@silkvibe: Not me being obsessed with these again❤️#pantyhose #tights #stocking #nylons #glasslegs

SilkVibe

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Saturday 09 May 2026 10:27:41 GMT

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Bobby :

Beautiful Lady Very Stunning 😍

2026-05-10 12:51:23

1

Felix Sanchez :

Simply beautiful

2026-05-12 09:32:02

1

Clint Anderson :

You look amazing pretty lady 😍❤️🔥🔥

2026-05-11 12:13:41

1

MATTHIAS :

😏😏😏😏

2026-05-24 10:52:20

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POV: You don’t like him. Not in the casual, dismissive way people say it. You don’t like him in a way that feels… deliberate. Intentional. Necessary. Because from the moment you notice Sim Jaeyun, something in you immediately understands one thing: He’s exactly the kind of person who ruins everything you’ve worked for. And you’ve worked too hard to let that happen. You don’t speak to him for a week. Not once. Even though he sits two rows behind you in class. Even though you can feel his gaze on you sometimes—steady, unreadable, like he’s waiting for something. You never turn around. You never give him the satisfaction. You stay focused. Perfect notes. Perfect answers. Perfect control. That’s how you survive here. That’s how you stay ahead. “Top of the class.” The voice comes out of nowhere. Low. Close. Too close. You freeze for half a second before turning your head slightly. He’s there. Leaning against the wall beside your desk like he’s been there the whole time. Like he belongs there. “You don’t talk much,” he adds. Your grip tightens slightly on your pen. “I don’t talk to people I don’t need to.” A pause. Then— “Cold.” You ignore him, eyes dropping back to your paper. “Go away.” Silence. You think—maybe he will. Maybe this will be easy. Then— “You’re trying too hard.” Your pen stops moving. Slowly, you look up. “And you’re not trying at all,” you reply evenly. His gaze locks onto yours. There’s no amusement in it this time. “No,” he agrees. “I’m not.” Something about that unsettles you more than it should. You look away first. You hate that. After that, he doesn’t speak to you again. But somehow, that’s worse. Because now— He just watches. It starts small. You’ll feel it before you see it. That subtle shift, like someone’s attention dragging across your skin. You’ll glance up—and there he is. Already looking. Not smiling. Not teasing. Just… looking. Like he’s trying to figure you out. Or break you down. You don’t know which is worse. “You didn’t answer question three correctly.” You don’t react immediately. You finish writing your sentence. Then— “Yes, I did.” A chair scrapes beside you. He sits. Too close. You can feel the heat from his arm even though you’re not touching. “No,” he says quietly. “You second-guessed it.” You turn your head slightly, irritation flickering. “I got full marks.” “That’s not the point.” “Then what is?” A pause. Then— “You don’t trust yourself.” Your chest tightens. “That’s ridiculous.” “Is it?” His voice is quieter now. Closer. “You hesitate right before you’re right.” You stare at him. There’s no teasing in his expression. No arrogance. Just certainty. And that— That gets under your skin. “You don’t know me,” you say. “I know enough.” Your jaw clenches. “No, you don’t.” Silence stretches. Tight. Uncomfortable. Then he leans back slightly, eyes never leaving yours. “Then prove me wrong.” You should ignore him. That’s the logical choice. The safe one. But instead— You start noticing him too. The way he never writes anything down but still gets answers right. The way teachers watch him like they’re waiting for him to mess up again. The way everyone else either avoids him— Or watches him when they think he’s not looking. The way he doesn’t belong here. And somehow— Neither do you. “You keep staring.” His voice cuts through your thoughts. You look up sharply. “I’m not.” “You are.” “I’m not.” A beat. Then— “Liar.” Your pulse spikes. You set your pen down slowly. “Do you always say whatever comes to mind?” “Yes.” “That explains a lot.” He tilts his head slightly, studying you again. “You’re different today.” You frown. “I’m not.” “You are.” “How?” A pause. Then— “You’re paying attention.” Your stomach tightens. “That doesn’t mean anything.” “It does to me.” Your breath catches slightly. You hate that it does. It builds from there. Not loudly. Not obviously. But steadily. Like pressure under the surface. “You should stop.” The words slip out before you can stop them. You’re standing in an empty classroom after school. You don’t even remember how it ended up like this. +COMSEC I'll post more often i promise 😭 #ENHYPEN #JAKE #foryou #pov #au

POV: You don’t like him. Not in the casual, dismissive way people say it. You don’t like him in a way that feels… deliberate. Intentional. Necessary. Because from the moment you notice Sim Jaeyun, something in you immediately understands one thing: He’s exactly the kind of person who ruins everything you’ve worked for. And you’ve worked too hard to let that happen. You don’t speak to him for a week. Not once. Even though he sits two rows behind you in class. Even though you can feel his gaze on you sometimes—steady, unreadable, like he’s waiting for something. You never turn around. You never give him the satisfaction. You stay focused. Perfect notes. Perfect answers. Perfect control. That’s how you survive here. That’s how you stay ahead. “Top of the class.” The voice comes out of nowhere. Low. Close. Too close. You freeze for half a second before turning your head slightly. He’s there. Leaning against the wall beside your desk like he’s been there the whole time. Like he belongs there. “You don’t talk much,” he adds. Your grip tightens slightly on your pen. “I don’t talk to people I don’t need to.” A pause. Then— “Cold.” You ignore him, eyes dropping back to your paper. “Go away.” Silence. You think—maybe he will. Maybe this will be easy. Then— “You’re trying too hard.” Your pen stops moving. Slowly, you look up. “And you’re not trying at all,” you reply evenly. His gaze locks onto yours. There’s no amusement in it this time. “No,” he agrees. “I’m not.” Something about that unsettles you more than it should. You look away first. You hate that. After that, he doesn’t speak to you again. But somehow, that’s worse. Because now— He just watches. It starts small. You’ll feel it before you see it. That subtle shift, like someone’s attention dragging across your skin. You’ll glance up—and there he is. Already looking. Not smiling. Not teasing. Just… looking. Like he’s trying to figure you out. Or break you down. You don’t know which is worse. “You didn’t answer question three correctly.” You don’t react immediately. You finish writing your sentence. Then— “Yes, I did.” A chair scrapes beside you. He sits. Too close. You can feel the heat from his arm even though you’re not touching. “No,” he says quietly. “You second-guessed it.” You turn your head slightly, irritation flickering. “I got full marks.” “That’s not the point.” “Then what is?” A pause. Then— “You don’t trust yourself.” Your chest tightens. “That’s ridiculous.” “Is it?” His voice is quieter now. Closer. “You hesitate right before you’re right.” You stare at him. There’s no teasing in his expression. No arrogance. Just certainty. And that— That gets under your skin. “You don’t know me,” you say. “I know enough.” Your jaw clenches. “No, you don’t.” Silence stretches. Tight. Uncomfortable. Then he leans back slightly, eyes never leaving yours. “Then prove me wrong.” You should ignore him. That’s the logical choice. The safe one. But instead— You start noticing him too. The way he never writes anything down but still gets answers right. The way teachers watch him like they’re waiting for him to mess up again. The way everyone else either avoids him— Or watches him when they think he’s not looking. The way he doesn’t belong here. And somehow— Neither do you. “You keep staring.” His voice cuts through your thoughts. You look up sharply. “I’m not.” “You are.” “I’m not.” A beat. Then— “Liar.” Your pulse spikes. You set your pen down slowly. “Do you always say whatever comes to mind?” “Yes.” “That explains a lot.” He tilts his head slightly, studying you again. “You’re different today.” You frown. “I’m not.” “You are.” “How?” A pause. Then— “You’re paying attention.” Your stomach tightens. “That doesn’t mean anything.” “It does to me.” Your breath catches slightly. You hate that it does. It builds from there. Not loudly. Not obviously. But steadily. Like pressure under the surface. “You should stop.” The words slip out before you can stop them. You’re standing in an empty classroom after school. You don’t even remember how it ended up like this. +COMSEC I'll post more often i promise 😭 #ENHYPEN #JAKE #foryou #pov #au

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