jill hates how easily she falls apart under your gaze, the way your words slice through her defenses like they were never there. you toy with her, and she knows it—every fleeting touch, every sharp smile, every calculated glance that leaves her breathless. she tells herself she’s done, but she’s always pulled back, desperate for the scraps of attention you throw her way. it’s maddening, addictive. she resents how much power you have over her—and even more, she resents how much she loves it.