head pounds with an even worse migraine and your stomach is clenching in excruciating building nausea. You sit up and if you thought you felt awful earlier then it’s nothing compared to this. Like every bone in your body is aching and your fingers itch with an urge like sneaking through your flesh and squeezing tight.

Your doorbell rings again and this time it’s repeated, wrapped in evident panic at the lack of response from you and you finally decide to move. Shuffling to your door and maybe you are still in a hazy dream because as soon as you open your door Jake is standing there. Yet, it is the genuine worry etched in his eyes that has you blinking into reality. His hair is undone, falling over his eyes naturally and his skin glimmers just the same. He looks like he just showered, and you almost don’t recognize him in his plain white sweatshirt topped with a brown jacket and jeans.

You eye him scrutinizingly, taking note of the two plastic bags he’s carrying.

“Jake? What are you doing here?” your voice is shattered, tinted by the remnant of your sleep and then confusion.

“Yn.” he exhales as if he’s relieved, he’s not stumbling upon your corpse and instead you’re alive “Jay told me you were sick and I was gonna send you some stuff but uh – “ he speaks hastily, hand scratching at the back of his neck and eyes fleeing from you and his words almost as scattered as your thoughts and perhaps that’s why it feels like you don’t understand anything he’s saying. His gaze finds you and he clear his throat. Almost like he falters at your silence.

You must be really sick or still dreaming.

“Anyways are you okay?” He asks hastily yet gently, and he remains gentle in the way his voice infiltrates your being, benign in the way he looks at you as his gaze darts over your figure and then they linger on the discomfort painting your features. It has his own brows furrowing deeper with growing concern.

He tells himself he shouldn’t be this panicked – this nervous. Shouldn’t let it show so obviously, clearer than the gray skies. Albeit he had practiced every word he wanted to say to you, all the excuses he was ready to spill upon finding his way to your home. Uninvited and perhaps unwelcome. For fuck’s sake he thinks he bought the entirety of the small convince store close to your apartment building and there’s embarrassment brewing in his blood, his excuses withering at the tip of his tongue the deeper your discomfort seep into your face.

And no words of his permeates your mind strong enough and instead all you could think about is your head is pounding, and you need to sit down or bash it against the wall. It’s solely why you don’t say anything back and instead turn around in search of relief.

“Yn.” Jake calls with scattered disconcertment as he follows you inside, the plastic bags are a hassle, and he curses himself yet remembers to close the door behind him and his voice echoes through your mind and your living the room when he calls again “Bunny.”

You sit down on your previous spot on your couch, the room is darkened by your blinds and when you bury your head in the palms of your hands it’s not quick enough for you to not witness Jake kneeling in front of you with no hesitation, his bags abandoned on the floor as if he hadn’t spent wasting minutes on deciding what to get, what’s best for you. he doesn’t touch you and his hand hovers awkwardly above your back and yet you swear you could feel its heat as if he is touching you.

“Bunny what’s wrong? Are you dizzy?” his voice betrays an unsubdued concern almost frantic, and you deny his question with a shake of your head.

“Can you talk to me? I wanna be able to help you okay?” He gently coaxes and you keep quiet because you could still sense his hand hovering, and you wonder why can’t his hand be as gentle “Can you tell me what you’re feeling? Mhm?” he suggests once again.

“My head hurts so bad.” You whimper and it feels so silly, the urge percolating into you to cry. It’s the type of pain that makes you wish you could peel your skin off. Abandon your skull somewhere.

“Okay.” He stands up and you peer up at him through your palms and he’s looking around as if he’s trying to decide what he should do next. Evidently nervous as he runs his hand through his hair “Painkillers. I’ll get you some painkillers.” And then he’s walking towards one of the bags he was carrying, digging through them with seemingly no avail as he curses under his breath.

“Fucking hell how did I forget to buy painkillers?” He berates himself, digging into the second bag only to end with failure. “Do you have any painkillers?” He asks looking up at you and the sight of you on your couch huddled up in pain even if it’s something as minor as a mere headache sends the same ache dripping from your fingertips and nestling its way right to the middle of his chest, digging and digging.

He doesn’t wait for your answer and seconds pass by and then you hear him rummaging through the cabinets of your kitchen. His search doesn’t last long thanks to the painkillers you had left on the counter this morning with complementation. You feel his presence and there’s a glass of water in his hand.

“This will make you feel better. Come on bunny.”

He’s standing in front of you again and weirdly enough the way he speaks as if the autumn sunlight is in his voice rather than the cruel winter outside makes you feel vulnerable and when he offers comfort in the palm of his hand, places the glass of water on the table you could only manage to shake your head once again with denial.

“I’m really nauseous and I don’t feel like I could take anything right now without throwing up.” You complain with a snivel and your tone breaks as if you’re about to shed tears and Jake feels it hit him in the pit of his stomach. It’s uncomfortable and unjust because despite how scratched and heavy his heart is your pain still manages to nip at him in different places. As if there’s no way for him not to feel you.

You leer at him and your eyes are misty, you see his hands clench then unclench by his sides and you imagine he’s fighting against restraints to not touch you. His teeth sink into his bottom lips, his fingers dig crescents into the tender skin of his palm. And you wonder how a feeling as tender manages to suffuse within you. You wonder how your mind finds room amidst the pain to fantasize about him when he is right in front of you.

But then Jake is kneeling right by your knees once again and your eyes widen only slightly when he replaces your hands with his. Pressing his thumbs into your temples.

“What are you doing?”

“Shh. Doing this helps me with my headaches sometimes.” He explains and you shut your eyes when he applies light pressure with his fingers. And yet you are overly aware of how wavering you persist to be.

You’re unsure if you’re dizzy because your body is catching up to how weary you feel or because he’s suddenly so close. Close enough to feel his breath hit your face, the pads of his fingers are rough and yet contrastingly warm and it’s been so long since he touched you.

“Is there anything else that’s hurting you?” He asks – whispers delicately - after a few moments of silence with only the sound of your intermingled breaths.

“My body hurts too.” You reply – whisper back just as delicately - and you can’t fight against the small pout jutting your bottom lip out. You think if you were in the right state of mind, you’d be cringing at how dramatic you’re acting.

“Thankfully you don’t seem to be having a fever.” The swipes of his thumbs circle your skin soothingly “You’ll be okay.” He reassures, applying harder pressure every now and then. For a fleeting moment you aren’t sure if he’s trying to comfort you or himself.

“I have you.” it’s a faint whisper. Barely inaudible and for a different fleeting moment it feels like a lie your sick mind had conjured up to feed your thirsting heart. The same fragile heart that pulsates against your ribcage and you don’t want it to be a lie or a heedless imagination.

“Do you promise?” you childishly ask, and Jake lets out a breathy chuckle that tickles your face. You open your eyes, and they prance around his. The chuckle that has melted onto a small smile slowly disappears from his face and you don’t know what kind of expression you’re wearing, what kind of mask you should be hiding behind.

“I promise.” He replies and you sigh because you don’t know if he means that you’ll be okay or that he’s got you, but you hold onto the latter. With clutches roughened by the selfishness of your own longing and shut your eyes with silly covets like not unveiling it.

It’s only when enough time has passed for your body to relax. No longer tense shoulders and shuddered breaths. Instead, the tranquil silence that has settled right between you two settles in the depths of your chest just the same as Jake speaks;

“Better?” He asks.

“Mhm.”

“Do you think you could try taking the painkiller now?”

“Yeah.” you clear your throat, pushing your eyes to open when his hands abandon your skin, and you wish you lied.

Even for a bit longer as he hands you the pills, he had picked up earlier followed by water that you chug diligently and it’s only when your glass is empty that you exhale. Wiping at the corner of your mouth at the few straying drops. He eyes you tentatively when you look up at him.

“Sorry.”

“For what?” His eyebrows furrow in clear confusion.

“For troubling you. Being a burden. I don’t know.” you slightly wince, eyes shifting somewhere else before catching his yet again and he abides unremitting.

“You’re not a burden bunny.” You can sense there’s more that linger at the tip of his tongue, and you wait “I’m here because I was worried about you.” he finishes and your cheeks splash with pink evoked to steal his attention by your pale face.

“Does your body still hurt?” He asks when you’re quiet for far too long, with running gazes and nerves colored hands and pretends he didn’t feel his face burning up at his confession.

“A bit.” You answer, scratching at your wrist and clearing your throat “Can you hand me my laptop, please?” you ask, pointing somewhere behind him and he raises a displeased eyebrow at you.

“For what?”

“There’s a couple of stuff I need to get done.”

“Like what? What’s so important that you need to do now?”

“Bills. Rent is due soon and there’s Yeonjun’s car fees. I was gonna do them earlier but I ended up falling asleep.” You explain, rubbing your forehead warily and the space between his brows deepen with confusion.

“Car fees?” he questions and you nod as if he’s supposed to understand “yeah I need to pay him. I need my laptop.” You move to stand up and your head is spinning a bit but you don’t get to make it far before his hands are on your shoulders pushing you to sit back down and then Jake is on his knees again, chasing after your eyes with a tilt of his head.

You wish he wouldn’t kneel so easily, as if he won’t swallow your heart up and flee.

“Are they urgent?” He asks tenderly and your chest tightens as if there isn’t enough room for your breaths to leave.

“No but I have to do them right now.” You insist with a shaky voice when his hands cradle your face with loving forbearance, one that has you feeling languid.

“Shh, you don’t need to do anything right now, okay?” he reassures as if you were panicked and perhaps you were, you aren’t sure if it’s because of your lack of work or simply because Jake is in the same space as you and you aren’t sure how to act without vomiting words lodged at the back of your throat.

I've missed you so much that I've been naming the stars in the sky after you.

“You’re on sick leave for a reason. Your body needs rest.” His thumb swipes at your cheek and his face is within centimeters of yours “You can do all of these things tomorrow or whenever you feel better, okay?” you let a shuddered breath out and for a second it feels like looking away from him is unobtainable, not when his gaze glints with golden specks, ones that feels like they are reserved for you.

“Okay.” You whisper back, overtaken by defeat and perhaps you never stood a chance.

“Good.” He grins, overtaken by triumphant.

Strands of his black hair fall over his face, and you don’t think you have ever felt this much envy towards anything aside from a human being. Your fingers itch on your lap with temptation to push it out of the way yet you hold yourself back, despite the lure entangled in every move he makes. You are too aware of the distance, too aware of the space you shouldn’t cross, and you will enough power not to slip again.

You fall into silence with purpose, mainly because you feel like a cuddled child and yet you have this growing fear inside of you. It slithers its path to your flickering glances, right into the skin of his palms as he strokes your cheeks. You’re so awfully scared of splitting yourself open, baring your insides and submitting your soul to disaster.

“How about I run you a bath?” He suggests with a slight hum, and you shake your head when his hands trail to your knees.

“No.”

“Why not? It will help you feel better.”

“I don’t really wanna move right now.” As if to prove your point you lie down on the couch, your hair spread like a halo around you and although the room is enveloped in darkness, and everything falls into one color he swears he could almost see the sunrays infiltrating through your strands. its warmth travels to him and he almost want to spread his arms wide open to welcome it.

And perhaps it is enough force to coaxes his smile to rise – his eyes sink into excruciating benevolence and there you are stumbling yet again. Unable to look away from him, not when he’s everything you wish to behold. It pushes you into folding your desire into itself. Tucking it into the space none of you dare to take.

“Weren’t you just fine moving a second ago to get your laptop?”

“That’s different.” You argue with a shrug, making no attempts to further strengthen your point.

“It will be warm, and it will help with soothing the ache in your body.” He says, try to persuade you with a hum and the air tastes fragile, enticing you with an ache to bury your face in the middle of his chest and sing a melody of your name into it, tattoo your name into the canvas of his soul, or maybe it’s you.

“My ache is fine actually, thank you.”

“Oh yeah? is that why your legs are shaking?” he arches a brow at you, smile tilting upwards as if they’re claiming to reach for the stars and you look down at your body, haven’t realized the slight tremble wrecking through it.

“That’s because I’m cold.”

Wordlessly he shrugs off his brown jacket and places it over your lower body, covering your legs and it provides little to no warmth but the scent of laundry detergent engulfs your being. It waters your fervent longing back to the surface. Drowning you in it and you wish to drown in everything that makes up Jake. You didn’t know you could miss someone when they’re right in front of you and you didn’t quite grasp how hard it is to shake the hallucinating thoughts of him – where touching him isn’t forbidden and looking at him comes easily – without threats for your words to spill.

“What about you?” you mumble, pointing at his thin , almost see through sweatshirt.

“I can handle the cold just fine.” He retorts “You know what would help you warm up though? A bath.”

“I’m gonna feel cold as I undress to get into the bathtub.”

“I’ll make it really warm to make up for the few minutes of coldness you’re gonna feel.” He counteracts with a chuckle emerging from his lips and landing right in the middle of your heart. You’re quiet, as if you’re contemplating his words and he thinks he won as your eyes flit elsewhere – he misses you.

“What if the water is too hot it burns my skin?” you ask, softly and yet seriously enough for him to feel the same feeling welling in the pit of his stomach again – as if a flower is fighting its way to bloom through cracks of sorrow and he isn’t sure how to deal with it.

The sunrays, the flowers and the sorrow. He won.

“I’ll make sure nothing like that happens to you.” he replies, just as softly as tender as gingerly. And it’s unfair because you feel your heart palpitate at his mere existence and you already know he won the minute he stepped foot in here.

“How about this,” he straightens, pushes his hair away from his face and you’re envious at his hands and grateful all at once for granting you a clearer glimpse to his features “I’ll go run the bath. Make sure everything is perfect for you and then if you still feel like you don’t want to go in, you don’t have to, okay?”

You don’t think you’re brave enough to accept his kindness as it is. You will always manage to find different facets of it. Dress it in the intensity of affection and stare at his smile as if spilled lullabies are woven to call for their home – within your soul.

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

He shushes you and when he stands up, his hand lingers above your head. His own urges – hankerings to brush through your hair betray themselves in the flicker of light in his gaze so you cowardly look away because you’re scared of betraying your burning heart in yours. Scared of being rejected and falling between the walls of whys.

“I’ll be back.” He whispers, flown away and you could still smell the rain on your skin.

Your house – a small apartment is the complete opposite of his. He never was into the intricacies of home décor. Hence why the space of his home remains plain and simple. His own touches of life lacking and the only thing close to boisterous are his forget me nots and the painting that somehow managed to lead back to you.

You, however, stay lively with scattered hanged pictures of Japan across the walls. And your dessert shaped candles, your bathroom smells like Sakura petals, and you manage to inject your love into everything you surround. He thinks he likes it here.

He’s gone for two minutes only; the bath is half full when you peak your head through the door of your own bathroom. Your hair is disheveled, and his jacket is now around your shoulders.

“Changed your mind?” He asks with a grin that churrs your insides.

“The thought of a bath didn’t seem so bad after all.” You answer as you step inside. You take a seat on the closed toilet seat and watch as Jake reads the back label of your pink bubble bath soap, his nose scrunches a little too adorably as if he is displeased of what it contains. Your heart warms at the sight and he still pours a generous amount of it into the tub, filling it with bubbles and then he follows it with your bodywash.

The scent of vanilla overtakes the Sakura.

“This smells just like you.”

“It is my bodywash after all.”

“I like it.” He says, eyes drifting to the water as he tests the temperate with his hands. How I smell or merely the scent? you want to ask but you don’t.

When the water is warm and full. He trudges towards you, his cheeks are slightly pink due to the heat and there’s a soft smile dispersing across his lips with coated fondness. It steals your breath away when he’s leaning down and taking off your socks for you. You slightly flinch with a bout of embarrassment.

“Y-You don’t have to do this Jake.” You fumble diffidently, with your words and your racing heart.

“I know.” He looks up at you “I want to. Am I making you uncomfortable?” He questions throwing your socks to the side. You’re left to wonder how you are supposed to accept his integrity, his attentiveness, the unfair ability to have you wavering on this warmth of his.

“No.” you admit, with a rattled breath and perhaps the tilt of his lips is worth it.

“Can I?” He still asks when his hands reach for the buttons of your pajama top, you shrug his jacket off and nod with a burning face.

Silence rushes in unwelcomed, and your keep your gaze downcast. watch as his fingers seemingly slower than you wish unbutton every single one. Your heart picks up speed with each one and breathing grows harder when your eyes dart towards his and yet still vacillating. Because it is not lust that fetters the air but rather something that feels much more intimate. Like exchanging words between your gazes that your tongue will not be able to match.

And it stays even when you’re finally in the bathtub. Encircled by a familiar scent, warmth and Jake at the edge of your tub. The water is as pleasant as he promised, and your body relaxes.

“Just call for me if you need anything, alright?”

Suddenly you’re inundated with a colossal amount of disappointment at being left alone. Your eyes shifting, fingers picking at the surface of your tub.

“Alright, bunny?” He asks again and maybe it is your tiresome tinting all logical thinking that you should have but then you’re shaking your head, kicking your pride to the side.

“What if I need something but I can’t call for you?” stupid, stupid yearning.

Jake looks perplexed for a few seconds, but his expression is softened by a fond smile. He had broken hearts before – not intentionally. And he never was the man to listen to others strives to grasp for his affectionate. And yet in this moment, he’d rather have you break his heart than refuse what your eyes are seeking.

“I’ll just stay then.” He tells you, tender and you’re shy. Cheeks glowing pink and he feels his fondness for you trickle into his blood and it bumps faster, rougher through his veins when you catch his gaze.

You lean back into the tub with your lips slightly tilting, pushing the entirety of your hair to the side. The ends swim alongside you and stray rivulets of water slips down your neck. Catching his gaze as it lingers for a minute too long on the necklace that’s always there.

It's just you, unadulterated with the weather outside and draped with effulgence as he always knew you to be. And it’s him, without the echoes of all his doubtful battles. Perhaps he managed to empty his mind in the water and your necklace – his – remains around your neck even when you’re bare. It’s like you’re wearing him, and he likes to think he’s woven into the fabric of your soul.

He looks away for a spilt second, a puff of a chuckle forces its way past his lips.

“What?” you ask, tilting your head to the side with a growing smile and God – you’re breathtaking.

“I just had a stupid thought.” He shakes his head, and the water slightly splashes when you move closer to him.

“Tell me.” you say, and he thinks you’re too tangled in his soul.

“It just feels like it’s been a while since we looked at each other.” He says softly “But we see each other every day so it’s stupid.” He continues and recognition fills your eyes like you know exactly what he means.

“It’s not stupid.” you reply, and you are too tangled in his soul “I have actual stupid thoughts all the time. And you know it.”

“They’re extraordinary, I wouldn’t call them stupid.”

“That’s just a nicer way of saying I’m stupid.” You retort with a playful snort; your smile remains soft.

“Shut up you’re not stupid.” He insists and a comparable softness traverse in his irises and it pushes you right into quietness.

You never were one for silence. Because silence is uncomfortable and it’s vast with its weight. It vocalizes everything you’ve been trying to evade all day, perhaps all week or maybe it’s been long enough to be called months. However, right now it doesn’t feel like that. It’s akin to placid waters, your reflection comes back crystalline clear rather than distorted.

“You’re the last person I expected it to see today if I’m being honest.” You speak after stretching minutes of none of you saying anything, fingers drawing star shapes into the water and his eyes watch you with faithful attention.

“What would have you done if I wasn’t here?” He doesn’t ask why, and you wonder if he knows or is merely uninterested.

“Probably become one with my couch until I felt better.” You shrug and he shakes his head with a tsk of disapproval. For an odd reason a knot forms in your stomach, impossibly tight and the skin of your neck ignites in flame. You tell yourself you’re growing too hot and that’s it.

“I wish you took care of yourself the way you take care of others.” He says, candor embraces every syllable with ease. A similar knot forms in the middle of your tongue. Deeming it useless. There is no peace in confessing that you aren’t sure how to do that. Not when you have spent a lifetime with amiability directed at anyone but yourself.

“I don’t think I know how to do that.” There’s no peace in confessing yet you still do it. Perhaps you were tired of trying to light a matchstick that refuses to obey, his eyes mellow down into nothing but adoration.

Was there a point in trying to save someone that refuses to be saved?

But Jake hasn’t been acting like himself. Following his impulses blindly, it’s evoked by the callings of his heart, yearning to be near so he showed up to your door like there’s room for him. He touched you like he wasn’t made from poison and he can scour through every rational thought but they’re all adjudged futile against the softness that is you.

“I’m here now.” He says, I’m here to take care of you, you hear.

The enormity of his desire disgusts him, it’s a craving beyond his flesh and it’s unjust. I’ll shape myself into something that’s worth taking care of you, he means.

“You have been working hard, your body is probably upset with you.” He adds when you’re quiet, eyes darting over your dubious figure and he thinks your cheeks have drained the colors from the world, they’re pink and the sky is gray.

He’s unworthy but it’s a great honor to think he’s the reason why.

“Tell that to my boss.” You joke and Jake narrows his eyes at you.

“I actually heard your boss is super nice,”

“Did you now?”

“Uh huh, super nice and handsome too. Ripped body. Killer smile. I could go on forever. Really.” He trails, lowering his fingers one by one and you roll your eyes with a forced giggle tumbling out your lips, one that you cannot seem to be able to hold back.

“Who’s feeding you these lies? Jay?”

“So, you don’t agree that I’m handsome?”

“Beauty is subjective.”

“Is that a no?” a look of faux offense clambers over his face and your giggle uprears in volume, grows further from fatigue and closer to how you usually sound. You pretend to zip your mouth shut, raising palms in surrender as if you can’t help it.

A deeper umbrage takes claim on his face, and he attempts to splash water at you, you turn your head with a laugh, and he sees Sakura petals bloom across your face, they come from within, watered by you.

“In all seriousness,” he itches closer to you. and your smile melts off your face at the sudden propinquity it has your body engulfed in heat that isn’t provided by the bath. His fingers trail underwater, and when his eyes catch yours, they’re soaked with softness and your reflection is so clear. when his fingers graze yours, they fail to intertwine, and your heart is beating so fast you feel like you could throw It up.

“You’re doing a good job, bunny.” Your eyes soften as marginally, you bring your knees up to your chest. Attempts to hide the joy that overtakes your sentiment – the warmth that caresses your heart. You allow yourself to bask in it and a faint voice whispers in your heart;

You have managed to stumble on a lost star – he shines so brightly and burns just as bright. And he calls for you in a sea of flesh.

“You’re doing a good job too, Jake.” He smiles and your mind careens.

“Tell that to my assistant.”

This time it’s you who splashes him with water and this time it’s him who laughs like the world shrinks into nothing but you and him in the middle of your small bathroom. And you smile like your heart has never known pain, but you don’t tell him that you didn’t let the water get to him on purpose, and you don’t show him that love writes itself in the corners of your face.

“Shall I help you wash your hair?” He asks when his laughter had died down and the glint in his eyes shines brighter.

“You don’t have to.”

At your answer he’s already getting up, hands reaching for your bottle of shampoo. When he’s behind you, hands entangled in your hair. You bury your face in your knees with a profound urge to weep taking over your sensitive heart. It’s foolishly emerging from the fog of your confusion at the reminder that you don’t remember the last time someone cared for you this deeply, this tenderly. And there’s unavoidable loneliness at the thought, there’s melancholy in the feeling, knowing that this tenderness is temporary.

No matter how selfishly you hope for it to last. Your mind is a battlefield, haunted by touches of love. Stories upon stories stitched together by great ardor. You have seen it all around you, in movies, written in pages of a novel and in ending relationships your friends had gone through – none of them are yours.

“Bunny I can’t wash your hair if you’re leaning that far off.” Jake comments with a chuckle.

You keep quiet, too embarrassed to cry over something as inevitable as Jake leaving. Too ashamed of the covetous ache brimming in your blood. You have tried to discard it, but you aren’t sure how are you supposed to drain your blood without kneeling into death.

Jake follows your silence. Maybe he thinks you’re stubbornly childish, maybe he thinks you’re teasing him or maybe he sees it through it all and your weakness is unabashed and it’s a glaring red siren coaxing him into the complexity of your essence. You don’t see him, but you feel him moving behind you, the sound of a lid uncapping and then his hands are on your back with lathered soup, vanilla fills the empty spaces of silence.

His hands aren’t soft against your skin, they’re rough, washed raw and dry. You could almost distinguish every scar that embellishes them, the healing ones, old ones you haven’t been there to witness taint his skin. His sadness – unrelenting guilt is unabashed, and you never knew such callous hands could be this gentle.

It’s another stupid thought – but maybe there’s room for something to belong to you.

When the sun sets outside. The lights in your hallway stay the same. While Jake takes an alarmingly long time to wash his hands. Long enough for enervation to sink deeper into your bones, it drains the color from your face. and it transpires itself into imaginary leg cuffs around your ankles making your movement closer to a harder task than breathing.

You somehow feel even more tired, dragged further down the hole of sickness.

“You okay?” He asks when he finds you in your bedroom, sitting on your velvet vanity chair and clothed in your robe. Your hair is slightly damp and the colors of the sun leaving seeps in through the openings of your curtains.

“Just a little tired.” You answer, throwing a glance at his direction and it leaves him wondering – perhaps for days – how you manage to look like you stepped out of the painting of his dreams.

In his dreams, his heart isn’t as filthy and merging into you isn’t as fearful.

In reality, he clears his throat and steps into your room, inhales your perfume and envelopes his filthy heart with faux courage.

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Mhm.” You lean your head back onto his chest when he’s standing behind you. He conceals his surprise with immense force, not fast enough for the betrayal of his slightly widened eyes. cinnamon and vanilla overtake his senses, your face is doused in exhaustion and his mind is fuzzy.

“Not yet.” He inhales you.

“We’ll need to get some food in your system, yeah?” He whispers and you hum, eyes falling shut when he tentatively brushes his fingers through your hair “We’ll also need to do something about your hair – can’t have you getting sicker.”

“I don’t feel like doing anything.” You faintly complain, a small pout adorning your lips when you look up at him, the sunset glimmers in your eyes and reality pales in comparison.

“I’ll do it for you.” He replies with an amused grin at the way you’re acting. It gives room for the moon to rise.

You aren’t sure what he means by that – however a long sigh caged in your chest escapes when he starts brushing your hair. He’s extremely gentle, fingers coated in delicacy that you don’t even provide for your own hair. And there’s a peculiar domesticity painting the air. As if this was how everything was meant to unfold. For you to eventually end up here and for him to be behind you through it all.

“I never thought that the Jake Sim would be good at braiding hair.” You comment lightly when he starts sectioning your hair, he catches your eyes in the mirror.

“My mum taught me.” he mumbles, eyes returning to his work and seeming completely focused on your hair “I used to braid her hair for her all the time.”

“That’s really sweet.” You reply with a lowered tone – a hushed softness and Jake is quiet for a few moments. You think his words die here but then he speaks again.

“I vividly remember how each time the braid grew smaller and smaller because she kept losing so much hair.” His words flow as easy as autumn breeze, bittered by the winter as if the image is still fresh in his head. Rather than a distant memory. It’s an image that still glides throughout his reality.

“She always joked that it’s better this way. That it’s easier for me to braid.” He chuckles but it lacks life, joy, and his eyes deepen with distant – longing and your heart tightens, brows slightly furrowing at his undeniable grief.

I’m sorry. Lingers at the tip of your tongue but you’re well aware that’s not the kind of words that will bring him peace. It won’t ease his pain or lessen the depth of his sadness – anger. You’re well aware not to act upon the urges clashing inside of you. truthfully you want to know everything about him. The thoughts that invade his mind at night, in the mornings and right now when he’s dozing off with pieces of you in between his fingers.

What is he like when his anger isn’t restrained – what is he like when he’s not bottling everything up and what would it be like to peek into his sorrowful river. You don’t give room for yourself to decipher the cause of this urge. You know it’s not trivial curiosity, but rather the desire to peer into the corners of his souls. Like a book you wish to read, your fingers itching. Yet you manage to hold yourself back. You smile and night has painted the sky.

“She sounds like a lively woman.”

“She is.” He says absentmindedly while his hands braid the ends of your hair “She was.” He corrects in a fleeting second “She was the type of person to find happiness even on the darkest and gloomiest days.”

Jake’s lament displays itself in the floods of his existence with no shame. There’s softness twined in his gaze; one that appears naturally at the mention of a person he holds so dearly to his heart, yet the bitterness abides part of it all. It’s a wound that had yet to stop aching in pain, to stop bleeding. He doesn’t know why he tells you all this and doesn’t know how the words slipped out of his mouth but his eyes stumble upon yours there’s not a single cell of regret in his body.

You don’t look at him with pity nor sympathy. Jake had showed off his scars to you and you still look at him like it’s just – him. Not his shame, or grief. His existence had always felt like a garden of black and red agonies. Had seen it tickle down his cheeks with rivulets of his sorrow, witnessed the blood seep out his fingers and drench the ground with every step he takes. But you’re there, in the midst of it all and you’re not looking at him with disdain. Instead, you flourish with ease, as if he isn’t made of prickling thorns.

“I’m sure she’s still watching over you, proudly.” You tell him with a fragile smile, and it shouldn’t shake his soul the way it does. He looks away with a slight tremble in his hand. A labored breath and he can’t say anything back to you. You don’t look at him as shame or grief and he can’t let you look at him as his regret, his guilt.

Jake is made up of a garden tainted with black and red agonies – his remorse remains a master of it all. He doesn’t find enough courage to come face to face with the fact that it’s not that. That if his mother knew, if you knew how he lived his life. Glory has no place to exist. So, instead he grins and ties your hair for you.

“All done.”

“Wow! it’s really well done actually.” You say, bringing your hair to the front and staring at it, between your hands. A pang of ache nestles its way into his stomach and it’s peculiar to feel like you’re holding a piece of him so delicately.

“it’s just one of my many talents.” He quips and you giggle slightly.

You keep your eyes glued to your hair and he senses something shifting in your eyes and your lips cast downwards faster than he’d like. He senses a realization in you unfold as your brows start to furrow.

“My mom,” you speak suddenly and then you’re looking at him, a smile doused in sorrow similar to his is on your face “my mom never really taught me anything.” You murmur like a confession pulled from the depths of your soul. For a moment he thinks he sees your scars too, they’re raw and have yet to stop bleeding, he thinks he tastes your heartache on your tongue.

It’s bitter and doesn’t belong in you.

“You still turned out wonderful.” He says, every word, tone is inundated with sincerity and your eyes flit to his with purpose to steal his heart. They glimmer and he wonders how envious the moon must be – he wonders if there’s room for him to linger around.

“You don’t have to be nice to me just because I’m sick.” You joke lightly, you ended up baring your insides after all.

“Have I ever lied to you?” He whispers, not colored with amuse like you had hoped.

“No.” you answer, and you think you can’t slip when you have already fallen, and he smiles like he knows he won.

You realize it then – how scary intimacy truly is. Not the one evoked by lust and hunger but this one. The one that saturates the air with vulnerability. Baring your soul with its ugly scratches, your hideous mistakes while blind to everything that’s coming your way.

And he realizes it then – that there’s so much of you he has yet to unveil, he sees parts of you everywhere, in the love you spill into everything you do. And in your so ever called hope. Jake was never optimistic. Life hadn’t given him the privilege to be and somewhere in the darkened nights in his garden he lost the ability to believe in such an intangible thing as hope. So, he wonders why he wishes for your hope to never wither away. He feels this immense urge to peer into your soul, look through the pages of your book.

You open your mouth to say something and the hairs on his body rise in anticipation to listen with devotion. It’s an odd feeling to thirst for someone like this. Not for their body to touch yours or unload accumulated stress through them but rather to intertwine with him, crave for your hand to mesh into them. How selfish it is, to crave someone this bad, as if he has any right to call you his.

Your phone dings multiple times on your vanity, seemingly with messages and your mouth closes, eyes averting and his anticipation is stripped away, overtaken by disappointment at your fleeting attention.

“Sorry,” you mumble, picking up your phone and going through the notifications. Your brows slightly furrow, and he grows hatred for your phone.

“Is everything okay?” he asks at your lingering worry.

“Yeah um,” your fingers move across your screen as you type to a response to whatever stole your gazes from him “Niki is here?” you add and it comes out more as a question colored with bewilderment.

“Did you know he was coming?”

“No,” you lock your phone and stand up “I told him to come up. He wants to talk to me about something.” You explain further, heading towards your closet in search of clothes to wear. You pull a plain thick sweater over your head, hands reaching for a pair of shorts closest to your hand.

The sound of your door unlocking has Jake’s eyes slightly widening at the speed of your brother. Did he fucking teleport to your floor or what?

“Anyways it probably won’t be long so just stay here.” You add and he cocks a brow at your choice of clothing .

“Are you seriously wearing that?” he asks eyes trailing over your figure.

“Yeah, why?”

“You have been complaining about being cold all day and now you’re wearing shorts? Do you want to die?” you blink at him slowly “Change. Wear something warm.” He adds crossing his arms and tone stern unlike how he has been talking to you gently earlier, it’s slightly amusing and it has your lips twitching upwards.

“Yes boss.” You joke heading for your closet again and he rolls his eye and then your back faces him and you fail to see his smile, it’s adorned with affection.

After changing into thicker pajama pants and gaining a nod of approval from Jake, you make it out to your living room. Niki is on your couch and upon hearing the sound of your steps his eyes shift from the plastic bags on the floor to you. irritation paints his face quickly and you sigh warily.

“What the fuck yn?”

To be continued....

→ taglist : @slutforsjy @wonwoos-wineparty @nxzz-skz @piripurora @vousty

@realrintaro @slut4hee @chartrucewhore @iveivory @xyztammy

@jooniesbears-blog @hee4lifer @babrieeee @softieluvsyou @onlyhyunjin

@fuxktaekook @lukeysgiggle @jakeyverse @belovedsthings @vveebee

@duhgurl @niniissus @dreamiestay @lhspeachie @illvding @luvrseung

@tanisha2060 @sngleehee @hmusunoo @chlodavids

@mandoscyare @danielleism @nessas-archive @pochamocharoll @thatonexcgirl

@jakesfurry @enhaslxt @missychief1404 @stargirl-gigi @ohwonzs

@pochakkeu @sunshine-skz @jinspinkflipphone @woorcve @yuniesluv

@eneiyri @sumzysworld @02zluvbot @simpjay @insommni4

(bold can't be tagged)

184 notes · View notes

eunimaybe · 3 days ago

Text

theorising : us in parallel worlds

୨୧ ; you and jake sim are in completely different orbits! how did you defy the laws of physics and end up with him?

pairing! physicalsciencesmajor!jake x historymajor!reader | wc. 0.8k | warnings: possibly incorrect science and uni terms, attempted humour, probably cringe EN-

🖇️ : jake version is out now!! this was so cute to write and the reader is so me i can’t do maths and physics either ㅠㅠ need jake to tutor me frfr

so you see

you’ve never been maths and science smart

you’ve always been better at the humanities subjects and the languages, even from middle school

you are the history, geography and literature ACE.

well, jake’s the opposite

he devours maths equations and quantum physics papers for breakfast and proceeds to choke over basic history — more under cut!!

“when did the first world war end?”

“uh, i dunno. BUT did you know something can be a wave and a particle at once?”

jake was the kid that memorised the digits of pi FOR FUN.

he’s the guy who understood organic chemistry and quantum physics when he was nine

like you didn’t even have a consciousness when you were nine how tf was jake understanding quantum physics

of course jake’s a physical science and engineering major

you meet him at uni in your history department because he was waiting for his friend to come out of lecture

and DAMN he’s a lil cutie

you just watched him leaning on the hallway wall whilst you were sitting on that one random really comfortable sofa in the corner

you were NOT expecting him to suddenly stroll over to you

like why is that guy walking over to the sofa WHY IS HE LOOKING AT YOU

he's just here to ask you where the hell the lecture hall for the class that teaches history about people who died a lightyear before is

and you’re just like “oh, you mean ancient history? it’s right over there, room 204.”

he shoots you the most beautiful smile you've ever seen and says "thanks" before leaving

you're just kind of sitting there staring at his retreating figure

WHY IS HE SO SO CUTE????

it might not show but jake's also silently thinking about that

how did he not notice someone like you sooner?

like you're perfect it doesn't matter that the campus is huge and you two are different majors HOW HAS HE NEVER NOTICED YOU

you never even got to know that guy's name and you're scared that you won't ever see him again

you're just mentally kicking yourself for not asking for his name (and number)

you only manage to find him through intensive, if not obsessive internet research with your best friend

you learn that this cute guy's name is jake sim and that he's double majoring in physical sciences and engineering bc he's a lil crazy

how is his skin glowing with that kind of schedule

you always look for him in the university hallways YOU EVEN GO TO THE SCIENCES DEPARTMENT

but you never find him (it's because jake's poking his nose into every history lecture hall instead of being in his department trying to get a glimpse of you)

like he even goes to the philosophy lecture halls bc you sometimes go to them for fun

it’s giving zeno’s paradox omfg ITS GIVING PAULI EXCLUSION PRINCIPLE (except yall aren’t an electron)

but in one of your university's annual festivals you get to see him again!!

you were just in line to buy some lemonade with your friend when he lines up behind you

he recognises you straight away and gives you that smile that's been embedded in your memory for the past month and says a little hello

your friend just leaves because she's been getting daily updates about this guy named jake sim with pictures included

you're just left alone with him and you're so busy staring at him that you don't hear the lemonade stand cashier ask what you want to order

jake buys you a cup of lemonade SUCH A GENTLEMAN

you two have so much fun together at the festival

jake evens wins you a plushie with the darts at one of the stalls

"how're you so good at that? those games are designed to make you lose."

"you just need to understand the science behind it."

turns out jake is really easygoing which you didn't think was possible from an engineering major

you two make plans to meet up together and study at the science department library

tell me why the science library is so much better than the one you go to.

the sofas are so much more nap friendly and it just looks prettier yk

jake helps you with your maths and science studies

you thought you would be free of maths and science once you graduate from high school but turns out basic classes are in the core curriculum

it was a very big disappointment when you found out WDYM YOU STILL HAVE TO DO CALCULUS

you barely managed to do long divisions in primary, you can't do this shit anymore

it's okay, not only is jake really really smart, he's also really really patient

in return, you help jake boost his shitty core humanities grade

he's been barely scraping by

"y/n, i swear, i can memorise dates and all that stuff but i can't with the essays."

jake confesses to you during one of your little study sessions

he sends you a cute heart on the desmos graphing calculator (such a nerd omg)

you two are THE power couple

you get As in your maths and science now and the professor doesn't give you dirty looks anymore

jake managed to boost his grade as well DREAM COUPLE FRFR

heeseung jay sunghoon sunoo jungwon ni-ki

✉️: @icyy-hoon

176 notes · View notes

jjangwonie · 1 day ago

Text

DOUBLE LIFE

DOUBLE LIFE MASTERLIST

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ summary: With your anonymous Twitter account, you've acquired a pretty good following and popularity, throughout your school as well. Jake, your long-time crush, is one of them, head over heels. Yet when you once confessed to him, he had rejected your confession, saying that he already has his eye on someone else. What happens when he finds out that his online crush is the person that he rejected? And... How are you going to deal with this?

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ word count: ~2.1k

THIRTY SIX - Hey

The door creaks open and Jake practically stumbles inside, shoulders hunched from the cold. You quickly step aside as he hastily walks around, before closing the door behind him.

"Jesus, it's freezing," he mutters, rubbing his arms before suddenly freezing in place. He turns around, facing you properly for the first time in what feels like forever.

"Hey," he says, voice softer now.

"Hi," you reply with a small, uncertain smile, one hand rubbing your arm nervously. You're drowning in fluffy pajamas, your hair falling messily around your face, and even with slightly flushed cheeks from the fever, you're...

Jake has to remind himself to breathe.

"Oh, um," you gesture to the bouquet he's still clutching, "the flowers..."

"Right! The flowers. I, uh..." He looks down at the colourful bundle like he's forgotten he's holding them. "I got them because... well, remember when we were talking about favourite flowers? When you said- I mean, when everythingblue said- or, no, when you said..."

He takes a breath, starting over.

He's rambling now, words tumbling out faster than he can control them. "I didn't actually know which one was really your favourite. You gave such different answers, so... I just... got them all? Which probably looks ridiculous now that I think about it, but the florist was really nice about it, even though it was almost closing time, and-"

He stops abruptly, realizing he's been talking non-stop. A faint blush creeps up his neck.

"I just... wanted to get them right this time." He sighs out while his eyes flicker between you and anywhere else.

"It probably looks like a mess," Jake continues, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "The florist tried to make it look nice but I kept adding more and-"

You can't help but smile as you watch him ramble. It's endearing, really. The way his hands move slightly while holding the bouquet, how his ears are turning pink (and not just from the cold), how he keeps glancing between you and the flowers like he's not sure where to look. This is a side of Jake you've never seen before. Nervous, a little unsteady, words tumbling out unfiltered.

This is the same boy who could expertly control a football, who always seemed so composed in school, now standing in your hallway just before midnight, clutching a mismatched bouquet and rambling about flower arrangements of all things.

"Jake," you cut in softly, and he stops mid-sentence, looking at you with those wide eyes. "I like them. Really. The fact that you remembered all of those random flowers I mentioned months ago..." You trail off, feeling your own cheeks warm slightly. "Thank you."

He lets out a small breath, shoulders relaxing just a fraction. "Oh," he says, and there's that tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Good. That's... good."

The silence that follows feels heavy, and you find yourself fidgeting with your sleeve. "You must be freezing," you blurt out. "Do you want a blanket? Or I could make some tea? I always have some ready and-"

"Actually," Jake interrupts, his expression shifting to something more determined (though the effect is somewhat ruined by his pink-tipped nose from the cold).

"You're the one who needs to be taking care of yourself. Sunghoon told me you haven't been eating properly, and YOU should be resting, wrapped up in blankets, not walking around in the rain, and definitely not eating ice cream at midnight-"

His hands are moving everywhere as he talks, the bouquet swinging dangerously through the air with each gesture. You watch the flowers wobble precariously as he continues,

"-and what were you thinking sitting at a bus stop for an hour? You could have called- anyone would have picked you up, you know that right? And-"

You reach out instinctively, steadying his flower-wielding hand with your own. "Jake."

He freezes mid-gesture, words dying in his throat as his eyes flicker between your hand on his and your face. You can practically see his brain short-circuiting, mouth slightly open, caught mid-word.

"You're going to make the flowers fly away," you say softly.

"Oh," he breathes out, then swallows hard. "Right. Yes. The flowers. Flying. I mean- not flying. They shouldn't fly." He takes a deep breath, seemingly trying to collect his scattered thoughts.

"What I was trying to say is... I'm not exactly a chef or anything, but I make pretty decent ramen. Would you... would you eat something if I made it?"

You can't help but smile at his earnest expression, at how he's standing in your hallway offering to make you ramen, at how he's still letting you steady his hand.

"Okay," you sigh, fond exasperation colouring your voice.

"I'll just put these in water first, alright?"

The kitchen falls into a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft bubbling of water on the stove and the quiet snips of scissors as you trim the flower stems.

Jake busies himself with unpacking the ramen, three different flavours because he wasn't sure which one you'd prefer so he decided to just mix them, trying not to make it obvious how his eyes keep drifting to you.

But they do. They always have.

There's something about seeing you like this - hair slightly messy, drowning in oversized pajamas with little stars on them, careful fingers handling each flower like it's precious. It's so different from how he usually sees you around school, yet somehow exactly the same. The same gentle attention you give to everything, whether it's editing photos or arranging flowers or just... existing in this quiet midnight moment.

You're humming something under your breath, probably not even aware you're doing it, and Jake finds himself holding his own breath, afraid to disturb this moment.

You look so... at home. So real.

He watches as you gently touch a daisy petal, adjusting its position in the vase with such care that something in his chest aches. It hits him then, how much he's missed this, missed you, even the parts he didn't know existed until now.

The water starts boiling more vigorously behind him, snapping him back to reality.

Right. Ramen.

He's supposed to be making ramen, not standing here like an idiot, watching you arrange flowers with what he's sure is the most embarrassingly soft expression on his face.

But he can't help stealing one more glance, memorizing how you look in this moment, slightly fever-flushed but smiling, surrounded by the flowers he brought, looking so perfectly, wonderfully real.

"How's it going?" you ask, turning away from the now-arranged flowers.

"Almost ready," Jake responds, quickly pretending he wasn't just staring. "Just waiting for the noodles to cook properly."

You hum, moving towards the fridge. "Want me to add some eggs? Make it a proper meal?" You're already pulling them out before he can answer, and he watches as you move around your kitchen with familiar ease, grabbing a smaller pan and some vegetables.

Jake tries to focus on stirring the ramen, he really does, but his eyes keep wandering back to you.

Your hair keeps falling in your face, and each time you brush it back with the back of your wrist, careful not to touch it with your cooking hands...

"The water's boiling over," you say without looking up.

"What? Oh- shit-" Jake quickly turns down the heat, feeling his ears burn as he realizes he's been caught not paying attention.

But when he glances back at you, there's a small smile playing at the corners of your mouth as you continue chopping, and somehow that makes his embarrassment worth it.

He should probably say something, make conversation, but there's something so peaceful about this moment.

The tips of his ears are still pink, but he can't help stealing another glance. Just one more.

You carefully balance your bowl as you lead the way upstairs, Jake following a few steps behind. When you push open your bedroom door, he pauses in the doorway, taking everything in.

"This is..." he trails off, eyes wandering from the fairy lights strung across your wall to the polaroids scattered on your corkboard. "Okay, it's weird seeing your room in real life. I mean, I've seen parts of it in your photos, but-"

"Jake," you interrupt, settling cross-legged on your bed with your bowl, "if you say it like that, it sounds like you've been stalking me."

"What- no! I meant- I just-" he sputters, then catches your teasing smile. "Oh, you're making fun of me."

"Maybe a little," you admit, patting the space next to you.

He hesitates for a moment before carefully sitting down, trying not to spill his ramen. The silence that falls feels thick with everything unsaid, the only sound being the soft clink of chopsticks against bowls. Jake's hyper-aware of every movement. How close you're sitting, how your shoulder almost brushes his when you reach for a tissue, how your room smells like vanilla and something floral and you.

"This is pretty good," you say softly, breaking through his thoughts.

The tension in his shoulders eases slightly.

"Yeah?" he asks, and he's not just asking about the ramen.

You nod, giving him another small smile, and something in his chest unclenches just a bit more.

With the empty bowls set aside on your nightstand, the silence creeps back in. You're suddenly very aware of everything.

"Oh, right," Jake says suddenly, reaching for his bag. "I brought some... stuff." He starts pulling things out, setting them on your bed with careful enthusiasm.

"Some chocolate - which I know probably isn't great when you're sick, but Sunghoon mentioned you've been eating ice cream anyway, so I figured... And medicine, because fever, obviously. And this-"

He pulls out a small box with a Lego flower set logo. "I saw this and thought... since you like flowers..."

The keychain on his bag catches your eye as he moves - a small plushie, gently swaying with his movements. It's identical to the one sitting behind you besides your pillow. Your throat feels tight suddenly.

"Jake," you say softly, reaching out to still his hands that are still pulling things from his bag, seemingly endless. He freezes at the contact, and when he looks up, your eyes meet.

The fairy lights reflect in his dark eyes, creating tiny constellations, and you're close enough to see the slight flutter of his eyelashes as he blinks.

There's that familiar awkward tension again, but it's different now. Softer somehow, more delicate. Like you're both holding your breath, waiting for something neither of you can name.

A strand of hair falls in your face, and Jake's fingers twitch like he wants to brush it away, but he doesn't.

Instead, he just looks at you, really looks at you, in a way that makes your heart stumble over itself.

You're both so quiet you can hear the gentle hum of your heater, the distant sound of cars outside, the slight rustle of the bag's zipper as it finally settles.

It's strange, you think, how someone can feel like both a stranger and the most familiar person in the world all at once.

Your hand is still on his, and Jake swears his heart actually stops for a second when you say his name like that, so soft and careful, like it's something precious.

He's spent so long being angry, being hurt, but right now, with you looking at him in the gentle glow of your fairy lights, hair messy and cheeks still slightly flushed from fever...

"You're really pretty," he murmurs before he can stop himself.

You let out a surprised laugh, pulling your hand back to cover a small cough. "I am literally coughing up a storm," you say, looking down at your attire. "I look a mess."

"No, you don't," Jake says, too quickly, too honestly. The words hang in the air between you.

His eyes can't seem to stay still - taking in how your hair falls around your face, flickering to the way your lips part slightly in surprise at his bluntness. You look soft and close enough that he can see your soft breaths, and his heart is doing something dangerous in his chest.

Then you cough again, small but enough to remind him that you're sick, that this probably isn't the time for... whatever his heart is trying to do right now.

Jake clears his throat, reaching for the Lego box perhaps a bit too quickly.

"Want to make this together?" he asks, voice slightly rougher than usual. It's an escape route, a way to ease the tension that's been building, to quiet the loud beating of his heart that he's sure you must be able to hear.

But when you smile and nod, scooting closer to look at the box, he thinks maybe his heart isn't going to quiet down anytime soon.

PREVIOUS | NEXT

©jjangwonie 2024

Taglist:

@jvngyoi @heexissa @i03jae @leaderwons @unhakki

@dreamiestay @poohoon @j33mn @nshmrarki

@ckline35 @payformycoffeeandleave @miszes @onlyhyunjin

@iatemycatfreckles @tannyr98 @conwunder @cheridiaries

@simsungsims @heelovesmeknot @wayzatiny @sanasour @violets-for-yj

@maloilover @riksaes @heeseungspookie @alex-is-sleeping

@helenngxz @shuichi-sama @noname-123s-things @mochiwonz

@atinyrosedoor @bee-the-loser @rairaiblog @sumzysworld

@who-tf-soddhi @heartheejake @ddeonuu4me @bananna-12 @haestuffs

@diestheticu @lionzyon @tw-hyuck @bmo-bri @zyvlxqht

@luvvvash @lisaswifey @xiaoquanquans @steddie-steddie @tinyteezer

@blvengene @tkooooop @mewyega

#enhypen imagines #enhypen #enhypen au #enhypen jake #enhypen jay #enhypen heeseung #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunoo #enhypen jungwon #enhypen niki #sim jaeyun #sim jake #enhypen smau #smau #jjangwonie #jjangwonie double life #enhypen angst #jake angst

103 notes · View notes

nfly5 · 2 days ago

Text

ENHYPEN — MAMA 2024 (RED CARPET)

#enhypen #enhypenet #heeseung #jay #jake #sunghoon #sunoo #jungwon #ni-ki #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #mgroupsedit #mama 2024 #gfs*

106 notes · View notes

cutehoons02 · 2 days ago

Text

♡ would enhypen call you as your bf or as you would call it♡

*synopsis: (reaction) what the enhypen members call you or what you call them to make fun of them

༄07T༄

(English is not my native language)

—REBLOG if you enjoyed

Jay (Amore mio)

Jay loved everything about the world of Italy, from fashion, good food, delicious vastness of fine wines that could be discovered and tasted in the wonderful Italian regions, to historical and artistic beauties that could be found in northern Italy, the center and south, and the merry approach that the fans had. After being in Italy for almost a week he had come across a couple at dawn in a delicious cafe and heard his beloved husband calling his beloved wife "Amore mio", he had written it on his phone and after the 11 hours of the plane ride he had it in his mind and how it sounded with his Korean and American accent, but to him, it sounded divinely and sweetly, he was looking forward to going home, to see you and say those words whispered in your ear because Jay was the representation of the prince charming who wrote himself countless gnomes to give you but "Amore mio" had become his nickname for him because you were seriously his love from the first day he saw you. After taking a shower to chase away the fatigue of those 11 hours of plane was super exciting to tell you that words, you were preparing pasta with sauce and you were turned to taste the delicious sauce that you had prepared for your boyfriend, you allowed him to approach slowly and felt your arms wrap around your back and then the waist and a light kiss at the top of your lobe in your ear. "You’re so beautiful, amore mio" when you heard those words a slight redness crept into your cheeks and your sunflower to find yourself a Jay with the hair slightly glued to the forehead for the heat of the shower and with the reddened cheeks that looked at you with eyes of true lover.

Jake (Teddy bear)

The sunset was now leaving light shades of pink and orange in the sky above Jeju beach, you were embraced by Jake’s strong arms and his chest, the wind was beginning to rise and a light breezy breeze cradled your two bodies sitting in a sheet to admire the sun that was setting and the boats that were returning to the port. You looked at your boy and marveled by the light reflection that he was coming between his face and with one hand you took a tuft of it from his forehead, he was always wonderful but you loved spending days like these where he seemed to be a guy with his joys and worries for his future; You felt his warm hand go under your sweatshirt and form light circles behind your back and you cuddled even more to him. " You know i love you Y/n" You watched with a laugh Jake "I love you too, teddy bear" You saw him look up and say, "Oh my god how many times i told you not to call me teddy bear, you want by chance the war y/n!" Jake pushed you slightly into the towel and some hands went to make you suntan between your hips " Jake we all know that you are a cuckold teddy with all". You raised your arms slightly and took his face with your little hands and began to kiss him first the forehead, the cheeks and then your lips slightly cracked were put in his in a light kiss, you felt his hands no longer make you sunny but they put on your jacket to support and looked at you laughing "Maybe you’re right i love being your favorite cuddly puppy!"

Sunghoon (Angel)

Sunghoon did not believe much in fate, he was a very pragmatic person and if something had to happen it should be him who made it happen, not someone on whom people wanted to meet or create situations. Sunghoon was a cold person at first impact with people, had to study them and every conversation he had at the beginning with someone he did not know had been carefully He did not want to be cynical or difficult with people but also not too friendly because it was not in his nature. A day break from the hectic world of Kpop events had taken place at night in his now former favorite place when he was little but which he had begun to hate during his teenage years, the ice rink in Seoul had always been the same as before but when he went there to train it was him that people looked at and admired but now things were reversed, you his angel down to earth that for 6 months now had carob with your elegance but also with your sarcastic ways of teasing him that you were better than him skating. He knew of your existence from high school when he first saw you at the age of 14 but had never had the rush to talk to you only to admire you from afar. When he left the world of skating for K-pop he did not expect you to recognize him because you were the ice star already a teenager and now you were in the prime of your career as a skater. Hoon slipped into the ice careful not to be heard by you that you had headphones in your ears to memorize the steps and he girded your hips and made you spin in front of him, you had half-waved hair in your tail and cheeks reddened from the cold but for him you were perfect at that moment, "Hello Angel, look who came to see you at almost midnight" looked at Hoon with a twinkle in his eyes and opened his jacket to rest your head in his chest and slightly warm up from his body. " You could have told me that you would come to see me so i would have prepared myself slightly and thought that i had some curfew to respect" A slight redness crept into the cheeks of Hoon and squeezed you harder "Angel you’re always beautiful to me and maybe i snuck out of my dorm room to corrupt Niki!" You lifted your head from his chest and looked at him "Oh my god i’m creating a little bad boy if your fans found out what they would think of the most vampire-human i’ve ever met in my life!" Hoon took your hand and you started skating slowly attached to give you warmth "Well it would be worth it because i would spend hours watching Angel in secret at any time of day or night".

Sunoo (Baby)

Sunoo was everything to you, your boyfriend, your lifeline, your best friend, and your favorite listener. You were lying in your comfortable bed with painful cramps in the belly because of the cycle and at the same time you were bored because there was nothing that took your curiosity on Netflix, you had written to Sunoo half an hour ago if he wanted to come and visit you just to spend an hour together to cuddle you and eat some snacks but he hadn’t answered yet and maybe he was training or recording something even though he was a boring Sunday afternoon and out even if it was only 16 he was already doing oxen. You heard your friends with whom you shared the apartment laugh and after a few seconds, you felt the door of your room open with her blonde hair your boyfriend entered cold from the harsh temperatures of Seoul, and in his hand had a glass of hot chocolate, snacks, and a small heated panty holder to make you put it where you were most uncomfortable and to relieve even that little menstrual pain. " Hi baby, i’m sorry if i didn’t answer you but when you told me if we could meet because you were bored and because you were sick i had the perfect excuse to get out of that chaos of the dorm with which i share with those human monsters!" a light laugh came out of your lips and opened your arms and you clung to him as koala to the lower part of his life "I missed you so much, I don't know if it is the hormones ball but i seriously need cuddles especially if they are yours Sunoo" a slight blush invaded the cheeks of Sunoo, you were quite introverted with everyone but when you were with Sunoo you became a different person and was proud to have only him this power. "Come here baby, i missed you too and in this week of hard work, i rarely had a moment to relax" Sunoo lay down in your bed and you cuddler to his chest and smelled his favorite sweet scent of Lush, "I’m so lucky to have you by my side Sunoo", "Woo but where does all this little sweetness come from? the cycle i know cannot last you a few days longer because you are so sweet to me only in your red days!"

Heeseung (Rameonlover)

One thing you loved about Heeseung was the more introverted and nerdy part he had with you in your relationship, you loved to see him turn into a hot guy when he was on stage, while dancing while singing, While he was flirting with the fans but then with you he was super sweet but sexy at the same time. You watched him use his big hands in the joystick of the play and while he grumbled if he could not defeat some monster, “do you want a picture of me Y/n? You’re losing the drool right here from your beautiful little mouth" You slapped him gently on the arm while he gently touched the bottom of your lip "Stop rameonlover know that I find you extremely attractive while playing at play" You saw him stretch and lift his eyes, you knew he had it in for you because your eyes were immediately set where you could see his perfect muscles "Do you find me attractive only while i play or even when i prepare the ramen, while Ii kiss your neck with my hair unkempt, while you come to spy on me while i dance with the muscles of my arms in plain sight or while i’m standing over you?" You hated him with all your heart because from the first day I saw him Hee made you taste those famous butterflies in your stomach and when he was in your range you always watched him, "Rameonlover lowers your ego a little bit because these things can be done by all the guys in this world and who knows maybe some are more attractive than you!"; Hee when I felt this phrase took you for life and with a little scream from your part put you in his legs and looked at you with his famous pout "Don’t try to make me jealous because you’re my y/n" felt his meaty lips give you small kisses on the neck and pulled his hair "Rameonlover please" Heeseung pinched your side and look at you with questioning "Stop bending me down Rameonlover even in these moments, i’m Heeseung or Hee to you, not that stupid nickname that he gave me Jake!”

Niki (Mochi)

Being the girlfriend of the youngest member of the group was fun because each member teased Niki but at the same time all members controlled you and this made her happy but when they became too protective or insistent in knowing what you were doing or with Who you saw outside of them was not good enough for you. You were sitting in the studio of Hybe watching your boyfriend Niki try to record new music, I saw it from the big mirror that hoped for the studio and you were really happy with all the success that was receiving. You felt the door open and a guy you had never seen sat next to you, sure was another idol but honestly you did not follow other idols or groups beyond Enhypen. "Are you a friend of Niki’s or his sister? Yes, he has two sisters but you don’t look very alike" look a little uncomfortable the boy because you are slightly shy with strangers especially with males "Uh no I’m Niki’s girlfriend" the guy in front of you looked at you with a look of surprise "are you kidding right? Niki never told us that he had a girlfriend, sure of wanting to be with the smallest of the group I think you deserve better" looked badly the guy in front of you "honestly who do you think you are to tell me something like this? I love my boyfriend and I sure don’t need anyone else" your shyness faded when you heard this phrase and Niki, Jungwon, and Hee heard you across the room and Niki felt a sense of admiration towards you and love for defending your relationship. She left the room and stood by your side "I never saw you so angry with a boy, what happened to the shy girl I know!" You felt your cheeks turn slightly red both for the initial embarrassment and also for the nickname he used, he only used it when you were alone to make fun instead of two other companions having heard it. “Did you hear what he called it? Mochi, oh my god we just lost it for this girl" Jungwon laughed and Hee hugged you both "Well I think we don’t have to worry about Y/ n anymore, she can do it herself even with the boys, that idol ran away when she saw you angry."

Jungwon (Kitten)

Loved walking near the Han River in Seoul especially at night while seeing all the lights of the city lit up and the various bridges that splashed water and made colorful water games. Near the river, there were a lot of parks and each park had small shelters for animals, especially for cats, you were a team dog but since you were with Jungwon, you were pretty indecisive about the question "Do you prefer dogs or cats?". You had your hand in Jungwon’s pocket as you passed by the river bank until you heard a slight meow coming from the pig and looked at Jungwon, "Kittie you’ve always been a dog lover don’t tell me I’m making you change your mind with my cat look!" Jungwon was beautiful but one thing you loved most about him was his big, long expressive eyes and he looked like a cat. "You’re not the stupid one who made me passionate about cats but you know I’ve always been a cat lover" Jungwon pulled you across the street and you reached the little house that was in the middle of the park with cats inside all wrapped up to get warm. "Kitten you know we can’t take home more, we already have two, the world won’t go on only with cats or animals you have to make children!" Pushed slightly Jungwon and corsí across the park "I’m sure not going to have children with someone who calls me Kitten or with an obsession for strawberries and chocolate" Jungwon ran to you and took you lightly in his arms "Y/n would be good with our beautiful genes, they would come out with beautiful cat eyes and the beautiful character of my beautiful Kitten!"

72 notes · View notes

my1forwonniexluvs · 2 days ago

Text

DIET COKE - 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆

their a 10 but can’t control their emotions‼️‼️

PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

𖦹 SUMMARY ; He already felt like a second brother to you and had much love for you. Doesn’t sound to weird right? Well Until he starts to show everyone how much he has for you.

TAG LIST! ▸ open! : @mitmit01 @yohanabanana @seungjiseyo @shiningnono @i03jae @sumzysworld @heelovesmeknot @love4hee @lalalalawon @jungwonkisser @jooniesbears-blog @neozon3nha @jjhmk ‼️‼️

DAiSY’S NOTE ; HEY LOVES! ITS FINALLY HERE!!!! IM SO SORRY THAT IT TOOK SO LONG…SCHOOL WAS GETTING IN THE WAY!! BUT IM FINALLY BACK SO DONT WORRY!!! BIG HUGS AND LOVE FROM ME!💞💞💞

87 notes · View notes

devotedlypinkpeanut · 3 days ago

Text

Love us as much as we love you — part 1

Summary: Y/n is a professor who spends a night with four men, unaware that they are students at the university where she is about to teach. These four students, known as the Black Apollos, rule Ravenridge School. Wealthy, arrogant, and violent, they instill terror wherever they go. Through this one-night encounter, they gain leverage over her that they will use as they please. This Halloween month, she and other students are invited to celebrate at their mansion. What will happen to her?

PAIRING: Non-idols of ENHYPEN’s hyung line x female reader

GENRE: 18+ (MDNI), adulthood, reverse harem, teacher/student.

Warning : manipulation, psychological violence, physical violence, blood, blood kink, spitting, spanking, bondage, blackmail, intimidation, harassment, threats, student/teacher relationship, fighting, jealousy, dark atmosphere, insults, public humiliation, mental domination, body control, forced consent, confinement, dangerous seduction, domination, double play, emotional dependency, mental torture, physical constraints, extortion, abuse of power, degradation, erotic pain, double penetration, anal sex, cigarette consumption, oral sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, BDSM, fetishism, vaginal penetration, submission practices, non-consensual acts, acts in public places, mental domination, sexual humiliation.

Number of words : 36k

Hey everyone, feel free to like, comment, and share if you enjoy! Your support means a lot!

“You’re a filthy slut, aren’t you, Y/n?” Heeseung’s voice echoes in the empty classroom, imbued with a mischievous lightness that vibrates the air around you. He utters this line with a cruel amusement, his gaze sparkling with palpable malice. Every word he speaks feels like a sharp blade, slicing through the already electric tension that hangs between you. He approaches you with calculated slowness, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his nonchalant movements concealing an underlying threat. He circles your desk like a predator toying with its prey, and his smirking smile reveals the satisfaction he derives from your apparent submission.

“Or should I say, professor?” His voice softens slightly, but the shadow of irony lingers. “But tell me, do you deserve it, you little bitch?” He positions himself right in front of you, his imposing stature dominating the space as he leans against your desk. A disdainful smile stretches across his lips as you shoot him a dark look, filled with a mix of anger and desire you dare not admit.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, feigning indignation, but a mocking glint shines in his eyes. He leans closer to you, his warm, spicy breath brushing against your skin, sending shivers through every fiber of your being. “Don’t tell me you don’t agree with my words?” His words, whispered like a caress, penetrate deep within you. Rage bubbles in your veins, but a part of you feels inexplicably drawn to this dangerous game.

Suddenly, without warning, he violently yanks your hair, a brutal motion that elicits a grunt of pain from you. You try to break free, clawing at the air in a survival instinct, but he only tightens his grip, his expression darkening with unhealthy satisfaction. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, professor. You shouldn’t annoy me more than I already am, right?” His tone is both mocking and possessive, sending a chill of anxiety and excitement down your spine. He pulls even harder on your hair, exposing your delicate neck, and you feel burning tears of humiliation welling in your eyes. In this moment, you are both vulnerable and entranced, feeling smaller under his grasp, reduced to an object of his desire.

“Now tell me, professor, you’re a filthy whore, a slut who has slept with four of her students without any shame or remorse. All this solely to satisfy your desire.” Each word he utters echoes in the air, like a whip crack. His words are like arrows, piercing your facade of control. He leans close to your ear, whispering these words like an obscene secret, a shared delight. His warm, fragrant breath brushes against your skin, and he nibbles on your earlobe, licking it with a calculated slowness that electrifies you and makes you tremble with anticipation. The mix of pain and excitement blinds you, and you almost cry, the urge to protest stuck in your throat.

“Like the needy whore you are, you loved it, you wanted more, always so much more, because you’re made for our cocks. One is never enough for you, is it, treasure?” His lips glide along your neck, licking, sucking, and nibbling your skin, marking every inch with feverish obsession. He is possessive, and this reality sends chills down your spine with fear and desire. Each kiss, each bite is a promise of ecstasy and pain, and you feel the imminence of your fall, drawn towards the abyss of his depravity.

He violently yanks your hair, lifting you from your chair and slamming you against your desk. You let out a gasp of pain, stifling it by biting your lips until they bleed. “Don’t want to talk, treasure? Then I’ll make you scream like the slut you are.” Heeseung chuckles, his laughter resonating like a sinister echo in the room. He pushes you further into your desk, making you feel a sharp pain in your belly and ribs. The furniture digs into your flesh, but he doesn’t care about your suffering; he only seeks to possess you. He slowly lifts your skirt, exposing your soft skin to his ravenous gaze. You moan in pain, trying to pull away, but he doesn’t allow it, his hand maintaining total control over your body. “I’m going to make you scream, and every corner of this school will hear how much of a whore you are, my personal slut. You’d better count, or you’ll regret it.” His voice is a delightfully cruel threat as he lets all his weight press down on your back, making you feel every ounce of his dominance.

Heeseung grabs your wrists, sliding them behind your back, holding them firmly between his fingers, keeping you pinned against the table. His eyes revel in your pain as he caresses your ass with deceptive softness, a shocking contrast to his brutal grip. He drops his hand on your cold cheek, burning with pain, and you let out a small moan, your sensations heightened by the struggle you’re fighting to free yourself. Your body twists slightly, trying to pull away from him, but he disregards your movement, bringing his hand down on your ass with deliberate force, making you scream in pain as a shiver of excitement courses through your body.

“I told you to count, didn’t I?” he says with a cold anger laced with pleasure in his voice, gripping your right cheek with brutal strength. His nails dig into your flesh, blood begins to flow, and the pain electrifies you as you feel an oddly delicious warmth. He watches the blood flow onto the floor, a satisfied smile forming on his lips as he brings his bloodied fingers to his mouth to lick them, letting out a moan of pleasure, savoring every drop of your suffering.

“Tw—Two.” Your voice trembles, and tears blur your vision. Pain oppresses you, and you writhe, desperately trying to break free, but nothing works. He is stronger than you, and he revels in your submission, in your weakness. Every scream, every moan strengthens his power over you.

“That’s it, my love, I’m so proud of you.” His hand caresses your wounded ass, spreading your blood over it. His voice sends a pleasurable shiver through your entire body, all the way to your lower belly. He notices how your body reacts to his praise, a sly smile forming on his face. “You love compliments, don’t you, treasure?”

“That’s not true!” You try to deny it, but your excitement betrays you, and you feel a flush of shame creep over your cheeks.

Heeseung kneels behind you, his gaze burning with desire and malice, as if he knows exactly what you’re feeling. His fingers slowly glide over the fabric of your panties, already completely ruined and soaked with your excitement. A satisfied smile spreads across his lips, the expression of a man who knows he has power over you. “Are you sure, treasure? That’s not what I feel,” he murmurs, his voice laced with mockery, each word a delicious poison that ignites you from within.

He slides his finger through the damp fabric, brushing against your femininity with unbearable slowness. The shiver that runs through your body makes you tremble against the desk, unable to control your reactions. A pathetic moan escapes your lips, revealing just how entranced you are by his touch. “Damn, you’re completely soaked for me,” he says, his tone filled with disdain and desire. “You liked it as much as I did, my love. You can’t fool me.”

With a sudden, unannounced gesture, he tears the delicate fabric, exposing your soft, vulnerable skin to the cool air. The thrill of this moment makes your heart race as he plunges a finger into your pussy, exploring your warmth with devouring audacity. You both release a collective moan, a cry of ecstasy mixed with pain, an echo of the dark passion that consumes you.

His finger movements are initially slow, as if he’s taking the time to savor every inch of your body. But as desire rises, he increases the pressure, adding a second finger, sinking deeper. His fingers penetrate your pussy, playing with your plump femininity, exploring it like a field of escape, teasing your sensitivity. The sensation of his fingers rubbing against the walls of your pussy makes you completely lose control, and you struggle to breathe. You know you should fight against this, but each thrust brings you closer to the release you so desperately desire.

“Do you like it, don’t you?” he asks, his voice hoarse and laden with sensuality. His words resonate like a promise of obscene illusions, each syllable bringing you closer to ultimate ecstasy. He mistreats your pussy, urging you to open up even more, to surrender completely to him. Pain intertwines with ecstasy, and you can no longer pretend, losing yourself in the obscenity of his caresses.

He slowly rises from the floor, his fingers sliding out of your pussy, still soaked with your excitement, leaving a shiny trail of moisture on your skin. The room is filled with a heavy atmosphere, charged with unspoken desires and palpable power. He approaches you, his hungry gaze scrutinizing every inch of your body stretched out on the desk.

His fingers, coated with your own pleasure, slowly approach your mouth, a smug smile forming on his lips. You know what he expects. Your eyes shine with anticipation as you open your mouth, your tongue ready to welcome what he offers. His fingers penetrate inside, and you envelop them, your warm, wet mouth greedily absorbing them. You start to suck on them as if they were his cock, your tongue swirling around them, playing, caressing, creating a sensual ballet of pleasure.

He groans, a rough, almost primal sound. “Keep it up, treasure,” he says, his voice heavy with lust and desire. As you take them deeper, you feel tears welling up, slightly choking you, but it’s a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that consumes you. His eyes gleam with a twisted satisfaction as he watches your submission, pressing harder against you, his hips aligning with your body.

Every movement of his fingers drives you mad. You tighten your mouth around them, applying pressure, your saliva dripping down your lips and falling onto your chest. He plunges his fingers deeper into your mouth, his hand moving in a controlled rhythm, and you start to moan, your body responding to the delicious brutality of the situation. A soft gasp escapes your lips, and you feel the thrill of pleasure coursing through you, igniting every fiber of your being.

While you stuff your mouth with his fingers, you begin to grind against him, each movement bringing you a little closer to ecstasy. The friction of your body against his elicits obscene moans, sounds that echo in the room like a reflection of your shared desire. “You’re such a dirty girl, professor,” he whispers, his voice full of disdain and admiration. “You take my fingers like a champion.”

He starts to grind against you more intensely, matching the rhythm of your movements. His hips move with calculated precision, each thrust rubbing his erection against your thigh. The friction drives you wild with desire, and you begin to moan louder, unable to contain the ecstasy that overwhelms you. The pressure mounts as he continues to push his fingers deeper into your mouth, forcing you to choke even more, submitting further to him.

“Look at you, so submissive, so greedy,” he says with a satisfied smile, his eyes shining with animal desire. “You’re so delicious like this.” He increases the pace, his fingers sliding and plunging even deeper inside you, pushing the limits of your pleasure to the brink. Each movement creates a wave of heat coursing through your body, an explosion of intense sensations, leaving you completely at his mercy. The heat consumes you, a heady mix of pleasure and humiliation enveloping you, leaving you in a frenzy of excitement. You know you’re ready to do anything for him, to abandon all resistance.

He slowly withdraws his fingers from your mouth, slick with your saliva and excitement, holding them up like trophies. “Look how you’ve ruined my fingers with your filthy mouth,” Heeseung sneers, a mixture of disdain and desire in his gaze, the expression of a predator savoring its prey. He shows you the mess, traces of your pleasure glistening on his skin, a clear reflection of your total submission. Then, he grabs you firmly by the jaw, his eyes narrowed in a mix of possessiveness and pleasure, forcing you to hold his intense gaze.

Your heart races, heat flooding your face like a rising tide. Your body is on fire, your burning desires colliding with the reality of the situation. He admires your face, ruined by your own pleasure, drool dripping down your neck, his gaze igniting your yearning to be his, to be consumed by his passion. “Damn! Treasure, I think I can’t hold back anymore,” he murmurs, the tension in his voice escalating with every second. The desire to please him grows within you, an almost irresistible urge that drives you wild.

He releases his grip on your jaw and roughly turns you around, laying you back on the desk. The cold wood against your skin makes you shiver, but that chill is quickly replaced by an insatiable heat that ignites your body, every fiber of your being vibrating with anticipation.

“So don’t stop, I need you, Heeseung…” Your voice trembles with anticipation, each word laden with desire. You spread your legs, exposing your bare, dripping pussy, the liquid dripping onto the desk as a blatant sign of your submission. You feel vulnerable, yet incredibly desirable, fully aware that you are at his mercy, ready to dive into the depths of your desires.

He approaches, his dark eyes fixed on your femininity, a satisfied smile gracing his lips. You feel his warm breath on your skin, a scorching caress that sends shivers of pleasure through you with every inhale, like a prelude to what’s to come. “Look at me,” he says in a hoarse voice, and you comply, your eyes locked onto his, revealing your total submission. You know he sees you as prey, and it drives you wild with desire, excited by the thought of what he might do to you.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispers, bringing a finger close to your intimacy. The light touch against your sensitive skin sends a jolt of intense pleasure through you, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan, the excitement gripping you tightly. “So wet and ready for me,” he adds, his tone laced with raw, primal desire. He toys with your excitement, his finger gliding slowly along your sex, deliciously torturing you, leaving you languishing in anticipation, each movement triggering waves of pleasure that threaten to overwhelm you.

“I want you to scream for me,” he says, an arrogant smile on his face. Then, without warning, he suddenly plunges a finger deep inside you, making you gasp with surprise and pleasure. The sensation blindsides you, and you moan, unable to contain the sounds spilling from your mouth, the explosive feeling spreading throughout your being. He doesn’t waste a moment before adding a second finger, relishing the way you squirm, the way your body responds to each thrust, each movement plunging him deeper into your warmth.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse with desire, resonating in the warm, charged air. “So tight, so hungry.” His fingers begin to pump inside you, each movement becoming an intoxicating symphony of pleasure and pain. You feel an intense heat spreading through your entire body, an irresistible need to submit completely to him. The desk creaks under the weight of your untamed passion, and you are entirely at his mercy, lost in this dance of unconfessed desires, like a puppet in his expert hands.

“Give me everything,” he commands, his voice tinged with an overwhelming authority that sends shivers down your spine. You nod, ready to give him all that he desires, to offer every part of your being. Your body lifts against his fingers, seeking to feel him deeper, to satisfy him, as he continues to explore every inch of your intimacy. Moans escape from your lips, each thrust of his fingers amplifying the whirlwind of ecstasy consuming you.

“Give me your cock, Heeseung,” you cry, your voice breaking from the insatiable pleasure crashing over you like a wave, almost frantic with the need to possess him. “Please, I need it so badly.” Your eyes shine with a mix of desperate hope and burning desire as you surrender to this irresistible wave of need that pulls you down, completely at his mercy, ready to do anything to satisfy this man who consumes you.

Heeseung, with a cocky smile, slowly pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you wanting more, a cry of frustration on the tip of your lips. Then, with a provocative air, he slowly undoes his pants, savoring every second of your insatiable impatience. The sound of the fabric sliding against his skin resonates in the empty classroom, heightening the intensity of this forbidden, electrifying moment. He lowers his boxers, revealing his proud, thick erection, ready to take you, a sight that makes your heart race even faster.

“Is this what you want, professor?” he asks with a mocking smile, a glint of challenge shining in his dark eyes. “Do you want me to fuck your brains out here, in front of all these students who might walk in at any moment? Shouldn’t you be a little ashamed?” His words are a burning provocation, a dangerous game that ignites your desire further. He starts to tap his cock against your pussy, pre-cum dripping and sliding down your inner thigh, making you shudder with lust.

“Yes! Heeseung, I need it so badly,” you scream, almost enraged by the desire consuming your body. Every fiber of your being screams for him to fill you, to take you to the edge of oblivion as the tension rises with every passing second. “Don’t make me wait any longer.” In an act of defiance, you lift your hips, trying to draw him in, to connect with him in a way that feels both sweet and cruel.

Heeseung narrows his eyes, amused by your insatiable determination. “You’re so desperate,” he murmurs, his voice sardonic. Then, in a swift, dominant motion, he grips your hips, positioning you as he desires. His gaze is hungry as he leans in, his lips brushing against your delicate ear, a hot breath that makes you shiver. “Are you ready to sacrifice everything for a little pleasure?”

You nod, your heart racing, completely under his spell, aware that each passing second intensifies the desire binding you together. The tension in the air is palpable, a mix of lust and danger, and you know this moment is both beautiful and tragic, a dance on the razor’s edge between pleasure and consequences. He owns you, and you’re ready to do anything to keep him close, even if it means playing with fire.

“So get ready,” he whispers just before penetrating you, his hips pressing against yours, every muscle in your body tensing in a mix of intense pleasure and sweet pain. He enters you with irresistible force, shattering all barriers between you, every muscle in your body tightening in a blend of pleasure and pain. You cling to him, your hand gripping his arm, seeking an anchor as ecstasy takes you away.

He starts with slow, almost hypnotic thrusts, each movement like a sensual melody that envelops you. Each thrust is a burning breath, a languid caress that brushes your skin, leaving you just enough time to prepare for the impending explosion. The electricity spreads in the air, and the tension between you is palpable. His eyes sink into yours, obsessed with every shiver of your body, scrutinizing your expression as you arch under his grip, a declaration of his power.

Then, suddenly, he picks up the pace. His movements become more brutal, more demanding, and passion explodes within him. He holds your hips firmly, his fingers gripping your flesh with a force that leaves marks, indelible proof of his possession. His nails dig into your skin, and a delicious mix of pain and pleasure makes you moan, each thrust a promise of obscene delights. You are lost in this dance where you have become nothing more than an object of desire.

The table you’re laid on vibrates under his embrace. Each movement brings you closer to your limit, and an intense shiver sweeps over you, a desperate need to feel him even deeper, even more intensely. Each thrust reverberates in your body, electrifying you. You are suspended between ecstasy and anguish, a puppet in his hands.

He takes you with such intensity that tears well in your eyes, a mixture of overwhelming pleasure and exquisite pain. This crushing sensation overwhelms you, ready to implode, to dissolve in the ecstasy. The tears flow down your cheeks, warm and salty, leaving traces on your fevered skin. Each drop is a confession of your submission, your total abandonment to this chaotic dance where he is your tormentor and your savior.

“That’s what I want,” he growls, his voice husky, charged with desire. His eyes gleam with a wild light, commanding you not to stifle your moans. He deepens his thrusts, filling you completely, pushing you to your limits. The thrill of pleasure and pain merges in a delicious dance, and you feel an uncontrollable heat engulf every fiber of your being. Time seems to stop, leaving only the two of you, enmeshed in this exquisite stupor.

Your body convulses on the table, every tremor triggering a wave of pleasure, taking you to a place where reality dissolves. The sound of the table hitting the floor mingles with your moans, forming a brutal symphony of uninterrupted passion. You are entirely his, ready to sacrifice everything to taste this ecstasy he offers. Your body becomes his playground, and he does not hesitate to conquer it, exploring you with unparalleled voracity.

As he intensifies his pace, each movement becomes a declaration of conquest, a promise of endless pleasure. “You are mine,” he whispers, his warm breath against your skin, his lips brushing your neck with haunting tenderness. His words wrap around you like a vine, imprisoning you in a whirlwind of devouring desires.

He buries his lips in your neck, his teeth biting your skin with a savage force, provoking a sharp pain mingled with delicious warmth. You feel his scorching breath on your flesh, each exhalation seeming to ignite your skin. Your cries of pleasure resonate, blending with the pounding of your heart, as his hand firmly grips your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh, marking you as his property.

Heeseung lifts you, moving you effortlessly, positioning you on the chair in front of your desk. Every fiber of your being is in turmoil as he sits, forcing you to climb on top of him. The moment his hard cock slides into your pussy is an explosion of sensations, a mix of terror and pure pleasure. The penetration is brutal, invasive, filling you in a way that erases all rationality.

He pushes even deeper, making sure to touch every sensitive corner of your insides. His movements are powerful, forcing you to ride him provocatively, each thrust resonating like thunder in your flesh. Your body reacts instinctively, arching and grinding to welcome him even deeper. The outside world disappears as you focus on the ecstasy he gives you, a symphony of obscene pleasure.

The moans escaping your mouth become more desperate, a mix of anguish and rapture as you realize you cannot hold back. Your mouth overflows with saliva, your breath becoming chaotic. Your hands cling to his shoulders, nails digging into his muscular skin, seeking an anchor in this storm of sensations. The muscles of his torso contract under your fingers, and you feel the heat radiating from him, burning and imperious.

Heeseung draws his lips to yours, his eyes shining with desire. He captures your breath before plunging his tongue into your mouth, intertwining his movements with yours provocatively. The way he teases you, nipping at your tongue and exploring your mouth with unparalleled savagery makes you shiver. His tongue dances with yours, rubbing against every corner of your mouth, entwining in a sensual struggle as he penetrates you with fiery intensity.

With each thrust, he makes sure to hit that sweet spot you crave the most, his movements becoming more intense, more desperate. You feel like a puppet in his arms, an object of desire that he manipulates at his whim. You are completely his, surrendered to his relentless desire. Your breath becomes chaotic, a blend of sighs and screams, as a wave of warmth engulfs your body, ready to explode.

The sensations become overwhelming, and you feel the orgasm looming on the horizon, a tsunami of pleasure threatening to engulf you. Each thrust is a shockwave reverberating through your body, a perfect blend of pain and pleasure pushing you to the brink of ecstasy. You know you’re on the verge of release, and he knows it too.

He quickens his pace, his thrusts more fierce, more frantic, as if he wants you to feel every inch of him. You cling even tighter to his shoulders, your nails digging deeper into his muscular skin as you try to hold on, but he is too powerful, too dominating. Your moans mingle with his, a symphony of unspoken desires and unquenched pleasures.

At that moment, everything becomes blurry. Pleasure, pain, anguish, and ecstasy merge into a single feeling, an endless spiral of sensations that envelops you completely. You are submerged by an ocean of pleasure, and as the wave of orgasm crashes over you, you scream his name, a cry of despair and jubilation, a silent plea that resonates in the air saturated with desire. In this obscene moment, you know that you belong to him body and soul, that every fiber of your being is devoted to him.

The outside world fades away as you are engulfed by this pleasure. Your heart races, desire consuming you like a raging fire, each pulse resonating in the intimacy of your union. He doesn’t let you go, continuing to take you with animalistic fervor, his powerful and brutal movements causing you to sway even more. The heat rises, your body trembling under each thrust, each push making you lose track of time and space. In this mix of sensations and emotions, you realize that you are completely lost in this moment, and that nothing will ever be the same after this.

Heeseung looks at you with a burning intensity, his dark eyes gleaming with palpable desire, a wild fire that consumes you. Each thrust he gives you is both brutal and exquisite, a frantic rhythm that makes every fiber of your being vibrate. His movements are precise, exploiting your sensitivity like a virtuoso, pushing your body to limits you never imagined. Each brush, each caress, each penetration resonates in your flesh, awakening in you unconfessed desires and unexplored sensations.

In this ocean of sensations, you completely lose track of time. He grips your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh, leaving marks on your skin, a delicious pain that heightens the excitement. “That’s it, you love it, don’t you?” he whispers, his voice hoarse and deep resonating in your ear, the heat of his breath igniting you even more. The anxiety mixed with pleasure is like a drug, and you realize you’re ready to sacrifice everything for this moment.

Your heart beats faster as he intensifies every thrust, filling you with him at a frenzied pace, leaving you breathless, gasping. You can feel the explosion of pleasure rising within him, a volcano ready to erupt. His eyes, locked on you, shine with a glimmer of challenge, as if he delights in every reaction his body provokes in yours. He is determined to make you feel everything he has to offer, to make you succumb to his darkest desires.

As he approaches his orgasm, each movement becomes more desperate, more charged with energy. His hips collide against yours with such force that you feel like you’re losing your footing, drowning in this flood of ecstasy. The adrenaline pulses through your veins, each thrust amplifying the intensity of your pleasure, making you scream louder and louder, as if the outside world had disappeared. The world around you vanishes; there is only him and you, two souls intertwined in a wild dance of passion and desire.

Heeseung bites your neck one last time, his teeth sinking into your flesh, a shiver of excitement coursing through your entire body. The pain and pleasure blend, creating an almost addictive sensation. “You are mine,” he growls, his gaze alight with a consuming possessiveness, like an animal marking its territory. It’s a promise, a declaration of war against anything that could separate you, and you feel a thrill of excitement race down your spine.

And then, in one last effort, he climaxes inside you, each pulse of his body sending waves of heat that mix with the sweetness of your pleasure. The sensation is electrifying, every drop of him spilling inside you adding to the ecstasy that overwhelms you, a symphony of pleasure and pain resonating in the warm air of the room. The echoes of his orgasm resonate like an obscene melody, a melody of fulfilled desires that seems to haunt the space.

After this surge, he doesn’t release his hold on you. On the contrary, he gently glides his lips over the swollen and flushed skin of your neck, his searing kisses marking every inch with deceptive tenderness, a delectable contrast to the brutality of your encounters. His hands roam your body, tracing trails of heat and desire, lingering on your curves, intensifying every caress, every brush.

You are both covered in sweat, your bodies glistening in the dim light, a living tableau of passion and debauchery. The atmosphere is charged with desire, each breath and each movement creating an obscene melody that lingers in the air, a silent promise of many more moments to come. You know that this night will mark the beginning of a journey from which you can never return, a path paved with desire and danger.

The school hallways were noisy, filled with shrill laughter and furtive whispers, a cacophony that seemed to mock your loneliness. You walked, your arms laden with thick books and loose papers, a crushing ton of work weighing on your shoulders. The ground, cold and rough, echoed under your feet, but you focused on your destination, your classroom, where you could finally be free of this burden. However, you had barely crossed the threshold of a deserted hallway when a familiar figure approached you with disconcerting confidence.

It was Jeong Jaehyun, a student in your class, known for his arrogant smile and piercing gaze. He had barely broken away from his group of friends when he rushed towards you, a smirk playing on his lips. His eyes were shining with a mischievous glint, like a predator stalking its prey. You felt a wave of disgust rise within you, but you tried to keep a straight face.

“Professor, can I ask you a question?” His voice was smooth, almost honeyed, as he looked you up and down with a disturbing intensity. His gaze was a burning fire, sliding over your body, lingering on your curves, and it made you feel sick. But you hid it behind a mask of calm.

“Yes, Mr. Jeong, what can I do for you?” you asked, forcing a polite smile, though your stomach knotted in revulsion.

“I was wondering…” he began, stepping closer, his tone dropping to a whisper. “If you would mind giving me some more… intimate lessons on the human body, in a more private place.” He stepped forward, his voice almost a whisper, as he stared at your chest with a revealing greed. A shiver of anxiety ran through you as you instinctively lifted the papers to block his view, trying to shield yourself from his perverted gaze.

“What?” you asked, mouth agape, shock and outrage gripping you. Anger swelled inside you, but it was already too late. You tried to back away, to escape his hold, but he grabbed your arm with brutal force, pulling you towards him. The books fell to the floor with a thud, drawing the attention of the students, who watched the scene with mixed expressions of curiosity and disgust. “What do you think you’re doing? Let me go right now,” you growled, your voice shaking with anguish, but he didn’t release his hold, his defiant smile widening.

“Come on, stop being a goody two-shoes. We all know that no teacher has ever attended a Black Apollo Halloween party, but you’re going, right? It’s weird, right?” Jaehyun stated mockingly, his arm holding you captive, crushing your arm with incredible force that made you whimper. The pain was throbbing, but he didn’t seem to care, his satisfaction contorting his face.

“We all know you fuck them, so why not do it with me? I want to mark that pretty body, make you scream with pleasure. Don’t be mean, professor, after all, your job is to teach us everything, right?” His words slid out like venom, each syllable a humiliation, a dull threat. His free hand gripped your jaw, forcing your gaze to meet his. Tears welled up in your eyes, hot and humiliating, as you struggled against his hold.

“Come on, don’t cry, professor, save it for later—”

“What the hell are you doing, asshole? Let her go!” Sunghoon burst forth, visible fury marking his face. His fists were clenched, jaw clenched, his gaze burning with anger at seeing another man dare to touch you like that. An electric tension coursed through the air, palpable and menacing, as Sunghoon walked towards you, a storm in his eyes.

“Sunghoon, don’t you want to share this one with us too? Remember the good old days when you four shared your sluts with the whole school?” Jaehyun snickered, his hand sliding around your neck, forcing you to look at him, to see his satisfied smile. “How about we do this again? It’s not like this slut is special, right?” His laughter echoed in your ears, making you shudder in disgust, a raw humiliation that paralyzed you.

Sunghoon's rage erupted like a storm. With a violent gesture, he pulled you out of Jaehyun's grip, making you take a step back, then, with lightning speed, he grabbed Jaehyun by the t-shirt, pinning him forcefully against the wall. The shocked gasps of the students mingled with the ambient tension, but none of them dared to intervene. Faced with the brutality of one of the Black Apollos, they preferred to remain spectators, fearing reprisals.

“You little prick, you think you can get away with anything because of your father’s lowly position, but today, it’s over. Your father, you and your entire family, you’re finished,” Sunghoon said through gritted teeth, his voice a slick threat, his eyes blazing with rage. He tightened his fingers around Jaehyun’s neck, the fury making him almost unrecognizable, a demon ready to strike.

“Mr. Park, release him right now,” you said sharply, stepping closer to him, placing a hand on his in a desperate attempt to calm him down. He glared at you, maintaining his hold, but seeing your desperate expression, he finally released Jaehyun with an unsatisfied grunt.

“Listen to your bitch, it’s better, you son of a bitch,” Jaehyun spat, his gaze filled with hatred, the smile on his lips a taunt.

In an instant, Sunghoon couldn't contain himself any longer. With a swift movement, he threw a punch at Jaehyun's face, the impact resounding like a clap of thunder. Jaehyun fell to the ground, stunned, his face bruised, but Sunghoon didn't stop there. "What did you just say, asshole? Say it again," he exclaimed, getting on top of him, striking repeatedly, each blow harder than the last. Jaehyun's face covered in blood, but Sunghoon showed no signs of mercy. Rage fueled him, he wanted to destroy this man, make him pay for his audacity, reduce his arrogance to nothing.

Your heart was pounding, gasping in horror as you watched, unable to look away. The brutality of the punches terrified you, and you called for help, but even the students around you seemed frozen, petrified by the violence unleashed before them. Jaehyun's blood was flowing, mixing with the dust on the floor, splattering the wall, your eyes widening at the horror. Each punch Sunghoon threw sounded like a gunshot, vibrating the air around you, as his bloodied fists bore witness to the brutality of his act.

“Sunghoon, please release him,” you tried to say, but your voice was shaking, filled with anguish and helplessness. You desperately tried to reason with him, but he was disconnected from reality, a bloodthirsty beast. Jake, watching the scene with growing concern, came closer, trying to assess the situation while giving you a sympathetic look. “Jake, please do something— Sunghoon is…” Your voice choked as you tried to turn away, but the sound of punches, Jaehyun’s cries of pain, rooted you to the spot.

Jake, aware of your distress, sought to comfort you, but also knew he had to intervene. He walked over to Sunghoon, gripping his shoulders tightly. In a low voice, he whispered something in his ear. Sunghoon then turned to you, but he was only met with your trembling back, and he could hear the sobs you were suppressing. With one last hateful look at Jaehyun, he stood up, his anger at its peak, his fist still clenched.

“Take care of her, Jake, she needs you,” Sunghoon ordered, walking away from the scene as he pulled out a cigarette, his hands shaking with rage, struggling to light it. The smell of tobacco and blood hung in the air, a macabre melody of despair.

“What the hell are you doing here, Y/n? I don’t need you lecturing me,” Sunghoon spat, his raspy voice echoing through the empty staircase, laced with barely concealed contempt. Smoke drifted slowly from his mouth, swirling through the stagnant air like a looming shadow. His gaze, as sharp as a blade, pierced you with its darkness, a silent threat intensifying with every beat of your heart. He stared at you like a predator stalking its prey—still but ready to strike at any moment. Sitting nonchalantly on the top step, he crushed his cigarette under his heel, a cold smile barely forming on his lips, hinting at something sinister.

“I’m not here to lecture you. Show me your hands,” you retorted, your voice harsher than you’d intended, holding out your hand toward him with determination. Inside, your anxiety soared—you hoped he’d obey, hoped he’d let you see how bad it was. But he didn’t move, his cold indifference driving you mad. Your heart pounded harder, fear and anger swirling together in a storm. Your hands trembled slightly, and you decided to act.

Without waiting, you grabbed his hand abruptly, your fingers wrapping around his, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours—a warmth that contrasted with the freezing atmosphere surrounding you. You dropped to your knees beside him, opening the first-aid kit quickly, determined to disinfect the cuts despite his provocations. Every second spent next to him made you realize just how terrifying and captivating he was at the same time.

He stayed still, his eyes locked on you, weighing heavily. “Why are you doing this? Why waste your time on me? I’m not even worth anything,” he muttered bitterly, his words cutting through your heart. But you refused to give in to pity. He suddenly yanked his hand from yours, breaking the contact, and stared at you intensely. “You should’ve stayed with Jake, not come after me. You’re so stupid.” He laughed, the mocking sound slicing through the stairwell like a blade. Yet, you knew that laugh was a mask. Behind that icy exterior, something else was simmering—satisfaction, a flicker in his eyes that no one else could see. He was glad you were there, and he knew it as well as you did.

“Cut the crap, Park, and let me take care of you,” you growled through clenched teeth, your voice trembling with anger you could no longer contain. You tried to grab his hands again, but he stubbornly kept them at his sides, refusing to give in. His resistance pushed you to the edge, frustration boiling inside you. The adrenaline surged through your veins, and before you could think, you shoved him back hard, forcing him to fall heavily onto the floor. His back hit the step with a dull thud, but he didn’t flinch. His eyes, however, gleamed with a new light—darker, more intense, as if he welcomed the challenge.

“Look what you’re making me do,” you hissed, your eyes blazing with defiance as you straddled him, your legs on either side of his hips. The closeness between your bodies made the air thicker, each breath harder to take. He looked up at you, his face half-hidden in the shadows, but you could feel the desire burning behind his dark pupils, the tension between you becoming unbearable, every beat of his heart thudding against yours.

“You should’ve never come here, bunny,” he whispered, his tone suddenly deeper, almost threatening. His hands slid slowly onto your thighs, squeezing your flesh with brutal, possessive force. A shiver ran down your spine, and you couldn’t hide your body’s instinctive reaction to his touch. Every brush of his skin against yours ignited a fire you couldn’t extinguish—a flicker of desire you couldn’t ignore. “Now that you’re here, you’re mine. Until I decide to let you go. You should’ve stayed with Jake, you stupid little girl.” His words were crude, brutal, but he wasn’t just speaking. With a swift, calculated movement, he flipped you under him, his weight pinning you to the ground with relentless force. He dominated you completely, and you felt the air leave your lungs under the pressure of his body, the heat of his skin smothering yours.

“Park, you shouldn’t be doing this. I’m your teacher, remember?” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, but it wavered under the weight of the situation, the intensity of his gaze and his body overwhelming you. Your hips shifted instinctively, struggling to escape his grip, but every movement only increased the friction between your bodies, intensifying the suffocating heat surrounding you. Each second beneath him made your heart race faster, the desperation to escape mixing with a burning anticipation.

“We already fucked, Miss, and your stupid title isn’t going to stop me,” he sneered, his gaze growing fiercer, his hands wandering slowly across your body, as if marking every inch. You could feel his fingers explore every part of your skin, awakening sensations you thought you could control. “But this time, it’s going to be different. Very different. I’ll fuck you with that bastard’s blood still on my hands, and you won’t have a choice but to take it—every bit of it, whether you want to or not. Got it, bunny?” His words hit like blows—brutal and uncompromising—and you felt your body tense under their weight. He held you captive, forcing you to submit to his devastating desire. You were at his mercy, and despite the fear consuming you, a shiver of excitement coursed through you, an insatiable need to give in.

“You don’t have a choice, bunny,” he continued, a twisted smile curling his lips, a promise of both pleasure and pain. He grabbed your wrists roughly, pinning them above your head, leaving you completely vulnerable. With expert ease, he unbuckled his belt in one swift motion, wrapping it tightly around your bound wrists. The leather bit into your skin, cutting off almost all circulation, but you no longer cared. The satisfied smirk on his face made your blood boil with rage—and yet, the desire within you grew stronger, uncontrollable. Each second he maintained that pressure over you amplified your craving for him, creating an electric tension in the air.

“I want to hear you scream my name, so that bastard knows I’m the only one who can fuck you this hard, the only one who can fill every desperate hole in your body.” He leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a cruel tease, never quite kissing you. Your breath was ragged, your body aflame, every nerve taut with anticipation, with the frustration he was inflicting on you. He was playing with you, controlling you entirely, and you felt like you were about to burst under the unbearable tension.

“I thought my bunny didn’t want this,” he mocked, his voice a poisonous whisper as his fingers trailed slowly down your neck, leaving a burning path along your skin. His hands glided lower, barely brushing over your breasts before pulling away, leaving you gasping, desperate for more. He knew exactly what he was doing, and you were powerless to resist, your body betraying you at every turn. Inside, you battled between desire and hatred, between rage and submission—a fight you knew you’d already lost.

“I’m yours, Sunghoon. I belong to you,” you finally whispered, your voice a broken breath, knowing those words were your only way out—the only way to end this perfectly orchestrated torment. Sunghoon’s eyes lit up, a satisfied grin spreading across his lips, a gleam of triumph shining in his gaze. He had won. He always did.

He brought his face closer to yours, his gaze locked on yours like a predator observing its prey. His smirk was a mix of irony and desire, and you knew he wasn’t trying to be gentle. When his mouth neared yours, the air grew heavy, saturated with tension and unspoken promises.

Without a word, he leaned in, his tongue slowly emerging to lick your lower lip. The contact was electrifying, a shiver coursing through your body like lightning. That simple gesture made you moan, a sound that echoed both desire and surprise. Instinctively, you sought to get closer, pressing your chest against his, the heat of your need undeniable. His mocking laugh mixed with your breath, a dangerous melody that made your head spin.

Then, with a sudden burst of hunger, he captured your lips with greedy violence. The kiss was immediately wild, his lips crashing into yours with brutal force, blending passion with possessiveness. His mouth was like fire, scorching and insatiable, each movement resonating throughout your body. His tongue invaded your mouth, exploring with irresistible fervor, as if he wanted to consume you whole.

Each stroke of his tongue was both a caress and a claim. He wasn’t just kissing you—he was devouring you, every press of his lips driving you deeper into an abyss of insatiable desire. You could taste his mouth, faintly metallic, a blend of adrenaline and danger that only heightened the thrill surging between you. His hands, stained with blood, wandered across your skin, leaving burning traces in their wake. They roamed along your waist, sliding up your ribs, pausing to pinch your flesh as if he wanted to mark you, make you his.

His grip was both possessive and gentle, the acrid scent of blood mingling with his musky cologne. He held you against him, his body pressing into yours, making every breath difficult. The heat radiating from him was overwhelming, but instead of fear, it made you crave more. Every movement you made, every sigh that escaped your lips only stoked his desire, and he responded with feral intensity.

The kiss grew rougher, pleasure blending with pain, every bite on your lips, every rough stroke of his tongue sparking a visceral reaction in you. Thinking became impossible; there was only feeling, each sensation heightened to the extreme. His deep, hoarse laughter echoed in your mind, every sound a declaration of his power over you.

Then, in a swift motion, he broke the kiss, leaving a string of saliva connecting your lips, his breath ragged and uneven. He stared at you with unsettling intensity, his dark eyes glowing with a wild gleam. The closeness of your bodies made the air heavy, every breath a struggle. His hands reclaimed your body, sliding over your skin with devastating certainty, making you feel both vulnerable and desirable.

“You’re mine,” he whispered in a hoarse, almost possessive voice, and you knew he wasn’t joking. Passion, violence, and desire swirled within him, and you were ready to let yourself be swept away by this obscene whirlwind, to succumb to the call of his lips and the heat of his body.

He stared at you intensely, his dark eyes filled with voracious desire, and you felt the heat of his gaze on every inch of your skin. His fingers lingered on your white button-down shirt, caressing it gently as if he were exploring prey. A provocative smile curled his lips, a silent challenge, and he couldn’t resist the invitation.

In one swift, brutal motion, he ripped your shirt open, the sound of fabric tearing echoing like a bell of decadence. Buttons flew in all directions, landing on the floor as silent witnesses to your profane act. You gasped, a melody of excitement and surprise hanging in the air, realizing just how vulnerable you were, exposed to his ravenous gaze.

“Sunghoon!” you growled angrily, your face twisting, but deep inside, a shiver of anticipation ran through you.

“Bunny, that was awkward,” he murmured, his husky voice betraying his mischievous amusement. He began parting your shirt, gradually revealing your chest. His fingers glided slowly, and you shivered under his touch, a wave of desire pulsing through your body. The black lace of your bra highlighted every curve, accentuating the display before him.

He paused for a moment, his gaze lost in the sight of your silhouette. He couldn’t completely remove your shirt—your hands were tied with his belt—but that only fueled his desire. He swallowed slowly, licking his lips as he admired your chest, wrapped in the sensual black lace.

“Fuck, professor, you’re such a tease, and you’ve got the body of a slut,” he murmured, his soft voice dripping with palpable obscenity. His words fell like drops of venom on your skin, making you shiver with both pleasure and disgust.

Lying on the cold stairs of the school, where anyone could see you, adrenaline surged through your veins. The idea that someone might walk in at any moment both excited and frightened you. Sunghoon relished the thought; he wanted to display your vulnerability, to prove to all those bastards that only he and his three best friends could make you this way—submissive and eager, desperate for their touch.

“Look how beautiful you are,” he said, bringing his fingers to your skin, barely brushing it. Each touch was a promise of what could follow. A shiver of anticipation ran through you as his hand drifted over the lace, caressing your body with a searing possessiveness.

“No one else can touch you like this,” he whispered, his voice growing more intense, more urgent. “You’re mine, and mine alone.” His words were a sweet poison, a mix of dominance and desire. Your heart raced at the thought of what he might do to you. He leaned closer, his warm breath brushing against your skin, and you realized the line between anger and desire was fading.

He placed a hand around your throat, his fingers tightening gently, but never enough to choke. It was delicate control, a dance between submission and domination. His eyes never left yours, and in them, you saw the shadow of a delicious threat. He leaned in even closer, his lips grazing your ear. “Let go, professor. I want you to feel every second.”

“You’re so beautiful, so desirable,” he murmured with an intensity that made you lose control. His hand slid slowly down your stomach, exploring every curve, every hollow. The heat of his touch sent a wave of desire surging through you, an irresistible pulse.

“I’ll show you how much you can belong to me,” he continued, his voice low and filled with desperate need. His hands explored your body with devastating confidence, tracing fiery paths along your skin. He leaned in to whisper again, “You have no idea what I want to do to you.”

He bent down slowly, his eyes locked on your vulnerable form, his warm breath grazing your skin as he brought his lips to your neck. Every movement was calculated, like a predator toying with its prey. He didn’t stop at kisses—he nipped, licked, marking every inch of your flesh as if it were territory to conquer. His breathing grew heavier as he moved lower, his lips drifting from your neck to your collarbone, from your collarbone to your chest, barely skimming your skin, leaving you panting, starving for more.

His large, powerful hands traced invisible lines along your hips, caressing your thighs with agonizing slowness. He knew exactly what he was doing—teasing you, making you crave. His fingers slid under your skirt, rucking it up slightly, then methodically raising it higher, exposing the bare skin of your thighs. The cool air made you shiver, but it was his gaze—burning with possessive desire—that made you feel exposed, naked under his hungry eyes.

His fingers slipped beneath your panties, barely brushing your wetness, driving you mad with impatience, while your pussy was already drenched with desire. “You’re already so wet, and I haven’t even started…” His voice was low, rough, almost an animalistic whisper, soaked in perverse satisfaction.

He crouches down at your hip level, his eyes piercing every inch of your exposed skin. He gently tugs on the fabric of your panties, letting the elastic snap against your sensitive skin—a reminder of the total control he has over you. Then, with a cruel smile, he slides a finger under the fabric, barely grazing your warmth, giving you only a tiny taste of the pleasure he’s deliberately holding back. “Look at you, already soaked… Pathetic.”

Without another word, he yanks your panties off in a brutal motion, sliding them down your legs. But instead of letting them drop, he presses them against his face, inhaling deeply. His nostrils flare with greed, and a low growl escapes his throat. “Fuck… The smell of your pussy drives me crazy.” His voice is hoarse, almost breaking from the raw excitement seeping through every word. He breathes in your panties again, his gaze locked onto yours, savoring the embarrassment written across your face.

He keeps the panties against his nose a few seconds longer, as if imprinting the scent into his memory. “So fucking good…” he murmurs before stuffing them carelessly into his pocket, as if he’s claimed something precious, a filthy trophy. His fingers now trace the bare skin of your thighs, barely brushing you, just enough to send shivers through your body—but not touching where you need it most.

“Hoon…” your voice is barely a whisper, a mix of protest and pleading, but he doesn’t listen. He’s far too focused on his own pleasure, on the thrill he draws from your complete vulnerability.

“Bunny, don’t even think about getting your panties back.” His smile is anything but reassuring—it’s cruel, mocking, and full of dark promises. “Unless you really want to see me angry.” His fingers graze your skin again, dangerously close to your core, never offering the slightest relief. “You’re mine now, and you’ll do exactly what I tell you.” He leans in, his mouth brushing your ear as he whispers, “You don’t have a choice, and you know it.”

You shudder under the weight of his implicit threat, but before you can react, he violently grabs your hair, yanking your head back and exposing your neck, forcing you to look directly into his eyes. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, professor.” His voice is a sharp command, and you feel your body respond despite yourself. Your breathing becomes erratic, your heart pounding wildly, desire and fear intertwining in a toxic dance.

“Hoon… please…” You barely recognize your own voice, weak and cracked from the mix of desire and shame. But he doesn’t let you finish, a wicked grin spreading across his lips.

“What, already begging, Bunny?” He laughs, a cold, mocking laugh that echoes through the room as he releases his grip on your hair. “I knew you were a little slut, but I didn’t think you’d break this quickly.” His fingers drift lower, barely brushing over your soaked core, keeping you on the edge of pleasure. But he pulls his hand away before you can give in to it. “No, no… You haven’t earned that yet.”

“You’re a disobedient little whore, aren’t you?” His dark eyes glimmer with perverse intent. “But you’ll soon learn who’s in charge here.” He shoves you against the wall, his imposing body crushing yours. Then, before you can say anything, he pulls your panties from his pocket, holding them in front of you like a silent warning.

“Open your mouth. Now.” He growls through his teeth, and you hesitate, but he gives you no choice. His hand grips your jaw roughly, forcing your lips apart, and he shoves your panties into your mouth. The damp fabric, soaked with your arousal, presses against your tongue, filling your mouth with a bitter taste—a mix of saliva and desire. “There we go…” His hot breath brushes against your face as he leans in closer, his gaze locked on yours with an unhealthy intensity. “That’s a much better use for that filthy little mouth.” He pushes the fabric deeper with his fingers until you’re forced to bite down on it, your muffled whimpers trapped behind the wet fabric.

He laughs, watching you struggle weakly, your attempts to speak reduced to faint, stifled moans behind the soaked panties. Saliva drips from your lips, sliding down your chin, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Every breath becomes a struggle, every muffled whimper a cruel reminder of your submission.

“Look at you…” he murmurs, his fingers trailing along your cheek, smearing the drool escaping your mouth, before tilting your face up toward him. “So pathetic… so beautiful… completely at my mercy.” He pinches your cheeks between his fingers, making you feel the wet fabric even more, your mouth wide open—exposed and humiliated.

“And you’ll take it all, because you don’t have a choice. You belong to me.” He loosens his grip slightly but keeps his gaze locked on yours. “This is exactly what you deserve…” His voice is almost tender, but there’s a dark undertone beneath it. “Every second of this humiliation.”

“Now, I’m going to fuck you, Bunny, like the filthy slut you are, and you’re going to love every second of it.” His voice is deep, almost animalistic, filled with raw desire. His fingers dig into your arm so hard you know there will be bruises. He yanks you away from the wall with no care, throwing you brutally onto the school stairs. Your body slams against the steps with a loud thud, the sound of your knees hitting the stone echoing in the empty hallway. The pain is sharp and immediate, but you don’t have time to fully feel it before he’s on you again.

He forces you to stay on your knees, your legs trembling, your knees burning against the rough steps. You try to hold onto the stairs, but with your hands tied behind your back, it’s impossible, and his harsh movements throw you off balance. Your wrists are bound so tightly with his belt that you feel the leather biting into your skin.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, running a hand through your hair—the softness of the gesture violently contrasting with the brutality of the situation. Then, suddenly, he yanks your head back with brutal force. A muffled cry escapes you, your mouth stuffed with your panties, preventing you from screaming, speaking, or breathing fully. “Fucking little slut.”

His hand slides down your back, his fingers grazing your body without a hint of tenderness, as if he has no intention of making you feel good. He rips your skirt off without hesitation, leaving your body exposed, vulnerable. “Did you really think I’d go easy on you?” He laughs, his breath ragged against your ear. “No fucking way—you’re here to be fucked.”

He unbuttons his pants in one swift motion, dropping his boxers to free his erection. He doesn’t bother to warn you or check if you’re ready—he doesn’t care. His hands grip your hips so tightly that you feel his nails dig into your flesh. “You’re going to take all of it, Bunny. Every fucking inch.”

With one brutal thrust, he slams into you. There’s no waiting, no gentleness—just the violence of the first thrust, forcing you to adjust to his size in an instant. The pain steals your breath, and your scream is muffled by the panties in your mouth. Your body tenses instinctively, but it doesn’t stop him. Instead, he laughs, satisfied by your reaction. “Fuck, you’re so tight… You really thought you could get away from me, huh?”

He yanks your hair again, arching your back even more, and drives deeper into you. His thrusts are feral, brutal, as if he wants to leave a mark inside you, a permanent reminder of this day. “Look at you, on your knees, unable to say a word, just good for being fucked like the bitch you are.” His voice is raspy, each word spoken between ragged breaths of pleasure.

Your face is pressed against the cold, rough steps, the abrasive texture scraping your delicate skin. With every thrust, your body is pushed forward, each movement triggering a sharp wave of pain that radiates through your legs, making every nerve vibrate. Your knees scrape against the steps, an intense burn intensifying with each passing moment, but you’re frozen, unable to move. His hands, powerful and relentless, hold you firmly in place, trapping your body under his control.

You feel a mixture of fear and excitement. The tension is palpable, your heart pounding wildly as he forces you to stay there, submissive to his will. The words that leave his mouth echo like an implacable order: “You’re going to take every fucking inch, and you better not make a sound.” His voice is rough, laced with desire, each syllable a challenge you’re eager to meet.

Sunghoon keeps slamming into you, his thrusts brutal, each one resonating through your body with wild intensity. His movements are fast and chaotic, as if he’s completely losing control, surrendering to the primality of his desires. Each thrust is an explosion of pleasure and pain, pulling you deeper into a whirlwind of contradictory emotions.

Every muscle in your body tenses, gripping around him with fierce intensity, anchoring you to reality while his violent movements leave you barely able to breathe. The brutality electrifies you, each impact sending obscene waves of pleasure that grow stronger with every second. You feel both vulnerable and incredibly alive, as if every thrust affirms your submission but also celebrates your insatiable desire.

His hands, powerful and possessive, grip your waist tightly, the control he exerts over you making you shiver with excitement. The pain becomes a burning caress, a reminder that you are here, entirely his, belonging to him in this savage dance. Every fiber of your being responds to his dominance, a mix of anxiety and pleasure sending you into a trance-like state.

Suddenly, his pace shifts. His thrusts become deeper, harder, forcing you to feel every inch of him inside you. He pounds into you mercilessly, relentlessly. “This is what you need, huh? For someone to remind you of what you really are, just a filthy little slut.” He tightens his grip on your hair, yanking your head back so hard your scalp burns from the tension.

The pressure around your throat becomes unbearable, each second stretching endlessly. You choke, the forced angle flooding you with pain, making your breath short and ragged. Your muffled whimpers struggle through the air, but he hears them, and it only fuels his savage desire. You know he delights in your weakness, that every sound you make feeds his consuming pleasure.

“Yeah… whimper for me, little bunny. Whimper while I wreck you.” His voice reverberates in the space, a blend of softness and menace that sends chills down your spine. Sunghoon doesn’t just dominate you; he bathes in your pain, turning it into a melody that enthralls him. You feel his body against yours, his warmth surrounding you, his musky scent overwhelming your senses, deepening your trance.

The taste of danger and the forbidden stirs something within you, an insatiable desire you can’t ignore. As his hand tightens around your throat, the suffering intertwines with a delicious pleasure. Every stifled moan you let out becomes an offering, a plea that spurs him on. In a surge of madness, you realize you want this—that this blend of pain and ecstasy ignites you like nothing ever has.

He loosens his grip slightly, giving you a brief chance to catch your breath, but just as you begin to feel relief, his hand clamps down again, wrenching a cry from you. “That’s it, my little bunny. Let yourself go.” His words are like strokes against your skin, a promise of dark and unexplored delights. The tension between you is electric, every touch, every gesture amplifying the thrill of the forbidden.

You realize you’re entirely at his mercy, and that’s precisely what makes you tremble. Your body responds to every impulse he provokes, a wild dance between submission and ecstasy. The tears streaming down your cheeks are both from pain and pleasure, bearing witness to your devotion, and you savor them. It’s debauchery, a release, and you’re ready to lose yourself in this carnal obscenity.

He yanks his hand from your hair with brutal force, only to wrap it around your throat. His fingers squeeze with savage strength, evoking a sensation both terrifying and intoxicating. As he begins to tighten his grip, the world around you darkens, your breath strangled. You choke, your body arching under his control, desperately fighting for air, but he doesn’t relent. On the contrary, he tightens his hold, savoring every second of your delicious agony.

His fingers dig deep into your skin, leaving red marks as proof of his authority. You feel your heart race frantically, caught between the pain and the pleasure that now seem inseparable. Each tiny whimper that escapes your lips is a desperate yet thrilling plea. He plays with your suffering, giving you just enough breath to remain conscious and feel every moment of what he’s doing to you.

“That’s right, choke for me… choke while I fuck you.” His voice, hoarse and brimming with desire, resonates like a promise, an invitation to lose yourself in this depravity. His words coil around you, devouring you, fueling the fire burning within. And you realize, with disturbing elation, that you love this. Every surge of pain that floods through you only brings new waves of pleasure.

Your body convulses under him, every muscle taut from the crushing grip on your neck. Heat floods your face, a testament to the mix of fear and excitement coursing through you. Your vision blurs, a halo of darkness creeping in as your desperate need for air transforms into a delicate dance between anguish and pleasure. Silent tears stream down your cheeks, tracing burning paths before falling onto his powerful fingers, tightening around your throat like an invisible chain.

But he shows no mercy. If anything, he revels in it, finding pleasure in your suffering, in your total submission. Every whimper muffled against your underwear is music to his ears, and he keeps going, relentless, tightening his grip with a satisfied grin. Sunghoon’s veins bulge in his neck from the effort, his gaze a blend of dominance and hunger, locked onto you.

Despite the pain, your body responds to his dominance. He forces every fiber of your being to surrender further to him, and you feel an uncontrollable heat stir deep in your core. Your breathing becomes increasingly shallow, each gasp a desperate struggle. Your chest heaves frantically, searching for air, but he holds you firmly, making it clear that this control belongs to both of you—and yet to him alone.

“Fuck, look at you, you’re perfect…” His voice echoes in the charged air, thick with primal desire that makes you shiver. He loosens his grip on your throat slightly, giving you just enough air to gasp frantically. It’s a fleeting reprieve, a moment suspended in time, but you know it’s temporary. Before you can truly feel relief, his grip tightens again, his fingers clamping around your windpipe, depriving you of the oxygen you so desperately need.

Your legs tremble under his weight, every muscle in your body burning. Your knees, scraped raw against the steps, sting with fiery abrasions, but you no longer have the strength to fight. He has all the control. Submission morphs into a trance, a dance between pain and pleasure where you feel both vulnerable and incredibly alive.

Every second stretches, making you aware of every detail. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest, a relentless drumbeat accompanying your struggle for air. He watches your every movement, his dark eyes glimmering with possessiveness. You are both his prey and his treasure, and he knows it. His grip on your throat becomes both an act of domination and a promise of indulgence.

You feel the heat of his body against yours, his breath warm against your skin. In this obscenity, he plays with your limits, testing the strength of your will. Each added pressure on your throat pulls you deeper into a blissful haze, a dance between pain and ecstasy. You know you should fight, that you should break free, but part of you rejoices in this submission. It’s as if every shallow breath, every whimper from you, is an offering, an admission of your dark desires.

He revels in his power over you, and you can’t help but respond to it. The pleasure you feel is unspeakable, yet it’s there, burning and vivid, wrapping around you like a serpent. Your will slowly dissolves, and in this submission, you find a strange freedom. You love it, you want it, and you’re ready to lose yourself entirely in this sea of unleashed desires.

His rhythm grows faster and faster, each thrust shaking you with a savage intensity, pinning you against the cold, hard steps. Your body is drenched in sweat, the heat of your skin contrasting with the stone beneath you. Your face is soaked with tears and saliva, each drop a testament to your complete surrender to this overwhelming passion. You can’t do anything anymore—just endure, letting yourself be swept away by the tide of sensations surrounding you. And he knows it; he feels your submission, and it drives him wild with desire. “Fuck, you’re so good when you’re out of breath like this,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse and filled with satisfaction.

He pushes you even harder against the steps, your knees almost digging into the stone from the force of his body. The pain becomes a kind of pleasure, a confusing blend that vibrates through every fiber of your being. The rough stones remind you of your position, making you feel vulnerable yet incredibly alive. He finally releases his grip on your throat, giving you a brief moment of respite—just enough to gasp for air—before he grabs your hair again. He yanks your head back with a brutal force that makes stars explode behind your eyes, the mixture of pain and excitement sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re gonna take it all, every last drop.” His words resonate like a disturbing promise, and you know he isn’t just talking about himself. Not by a long shot. Every syllable carries weight, a command that urges you to accept your fate. You feel his body press tighter against yours, his musky scent intoxicating you as you remain completely at his mercy.

Sunghoon brings his free hand to your face, a satisfied grin lighting up his expression as he pulls the saliva-soaked panties from your mouth, tossing them carelessly somewhere on the steps like discarded trash. “I wanna hear all those dirty little sounds when you come—don’t hold back,” he says in a rough, animalistic voice. His words hang thick in the air, heavy with tension, as he intensifies his thrusts. Each movement shakes you violently, sending you spiraling into a chaotic storm of sensations. The vibrations of his body against yours drag moans from your throat, escaping uncontrollably.

“Hoon… harder,” you whisper, your voice laced with desperation and need, saliva dripping down your chest as your eyes widen, lost in a sea of pleasure. Every thrust reverberates through your body, each impact filling you with a relentless heat that drowns and disorients you. You hover on the edge between pain and pleasure, every second stretching into agonizing ecstasy.

“You really are a slut,” he sneers, his tone laced with cruel amusement as he grows even more brutal, his pace picking up with a consuming ferocity. He releases his grip on your hair and grabs your bound wrists, holding them firmly behind your back to reinforce your submission and prevent you from escaping. Every motion is a declaration of his dominance, leaving you feeling both vulnerable and needy, every part of you craving him.

His hand glides slowly to your mouth, pushing his fingers inside with a gesture as possessive as it is humiliating. You eagerly take his fingers in your mouth, sucking them hungrily, your saliva coating them as if offering him a sacred tribute. The intensity of the sensations coursing through you is devastating, your tongue wrapping around his fingers, sucking with desperate need. “Fuck, bunny, you take me so well in every one of your holes—so perfect for me,” he groans, his eyes dark with insatiable desire. His words hit you like a drug, intoxicating and igniting you further.

Each stifled moan you release only fuels your arousal. You suck his fingers deeper and harder into your mouth, lost in a blend of pleasure and pain. Every movement of his body against yours is a wave crashing over you, leaving you longing for everything he has to give. The way he possesses you sends shivers through your spine, each thrust making you lose more control over your body as the heat of your impending orgasm begins to consume you.

Sunghoon slowly pulls his fingers from your mouth, dragging his palm over your soft skin, tracing imaginary lines across your chest. Each touch ignites an unbearable heat within you. With calculated precision, he twists the tips of your nipples, tugging violently, leaving slippery trails of your saliva on your skin. The pain is both exquisite and agonizing, each pull sending electric shivers through your body. A strangled moan escapes your lips, a desperate plea for more—more of his attention, more of his desire that wraps around you like a thick fog.

But he doesn’t grant you a moment’s relief. In one swift motion, his saliva-damp hand slips lower, forcing its way between your trembling thighs. His fingers find your clit, brushing it with calculated gentleness that makes your hair stand on end. Then, his touch becomes rougher, pinching and rubbing with increasing brutality. Each caress feels like a whip, awakening an insatiable hunger within you. Your clit, subjected to his relentless attention, amplifies the heat building in your core like a raging fire consuming everything in its path.

“Come for me, bunny,” he growls, his voice thick with a primal promise. His gaze is that of a predator—hungry, eager to devour every part of you. He intensifies the rubbing, his slick fingers driving you further into the abyss of pleasure, pushing you closer to the edge. The anticipation coils inside you like a spring about to snap, your entire body tightening in preparation for release.

Suddenly, the orgasm crashes over you. A guttural cry tears from your throat as your body convulses, your muscles clenching under the overwhelming wave of ecstasy. Time seems to stop, every second stretching into infinity as you surrender to the wild pleasure. But Sunghoon isn’t done—not by a long shot. He doesn’t let you escape so easily. He doubles down, his thrusts becoming more furious, more frantic, each movement driving you to new peaks of pleasure. The orgasm that had begun to fade is reignited, turning into a wild dance between pain and bliss.

He leans in, his lips grazing your skin with a disconcerting tenderness, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. His scent—a mix of musk and sweat—intoxicates you, plunging you deeper into this state of euphoria. You are his toy, and he’s only just begun to play. Each stroke against your clit tears at the boundary between ecstasy and suffering, and you realize you are completely at his mercy, trapped in a whirlwind of brutal and delicious sensations.

“Again,” you whisper, desperate to prolong the moment, eager to explore just how far he can take you. With a predatory smile, Sunghoon answers your plea by increasing the intensity of his movements. Your hips buck, trying to escape the merciless dance of pleasure, but he holds you firmly in place, locking you against him. Each thrust of his body against yours is a reminder that you are prey, a creature of desire under his control.

The thrusts continue, relentless, leaving you breathless and desperate, each push devouring a little more of you. The room fills with the sounds of your moans and the raw noises of your bodies colliding—a symphony of unfiltered pleasure that reverberates through the air. You are caught in a cyclone of sensations, your mind lost in a swirling storm of need, surrendering entirely to the intoxicating rhythm of your connection.

The tension rises again, and you know you’re about to explode once more. His movements become almost frantic, leaving you breathless, desperate, chasing that ultimate moment of release. Reality dissolves, leaving only the raw essence of your connection—a delicious dance of desire, pain, and possession. Sunghoon has turned you into a creature of pleasure, completely dependent on him, and he savors every second you’re at his mercy.

The outside world blurs as you lose yourself in ecstasy, each movement and touch pushing you closer to the edge. You are entirely his, a toy in his hands, and the depth of his desire for you leaves you speechless. Sunghoon is a master, and you are his submissive, ready to abandon everything for him, ready to dive deeper into this obscene and primal world he’s created for the two of you.

Each breath you take is filled with the intensity of his desire. The way he touches you, the way he penetrates you, is a promise of savage pleasure—a silent cry of possession. And just as you’re about to give in, you realize you want it all, over and over again, lost in the whirlwind of sensations slowly consuming you.

With a final, powerful thrust, you both reach a peak of pleasure. A guttural moan escapes your lips, echoing in the warm air of the stairwell. His cum spurts inside you, a burning flood filling your pussy, every drop marking you in an irreversible way. Both of you are out of breath, gasping for air, as the warmth of orgasm envelops your bodies, leaving a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your skin.

He lets his heavy body rest on yours, pressing your back against the step with a primal force. Each breath you take is a struggle—a mixture of excitement and pain—as he sinks deeper into the position. His muscular arms wrap around your waist, his hands exploring every inch of your damp skin, tracing lines of searing desire that make every fiber of your being tremble.

Sunghoon kisses your neck, his hot, wet mouth gliding over your skin, planting feverish kisses as if marking his territory. His tongue lingers on your collarbone, following the curve of your body, sliding between your breasts. Every movement draws you closer to complete submission. He lingers on every sensitive spot, gently nibbling your skin, electrifying you with new sensations as if determined to strip you of all reason.

Each caress is charged with wild passion, exploring the limits of your pleasure. His mouth travels down your body, his tongue tracing sinuous patterns. It pauses on your stomach, gliding around your navel before slowly working its way back up with exquisite slowness. You shiver under his touch, the heat of his breath against your skin making you vibrate from within.

When he finally pulls out of your pussy, a mixture of your cum flows down the stairs, a white, glistening trail that bears witness to your animalistic union. The sight is both filthy and deeply erotic—a visual reminder of your carnal connection. You feel the warm mixture sliding down your thigh, each drop reminding you of the raw passion you shared.

He straightens slightly, his piercing gaze locking onto yours, a wild and possessive gleam in his eyes. “Look at what we’ve done,” he murmurs in a hoarse voice, laced with satisfaction. He savors the moment like a hunter admiring his prize, every drop of cum on your skin a mark of his domination.

With a predatory smile, he leans in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “You have no idea what I’ve got planned for us.” The promise sends a shiver through you, your body still vibrating with echoes of the orgasm. Anticipation rises within you again, a delicious thrill for what’s to come.

He begins to explore your body once more, his hands gliding over your skin, each touch igniting a burning desire. His fingers trail along your thigh, making their way to your core, ready to make you relive that obscene pleasure. You are at his mercy, entirely submerged in the intensity of his desires. Every movement of his body against yours reminds you how deeply bound you are to him, shackled by an insatiable longing.

As the excitement builds once again, you realize you are willing to do anything for him, ready to dive even further into this savage world he has crafted around you. You are his prey, his toy, and you’ve never felt a desire so powerful, so irresistible.

The roof remains silent, barely disturbed by the soft breeze sweeping through, but this tranquility is nothing more than a fragile illusion. You stand there, frozen, your gaze locked on him, your heart pounding against your chest like a trapped animal. Park Jeongseong, sitting nonchalantly at the edge of the roof, doesn’t even bother to look at you. He smokes slowly, each drag lingering in the air like a provocation. That small, insignificant gesture drives you mad with rage. You want him to respect you, to take you seriously, but you know you’ve lost even before starting. His indifference crushes you.

His silhouette is imposing, even in that relaxed posture. With his legs slightly apart and his back curved backward, he seems to own the entire space as if he were its undisputed king. And you? You’re just a mere teacher, pathetic in your attempt to restore some semblance of authority. Your hands tremble slightly at your sides, but you refuse to show it. The slightest sign of weakness would be a victory for him, and you won’t give him that satisfaction.

“It’s forbidden to smoke here.” The words come out sharper than you intended, but your voice quivers slightly. He must hear it, sense it — that insidious doubt creeping into every word you utter. Jeongseong finally turns his head towards you, slowly, as if granting you the bare minimum of attention. His gaze pierces through you, cold, devoid of emotion. Yet behind that mask of indifference, you sense a latent violence, a promise of something far darker.

He stares at you, his eyes trailing lazily over your body, as if appraising every curve, every inch of your skin. Even clothed, you feel exposed, vulnerable. His gaze burns you like a fire, a silent judgment reducing you to prey under his hungry eyes. And what terrifies you the most is that unsettling sensation spreading within you—a shiver running down your spine under his scrutiny. You hate it. You hate this reaction, this sickening warmth pooling in the pit of your stomach.

“It’s also strictly forbidden to have relationships with students.” His smile, though cold, carries heavy insinuations, his lips barely curling, as if every word he speaks is a whip’s lash. There’s a hardness in his voice, a palpable threat hanging in the heavy air between you. He isn’t merely speaking—he’s gauging you, analyzing you, like a predator watching its prey. The cigarette dangles at the edge of his lips, smoke rising lazily, creating an almost hypnotic aura that keeps you hooked.

His dark eyes narrow slightly, sharpening the piercing coldness of his stare. Every feature of his face exudes overwhelming control, a crushing dominance. He knows you’re unsettled, that his authority drives you mad with desire and frustration. The tension between you is electric—a taut wire on which he plays, making the moment even more irresistible.

“I’m your teacher.” Your voice grows stronger, but you feel the tension within you, ready to snap at any moment. Yet he laughs—a low, deep laugh that resonates through the air, wrapping around you like a suffocating web. He openly mocks you, not even bothering to hide it. To him, you’re ridiculous—an insignificant creature trying in vain to appear powerful.

With a sudden motion, he rises, carelessly tossing his cigarette to the ground. He crushes the butt under his shoe with deliberate slowness, his eyes locked onto yours. Every movement is calculated, every gesture a direct challenge to your authority. He approaches with that slow, feline stride, like a predator closing in on its prey. The air thickens with tension, each step echoing in the oppressive silence of the rooftop.

“Teacher?” he murmurs, stopping just inches from you. “Are you sure about that? ’Cause right now, it looks like you’re begging me to fuck you like the dirty little slut you are.” His words hit like a slap—vulgar, cruel. Your heart skips a beat, and disgust washes over you. But what terrifies you most is the involuntary response of your body—the throbbing between your thighs, the tension building uncontrollably within you.

Before you can react, his hand is on you. He grabs your wrist roughly, yanking you against him. Your body crashes into his, and you immediately feel the stark difference between you. He’s massive, every muscle tensed beneath his clothes. His grip is iron, and you realize just how powerless you are against him. You try to pull away, but he tightens his hold.

“Let me go!” you spit, your voice laced with panic. But he only smiles—that smug, condescending smile that makes you want to throw up. His hand slides down your arm, then grips your waist, digging into your flesh with raw possessiveness.

He slams you violently against the wall, the impact knocking the breath from your lungs. Your back hits the concrete, and a dull pain spreads through your body. You try to scream, but he presses his body against yours, leaving you barely enough air to breathe.

“What were you expecting, coming here all alone?” His breath is warm against your ear, carrying the scent of cigarettes mixed with raw desire. “Did you really think I’d leave you alone?” His fingers glide along your neck, sliding down to your cleavage, tracing a burning path on your skin. He toys with the edge of your blouse, tugging slightly at the fabric, revealing just enough skin to make you shiver.

“Stop it!” You try to resist, but your voice cracks under the strain, weak and desperate. His fingers dig deeper into your flesh, and a nauseating wave of heat floods your lower belly. You hate yourself for reacting like this, hate the way your body betrays you every second.

His gaze locks onto yours, his eyes dark as a void. “You can act like a prude all you want, but we both know what you really want.” His lips graze your ear, his voice a whisper, obscene and poisonous. “You want me to take you right here, on this roof, where anyone could see. You want me to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk afterward.” His words cut like knives—sharp, brutal. They tear you apart inside, and yet a twisted part of you responds to every syllable, writhing with desire under his control.

With a swift motion, he rips your blouse open, buttons flying in every direction. The cold air strikes you, leaving you half-naked in front of him, vulnerable, exposed. His eyes roam over your chest with indecent greed. “Look at you, all laid out… It’s pathetic.” A cruel laugh escapes him before he grabs your chin, forcing your head up to meet his gaze. He savors your humiliation, relishing your vulnerability.

His hands grow rougher, gliding over your body with calculated violence. He grabs your breasts through your bra, squeezing with painful force. You stifle a cry, but he doesn’t stop. His gaze remains cold, detached, as if he’s merely toying with an object. His fingers slip beneath the fabric, tugging at your bra until it comes free.

His fingers trace your skin slowly, then wrap around your throat—a cruel, methodical caress, almost sadistic. The pressure is just enough for you to feel the grip tightening, without cutting off your air entirely. You gasp for breath, your lips parting in a desperate attempt to inhale, but each breath becomes a struggle. The world around you starts to fade, leaving only him, your blurred vision focusing on his face, masked in darkness, with that predatory gleam in his eyes.

He forces your chin up, exposing the vulnerable curve of your neck. His warm, heavy breath mingles with yours, creating an unbearable tension between you. “Look at yourself,” he murmurs, his voice low, rough, almost possessive. “You pretend to resist, but your body’s already betraying you. Every inch of you is screaming for me to take you, to burn you to ashes, doll.” His words drip with cruelty, every syllable seeping into your skin like venom. A wave of impotent rage rises in your throat, but it blends with guilty desire—something far more unsettling, a sinister shiver that coils in your belly, deepening your confusion.

His free hand trails down your bare arm, his cold, merciless fingers dragging slowly. He takes his time, savoring each second, until he grabs your waist with a brutal grip, his hold fierce and overwhelming. His fingers dig into your flesh as if he’s trying to mark you, imprint his presence deep within you. The intensity of his touch makes your heart race erratically, and you hate yourself for feeling this primal response. Your breathing grows more erratic, and you want to scream at him to let go, to let you breathe—but your body… your body is a traitor, yielding to this brutal, perverse sensation wrapping around you, swallowing you whole in a cocoon of devouring desire.

“Tell me you don’t like this,” he murmurs, his voice a rough whisper against your ear, his lips grazing your skin like a venomous snake. “Tell me you don’t want me to take you here, against this wall, to fuck you until you’re nothing but a broken mess at my feet.” His hand slides back up to your breast, his fingers wrapping around your flesh with brutal possession. He squeezes hard, without mercy, and a strangled moan escapes your lips. The sound—this mix of frustration and arousal—scorches your cheeks with shame, but the intensity in his gaze makes you falter.

You want to spit in his face, scream that he’s a monster, that you’ll never let him win—but the words remain stuck in your throat, smothered by pain and humiliation. You feel trapped, chained to this unbearable sensation driving you to self-loathing. And he knows it. He sees it—every detail of your body caught in this internal struggle. His eyes gleam with sick satisfaction as he continues to torment you, each movement a new blow to your soul. The pleasure he takes in your suffering only deepens your despair, dragging you further into the darkness he seems to revel in.

“You have this defiant look, but your body knows exactly what it wants,” he says, his hand slowly sliding down your stomach, inching dangerously close to the spot where you know he could completely break you. Every touch is a promise of both pain and pleasure. Your breathing quickens, and panic rises within you like a devastating tide

“You think you can resist me? Is that what you believe?” A sarcastic, cruel laugh escapes him before he forces you to meet his gaze, gripping your jaw with an almost animalistic violence. “No one resists me, doll. No one.”

You try to fight back, but it’s futile. He’s too strong, his grip too tight. He slams you harder against the wall, his hips pressed against yours, locking you in place. His hard, powerful body crushes you, leaving no room to move. The sense of submission, the weight of his desire, crushes every ounce of resistance in you. You are entirely at his mercy, your mind spinning between fear and a disturbing curiosity. Every word he speaks resonates in your head like a sentence, a proclamation of his dominance.

“Look at what you’ve become,” he whispers against your cheek, his lips brushing your skin slowly, provocatively, as if savoring every moment of your defeat. “You’re already mine, you know that. Your little authoritative teacher act won’t change a thing. You’ll end up on your knees, like all the others… broken and obedient. And believe me, doll, you’re going to love it.” His words drip with menace and excitement, the echoes of his power pounding in your heart.

His hand slips even lower, sliding under the hem of your skirt, his grip unrelenting. A wave of horror crashes over you, but you’re completely powerless. He already has you, mind and body. The heat of his body pressed against yours, this suffocating closeness, stirs a confusing desire within you. Your legs tremble under the weight of his presence, and your muscles tighten, unable to hold you up against the force of his total domination.

“Please…” The word escapes in a broken, barely audible breath, and you curse yourself for letting such weakness show. That single whisper, laden with vulnerability, seems to delight him, as if he’s achieved his ultimate goal. His dark, victorious laugh echoes in the room like a macabre melody.

“Please?” he repeats slowly, as if savoring the sound. “You don’t even know what it means to beg yet. But you will. I’ll make you plead like never before. And you’ll love every second of it.” Every word he utters lashes your already weakened mind like a whip.

Jay grabs you suddenly with terrifying violence, like a wild animal out of control. His fingers close around your wrist so tightly you can almost hear your skin tear under the pressure, leaving bright red marks where he grips you. He jerks you sharply, pulling you against him with such force that you lose your balance and slam into his hard chest. Before you can even process what’s happening, his lips are on yours. But it’s not a kiss.

No, it’s an attack.

His lips crush yours with a savage fury, his teeth immediately sinking into your lower lip until it bleeds, tearing a cry of surprise and pain from you. But he doesn’t care. He gives you no reprieve, no time to catch your breath or fight back. His tongue plunges into your mouth like a weapon, seeking to destroy, to break you down with the brutal force of his assault. The taste of your own blood, mixed with his rough saliva, creates a brutal blend of pain and raw desire.

His movements are messy, almost desperate, but relentless. His tongue crashes against yours with a violence that steals your breath, forcing you to yield, to bend under his control. Each deeper thrust makes the air harder to find, leaving you gasping, suffocating under the weight of his dominance. You try to push him away, to make him let go, but his hand clamps violently around your neck, locking you in place. He forces you to feel everything, to endure it all.

His free hand roams roughly over your body, grabbing your hip with such force that you feel his fingers dig deep into your flesh, leaving instant red marks. He’s not just touching you—he’s claiming you. His fingers slide under your skirt with a ripping force, shoving the fabric aside to expose your bare thigh, which he scratches with his nails and grips with inhuman strength. The cold air of the room clashes violently with the overwhelming heat of his touch. His body, hot and unyielding, presses against yours, making you feel every muscle, every erratic beat of his heart.

With a brutal yank, he grabs your hair, forcing your head back to expose your throat. His eyes, dark and clouded with desire, glimmer with something even darker, more savage. There’s nothing human left in his gaze, only a ravenous hunger to reduce you to nothing. His mouth trails down your jaw, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin. And then, without warning, he bites. Hard. Too hard. Pain explodes in your neck as his teeth sink into your tender flesh. Your scream is swallowed by the shock, by the sheer force with which he holds you. Your body arches under the assault, a brutal mix of pain, terror, and a burning heat building deep in your core.

You feel the blood trickling slowly from the bite, seeping into the folds of your neck, sticking to your skin. But the sight of it only excites him further. Jay growls against you, a sound primal and animalistic. His lips latch onto the wound, licking the blood with a morbid eagerness. You tremble, lost in the violence of his actions, your body betraying you by responding to the intensity.

There’s no escape. His body crushes you against the wall, every movement reminding you just how completely you are at his mercy. You are trapped between his raw strength and the cold, unyielding wall behind you.

He returns to your mouth, and this time, it’s worse. His kiss is torture. His lips are drenched in blood, and his teeth clash against yours with a brutality you can’t avoid. He splits your lip open once again without remorse, and this time, the blood flows freely between your tangled mouths. He growls against your lips, drinking the mixture of blood and saliva with brutal pleasure. He isn’t kissing you—he’s devouring you. Every movement of his tongue is an invasion, every press of his lips a destruction. You drown under the obscene pain and pleasure he imposes on your body.

His hand moves lower, gripping your thigh roughly and lifting it with inhuman strength to press you even closer to him. You feel the weight of his body against yours, his hard, animalistic desire rubbing against you uncontrollably. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thigh, yanking harshly, forcing your body to bend to his will. You feel trapped, swept away by this wave of brutality and wild desire that overwhelms you. You suffocate under the stifling heat of his closeness, yet your body responds against your will, yielding to every movement, every brutal caress, and every tearing bite.

Blood and saliva mix in your mouths, and Jay seems insatiable. His lips keep returning to your throat, your face, biting, licking, savoring every mark he leaves on you. He humiliates you with his violence, with the way he reduces you to something fragile and vulnerable beneath his relentless hands. But your fragility only excites him more, making him wilder, more ravenous. His growls against your skin grow rougher, more savage, and you feel the suffocating heat of his body pressing into yours.

He bites your lower lip a third time, drawing a pure cry of pain that vanishes into the heavy air. The metallic taste of blood floods your mouths, but he still doesn’t let go. His tongue teases the wound, licking and sucking the blood with an almost animalistic greed. His violence knows no bounds, and you realize he won’t stop until you are completely his, broken under his primal desire.

He bites, licks, and tears at your skin over and over, wrenching cries from you that you can’t hold back. When he finally pulls away, your lips are smeared with blood and saliva, an obscene and wild spectacle. He pants against you, his hot breath caressing your skin, raw from his bites, and his eyes shine with cruel satisfaction, nearly deranged. But he isn’t done—not even close.

Jay grips your shoulder roughly, his hold so tight that the pain radiates through your entire body like a shiver. His fingers dig into your flesh with such intensity that you almost collapse under the pressure. In one merciless move, he forces you to kneel before him, demanding your obedience with no trace of gentleness. Your knees hit the cold, hard rooftop with a painful thud, tearing a cry from you. The sharp sting of pain burns, but the humiliation of the moment stings even deeper, dragging you into a desperate state of submission.

He stares down at you, his gaze dark, wild, and brimming with desire. “Now, I’m going to fuck that pretty little teacher mouth of yours, and you’d better take it all,” he says, his voice rough like shattered glass. His predatory smile reveals white teeth, ready to devour their prey.

He leans toward you, the aura of a hunter surrounding him. His hand slides slowly to your wounded lip, still bleeding, caressing the torn skin with excruciating slowness, his fingers sinking into your flesh with bestial intensity. A moan of pain and pleasure slips from your lips, impossible to suppress. Anticipation and terror twist inside your belly, each second heightening the tension between you.

He chuckles, a dark and suffocating laugh, satisfied with your suffering. “You taste so good,” he murmurs, his voice vibrating with desire. Every movement of his hand is deliberate, cruel. He pulls his bloodied hand away and rubs it against your cheek with perverse delight, marking your skin with his possessiveness. Your wide eyes follow his every move, mesmerized by the horror of the situation.

“Look at me,” he commands, his voice a terrifying whisper. Your heart races, caught between fear and fascination. His dark eyes gleam with animal hunger, drowning you in a sea of devouring desire. “I want you to feel every second of this,” he says, a smug smile curling his lips.

Jay leans closer, his mouth mere inches from yours, breathing in your pain and pleasure. The air between you is heavy with tension, and an irresistible heat builds inside you, your body reacting involuntarily to his presence. In one swift motion, he grabs your jaw and forces it open slightly, his brutal fingers pressing into your flesh, making you meet his gaze.

“You’re not going to disappoint me, are you?” His words are both a threat and a command. He watches you with such intensity that you shiver, excitement thick in the air.

“No, Jay, I won’t disappoint you,” you whisper weakly, your voice barely audible. Your wounded lips throb with pain, and the metallic taste of blood still lingers in your mouth. The bleeding slows, but the burning sensation grows stronger, each heartbeat amplifying your suffering.

“Open your mouth wide for me.” He releases your jaw and starts unfastening his pants. Your lips part painfully, and a whimper of discomfort escapes you. He watches the mixture of saliva and blood pooling in your mouth, groaning in satisfaction as he imagines how your throat will stretch and mold around his cock.

When he finally pushes his clothes down to his feet, you salivate at the sight of his hard, flushed length, a bead of pre-cum leaking from the tip.

He slowly brings two fingers to your lower lip, a sadistic smile playing on his face. You know he’s about to make you suffer, yet a part of you burns with desire at the cruel anticipation. With a brutal pinch, he squeezes your wounded lip, forcing fresh blood to spill into your mouth. The metallic taste spreads on your tongue as you whimper, a sharp sound that betrays you. But his dark gaze pins you in place, like prey trapped by its hunter. He relishes your pain, his mocking laughter echoing like a macabre melody in the cold air.

You squirm slightly on the frozen rooftop floor, trying to ease the unbearable tension building between your legs. Every movement seems to ignite an even more ravenous hunger in him, and he leans toward you, a predatory smile stretching across his lips. His fingers, slick with his saliva, approach your parted mouth.

“Stick out your tongue,” he orders, his rough, commanding voice cutting through the night. You hesitate for a moment, but the intensity of his gaze compels your submission. You obey and extend your tongue.

He stares at you intensely before leaning even closer, like a predator about to strike. In one swift motion, he grabs your tongue between his fingers, his nails digging into your tender flesh. A sharp pain floods through you, and you feel blood bead again, mixing with your saliva as he plays with your tongue like a child with a toy. Anxiety paralyzes you, yet somehow, this pain awakens something dark and deep inside you.

A strangled sound escapes your throat, a cry of surprise mixed with pain, as he abruptly pulls his fingers away, giving you barely enough time to catch your breath. Panic overwhelms you, but before you can process what’s happening, he thrusts his cock deep into your throat. The shock is devastating. Every inch of him buries itself in you, reaching the back of your throat and robbing you of breath in a twisted mixture of pleasure and agony.

His cock glides over your tongue, and the tight grip of your throat around him makes you lose all sense of time. Each second stretches into an endless torment, a delicious torture. He starts to move, his rhythm violent, almost animalistic. Each thrust grinds against your injured tongue, torn by his brutal assault. The metallic taste of your blood mingles with his precum, and a wave of heat surges through you, bringing tears to your eyes. But he doesn’t care in the slightest.

He grabs your hair with a savage grip, yanking hard to assert his dominance. He forces your head down, driving himself deeper, as if determined to make you his toy, his instrument of pleasure. Every movement is an act of control, a reminder that you are nothing more than a prop in his filthy fantasy.

“I want you to move your fucking tongue for me, professor, and coat my cock with your blood,” Jay growls, his hoarse voice cutting through the thick tension. His words are harsh commands, leaving no room for refusal. You know you have no choice but to obey, despite the disgust warring with the twisted excitement swelling inside you. He pulls harder on your hair, forcing you to take him fully, turning your mouth into nothing more than a hole for his satisfaction.

Your tongue starts to move against him, gliding and curling around his cock, smearing your blood along his rigid skin. The mixture of pain and submission draws a broken moan from you, a desperate sound that hangs in the air. Tears spill from your eyes, blending with saliva, blood, and precum dripping from your mouth, creating a grotesque mess on your face. Your suffering only fuels his savagery. He doesn’t slow down, continuing to thrust deeper with every stroke. Each push feels like a whip against your tongue, another reminder of your helplessness beneath his insatiable desire.

The scent of your own blood mixes with his musky odor, driving you into a state of hysteria. Anxiety and disgust tangle with an unspoken desire rising within you. He offers you no reprieve; every thrust of his cock shatters your control further, drowning you in a sea of despair and violent satisfaction. Saliva and precum flow down your neck, pooling on your bare chest—each drop a reminder of how completely he owns you, how thoroughly you belong to him in this twisted dance.

You are a living mess, a puppet in his hands, a flesh-and-blood doll at his mercy. And amidst this obscenity, something inside you stirs. A ravenous desire for this brutal and animalistic submission awakens. Pain morphs into ecstasy; each thrust, each movement, deepens your weakness. Somewhere inside, you begin to crave this humiliation, this desperate need to be broken under his control.

With a sadistic smile, Jay brings his free hand to your dripping face. He watches with delight as the mixture of saliva and blood spreads across your skin. His finger dips into the sticky mess before smearing it further, every motion accentuating the chaos he has created.

He doesn’t stop there. He continues to pound into you with beastly force, pushing your throat beyond its limits. The sensation is both excruciating and euphoric, each thrust dragging muffled cries of agony and pleasure from your constricted throat.

With his other hand, he grabs your hair with merciless strength, preventing any attempt at retreat. He pulls you down onto him, forcing you to swallow him to the base, cutting off your breath entirely. The pressure is crushing, and you feel like you’re drowning beneath his dominance. Holding your head firmly against his pelvis, he commands your full submission to his savage desire.

In a twisted act of defiance mixed with insatiable submission, you grip his ass. But instead of pushing him away, a primal urge drives you to keep him buried deep in your throat. An overwhelming heat surges through you, awakening an uncharted need for the control he exerts over you.

Your tongue, now eager, explores every inch of his cock, caressing and teasing with a wicked tenderness. It glides over him, dancing along his skin with fervent lust, while your throat contracts around him, holding him in this wet prison. Tears stream down your cheeks, mingling with the sweat and grime on your face. Through the haze of tears, you watch him, every detail of his face etched into your mind.

His satisfied smile widens as he keeps thrusting into you, each stroke resonating like a declaration of his dominance. You feel every hit, every movement of his hips crashing down like a wave of violent desire, drowning your consciousness. You belong entirely to him, and that thought only fuels the fire of your submission.

He abruptly pulls you away from his pelvis, barely giving you time to breathe, but his grip on you remains firm. Jay plunges even deeper into the abyss of your mouth, pressing his body against yours with beastly force. His thrusts are relentless, each motion driving into your throat as another statement of his control. The pressure is overwhelming, and your head tilts back under the assault. The pain is both devastating and exquisite, a confusing blend that sweeps you into a whirlwind of adrenaline.

A final guttural growl escapes from his throat as he reaches his climax. His semen floods your mouth, scorching hot, overtaking you entirely. You feel each drop spreading across your tongue, the salty, bitter taste filling you as he continues to thrust brutally, his manhood crushing any trace of hesitation. He doesn’t withdraw until you’ve swallowed everything, forcing you to gulp down every drop, savor the filth, and absorb his essence completely.

As you struggle to take it all in, the pain and pleasure intertwine, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. His movements grow even more intense, each thrust resonating like a cry of defiance. You are here, fully submitted, lost in a trance where suffering becomes your new reality. Every moan you let out is an anthem to his dominance.

When he finally pulls out of your mouth, a strand of saliva mixed with blood connects his length to your lips, leaving them shiny and defiled. The metallic taste of blood mingles with his semen, creating an indescribable flavor—grotesque and a stark reminder of the act’s brutality. His manhood bears traces of blood, evidence of the intensity of this invasion. It’s a sordid image, a painting of debauchery and possession, and you realize you’ve become the canvas for his darkest desires.

Adrenaline pulses through your veins, each breath heavy with electric violence. You are trapped between pain and pleasure, your mind dissolving under the ecstasy of his control. As he gazes at you, he sees his reflection in your submission, like a puppet in the hands of a merciless puppeteer.

“I want you, Jay, please fill me,” you plead, your voice hoarse and trembling with desperation. On your knees before him, your face, still marked by your previous debauchery, is drenched with tears streaming down your cheeks. Every tear is a testament to your desperate need. Your fingers dig into the skin of his thighs, clinging to him as if it were your only salvation.

“Who’s begging to be fucked, doll?” His low, raspy voice rumbles like thunder in the confined space. He leans in slightly, his fingers sliding through your hair, stroking it with a perverse tenderness that makes you shiver. Each caress, each touch, pulls a soft moan from your lips, even though a part of you trembles at the violence simmering beneath his desire. His mischievous grin, a blend of arrogance and fascination, reveals the intensity of his craving. “Come on, say it, doll. I know you know it.”

He lowers his hand, brushing over your chest marked with saliva and blood. You shiver under his touch, excitement and fear sparking through every nerve in your body.

“Your filthy little teacher slut.” A defiant gleam shines in your eyes, and though you surrender to his desire, you don’t hesitate to reclaim your power. “Your cock-hungry teacher, who belongs to you. So please—”

Before you can finish, Jay lifts you abruptly and slams you against the wall with brutal force, making every bone in your body tremble. The pain of the impact is sharp, but it makes you smile, aroused by this sudden submission. Your legs wrap instinctively around his waist, desperately seeking contact, and his mouth crashes into yours, devouring your lips with insatiable hunger. Each kiss is an act of possession, every press of his lips a reminder of his control over you. The taste of his semen on your lips doesn’t deter him; instead, it seems to intoxicate him further, fueling his desire to claim you.

His hands roam your body with animal impatience, lifting your skirt and exposing your skin with a brutality that makes your heart race. In an instant, he rips off your panties, the fabric flying through the air as a symbol of your submission, leaving you completely exposed and vulnerable under his ravenous gaze. Then, without any warning, he slams into you. The pain is sharp, but it mixes with overwhelming pleasure, an intoxicating blend of ecstasy and suffering. You moan, your voice breaking under the brutal impact, each thrust resonating through every fiber of your being—a symphony of desire and pain.

“You love this, don’t you?” he whispers, his voice hoarse with possessiveness and challenge. He intensifies his thrusts, driving himself deeper into you, the walls around you trembling under the force of each movement. Every stroke is a wave of sensation, a whirlpool of pleasure and pain that leaves you craving more. You feel like a prisoner of the moment, held captive by his desires, yet paradoxically free—liberated by the sheer savagery of his act.

Your body responds uncontrollably, your eyes fluttering as a tidal wave of pleasure crashes over you, nearly unbearable. The rooftop air tightens around you, but all you can think about is him. Your moans, mingled with sweat and blood, are a chaotic blend of anguish and excitement. Each breath fans the fire burning inside you.

He leans down to kiss your mouth, each kiss an act of possession. His taste mingles with yours, a delicious obscenity, and you lose yourself in this dance where disdain and devotion intertwine in a bestial impulse. You are both prey and predator, lost in this wild embrace of raw desire, each movement bringing you closer to ecstasy. The pain of his brutal entry is already a distant memory, replaced by an unparalleled pleasure that carries you beyond reality.

The thrusts become more savage, more desperate, as you surrender all your inhibitions. Each slap of his hips against yours is a whip to your mind, plunging you into a complete loss of control. You know you are at his mercy, but you crave this moment, this animalistic embrace that tears you apart and fills you at the same time.

You cling to him as if your life depends on it, your fingers digging into his solid shoulders. Your nails sink deep into his skin through the taut fabric of his t-shirt, leaving red marks under the pressure. This fabric is but a thin, almost useless barrier between your unleashed desire and his flesh. Your mouth slightly open, you let out loud gasps, your tongue slipping from your trembling lips, unable to stay still as every brutal movement of his hips drives you further into surrender.

The way he fills you shatters all sense of control. Your core is flooded, hungry for him, each thrust ripping you apart with a violence that makes you see stars. You can’t keep your mouth shut, your breath short, and the uncontrollable pleasure wipes away all modesty. You feel your body tremble, and your eyes roll back, betraying your state—a total submission, a complete surrender to what he is doing to you. His burning gaze remains locked onto yours, intensifying the hold he has over you. He knows you belong to him, that he can break you at will, and that thought excites him even more.

His fingers grip your face with a force that almost hurts, his thumbs sliding over your sweat-soaked, tear-streaked cheeks. He growls between clenched teeth, his movements becoming more erratic yet also more violent, each thrust deeper, as if trying to possess you beyond the physical. He penetrates you so hard that you can feel every inch of him stretching you, forcing you to embrace all his length, to absorb all his rage.

“Bite me, doll, I want you to mark me,” he murmurs in a hoarse voice, thick with desire and contained violence. His lips brush against yours as he whispers those words, and immediately, your body reacts. A guttural moan rises from your throat, uncontrollable, almost primal. His fingers slide to your neck, applying a gentle yet threatening pressure.

Without thinking, you bury your head into his neck, your lips grazing his hot, sweat-slicked skin. But the fabric of his shirt prevents you from tasting him completely, and this barrier frustrates you. With a growl of discontent, you violently tug at his t-shirt, nearly tearing it apart, exposing the bare skin you crave so much. Starving for him, your lips press against his neck with wild eagerness, leaving wet kisses on his taut skin, each contact pulling you closer to madness. His salty sweat fills your mouth, and you can feel his pulse racing under your tongue, a frantic rhythm, just like yours.

Your moans resonate in the air, uncontrollable, but he seems unsatisfied. Each sound you make, every tremor of your body seems to trigger something darker within him. His thrusts become more erratic, more violent, as if he were trying to tear you apart. His hips slam against yours with brutal force, and the pain mingles with pleasure, inseparable, leaving you unable to distinguish what is pleasurable from what is unbearable.

And then, without waiting any longer, you open your mouth, biting into his skin, testing his limits. He growls in satisfaction, his body tensing, but it’s not enough. You want more. You sink your teeth into his flesh with ferocity, breaking the skin, savoring the metallic taste of blood that instantly fills your mouth. His reaction is immediate, a groan of pleasure vibrating through his body against yours. It’s not a cry of pain; it’s a deep, visceral sound, a sound of pure satisfaction.

The blood flooding your mouth is warm and thick, and you drink it as if it were forbidden nectar. You lose yourself in this moment, in this shared savagery. He loves it—he loves the pain, he loves the mark you leave on him. And you, you drown in this violence, in this brutality that consumes you whole.

In a swift motion, his hand wraps around your hair, pulling your head back violently. Your body arches at the impact, and a sharp cry escapes your lips, but he doesn’t wait for you to catch your breath. His lips crash against yours, now bloodied, in a fierce kiss, his teeth biting your lower lip, his tongue invading your mouth with an intoxicating brutality. You can still taste the salt of his sweat mixed with the blood soaking your lips. He devours you, and you let him, drowning in this violent exchange, in this raw domination he enforces.

His movements never slow down. On the contrary, they intensify, becoming more desperate, more profound. He literally pins you against the wall with each thrust, tearing you apart from the inside, reaching depths you never knew were possible. Every inch of your body is filled by him, every nerve ignited by the delicious pain of this brutality. You are completely at his mercy, and he knows it. He has broken you, reduced you to a state of total submission where all you want is more of him, even if it destroys you.

His breath becomes heavier, his growls mixing with yours in an animalistic cacophony. There is no tenderness left in this exchange; only this visceral, brutal urgency remains. You can feel him close, his movements growing more erratic, more desperate. He takes you as if he is going to tear you apart from the inside, but you ask for more, always more.

In a final surge, he makes you tip over, your body crashing violently against the wall as he takes you again, harder, deeper, without mercy. You’re nothing but a puppet in his hands, your body shaken by each violent thrust, and you can no longer think, nor breathe properly. You belong to him entirely, at this very moment, reduced to a state where only pain and pleasure coexist in perfect destructive harmony.

Your body ignites as he plunges into you, an intense heat building with every thrust. The orgasm overwhelms you violently, a wave of pleasure that makes you lose all sense of time. His cock finds your G-spot with bestial precision, triggering waves of sensations that make you scream, your moans echoing. The wall seems to vibrate with the rhythm of your pleasure, and all you can feel is this inexorable rise consuming you.

You ejaculate on him, a torrent of pleasure crashing against his muscular abdomen, soaking his waist. The heat of your body and the moisture of your orgasm mix, forming a delicious concoction of unfulfilled desire. He doesn’t stop, continuing to thrust you against the wall, his movements becoming more and more frantic, as if he wants to mark you as his property. Each thrust is a lash, a brutal reminder of his dominance.

Feeling his own orgasm approaching, he intensifies his movements, his sweaty skin sliding against yours. He growls into your neck, a guttural, bestial sound that vibrates through every fiber of your being. His teeth sink into your flesh, and the pain makes you moan with pleasure. The metallic taste of your blood awakens something primal in him, and you can feel his excitement growing with every passing second. It’s a blend of pleasure and pain, a precarious balance between dominance and submission.

You feel like prey, completely at his mercy as he takes you with brutal intensity. His body presses against yours, each movement heightening the sensation of possession. He finally releases himself inside you, a wave of heat that makes you quiver around him. Your muscles contract uncontrollably, each pulse pulling you back into this bestial, obscene, raw reality.

The sounds of your bodies colliding fill the air, a savage symphony of moans, screams, and growls. The outside world disappears, leaving just the two of you, trapped in this obscene moment. The sensations intertwine, the pain of his bites and the pleasure of his body inside you creating a dangerous dance where the line between pleasure and suffering blurs.

The intensity of each moment becomes unbearable, and you feel ready to explode under this pressure. His hand slips between you, his fingers finding your clitoris, playing with controlled brutality, intensifying your pleasure even more. He looks you in the eyes, a wild glimmer in his gaze, as if he savors every second of your submission, your pain. “I’m going to make you break,” he murmurs, his voice rough and full of obscene promises.

It was an ordinary Friday night, one of those evenings when the world seemed to fade away around you, where everything became frozen, suffocated under the weight of your own torments. The bar, steeped in a damp, smoky atmosphere, stood as a refuge for lost souls, those who, like yours, sought to escape a sordid reality. Sitting alone at a secluded table, hidden in a corner where darkness enveloped you, you let yourself be engulfed by increasingly obscene thoughts, a glass of whiskey in hand. It might have been your fifth, maybe the sixth; it didn’t matter at this point. You had stopped counting the drinks, just as you had abandoned the idea of measuring the mistakes that marked your life.

Each sip of whiskey was a delicious burn, a blend of alcohol and nectar that erased reality, immersing you in unspeakable fantasies. The intoxication didn’t just numb you; it awakened an unquenchable fire within you, a heat that you could no longer extinguish. It wasn’t just the whiskey warming your belly, but the incessant thought of those four students… gods of flesh and blood: Sim Jake, Park Jeongseong, Lee Heeseung, and Park Sunghoon. Each of them, in their own way, had left a burning imprint on your soul. The mere thought of them was enough to provoke an uncontrollable shiver throughout your body.

These Black Apollos, as they liked to call themselves, haunted you. Every day, every night, you saw them, and with every exchanged glance, your mind wandered into thoughts you should never have had. Their burning eyes seemed to tear through your clothes, exposing every part of you, even those you had carefully hidden. It was as if they knew everything about you, every corner of your body, every flaw in your soul.

Three of them had already crossed that fatal line, enveloping you in a perverse game where you were their puppet. Heeseung had been the first, luring you into his web with disconcerting ease. The memory of that moment was etched in you, and with every thought associated with it, a guilty warmth spread through your lower back. He had taken you with calculated brutality, his rough hands gripping you without gentleness, a cruel smile on his lips as he forced you to bend under his insatiable desire.

You remembered his warm breath on your neck, his fingers sliding recklessly under your clothes, exploring your skin as if it were his property. He had left you no chance to escape his grasp, reducing you to an object, a doll without will. Each thrust was an affirmation of his total control over you, and with every muffled cry you let escape, you felt your submission strengthen.

And then there was Sunghoon. His domination was more subtle, almost insidious. He played with you, manipulating your desires like a master puppeteer. He made you believe you still had a semblance of control, only to yank it away in an instant, leaving you at his mercy, vulnerable under his hungry gaze. His fingers, so skillful, traced lines of fire on your body, brushing just enough to drive you insane, never giving you what you truly desired. His words, whispered in your ear, were a bittersweet poison, commanding you to submit, to let your basest instincts take over.

You had hated him for that, and you had hated yourself too. But despite everything, you kept going back, again and again, thirsting for the delicious humiliation he made you endure.

Jeongseong, or Jay, as he preferred to be called, was the cruelest of all. His icy calm concealed a silent violence, a contained rage that exploded every time he touched you. He loved to see you suffer beneath him, twisting you with pleasure and pain intertwined, pushing you to the brink until you couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t just seek to possess you; he wanted to break you, and in his eyes, you saw that mad desire to see you on your knees, begging for a little respite. Every mark he left on your skin was a trophy for him, a proof of his victory over you.

But there was also Jake. Sim Jake, the enigmatic one, the one who hadn’t touched you yet, and maybe that was what drove you crazy. His silence was more oppressive than anything else, a heavy weight of promises and threats. His dark, piercing eyes often scrutinized you from afar, as if waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He knew you were already broken, already kneeling inside, and that was what amused him. He saw you as prey, prey that knew it had no chance of escape.

You remembered every exchanged glance with him, every barely-there smile, as if he were telling you, “Patience, my turn will come.” And that was what terrified you as much as it excited you. You knew that when he finally decided to make you his, there would be nothing left of you. He would leave you no way out, reducing you to a state of ruin.

With each sip of whiskey, these thoughts became clearer, more obsessive. You imagined yourself, there, in that dark room, kneeling before them, their possessive hands taking hold of you, their bodies pressed against yours, crushing you under their domination. Their power overwhelmed you, and you knew you could do nothing but submit. You pictured their hands on your skin, sliding along your curves, their merciless fingers tracing paths of fire on your bare flesh.

Every movement of their bodies against yours made you shiver, transporting you to a world where pain mingled with pleasure, where every sigh was a silent prayer, a plea for more brutality, for more control. They enveloped you, possessed you entirely, and you lost yourself in the feeling of being their thing, their toy to use as they pleased.

The idea of becoming their willing slave, their toy, made you lose all sense of reality. You could already see yourself in their arms, torn between shame and ecstasy, between the desire to flee and the urge to let yourself be completely devoured. You were ready to abandon everything, ready to plunge into the abyss of their cruel games, ready to kneel before them and offer them everything they wanted. Because deep down, you knew that was what you desired most.

The campus parking lot is empty, the setting sun casting long shadows on the pavement. You are crouched down, leaning over the side mirror of a car that isn’t yours. The light plays on your face, highlighting your perfect makeup, but a dull irritation bubbles inside you. This place disgusts you, and each passing day makes you want to flee farther away, to distance yourself from the four students you hate just as much as you love. As you adjust your lipstick, you feel a mix of desire and anger, a need to escape and free yourself from this prison.

Suddenly, the car window rolls down with a creak, and you instinctively straighten up, your heart racing. A man appears, Sim Jake. His disheveled, almost wild hair gives him an air of danger, a brutal sensuality that irresistibly attracts you. Your stomach tightens as he fixes his gaze on you, his dark, piercing eyes scanning every curve of your body. He watches the arch of your back with such intensity that you feel like he can read your darkest thoughts. An unquenchable desire to please him overwhelms you, to show him how much you long to be the one he dominates.

He lets out a soft chuckle, his laughter vibrating with mockery. With a casual gesture, he runs his hand through his hair, making it even more tousled, and this sight ignites a wild desire within you. Your gaze lingers on his muscular neck, the way his muscles are defined under his skin, making you want to touch him, to mark your possession on him. You swallow hard, a wave of heat rising from your belly to your chest.

“Professor, don’t tell me you’re spying on me,” he says, his voice laced with sarcasm, a mischievous smile on his lips. You remain frozen, unable to respond, every muscle in your body tense from a combination of desire and fear. “You know it’s a crime, mommy.” His words wrap around you like a vine, holding you captive in his grip.

You try to pull away, but he suddenly grabs you by the hand, making you bend down even more as he seizes your neck, pulling you toward him. Your head slips through the lowered window, and your eyes lock with his, burning with desire and defiance. He moistens his lips, and that gesture compels you to bite yours, an uncontrollable urge to want to kiss him.

“Don’t play with me, mommy,” he whispers, his voice husky, as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against yours. In a surge of raw passion, he bites your upper lip, making you stop biting your lower lip. The pain is sharp, but it’s quickly followed by a wave of pleasure, leaving you trapped between desire and pain. He also catches your lower lip, nibbling it slightly, drawing a moan from you, a melody of pleasure and pain that encourages him.

The murmurs around you fade into distant echoes, barely perceptible in your mind, completely submerged by the man who dominates you. Students and professors stop, stunned by what they see, but their judgment no longer matters. Everything disappears, and only Jake and his grip on you remain, his fingers firmly wrapped around your neck, keeping you captive under his burning gaze. The world seems to shrink, reducing itself to him alone, to the promise of chaos and raw pleasure he embodies.

You feel every warm breath he exhales against your skin as a silent promise of what’s to come. An almost overwhelming sexual tension radiates from him, leaving you breathless, unable to focus on anything other than how he manipulates you, from his calculated caresses to the underlying violence pulsing in his movements. His breath lingers near your lips, so close you could almost feel their warmth, but he plays with you, like a predator savoring the suffering of its prey before devouring it.

Adrenaline floods your body, your muscles tense, and a delicious dizziness grips you. Nothing makes sense, yet everything seems perfectly aligned in this moment of madness. “Jake… not here,” you manage to articulate weakly, your voice broken, torn between the reason that still tries to resist and the burning desire that blinds you. But he just laughs, that rough, threatening laughter igniting your senses. The sound reverberates in your head, pulling you even further into this irresistible spiral.

“This is precisely the perfect moment, mommy,” he replies, a smug smile stretching across his lips. He loosens his grip on you slightly, causing you to lean back, your balance teetering dangerously, as if the world is collapsing around you. But he catches you before you fall, holding you tightly between his grip and the car, firmly captive. His movements are calculated, violent in their gentleness, and yet you’ve never felt such a need for him, such a craving for what he can give you.

Then, he opens the car door with a deliberate motion, careful not to touch you, and steps out, his eyes sweeping over the stunned faces of the students and professors surrounding you. He revels in their stares, feeding off their disapproval and shock. It only strengthens his hold on you. The mocking smile forming on his face is a silent declaration: they can judge you all they want, but you belong to him, completely, and he feels no shame in proving it to you here, before their eyes.

Slamming the door shut, he approaches you, grabs you by the waist with brutal force, and violently slams you against the car body. The handle digs into your back, triggering a dull pain that mingles with the ecstasy awakening within you. You let out an involuntary moan, weak and broken, but he hears it, and it encourages him. The gazes around you multiply, curious and shocked, but all you can feel is Jake’s grip and the fire burning within you.

“You’re going to show them how much of a slut you are, alright, mommy?” he murmurs against your neck, his voice hoarse and burning, full of obscene promises. His teeth nibble delicately at your skin, sending electric shocks through your entire body. The sensation makes you shiver, and he notices it. His lips slowly trail down your neck, each kiss reinforcing his claim over your body. Every caress of his tongue, every bite leaves a burning mark on your skin, making you increasingly vulnerable to him.

“I want you to moan for me, and show them who can make you this stupid,” he whispers, his words cutting through you like a whip. His hands slide under your top, fingers gliding across your skin, pausing just under your breasts for a moment. The threat of his brute strength lingers, even as he caresses you provocatively, deliberately slow, leaving you to languish.

“You’re going to show those sons of bitches, aren’t you, mommy?” He asks you, fingers lingering on your ribs, making you shiver under his touch. Then they rise slowly, sensually, toward your breasts, and you hold your breath, suspended between anticipation and overwhelming desire. But he doesn’t grant you any respite, grabbing your hair to pull it sharply back, exposing your throat. The pain mixes with a blazing ecstasy, leaving you floating between the two, unable to resist the grip he has on you. “I said, didn’t I, or are you already too stupid to answer?” he growls, his cruel words resonating in your muddled mind, dragging you even deeper into this total submission.

“Yes… Jake, I can do it,” you manage to say, your voice trembling, broken by desire. Your entire body is on fire, every fiber of your being calling for more, demanding the complete surrender he demands.

“You’re so nice to me, mommy,” he murmurs, his lips grazing yours, barely brushing your mouth from which a trickle of saliva slowly drips. His eyes glimmer with mischief as he extends his tongue to lap at your saliva, savoring every drop with a perverse pleasure. This act is a provocation, a clear sign that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, and that you can do nothing to stop him. The heat rises within you, inevitable, each brush of his tongue fanning the flames inside you.

Adrenaline pulses through your veins as you press further against the car, desperately seeking to escape the pressure that crushes you. “Kiss me, Jake… please, I can’t wait anymore.” Your pleading tone makes him smile, and he senses your impatience, your desperate need for him. Seeing you so vulnerable, your knees rubbing against each other in search of a little friction, makes his groin throb with desire, a promise of immeasurable pleasure.

And you can smell his arousal, his need almost tangible piercing through the fabric of his pants. The scent of his masculinity, mingled with your own desire, overwhelms you, and you moan in pleasure as you press against him, rubbing against his member, feeling every pulse through your body. The tension rises further, the excitement pushing you to want more.

Jake slams you harder against the body of the car, your back pressing against the unforgiving coldness of the metal. His lips crash against yours, forcing you to tilt your head back until it strikes violently against the hard surface of the car. The impact shoots through you, a blend of sharp pain and troubling pleasure, merging into the intensity of sensations that collide within you. His tongue invades your mouth with unyielding aggression, probing every corner, as if trying to claim every part of you. His movements are brutal, a dance of relentless domination, each stroke of his tongue asserting his presence, leaving you powerless under his total control.

Your breath becomes erratic, caught in your throat as he almost suffocates you with his presence. His lips are hard, unyielding, and saliva begins to mix quickly, flooding your mouth. You try to keep up with the frantic pace, but he controls you, his movements much faster and more brutal. He nibbles at you, pulling lightly on your lower lip before diving back in, and you taste his sweet and bitter flavor asserting itself, your tongue powerless to do anything but submit to his.

Slobber flows freely. It quickly builds up, a sticky sensation overwhelming your mouth, inevitably spilling over your lips. You try to swallow, but you are already submerged. A thick trail of saliva starts to run from your jaw, tracing a wet path down your neck. It weaves between your breasts, sliding under your clothes. The warm, moist stickiness makes you shiver, a mix of shame and raw excitement leaving you panting. Each drop of saliva that escapes your mouth is another mark of how he sullies you, and the thought of being like this, exposed to everyone’s gaze, makes your head spin.

Jake doesn’t slow down. His kiss becomes increasingly disorderly, savage. The rhythm intensifies to the point where you feel he wants to crush you. His lips are brutal, smashing against yours without any tenderness. He slobbers profusely, saliva continuously overflowing, making the exchange even filthier, more primal. The obscene noise of fluids mingling with your stifled moans creates a symphony of indecency that only you two can hear amid the shocked whispers of onlookers.

His hand grips your hair violently, pulling with a sharp yank. You cry out, a mix of pain and pleasure bursting from your lips, but he doesn’t care. His fingers dig into your scalp, pulling even harder to expose you, forcing your face to tilt back. Your neck stretches under the pressure, a perfect curve he totally dominates. His eyes, burning with desire and cruelty, lock onto yours as he looks at you, a smug smile twisting his features. He knows you are his, entirely. And he savors every second of this submission. He leans down slowly, his tongue darting out to lick your neck with a calculated slowness, leaving a trail of hot saliva on your already sweat-dampened skin. You shiver, the sensation consuming you from the inside, your body responding immediately to this humiliation.

He descends, deliberately, biting your skin until red marks are left, his teeth sinking in just enough for the pain to mingle with pleasure. Each bite is a new mark of his territory, each scratch of his teeth on your delicate skin plunging you deeper into this abyss of submission. You can’t help but moan, your sounds blending into the suffocating heat surrounding you.

Jake finally pulls back, straightening up, his gaze still fixed on yours. “Do you want me to do something for you?” he asks, his voice hoarse and laced with mischief. He waits, leaving you trembling under this promise. His hands rest on your hips, gripping almost painfully tight, and you know it’s up to you to decide what comes next. The pressure of his fingers against your flesh reminds you of how he has control, yet a part of you desires to break this barrier, to take that risk.

You lean slightly forward, your voice a mere whisper charged with desire. “Yes, Jake… I want you to take me.”

He bursts out laughing, a vibrant and almost malevolent sound, before plunging back into your lips, his kiss igniting, mixing desire, domination, and this insatiable madness that consumes you both.

The air around you is thick, saturated with the musky scent of his excitement, mixed with the sweat and saliva that flows freely. The humidity becomes unbearable, almost toxic, but you crave more. This suffocation only feeds your need. You feel the heat rising sharply within you, an uncontrollable blaze, as he presses harder, almost pushing you through the car. Your senses are overheating, every friction, every contact amplifying your desire to the point of obsession.

His breath is heavy against your ear, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse, laced with venomous arrogance. “You’re going to remember this, fuck…” He pants, his movements becoming more frantic, more urgent, his words slipping into your foggy mind. “You’re going to remember how I humiliated you here, in front of everyone…”

The words carve into your mind like blades. Shame and excitement violently intertwine, leaving you on the brink of collapse. Your body vibrates under his grip, every fiber of your being burning with desire. Your vision blurs, as if the world around you is disappearing. All that remains is him, his body against yours, his total domination, and the guilty pleasure that continues to grow.

Jake turns you around with brutal force, slamming you against the car in a deafening crash. Your palms smash against the cold window, the impact resonating through your body like thunder in the storm of your excitement. The heat of his body, intense and overwhelming, mingles with the coldness of the metal, creating an electric tension in the air. He groans against your back, his words resonating like an obsessive and irresistible promise. “Now, mommy, I’m going to take care of you.” His warm breath, heavy with desire and domination, caresses your ear, and a shiver of excitement runs down your spine, making you emit an obscene, almost involuntary noise that betrays your anticipation.

He pulls away slightly from you, his powerful hands sliding down your skirt, slowly lifting the fabric with an exasperating slowness, as if he takes sadistic pleasure in torturing you. When he uncovers your buttocks, trapped in a completely wet thong, soaked with your excitement, a satisfied, carnivorous smile spreads across his lips. The curious whispers of the people watching you intensify around you, their hungry and disgusted gazes a mix of envy and judgment. “Look at all those bastards hungry for you, but who can only brush against you from afar with their looks, because you’re mine, aren’t you, mommy?” His voice is full of contempt and possessiveness, each word a whip to your reason, making you lose all sense of dignity. He laughs, a salacious and provocative laugh, as he kneads your buttocks with brutal force before slapping them violently with his ring-adorned fingers.

The pain makes you moan, a sound that is both of suffering and pleasure, the rings sinking into your skin, leaving marks that testify to his dominance. “Yes, Jake, I belong only to you!” You cry out, your voice tinged with despair and enthusiasm, as he snickers, proud to see you at his feet, exposed and vulnerable like never before. The scent of your fear mixed with your excitement fills the air, making the atmosphere even more charged.

“Yes, that’s right, mommy, you’re mine, and the whole damn school will know it today.” He slides his fingers over your buttocks, his caresses becoming more insistent, more violent, before tearing the fabric of your thong effortlessly, a savage act that makes you emit a sound of discontent mixed with excitement. “They’re going to know how much of a fucking slut and cock-hungry teacher you are, my cock.” His words, like an intoxicating poison, degrade your being, raising the atmosphere to an unbearable level of tension, a delicious mix of shame and desire.

“Now, turn around, I need to feast on you.” He tells you in a hoarse, almost guttural voice, as you slowly turn around, facing him. At that moment, you realize that some students and teachers, caught up in this disturbing spectacle, have already dropped their pants, their hands eagerly caressing their members. Heat rises to your cheeks, but it’s not just embarrassment; it’s a savory humiliation that ignites you from within. You look away, feeling the humiliation overwhelm you, but that only exacerbates your excitement. “Don’t look at anyone but me, mommy, not them, just me, okay?” His hand grips your jaw tightly, his fingers applying enough pressure to force you to look him in the eyes, to submit to his voracious desire. His gaze, filled with possessive desire, pierces you, and you let out a small moan as you nod your head, but the non-verbal response doesn’t seem to please him. He wanted a real answer; he wanted to hear your pretty voice, so he pulled his hand away from your jaw before slapping your cheek.

The pain is immediate, a sharp burn that you feel intensely, a pain that mingles with the excitement already within you. His rings sink into your cheek, leaving a painful imprint that brings tears to your eyes. The tears begin to flow, mixed with your confusion and suffering, as you softly sob, the pulsing pain of your cheek and your lower lip, now split, letting blood flow, a red stream that betrays your submission.

“Shh… don’t cry, mommy.” Jake says, his voice soft and tender in contrast to his previous actions, cradling your cheek between his hands. But his eyes tell a different story, a story of domination and insatiable desire, a story where your pain becomes his pleasure. “I’m not angry with you, okay?” He wipes your tears away with a twisted, almost sadistic smile, as his gaze revels in your tear-soaked face and your injured lip, bleeding. He seems to savor your suffering, like a fine wine, and he could literally die a happy man in this moment.

You sniffle, gently shaking your head, but upon seeing his gaze darken even more, you freeze in place, fear mingling with desire paralyzing you. “I know, Jake, I’m sorry,” you manage to say through your tears, staring at him with misty eyes, but you can still catch a glimpse of his small, satisfied smile as he leans toward you, his lips brushing against yours for a delicate kiss, yet charged with a mixture of sweetness and mischief. This kiss, both tender and dominant, was a promise of what was to come.

“I’m the one who’s sorry, mommy,” he murmurs against your lips, the taste of your blood on his tongue, a mixture of pleasure and pain that intoxicates him. He does nothing to pull away, his lips engulfing your lower lip that he sucks and nibbles on with eagerness, savoring every drop of your blood like a precious delicacy. A rough groan escapes his mouth, and he realizes he could easily lose all sense of reason at the mere taste of your blood, so sweet yet so electrifying at the same time. He could never get enough of you, of your pain and pleasure intertwined, and this thought only made him hungrier.

He eventually pulls away, breathing heavily, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. “Let me make it up to you properly,” he says, kneeling before you, his hands beginning to wander over your tender thighs, sliding up along your soft skin, making you shiver with anticipation. The adrenaline pulses in your veins, and you know you could fall if you weren’t leaning against the car, but every second spent with him makes you desire more, sinking you deeper into this obscene and irresistible abyss.

Jake no longer just caresses your skin with his fingers; every movement becomes measured torture, a promise of what is to come. He lets his nails dig into your flesh, tracing red lines that burn, as his hand slowly rises along your thigh. He doesn’t just want to reach you physically; he wants to imprint himself in your mind, marking you in an indelible way. His fingers are cold, but it’s this icy bite that makes you moan in pain and frustration. Every caress is like a soft, progressive knife cut, meant to make you feel vulnerable, exposed to his unconfessed desires.

His mouth is merely an extension of this cruelty. His lips crash against your tender skin, and this warm wetness brings no comfort. On the contrary, each kiss is a warning, as if he’s testing your limits, savoring every reaction. He doesn’t just want to possess you; he wants you to remember every place he has left his mark, through pain and humiliation. His lips are neither sweet nor sensual. They are there to devour, to take, with no regard for your pleasure or consent. The way he sucks on your flesh, slurping loudly, reminds you that you are nothing more than a toy in his hands.

The men surrounding you are no longer mere spectators but silent participants in this degrading scene. Their guttural groans fill the heavy air of the parking lot, mingling with the wet sounds of their hands sliding over their erect cocks, glistening with pre-cum. They watch you with disgusting greed, their eyes glued to your body, waiting for you to fully submit to Jake’s brutality. Every movement he makes, every moan you let escape only feeds their sick desires. They reduce you to a mere object of fantasy, torn between the pain and the excitement you don’t want to admit.

Then, everything shifts. Jake plunges his fingers deep into your flesh, his nails tearing at you like claws. His hand moves to the inside of your thigh, pressing with relentless force, spreading your legs without mercy. He no longer seeks to excite you; he forces you, imposing his will relentlessly. “Look at me, Y/n,” he growls in a hoarse voice, like an order that leaves no room for disobedience. He forces you to meet his gaze, and in his eyes burns a wild fire, an almost inhuman desire that makes you shiver with terror.

He bites then, but this time he doesn’t stop at the surface. His teeth sink deep into your flesh, until you feel your skin tear under the unbearable pressure. Pain explodes in your body, a brutal shock that steals your breath. You scream, a piercing cry that resonates in the suffocating atmosphere, but that’s what Jake was waiting for. He drinks with animalistic greed, consuming the blood flowing from the gaping wound, his lips soaking in the warm, viscous liquid that slides down your thigh. His growls become increasingly bestial, like a predator savoring every drop of his prey’s blood.

The scene becomes even more grotesque. Jake no longer just bites you; he literally devours you, his face smeared with red, his lips and teeth covered in your blood. He bites again, his teeth sinking into another part of your thigh, this time with such violence that you feel the flesh tear. Blood gushes, flowing in a continuous stream, soaking his mouth, his chin, and the ground beneath you. Jake seems to go mad, intoxicated by the taste of your blood, his guttural growls resonating in the parking lot as his lips greedily suck on your flesh.

Around you, the men gasp, their hands moving frantically over their swollen members, the obscene sound of flesh hitting flesh filling the air. Their groans of pleasure grow louder, almost desperate, as they surrender completely to the perversion of this bloody scene. Every moan, every rough breath reinforces the macabre atmosphere surrounding you, and you feel yourself sinking into an abyss where pain and excitement become one.

Jake pushes your thigh even further, spreading your legs with such violence that your muscles scream under the strain. “I’m going to mark you, break you, until your entire body bears my imprint,” he whispers against your skin, his words spitting a promise of total domination. His teeth sink into your flesh again, biting even deeper, and this time you can almost feel your muscles giving under the pressure. The flow of blood pouring from the wound is more abundant, the warm liquid escaping from your bruised skin to spill onto the ground.

Jake lifts his head, his face dripping with red, and looks at you with a sadistic smile. “Do you feel that, Y/n? You like it.” His words are venom, a truth you refuse to admit. But your body trembles, overwhelmed by a wave of contradictory sensations — pain, humiliation, and that obscene pleasure that makes you shiver against your will. You are at your breaking point, broken under his relentless control, and yet something inside you doesn’t want to flee this grip.

He licks his lips, savoring the taste of your blood, that hot, metallic nectar that consumes him. His eyes shine with a wild glimmer, a predator relishing its prey. He leans in closer to you, his teeth scraping against your battered flesh, a cold shiver of pleasure coursing down your spine as he brushes against you. Each bite, each contact of his skin against yours makes you tremble with excitement and pain. Then he bites one last time, deeply, violently, leaving an indelible mark on your skin, a cruel reminder of that day when he reduced you to nothing more than a body offered to his brutality.

“Don’t stop, Jake…” you murmur in a trembling voice, eager to feel every part of his domination over you.

Jake kisses your bloodied thigh, leaving a crimson trail that slowly slides down your soft skin to your intimacy. The metallic smell of blood mingles with that of your flesh, an intoxicating fragrance for him. He inhales deeply, savoring the mix that makes you shiver against the car, your muscles taut with frenzied anticipation. His eyes, obsessed with your pussy, shine with a wild light, a predatory grin stretching across his lips as he approaches, his breath quickening as he loses himself in the ecstasy of your suffering.

His face, stained with your blood, leans even closer, brushing against your delicate skin with his warm lips, provoking a shiver that runs through your entire body. “You are so delicious,” he murmurs, his rough voice tinged with desire, as he kisses your thigh with feigned tenderness before diving lower.

“Jake…” your voice trembles with excitement, but he only responds with a guttural growl, eager to make you experience the ecstasy he has in mind. He slowly lets his tongue slide out, tracing a final path along your thigh, his saliva mingling with your blood in a display of violated innocence. His movements are both tender and brutal, a macabre dance between sweetness and cruelty. He eagerly buries his face between your thighs, forcing you to spread your legs to allow him access to your femininity, his hungry mouth seeking to claim your essence.

“Take me, Jake… make me feel everything you are…” you plead, desire consuming every part of your being. Your voice is a whisper, a supplication both submissive and ardent, a call to debauchery.

He gently licks your pleasure button, teasing it with devilish patience, each movement of his tongue provoking waves of sensations that are both delightful and painful. Uncontrollable sighs escape your lips, mingled with moans of pain. Every movement of his tongue is calculated, a delicious blend of delight and suffering. He toys with your pain, lightly biting your pleasure button before sucking it entirely into his mouth, as if he needs your warmth to survive, a rabid animal devouring its prey.

“More… I want more, Jake…” you cry, your voice filled with despair and desire, a wild scream resonating in the parking lot. The pain is unbearable, but it is also a sweet melody that lulls your mind.

Your moans turn into cries, excitement mingling with the throbbing pain that courses through your body. He releases your pleasure button with a wet, lascivious sound, then widely parts the lips of your sex with his fingers, his nails making each movement more painful yet deliciously pleasurable. His tongue laps relentlessly, savoring every drop of your desire, each stroke fueling his own hunger. You feel that he could come in his pants at any moment, so consumed is he by the obsession of your pleasure.

“I am yours, Jake… take me completely…” you murmur, your voice broken by pleasure, and a part of you knows there’s no turning back.

His eyes shine with a wild gleam as he rubs your pleasure button with his thumb, sinking even deeper with his tongue, exploring every corner of your intimacy. He moves with the precision of an expert, discovering every sensitive area, pulling louder moans of pleasure from you. Your fingers grip his tousled hair, pushing him deeper inside you, your flesh demanding his tongue. The intensity of the sensation makes you lose track of your thoughts, and you let yourself be swept away by the whirlwind of pleasure engulfing you.

In one corner of the parking lot, the atmosphere becomes even heavier, saturated with forbidden desires and unacknowledged fantasies. The teachers and students, caught in a dance of vice and desire, abandon themselves without restraint to carnal pleasures. Some teachers, defying all ethics, slip their hands under the clothes of other colleagues or students, grazing feverish and lustful skin. Their hoarse whispers get lost in the air, words of unacknowledged desire exchanged through panting sighs. Every forbidden touch becomes a silent oath of perverse complicity, a pact sealed by desire.

Further away, students find themselves together, clutching at each other as if they were going to devour one another. Bodies intertwine in a chaos of feverish caresses and stolen kisses. A boy with tousled hair leans against a car, pulling a girl against him with a brutality that borders on indecency, their heavy breaths mingling with the distant sound of engines. Others give in to multiple partners, bodies intertwining in a lewd ballet. Groups form and dissolve, jealousy and excitement igniting every embrace.

The teachers themselves are not left out. One of them, his eyes shining with a twisted desire, slams another instructor against the wall of the building, their mouths fiercely seeking each other. Further away, a female teacher slips her hand under a student’s shirt, her movements skillful and assured, making him shiver under her control. They exchange knowing glances, defying any notion of limits. The roles of authority fade away, leaving only primal instincts.

The onlookers in the shadows, both students and teachers, get swept up in this spiral of debauchery. Some slowly caress themselves, their gazes fixed on you and Jake, their hands moving across their own skin, eager witnesses to what unfolds before them. Others lose themselves in their own embraces, consumed by an insatiable need to submit to this suffocating atmosphere. A whisper of excitement spreads through the group when a student, unable to contain his pleasure, lets out an overly loud sigh, briefly drawing the attention of those hesitant to engage in the surrounding obscenity.

But none of this matters to you. You are completely absorbed by Jake and the brutality with which he takes you. His movements are fierce and relentless, as if he wants to break you while pulling you into a dizzying fall toward forbidden pleasure, an abyss where pain and ecstasy blend.

“Look how much she loves it…” a man throws out, a sadistic grin forming on his face, laughing at how you give yourself up to Jake’s onslaughts, relishing your surrender. His laughter is a sinister echo that resonates in the air charged with desire and tension, amplifying the adrenaline pulsing through your veins.

Jake intensifies his efforts, his licks becoming increasingly erratic, almost frantic, as he plunges deeper inside you. Each caress is a promise of pleasure, each stroke of his tongue a threat of losing control, a brutal reminder that you are at his mercy. The moans escaping your mouth blend with the pain, and you feel your sanity wavering under the pressure. Your head falls back, the muscles in your body tightening under his grasp, and you know you are entirely submissive to his darkest desires.

“Don’t stop, Jake… I’m begging you!” you cry out, your body contracting under his touches, thirsty for his brutality. You feel the adrenaline rise, a mix of anxiety and excitement.

He penetrates you with his tongue with such violence that you begin to lose track of time and space. His fingers delve deep inside you, filling you completely, an intrusion so profound that you feel ready to burst. He lets out a growl of satisfaction, his face feasting on your pleasure as you begin to tremble, every fiber of your being vibrating under his caresses, his mouth savoring your bliss.

The people around you are now just a mere backdrop, their sighs and moans merging with yours, a chorus of desire and debauchery. Pain becomes an integral part of your pleasure, and you start to understand the power dynamic at play. Jake is a predator, and you are his prey. Every movement of his tongue is laden with an implicit threat, a reminder that you have no escape. He ravages you with a consuming obsession, and you realize you are trapped in this dangerous game, lost between pleasure and pain, between life and death.

“Isn’t this what you want?” he murmurs with a predatory smile, his eyes scanning your face contorted with ecstasy, as if he savors every drop of your suffering.

The intensity reaches its peak, and you feel a wave of heat engulf you, making you completely lose your mind. It’s a mix of pleasure and pain, an experience so overwhelming it feels almost unreal. In one final surge, you let out a piercing scream, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave, as Jake continues to devour you, insatiable, like a starving man. His tongue, his breath, everything about him consumes you in an infernal blaze.

“Yes, Jake! I’m yours!” you cry, your voice filled with a mixture of adoration and submission, a promise of your total surrender.

“Yeah, damn it! You’re mine, mommy,” he growls, his gaze burning with desire as he rises from between your trembling legs. He places a kiss full of promises on your lips, leaving you breathless, your eyes glazed with excitement and shivers. “Only mine, and I’m going to prove it by fucking you so well you’ll forget your own name.” His powerful hands grip your hips, and with controlled force, he pushes you back, opening the car door with a swift motion.

“Lie down on the seats, mommy,” he commands, his hoarse voice resonating like a soft threat. You don’t hesitate; you slide inside, lying on your back, your legs spread, offering your body in this confined space. Your liquid drips, a shiny and warm trail mixing with the leather of the seat, staining it with your desire.

“I want you to squirt everywhere when you come, mommy, to leave your fucking scent,” he murmurs, his voice a blend of unspoken desires and brutal dominance. His eyes gleam with a wild light as he lowers his pants and underwear, revealing a member already hard, ready to claim you.

He approaches you with calculated slowness, his muscular body leaning over yours, every muscle tense, his hot breath brushing against your skin. The tension between you is palpable, almost electric, and you feel every beat of your heart resonate in your chest as he positions himself above you, making you fully aware of his power over you.

Jake firmly grips your hips, his possessive hold immobilizing you as he pulls you toward him with brutal, almost animalistic strength. With a quick, merciless thrust, he penetrates you, his brutal movement eliciting a cry from your lips, a mix of pain and pleasure. The shock reverberates through your entire being, a wave of intense heat that makes every fiber of your body vibrate. You feel the flesh of your thigh pulse with pain, blood slowly trickling down, tracing red lines on your skin, marking your submission in that moment.

He impatiently caresses the fabric of your top, his gaze gleaming with wild desire. With a sudden motion, he tears the material, exposing your breasts, and a guttural growl escapes his throat, like an animal in heat. His hands attack your breasts, squeezing them with such force that it feels like he wants to deform them under his grip. You experience a delicious pain, each movement making you vibrate with pleasure while carving the marks of his possession into your flesh.

“Damn, you’ll look so beautiful covered in your blood,” he murmurs in a hoarse voice, his breathing quickening as if every word is a promise of what’s to come. He continues to mark your flesh, his hands roaming over your body, leaving traces of his fingers wherever he goes, as if he wants to announce to the whole world that he will always have you, no matter the cost.

He slides his hand between your thighs, gathering your blood and dragging it across your skin, making it flow, as if he wants to imprint you with his essence. His fingers caress the lower part of your belly, then move up towards your breasts, where he leaves hot red marks, pressing with an insistence that borders on obsession. Each pressure on your flesh feels like a whip, and every moan you let escape is proof of your submission.

When he violently slaps your breasts, a cry of surprise and pleasure escapes your lips, and you realize how enchanted you are by this pain. He loves to see your reactions; he adores watching your eyes widen, that glimmer of defiance slowly transforming into submission. His movements become increasingly chaotic, frantic, like an animal wanting to mark its territory. He caresses your jaw, his gaze locked on yours, then shoves his ringed fingers into your mouth, forcing you to clean them, to swallow every drop of blood that remains.

The cold of the metal against your tongue contrasts with the warmth of your own blood, and you start to succumb to this mix of pain and pleasure, drooling around his fingers while moaning, your eyes rolling back. The world around you disappears, and all that matters is him, his body against yours, his brutal, almost wild movements igniting an insatiable need within you.

As he intensifies his movements, he begins to abuse you even more violently, each thrust making you cry out in pleasure. His body plunges into you, and he feels your sex pulling him in, as if your body craves even more of him. His fingers dig deeper into your mouth, making you choke as your eyes roll back. The sensation is both terrifying and exhilarating, and he loves it; he wants to see you lose all control.

When he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, he slaps you hard across the cheek, an act of domination that only exacerbates your already burning desire. This shock makes you quiver with desire, and you tighten around him even more, demanding more, as if your body were on fire. His fingers, soaked with your blood and saliva, glide over your jaw, slowly descending toward your neck, where he applies a skillfully calculated pressure.

Jake continues to penetrate you with increasing frenzy, his thrusts quick and brutal. Each impact makes you feel like you’re about to explode under the wave of pleasure and pain flooding you, immersing you in a whirlwind of sensations. His grip on your neck becomes tighter, and he lets out hoarse moans of pleasure, reveling in your total submission.

“Damn it, mommy, you drive me crazy,” he growls, his hoarse voice rumbling like thunder. As he lifts your legs and presses them against your stomach, his body draws closer to yours, every muscle taut like a string ready to snap under pressure. His member, hard as steel, brutally plunges into you, each thrust causing an electric shock that sends shivers through your entire body. The sounds of your union—sharp moans, gasping breaths, and the wet sound of your intimacy colliding—echo like a bestial symphony, filling the car’s interior with suffocating heat.

He gives you no respite; every movement is a whip, a mark of his possession. His thrusts are violent, brutal, as if he wants to break down every barrier separating you from him. You moan in pleasure and pain, a desperate melody escaping your lips as he firmly grips the back of your thighs, his nails digging into your delicate skin, leaving red marks, reminders of his conquest. Each thrust is a reminder that you belong to him, that you are his toy, his prey.

His pre-cum escapes, a mix of desire and need, sliding along his member as he fills you with each thrust. He hits your G-spot with devilish precision, making you lose all sense of time and space. Your eyes roll back, drool spilling from your slightly parted lips, a testament to the ecstasy overwhelming you, as if your reason were evaporating under the weight of his insatiable desire.

“More, Jake, please, don’t stop,” you plead, your voice a desperate cry between moans, each syllable trembling with need. He desires to merge your bodies to the point where you become his extension, an integral part of himself, and he will let nothing and no one stand in the way of this fusion.

A guttural growl escapes his throat, a wild and primal sound that vibrates in the air around you. He penetrates you even deeper, your warmth enveloping him as he seeks to possess you completely. You feel the heat building in your lower belly, each thrust making you lose your footing. When you climax, it feels like the entire world is collapsing around you. A piercing cry escapes your mouth, resonating in the car as your body contracts, your femininity squeezing around him with such force that he gasps, reveling in your ecstasy, feeding off your loss of control. Waves of pleasure wash over you, leaving you breathless, as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, overstimulating you with delicious brutality.

“Jake… it’s too much, I can’t… take anymore,” you cry, tears of pleasure and pain mingling their salty taste on your cheeks. But he doesn’t slow down; on the contrary, he abruptly pulls out of you, breathless, before putting you on all fours on the car seats. You are vulnerable, exposed, a perfect target for his insatiable desire.

He grips your hair, pulling your head back with a brutality that makes you moan. His words resonate in your mind like a challenge. “If you can do it, I’m sure you want more,” he says, his hoarse voice tinted with defiance. His thrusts become faster and harder, each impact making you tremble with pleasure and pain, as if each hit were a promise of total domination.

He increases the tempo, his raw power taking you mercilessly, as if he were trying to reach a depth that only a wild animal could know. His hot breath caresses your neck as he intensifies his movements, penetrating you with such force that you feel your body deforming under his strength. Each thrust is a whip, an electric shock resonating through your being, sending you into a trance where pain becomes pleasure.

His free hand wraps around your neck, cutting off your breath, and you feel panic mingled with ecstasy invade your being. Oxygen begins to run low, and each breath becomes a struggle between life and desire. He loosens his grip slightly, allowing you to catch your breath just enough to scream his name again, before plunging you back under his hold, each strike more brutal than the last.

“You are mine,” he growls between strikes, his voice laced with possessiveness. Each word is a declaration, a vow of primal devotion, and you can only submit to this wave of emotions. The combination of pain and pleasure takes you to a state of complete vulnerability, and you realize you crave this domination, this sweet violence that consumes you. You are his toy, his prey, and you let yourself be swept away in this chaotic dance, lost in the fury of his blows.

Your body becomes a canvas where he paints marks of desire, each strike, each tug of hair a new color added to this dark and obscene artwork. You are his, entirely, and you wish for nothing more than to lose yourself again and again in this obscene madness. Each gesture is a promise of raw pleasure, and you are ready to endure anything to feel this power upon you, at the point where ecstasy and pain intertwine in a sensual and cruel dance.

As he intensifies his movements, his strikes become more and more beastly, each impact making you moan and scream with pleasure, until you reach new heights of bliss. The car itself trembles under the violence of your passions, as if it wants to submit to your consuming fervor. In this savage union, you are his, body and soul, and you wish for nothing more than to plunge deeper into this obscenity, this delicious violence that envelops you, consumes you, and redefines you.

Jake leans over your body, his burning lips leaving hungry kisses on your skin. He starts at your back, exploring every curve, every hollow, as if he seeks to mark his territory. Each kiss is wet and eager, his lips gliding over your flesh, making you shiver with pleasure. As he moves up to your neck, he inhales deeply your scent, a blend of warmth and desire, his hot breath mingling with your damp skin. Drops of his sweat fall on you, creating a delicious sensation of warmth that envelops you, and you can’t suppress a hoarse moan escaping your lips, a silent cry of need.

He thrusts into you with sweet violence, each rhythmic movement both brutal and exquisite, a perfect blend of pain and pleasure. You feel his hard member penetrate you deeply, and each thrust is a declaration of his possession. He sucks on your neck with animalistic intensity, biting your skin to leave marks, traces of his domination. He wants you to feel his presence within you, to be etched into your flesh, and you are more than ready to yield to him.

In one final thrust, he releases all his desire, and you violently squirt on him, your body contracting around him like a crashing wave. The heat of his semen fills you, a perfect fusion of passion, flooding your insides and overflowing, wetting everything around you. The sound of your bodies crashing together resonates in the car’s cabin, each impact making you lose track of your thoughts. He doesn’t stop there, continuing his assault with fierce determination, driving his warm seed deeper inside you, growling like a rutting animal, relishing every moment he possesses you.

Your saliva slowly trickles down, a testament to your state of ecstasy. You are breathless, each breath a struggle between pleasure and the need for more. Each thrust from Jake becomes more violent, more brutal, as if he is trying to devour you, to make you his prey. His hands grip your hips, his fingers sinking into your flesh, and you feel the pain mingling with ecstasy, pushing you to a new peak of pleasure. You are his, entirely, and you let yourself go to this bestial madness, to this dance of desire and possession.

When he finally pulls out, his seed mixed with yours flows out of you, a warm, sticky liquid gliding down your thigh, proof of his hold. You know you belong to him, that you are entirely his. This blend of fluids testifies to the depth of your union, a wild union that leaves marks on your body and in your mind. In this moment, you are lost in an ocean of desire, passion, and submission, ready to be devoured again and again.

Jake skillfully maneuvers you, positioning you sitting on him, his hard and pulsing member pressing against your intimacy with an almost painful pressure. Each pulse of his desire against your delicate skin awakens a whirlwind of sensations within you that are both disturbing and exhilarating. Fatigue begins to weigh you down, but the burning excitement in your belly keeps you awake as his powerful arms wrap around you, holding you against him with an almost possessive strength. His caresses, initially soft and gentle, slowly slide down your back, but you can feel the intensity of his desire growing, with each second making his intentions clearer.

“Now, baby, I’m going to fuck your ass,” he murmurs in a rough voice filled with promises, leaning towards you, his burning lips grazing your skin. His hot breath travels over you, igniting every inch of your body. He captures your lips in a passionate kiss, a wild embrace, mixing your saliva in a messy dance, as if each drop is a promise of what is to come.

His hands explore your body with frantic determination, sliding slowly towards your sex. His skillful fingers gather the blend of your fluids, making you shiver under his touch, each stroke heightening the sensitivity of your intimacy. You feel desire rising within you, a crashing wave threatening to overwhelm you. He approaches his fingers to your ass, spreading this burning mixture over your skin, leaving you breathless as he continues to kiss you with a devouring fervor.

You cling desperately to his shoulders, your nails digging into his muscular flesh, seeking support against the intensity of this moment. He slowly thrusts his fingers inside you, each calculated movement making you moan against his mouth. The sensation is both delicious and painful as he stretches you with bestial precision, making you lose all control. His eyes shine with a wild gleam, devouring every expression on your face as he bites your lower lip with deceptive gentleness, his mouth slightly opening to let out a guttural growl, a promise of what is to follow.

You grip his hair, taking control of the kiss, tilting his head to deepen this burning connection. Your tongue plunges deep into his mouth, battling with his, a chaotic dance of unfulfilled desires. You feel his response, a rough moan resonating in his throat, a vibration echoing your own desire. His free hand ventures over your body, caressing your curves, while the other continues to torture you with slow yet penetrating movements, pushing even deeper into your depths.

He pulls on your wet hair, wrapping it around his fist, the pain mixed with pleasure making you lose track of time a little more. With his other hand, he keeps you prisoner, holding you tight against him, and you realize you are at his mercy. Each thrust of his fingers inside you makes you lose your sense of time, and your breath becomes erratic, every moan you let out being an offering to his insatiable desire.

But suddenly, he pulls back slightly, and a shiver of anticipation and anxiety runs through you as he bites your lip harshly. The anxiety mingles with a burning desire, making you cry out softly, as if his violence only intensifies the need that consumes you. Every pulse of his member against your skin reminds you just how dependent you are on him.

“Jake, I just want to sleep,” you murmur, slightly tired, your eyes half-closed as he continues to play with your ass, a carnivorous smile spreading across his lips. His fingers glide over your skin, plunging back in with calculated brutality, as if he were trying to make you lose all control.

“Mommy, you can sleep if you want.” His voice resonates with cruel amusement, a slight chuckle cutting through the tense air. He pulls his fingers from your ass, lifting you effortlessly, as if you were nothing more than a rag doll. You feel vulnerable, your heart racing as he positions your ass over his member, already dripping with pre-cum, ready to claim you as his prey.

“As long as I can fuck this pretty little ass, you can do whatever you want.” His words, spoken in a possessive tone, echo in your head like a promise of pain and pleasure, and a wave of dark excitement washes over you.

The next moment, he begins to penetrate you. His member slowly sinks into your tight hole, a mix of pain and pleasure awakening within you like a sacred fire. The pain is sharp, like an electric shock, a moan of suffering escaping your lips. You can feel every inch he pushes inside you, stretching your flesh beyond its limits, a struggle between despair and an unacknowledged pleasure. Tears begin to fall down your cheeks, mingling your distress with tragic beauty. You are both desperate and captive in this intense moment, trapped in his game.

“It hurts,” you moan, your voice trembling, seeking refuge in his muscular arms. You bury your head in his neck, the tears soaking his t-shirt, hoping your suffering might soften him. But he is not there to be gentle. One hand rests on your back, the other firmly holding your body against his, continuing his intrusion with calculated slowness, every movement heavy, as if he savors your pain, each second stretching your torment.

“It’s nothing, mommy,” he murmurs in a hoarse voice, sweet yet mocking at the same time. His hand slips to caress your hair, a contradictory gesture in light of the brutality of his actions. “Just relax, and it’ll be fine.” His words, though laden with promises, do not mask the anxiety rising within you. A part of you knows he feeds on your despair, that he relishes your pain like a predator before its prey.

You try to relax, but the pain is excruciating, a burning wave coursing through your body. Every inch he inserts seems to stretch your flesh beyond its limits. Anxiety overwhelms you as he intends to claim every part of your body, and with one last brutal thrust, he finally buries himself completely inside you. A scream of pain escapes your lips, resonating in the tense air, your body reacting fiercely to this intrusion.

As he begins to move inside you, he realizes you are gripping him too tightly. “Baby, relax even more, or you’ll end up hurting,” he says, his deep voice echoing like a whisper in the hollow of your neck. He caresses your back, his fingers sliding down your spine, trying to soothe your pain, but it’s not enough to extinguish the flames consuming your body. The mix of pleasure and pain is intoxicating, a macabre dance you are forced to participate in. Every thrust, every movement of his hips inside you becomes an act of brutal possession, further submitting you to his desire.

When he feels you starting to give in, he moves slowly, each thrust of his hips inside you seeming to tear and reshape you in his image. His rhythm is measured, a cruel slowness that forces you to adjust to this unpleasant sensation, a mix of pleasure and pain that makes every nerve in your body vibrate. He whispers encouragements, his voice intensifying as he runs his fingers through your hair, caressing your skin with a deceptive tenderness that contrasts with the brutality of his actions.

But when he sees you starting to moan in pleasure, your body adapting to him, he abruptly speeds up, taking total control. Your hips move against his, an instinctive and desperate motion, as if your body already knows the way to pleasure, even as your head is filled with contradictions. Every thrust becomes deeper, more primal, a mix of despair and wild desire that seems to tear you apart from the inside. He plunges into you with such force that you can feel your flesh yielding under his grip.

He pushes you to the edge, to the brink of pleasure and pain, and you feel completely devoured by this intense experience. The sounds in the car are drowned out by the noise of your bodies colliding, each movement resonating like a declaration of possession. You are his, and he has no intention of letting you go. Excitement builds within you, and you feel your body reacting uncontrollably, every moan escaping your lips being an involuntary response to his delicious assault. He makes you lose all rationality, his presence being both a scourge and a delight, and you are caught between pain and a frantic pleasure that consumes you.

With every thrust, he seems to transform you, extracting you from your own existence to plunge you into a world where only pain and pleasure have their place. You are at the mercy of his brutal desires, and each thrust becomes an indelible mark on your body and in your mind. The light fades around you, leaving only the darkness of this primal connection. You feel yourself sinking into a spiral of madness, unable to break free.

In this whirlwind of contradictory emotions, you no longer know where your suffering begins and where your pleasure ends. Everything becomes blurred, and you are ready to do anything for him, even if it means losing a part of yourself in this chaos. The tension rises, leaving you breathless, your thoughts blending with the moans of your body. He possesses you completely, and this possession is all you know. You have become his toy, a thing to be manipulated at his whim. Reality fades away, leaving only this desperate need to please him, even at the cost of your own suffering.

Jake holds you firmly, his powerful hands gripping your waist as he intensifies his movements inside you. Each thrust is a thunderclap, making your whole body vibrate and provoking moans of pleasure that escape your lips. The car, this confined cocoon, becomes the silent witness to your debauchery, each vibration, each sigh mixing in the warm, charged air of desire.

You bend over him, your head tilted back, seeking support on his strong shoulders. Your nails dig into his flesh, leaving marks as you surrender to the ecstasy he provides. The tension between you is palpable, a fusion of unquenchable desire and animalistic need. With every thrust, he plunges deeper inside you, his virility tearing you apart, and you feel yourself slipping slowly, ready to be overwhelmed by this wave of raw pleasure.

He suddenly flips you over, facing the dashboard, pressing you against the cold surface. His movements become a beastly dance, a frantic rhythm as he dives back inside your ass, making you scream with pleasure and pain. Each thrust is a delicious mix of sensations, and you grab onto anything within reach — the smooth leather of the seats, the handles, the dashboard — as if your life depended on it. The smell of alcantara and his musky perfume envelops you, creating a suffocating atmosphere where desire and thrills intertwine.

The blows grow stronger, each impact making you lose more control. With every thrust, he goes deeper inside you, and your cries of pleasure mingle with his growls of satisfaction. “You’re so perfect for me, mommy,” he whispers, his voice husky, filled with primal need. His lips slide along the curve of your back, leaving burning kisses that mark his passage, a reminder of his possession.

He nibbles on your skin with desperate fervor, a gesture that is both tender and terrifically possessive, before diving his head into your neck. You can hear his moans blend with yours, creating a symphony of desire. His teeth graze your flesh, leaving marks of his raw passion. “I’m going to make you feel everything I have inside me,” he growls, intensifying his movements with wild fury.

He pulls your hair violently back, forcing your head toward him. When he sees your tongue hanging out, a muffled cry escapes your lips, and he can’t help but smile, his gaze glistening with desire. “Look at me,” he commands, his deep voice authoritative. You dive your eyes into his, lost in that predatory gaze, and you know he is completely consumed by need.

He presses his lips against yours with beastly force, his tongue probing your mouth, dancing with voracity. The movements of his hips become increasingly desperate, as if he seeks to merge into you, to erase any separation between your bodies. The intensity of his thrusts makes you vibrate, each impact resonating in the confined space, creating a melody of pleasure and debauchery.

In a burning breath, he plunges his tongue into your throat, exploring it with an insatiable eagerness that leaves you gasping. “Let go,” he whispers in your ear, his voice heavy with obscene promises. “I want you to feel every second of this.” His words are like a fire consuming everything in its path, and you feel ready to explode, desire rising within you like an unstoppable tide.

The orgasm approaches, an unbearable pressure building inside you, a tsunami of pleasure threatening to overwhelm everything. Each thrust is a hammer blow on the anvil of your desire, and you feel your body tense, ready to release this wave of ecstasy. He intensifies his movements, your cries of pleasure echoing with each thrust, and you know you can no longer hold back. “Let go,” he repeats, his raspy voice filled with desire.

Pleasure overwhelms you as you give in, a primal scream escaping your mouth as the orgasm hits you. The heat explodes inside you, a blinding light erasing everything in its wake. You feel yourself melt under his grip, his thrusts becoming even more frantic, filling you with sensations so intense you feel like you’re losing your footing.

“Yes, that’s it,” he growls, his gaze locked on you, his determination strengthening as he plunges even deeper inside you. The sounds of flesh meeting flesh mingle with your panting breaths, producing a symphony of raw pleasure. Each thrust becomes a cry of possession, an act of reclamation, and you know in every fiber of your being that you are completely his.

In one final surge of passion, he pulls you even closer, driving deeper into this sea of sensations. His movements reach a frenzy, each thrust making you moan with pleasure, and you feel ready to collapse. The ecstasy is at its peak, and you lose yourself in this wild fusion, the boundaries between you two disappearing, leaving only enveloping warmth and unrestrained satisfaction.

In this intense moment, you realize you have become one, two bodies united in a whirlwind of animal desire, a blend of pleasure and pain, submission and domination. And as you allow this wave of ecstasy to engulf you, you know that this moment will mark you forever, an indelible imprint of raw passion and consuming desire.

“I’m going to fill you up,” he growls, his hoarse voice whispering promises in the warm, desire-laden air. With one final powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, making you scream with pleasure as a flood of sensations washes over you. His warm cum bursts inside you, each drop marking you as a symbol of his possession. He doesn’t slow his rhythm, continuing to penetrate you, each movement a brutal reminder of his dominance over your body.

“Now, you belong to me body and soul,” he continues, his warm breath caressing your skin. His words are charged with bestial intensity, as if he is ready to claim every part of you. He then dives to kiss you deeply, his tongue probing your mouth with savage voracity, blending passion and control. His kisses are a mix of sweetness and brutality, a dance between possession and insatiable desire.

As you feel the orgasm overwhelm him, his thrusts become more frantic, almost desperate, as if he seeks to ensure every part of you is marked by him. Each thrust is an act of reclamation, every moan escaping your lips an echo of shared pleasure. You feel completely lost in this wave of ecstasy, your body responding to every movement, every contact.

He takes your face in his hands, his eyes locked onto yours, capturing your gaze. “I want you completely,” he murmurs, his voice filled with desire. “Not a piece of you will ever belong to anyone else.” His words seep into your mind, making you understand the depth of his obsession.

His mouth trails down your neck, his teeth nibbling gently at your skin, leaving red marks that testify to his possession. He straightens up, taking you again, lifting you and pressing you against the dashboard, each movement intensifying the connection between you. In this moment, you are his, entirely, and you know that no force in the world could ever separate you.

The heat of his body against yours, the weight of his palpable desire, and the promise of his possession heighten the tension. You are caught in a whirlwind of passion and unfulfilled desires, and you know this is just the beginning. The outside world fades away, leaving only the two of you, merging in a sensual dance of animal desire.

He holds you close, his movements becoming wilder, each thrust a brutal reminder of his dominance. You are his prey, and he has no intention of letting you go. Ecstasy mingles with delicious pain, each impact awakening sensations within you that you’ve never known. You know you are at the mercy of his desires, and you completely surrender to him, a cry of pleasure escaping your lips as you feel overwhelmed by this tide of sensations.

As pleasure reaches its peak, everything around you illuminates, a mix of raw pleasure and animal passion. You know this moment will mark you forever, an unbreakable bond between you, a union of bodies and souls, sealed in the warmth of the moment.

©️devotedlypinkpeanut, do not copy, translate or repost any of my works.

88 notes · View notes

starryjake · 2 days ago

Note

jake w virgin reader?🥹

SO GOOD. like you know he just wants to be gentle and sweet and make you feel good and safe, but there’s a part inside him that is just rly struggling on holding back and absolutely wrecking you.

your innocence drives him crazy. you’re JUST so smooth and warm and you get wet so so easy which turns him on so bad. he holds your hand as he slides himself in, eyes rolling back at how fucking tight you are.

your walls are gripping him unbelievably tight. clenching and warm and wet and soft. jake just wants to start pounding you into your bed, but he knows he has to wait. it’s a reminder he keeps in his head, to take it slow since you’ve never done it before.

“it hurts, jake,” you tell him, eyes watery when you look up at him.

he feels lightheaded by your purity.

“i know, angel,” he coos, caressing your blushing cheek. “you’re doing so good for me.”

he’s very sweet, talking you through it, praising you, assuring you that it’s okay. but it’s still there, this animalistic nature to him that makes him just want to fuck you hard.

next time, he tells himself.

#enhypen #enhypen smut #enha smut #enha x reader #enhypen x reader #enha jake #jake enhypen smut #sim jake x reader #enhypen jake smut #jake enhypen #jake sim smut #jake x reader #jake smut #enhypen jake #jake sim #jake hard thoughts

301 notes · View notes

girlfromflor · 13 hours ago

Text

56 DAYS (sjy) | PART TWO (FINAL)

pairing: enemie!jake x fem!reader | read the prequel and part one

summary: after your best friend jay made you share an apartment with jake – “the guy you don’t like” –, you have to decide whether you should or not give into the feelings he makes you experience, something possibly pleasant and definitely memorable.

genres: "enemies" (reader is in denial) to lovers, accidental roommates, summer love, also has a bit of angst, smut

warnings: read the first parts otherwise the story won't make much sense, swearing, cliché guys i’m sorry, this is very domestic, they act like an old married couple, jake is in love y’all, lots of tension, some crying, reader likes to be alone, they tease the fuck out of each other (not sexually), they thirst over each other a lot (very, very sexually), they bond over music and food, mentions of two piece bikini, its implied that jake is taller than reader, they overthink a bit, but mostly just lots of fluff, and smut (so MDNI) that includes: sex dream mentions, dirty talk, sub!reader, dom!jake, unprotected sex (y’all know better, this is fiction), praising, biting, slapping, pain kink?, slight degradation, begging, marking, spitting, brief fingering, hair pulling and choking

wc: 15.273 | playlist: 56 days.

a/n: can't believe this is finally out, it took me so long omfg. each part is named after a song in the playlist. anyways, hope you guys like it<3 | taglist: @manuosorioh @tunafishyfishylike

DAY 1 - Do You Like Me?

56 days. it was too much. that was no way you could both get out of this whole thing alive, everyone knew that. you will end up killing jake and then yourself. jay always said that it was going to be fine, because he knew you enough to be aware that the strongest thing between you just wasn’t mutual dislike. when he bid you two goodbye earlier this morning he just asked – really affectionately – for you to be nice to each other, with a knowing look and a teasing smile. you reminisced the moment already missing him and jake, as he drove you two back to your apartment, thought the same.

the ride back home was very quiet, jake didn’t say a word about how you both were going to be very alone together for the next few weeks and you didn’t either. you thought it was best to keep at least some of the good mood of jay’s constant yapper as much as you could, since soon enough all you two would have is each other's company – and that’s a big no-no for you. jake thought – in all his honesty – that no time alone with you was enough. he just couldn’t wait to have you all to himself and, as soon as you step inside the comforting surroundings of your home, jake doesn’t shut up. he spends all day talking your ear off about every single thing there is to talk about, anything he could use as an excuse to chat with you – he even went so far as to chase you around the house so you’d keep listening to his yapping.

it’s day one without jay and you’re already arguing. over what? you didn’t even know anymore. it kind of started because he didn't leave you alone since eight in the morning when you two got home, then he didn’t clean the mess he made in the kitchen while cooking and then he accused you of taking forever to shower – which shouldn’t really matter because he has his own fucking bathroom –, and now you’re just competing over who’s choosing the movie you're gonna watch.

“i got here first, i’ll choose it.” he says, shoving you on the other end of the couch, his big hand locking you in place by your shoulder. he’s trying really hard not to laugh to keep a serious facade, but it’s almost impossible with the way you're so shamelessly throwing a tantrum right now – he wouldn’t imagine you’d actually want to watch a movie with him.

“but you’ll choose something i won't like, on purpose,” you reply, pouting. giving up on trying to sit up and just comically laying there, your arms falling from the cushion – and jake thought you never looked cuter. you didn’t even want to fight, but it seemed like getting on your nerves was his goal for the evening.

“now, that’s simply not true. don’t you like horror movies?” he asks as he skips all netflix suggestions to search for a specific movie he heard you talk one too many times with jay, finally letting go of your arm, alternating his glance between you and the tv as he watched you switch positions and rest your back on the couch’s backrest.

“i do, but–” you pause, there was no way he knew that from you, so how did he know you're fond of horror movies anyways? you ignored your traitor thoughts – the ones that told you he paid true attention to you –, choosing to keep talking, “yes, but i still feel kinda scared sometimes.”

he cooed, like you were a cute child. “well, nothing to worry about then,” he says, and leans a bit closer, arm resting on the couch's backrest right behind you. as he winks at you, flirty ways never quite leaving him, he completes “i’m right by your side.”

you huff, sinking further into the couch, knowing him, there's no way you’d win this fight anyway. but your attitude did nothing to distract him from your flustered face and shy demeanor. “whatever, jake. just choose it already,” you mutter, arms crossed and knees to your chest making it all very entertaining for jake to watch.

the movie he chose was coincidentally your favorite horror movie. you loved it because, even though you knew it all by heart, you couldn’t help but flinch at most jumpscares. it was just so good you always got in a trance while watching it. still, it seemed like it wasn't going to happen tonight. you’d catch jake looking at you side eyed and it both intrigued and angered you. you always asked “what?” genuinely curious to know why he couldn’t just focus on the damn movie, but he brushed you off everytime, making it seem like you were just overthinking.

being completely unaware that jake have paid the movie little to no attention, you keep your eyes on the screen. jake uses this moment to appreciate your presence a little. making an effort to not look at you and distract you from your favorite horror show yet again, he becomes more aware of your presence. he then realizes you didn’t move away from him when he put his arm to rest behind you. you were just sitting there, so naturally – like it happens all the time. does this mean you’re comfortable? it has to be it, right? the thought itself catches him off guard, and he doesn’t want to move even for an inch, if that means you won’t move either. by the time the movie ends his body is a bit sore from trying so hard to stay in the same position – he thought it was kind of ridiculous, but that’s just how love is.

not wanting it all to end just yet he asks you, “do you want to watch another one? we can make popcorn this time…” his eyes pleading, almost like it would physically sting him if you said no.

you look at him with a puzzled look, but nod in agreement regardless. it’s summer break, you don’t have class tomorrow and nothing else to worry about – also, the night sky outside is just begging for another round of spine-chilling story. making your way to the kitchen to make some popcorn for you two, you say “i’ll make popcorn, do you want to choose the next movie too?” giving him the opportunity to do it felt slightly out of character for you, but you can’t deny that his first one was a good choice – not that you’d let him know that, of course.

“no, you can choose now, pretty girl,” he winks at you as he answers, “but thanks, that’s sweet of you.”

you roll your eyes, thinking you shouldn’t have said anything. “shut up, jake,” is your reply and you feel a bit disappointed by the fact that you couldn’t think of something else – mind unfocusing, wrapped around the way he had just called you a pretty girl. you try to shake it off and once the popcorn is ready you come back to the living room, settling down on the couch’s end by jake’s left side and pressing play in a thriller you’ve been dying to watch.

he silently hates that you’re not by his side anymore, but he focuses on the movie. mid-way through it jake’s already on edge, his whole body tense as the movie goes on. he hates the suspense more, he thinks. nevertheless, as soon as he looks at you he almost completely forgets about it, mesmerized by how pretty you look right now – just like always. your hair is not covering your face, so he can see all of it – marvel at all of it. but what really catches his attention is the single piece of popcorn you are holding against your lips – that are slightly parted to accommodate it –, probably too lost in the movie’s story to notice you’re still holding it. your eyes are wide and almost puppy-like while looking at the screen and he wonders just how much inner strength he’s using right now to keep himself from kissing you. because, god, you look so kissable and you’re not even doing anything. it’s insufferable. he shakes his head and gets back to watching the movie, trying to get rid of the tension in his body – one that was not really from the thriller’s suspense anymore.

you sense him shifting on the other end of the couch and decide to look over, only to be greeted by a frown and a clenched jaw. he’s not looking at you – must be entranced by the film’s plot and is caught up in stress from wanting it to come to an end, you think –, but he’s looking way too good for your liking. the slight frown in his brows makes you want to soothe it somehow. maybe with a kiss, while you hold his clenched jaw until it’s not there anymore. your eyes snap back to the screen, what are you thinking?

the rest of the movie is pure torture, for both of you. the tension that fills both your bodies starts to overflow, spilling all over the living room. it’s nearly tangible, really. it forms a dense atmosphere between you, that has nothing to do with the movie and when it is finally over none of you make comments on it – since you both lost the most important parts while exchanging sneaky looks – just whispering goodnight to each other swiftly, before going to bed. once you’re both in your designated rooms, you take a deep breath – may this be the last time you feel so goddamn tempted by him.

DAY 5 - Rock Your Body

as much as you felt like it would never happen again, it did. it’s been 4 days since your movie night and today was supposed to be the day you’d peacefully deep clean your apartment, according to your schedule. but neither you nor jake wanted to face each other, opting to not live the awkward tension all over again. you did it because you didn’t want to even entertain the idea of getting that close to jake ever, he did it because it was all too much for his poor in love heart to handle.

today was hot, to say the least. the blue sky had no clouds to shield you from the sun’s unforgivable brightness and even though you and jake are in the comfort of your home, the white walls of your apartment do nothing to suppress the impending heat that clings into your bodies. you thanked summer for its magical vibes, sure, but not really when you’re trapped at home doing house chores all morning. cleaning your apartment is usually fun since you used the time to just distract your mind from your current problems and just tidy everything up. but it’d be impossible to do it normally, since your major problem of the moment had a first name, last name and lived in the same place as you.

though it would be an annoying task, jake decided to use the day to try and bring his antics to a stop – just for one day – and, as a way to wave a white flag for you, he started by cleaning his own room, and you took the opportunity to clean yours. but as you finished and went for the next spot you both realized that you’d end up together at some point. ignoring that thought, you just kept doing your designated house chores and everything else you needed to, until you both found yourselves in the kitchen. you had already cleaned everything else, the only things missing were the dishes from breakfast and cleaning the counter – both which were completely simple. you took the dishes, while jake was supposed to clean the counter. but he couldn’t concentrate if his life depended on it.

jake freaked out the minute he saw you walk in. why would you choose to wear such revealing clothes today, he couldn’t take his eyes from you – which he tried, because he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. the way your shorts hugged your thighs was a sin itself, but your basically see-through white shirt was what made him fold, the fact that even then his imagination couldn’t possibly feel accurate in the slightest made him weak, he wanted more than just the hint of what’s underneath the fabric. he felt like he needed to do something to leave the losing side – he was feeling like he was falling deeper in a world he wouldn’t survive by himself. so he uses the roasting summer day as an excuse to take his shirt off, wondering why he didn’t do it sooner. the relief was immediate, of course, the sweat that enveloped his skin didn’t have nowhere to stick anymore, and it was a pleasant sensation. but he loved the moment especially because, as soon as he took off his shirt, he heard a cup slide from your hands and hit the sink, softly like you tried really hard to keep it from falling. the smile that adorned his lips was involuntary, but filled with a sense of confidence that extended itself to every other move he made.

you feel all the words that you could possibly say turn into mush at the sight. your mind would be completely empty, if it wasn’t already filled to the brim with thoughts of jake – shirtless, sweaty and fucking hot. he was always handsome, you knew that much, and with his constant work out routine you would imagine that his body was somewhat nicely built, but you fooled yourself into thinking that he’d be average looking. you couldn’t help but stare, completely forgetting your task at hand. why did he take his shirt off?

you didn’t want him to notice you ogling him so you decided to say something, anything. “ew, jake. put your shirt back on,” was all you could think of, but you didn’t really want him to. the urge to rub your thighs together was getting harder to ignore, so you decided to get back to doing the dishes. jake, on the other hand, was completely amused by your lack of effort in trying to be discreet with your staring, catching you side-eyeing him every five seconds – or maybe, he thought, maybe you just couldn’t help it. the idea of having this kind of effect on you makes him feel like he was responsible for the summer day, the heat spreading on his body and gathering in his abdomen, the sensation just as if he had several butterflies moving in his stomach.

“oh yeah, ‘cause you really want me to cover up, right?” he laughs and turns on his back to resume his own task, but still talking, “pretend all you want, i know that you’d love me walking around shirtless all day.”

“oh my god, you just never know when to shut up, do you?” you say, annoyed that he was pointing it out so matter-of-factly. to remain at least a bit of your composure you decide to put your earphones on and ignore his existence. though, nothing could take you away from the fact that he was you getting all hot and bothered and he was only standing there and looking good – much more than he should, for his own fucking good.

but jake’s unable to let you grasp the peace of mind you crave so much, and decides to throw through the window all thoughts he had earlier about ‘bringing his antics to a stop’, “what are you listening to?” he asks, actually curious. to know what’s your taste in music is to know you better, and he is all for it

“justin timberlake…” you saying, trying to keep your distance. you were already half-way done with your task, doing it as quickly as you could to go to your room. you’re in much need of a shower to cool the fuck down.

“are you serious?” he chuckles, what kind of person listens to JT to clean the house? he doesn’t ask that though, instead he asks, “which song?” pointing to your earphones. “take them off, so i can judge you properly.”

“what makes you think i’m gonna let you talk shit about my music choices?” but you were already taking it off your ears and disconnecting it from your phone – nonchalantly like you weren’t just contracting him –, replaying the song so he could listen to it from the start. your body moving automatically, the desire to please him taking over.

“really? ‘rock your body’?” he shakes his head, but even you could see that he was joking. he loved the song, he had danced to it many times with a drunk jay in their parties. but, instead of dropping the act, he uses it to tease you more, “i would understand if it were ‘mirrors’ or something, but ‘rock your body’ is just a biased choice, really.”

you can’t hold your laughter to save your life. “what the fuck? what does that even mean?” and when you turn to him, you lose it. he had a serious expression on his face and his lips were pressed in a thin line, like it was the most serious topic on the earth. you really don’t know if it is the sum of everything or if he’s just really funny, but your laughter increases. you bend over the sink slightly, trying to find the balance you lost from your cackles. jake tries his best to keep a straight face but then he sees you and gives in, laughing too – it was impossible not to, you looked so chill at the moment he didn’t want to miss it. and it stays like that for what feels like many minutes, you two laughing and trying your hardest to catch your breath – but failing miserably.

once you calm down, a small smile on both your faces and your chest heaving from the lack of oxygen, you resume your tasks. almost forgetting that you were thirsting over each other just moments ago, the silence that falls between you two is comfortable. but jake didn’t want to keep it that way, so he sighs comically and says, “didn’t know it was that easy to have you laughing like that.”

“it’s not easy, you’re just a complete idiot and i can’t help but find it amusing,” you say, chuckling softly.

as he finishes cleaning the counter, which really shouldn't have taken this long, he smirks at you sentence. “oh, so i amuse you, huh?” his eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

you had just finished the dishes as well and were drying your hands in the dishtowel, but the moment you heard his words you threw it at jake’s direction with no second thought. he catches it effortlessly and starts to walk in your direction. “you should really learn when to be quiet…” you say, and you meant it to be harsh, but your voice is wavering. his tall and broad frame was closer than you were used to and the fact that he was still shirtless wasn’t helping your situation at all. suddenly, you were hyperconscious of the extremely hot day and how it made you body warm – and possibly his too, and you wanted very much to know just how much –, the way lips parted as he looked at you, the way he towered over you and the way his eyes seemed darker now, up close – the way his chest stuttered when he finally trapped you in your position, leaning in the sink counter.

“you always say that, but i never see you make any effort to shut me up,” he says, but his voice is low, like he’s sharing a secret – a dark and seductive one. “isn’t that what you want, princess? to shut me up?”

your heart is racing, but your mind is rather calm. even though you want to deny it, you know what he was hinting at, and you want it. you crave it. “yes…” you say, voice just like a whisper, a plea.

“yeah?” he says, and closes the distance between you, clearly affected by your small, but important, confession. his warm body – warmer than yours, you notice – presses into yours ever so slightly, like he didn’t want to startle you – like you were in a dream and neither of you wanted to wake up. his right hand moved to cup your cheek, holding your face with all the worship he has ever known in life, eyes filled – overflowing – with yearning. “you can do it, baby. ”

but he wasn’t proposing, it wasn’t a suggestion. he was encouraging you to do it – egging you to go ahead and fucking kiss him, challenging you to give in. your pout comes involuntarily, the movement small but attracting his eyes to your lips – your pretty and really fucking temptable lips. knowing you can’t refuse it – knowing you don’t want to –, you tilt your head up. his reply comes immediately, coming down to brush your lips together eagerly. your voice can barely be called a whisper when you speak, “shit, jake… you know i want to.”

the way his name leaves your lips so beautifully – so appealing – makes his knees buckle. he suppresses a moan, mind going overdrive at the fact you just so openly confessed your wish – because he knew what it meant, how much it meant. then his left hand pulls you closer by your waist, as he does it he swears you can listen to the way his heart beats desperately in his chest. and you are so engrossed in the moment, so wrapped up in the suffocating tension between you that when your phone buzzes and starts ringing on the counter next to you, you both jolt. the sound sharp, cutting through whatever you two were just sharing and it takes you a moment to come to your senses.

picking your phone up, you hardly have the strength to talk, but you voice it regardless, “it’s jay…” and jake only nods, saving all words of disappointment for when he gets his turn to talk to jay, privately. you pick the video call up and wait for jay to greet you, not bothering to go to your room. jake barely moves an inch, he wants to know if you’ll try to push him away once jay sees you two. oddly enough, you don’t do it.

“hey! how’re you doing? is that jake next to you? great, i wanted to talk with you both! have you had lunch yet?” jay’s voice sounds like a rap song. he was so excited to talk to you after four whole days of not listening to your voice.

and as the conversation goes on and both you and jake catch up with a very observant jay, you come to terms that maybe – just maybe – you were eager for the next opportunity you’d get to have jake so close – maybe to finally kiss him, even if you’re interrupted.

DAY 11 - Baby Blue Movie

you didn't think this day would come, but you couldn't wait to get home. ever since the day you almost kissed jake, you decided to go out more – alone preferably. but not even then you could escape him completely. sometimes he was a better company than people you were related to. after spending an afternoon at your mother's house, your energy was completely drained. sure, you loved your family, but you can't ignore disrespect. your mother's childhood was completely different from yours and it's obvious that it would have repercussions in your adulthood, considering that she always voiced that she knew – within maternal standards – what was best for you. and it gets tiring, you lost count of how many times you tried to make her understand your point of view and now you just ignored her complaints – usually successfully, but today it unfortunately didn’t happen.

as you unlock the door, you pray that jake isn't in his playful mode. it would be extremely hard to deal with it today, but when you enter the house and take off your shoes, you can't fool yourself. he was already leaning against the wall that separated the entrance of the house from the living room, a tiny smile on his face and a sarcastic comment on the tip of his tongue. you mentally prepare yourself not to explode at him. after all, he wasn't to blame for anything – he couldn’t possibly be aware of the horrible day you just had. you don’t even greet him as you try to make your way to your room. but he doesn’t move an inch. with lack of something else in mind, you stop in front of him, waiting for him to say whatever lame joke he thought, already thinking of a possible retort. the whole time he watches you – your pretty face contorted in a serious expression he's not usually used to – he thinks that, maybe, you’re mad at him, but he can’t think of something he could have done to make you angry like that. he doesn’t want to overthink anything, so he decides to break the silence. "did… something happen?" voice silent, soothing, like you would bleed if he sounded hostile – or even indifferent, actually.

and, god, you wanted to yell at him. scream with all the pent up stress you endured all day, because how dare he speak to you like that? like you are fragile, like you need to be taken care of – like he needs to take care of you. the thought of being the object of his tenderness infuriates you. to be seem like you lack affection to the point you’d accept his nice words and gentle eyes. because you would never do that, no. you wouldn’t just give in because he was being kind to you for the first time since you met. but, god, did you want to. with jay’s absence you had no one else – which was kind of depressing, but you didn’t really mind – and with jake’s constant attempts in making you open up to him, it got increasingly harder to not let your guard down. because god knows how hard you’ve been trying to keep your distance, but after today’s stressful events you just wanted some sort of display of affection – something to remind you that you matter and that you are deserving of love just like anyone else is – and the fact that you received it with no second thought apparent from jake made you weak. it made you want to fight him to remain some sort of composure but also apologize for ever misjudging him – apologize for thinking he wouldn’t comfort you at all. but you didn’t do either of those. instead, you look down at your feet taking a deep, shaky breath, murmuring an almost inaudible “yeah… it did, actually.”

nothing could have prepared him for that. he genuinely thought you would brush him off and go to your room. he could have even been fine if a mean, snarky remark came out of your mouth, like it usually happens. but, you didn’t – why didn’t you? why would you answer him honestly and looking so goddamn helpless, like you were in much need of a hug. and for a second, that was precisely what he went to do. however, giving in to those impulses felt like overstepping a boundary, and that was the last thing he wanted to do, especially now that you were letting him see you vulnerable – even if it’s barely. so he tried to not look so terrified of this new territory and went with what felt most secure, wanting to reassure you somehow. “do you want to talk about it?” his voice is casual and steady, like it happens every week and he can perfectly deal with it – except it doesn’t and he can’t, the thought of you allowing him any close to you emotionally makes him dizzy, eager and feeling rather protective.

“shit…” you chuckle inevitably. he was supposed to drop the subject and yet here he is, still trying to get to you. but you try to keep yourself grounded, all your anger and stress has dissipated into pure sadness so far, if he pushes any further you’ll cry. and as you look for a way to put out what is going on in your mind, he wonders what had happened, considering he never saw you like that before. he was ready to hunt down to the gates of hell whoever dragged you to that state. “uh, no,” you sigh. “actually, it would be– yeah. well– ” you stumble over words, another frustrated sigh leaves your mouth and your hands come to face, hiding the obvious emotion written all over it. when you look back at him your eyes are already teary, your hands shake a little as you bring them down, your lips wobbly. you manage to let out a broken “i don’t know, jake…” but by the time you sniffle, about to let your tears stream down your face, jake is right on you.

his left arm circling your middle pulling you towards him, his right hand on the back of your head tucking your face in his chest and, as he tightly hugs you for a few seconds, he keeps on saying “it’s fine, okay? it doesn’t matter, princess.” so lovingly, it does the job of distracting you from your little meltdown. you notice the way the hug feels so intimate, like it was a forbidden thing to do and you two created a bubble to hide from the world and savour the moment. and it made sense you felt that way, because jake was actually hugging you right now. and you were crying. you were crying in front of jake sim – being comforted by him – and you didn’t care at all. actually, now that you have done all the things you said you weren’t going to, what’s another one, right? that’s what’s in your mind as your arms come to his waist, not to push him away but to further drown yourself in his embrace, taking in his scent.

and as you two stand there, the dream-like golden beams of light due to the sunset passing through the curtain’s delicate material, your arms around him so willingly and your crying coming down to a halt, jake doesn’t think he could be more content. his heart hurting in his chest knowing that you’re not okay, but also beating as fast as ever before since you’re right there. just so, so close to him, in a way he never thought you'd allow him to. and then he laughs, just a bit, but he can’t help it. and you laugh too, wholeheartedly. because you cannot deny yourself the fact that you too felt content, even though you’re crying and he’s doing that just for the sake of comforting you. but that's precisely what makes it so important – is his effort in doing so the best way he can.

DAY 18 - WA-R-R

you woke up feeling great. it has been so nice to actually have a full break from college, you have time to do all the things you like without worrying about anything. well, almost anything. it’s been a week since the crying incident happened and you two never brought it up again. jake was okay with it. he thought you didn’t want to talk about any of it, since once you felt lighter you just quietly apologized for crying on him like you did and went to your room. but you didn’t know that, and you were starting to feel like a burden. you needed to properly thank him for comforting you, but you had no idea how.

it was currently a quarter past three in the afternoon and you were boiling on your couch from the heat. jake had left for the gym right after lunch and you had nothing to do, beginning to feel unsettled from the boredom. deciding on doing something productive, you take a shower and get dressed to go to the supermarket. you were out of a few things and it would be nice to leave the house and enjoy the weather, despite the fact that you’d much rather go to the beach. once ready, you go to the kitchen to check if you weren’t forgetting anything so you could add to the list, that’s when you hear the front door opening. jake walks in just a few seconds later, eyes roaming over your figure as he immediately catches the scent of your favorite perfume – are you going somewhere?

his black fit – sleeveless compression shirt and loose dri-fit shorts – knocked the air out of your lungs, but you didn’t have time for that. “i’m going grocery shopping, do you want something?” you ask, pretending to still check the cupboards.

“yeah, actually. but i think it’s best if i go with you…” he says casually, like he wasn’t dying to have a domestic day with you – going to the market, choosing what you’re going to do for dinner, helping you carry the grocery bags. “you know…? so you won’t buy anything wrong.”

you scoff, turning to look at him. “you’re projecting, you know i wouldn’t mistake your protein bars or whatever,” you say, rolling your eyes and propping yourself on the counter. you glance at him for a moment, taking in his appearance. faking a mix of disgust and judgment on your face, you point towards his clothes. “are you going like that?”

he checks himself, like he didn’t know what could be wrong with his outfit, and with a confused look on his face he says, “well, yes. why wouldn’t i?”

you arch your brows mockingly, shrugging. “i don’t know. you tell me, jake,” and then you chuckle from your teasing.

he rolls his eyes, feeling dumb for not realizing sooner that you were just messing with him – like always. “you’re so annoying, what the hell…” he murmurs, suppressing an amused laugh and completes, “come on, let’s go in my car.”

his car smelled like him, the woody perfume he would usually wear was everywhere – you failed to notice that the first time you rode with him. as you put the seatbelt on and he starts the car, he says “do you want to put some music on?” giving you his phone and driving off your apartment’s garage.

“sure, what do you wanna listen to?” you ask, rolling through his playlist. the ride to the store was actually short, but a little music is always nice to have.

“whatever, you can press play on random,” he answers, eyes locked on the streets ahead. just as he finished speaking, he heard the soft beat of a korean r&b melody starting to play very lowly. he went to turn up the volume, only for his hand to bump into yours – you were going to turn the volume up a bit as well, after resting his phone on your thighs.

a beat of awkward silence passes by and you two sneak a glance between each other. after laughing a bit embarrassed you softly say, “sorry, i was just gonna turn it up a bit.” moving your hand back to your lap.

he chuckles, without really knowing what to do he turns the volume up himself, saying “no, it’s okay. i was going to do the same.”

the song takes over the silence, its nicely tuned vocals filling the space, and you can’t help but share, “i love this song…” your voice is peaceful as you speak.

jake loves the comment, loves that you’re the one starting the small talk. “really? i thought you were more of a 2000s pop type of girl…” he says, bringing back that fact that you were listening to justin timberlake a few days ago.

you smile, “yeah, that too. but there’s nothing quite like korean r&b,” you reply, shrugging your shoulders. and it felt so nice to be comfortable around him, to talk like you do with jay – like you’ve known him for years.

“i mean, you’re right. but i’m suspicious, i was born in korea, so…” he trails off, and as you two feed the conversation more and more with small details of your life, he can only thank his complete genius idea of following you everywhere – it in fact did pay off, eventually.

when you get to the supermarket, the whole shopping process is actually very quick, you buy the essentials and all the things that were in your list, jake buys a lot of barley tea bottles and you two decide that italian food was the best option for dinner today, so you buy everything you need to make pasta – you also have to decide which bottle of wine you were going to buy and that itself takes most of your time, both finding joy in fake disagreeing with each other. after getting to the checkout and paying for your purchases, you and jake walk back to the car and settle everything to ride back home.

once at home you ask jake to put some music on the TV so you could unpack the groceries and start cooking dinner. surprised that you were offering to make dinner – knowing that usually he’s the one to make dinner and you make lunch – he asks, “why are you so willing saying that you’re gonna make our dinner today?” his voice accusing and wary, like you about to prank him. approaching you after putting on the same playlist that was playing in the car, he starts to help you unpack the grocery bags that were scattered on the counter.

“can’t a girl feel like cooking twice in a day?” you say, purely to tease him, because after letting out a little laugh you add up almost instantly, “i just wanted to, i don’t know, thank you for being so nice to me the other day.”

“the other day? which day?” he was confused, it was pretty visible by his frown and inquiring voice.

you sigh, not wanting to extend the subject, but clarifying anyway, mumbling “the day that i cried in front of you…”

his realization comes quickly, a soft “ah!” leaving his lips. nevertheless, he didn’t want you to think that it was anything other than the bare minimum – you didn’t have to make him a meal just because you felt like you needed to pay him back. both of you knew that he had no second intentions when he comforted you. “you know, you don’t have to–” he starts, but you interrupt him.

“i know, i know. but i really want to,” you say, voice steady like you practiced the speech all week – which you did, but that was nothing but a small detail, he didn’t have to know. “i want to show that i’m grateful somehow, so just let me.”

he just nods, pleased that your communication was improving. dinner time was really nice, you two shared a bottle of wine, talked a lot about how your music taste was actually similar and how cooking can be a fun activity once you grow comfortable with it – you were both kind of tipsy at that point.

as he helps you tidy up the kitchen, he cherished the evening you had. it was nice to know that you started to share a bond now, even if you still tried to keep your distance somehow. “thanks, for the dinner,” he says, cheeks flushed both from the alcohol and from the way you were so close to him, drying the dishes as he washed them.

you hummed, feeling sleepy from the alcohol and tired from the day. you lay your head on his shoulder – as much as you can with the height difference – and answer, “it was nice, right? we should do it again some day.”

jake can only laugh as he shakes his head – you were just too cute. “yeah… we should.”

DAY 23 - Let Go

you couldn’t be happier, today was finally the day you were going to the beach. as you got your things ready, you talked to jake about how dumb it was for you to have delayed this for so many days. jake has the idea of making some snacks and you help him do everything. throughout all the time that it takes for you and jake to make sandwiches and pack your beach bag and his backpack with everything you were going to need, you were talking nonstop. it was inevitable with the way you started to get along the past few days since your dinner together, honestly. you were also much more at ease in his presence, so you started to share a few more wholesome moments. still, he judges your choices for two piece bikinis and you say it was best if he didn’t take his shirt off – to save people’s sanity – and you fight over which snacks you were going to take in your little trip. it was all really fun, you could never try to deny that. once everything was ready, you two got ready to go.

the ride to the beach was rather calm. the music in the background was soothing and the beach you chose to go to wasn't far from your place, so jake drove you there and in less than an hour you were in the sand, sitting on your beach mat. the day was summery just like the others that have passed, only this time you could sunbathe and swim – a perfect day, you would say. jake was sitting by your side, watching you put on sunscreen – admiring you, that was more like it.

when you’re done, he points towards the sunscreen bottle on your hand and doesn't think twice before asking, “can you do my face and back?” he watches your concentrated face, but it doesn't change a bit, you stay expressionless. he tries again, “please…?”

you grimace, and move to sit face to face with him. “what? you can’t do it?” you ask, but it’s not really a criticism.

he laughs, and flicks your forehead. “of course i can, you brat. it’s just better if you do it,” he says, like it’s so obvious and you fake a look of disgust. he adds, “i can’t miss a chance to have your hands all over me, baby,” and winks.

you roll your eyes, but start to apply some sunscreen on his face, answering, “shut up and close your eyes, loverboy.” you use the moment to take in his appearance, closed eyes and parted lips from his talking. he was always so beautiful for you, you wished you could let him know in a way that didn’t felt like you were putting your heart in his hands – which was impossible, because that was the only kind of fondness you knew with him, devotion.

he does what you tell him, closing his eyes, but he keeps on talking – a smile on his face all throughout it. “you can’t push me away, princess. i know how your mind works by now,” his voice filled with enjoyment.

“yeah, yeah. i know, jake, you say that everyday,” you reply, but you're smiling too. finding joy in his words, but oblivious to how evident his feelings were. “okay, face done. now i’m gonna put it on your back, turn around for me, please.”

he turns around, his eyes glinting with unmistakable affection from your disponibility to do it for him – the way you ask him ‘please’ sticks to his mind a little more than it's considered healthy. once you’re done he gets up on his feet and holds your hand. “come on, we’re going in the sea.”

“woah there, loverboy. i know you need me to do everything with you, but at least wait until the sunscreen soaks in.” you say, and use the fact that he was still holding your hand to push him down to sit by your side once again.

he complies, his thigh brushing against your as he settles down next to you. you both take in the view. the sea is rather calm, the waves seem to crash slowly. the sun is unforgiving, but in a pleasant way, and the eventual breeze that hits your bodies is a nice way to recover from the heat. you don’t realize that you’re still holding hands, but jake is very aware of the act. so much so he fights the urge to stroke his thumb along your hand, so that you won’t grow annoyed from his display of affection. it’s not until an old lady passes by, selling handmade bracelets, that you notice just how close you guys are to each other.

the woman stops by you two and asks, very fondly, “oh, hello, young man. would you want to buy a bracelet for your girlfriend?” she’s pointing at you, and oddly enough you don’t feel like correcting her. in fact, you don’t say anything, you just smile at the lady and turn to look at jake, waiting to see what he’ll do.

“oh, yes! do you have matching ones?” he asks her, paying you no attention. his response comes immediately, and you’re caught off guard at just how natural it came to him – like you were actually boyfriend and girlfriend, like it wasn’t even a thing to consider in the first place.

they get into a conversation about her process of making the bracelets and how much they cost, eventually he buys two – only then he lets go of hand, because he needed to pay the old woman – and she thanks your attention as both of you wave her goodbye.

your head snaps in his direction. giving him a quizzed look, you don’t even have to say anything for him to speak, “look, it wasn’t going to change anything in her life if we said we weren’t together. if anything we’d just make her ashamed of her mistake…” his voice is quiet, like you’d argue with him for what he did.

but you don’t. in fact, you just say, “i’m surprised by how easily you played along, but i’m not gonna kill you. relax,” you’re chuckling, and you add “i didn’t get to see which ones you bought…”

he stares at you, dumbfounded. “what?” he asks, wondering if he heard you wrong. were you just letting that slide? like he just didn’t pretend you were his girlfriend to a total stranger? weren’t you the one who refused to let him close? “did you enjoy being my girlfriend, is that it?” he teases, but he’s not joking. he actually wants to know this time, he needs the rest it’ll provide him.

you cough, choking a bit. what should you do? did you enjoy it? you’re not sure, but for some reason you didn’t want him to think you didn’t. not only because upsetting him felt so mean of you, but because you realized that you weren’t opposed to the idea of dating him. “god, don’t make it weird and let me see the bracelets…” you say, changing the subject. but decided to mumble in addition, “if i didn’t say anything, it means that i didn’t mind.”

he smiles, and it outshines the sun. jake wasn’t one to be pessimistic, but he often opted for a more realistic approach when it came to you, so to see you opening up like that – letting him genuinely see you and understand you – made his body shiver with anticipation of what you’d share next. he senses your will to not deep dive into the matter so he gives into your wishes to see the bracelets. “here, give me your hand so i can put it on you…” he says, but he can barely control his excitement. he ties the bracelet in your wrist and asks for you to do the same for him, both of you admiring the colorful object that now was a reminder of a thing only you two shared. you fall into a nice, comfortable silence. the unspoken feelings surrounding you but not in a scary way, the sounds of the waves crashing doing nothing to drown your rapid heartbeats. in moments like these you question just how much you should try to keep jake away, only for you to choose not to do it at all – you were just letting it flow, it would pain you more to pretend you didn’t like what was growing between you.

and that’s just how the day goes. you swim in the sea and share your snacks, it truly feels like a beach episode from your favorite anime. once you get back home, the tiredness from the long day – even though it was fun and uplifting – sinks in. after you and jake have straightened things up and showered, you both decide to settle on the couch.

you were hardly registering the movie that was playing on the screen. jake had his hand on your head, fingers mindlessly scratching your scalp, a loving gesture that only pushed you closer to sleep. as you started to drift off, your head found its way to jake’s shoulder, face hiding on his neck. jake gasped at the proximity, but after a few seconds he adjusted you on his body, hugging your waist. before either of you could realize, the two of you had already fallen asleep.

DAY 35 - All Mine

when jake wakes up, he’s a mess. he feels his hair sticking on his forehead due to his sweat. his legs feel shaky, his boxers sticky and his heart is hammering in his ribcage. it takes him a few moments to realize that he’s laying in his bed, having fallen asleep with you the night before while you two played cards late at night. the next thing he realizes is that you’re no longer with him. he checks his phone, it’s half past eight in the morning. he slumps back on the mattress, right hand coming down to palm the evident erection on his sleeping shorts, cock still hard despite the fact that he had clearly cummed during his sleep. he had woken up from a very messy, very erotic dream, his breath was calming down as he took in his surroundings, but his mind was still in a haze from the vivid memories from his dream – where you and him did all the things he craved to do to you. his right hand’s grip tightens around his clothed girth, his arousal growing while he feeds his imagination, thinking just how cute you’d look with your eyes tight such and your mouth hanging open as your lips let out the most beautiful sounds of his name, while he’s buried inside–.

he sits up, instantly. he couldn’t act like he lived alone, and even though he very much wanted to get off right now, he wouldn’t want to have you walk in on him – well, he wouldn’t mind if he felt like you would be okay with it, but he couldn’t know if that was the case. the past few days were wonderful, he loved every second of it. you and him were growing closer and closer, to the point you did everything together. after the day you spent on the beach, both of you decided to start hanging out more often. you did all sorts of things – you even did go back to the beach, going to a drive-in that was happening nearby – and it was starting to get hard to avoid the inevitable. jake was beginning to break, the time you’ve been spending together only further pushing him to his darkest, most lust-filled thoughts. he wondered if you felt the same, or if he was just another homie to you. if you want him the way he wants you it shouldn’t be hard to notice, right? he thinks that he should pay more attention to your body language, to see if you give him any opening to tumble over the edge of the hanging tension. but then he wonders, where are you anyway? intrigued, he leaves his room to look for you, only to find an empty house. you weren’t anywhere to be found, neither in the kitchen nor in your room. he sits on the couch, and as he was about to text you to know your whereabouts he hears the clicking of the keys on the front door. he sits back, checking his bulge briefly – that had subsided considerably – and waits for you to show up, fingers interlaced, his hands resting on his lap.

you had woken up pretty early and decided to buy strawberry cheesecake for breakfast at a bakery nearby and some coffee at your favorite coffee shop, choosing to not text jake because you thought you’d be back before he woke up – which clearly did not happen. when you see him sitting on the couch you stop, standing comically – awkwardly – at the hall that separates the living room from the kitchen.

“hi, you’re up,” you state, looking at him – eyes roaming over his figure, he seemed sus. not waiting for his answer you turn left, walking towards the kitchen counter to settle what you bought for breakfast.

jake is hot on your tail, replying, “where have you been, huh?” his tone is playful, but you can tell he’s actually curious to know.

“uh… i don’t see how it concerns you?” you answer, teasingly. your smile the most genuine it could ever be, since jake with his ‘recently woken up’ look was the cutest. then you add, “i bought coffee, and cheesecake.”

“oh god, yes! love me some sweets in the morning,” he says, settling down at the counter while eyeing your figure – the fabric of your jeans shorts seemingly sinfully pretty around your thighs, your baby blue crop top making him want to ogle your breasts. were you always this hot? “uh, thanks for bringing coffee for me too…”

“don’t mention it,” you say, at last. sitting down on his side you two start to eat, then you remember something. “hey, how did you sleep? i woke up in the middle of the night and went to my room. sorry, if i woke you.”

jake feels relief wash over his entire figure to know you weren’t there if he made any suggestive sounds during his sleep. “actually, i’m a heavy sleeper, so you wouldn’t wake me like that,” he answers and after pausing for a few seconds he finishes, “i slept ok, without crazy dreams or whatever.”

you laugh, his words seeming rushed for you and oddly explanatory, which was out of character of him – especially since he was so slow in the mornings. was he nervous? “ok, jake. if you say so…” you say, just for the sake of getting on his nerves – and maybe to get him to say something about what really happened.

“yah! what are you suggesting? i slept like a baby, ok? with baby dreams…” he states, defensively. and you laugh harder, your hand coming to cover your mouth in an attempt to muffle at least some of it – which didn’t happen.

in between your gasps for air, you say, “oh, so you dreamed of unicorns and princesses then.” your teasing sentence only half well delivered, since you were still trying to recover from your fit of laughter.

jake’s mind was racing while he nervously tried to change the subject. however, in between his thoughts of his not exactly baby-like dream, he lets out the first thing that comes to his mind, “if you’d call yourself princess, then i guess you could say that, yeah…” he says, his voice sounding playful. you stall, confusion written all over your face.

“wait, does that mean you- did you dream about me?” you ask, incredulous. you brows coming together to emphasize the chaos that was your mind at his statement. he laughs, shaking his head, truly amazed at how easily he gave himself in. knowing that there was no denying what he said just now, he only nods, taking yet another slice of the cheesecake you were sharing. but you had long forgotten how to eat, in fact you don’t think you can do anything else at the moment.

letting your curiosity speak louder you decide to try your luck. “what… did you dream about?” you ask, voice small despite its certainty. you decide to not look at him, eyeing the plate in front of you as he ate the last piece of the cheesecake. you take a sip of your coffee.

“you, duh,” he says matter-of-factly, and laughs like you weren’t dying from not knowing. “why do you want to know, anyway? does it matter that much, princess?” his tongue brushes the inside of his cheek, trying to suppress the smirk threatening to take place in his lips. the situation’s much more entertaining than he initially thought it would be.

“oh my god, you’re so annoying,” you huff and get up, making your way to the sink to wash the dishes you just used. he stares at you, amused at the tantrum your throwing over something he thought you’d just brush off, probably just making a comment about how in love he’s in with you – jokingly, of course.

“okay, okay. i’ll tell you, alright?” he says, bringing his hands up as if surrendering to you. you stop what you’re doing just to turn your head to him slightly. you eye him, an unreadable expression in your face and he chuckles a bit – he really does like you. at last, he says “i dreamed i got hurt in a zombie apocalypse and you left me behind…” his voice is obviously playful, but you fail to realize he was being ironic.

so you only sigh, your lips forming an involuntary pout as you hummed in acknowledgement, turning back to dry your hands after you finished your task. his answer breaks your expectations, leaving you confused as to why you thought he’d say something else – why you wanted him to say something else. maybe it was the way he was staring at you since you arrived, or the way he seemed so nervous talking about his dream, you thought maybe it meant he saw you in a way that wasn’t just ‘his roommate’. but, maybe it was all in your head anyways.

he comes behind, not touching you whatsoever, his hands finding their place at the counter in front of you the same time you finish your task – and he realizes he’s feeling oddly familiar with the situation, like a deja vu. he whispers then, voice seductive and full of intentions, “did you want me to say that i had a erotic dream?” his question catches you off guard, you use your now free hands to support yourself at the edge of the sink. you head falls to your shoulder, eyes closing as a sigh passes your lips. fuck, why is he dirty talking to you all of sudden? why do you like it? you decide that all your doubts and worries are for the future you to deal with, right now you just want to know how far this can go. still, you can help the nervousness that gets a hold of your demeanor. shaking your head, you start, “n-no, that’s not it, why would you–”

but jake was not having it. he cuts you off mid-sentence, face coming closer to your ear, lips brushing over it ever so slightly while he whispers lowly – as if you were in a room filled with people and he only wanted you to hear –, “are you really going to lie to me like that, baby?” and just like that you’re speechless, but that doesn’t matter one bit, because jake keeps on talking, “i dreamed you were underneath me doing all sort of cute noises while i fucked you on my bed. is that what you expected me to say? or was that pout on your pretty lips for another reason, princess?”

“w-what…?” you utter, confused. he’s getting to you too damn fast for your liking – your panties growing damp at the thought of him having a wet dream about you. you speak your mind, “what the fuck, jake? how can you say things like that…”

“like what? so directly? you know i’m not one to play games, princess,” he says and uses the little switch of topic to spin you around. his hands find your waist to urge you to face him and you comply, but you don’t look into his eyes yet, embarrassment having a tight grip around you. so his right hand comes to your face and you barely feel his fingers as he tilts your chin up softly, bringing you to face him so he can lock eyes with you, his hand falling to your waist a second after. his gaze is intense, filled with emotion – one you’re yet to allow yourself to admit aloud you reciprocate. the silence starts to grow bothersome so you decide to voice your thoughts once again, not really expecting this moment to turn into a heart to heart conversation – but honestly, you love that jake provides this for you.

“i know. but, you’re making me nervous,” you confide in a mumble, fidgeting fingers on your back but you don’t break eye contact – your puppy eyes fucking jake’s mind up. he knows what you mean, you’ve talked about this before. you’re not one to let people in, so to have him so casually stripping you out of your comfort zone can be really stressing – it doesn’t mean you don’t want him to, though.

jake cuckles, he does think you’re adorable from time to time – everyday – and he’s determined to make you comfortable with what you want – well, that being him – so he makes a point of saying, “that’s cute, princess. you’re only nervous because you keep refraining yourself from doing what you want…” he says, almost melodically. “and i know very well that you want me.”

there’s a knowing glint in his eyes and you know he knows, that’s what your relationship was always about – he’s been obvious about his desires, you were the one who poorly attempted to deny it. so you sigh defeated, as you watch his pretty eyes and easy smile. you touch his arms, hands traveling up to his cheeks where you leave a soft squeeze with your palms, squishing them together. you both let out a giggle, then your fingers intertwin on his nape, your body closing the distance between you and him.

jake is not surprised that you took the initiative, but he couldn’t believe that it was actually happening. his heart is beating unforgivingly in his chest, it aches the best kind of pain and he lets out a sound of relief, pleasure and pure fulfillment. his hands grips your waist harder trying to ground himself, but nothing is enough – he is losing all self control and he couldn’t care less. because your hands were on his neck, nails scratching lovingly the back of his head, your chest pressed on his and your lips passionately kissing him – having you on his hands for him to touch and hold was messing with his head. the kiss that takes place is outstanding, it makes both you and him breathless way too quickly. you pull away first, your teeth prodding your bottom lip for a moment before jake is on you again.

this kiss is much more devastating than the first one, when your tongues meet you can hardly contain the whine that tries to leave your lips, but maybe it’s the way jake shoves you against the counter behind you that knocks the air out of your lungs. none of you know how long you stay making out, your fingers interlace on jake’s locks and he anticipates the moment you will pull it, but you don’t. he grows impatient, hands sliding from your waist to your hips, where he squeezes hard, then he pushes himself from you, interrupting the kiss in the middle. you’re panting, chest heaving and lips red and swollen from the kissing, the sight making heat spread all over his body and his arousal only increases, the bulge on his pants begging to be simulated and he wonders how affected you are by all of this. despite the hot feeling of your hasty breath, nothing really gives away your inner state. and you try to keep it that way, but your mind is foggy and you can barely form coherent thoughts aside from the burning lust, that’s all you can discern. you thought you could be stronger when it came to your sexual desires, but jake fucks up all your attempts in keeping a composed attitude. because you wanted nothing more than to let go and be led, to allow him to do whatever he wanted to. that’s how much you trusted him, how much you craved him.

you’re so lost in your submissive reverie that you fail to realize that jake actually said something. it isn’t until his hands cups your cheeks that your attention turns to him.

“hm…?” you hum and it’s supposed to be a question, but you can really say something else. he understands, though, slowly catching on to what your behaviour meant.

testing the waters, he asks “do you want to go upstairs, baby?” softly, trying not to sound like you had to. you nod, eagerly so, making him smile, tilting his head to the side. “you’re much too quiet, princess,” he says, his smile fading to a smirk as continued, “go on, use your words.”

the way he says it is borderline condescending. the patronizing superiority twists your insides and your heart rate speeds up, a familiar feeling making its way to your stomach like butterflies. you curse every cell in your body for being so responsive. you focus on the fact that it’s a simple question, one he already knows the answer to. “yes…” you voice out, not without stuttering and jake is amazed.

he pushes further, wanting to strip every layer of this newfound trait of yours. “huh? yes what, princess?” and it’s a trap, because he’s not expecting anything specific, you may or may not know what to answer, it doesn’t matter because jake is doing it with the sole purpose of teasing you.

but you don’t know that, and even if everything in you is telling you to address him with a respectful honorific, you also don’t want to give him the satisfaction of winning that so easily, so you do what’s best, you play innocent. “yes, i wanna go upstairs,” your voice sounding much more controlled and with barely any sides of your emerging submissiveness.

jake laughs at your answer, eyes scanning you with unmistaken amusement. he shakes his head, grabbing your hand as he speaks, “you’re impossible.”

he uses your intertwined fingers to pull you with him, all the way until you’re passing through his bedroom door. once inside, he sits on the end of his bed, hands coming to your hips as he looks up at you. that’s when everything sinks in. nothing could’ve prepared you for the devastating reality that you’re a moment away from letting jake undress you – letting him fuck you. his alluring presence drowns your senses, you want nothing else than to please him.

he sees it in your eyes, so he feels obligated to act on it. “come sit, princess,” he says and pulls you to his lap. you fall right after, thighs finding their place on his sides as your hands touch his chest. “you’re so pretty,” his hands are caressing your waist under the fabric of your shirt. “so, so pretty,” he adds, placing kisses on your cheeks, and then your neck. “makes me want to ruin you all the time,” he pulls you even closer, the motion making your hips collide with his. his dick impossibly hard underneath you, you fists his shirt at the feeling. he started to leave hickeys on your skin, his path well marked as he love bites his way to the valley of your breasts. you can feel the smirk on his lips as he trails kisses on your skin, but you are engrossed in the intoxicating feeling of his hands traveling up your body. when you realize, he’s already taking your top off, eyes shamelessly falling to your naked torso. “you always leave the house without a bra on?” he asks, not really accusing you of anything, his hands instantly coming to grope them, thumbs tenderly flicking your nipples and your response is almost embarrassingly quick. you’re taken by surprise, a soft moan slips past your lips and your hips grind on him. he appreciates the sound, his dick twitching in his sleeping shorts as he squeezes your boobs harder.

you answer him, voice coming weaker than you expected as you speak, “no… not really.” you have your hands sliding under his shirt, pulling the fabric with you as you feel the warm skin of his chest on your palms, you want to see him too. “can you… take your shirt off too?”

“look at you, being so well mannered…” he says and you roll your eyes, his praise makes your panties grow wetter by the minute. he keeps talking though, making no move to remove his shirt just yet. “although, i think that there’s one word missing, princess…”

you understand him immediately, the words coming out easily, “please…? can you take your shirt off, please?” you rephrase, and jake’s mind goes over drive. he already wants you begging for him.

is almost funny, to know that you two are living the moment he has been anticipating ever since he was first trapped with you in that bathroom in a random college party. he’s lightheaded from the unceasing sensations he experiences with you and his smile is the perfect display of it, breathtaking and contagious. he lifts his arms for you to finish taking the shirt off his torso, you drop it on the floor. his hands settle back on you, falling on your thighs with a smack on which one, as he gets back to trailing kisses down your neck, until his tongue envelops your nipple. he’s still smiling when you moan from the sudden stimulation, but he moans with you after you grind down on him at a specific hard bite he delivers. “you’re into pain or something?” he asks you, moving to your other boob, teeth grazing the skin before he bites it, softer than he wanted, just to test his theory.

you right hand tangles in his hair, fingers gripping the locks but not really pulling at it – which he really wants you to –, your left hand splayed on his chest, nails threatening to dig on his skin. he laughs in disbelief, biting harder – not enough to leave a mark, yet – and your hips move involuntarily on his, humping his throbbing dick, desperate for a real form of stimulation between your legs. “oh god, you are into it.” he states, and delivers another slap on your thigh.

you bite your lip, and say “you do realize how sadistic this makes you look, right?” in defiance, but your affected tone makes no effect whatsoever.

his answer is instant, “and you do realize how much of a masochist i think you are now, right?” his mocking tone getting to your and further wetting your panties, that must be completely destroyed by now. he continues his assault in your chest, that already has some red and purple marks blooming here and there.

“i-i’m not…” you start, both hips and voice stuttering from his movements, the fabric of your jeans starting to make you uncomfortable as you rub yourself harder on his erection, jake’s hands groping your skin from the stimulation, the rhythm of your movements torturously slow for his liking. “i’m not a masochist,” you manage to say, and jake laughs from your little act.

“no, just a painslut...” he says, and your muffled whine is enough of an answer for him. “but don’t worry, baby. you make such a pretty slut for me.”

“fuck…” is all you can mumble, pussy clenching around nothing as you keep grinding on his bulge, dry humping him for all your worth. but jake had enough of that, he wants more – he needs more. so he grabs one of your thighs’ underside with one hand, the other going to your waist as he moves you on the bed. in a second you're laying on your back on the mattress, but you don’t have time to be surprised. jake touches your knee in an attempt to get you to open your legs and you comply, slowly moving them apart to accommodate his hips.

his hands travel to undo the button of your shorts, fingers pulling the zipper down all the way but he doesn’t slide the fabric off your legs. instead, he stuffs his hand inside of it, fingers gliding over your dripping wet slit. “shit, you’re fucking soaked, princess…” he almost growls, forehead resting on your shoulder. “want to fuck you till we pass out,” it’s just a harmless confession, one he doesn’t truly mean, but you don’t care.

“so do it,” you sound desperate, his index and middle finger teasing your entrance while his thumb presses on your clit. he wasn’t moving, and it was driving you insane. you thrust your hips forward, trying to get him to do something, but he doesn’t.

he chuckles, his smirk hidden from your eyes, but you could feel it when he pressed his lips to your ear, leaving an openmouthed kiss in it. “so soon? where’s the fun in that?” he says rhetorically, he has been dying to bury himself inside you, but he still wants to play with you some more. “need to prep you first, baby.”

your moan is music to his ears when he inserts his fingers in you with a quick motion, pleasure running through your veins. but it wasn’t enough. you didn’t want that, you wanted his dick inside you. “f-fuck, jake… jake, please,” is the first glimpse of a plea, and jake is relishing on it. he quickens his movements, fingers working on your walls like magic. he brings his thumb back to your clit, drawing little imaginary circles in it and your head falls back, back arching as you push your hips forward again. “jake, j-jake… please, fuck me. wanna cum on your cock.”

although he really wanted to, he couldn’t resist your plea. he doesn’t need to be told twice, taking his fingers out slowly and helping you out of your shorts and underwear. he takes his shorts off along his boxers right after, his dick slapping his stomach as he does so.

once he’s between your thighs there isn’t much to be said, he’s already guiding his dick to your entrance when your legs wrap around his waist. you both moan at the intrusion, the stretch making your mind go blank as your head falls to the side, right hand finding support on his back as your left hands tangled on his locks. you’re both panting and you barely started, his thrusts are sharp, he reaches so deep in you. your closed eyes and open mouth are better to watch than jake could ever imagine, he wishes he could have this everyday. “oh my god, fuck–” he swears, hand gripping you jaw to give you a kiss. it’s messy, your tongues meet more outside than inside your mouths. when he pulls away there’s a string of saliva connecting you two. his weight is supported on his forearms as he moves to mark your neck mumbling, “y-you feel so good princess, so goddamn good.”

the room smells like sex, your hands try desperately to somehow steady yourself in that moment that didn't seem like reality at all. jake pressed his hips into yours harder and harder with each kiss he left on your neck, his mouth brought you little by little closer to heaven and you let a specific loud whine escape your lips. you could feel his smile as he raised his head so he could kiss your mouth with unquestionable desire once again. you use your legs to pull him closer and his eyes roll back under his eyelids. you arch your back slightly, your chest pressing against his and your fingers – finally – pulling on his strands. jake brokes the kiss to moan and looks at you in that surrendered way he always does. he just couldn't help himself, he needed to ruin you just a little bit more.

“so beautiful, my princess.” his possessive tone making you clench around him, his hand moves from your side to your neck, where he gives it a light squeeze, and then he grabs your cheeks with one hand. not too hard, but enough to make you lift your face. “open your mouth for me, love.” and you comply. your mouth parted slightly and your eyes glued to his, but he’s too lost watching you run the tip of your tongue between your lips to notice. he uses his thumb to open your mouth even wider, naturally salivating at the thought of what he would do next.

when his spit meets your tongue and you swallow without protest, he is gone. the moan he fails to contain comes out muffled as he presses his face back into your neck. the hand that was previously on your cheek goes down to your thigh where he delivers a harsh squeeze. “fuck…” he whispers, inevitably moving his hips to fuck you harder, faster. he was too lost in the feeling, and so were you.

the intoxication sensation of your orgasm comes quickly, and it’s devastating. jake takes notice of the way your nails run down his back, the other pulling on his hair and your legs impossibly tight around his waist. “would look at that– ah–, you’re going to cum, baby?” he asks, voice low and wavering, “are you?”

you hum, your moans impossible to suppress. you drool on the fabric of the mattress – you were so, so close. jake has other plans, though. “oh, c-come on now, princess… we’ve– ah– talked about it a-already,” he says, hand coming to your neck, adding some pressure – just enough for your eyes to roll back on your closed eyelids. he loves to watch it, his own release coming fast and unforgiving. “use your words.”

“i– fuck– can i cum, jake? p-please…” you start, eyes opening to lock with his as best as you can. “please! jake, ah– i can’t hold it a-anymore…” you cry out, head lolling back once more. “f-feels so good, so good.”

jake can’t hold it back any longer too, hips unrelenting at your begging. “go ahead, baby. cum for me.” he whispers, and it feels like you fall over the edge immediately. the unceasing clenching of your walls only pushing him to his orgasm too, thick ropes painting your inner thigh as he pulls out. the wave of pleasure that overtakes you both is devastatingly good, you can barely discern what's happening as whispered “thank you’s” fall from your lips. when you both fall back to reality you’re sweaty and breathless. he drops his weight on you, arms caging your body as his head finds the comfort of your chest. you giggle and hug his shoulders, eyes too heavy from tiredness to keep them open. you fall asleep before the both of you can say anything. jake senses your calming breath, choosing to clean himself and you up before giving into the temptation of sleep as well. he dresses you on his shirt that was on the floor after putting on his boxers, hugging you from behind whispering sweet nothings to you, lulling himself to sleep.

DAY 37 - Fool For You

you’ve never been one to give in to awkwardness. you pride yourself on being quite a light presence, always funny or trying to make everyone feel comfortable. but it wasn’t until you had sex with jake that it changed. because, sadly, now you’re just always nervous around him. it had been two days since he claimed you for himself – two days and you still haven’t really faced him. what could you do, really? pretend it never happened? act like the big deal it was and possibly ruin everything? acknowledge what happened but act like it's not going to destroy every single wall you've built around yourself?

you felt hopeless and you missed him – so much. because after what you two shared, there was no room for doubt, no room for hiding the undeniable truth. you were deeply, madly and uncontrollably in love with jake. so much so it hurted you. so much so you could tell everyone and you would never feel ashamed of it. but, what about him? how could you ask him if you didn’t even know how to allow yourself to be vulnerable like that? to let him in like he was always there – although it felt like he had always been part of you, you also couldn’t help but overthink it. you felt like he understood you even if no words were spoken, but would it really be enough for him to know that you loved him? would you be enough for him? did he feel the same? god, did he even like you at all? and as you torture yourself – feeling like you could actually feel a physical discomfort from all the thinking and loving and wanting you had trapped inside you –, jake was losing his mind.

he was in complete despair, like he’ll never have you. all of the time it took for him to get to know you, to get close to you – it felt meaningless –, and now you were slipping right through his fingers all over again. it wasn’t fair. he knew you felt something for him. and it was driving him insane, because if you felt even just a little bit of what he feels, then it was enough for forever. even if you feel just five percent of what he feels for you, you would make it until the end of the world. but it didn't matter, because you hadn’t talked to him yet. he was feeling like he was left to die of starvation, your absence making him hallucinate. making him question just how much he wouldn’t do for you – only so he could finally have you. because he was feeling like he could do it all, but he needed you to come to him. to allow him to truly see you, to truly feel you. so he decided to wait. wait for you to come to terms with the reality you seemed so against living and then he’d do everything – anything to keep you by his side.

even if you weren’t sure about how things would turn out, you know it was you who had to make the first move and when you decide to get your shit together, you walk straight to his room. looking calm on the exterior, but completely wrecked on the inside, yet it’s kinda funny for you. you have nothing to fear anyway, expect for, well, a rejection – but it wasn't really going to stop you. when you get to his door you take a few deep breaths, gathering the courage that was just a few seconds ago all over you but seemed to suddenly vanish. you grow eager, as if it was all coming to realization. it feels so fucking right you could cry, you decide to knock before it all becomes too much. doing it softly, you wait for him to answer, cleaning your sweaty palms on the sides of your sleeping shorts.

jake’s listening to some random “songs for studying” playlist on youtube while scrolling through his media when he hears the soft knock on his door. he freezes, what was happening? he jumps out of bed, looking around checking if anything needed replacing. when he sees everything’s fine he walks to the door, but remembers he had changed into his sleeping clothes, so he goes back to check himself in the mirror, only for him to run a hand through his hair and get right back to the door. once there he doesn’t think twice, swinging the door open. “hi!”

you get startled by the sudden movement. jake looks like he has the energy to run a marathon and is hardly holding himself from doing so. it’s cute. you look at his puppy-like eyes, his lips slightly parted and his hair falling in his brows. you almost say right then and there, but you hold it – waiting for a more appropriate moment. instead, you say “uh, hi.” and then you giggle, looking down to your feet and then back at him. “what are you doing right now?”

he lets out a giggle himself, a bit more at ease now that he knows you’re not there bringing bad news. then he answers, “honestly? nothing,” and he laughs at his own sentence.

“good, can i come in then?” you ask, but before he could even answer you’re already explaining yourself, “it’s just– uh, i want to talk to you…”

he smiles nervously, stepping aside so you can come in. after you walk in, he guides you to his bed by your shoulder and then he lays on his side, propped on his left arm. “tell me all about it, baby.”

the nickname makes goosebumps raise all over your body, but maybe it was the fact that you had acknowledged you want this whole thing so much – maybe it was burning in you all along just waiting for an excuse to be freed. “i… so, i wanted to–” you stutter, growing a bit nervous.

“hey,” he grabs your hands that were in your lap. “relax! you’re kinda freaking me out, you know?” he says, trying to lighten the mood. he could see what you wanted to say was serious but he also didn’t want you to get anxious over it. “i feel like you’re gonna say you're a murderer or something.”

you can only laugh, because he’s such a fucking idiot and you love him so bad it’s kind of pathetic. “god, that’s such an idiotic thing to say…” you pause, looking at him playing with your bracelet mindlessly. then you realized there was no way he went for all the trouble to fuck you if he didn’t have any feelings for you. it was so dumb of you to assume that in the first place. and it felt so right in that moment – almost dream-like –, you didn’t want to waste it. the words left your mouth by impulse, but they all fell so naturally out of it too, it barely felt like it was the first time you were saying them, “i love you, jake.”

jake feels his whole world stop. what did you just say? he couldn’t voice it out better, muttering, “what?”

“yep…” you say comically popping the ‘p’, head nodding dramatically, lips pressed in a thin line and brows furrowed in fake apprehension. because, deep down, you’re sure it was going to work out just fine. “guess that’s worse than a murder, huh?”

jake’s going crazy, he wasn’t expecting you to ever say it like that, so easily. “do–” he gasped, choking a bit. he was a mess by this point, his hands pulling you closer by your wrists until your face was close enough, to the point he could feel your warm breath on his nose. his voice cracking with obvious emotion, but he really couldn’t care less, “do you really?”

and your eyes water, voice faltering just as much, “of course i do, jake… ” you press your forehead to his, eyes closing but you can feel his hands shaking where they hold you and you wanted nothing but to make him feel all of the love he made you feel.

“oh my god,” he uttered, voice completely drowned in emotion as his breath hitches and he sobs, but that doesn't stop him from keep talking, “oh my god, baby, i love you too,” he states, like it wasn’t obvious by the way the tears left his eyes and stained your shirt. he’s a blabbering mess, but you love it. “i love you so much.”

and there, in between tears, smiles and sweet words, jake’s certain that he’d do everything all over again, just to have you. and you know you found the one.

DAY 38 - Apocalypse

you wake up in your bed with a startle, out of breath and with tears blurring your vision, threatening to fall from your eyes. your heart was filled with so much love you could never possibly keep to yourself only, so look to the side to reach jake. only, he isn’t there. you sit up, confusion knocks on your poor sleepy brain and you stumble out of bed. you remember very vividly you had fallen asleep with jake the night before, after you so happily declared your love for each other. as you reach for your doorknob you pause, what if it was a dream? because you remember you were in jake's room last night, not yours. were you so sleep drunk you couldn’t tell if it all happened or not? you rush to open the door and walk towards jake’s room, but he wasn’t there either. so you decide to go to the kitchen, not yet ready to give up, even if your heart was squeezing like you had lost the only love you ever had known.

as you reach the kitchen you hear some noises and your body fills with excitement as you eye jake’s broad figure – but, wait. is that a Seattle Mariners shirt?

“oh my god, jake. why are you wearing jay’s shirt?” your voice competing with your laughter, trying to imagine what would be jay’s reaction if he saw his favorite shirt in jake’s body – his very nice, very doable body. “i’ll tell jay.”

“don’t you dare, pretty,” he says, like it’s a threat – that has no effect, whatsoever – as he drops whatever he was doing to come hug you. “it isn’t jay’s, he gave me this one on my birthday last year,” he gave your forehead a kiss, then the top of your head and kept going, “how did you sleep? i put you in your room ‘cause mine’s closer to the kitchen and i wanted to make breakfast. did i wake you?” but you almost don’t hear it, his voice being drowned since he talked while his lips were pressed to the top of your head.

“you didn’t wake me, love,” and the way you say it makes jake’s heart melt. “but i woke up crying and for some weird reason i thought yesterday was a dream…” you add, hugging him back and taking in his scent.

“i left for 15 minutes and you were already crying from missing me? that’s cute, princess,” he laughs after speaking, moving you to sit at the counter. “well, it’s good it wasn’t a dream then, huh?”

you give an disgusted look to his little joke, but you’re smiling when you brush your lips to his, “i don’t know… i’m starting to regret it.”

“you’re so mean,” he replies, but he’s also smiling. he gives you a brief kiss on the lips, then one on your cheek. he looks at you for a bit and says, “i think i should make us breakfast…”

you both laugh, knowing what he’s hinting at. you get off the counter and help him, being so filled with contentment and love as you watch him make a mess in the kitchen just like always,

“i love you.”

a/n: it was supposed to be all a dream in the end, bit i couldn't do it. let me know what you think<33

82 notes · View notes

xotyla · 3 days ago

Text

consume - lhs (teaser - release date november 28)

pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader word count: tbd genre: smut, heavy angst, fluff tags: if you'd like to be tagged you can msg or comment below warnings: plot twists, deranged reader, manipulation, dirty talk, unprotected sex, oral (m&f receiving), pet names (baby, my love, etc), lots of cursing, choking, gag, overstimulation (m receiving), scared heeseung, down bad heeseung, knife play, switch reader, switch heeseung, violence, and more. synopsis: a girl who's out of her mind and heeseung who's in love and down bad for her but needs help. tyla's notes: i dont wanna spoil much but it's going to be very interesting and definitely quite dark.

When he met Iseul or Rylee, he thought she was incredible. He became increasingly addicted to her, desiring nothing more than to be near and under her. He didn't mind if his friends complained about his spending all of his time with her because she was truly all he needed until he realized what she was hiding behind her stunning smile and twinkling-innocent eyes.

"That girl was all over you, Heeseung, and you did nothing." They've been back and forth on this for about ten minutes. Iseul, like Heeseung, refuses to back down under any circumstances. I told her I had a girlfriend, I swear. She continued to come onto me, and as I tried to push her away, you came. You didn't need to hit her; I had everything under control!" He attempted to justify.

"Yeah, you had it under control? So, under control, you would have ended up in a room with the bitch if I hadn't intervened, and now you're concerned about her? I cannot believe you." Iseul scoffed and shook her head, unable to believe that her own boyfriend was supporting a passed-around chick.

"Really, Iseul? We can't even have a peaceful party because of your jealousy issues." This isn't the first time they've clashed about girls, and he's certain it won't be the last, but it's getting out of control. Everywhere they go, Iseul makes such a bother if a woman even gives him a glance, causing an issue like tonight. "You're just so insecure!" he proclaimed at her. A big mistake.

"Insecure..?" She murmured quietly to herself. The girl burst out laughing, which confused the male. "What's so funny, Iseul?" Her laughter subsided, and she gave him a smile. "Do you think I'm insecure, Heeseung? No, baby. I love you so much that I would do anything for you. You're mine. You only belong to me, and it will always be that way. Do you understand what I am saying?"

Heeseung stared at her, his brow furrowed. He had never seen this. He had never seen this side of her before. That smile was dark, and her eyes were nearly vacant, but she looked up at him in admiration.

Iseul must have found the silence too long. I asked you a question. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Heeseung stumbled back somewhat as she approached him, nodding almost frantically. "I understand, seul."

"Good. I'm glad you do, baby." She took a step closer to the boy, who appeared afraid to move an inch, and laid her hands on his shoulders before pulling herself up on her tippy toes and kissing his cheek. "Get some rest, my love," she urged before disappearing down the hall of their shared condo.

56 notes · View notes

heebambilee · 1 day ago

Text

*Ugly crying*

Fallen Star┃Jake Sim

Twenty-two - Make it easy. warnings: smut, dirty talk etc (not between reader and jake if that bothers you for whatever reason skip it), mentions of grooming and sexual abuse and lastly angst.

Masterlist ✶ prev ✶ next

Heeseung has been a constant in your life for as long as you remember. It wasn’t a specific moment that had stopped you in thought while looking at him but rather akin to a gentle breeze that passes by, almost seemingly unnoticed but the warmth it delivers stays. On the skin of your arm and in the curl of your smile.

You still remember the first time you met as if it was only yesterday, remnants of that night circles throughout your mind every now and then.

You were only a junior, dragged to a party that you surely did not belong to but when you’re that young wasn’t chasing a sense of fitting in is all what was yearned for? However, none of it really mattered. Not when you wobbled your way to the backyard of the house with anger burning fresh in your blood. Almost as sizzling as the alcohol

“Fuck!” you scream once you’re alone, your voice shakes with indignation too deep for you to make sense of “What a fucking cunt.” You mumble to yourself as you reach into the pockets of your ripped up jeans in search of a cigarette only for the pack to come up empty.

With a deep groan you throw it on the ground and step on it multiple times, in futile attempts to release some of the heat off your body, you weren’t sure if it is the hot weather or vexation that had you sweating hence why when your eyes fill with blistering tears you aren’t sure what to blame either.

“Damn girl. Are you okay?” you almost jump in terror, had not expected anyone to be here so when you turn around and come face to face with Heeseung, your cheeks color pink not at anything but the fact that he had witnessed you acting like a crazy person.

“No.” you answer as singular tear rolls down your cheek, a pathetic hiccup follows “My best friend just kissed my now ex.” You aren’t sure why you tell him that even though he didn’t ask perhaps you just needed to get things off your chest, perhaps the few last weeks have been rough at home and now your only joy has been stolen from the tips of your fingers by none other than your best friend.

“What a bitch.” Heeseung replies voice muffled by a cigarette lodged between his lips and your eyes flit down to it instantly.

“Can I have a cig?” you sniffle as your hand fiddles with your bracelet, s cheap gift that was given to you by your ex earlier that night, the metal could turn to rust with how awfully wrong it feels around your wrist.

“Sure,” Heeseung lips curled into a smirk, a puff of smoke tumbling out his lips as he extends his hand out to you “come get it.”

Ultimately you and Heeseung ended up having sex, it didn’t really mean anything. Not to you who has in need of a distraction from the magnitude of your hardships or to Heeseung who was into everything but relationships. So now years later when you’re sharing a cigarette on the balcony of your apartment as you spill the contents of burdens taking place upon your heart. It feels like recollections from that night.

“Sure, I might have worded things wrong, but did I really deserve that?” you ponder after you have just told him everything that went down last time you saw Jake at his place.

“No. he was being a dick.” Heeseung answers. Taking your cigarette from between your lips and you huff in something closer to annoyance.

You don’t find anything to say back so you fall silent, your eyes briefly shifting to the night sky, decorated with dozens of stars. You can’t help but wonder why they don’t sparkle as brightly as you remember, why it feels like a resemblance of the dull vacant corner of your heart.

“yn can I ask you something?” Heeseung asks, titling his head to look at you in time to see you nod “Do you like Jake?” your eyes widen at his question. Had not expected it and your first instinct is to deny.

No of course I don’t. are words that feel suitable to follow and yet they’re lodged in the middle of your throat and in counted seconds you decide that you don’t like that question. Because your eyes are darting everywhere as if stumbling upon an answer could lay in-between your hands or the metal rails.

You think it would have been much easier to deny if the question didn’t come from Heeseung. Perhaps it was his odd ability to look through every nook and cranny of your mind without you voicing it. To unveil your concerns one by one and then – much to your dismay- give echo to your hankering, your doubts. You were absolutely petrified to say it out loud, because saying things out loud gives them power, breathes life into every word and before you know it; it’s an inescapable reality.

“I- I don’t know.” You finally answer, an undeniable honesty fettering every word. Your insecurity nestles its way into you with a familiar route and then it’s all flashing before your shaking heart.

All the times you have asked yourself, “How many girls were here before me?’’ every time Jake’s hands sneaked around your waist with fervor, every time he laughed and then his eyes found yours as if he was checking if you felt the same, as if he wanted to make sure you were dripping with same joy coursing through his being.

And as you were fidgeting with your rattled heart, a part of you knew that you knew. A part of you knew you were running away in fear of rejection.

“Okay.” He says after a few silent beats.

“Why are you asking me that?”

“well-“ he lets out a sigh and your body grows slightly tense, as if he senses it Heeseung inches closer towards you, your shoulders brushing as he keeps his gaze ahead, the cigarette finished and you stare at the ashes “I think you did overstep. That of course doesn’t make anything he said is right or okay.” You listen curled with quiet “But we did talk about this before and this crosses the line of whatever ‘causality’ you guys agreed on. Just because you opened up to him doesn’t mean he should do the same yeah?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out a sigh pulled from the depths of the feelings you refuse to voice “I- okay. Is it wrong for me to want to be closer to him? hoping to know more about him?” your being shakes with the vulnerability of your inclinations, Heeseung’s lips curl up in smile stitched with warmth the weather lacks, tinted with comfort you lean into.

“there’s nothing wrong with that but we don’t do things in hopes for them to be reciprocated do we baby? Especially not in these circumstances where everything is so gray.” His words filtrate through the uneasiness in you so effortlessly, despite the abiding ache you manage to find solace in them.

Silently you close the very small remaining spaces between your bodies and lean your head on his shoulder, his body makes room for you, your proximity welcomed as his arm circles your waist comfortably.

“You’re right.” You whisper and you almost feel the pride flowing through his body, at knowing that your lips twitch upwards. it's knowing when you feel like an outcast in the world Heeseung will always be your home.

“Did you guys talk after what happened?”

“No. he tried but I avoided him.” Heeseung only hums in response, resting his head atop yours.

“I do think you should talk to him. Maybe tell him about how his actions confuse you. because mr nation’s sweetheart have been crossing the line too and what he did was very wrong and assholey of him,”

Your body vibrates with chuckles as you attempt to look up at him as much as you can “Very assholey? Really?”

“I’m trying to be a good friend here.” He retorts with a roll of his eye.

“You have always been a good friend, Hee.” You say with a much lower tone, an unyielding tenderness coats your words, a warmth he silently allows himself to soak in for a couple of minutes.

“What is it that have been bothering you?” you ask after a while and Heeseung feels himself stiffen inwardly.

He contemplates for a bit if he should chase this conversation away, maybe he will convince you to a dawn a couple of drinks instead. A covered-up attempt to avoid looking into the mirror, he’d much prefer to stay curled up through the night than be awake to see the sunrise. But the ineluctable truth is that Heeseung is tired.

“A few weeks ago I slept with this girl and- you-“ his voice comes out croaked as if the silence of his concerns have manifested in the middle of his throat, he clears it “you know how I told you before about hating not feeling in power?”

“Yeah, I remember.” You reply tentatively, words woven with amiability as your gaze flickers over his face.

“that girl was very..persistent. and it reminded me of very awful things to say the least.” His hand moves aimlessly through the air and your brows furrow, a crease of a frown deepens.

“What- what do you mean by persistent Hee?”

“Don’t worry it’s not like she forced me or anything. The whole ordeal just made me uncomfortable and brought back awful things to my mind. so, I guess I haven’t been feeling like myself for a while.” He explains, an awkwardness tints his words as he puffs out a breath, a lackluster chuckle.

“I’m sorry about that stitch. you shouldn’t ever have to feel that way.”

“Yeah.” he replies looking down and stays quiet for a few minutes as your hand moves up and down his clothed arm in tries to provide comfort “no one should feel that way” he repeats.

“Is there anything I could do to help?” you ask, hand dripping to the end of his arm before slipping your fingers through the cracks of his and he grins “how about some ramen and drinks?” the same grin clambers over your face.

After a long and a very unnecessary debate over who should make it, you finally manage to force Heeseung to cook with the excuse “you’re the one who works in a restaurant!” despite the grunt he lets out, he obliges.

You sip on your glass of wine and watch him, teasing remarks thrown his way that have giggles erupting from between your lips with ease and an even funnier sight of a glare remains plastered upon Heeseung’s face. The night unravels with the same geniality spreading across your chest and needed quietude settling onto your mind.

It’s only when there’s a concerning amount of alcohol in your system that you both make the questionable decision of dying Heeseung ‘s hair, after his many complaints of being sick of the purple.

“i’m sure I have a hair dye here somewhere - aha I found it!” you’re standing on the tips of your toes in the middle of your bathroom while Heeseung leans back on your bathtub with a hazy mind, fogged by the number of drinks he dawned. With his arms crossed he watches you in your pajama shorts struggling to reach for the wanted box dye sitting on the top shelf but then you’re huffing with defeat.

He shouldn’t let his eyes wander, but they do anyways.

“I’ll get it for you.” he tells you.

“Thanks-“ he doesn’t give you enough room for his words to settle, for you to move before you feel him against his back. His chest presses you further against the sink and you almost wither away with a hushed gasp.

You aren’t sure if it’s the heat radiating off his body but when he arches his eyebrow at you, his familiar annoying smirk etched onto his face and the dye now between his hands while looking down at you, it ignites a familiar feeling all the way to your core.

“Red? You wanna dye my hair red?”

“And what’s wrong with red?” you counteract, praying the blush seeping into your face somehow isn’t noticeable when you walk past him.

“Now come on. Let’s get to work.” You grin and Heeseung follows with the shake of his head.

The process of dying Heeseung’s hair turns out to be a lot more fun than you expected. It helps take your mind from things you hope not to worry about right now. And despite Heeseung’s malicious attempts at getting dye your nose red (it’s almost deemed successful if not you dodging it in time for the color to splash onto your white couch) you manage to make it to the end of it with the both of you sane enough but not sober enough. It’s two minutes past twelve when you’re finally washing the dye out of his hair. With him sitting shirtless on the floor of your bathroom and leaning on the tub as you angle the shower head correctly.

You’re so focused on getting the color completely out that you’re not paying attention to how far you have leaned over him, with him ending up between your legs and absentmindedly his hands have taken claim on your waist. It only manages to steal your attention when you feel the tips of his fingers sneaking under the thin material of your shirt.

“Hee stop.” You complain with a breathy giggle, attempting to move a bit away from him without getting water everywhere. Your fingers brushing through his strands

“Stop what?” his hands tighten around you, and you squirm with another giggle when his fingers inches upwards, it feels cold against the warmth of your skin and goosebumps take over your body alongside a shiver.

“I’m serious! It tickles.” You berate through broken laughs and his rises alongside yours.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been on top of me like this.” He teases. His lips yearn to curve upwards at the sight of pink seeping into your cheeks and the tips of your ears.

It is more than enough for you to point the shower head at his face, drenching him in water.

“Okay okay! I’m sorry stop!” he tries to cover his face with his palms in hopes to block your makeshift gun.

“I can’t hear you.” you grin and only provide him mercy when it feels like he’s about to choke on said water.

The towel that’s on his head works as a barrier. Albeit a feeble one it is still a barrier. You tell yourself as you’re attempting to dry his hair. Yet there’s a slight tremble in your fingers, rattled breaths escaping you and suddenly you’re too focused on the way your chest falls up and down, you’re too aware of Heeseung’s eyes – stare lingering on your body. So, when he looks up, catches your gaze with a shift in them, a glint that isn’t a stranger to you and one that you are sure manifests in yours just as strong.

You couldn’t pretend to be surprised when he slowly inches upwards and towards you, his eyes darting between yours as if he’s garnering your reaction. He’s giving you time to back out but you’re only pausing in your movement, your breathing grows shaky as if you feel like you wait and wait and wait until his lips finally touch yours. It isn’t gentle- nor slow but rather two bodies clearly hungry for more.

For a split second. A mere blink of an eye, an image of Jake flashes in your head and you wonder if you should stop. It’s a ridiculous thought and you know it because no matter how many roads you’ve crossed, how scarred the tips of your fingers are, how they bleed of trying to knit together your strings of fate – it all comes down to nothing. You and Jake are simply nothing.

And you just wanted to feel something. You wanted for the first time in a while – the first time since Yeonjun and now Jake to feel good. Without stumbling upon hideous feelings like worry or jealousy or unambiguously fighting for the approval of what seems to be unattainable. You have grown weary of tolerating your own heart, bargaining back and forth in hopes of holding on for a little longer. It's the only reason you answer the way you do when Heeseung leans back just enough for him to whisper;

“Are we sure we wanna do this?” your breaths are mingling and you miss the heat of his mouth on yours already.

your body kneels into cravings; more, more, more.

“We both wanna feel good so why the fuck not?”

“Fuck yeah.” His smirk doesn’t last enough before you’re crashing your lips onto his.

It is the sole reason your gasp comes out as audible as his groan. His hands dig into your thighs as he pulls you onto his lap.

The towel falls to the ground silently as his hands roam your body, from your hips up to palming your breasts, there’s roughness dousing his movements, hurriedly traveling everywhere with purpose akin to forgetting and it is the same one that has your arms sneaking around his neck.

“You taste like soy sauce,” Heeseung murmurs, pulling back slightly with a lick to your lower lip.

“You’re the one who put so much fucking soy sauce in my ramen.” you snort, your fingers tugging lightly at the ends of his still damp hair.

“mhm. I’m not complaining. I fucking love soy sauce.”

You don’t get to register what he’s saying before he’s flipping you onto the bed and climbing atop you ardently and then he’s leaning down with intent to capture your lips yet again, his other hand sneaking down to undo the buttons of his jeans. He thinks his head is spinning, he thinks the room is bleeding crimson and he isn’t sure if it’s merely his desire.

“Wait!” you frantically stop him with a hand to his bare chest.

“What?” his brows furrow, eyes fliting down to your lips then back up.

“I don’t want you to stain my sheets.”

“Huh?”

“Your hair. It’s red. It’s gonna stain everything and I just washed my sheets.”

There’s a moment of silence that settles in, his expression falls as he studies you in what seems to be ventures to know if you’re serious – because there’s no way you are – not when he’s rock hard and he’s sure you can feel him, not when you’re sprawled under him with a flushed face and a heaving chest. But your gaze is determined, lips pursed.

“yn,” you blink at him “I don’t give a fuck if I stain your sheets. They’re gonna be ruined either way.”

You open your mouth to argue, you’re annoyed. Probably by his grin that’s doused in pomposity, and he can see it all, but he doesn’t give you a chance to let the words out before he’s crashing his lips onto yours eagerly, messily. You try to fight it, your hand curled onto a fist, and you think you’re pushing at his shoulder with all your power, but it’s all deemed worthless, especially when you’re melting against him. Your lips separating with a moan as his tongue caresses yours.

“You got so much better at kissing.” He comments with a quick wink as his hands pull your shorts and panties down. He licks his lips at the view of your glistening pussy, the room somehow grows hotter, the walls are caving in.

“Well, you’re still bad.” You roll your eyes, your hands pulling your top over your head.

“Do you have any condoms?” he asks pretending he didn’t hear your insult.

“Bottom drawer.”

“Are they Jake’s or Yeonjun’s?”

“Why does it matter?” you raise your brows at him.

“I’m just curious.” He grins, holding up his hands in surrender as he moves from atop of you “I just wanna make sure they fit because you know how massive I am.” You throw a pillow at him and with seemingly godly powers he manages to dodge it with a laugh so loud and deep from his chest that almost has him lying down on the floor.

When he’s on top of you once again it’s clear that both of you are no longer in the mood for stalling or teasing remarks. When your lips meet, desire coats your mouth as much as his. Your brain is turning into mush, not a single coherent thought exists as you feel his hand on your thigh spreading them wider, the other on the base of his cock as he guides it to your entrance.

“Ready?” he taps the tip of his cock against your clit.

“Uh-huh.” You breathe out fervently. Your palms cradling the sides of his face, and you think if you weren’t so horny you’d be making fun of the way he asked.

In spite of desperation clinging to your bodies, Heeseung sinks into you slowly. You’re not sure if he means to make you feel every inch of him or if he just simply likes moving like he has all the time in the world. Whatever it is, it has your head falling back with absolute bliss. A drawn-out moan – that is embarrassingly loud if you focus on it too much – escapes your mouth.

The stretch hurts so good.

Your body relaxes, almost melts onto the sheets as Heeseung starts moving inside of you, every thrust pulls a breathless melody out of you, and it’s met with a groan of his. A wet messy kiss atop your lips. With your eyes lolling back you almost forget who’s the person you’re with. That is until he speaks

“Oh- fucking shit. It feels like I’m diving into an ocean.”

“You’re so gross!” you complain with a whine, pushing at his shoulder.

“What?” he chuckles, resting his palm next to your head as he angles his hips better “You don’t like dirty talk?”

“I- shit” a moan interrupts you, forcing your words to fall apart “I’d prefer you shut your mouth.”

“You don’t like your boys whiny?” a smirk disperses across his lips as he quickens his movement. His forehead glistens with sweat.

“I like them dead and quiet,”

Fortunately for you, Heeseung doesn’t really say anything back to that. Only laughs as his thrusts grow deeper and faster seeming to be focusing on his need to cum and you follow.

“’m gonna cum.” He pants as he keeps pounding into you, grunts tumbles out his lips with every thrust.

Your moans are growing louder and whiner as little encouraging ‘yeah’s’ is all what he lets out till both of you are tipped over the edge of ecstasy. Your orgasm hits you so mind-blowingly hard that even when Heeseung rolls off you with a sigh, your body is still shaking.

“I gotta say,” he starts after a few short whiles of silence, and you hum “that was a pretty good therapy session.” His lips pull into a toothy grin as he gives you a thumbs up.

You roll onto your side with a heartwarming laugh, one that has him genuinely smiling as he watches you with softened eyes. with your messy hair and flushed face and yet you still gleam like the first time he saw you.

“Cured all my problems. 10 out of 10 would definitely recommend.” he adds, and your laugh grows louder in volume but softer in the way you it leaves you, like it flees your being without fight.

“Me too.” You smile at him.

It’s only twenty minutes later when both of you are cleaned up that silence fills the little spaces between you. It isn’t confining in any way, in fact it’s a much rather peace that you welcome as Heeseung rests his back against the headboard. Eyes glued to the screen of the tv as toy story 3 plays and you’re next him chewing on a birthday cake cookie.

“Hey stitch?” you call after finishing your cookie, dusting the crumbs off your fingers.

“Yeah?”

“Earlier when you said that girl reminded you of awful stuff,” you hesitate for a moment, yet it’s gone as fast as it comes “you meant when you were a kid, didn’t you?”

Heeseung does not avert his eyes away from the movie. His expression does not shift, and his few seconds of silence has you slightly faltering. It’s like he knew this question was gonna come up someday, maybe he’s a little more than glad it’s just you and no one else.

“Do you remember that time me and Ryujin were trying to kill a spider but then I got really angry at her?”

“Yeah, she said 'our baby boy is scared' and you snapped at her to never call you that again.” You reply as the memory comes back to you without needed proficiency. It’s solely because Heeseung was never the type to get angry. so moments where he isn’t as controlled are glued to the back of your mind.

On the screen Andy is packing his toys into a trash bag, despite your lack of love for those movies you have watched them so many times thanks to Heeseung that you think if you were to be quizzed, you’d able to recall every single scene easily.

“My teacher used to call me that.” His voice has dropped into a whisper, one that comes from shameful confessions and if you were to lean closer to him you think you’d be able to pick on the broken vulnerability that colors them.

It all clicks in your mind, like loose threads finally connecting into an actual string, pieces of a puzzle that had finally fallen into place. You recall all the times you have played truth and dare and Heeseung has spoken about losing his virginity while he was only twelve years old. The majority of you thought he was just a teenage boy playing games, exaggerating his experiences to appear cooler because when you’re that young what else do you have?

But the longer you’ve known him, the more signs you have noticed. The more you have become aware of the type person he is. The person who would never exaggerate in the favor of a lie. All the times he had warned Niki about teachers. They were all warning signs that he had to endure first.

“I’m sorry, Hee. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” You say, inching closer to him and resting your head on his shoulder just like earlier tonight. Yet your heart weighs heavy in your chest, sinking with the anguish you know remains in him.

“I had a feeling you already knew anyways,” he replies with a shrug yet his eyes sparkle like the kid you used to know or maybe it was just the light of the tv reflecting into his irises.

Was it slivers of agony or relief at letting loose?

“What makes you think that?”

“Because you’re you,” this time his eyes shift, turning to you and a slight smile tilts his lips upwards “you always notice the small things people do or say and then worry about them in this little head of yours.” He ends it with a harmless poke with his index fingers to your forehead and you push it away with a small giggle.

“Well should I be worrying about you or are you okay?” you softly ask, your words nearly drowned out by the arguing voice of Woody and Buzz.

“I will be.” He asserts.

“You know you can talk to me about anything right? I’m always here for you.” you stare at him incredulously. Despite your thoughts that you don’t voice, mostly directed at how strong you think he is. Heeseung has never seen a gaze as clear, as strengthened as yours.

“Yeah, unfortunately I’m stuck with you.” he teases with a smile and the loud gasp of offence you let out has him cackling.

"I love you, stitch."

"I don't think you should say that after we just fucked."

Your expression drops and you wish to dig your nails into his arms until bleed seeps out but you know even then that won't be enough so instead you march towards the tv and unplug it.

Heeseung's loud scream of pure pain sounds like music to your ears and you can't but laugh like a villain that has finally taken their revenge.

Heeseung has been a constant in your life for as long as you remember and you know he’s always gonna be.

There’s a weakness that coats your flesh, it remains even throughout hallow promises of collecting power during the weekend. You thought the idea of not seeing Jake for a few days would make it easier, yet it remains, remains, remains.

It wraps around your quivering heart that has been screaming for nothing but the tenderness that colors affection. It’s one that runs through the tips of your fingers as you brush your hair. It’s in the longing seeping into your gaze whenever you look into the mirror. in the sparkle stolen from the light as it reflects on the necklace around your neck.

You don’t understand how it is all possible for this to unfold. How does longing manage to break through your anger, dwindle it into nothing as if it never existed, it shakes your bones from beneath and then you’re staring at your palms with a knot forming in the middle of your throat and the realization comes vigorously fast, akin to a beaten kid coming home from a battle she was too young to face, too naïve to discern the type of conditions she was surrounded with. Too far gone into dreamland and yanked back into reality with no time in your hands to deem yourself ready. Forced to dismantle through your delusions one by one only to finally make peace with the fact that they were nothing more than that.

Delusions.

You are no liar and yet how come you are so good at spilling endless fabrications to your reflection? Because the truth is, no you hadn’t found enough willpower in you to make peace with anything, surely not with the longing leaking across your pillow despite Heesung’s lingering scent.

The sunlight infiltrates through the spaces of your curtains announcing the beginning of a new day and sleep slowly escapes you. Your ceiling stares back at you as you ponder on the thoughts of missing Jake and wondering all the same if he feels like he lost someone important as well?

Your thoughts only seem to upsurge in volume as you go through your morning routine after you stumbled out of your empty bed, no traces of warmth are anywhere to be seen, only an ignominious ache.

It was an odd feeling. To mourn someone that wasn’t yours to begin with. You have had one-sided crushes throughout your life, gone through relationships that left you with scars that felt imprinted upon the surface of your heart enduringly yet despite all your experiences, despite all the tears you shed thinking that nothing is gonna hurt as much as this. It was nowhere near close to what you have felt these past couple of days. Switching from missing to hurt then anger and then nothing.

Distracting your mind from overthinking this is a trying task, forcing yourself not to be a coward because deep down you know every word of counsel that has tumbled out of Heeseung’s mouth is nothing but the truth. You knew you couldn’t keep running in the name of wounded pride covered up by your refusal to accept your feelings.

On your way to work you dwell on which part of you is more embarrassing, which layer of skin you wish you could peel off of you, was it your ceaseless ability to fall for the wrong people or was it the fact that you feel like you’ll forget your own name before your heart stops calling Jake’s name?

For perhaps the worst kind of luck or maybe the luckiest you could ever get (you aren’t very sure yet). You don’t get the chance to talk to Jake in the early hours of the morning. Nothing but the words “Good morning” with a nervous smile was thrown from your way to everyone else before he was pulled into his own cycle of seemingly endless work. Although it had you growing unnerved at first, somewhere along the way you fall into distractions from the fastening beats of your heart and intermingled anxious thoughts as well.

It's only during lunchtime that you stumble into him, for what feels like the first time in a while. You had wandered into one of the dressing rooms, looking for a missing piece of document you had to print out for Jay. And surprise had climbed up your face with speed you are not able to conceal at the sight of Jake slumped down onto one of the couches, his lunch half eaten on the table in front of him.

“Oh-“ you pause with a rattled breath when he looks up, his darkened gaze catches yours enriched with odd power you pretend not to know where it comes from “I was just looking for something Jay asked for-“ you hurriedly explain, as if you had managed to stagger into a space where you weren’t welcome.

But then as if every word lingering at the tip of your tongue withers away, it’s replaced with a tenacious softening in your stare, it darts between the weariness clinging onto his face, the lethargy dragging his eyes down, the weight of the earth drains the color of life from his skin and it is enough reason for tenderness to emanate from the depths of your heart.

“Holy shit.” your words escapes forcefully when your eyes land on his hands. They're badly scarred, with evidence that he had fallen into the habit of over washing them again "are you okay?" you can’t help but exclaim as sincere as you will ever know to be. Your concern only seems to deepen, pulling like tightened knots at the corners of your heart when Jake’s eyebrows drop in closer defeat than anything else.

you bite down on your lip wishing you hadn't lost control over your words.

You are oblivious to how torturous your kindness is. How the way you look at him makes his skin crawl in the worst way possible not because it’s doused in pity but rather genuine worry for his wellbeing. He is so frustrated. At you, for being so loving, so giving and so kind, so you. and then he is more than anything is infuriated with himself, with how he rolls out of bed feeling displaced in his own body, his own skin. He is extremally irritated with the cruelty of his words that echo in his mind like a broken record and then he finds irritation directed at you yet again, he wishes you would treat him just as cruel as everyone else. He wishes you weren’t as forgiving as he had hoped the world would be. He wishes you didn’t look at him as the human he always yearned to be.

He wishes

“I’m okay,” he clears his throat, his hand runs through the locks of black on his head when your distress only intensifies with unconvinced eyes cutting through him “yn.” he calls and you melt, a stranger overbearing urge to wail clambers over your being and him overtaken with an ache to crumble under your presence just the same, you for finding sentimentality in the cadences of his tone and him, for the way your name tastes foreign with seriousness on his tongue.

“Can we talk? Please.” He finishes, the last word pushed with a clouded whisper.

You hesitate, he thinks he senses it in the way your fingers tighten around the doorknob ever so slightly, yet only you are aware of the hastening beats of your heart, trashing around the walls of your chest and then you let out a breath, seemingly to travel from the depths of your being before you nod.

“Sure. I’ve been meaning to talk to you as well.” Your answer comes with a subtle smile titling your lips upwards.

You close the door behind you with an almost suffocating nerves tinting the air, steps twined with strained nervousness at the thought of being alone with him. Truthfully it hasn’t been that long and yet you somehow feel like it’s been decades since the last time you had his arms around you, since his lips touched yours.

“Should I start or you?” he asks when you’re sitting in front of him, your eyes dance around each other as if you had finally found time to drink each other in, as if this was the last time you’ll ever have the chance to.

“You, first.” you reply after a stretching silence.

And then it stretches a tad bit longer when Jake looks down at his intertwined fingers, seeming to collect his thoughts into words with enough meaning away from your clear gaze. He deems himself underserving of being looked at with anything other than disdain.

“I- I’m not sure how to begin but-“ he stammers, his words staggered as if lost in direction and your mind flees with the same lack of direction simply because you had never seen him this unsure – this unknowing “I know last time we talked I’ve said some really fucked up shit- that you definitely did not deserve to hear.” He looks up, his gaze unwavering compared to his trembling words “I just- I don’t know I guess I was deflecting or running away. But the point is I’m sorry.”

His sincerity renders you mute for a few counted seconds, it’s as fleeting as your hurt, your anger. As fleeting as the cracks that had formed on the surface where affection beats.

“You really hurt my feelings, Jake. It was especially hurtful because I had opened up to you and it felt like you used that against me.” you speak after a while, a bite to your lower lips as your gaze travels across his face and you watch, with devoted attention to the way his eyebrows furrow and an almost sunken expression takes over his face.

“Fuck. bunny I know.” He hisses as if the fact that pain found place in you because of him hurts him just the same “I’m really fucking sorry. I wish I could take it all back.” He continues and you chew on the insides of your cheek, seemingly unsure of what to say.

“If it means anything I want you to know none of the words I said were anything close to the truth. Niki is really lucky to have you. and I – holy fuck I think you’re such a good sister – you’re a good person and anyone to be lucky enough to have a drop of your generosity should be endlessly thankful.”

“Do you mean that?” you ask, cheeks coloring pink and your lips twitching skywards.

“I do.” He answers with a sigh.

“Okay.” your smile stretches against your will, your eyes tentatively catching his and there’s a shift in the air as his shoulders drop in something akin to relief, you’re not sure if it’s at the sight of your smile or the forgiveness that disperses across your being with no intentions to hide.

“You forgive me?” he asks, softly and weirdly vulnerable. It feels ill-fitted, yet it pulls at your heartstrings effortlessly, has your mind wandering into a hole of memories, trying and failing to pinpoint when did exactly Jake have this strong of an effect on you as your eyes loll anywhere else.

“I would be lying If I said I won’t feel a pang of hurt every time your words come back to me.” you start, your thumb and forefinger toy with your bunny necklace in what seems to be a growing habit of yours “but I know you’re being sincere right now and I appreciate that. It’s just gonna take me a while to forget.” you smile faintly, hoping to ease the bitterness that follows your words.

A deeper part of your essence knows that you have already made enough room for Jake to take pieces upon pieces of your soul, it knows that the only reason hurt would ever unfurl into your heart, it is solely out of self-doubted pity at yourself, saturated with questions upon questions that you cannot find an answer to. Simply because there’s no right for you to question him.

Did you also feel like you lost someone important?

“That’s fair.” He replies and unlike you his eyes stay glued to yours, reminders of how paradoxical you are to him, how your gaze abides with a gleam that lights up his insides, a darkened corner that shall never be illuminated by anything other than you, your existence almost helps him forget he came from poison.

It's too much for him to bear, perhaps it’s why his tendency to flee comes to life mostly around you, perhaps it’s why he would never show, perhaps because the bigger remnant of him would never allow it.

“You said you wanted to talk to me as well?” he questions when you finally catch his gaze, falling into a familiarly dangerous game that always starts with you praying not to lose.

“Oh yeah,” he had almost forgotten how easily your emotions betray you with displays you cannot hide, and now he can’t look away from the tint of pink settling upon your cheeks “I’m also sorry about pressuring you. I just thought we were growing...” your fingers sheepishly trail to your necklace once again, the dullness in his soul slowly dissipates the longer he watches you cradling what feels like a fragment of him.

For a scarce moment, a transient second where his self-control falters, he wonders if you feel the same way.

“Closer.” You finish with a smile tinged with nervousness, cutting through his moment vastly enough to compose himself.

“We were.” He exhales, a deep breath that feels stolen from the depths of your chest “I’m just an idiot so do not ever apologize to me.”

There’s a brief silence that settles upon the two of you, it’s woven with a mountain of unspoken words, it’s in the way your gaze softens so marginally and the way conflicting emotions seeps into his. Albeit not much time has passed at all, with the knowledge of your own feelings you feel more wavering than ever, easily swayed by every syllable.

Now that you’ve given a name to plaster onto the truth, you grow scared, a part of you cowers in fear. Were you foolishly drowning in your feelings that you’ll end up suffocating on this growing tension? Or were you just easily far gone, seized with an impotent lack of power? of being unable to feel solid again?

“There’s something else I need to tell you.” you breath out, as if your body is sinking with the heavy tension staining the air.

Jake nods with conformation for you to continue.

“I know we promised we would be honest with each other.” You clear your throat, the seriousness dousing your voice has him regaining focus “So...” you’re toying with your fingers, pads brushing upon your own knuckles and somehow, you’re unsure why you’re growing to be this nervous to spill the past events that has taken place.

“What is it? You can tell me.” he encourages, the softness inundating his voice feels unjust it almost has you curling onto yourself, hoping to shrink in size just so you won’t be witnessed by him.

Were his eyes always this sharp like he had the potency to peer into your inside?

“I had sex with Heeseung.” you bunglingly confess, and with curiosity filling your being, you gauge his reaction as your eyes dart everywhere upon his face.

You don’t know what exactly you were expecting to see but what ends up being reality isn’t very far from the image you dreamt of in your head on the way to work. Jake is stoic, compared to you, his eyes reveal nothing, the few parcels of softness emanating from him mere minutes ago are washed by what seems to be a silence tinged with confusion.

“Heeseung your friend that you always talk about?” you nod and something closer to surprise travels up his face vastly, in the raise of his brows you find yourself tilting your head slightly “The toy story guy?” he asks again with evident disbelief coating every word.

“Yeah, him.” You trail off slowly, your own brows furrowing when Jake opens and closes his mouth a couple of times as if he isn’t sure of what to say.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?” you ask, a deeper frown of dubiety settling onto your forehead.

“I thought you guys were just friends.”

“We are.”

“I’m just a bit confused about your dynamic.”

“I thought you didn’t care who I fuck.” You don’t know why you’re growing frustrated; it trickles its way into you unexpectedly, maybe because this type of reaction was the only option you hadn’t thought about, or maybe it’s because your limbs feel heavier with what feels like judgment and it’s the sole reason why your words came out like a snap. Sharpened enough for Jake’s eyes to widen slightly.

“Of course you are free to do whatever you want.” His words come out easily, draped with certainty that pushes you further and further into frustration.

You tell yourself it’s not because it’s the opposite of how you feel.

“Then why do I need a reason?” you need to stop.

“Maybe I was just tired of feeling like shit after sex,” stop, stop, stop

“And Heeseung doesn’t make me feel that way. In fact I felt really good after.” It’s too late for you to stop anything, not when your words – like splashed blood- percolates through his gaze.

“Right.” He mumbles – barely audible and yet you catch it with your tightened chest.

You sink your top teeth into your bottom lip with something akin to regret for spilling the truth in a time when it wasn’t meant to be revealed. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go, and the ugliness of your hurt shouldn’t be this visible, not when you had finally been able to exchange a few words with him.

“Anyway.” You say with an attempt to get out of whatever this was “I know being clean is important to you. so, I did get tested, and I told Heeseung to do the same,” you speak when nothing more escapes his lips, you try not to let your disappointment manifest but the shake in your fingers as you rummage through your bag for the piece of evidence could ever be telling “He didn’t send me his results yet but- “

“It’s fine. You don’t have to do any of that” Jake’s voice cuts through the air.

“What?” you pause, looking up at him.

“I’ve been thinking about everything,” his eyes flit to the table momentarily before stumbling upon your stare once again and your ribcage tightens even more around your heart “I think it’s best if we stop this whole thing.”

“Oh.” This time it is you who sinks into silence, your eyes falling upon your lap with the same loss of hopefulness, another futile try to not be witnessed.

It is all a façade you put on, draped with concealed disenchantment at yourself for wanting him so badly and then at him for not wanting you the same way. However, your mind is plagued with thoughts threatening to increase in volume. Louder and louder maybe that wasn’t the full story, it never is. Did you perhaps ruin another thing yet again? Have you spoken too much? Have you crossed the line? Have you-

“This whole thing between us- feels like it has strayed away from what it was originally meant to be.”

You don’t realize you have been staring at your open palms as if you’re looking for what type of blame to throw upon yourself until he speaks, his tone is as soft as you remember it to be. Similar to the way he speaks on gray skied mornings or starry nights. You look up, unaware of what kind of expression you’re wearing yet the lack of emotions etched onto his brings you some kind of relief. At least you aren’t displaying the nails digging into your fragile heart.

“You’re right.” You say, more like a hushed revolution between the ache in your chest and the hollowness taking place in your stomach.

It shouldn’t come to you as a new discovery, yet it does, like a bucket of unanticipated cold water after soaking under the warmth of the sun for too long. There’s no way for you to be the reason behind anything because Jake never cared about you that way. It’s not like this relationship that isn’t even anything closer to an actual relationship were meant to last a long time either way. It was you who stumbled; it was you who was colored with ugly yearning, yearning, yearning… and it was you who got hurt over and over again. And it was you who was willing to go back despite it all.

What a fool.

The words you wanna say are scattered and endless, doused with vines of inexplicable unsightly emotions. your vocal cords itching to pour out your anger, bear your bruised heart out at him with screams to look at what pining for you have made of me!

“it’s not anything personal. I just feel like I keep hurt-“

“It’s fine,” you cut him off with a strained chuckle “you don’t need to give me excuses.”

“They’re not excuses, bunny. I truly-“

“Seriously Jake it’s okay.” You look up at him and his mouth falls shut with inexplicable emotions of his own, you could only hope your irises don’t shake under the weight of your unspoken truth “It’s not like this was meant to last anyways. We both had our fun and now it’s over. It’s not that deep.” Your smile comes up twirled with coldness he had never seen in you, it waters his self-hatred, embraces it with whispers of I told you so.

“Yeah.” he utters, weighted down and the room darkens with you two existing in the same space.

So much time has passed, so many tears have descended your cheeks with scalding realizations. Perhaps you are a liar, perhaps you have driven yourself into insanity and have surrounded yourself with imaginations that are nowhere near reality. Because there’s no way whatever has traverses between you is anything close to the truth, not when your chest keeps tightening and an awful ache to weep clambers over your being.

Perhaps it was all in your mind.

“Well! I better get back to work.” You speak with faux cheerfulness; with a slight clap of your palms, you stand up with attempts to pull pieces of yourself together, covets to remain strong enough to look at him in the eye, despite the awkwardness that rises in the room, despite the misplaced softness seeping into his gaze.

It’s all unfair and you wish he wouldn’t look at you like he had more to say, you wish he wouldn’t look at you the same way he had tattooed his counterfeit claim on your back before everything fell apart.

How violent it is for him not to look at you like you are as fleeting as you wish to be.

“Jay is probably looking for me.” you add, your eyes slowly travel down to Jake’s intertwined fingers. The aftermath of his own pain marks his pale skin with scars. It remains a tragic sight to behold.

“Yeah, I’m sorry if I have- you know” he clears his throat “kept you long.”

“Yeah.”

Your limbs quiver with demands for you to just leave and yet your heart fights back with pathetically human emotions. It’s the same bit of you that have always pushed you into too far in, constantly. The same bit that had you slipping into Jake in the first place.

How could this ever last when both of you were stringed together with loneliness and blood?

Silently you rummage through your bag for a healing ointment you had bought for him a while back. Your mind keeps screaming at you to just leave, leave, leave! and your heart cries – begs to risk this small gesture of care that will surely break you down, release this small wave of affection that will surely overwhelm you.

“Bunny I’m okay.” Jake speaks when you place the small tube of medicine onto the table, his eyes flickering between it and you.

“You have so many important shoots coming. Photoshop can only go so far.” You reply and he looks away, as if looking at you is unbearable and you wonder why his soul seems to shake the same away yours does.

Come on.

“You should take care of your hands till then.”

Make it easy,

You don’t wait for an answer from him and instead you’re turning away in mere seconds, the space between the door and the couch were sitting on feels incredibly long and you curse yourself at the way your eyes fill with tears before you make an escape. Before you’re far enough from him. But truthfully, no distance on this earth feels enough.

Jake has already stained you, tainted your insides. And now as you lean on the nearest wall as soon as you’re in the hallway, your hands clamped on your mouth to quieten your sobs, your tears fall one followed by another with refusal to cease, you realize you shouldn’t have let yourself waver, you shouldn’t have lied to yourself with lies like slipping is nowhere near as painful as falling, that you had it all together. You shouldn’t have allowed yourself to wander through this overgrown field of affection with whispered lies.

Inside the dressing room, Jake has his face buried in the same palms that had cradled your face countless times but you’re nowhere close enough, not for him to feel you anyway.

Jake abides with a semblance of unamended broken bones, wounds too deep to heal, the marks are everlasting evidence that stays. And you remain a semblance of overflowing forgiveness akin to running water that quenches the thirst of by passers. Yet he is unworthy, so unworthy in ways you would never understand.

Jake is tarnished, scabbed, evil and unforgiven.

You will remain unaware of the harshly stabbed knives into his heart each time he’s faced with the fact that he hurts you, you’re unaware of the abhor that runs alongside his blood for himself, for existing and for persistently bringing misfortune to everyone that breaths the same air as him.

And he remains unaware of the way your body, heart and every atom of your being aches for him.

The world, as big as it is, in this mere moment feels too small for the torment setting on you and him, it’s in the way he flinches when he catches his reflection in the scars on his hands they’re not deep enough, not ugly enough and they don’t hurt enough to punish him, it’s in the way you flinch when your body shakes with fallen tears as your yearning heart weeps, his, rattling with immense agony that feels impossible to fathom. It screams and screams;

Come on

Make it easy,

Say I never mattered.

→ taglist : @slutforsjy @wonwoos-wineparty @nxzz-skz @piripurora @vousty

@realrintaro @slut4hee @chartrucewhore @iveivory @xyztammy

@jooniesbears-blog @hee4lifer @babrieeee @softieluvsyou @onlyhyunjin

@fuxktaekook @lukeysgiggle @faithnsstuff

@jakeyverse @belovedsthings @vveebee @duhgurl @niniissus

@dreamiestay @lhspeachie @illvding @luvrseung

@tanisha2060 @sngleehee @hmusunoo @chlodavids

@mandoscyare @danielleism @nessas-archive @pochamocharoll @thatonexcgirl

@jakesfurry @enhaslxt @missychief1404 @stargirl-gigi @ohwonzs