antochios - Tumblr blog

antochios · 16 days ago

Text

don't look back!

pairing: yandere!jungwon x reader

genre: backrooms au, thriller, psycho!jungwon

synopsis: while working late at the waterpark, you slip through reality and fall into the nightmare realm known as the backrooms. you think you’re alone—until you meet jungwon, a charming boy who offers comfort, survival tips, and the promise of an escape together. but something about him doesn’t feel right. the more time you spend together, the more his affection turns eerie... and the deeper you fall into his trap.

warnings (MDNI 18+ only!!) : smut(corruption kink, oral f receiving, fingering, mild marking/biting, unprotected sex), yandere themes, obsession, slight horror themes, manipulation, slight dub con, choking, some degradation, dom!jungwon, swearing, not proofread

note: this is probably my darkest work, and also my first time writing smut!! i hope you like it >///<

word count: 10.3k

backrooms au collection

if you liked this please comment or reblog to give me your feedback! <3

you had been working late at the waterpark again, the last employee left on closing duty.

the usual nighttime sounds surrounded you—the steady drip of water from the slides, the faint hum of the filtration system powering down, the occasional creak of the structure settling. it was peaceful in a way, being alone in the empty park after hours, though tonight the silence felt heavier than usual.

you pulled your hoodie tighter around yourself as you walked past the wave pool, the water still and dark now that the pumps were off. your sneakers squeaked against the wet tiles, the sound echoing strangely in the vast, empty space.

as you moved toward the tower of spiral slides to complete your final check, you couldn't shake the feeling that the air had grown colder, thicker somehow.

that was when you heard the first laugh—a high-pitched, playful sound that seemed to come from the top of the blue slide.

you froze, your grip tightening on the flashlight. that couldn't be right. you'd checked every area twice already, made certain no guests remained. the park was supposed to be empty.

"hello?" you called out, your voice steady despite the sudden chill running down your spine. "the park is closed."

there was no response at first, just the continued dripping of water and that odd, heavy silence.

you were about to dismiss it as your imagination when the laughter came again, closer this time, seeming to bounce off the fibreglass walls of the slides.

your pulse quickened as you approached the staircase leading up to the slide platform. the metal steps were slick with condensation under your hands as you climbed, your flashlight beam cutting through the darkness.

"if someone's up here, you need to leave now," you said, forcing authority into your voice even as your palms grew damp.

when you reached the top, the mouth of the slide gaped before you, a circle of darkness that seemed deeper than it should be. you crouched to shine your light down its length, expecting to see nothing but empty plastic. instead, there was movement—something pale flickering at the edge of your vision.

before you could react, the world twisted around you. it wasn't wind that pulled at you, but something far more unnatural. the slide's opening seemed to stretch, the darkness within it suddenly alive and hungry. you tried to scramble back, but your feet slipped on the wet platform.

as you fell forward, you realised this wasn't just a slide anymore. the walls pressed in around you, warm and yielding like flesh, the air thick with the cloying scent of chlorine and something decaying. you flailed, trying to find purchase, but there was nothing to grab onto as you tumbled through that impossible space.

then there was only nothingness.

the impact knocked the air from your lungs before you even realised you'd stopped falling. your elbows stung where they'd slammed against the tile, your ribs aching like you'd been folded in half.

for several terrifying seconds you just lay there, gasping, your vision swimming as you tried to remember how to breathe. when you finally managed to push yourself up, your hands slipped on the damp floor—not the smooth fibreglass of the slide, but something older and cracked that felt wrong.

the slide was gone.

you whirled around, panic rising like floodwater in your chest, but there was only a wall behind you—water-stained wallpaper peeling away to reveal moldering drywall beneath. the cheerful cartoon dolphins printed on it were faded, their smiles stretched and warped where the paper bubbled.

your breath came in short, sharp bursts as you staggered to your feet, the room tilting dangerously around you. this wasn't possible. you'd just been at work. you'd just been checking the slides.

the space around you stretched endlessly in every direction, a nightmare parody of the waterpark you knew. the same blue-and-yellow colour scheme, but bleached and sickly under flickering fluorescents. the wave pools were empty except for stagnant puddles that reflected the ceiling back at you in distorted fragments. the air clung to your skin, thick with the scent of mildew and that same overpowering chlorine sting—but underneath it, something sweet. cloying. like fruit left to rot in standing water.

"hello?" your voice cracked on the word, barely louder than a whisper.

when no answer came, you tried again, louder: "is anyone here?" the sound died almost instantly, as if the humid air had swallowed it whole.

you moved forward without meaning to, your sneakers sticking slightly to the tacky floor with each step. the lights buzzed overhead, their flickering intensifying as you passed beneath them. down one hallway lined with lockers rusted shut, past another shallow pool that had no visible edge—just tile that stretched on until it blurred into the distance. your fingers trailed along the wall for balance, coming away damp.

a sound from above made you freeze. not the creak of old pipes, but something... wetter. like flesh dragging across metal. you didn't look up. couldn't look up. your pulse roared in your ears as you forced yourself to keep moving, your breath coming too fast.

in the reflection of a murky puddle, you saw something move behind you—a pale shape where nothing should be. when you spun around, there was only an empty hallway. but the puddle rippled, as if whatever had been there had just stepped out of view.

you broke into a run.

the corridors twisted in ways that made no sense, leading you past the same cracked mirror three times, past a snack stand with its menu board melted like wax. your lungs burned, your thighs aching, but you didn't stop until you reached a small kiddie pool tucked between two crumbling walls. its cheerful mosaic tiles were chipped and faded, the painted sea creatures now just vague smudges of colour. you collapsed beside it, pressing your back against the wall as you struggled to catch your breath.

that was when you heard the whistling.

low. off-key. a tune you almost recognised but couldn't place. your blood turned to ice in your veins.

the sound was getting closer.

you scrambled behind a rusted lifeguard chair, its paint flaking away under your desperate grip.

the whistling continued, unhurried, accompanied now by the steady tap of footsteps against tile. a shadow stretched long across the floor before its owner appeared—a boy, maybe your age, dressed in a staff polo that looked freshly laundered. his black hair was neatly styled, his sneakers pristine where yours were soaked. the name tag on his chest caught the light when he moved, but the letters swam when you tried to focus on them.

he saw you immediately. of course he did.

"there you are," he said, as if you'd been keeping him waiting. his voice was pleasant, almost friendly, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. they stayed dark and unreadable as he took a step closer.

"it's not safe to be out alone."

you pressed yourself harder against the wall, your mouth dry. he looked human. normal. but nothing here was normal.

when he extended his hand, his fingers were clean. no dirt under his nails. no dampness on his skin.

"come on," he urged, tilting his head slightly. "before they find you."

above you, the lights flickered again. somewhere in the distance, something heavy dragged itself through water.

his smile never wavered.

your fingers twitched before you even realised you were reaching for him—some primal part of your brain screaming that warmth meant safety, that another human voice in this suffocating silence was worth clinging to, no matter how wrong this all felt.

his hand closed around yours without hesitation, his skin almost feverishly hot compared to the clammy chill clinging to your own.

"i'm jungwon," he said, pulling you to your feet with unsettling ease, like your weight meant nothing.

his fingers lingered a second too long when he let go, leaving behind a tingling imprint that made you want to rub your palm against your jeans.

"you're lucky i found you first."

the words slithered under your skin. first before who? before what?

he was already moving, his steps light and certain against the warped tiles as he led you down another decaying hallway. you followed because there was no other choice, your sneakers squeaking against the damp floor while his made no sound at all.

when you opened your mouth to speak, your voice came out cracked and thin: "where—"

"this place doesn't have a name," he interrupted, glancing back with a smile that didn’t crinkle the corners of his eyes. "not one you'd understand."

his gaze flickered over your face, lingering on the way you bit your lip, the rapid flutter of your pulse in your throat.

"i call it the aquatic sector."

your breath hitched. the backrooms. those creepy internet stories you'd skimmed late at night, half-believing, half-mocking.

"like... the backrooms?" you whispered, the word tasting absurd even as it left your tongue.

jungwon's smile didn’t waver, "something like that." he said it so casually, like he was discussing the weather, and the sheer normality of his tone made your stomach twist.

he turned a corner without checking if you followed—of course you did, where else would you go?—and you realised with a jolt that he knew this place. the way his shoulders never tensed at the distant, wet sounds echoing through the pipes. the way he stepped over a particular cracked tile without looking down, avoiding the dark stain spreading beneath it like he’d done it a hundred times before.

when he finally pushed open a door marked staff only, the room beyond was so jarringly intact it made your eyes water. clean towels stacked neatly on a shelf. unopened cans of fruit lined up in a tiny pantry. a battery-powered lantern cast warm light over a faded couch, its cushions dented from use. it looked like a lifeguard break room plucked straight from your own world and dropped here, untouched by the decay choking everything outside.

"this zone's safe," jungwon said, watching your face as you took it in. he grabbed a water bottle from the cabinet and held it out to you, the plastic crinkling in his grip. "but only for now."

your fingers trembled as you took it, the condensation cool against your palm. you wanted to drink so badly your throat ached with it, but the way he watched you—head slightly tilted, dark eyes tracking the bob of your throat as you swallowed nervously—made your grip tighten without opening it.

something about the way his smile didn't reach his eyes, about how his uniform was still perfectly dry when your clothes clung damp and clammy to your skin, about how he'd known exactly where to find you in this endless maze.

"you should drink," he said, softer now.

he took a step closer and you could smell the faint citrus of his shampoo, so out of place here it made your pulse skip.

"you'll get dehydrated fast in this sector."

his fingers brushed yours as he reached to twist the cap off for you, and for a dizzying second you considered letting him. his touch was the only warm thing in this entire place. but then the pipes above you groaned, a wet, meaty sound that had you jerking back, the water bottle slipping from your grip to roll across the floor.

jungwon's expression darkened for just a second—a flicker of something sharp behind his pleasant mask—before he sighed and crouched to retrieve it.

"you'll learn," he said, more to himself than to you as he placed the bottle carefully on the table.

outside, something heavy splashed into one of the pools, the sound echoing through the thin walls. when you tensed, jungwon's hand settled between your shoulder blades, warm even through your damp hoodie.

"don't worry," he murmured, his breath stirring your hair. "i won't let anything hurt you."

the promise should have been comforting. so why did it feel like a threat?

time bent around you like wet paper, the hours stretching and warping until you couldn’t tell if minutes or days had passed.

jungwon became your only constant, your lifeline in this rotting, endless maze. he told you where to sleep (the staff break room, always with the door locked), when to hide (when the lights flickered in a pattern that wasn’t random), which corridors to avoid (the ones with the faint smell of overripe bananas). but he never explained why.

"don’t follow the laughter," he said one evening, or what you thought was evening, as you both sat cross-legged on the floor of the break room, sharing a can of peaches.

the syrup was too sweet, clinging to your teeth, but you ate it anyway because hunger gnawed at your stomach like a living thing.

you frowned. "what laughter?"

jungwon’s fingers paused where they’d been tracing patterns on the tile floor. he didn’t look up.

"you’ll know it when you hear it. it sounds almost human. almost." his voice dropped on the last word, and something in his tone made you set the can down, your appetite gone.

"that’s not an answer," you muttered.

he finally lifted his gaze, his dark eyes unreadable. "it’s the only one i can give you."

you wanted to push, to demand more, but then the walls breathed—a slow, wet expansion of the water-damaged drywall that made you recoil. jungwon didn’t even flinch.

"also," he continued, as if nothing had happened, "don’t trust water that moves on its own. and never, never go into a glowing slide."

"why not?"

he leaned forward suddenly, close enough that you could see the faint scar on his lower lip, the way his pupils swallowed the dim light.

"because some doors only open one way," he whispered. then he pulled back, his smile returning like a curtain falling.

"eat your peaches."

you noticed things, over time. the way the walls never dripped when jungwon was near, how the flickering fluorescents steadied when he walked beneath them, as if they were afraid to sputter out in his presence. you noticed how he watched you—constantly—his gaze lingering on the way you tucked your hair behind your ear, how your fingers trembled when you were tired.

and then you found the notebook.

it was tucked under his pillow, the leather cover worn soft. you hadn’t meant to snoop, but he’d been gone longer than usual (to "check the perimeter," whatever that meant), and the silence had pressed in on you until you needed something to focus on besides the sound of your own heartbeat.

the first page was a sketch of your face, rendered in startling detail. your lips slightly parted in sleep, your eyelashes casting shadows on your cheeks. you turned the page.

another. another. dozens of drawings, all of you—your hands clutching a blanket, your back arched in alarm when something had banged on the door the night before, your tear-streaked cheeks from when you’d broken down sobbing your third day here.

your breath caught.

"you’re beautiful when you’re afraid."

you hadn’t heard him come in. jungwon stood in the doorway, his head tilted, his expression unreadable. your fingers clenched around the notebook, the paper crinkling under your grip.

he stepped closer, his movements smooth and predatory.

"just kidding," he murmured, but his eyes—dark and endless—never left yours.

he pried the notebook from your hands with terrifying gentleness, his thumb brushing over a sketch of your crying face. "you’re beautiful all the time."

the air between you thickened, the silence broken only by the distant sound of something heavy dragging itself through water. jungwon didn’t seem to hear it. his gaze burned into you, possessive and hungry, and for the first time, you realised the most dangerous thing in this place wasn’t the shifting halls or the things that lurked in the water.

it was the boy standing in front of you, smiling like he already knew every way you’d break.

the air in the filtration room had been particularly thick that day, clinging to your skin like a second layer of sweat as you followed jungwon through yet another routine patrol.

you'd memorised the path by now—past the cracked wave pool tiles, left at the concession stand with its permanently stuck "hot dogs $3.99" sign, right at the third set of rusted lockers.

his flashlight beam cut through the perpetual twilight, illuminating dust motes that swirled like tiny galaxies in the stale air.

"wait here," jungwon said suddenly, his hand squeezing your wrist just a bit too tight before releasing.

the filtration tunnel gaped before you both, its mouth dark and damp.

"i need to check something. don't move." his smile didn't reach his eyes as he said it, the way it never did anymore.

you nodded, forcing your breathing to stay even as you watched him disappear into the tunnel. the moment his light vanished around the first bend, your body thrummed with nervous energy. this was it. you'd been watching for weeks, noting which corridors made him tense, which doors he always locked extra carefully. the copper-scented hallway to your right had been his most consistent avoidance.

the first step away from the tunnel entrance sent a jolt of electricity up your spine. your sneakers made barely a sound against the slick tiles, your movements practised after so many days of following his lead through these endless halls. the chlorine-copper smell grew stronger with each step, so potent it made your eyes water and your tongue feel coated in pennies.

halfway down the corridor, your foot caught on something soft. you barely stifled a scream as you looked down to see what appeared to be a waterlogged park uniform, the fabric bloated and discoloured. something about the way it lay—too flat, too empty—made your stomach turn. you stepped over it carefully, your pulse pounding in your ears.

the maintenance ladder appeared like a mirage, its rusted rungs nearly blending into the water-stained wall. you tested the first step with your weight, wincing as the metal groaned in protest. every creak seemed deafening in the silent hallway. as you climbed, the air grew noticeably colder, each breath forming visible clouds that dissipated into the gloom above you.

at the top, the platform was smaller than you expected, barely three feet across. the glowing slide pulsed before you, its eerie green light casting strange shadows across your trembling hands. up close, the hum you'd noticed from below vibrated through your teeth, setting your nerves on edge.

you hesitated, one hand hovering over the slide's entrance. jungwon's warning echoed in your mind, but so did the memory of his sketches, the way his fingers lingered just a beat too long when he touched you. the way he'd started saying "we" instead of "you" when talking about the future.

the decision crystallised in an instant. you launched yourself forward, the slide's surface shockingly cold even through your clothes. for one glorious moment, you felt weightless, the current carrying you forward with exhilarating speed.

then the world twisted.

the temperature plummeted so fast your muscles locked in protest. the smooth tunnel contorted violently, the walls rippling like disturbed water before going rigid at impossible angles. your scream caught in your throat as you were flung sideways, then upside down, the laws of physics abandoning you completely.

when you finally crashed into a brackish pool, the impact drove what little air remained from your lungs. the water tasted foul—salt and something organic, something living. you thrashed toward the surface, your limbs heavy with exhaustion and terror.

breaking through into the air brought no relief. the cavernous room stretched endlessly in every direction, the ceiling lost in shadow. the pool's edges weren't tile but something porous and veined, pulsing faintly in time with your racing heartbeat.

then you saw him.

jungwon stood perfectly still at the water's edge, his clothes soaked through as if he'd swum through miles of tunnels to reach you. water dripped from his hair into his eyes, but he didn't blink. the quiet rage radiating from him was more terrifying than any monster this place could have conjured.

"didn't i say," he began, his voice deceptively soft as he stepped into the pool, "not to trust glowing slides?" each word carried the weight of betrayal, his hands flexing at his sides.

the water resisted as you tried to back away, its viscosity suddenly wrong - too thick, too clinging. jungwon closed the distance effortlessly, his fingers wrapping around your biceps with bruising force as he hauled you onto the slick ground.

your body hit the floor with a wet slap, the impact reverberating through your bones. jungwon loomed over you, his knees caging your hips, his breath coming in sharp bursts that fogged in the frigid air. up close, you could see the way his pupils had swallowed nearly all the brown in his eyes, leaving only thin rings of colour around bottomless black.

"you could have died," he hissed, his voice cracking on the last word.

one hand came up to cradle your jaw, his thumb brushing roughly over your cheekbone.

"do you have any idea what's out there? what would have happened if i hadn't found you?"

tears spilled hot down your cheeks, the salt taste mixing with the brackish water still dripping from your hair.

"i just wanted to go home," you choked out, your voice barely audible over the distant, watery echoes of the cavern.

jungwon's expression fractured. he pressed his forehead to yours, his nose brushing against your tear-streaked skin.

"this is your home," he whispered, the words vibrating through your skull. "i'm your home."

his grip gentled as he pulled you upright, his arms wrapping around your shivering form in a mockery of comfort. one hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back until you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

"don't ever do that again," he murmured, his lips grazing your temple. the kiss felt like a brand.

"next time..." his fingers tightened almost imperceptibly in your hair. "next time i might not be able to save you."

the unspoken threat hung between you, heavier than the humid air, darker than the endless corridors stretching in every direction. as he helped you to your feet, his arm slung possessively around your waist, you realised with dawning horror that you'd just proven his worst fear.

and in doing so, you'd given him the perfect excuse to never let you out of his sight again.

that night, something inside you finally cracked open—not with the sharp snap of defiance, but with the slow, inevitable splintering of resistance worn down by exhaustion and something dangerously close to surrender.

you sat shivering on the edge of his mattress, the damp fabric of your clothes clinging to your goosebumped skin like a second layer of shame. the scent of chlorine still clung to your hair, undercut by something darker—something organic and vaguely sweet, like fruit left to rot in standing water, which seemed like a recirring scent in this place.

jungwon knelt before you, a threadbare towel in his hands, his movements methodical as he dragged the rough fabric up your calf. the friction should have warmed you, but you only felt colder with each pass, your skin pebbling under his touch.

"you never listen," he whispered, his voice almost affectionate, the way one might scold a beloved but wayward pet.

his fingers tightened slightly around your ankle—not enough to hurt, just enough to make the bones shift under his grip.

"do you know how many rules you broke today?" his thumb pressed into the hollow beneath your ankle bone, a silent demand for your attention.

you swallowed hard, your throat clicking with the motion. "i just—"

"shh," he interrupted, pressing a finger to your lips. his skin tasted like salt and metal. "i know what you were trying to do. but we don't lie to each other, do we?"

his hand slid higher up your thigh, fingers pressing into the soft flesh there, just shy of bruising. "say it."

your breath hitched. "no. we don't lie."

"good girl." the praise curled warm in your stomach despite everything.

his thumb hooked into the waistband of your soaked shorts, tugging them down your legs with agonising slowness.

"i should punish you," he mused, his breath hot against your inner thigh as he pressed a kiss there, "but you look so pathetic like this."

his teeth grazed your skin—not biting, just testing. "all shivering and wide-eyed. like a drowned kitten."

you should have stopped him. should have pushed him away. but your hands stayed limp at your sides, fingers twitching against the mattress as he pulled you closer to the edge, his grip firm on your hips.

"jungwon—"

"tell me you're sorry," he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing the crease of your thigh.

your pulse pounded in your ears. "i'm sorry."

"for what, exactly?" his tongue darted out to taste you, just once, making your stomach clench.

"for—for trying to leave." the admission tasted bitter on your tongue.

he hummed, the vibration travelling straight to your core. "and?"

"for not listening." your voice broke on the last word.

his mouth found you then, soft at first—just the barest flick of his tongue that made your toes curl. then deeper, firmer, until you couldn't stifle the gasp that tore from your throat. your thighs trembled around his head, your fingers twisting into the sheets as he worked you open with his tongue, each lick sending sparks up your spine.

"that's better," he murmured against you, the vibrations making your hips jerk.

"this is what you need, isn't it? to be reminded?" his fingers dug into your hips, holding you still as his tongue circled your clit with devastating precision. "to be taken care of?"

you couldn't answer. your thoughts had dissolved into static, your body no longer your own. when you whimpered his name, he hummed in approval, the sound curling low in your belly.

"use your words, sweetheart." his breath was hot against your soaked skin. "tell me what you want."

"please—"

"please what?" he nipped at your inner thigh, just hard enough to sting. "you have to say it."

your vision blurred at the edges. "please don't stop."

he rewarded you immediately, his tongue laving over you in broad strokes before he pressed two fingers inside, curling them expertly until your walls fluttered around him.

"like that?" he asked, his voice rough. "you want me to make you cum? to remind you who you belong to?"

you nodded frantically, your hips rocking against his hand.

"say it." his fingers stilled inside you, denying you the friction you craved. "say you're mine."

the words stuck in your throat for only a second before you choked them out: "i'm yours."

he crooked his fingers just right, the heel of his palm grinding against you in time with each thrust, and you shattered—your back arching off the mattress, your walls fluttering around him as pleasure ripped through you like a riptide.

he kissed you after, his lips tasting of you, his grip bruising on your jaw as he held you in place.

"you're mine," he said again, his voice rough, his pupils blown so wide they swallowed the brown of his eyes.

"no one else gets to have you. not even reality."

his words settled into your bones like a curse. you wanted to protest. wanted to tell him you belonged to yourself, that this place wasn't your home, that you would find a way out. but when he pulled you against his chest, his heartbeat steady under your ear, you didn't resist. and when his fingers traced idle patterns over your hip—claiming and possessive—you let him.

because the worst part wasn't the way he touched you.

it was the way your body arched into his hand when he reached for you again.

the way your breath caught when he whispered, "again."

the way you obeyed.

after that night, the invisible leash around your throat pulled taut like a noose gradually tightening. jungwon became your shadow, your keeper, your only tether to anything resembling safety in this rotting labyrinth.

when he did leave—always with that same murmured excuse about "checking the perimeter"—the backrooms seemed to come alive with malicious intent. the first time it happened, you sat perfectly still for exactly three minutes after he left, counting each second by the erratic drip of water from a ceiling pipe.

then the lights began stuttering like a dying man's pulse.

"jungwon?" you called out, immediately hating how small your voice sounded.

the hallway ahead warped suddenly, the tiles rippling like water disturbed by some unseen force. when you turned to run back to the break room, the door you'd just come through was gone—replaced by a staircase that definitely hadn't been there before, its steps slick with something dark and viscous.

"no, no, no," you chanted under your breath, pressing your back against the wall as the staircase shifted again, the top step now leading to a ceiling vent far too small for any human to crawl through.

that was when you heard it—a wet, clicking sound from the darkness beneath the stairs, accompanied by the unmistakable scent of overripe bananas and something metallic. your stomach turned as the clicking grew louder, more rhythmic, like dozens of tiny bones knocking together.

jungwon found you exactly seven minutes later curled behind a stack of mouldy pool noodles, your nails digging bloody crescents into your palms.

"i told you not to wander," he sighed, crouching before you.

his fingers were warm when they pried yours open, his thumbs rubbing circles into your clenched fists.

"what did you see?"

"the stairs—they moved," you gasped, still trembling. "and there was something under—"

"shhh," he interrupted, pressing a finger to your lips.

his eyes darted to the hallway behind you, suddenly sharp. "don't say it out loud. this place listens."

he helped you stand, his arm slipping around your waist in a way that might have been comforting if not for how easily his fingers spanned nearly the entire width of your torso. "let's get you cleaned up."

you tried to assert yourself exactly once, three days later.

it started as a simple request—"i need space"—but the words came out cracked and brittle, like you were begging rather than demanding.

jungwon paused in the middle of rewrapping your blistered foot (when had you gotten blisters?), his head tilting in that unnervingly precise way of his.

"space?" he repeated, the word curling oddly in his mouth.

his smile bloomed slow and sweet, like blood spreading through water. "oh, sweetheart. there's nothing but space here."

his fingers brushed your ankle, trailing upward with deliberate slowness.

"endless, hungry space." when his hand reached your knee, he squeezed just enough to make your breath hitch. "i'm just protecting you."

you swallowed hard. "from what?"

jungwon leaned in so close his lips brushed your ear, his next words a warm puff of air that made you shiver.

"from what happens to pretty things that get lost in the dark."

he pulled back slightly, his dark eyes searching yours.

"this place listens to me. you don't want to hear what it says about you when i'm gone." his thumb traced your lower lip. "the way it licks its chops every time you stumble. the way the walls whisper about how sweet you'd taste."

that night, you woke abruptly to the feeling of something cool and padded encircling your wrists. your eyes flew open to find yourself in jungwon's lap, your arms secured to the bench with what looked like salvaged lifeguard rescue tubes—the orange foam frayed but still sturdy.

"w-what—" you stammered, panic surging as you tugged against the restraints.

"shhh, just for your safety," jungwon soothed, his fingers already carding through your hair. the casual ease with which he held you down sent ice through your veins.

"you were thrashing in your sleep again. nearly rolled right off the bench." he held up a can of peaches, the syrup glistening in the low light. "let's get some food in you, yeah?"

when you turned your head away, his grip tightened fractionally in your hair.

"now, now," he chided, popping the lid with a metallic snick. "none of that."

the first syrupy slice pressed against your lips was cold and cloying. "open."

the fight drained out of you with terrifying speed. by the third bite, you were chewing mechanically, the sweetness coating your tongue like medicine. jungwon's approving hum vibrated through you as he wiped a stray drop of syrup from your chin with his thumb—then sucked it clean with a soft, satisfied sound.

"good girl," he murmured, kissing each of your knuckles in turn. the shackles stayed on all night.

as the days bled together, resistance became a distant memory, as foreign as sunlight or fresh air.

his touches became your only constants—the steadying hand at your elbow when the floor suddenly slanted, the broad palm spanning your back when a corridor narrowed unexpectedly, the strong arms that lifted you effortlessly over patches of suspicious-looking water. in the hot pool (the one oasis in this rotting place, its waters always perfectly clear and heated), he would wrap around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder as the steam curled around you both.

"feel good?" he'd murmur, his hands drifting along your arms beneath the water.

you'd nod silently, too tired to lie or protest. his heartbeat against your back was the only rhythm left in this place, the only thing that still made sense.

the backrooms themselves seemed to worship him. puddles stilled when he approached, their surfaces going eerily smooth. hallways straightened obediently at his approach.

once, when you caught your reflection in the pool's surface, it grinned at you—wide and knowing—even as your own face remained carefully blank. when you jerked back with a gasp, jungwon just tightened his arms around you.

"just a trick of the light," he murmured, but his smile didn't reach his eyes.

the question burned in your chest for days before you finally found the courage to whisper it one night: "what are you?"

jungwon went very still, his fingers pausing where they'd been tracing nonsense patterns on your bare shoulder. for a long moment, the only sound was the distant drip of water and your own too-quick breathing.

"i used to be like you," he said at last, his voice soft with something almost like regret. "scared. lost. convinced there was a way out."

his hand returned to your shoulder, his thumb brushing the knob of your collarbone. "then i stopped pretending to be afraid. stopped fighting what this place wanted from me."

his lips grazed your temple, lingering just a second too long. "you'll understand soon."

the promise should have terrified you. should have sent you scrambling for escape. instead, a warm heaviness settled in your chest, spreading through your limbs like syrup. when he pulled you closer, you went without resistance, your head finding its familiar place against his shoulder.

outside your fragile bubble of warmth, the backrooms groaned and shifted—but here, cradled in jungwon's arms, the world held its breath. you closed your eyes, letting the steady rhythm of his breathing lull you into something like peace.

somewhere along the way, you'd forgotten how to fight.

somewhere deeper still, you'd stopped wanting to.

it had been weeks—or maybe months, you had no idea how the warped time her worked—since jungwon had let you out of his sight for more than a few minutes at a time.

you'd practised the request of wanting to sleep alone in your head for days, carefully framing it as concern for his own rest rather than your desperate need for space.

"you look tired," you ventured one evening as he rubbed your sore feet (when had you started letting him do that?).

your fingers played with the frayed edge of his sleeve, the fabric soft from countless washes in the pool's filtration runoff.

"maybe... maybe you should take a night for yourself. i'll be fine here."

jungwon's hands stilled on your instep. the silence stretched so long you could hear the drip-drip-drip of water from the ceiling vent counting out your racing heartbeat.

when he finally looked up, his smile didn't reach his eyes—those dark, fathomless eyes that always seemed to see straight through you.

"one night," he conceded, his thumb brushing the delicate bones of your ankle. the casual possession in that simple touch made your stomach clench.

"but scream if you need me." his fingers trailed up your calf, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "the walls carry sound beautifully here."

he left you in a small bunkroom near the filtration systems, the space eerily pristine compared to the decay everywhere else. thick blankets covered the narrow bed, their faded nautical patterns almost cheerful under the glow of luminous pool tiles embedded beneath the frame.

you waited until his footsteps faded completely before letting out the breath you'd been holding.

the second the door clicked shut, the air grew heavier, pressing against your skin like wet hands. you told yourself you wouldn't sleep—just rest your eyes until morning came, whatever that meant in this endless place. curling up on the bed, you pulled your knees to your chest and stared at the door, straining to hear anything beyond the ever-present hum of machinery.

every sound became magnified in his absence. the walls creaked like old ship hulls, the pipes groaned with more than just water pressure, and every distant droplet echoed like approaching footsteps. at one point, you swore you heard whispering—not words exactly, but something like the hiss of water through cracks, forming almost-syllables that prickled the hairs on your neck.

"it's just the pipes," you muttered to yourself, your voice thin and unconvincing in the heavy air.

pulling the blankets over your head, you tried to focus on your breathing, but the fabric stuck to your lips with each panicked exhale.

when the bed suddenly shifted beneath you—just a slight dip, like someone had sat at the foot—you nearly screamed. your muscles locked, every nerve ending alight with primal terror as you waited for the inevitable touch, the breath against your neck.

but nothing came. the silence that followed was worse than any sound, thick with anticipation and something else—something watching.

by the time jungwon returned, you were curled into a tight ball, your face pressed against your knees to muffle the quiet sobs wracking your body. the door opened without a sound, but you knew it was him from the way the room immediately stilled, the oppressive weight in the air lifting as if by command.

"oh, sweet thing," he murmured, his voice dripping with false sympathy as the mattress dipped behind you.

his hands were warm where they slid under your shaking form, gathering you against his chest like a child. you hated how easily you folded into him, your body betraying your mind with its immediate relaxation.

"see?" he whispered into your hair, his lips brushing your temple. "you're safest when i'm touching you."

you wanted to protest, to push him away, but your limbs felt leaden, your resistance worn to nothing by the terror of the empty hours. when your fingers twitched weakly against his chest, jungwon made a soft, approving sound and kissed your forehead.

"shhh, i know," he murmured, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck.

his thumb stroked the sensitive skin behind your ear in slow circles. "you just needed to learn, didn't you? needed to see what happens when i'm not here to keep you safe."

his kiss started soft, just the barest brush of lips. but when you didn't resist, it deepened, his mouth hot and insistent as his tongue slid against yours. the taste of him flooded your senses, metallic and sweet like the canned fruit he always fed you, and some broken part of you responded without thought, your hands fisting in his shirt.

when you didn’t pull away, he pressed deeper, tongue slipping past your lips with practised ease. he kissed you like he had the right to. maybe that’s what terrified you most.

“see?” he whispered against your mouth, tasting you in slow drags. “you’re already calmer.”

you weren’t. not really. but your breathing had steadied, your muscles unknotted just enough to stop trembling, and your arms were curled weakly around his shoulders. it felt… safer. wrong, but safer.

he coaxed your top over your head with ease, discarding it like it meant nothing. his hands were warm and slow as they skimmed over your skin, trailing reverent touches across your ribs and stomach.

“let me take care of you,” he murmured, more command than offer, but spoken like a promise. “you were scared without me. i know. i felt it.”

his mouth moved to your chest, kissing your collarbone, then lower. when he sucked your nipple into his mouth, you flinched, but didn’t stop him. the heat of his tongue, the way he hummed low in his throat when you arched into him—it made your stomach twist, shame and need tangled too tight to separate.

“you don’t have to think,” he murmured, his palm sliding down your side. “just let yourself feel.”

you should’ve said no. you didn't want his presence right? but you didn’t push him away, instead clung closer to him whispering a breathy okay. because your limbs still felt heavy, your brain still foggy with the memory of isolation and the cold silence of the bunk.

and his hands were so warm.

he kissed his way down your stomach, pausing to bite gently at your hip before nudging your thighs apart with his palms. his eyes flicked up, reading your expression in the low light. your breath hitched.

“tell me to stop,” he said. his voice was calm, but something coiled underneath it. “i’ll stop if you ask.”

you didn’t. you couldn’t.

and that was enough.

his mouth met your folds with agonising slowness, tongue sliding through you like he already knew exactly where to touch. he teased you with slow flicks, warm and wet, circling your clit until your hips twitched, then pulling away just to hear you whine. you hated how quickly your body betrayed you.

“you’re already dripping,” he murmured into your skin. “sweet thing… you missed this too, didn’t you?”

his fingers slipped into you without resistance, two of them stretching you gently. the stretch made you gasp, your walls clenching around him instinctively. he crooked them slightly—finding a spot that made you buck, unbidden—and smiled against your thigh.

“so sensitive,” he cooed, kissing the inside of your knee. “so good for me, even now.”

he kept going until your legs were trembling, slick pooling where his wrist met your body. you were panting, eyes hazy, brain empty of anything but the rhythm of his fingers and the hot drag of his mouth against your clit.

when he finally pulled back, you almost whimpered at the loss.

he stripped without a word, the soft rustle of fabric the only sound between you. when he hovered over you again, cock in hand, he paused at your entrance.

“i’ll go slow,” he said. “i want you to feel everything.”

he pushed in with a groan, hips moving with infuriating control, stretching you inch by inch. the burn was real. but so was the way you clenched around him, the way your legs wrapped around his waist out of instinct.

“fuck,” he breathed, resting his forehead against yours. “you feel like you were made for me.”

his rhythm started slow—careful, deep thrusts that filled you completely, his fingers locked with yours on the sheets. his other hand hovered at your throat again, resting lightly as if to say remember who’s in control.

and still, you didn’t push him away.

you didn’t want to.

you’d tried to sleep alone, and it had nearly broken you. here, at least, you could pretend his touch was warmth and not some strange obsession.

he moaned when you clenched around him, and his thrusts picked up pace, harder now, deeper. the bed creaked beneath you, his hips slapping into yours with a rhythm that turned everything else to static.

“you’re mine,” he growled, breath hot against your ear. “you know you’re mine.”

your orgasm hit with sudden force, tearing through you like a cracked dam. you cried out, shaking, your nails digging into his back.

jungwon swore, driving into you once—twice—before he spilled inside you with a shudder, pressing in so deep it felt like he was trying to disappear inside your body.

neither of you moved for a long time. he stayed buried in you, breath shallow, arms wrapped tight around your waist like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go.

“you won’t ask to be alone again,” he whispered against your hair. “will you?”

you didn’t answer. your eyes were already drifting closed.

he pulled the blanket up and curled around you, possessive and still, his fingers tracing lazy shapes across your stomach, like he didn't want to stop touching you.

“good girl,” he said softly. “sleep now.”

and you did, not because you felt safe.

but because you were too tired to be afraid.

the next night, jungwon’s fingers interlaced with yours in the dark, his grip just shy of painful.

"i want to show you something," he murmured, his breath warm against your temple. you hadn’t even heard him approach—he moved through these rotting halls like a shadow given form.

"it’s late," you whispered back, your voice hoarse from disuse. the words tasted like a lie because you both knew time didn’t exist here.

jungwon’s thumb stroked your knuckles, a mockery of comfort. "it’s always late here," he said, pulling you to your feet with effortless strength. "come on."

he led you to the broken diving board—the one with cracks spiderwebbing through its surface like veins. you’d passed it a hundred times, maybe more. but tonight, under the flickering glow of the emergency lights, something was different.

"watch," jungwon breathed, pressing your palm flat against what looked like solid wall.

beneath your fingers, the surface pulsed like a heartbeat before peeling away with a wet, tearing sound. your stomach lurched as a hidden alcove revealed itself, the air inside stale and thick with the scent of mildew and something sweet.

"what is this?" you choked out, trying to recoil, but jungwon’s arm banded around your waist, holding you in place.

"ours," he said simply, stepping inside and dragging you with him.

the shelves were lined with artifacts—your waterpark nametag, the plastic slightly warped as if melted. your favourite silver bracelet, the clasp broken, the chain tangled in on itself like a strangled snake. the hoodie you’d been wearing that first night, the fabric stiff with dried pool water and something darker.

"the place gave me these," jungwon murmured, running his fingers over each item with reverence.

his nails scraped against the nametag, the sound making your teeth ache. "it knew you belonged here." he turned to face you then, his eyes glowing an unnatural blue in the dim light. "just like i do."

your breath came in short, sharp bursts. "that’s not—that’s not possible."

jungwon stepped closer, the wall sealing shut behind him with a wet, sucking sound.

"you feel it, don’t you?" his hand rose to cup your cheek, his skin fever-hot against yours. "the way the water stills when you touch it? the way the lights flicker when you’re scared?"

his thumb brushed your lower lip, his grip tightening when you tried to turn away.

"you were always meant to be mine."

you wanted to scream. wanted to claw at his face until that smug certainty bled out of him. but your throat closed up, your voice abandoning you just as it had so many times before.

jungwon’s lips crashed into yours, wet and cold like the slide that had brought you here. his teeth caught your bottom lip, sharp enough to draw blood. the taste of him flooded your mouth—chlorine and copper and something alive, something wrong. behind you, the pool water began to ripple without any disturbance, parting in perfect symmetry as if making way for something unseen.

"see?" he panted against your mouth, his fingers tangling in your hair to keep you close. "even it knows."

the days bled together after that. you watched, numb, as the backrooms bent to jungwon’s will.

you sat cross-legged by the pool’s edge, trailing your fingers through water that had gone suspiciously still. jungwon watched you from a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest.

"make it move," he said suddenly, nodding toward the water.

you blinked. "what?"

"the water." he stepped closer, his shadow swallowing yours whole. "try."

you shook your head. "i can’t—"

"try," he repeated, his voice hardening.

you swirled your hand through the water, creating weak ripples that died almost immediately.

jungwon sighed, crouching beside you. "you’re thinking too small."

he placed his palm flat against the surface, and the water recoiled as if burned, forming a perfect circle around his skin.

"it’s not about force. it’s about knowing." his eyes locked onto yours. "knowing this place is yours."

you swallowed hard. "i don’t want it."

jungwon’s smile was all teeth. "liar."

the punishments grew subtler but no less cruel. when you tested him—when you asked one too many questions or pulled away from his touch—the backrooms themselves turned against you.

"why won’t you let me leave?" you demanded one night, your voice cracking.

jungwon, who had been humming under his breath while braiding a strand of your hair around his finger, went very still.

"leave?" he repeated, the word dripping with amusement. "oh, sweet thing. there’s nowhere to go."

the lights chose that moment to flicker violently before plunging you into darkness. something wet dripped onto your shoulder from above. jungwon’s fingers found yours in the dark, his grip vise-like.

"shh," he murmured, though you hadn’t made a sound. "it’s just angry you’d even ask."

when the lights returned, his knuckles were smeared with something dark and glistening. you didn’t ask.

sleep became your only respite, though even that was tainted. jungwon insisted you rest curled against him, his arms banded around your waist like living restraints.

"sing to me," he’d whisper into the nape of your neck on the bad nights, when the walls groaned a little too loudly.

his voice would curl around words you didn’t recognise, the language guttural and wrong.

"it’s an old lullaby," he explained once when you stiffened. "the first thing this place taught me."

sometimes he’d disappear for what felt like hours, returning with his hands stained rust-red under the nails and a smile that made your stomach drop.

"someone else got lost," he’d say, wiping his fingers clean on a towel that was somehow always pristine afterwards.

his eyes would roam your face hungrily, as if comparing.

"but they weren’t you."

the unspoken always hung heavy between you—they weren’t special. they weren’t his.

eventually, he began allowing you to explore—always with him, always with his hand clamped firmly around yours. the invisible leash between you grew shorter each day, tightening whenever you strayed too far.

"why do you hold my hand so tight?" you asked once, your voice barely above a whisper.

jungwon stopped walking, turning to face you. the hallway seemed to hold its breath around you. "because i can’t trust you yet," he said simply, his free hand brushing your cheek. "but you’re learning."

you held his hand not just out of fear, but because his skin was the only warmth left in this rotting place. because the hollow in your chest ached when he wasn’t near. because you couldn’t remember what your reflection had looked like before it started smiling at you with too many teeth.

the pool became your twisted mirror. no matter how still you stood, how blank you kept your face, your reflection always grinned back—wider each time, its eyes darker, its features sharpening into something that wasn’t quite yours anymore.

"she likes you," jungwon said one day as you stared at your warped reflection, his chin hooked over your shoulder. his lips brushed the shell of your ear. "she knows you’re staying."

and now it felt like you did too.

the tallest slide loomed before you—the same one that had first swallowed you whole months (or was it years?) ago. only now, it twisted upward into the flickering fluorescent void, its plastic edges blackened and glistening like the inside of a living throat. you could feel it breathing, each pulse of the structure sending warm, damp air washing over your face. jungwon stood behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist in a mockery of tenderness, his chin resting on your shoulder as you both stared into the abyss.

"it's beautiful, isn't it?" he murmured, his lips brushing your ear.

his fingers traced idle patterns on your stomach through your thin shirt.

"i've been waiting so long to show you this."

your throat tightened as the slide emitted a low, wet hum that vibrated through your shoes and up your spine.

"what... what is it?"

jungwon chuckled, the sound dripping with amusement.

"it's our way forward, sweet thing."

one hand rose to cup your chin, tilting your face toward the spiralling darkness.

"this one leads deeper. to where the water is warm and the lights never flicker," his thumb brushed your lower lip, "where nothing can ever separate us."

you swallowed hard, your pulse rabbiting in your throat. "i don't understand."

"you will."

his arms tightened around you, pulling you back flush against his chest. you could feel his heartbeat against your shoulder blades.

"it's where we belong. where you've always belonged."

when you turned in his arms to face him, your hands came up instinctively to brace against his chest. jungwon was already smiling, his dark eyes gleaming with something ancient and hungry. up close, you could see the way his pupils dilated—not round anymore, but slit like a cat's. when had that happened?

"we'll be happy there," he promised, his voice dropping to a whisper.

his fingers tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp. "no more running. no more fear. just you and me. forever."

the word hung between you, heavy and final.

you searched his face—the boy who had fed you when you were starving, who had shackled you when you tried to leave, who had kissed you with teeth that were just a little too sharp. the only constant in this endless, rotting nightmare.

"what happens to me if i say no?" you whispered.

jungwon's smile didn't waver, but something dark flickered in his eyes. behind him, the walls groaned, the sound wet and pained. a single drop of black liquid oozed from the ceiling, landing with a splat between your feet.

"oh, my love," he sighed, brushing your hair back from your face with terrifying gentleness. "that's not an option."

the slide pulsed again, the hum rising to a fever pitch that made your teeth ache. your reflection in the pool behind you grinned, wider than any human mouth should allow.

jungwon's hands slid down to grip your waist, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh there.

"trust me," he murmured, his lips grazing yours. "you want this."

and the terrible thing was—

you did.

you took a shuddering breath, your fingers curling into his shirt. jungwon's smile widened, triumphant and tender all at once. his forehead pressed against yours as the slide's opening stretched wider, the darkness inside beckoning.

"together?" you whispered, the word tasting like surrender.

jungwon's laugh was warm against your lips. "always."

you closed your eyes—

and let yourself fall.

ALTERNATE ENDING

you found it again.

the tallest water slide in the entire park—the one that had pulled you into the nightmare when this all began. even after everything, it was still here, standing exactly where you remembered it, though now it shimmered faintly with a green glow that pulsed gently from within the tunnel’s mouth.

jungwon stood beside you, just slightly behind your shoulder. he didn’t say a word. his silence was heavier than any threat he’d ever spoken aloud.

when you turned to glance at him, the absence of expression on his face was more unsettling than any of his smiles. he wasn’t smiling now. there was no softness, no cold affection, not even the hint of disappointment.

“it leads out, doesn’t it?” you asked, your voice quiet and unsteady, though you already knew the answer.

it had to lead out. you felt it. everything in your chest ached with the possibility.

jungwon didn’t answer. instead, he reached for your wrist. his fingers curled around it tightly—not enough to hurt, but firm in a way that told you he was prepared to hold on if you ran.

“it doesn’t matter,” he said eventually.

his voice was calm, too calm, as though your desperation was something he didn’t need to take seriously.

“you don’t want to leave.”

but he was wrong.

you did.

you wanted to leave more than you had ever wanted anything in your life. your body was already bracing to run, every instinct firing all at once. your heart pounded in your chest, loud and fast, and your mouth had gone dry with the weight of the decision forming behind your teeth.

the tunnel wouldn’t stay open forever. the backrooms would shift again. the slide could vanish. and jungwon—he wouldn’t give you another chance. if you hesitated now, if you gave him even one second longer to read your fear, he would never let you get close to this kind of freedom again.

you looked at him—really looked. at the boy who had trapped you with soft hands and quieter lies. who fed you, touched you, claimed to protect you from the things out there when he had become the worst thing in here. the fear in your chest rose like bile.

“jungwon,” you breathed, but the rest never came out.

instead, you ripped your arm free.

his fingers slipped from your skin, and before he could react, you turned and sprinted toward the tunnel, your bare feet slapping loudly against the damp tile. you didn’t look back. you couldn’t.

he called your name, but it came out ragged—loud and broken in a way that didn’t sound human. his voice echoed across the walls of the abandoned park like something that belonged underground.

but you kept running.

you threw yourself into the slideheadfirst, and it swallowed you without hesitation.

the slide gripped you instantly, and the light blurred as you careened downward. the curves of the tunnel twisted your body in every direction, and each sharp turn sent jolts of pain up your spine. the green glow surrounded you, too bright and too close, pressing in like it wanted to consume you. your lungs burned with the pressure, and your arms flailed for anything to hold onto, but the walls were smooth and slick.

you were falling, spiralling, unmoored in a tunnel that didn’t feel like it was ever meant to end.

and then, just as suddenly, it did.

you hit the ground hard, the concrete beneath you unforgiving and wet. the impact knocked the wind out of your lungs, and you lay there for a moment, stunned and breathless. the world spun behind your eyelids as you coughed, your body shaking violently.

but then you realised something was different.

the air you were breathing—it was real. it wasn’t thick with that damp, humming rot of the backrooms. it was cool and dry, laced with the familiar scent of chlorine, dust, and cheap coffee. the silence around you had edges again. and above you, warm sunlight filtered through cracked skylights, casting real shadows onto the floor.

this was the waterpark.

the real one. the one that didn't stretch endlessly into pools of nightmare

you were back.

you pushed yourself upright, palms scraping against rough tile, and looked around with wide, disbelieving eyes.

everything was where it should be. the vending machines stood in their proper place. the lazy river looped around peacefully in the distance. the walls were solid. your own breathing echoed back to you. you had made it.

you had escaped.

your chest clenched as a sob rose up from your throat, and before you could stop it, you were crying. laughing and crying at the same time.

you curled your arms around yourself and let it all out, letting your body shake with the unbearable mix of relief and exhaustion.

you were safe.

you had finally done it!

but then, just as you began to steady your breathing, a sound broke through the quiet.

it came from above, from deep within the vents lining the ceiling—soft at first, almost unnoticeable. but as it grew louder, the shape of it became clear. it was a whistle.

your breath caught in your throat. the sound was too familiar, it was the same off-key melody jungwon always hummed when he thought you were sleeping.

the first footprint appeared in the puddle you'd left behind—larger than yours, the edges too perfectly defined against the concrete. then another, materialising closer as if someone invisible was walking toward you. the water in the lazy river began to ripple against its current, forming patterns that looked disturbingly like grasping fingers.

your hands shook as the lights above you flickered once, twice, before plunging the park into darkness.

the temperature dropped so fast your breath fogged in the air, the hairs on your arms standing on end as the silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

then suddenly, cold fingers brushed against your ankle, their grip tightening like a vice.

"did you really think," jungwon's voice whispered from right behind you, his breath chilling the nape of your neck, "that i'd let you go that easily?”

“i will make you mine no matter what”

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

#─── favorites .ᐟ 🩰#read this a while ago but forgot to reblog #so glad i found it again #a backrooms fic + alternate ending? I have found my people #dare i say this is the best thriller fanfic i’ve ever read #the way you write really allows the reader to immerse themselves in the fic #almost like they’re actully experiencing this #this was so beautifully and meticulously written #i feel so inspired whenever i come across authors like you

2K notes · View notes

antochios · 23 days ago

Text

━━━SHORELINE 18+

Surfer!Sim Jaeyun x Female!Reader

.ᐟwarnings/tags: friends to lovers, summer, soft dom!jake, making out, dry humping, dirty talk, praising, unprotected sex, p in v, angsty a little, fluff, oral (f), fingering, aftercare

♡ you've loved jake for years, but he's never looked at you the way you wish he would. one summer night, he finally does, and everything changes.

.ᐟwc: 8.8k (no proofread)

It’s mid-July, and everything feels a little unreal. The kind of heat that sticks to your skin like honey, the air salty and sweet, the ocean loud but somehow comforting in the background of every moment. The days stretch long and slow, sun-drenched and golden, and the nights are warm enough that no one really goes inside anymore. You’re part of a tight-knit friend group that’s been orbiting the same beaches and bonfires all summer. Surfboards, smoothies, sandy towels, music from portable speakers. Mornings blur into late afternoons, and someone always brings drinks when the sun starts to dip behind the horizon. And then there’s Jake. Jake Sim—tanned, black hair curling over his forehead, bracelets always clinking on his wrist, board under his arm like it’s part of his body. He’s been your friend for years, technically. But you’ve spent most of those years trying to ignore the fact that you’re completely, hopelessly in love with him. You’ve never told anyone. Not even your best friend. Not even yourself, out loud. Because Jake? Jake doesn’t see you that way. Not when there’s girls like her around. Bright, gorgeous, loud—the kind of girl who fits next to him. She’s the one who always throws her arm around his shoulders in photos, who surfs as well as he does, who laughs just a little too hard at his jokes. You tell yourself that it’s not a big deal. That it’s fine. But it’s not fine. Because no matter how much you try to play it cool, how much you smile and laugh and act like Jake is just another guy in the group, your heart still skips every time he looks at you too long. Every time he says your name, grinning around the bottle of water he’s drinking from. Every time he pulls his shirt off without thinking and runs into the waves, sun hitting his back like he was made to be here.

You weren’t supposed to hang out alone today. The whole group was meant to come, but everyone canceled one by one. Lazy. Busy. And now it’s just you and Jake. Alone. And he’s waiting by your door, board propped up next to him, shirtless. “Ready to hit the water?” he says, tossing you a smile that makes your knees weak. “You promised I’d get to see your legendary surf stand today.” You roll your eyes, laughing to cover the panic in your chest. “Legendary in how bad it is?” “Legendary because you’re cute when you fall,” he teases. And just like that, you’re drowning—and you haven’t even stepped into the ocean yet.

The water is warm when you wade in, the kind of warmth that wraps around your legs and pulls you in deeper. Jake walks ahead of you, board tucked under one arm, wet hair already curling at the ends. You try not to stare at his back, the way his shoulder blades shift, the water beading down his tanned skin. You fail miserably. “Alright, coach me,” you say, trying to sound confident. Jake smirks, turning around and offering his hand to help you up onto the board. You hesitate for a half-second before taking it. “You already know the basics,” he says, treading water beside you. “Pop up fast, keep your balance, don’t panic.“ “Okay.” He lets go of the board and gives it a little push. “Go ahead.” You paddle forward, managing to catch a baby wave—and, just like that, you’re on your feet for all of three glorious seconds before you wobble and tumble straight off the board with a splash. You come up sputtering, hair in your eyes, and Jake’s already laughing. “You almost had it that time!” he calls, floating closer. You flick water at him. “Shut up.” He grins, eyes crinkling, and swims over to steady the board. “Alright, alright. Try again. I’ll help this time.” You crawl back on, breathless and wet, trying not to think about how close he is as he floats next to you. He places one hand gently on your lower back to steady you and your heart nearly leaps out of your chest.

“Keep your feet wide,” he murmurs, guiding your legs into position. “Yeah, like that.” You nod, eyes glued to the water. Anywhere but his face. “And pop up—now.” You try, really try, but your knee slips and suddenly you’re falling again, off the board and straight into him. You crash into his chest, your hands landing on his shoulders, and his arms wrap around you instinctively to keep you both from going under. For a moment, everything stops. You’re pressed against him, chest to chest, his hands firm around your waist, ocean swirling around you. The sun glows somewhere above, but all you can feel is Jake. His eyes are on yours. So close. So dangerously close. Salt on his skin. His breath fanning over your lips. You blink. He doesn’t move. And then, awkwardly, too quickly, you laugh. “God, I suck at this,” you say, trying to twist out of his arms. He lets go slowly, like he doesn’t want to. “Nah,” he says, voice quieter now. “You’re doing better than you think.” You swim backward a little, pushing your hair out of your face, cheeks burning. He watches you like he’s trying to figure something out, but the moment passes, and soon enough, he’s teasing you again. Splashes you. Challenges you to a race. Makes you forget for a second that anything happened at all.

You spend a little longer in the water, drifting between lazy splashes and playful teasing. Jake tries to dunk you once, fails, and you laugh so hard your stomach hurts. “This is probably the worst surf lesson of all time,” you tease as he floats beside you, arms stretched behind his head like he has all the time in the world. He shrugs. “Nah, I’ve had worse.” “Oh yeah?” you smirk. “Name one.” He grins. “This one girl nearly drowned me because I was ‘correcting her form.’ Real aggressive.” You snort. “She sounds kind of hot.” He raises a brow at you. “She is.” Your chest tightens, but you splash water in his face before he can see it. Eventually, the sun starts dipping lower, turning everything a honeyed gold. You both float there for a few more quiet seconds, water rocking you gently. Then Jake nudges you with his shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s head out.” You make your way back to shore, water dripping from your limbs, the sand soft and warm beneath your feet. Jake walks ahead to grab his board, and you follow, pulling your hair back, skin glistening in the fading light. What you don’t see is the way he looks back at you when you pass him. His eyes trail over your curves, still wet and gleaming under the sun. The way your bikini clings to you. The curve of your hips, the slow sway in your walk as you brush your towel off. His jaw tightens slightly, brows twitching like he’s thinking something he shouldn’t, but he doesn’t look away. Not until you sit down. You drop onto your towel with a soft sigh, brushing your hair out of your face. Jake joins you a moment later, flopping down beside you, his board sticking out of the sand nearby. Everything smells like sea salt and sunscreen and him.

The two of you sit side by side, toes buried in the warm sand, wet hair dripping onto your shoulders. The waves roll in and out, steady and soft. The sun is lower now. Jake leans back on his elbows, looking out toward the horizon. “Good day.” he says softly. You glance over at him, and it hits you again—just how pretty he is in this light. His profile, the way his lashes catch the last of the sun. How at ease he looks here, like the ocean is the only place he’s ever belonged. “Yeah,” you say, heart thudding a little too hard. “It is.” For a few moments, there’s only the sound of waves and birds and the quiet hum of tension between you. “Wanna come to mine?” you say, nervous. Jake turns to you slowly. “I’ve got beers, chips, probably some ice cream too.” He smiles, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Your beach house feels cooler once you step inside, the salty breeze drifting in through open windows, mixing with the familiar scent of sunscreen and lemony soap. Jake’s already tossing his towel over the back of the couch like he lives here—because in a way, he kind of does. He’s been here more times than you can count, post-surf showers, movie nights, late dinners with the group. But tonight feels different. You grab two beers from the fridge and toss one to him as you walk past “Thanks.” You plop down onto the couch beside him, legs curled under you, and he stretches out, shirt sticking to his still-damp skin, hair a little frizzy from the salt water. The TV flickers in the background—some nature documentary neither of you is watching. The only light comes from the screen and the tiny lamp you always forget to turn off. It casts the whole room in a soft orange glow, warm and sleepy. He cracks open his beer. “So. On a scale of one to complete embarrassment, how would you rate today’s surf lesson?” You shoot him a glare over your bottle. “I’d say a solid seven. But only because I didn’t actually drown.”

He chuckles. “A win’s a win.” You sip, watching him out of the corner of your eye. He looks relaxed. His head is tilted back, the curve of his jaw catching the lamplight. That bracelet he never takes off is still wet, clinging to his wrist. His thumb runs lazily over his beer bottle. You clear your throat. “Thanks for teaching me. Again.” He glances over. “You’re getting better.” “Liar.” He smiles at you softly. “Okay, you suck. But you’re trying. And you looked like you were having fun.” You nod, lips quirking. “I was.” For a while, the two of you just sit there, sipping quietly, shoulders nearly touching. The breeze flutters through the curtains, and outside, the last of the sun has melted into the ocean into something darker, quieter.

He turns slightly toward you, voice low. “Crazy how long we’ve been doing this.” You glance at him. “Surfing?” He gives you a look. “This. Us. Hanging out. It’s been, what—five years?” You nod slowly. “Yeah…damn. Five.” You both go quiet for a moment, the weight of that time hanging in the air between you. So many summers. So many inside jokes. So many chances you didn’t take. He breaks the silence first. “Remember that one time we all snuck into the pool at that hotel?” You laugh instantly. “When you splashed the security guard and nearly broke your ankle jumping the fence? Yeah.” Jake chuckles. “I swear we almost died that night.” You’re both smiling now, warmth bubbling up between you—not just from the drinks, but from this. From the years of comfort, the way you know each other so well it’s easy to forget the ache under the surface. You shift slightly to face him more, leaning back against the couch. “I’m glad we’re still like this,” you say quietly. “Even if everything else’s changed.” Jake’s eyes meet yours. “Yeah,” he says. “Me too.” The air feels heavier now. Not awkward, but charged. His eyes drop to your lips for just a second before flicking back up.

Your head’s tipped back against the couch, skin flushed and warm from the drinks, your lips still tingling from laughing too hard at something dumb Jake said ten minutes ago. The room spins just slightly in that way it does when you’ve had just enough, soft edges, soft thoughts, everything blurring like a dream. Jake’s next to you, turned toward you now, one arm thrown lazily along the back of the couch. He’s watching you. You can feel it more than see it. “You’re drunk,” he murmurs. You snort. “No I’m not.” He smiles, the corners of his mouth tugging up in that slow, teasing way that always makes your heart ache. “Yes, you are.” And then his hand reaches up gently and he tucks a damp strand of hair behind your ear, fingers trailing just barely against your skin. You freeze, breath catching. His eyes don’t leave yours. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, “You’re so pretty.” Your whole body stills. “…What?” You look up at him, blinking, heart hammering. You can feel the blush rising in your cheeks like a wave, hot and immediate. Jake just smiles wider. And then he lets out the softest laugh and leans in. He kisses you. Warm and slow, his lips pressing softly into yours like he’s been waiting to do it for years. One hand comes up to cradle your jaw, and your eyes flutter shut, the taste of him, beer, salt, Jake, sinking into your skin like a secret.

He kisses you like he means it, like he’s been dying to, and the second his hands slide around your waist, you already know where this is going. His grip is firm but careful, fingertips pressing into the skin just above your hips, still damp from the ocean. You feel him shift beneath you, then suddenly you’re being pulled into his lap. You let out a soft gasp, steadying yourself with your palms on his shoulders as your knees straddle him, your bikini-clad body settling over his swim trunks. He exhales hard through his nose when your thighs tighten around his hips, and you can feel him underneath you already, half-hard, hot, pressing right up against your barely-covered center. “Fuck,” he breathes, his head tilting back as he looks at you. “You’re so pretty like this.” You’re already blushing, your skin buzzing from the heat of the alcohol, the air, him. He brings a hand up to push a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering along your jaw. “You always are,” he murmurs. “But right now? Sitting on me like this? You’re unreal.” You can’t say anything. Not when he’s looking at you like that. Not when every part of your body is screaming for more. So you slowly move. Your hips roll forward, just once, dragging the soaked fabric of your bikini bottom against the rougher texture of his swim trunks. The friction makes both of you shudder.

His grip on your hips tightens instantly. “There you go,” he murmurs, voice low and thick. “Just like that, baby.” Your stomach flips at the praise, at the way his voice drops when he says it—baby. Like it belongs to you now. Like he’s never called anyone else that before. You do it again, a little more confidently this time, grinding against him with a soft whimper slipping past your lips. Jake groans deep in his chest, eyes fluttering shut for a second. “Fuck, that’s it,” he says. Your hands slide up into his hair, wet and soft under your fingers, and you kiss along his jaw—down his neck, where his pulse beats hard against your lips. He tilts his head to give you more space, his breath catching when you kiss a little harder. His cock twitches beneath you and you feel it, all of it. And it’s so good, so intense, that your hips move without you even meaning to, searching for more pressure, more friction, more him. He hisses through his teeth, pulling you down tighter against him. “Keep doing that baby, fuck—” he murmurs. You moan softly, your pace picking up, slow but steady, dragging yourself along him as you kiss down his neck, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses over sun-warmed skin. The heat is building fast between you, sweat and seawater mixing with the electricity sparking under every touch. “Jake,” you whisper, lips brushing his collarbone. He leans in, breath hot against your cheek. “Let’s go to your room, yeah?” he says, voice rough. And when you nod, eyes wide, lips swollen, he lifts you, arms firm under your thighs, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Jake carries you down the hall with your legs wrapped tight around his waist, your bikini still damp and clinging to your skin, his lips brushing yours between heated, breathless laughs. When he nudges your bedroom door open, the only light in the room is the soft, low glow of your lava lamp, a dreamy, slow-moving mix of purples and pinks that cast shifting shadows on the walls. He sets you down on the bed carefully, like you’re fragile, like he’s trying to keep it gentle, but the second your back hits the sheets, he’s on you. He climbs over you, his body caging yours in with easy strength, and he dives in—his lips on your neck, hot and open, kissing and sucking until you’re gasping. He nips at the skin just below your ear, your collarbone, working his way down with messy, hungry kisses. “Jake,” you whisper, voice already shaking. “God,” he groans into your neck, hands sliding up over your stomach. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.” Then his hands find your chest, his thumbs dragging along the edge of your bikini top before he squeezes your tits through the fabric, hard enough to make you gasp. His mouth is still at your neck, kissing and biting and panting against your skin like he can’t get close enough.

You arch into his hands, your hips already shifting beneath him, grinding up against where he’s hard and heavy between your legs. Even through the fabric of your swimsuits, the pressure is blinding. You rock your hips again, more desperately this time. He groans low and filthy, and grinds back down into you. “Fuck, baby,” he growls, one hand leaving your chest to grab your hip and hold you still. “You’re gonna make me lose it.” His fingers dig into your waist, guiding your hips as you move against him, his cock thick and pulsing through his swim trunks, pressed perfectly against your core. You’re soaked already, the thin fabric of your bikini barely a barrier at all. Jake palms your tits roughly through your bikini top, groaning low in his throat like he’s waited too long to touch you like this. Then, without a word, he slides his fingers under the fabric and pushes it up, taking it off of you. He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes dropping to your now-bare chest. “Jesus Christ,” he breathes. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” And then he’s on you again—his mouth hot and hungry, lips wrapping around one nipple as he sucks it deep into his mouth. His tongue circles, wet and relentless, and your back arches off the mattress as a moan tumbles out of you. “Jake,” you gasp, threading your fingers into his damp hair.

He groans at the sound of your voice, switching sides, licking and sucking at the other nipple now while his hand slides up to squeeze the one he just left—fingers rolling it between his fingertips, firm and perfect and too much in the best way. He’s messy with it, sloppy, he doesn’t care, just needs to taste you. His teeth graze your sensitive skin and you writhe beneath him, grinding up into the hard line of his cock pressed against your center. “You sound so good,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice rough and low. “So fucking sweet, baby.” And then, his hand trails down. Over your ribs. Over your stomach. Straight under your bikini bottom. You suck in a breath the moment his fingers slide through your slick folds, already soaking wet from how badly you want him. He groans. “Fuck. You’re dripping.” His middle finger finds your clit and starts rubbing slow, steady circles over it, perfect pressure, and your hips jerk up instantly, a whimper slipping from your lips before you can stop it. Jake’s mouth crashes back onto yours, swallowing every sound as he kisses you harder than before—tongue curling into yours, his hand between your legs never stopping, working you into a mess beneath him.

You can’t stop the sounds now—soft gasps, broken moans, the way your body starts rocking into his touch. “Jake, please,” you whimper, tearing your mouth from his, eyes glassy. “Tell me what you need,” he says, kissing along your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. “I’ll give you anything, baby. Just say it.” You’re panting beneath him, your hips rolling helplessly into his hand as his fingers circle your clit, while his mouth stays glued to your neck. He’s so deep into you—touching, kissing, tasting—you don’t even realize how close you are to falling apart until the words tumble out of your mouth, broken and breathless. “Jake,” you whimper. “Want you to fuck me.” His hand stutters, just slightly, but he keeps going, his breathing getting heavier against your cheek. He lifts his head, eyes locking with yours, and you feel like the air has been sucked out of the room. You blink up at him, barely able to breathe, and whisper, “Please, Jakey.” He whimpers. Actually whimpers—a soft, desperate sound pulled from somewhere deep in his chest, like the sound of his restraint finally snapping in two. “Holy fuck,” he mutters, and then he’s moving, yanking his hand from between your legs, reaching down to hook his fingers under the sides of your bikini bottoms. “You can’t—fuck—don’t call me that.” He slides your bikini bottoms off in one smooth motion, tossing them somewhere behind him, and his gaze drops between your legs. His jaw clenches at the sight of you, wet, flushed, bare for him. “Jesus Christ, baby…”

Then he’s on his knees, pushing his swim trunks down, and your eyes drop instinctively. Your breath catches. He’s big. Thick and flushed and so fucking pretty, the tip already slick and leaking as he wraps a hand around the base and strokes once—slow, like he’s trying to calm himself down and failing miserably. You let out a soft, shocked moan, eyes locked on him. Jake notices—and he smirks, that cocky little flash of teeth you’ve seen a hundred times before but never like this. He leans over you again, kissing you slow, deep, while he lines himself up between your legs, the head of his cock dragging through your wetness. “Want me to fuck you ,baby? Yeah?” he breathes against your lips. You nod fast, almost trembling. “Yes. Please—want you so bad, Jakey.” He groans and pushes forward, just barely. And it slides in—slow and easy, your body opening up for him, so warm and wet around him that he nearly chokes on a moan. “Holy fuck,” he gasps against your mouth. “You feel—so good. So fucking tight.” You wrap your legs around his waist instinctively, hands digging into his back, and when he bottoms out, it feels like something inside you clicks into place. You’re full. So full. He doesn’t move for a second, just breathing hard against your neck, his body trembling from holding back. Then he pulls out halfway—and thrusts back in, sharp enough to make you gasp.“Jake—!”

“That’s it,” he grits out, one hand grabbing the headboard above you as he starts to move. “Let me hear you.” He starts fucking you slow but deep, his hips rolling into yours like he’s trying to memorize the way you feel. Every thrust hits that perfect spot inside you, the one that makes your back arch and your breath catch in your throat. He groans, eyes dark, sweat starting to bead at his temples as he picks up the pace, his strokes getting rougher, needier, deeper. “You take me so fucking well,” he pants. “Knew you would. Knew you’d feel perfect.” The sound of skin on skin fills the room, the wet slap of his hips meeting yours over and over, and you can barely think—your body rocked by every thrust, every word, every kiss he presses to your cheek, your neck, your mouth. You moan his name again, broken and breathless. And Jake loses it. He starts fucking you harder, faster, his cock slamming into you at just the right angle, his hand slipping between your bodies to rub circles over your clit. You’re barely holding on. You can’t even form words anymore—just soft, broken gasps of his name. “Jake… Jake, I—” You claw at his shoulders, eyes fluttering shut, mouth falling open as your whole body tightens. He leans down, breath hot on your neck. “That’s it, baby. Let go. Lemme feel you.”Your back arches off the bed as the orgasm crashes into you. Your thighs tremble around his hips, and you cry out, your entire body clenching around him as your release hits you like a wave.

You’re dazed, ruined, barely aware of anything except how full you feel, how perfect he feels, how you never want this to end. “Fuck,” Jake groans, voice strained. “You feel so good—holy shit—I don’t think I can last—“ He pulls out suddenly with a desperate grunt, wrapping a hand around his cock, and you barely manage to open your eyes in time to see him come completely undone. “Fuck, baby,” he gasps, head falling back as hot, sticky ropes of cum spill across your stomach, your tits, painting your flushed skin in a messy, breathless finish. He strokes himself through it, breathing hard, his eyes locked on the sight of you laid out beneath him—glowing in the purple light of the lava lamp, glistening, ruined, perfect. You blink up at him, still dazed, your chest rising and falling with every shaky breath. Jake looks like he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life. “Jesus,” he mutters, voice hoarse. “You fucking wrecked me.”

You must’ve fallen asleep wrapped up in him. One minute, Jake was still kissing your shoulder, fingertips brushing lazy shapes on your waist, and the next, your eyes are fluttering open to the faint glow of early morning bleeding into your room. The sky outside is that soft, pale indigo. The same dreamy light that washed over you both last night is back, but now it feels different. Colder. You blink, stretch your legs beneath the sheets, still drowsy and warm, and then you realize—He’s not there. Your hand reaches instinctively to the other side of the bed, but it’s cold. Sheets wrinkled but empty. His clothes are gone from the floor. Your heart drops. You sit up slowly, blanket falling around your bare chest, the ache between your thighs a lingering reminder of everything that happened hours ago. Your skin still smells like him. You still feel his hands on you. His mouth. His words. But he’s not here. And just like that, the warmth starts to fade. The bedroom feels too quiet, too still. Your throat tightens. You try not to let your mind spiral, but it’s impossible not to. Maybe it didn’t mean anything to him.

Maybe it was just the alcohol. Just the tension. Maybe he went back to her. Maybe he regrets this. You swallow hard. You tell yourself to stop, to breathe, to wait—but the sting is already rising behind your eyes, and before you can stop it, a tear slips down your cheek. Then another. And then you’re silently crying, chest tight, fists curled in your blanket as you sit there in the soft light of a morning that suddenly feels so cruel. You knew he liked that other girl. You’ve seen the way he looks at her—how can he look at you the same way and still want someone else? You wipe at your face with the back of your hand, frustrated with yourself for feeling this much. For hoping. Because last night, for just a little while, it felt like you were everything to him. And now…he’s gone.

By midday, the sun is high and blinding, casting golden light across the waves. The beach is buzzing again, boards scattered across the sand, friends stretched out on towels, someone grilling lunch, music playing just loud enough to drown out your thoughts. You sit a little off to the side, legs curled beneath you, sunglasses hiding your tired eyes. You’ve barely said a word since you joined everyone. You nod when people talk. Smile when it’s expected. But you’re not really present. Not when you can still feel the ghost of Jake’s hands on your body. Not when the last thing you remember from last night was falling asleep tangled up in him, thinking maybe, finally, he was yours.

And now, now it’s like you’re watching him from the outside again. Like you always have. Jake’s been hovering nearby all morning—offering you drinks, asking if you’re hungry, tossing you gentle smiles like he’s trying to check in without making it obvious. But you’ve kept your distance. And it’s killing him. You see it in the way he keeps glancing at you, confused, a little hurt. Like he doesn’t understand why everything feels different. Like he’s searching for the version of you from last night, the one who moaned his name and kissed him like she’d been waiting a lifetime. Now you barely look at him. You can’t. Because you don’t trust yourself not to break. He comes over at one point, shirtless, hair still damp from a swim, sitting beside you with a hopeful smile. “Wanna walk down to the rocks with me later? It’s kinda nice over there.” You don’t meet his eyes. “Maybe later,” you say, soft. He hesitates. “You okay?” “Yeah,” you lie. Jake stares at you for a second longer, his brows drawing together like he wants to press harder, but doesn’t. He nods once and gets up again, joining the others. You finally exhale. And you sit there the rest of the afternoon feeling like you’re floating just out of reach—like everyone else is on the shore and you’re out in the water.

The party starts just after sunset. It’s beautiful, really—how quickly the sky shifts from orange to dusky pink to deep navy. Someone brought lanterns and fairy lights, and now they’re strung along the trees and tied to sticks in the sand, flickering like stars. A bonfire crackles near the center of it all, throwing golden light across everyone’s faces. Music’s playing, and someone’s passing around a bottle of vodka. Plates of food rest on towels and tables. Coolers overflow with beer and soda. People are laughing, dancing, shouting over each other. It’s the kind of night that should feel perfect. But it doesn’t. Not for you. You’re standing a little off to the side, near the edge of the fire’s light, holding a drink that’s already gone warm. You’ve been trying to act normal all evening, but you feel it—how different everything feels now. Or maybe it’s just you that feels different. You haven’t spoken much. You haven’t even tried to talk to Jake. And he hasn’t really come over, either. Not since earlier. You keep pretending not to watch him. Pretending not to care that he’s across the circle of people, beer in hand, laughing at something someone said. At something she said. She’s right beside him—the girl. The one you’ve always had a quiet ache about. The one he used to flirt with before. The one you thought he moved on from after last night. But now her hand is wrapped lightly around his arm, and she’s leaning in close, laughing at something he said like he’s the funniest person alive. You can’t hear what they’re saying. You don’t need to. Your chest goes tight. Your stomach turns. Jake doesn’t push her away. He doesn’t lean in either, but he smiles. And that smile makes something splinter in your chest. Maybe it meant nothing to him. Maybe last night was just a moment. Maybe she’s the one he wants after all.

You can’t take it anymore. You quietly slip away from the group, no one notices. They’re too busy drinking and dancing. You walk farther down the beach, shoes in hand, until the noise fades behind you. Until it’s just the sound of waves, soft and rhythmic, and the wind in your hair. You find a small outcropping of rocks half-hidden by tall grass and sit there, your arms hugging your knees, heart full of things you can’t say out loud. The sand is cold. The air has a bite to it now that the sun is gone. But you don’t move. You just sit there quietly, aching. Until you hear footsteps in the sand behind you. You don’t need to look to know it’s him. Jake says your name gently, like he’s afraid you’ll run. You close your eyes. “Can I sit?” he asks. You nod without speaking. He drops into the sand beside you, knees bent, hands on the ground behind him. For a few moments, neither of you says anything. Then he murmurs, “Why’d you leave?” You shrug, still not looking at him. “Just wanted some air.” “I noticed you were gone.” He pauses. “I’ve been noticing a lot of things lately.” You say nothing. He swallows. “Did I do something?” You don’t answer. You can’t. Because your throat is already tight, and your eyes are already burning, and you don’t know how to tell him that watching him with her tonight shattered something fragile you were still trying to protect. You just whisper, “I don’t want to talk about it.” Jake looks at you for a long time. Then he says softly, “Okay. But I’m not leaving you out here alone.” And so he stays. Quiet and still, right beside you, just close enough that you can feel the warmth of him.

You sit beside him in silence, the ocean humming softly in the distance, moonlight casting silver over the waves. The party is still alive far down the beach, music pulsing faintly, voices rising and falling, but out here, it’s just you and Jake. The air feels heavy. Like the moment is pressing in from all sides. Jake picks at the hem of his shorts, stealing glances at you like he wants to speak but doesn’t know where to begin. You can feel the weight of his gaze, his confusion, his worry. And suddenly, you can’t take it anymore. Your voice is small—barely audible over the water—but it cuts through the space between you like lightning. “Did it mean anything to you?” He freezes. Your eyes stay fixed on the ocean. You can’t look at him. If you do, you’ll fall apart. You swallow hard, voice trembling. “Last night…when you—when we…” You hesitate. “Was it just a hook-up to you?” Jake turns toward you fully now. You still don’t meet his eyes. There’s a beat of silence. “What?” he says, like the wind got knocked out of him. You finally look at him, and his expression shatters something in you. He looks stunned. Crushed. Like he never saw this coming. “I woke up and you were gone,” you whisper. “And then today you just acted like everything was normal. And then tonight, you’re with her—laughing, letting her touch you—like nothing happened between us. Like I imagined all of it.”

Jake’s mouth opens, then closes. He’s speechless. You look away again. “So just tell me. Did it mean anything to you?” The silence stretches, and you feel your stomach twist. Then his voice breaks through, soft and shaking, “Of course it meant something to me.” You blink. Jake exhales hard, dragging a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know you felt this way. I thought you’d be weirded out. I thought maybe I crossed a line. I didn’t know what to do.” You look at him, and he’s not smug or cool or collected. He looks wrecked. “I wasn’t with her,” he says quickly. “Not like that. She grabbed me. I didn’t even realize it would look bad. I wasn’t thinking, I was just…I was looking for you.” Your chest tightens. “I’ve been trying to talk to you all day,” he says, his voice rising just a little. “But you kept shutting me out. I thought maybe you regretted it. That I fucked everything up.” Your breath catches. “I left because I didn’t want to wake you. That’s it. I was scared if I stayed, you’d wake up and regret it.” You’re both quiet for a moment, the weight of everything between you settling in the sand. Then he adds, barely above a whisper, “I’ve liked you for years. I just didn’t think I had a chance.” You stare at him, barely breathing. His words keep echoing in your head. It doesn’t feel real. Like maybe you dreamed this whole thing. Like your brain made it up just to protect you from the ache in your chest. But then Jake smiles. Soft and sheepish. Like he’s been holding this in forever and finally let it out.

You blink, eyes burning again—but this time for a different reason entirely. “You…you liked me?” you whisper, voice shaky. “This whole time?” Jake laughs under his breath, shaking his head like he can’t believe you don’t see it. “Are you kidding? You’ve been driving me crazy since the first time we met.” A breathless sound escapes you, half laugh, half sob, and you don’t even realize you’re crying until Jake reaches out and gently wipes a tear from your cheek. “Hey,” he murmurs, scooting closer, his hand cupping your jaw. “Don’t cry, baby.” You lean into his touch without thinking. Your heart is racing, chest rising and falling fast, and you can barely look at him without tearing up again. “I thought I lost you,” you whisper. “You never did,” he says. “I was yours before last night. You just didn’t know it.” Your lips part like you’re about to speak, but then Jake leans in, his forehead brushing yours, and he kisses you. Soft and gentle. His lips warm and slow against yours, he’s trying to tell you everything he hasn’t said with just one kiss. You melt into it, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt as he pulls you closer. When he finally pulls back, his lips are still brushing yours as he whispers, “I’m not going anywhere this time.” He leans back just slightly, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek, catching the last trace of tears before they can fall again. “Wanna go back to the others now?” he asks, voice low and soft. You nod, your heart finally light again. “Yeah.” He smiles and laces your fingers together like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You both stand, still barefoot, brushing off the sand. The moon is higher now, and the wind cooler, but with Jake’s hand in yours, everything feels warm again. He doesn’t let go. And as you walk back toward the lights and the fire and the laughter, you swear the world feels a little different—like something shifted quietly inside it.

The party’s still going strong around the fire, but everything feels quieter now. Jake’s hand hasn’t left yours since you came back from the rocks. Every now and then he bumps your shoulder or leans close to say something soft, like he has to keep touching you just to believe you’re really still there. And every time your eyes meet, it lingers. There’s no awkwardness anymore. No guessing. No more pretending. Just heat. Raw, familiar, and simmering just beneath the surface. You’re sitting beside him on one of the big towels, watching the flames crackle and the others still half-drunk and laughing. But you don’t really care about any of it. Not when his fingers are trailing slow circles on your bare thigh. Not when you keep glancing at his mouth like you want to kiss him again—properly. You feel him shift beside you, and when you look up, he’s already watching you. “Wanna leave?” he murmurs, voice low against your ear. You bite your lip, nod once. “Yeah.” He stands up without another word, tugging you gently with him, and neither of you tells anyone goodbye.

The walk back to your place is quiet but not awkward. Just heavy with anticipation. Your fingers stay laced. He keeps stealing glances at you, and your heart won’t stop racing. By the time you get inside, the door’s barely closed before he turns to you, eyes dark, soft smile. Jake cups your face and kisses you, slow and tender. His hands trail down your sides, slipping under the hem of your dress, touching your skin like he missed it. You let your arms wrap around his neck, fingers threading through his hair as you sigh into his mouth. This time, there’s no rush. No foggy drunk blur. He doesn’t break the kiss as he picks you up—hands gripping the back of your thighs, holding you against his chest like you weigh nothing. You gasp softly against his mouth, arms tightening around his shoulders. He walks the familiar path to your bedroom, only the soft light of the hallway guiding the way. When he gets there, he gently lowers you to the bed. He pauses above you, one knee between your legs, his gaze sweeping over your face “You’re sure?” he asks again, voice low but steady. You nod, breath shaky. “I want you.” Jake lets out a soft exhale, like he’s been holding it in all night. “Good,” he whispers, brushing your hair from your face with the back of his knuckles. “Because I’m not letting you go this time.”

He leans down and kisses you again, slower and deeper. His mouth warm and sure, hands trailing along your waist, slipping beneath your dress to touch your bare skin. His lips move to your neck, dragging along the sensitive skin just below your jaw. “You smell so good,” he murmurs, voice thick. “Feel even better.” Your fingers dig into his shoulders. And when he slips a hand beneath your dress, eyes locked on yours, his voice drops to a whisper that sends shivers straight to your core, “Let me make you feel good again, yeah?” His fingers slip, sliding over your panties—and the moment he feels the dampness there, he lets out a low groan. “Fuck,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours for a beat. “Already wet for me?” You nod shakily, unable to speak, hips twitching as he rubs slow, deliberate circles over your clothed slit. The pressure of his fingers through the thin fabric has you gasping, legs parting on instinct. Then he presses a little harder, and your breath hitches, your body arching into his hand with a quiet, needy whimper. Jake smiles against your neck, voice low and warm. “Sound so sweet f’me, baby.”

Your thighs tremble. He slides your panties to the side, fingers finding your soaked folds, and then slowly, he slips two fingers inside. You moan softly, walls clenching around the intrusion, and Jake groans in your ear feeling how tight you are. “Shit,” he breathes, starting a gentle rhythm, curling his fingers with every stroke. “So fuckin’ soft around me.” You’re already squirming, hands fisting the sheets, barely able to process the pleasure building as he fucks his fingers into your gummy walls. Then his thumb finds your clit, pressing and rubbing in slow, perfect circles, and your head falls back with a whine. He kisses down your neck, messy and hungry, teeth scraping lightly over your skin. “There you go,” he murmurs between kisses.“Makin’ all those pretty noises just f'me.” You moan louder at that, your body completely at his mercy now—hips rocking up to meet every thrust of his fingers, desperate for more, for all of him.

You can feel it building, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, seconds away from falling apart completely, but then Jake pulls his fingers out. You gasp, whining at the loss, trembling with frustration. “Jake—” you whimper, breath ragged. He leans in, voice thick with heat. “Shhh, baby.” Before you can even beg, he’s already moving, kneeling between your legs, eyes locked on you as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and drags them down your thighs. Then your dress. He pushes it up and over your head, leaving you completely bare for him. Jake just stares for a moment—drinking you in like you’re something holy. His pupils are blown wide, his lips parted. “Fuck,” he whispers, running a hand through his hair. “You’re so fucking perfect.” He pulls his shirt off in one swift motion, tossing it aside. His skin is warm and golden in the low light, muscles flexing as he shifts forward, settling himself between your thighs like it’s where he belongs.

You shiver as his hands slide up your legs, thumbs brushing gently along your inner thighs. Then he leans in close, until his breath is hot and heavy right against your dripping cunt. He doesn’t touch you yet. Just breathes. Watches. Fingers ghosting up and down your slick folds as you writhe under him, desperate and aching. “Look at you,” he murmurs, completely entranced. His thumb swipes gently through your wetness. “My sweet girl.” You bite your lip, a whimper slipping from your throat. And then, he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, soft and lingering, before sliding his tongue slowly up your slit, groaning low against you like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted.

The moment his tongue touches you, it’s over. He moans low against your pussy like he’s tasting something he’s been craving for years. He starts slow, teasing licks through your folds, lips wrapping around your clit just enough to make your whole body jolt. And then he does it again. And again. Each time a little rougher. A little wetter. A little more desperate. “Fuuuck,” he groans into you, hands gripping your thighs, keeping you open for him. “You taste so fucking good.” You gasp, fingers tangling in his hair, hips lifting off the bed as he sucks your clit into his mouth. It’s messy, obscene—the sounds of him licking you echoing through the room, wet and filthy and perfect. Then suddenly, he’s slipping two fingers back inside you—pushing in deep, curling them up in just the right way, and your moan breaks into a whimper. “Ngh—Jake—!” He groans again, like your voice alone is enough to make him lose it. Then he adds a third finger.

Your back arches, legs trembling as he fucks them into your soaked cunt fast and deep, his palm smacking softly against your skin with every thrust. His mouth never leaves your clit—tongue flicking, sucking, devouring like it’s the only thing that matters. “Let go, baby,” he mumbles against you. “Wanna feel you.” You’re already so close. You can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t stop yourself from grinding against his face like your body’s got a mind of its own. The pressure snaps. You cry out, thighs clenching around his head as your orgasm crashes into you. Your fingers tug at his hair, your hips jerk, your moans breaking into soft, high-pitched whines as you fall apart in his mouth. But Jake doesn’t stop. He keeps licking. Keeps fucking his fingers into you like he wants to memorize the way you cum. And when you finally start to go still, trembling and breathless beneath him, he pulls back just enough to kiss your inner thigh, lips swollen, chin glistening with your slick. He crawls back up your body, kissing a trail from your trembling thighs to your stomach, over your chest—leaving warm, messy kisses across your skin before finally reaching your mouth. He kisses you hard. Hungry, deep, desperate, his lips still slick from tasting you, his tongue dragging over yours like he needs more of you in every way.

You can feel how hard he is now, pressed between your thighs. It’s driving you crazy—every movement, every breath just making it worse. Still kissing you, he breaks just long enough to whisper, breathless, “Need to be inside you, baby. Can’t wait anymore.” You nod, dazed, still catching your breath. Jake shifts back, and in one smooth motion, he pushes his shorts and boxers down, finally freeing his cock. You can’t help the soft gasp that leaves your lips, and Jake smirks through heavy breaths. He leans down again to kiss you, while his hand slides up your thigh. Then suddenly, he grabs one of your legs, lifting it over his shoulder. His other hand cups your breast, fingers squeezing, thumb brushing softly over your nipple as he lines himself up. “Look at me,” he murmurs, voice low and thick with heat. You do. And then he slides in. Slow at first, inch by inch, until he’s buried deep inside you, your walls fluttering around him. You moan his name, back arching off the bed.

Jake’s jaw clenches, his hand tightening on your thigh. “Fuck, baby…” he groans, eyes fluttering shut for a second. “You feel—so good—fuck.” His hips start to move, deep, rolling thrusts that drag every inch of him along your soaked walls. He keeps your leg hooked over his shoulder, the angle letting him hit every sweet spot, his other hand still cupping your breast like he can’t get enough. “So perfect…so tight for me—fuck!” he pants, voice all praise and heat. You moan louder, nails digging into his arms as he starts to pick up the pace—hips slapping against yours, breath hot and ragged, all while he keeps watching your face like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Jake’s rhythm starts to falter, his hips snapping faster, rougher, his breathing growing messier with each thrust. His brows are furrowed, lips parted, hair falling into his eyes as he fucks you like he’s starved for it.

“Oh my god—fuck,” he moans, head dropping forward. “You feel so fucking good, baby—shit, you’re so tight—oh fuck—” The way he says it, so breathless, whimpering, makes your whole body react. Your walls clench down around him instinctively, squeezing him hard, and it pulls another choked moan straight from his throat. His voice breaks again. “Ohhh fuck—just like that—holy shit—” He sounds so good. Ruined. Wrecked. Like he’s completely unraveling inside you. You’re a moaning mess beneath him, gasping for air, thighs trembling as he pounds into you deep and fast, hitting that perfect spot with every stroke. Then he brings his hand down, finding your clit like he knows exactly what you need. His fingers are messy, fast, rubbing tight circles in sync with his thrusts. You cry out, arching under him, clutching at his biceps as he holds himself over you and keeps fucking you through it. “Jakey—!” you sob, voice high and desperate. He groans like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever heard. “That’s it, baby,” he pants, kissing your jaw, your neck. “Come on—cum for me again—please, I need to feel it—need to feel you fall apart on me.”

You’re so close, your legs starting to shake, your fingers gripping him like a lifeline, your moans breaking into breathless little whimpers. And all you can hear is him—moaning, gasping, whimpering, praising you like he’s gone completely stupid from how good you feel. Your whole body locks up as that final wave crashes over you—tight and hot and overwhelming. You cry out his name, legs shaking, back arching as you cum hard around him, fluttering and pulsing deep on his cock. Jake chokes on a moan—high, broken, wrecked. “Fuuuck—so good—so fucking good, baby, oh my god—” He pulls out just in time, gritting his teeth through a loud, desperate groan as he fists himself and spills all over your pussy and thighs—sticky, thick ropes of cum painting your skin while his hips twitch and his breath catches in short, ragged pants. He collapses forward slightly, chest rising and falling, eyes still glazed with pleasure. Then his gaze drops down, seeing the mess he made of you, and he groans again, softer this time, like it’s too much to handle. “Shit,” he breathes. “You’re so fucking perfect…” He leans in and kisses you slow and warm. His hand brushes your cheek before moving to the nightstand, grabbing some tissue from a pack you kept there. “I got you” he murmurs. You hum softly as he wipes you clean—gentle, patient, still pressing soft kisses to your collarbone, your shoulder, anywhere his mouth can reach. And when he’s done, he tosses the tissues aside and crawls back into bed, settling in beside you. He wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you into his chest like he has to keep you close. You feel his breath in your hair, slow and steady now. His hands finds your waist, his thumb stroking lazily over your skin. Then he whispers, barely audible in the dark, “I’m yours…I’m not going anywhere.”

#─── favorites .ᐟ 🩰#genuinely one of the most beautiful pieces of literature i’ve read on this app #it felt like i was watching a movie #this is just one of those fics that’s timeless and unforgettable #truly enjoyed every second of reading this

1K notes · View notes