I don’t understand why some ot6 engene hate ot7 engenes SO much , just because we haven’t moved on from the news doesn’t make us less of engenes than ot6 are???
yes some ot7 are disrespectful to members and some ot6 but those engenes don’t represent all of ot7.
There’s SO MUCH ot7 who love and support the members the same or maybe even more than before!!!! Calling us selfish because we’re still ot7 and have hope that heeseung could possibly come back later in the future is just rude asf 🤷♀️
Ot7 are constantly getting attacked , it’s rude and unnecessary , some friends of mine are afraid to even say they miss ot7 because of how ot7 are getting treated EVERYWHERE…
JUST BECAUSE WE ARE OT7 DOESNT MEAN WE DONT SUPPORT OT6 ENHYPEN!!!
It seems like twitter ot6 are more focused on hating on heeseung and his solo than enhypen themselves, we ot7 are being told constantly to move on but that day changed everything for the fandom and the members. The members are even more overworked than before since they have to practice on their vocals and lyrics more than before but no one seems to care.
I feel like in general we should stop hating on eachother just because they’re ot7 or ot6 and focus on making the members happy instead. That one Jungwon live wasn’t directed to ot7 only but also ot6 , he wasn’t hating on ot7 fanchant or ot7 engenes . Let engenes be what they want , whether it’s ot7 or ot6 if that makes them happy then let them be .
Someone’s happiness shouldn’t affect you and your happiness .
Don’t try to shove what you support down someone’s throat because i’ve seen so much engenes leaving the fandom because of that!
Let ot7 and ot6 be , just stop the fan wars in our fandom please 🙏
I wanna sit on him, i wanna sit on it, i wanna grind on it, scream his name on it, I wanna ride him, cream it, suck it, beg for it, fuck it, i wanna make him go crazy from how good I'm taking it, i wanna lick it, tease him, turn him into a mess, i wanna kiss him, i wanna kiss it, i wanna take it, i want it from the front, i want it from behind, i want it from the sides, i want it in public, i want it at home, i want it in the car, i want it in the kitchen, on the counter, table, i want it in the shower, against the wall, i want him to slap my face with it, i want him to eat me up, i want him to tease me, i want him to be agressive with me, i want him to lost his mind on me, to put all his madness on me, i want him to bite me, to slap me, i want him calling me names when sees that I'm too close to lose it, i want him to tease me, i want him to tease me with it, i want him to spank me, i want him pulling my hair, i want him digging his fingers on my skin, i want him to pull me aggressively closer to him, i want him to put 10 fingers in me, i want him balls deep inside me, i want him to cum in me, i want him to choke me, i want him to leave handprints on my skin, i want him to fuck me raw, rough and deep.
You pride yourself upon being perfect, whether its your grades, your hair, your outfit, but most of all—your reputation. so what happens when a single bad grade tilts you off that perfect axis? or rather, the boy introduced into your life because of it..
配对 ࿔ . . lee heeseung 𝔁 𝒻!reader
⌗ content warnings: college au , smut , slight angst , nerd! heeseung , he is into gaming-hes also working on his own game , hes obsessed with toy story (as we know) , hes absolutely pathetic , awkward moments , overthinking , reader is prideful and a little manipulative , corruption kink (ish??) , mentions of drinking (smoking in like one scene), jealousy issues , reader can be mean sometimes , heeseung is a sweetheart but a little gullible ✧ inexperienced hee , hand jobs , big dick hee (nerds are packing) , kinda sub hee , lowkey bulge kink , unprotected sex, pussy eating , face sitting (we’re bringing the freak out) , fingering , overstimulation , heeseung can stay hard after cumming multiple times , featuring: hyung line, sunoo, yunjin , let me know if i missed anything !
⌗ word count: 28.7k (yeah…)
Lee Heeseung was a nerd.
He wasn't unattractive by any means, just…overlooked. Didn't even fully grow into his features until his Senior year of high school. But before that, he was a full on loser, still is honestly.
He was the type of guy who stayed up until 3am coding just because he felt like it. Who had a specific shelf just for Marvel comics, and a separate one for DC, along with an area specifically for his character figure collection. All lined up in his room of the apartment he shared with his bestfriend, Jake–who also shared similar interests, except he tends to be more..normal about it.
You on the other hand were the complete opposite. Gorgeous, like actually striking. You were popular, at least according to Heeseung you had a “shit ton of friends” he doesn't even know how you remember the names of that many people.
But the first time Heeseung met you was the first day of classes in fall semester, Econ to be exact. Your low rise jeans paired with a fitted long sleeve. Hair styled perfectly, yet you made it seem effortless. You tend to do that actually, act completely normal without knowing how much of an effect you have on the people around you.
He had both of his earbuds in, like always–scrolling mindlessly through a twitter thread that was debating on whether League of Legends was a good game or not, spoiler alert it is. Anyone else who differs can argue with the wall.
“Is anyone sitting here?” You had asked, when he didn't answer the first time you tapped his shoulder once. He remembers the moment his eyes landed on your face vividly, because fuck–you were pretty.
“Is anyone sitting here?” You repeat, already half annoyed with the fact that this was one of the three seats left in the lecture hall, and you weren't sitting in the front. He looks down at the seat next to him, “Oh no– I mean yes, well not anymore– so no, You can sit, not like I'm forcing you or anything. But uh, it's not taken.”
You nod slowly “Um, Okay..” Before sitting down, your light pink bag hanging from your chair. He now has both of his earbuds out, phone clutched in his hand– because no way was he letting you see that he scrolls through twitter threads for fun.
You look over at him, the way he's sitting up perfectly in his chair, fingers twisting the wire of his earbuds. “Do you always do that?” You ask, eyes trailing along the side of his face. Observing the slope of his nose. “Do..what?” He asks, thankful his voice didn't crack.
“Talk like your brain is still loading.” He lets out a laugh, “Pretty much everyday.” He says, watching your face for a reaction. You smile, it's small–but he notices it.
He lets out a breath when the professor enters, half relieved, but also half annoyed that he can’t delve deeper into conversation with a pretty girl like you. Even if it is only by convenience.
You don't miss the looks, you never do. His gaze shifting from the professor discussing things from the syllabus, to you–a literal goddess sitting next to him, as he would say.
You caught him once, but he thought he was smooth with the quick way he averted his eyes. After that first class he cursed himself for being so damn obvious– God, you probably think he's some perverted freak. Yet you still sat beside him the next day, and the day after that– actually for the rest of the semester.
You didn't talk to him unless it was necessary, like asking him if he wrote down a slide of notes you missed, or that one time you dropped your pen on the ground just under his chair.
He remembers having to bend down slightly, face nearly in your lap just to pick it up. Forcing himself not to look at your bare legs before handing it back to you.
Your casual smile and “Thanks” before acting completely normal again, like you didn't just make his insides to a full 360 from just a smile– no teeth either!
When that class ended just before winter break, he couldn't help how disappointed he was. What do you mean he wouldn't be able to see your face anymore?—or smell your vanilla perfume every time you shifted in your seat!
He remembers Jakes roll of his eyes having to hear him talk about what a tragedy it was. “Dude– it's not like you won’t see her again, remember you still go to the same university?” Yeah you attend the same school, but the closest he ever got to you was sitting next to you in that class. Other than that—you wouldn't even look his way.
“...earth to Heeseung?” Jake's voice cuts through his train of thought, and his line of sight as his eyes stray away from you, laughing and talking with your friends at a table outside. Jake looks back, spotting you through the window of the campus dining haul. “Seriously dude?” Jake sighs, running a hand through his hair.
“What were you saying?” Heeseung asks, taking another bite of his food. “I was saying that I finished episode six of that anime you put me on– man that fight scene was actually crazy, I literally–” He watches Heeseung's eyes stray away from him, landing on you again for like the 10th time in the last 20 minutes.
“Alright there's something seriously wrong with you” Jake says—or more like interrupts. “What? I'm fine.” Heeseung claims defensively, “No– you've been staring in the same direction for the past 20 minutes like a creep. I'm honestly surprised she hasn't felt you looking at her this whole time.” Jake states, “I was not staring at her like a creep–”
“No you definitely were.”
“Whatever dude, it's not like she’d notice anyway.” Heeseung pokes at his food with the plastic fork. “Yeah, she's too busy being Miss. Perfect..” Jake exaggerates. “She really is perfect, isn't she..” Heeseung says, glancing over at you once again.
Little did they know that was far from the truth, yeah you made sure you at least looked good, but your grades were faltering. Specifically in Physics– and especially with your annoying ass professor.
“She literally called on me in the middle of class today, I couldn’t even think of an answer which made me look even more stupid than guessing.” You groan, careful not to wipe at the mascara on your eyes. “That's Professor Kim for you.” Yunjin says, taking one of your fruits from your tray. “It was pretty embarrassing.. But the “It's so obvious” comment from her wasn’t necessary.” Sunoo adds with a face.
“Oh and it gets worse.” You say, looking at the both of them. “You know how she made me stay after class right?” You look at Sunoo who nods, “Yeah, well she full on printed a paper for me to turn into the tutoring center, stating everything I'm struggling with and told me that I was going to need to find help as soon as possible or I was going to fail her class.” You finish in one breath,
“So, you’re going to have to get a tutor then..” Yunjin clarifies warily, looking down at the paper you place on the table.
“Yeah because apparently my performance in her class is "Concerning" and she even said I was lucky to have this opportunity! You know– I would never hit someone but God her face was really slappable in that moment–”
Sunoo interrupts before you can go any further, reading off the list of things “Difficulty with free body diagrams, inconsistent use of formulas, lack of problem-solving structure..Damn, she really has it out for you.” He says, putting the paper down.
“I mean half the time she rambles on like she knows something, and her equations all blend together anyway!” You groan in frustration, both Sunoo and Yunjin looking at each other. “I mean.. Maybe tutoring wouldn't be so bad..” Yunjin suggests, sipping her water. “Just give it a chance, it really can’t hurt y/n.” Sunoo adds, “It hurts my ego, my pride– hell, even my reputation.” You snatch the paper back, shoving it in your bag.
“Not everyone is perfect, including you babe.” Yunjin says, trying to be reassuring. “No, but I need to be.” You frown, standing up. “Where are you going–” Sunoo starts
“Turning in this damn tutoring paper to the library. I need to get this over with, like now–before I change my mind.”
And that's exactly what you did, handing the paper to the woman at the front desk, “You’ll get a message sent when we’ve found your tutor, along with a time and date.” She says, typing on her comically large computer. “Wait, I don't get to choose the day?” You ask, twisting the ring on your finger.
She looks up at that “No, since it's the tutors time you're using.” She says, looking back down– you almost open your mouth to say something like “My time is just as valuable.” But ultimately decide not to, before smiling and walking away.
—
“He’s on me—Fuck!” Heeseung yells into his headset, watching as his video game character dies yet again.
“Jake, dude im literally going to lose my rank–what the fuck man.” He says, ripping off his headset, not wanting to hear the excuses his best friend has to give for playing like shit, even if he is right down the hall.
Heeseung nearly presses the power off button on his monitor before a notification pops up, the loud sound overpowering the faint background music of the video game lobby.
Gmail: Tutoring Lab Information
Fuck— he had forgotten all about that, signing up to tutor for some extra credits. There goes at least a few hours of trying to level up his rank on League.
He runs a hand through his already messy hair before clicking the notification to expand it. Reading through it quickly– “We are aware you’ve gotten a 90 or higher in this class–blah blah blah– good choice okay whatever..” Heeseung stills as his eyes land on the next few words.
Selected Student: Y/n L/n
“No fucking way.” He rubs his eyes once—twice, just to make sure he's not seeing things. Then he laughs, disbelieving, because this has to be a typo, there's no actual way you need tutoring.
He scrolls back up in the email– ah, Professor Kim, Physics. Now that makes sense. He scrolls down again, just to re-read your name plastered in bold on his screen. And better yet, your phone number, right underneath it.
He could fall to his knees right now, seriously–Thanking the universe for this spectacular moment. Almost immediately he picks up his phone, fumbling over the disorganized apps–mostly just games, before finding messages. Typing your number in the add on box, he pauses– how the hell does he even go about this.
“Hey, I know I stared at you all of econ last semester and it was probably totally obvious, oh and also, I still do because it's kind of hard to look away. So now I'm tutoring you–oh and I have a massive crush on you too that makes me feel like a pathetic middle schooler.”
Yeah absolutely not.
You pick up your phone, drying your wet hair with your towel but pause when the notification slides down at the top.
Maybe: Lee Heeseung: Hey, I saw that you needed a tutor for Physics. The tutoring lab assigned me to you, does Thursday at 4:00 work for you?
Great, they weren't kidding about how it's on their schedule. But that name—Lee Heeseung. Where do you know it from.. You open the message, typing out a bland reply.
You: Yeah that's fine.
Lee Heeseung: Great, ill see you there
Heeseung re-reads over the message he sent multiple times, maybe he's over thinking it but you sound upset. It’s just words on a screen and he's no empath, so maybe he's just overthinking right? Haha, right?
“Bro—obviously she’s going to be fucking pissed, she literally prides herself upon being perfect. But honestly if it's Professor Kim and her Physics lessons on top of that, I understand why she needs it.” Jake says, handing Heeseung's phone back to him. “I honestly don't even know how you got a 96 in that class either.” He adds.
“But still, isn’t the universe kind of on my side with this? I mean out of all people– she gets assigned to me.” Heeseung says, looking at the messages one more time. “I dunno’ man, all I have to say is don’t do that weird staring thing.” Jake says, standing up.
“What weird staring thing?” He asks, genuinely confused. “The one where you try to undress someone mentally and physically with your eyes.” Jake states like it's obvious
“I don’t even do that–?” Heeseung says defensively, leaning against his gaming chair. “Yeah alright, just whatever you’re planning, don’t be weird about it.” Jake mutters before walking out of his room, shutting the door behind him.
“I wasn't even going to do anything weird..” Heeseung mumbles under his breath.
-
“Wait—you said Lee Heeseung?” Sunoo asks, leaning over your phone to get a closer look. “Uh– yeah?” you eye him, turning to Yunjin who looks just as confused.
“He’s literally in my Computer science class, and don’t you remember he was in your econ one last semester?” He adds, raising a brow.
“Wait– the guy who stared at her all the time right?” Yunjin sits up straight, “Yeah, the guy with the nice nose.” Sunoo clarifies, watching the realization dawn.
“No—wait no, this isn't good—no, no, no. Because in that class I acted like some know it all, which I mean it was easy but now I'm going to him for tutoring.” You snatch your phone from Sunoo
“He probably thinks im some like—poser!” Sunoo and Yunjin watch you, “Who cares what he thinks—what are you doing?” Yunjin looks down at your phone “I'm cancelling."
“No the fuck you’re not.” Sunoo says, taking your phone back. “You know what will happen to your perfect grades if you fail?” He asks, already knowing the answer. “Exactly, plus this guy is smart as hell, trust me.” He sets your phone back down on the table. “Just go y/n, what's the worst that could happen?” Yunjin adds.
Oh, I don’t know, maybe he’ll mansplain everything to me just like every other guy at this university tries to—or worse, make me feel like a complete and utter idiot.
But yet here you are anyway, denim shorts with a fitted top in all your glory since of course, today decided to be the day the cold weather breaks.
You really could be tanning right now, the smell of sunscreen filling your senses, but instead you’re hit with the scent of dry erase markers and stress.
The library door shuts behind you, a few students scattered around, you make your way up to the second floor where the study sessions are held, so it's not as quiet.
“Oh–hey” he says, looking up at you–maybe trying to stop himself from staring too hard. You shouldn't even be surprised he’s already here, considering he was somehow always earlier than you for Econ last semester.
You look down at the table he's seated at, notebook already open, pencil spinning between his fingers like he can't keep his hands still for more than five seconds. You hesitate for a second before walking over, “You’re early.” You say, looking at him.
“You’re late.” He says, you check the time on your phone. “It’s 3:58..?” You look down at his outfit, some random graphic tee, with jeans.
“And you were always five minutes early for Econ last semester, so it’s late for you.” He states like it's a fact. “Do you just want me to leave?” You cross your arms, annoyed already. “What–no, sorry. I just–hi.” His Adam's apple visibly bobs up and down as the words spill out. “..Hi.”
You set your bag on the table, taking the seat next to him–completely normal for a tutoring session. Obviously you pull out your notebook with your failed attempts in copying down Professor Kim's problems from the board.
He doesn't miss the way you act like you’ve done this before, knowing very well you haven't. Mainly because you’re always too stubborn to ask for help.
He tries to ignore the vanilla smell radiating from you. “So, what are we struggling with then?” You exhale, already done with this. “Pretty much everything according to my professor.” He chuckles and you shoot him a glare.
“Sorry–I'm not laughing at you, it’s just– I know how professor Kim gets so I understand.” He clarifies quickly. “But let's try narrowing it down?” He suggests, “Fine.”
“Okay, show me what you were doing on the last assignment.” You flip your light pink notebook open to the most recent page of what looks like scribbles before facing it towards him. He leans in, shoulder nearly touching yours.
His hair looks soft…..Why are you thinking about his hair.
He scans the page from top to bottom, really looking– not trying to judge, but trying to understand, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Hm, Alright.” He says, looking at you. “I see what the problem is.”
You sit up straighter, “Is it that bad?” You ask warily, “No–” He says quickly, reassuringly “It’s not, it’s just the set up.”
You cross your arms over your chest, “The whole page is the set up.” You state defensively.
“Not really,” He runs a hand through his hair, “You’re just starting the wrong way.” He reaches for your pencil—
“May I?” You nod, handing it to him. His fingers brushing yours in the process. He tries to ignore how that made him feel. That small singular touch of your finger– God, maybe he is a loser.
“Okay, let's start simple.” He says, drawing a wonky looking box. You tilt your head, “A box?” you ask curiously. “In physics, everything is a box.” He says casually, you let out a huff of a laugh despite the situation.
He glances up, eyes falling to your mouth briefly before turning back to the page. He swallows once again. “Now the way Professor Kim does it, she assumes everyone just gets it– but I would say to not start with an equation.”
He goes on, looking at you once to make sure you’re paying attention. And you are, because you really do need this.
“These arrows–” he says, attempting to draw some “Are the forces acting on it.” You nod, “So.. I would draw this every time instead.” You ask, trying to understand. He nods, “Yup. It pretty much tells you what's happening before you try to solve it.”
“No one’s ever really explained it that way..” you mutter under your breath, “Like I said, she thinks everyone just automatically understands the bs’ she writes on the board.” He shrugs
“Yeah well, some of us don't." He leans back, watching you look over the page. “Hey, that’s why we’re here y/n.” You turn to look at him, eyes roaming over his face in the way a pretty girl like you can, no questions asked.
“Okay then,” You lean closer, “Do another one.” His eyebrows lift slightly at that “Bossy.” He notes outloud, “Get used to it,” You say with a smile, he huffs out a breath of amusement before flipping onto the next page, setting up another problem–leaning over a bit closer than necessary, but you don’t pull back.
-
“Okay so…what— you were flirting with him?” Sunoo asks, laying against the headboard of your bed.
“I mean, not like ‘I want you so bad’ flirting but kind of..?” You bite your lip in thought, holding another outfit up to your body, earning two head shakes from both Sunoo and Yunjin.
“He gets nervous so quickly, it's kind of cute.” You say, roaming through your closet. “I said he was a good teacher and his ears got all red” You try not to laugh at the memory.
“So, do you like him or something..?” Yunjin asks, scrolling on her phone. “What– no. I mean he’s like fun to tease and stuff.” You chuckle awkwardly, toying with the hem of a black halter top.
Sunoo raises a brow at that, “Is this one of your superior complex things, except this time it's the loser-nerd who's never felt the touch of a woman?”
You throw the top in his direction “Sunoo!” Yunjin laughs, sitting up. “It’s just–none of the guys here actually like show it. You know what I mean? They try to be all nonchalant and stuff, but Heeseung– I don’t know, he's different.” You say, sitting on the bed beside Sunoo.
“So like he’s an ego booster then?” you shoot Yunjin a glare “Well no–I just like how different his attention feels.” You murmur, picking up the halter top beside Sunoo and holding it up to you. The nod from both of them brings a smile to your face.
“Just be careful y/n.” Sunoo looks at you, “What? Is he one of those undercover playboys or something–” You say through a laugh
“No–God, definitely not. It’s just.. you don’t always realize the effect you have on people, and I don’t think he’d take it lightly..” You let out a quiet laugh, “Come on, he doesn't like me that much.” You say before standing up to find a skirt that would work perfectly with your top. You ignore the “Right..” that leaves his lips.
You were far from wrong though–because no, he likes you even more. Probably too much for yesterday evening being the first time he’s actually had a full conversation with you, even if it was for school.
“I mean that has to be flirting right?” Heeseung asks, completely distracted from the code he's almost done completing for this class. “Isn’t flirting like her second language though?” Jake questions, cursing under his breath when his code doesn't run smoothly.
“What—no, right? She doesn't flirt with everyone.” Heeseung says, trying to convince Jake, or maybe even himself. “I dunno’ dude she has one of those personalities.”
“Are you saying I'm reading into it too much?” Heeseung asks, fingers fidgeting with the string of his hoodie. “I just never see girls like that actually going for well— you know..” Jake starts “What? Guys like me?” Heeseung finishes, running a hand through his already messy hair. Jake opens his mouth to speak again but closes it—“Hey, Heeseung?” The feminine voice cutting through there conversation, drawing both of their attention.
“Oh hey, what's up Clair?” He says casually, “Are you guys doing anything tonight?” She asks, biting her lip nervously, “Shit– we have that league ranked thing–” Jake kicks his foot under the desk,
“No! We’re not!” Jake says cheerfully, practically beaming, earning a side eye from Heeseung.
“Oh– Okay, cool.. Well there's this party, apparently everyone's going. Are you guys gonna be there?” she asks, specifically looking at Heeseung “I don't really do parties–”
“Ow!” Heeseung seethes when Jake kicks his leg again. “Yeah, we'll be there!” Jake says through a smile
“Okay, I can text you guys the details!” She gives a small wave before walking back to her seat on the far end of the class. “What the fuck dude?” Heeseung whisper-yells.
“See now that was flirting, and do you even remember the last time you went to a party– let alone got invited to one by a girl.” Jake says through a hushed whisper “Yeah and there's a reason I haven't been to one since.” Heeseung replies through the same tone.
Jake tries not to laugh at the memory, “Yeah well, plus Clair is totally hot, and she was definitely making ‘fuck me’ eyes at you.” Jake shrugs, leaning back in the uncomfortably hard computer lab chair.
“Those definitely werent ‘fuck me’ eyes, and I only have eyes for one girl anyway.” Heeseung says proudly. “Whatever, we're still going.” Jake says, focusing back on his code.
Heeseung chuckles before doing the same, knowing damn well he's going to end up playing League in his room for hours on end–just like every other night where he doesn't have a shit ton of work to do.
“Im still not going–” Heeseung says, rolling his eyes as Jake walks into his room and flops on the edge of his bed.
“Dude– come on. You’ve quite literally been in your room every free chance you get.” He sits up, “I mean, how can you expect a girl like y/n to actually like you when all you do is rot in that fucking gaming chair?”
Heeseung side eyes him before continuing to scroll on his phone– “I really don’t care, frankly those frat parties aren't even enjoyable unless you’re drunk—nevermind we’re going.”
Jake opens his mouth to make a point but closes it when he realizes what words just came out. “Wait, what?”
“I said we’re going.” Heeseung says, looking down at your instagram story where you’re very much going to said party.
He turns the phone to Jake with a smirk on his face. “I mean you said it yourself, she won’t want someone who rots in a gaming chair right?”
“Okay but what the hell are you even going to say to her? Oh hey it’s me your tutor, yeah just came here to stare at you the whole time with club soda in my solo cup.” Jake mocks, standing up.
“No, I'm actually going to talk to her. I did kind of fine when we were at the library, what could even go wrong?” Heeseung shrugs, slipping on his converse.
“Well first of all, you’re not wearing a fucking toy story 2 shirt.” Jake says, looking down at his outfit.
“What's wrong with Toy story 2?” Heeseung mumbles, “I know for a fact that it’s not getting you any pussy.” Jake says, standing up and tossing him some jeans and a red band shirt instead.
“What would you know about getting pussy?” Heeseung says through a laugh. “Definently more than you.”
Heeseung raises a brow at that “Are you saying you’ve been getting some?” Jake holds back a laugh, “Just put the damn clothes on.” He chuckles before walking out.
-
The second he walks in the smell of alcohol, sweat mixed with sweet perfume and probably smoke hits his senses.
The speakers blaring some overrated rap song too loud. It's not surprising that the place is packed either. He already regrets coming. “Nope–this was definitely a mistake.” Jake laughs “Dude you literally insisted on us going.”
Heeseung runs a hand through his hair, which was sort of styled a few minutes prior. “I changed my mind, it's not worth it.” Jake smirks, “You weren't saying that when you saw her post.”
He doesn't respond, instead letting his eyes scan the room– until they land on you. Black halter top, probably too short jean skirt, laughing, talking– smiling at the people around you like they're actually worth your time.
You look like you belong here, “Yeah.. you’re definitely not talking to her.” Jake says, pulling him from his thoughts, “I am.” He raises a brow, “You’re going to overthink it and want to leave.” Jake says, eyeing him.
Heeseung lets out a breath, scanning the surfaces around him before picking up a drink. “Liquid courage, right?” He smiles weakly before downing the contents inside of it, immediately regretting it with the burn that travels down his throat, he grimaces before drinking the rest, letting it settle.
“Well damn.” Jake says, grabbing a drink for himself. “It's fine, everything is fine– I can talk to her, I mean look how she’s talking to everyone else–” before he can continue over thinking, he starts walking towards the end of the house you’re at, he's barely across when–
“Heeseung, You came!” He stops, Clair, standing right in front of him, smiling like she’s actually happy to see him. “Yeah–” He says, “I honestly didn't think you were going to, you seemed like you were gonna say no.” she laughs.
“I was just– considering it.” Heeseung says quickly, “Mmm, well I'm glad you came.” She smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Stepping closer into his personal bubble, like this is normal. “Are you having fun?” He looks around, eyes landing on you for a split second, mid laugh. God– you’re so pretty when you laugh.
“Yeah, it's uh–great.” Jake chokes out a laugh behind him, a smile spreads across Clair’s face “You don’t have to lie” He sighs “Im trying”
“You don’t have to, you can just hang out with me. I’ll make it better.” She says easily, Heeseung glances at you one more time before looking down at Clair, “Yeah—that would help.” He admits, rubbing the back of his neck.
And that's when you spot him, freezing mid conversation with a few guys, leaning into Sunoo. “Is that who I fucking think it is?” His eyes follow yours to exactly who you’re looking at.
Lee Heeseung, at a party. “How much did I drink–” Sunoo says, looking at the cup in his hand. “I thought he was one of those losers who never even left the house?” You whisper to Sunoo, “Yeah I thought so too–” Your eyes trail down the girl talking to him, her body language clearly indicating she has some sort of attraction to him.
“Do you even know that girl?” You ask Sunoo who shakes his head. You down the rest of your drink before setting it down on some random side table. “Um–what do you think you’re doing?” He asks, looking you up and down. “Im…saying hi.” You smile sweetly. Bullshit.
He sighs, “I can’t stop you.” You fix your hair in the mirror behind him quickly before confidently making your way over.
“Wow.” You say, the girl's eyes land on you, Heeseung turns to look at you. First thing his eyes land on is your face, lips, and just for a split second, your chest—which you don’t miss. Your expression isn't easy to decipher, “Who knew Lee Heeseung was a party person.”
“I'm not—” He replies quickly, “Oh, really?” You look behind him at the girl. “Could’ve fooled me.” She smiles politely “Hi, Im Clair–”
“Yeah, hi.” You say, already focused back on him. “I didn't know you came to things like this.” You look him up and down, he swallows underneath your stare
“I mean—I don't usually.” Jake tries to hold a laugh at the interaction he's watching from a few feet away. “Made an exception though, right?”
Yeah it was actually, you.
But the way you say it– there's something underneath your tone. Maybe he's reading into it too much like he does with everything else. “Yeah,” He says slowly, your eyes fall on this Clair girl again, then back to him– making it known you were looking just to see the nervous look on his face.
He has no clue why he's even nervous. Actually that's a lie, it’s completely your fault he's like this. “Are you having fun then?” You step closer, friendly—but there's something else in your eyes.
Maybe it's the alcohol, whatever he drank out of that cup is probably making him see things..right? “I just got here.” You hum in response, unconvinced.
The girl beside him decides to open her mouth, voice annoyingly high. “We were just–” You cut her off “Oh, I'm sure you were.” You don’t bother looking at her, eyes trained on the boy before you instead. Would it be wrong to say you’re enjoying this?
He swallows, Adams' apple visibly bobbing, “..am I doing something wrong?” He asks, genuinely. You laugh, almost surprised at the question “No, why do you think that?” You tilt your head, doing that thing that usually makes guys swoon. “Because you’re–” He stops himself, looking back at Clair “Never mind.”
You watch him for a second longer, the way he shifts on his feet like your stare affects him too much. You smile— that sweet, almost performative one. “Have fun,” You say before turning and walking away, leaving him confused, and definitely even more curious.
Jake comes up beside him, clapping him on the shoulder “Okay, so that was actually fucking insane.” He says through a chuckle “..shut up.” Heeseung mutters. “She was so jealous.” Jake smirks, “She was not–” Heeseung starts.
“She definitely was, and you’re blind if you don’t see it—which you should considering your obsession with her.” Heeseung looks past his shoulder in the direction you walked in.
“I’ll be right back” Jake grabs his arm “Uh no– you’re not about to leave the girl who very clearly likes you.” He says, nodding towards Clair who's now talking to one of her friends. Heeseung pulls his arm away “I'm not leaving anyone.” Jake sighs “You kinda are.”
“I just– I need to talk to her.” Heeseung bites his lip in thought, Jake pauses before a small grin spreads on his face
“Yeah, that's what I thought.” Before he can say anything else, Heeseung is already moving after you. Not even sure what’s going to come out– but he needs to know what the actual fuck just happened.
“Y/n–” You turn, trying to hide your knowing smile as Heeseung approaches you, just like you anticipated. “Oh? What happened to your friend?” You ask, looking behind him briefly. “I mean—you kind of scared her off..” He swallows when you tilt your head “Not that you meant to or anything, I'm not saying that was your intention..”
It definitely was, but okay.
“..or anything, it’s just–what was that?” He asks, your eyes scan over his face before falling to his mouth for a split second– almost unnoticeable. “What was what?” You ask cluelessly.
“I don’t know y/n, that whole..,thing–” You tilt your head “I was just saying hi? Should I have not?” You ask, he swallows at the way you bat your eyelashes at him.
“No– of course not, I mean I'm glad you did.” You step closer, he doesn't step back. “Really?”
He nods too quickly.
“Hm, cute.” You mumble almost to yourself, watching his face. “You should probably go back to your little friend though, Chloe was it?” You look back, where that girl from earlier keeps glancing at him every few seconds by the makeshift bar. “Clair.” He clears his throat.
Oh? Name correction, interesting.
“Yeah, Clair.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes.
“I’ll see you next Thursday, Heeseung, you know– for tutoring.” You smile one more time before turning and walking back to your friends, Heeseung just stands there for a moment, trying to process—probably too hard.
But the way you said it, actually the way you said everything.. He watches you for a split second longer, his eyes can’t help but fall to the sway of your hips especially in that skirt. He turns, walking back to Chloe– or Clair, whatever–he can’t even think straight anymore.
“So what the fuck was that?” Yunjin asks, “I don’t know what you’re talking about” You shrug, taking the cup she offers from her hand and sipping whatever is in it, Sunoo chuckles beside her– unconvinced. She gives you a look, "I'm just having fun” You say through a laugh, they both roll their eyes, even more unconvinced than before.
-
You’re late, for real this time. Seven minutes to be exact, not that he’s counting or anything. He’s just been reviewing the material from the practice test you sent him via messages, with the words “Im so failing this class :(“ written underneath.
He remembers letting a laugh slip before replying with a “You’ll understand it after Thursday, don’t worry.”
And now he’s watching as you approach the same table from last week, sunglasses perched on top of your head, Jeans low on your hips, tank top tight on your figure–you would say it’s necessary for the warm weather, but also what’s wrong with provoking a reaction from your totally cute tutor?
“Y/n–” You settle for the seat across from him with a smile on your face. “Heeseung,” You say, pulling out your notebook from your bag. His eyes drop to your lips, the pinkish gloss coating them.
He clears his throat before looking back down at his own notebook, “Right– so I actually looked over the problems you sent me–” He starts, you tilt your head. “Wait, you actually went over those.” He pauses, looking at you again
“Well, yeah..” He chuckles like it was supposed to be obvious “..It's kind of my job– I mean, as your tutor. I'm here to help you pass.” His lip quirks up, a ghost of a smile coating his face. Job, huh? “Hm, I see.”
He continues “So I re-did the equations but in a way I think you’d understand better.” He flips the notebook towards you, trying to ignore the way you lean forward, giving him a very clear view of what color your bra is.
Your eyebrow lifts, “Is this just dumbed down?” His eyes widen for a split second “What–No, of course not. This just helps people understand better–Trust me I know you’re not dumb, actually you’re really smart.”
You can’t help the smile that slips at his urgency to clear those thoughts from your head, “Actually smart?” You look down at the paper again
“Were you not expecting me to be smart or something?” Something close to panic flashes across his features, pride across yours.
Maybe you are enjoying this too much.
“Of course not..” He swallows, slightly avoiding your lingering gaze, his ears turning a shade of pink. “..Well, actually I wasn’t– it’s just, you’re really popular and social and stuff–like parties every weekend. And you’re really pretty.” You bite the inside of your cheek to avoid smiling.
“Not that pretty people can’t be smart of course, because you definitely are– like really pretty.” His face is a shade of red now, hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
“Sorry, I know I talk too much, I’m not trying to be rude, or creepy or anything like that.” He shifts in his seat, your silence making his heart race even faster. “I don’t think it's creepy.” You shrug casually. “It’s actually kind of cute.” Your eyes drop to his nose, then to his lips–
“Um–thanks..?” You hum in response, looking back down at his notebook, his eyes follow yours “Right, um– we should definitely get started.”
“Okay, see, 87% is not bad at all, you’re doing good,” His eyes locked on your computer screen, scrolling through the results of your 2nd attempt at the practice test for your exam. You roll your eyes,
“I seriously don’t know how many more of these stupid tests I can do, and I don't need an 87, I need a 100.” He bites his lip in thought “No, you need to stop being hard on yourself.” You look up at him, slightly surprised with his determined tone.
“You're smart, it’s normal to not understand the material the second you see it. It takes practice–I understand you want it to be perfect, trust me, I'm the same way.”
“Okay then, I want to do it again.” He nods, restarting it and turning the computer towards you. “Im patient.” He says, watching the concern glint over your face. You no longer struggle to ask him a question when you need help on a problem like you did the first time you took the practice test, he smiles and nods every time you ask too.
“92.” You say, looking down at the score on your computer. “Not bad at all, your brain is starting to recognize the material.” He states, “Ugh, Why can’t you just be there beside me when I take the exam..” You frown.
“Trust me, if I could, I would.” He says through a chuckle. When your frown remains on your face, he speaks up again “Look, If you need me too– I’d be more than happy to look over the notes she gave you, I can try and summarize it and send a video explaining it.”
“You’d really do that for me?” You ask, sitting up straighter. “It’s my goal to help you pass y/n, and of course I’d do it for you– how could I not..” He goes on “You're pretty irresistible honestly, it’s kind of hard to say no to someone like you. But I’d do it willingly of course.”
He swallows at the way your leg grazes his under the table, the touch burning even through his jeans. “That’s really sweet Heeseung..”
“Yeah– of course, anything for you,” Your mouth twitches, shy of a smirk.
“Anything for me?” You ask, your foot tracing his calf over his jeans. He nods, trying so– so hard to ignore the heat that courses through him at your touch, fuck– why did he have to wear these jeans today.
Please go down, please, please..
“Are you okay Heeseung?” you tilt your head, almost genuine concern in your eyes. “Yeah um, I just–” He checks the time on his phone, “I kind of have to get going, it's a– coding thing.” He picks up his notebook, shoving it inside of his bag, standing up abruptly. Praying that you don’t look down. “I’ll send you that video, bye!”
You try not to laugh at the way he can’t even make direct eye contact with you, because the second he stands up your eyes fall to the bulge in his jeans. This time you swallow because either you’re really tired or Lee Heeseung might be... Big?
“Heeseung,” You call out before he can go around the corner, he turns, “Thanks for your help.” You smile innocently, like you’re not the very reason he has to leave so abruptly to get rid of his raging hard on.
He nods before turning the corner. You take your time packing up your stuff, not even aware of the small smile that coats your face, which hasn’t disappeared.
-
He has to be reading into it too much, because that's something he's good at; overanalyzing, coming to insane conclusions…There’s no way you might actually like him back? Right? No he has to be going crazy.
He looks down at the messages on his phone one more time.
Heeseung: [video attachment]
Heeseung: i went over the notes and tried to explain them better for you in this, let me know if it helps
You: oh my gosh?
You: Thank you so much Heeseung this is insane
Heeseung: of course, im just happy I can help you
You: I feel kind of bad though.. :(
Heeseung: why would you feel bad?
You: you’re doing all this for me and I haven't really done much in return.. with the tutoring lessons being free and all
Heeseung: please don’t worry about it y/n
Heeseung: If anything you’re helping me
You: ughh
You: I still feel bad..
You: how about this, if I pass my exam on Thursday, instead of tutoring me you can come to my place so we can celebrate! :)
He's been staring at the message for the past five minutes, part of him debating going to Jake and asking for advice, but something about this feels different? Like a shared secret between the two of you.
Heeseung: I’d love to
Heeseung: do you want me to bring some food over then?
You: No silly, im going to cook
Heeseung: wait you can cook?
You: a pretty girl whos smart and can cook, are you shocked? :0
Heeseung: thats not what I meant
Heeseung: Sorry
Heeseung: I'm sure you can cook
Heeseung: whatever you make is probably amazing
You: Im just teasing you Hee
You: ill see you around mk?
Oh my God, you’re going to kill him, like actually kill him. Sure it's just messages but something about you giving him a nickname like that– yeah his heart definitely just stopped for a second. Fuck— Jake's right, he is pathetic.
Heeseung: yeah sorry again
Heeseung: I'll see you
He cringes looking down at the part where he actually stumbled over his words on fucking i-messages, turning off his phone before he can do anything else stupid.
“..and why are you smiling at your phone like that?” Yunjin asks, raising her brow while painting her nails. “What? I'm not smiling.” You say, putting your phone face down on her bed.
“Nope, you definitely were– like cheesing ear to ear.” She adds, blowing on her nails to dry them.
“Let me guess, Heeseung?” She says, teasing glint in her eyes. “Uh–no, what? Why would you think it's him? He’s like just my tutor, and plus he's a total nerd, and a loser.” She blinks once, then she laughs. “W-why are you laughing?” You ask, sitting up in her bed.
“You like him don’t you? Like actually–” She starts, “No! I don’t– why would I like him? No–” You stammer over your words.
“Calm down, I'm not hating on you for it or anything, I honestly just thought you were giving him the time of day because of how down bad he is for you, you know?” She watches you closely
“I'm serious, I thought you just liked teasing him at first, but no– you genuinely like Lee Heeseung–”
You stand up to put your hand over her mouth, “My nails!–” She says through a laugh, “Do not finish that sentence–” You say, trying to cover your own smiling face with a serious one, failing miserably. “Fine, fine.” She says, hands raised innocently, checking to make sure her nails are still good. You roll your eyes, sitting on the edge of her bed.
“Just be careful y/n, okay?” you pick up your phone, nodding “Yeah, yeah whatever.” You say through a small laugh.
-
Your fingers are literally crossed under the table as Professor Kim hands out the graded exam papers. You bite your lip as she comes closer to you, she looks down at the paper than at you before smiling.
“Good job Y/n, I'm glad to see the tutoring is helping.” She says before placing the paper on the table.
96%.
You’re seeing things right, because Professor Kim doesn't just hand out A+ grades like that.
The first thing that comes to your mind; Heeseung. You’re thankful when she ends her lecture early.
You remember going to the computer science building a few times when you and Sunoo met up after his class, and obviously now you know that Heeseung happens to have the same class, why not surprise him, he’s obviously going to be proud!
“Y/n?” Sunoo questions, walking out of the computer lab, mint green bag hung on his shoulder.
“What are you doing here?” He asks through a chuckle. “Is uh.. Heeseung in there?” He raises a brow “Yeah.. pretty sure he’s staying for some club meeting– Gaming development or something.”
You nearly laugh, because of course someone like him would be in a fucking Gaming Developemnt club. You peek behind him to get a look inside the lab, “I’ll see you later Sunoo,” he shakes his head before disappearing down the hall
You open the door to the lab and spot the back of his head immediately, even if it is covered in a grey beanie.
Your eyes drift to the left side of him. Fucking hell. Can this girl not catch a hint? You don’t even care about the heads turning as you make your way further into the room. Surprised that a girl like you is walking into the middle of a club like this.
“You definitely know a lot about this stuff, Heeseung, it’s really impressive–” Clair starts, but stops when Heeseung's eyes drift to you, a slightly shocked expression on his face “Y/n– what are you doing here?” You roll your eyes.
“Everyone keeps asking me that.” You cross your arms over your chest, ignoring the way his friends' eyes switch to you and Heeseung like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.
“I have something to show you.” You say, not even caring how it sounds. “We were busy working on something and this is a private club meeting actually, so im not sure how you even–” Clair starts, tone clearly bitter.
“Okay well good thing it’s only for him to see, and not you.” You interrupt, finally look at her.
“You’re not even supposed to be in here though–” Her hand leaves the back of Heeseung's chair as he stands up. “It’s fine, I can talk to her outside if I have to,” he says, moving past Clair, you tilt your head sweetly at her before walking with Heeseung out into the hallway.
“Okay Y/n, what–” You pull out the folded paper from your bag, biting your lip eagerly.
“Go on, open it.” You say, he looks at you, eyes falling to your lips before opening the paper. “Holy shit—96?” He exclaims, a smile coming to his face almost immediately. You nod, humming in response
“I knew you could do it, and I mean… this is a lot, even for Professor Kim, god—you’re amazing.” He says looking down at the paper. “It’s because of your help y’know” You say, stepping closer.
His eyes flick up to yours, “I mean—it was really all you, truly. I just helped a little–” He says, chuckling. “We’re still on for tonight though, right? I still have to repay you for helping me” You smile sweetly. “Repay me?” He asks, eyes falling to your low cut top for a split second—almost unnoticeable.
“Yeah, I'm cooking too, remember?” You bring your hand up, picking at an invisible piece of lint from the collar of his shirt. Thank God he wore a beanie today, or else you would have seen the embarrassing shade of pink his ears just turned.
“You really don’t have to do that for me y/n– seeing your score was honestly rewarding enough, truly—I don’t want to make you feel like you have to do something for me..” he says, hand coming up to the back of his neck. “I know, but I want to. So let me,”
“Okay– but seriously if you change your mind–”
“I won’t, Hee,” You say through a laugh, the nickname shoots heat straight through him “I’ll see you later m’kay?” You smile, feigning innocence.
You stand up on your tip toes to press a small kiss to his cheek before giving him one last wave “Bye Hee,”
He presses his hand to his cheek, why is he burning up right now? No way that actually just happened–
He makes his way back into the computer lab, mind still replaying the interaction over and over again, the softness of your lips– hell, even the way you were looking at him. Jake shoots him a side eye
“Dude, are you good?” He asks, trying to hold in a laugh. “What—huh?” Heeseung questions, fixing his beanie. “You look a little.. Flushed.” He says through a smirk, eyeing the light pink gloss mark on the side of his face.
“Im not flushed–” Jake points to the mark on his face, making Heeseung touch his own.
He turns an even more embarrassing shade at the light pink glossy residue coating his finger tips, earning a laugh from his best friend,
-
So what if you made sure to clean up extra good before he came over, and it’s not like he's going to even know you looked up a recipe online for how to make pasta. At least it tastes decent.
You bite your lip anxiously, fixing your hair in the reflection of your microwave before moving to open the door for Heeseung.
“I know what you’re going to say– but I figured we could fit some studying in..” He says, watching as you chuckle before inviting him in and closing the door behind him.
“I shouldn’t even be surprised” You say through a laugh. He takes off his shoes, something he's always done growing up. He looks around your apartment, the light pink walls that you managed to convince your landlord to let you paint, everything is very you.
A faint sweet smell lingering in the air, slightly clashing with the rich scent of the pasta you made. His eyes fall to the pan, “Wow– it looks..” “Edible?” You finish, eyebrow raised.
He laughs, “I was going to say amazing” He gives you a look as if to ask if he can put his bag down, “Make yourself comfortable Hee, I don’t bite” You smile as he places his bag down on your couch.
He walks back over to the kitchen, watching as you grab two plates from the upper cabinet. “Let me help you,” He says, taking the plate from you. “Heeseung, I'm the one who invited you–” You say, rolling your eyes. “Fine, fine”
You place the plates on the center table in the small living room. He tries so, so hard to not let his eyes wander but you make it hard for them not too.
“..want a drink?”
“Huh?” He asks, running a hand through his hair. “I was asking if you wanted a drink” You say through a laugh, placing two glasses on the counter. “Oh– yeah, thanks” He says, sipping the dark red wine yunjin got you for your birthday last year.
“Good right?” You ask, tilting your head. “I don’t really drink much but anything you’d give me is good,” He pauses “Like any food– or drink” You chuckle
“I know, just try the food,” You say, sitting down on the couch beside him. He takes the first bite, slight surprise washing over his features before he looks at you.
Your eyes are curious watching for his reaction. “That's– that's really good y/n” He says, taking another bite. You smile proudly before doing the same.
You two have been there for a while, glasses empty. Too lazy to get up for a refill—“What are you doing?” You ask, watching him stand up.
“I meant what I said about extra practice–” He grabs his bag “You cannot be serious right now Hee.”
That nickname again, the one that makes him feel things he probably shouldn't from just words. But he needs to do something, anything to take his mind off the fact that he's here alone, with a pretty girl like you..studying is obviously the only ethical option.
He grabs the notebook from his bag, along with his laptop. “Im very serious, isn’t your next exam coming up soon?” He asks, opening his laptop and sitting on the couch.
“In like a month..” You say, rolling your eyes and settling next to him. He swallows at how close the proximity is, you’re just so warm next to him.
“All you do is help me study.. I still feel bad about it, and now we're about to do it again.” You frown, and he finally turns to look at you.
Regrets it immediately, because his eyes drop to the way you push your breasts together almost unnoticeably before flicking back up to yours. “I already said, it's my job and–” You shut the laptop.
“A job you don’t even get anything for.” You say, sliding the laptop off his lap and onto the coffee table. “Its really the credits– I also like helping you, even though you’re already pretty smart, I really don’t mind–” He continues on.
“Fine–” You say, leaning back against the couch. “Okay—yeah, perfect, it makes me feel better if we’re ahead anyway.” He says with a smile.
For the past 30 minutes, everything has been going in one ear and out the other, because hearing about physics sure as hell wasn't how you were planning to thank him tonight.
“..and that's how you get from point A to point B in this equation–”
“Heeseung.” You interrupt, he stops explaining, pencil hovering over the notebook, turning to look at you. “I can start from the beginning, I don’t mind–”
“No, God– no, I’m just..” You look down at the paper, “I don’t wanna study anymore.” He puts the pencil down, “But the extra practice is good–” You lean in closer, probably too close,
“Studying is all we do, I invited you here so we could take a break from that, you know? Celebrate where that studying got us, and properly thank you.” He looks at you with wide eyes when you face him on the couch, legs curled beneath you.
“I though the uh, I thought the food was the thank you..” you spot the small bead of sweat near his eyebrow and nearly laugh. “Do I make you nervous or something?” You ask, his ears turn that pathetic shade of pink.
He nods, “Y-yeah.” Unable to even form a proper lie or excuse for the way his skin is probably burning with anticipation. “Why?” You ask, tilting your head curiously.
“Well I mean– how could I not, you’re really pretty, and really intimidating..” He pauses
“..I didn’t even think it was possible for a girl like you to be into someone like me– not saying that you’re into me or anything, I wouldn't object to you being into me obviously, I mean I'm clearly in you– I mean, into you. It’s hard not to be honestly—” You watch the way his mouth moves before his brain processes what he's saying.
“—I was hoping it wasn’t obvious, is it obvious? Okay now im just rambling im sorry, I can’t help it– you just make me really nervous” He's breathing hard now, sitting up completely straight.
“Cute.” You smile, watching the confusion on his face. “If I wasn’t mistaken, I’d think you have a crush on me.” You scoot closer, probably invading his personal space.
As if he’d complain.
“Do you have a crush on me, Lee Heeseung?” Your eyes fall to his lips “I– well.. No?…” He shuts his eyes for a moment, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart
“…sorry, that's a lie. I mean, How could I not.. I like– I like you, which is probably not professional for a tutor and student relationship but I–” You shut him up immediately when your lips press against his.
Your lips are soft, when you pull back a few seconds later his tongue darts out to lick his own lips, the faint strawberry taste of your lipgloss remaining, his expression is almost comedic.
He doesn't think twice before closing the distance again, needing to feel your lips on his, you let out a sound into his mouth, your hand trailing up to rest on his shoulder, he grips your waist, tugging you closer.
You swing your leg over his, allowing you to straddle his lap, deepening the kiss further, you wrap your hands around his neck, tangling your hands in his hair, a light tug making him groan into your mouth pathetically.
His hands are unsure at your hips, still in shock that he’s actually here right now, in your home, touching you– kissing you. When you slip your tongue in his mouth, his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, you roll them softly and his breath hitches.
“P-please do that again..” he breathes out, looking down when you roll your hips again, you feel him growing hard, demanding beneath you—and undoubtedly big. “Touch me Hee–” You whisper, nipping at his bottom lip.
One hand slips under your shirt, feeling the softness of your back, the other trailing down to rest on your ass gently, offering a squeeze.
“Like this?” He asks, voice rough—needy. “Mhm” You nod, rolling your hips forward against his, he thrusts up once from the friction,
“S-shit– sorry, I'm sorry–” You lower your lips, kissing just below his jaw, "Don’t apologize" This time when you grind against him, he reciprocates it, the hard line of his cock grinding perfectly between your legs.
“You’re so pretty” He mumbles, both hands cupping your ass through your pants, you smile against his neck before pressing one more delicate kiss to his jaw.
When your lips leave his skin a sound breaks from him. “What–” He watches as you slide off his lap.
“I wanna suck you off.” You say bluntly, his heart beat picks up even faster than before.
His hands sit awkwardly at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do– which quite frankly, he doesn't. You lick your lips before reaching for his jeans. Heeseung stops your hand, gripping onto your wrist.
“Wait” You pause, looking up at him. “I just want to make it clear that uh– this..” he looks down at the very visible bulge in his jeans. “..this isn’t why I came here– you don’t have to..” You rest your hand on his thigh.
“I know I don’t have to. But I want to.” You clarify. He bites down on his lip, his cock aching to be set free from its confinement. “I wanna repay you, like I said.” You smile as his grip on your wrist loosens.
Unbuttoning his pants, fingers hooking around the waistband, he lifts his hips allowing you to pull down his jeans and boxers in one go.
“Holy shit–” You say, gaping at the sheer size of him. Flushed pink at the mushroom tip, and so fucking wet.
Your eyes trail along the prominent vein on the underside before looking up at him. He looks nervous as hell right now, “Is it– is there something wrong with it?” he asks, gulping.
You shake your head immediately, now you’re the one swallowing with the sudden dryness in your throat. “No– definitely not. It's just.. like” You lick your lips “Really big.”
“Do you normally get this..wet?” You ask, wrapping your hand– or attempting to wrap it around the base.
He winces at the feeling of your soft palm before nodding. “Is that a—fuck.. Is that a bad thing?” He asks, tone utterly pathetic.
You answer with a long lick from the base to the tip, gathering what you can of his leaking pre cum, the saltiness coating your tastebuds in the best way possible.
He lets out a wrecked sound, the feeling of a tongue on him so new–
“Not at all.” You mumble, running your tongue along the underside of his tip. His hips buck at the sensation, mouth hanging open, watching you.
This time he doesn't say sorry. You smile against him before wrapping your mouth around him, trying to take as much as you can, you brace one of your hands on his thigh, the other one wrapping around the base of his cock.
It's so worth it once the most pathetic moan escapes past his lips and he makes no move to hide it.
“I-its so warm–” He groans, hand coming up to tangle in your hair purely on instinct. You hum and the vibration makes his hips jerk instantly, forcing more of himself in the warm column of your throat. “Y/n– I can’t..” He says, biting his lip–trying to watch you but it's so hard to with the way his eyes flutter shut.
His sounds give you even more motivation as you bob your head faster, squeezing the base of his cock. “W-wait, slow down–” He tries to pull your head back, but you stay put as his warm cum spills down your throat, his grip on your hair falters as you milk him dry.
You pull off of him, cum coating your lips, looking up at his face, the sweat beside his eyebrow, to his glazed eyes, then back down to his still hard dick.
“You’re..” You breathe out, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and blinking once “You’re still hard–” You say, watching as a small bead of cum dribbles down his cock along the thick vein. “I should have said something– Once it gets like this..” He looks down at his dick, standing proud “..it takes um, a few tries to get it down.” He swallows.
He moves to pull his boxers back up to tuck it back but you stop him. “Have you ever had a handjob?” You ask, standing up and sitting next to him. He shakes his head shyly. “Ive never really had anyone– you know.” You smile at that,
“Good, I wanna make you cum again.” His cheeks flush at that, but he nods because who is he to say no to such an offer?
-
It doesn’t stop there. What used to be a dream– a fantasy in Heeseung's mind is actually actively coming true.
Who would have thought innocent tutoring lessons would turn into something like this? A shared secret between the two of you that your friends are definitely picking up on.
Based on the way you walk around even more confidently than before, and the way you actually look for Heeseung in a room—only to find him already staring at you.
To be completely honest, you don’t know what it is you have going on, but the attention feels so fucking good—especially after what happened just a few days ago,
“So what did you need help with?” You had asked, following him into the computer lab, which was empty due to it being after hours. “Nothing,” He said, Your brow lifting immediately, “You literally asked me to come here,”
“I just need to check something.” He mumbles, you cross your arms over your chest, “That sounds suspicious.”
He looks up at you, loading in his work in progress of a game, “It’s not.” You roll your eyes, “Yeah will it sound like it.”
He exhales, trying to sound as least suspicious as possible, “Can you just–stand there for a second.” You blink once, “What?”
“Just a second,” You tap your finger against your crossed arm, “Why?” He continues clicking stuff on his computer, “Because I asked,” He says simply, “That’s not a reason.”
He looks up at you again, almost pleading look in his eyes. “Fine, even though this is weird.” You say, giving in.
He turns his monitor away from you, and you shift slightly. His eyes flick between his screen and you–not awkwardly, just with extreme focus, like he’s studying you. “..what are you doing?” you finally ask, “Nothing.” He mutters, “you’re staring.”
“No, im observing,” He says confidently, the sound of his mouse clicking and keyboard typing filling the space between the two of you. “That's worse.”,
“Can you just turn a little to the left..” He asks with a vague gesture. “Why?”
“I just need to see something,” You huff, “Why are we doing this Heeseung?” he hesitates for a split second, “It’s for my game.” he admits.
“The one you’ve been working on?” He nods, looking up at you again, then back to the screen.
“So what does that have to do with me?” You narrow your eyes slightly, “I needed a reference,” He says, biting his lip nervously, waiting for you to call him a creep– a weirdo, obsessive freak maybe?
But when you smile, he can’t help but mirror the action, quickly going back to focusing when you do eventually turn for him.
Heeseung's cute, attractive in a way the guys you've been with before weren't.
The first time you walked into his room a little bit over a week ago for tutoring–which ultimately led to a very heated makeout session, and you learning that he really likes kissing.
His room didn't even surprise you, hell– he even had a whole section dedicated to Toy Story figures.
You also learned that he’s a pretty big gamer, and takes it very seriously– probably why he’s in that Gaming development club or whatever the fuck.
Your favorite part is how shy he gets, especially when you say the most out of pocket things.
“So you’ve never eaten a girl out before?” You ask, sitting up straight on his bed.
His face turns an embarrassing shade of red. “I–No..” he says, shifting in his gaming chair, thankful the notebook in his lap covers the way his cock is already half hard from the words alone.
You tilt your head, smiling. “Do you even know where the clit is?” You ask through a chuckle.
“What– Why are you..” He looks down at his notebook, then at the physics papers scattered across his bed where you sit.
“…We should be focusing on studying right now y/n–” You roll your eyes, gathering the papers together in one stack. “Just answer the question Hee.” That nickname again. The one that really gets him, and you know it.
“I did a human anatomy study for one of my classes last semester—very detailed, so, kind of? I think.” Your brow raises at that. “Yeah? So you think you’re some expert now?” You ask, leaning back on your palms.
He finally removes the notebook from his lap, setting it on the cluttered table behind him. Your eyes immediately fall to the very clear bulge in his sweatpants that he makes no move to hide anymore.
“Is this you trying to distract me from studying again?” He asks, standing up. “Is it working?” You question, biting your lip.
“I had to lie to the tutoring lab administrators the other day, about the tutoring hours y’know. I couldn’t just tell them the pretty girl I got assigned to, spent half the time sucking me off instead of actually doing her work” He says, not exactly sure where this newfound confidence of his is coming from—but from the way your cheeks flush that perfect shade of pink, he must be doing something right.
“Couldn’t tell them she wears these little tops that seem to get smaller every session, these shorts that get tighter– absolutely kills me,” he admits, looking down at your bare legs.
“I did tell them that you’re a great student, good at comprehending the material, always focused on the task at hand.” He climbs on the bed with you until you're laying flat on your back.
“Kind of lied about the focus part though, you’re more of a distraction– a really good one at that.” He clarifies, dipping his head to kiss the sensitive spot below your ear he just discovered the other day.
“Hee–” You breathe out, running a hand through his hair, he pulls back looking down at you. Humming in response, already lost in you.
“Are you going to eat me out or not?” You ask bluntly, you don't miss the pink shade that covers his ears. “You should know by now that I'll do anything you ask me too,” He says, licking his lips.
He pulls back, looking down at you. “Ive been thinking about this you know, can I admit that?” he asks, smoothing both of his hands down your bare thighs—testing.
You nod, hooking your fingers around the waistband of your jeans shorts, but he stops your hand. “I want to look at you like this for a little—“
“I think about you a lot actually, probably more than I should.” He adds, lowering himself to the soft carpet of his bedroom floor.
“Ever since that first day of Econ too, remember when you tapped my shoulder?” He smiles, you nod. “I swear I couldn't get you out of my head– not in a creepy way, but you just–” He presses a gentle kiss to your calf— not quite sure if this is what he's supposed to be doing, but it feels right.
“You have an effect on people y/n, I don’t even think you realize it.” He whispers, looking up at you.
“Heeseung..”
“I know, it's a lot– there's so much more I have to say too.” He chuckles, still unbelieving that you’re right here in front of him.
“But I really—really want to do this right now.” He admits, fingers finally hooking around the waistband of your shorts.
He pulls them down slowly, the movement intimate, like he's treasuring each reaction– studying it harder than he does his schoolwork, or whatever video game he plays.
You sit up on your elbows to get a better view, and it's so worth it.
He looks up once, and when you nod his fingers move to pull your underwear down as well, and he moans—actually moans at the sight of you.
“Even your pussy is perfect–” He says, licking his lips. The words cause even more arousal to drip out of you. He swipes his finger through your folds once, gathering some– the touch makes your hips jolt.
“After, we can finish Toy Story 2 right?” He asks, looking up at you—eyes practically sparkling. You nod immediately “Yes– fuck, Heeseung..” You breathe out, watching him lick the juices from his fingers.
“Just need your mouth on me– now.” You demand, he smiles “Still bossy as ever.” Before mirroring the same action of his finger, licking a stripe up your pussy, because this is what he’s supposed to do right?
He tries making out with your pussy, and from the moans that leave your lips he must be doing something right. There's something messy about the way he does it,
“Just like that– are you..fuck” You moan when his nose bumps your clit, “..are you sure you’ve never done this?” You ask, breaths coming in heavy pants as he hums against you, your hips bucking against his face.
He discovers a rhythm, alternating between teasing your aching hole with the tip of his tongue, and flicking it over your throbbing clit– the sensitive bud craving the touch.
He pulls back for a moment, admiring the mess he's made before gathering some spit in his mouth and letting it drop right onto your pussy.
Where the fuck did he learn that from.
He looks up at you, the way your mouth hangs open before latching his lips onto your clit, taking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it.
“Oh my God– Hee, I can’t..” You give up on holding yourself up with your arms as your fingers tangle through his soft locks, pulling him even closer to you. He groans into the heat of you, the sounds of him eating you out filthy–
“I need–” You say, trying to get your words out, he parts from your clit, looking up at you, the bottom half of his face completely covered in your slick, but he could care less about that right now—if anything it's rewarding.
“I need your fingers, Heeseung..” You whimper, he brings his middle finger to your entrance, teasing it subtly,
“Like this?” he asks, watching your face for approval. You nod, he pushes the tip of his finger in, your hole welcoming him in with ease
“It’s so wet–so warm” he observes, pushing it in deeper, you hold onto his wrist. “Mmm– Hee..” You cry out as his finger curls experimentally.
He watches your reaction before doing it once more, noting how you tighten around him at the movement.
“You’re so pretty—seriously, I can’t get enough of you..” He whispers, the words easily falling out, your eyes flutter shut.
He moves your hand from his wrist, setting it on top of his head.
“Pull it—I don’t care, it feels good” He admits, curling his finger deeper, using his other hand to prevent your legs from closing around his head.
And you’re thankful he did because the second his tongue is back on you, you’re tugging at the strands, his finger curling and uncurling inside of you, mixed with the way he slurps at your clit
This has to be the best head you’ve ever gotten—hands down. Inexperienced guys really do eat pussy the best.
“F-fuck Hee, I– Im close..” You warn, but it only makes him more determined—the thought of you actually cumming, and even better, him being the one to give you that pleasure fuels him even more.
His finger repeatedly brushing a spot inside of you that you can’t reach and his tongue flicking your clit through his pursed lips has you completely undone—reaching your high with his name on your tongue, pulling at his hair– not sure if you want him off or even closer—definitely closer.
He moans against your pussy like he's the one getting pleasure, in all fairness—he probably is.
Your back arches off the bed as your juices coat his face, he doesn't even care if it drips down his chin, wetting the sheets below you, he still tries to greedily lap up what he can, finger never leaving inside of you until the rise and fall of your chest slows.
Only then does he lift his head from between your legs, looking up at you for approval. “T-theres no way that was you’re first time” You say, watching as he stands up, licking his lips.
“So you would let me do it again?” He asks, picking up your underwear from the floor, “Is that a serious question Heeseung?” He chuckles,
“Good, because I think I maybe– kind of got the hang of it.” He says, moving to put on your underwear for you. And you let him, “I might need to do it a few more times to make sure– for research purposes.. And stuff.”
He clears his throat, you can’t help but laugh, wincing at the way the cloth of your underwear feels on your sensitive pussy. He presses a kiss just above your waistband. You swallow at the action– how genuine it felt, how genuine the boy before you is.
You watch as he lays against the headboard of the bed, cock clearly hard in his pants before raising your brow. “What?” he says through a chuckle, flipping through the apps on his TV looking for the Toy Story 2 movie.
“You’re just going to sit here, with that?” You ask, still laid down on his bed. “You said we could watch Toy Story 2– I thought..” He shifts when you sit up, crawling to lay next to him.
“God– you really are a nerd.” You say through a laugh, “Hey– the plot is a lot deeper than they make it out to be, I think you’re really underestimating the whole thing–” He starts,
“Heeseung, just put the movie on.” You shake your head, he presses a sloppy kiss to your forehead before doing just that.
But its safe to say you didn’t let him deal with his little (big) problem for much longer after that.
-
“Why are you doing that?” Jake asks, side eyeing Heeseung as he works on the code before him– while also smiling.
“Huh? Doing what?” He questions, looking at his friend for a split second.
“That smiling thing.”
Heeseung scoffs, “I’m not doing any type of smiling thing.” Jake's eyes fully leave his monitor to really look at him.
“Y’know, you’re absolutely shit at lying.” Jake says, “I’m not even– what,”
“It’s y/n huh?” Jake says for him. “Shut up–” Heeseung mutters, tone a hushed whisper.
“Holy shit– no fucking way she actually..” Heeseung's ears go that pathetic shade of pink, “Don’t be so loud okay? I– she doesn’t want anyone knowing anything” Heeseung says, seriously.
Jake raises a brow at that “What is she embarrassed or something?”
“No– it’s just, I– It doesn’t matter, okay?” Heeseung says, voice low. “I dunno man, you really like her, right?—are you sure..”
“Heeseung?” That familiar voice cuts through, Clair.
Part of him thankful for taking him away from this conversation with his best friend. “Hey, what's up?” He immediately says, ignoring Jake's annoyed huff.
“We’re going to the dining hall to get something– the others are really hungry, especially with the deadline coming up.” She says, biting her lip anxiously.
“Do you wanna come with– you too, Jake.” She adds, looking behind him for a split second.
He looks back down at his computer, the half finished code nowhere near ready, “I can’t. I have to finish this.” Heeseung says, cursing himself for being so distracted.
“Oh, um—okay, want us to bring something back–”
Jake interrupts immediately. “Yeah, pretty sure they're doing that good ramen today, thanks Clair.” She shoots him a look before glancing back at Heeseung, who is in fact back to working on the code.
“Yeah, sure.” She replies, both of the boys missing the tone of her voice.
“I seriously don’t understand his obsession with her.” Clair says, making her way to the dining haul. “I mean she's like really pretty.” Her friend says quietly.
“Not that pretty—I don’t get why someone like her would even go for someone like Heeseung, I mean they are like the complete opposite!” She says through a whine.
“Not to mention she's a total bitch.” Her friend side eyes her “I don’t get why you even like Heeseung in the first place, yeah he's cute and all but if you’re actually in competition with Y/n I fear–”
“Shut up– She's probably just using him anyway.” Clair mumbles, stepping into the line,
“Using Heeseung?” Her friend questions through a laugh “Yeah, I mean, she's known for being a slut. Wouldn’t doubt if none of those frat guys wanted her anymore so she had to move for him out of all people.” Her friend shakes her head “lm gonna get the fruits, try not to explode while im gone.” Clair rolls her eyes at the comment.
“I really can’t.. I promised him.” You say, looking down at your phone. “Are you serious Y/n? Last month you were like begging to go to party after party and now you don’t want to? Is the dick that good?” Sunoo asks, earning a laugh from Yunjin beside him.
“They can’t reschedule for next Saturday instead?” You ask, biting your lip while looking past the line of people waiting for food– guess this is what you get for coming when everyone was on a break.
“I mean, I wouldn't doubt if one of those frat guys would cancel it if you asked,” Yunjin says with a smirk. “I’m not going, end of story– I promised Heeseung and I can’t break it.” You say proudly,
“Okay, fine, why don’t you just bring him then?” Sunoo suggests, You look at him like he's crazy. “Are you kidding?” You ask, looking at the both of them. “Uh– no babe, dead serious. I mean he's clearly down bad for you, and by the looks of it you’re pretty damn close.” Yunjin states.
“Hes–” You chuckle, “hes not even the party type. like seriously, he hates them.”
They look at each other, “You sure it’s not something else.. Like maybe the concept of hard launching with someone like him?” Sunoo asks, tilting his head. “What– you guys are ridiculous.” You mutter.
“Plus, the only reason why he was at that one party was because he saw that story I posted” You smile at the memory,
“Told me himself the otherday.” You say proudly. You miss the way the girl in front of you stills.
“So he literally admitted to stalking you.” Sunoo says, brow raised. “He so was, and you love it too.” Yunjin adds through a laugh
“So what if it feels good? Am I not allowed to have fun?” You ask, rolling your eyes. “I think you’re having a little more than fun..” Sunoo mumbles.
You tighten your lips to hide your smile before looking past the line of people, “This is exactly why we don’t come here during peak hours.”
“Heeseung–” Clair says first thing as she walks back into the computer lab, He lifts his head, acknowledging.
“I–” She pauses, Jake raises a brow beside him. “There's something you should know” She says quickly.
“Is it about the development? If you need help on something I can..” He starts “It's not about anything with the club– it's about that girl.” She says, shifting on her feet.
Heeseung looks behind him at his best friend before turning back to Clair,
“Y/n?” He questions, because who else could she be talking about..
“Yes.”
“Look, if it's about how she can sometimes be a little.. intimidating..” he pauses, trying to think of the right word, "That's just how she is, don’t take it personal–”
"It's not about that!” She says louder than intended, causing a few eyes to look her way and Jake to make a noise beside him.
“Look– can we talk outside?” She asks with an almost nervous tone. “Oh, um..” He looks down at his monitor before looking back up
“..yeah– um, yeah sure.” He mumbles before standing up and following her out into the empty hallway.
“So what's up–”
“She’s using you.” Clair says flatly. He pauses–what?
“Shes– who?” He swallows, eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the girl in front of him. “Y/n, she’s using you,” He looks down at his feet,
“Why would she use me?” He questions almost to himself, a dry chuckle leaving his throat.
Clair looks at him, trying to bite back another emotion from rising.
“I overheard her talking with her friends in the dining hall.” Clair starts, his eyes are back on her, “They were pretty much talking about how you were just an ego booster for her—because she was bored.” She says, not even caring if she's twisting the conversation into something that will hopefully benefit her.
“W-what–” Heeseung searches her eyes for something—anything, amusement maybe? To say this is just some fucked up joke?
“No– that doesn’t make any sense, she wouldn't do something like that..”
He bites his lip and thought, trying to replay your moments together— those moments in private.
The ones no one knows about except the two of you– your shared secret.
“It’s true Heeseung, I heard them”
He shakes his head, unbelieving– because you wouldn't do that, no you wouldn't. You said you cared about him,
Clair is lying, she has to be.
“Are you lying to me?” Heeseung asks, looking her dead in the eye.
She swallows, “No– Heeseung, why would I lie about this? I'm telling you what I heard, she’s using you for her own benefit, that's how girls like her are..”
He scoffs “Girls like her? What does that mean?” she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, “You know what I'm talking about.. Those attention whores–”
“Don’t.” He interrupts, "Don't speak about her like that– she’s not,”
He sighs "That's not what she is, okay?” He breathes out
“But im trying to tell you–” She starts
“Why? Why would you be telling me this? What's the point of it?” He asks, trying to contain the fear in his chest right now. The doubt starting to cloud his judgement.
“Because you deserve someone better, Heeseung—someone who actually appreciates you, not someone who's trying to use you!” She says, reaching out for his arm.
He steps back, out of her grasp. “I– I don’t believe you.” He whispers, lips in a tight line.
“But I heard her–” She says, voice stern, forcing him to believe it, or even herself.
“No, you– you don’t know her like I do, you don’t.” He states, hand already on the door knob of the computer lab.
“So stay out of it.” He says, tone completely different to how he normally is, that defensive wall coming up, shielding him from this– this accusation.
She opens her mouth to speak but closes it when he opens the door to the lab, moving past her.
“Yo—are you good?” Jake asks, watching as Heeseung powers off the computer, tossing his stuff in his bag.
“Im fine. Something came up.” he says, not bothering to look up.
“Heeseung–” Jake starts, confused as his friend walks out without saying another word.
-
There's no way any of it is true, I mean– you out of all people, using him, Heeseung, the guy who is described as some loser-nerd who plays video games all day and apparently “can’t get any pussy” according to Jake. At least that's who he's known as to everyone else, but with you it felt different.
So It can’t be true. Why would you even use someone like him! It makes no sense, you wouldn’t do that– not for your own benefit, not to make yourself feel better, not because you were bored or needed an ego boost from a guy who would clearly do anything for you. Including spending extra hours way past the limit making sure you passed one of the most challenging classes.
You were the first girl to give him a blowjob for fucks sake!
First girl who even let him get close enough to actually eat your pussy– which he still can’t believe happened and replays constantly in his mind.
You care about him, you do!– or is he imaging it all?
Is this really just some sick mind game– are you playing him? Is what Clair said really true?
No– he can’t let these thoughts cloud his mind, because he likes you, probably more than like honestly, but you like him too right?
I mean, how could you let someone get so close to you without actually liking them, right?
He's spiraling, like actually going insane. Now that these thoughts are in his head he cant get them out–
Is this the reason why everything between you two is in private?
No, don’t connect the dots, don’t assume. God– why is he here right now, and why is he so damn nervous.
No, right tutoring—that's his purpose right now, being your tutor.
His hand hovers over your door before knocking.
“Hey—come in, I just got back from Yunjin’s, and I picked up a little something on my way back,” You say, opening the door and walking back to your kitchen.
He nods before removing his shoes and following you, setting his bag on the island stool.
“It smells really good, are you cooking?” He asks, watching as you squat down to look inside of your oven, trying hard not to watch the way your shorts easily ride up, your ass slightly peaking out from the movement.
He swallows before looking away, eyes landing on the bag on the counter.
“Mhm, I've been trying new stuff ever since I made that pasta for you, I made something for Sunoo the other day and he actually said it was good, like no bullshit.” You say, still looking at what's in the oven.
“This time, I tried making these like red velvet cheesecake cookies,”
He nods, but speaks up “Well uh, it smells good”
You turn around to look at him, tilting your head “Yeah, you said that” he swallows sudden dryness in his throat.
“Right..” You shake your head before turning off the timer and taking the cookies out of the oven,
“Okay, they have to cool down and stuff for like..” You check your phone, scrolling, “..only ten minutes,” You look up at him, smiling.
His eyes fall to the bag on the counter, and yours follow his.
“Right! Okay, so I know you really like Toy Story and all that but also Ramen– like I saw your ramen cabinet at your place and was honestly shocked, but..”
He tilts his head curiously watching as you pull the packets out of the bag,
“Apparently it's some seasonal thing, but I just thought you would like it because buzz lightyears face is literally on it–” You say through a laugh, showing him the Ramen pack.
He smiles—genuinely, something close to guilt pinging in his chest as he takes it from you.
“T-this, this is really nice of you” He mutters, looking at you. “It's nothing, really” You say, knowing damn well you nearly chased a worker down at the store in order to get the last pack of them from the back.
“Thank you,” He whispers, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close.
You pause for a moment, before wrapping your own arms around him, one of your hands running through his hair.
“Okay, okay– weren't you the one who insisted that we actually study this time.” You say, peeling back.
He chuckles, hand rubbing the back of his neck, “Right– um, sorry.”
“It’s okay Hee, I'm just glad you like it..” You say, hand pulling him closer by his waistband, his breath catches in his throat.
“Want a cookie?” you ask, tilting your head, batting your eyelashes innocently at him, in that way you were just looking at him the last time you got on your knees for him.
“Cookie?” He questions, voice shaky– “Yes, the cookies I just made” You add, as if you’re not the very reason his brain is short circuiting.
He makes a noise when your hand trails lower, lightly cupping the half hard length of him inside of his sweatpants.
He nods and you offer a squeeze before peeling your hand back.
He whimpers at the loss, hand reaching out to steady himself on the counter.
“Okay,” You say sweetly, moving back towards the oven. He shakes his head, trying to get rid of any irrational thoughts right now–
he's here to study, and study only.
And he's not going to let those feelings of doubt cloud his mind either, because it's not true, nothing Clair said is true
…right?
“..and they just kept on asking, but I told them I couldn’t– and that you literally hate parties.” You continue, not paying attention to the work in front of you at all.
He just nods, sort of regretting agreeing to your 10 minute “brain break” idea.
He’s tried to avoid looking at you this whole time– because fuck–you look good.
“I mean, I don’t hate them..” He mumbles, picking at the eraser of his pencil.
“Okay, but you don’t want to go to one, right?” You ask, legs swung over his lap.
“I wouldn’t mind if it was with you though– I like spending time with you..” He clears his throat “..so I’d be willing to go through that if it means I can be with you” He says, looking at you.
“Thats cute,” You note, watching the way his ears flush– still the same as when he first met you.
“I like spending time with you too, Hee” You smile, sitting up.
“But I really don’t feel like studying right now..” You whisper, leaning in close, lips ghosting just over his.
“Maybe..” He visibly swallows, “Maybe we can..extend the break then?”
You hum in response, swinging one of your legs over his to straddle his thigh, his hands settle on your hips, grabbing onto the soft flesh.
“Y/n–” You silence his words in a kiss, hands resting on his chest, pulling the fabric of his shirt closer.
He moans into your mouth, you take the opportunity to slip your tongue in, him mirroring the action the same way he tried to do last time, but better—you pull back to catch your breath but he doesn't let that last for long, his hand coming up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you back onto his lips, earning a surprised gasp from you.
You experimentally roll your hips against his thigh, the friction of his sweatpants against your shorts making you even wetter.
His hands roam up and down your back, wanting to feel all at once. You take the opportunity to slip your hand from his chest, palming him over his sweatpants– his cock already hard, desperate, and craving your touch.
“Y/n..” He breathes against your lips, you move your hand to slip it into his waistband—
“Wait– y/n.. Hold on–” He whispers, even as his body leans into the touch.
You respond by kissing just below his jaw, he tilts his head giving you more access,
“Hmm?” you hum in response, “I need–” He lets out a low sound when you suck on the most sensitive part of his neck—his adams apple.
“I need to ask you something..” He breathes out “...first–” You bring your hand lower, just under the elastic of his briefs before his hand leaves your hip and stops it.
“It– it’s important, I just need to say it–” your lips ghost over his neck, “It’s something Clair told me I–” You pause over his neck, pulling back to look down at him,
“Clair?” You question, retracting your hand from his waistband to rest back on his chest.
He nods, “Yeah– you met her at that party, she’s one of my…friends”
You roll your eyes, “What did she say?” You question, licking your lips.
“I just need to know that it’s not true—I told her it was ridiculous and that she was lying, but I need you to tell me–” he blinks once, trying to gather the words.
“Okay..” You say, an anxious feeling bubbling in your chest.
He breathes out once, “She—she told me you were um.. Using me? Which I don’t know what you would use me for I mean– look at you, what could you possibly use me for you know?..”
He continues, not quite looking at you, “She uh said.. That she overheard you talking with your friends– that it was some ego boosting game?” He questions, “I don’t know– I just, it can’t be true right? You wouldn’t use the way I feel to feed into that–” You swallow, your breath catching in your throat
“Y-you wouldn't do that, you wouldn't play me–we have something, right? Y/n–” His chest rises and falls, waiting for you to respond– waiting for you to deny it, fuck just say something, anything.
But that's not true– is it? Is that what you were doing the whole time and you were completely unaware, or maybe a part of you was aware of it– liked it even.
But Heeseung cares about you, he likes you, not just the front you put up, but he likes you.
This Clair girl– she completely is twisting your words, putting these thoughts in Heeseungs mind– you knew she liked him, but doing this, fuck you can’t even think straight because a part of it almost does feel real
“Y/n?” He questions, voice shaky. “T-thats not what this is right?” He asks, searching your face for something to tell him that Clair was lying.
You open your mouth to speak– but close it when nothing comes out.
“Please tell me it’s not true..” He breathes out, throat dry.
“Hee–” You start but his hands fall from your hips, he shifts to stand up, leaving you sitting on the couch, legs draped in an awkward position, shorts ridden up–
“I can’t believe I let myself actually think–” He runs a hand through his hair “..that a girl like you could like me– fuck, im pathetic.” he whispers to himself, he can’t even bring himself to look at you.
“Y-you’re not pathetic Heeseung–” Your voice cracks
“No, I am–im an idiot for actually– I should have known.” He reaches down, grabbing his notebook and pencils from the coffee table.
“Let me explain Hee.. s-she’s not telling the..” He shoves his stuff in his bag, ears ringing– he needs to get out of here right now.
He's already humiliated, crying in front of you would just make it worse.
“No. because you couldn’t even deny it when I asked y/n– you couldn’t even make up a lie or anything.” He says, now fully looking at you.
“I..I can’t do this. I can’t be here right now” He says, voice breaking. You stand up, reaching out for him but he steps back.
because if you touch him right now, he'll completely break, right here on your living room floor.
“Don’t go Hee– don’t.. let me explain,” You don’t even care for the way your eyes blur from the tears threatening to fall
He looks away, he can’t see you like this.
“You don’t have to worry about your reputation or what people think anymore…I—don’t make me feel any more stupid then I already do..please.” He whispers, lips trembling, you lower your hand to your side, watching him as he walks out, not even slamming the door behind him—instead, shutting it gently, and somehow it feels even worse.
-
He's avoiding you.
He's been avoiding you for the past few days–like actually, no staring at you when you two happen to be in the same room, no random pictures from him showing you the newest addition to his figure collection, nothing.
Just radio silence.
Sunoo and Yunjin both give each other a look as you pick at your food with your fork,
“Babes..you haven’t actually eaten your food this whole time.” Yunjin says, drawing your eyes up to her.
You blink once, pushing your designer sunglasses up your nose– a weak attempt in masking how puffy your eyes are.
“Not hungry” You mumble, continuing to poke at your food. “You just said you were craving it–” Sunoo says, watching you with an almost unbelieving look.
“Guess I was wrong” You sigh, picking up the tray. “Where are you going?” Yunjin asks, brow raised. “I’m just going to find something at home. I’ll see you guys later” You say, attempting to offer that smile of yours before leaving.
You open your small pantry, looking for something, when your eyes land on it, the ramen– the specifically designed buzz light year ones that you got for him. Sitting on the shelf, unopened.
Oh he's pathetic huh? You reach in, grabbing it to make something you’ll actually eat.
Don’t do it.
Don’t open the messages app. Don’t click on his contact, and definitely do not type a message to send.
You: Hey, are we still on for tutoring tomorrow?
This is probably why you should have stayed with Yunjin and Sunoo. You swipe out of the messages, pretending to scroll through social media as you wait for a reply, taking another bite of the surprisingly good ramen. Fuck—he really does know his stuff.
You swipe back into the messages, watching as the bubbles show up, just to disappear, then show up again.
Hee: I can’t, but I’ll set you up with someone else instead
Someone else? Is he serious right now?
You: Is this a joke?
Hee: Im sorry
Hee: I have things to work on myself
There he goes, still apologizing.
You: you can’t even face me? Heeseung seriously?
You: can we meet up?
You: let me explain
Hee: Im sorry y/n, im busy
Hee: You’ll get an email of who you will be assigned to
You: I don’t want to be assigned to anyone else
You: I’m not going I don’t care
Hee: How will you keep your grade up then?
You: maybe with you tutoring me?
Hee: Y/n, I can’t.
Hee: I’m sorry but I just can’t be around you right now
You: Im not going unless its you
Hee: I have to go
Hee: I'm sorry, good luck
“Fucking hell–” You whisper to yourself, setting your phone face down on the counter. Why does it feel like someone is squeezing your heart right now– A dry laugh leaves your throat, void of any amusement.
You swore to yourself, you swore you wouldn't let a boy out of all things make you feel this way.
But low and behold, Lee fucking Heeseung is the one to have you feeling like this on a Wednesday afternoon.
Or maybe it's yourself, maybe it really is your fault, maybe you even deserve this.
-
“Uh– what are you doing here?” Jake asks, walking into his and Heeseung's shared apartment.
“Working on the code for my game,” Heeseung answers, not bothering to look up.
“Oh so you’re not watching porn?” Jake asks sarcastically, grabbing water from the fridge.
Heeseung looks up, “Dude– what?”
Jake rolls his eyes, “Im fucking with you, but seriously you’ve been acting weird for the past week. It’s starting to freak me out.” He says, coming around the kitchen counter to look at Heeseung's computer.
“And for the first time in like–forever, you’re here on a Thursday, aren’t you supposed to be tutoring too–” Jake starts,
"I'm not doing it anymore.” This time Jake actually pauses, “Like, not tutoring y/n– The y/n, like the sane girl you’re obsessed with?” He questions, unbelieving.
“Everyone was right about her. A girl like her wouldn't actually be interested in me. I should have listened but I was stupid, and.. And greedy.”
He squeezes his eyes shut. “And I treated Clair like shit over it– I called her a liar, Im an asshole.” Heeseung swears, shutting his computer and rubbing his hand over his face.
“Clair huh?” Jake says, sitting down. “Y’know, she actually asked me if you were going to that party tomorrow.”
Heeseung looks up, “What’d you say?”
“I said you hated parties, but I’d still mention it because I know damn well being in here, sulking isn’t going to help at all.” Jake admits, standing up.
“And you kind of look like shit right now– how many hours of sleep did you get last night anyway–” he starts, observing his face.
Heeseung looks away, “Fine, ill go. But the second I hate it I'm leaving and coming back here to play league.” He says, crossing his arms.
“Yeah, yeah– I'll just make sure you don’t hate it.” He says, a too proud smirk on his face.
-
Jake claps him on the shoulder too hard, “Loosen up man, it’s friday–” Heeseung runs a hand through his hair, looking around at the sea of bodies all together in some frat house.
“Yeah, a friday I could be spending getting my rank in league higher. y’know people actually get paid sometimes for it–” Jake gapes at him,
“See, this is why we needed to get you out. Look–I love that game and all, but you need to live a little, especially after the shit that went down with you know who.” He makes a face at the last words.
Heeseung pauses, “Wait– you don’t think she's gonna be here tonight.. Right?” He swallows, looking around–scanning the crowd.
“Don’t worry about her, just get a drink– plus, im pretty sure Clair was looking for you..”
Panic bubbles in his chest, “I feel like I shouldn’t talk to her– I mean she probably doesn't even want to talk to me.” Heeseung says, rambling on as Jake guides him to the makeshift bar in the kitchen.
Jake just nods along, pouring himself and Heeseung a drink and handing it to him.
“Whats this?” Heesueng asks, smelling the contents in the cup. “Something that will make you a whole lot less anxious,” Jake says through a laugh.
Heeseung swallows, throat dry– maybe this is what he needs, a break. Something to help him disassociate from his brain for a little bit, get away from the overthinking.
He takes the cup without another word, downing whatever his friend put together. “Alright– that works too.” Jake says, sipping his own drink.
And that's how Heeseung got here now, oversized hoodie discarded somewhere in the house, laughing with Jake and some guys he introduced him to.
Actually sort of fitting in, and this time he doesn’t feel like some outsider. What would you think though? Seeing him like this– in a world you're so familiar with.
Even though the music is loud, the room a bit crowded, the crisp night air from outside lingering in, doing little to mask the smell of alcohol and sweat, they looked..relaxed.
“You ever smoked before?” Sunghoon, the tall guy who he can now put a name to says, taking the joint from Jakes fingers.
He hesitates for a second, Jake glancing at him giving him that questioning look, “Not really.” Heeseung admits, Sunghoon nods,
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He says casually, “This shits pretty strong—my boy Jay got it for us,” Sunghoon says, nudging his friend's shoulder.
Heeseung exhales, looking around the room once again, this is his choice– “Nah, its fine” Heeseung says, reaching out for it “I’ll try it.”
Jake's eyebrows raise at that “Hell yeah, this is what I meant by loosening up man,”
“Just don’t–” Jake says too late, the first inhale is a mistake, his throat burns, he turns away immediately as his friends start laughing “-rush.”
“Im fine–” Heeseung manages to say in between coughs “Im good– it’s good.”
“You sure? You look like you’re dying–” Jay says with a grin on his face. “I’m not dying– it’s just, strong.” Heeseung says, “That's how y’know it's good.” Jay adds, He hands it back to Sunghoon, shaking his head to reset himself.
He takes another sip of his drink, the alcohol already helping with making things feel lighter, “..I don’t really feel anything.” He says, leaning over to Jake. “Give it a second,” His friend says with a smirk.
And then he feels the shift, not all at once– but just enough to know that they weren't lying when they said it was strong.
The loud rap song on the speaker fades, like it's further away now. His shoulders relax as he exhales slowly, “..damn.” Heeseung mutters, “What?” Jake whispers.
Heeseung cracks a smile, subtle. “Nothing. I just– it–” He blinks once, he can’t put it into words, but somehow everything does feel lighter. Like the tension that's been in his body for the past week is just..gone.
“You good?” Sunghoon asks, an amused grin on his face. “Yeah,” Heeseung nods, leaning back against the wall. “I’m good.”
“Heeseung?” His eyes follow the voice, Clair.
“Oh, hey–” He says, turning his attention towards her rather than the group, earning a side eye from Jake before he goes back to talking.
“You made it..” She says, almost sounding relieved. “Yeah, I uh– look,” He breathes, “I wanted to apologize for how I acted the other day, because you–” He looks down at his feet, “I think you were right, and I shouldn't have–”
She interrupts him “Its fine Heeseung, I forgive you.” Something flashes in her eyes, “I’m just glad we don’t have to worry about her anymore,” She says, smiling up at him.
Worry about her? He questions to himself, but shakes his head–mind already fuzzy.
“Babe, you don’t have to worry. Use tonight to finally relax, you love parties remember?” Yunjin says, smile bright on her face. Sunoo checks his reflection in his phone camera as you three approach said party.
“I don’t know– I really feel like I need to think about the stuff with Heeseung, he's probably sitting at home alone, I just feel bad and I never got the chance to tell him–” You continue on as you enter the house.
Sunoo cuts you off, “I don’t think you have much to worry about.” Your eyes follow his, landing on Heeseung.
Laughing with a group, drink in hand, and none other than that fucking girl who can’t keep your name out of her mouth–practially glued to his side. You feel the heat rush to your face, “Shit–” Yunjin says, giving Sunoo a look, he shrugs.
“Y/n, we can leave now if you want–” She starts, giving you a worried look,
“No,” You say bluntly, grabbing yourself a drink. “I’d seriously rather not,” You watch as he runs a hand through his hair, laughing at something Sunghoon said.
“We should say Hi,” You look at Sunoo and Yunjin, smiling. Except it doesn't quite meet your eyes. “Are you sure that's a good idea–” Sunoo says through a laugh, “Okay, nevermind she's going.”
“Look who finally decided to show her pretty face,” One of the guys says, you don’t even know who it is, because all you’re focused on is Heeseung’s face when he sees you.
Yunjin and Sunoo come behind you, greeting everyone else. You haven't even looked at Clair once, no point in wasting time on a liar like her.
Your eyes land on the joint in between his fingers that Sunghoon just passed him, “You smoke now?” You ask, tilting your head. His eyes travel back up to your face immediately, not even aware of how obvious he was with it.
“I– No–” You look down at his hand, he swallows, “I just–” You hum in response, lifting his hand on your own, bringing it to your mouth.
His lips fall open slightly as you inhale, slow, practiced, even though you haven't smoked in forever.
“Damn,” One of the guys–presumebly Jay says, watching the scene. Sunoo chuckles, shaking his head knowingly.
“So you like parties now?” You ask, he looks down at your lips, watching as they move– fuck he’s not even listenting right now.
“Huh?” He asks, blinking once. “I asked if you like parties now,” You repeat, ignoring the glare the girl beside him is giving you.
“I mean, I don’t– Jake dragged me here.” He says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. You watch as Clair tugs on the short sleeve of his plain white shirt, you mask the surprise at that–normally it would be some band or animated character on it.
He looks at her for a split second and she leans up to whisper something in his ear.
“What was that?” You ask, “Y/n–” Heeseung starts but Clair interrupts him. “I was saying, you need to leave him alone.” She says, and you scoff– looking at her, Jake's eyes look between the three of you like he can’t believe what's going on. You don’t even care who's looking at this point either.
“He’s a big boy, he can speak for himself.” You say, not sparing her a glance.
“Can you not be such a bitch for like five seconds–” This time he looks at her, already taking a step back,
“Oh, I’m the bitch? I’m not the one who twisted my words into something just so you could be on his good side.” You say, the accusation makes her freeze.
“You don’t deserve him–” She starts,
“Please, stop.” Heeseung says, you look at him–the anxiousness in his slightly red eyes. She still continues, “Stop!” He nearly yells, way louder than intended, his ears going red at the heads that turn.
“Y/n– can we please just..talk outside, maybe?” He asks, you shake your head, a dry chuckle leaving your throat. “You seem pretty occupied Heeseung.” He opens his mouth to speak but closes it when you walk away, disappearing down the same hall your friends wandered off to a little bit before that.
“Fuck..” He whispers to himself, regretting whatever amount he drank, and most of all whatever the fuck he smoked. “I need to–” He pauses, closing his eyes for a second, “-I need to go talk to her, I cant–” He looks down at the girl beside him,
“Is it true?” He asks, genuine hurt in his expression, “Is what true?” She swallows, “You, twisting her words– did you lie to me?” He asks, searching her face for something honest. “I–”
The hesitation is enough.
The next words that leave her mouth are muffled by the sound of the insufferable music playing on the speakers, and overlapping voices of people talking and shouting. He doesn’t even know where he's going, he doesn’t know what he's doing–what he's going to say to you when he sees you, “Y/n?” He shouts, knocking on a closed door, when no one replies he moves on,
He's said the words “Excuse me” and “Sorry” over ten times in the last five minutes, pulling his phone out of his pocket, texting you would make total sense right—dead. Of course his phone is dead right now, out of any time.
This is what he gets for playing geometry dash for the first 30 minutes here.
Who the hell can even afford a house this big anyway while also being a college student. He doesn’t even bother knocking anymore, immediately regretting it when he walks in on a guy who, if he's not mistaken, had two girls in the bed with him, his face going red immediately before yelling a “Shit I-im– Sorry!” and slamming the door shut.
You check yourself in the mirror one more time before opening the door, only to see none other than Lee Heeseung already standing there. Hand reached out to open the door, he brings it back to his side awkwardly, “Hi–” You raise a brow, “Hi.”
Why didn’t he fucking rehearse this? “Did you um– How was the tutoring?” He asks, shifting on his feet.
You chuckle dryly, “I didn’t go.” You say plainly, his face changes to concern. “You need the tutoring though– your grade..”
“And you’re seriously talking to me about tutoring right now?” He shakes his head “Sorry– I’m just..” He sighs, "I'm really nervous right now, I can’t–” He breathes out, “I don’t like how we left things– how I left things.”
“You’ve been avoiding me for days.” You state, trying to keep your voice that steady tone. “I know, I know– it was stupid of me, I shouldn't have–where are you going?” You move past him, “I’m not talking about this in the middle of a house party.”
“Please Y/n–”
“So are you coming or not?” He doesn't hesitate before following after you, looking down at your phone as you send your friends a text he doesn’t have enough time to read. You ignore the looks as you and Heeseung make your way to the front door,
“I shouldn’t have avoided you like that.” He says, falling into step beside you. Cursing himself for forgetting his hoodie, but no way was he going back in there when he had you right here.
When you don’t say anything he continues, “I just– I was confused when you hesitated, when I asked you about the whole thing..” He says quieter, looking at your side profile under the streetlights.
“About me using you?” His steps falter for a moment, “Yeah, that.”
“I honestly think I was an idiot–I mean, expecting you out of all people to actually like a guy like me.” He chuckles at the thought, “Hee–” You pause on the sidewalk, “I–” You look up at him, “I should have been honest with you– I shouldn't have hesitated when I knew it wasn’t true– but I did say some things..”
You watch his face for a reaction “It's just, your attention felt different to me, like you actually liked me, not just the surface level either and I just– I guess I thrived off of it in a way?” You cringe at the idea,
“And I regret it.. I regret it so much Heeseung.” You don’t even register the first tear that slips out until his hand comes up to your face immediately to wipe it away, “Shhh, don’t cry–don’t,” He breaths, retracting his hand– because he doesn’t deserve to touch you.
“I don’t regret anything we did though,” You clarify, looking up at him, he turns away, continuing to walk beside you, “I’m sorry,” He whispers, you look at him confused, "I'm sorry for being a coward, f-for walking out on you.”
“Im sorry for not being honest with you Heeseung– because I like you, a lot. Probably way more than I should, and definitely more than I thought.” You say, a dry chuckle leaving your throat.
“I like your stupidly perfect hair even after you run your hands through it every second– I like how you’re so open about your interests even if some people think it’s weird, I think your toy story fascination is really funny and cute actually, and I like that I can actually be myself around you..”
“I hate that I made you doubt any of that.”
He pauses in front of you, looking past your shoulder at your apartment complex. “Y/n–” He starts, but you shake your head, “You don’t have to reply to me now– ” He takes a step forward
“Look y/n– I really, really want you in my life– I know it might be selfish but I just.. I can’t let you go.” He takes a surprising step closer, “And I understand if you don’t want to–but, can we at least be friends?”
What the fuck?
Friends? Seriously? You just practically poured your heart out, and he’s talking about friends! Did you mis-read the situation?
“Friends?” You ask, searching his face, He nods, waiting for an answer. You close your eyes for a moment before looking at him again, “Okay, friends.”
He lets out a relieved sound before pulling you into an embrace, you’re caught off guard, hands awkwardly at your sides before you lift them slowly to wrap around his body.
“We can put the..stuff that happened in the past too–”
No! A part of you wants to scream, push him back, tell him that's not what you want–that you don’t get jealous over something as stupid as a guy, and yet here you are.
“I.. Okay” You nod against his chest, he pulls back, hands braced on your shoulders, and he’s smiling–actually fucking smiling. “I can walk you up to your apartment–” he starts,
“No,” You quickly say, and yes– because you need a moment to think about what the fuck you’re doing, and because you don’t know what you’ll do if you’re in his presence for another five minutes.
You chuckle awkwardly, “No–Like, I’m fine–really, I can do it myself,” His hands come to his sides, “Okay! um, great” He nods, “Text me when you’re up there then–shit nevermind, my phone kind of died at the party, I was playing geometry dash for like the first thirty–”
He watches your expression “-Sorry, im rambling again– I should probably go.” He rubs the back of his neck, “Heeseung.” You say, bringing his attention back to you, “You’re not going back to the party right?”
He shakes his head immediately, “I was just going to go back to my place anyways– I think I've had enough of the ‘party life’ for one night,” He says through a laugh. you nod, slightly relieved before offering a tight smile, “Good,” he lifts his hand to wave– that awkward one that used to make you cringe, but now, you can’t help but find it adorable. He doesn’t leave until you’re inside of the building.
-
“..No fucking way–” Jake says mid laugh, right in Heeseungs face. “I just– I didn’t know what to do, or say, so that's why I did it.” Heeseung murmurs, running through the code for his game once again.
“Yeah, well it was a stupid move–I mean, you, out of all people, being friends with Y/n.” He laughs again, “Seriously its fucking comedic” Heeseung finally looks up, “Whats that supposed to mean?”
“Dude, im just saying– she’s not the kind of girl you can just be friends with, especially you.” His eyes fall to Heeseung's monitor, “Holy shit– it’s turning out good, you think it’ll be ready by Saturday?” He says, changing the topic.
Heeseung shakes his head, “Yeah I just have to run through it a few more times, It’s still a bit choppy.” Jake chuckles, “Alright, let me know if you need any help– I know im not participating in it professionally and all but I still do this for fun y’know.” Heeseung nods, mind still replaying his other words.
He can totally be friends with you! Who cares if he has had a crush on you for months, who cares if he almost actually had you– like really had you. Friends make sense, obviously. No complicated feelings just–normal, like nothing happened..right?
“Wait,” Jake says, leaning in closer–watching as a new screen pops up, a character model loading in. A little rough around the edges, but it’s the most detailed one he's shown so far.
Heeseung pauses, finger hovering over his mouse, “What–” , “Why does she look familiar?” Jake asks, brow raised.
Heeseung stills for a moment before shrugging, “Nah, she doesn’t” He resorts casually–at least attempting to. “She does.” Jake counters back,
“She’s quite literally just a character,” Heeseung says through a chuckle. “Yeah, with a specific attitude, face—body.” Heeseung rolls his eyes, “You’re reaching right now.”
Jake laughs, standing up, “The hair, really? Pink?” Heeseung looks at his screen again, “It’s just a design choice.” He simply says. “You sure it’s not just a distraction, so people don’t recognize who it actually looks like?”
Heeseung scoffs, “It’s not even based on anyone.” Jake nods, unconvinced, “Right..totally random.” Heeseung squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, “..It’s just a lot easier to design a character when you have a reference,” he mutters quietly.
Jake smirks, “Yeah, and you picked her.” He doesn’t answer that.
“Does she know?” Jake asks skeptically. “Of course she knows!” Heeseung says defensively,
“It was just before the whole..thing happened.” He says, fidgeting with the scroll wheel on his mouse. “Well shit, you can’t change it now–”
Heeseung groans, “Yeah, I gathered that.” He waits for Jake to leave his room before picking up his phone immediately.
Heeseung: hey, sorry if this is random
You: It’s not
Hee: Oh, okay
Hee: Well it's about my game
You: ???
Heeseung: I understand if you don’t feel comfortable with me using you as a model for one of the characters
You: What?
You: Heeseung, I don’t mind
Hee: Are you sure? I don’t want it to be weird or anything
You: Why would it be weird?
You: didn’t we agree on being friends
You: Friends help each other out, yk
Hee: Sorry
Hee: I'm just really tired
Hee: I've been working on this for hours already today
You: :(
You: Can I help in any way
Hee: you still want to help me?
You: Yes lol
Hee: Actually, if you’re not busy right now could you send me a picture of yourself
Hee: Sorry that sounds creepy
Hee: Its for the game, I want to get your features right
God he's pathetic– he has plenty of pictures of you on his phone already. He bites his lip, watching as the bubbles show up, then disappear.
“Fuck–” He whispers, opening the image you sent him. It’s nothing explicit or revealing, its just you– a real time selfie, lying in bed, the warm lighting in your room casting subtle shadows on your face.
You: Is that okay?
Heeseung: Its perfect
Heeseung: the picture is
Heeseung: I mean you are too sorry
Heeseung: but it works
You can’t help the laugh that escapes your throat, imagining his face right now. God–imagine how he’d react to nudes.
You: haha thanks
Hee: would u be okay stopping by the computer lab tmrw? Not for long or anything I don't want to bore you, just because I want to get the finishing touches
You: yeah sure i don’t mind :)
Hee: Thanks y/n, i really appreciate it
You like the message before you say anything stupid–resisting the urge turning the conversation into something you’d probably regret in the morning. Friends, right– that's it. You’re totally fine with that, this is what friends do!
-
This is seriously the one place where you can’t seem to fit in. And of course, it's exactly where Heeseung thrives. You walk down the narrow aisle, once again trying to ignore the looks you get. Heeseung knows you finally came from the way Jake stops speaking and looks behind him slightly shocked.
“Hey,” You smile–or at least attempt to. “Hi,” He says, looking up at you. Band t-shirt, and jeans baggy on his frame in an intentional way.
You stare at each other for a moment, he blinks– “Right– um, you can sit here,” He says, pulling out the empty seat next to him. You nod, setting your bag on the ground.
Jake shakes his head, a smug smile on his face as he continues working. “I didn’t interrupt anything right–”
“No!” Heeseung says a little too loud. “I mean– no, you came perfectly– here, like you came on time.” Jake attempts to stifle a laugh beside him.
He clears his throat, “Sorry, I'm just..stressed, I’ve been preparing this for months and I really don’t want to mess it up.” You nod, “It’s okay Hee, you're like really good at this stuff so im sure its amazing already.” He smiles, genuinely, “Its– I..thanks,”
“I can show you what it looks like so far?” He clicks some buttons you’re not quite sure what they do– “Holy shit,” You watch his screen,
“Heeseung, you made this?” He nods, rubbing the back of his neck, “Yeah, like I said it still needs some more work but I have a few more days.”
“This is like one of those professional games– I honestly don’t really know much about this stuff but this is—legit.” He bites his lip, smile peaking through. “You mean it?” He asks, watching you’re face as you look at his monitor, “Yeah–yeah, I really do,”
“Can I see the character inspired by me?” You ask, nudging his leg with your foot, an action he still can’t find himself getting used to. His finger hovers over the mouse, “Not yet..” You tilt your head,
“I was actually hoping you would–maybe want to come to the event on Saturday?” He visibly swallows, “I just– you don’t have to or anything, I understand if you’re busy but I do really want you there and um, your support means a lot to me,” He says, the last words fading into something only you can hear.
“I’ll be there,” You say, hand coming down to rest on his knee- casually, like it’s normal, which it should be since your uh..friends?
He looks down at your hand, before making eye contact again, “Are you sure– like positive? I don’t want you to feel forced, and you can bring your friends if you want to– actually I don’t know, I don’t want to make a fool of myself..” He rambles on, doing that thing where his words come out faster than his brain can process it.
You laugh, a small sound–he pauses, looking at you again, “I’ll ask them if they can, okay?” He nods, “Don’t stress so much, those gaming CEO guys would be stupid not to invest in something like this,” You say, gesturing to his screen, your hand absent mindedly rubbing small circles on his leg.
His hand comes down to rest on yours, squeezing gently. And in that moment where his skin meets yours– you swear the whole room disappears.
The looks you can sense you’re getting from Clair, the sounds of the other students talking about whatever code–thingy they’re working on. “Thank you, it– it really means a lot to me.”
Your phone buzzes in your pocket, once–twice. “I should probably go, my uh class it’s, yeah.” He retracts his hand quickly, nodding three times,
“Right– yeah, sorry.. I don’t want you to be late or anything.” He chuckles, almost nervously. “Yeah that would be bad huh?” You say, quirking a smile.
“I’ll um, I’ll text you more details about it,” Heeseung mutters, watching you pick up your bag.
“I’ll answer,” You say pushing in the chair, “Y-yeah, see you later y/n–” You smile one more time before leaving, heart racing at a concerning speed- not only because of the interaction but because it was with Heeseung, the guy you told yourself was your friend– the one you were trying so hard to convince over.
“Okay what the hell was that–” Jake says, eyeing his friend, “What was what?” Heeseung questions, chuckling,
“That whole..pathetic act thing.” He says, gesturing to Heeseung. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Jake laughs, “Man—it’s just both of you huh?” Heeseung shakes his head before turning back to his monitor.
Yeah, whatever that means, anyways what he really needs to focus on is finishing this up– after all this is probably a once in a lifetime opportunity.
-
Heeseungs been busy all week, specifically with finishing up the programming dynamics– or whatever it was he said.
Yet he still offered to make you a video explaining what was happening in your physics class, mostly because you refused to be tutored by anyone else besides him. A part of him felt prideful when you admitted that actually.
The event was being held in the nicer part of the University, a sort of auditorium type of building.
And yet here he is, in the dimly lit computer lab, trying to make sure everything runs perfectly once again. He can’t afford a fuck up, not when hes been waiting for this for so long.
Jake: dude where are u
Jake: profs looking for u
Jake: u better not be second guessing this
Heeseung: i just wanted to make sure it ran smoothly
Heeseung: im coming back
Jake: hurry up
Jake: y/ns here
Jake: shes asking where you are
Jake: shes walking towards me
Jake: oh shit
“Where's Heeseung?” you ask the boy who you know as Jake, Heeseung's best friend. “Hes uh–” You raise a brow,
“He's in the computer lab, he’s nervous as shit right now and he thinks going through it again is going to help.” You nod, of course he would be.
Jake looks back down at his phone before typing a quick message
Jake: Good luck
You open the door to the computer lab quietly, the only screen on being towards the front of the room, bright in the dim lighting.
Hes standing up, leaning against the desk, wearing a..suit jacket? “Hee?” You question, walking down the row, he turns to you, surprise etched across his features.
“Y/n– you came..” He says, looking down at your outfit for a split second, a short summer dress that compliments you a bit too well, he swallows, hand hovering over the mouse.
“Of course I did,” You reply, now standing in front of him. “You’re..pretty dressed up,” You note with a smile. He looks down at his outfit, “Is it too much? I wanted to wear something that would make them take me seriously– y’know what I mean?” He says, smoothing down the black blazer. “Heeseung.”
His eyes fall on you again, “Yes?” he says quietly. “You look good, okay?” He nods, “Maybe just lose the blazer..” He stifles a laugh “See, I knew it was too much,”
He shakes his head, smile on his face as he unbuttons it, leaving him with a white button up instead. “Better?” He asks, looking for your approval, “Much better.”
His eyes search yours for a moment, “I'm really glad you showed up,” He says, biting his lip out of pure nervous habit, yet you can’t help the way your eyes fall to the action.
You clear your throat, “I brought something for you– I was going to wait till after but maybe it would help cool your nerves.” You say, pulling something out of your bag.
“Okay before you say anything– Sunoo is like really good at finding all this underground stuff and this guy was selling these and I know you were talking about it a few weeks ago..” He tilts his head, amusement spread across his features,
“Who's rambling now?” You roll your eyes, “Shut up and close your eyes or I'm not giving it to you.” He raises his hands instantly, “Alright– alright, sorry,” You grab his hand, placing the box in it.
He chuckles “What is this–” , “Open,” You watch his face, the surprise spreading, “Holy–” He smiles, “Y/n, how did you–” You attempt to hide your own smile, biting your lip.
He looks at the limited addition Toy Story figurine closer, “Do you– do you know how rare this is? Only 500 were made in 1999–”
Right.. Because of course he would know that. He laughs, disbelieving “You’re incredible, seriously–y/n I..” He doesn’t think twice before wrapping his arms around you, you’re caught off guard at first, one of your hands trailing up to run through the back of his hair, his face buried in the crook of your neck.
You don’t know if you’re just feeling things but you swear he planted a small kiss just between your shoulder blade and neck, He pulls back, "I'm really happy you’re here,” He says, turning off the monitor and falling into step beside you.
You watch Heeseung from the crowd, hand clutched tight around the strap of your bag as he talks off to the side–with Clair. Why the hell is she touching his arm– He looks past her shoulder, spotting you in the crowd, a small smile quirking on his lips before he waves. Your face softens before waving back,
“I was talking to the developers and they were describing the concepts they were looking for–Heeseung, your game fits right into it.” Jake says, Clair opens her mouth to say something but Heeseung doesn’t even realize he's blocking it out. “Okay– I can do this.” He nods, smoothing down the front of his button up.
He looks around the room at the people sitting down, a mix of students, professors, people from the Gaming development club. Jake watches the worried expression on his face as his eyes land on the front row, the developers– big time CEO’s with their notebooks out, laptops open. “Hey–you’re good..just don’t pass out,” Jake says with a laugh
“That’s helpful.” Heeseungs mutters, wiping his sweat clad hands on his jeans before stepping onto the wide stage, standing behind the podium.
He takes a deep breath, signaling Jake to put the game on the large screen behind him. “Hi everyone– my name is Heeseung, so..this is my game I developed.”
He tries not to cringe at his own voice, “So, it’s actually more narrative driven rather than pre set choices,” He pauses for a moment, “Whatever decisions the player makes– that's what would affect the character in real time,” He says, his voice carrying a tad bit more enthusiasm.
This is what he knows, this is what he's good at, he picks up the remote on the podium moving onto the next slide, showing the actual game play, the code, what he created on his laptop now being shared in front of a room full of people. “I programmed the system to keep track of the patterns and players choices,”
He's using his hands to exaggerate now–a thing he does when he's truly passionate about something. You can’t help the smile that plays on your face.
He continues, talking about how the games programming, the code, and a few of the developers lean forward, he swallows, trying not to think too deeply.
His character designs come on the screen next, hushed whispers around you, “How does someone even design that–” A guy next to you says, “Look how detailed the one on the left is–” A girl whispers.
He looks at the screen before searching the crowd for you, clearing his throat, “The character designs are actually still in progress but I wanted to focus on them feeling real– throughout the gameplay especially, whether it's a fight scene, a task, you name it.”
Your eyes fall to the developers at the front of the room, nodding, taking notes. It’s silent for a moment until a voice cuts through, one of the developers speaks up, “Walk us through the character tracking system again,” He says– Heeseung nods, this means they're interested,
“Yeah–okay,” You watch Heeseung get into his element, it’s like the room loosens up as he continues, some people from the crowd raising their hands to ask questions, even compliments directly from the developers. But there's still a tightening feeling in your chest, in the way you’re here supporting him–but as nothing more than a friend.
It’s places like these that you’re not really sure what to do, you watch as Heeseung talks to a few other students, low and behold–with Clair by his side. He searches the room for a moment, but is interrupted when a man in a very nice suit comes up to him,
“Lee Heeseung?” He questions, Heeseung nods, “Yes sir, that would be me,” He says with an almost nervous smile on his face, “I wanted to give you my card, your game has potential– I mean that truly, and I think you could go places with creativity like that,” The man says, Heeseung reaches out for the card, looking down at it for a moment, “Wait– EN Capital? This– you’re one of the biggest developers in the country–” Heesueng states, eyes wide,
The man nods, “It’s not everyday we scout someone like this Heeseung, so please, take into consideration giving us a call,”
Heeseung nods, “Sir– yes, I’ll definitely be calling–” He says through a disbelieving chuckle. The man nods with a smile on his face before reaching out to shake Heeseung's hand, “I’m excited to see how you progress.”
Heeseung looks around the large room again, “..fucking genius dude, I swear.” Jake says, the words completely blanking in Heeseung's mind,
“Where's y/n?” He says outloud, Jake raises a brow, “One of the most prestigious gaming developers in the country just told you to quote ‘give him a call’ and you’re wondering where the girl who pretty much broke your heart is?” Jake questions,
Heeseung opens his mouth to speak, but shakes his head, “I need to find her– I invited her,” Heeseung mutters, “She went outside” Jake says, nodding towards the door. Heeseung's eyes follow the motion. “I’ll um.. I’ll be right back” Heeseung mumbles, moving past Jake, “Dude what about–”
Heeseung makes his way out the room, looking around for you“Y/n–” He calls out, you let go of the door you were just about to walk out of, turning towards him,
“Hey,” You say with a smile, “Where are you going?” He asks, walking up to you. “I was going to head back, I didn’t want to like interrupt or anything,”
“You could never,” He says, watching your face, “You seemed pretty occupied though, not just with the developers..” He tilts his head, “Occupied with who?” He tests, searching your eyes,
“I dunno’.. Clair” He smiles, “What?” You say defensively, “No– nothing, nothing,” He says, a laugh escaping his lips.
“It’s just—are you jealous?” He asks, “I..what?” He nods, humming in response. “I’m not—stop laughing!” You say, slapping his arm lightly.
“Heeseung–” You nearly roll your eyes, actually no, you do roll your eyes as Clair approaches him. You watch as people begin to file out of the auditorium. Her eyes land on you for a split second, “We were all gonna go hang out at my place to celebrate and everything, do you wanna–”
“No–” He says too quickly, “I mean– I just, I’m really tired and uh..” He looks at you for a moment, “Im busy” you watch the disappointment across her face.
“Heeseung, if you want to you can..” You say, low enough for him to hear. “No, I want to be with you tonight– I mean right now, like I want to spend time with you” He runs a hand through his hair,
“Look, maybe some other time,” He says to Clair, she scoffs before walking past the both of you. Jake comes up a few moments later, “We’re doing something after if you wanna join, ill text the address,” He says, giving Heeseung his bag, “I’ll let y’know,” Jake shrugs before walking out.
Heeseung turns his full focus back to you “I can walk you back to your place if you would like?” He says, clearing his throat. You nod, “I would like that,”
He smiles before falling into step beside you. “Y’know, I’m really happy you came tonight– I know I said it already but you probably don’t go to things like that for fun,” He says through a chuckle
You nod, "I've seen how hard you’ve worked on it Hee, plus its the least I can do for you tutoring me and all,” He glances down at you,
“I think you repaid me enough for the lessons” He pauses, “Like- with your kindness not the–” He closes his eyes for a moment, ”Not the other thing– even though yes it was definitely good, I mean I still think about..” He stops, “Sorry—fuck, Y/n please just tell me to shut up.” He cringes at his words,
You can’t help the smile that plays on your face, “Why? It’s kind of cute”
Thank god you don’t look up to notice the embarrassing shade of red his ears are right now. He pauses once he gets in front of your building, hands awkwardly in the pockets of his jeans. “So….”
“Do you want to come in?” You ask abruptly, catching him off guard. “L-like inside your apartment?” He asks, unsure.
You nod once, “Just like—I have that ramen, the one with buzz lightyear on it.”
Your hand tightens around the strap of your bag. “..I honestly thought you would have gotten rid of that” He says, searching your face. You shake your head, “I couldn't," You say quietly, and a little bit more shy than intended. “Okay– um, yeah I would love to come in then,” He nods, following you.
And he means it when he says he’ll never get over the way it smells exactly like you in here. He takes off his dress shoes, placing them neatly against your wall by the front door, next to your platformed sandals that you kicked off casually.
He leans against your counter as you reach up into your cabinet, his eyes trying to avoid the way your already short dress rides up even higher on your exposed legs. Your hand pauses mid air before you bring it back down to your side, “Do you need help–”
“Heeseung.” You turn to fully face him, he pauses mid sentence, “Yea–Yeah?” He questions, clearing his throat. “Are we seriously about to make ramen right now?” He rubs the back of his neck “I mean-I thought that's what we were doing..” His words catch in his throat when you close the distance.
His eyes fall to your lips and you smirk, “What are you thinking about right now then?” He visibly swallows, licking his own lips instinctively
“Just how good they would taste–” He blinks once, “..The ramen—how good the ramen would taste.” He says, clearing his throat. You hum in response, eyes dropping just below his waistband, he catches that easily. “Yeah? Just the ramen huh?” You say, that familiar teasing tone in your voice that he hasn’t heard for far too long.
“I– What are you doing..” He breathes out, trying to calm the rapid pace of his heartbeat even as you step closer, “You haven’t thought about this– about us recently?” You tilt your head, watching his face for a reaction.
“Of course I have!” He says quickly, “I– y/n it’s all I could fucking think about, just you, touching me, talking to me–like actually telling me about things..” He lets out a chuckle, almost disbelieving, like he wasn’t planning on admitting this, which to be fair he wasn't.
“Do you know how long I've wanted you?” He asks, you nod “Since the tutoring–” He shakes his head, a small smile on his lips,
“No, econ, 4th row. You were wearing that long sleeve and jeans that fit you perfectly, and I remember you had asked me if I always talk like my brain moved too fast,” He laughs at the memory, “...and you had said almost every day,” you finish for him.
“I know you try to be perfect y/n– I know the expectations you have for yourself, and I know that it leaves no room to actually breathe,” He doesn’t know where this is coming from– but then again, he always talks before his brain processes what he's saying,
“because I have those same expectations for myself– I mean, I'm not as good at it as you but I do.” He sighs, “But when I'm with you– it's different and I guess I was hoping it was the same for you–”
His words are immediately cut off when your lips press against his, your right hand pulling at the collar of his shirt. His eyes flutter shut, melting into you completely, his hands are hesitant–unsure as they come to rest on your waist. You don't pull back far, just enough to whisper “it is the same for me Hee– I always felt it I just.. I guess I didn’t think I deserved it.”
He presses a small kiss to the corner of your lips, “Well if it means something– I think you do..” you laugh softly, raking your other hand through his soft hair.
“You still want that ramen?” You ask teasingly, he shakes his head quickly “No–no definitely not I want this, here,” He says confidently, you tilt your head, your hand that was on his collar moving lower skimming over his toned chest, cupping the firm bulge of him through his jeans. His eyebrows furrow together at the contact, “Hee, don’t tell me you’re hard just from a little kiss?” You say with a smirk,
He shakes his head, eyes shutting for a moment, “I can’t help it–” He whispers pathetically. You squeeze the bulge and his mouth falls open,
“Gosh.. I seriously don’t understand how you just walk around with a dick this big everyday like it’s nothing,” his face reddens at how filthy your words are.
“Feel how bad I want you right now,” You say, grabbing his hand from your waist, he complies, letting you guide his hand between your legs, he lets out a broken sound when his palm fully cups you.
You grind down on his palm once, his dick throbs at the contact–the way he can feel you soaking through the thin fabric of your underwear. You hike your dress up so you can move your underwear to the side, exposing yourself to him completely, “Fuck–” He curses, his finger tips brushing through your folds experimentally. You moan at the contact– uncontrolled and all for him,
“Just like that– Hee..” You brace your hands on his shoulders when his fingertip grazes your clit, “Right there?” He asks curiously, a part of him needing to get this right because he needs to make you feel good.
You nod, biting your lip when he experimentally squeezes your clit between his index and middle finger, making you even more wet,
He chuckles, “It's– it’s kind of hard because it's so wet” He notes, the pad of his finger tips teasing your hole unknowingly.
Your cheeks heat in embarrassment, he notices “I like it” He says, watching your face morph into pleasure, “Why—why are you so good at this?” You breathe out,
“I use my fingers a lot—for like typing and stuff, coding y’know?” You moan when the tip of his middle finger enters your hole cautiously, his eyebrows raise. “Y-yeah right”
He repeats the motion, this time using the opportunity to push deeper, you clench around his fingers and he feels his cock throb inside of his jeans, “its so…warm” He notes, “Try curling your finger–” Your words fade into a whimper when he does exactly that,
“Hee..Heeseung–wait,” He repeats the motion again, brushing inside of you with each curl of his slender finger.
“Not here–” You breathe out, your grip tightening on his shoulder. “Your room?” He questions, inching his finger out, you nod,
“…you’re so pretty” He says sitting on the edge of your bed, “Yeah?” You ask, watching him move back until he's against your pillows. “What do you want, Heeseung?” He swallows, "Whatever you give me honestly–”
“Ever had a girl ride you?” You ask, climbing on the bed with him, legs tucked under you as you settle between his legs. He shakes his head a bead of sweat forming just above his eyebrow.
“I kind of like that I'm the only one who's seen you like this,” You say, finger tracing innocent circles on his thigh. “I like it that way” He admits, avoiding looking down at the embarrassing way his dick twitches at the featherlight touches his thigh.
“Cute,” You say with a sweet smile, opposite of the way your fingers make contact with the buttons on his shirt. You remove it with ease, the slightly sharp tip of your nail sending heat straight to his dick as you trace his abdomen.
You lean down, pressing a kiss to the center of his chest, his hands grip into the sheets of his bed when your tongue ghosts over his nipple, “Fuck– y/n..I can’t–” His hips buck forward, searching for any form of friction
“Ive been wanting you inside me for so long Hee,” His eyes roll when your hand comes in contact with his cock, even through the jeans you can feel the heat of him. “Wanna feel you so bad– I need it..I can’t–” He whines, you sit up, watching as he frantically works to take off his jeans.
You move from between his legs, pulling the straps of your dress down, letting it fall limply to the floor. His own hand palms his cock through his boxers when he sees you’re not even wearing a fucking bra.
“Please–can I?” He asks, watching as you climb back on top of him. You chuckle “Acting like you’ve never seen my tits before Heeseung,”
“Been too long–” He says desperately, his hand hesitating, looking at you for approval before he touches you. You nod and both of his hands immediately cup your breasts. He’s almost massaging them in his hands, “I- I can’t believe you’re letting me do this..” He whispers, thumb swiping over your nipples, you grind down once against him and his movements falter–
“I’ll cum if you keep doing t-that” He regrets admitting that when you do it again, drawing a wrecked sound from him. His ears heat up in embarrassment at how loud he is, Your hand comes up to his cheek, “Don’t be embarrassed Hee– I love when you’re vocal for me,” He leans into the way you touch his face, the action making you feel even more warm inside.
His eyes don’t leave yours as he presses a kiss directly to your nipple, his thumb working the other one. He’s not quite sure what he's doing– this just feels right. His tongue darts out, slightly unsure, licking just around the sensitive bud. “H-Hee..” Your hand moves to his hair, raking through the soft strands, pulling him closer.
“I want this so bad..” He whispers, eyes fluttering shut when he sucks on your nipple. You hiss when his teeth graze it, tugging his hair, he groans at the pull. He alternates to the other side, not wanting to leave a single part of your body untouched. “I could do this forever– I swear I could,” You grind your hips down harder against him, “D-don’t–” He whimpers, looking up at you.
Instead, you lean down to kiss him, moving your hips in a back and forward motion, the tip of his dick hitting you perfectly through the thin fabric of your underwear. “Gonna cum?” You ask between kisses, he nods frantically, tongue darting out, begging for entry back into your mouth.
You pull away and he whines, hand glued to your chest. You shake your head with a smile before reaching for the waistband of his boxers, you peel them off, revealing his flushed cock, now resting heavy on his pelvis, precum already drooling down. You lick your lips, already moving to slide off your own underwear.
He's watching in awe– because you are actually in front of him right now– naked, practically fucking glowing. When you wrap your hand around the base, he automatically thrusts up, easy to do with how wet it is. “Needy much?” You tease, moving your hand up slowly, thumb swiping over the tip, causing another drop of precum to leak, making a further mess on your hand.
“I c-can’t help it..” He mutters out, cheeks flushed, hair sticking to his forehead, chest glistening with a thin layer of sweat already. You hover over him, angling the tip of his cock, you swipe it through your folds once–twice, mixing both of your arousal together, the warmth already draws a moan from him. “W-wait..” He says, hand reaching for your wrist.
You pause, looking at him, “Don’t we need a– um.. Condom?” You tilt your head, amusement on your face, “I’m on the pill Hee, plus I want you to cum inside of me.” You’re going to kill him, like he’s actually going to pass out right now.
You position his tip just before your entrance, before sinking down. The stretch is almost immediate, your pussy greedily sucking him in. “Oh my God–” His eyes flutter shut, hands reaching out to hold onto your hips. “Y-you’re so big Heeseung–” You’re already clenching around him, his hips involuntarily thrust up and you whimper,
“Shit–sorry, y/n..oh—” You sink down further, completely enveloping his thick cock inside of you. Your hands are braced against his chest now, “A-are you okay?” He asks, voice rough. You laugh lightly causing you to clench tightly around him. You experimentally grind your hips forward, both of your moans mixing together.
His hands wander, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass as you grind against him. He nearly chokes on air when you lift yourself up halfway just to slam back down against him, his finger digging deeper into your hips– “Y/n– wait!” You repeat the movement and thats when you feel it– warmth inside of you.
His eyes are wide in worry– “I-Im sorry.. Im sorry–please” a whimper leaving his lips as cum leaks from his still hard dick. “Shhh.. it’s okay Hee,” He shakes his head, “I promise I can go longer– I just need to practice more” He tries to convince you, but you’re already set on making him cum again.
You lean back, spreading your legs wider, hands splayed behind you on his thighs to support yourself. You lift your hips, causing his cum to leak out of you and trickle down his length, making an even bigger mess. It’s so messy but he could care less,
His cum acts as lube, allowing you to move even more smoothly, the sounds coming from the both of you are borderline pornographic, the wet skin on skin every time you slam your hips back down against his.
Your mouth hangs open, desperate moans escaping as you bounce on his dick, “Heeseung–” You cry out, grinding against him, the tip of his cock hitting just right inside of you, “You look so pretty right now–” He says through a needy whine, his eyes don’t know what to focus on– the way your tits move each time you grind forward, your face, or where you two connect right now.
He tries something– moving his finger from your hip, applying pressure to your puffy clit instead, your hips jerk forward, pussy clamping tight around him. The rhythm you had moments ago falters, replaced by desperate grinds against him as you chase your orgasm, his thumb rubs small circles on your sensitive bud, “I’m gonna cum Hee– I can’t” You cry out, leaning forward again, bracing your hands on his chest “Yes– fuck, please use me–” His thumb still works, his own hips attempting to thrust up, your nails scratch at his chest as a new wave of pleasure crashes over you.
He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your jaw, his dick throbbing inside of your warmth, your juices leaking down, covering his balls and making a mess on your sheets. His hands travel from your hair, smoothing it down to your back, “I’m gonna’ cum again–please?” He says, looking up at you. His dick twitches inside of you when you nod, his hands cup your ass in his hands, lifting you slightly– again, he’s trying to find his rhythm here too, contemplating if this is right, but it feels amazing.
He thrusts up once, earning a surprised gasp from you, he could fucking explode with the way your tits bounce in his face, the wet sounds filling your room contrast with both of your moans, his fading into whimpers as his hips move faster, almost using your hole as his own fuck toy. He captures one of your nipples in his mouth, his sounds muffled around the sensitive bud, the vibration sending shockwaves straight to your core.
“S-slow down–Hee.. Shit!” He's practically drilling into you, completely lost in the feeling of you, the sounds you're making–your face driving him even more. He pulls you down against him each time his hips lift forward, his tongue licking at your chest desperately. His grip on you is bruising as he delivers one final thrust–deep, the feeling of his cum spilling inside of you, driving your second orgasm, your pussy milking him dry as your own juices mix with his.
His hands move from your ass to your waist, resting gently, soothing your sides as you both catch your breath. “That–that was..” Heeseung says, “Yeah,” You breathe, fingers running lazily through his soft hair.
Eventually you two muster the strength to get up, your sensitive bodies still tingling with the nerves of pretty much the best sex you’ve ever had.
You watch him closely as he reaches for a soft tissue from the pink box on your nightstand, he may be inexperienced in this field but he's not an idiot. “Is this okay?” He asks, cleaning you up– you nod,
“Are you okay?” He looks up at you for a second, “I–” he takes a deep breath before continuing “I don’t want this to be casual,” He says, eyes focused on gently swiping the tissue. Your face softens, “I don’t want it to be like before with the whole ‘favor for tutoring’ thing– I like you, really like you– if you couldn’t tell..” He bites his lip nervously,
“Is this your way of asking to be my boyfriend Lee Heeseung?” This time he looks up, “You would let me?” he asks, a sparkle of hope in his eyes, “I– this isn’t how I wanted to ask you, I need to get you flowers and—and a date,” He runs his hand through his slightly damp hair, you let out a small laugh,
“Calm down Hee, I really like you too,” You say through a smile. “..and yeah, I would let you..” He mirrors your smile, relief on his face as you pull him down—because being here, tangled with you, is exactly where he wants to be
-
Bonus
Heeseung would normally be spending his Friday night in his room, probably waiting for league to load in while he scrolls through the most random twitter threads. But being with you allows him to.. Step out of his shell more, even if it is involuntarily.
What was supposed to be a small hangout that consisted of a few of your friends and probably Jake to celebrate finals week ending, had turned into a big gathering at your local Korean BBQ place. Jake being Jake decided to invite nearly everyone from class after raving about how they “changed the menu”.
His eyes stray to you, laughing at something that Sunoo said, Yunjin on the other side of him playfully shoving him. “..Hey, i’m headed out” Clair says, walking over to where Heeseung stands. You watch as she…hugs him. His hand awkwardly pats her back and you swear you could throw the chopsticks in your hand at her stupid face. “Bye everyone!” She says with a bright smile, you roll your eyes, watching as she leaves.
Yunjin and Sunoo exchange a look, “Don’t kill her,” Sunoo says, laughing nervously. “Never said I would.” You mutter glancing at Heeseung, he offers a small wave, smile on his face. You scrunch your nose in a mocking way before turning back to your friends.
Fuck.
“…yeah, well your face says it all,” Yunjin adds, amusement in her tone. “I don’t even care,” Sunoo laughs, earning a glare from you. “Yeah–right, are you gonna eat that?” He asks pointing to the three bites of food on your plate, you scoot it away from him, “Now I am,” You say with a smug smirk, earning a laugh from Yunjin.
You try– you really do, you know jealousy is something you need to work on, but no you’re not jealous right now, totally not at all!
Heeseung looks at you every few minutes– maybe seconds, there's no way you’re upset over a..farewell goodbye..right?
The walk back to his place is quiet. Not the comfortable silence you enjoy yourself in, but the kind where you can feel the tension. Specifically he can feel it–practically radiating off of you. “Is everything good?” He asks, watching you. When your eyes don't even find his, he swallows, lump in his throat. “It’s fine.”
Well shit, “fine” isn’t exactly what a guy wants to hear, why not “great”, or “fantastic” something so his brain can stop spiraling. You nearly scoff when he pulls out his phone.
He’s pathetic–seriously, he winces before clicking the search bar on twitter: How to get your girlfriend to not be pissed at you
He doesn’t even say anything as you both enter his apartment, you roll your eyes as he walks to his bedroom, sitting at the edge of his bed. “Seriously Heeseung?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. He scrolls one more time before looking up at you with wide eyes, “Baby– hold on a second–” He mutters,
“What are you even looking at?” You ask, attitude leaking through your tone. He shuts his eyes for a moment, “You’re mad at me,” he claims, avoiding eye contact. “And I– I was trying to figure out how to not make you mad at me– it’s stupid and I know it was because of..” , “Clair.” You finish his sentence for him.
He nods, “I don’t even like her– seriously, like the only reason I have to be around her is because of the club and she’s in me and Jungwon's class–” You roll your eyes, “She’s literally obsessed with you– like it’s so fucking annoying everytime and she knows me and you are together.” His eyebrows furrow together, “I know, trust me I know–” He says, pulling you close, arms wrapping around the back of your thighs.
“Well I'm not mad directly at you Hee..” You mumble quietly, he looks up at you, “But you’re still upset” He says, hands unintentionally gripping the back of your thighs. “And how exactly was the internet going to help fix that?” You ask lightly, hand running through his disheveled hair.
“I dunno’ it was stupid..” he mutters, reaching for his phone. He scrolls through the threads, angling it to show you. “Get on your knees and beg?” You chuckle, “I’d do it if you asked,” He says casually, “Flowers?” , “In a heartbeat,” His fingers freeze at the next words, Let her sit on your face. You know he's read it when he looks up at you. Your eyes fall to his lips, then to his nose– that perfect slope. He swallows, Adams apple bobbing. “We haven’t really tried it like…that–” He says, wetting his lips.
“No, we haven't." He nods, slowly. “You said my nose was one of your favorite features about me, remember?” You chuckle lightly, “Of course I remember that.” His hands travel up slowly, casually in a way he’s gotten more comfortable doing ever since you two made it official, his hands ultimately resting on your ass.
“..so, shouldn’t we put it to good use?” He questions, looking up at you expectantly. A smile spreads across your face, “Since when did Lee Heeseung become such a smooth talker?” He bites his lip through a smile, “it’s only for you pretty,”
He's watching you now, eyes zeroed in on your hands as they lift your shirt over your head. Your shorts are next, but he makes a sound when your underwear also comes off with them. Bare. You’re bare in front of him, your face flushing that adorable shade of pink he can’t get enough of.
“C’mere,” You climb onto the bed with him until you're hovering just over his chest. “Heeseung– I don’t want to like… hurt you” His hands are already on your waist, attempting to tug you upwards. “You’re not– I want this”
The look in his eyes is hungry, you hesitate for a moment before moving forward, until your knees are bracketed beside his head, your pussy right above his face. “Baby–” He breathes out, pulling you flush against his face.
You gasp at the feeling, sure Heeseung's eaten you out before–plenty of times, but this– this is different. “Oh..fuck–Heeseung!” Your hands are in his hair, pulling the soft strands, he groans into your pussy, pure pleasure.
His hands are gripping onto your ass, pulling you against him, He pulls off with a wet pop, “Ride my nose– come on, you know you want to,” He urges, giving a teasing lick to your clit. You hum out a response, eyes rolling when he nuzzles into your pussy, the bridge of his sharp nose hitting just right on your sensitive clit each time you move your hips forward slightly. His eyes are shut, completely lost in the feel– the smell of you so close to him.
He pulls you back down, tongue prodding at your entrance, your hole desperately clenching–searching for fulfillment, and he gives it, he thrusts his tongue in and out of you the best he can, hands massaging your ass, nose applying pressure exactly where you need it.
“I can–” He slurps once, the noise filthy in your bedroom, “I can never get enough of this–” His tongue flicks over your clit, alternating between sucking, teasing you through pursed lips. “Hee.. I–im gonna cum..” your plea encourages him more. He looks up at your face, your head thrown back, tits bouncing in that light pink bra, mouth hung open, face in pure pleasure.
There's no rhythm, just hunger as he devours you, your grip tightens in his hair as you reach your orgasm, your legs going weak, grinding on his mouth, he holds you there, not letting you up until every last drop of cum is drained out of you, his tongue moving in slow licks over your overstimulated clit, the feeling making your hips jerk. He kisses your pussy once, twice, gentle–completely different from the way he was just tongue deep inside of you.
You settle on his stomach, still dripping, some getting onto his shirt but he could care less. “That was–”
“Amazing.” He finishes for you, licking his lips.
“You’re crazy.” You mumble, a shy smile already on your face.
“Only for you,” he whispers, hands traveling up your waist, your back, urging you to be even closer to him.
I need RLLLY GOOOD LIKE NEXT UNIVERSE TYPE LEVEL FIC RECOMMENDATIONS FOR JAY PLEASEEE , like i’ll get on my knees n beg 🙏🙏 just give me jay fic OR MAKE MORE….. i’m starving for them🥺🥺🥺 LINK TGEM IN TGE COMMENTS PLS IM SO HUNGRYY😋😋😋😋🤤🤤🤤🤤
Jay, a favorite among classy wives to hire during the hot summer season for a nice, thorough pool cleaning, seems to have a favorite wife of his own.
You.
Or the one where Jay was the pain-in-your-ass son of the family you used to babysit for, but now he’s making it his mission to be the pain-in-your-ass pretend husband that you never asked for, but very clearly need.
minors dni
PAIRING ― park jongseong x afab milf!reader
WORDCOUNT― 18.9k
CONTENT― age gap: reader is 29 and jay is 22, milf trope/single mother reader, college pool boy jay (turned part time babysitter), reader has 1 kid and jay really wants to give her another, reader has morals!! jay just doesn’t see it as a moral issue, he is actually very sweet
!WARNINGS! ― age gap, jay is somewhat of a manipulator, he’s gentle but won’t take no for an answer. dub-con in one instance. major breeding kink and kind of a mommy and daddy kink (domesticity), angst regarding reader and her ex husband, reader has huge tits
NOTE ― this was supposed to be a toxic jay fic but it turned into this instead because i love him so bad…………. NOT PROOF READ, mind the typos. i'm insane for him.
nsfw tags under cut
nsfw tags― big dick jay, masturbation, small instance of dubious consent, tit obsessed jay, groping and grinding, mommy/daddy kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex, cum stuffing-ish, pussy eating, fingering, basically it’s jay doing stuff to you, this ain’t smut this is making love, also reader doesn’t shave her coochie and jay fucking loves it.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Having a stray eye isn’t typically something you afford yourself when it comes to men. Things tend to change with time though, that much you know is true.
It was proven to you for the first time when your ex husband decided to up and leave you three weeks before your due date for a woman–well, girl, fresh out of high school. Years of trust and promises crushed with just a single sentence and a slam of the door. Time must’ve changed you for him to leave so heartlessly. Time must’ve changed him to become so cold.
It was proven again when you were able to heal despite never believing you could. Seconds of pain turned to minutes, to hours. Days. weeks. Months. Years of pain before being able to wake up and feel somewhat numb to it all. Like a flip switch in your head that told you that you can be happy now even if as a single mother. After all, the hard part was over.
It took some four to five years, but it did happen. Time did change you, it healed you, it matured you. As your child grew, so did you. And for the better, you think. You count your blessings of living a life far more lavish than you ever could have anticipated given the circumstances that had been thrown at you. Even to the point of nesting, wanting another child, wanting a big and happy family. But alas, your ex husband had better things to do.
At the end of the day, you’d never be able to call this home yours if you had stayed with your ex husband. He didn’t like this kind of “flashy” lifestyle, and to him, everything you wanted seemed too flashy for him. Perhaps he was right to some extent, as you recognize the brand name goods you now own, solely because you had promised yourself in the depths of your despair that you’ll get to a point in life where you can buy yourself everything you not only need, but want. So, here you are, owning an expensive home, in a nice neighborhood, with a nice car and a nice pool.
Your daughter has everything she could want and need too, aside from a sibling, it’s certainly still more than what you had growing up and it’s all because of you. A fully decorated bedroom drenched in glitter, purples, creams, yellows, and pink, her favorite color. All sorts of play houses, costumes, dolls, a few lego sets, and even some plastic swords and knives for the days she wants to pretend to be her favorite movie characters. Clothes she can grow into, and a nice little fund building up for her as she grows up. Her first car, college, help for a down payment on her own first house.
Both of you have everything you could ever want or need and for that, you’re so proud. Especially knowing your husband would have never believed you could make it this far without him. Still, despite having everything you could ever ask for, there’s something in you that feels empty.
Time changes things.
Time changes a lot of things, you note more than usual, as the man you’ve been ogling for the past three weeks makes himself far more known to you than you ever wished he would.
The interaction with him was always so quick before today and given the fact that he was a complete stranger, you never quite invited him into your home considering–you know, small child and all. You had hired him over text. Jay, your neighbor said his name was. His handsome features didn’t offer you anything more than a clean pool and a wandering eye.
Your neighbor apparently has a friend who has a cousin that has an even nicer pool than you do. Given, it’s only a nicer pool due to the fact that this young man, Jay, tended to it weekly and made damn sure it could be drunk out of if a person had a craving for chlorine.
You feel like an idiot now that it didn’t dawn on you quick enough. Sure, he looked a bit familiar to you but who doesn’t when you’re always out and about seeing so many different faces on a daily basis? His name, Jay, didn’t ring any bells. Now though, the shame of staring at his sweaty pecs and biceps came crashing down the moment you realized who Jay actually is.
He didn’t do a damn thing to remind you either, if anything, all he did was walk around all sweaty in the afternoon heat with his tank top either sticking to him, or off entirely. It appears that you had just been too busy running errands with your child, considering his shifts were always when you were home. Too busy cooking, cleaning, reading, lounging. Too busy looking at…well, not his face.
Too busy to give the man a glance more than that of a slice of pie behind a bakery window.
Jay.
Since fucking when was that his name?
“Park Jongseong.” You whimper near mortified, three weeks too late as you hand him his pay with nervous hands. “Spray-cheese in my hair Jongseong?”
“Ah, was wondering when you’d pick up on that.” He smiles at you with that crooked grin, a knowing look that any man at a bar would give you if he had caught you checking him out. Then, he pockets the hefty amount of cash that you hand to him. “I go by Jay more often these days.” He trails off, an amused smirk half-falling as he looks at your expression of realization. “You can call me whatever you want though.”
He’s well aware of how often you’ve checked him out since he started intentionally taking his clothes off. After all, it’s mid-july by this point and the sun baring down on him doesn’t quite call for a fucking turtle neck sweater. Or a T-shirt, or a tank top, for that matter. It calls for all skin baby, beautifully tanned and toned for you and any of your neighbors to look at if they so wanted to.
Jay doesn’t work out for nothing, after all. Summer after summer, he’s found himself to be quite fond of the rich women that hire him for their pool services. Always wanting an attractive young man to wander around half naked and satiate their lack of sex life with their husbands, or boy-toys, or what have you. He knows all that extra pay isn’t because he does a good job either. He’s gotten winks, small comments, even a few offers of his body for more pay.
He’s turned them all down, of course. For a full-on affair, anyway. Jay has gotten a few blow jobs and quickies as a tip before though, and a lot of that is why he keeps getting referred to more women. Richer women. Never single women.
Until you.
He quite enjoyed catching you looking at him. Especially given the fact that he knew exactly who you were when you introduced yourself to him via text. That little childhood crush on you came back within an instant upon actually seeing you again. Truly, he had forgotten all about you up until that fateful day three weeks ago.
If he’s being honest, he’s been pining something fierce since he first stepped foot on your property. Excitement swelled inside of him just to see you again. To see if you’re still hot, to see how you’re doing, what you’re doing. How your life is going.
He knew you didn’t recognize his nickname through text, and he definitely knew you didn’t recognize him to be eating him up with those eyes of yours either. So, he played along, enjoying it while he could before it would inevitably dawn on you. Still, he remembers you so well from back then. Crazy to know that he rarely thought of you for the past twelve years or so, and how all those little butterflies of his came back in a far more mature way. He was only ten back then, but he’s a man now.
Twenty two and perfectly sound as a man who knows what he likes. The fact that you happen to fall into that category is no fault of his own, honestly. It’s your fault if anyone’s at all. Jay is a man that likes a specific type of woman too. Woman. Not a girl, not a young lady, not a free spirit, nor a prude. He is drawn to the idea of experience, to the idea of settling down. It’s not easy to find that at his age, in college, surrounded by party girls and casual drug use.
And, well, imagine his smile upon seeing your lovely, lavish home with the large pool, no ring on your finger, a whole fucking child, and your motherly instincts when you buckle her into the car for an errand. Oh and the broken fence in the far back of your yard.
You’re a single mom.
A hot single mom who lives lavishly. One who could probably use a man’s help around your house.
He half expected you to be able to recognize him when he appeared for work the first time. He even had a monologue in his head on what to say to you, and how to present himself. You didn’t seem to take notice though, introducing yourself to him as if you hadn’t spent all that time in his childhood home when you were a teenager. Like you never mothered him, or put him to sleep with the soft lul of your voice when you let him watch all those scary movies before bed.
Clearly you’re too busy experiencing life to notice the way he fawns over you too. Hating how you’re more reserved than the other lavish, fixed-up women. You seem to have standards, or maybe it’s just priorities ... that's so hot. Truly, it only makes him want you more because by now, the other women would already be rubbing all over him. The ones who shouldn’t be wanting him the way they do. So, yes, he’s always stealing glances at you with sparkling dark eyes, fantasizing in his head that this pool is his to clean now, because that’s what a good man would do for you, right? With him around servicing your pool and lawn, you’d never need to hire or spend money on another broke ass college student again.
Yes. That’s how quickly he fell into this infatuation solely because you looked at him like you want it without realizing who he was. Hell, without realizing how perfect you are in terms of what he wants.
God, how are you still single?
Like, why do you have a child and a house so beautiful without a man wandering around doing all of this work for you? Not that you couldn’t do it on your own, it’s just, you clearly have the means to make a man do as you please. Why haven’t you?
You happen to fall almost perfectly into the categories of what he’s looking for. Save for the fact that now you recognize him as that kid you used to babysit rather than the man who tries to be sexy while cleaning your pool. Which is a fucking shame, if he’s being honest, to be written off as that same ten year old child rather than a fucking man who very clearly has needs and desires.
The point is– Jay wants you and he parades around your pool for you to look at him. So what if you used to babysit him? It’s not like you’re an old swamp-hag trying to lure him with candy. You’re just…a woman. And he’s just a man.
“Well, thank you for cleaning again,” You trail off in an awkward tone, shifting your eyes to anywhere but him. He watches you though, smiling a smile you know all too well from his childhood antics. It must mean something different now, or maybe not. “I guess I’ll see you next week?”
“Well, actually,” Jay offers, “Would you be opposed to–” You cut him off instantly with an awkward wave of your hand.
You don’t know why you make assumptions, maybe from that damned smile on his face, but you do recall your ex husband reminding you time and time again that it’s one of the things he hated about you.
Assumptions. Always thinking the worst, or perhaps the most filthy of situations and expressions. To be fair, you feel guilty about how you’ve been looking at him, you can’t help but panic trying to pretend like it never happened, and that he never saw it happen.
“I’m not interested, Jongseong.” You respond hastily, pressing your thumb to your bottom lip to bite the skin on it, keeping your eyes away from him with the awkward words. After all, he knew who you were this whole time and paraded around like that?
Even before recognizing him yourself, you know men well enough to know when they’re trying to flaunt. Is it so wrong to assume?
“Interested in what?” Jay tilts his head knowingly, seeing the way you buckle under the guilt of staring at the very man you used to tuck into bed every night. He can see the way you try to push those sexual thoughts you had away in the quick rejection to a simple assumption.
“I was just going to ask if you want me to fix your fence.”
Ah, you did get ahead of yourself through the guilt, and you’re far too aware of it as you draw your eyes back to him and note the expression on his face. Amused, maybe a bit of concern in his eyes, even?
“Ah, um–” You start, trailing your eyes down your fence line never once noticing a break in it. Jay is quick to point though, leaning to you with a whisper of “right there.” And well, you did not need to hear that tone in his voice the way you just did.
God, it’s so awkward.
“Well, how much would that cost me?” You question with an empty voice, staring at the broken fence.
“Free.” He uses the same tone, leaning away from you now and smiling wide. “That is, if you provide lunch.”
Well, despite the awkwardness, that break over there would cost you a pretty penny to fix, and your daughter needs the safety of playing in her own yard without random animals or worse, people, making their way in. Plus, you’re quite fond of saving money. How else would you be here if you weren’t good at it? And now, given that you’re most definitely not interested in Jay, what's the harm in making a few sandwiches for someone you already know well enough? It’s not like you’ve never made him lunch before.
The awkwardness will pass and your guilt will subside. You both will laugh at it over a cold glass of iced lemonade, surely. It’s not like you realized who he was anyway, it’s not like you’re just gonna keep looking at him like that. You should just push forward and it’ll all be fine.
“Hell, I’d even watch the kiddo so you can have a break every now and then.” He watches your reaction, wanting to ask so many questions about why you’re single, who the father is, where he is, why he isn’t here. “After all, I learned quite a bit from you.”
For a second you consider that too.
And there’s three reasons as to why you should. The first being that you were literally just looking for a new child care facility due to learning of the staff coming to work while sick. Your poor daughter came home with a fever just last week, and you’ve had little luck in finding a place with the same educational benefits for her.
The second being that, well, while you’re not hurting for cash or anything, it wouldn’t hurt to be able to put a little more back for her college fund. Or for fun little vacations.
And lastly, despite your guilt of lusting over someone you shouldn’t have, you know Jongseong and you know his family even better. No background check would be needed, your daughter could be in the comfort of her own home rather than a classroom setting that she’s sure to see for at least twenty years of her life in the future.
So, yes. You consider it instantly, and Jay sees it.
You only know of the childhood version of him and, well, the slutty pool-side version of him apparently. If only you knew of that other side of him and how fond he is of watching his own younger cousins. How good he is with children, and how much he clings to the idea of being a father one day.
Jay is great with kids, with or without them having a hot mom.
And well, he knows that he’s fond of looking at you at least. Besides, as long as you can work with his class schedules, he’d be willing to do just about anything to play pretend-husband, even if you’re unaware of it.
“Is that so?” You finally ask, curious eyes looking at him with a furrowed brow. “Shouldn’t you be out living the life? College parties and such?” You add, wondering why such a great deal has managed to flop down on your lap. The idea of even cheaper childcare without the risk of unvaccinated children, and sick caretakers being far too good of a deal to pass up.
“Well, yeah I guess.” He shrugs, leaning backwards to stretch and roll his shoulders. “Not really my scene though. I have classes Monday and Wednesday all day, Tuesday and Thursdays my classes are online. If you can work around that, I’d rather just be making money and chilling.”
You think about it just for a second more when he continues.
“I can be here on weekends too. Maybe you should be the one out relaxing and having some drinks.”
“Well, I don’t quite need that, or for you to be here on weekends.” You think as you say it, knowing you have given up on going out to try and meet men two years ago. “I could pay you though, let’s say, thirty an hour?”
Well, shit, that’s not too bad at all, especially considering he’s about to give up on cleaning the pools of a few women in his contacts for this. It’s a major pay cut, but still enough to get by comfortably if you’ll have him multiple times a week. That plus the pool cleaning money? And free lunch?
“Oh, you don’t go out at all? I don’t see why not, could probably get a man in no time–” Jay ignores the wage offer and pushes to note the singlehood he had been noticing for the past three weeks. “and the pay is fine.”
“Ah, well, the dating pool isn’t so great in this neck of the woods.” You scratch the back of your neck when you say it. “That aside, I'll have her in day care on the days you can’t be here, but it really would be a big help. Thank you for the offer, Jongseong. And for the fence too.”
He watches you with a firm nod, shoving his hands into the pockets of his basketball shorts, still entirely shirtless in front of you.
“And the pool.” You add quietly after a moment.
“I think you’d be surprised about the dating pool.” He smiles as he pushes the subject back to what you had previously said, hoping you believe those words before continuing. “So, when do you want me to start?”
“Is tomorrow too soon? You’re okay to set up here with your online classes?”
“Tomorrow is perfect.” He smiles.
“I’m sure she would be so happy knowing she won’t be going to daycare–” You clap, feeling a bit less awkward despite the boldness of the man in front of you. You’re sure he’s just teasing you for knowing you checked him out. “I know I am.”
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
It’s a little too perfect, actually.
After that first day of watching your child and making a lazy attempt at “fixing your fence,” he’s settled in like it’s home. He wishes it was, with the lavish lifestyle in a house far too pretty compared to his own living space with piles upon piles of laundry he’s too lazy to pick up for himself.
It’s different for you though. Different when he’s here.
Truly, he feels like he’s living the life after a couple of weeks with decent pay and a comfy space to do his homework. He watches your child, which is arguably the hardest part of the job but she’s well behaved for him. In fact, she seems to have taken a shine to him.
He’s starting to be very intentional with taking far too long to work on your fence too, and still maintaining your pool. He’s trying to drag this out for as long as he can. Even if just to see if you still look at him when you come home the same way you did before recognizing him. You never do though. When his shirt is off and he’s wiping his forehead in the sun, you don’t look at him anymore.
Hell, he’s even considered breaking things in your home just to give himself more jobs to do. More things that make him feel needed, like a husband. More things that you thank him for fixing, even if it breaks again two days later.
And ah, the food in your fridge is always free reign to him, that large television in the living room too. God, sometimes he dreads going home, and by sometimes, he means all the time. Who in their right mind would ever fucking want to live outside of this lifestyle? He really can’t believe you’re single, nor can he believe that he has the opportunity to be in your home, close to you. It shouldn’t take too long now to convince you, right? That you don’t necessarily have to be single? That you need him around to live even more comfortably?
In short, Jay is in his head about how he’s practically just roleplaying as your stay-at-home husband before having to go back to his shitty little apartment and remind himself that he’s just a fucking college student with no interest in the people on campus. And like, even with the way you come home from work, all groggy and exhausted on the days he’s there, you always thank him before giving him his pay. What he likes best about those nights is when you’re too exhausted to even pay him and you promise to do it next time.
In his mind, that’s you promising to see him again.
He could give less of a shit about the pay at this point, as long as he gets to be in this house, smelling your favorite candles and dish detergents, seeing you, being a semi-father to a child who deserves more love than the two of you combined can give…he’ll fucking do anything you want for free.
It’s difficult sometimes, like he really can’t help it. Some days wandering around this house and imagining how the two of you could have landed on buying it together. How the rooms would be organized if he were here from the start. Claiming his spot on your couch like any dad would. Playing dolls with your daughter, laughing with her, letting her paint his nails and put his hair in little pigtails. He even cleans your pool as if it were his own, meaning, he genuinely cleans it.
He has taken it upon himself to mow your lawn, confusing the yard workers that you apparently hired years ago. Did he accidentally fire them? Maybe, but any good husband would save you money, right? He checks your mail, waves to your neighbors and lets them make assumptions.
And every single fucking night it’s harder and harder to go back home.
Especially after a full day of playing dad then seeing you come back home so tired. Turning off that switch in his head isn’t easy. He wants to greet you like the husband you don’t have. He wants to ease your hard days in so many ways. Tell you he’s proud of you, that you still look so pretty after an exhausting shift of whatever the fuck you do. He wants to serve you dinner, run you a bath, fix your hair, lay you down– oh, he’s fantasizing again. Unfortunately, he has to settle with seeing the relief on your face when he lets you know in a soft voice that he’s cooked dinner and he will heat it up for you before leaving, kiddo is in her room sleeping, no dishes in the sink, and laundry is folded and put away.
He loves the appreciation in your eyes, and sometimes even sees a glint of sadness. He can tell you wish you had this from a person who isn’t here for pay. Someone who loves you, and loves your child, and feels joy in making your life easier.
Fuck, if only you knew.
And you’d be lying if you tried to say Jay isn’t a godsend to you on the days he babysits. Many times you find yourself wishing he’d just move in and do everything that you can’t do. You’d pay him well, give him a guest room, whatever. But it’s just…not viable to support a full time employee like that, nor is it fair to your daughter.
She needs a parent, not a paid college student who needs some extra cash. You have to be that parent, you have to make time for her and witness all of her joys in life. You have to protect her and never bring in faces of men who claim to want to be a father, only to run and break her heart more than your own.
For now, you settle with this godsend of a little shit you used to babysit. Still you can barely believe that’s the same person, but again…time changes things. And thankfully, the awkwardness of what you did has died down drastically.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Today, you’re more thankful for Jay than you have been previously. After a heavy workload has been lifted off your back with the approval of this project, you need a night out. For the first time in years, you’re giving yourself a night out, all because you have someone you can trust to be here for your daughter.
He was so understanding when you called, even happy to come over right then and there to put her to bed and mostly just house-sit for the night. Even without an end time for him, and even without asking for extra pay, he just…accepted with an understanding tone and that stupid breathy chuckle he gives to you when you ask for favors. “What? You need me there right now? I’m putting on my shoes.” He had said.
It’s the fact that now, as he sits on your couch looking at you in your chosen outfit– he seems a little off. Maybe it’s because you asked him where the best spots in town are because it’s been so long since you’ve gone out, or maybe he just feels awkward seeing so much skin on your body.
To be fair, he didn’t realize you were going out out. He thought that maybe you were gonna go stay with a friend to celebrate and have a drink or two.
In reality though, he’s just awestruck. Already you look great even after your busy days at work but…this is a different level. The way your tits look in that push-up bra and tiny ass top, when he’s used to seeing you head out in some sort of business casual outfit without an ounce of skin showing save for your ankles or wrists…jesus. He’s struggling more than usual to keep himself calm around you, hopping up on one leg when you walk away to try and adjust the chub in his pants, and releasing a small sigh before you’re looking at him again.
His skin feels like it’s on fire knowing you’re going out looking like that.
“You sure you're okay to sleep over? I figure it’ll be easier since I’m not sure when I’ll come home, or if I come home.” You smile with a wink, your stomach in knots over the two shots you’ve taken for the first time in years. “I can call my friends and tell them not to come if you’d rather focus on your studies.”
Jay shakes his head, waving his hands in defense for you as if he didn’t just see the way your tits bounce and squish against your shirt with each move you make.
“No, no! Go on, have fun.” He says, encouraging you to go out despite hoping you come home with no luck of finding a man out there.
Just, look at you. Fuck, he’s staring again. He hates knowing that he could be one of the guys at whatever bar or club you’re landing on tonight. He could be the person that makes sure you don’t come home, getting to plant his face right there. He could be whatever you want him to be if you’re looking like that.
But no, he has to play husband again, which is normally something he’s all too excited to do. Tonight though, he feels like a fucking cuckold. After everything he does for you, after not mentioning how you’ve skipped a few of his payments, after slaving away for hours over your pool, your household chores, fixing and breaking that fucking dishwasher, cooking you dinner every single night he’s here just to make sure you have a meal when you get off of work…you imply you may not come home tonight?
And you’re dressed like that?
And you’re…
God, you just look so good right now. It pains him to know you didn’t dress like this for him, the only man who cares enough to make your life easy. He’s not mad at you, per se, but he’s pissed that you don’t see him as an option despite showing you time and time again that not only is he an option, but the right choice.
This is what you look like when you want to impress a man? This is how you act? How you talk? Fuck, god, fuck– maybe he’s just too deep in his one-sided roleplay but it really, really fucking feels like he’s watching his woman go off and look for someone else to fuck.
“Thank you, Jongseong,” You smile, walking over to him with a saunter in your step and a gentle smile across your lips.
He’s never heard you speak his name so sensually, the way his cock twitches forces him to wince away from you. He’s never even seen you saunter before. Fucking hell, somehow it feels worse seeing you act like this after how many times he’s imagined it, all alone in his room.
A slow walk from you, with the strap of your shirt slipping off your shoulder, fat tits threatening to spill out, lifting the hem of your skirt, or dress, or whatever you’re wearing in his fantasy at that point. Your voice, so soft, so sexy. And you’re practically bringing his fantasy to life right now, except he knows you’re going to fucking walk away from him like this. Into the fucking arms of some random dude at a club.
Probably some loser he’s seen on campus too.
“It means a lot.” You add, popping a quick, platonic kiss to the top of his forehead.
Ah, lipgloss. That little kiss on him is enough to ignite him to the point of no return. He almost wants to skip the part of asking you not to go and straight up just beg that you pick him, that you choose him. It’s not just your home, or the luxuries that come with it. It’s you that he wants. You’re the fucking luxury and you’re just gonna go to some sticky-floored club and pretend he’s not clearly checking you the fuck out right now? Like he’s not about three seconds from dropping to his knees just to see you from the angle you deserve?!
“It’s no problem.” Jay relents, dropping himself onto your couch instead and adjusting his body to sink deep into the cushions just to keep himself from arguing against everything he’s giving you permission to do right now.
Hah. Permission.
“Be safe.” He adds in an even more monotone voice. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
And god, he seethes in his thoughts after you close that door and hop into the car with your friends. You don’t look like a mother tonight, and he wonders if you’ll be upfront and forward with anyone you intend to hit on too. Probably not. He’s well aware of the men in this city, after all, he’s one of them.
It’s really not something he can control after seeing you like that either. Your child is already in bed and he’s just sitting here on your couch with a throbbing, fucking weeping cock thinking about you. What’s stopping him from taking care of it? You’re not here, after all.
You’re not fucking here. But everything about you is.
And that’s how he finds himself in your bedroom for the first time, barely making it a foot into the room before closing the door and dropping to the floor. The scent in your room is different. It’s feminine, gentle, like the energy is kissing him all over and sending goosebumps straight to the head of his cock. He couldn’t even pull it out, already holding his breath with his hand down his pants, vigorously trying to get what he wants so badly yet knowing that his hand will never compare to you.
And it’s here where he feels like a husband. Spilling against his pants with a silent, choked back sob as he stares forward at your bed, and the way you didn’t make it this morning. It’s messy, and he wants to be in that mess of sheets with you more than anything.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Jay hates that he’s now forced to get used to your late night ventures. Every weekend now. Every. Fucking. Weekend. You ask if he’s willing to stay over so you can go unwind, and despite his better (or worse) judgment, he accepts. The only solace he finds in these ventures is knowing you consistently come back home right after usual closing times, and you’re mostly sober. Sometimes a bit whiny that you’re not lucking out, worrying that maybe you’re too old now, or maybe you’re just not as desirable. There have even been a few times where you’ve exposed your ex husband during your rants, giving Jay little hints to follow as to why you’re single, and how he left you.
Still, he knows in your tipsy state that you usually wouldn’t talk about these things with him, but he’s all too happy to get the details once you come home. Mostly because it calms his rising rage at how you’re doing this to not only him, but yourself. It’s mostly because you’re technically coming home to him though.
And every single time, you go back to your bedroom to grab his payment even though it could wait until morning, considering he’s been sleeping in the guest room– all he can think about is how he’s been in your room. He’s gotten off countless times by now by the smell of your room alone, still barely able to even reach your bed to lay in it himself for a better experience. God, he’s probably memorized each little fray in your carpeted bedroom floor by now with how much he’s zoned out on it mid-jerk off session right there on his knees at your door.
He’s truly pathetic for you.
This time though…three in the morning has passed and normally you’d have been stumbling through the door an hour ago. Normally, he’d be fighting back the need to tell you that you’re beautiful, not too old, and entirely desirable. Normally, he would be fisting his cock again in your guest room before sleep, getting off on the idea that he can cum in a house that you live in, smothered by the sheets you meticulously picked out to match the walls of the room. Moaning for you, practically crying for you to let him do it all.
Have you really done it this time? Gone off with some man? Are you getting railed right now in some hotel, or car, or someone’s shitty man-cave? God, his mind is racing, both aroused at the fact that you must be horny to be constantly wanting to go out like this, but equally as devastated because like…he’s right here.
Who the fuck cares if you babysat him? He’s a man. No longer that child who sprayed cheese in your hair or dumped salt into the bag of sugar. He’s a fucking man, cooking you dinner when you work, parenting your child, cleaning your house, maintaining your pool and fence….He does everything for you, why the fuck don’t you see it?!
Click.
Jay’s ears perk up instantly at the sound. He sits up on the couch from his depressed slump of scrolling through his phone, quickly fixing his hair and clearing his throat.
In you stumble, right into the little entryway table with a whisper-screams “Shit, fuck–”
Jay looks at your state before standing to his feet and rushing to you, helping you balance on your feet despite your footing not quite being grounded even with his help. You lean on him closely, letting out an alcohol scented sigh.
His nostrils flare as he holds his breath, feeling your tit press against his arm, smelling the drinks, the sweat, and the dulled perfume on you. Then, a hint of something else. Musk.
You’ve been with a man.
He holds back a gesture at the way you lean on him. Nothing more he could want at this moment but to hold you tightly and tell you that he’s got you, despite the panic in his stomach at the way he sniffs out another man. Out of lust, love, desperation, frustration. This is the closest you’ve been to him for this long. You feel clammy and cold, a clear indication that you drank far, far too much. Your tank top is sticking to you, your eyes are a bit glassy–
“You’re late.” He says shortly.
“Late?!” You raise your voice before looking at him with drowsy eyes, furrowing your brow. “I don’t have a curfe-”
“Shh–” He shushes you, helping you get to the living room. “She’s sleeping and you’re going to have her make a fuss about waking up.”
You giggle to yourself as he drops you onto the couch, now aware that yes, you are not a single college student anymore. You’re a single woman. A fucking mother.
You should’ve just gotten a hotel for the night and slept there to dream a little longer.
“Right.” You laugh, slouching, spreading out wide against the couch and trying to fix your gaze on him. “Why’re you still awake?”
Jay fixes his eyes on you, swallowing around a lump in his throat. The way you’re slouching…seemingly forgetting that you’re wearing a skirt and basically flashing your panties at him. God, the things could do to you right now. The things he could get away with if he wanted to. He tries to shake those thoughts for now, and instead, inspects you from head to toe.
He’s never seen you look so relaxed. Chest raising and falling with each breath, hair a little messy, lipstick stains smeared on the outsides of your lip line. He chooses to ignore the faint swell against your neck indicating someone has been sucking on you. But, well, he can’t ignore it. Both his cock and heart aches at the very thought.
“You’ve been kissing?” Jay tries to ask nonchalantly.
“A lot more than that–” You smile, feeling a flush cross your cheeks before the disappointment hits you square in the gut.
Jay watches your face fall, and he mimics it by falling onto the couch and sitting by your head…you know, allowing you to lay your head on him if you want to. You’d probably not notice his arousal anyway, given your state.
“Oh?” He asks gently, the disappointment now showing plainly on not just your face, but his own.
“Thought I was gonna go home with him, turns out he decided to be done after a blowjob in the parking lot.”
Oh, the way his blood boils. Not for the fact that you were used or rejected, but for the fact that you found someone that you were interested in and genuinely intended to leave your home life in his hands for however fucking long. Really? Just gonna leave him here all alone? Like he couldn’t do better for you?
“It’s for the better–” Jay says as he shivers with irritation, struggling to keep his façade up. It’s definitely not what you wanted to hear, and definitely not what you’d have expected to hear from a college guy at all either.
“This happened last time too, except he didn’t even get me to the parking lot.” You huff, unaware of how much you’re sharing right now.
He bites back the anger yet again, inhaling deeply before releasing a calming breath through his nose just to contain it. So…it has happened more than once?
“Why don’t you let me take you out someday?” He says suddenly, well aware that you’ll probably never remember he said it in the first place.
If anything, he’s testing the waters for his own sake. He’d hate himself forever if he didn’t at least take advantage of this moment a little bit.
“Then who will watch my daughter?” You respond in slurred speech, not even comprehending who it is that’s asking you this question right now. Not even thinking about your history with him, or the family ties.
He, on the other hand, is quite entertained by the way you don’t bring the history up like he expected. His cock twitches at it, bumping your head just a bit, not enough for you to notice apparently. Fuck, it would be so easy for him to pull it out right now, and just…tap your lips with it.
Maybe you’d even open your mouth for him.
“I’ll skip class on a Wednesday, we can go while she’s still in daycare.” He continues through an almost-moan, encouraging the conversation to stay positive.
“Jongseong–” You slur before clearing your throat and sitting back up in a dizzy show of how drunk you are. “You know I can’t do that. It’s too weird.”
In all fairness, you know he has like…a thing for you. After all, why else would a college dude be spending his weekends here babysitting your kid? It’s not like you haven’t noticed the way he checks you out before you go out for the night. Why would he do all of this if he didn’t have some sort of attraction to you? Sure, you’re taking advantage of it as best as you can despite how you didn’t recognize him at first.
Despite how deep down, you very well know how attracted to him you are too.
“Only because you make it weird.” Jay rolls his eyes as he looks at you, spreading his legs out to adjust his comfort, noting the way you glance down to his lap and see it. “I’m a grown man–” He starts, spreading his legs wider, pressing his cock against his pants to the point you can practically see the outline. ”you know this.” He continues, trying to be bold now by reaching forward and moving a strand of your hair from your cheek.
“You’ve seen it.”
You freeze, suddenly feeling entirely too sober to be talking about this kind of thing with him. With Jongseong. God, his mother would fucking kill you if she found out he’s in your house while you’re out trying to get fucked by whoever is willing to love you temporarily.
Jay sees you thinking though, and continues to take the advantage now that he’s feeling brave. Now that you’ve seen the twitch in his pants and haven’t moved off the couch, or told him to go home.
“I saw you watching me when I was cleaning your pool, multiple times.” He whispers snidely. “You stopped when you realized who I am. Why?”
“Jongseo–…” You trail off. “You know this isn’t okay. What would people think of me? There are rules, and I will not go down this route with you.”
A rush of air hits your face and suddenly, warmth hits your cheek. You feel him so close, closer than ever before. It’s dizzying. Jay is over you, hovering with one hand ghosting over your hip.
“You want to though, don’t you?” He gets even closer now, darting his eyes down at your chest and unable to pull them away. “Knowing how good I am with your daughter? How well I clean up? How strong I can be–”
You swallow hard. For a moment, you almost lean into him. You almost melt right then and there, the need for intimacy so heavy inside of you after being left high and dry, knowing that you’d accept it from just about anyone at this point. But– this is Jongseong. You can’t.
You really, really, can’t.
The look of disappointment in his eyes kind of hurts when you’re pushing him away. That playful smirk falling faster than you think your sanity did the day your ex husband left you.
“This–” You pause, realizing all too well how he’s used your drunken state against you for this conversation. “This is your last paycheck.”
“I don’t think so.” The smirk is back now, except…it’s different. “You know I promised her a Barbie dream house next weekend.” He smiles fully now. “She’s a bit attached, you know, even called me dad by accident the other day.”
You’re shocked.
“She…what?”
“You know she’s attached to me already, don’t be selfish.” Jay shrugs at you while rolling his eyes, leaning against the couch again and turning his head to look at you. You try to pretend that you don’t see his hand slightly groping himself. “Guess she misses having a father around. Can’t be too easy for her, especially with her mom going out every weekend trying to fuck guys who would run the second they learn about her.” He ticks his tongue now, as if he’s pitying you more than your daughter.
“Jongseong, that’s not–”
“That’s not, what?”
“That’s not what I’m doing…” You lower your voice to a near whisper, upset that you couldn’t even enjoy the drunken state you came home in, now feeling entirely too sober, and a little sick in the stomach.
“Oh, so you haven’t gotten laid since I’ve been here–” He leans closer again now, trying to resume what he was going to do just moments ago. “They haven’t even touched you, have they?” His hands move to your thigh and presses down as if to hold you in place. “Why?”
“I try not to just sleep with anyone.” You lie, knowing you’d sleep with anyone just to feel wanted for once. And you’re trying to ignore his hands on you right now, trying desperately not to like it. It’s the first time a man has touched you in this house since your husband left you. As expected, you almost feel your knees buckle despite sitting comfortably. “I have to be careful, you know?”
“Mm, I know more than you think.” He leans into you, hovering yet again with his upper half over you as he whispers it. “Don’t need to be careful around me though.” He adds, this time trailing his voice right against your jaw, up to your ear. “You must be so frustrated.” He ghosts his lips there for a moment, waiting for you to push him away, or say something, anything, really.
“Why would I be frustrated?” You lend the smallest of whispers, feeling the goosebumps against your skin rising at the mere thought of giving in just this once.
“Not having anyone to please you.” He adds now, landing a very slight kiss right under your lobe. “Always being used for someone else’s pleasure, maybe?”
You almost nod, feeling weak in your state and thoughts swimming with what if’s, morals, and anxieties. You’re frozen in place despite knowing a simple push would create the distance you need to breathe.
“Your fingers will never be enough, will they?” He continues, essentially chaining you to this couch with his words alone. You can’t help the fight in your head, you need to feel wanted, and you want so badly to feel needed. “I bet you wish someone would love you for all that you are, not all that you have.”
It’s silent as you feel his lips press down again, this time moving his body over you almost entirely. You can feel the couch dip a bit as he places all of his weight on a knee, moving his other leg to stand between yours.
“You must need someone to fill that hole in you by now, right? That pussy of yours?” He continues, his tone a bit more snide now as you give in to his hold with shaky breaths.
And truthfully, Jay has never let himself come on this strong towards someone before. Usually the wives are doing this to him. They’re trying to convince him, encourage him. He’s so fucking horny right now though, with that daze in your eye, your legs spread around his knee, blinking up at him like a cheating wife. As if you want to apologize, as if you need him to forgive you. Need him to make everything better.
“I heard you the other day, you know, talking to your mom–” He smiles, tilting his head to look into your eyes, seeing a small shine in them. “You want another, don’t you?” He continues, moving his lips now just over yours as he, now, presses you firmly against the couch. “You must hate knowing that I’m the only person who can do that for you.”
“God, Jay.” You immediately buckle, not realizing how suddenly he’s not Jongseong at this moment. He’s someone else. He’s Jay.
“Why don’t you go for girls on campus?! Don’t you have parties to be attending on the weekends instead of being here, trying to parent my chil–”
“Lower that voice of yours,” He whispers, eyes now hooded as he looks at you. “You know she’s asleep.”
God, he’s right.
“Besides, why would I want them when I have you right here under me–” He tilts his head. “Looking so disappointed that you like it, too.”
Right then, your moral code shines into the front of your mind at the consideration of giving in.
A weight on one shoulder chanting, “No! What would people say?! What would people think?!”, and then little to no weight on the other shoulder, echoing in a sweet song of “Finally! Someone who will love you! Finally! Someone! Finally!!! Finally!”
You pause, not knowing at all what to do. Your body wants to push him away, even your mind and soul wants you to push him away. But you know deep down, you’d only push him away to see if he will try again. No man has ever tried for you like this, and you need more of it.
To feel desired after so long of neglecting this side of yourself, it’s enough to make a person lose their footing in reality. To give in to just about anyone willing to look at you the way he is right now. It’s the fact that you go out to try and find it, and even with this alone, Jay has satisfied you more than any stranger promising to make you cum.
“I…don’t know what to say–” You stutter. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I do.” Jay smiles, glancing at your lips before meeting your eye again. “Why not hand over the reins and relax for a–” His hand dips under your skirt, cupping your sensitive cunt in one hand alone. “Ah, I knew it.” Then, his other hand finds purchase on your chest, lifting your heavy breast in his hand with a blatant, hard squeeze.
After a sharp inhale you look away from him in shame, afraid to admit it despite the truth of it leaking through your panties and onto his palm.
“Wet.” He smiles, no longer looking at you but flicking his eyes back and forth from between your legs, and to your chest. Still, he fumbles around the wet spot, wanting so badly to lift these fingers to his mouth and taste. He’s fantasized about it, about how you’d taste, how warm it would be, what your pussy would feel like against his fingers–
And just as he’s pushing your panties to the side, pads of his fingers touching right where you need them with his eyes hooded and watching you closely, something snaps.
You push his hand away, only to feel him push back, holding you down with more force, gripping your tit tighter, sliding his fingers in before massaging the slit with a blatant moan on his lips.
Then, you try again, shoving him back only to hear him chuckle and continue his antics until– you jump to your feet. It felt too good, too grounding to have him touching you like this. You nearly stumble back over the coffee table, but you manage to stand tall and firm despite the fact that even though your mind feels sober, your body is fucking wasted.
“Jongseong.” You argue immediately, using his name the same way you did when he was a child. “Stop.”
He throws his hands up in defense, raising his brows in surprise.
“I–” He pauses, staring at you. “I thought you were enjoying it, my mistake.”
It’s the fact that you were. You were enjoying it too much, and there would have been no defending your actions if you had given in to the feeling.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Stupid. Stupid, stupid, fucking stupid. That’s what you are.
Your ex husband was right all along. Out of everything you’ve accomplished since your heart was shattered, ripped to shreds, stomped on, you’d think it would take a lot more to break you.
“You ask for too much.” Your ex husband had said once. “You can’t even stand to be alone for one day.” He had said a year or so later. Small digs on who you are and what you need sprinkled into small arguments, only to come more and more from the lips that you kissed and promised to kiss until you die. Until all of his words were to make you feel inadequate. Until everything he said to you stuck with you, forcing your confidence to bury itself six feet under.
Are you to blame? As it stands, maybe. Why else would you be allowing yourself to consider it? Consider Jongseong, you mean. Never in your life would you have considered him of all people to be the one that you need.
Never in your life would you have thought he’d be interested in a woman like you, in a situation like yours, with a child. Why did that night with him stick in your head more than every single mean thing your ex husband said to you? Why did his words seem more believable?
Because you were drunk at the time? Wet, neglected, and drunk?
Then why is it that you’re sitting here on your day off with your beautiful, bright-eyed daughter rummaging through your purse for whatever catches her eye….and you’re thinking about him? About what he's doing right now, how he’s feeling, if he’s eaten.
Why is it that you’ve gone the entire week ignoring his texts, asking if you need him to come resume his job as babysitter? Why the fuck do you want to accept after how he took advantage of your state of mind? After he came onto you and tried to manipulate you?
Despite all of his words ringing true in the back of your head. That was a dirty tactic he pulled on you. Yet, still…you want him back, and god fucking dammit you could cry knowing your daughter called him “dad.” You hadn’t believed him at first, but after this week alone it slipped from her mouth several times.
“He’s not your dad, baby, that’s just Jay.” You remember correcting her more than once, and all she responded to you with was a confused expression.
“Why not?” Is what her little voice gave back to you after her child-like brain decided it was fed up with you correcting her very right assumption of the guy who promised her the Barbie Dream House.
Why not?
Why not?
Well, if you could have an adult conversation with a five year old it would be much easier to answer that. Because he sprayed cheese in your hair. Because you were seventeen and his babysitter when he was ten years old. Because you ogled him without recognizing him as your pool boy. Because of a lot of things.
“Uncle Jay.” You finally corrected her again.
She shook her head, and continued doing and saying as her little mind pleased. It made you miss having a father around for her though. You think she needs it more than you do.
And that fucking Barbie Dream house is what brings Jay back.
Right at your doorstep today, with a gentle knock to the door and a timid smile on his face. He doesn’t even look at you when you open the door, and instead crouches down in front of you with the big, flashy box. He ignores you, tilting himself to look past you and straight at your daughter.
You hold your breath when she runs to Jay, arms spread open and laughter shrieking in your ears. Your heart aches so much at this moment.
Given your work schedule, you’d never gotten to see them interact much. He always came over as she was eating her breakfast, and you always came home after she was put to bed. You guess it’s fair that they have a bond now. She doesn’t even run at you like she does for Jay. In fact, the only time she ever did was when she had a bad day at daycare and had a tummy ache.
She runs to you when she needs you, but she runs to Jay like she wants to. Like she genuinely is attached to him, and his kind smile, and his eyes, and probably that warm embrace that you’ve never let yourself experience.
You watch them, not allowing yourself to melt at the moment because you did not invite him over, nor did you give consent to bring that fucking doll house here. But you can’t say no now, as she clings to his leg when he stands up and looks at you with an almost irritated glint in his eye.
His eyes trail all over you briefly too, as if checking for any new spots or marks that a man could have put on you. You feel seen, dipping your head to not meet his eye and scratching the back of your neck as if to hide a spot there. There isn’t a mark, it’s just…fear? nervousness? anxiety?
And then he hauls the box in for her without saying a word to you. You watch him hard now that his back is turned. His voice sounds so loving when he speaks to your child as if she’s an equal. Plopping down on your living room floor with her and opening the large box.
He Ooo’s and Aahhh’s with her as he pulls each piece out, connecting the walls, the doors, handing her little things to help him with. And both of them are so focused on the task at hand to create a safe space for all of her abused barbie dolls that… you feel invisible.
For the first time ever in front of them both, you feel like you are nothing but a ghost. That he is the single parent. As if you’re forgotten, less loved, not wanted, not even needed.
There’s a bubbling in your gut when you tear up, reminding yourself that what Jay did that night was probably just, well, he’s a man. Men aim to fuck at all times usually, and you guess you should have expected it at one point from him because, again, you’re aware that he’s attracted to you. Even more aware now.
But the way you feel right now outshines that. He’s ignoring you to keep your child happy. She is ignoring you because it seems Jay does a better job at it than you do.
And, well, he’s not holding you down, whispering things in your ear, letting out frustrated little sighs at your drunken or drowsy words now. So, you say nothing. All you can do is go to the kitchen and prepare a snack, trying to force the tears to stay inside of you with quiet sniffles, hoping you can join their little picture perfect moment so that you can be helpful too.
Your heart swells when they both look at you as you present a plate of snacks. You have to hold back tears again at the way their eyes shine, thanking you for the snacks. Jay’s eyes stay on you a bit longer though, as if saying “See? See what you’re making her go without?”
You do see it.
But…it can’t be him. As much as you wish it could be, you just can’t. There has to be another man out there just like him, one that doesn’t have a history with you that would cause whispers and questions. There has to be.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
That moment you witnessed seems to have solidified Jay’s place in your home. Whether it be for babysitting or simply so your child can see him when she’s asking for him (which is often.) It’s kind of an issue, actually, because now the choice isn’t yours anymore and it appears Jay knows that.
You hate that you’re forced to see him for what he is now. How he proves himself over and over again to be the man you need. The issue is that you still don’t want it to be him. The bigger issue is that he’s breaking down your walls, doing little things for you, looking at you with those dark eyes– your resolve cracks and reminds you every time he’s here that maybe it could work. Maybe you’ll give him a chance. Maybe you won’t have to go out anymore looking to fill a void that no one else fits into.
It’s the way that now, you can’t help but to compare him to your ex husband. The man who you loved for so long, who you genuinely thought you’d spend your life with happily and safely. Now, compared to Jay, your ex seems like…nothing. Like a little crack in your resolve. He was older than you by just two years, took care of you for so long, impregnated you, and slowly but surely throughout all that time grew to resent you too.
You still don’t know why, but perhaps it’s just because you were growing into your own. You were becoming more independent, though he never had the capability to realize just how much you depended on him during the very time he left you.
“I just don’t want to do this anymore.” Your ex had said to you on that fateful morning.
Your belly was big as you tried to waddle up to him when he said that. You can’t help but think back now and wonder how pathetic you must have seemed when he yanked his arm from your grip, especially due to the difficulty of your pregnancy already. You were sick through most of it, only having a few good days here or there where that pregnancy glow would make your ex husband second-guess himself.
The slam of the door after that was more exhausting than the months of pregnancy you’d gone through. It felt loud, so loud you could hear it vibrate throughout your whole body. You recall falling to the floor and carefully holding your stomach. It’s like all of the heartbreak pooled there. The loss of your husband three weeks before he got to meet the child he was supposed to love. Her little heart must have been breaking inside of you too.
Double the pain.
And then you were mending yourself on your own. Going into labor early from stress, your family helped take care of you more than her. You were needier. You were broken.
And never, fucking ever, did you think you’d find yourself sitting comfortable in your lavish home realizing that your ex-husband didn’t deserve all of that pain from you. He left you for that girl, and not two months later did she leave him.
Never did you think you’d find yourself thinking about Jay as a replacement either. Well, not a replacement, but like, maybe just…he’s the idea of a perfect dad if you pay attention to how your child talks about him. How they act together. How she cries for him before bed when he’s not there, asking you why you don’t read to her the way Jay does. Why don't you sing to her the way he does? Why don't you use the same voices for her dolls? Why you don’t cut her food like he does, why you don’t do this or that.
That’s what makes it click the most you think. The fact that Jay has given her something you never can. The love of a father. It doesn’t even feel like he’s babysitting at this point, he’s parenting, teaching her lessons, bandaging small boo-boos, fixing her hair,…cooking dinner, cleaning…existing here like he belongs.
Jay has done more for your daughter than your ex husband ever could have, more than you could have done for her too, you think.
Even now, as you come home night after night and see him, you struggle to see him as anyone that isn’t who your daughter needs. Maybe who you need.
His summer semester is coming to an end too, and it’s hard to see him as a college student now. He really does coursework and everything that needs to be done at your home all within a single work day? With no complaints at all? Lately, you’ve noticed that he’s been more focused on studying when he babysits too, but still your daughter listens to him better than she listens to you.
Yet, still, it’s like you’re avoiding each other as you go through the motions, but you notice him more. You feel more discomfort because of it, mostly because you know your resolve about this is breaking. There’s a fear inside of you that revolves around him.
What if you missed your chance?
What if it does end up being a mistake if he still wants you?
You don’t know what to do, but you know you want him.
Some nights, Jay does sleep over due to exhaustion and you don’t even ask him to leave because you know he’s not doing it to try anything. The avoidance is loud. Lately, you come home from work and there he is, sitting up with his laptop on his lap but sound asleep, softly snoring. Each time, you remind yourself of how he’s sacrificing his study time to babysit. You know your child can be distracting and needy when she wants something too, but he doesn’t complain even a little bit. The least you could have done was bring him a blanket, which you did. And you woke the next morning to find him curled up on the same couch, laptop toppled over onto the floor.
Small, gentle acts of kindness towards each other but never face to face. You’ve woken to fresh coffee countless times, made exactly the way you like it because you know he’s watched you make it yourself. You’ve come home to re-stocked items, like milk and eggs, laundry detergent, and even toothpaste. It’s nice, and a small indication that he doesn’t resent you. Even through face-to-face avoidance on your part.
Tonight seemed different though, compared to all of the other nights when you can’t go out. You walked through the door to the smell of dinner and your child still awake, sing-songing at you the moment you walked in.
“Dad said I can stay up late!”
You quirk a brow, her calling him that now becoming a regular occurrence to the point it goes through one ear and out the other for you. You recall discussing her bed time though, with absolutely no exceptions.
“Did he now?” You hug her before taking off your coat, walking with her to the kitchen where you find Jay, placing down a small plate on the table with cartoon characters on it, right in front of two bigger plates with bigger portions of delicious looking food placed neatly on it.
Your heart swells, but your anxiety grows twice as big alongside it. This.
This is what you’ve wanted for so long. This is what you never thought you could find. So, why is it that you still have push-back in your mind? Despite knowing that Jay has proven himself time and time again, you want to argue?!
Perhaps it’s because you like the way he tries. Maybe you’re not ready to lose that feeling of being chased in some way, of being begged to let him stay. Maybe it’s because you begged your husband, desperate for him to keep you, but he left anyway. It feels like Jay gives you power over yourself, over your love-life, over everything, really.
And if you were to actually accept his advances, even just a dinner on your table, what if he stops? What if he gets bored once he gets what he wants? After all, he’s still young, you can’t truly imagine he wants to do this forever.
Not with you, and not with your daughter either.
“What’s all this? Isn’t it a bit late for her to have dinner?” You question him instantly, anxiety bubbling up out of assumption alone.
“We had a small snack a few hours ago.” Jay reassures you. “I finished my exams and had a burst of energy to celebrate, besides, it’s a Friday–” He goes to pull out a chair for you. “You don’t need to be up early either. A late dinner every now and then never hurt anybody.”
The way this is the first time the two of you have had a face-to-face conversation since…that night. His voice calms you, and that’s scary.
You huff, happy because you could easily melt into this chair and pretend you’re having a family dinner, like you always wanted, like you never rejected a touch from him that you desperately wanted. You could just play along and pretend Jay is everything you need. Except, it wouldn’t even be pretending at this point. The whole idea of him has changed. But, again, that anxiety. You still have that little voice holding you back, no matter what you want, or what you need, you fear it’ll be ripped from you again if you were to let yourself be weak for another person.
“I’m really tired, Jongseong.” You explain, walking past the kitchen and towards your bedroom. “Thanks for dinner but I’m not too hungry and I just want to lay down.”
And with that, he watches you leave. No real appreciation, no congratulations on him finishing his exams, not even a kiss to your child’s forehead. Is he still expected to be the one to put her to sleep?
Why is he even here? Why did he do all of this?
His patience is running dry.
So, he eats with your child as your plate goes cold and he leaves it there. If you can’t even handle a dinner at the table with the person who cooked it, you can deal with your own fucking plate. Throw away your own fucking food, wash your own fucking dish. And if you can’t tuck your child into bed, he’ll do it, but you can shove that fake ass exhaustion right up your ass for all he cares.
He knows you’re not exhausted. He’s seen you when you are. You’re just being an asshole to him at this point, trying to appear like you’re perfectly happy with the life you live when your drunken rants prove otherwise. You treat him like everything he does has an ulterior motive. Which, yeah, maybe it does, but he was genuinely excited to have someone celebrate the end of this semester with him. Maybe assuming you’d indulge him went too far. For the first time, he wasn’t doing it to impress you.
By the time Jay gets your daughter to bed, all tucked in with a little tune to fall asleep to, he closes her door and just stands there in the silence on the other side of it.
You must really enjoy being a single mother, huh? This is why too. He always questioned it. You’re so attractive, so well-adjusted. You work hard, your daughter is a sunshine in this world, and you’ve not managed to find anyone to love you yet? He thought he was lucky to be the one getting to spend time with you.
Turns out, you refuse to let anyone in despite Jay knowing, fucking seeing straight through you. You want something from someone. You need it, yearn for it, even. But it’s almost laughable at the way you refuse it.
Excuses, excuses, excuses.
It’s the fucking audacity you have taking advantage of him. You’ve practically led him on. You lend him everything he wants in life. That’s it. You lend it. From flaunting yourself before you go to bars, to exposing all the marks you allow other men to leave on you. Letting him stay in this house, father your child, cook, clean, mend, fix, heal.
From being a faux-father to being minimized to a college student that you used to babysit. He’s offered you relief in so many ways including sexual, and all you fucking do is avoid, deny, fucking reject him. You still go out to bars, later and later you’ll come home with new swells against your skin, but always looking so empty and disappointed. Sometimes he thinks you try to make him jealous. Sometimes, he thinks you want him to try again.
Sometimes, he thinks you get off on the fact that he keeps trying.
And he has tried. Albeit more gently lately, but he has. Small, lingering touches when he hands you your coat to help you get out the door and to work quicker. Starting your car for you before you leave. Fuck, he even opens the goddamn door for you. Anything to make you feel appreciated, respected, and fucking wanted.
The silence is loud in his ears due to the sheer irritation as he drops his head, staring at his feet and knowing it’ll only take a few strides to reach your bedroom. A room he still craves to be in.
He’s raided those drawers by now, because of course he has. Soiling your panties, your sheets, anything that still smells like you when you’re gone for the day, all so he can act normal upon seeing you when you come home. He’s laid in your bed by now too, wondering what it would feel like to have your weight beside him. He fantasized about anything and everything he possibly could in there.
And he’s always warmer. Always cums the hardest with weak, muffled moans as he stuffs your pillows into his mouth to keep quiet. All before cleaning every trace of himself there, closing the door, and wishing he was allowed to exist in there with you.
Right now will be the first time Jay enters your room to your knowledge, and it sucks for him because he has essentially trained himself to get hard every time he opens this fucking door. Still, he composes himself, and it’s a bit of a shock if you’re being honest. You thought he’d go home after this, you were kind of hoping he would after you made it so awkward.
You felt guilty the second you saw his expression fall to your rejection of eating dinner like a big fucking happy family. You want it so bad, you want him so bad.
When you left the kitchen, you immediately went to your room and hopped in the shower, well aware that he wouldn’t follow you. You thought hard while the hot water made attempts to wash away your feelings. Would it have been so bad to just eat with him? With your daughter? With both of them? The way his eyes fell, it burned your heart a little bit.
Still, no answers came to you because you know part of you just wants to see what else he will do for you. Despite the history with him, and despite knowing his entire family would question and scoff at you for it…Is it really so wrong? To want to give him a chance just to see if he’ll leave you too?
Just to see if it’ll hurt when he does it too?
Inviting him to your home almost every day of the week isn’t wrong, right? Forgetting to pay him all those times before, hoping to see him again and get that confidence boost, that wasn’t wrong. Letting your daughter attach herself to him when you swore he wasn’t permanent, no longer having the energy to correct her use of “dad” towards him… none of that is wrong.
It’s all Jay. He’s the one in the wrong for willingly following along, not you. Right?
And as you’re sitting on your bed in your towel, zoning out and staring at your floor, Jay swings your bedroom door open without a single knock, mindfully closes it, and immediately goes off on you.
Somehow, you really expected him to accept your rejection but your heart swells that he didn’t. You don’t think he ever will, and you’re exhausting yourself hoping he’ll prove you wrong.
He’s shown you enough by now. This is what breaks down that wall inside of you, isn’t it?
“What am I doing wrong?” He shoots his first question out in a desperate whisper shout, eyes searing into you before continuing without a single breath. “Because I do everything for her, and i do everything for you, does that really make you so fucking uncomfortable?”
“J–” You try to respond, feeling your skin prickle at the sheer irritation in his expression.
He’s fighting for you.
“Isn’t that what you want?!”
“After everything I do–” He throws his hands up now, running his fingers through his hair as if you make him feel like he wants to rip it out. “After trying to make your life easy while making mine harder, for what? You to not eat the fucking food I made? For you to go to the bar all the time just to come back disappointed like I’m not right here waiting for you to come back?”
“What ar-”
“Don’t ask me any stupid fucking questions, Just answer me.” He drops his hands, stepping up to you, placing both hands on either side of your hips, doing his best not to react to your near-naked body. “Why?”
You lean back, trying to create more distance to try and give him an answer that you don’t even know yourself, but he just keeps closing in. Not letting you escape this time. You’ve never seen him so riled up before, it’s…
Well…
“Because I came onto you? Because I tried to do what no one else will do for you?” His voice shakes when he says it, and you can feel the heat radiating from him. Is he…about to cry?
Only now, seeing him so close with an entirely sober brain do you realize an answer. Maybe not to his question of why, but to the same question you’ve been asking yourself. It’s because of that look in his eye. You’ve never been able to put a word to it, but now with him demanding you explain yourself so closely, you see it.
He’s desperate.
Arguably as desperate as you’ve felt to fill the void. Except, he’s trying to do that for you and you won’t let him out of what? Fucking fear? Hell, at this point the history means close to nothing when it comes to all the new memories he’s made in this home, even without you. The history of babysitting him, the history of your ex husband leaving you. It doesn’t matter.
You think hard, so hard that you feel your eyes burn as you stare up at him. Glancing without intention to his jaw when he clenches it, to his neck when he swallows his words, to his lips, his eyes, the hair falling in his face…and you just–
You reach up, running a soothing hand through his hair to get it out of his face. Then you see those same desperate eyes somehow grow more desperate as he lowers them, leaning into the touch, as if you’ve been starving him the same way you’ve been starved for years. He falls silent too, cutting himself off mid-question just to feel you touch him for the first time.
“I don’t know.” You say, which seems like a better answer than having an excuse. What can you say otherwise? That it’s because it shouldn’t be him? That you’re afraid he’ll realize he’s not ready to settle? To be a dad? He’ll ask why, and it’ll be the same answer you gave on that drunken night. An answer that you no longer care about.
You babysat him when he was a child, but you were still a child too.
You were still a child, and time changes things.
Your ex husband left you, and you’re afraid he will too, especially because he’s so much younger? Who cares?
Your answer seems to fly right past his head though, because he’s still leaning to feel your fingers in his hair, and he’s looking at you as if nothing you say will matter unless you make it hold some weight to him.
“Jongseong–” You pause, scratching right at his nape, uncaring of how you can feel your towel loosening on your body. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”
Somehow, his name on your lips is what he needed to hear. The tone of it, the rasp in your voice, your fingers in his hair. Actions speak louder than anything the two of you could say right now, and he can’t help it. Nothing can stop him, not even you at this point.
He hasn’t done anything wrong you say? It’s because he fucking knows what you need.
You inhale deeply, holding your breath when you feel your back hit your mattress, his warm hands instantly taking advantage of your freshly-showered state and tugging at the towel just slightly to let it fall open. You hear a slight breath from him at that moment, an inhale. There, he climbs onto the bed, nudging himself between your legs and trapping you there under him, both hands holding your arms down.
Like he’s afraid you’ll reject him again.
“You’re going to let me take care of you now.” He demands, though to him it sounds more like a plea solely due to the fact that he’s so fucking turned on it’s unreal. That feeling of when your fingers were in his hair? Seeing your naked body? Unshaved pussy? Being in this fucking room with you? It throws him into overdrive, especially with the way you just lay there blinking up at him in surprise. The anger melting away only amplifies it more.
How could you do this to him? Genuinely, how could you have let him fucking suffer for you like this?
Still, you blink up as if you’re a deer caught in headlights and it makes his heart thump against his ribcage. Your eyes are so bright, that glint of sadness he had seen so many times isn’t there right now. And there’s so much adrenaline inside of him, like he needs to move fast before you change your mind again. You’ve not let him do this for some fucking reason or another and now you’re just laying here for him.
There, with your entire body on display, and you appear to be docile. Fucking obedient? Like he always knew you would be if you’d just drop the fucking act?! You were meant for him and him alone, and he’s going to show you why.
In all honesty, you’re tired of denying yourself by now. From the moment you saw him that day cleaning your pool for the first time, you’ve wanted him on some level. It wasn’t an emotional attachment, but a hope, a fantasy for you. And when you recognized him, you were more impressed with him than embarrassed. You tried not to let your eyes wander out of guilt, out of feeling like a pervert.
And then, that day when he came onto you, he was just a man to you. Your faux guilt kept you from letting him, and your hope to be chased kept you from it too. As if you’ve never pleasured yourself to the thought of him, shamefully in this very bed. As if you’ve never called out his name with a silent breath. If you keep going at this point, you’ll lose him before ever knowing what he could really be for you.
This is his last ditch effort to beat you at your own game, and you’re ready to lose.
So, now, you let yourself get lost in him. In his eyes and the way he pleads and makes his demands. He probably doesn’t recognize his strength against you right now, or how much it’s turning you on. With the way he has both hands on your wrists, probably bruising them, and there’s nothing you could do even if you wanted to. His weight holding you down feels better than you imagined.
After so long, with so many failed hookups where you’ve told them of your daughter and all they’ve done in return is get their orgasm then leave…Jay. He wants to take care of you?
He wants to…give you what you need?
Fuck, you know he can. That’s the fucked up part. He’s proved it so many times to you in so many ways. You’ve watched him, the way he moves and acts around you. He’s exactly what you need. You pushed him to this point, where his sanity is on the brink of crashing. Taking it away from him again feels wrong, because it’s exactly what you want.
And when he presses his leg between yours, he knows.
“Again?” He comments, now releasing your wrist from one hand and running it down, able to slip his fingers right into the slick of your bare pussy. “You’re wet.”
You still just blink up at him with an intake of breath at the pleasure, thoughts running left and right on what to do, finally realizing you don’t want to do a damn thing. He’d do it all if you let him. Clean your house, be a father, fix all of the breaks, make you wet.
And you just feel him, the way his fingers play around with what he does to you. You can practically feel his confidence rise at the way you spread your legs a bit more, as if to give him more access. When you look at him, his expression remains harsh, but slowly he moves himself down, lips brushing over one of your nipples while keeping eye contact.
Still that irritated look, like he’s mad you haven’t let him do this before now.
“How many times are you going to pretend like I’m not the one who gets you wet?” He asks before rubbing circles around your clit, tongue flicking in the same way around your nipple. “Like I don’t have a right to take care of you?”
Your breath is still caught in your throat, trying to be careful about what you say right now despite knowing you can’t speak. You focus on what he’s doing instead, losing yourself to something you’ve not felt in far, far too long.
He’s right. He’s gotten you wet more than once by now. More than he knows.
And goddamn, he knew your tits could bounce, but the way they move without the support of a bra, the plush, soft feeling of your nipple growing erect in his mouth, all for him to bite and pull at. He does it too, listening to the little seething sound of pain from you when he pulls all the way back with your nipple between his teeth. Only to let it fall from his mouth and break eye contact with you to see the jiggle as it falls.
His cock twitches, at everything that you are right now, feeling more pleasure through seeing you like this alone compared to fucking his own fist on your bedroom floor. He notes how your legs squeeze him more at the nipple stimulation than his fingers too, memorizing the way your labia falls open between them. He smirks, flicking his tongue more, quicker.
There. There it is.
A low rumble in your chest falls from your lips. Soft, a moan. A very small, delicate sound.
“You like this?” Jay asks, looking up at you, letting his tongue fall from his mouth again and flicking the erect nub. “When I play with your tits?”
You nod, throwing an arm over your face in embarrassment that this is actually happening. You’re letting him. Already you feel yourself heat up more, even when he takes his fingers away from your clit and instead, uses them to flick your other nipple.
And he does this for a few minutes. Paying special attention to your tits, going back and forth with his fingers and tongue to each bud, trying so hard to not stop just to shove his cock between them and use them the way he’s always wanted. He focuses on drawing out more and more little sounds from you instead, slurping his own saliva from your painfully erect nipples, pulling back, blowing cold air, then warming it up again with his lips. All while simultaneously groping, flicking, and pinching with his other hand.
“Jesus, Jay–” You moan quietly, chest rising and falling as he squeezes and licks against you.
That’s right, say his name. Let him fucking know he’s doing what you like. Jay thinks, feeling his cock weep in his pants as he does it. Wondering just how sensitive you are to be reacting like this to simple nipple stimulation. God, he’s wanted to suck on these for so long, and now you’re letting him. They’re so big, so plush. He wants to fucking cover them with his mouth, he wants to bury his face in them, kiss them all over them.
And if they were to get bigger? He moans at the thought, remembering that conversation you had with your mom. You want another. He bets they’d swell up–Oh, fuck yeah. They’d probably hurt to rub against your shirt. God, fuck, he can’t control his thoughts right now.
Finally.
Fucking finally, he has you and he’s not going to let you run away again.
He doesn’t fucking care if it’s forward. He wants what he wants, you want what you want. That want just so happens to line up. Besides, he’s already proved himself to you, he knows it. If you’re letting him do this, maybe you’d let him stay like this.
“Did they get bigger?” He moans briefly as he swaps to your other nipple again. “So full, so heavy, were they leaking all over you?”
You listen to him, trying not to feel the pit in your stomach bubble with even more arousal at his blatant and dirty words, feeling your clit throb at the stimulation your tits are getting right now.
“Makes my dick fucking throb just thinking about it. Fuck–”
“Let me give you another,” He mumbles now, almost mindlessly before looking up at you with an intense gaze as he bites down, indicating that he’s not mindless about it at all.
“Swell you up, make you glow–”
Oh.
Why is that– why are you dripping?
He hears that moan you let out. Different from the others, almost desperate.
“Mm, yeah.” He encourages it, now allowing his hand to travel back down to witness how much wetter you’ve gotten at those words. So messy, so perfect. “Knew you’d want it raw.”
You can’t help the nod, as it comes before you even process his words solely because you feel his fingers slip inside of you. You haven’t been this wet in so, so long. You want to feel it. To be full again, of anything. Of him.
“Ye-” You start, interrupting yourself with a bite of your lip and your eyes rolling back.
“That’s right mama,” He coos, tilting his fingers up and amplifying the pressure inside of you. “Gonna let me take good care of this pussy, yeah?” He adds, lifting from your tits and ghosting his lips over yours.
He watches you closely, that daze in your eye. God, you look so horny right now. There’s nothing more he wants than to see this time and time again. To let you wake up every morning with his warm cum inside of you, to see your belly swell with his child, to see your tits grow until they hurt.
He’d take care of you. He’d take good fucking care of you.
“Say something.” Jay whispers against your lips, darting his tongue out against your lips, angling his fingers up and making you moan. “Say you want me to give it to you raw.”
You open your mouth, feeling his tongue lick and swallow up that moan you just gave him before you try to compose yourself. You can’t help it, you’re so, so sensitive right now and you can’t help but find it incredibly sexy to be here, laid bare, while he’s still fully clothed.
Like he really is doing this for you. He’s not trying to get his own orgasm and leave. You’re weak and those words of “let me give you another” shines in your head. Weak, you’re weak. You should be thinking about condoms, you should be thinking about the consequences of this.
But you’re not.
You do like it raw.
“Jay–” You stutter as you try to grasp the reality of his words, feeling his fingers repeatedly hit right where you need it. “I’m…not protected.”
He moans. Loudly, before huffing out an irritated groan.
“You must really want it then.” He narrows his eyes at you. “Going out all the time trying to get fucked–”
He plunges his fingers in again, deep, and holds them there as he pulls back to look at you. To really look at you, then he glares.
“You’d really let just some fucking dude give you a baby?”
You repeatedly shake your head.
“No!” You retort, thrusting your hips up. “I just–”
“Mhm,” He pulls his fingers out now, sliding himself down so fast that you can barely comprehend him sucking your clit into his mouth before pulling back in a moan at the taste of you. “If mama wants another, daddy will give her one.” He says now, as if to pacify you.
As if to give you everything.
And you’d argue, really, you would. You want another child so bad, but this is– it’s too soon. You haven’t even established a relationship with him yet. Boundaries haven’t been discussed. His college plan– but fuck it’s not entirely your fault that you’re like, super turned on by the idea of it. To the thought of being so filled with cum that there’s no possible way you couldn’t end up pregnant. An indication that, no matter what, no man at a club could fulfill the arousal for you even if they cared to do it.
You’d never have let them actually fuck you raw.
Jay though…how can you keep telling him no?
How could you reject him again when you want it so badly?
Fuck now, think later.
“Yeah–” You say against your better judgement, hands reaching down to his hair so you can grind up against his mouth, lost to the arousal as you mimic what he referred to himself as. “Daddy?”
You feel his mouth fall slack at that, as if you’re accepting him in full now. You feel your clit hit nothing in his open mouth, but it throbs harder.
He knew you were slightly into him for letting him do this at all, but now, you’re truly accepting it. Like you know he’ll fucking do it, like you want him to fucking do it.
“That’s right,” He moans against your clit as he licks at it, barely able to comprehend your voice calling him that but clinging to it all the same. “Gonna let daddy do it all for you.”
Yeah. You are. You’re gonna let him do it. All of it.
And then, the room is enveloped in quiet moans, more from Jay than from you due to your breath being stuck in your throat. His tongue, licking every part of your sensitive cunt, his hands reaching back up to your tits, fondling, pinching, painfully tugging at them as he moans louder, louder, louder for you to want him.
He presses his hips up and against your mattress as he tastes you, so deeply it hurts his cock to neglect it like this. Each rub feels raw, twitching and pulsing to be let out, to be inside of you, on you, against you. Filling you up with his cum, plugging it in as a promise that you can’t leave him even if you wanted to.
He’s going to fucking do exactly what he said he would.
And only when you feel his tongue lap against your hole do you finally release your breath, “Daddy” coming out in a choked back sob. It breaks him, his body going into overdrive as he pulls back and just– stares at you with wild eyes.
You stare back up at him, knowing that calling him that means something more than a cringe little roleplay kink. It means something deeper to him. He wants to be a dad, a real one.
“Oh yeah?” He finally says, hands going straight to his button and zipper.
You can’t help it, biting your lower lip as you blink up, watching his shoulders move, the veins on his arms protruding as he rushes to pull it out and– oh. You moan at it, the way his heavy, slicked up, cock falls out, heavy, needy.
“Daddy–” You urge him on, knowing that it’s driving him absolutely insane.
“Mhm?” He shuffles himself off the bed, letting his pants drop as he lifts his shirt off of him and fucking glares at your tits. “You want daddy’s cock?” He adds now, shooting his eyes up to you as both of his hands land on your legs.
Your mind goes blank when you feel him slide his hands around to the back of your thighs, pushing your legs forward, curling you in on yourself, forcing your pussy to be out and on display for him.
And you watch him, the way he stares down at it. It’s embarrassing to be so seen right now, not having expected to get fucked open by anyone tonight, let alone him. You probably should have shaved or something, or like, not gotten out of the habit in the first place. But he moans at it, mouth falling open at the fact that you are entirely a fucking woman.
A fucking mother.
The prettiest pussy he’s ever fucking seen let alone tasted.
And he moans, breaking the silence, forgetting only for a moment how long he’s been wanting this. It boosts your confidence more than you’ve ever felt. His reaction to this is more than your ex husband’s reaction to you when you were pristine and borderline pornstar quality.
Jay doesn’t see you as used and neglected, he just sees you. And this. This is the pussy he wants. This is what he wants to put his baby in.
When he flicks his eyes back to you, with that same open mouthed expression, it knocks the breath out of you. There’s so much love in his eyes, or maybe lust, you don’t care. You think you’re matching that expression for him too, because it’s like he can’t hold back anymore. He can’t just sit and look at you anymore.
He just can’t.
And you feel it, his thick head pushing past the tightened, pulsing hole and not stopping. He pushes in slowly, painfully slow, to the point you’re both looking at each other with a slack jaw. Finally. The pain of it, the pleasure, the fucking need you’ve been trying to fulfill.
That look on your face drives him wild too, he knows he has you by now. You like it, you love the way he slides in and makes damn sure you feel it the way he does. Every second of the slide pries you open, and he wants to remember this moment forever. He wants you to fucking remember too.
Wants you to know that no one will ever fit inside of you so perfectly, so deeply.
When he finally bottoms out, he leans forward to keep himself buried deep as he ghosts his lips over yours. He feels the way you try to kiss him, but he pulls back with a confident smirk.
“When was the last time you’ve felt a cock so deep in you?” He whispers hotly, knowing you need not answer. Knowing you won’t answer, not with the way you’re instantly lifting your head and kissing him.
Your pussy pulses around him when you lick into his mouth, the first real kiss sending his heart soaring. He twitches inside of you with each squeeze, and kisses you harder, deeper. And somehow, it brings tears to your eyes.
The way he kisses, the way he makes you feel him. Fuck, the way he makes you feel whole, so wanted, like you’re amazing to him. In more ways than just a body to fuck, but he’s stuck around despite all of your avoidance and rejections. You hope you’re making it worth it.
Fuck, you need to feel worth it to him.
“You’d better not fucking pull out.” You groan through a breath, his lips still kissing you through your words as he finally pulls his hips back, fucking in once.
Hard.
Honestly, could you have said anything else at this moment? He’s trying to make this last, he needs it to last. If you keep fucking talking, saying everything he’s ever wanted to hear–
“Fuck,” He moans, his hands moving up to your cheeks as he licks into your mouth. “You can’t–” He continues, fucking in again, moving your body up with each thrust do to the sheer force of him trying to plunge in as deep as he can. “You can’t fucking say that to me right now.”
You’re seeing stars though, unable to say anything else as your eyes roll back at the way the head of his cock practically kisses your cervix with each push into you. He’s so rough, so desperate for it.
You don’t think he expected you to respond either, with the way he keeps his lips on yours, his body pressed so closely that having your legs to your chest means nothing to him now. Mating press be damned, he’s lost his mind to the feeling, not the aesthetic of being a fucking dad.
Your legs wrap around him instead, and he’s all to happy to feel it. Your legs hug him the same way your arms do, the same way your pussy does, and he’s fucking in love with you.
He braces one hand back against your leg, holding it against his hips as he continues to fuck forward, still at the same pace. Deep and with purpose. Every few seconds the bursts of pleasure run through him, making him shiver and moan into your mouth. Little grunts, near whimpers for you to let him give you the world.
More than this. More than fucking, more than taking care of you, more than anything he could ever possibly give you. He’ll find a way.
And then, you’re clenching hard, matching his near-whimpers except moaning in full pants, babbling and drooling cries against his mouth.
“Mama–” Jay soothes, continuing his pace as he tilts his head back to get a good look at that lost gaze in your eyes. “You’re crying?”
You nod with a laugh, tears rolling down the same way the wet of your cunt slips down your ass. You’ve never felt so good, so fucking full. And for some reason, that does him in. Making it last be damned, he genuinely thinks he’s won you over. He can make it last next time, he can do more next time, he can–
He leans back all the way now, onto his knees as your legs try to hug him back to you, and his eyes go straight back to those tits. The way he made a promise. The way they bounce, slick with his sweat from pressing against you.
“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” He grunts in a breath, now quickening his pace and snapping his hips. Pulling out all the way briefly to plunge into your again. “Can’t get any deeper–” He continues, flicking his eyes from your face, to your tits, to that beautiful pussy of yours swallowing him up.
Now his eyes roll back, hands going back to your thighs to push you back into position. No way in hell can he last, not at a pace like this, inside of a woman like you.
“Don’t pull out.” You repeat again in a breath, seeing his face and the way he focuses solely on you. You know he’s going to cum, and you want him to. You want to feel it, every single fucking drop of it.
“Yeah?” He nods his head with laser-focus on your pussy now, staring down as he points tight, short thrusts inside of you. “Momma wants my cum? Hm?”
Oh, he’s fucking gone.
“She likes it?” He continues to talk himself up. “Likes being so fucking full of it? Yeah?”
Goddamn, fuck, he’s insane.
“Yes, daddy!” You whisper-shout, fingers shooting to your clit, other hand raising to your mouth to silence the moans as to not be too loud.
“Fuck, yeah you do.” He lets out a near growl, his voice low and rumbled as he slaps your hand away, pressing hard on your clit with his thumb as he buries himself in you once more and stiffening his abs. “That’s right.”
And instantly upon feeling him pulse, that first spurt of cum painting your insides, you lose yourself with him. Your fingers drop from your mouth and you release a pornographic moan for him, rutting yourself against him, as if to fuck it deeper into you.
It only prolongs the orgasm though, for both of you.
Jay is silent, trying to keep his eyes open through the pleasure as you pulse and squirt around him, his thumb pressing so hard into your clit, his cock cumming so deep, filling you up so well– He wants to see it. Wants to watch you fall apart for him. Wants to witness the way you let him do this.
And he holds himself there, so hard and so full of pleasure for you. Keeping himself practically impaled against your cervix until your body falls slack. Still, he fucks it into you, holding you in place with a softer moan now. No longer guttural or deep from his chest. His breathing is rough, a soft, near feminine moan leaves his lips as he falls forward onto you.
You wince along with him at the sensitivity, panting, a sweating tangle of a mess the two of you have become. And it’s the fact that it’s the first time you’ve ever gotten off at the same time as someone else. You feel…soft.
Your hands find their way to his hair as his face squished against your tits while he regains breath, not daring to move his hips because your pussy is too warm to leave right now. You brush the sweat-slicked hair out of his eyes, running your fingers all the way back to his nap, and then slowly down his back to rub and scratch.
He shivers at the feeling, humming the same feminine-tone he had released previously. And all he can do is hear your heart thumping against your chest, even through these soft tits of a pillow he’s lying against.
Jay never wants to move again, not from this spot, ever.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
“You know I’m in love with you, right?” Jay mentions briefly after a long moment of silence, looking up at you with his wet hair.
Deep in the night, your food still cold and on the table, you’ve found yourself freshly showered and on your living room couch with Jay’s head on your lap. He made sure to have stayed long enough inside of you to implant…something if it was going to happen. So he didn’t argue a shower, and you didn’t argue letting him join you either.
He had washed you, gently running his hands between your legs with what you can only describe as the softest, most alluring face a man has ever given you. Like he won the lottery, or found the answer to eternal life or something. You repaid him by letting him admire your tits again while you jerked him off, but that’s besides the point.
“Like, I’m not going to leave. I hope you know that.” He adds with a soft groan to your hands still in his hair. His new favorite thing.
You look down at him, hand moving to his cheek as the words hit you in the chest.
There’s anxiety along with happiness, at all of the boundaries and serious conversations that will need to be had now, but still, you feel like you’re glowing when he looks at you.
He didn’t even have to say it, and arguably you probably don’t need to say it back either. You think he sees it in you. Even if he didn’t, you think he’d take anything you give to him and cling to it. After all, it only took one time for you to break entirely for him.
“Are you now?” You smile with a chuckle, looking back to the tv and pretending to watch it. “Well, that’s good. Otherwise I’d be making you go get a plan B or something.”
His eyes narrow at you.
“Like hell I’d let you, even if I didn’t love you.” He groans. “But I do, so don’t ever say that shit again.”
You chuckle, feeling the calm in your home that once felt so chaotic. It’s quiet now, both inside and outside of your head.
“Congratulations, by the way.”
He looks at you with question, quirking a brow.
“For finishing your finals, I mean.” You smile, going back to petting through his hair and feeling like you’re on top of the world, despite what you assume to become half of your world lying his head on top of you.
“Oh, right.” He smiles, now turning his head to watch the tv. “I probably failed them.”
You don’t believe that, but even if he did, you think you could be what he needs too. He wouldn’t have to work if he didn’t want to.
If he’s really in love with you, all he’d have to do is…not leave.
“Are you sure you want to be having these conversations with me? You can just call it a hook-up.” You finally say, hoping he means it, knowing it breaks your heart a bit to give him an out. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m going to trap you here just because I’m a little smitten too.”
Jay glares, blinking up at you.
“I literally just tried to put a baby in you.”
That’s fair.
“And you’re not going to run off? Get cold feet?”
“Can you stop doubting me and just let me do what I want for once?” He argues playfully. “Do you even know how much that barbie fucking dream house costed me? I couldn’t run even if, for some stupid ass reason, wanted to. I love her too.”
Silence for a moment.
“Maybe even more than I love you.”
You really, really, want to believe him.
So, you do.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
please remember to like and reblog! feedback would be lovely too, of course ; 3 ; i'm not below begging.
You hate the Purge. You hate the monster they create, the cruelty, and the way it's broken you down year after year. You hate the rich most of all—the people who don't have to fight to survive. People like Park Jongseong.
And now, somehow, he's sitting next to you. The boy who's always smiling, always comfortable, as if the world hasn't burned down around him. The boy who lives in safety, behind barricades his father's company builds, while you've spent years starving, hiding, and praying.
Jongseong keeps smiling at you, oblivious to the weight of your hatred. He doesn't care about you, not really. To him, life is simple. And maybe that's why you can't stand him. Because while he laughs, you're trying to figure out how to make sure people like him never smile again.
warning: the purge au! contains dark sensitive topics, mentions of murder, sexual assault, violence, and ptsd behavior, different perspectives of the purge, one sided hatred, reader is kinda difficult to handle but it's a trauma response, messy ending, jay is a supportive boyfie (in a good and bad ways), reader is unhinged, explicit content (smut): multiple sex scenes, fingering, nipple play, pussy eating, unprotected sex, purge fucking, MDNI, reader discretion is advised. WC: 21.8K.
music to listen while purging: murder in my mind
You hate March 21. God, how you loathe it—the day that strips away any pretense of humanity.
It always starts the same way: the wailing sirens ripping through the air.
Not even sixty seconds pass after the announcement before the streets erupt. Gunshots. Screams. The unmistakable, animalistic sounds of survival. The world falls apart faster than you can blink, faster than you can even take a breath. And every year, you sit in that darkness, trembling, hating.
You hate how they made this—how society carved out one single night to let its ugliest urges spill over.
You hate the twisted smiles on people's faces, the gleeful violence, the merciless slaughter. You hate everything about it.
You hate how weak you are. How poor you are. How your "barricade" is nothing but a creaky door and a pile of junk you've pushed in front of it. Heavy chairs, the couch, a dresser you could barely move—what is that supposed to do against the monsters outside?
They'll break through it in minutes, seconds even, if they choose you this year.
And there's nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
So you crawl inside the closet, knees tucked into your chest, hands pressing hard over your ears as the chaos outside creeps closer and closer. You rock back and forth, whispering to yourself, "Just twelve hours. You just have to survive twelve hours."
You hate how your morals hold you hostage.
You're too much of a coward, aren't you? Or maybe you're too human, too stupidly tied to the idea of right and wrong.
Either way, you've sentenced yourself to this endless nightmare.
You hate how they have no mercy. How people don't even hesitate.
The second those sirens stop, the masks go on, the knives come out, and the laughter—the laughter—starts echoing down the streets like some kind of hellish symphony.
You hate the way your mind races, picturing your own end over and over again. Would it be quick? A bullet to the head? Or would it be slow? Something worse?
You hate how poor you are. How people like you—people who can't afford high-tech barricades, bulletproof shelters, or private security.
You're the bottom rung of society, the lambs to the slaughter. And that's exactly how they see you. Nothing more than sport for the rich.
You've been their prey before—dragged into one of their "games." Their sick, twisted hunting expeditions where they wear masks and hunt you down like animals, laughing all the while.
Somehow, you survived that night. Somehow, you ran fast enough, hid well enough. But you didn't leave unscathed.
No, you left something behind that night: your sanity.
You can still feel their eyes on you, their jeers echoing in your ears, their mocking laughter as they cornered you over and over, just to let you escape so the game could continue.
You see their faces—those masks—every time you close your eyes.
And no matter where you go, it's always the same.
You transfer to a new town, a new neighborhood, hoping to disappear, but you always end up right back here.
They smile too wide, your neighbors. They're too friendly. Too eager to see you. And every time they stare at you, every time their grins linger a little too long, you feel the bile rise in your throat.
You hate everything about the Purge.
You hate the people who participate in it, the government that allows it, the sick, twisted minds that relish in it.
You hate the monsters you've seen outside, but you hate the monster you're becoming even more.
Because every year, it gets harder. Harder to keep your sanity intact. Harder to resist. Harder to keep your morals from shattering under the weight of it all. And every year, the hatred inside you grows like a poison, rotting you from the inside out.
You hate how you're always waiting. Waiting for another March 21.
Waiting for the next time you'll have to endure this torment. Waiting for the day you finally snap, when you stop running, when you stop hiding, and when you start fighting back.
You hate the waiting more than anything because you know that day is coming. You know it's only a matter of time before something inside you finally breaks.
And when it does, you'll hunt them down. Every last one of them. The rich who preyed on you. The neighbors who smiled too wide while undressing you. The government officials who allowed this nightmare to persist.
You hate March 21.
But more than that, you hate how much you're starting to look forward to it.
"I see you survived the Purge," you muttered, your eyes narrowing as they landed on the group of seven boys in the hallway.
They were laughing softly, their voices laced with relief as they exchanged hugs and pats on the back.
"Thank God," one of them said, gripping the others in a tight embrace, his shoulders sagging like he'd been holding his breath for the last twelve hours.
"I already told you guys," another voice chimed in—smooth, Park Jongseong. Of course.
"Next year, you should all come to our house. Our lockdown is solid. Our barricades are strong enough to keep anyone out. You'll be safe there, trust me."
You scoffed, the sound low and bitter, but loud enough to be heard if anyone was paying attention. Of course, they weren't. They never noticed you. Not people like them.
Park Jongseong— the golden boy. His father owned one of the biggest barricade companies in the country, making a fortune off other people's desperation and fear.
He didn't just survive the Purge; he thrived in it. His family's state-of-the-art lockdown system probably made their house into a fortress.
And now here he was, standing in the middle of the school hallway, flashing that perfect smile and talking about how his family had been "safe and sound" while people like you hid under a bed, praying not to die.
You bit the inside of your cheek, tasting blood, and turned away. Of course Jongseong had survived. People like him always did.
You were miserable. Miserable every single day for the past seven years since the Purge began.
Seven years since the night your parents were taken from you on that first Purge.
Seven years of surviving on your own, scrabbling through life like a rat in a never-ending maze.
An irregular college student balancing four jobs just to afford rent, tuition, and scraps of food that barely kept you standing.
And some nights, when you're too tired to even close your eyes, the same thought creeps in, like a whisper you can't shut out.
Why can't you just die already?
Was this what God wanted for you? Was your suffering some part of His great plan? If it was, you hated Him for it. You hated everything—for putting you here, for making you live like this, for keeping you alive while everyone else you cared about was gone.
Then came August. Seven months before the next Purge, You took your entire month's pay—every single cent you'd earned and bought a handgun from a retired Russian police man who didn't ask questions.
You didn't eat for weeks after that, barely managing to survive on water and scraps you could steal from work.
Hunger clawed at your stomach, but you didn't care. Every second of discomfort was worth it as you cradled the gun in your hands at night, running your fingers over the cold steel.
At college, exhaustion weighed on you like a heavy coat. Your mind was foggy, your body barely cooperating as you tried to focus in class. You were too tired to care about anything anymore. That's why, when you heard the voice, you didn't even look up at first.
"Hey, are you Y/N?"
You blinked, sluggishly dragging your tired eyes up to meet the man.
Park Jongseong. He was standing there, his usual easy smile on his face, holding a lab manual in one hand.
Your brows furrowed as he sat down next to you like it was the most natural thing in the world. You raised an eyebrow at him, watching in silent disbelief as he got comfortable.
"We're partners in laboratory," he announced with that same friendly grin, his tone light and conversational.
You stared at him, your eyebrow twitching slightly. Of course, we are. Just my fucking luck.
You hated him. You hated everything about him.
You hated how he could walk into a room and light it up, how he always smiled like life was some perfect little gift wrapped up in a bow.
You hated how easy everything seemed for him, how he floated through life without ever seeming to care about the world around him.
Jongseong keeps smiling at you, oblivious to the weight of your hatred. He doesn't care about you, not really. To him, life is simple. And maybe that's why you can't stand him.
Because while he laughs, you're trying to figure out how to make sure people like him never smile again.
"I'm Park Jongseong," he says brightly, "You can call me Jay, if you don't know me."
You stare at him with your tired eyes, barely masking your irritation. His enthusiasm is exhausting, like a candle burning too brightly, too close to your already frayed nerves.
But he doesn't seem to notice. Of course, he doesn't. He keeps talking.
"I'm planning to start our experimental research maybe in like three days? I don't really like cramming," Jay continues, flashing you another one of his easy smiles.
"Are you available on Saturday?" he asks, finally looking at you. "Do you want to do it at my place or yours?"
His smile falters for the first time when you just stare at him, bored and uninterested, like he's wasting your time—which he is.
He must be so used to people hanging on his every word, eating up his charm. You, on the other hand, are trying to figure out how long you have to tolerate him before he leaves.
"I have a morning shift at the ice cream shop. Probably the afternoon, but I'll leave at 7 PM," you reply flatly, spinning your pen lazily between your fingers. You're not trying to be rude.
You're just tired—tired of him, tired of everything. "Then I have another shift at the restaurant."
Jay nods, and for a moment, you think he's about to say something stupid, like you work too hard or you should take it easy. But he doesn't. Instead, he watches you for a second too long before his smile returns, a little dimmer than before.
"And your place," you add, cutting off whatever he was going to say. The idea of being in his house, surrounded by whatever rich-boy luxuries he has, makes your stomach churn.
Jay blinks, then nods again. "Alright, my place it is," he says, his tone softer, as if he's trying to figure you out.
You hate it—hate the way his gaze lingers on you.
You turn your attention back to your notebook, letting the silence hang between you until he finally shifts in his seat and looks away. At least he knows when to stop talking. For now.
You observe people every shift. At the ice cream shop, kids cry and tug at their parents, pointing at a flavor they desperately want. At the fast food chain, students laugh, stuffing fries into each other's mouths, their joy spilling out into the air.
You watch them. You clean up after them. And when no one's looking, you pick at their scraps—half-eaten burgers, fries left behind—anything to stave off the hunger that gnaws at you day and night.
When you sneak into the back to wash your hands, you catch your reflection in the grimy bathroom mirror. It almost shocks you, the hollow-cheeked girl staring back.
Your dark eye bags seem to sink into your face like bruises, your cheekbones sharp enough to look dangerous. Your lips are pale, chapped from thirst, and your hoodie swallows what little remains of you.
Even when you do sleep, it's never peaceful.
The nightmares always find you, pulling you back to that night—hands grabbing, voices laughing, the cold press of a mask against your skin.
Not even the sleeping pills you've wasted money on help anymore. You've tried. God knows you've tried. But the fear is something you can't escape.
And then Saturday comes.
Jay welcomes you at his house with his usual easy smile.
You stand awkwardly at the entrance, your eyes immediately drawn to the luxurious details surrounding you.
Expensive vases line the walls. A cabinet full of fine liquor gleams under the lights. Everything in the house feels deliberate, pristine, and just looking at it makes you feel like you don't belong.
"This way," Jay says cheerfully, leading you to his room.
The moment you step inside, you're greeted with more of the same—displays of wealth that feel almost obscene to you. A collection of guitars lined up like trophies. A cabinet stuffed with fancy perfumes. Everything here screams a life of comfort, of privilege, of a world you'll never touch.
"Are you always cold? Want me to lower the aircon?" Jay asks suddenly, his gaze flicking to your oversized hoodie.
You almost punch him for the question. The audacity of it.
Are rich people really this clueless?
The irritation bubbles up. You almost imagine your hands around his neck, squeezing some sense into him.
"No, thanks," you say curtly, not bothering to hide your annoyance. You drop to the floor, pulling out your notebook and pen, ignoring the uncomfortable tension forming between you.
"You can sit on my bed," Jay offers, reaching out to touch your arm like it's no big deal.
But the moment his hand brushes your sleeve, your mind snaps. You're not in his room anymore. You're back there—on that night—being grabbed, pulled, restrained. Masked faces loom in your vision, their laughter ringing in your ears like a sick melody.
Before you even realize it, you've slapped his hand away, standing so fast you almost knock your notebook over.
"I—I'm sorry," you stammer, your voice shaky as you rub your arm. Jay just stands there, his hand hovering in the air, confusion written all over his face.
"It's fine," he says quickly. His smile is gone now, replaced by something softer.
You swallow hard, forcing yourself to sit down again—this time on the bed, even though you'd rather be anywhere else. You pull your notebook back into your lap, flipping it open as if nothing happened, your hands trembling slightly.
The two of you work in near silence, researching for your lab project. Jay tries to engage you now and then, asking for your thoughts, but you keep your answers brief. You don't want to talk. You don't want to share. You just want to get through this.
After a while, Jay breaks the silence again. "How many jobs do you have?" he asks, his voice almost hesitant. "How do you manage school and work?"
You huff, irritated by his questions. What does he know about working to survive? What does he know about balancing your life on a thread?
"I don't manage," you reply bluntly. "I'm already planning to stop after this semester."
Jay straightens in his seat, frowning slightly. "Why?"
"Because I can't afford it anymore," you snap, your patience wearing thin. Your voice is sharper than you intend, but you don't care. You glare at him, daring him to argue, to say something stupid like, You should keep trying.
But Jay just looks down, his gaze softening. "I'm sorry," he whispers, almost too quiet to hear.
Before you can respond, a knock interrupts the moment. A head peeks into the room—a woman with wavy hair and a face so similar to Jay's that it's clear she's his mother.
"Heard you had a classmate over," she says warmly. "Come down and eat."
Jay stands immediately, glancing at you as if waiting to see if you'll follow. You nod stiffly, clutching your notebook to your chest as you trail behind him, feeling awkward in a house like this.
When you reach the dining room, your stomach grumbles embarrassingly loud at the sight of the food. A table full of steaming dishes spreads out before you, prepared by maids who move around effortlessly. You've never seen this much food at once before, not even during the holidays.
"Come, sit, sweetheart," Jay's mom says, pulling a chair out for you. Her voice is so kind, so gentle, that it makes your chest ache.
You sit down slowly, staring at the food like it's a mirage. Jay's mom piles your plate high with food, her warm smile reminding you so much of your own mother that your throat tightens.
"Eat, don't be shy," she says, her voice light and encouraging.
Your hands shake as you pick up the spoon, the first bite warming your tongue.
The taste is overwhelming, rich and filling, and it's so good that tears prick at the corners of your eyes.
You quickly take another bite, and another, ignoring the lump in your throat.
Jay watches you quietly, his gaze flicking to your small, trembling hands. His eyes catch on the scars peeking out from your sleeves as your sweater rides up.
"So, where are you from? It's my first time seeing you here! Jay's always bringing friends over—so many faces!" His mother's voice was cheerful, her smile warm and inviting.
"I'm from Las Vegas," you replied, keeping your eyes on your empty plate. You didn't want to talk, but her energy made it hard to ignore her.
Your gaze shifted to Jay as he leaned over, silently placing more food onto your plate.
"Oh, Las Vegas!" His mom exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. "What made you settle here in Seattle? Life is so exciting over there! So bright and lively!"
"Not really," you said, inhaling sharply as you tried to keep your tone even. The last thing you wanted was to go deeper into that conversation.
She didn't seem to notice your discomfort. "Oh, I see. Well, what do your parents do for a living?"
You froze. The fork in your hand stilled as memories rushed back like a tidal wave.
The screams. The blood. The way your parents looked at you, their faces twisted in pain as you hid, trembling in the cabinet.
"They're dead," you said bluntly, gripping your fork so tightly your knuckles turned white.
The room seemed to grow quieter. His mother's cheerful expression faltered. "Pardon?"
"They're de—" you started, but the words caught in your throat. Your pulse quickened, your chest tightening, and before you could finish, Jay cut in.
"It's already almost 7:00," he said quickly, "Didn't you say you have a shift?"
You looked at him, startled. His gaze met yours, and for the first time, his ever-present smile was gone. Instead, his eyes were steady, watching you carefully, like he knew you were unraveling and didn't want to make it worse.
You took the excuse without hesitation. "Yeah," you muttered, shoving your chair back as you stood. "I should go."
His mom looked like she wanted to say something, but Jay rose from his seat, cutting her off with a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'll walk her out," he said softly.
"Thank you for the food, Mrs. Park," you smiled, trying to look natural, bowing at her. You grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder, refusing to look back at the table, at the food, at his mother's concerned face. Your throat burned as you fought the tears threatening to spill over.
Jay followed you silently as you stepped into the hallway. Once you were out of earshot, he finally spoke.
"You didn't have to answer her," he said gently.
You stopped in your tracks, gripping the strap of your bag tightly. "I didn't want to," you said flatly, your voice trembling just a little. "But people always ask. Like they have the right to know."
Jay didn't respond immediately. When you glanced at him, he looked... softer, his usual brightness dimmed with something quieter. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice low and careful. "She didn't mean anything by it. My mom's just... the type to ask questions. She doesn't think it'll hurt anyone."
"Yeah, well, it does," you snapped, the words slipping out before you could stop yourself. Your voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet hallway. But Jay didn't flinch. He just nodded, that same calm expression on his face, like he understood.
And for some reason, that made you angrier.
Your bag strap digging into your shoulder as you stared at him. The silence stretched, heavy and awkward. Your chest burned with frustration, your hands curling into fists at your sides. You weren't sure what you were mad at—his mom's question, his calm demeanor, or the fact that he kept pretending to get you when he didn't.
The words tumbled out. "What are your thoughts about the Purge, Jay?"
Jay's eyes widened, caught off guard by the sudden question. He hesitated for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like he was carefully picking his words.
"I—I don't agree with it," he said finally, his voice quiet..
You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. "You don't agree with it?" you repeated, mocking his tone.
"That's rich. The Purge is the reason why you're making money, Jay. It's why your family's living in that giant house with your shiny vases and fancy barricades."
Jay blinked, visibly taken aback. "That's not fair," he said, his voice soft but firm.
"Isn't it?" you shot back, your voice rising.
"Your dad's company makes barricades, doesn't it? Every year, people like you get richer while people like me..." You trailed off, shaking your head as your throat tightened. "You don't get to sit there and say you don't agree with it. Not when your family profits from it."
Jay's jaw tightened, but he didn't interrupt. He just looked at you, his expression unreadable.
"And you know what's funny?" you continued, the bitterness spilling out of you now. "You probably spend Purge night in your fortress of a house, watching movies or playing board games with your family while the rest of us are out there dying. You don't even have to think about it, do you?"
"That's not true," Jay said quietly, his hands clenching at his sides. "I do think about it."
"Oh, do you?" you snapped, glaring at him. "What, do you spend a whole five minutes feeling bad for people like me before you go back to your perfect little life?"
"That's not what I—" Jay started, but you cut him off.
"You don't get it, Jay," you said, your voice trembling now, anger and exhaustion mixing into a volatile cocktail. "You'll never get it. You don't know what it's like to be hunted like an animal while people laugh. So don't stand there and tell me you 'don't agree with it,' because that doesn't mean anything coming from you."
Jay looked like he wanted to say something—his mouth opened, but no words came out. His shoulders slumped slightly, and for a moment, you thought you saw guilt flash across his face.
"I'm sorry," Jay said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
You froze, your anger faltering for a moment as his words sunk in. Your chest tightened, and your eyes softened just slightly, guilt prickling at the edges of your mind. What were you even doing?
But the shame and bitterness were too much to face. You turned away quickly, your voice small and strained. "I'm sorry... I should go," you murmured, gripping the strap of your bag as you hurried to leave.
Jay didn't stop you. He just watched your retreating figure, his expression a mix of concern and frustration. As the door clicked shut behind you, he sat down heavily, running a hand through his hair. He wanted to help, but he didn't know how. And the way you looked at him, like he was the problem, made it feel impossible.
The weeks passed in a blur of survival and self-destruction. Bullets were fucking expensive. Even knives cost more than you expected, and every penny you earned disappeared the moment it hit your hands. Life was getting harder.
The monster inside you—was growing louder, feeding off your exhaustion and anger.
At night, when you weren't working, you trained yourself obsessively. Watching documentaries on how to kill someone. Studying anatomy. Practicing with your weapons until your hands were blistered and shaking.
You didn't care if your body couldn't take it anymore. Pain didn't matter. Hunger didn't matter. Nothing mattered except being ready.
But as the weeks dragged on, it became harder to keep going.
Your hoodie, the one you wore every day like a second skin, was filthy and smelled of sweat and exhaustion. Your body was sore in every possible way.
Your reflection in the mirror was worse than before—hollow eyes, sallow skin, dark circles so deep. And every time you saw yourself, you thought the same thing.
You just want to die already.
One night, your phone buzzed. It was a message from Jay.
"Y/N, I'm sorry to bother you, but you haven't been coming to class. I can handle most of the project on my own, but for this reporting, I really need your presence."
You stared at the message for a long time, debating whether to ignore it. But something in you caved. Maybe it was guilt. You replied: "Okay. I'll come."
Jay welcomed you into his house again, you ended up on his bed, laptop in your lap as you both worked on the PowerPoint for your report. The room was quiet except for the sound of typing, but every movement felt like a struggle. Your body ached. Your head throbbed. You could barely focus, and every second felt like a fight to stay upright.
It wasn't long before your body gave up.
The laptop slipped from your lap, crashing to the floor as your vision blurred. The last thing you heard before everything went dark was Jay's panicked voice calling your name.
When you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was a white ceiling.
The faint smell of alcohol and disinfectant filled the air, and the sharp tug of a needle in your arm made you realize you were hooked up to an IV. An oxygen tube rested under your nose, and your body felt impossibly heavy, as if all the exhaustion you'd been ignoring had finally caught up with you.
Your gaze drifted down to your body—and then you saw it.
You were wearing a hospital gown.
Panic gripped you instantly. Your chest tightened, your breathing quickening as your hands clawed at the fabric.
"No, no, no," you whispered, your voice trembling as your heart pounded in your ears.
Memories of hands grabbing at you, tearing at your clothes, flashed through your mind like lightning. You gasped for air, a faint scream slipping from your lips.
Jay jolted awake from the chair beside you, his eyes wide with alarm.
"W-what's wrong?" he asked, his voice soft but laced with panic. He moved closer, his hands hovering uncertainly like he wasn't sure if he should touch you.
"H-hoodie," you stammered, gripping his arm with weak, trembling hands. Your nails dug into his skin. "Need to cover. Ugly. Ugly."
Jay winced at the pain but didn't pull away. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he said gently, his voice calm and soothing. "You're okay. You're safe. No one's going to hurt you."
"No," you whimpered, shaking your head as tears streamed down your face. "I'm ugly. Don't look." Your hands fumbled to pull the gown tighter around you, but it didn't help. You could feel the scars beneath it—the raised lines.
Jay hesitated for a moment before slowly reaching out to cover your hands with his. His touch was warm, steady, and he squeezed your fingers just enough to ground you.
"You're not ugly," he said softly, his tone so sincere it made your chest ache.
You shook your head again, your voice breaking as panic surged through you. "You don't understand. You don't know what they did to me. What I look like—"
"Calm down," Jay interrupted, his voice steady but still gentle, as if he were trying to anchor you to the moment.
He closed his eyes and turned his head slightly to the side, a gesture meant to reassure you. "I'm not looking, okay? I'm not looking."
His words made you pause, your breathing still uneven but slowing just a little as you clung to his arm. The panic was still there, buzzing under your skin, but his calmness was starting to chip away at it, little by little.
"You're safe now," Jay said, his tone softer this time, "and you're not alone, okay? I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Just calm down, breathe in, breathe out. You can do this."
You tried to follow his instructions, inhaling shakily and letting the air out in uneven bursts. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough to keep you grounded, enough to stop the tears blurring your vision completely.
Jay's hand was warm against yours, his fingers gentle but firm as he held on. "What do you want me to get?" he asked softly, his voice careful, his head still turned slightly away so you wouldn't feel watched.
"My hoodie," you whispered, your voice weak and pleading. "I need it. Please."
Jay glanced at the IV in your arm, his lips pressing into a thin line. "You have an IV in your skin," he said quietly. "It's still not okay for you to wear your hoodie yet. If you pull at it, you could hurt yourself."
You looked away, shame and frustration boiling under your skin, your fingers gripping the hospital blanket tightly. "I don't care," you mumbled, your voice trembling.
Jay sighed softly, squeezing your hand again to ground you. "I know you don't feel comfortable," he said, his tone gentle but firm, "but if it's too hot or heavy right now, I don't want you to hurt yourself trying to put it on."
You clenched your jaw, swallowing back another wave of tears. "I just—I need to cover up," you said, your voice breaking again.
Jay hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Okay," he said carefully, "if you're not comfortable in the gown, I can get you a long-sleeve nightgown instead. Something softer. Something that'll cover your arms. Is that what you want?"
You glanced at him, your lip trembling, and nodded weakly. "Yeah," you whispered, barely audible.
Jay gave your hand one last gentle squeeze before slowly standing up. "I'll go ask the nurses," he said softly.
Days had passed, and Jay had stayed by your side, refusing to leave, despite how much of a burden you felt like.
He wasn't overbearing or hovering—just quietly there, helping you in any way he could.
He brought you meals, water, even helped you comb through your disheveled hair when your strength failed you. He didn't ask questions about what happened, didn't demand explanations.
His mother visited often, sweeping into the room with an energy that made your chest ache. She came with baskets of fruit, flowers, and small gifts, her arms overflowing like she was trying to smother you with kindness.
On one visit, she hugged you tightly, tears in her eyes, and said, "You need to take better care of yourself, sweetheart. Your life is precious."
Her words pierced through you, bringing a lump to your throat. You didn't have the heart to respond, just nodded, even though deep down you still didn't believe her.
Jay's friends, Sunoo and Ni-ki, had even come to visit. Despite the fact that they didn't know you at all, they acted like you were an old friend.
They brought a snake and ladder board game, and before you knew it, they were sitting cross-legged on your hospital bed, loudly cheering, groaning, and playfully arguing over the dice rolls. Their laughter filled the room, echoing against the sterile walls and spilling over the edges of your heart.
At first, you just watched them silently, your hands resting in your lap, unsure of how to react. But as the game went on, you found yourself drawn in—your dead eyes softening as you watched them bicker like kids, a faint half-smile tugging at your lips.
For the first time in what felt like years, you felt something other than pain. Just a flicker, but it was there. A tiny seed of happiness.
"What do you want to eat today?" Jay asked, smiling as he sat at the edge of your bed, peeling an apple with practiced ease.
"I want rice cakes!" Ni-ki chimed in, raising his hand like an excited child.
Sunoo rolled his eyes dramatically, crossing his arms. "Yuck! We had rice cakes yesterday!"
Their back-and-forth made you chuckle softly, a sound you hadn't heard from yourself in a long time.
But later, when the room grew quiet again, and it was just you and Jay, that flicker of happiness gave way to something heavier. Guilt.
You glanced at Jay as he sat by the window, scrolling through his phone absentmindedly. His face was relaxed, the sunlight catching the soft angles of his features. He had done so much for you—things he didn't have to do. And all this time, you had hated him. Misunderstood him.
You had assumed the worst of him, just because he was rich.
You had lumped him in with the monsters who had ruined your life, convinced yourself that he was just another spoiled, privileged kid who wouldn't understand what suffering felt like. But the truth was... he wasn't.
He wasn't the people who had hunted you, mocked you, stripped you of your humanity. He wasn't the people who laughed behind masks, thriving on fear and violence.
Jay had done nothing but help you, even when you were rude to him, even when you pushed him away.
And yet, the guilt didn't erase your pain. It didn't undo your trauma or silence the nightmares that still haunted you.
You still hated the world that allowed the Purge to exist. You still hated the memories that burned like fire in your veins. You still hated yourself for being weak, for surviving when your parents hadn't.
But you didn't hate Jay anymore.
"I'm sorry," you said quietly, breaking the silence.
Jay looked up, tilting his head in confusion. "For what?"
"For... for how I treated you," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "For assuming things about you just because of where you come from. I thought you wouldn't care. That you couldn't understand. But... you're not like them."
Jay's expression softened, a small, almost sad smile tugging at his lips. "You don't have to apologize for that," he said gently. "You've been through hell. I get why you'd feel that way."
You shook your head, gripping the blanket tightly in your hands. "No, you don't get it. I was cruel to you. I blamed you for things that weren't your fault."
Jay was quiet for a moment, then reached out, resting a hand over yours.
His touch was warm, steady, grounding. "I'm not perfect," he said softly, his tone sincere. "I won't pretend to know what you've been through. But I want to help."
Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill over again. You didn't know how to respond, so you just nodded, gripping his hand. And for the first time, you allowed yourself to trust someone. Even if it was just a little.
"The doctor said you have anemia and osteoporosis," Jay's mother said gently, setting her bag down on the small table beside your hospital bed.
"That's why your bones are weak! You'll need to eat more foods with calcium and iron to build your strength and get your blood count higher. We'll make sure you have everything you need."
You stared at her, unsure how to respond. Guilt curled in your stomach, gnawing at you. You weren't her child. You weren't even close to being part of her world. And yet, here she was, treating you so good.
"The hospital bill is covered," she continued, her voice casual, like it wasn't a big deal. But to you, it was.
It was a huge deal. The cost of staying in a place like this was something you couldn't even fathom. You'd spent years scraping by, eating leftovers just to save a few bucks, and here she was, brushing off what could've been months—maybe years—of your income.
"You don't need to worry about it," she added, her smile soft and reassuring. "Just focus on getting better. Jay's friend is also my priority."
Jay's friend.
The words hit you harder than you expected. You weren't his friend. You didn't deserve to be called that, not after the way you'd treated him.
"Thank you," you murmured finally, your voice barely audible. It was all you could manage without breaking down entirely.
Jay's mom smiled wider, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
"You're welcome, sweetheart," she said, reaching out to gently pat your hand. "Now, tell me—what's your favorite food? I'll have the kitchen prepare something special for you."
You blinked, caught off guard by her kindness. "I... I don't really have one," you admitted quietly, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket.
It wasn't a lie. You hadn't thought about things like "favorite food" in years. Food, for you, had been about survival, not enjoyment.
"Well, then we'll just have to find one for you," she said, her tone cheerful and determined. "I'll have the staff make a variety of dishes for you to try. And don't worry—if there's anything you don't like, we'll keep trying until we find something you love."
Her words left you speechless. All you could do was nod, the weight of her generosity pressing down on you. It felt so foreign, so undeserved, and yet, for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt... cared for.
Jay, who had been quietly peeling an orange in the corner, finally spoke up. "Mom, don't overwhelm her," he said softly, his eyes flicking to yours. "She's still recovering."
You glanced at him, your gaze lingering for a moment longer than you intended.
His mother waved him off with a laugh. "Oh, hush, Jay. I'm just trying to help." She turned back to you, her smile never faltering. "You're part of our family now, okay? At least while you're here. So don't be shy about asking for anything."
Her words made something in your chest tighten. You nodded again, unable to trust your voice.
Jay's mother spent hours at your bedside, chatting away. She told you stories about Jay's childhood—how he once tried to "fix" a birdhouse with peanut butter, or how he dressed up as a firefighter for three Halloweens in a row because he was so obsessed with the uniform.
Jay groaned beside her, his face flushed as he waved her off. "Mom, stop! She doesn't need to know all of that!" he whined, his voice high with embarrassment.
But his mother only laughed, brushing him off with a playful wave. "Oh, hush, Jay. She needs to know how adorable you used to be!"
You couldn't help but chuckle softly, your lips curving into a small, almost shy smile.
Eventually, Jay's mother had to leave, something about a business emergency pulling her away. She hugged you gently before she left, squeezing your hands and promising to visit again soon.
"Take care of yourself, sweetheart," she said with a warm smile. "And if Jay gives you any trouble, let me know."
"I'm right here," Jay muttered, rolling his eyes but grinning all the same.
As the door clicked shut behind her, the room fell quiet again. You and Jay were alone, the silence settling between you like a soft blanket.
"Have you showered?" Jay asked suddenly, breaking the stillness.
You shook your head, feeling a little self-conscious. It had been days since you'd had the energy to even think about something like that.
"Do you want to?" he asked, his voice gentle.
You nodded hesitantly.
Jay smiled, standing up to grab a towel from his bag. He returned a moment later, his hand extended to you. "Come on," he said softly, his voice warm and encouraging.
You placed your hand in his, and he guided you carefully out of the bed. But as soon as your feet touched the ground, your knees buckled beneath you, the strength in your legs giving out entirely.
"Whoa!" Jay exclaimed, catching you before you could fall. Without hesitation, he slipped your arm around his neck, his other arm sliding under your legs.
"I've got you," he murmured as he lifted you effortlessly.
Your cheeks flushed, but you didn't protest as he carried you to the bathroom. His touch was steady, his arms warm and reassuring as he placed you gently into the tub.
"Do you want me to call a nurse to help you?" Jay asked, crouching in front of you. His voice was careful, like he was trying not to overstep.
You shook your head quickly. The idea of a stranger cleaning you—seeing you—made your stomach churn with discomfort. "I'm not comfortable," you said quietly, looking away.
Jay nodded, his brows furrowed slightly in thought. He didn't push or suggest anything else. He just waited, watching you carefully.
And then, before you could stop yourself, you looked up and met his gaze. "Can you?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
Jay's eyes widened in surprise, his ears turning red as your words sunk in. "Are you sure?" he asked, his tone soft but serious. "Are you comfortable with me?"
You nodded, swallowing hard. You didn't know why you asked him. Maybe it was because he was the only one who had seen your broken pieces and didn't turn away. Maybe it was because, despite everything, you trusted him.
Jay hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Okay," he said quietly, his voice steady despite the redness creeping up his neck.
Your hands trembled slightly as you began to strip off the hospital gown, letting it fall away from your shoulders.
You couldn't bring yourself to look at him, your chest tightening as the scars on your body were laid bare—scars from knives, from bullets, from cigarette burns that had long since healed but never truly faded.
For a moment, there was nothing but silence.
You finally glanced up at Jay, only to see his face frozen in a mixture of sadness and anger. His jaw clenched, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. His eyes weren't looking at you with disgust or pity—just pain. Pain that you couldn't quite understand.
"I'm sorry," you said, your voice cracking. You quickly crossed your arms over your chest, trying to cover yourself, to hide the ugly truth of what had been done to you.
"Don't apologize," Jay said softly, his voice strained but firm. He crouched lower, his gaze meeting yours. "You don't have to apologize for this. None of this is your fault."
You bit your lip, tears welling in your eyes as you looked away. "It's ugly," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I'm ugly."
"No, you're not," Jay said immediately. "Don't ever say that. Don't ever think that."
Jay begins to open the faucet, filling the tub. You felt his hand gently rest on your shoulder, his touch so light it was almost like a question. "These scars," he continued, his voice softening, "they're not ugly. They're proof that you survived."
You turned back to him, tears spilling over as his words sank in. His gaze didn't waver, didn't falter. There was no judgment in his eyes, only sincerity.
His hands were gentle as he worked, brushing over your skin with careful precision, the towel soaking up water from your arms, your back, every part of you. Each movement was measured, respectful, almost as though he was afraid of breaking you.
The silence was heavy but not uncomfortable. Still, the question burned on your tongue, and before you could stop yourself, you asked, "Why are you helping me?"
Jay froze for the briefest of moments, his hands stilling as he rinsed the washcloth. Then he gently reached for your hair, lathering shampoo between his fingers before carefully massaging it into your scalp.
"Why wouldn't I?" he asked softly, his tone calm, but you could hear the edge of emotion beneath it.
You tilted your head slightly, his fingers never missing a beat as they worked through your tangled hair.
"Because... people don't just help without a reason," you muttered, your voice barely audible. "Are you pitying me?"
Jay's hands stilled again, his fingers pausing in your hair. For a moment, you regretted asking, but then he sighed softly, his hands resuming their slow, soothing motions.
"No," he said firmly. "I'm not helping you because I pity you."
"Then why?" you pressed, your voice cracking as the question spilled out of you. "Why are you doing all this? Why do you care?"
Jay rinsed the shampoo from your hair, his hands tilting your head back slightly so the water wouldn't get in your eyes. He stayed silent for a moment, as if he was choosing his words carefully.
"Because you deserve to be cared for," he said finally, his voice almost a whisper.
His words hit you like a punch to the chest. You stared at the tiled wall, unable to respond as your throat tightened and your eyes began to sting.
"I'm not doing this out of pity," Jay continued, his voice soft but insistent. "I'm doing this because I want to."
You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from falling. His words felt foreign, like they didn't belong to you. Like they were meant for someone else, someone who deserved kindness.
"But I'm broken," you whispered, the words trembling as they left your lips. "You don't understand. I'm not... I'm not normal."
Jay's hands paused again, and for a moment, you thought he might agree with you. But instead, he leaned forward slightly, his voice so soft it almost didn't reach you.
"Who cares about 'normal'?" he asked gently, smiling at you.
His words made your chest ache, a strange, unfamiliar warmth blooming beneath the pain. You didn't know what to say, so you didn't say anything. Instead, you let him finish rinsing your hair, his touch as careful as ever.
Jay stayed quiet for a moment, his hand gripping the soap, before his soft voice broke the silence. "Let me brush your body, hmm? Are you okay with that?"
You looked up at him, your eyes still glossy from earlier tears. He was smiling, It was softer, almost hesitant, like he was giving you all the space in the world to say no.
For a second, your chest tightened again. But then you wiped at your tears, nodding, a small, watery laugh slipping from your lips. "Yeah, okay."
Jay let out a breath, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he dipped the soap into the water, creating a soft lather. "You don't need to apologize," he said after a moment.
But you shook your head, tears spilling over again as the words tumbled out. "I'm sorry," you whispered. "For being a burden. For being weak."
But Jay stopped what he was doing, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. "Showing vulnerability isn't weakness," he said softly, his voice steady but warm. "Don't say you're a burden when you're not."
You finally looked at him, your breath hitching at the sincerity in his gaze.
You spent almost a month in the hospital, longer than you ever thought you'd stay. There were stretches of time when you were alone, the quiet pressing against you like a heavy blanket.
Jay still had to attend his classes during the day, and you hated how much that relieved you. Being around him, around his patience and kindness, was almost too much to bear. It made the guilt twist deeper into your chest.
But every night, without fail, Jay came back. He'd shuffle in, his backpack slung over one shoulder, his shirt slightly wrinkled, and his face drawn with exhaustion.
No matter how tired he was, he'd sit beside you for a while, asking how your day had been, what you'd eaten, or if you needed anything.
Then, when he couldn't fight the fatigue anymore, he'd curl up on the couch, a thin blanket thrown over him, and fall asleep with his phone still clutched in his hand.
You'd watch him sometimes, your chest tightening at the sight of him.
Jay's mother visited often, breezing into the room with her warm smile and bags full of food. "You need to eat this," she'd say, setting down a steaming dish in front of you. "It'll help your bones."
The next day, it was something new: "This will boost your blood count!" she'd exclaim, watching eagerly as you took hesitant bites.
At first, you forced yourself to eat out of politeness, but slowly, you began to notice things.
You realized you liked gimbap—the way the rice was soft and slightly sweet, the seaweed wrapping it all together. You discovered new juices and found yourself craving strawberry milkshake more than anything else.
Jay's mom always noticed. "Strawberry milkshake, hmm?" she teased one afternoon, her smile playful. "I'll make sure to bring more tomorrow."
The warmth of her attention and care settled uncomfortably in your chest. You didn't know how to handle it, didn't know what to do with the kindness she gave so freely. It was foreign, and it made the guilt inside you grow.
After weeks of lying in bed, your body weak and fragile, the day finally came when you managed to stand on your own two feet. It wasn't easy. Your legs shook, your grip on the metal IV stand so tight your knuckles turned white, but you did it. For a brief moment, you felt a flicker of pride.
But then you looked down at yourself. Your pale, almost sickly skin stretched over your bony frame. Faint bruises marred your knees and legs.
You hated looking at yourself like this—so helpless, so exposed.
Your fingers trembled as you tightened your grip on the IV stand, leaning against it for support. Every movement felt slow and deliberate, like your body was relearning how to move after months of stillness. You shuffled to the calendar pinned on the wall, each step sending a dull ache through your legs, but you pushed through it.
December 13.
You stared at the date, your chest tightening as the weight of it settled on you. Three months. Three months until the Purge.
Your hand instinctively went to your stomach, as if trying to steady the rising wave of anxiety building inside you. You swallowed hard, your throat dry and tight. The memories began creeping in, uninvited, flashing behind your eyes like fragments of a nightmare you could never escape.
You shook your head, closing your eyes to block it out, but it didn't help. The thought was already there, rooting itself firmly in your mind.
You couldn't go back to the same cycle of fear, of waiting for someone to find you, to break you all over again.
Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you tried to steady your breathing, gripping the IV stand as it was the only thing keeping you upright. You felt caught in between two versions of yourself—the girl who cowered in fear, and the one who had spent months preparing to become something worse.
"You're standing."
The voice startled you, and you turned your head sharply, your grip tightening on the IV stand.
Jay was standing at the doorway, his hand on the handle, staring at you with that familiar wide smile that somehow made the heaviness in the room feel a little lighter.
"My mother said you like strawberry milkshake, so I brought you one," he said, stepping inside and walking toward you, his eyes soft with pride as he glanced at your trembling legs. "Here, let me help."
Before you could say anything, Jay gently took your hand and guided you back to the bed,
"I think I should discharge," you said quietly, the words barely escaping your lips.
Jay blinked, his smile fading slightly. "Why? You're not well yet. Are you thinking about the bills? You shouldn't. I told you, that's already taken care of."
You shook your head, staring at the strawberry milkshake in his hand as he popped the straw into the cup. He handed it to you, the smell of sweet strawberries wafting up and tempting your senses, but you couldn't focus on it.
"The Purge," you said finally, your voice trembling as you gripped the cup tightly, your knuckles turning white. "It's coming again."
Jay froze for a moment, his expression softening as he crouched down in front of you, his eyes level with yours. You could feel his gaze searching your face, waiting for you to continue.
"They... they're coming," you mumbled, your voice breaking. Your chest started to rise and fall rapidly, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps. "I don't know what they'll do this time."
Jay reached out instinctively, his hand resting gently on top of yours, steadying the trembling that had begun to spread through your fingers.
"They always find me. No matter where I go. They... they enjoy it. It's a game to them." Jay's jaw tightened, his eyes darkening as he listened.
"They won't find you this time," he said firmly, his voice filled with a quiet determination. "I won't let them."
You stared at him, your chest tightening as you tried to find the words to respond. Instead, you looked down at the strawberry milkshake in your hand, the straw still untouched. Slowly, you brought it to your lips, taking a small sip. The sweet, familiar taste spread across your tongue, and for just a moment.
Jay stayed crouched in front of you, his hand still resting lightly on yours as he watched your expression soften just slightly after taking a sip of the strawberry milkshake.
"Y/N," Jay said after a pause, his voice careful.
You glanced at him, your grip tightening slightly around the cup in your hands. "What is it?"
Jay shifted, sitting back on his heels but keeping his gaze level with yours. "Have you ever thought about talking to someone? You know, a therapist? Someone who might be able to help with... everything you've been through."
Your breath hitched, and you stiffened slightly, your shoulders tensing as the words sank in. "I don't need that," you muttered quickly, looking away from him. "I'm fine."
Jay tilted his head slightly, his expression soft but unconvinced. "I don't think you're fine," he said gently, his tone lacking any hint of judgment. "And that's okay. You don't have to be fine. After what you've been through... no one would expect you to be."
Your chest tightened, your fingers digging into the cup as you tried to swallow the lump forming in your throat. "I don't want to talk about it," you said, your voice trembling slightly. "Talking won't change anything. It won't make the memories go away."
"I know," Jay said softly. "It won't erase what happened. But maybe it could help you carry it. You've been carrying all of this alone for so long, Y/N. Maybe it's time to let someone else help."
"I can't," you whispered, shaking your head. "I don't know how to... to say it out loud. I don't even know where I'd start."
Jay's hand tightened slightly on yours, grounding you as he leaned closer. "You don't have to start anywhere specific," he said quietly.
"You just have to take it one step at a time. They won't push you to talk about anything you're not ready for. It's not about fixing everything all at once—it's about helping you find a way to live with it."
You looked at him, your vision blurred by unshed tears, and for a moment, you hated how much his words made sense. You hated how right he was, how kind he was being, how much he cared when you weren't sure you deserved it.
"I don't know," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know if I can do it."
Jay nodded, his eyes warm and understanding. "That's okay," he said softly, his voice steady and reassuring.
"You don't have to decide right now," he continued, his hand lightly squeezing yours. "I just want you to know it's an option. And if you ever want to try, I'll be there with you. I'll help you find someone. You don't have to do it alone."
You stared at him, his words settling in your heart like a soft weight. Slowly, you nodded, a small, shy smile tugging at your lips. "Thank you," you whispered,
January came, and you were finally discharged from the hospital. It felt strange being back in the world after so much time spent in bed, but Jay made it easier.
In the weeks after your release, you returned to your small apartment, but more often than not, you found yourself spending your nights at Jay's home.
His mother insisted, always greeting you with a warm smile and asking how you were feeling. "It's better to keep an eye on you," she'd say, ushering you to the dinner table, where she'd pile your plate with food.
You had stopped studying, deciding to focus on working full-time instead. Jay had suggested a restaurant he knew, and before long, you found yourself settling into a routine. The work was tiring, but it kept your mind busy, and slowly, the spark in your eyes began to return.
Your nightmares didn't disappear, but they became easier to bear with Jay by your side. Whenever you woke up crying, shaking from the images that haunted you, he was always there.
"Shhh, it's okay," he'd whisper, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. His chest was warm and steady against your cheek, and his hand would rub soothing circles on your back as he whispered, "I'm here, love. I've got you."
You didn't know where he got his patience. No matter how many times you woke him in the middle of the night, trembling and crying, he never got frustrated. He never made you feel like a burden.
And maybe that's why, before you even realized it, you fell in love with him.
It wasn't a dramatic realization—no grand moment or spark. It was slow and steady, like the warmth he gave you every day. It was in the way he smiled at you, in the way he stayed even when he didn't have to.
You wanted to be better for him. You wanted to be strong—not just for yourself, but for him, too. That's when you decided to take his advice. You were going to try and talk to a therapist.
One evening, you were lying on his chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath your ear. His hand played idly with your hair, his fingers brushing through the strands like it was second nature. The room was quiet, the only sound coming from the soft hum of the heater, and you felt so at ease it was almost strange.
You tilted your head slightly, looking up at him. His eyes were closed, his lips relaxed in a small, peaceful smile. Something about the moment felt so natural, so intimate, that it made your heart swell.
Without really thinking, you leaned closer, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. You felt him shift slightly beneath you, but he didn't stop you. The warmth of his skin was comforting, and before you could second-guess yourself, you pressed a soft kiss to his neck.
You felt his body tense under you, his breath hitching ever so slightly. His fingers froze in your hair, and for a moment, you thought you'd made a mistake.
"Y/N," he murmured, his voice low and shaky, like he wasn't sure what to say.
You lifted your head slightly, meeting his wide eyes, your cheeks burning. "I—" you started, but the words caught in your throat.
Jay's lips parted, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips.
You bit your lip, "I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible.
His expression softened immediately, his fingers brushing your cheek. "Don't be," he said gently. "Just... tell me. Is this what you want?"
You hesitated for only a moment before nodding again. "Yes," you breathed, your voice trembling.
Jay's hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your lips were just a breath apart. "Me too," he whispered, and then he kissed you.
It was soft, tentative at first, like he was afraid of breaking the moment, but when you kissed him back, his grip on you tightened slightly, his lips pressing more firmly against yours.
When you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, his hand still cradling the back of your head.
Your tongue traced a slow, deliberate line down to his neck, and when you sucked gently at the sensitive skin there, he groaned, low and deep, the sound sending a rush of heat through you.
"Y/N," he murmured, his voice shaky as his hands found their way to your waist. You grabbed them, guiding them more firmly against your body as you shifted, straddling his lap.
Jay's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before his gaze darkened, his lips parting slightly as you leaned down to kiss him again. This time, the kiss wasn't soft —it was full of need, your lips moving hungrily against his as your hips rolled against him.
You gasped into his mouth, the heat pooling low in your stomach as you felt the tension building between you. Your breath came in heavy pants as you pulled back just enough to whisper, "I love you."
Jay's hands slid under your clothes, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of your waist. His touch was warm.
"I love you," he said back, his voice low and full of something raw, his head tilting back slightly as your movements sent a shiver through him.
You didn't stop. Your hips pressed into him again, a slow, deliberate grind that made him bite back a groan, his head falling back further as his grip on your waist tightened. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, his breath coming out in a shaky exhale.
His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, pausing as his eyes met yours again. "Can I?" he asked softly, his voice laced with tenderness.
You nodded, your heart racing as he carefully lifted the shirt over your head. His eyes roamed over you, taking in every inch of exposed skin, and you felt a familiar pang of self-consciousness.
You instinctively moved to cover yourself, your arms wrapping around your torso, but Jay stopped you gently, his hands warm and steady as they held yours.
"Don't hide," he whispered, his voice so soft it made your chest ache. "Please don't hide from me."
Your breath hitched as his hands released yours, moving slowly to trace the lines of one of the scars on your shoulder. He leaned down and pressed his lips to the scar on your shoulder, the gesture so tender it sent a jolt through your entire body.
He kissed it again, slower this time, before moving to another scar on your arm, his lips lingering as if to erase the pain it carried.
You couldn't stop the tears that spilled over, your hands trembling as they clutched at his shoulders. "Jay..." you whispered, your voice cracking.
"I see you," he murmured against your skin, his hands steady as they held your waist. "I see all of you, and I love every part of you."
His lips brushed against the scar on your collarbone, then another on your ribs, each kiss more deliberate than the last.
Jay's eyes softened as he whispered, "You're so beautiful, I love you."
The sincerity in his words made your heart race, your breath catching in your throat. You didn't know how to respond, your chest tightening with emotions too overwhelming to name. Instead, you leaned forward, capturing his lips in a kiss that spoke all the words you couldn't say.
His hands slid up your back, his touch firm yet tender as he pulled you closer, your bodies pressing together. The kiss deepened, slow and consuming, his lips moving against yours with a passion that sent heat coursing through your veins.
Then, with a flick of his fingers, you felt the clasp of your bra come undone. The cool air brushed against your skin.
A soft moan escaped your lips as his hand cupped your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple, teasing and flicking it in a way that made your back arch involuntarily. Jay groaned against your mouth, the sound low and deep, sending a wave of desire pooling low in your stomach.
He gently guided you to lay down, his lips never leaving yours until he moved to your jawline, then your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses in his wake.
He stopped at your left breast, his warm breath ghosting over your skin before he wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking gently.
The sensation made you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as you arched into him. His tongue flicked over the sensitive peak, sending jolts of pleasure through your body, while his right hand gripped your other breast, kneading it with just the right amount of pressure.
You let your head fall back, lost in the feeling, soft moans spilling from your lips as your body responded to his every touch. His name escaped your lips like a prayer, and he hummed against your skin, the vibrations adding to the heat building within you.
Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, his right hand began to travel lower. His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your panties, and you felt his touch move in slow, deliberate circles.
A gasp tore from your throat as his fingers teased you, his touch light but enough to make your hips lift in desperation. "Jay," you breathed, your voice trembling with need, your body aching for more.
"You're so perfect," he murmured, his voice rough and heavy with desire. His lips returned to yours, as his fingers continued their slow, torturous motion, building a fire within you that you couldn't extinguish.
When his finger slowly slid inside you, your breath hitched, your chest pressing into his as you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck. The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve in your body alive with heat as he moved inside you, testing your limits.
Jay's forehead rested against yours, his breath heavy and warm against your lips. "I'm going to add another one, baby," he said, his voice low and filled with lust. "Can you take it?"
You nodded quickly, your hands clutching at him, your voice trembling as you whispered, "I can take it for you."
He groaned at your words, his jaw tightening as he stared at you with darkened eyes. "Fuck, don't say stuff like that," he muttered, his voice almost a growl.
Without wasting another second, he slid a second finger inside you, stretching you in a way that made your back arch. The pace of his movements quickened, the slick sound of his fingers filling the room as your walls clenched around him. The pleasure built fast, sharp and electric, making your breath come out in broken gasps.
Jay leaned down, his lips trailing along your collarbone, then down to your chest again. His mouth latched onto your breast, his tongue flicking over your nipple, adding another layer of sensation that made your head spin.
"Jay," you whimpered, your hips moving on their own, grinding into his hand as his fingers curled inside you, hitting a spot that made stars explode behind your eyes.
"You're so good," he murmured against your skin, his free hand gripping your waist to keep you steady as his mouth moved between your breasts, leaving heated kisses in his wake.
"I'm gonna cum," you whined, your voice high and desperate as the pressure in your stomach coiled tighter and tighter.
Jay didn't let up. His tongue teased your nipple, licking it in slow, deliberate strokes that made you shudder, while his thumb suddenly found your clit, pressing and rubbing it in perfect rhythm with his fingers.
The combination was too much. Your body shaking uncontrollably as the pleasure crashed over you in waves. "Jay!" you sobbed, your hips lifting off the bed as your orgasm hit, leaving you trembling and breathless beneath him.
He didn't stop right away, his fingers and thumb slowing just enough to help you ride out the high, his lips never leaving your skin. "That's it," he whispered, his voice full of pride and adoration. "You're so beautiful like this."
Your hands clutched at his shoulders, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. When his fingers finally slipped out of you, you whimpered softly, feeling the loss of his touch.
Jay kissed your forehead gently, his hands soothing over your sides as he pulled you into his arms, holding you close against his chest. "I've got you," he murmured, his voice soft again, filled with affection. "I've got you."
"I was preparing for the Purge this year," you said quietly, staring at your hands instead of your therapist, Ms. Jisoo.
"A self-defense plan, or something more?" she asked gently. There was no judgment in her voice, just calm curiosity.
"Something more," you admitted, biting your lip as your fingers fidgeted in your lap.
Ms. Jisoo nodded softly, giving you space to speak. "Do you still think about it now, after falling in love?"
You paused, her question lingering in your mind. "I don't know," you said after a moment. "I've been so focused on him... on how he makes me feel. The only thing I know for sure is I want to be a better person for him. Not... this."
You hesitated, your voice trembling. "Not some mentally unstable girl who can't even sleep through the night without waking up screaming."
Your chest tightened as the words left you, the guilt clawing at your throat.
Ms. Jisoo leaned forward slightly, her voice gentle and steady. "Wanting to heal for someone you love is a wonderful thing, Y/N. But it's okay to want to heal for yourself too. That doesn't make you weak, and it doesn't mean there's something wrong with you."
Her words softened something in your chest, but the guilt was still there, heavy and sharp. You bit your lip harder, tears welling in your eyes.
"D-Do you think I'm a monster?" you asked suddenly, your voice breaking. "For thinking about purging this year? For even wanting it?" You finally looked up at her, tears spilling as you waited for the answer you feared most.
Ms. Jisoo's expression stayed calm, warm, and understanding. "You're not a monster," she said gently, her voice soft as she stares at you.
"You're someone who's been hurt. Someone who's been through things no one should ever have to experience. It's okay to feel angry. It's okay to feel hate. Those feelings don't make you a monster. They make you human."
"But they feel so wrong," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "Wanting it feels wrong."
"They're not wrong or right," she said softly. "They're just feelings."
You sniffled, wiping at your face with trembling hands, but her words didn't fully settle the storm inside you. After a moment, you looked back at her, hesitating before asking the question that had been on your mind for so long.
"Do you... agree with the Purge?"
Ms. Jisoo blinked, caught off guard by the question. She leaned back slightly, her hands folding in her lap as she thought about her answer.
"No," she said after a moment, "I don't. I don't think violence solves anything. And I don't think people should have the right to hurt others, no matter what the law says. The Purge... it brings out the worst in people. It allows fear and hate to fester. And I've seen how much it hurts people—people like you."
Her gaze softened, and she leaned forward slightly, her tone quiet. "But I also understand why you feel the way you do. The Purge forces people to live in fear, to carry anger and pain that they shouldn't have to carry. It's normal to feel conflicted. It's normal to feel angry."
You swallowed hard, her words sinking into you like drops of water on dry ground. "So... I'm not wrong for feeling like this?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
"No," she said firmly. "You're not wrong. You're human, Y/N. And humans feel messy, complicated things. There's no shame in that."
You nodded slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what to do with myself. I keep thinking and thinking about what I should do to live freely... but nothing feels right."
Ms. Jisoo smiled gently, her expression steady and reassuring. "It's okay to feel lost, Y/N. Healing doesn't come with a map or a timeline. But you're taking steps forward, even if they're small. Just keep going. You'll find your way."
By the middle of February, your days had settled into a rhythm. You managed your job at the restaurant, worked through your therapy sessions every week, and spent most of your free time with Jay and his mother.
Their home felt warm, almost like a haven, and you found yourself doing small things to show your gratitude—buying Jay his favorite snacks, surprising his mom with flowers or something she'd mentioned in passing.
They never expected anything in return for their kindness, but doing those little things made you feel like you were giving back in some small way.
One evening, the restaurant was hosting a group of high-class businesspeople who had reserved the entire dining area. The room buzzed with laughter and chatter, the expensive suits and gleaming jewelry making you feel out of place as you carried trays of food to their table.
As you placed the dishes on the table, your eyes drifted to a middle-aged blonde woman sitting at the center. Her hair was perfectly styled, her tailored suit fitting her like it had been made just for her. She held a glass of wine delicately, twirling it in her hand as she laughed with the others.
Your breath hitched.
A memory slammed into you with the force of a freight train.
Gunshots. Screams. Blood splattered across the ground. You could see the flash of a machete. Hear the sound of a head rolling across the dirt. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your throat tightening as the room spun around you. The scar on your arm felt like it was burning.
"Excuse me?" a man's voice pulled you back to reality, his tone polite but firm. "Do you need anything else?"
You blinked, your breath still shaky as you tried to steady yourself. The blonde woman's laughter had faded, and now she was looking at you, her piercing eyes sharp and almost bored, like she was trying to place where she'd seen you before.
You struggled to keep your hands from trembling as you clutched the tray tighter. "I-I'm fine," you stammered, inhaling deeply to keep your composure.
But it didn't help when one of the other women at the table—a brunette with diamond earrings—reached for your arm, pushing up your sleeve to reveal the long scar that ran down the length of it.
"God," the woman said, her voice dripping with disgust. "What a nasty scar you have." Her fingers brushed the raised tissue, making you flinch involuntarily. "How'd you even get this?"
You froze, the room seeming to go quiet as her words echoed in your ears. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think. You wanted to rip your arm away, but your body felt paralyzed, like you were trapped in that night all over again.
And then, you heard yourself asking, "Are you Ms. Wilson?"
The words felt foreign on your tongue, your voice shaky as you stared at the blonde woman.
She raised an eyebrow at you, her expression amused. "Yes, why?" she asked, taking another sip of her wine. "Do I know you?"
You almost laughed. Of course, she didn't remember. People like her never did.
Your grip on the tray tightened, your knuckles white as your mind raced. You remembered her now—her face, her voice, the way she had smiled behind the mask as she watched you and the others run for your lives.
And she didn't even remember you.
"No," you said, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you. "You don't."
Her head tilted slightly, her sharp eyes narrowing as if she were trying to place you, but after a moment, she simply shrugged and turned back to her companions, already dismissing you from her mind.
Your heart pounded in your chest, your nails digging into the tray as you tried to contain the rage bubbling up inside you.
You turned on your heel, your legs trembling with each step as you left the dining area. The walls of the restaurant seemed to close in, the air thick and suffocating.
Your breaths came in short, shallow gasps as you pushed through the kitchen doors, your tray clattering loudly onto the counter.
Gripping the edge of the counter, your knuckles turned white as you stared down at the cold, stainless steel surface. You willed yourself to calm down, to pull it together, but your heart was racing, your chest heaving as the memories refused to let you go.
You muttered something about not feeling well to your manager, barely hearing his reply as you left the restaurant.
You didn't go to Jay's home like you usually did. Instead, you walked to your own apartment, your feet moving automatically, your head swirling with thoughts you couldn't control.
When you finally closed the door behind you, something inside you broke. You let out a scream, raw and primal, nails digging into your throat as if you could claw the pain away. Tears streamed down your face, hot and endless, blurring your vision as sob after sob wracked your body.
You stumbled to the target board you had set up on the wall—the one you used for practice, for preparation—and grabbed a knife. With a sharp, angry cry, you hurled it at the board. It hit the target right in the head.
You screamed again, louder this time, grabbing anything within reach and throwing it across the room. A glass shattered against the wall. A stack of books tumbled to the floor. You didn't care.
When you finally collapsed onto your bed, your body was trembling, your chest heaving as you cried into the pillow. The tears wouldn't stop, your sobs loud and broken as you curled into yourself, trying to escape the weight pressing down on you.
At some point, exhaustion took over, and you fell asleep, your face damp with tears.
You jolted awake when the bed shifted beneath you. Your heart leapt into your throat, your body tensing instinctively, but then you saw him—Jay, sitting beside you, his worried eyes scanning your face.
"You didn't come home," he said softly, his voice full of concern.
"I was worried. Your manager said you took an early leave." He reached for your hand, holding it gently as his thumb brushed over your knuckles. "Did something happen?"
His voice was so calm, so steady, and it only made your tears resurface. You watched him lift your hand, pressing a soft kiss to your fingertips. The tenderness in his actions broke you all over again.
Your eyes watered, and before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest as you cried. Your sobs were muffled against the fabric of his shirt, but he didn't say anything—he just held you, his arms wrapping around you tightly, protectively.
"It will never go away," you choked out between sobs, your voice muffled against his chest. "I don't know how to heal when this Purge still fucking exists."
Jay tightened his hold on you, his hand moving to the back of your head as he gently stroked your hair.
"I'm so sorry," you cried, your voice breaking. "For always being like this."
"Shh," he murmured softly, pulling you into his lap. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close. "You don't have to apologize, love. Don't ever apologize for how you feel."
You buried your face in his shoulder, shaking your head. The words of comfort should've helped, but all they did was amplify the storm inside you.
"Do you want to talk about what happened?" Jay asked, his voice low and patient.
You shook your head, gripping him tighter. You couldn't bring yourself to say it. Not now. Not yet.
He didn't push. He just held you, his hand running up and down your back as you cried into him.
And then, as the room grew quieter, your emotions spilled into something else. The ache in your chest shifted, giving way to a deeper, more desperate need—the need to feel alive, to feel connected, to escape the weight of your mind, even if only for a moment.
Your lips found his, and he kissed you back without hesitation, his hands tightening around your waist. The kiss was slow at first, gentle, but soon it grew hungry, fueled by the raw emotion lingering in the air.
It wasn't long before your knees dug into the mattress, your body arching beneath him as he moved inside you. The pain and weight of your emotions blurred into the pleasure of his touch, every thrust sending a wave of heat through your body.
"A-ah! Fuck, slow down!" you gasped as he hit a spot inside you that made your toes curl.
"Felt so good," Jay groaned, his breath hot against your ear as his body pressed flush against yours. His lips found the nape of your neck, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses as his fingers kneaded your breasts, sending sparks of sensation through you.
You threw your head back, your arms giving out beneath you as he pressed deeper. "Jay," you whimpered, his name tumbling from your lips as your body trembled with every movement.
"Love you," he groaned, his voice rough with desperation. "Fuck, a-ah, I'm gonna cum."
"Inside me, please," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper, but he heard you.
Jay's body fell against yours as he pushed deeper, his breath hitching as his release overtook him. The feeling of him filling you pushed you over the edge, your orgasm crashing into you so intensely that tears pricked your eyes.
Your cries of overstimulation mixed with his groans, his hips moving in small, desperate thrusts as he fill inside you. Finally, he collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath.
His lips pressed soft kisses along your forehead and temple, his hand trailing to your stomach, where his fingers traced gentle patterns on your skin.
"I love you," he whispered, his voice so full of sincerity that it made your chest ache.
You turned your head, catching his lips in a soft, lingering kiss. He kissed you back, his thumb brushing against your cheek.
"Spend the Purge at our house," he said after a moment, his forehead resting against yours. "You'll be safe there. I'll protect you. I promise."
His words should have comforted you. They should have been enough. But as you stared into his eyes, full of love and hope, you felt your chest tighten.
Because no matter what Jay did to protect you, no matter how much healing you tried to find, there was one truth you couldn't ignore.
No matter how hard you fought it, no matter how much you loved him, you're still broken, and lost.
March 21, 3:00 PM
You wiped the tables methodically, trying to focus on the task, but the air in the restaurant was tense. All eyes were glued to the TV mounted on the wall, where the announcement of the Annual Purge was being broadcast. The monotone voice of the announcer echoed through the room, describing the rules and restrictions for the night.
Your manager came up to you, his voice urgent. "Hey, take an early leave. Go home and get ready. You shouldn't be out when the sirens start."
You nodded, offering him a faint smile. "Thanks, I'll head out soon."
After finishing up and helping close the restaurant, you walked back to your apartment. The sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the streets. As you set up a small barricade in your apartment—nothing fancy, just furniture pressed against the windows and doors—you heard a car honk outside.
Peeking out, you saw Jay leaning casually against his car, waiting for you with that familiar warm smile.
You felt a wave of comfort wash over you at the sight of him. Smiling back, you hurried outside, throwing your arms around his neck and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
"Let's go home?" he asked, his voice calm and full of care.
You hesitated, glancing back at your apartment. "I need to grab a few things first," you said.
Jay nodded easily. "Of course. Take your time."
After changing out of your work uniform, you slipped into a white off-shoulder dress that reached your knees—something simple yet elegant. You'd never worn it before, and even the soft fabric against your skin felt foreign. Paired with Mary Jane shoes and a pair of cute white socks.
When you stepped into Jay's car, he looked up at you, his eyes widening slightly. "Wow," he murmured, his gaze softening. "You look beautiful."
You felt your cheeks warm as he leaned in, holding your jaw gently and pecking your lips. "What's with the outfit today?" he teased, laughing lightly.
You smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I just thought... maybe I'd wear something different. Something nice."
Jay laughed again, his hand reaching out toward your thigh, but you subtly redirected it, placing it over yours instead. He didn't seem to mind, intertwining his fingers with yours as his other hand rested on the steering wheel.
March 21, 4:30 PM
The house was buzzing with noise by the time you arrived. From the top of the stairs, you peeked down and saw six boys piling in through the entrance, bags slung over their shoulders as they greeted Jay's mother.
"Oh, it's Jay's friends!" his mother exclaimed warmly, hugging them one by one.
You recognized Ni-ki and Sunoo, the only ones you'd met before. The rest were strangers to you, their confident voices filling the house as they exchanged jokes and pleasantries.
"Hi, Mrs. Park! I hope you don't mind if we spend the Purge here at your house!" said a tall man with an easy smile.
"No problem, Heesung," Jay's mother replied, her voice full of affection. "What about your parents and sisters?"
"They're at a party," another boy replied casually. "Some politician's mansion. They love that kind of thing."
Your breath hitched, the words hitting a nerve.
What a nice life to be rich, you thought bitterly.
"Hey," Jay's voice pulled you from your thoughts. You turned to see him standing beside you, his brow furrowed slightly. "Are you okay?"
You forced a smile, one you'd perfected over the years. "Yeah, I'm fine. Your friends are downstairs."
Jay studied you for a moment longer, but then he smiled, intertwining his hand with yours as he led you down the stairs.
The boys were loud and full of energy, laughing and teasing each other as they set their bags down and unpacked their things. Jay's mother fussed over them, offering snacks and asking about their families.
"This is Y/N, my girlfriend," Jay announced proudly, pulling you close by your waist.
The room fell quiet for a brief moment, and you could feel their gazes on you.
"Oh my God, you're a thing now?" Jay's mother gasped, her hands clasped over her mouth.
"Isn't it obvious?" Jay replied with a laugh.
One of the boys stepped forward, introducing himself. "Hi, Y/N! I'm Heesung. This is Jake, Sunghoon, and Jungwon. I guess you already know Ni-ki and Sunoo."
You offered a polite smile, nodding as they all greeted you.
As the evening went on, you stayed mostly quiet, helping Jay's mother prepare food while the boys joked around. Jay noticed your silence, slipping his arms around your waist from behind as you worked in the kitchen.
"Hey," he murmured against your ear. "You're safe, okay? You don't need to worry."
You turned to look at him, your heart heavy with emotions you couldn't express. "I love you," you said softly, staring into his eyes.
Jay smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips. "I love you more," he replied, glancing at his watch. "It's already 6:30. I need to barricade the house."
You nodded, watching as he started to walk away. Then, impulsively, you called out, "Jay."
He turned back, his eyes soft. "Hmm?"
Walking up to him, you wrapped your arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. His hands found your face, gently brushing his thumb across your cheek as he looked at you with worry. "Are you anxious, baby?" he asked softly.
"No," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "I just wanted to say I love you again."
Jay let out a soft laugh, leaning down to kiss you. "Love, I'm just barricading the house, not purging." He kissed your forehead tenderly, his lips lingering for a moment. "Now, let me lock everything down so we'll be safe, okay?"
You nodded, stepping back reluctantly as he disappeared toward the storage room.
Jay walked through the dim hallway leading to the storage room when he heard footsteps behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Sunghoon catching up to him, a casual smirk on his face as he slung an arm around Jay's shoulder.
"Yo, bro," Sunghoon said casually, falling into step beside him. "No offense but, you sure about that girl?"
Jay frowned, shrugging off Sunghoon's arm. "Why? What are you talking about?"
Sunghoon shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. "She just... seems like a lot. I mean, no offense, but she looks like she's difficult to handle."
Jay's brows furrowed deeper, his steps slowing as he turned to face Sunghoon. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Look, we care about you," Sunghoon said, raising his hands as if to calm him. "Have you seen her scars? Her face? She's clearly been through some shit. Is she even healed from all that?"
Jay's jaw tightened, his teeth clenching as anger flared in his chest. He stepped closer to Sunghoon, his voice low and dangerous. "Watch your mouth."
"Chill, man, I'm just saying." Sunghoon grabbed Jay's arm in an attempt to reason with him. "That girl's got baggage, and I'm telling you, she's going to be a lot of problems for you. She's not stable, bro. You can't tell me you haven't noticed."
Jay didn't let him finish. His hand shot out, grabbing Sunghoon by the collar and shoving him back against the wall. "Say another word, and I swear I'll make you regret it," he growled, his voice dripping with rage.
Sunghoon's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't back down. "I'm trying to look out for you, Jay," he said, his tone firm. "You're my friend. I don't want you getting hurt."
Jay released him with a sharp shove, his chest heaving as he tried to control his temper. "Don't ever talk about her like that again," he said coldly, his eyes burning with anger. "You don't know a damn thing about her."
He turned on his heel, ignoring Sunghoon as he walked into the storage room. His hands trembled slightly as he pressed the button to activate the lockdown. The sound of metal walls sliding into place filled the air, sealing the house and cutting off the world outside.
"Jay, listen to me," Sunghoon said, his voice following him into the room. "I'm serious. There's something off about her. Just think about it, man."
Jay didn't respond. He slammed the door shut behind him, shutting Sunghoon out both literally and figuratively.
Returning to the living room, Jay found the rest of his friends lounging on the couches, laughing and exchanging stories. His mother was tidying up nearby, a small smile on her face as she listened to their chatter.
"Where's Y/N?" Jay asked, his eyes scanning the room.
"I think she went to your room," Ni-ki said, glancing up from his phone. "She said she wanted to sleep early."
Jay nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly. But before he could take another step, Sunghoon appeared at his side again.
"Man, I'm trying to talk to you," Sunghoon said, his voice laced with frustration.
Jay's patience snapped. Without thinking, he turned and landed a punch squarely on Sunghoon's jaw, sending him stumbling backward.
The room fell silent as the others jumped to their feet.
"Jay! What the hell are you doing?!" Jake shouted, stepping between them.
"I'm just trying to give him advice about his girlfriend!" Sunghoon snapped, holding his jaw as he glared at Jay.
"Are you seriously saying that fucking nonsense while my girlfriend is in this house?!" he shouted. "How dare you even say that shit in front of me?!"
Sunghoon raised his hands in defense, but Jay wasn't done. He stepped closer, pointing a finger at him. "You've known her for, what, an hour? And you think you have the right to judge her? To judge us? Fuck you, Sunghoon!"
"Jay, calm down," Heesung said cautiously, stepping between the two of them with his hands outstretched, but Jay wasn't having it.
"You don't get to judge her just because of what you think you see!" Jay growled, his voice trembling with anger. He shoved Heesung and Jake off as they tried to hold him back.
"Get the fuck off me!" he barked, storming out of the living room. His footsteps pounded against the floor as he made his way up the stairs, leaving everyone behind in stunned silence.
Jay climbed the stairs two at a time, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. He pulled out his phone, swiping through his notifications until he found a message from Dr. Jisoo that he had missed earlier.
Dr. Jisoo: Good afternoon, Mr. Park. I just wanted to check in on Y/N since she's missed her last three sessions. Please keep an eye on her, especially today—it's a particularly triggering event for her. Thank you.
Jay felt a wave of dread wash over him, his heart sinking into his stomach. He quickened his pace, practically sprinting to his bedroom.
"Y/N?" he called, pushing the door open.
But the room was empty.
Panic set in as he checked the bathroom, the closet, all of the room, even under the bed, but you were nowhere to be found.
He bolted back down the stairs, his voice frantic as he called out for you. "Y/N?! Where are you?!"
His mother stepped into the hallway, her face pale with worry. "What's wrong, Jay?"
"She's gone," he said, his voice shaking. "Did anyone see her leave?!"
Everyone in the living room exchanged confused looks, shrugging helplessly.
"Y/N?!" Jay shouted again, his voice echoing through the house.
Jay froze as the broadcast echoed through the house, the robotic voice chilling him to the bone.
"This is not a test. This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the Annual Purge sanctioned by the U.S Government.
Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted. Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed.
Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning, until 7 a.m., when the Purge concludes.
Blessed by our New Founding Fathers and America, a nation reborn. May God be with you all."
The final words echoed in his ears as the sirens blared, signaling the start of the Purge.
His heart pounded, his chest tight as he pieced everything together. The missed therapy sessions, how quiet you had been all day, the way you hugged him like it might be the last time.
You weren't in the house.
You were out there.
Jay turned on his heel and sprinted to the storage room, his mind racing as panic surged through him.
He yanked open his closet, grabbing the bag he had packed weeks ago—just in case. Inside were the essentials: a shotgun, a pistol, extra ammunition, and a knife. He tossed the bag over his shoulder, his hands trembling as he loaded the pistol, cocking it with precision.
"Jay, what are you doing?!" his mother cried, standing at the door with tears streaming down her face.
"Unlock the barricade and lock it again after I leave," he said coldly, his voice devoid of the warmth she was used to.
"Jay, you can't! It's dangerous out there!" she pleaded, stepping closer.
"Unlock it!" he snapped, his voice sharp, though his eyes betrayed his inner turmoil. "Please, Mom. I have to go."
"No," Sunghoon interrupted, stepping forward and grabbing Jay's arm. "You're not thinking straight. She left, Jay. She chose to go out there—"
Jay swatted his hand away, pointing the pistol directly at Sunghoon's head. The room went silent.
"Jay!" Heesung shouted, stepping forward.
"Come any closer, and I'll blow his fucking head off," Jay growled, his jaw tightening as his finger hovered near the trigger. "You don't get to stop me. None of you do."
Sunghoon raised his hands slowly, his expression shifting to one of caution. "Alright, man. Just... relax, okay? I'm just trying to—"
"Shut up," Jay hissed, the tension in his body radiating outward. His voice lowered, trembling slightly. "I told you to stay out of this. She's out there, and I'm going to find her."
He turned his gaze to Ni-ki, who was frozen near the security console. "Ni-ki," Jay said firmly. "Unlock the barricade. Now."
Ni-ki hesitated, looking at Jungwon and Jake for guidance, but neither said anything. With a shaky hand, Ni-ki pressed the button, and the sound of the metal walls lifting reverberated through the house.
"Jay, please," his mother sobbed, grabbing his arm as he stepped toward the door.
Jay paused, his resolve faltering for just a moment as he looked at her. "I'm sorry," he said softly, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "But I can't stay here knowing she's out there."
Tears streamed down her face as she nodded, her voice trembling. "I understand, be safe. Please."
"I will," Jay said, stepping out the door. "Lock it the second I'm gone."
The metal walls began to descend behind him as he walked to his car, his mind racing with questions. Where could you have gone? Why didn't you tell him? Were you safe? Were you scared?
Sliding into the driver's seat, he tossed the bag into the passenger side and gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white. His eyes scanned the darkened streets, the occasional scream or gunshot in the distance reminding him of the stakes.
Without hesitation, he pressed the gas pedal.
You walk slowly down an unfamiliar road, your steps unsteady. You just keep walking and walking, unsure of where you're going or why. You don't understand yourself anymore. You thought everything was finally okay. What more could you ask for?
You have a loving boyfriend who always tries to make you smile. His mother cares for you like her own. You eat three meals a day. You're seeing a therapist. And you even have a safe place to hide on Purge Night.
So why do you feel like this?
Why do you feel so broken when you should feel whole?
Why are you out here, in the middle of the street, on the most dangerous night of the year, with just a knife strapped under your dress?
You wonder if Jay has noticed you're gone. He probably has by now. Your chest tightens at the thought of him pacing back and forth, calling your name.
Your lifeless eyes stare ahead as you walk deeper into the quiet street. It's so still, unnaturally still. No trucks rumbling down the road. No gangs or masked figures in sight.
"Kill me already!" you scream into the emptiness. Your voice echoes down the road, but there's no answer. Not a single sniper or purger takes the bait.
Then, a distant cry catches your ear—a plea for help. You turn toward the sound and walk toward it, your grip tightening on the handle of the knife hidden beneath your dress.
As you approach, you see a young girl sprinting toward you, clutching her bleeding waist. Four people in masks are chasing her, laughing like it's some sick game.
"Man, we just want to purge!" one of them—a woman—cackles. That laugh—it burrows into your memory like a needle.
The girl stumbles, and when her eyes meet yours, there's desperation written all over them. She collapses at your feet, her blood soaking through your white dress as she clings to you.
"Please... help me," she gasps.
Her words are cut off by a gunshot. Blood splatters across your face as a hole appears in her forehead. Her body falls limp, her grip on your dress loosening.
"My fucking soul feels cleansed!" the woman says with a twisted laugh. The others laugh with her, like a pack of hyenas.
"Up next—" the woman starts, raising her pistol toward you.
But you're faster.
In one fluid motion, you pull out your knife and hurl it at her. It pierces through her mask and into her skull. She drops instantly, blood dripping from the blade.
The remaining three hesitate, stunned. That's all the time you need. You yank the knife from the dead woman's head and dash toward the others, slicing the nearest one's throat in a clean arc.
The man in the joker mask fumbles for his gun, but you grab the dead body beside you, using it as a shield. Then, you throw the knife again, this time hitting his chest.
He stumbles back, gasping for air, as you snatch his gun from his weakening grip. Before he can even hit the ground, you fire a shot straight into his skull.
Now, there's only one left.
The last purger, wearing a cat mask, drops to his knees and pulls the mask off, revealing a trembling man. He raises his hands in surrender, tears streaming down his face.
"P-please... spare me. I-I just wanted to purge this year," he stammers, his voice cracking.
You glare at him, the weight of your actions and emotions swirling inside you.
"How many innocent people have you killed in all the purges you've been a part of?" you ask, your tone icy.
His lip quivers. "P-probably 70—"
Before he can finish, you pull the trigger.
The gunshot echoes through the street as he collapses, lifeless.
Silence fills the street once more as you stand there, your white dress soaked in blood, surrounded by bodies. You don't know how long you've been standing there, staring at the carnage.
Then, it happens.
A soft laugh escapes your lips. It bubbles up from your throat, quiet at first, but it grows louder, sharper, until it echoes down the empty street. It's not a happy laugh. It's hollow, bitter, unhinged.
You bring a hand to your face, your fingers brushing against the blood splattered across your skin.
You really have lost yourself, haven't you? Or, did you found it now?
You hate the Purge. You hate the monsters it creates. You hate the people who thrive on it, the ones who laugh, who kill, who hurt.
So why are you here, in the middle of the night, doing the exact same thing?
Tears prick at your eyes, but they don't fall. You just stand there, your shoulders trembling as the weight of everything presses down on you. You feel nothing. And that terrifies you most of all.
You crouch down, wiping your knife on the dead woman's clothes, smearing blood across the fabric.
Your hands tremble slightly, it's not fear—it's something else. A quiet storm you can't name.
Once the blade gleams clean, you tuck it back into the thigh strap beneath your dress. Grabbing the fallen gun, you check the chamber and reload it. The satisfying click of the cocked weapon echoes as you straighten up and continue walking.
The street stretches ahead, eerily quiet except for the distant sounds of chaos—gunshots, screams, and the occasional rumble of an engine.
Three figures suddenly sprint toward you from the shadows. They glance at you, wide-eyed, as they pass by, their faces pale with fear.
Ahead of you, three figures suddenly appear from the shadows. Their faces are pale with fear as they sprint past you. One of them—a panicked old man—stumbles and grabs your arm, his grip shaky.
"Miss, don't go that way!" he says, his voice hoarse and desperate. "That group's rounding people up—they're psychos!"
His words barely register. Your gaze drifts past him, toward the direction he came from. A cold calm washes over you as he keeps tugging at your arm, pleading.
A large truck screeches to a halt in front of you, its headlights blinding. The old man panics, letting go of your arm and bolting down the road. He doesn't get far. A sharp crack rings out, and he collapses mid-stride, a bullet tearing through his back.
You don't flinch.
The truck door swings open, and several masked figures step out.
One of them grabs your arm, yanking it behind your back as another snatches the gun from your hand.
"Blessed be the New Founding Fathers of America," one of them says, leaning close to your face.
You smile. Not a kind smile—a bitter one. "Blessed be them," you whisper back.
Then, without warning, you jerk your head forward, slamming it into the man's nose. He stumbles back with a grunt of pain, clutching his face as blood pours through his fingers.
Before the others can react, you twist your arm free and yank your knife from its strap. The blade flashes in the dim light as you slice upward, catching one of them in the throat. They gargle and drop to their knees, clutching at the wound.
Another lunges at you, swinging a metal pipe. You duck under the blow, driving the knife into his ribs. He gasps, his body jolting as you twist the blade, blood spraying onto your dress.
You scream—whether it's from rage or something deeper, you're not sure.
The sound rips from your throat as you yank the knife free and stab again, and again, and again, until his body goes limp.
Behind you, the first man—the one whose nose you broke—recovers quickly. He raises his gun, aiming it directly at your back.
You're too focused, too lost in the heat of the moment to notice him.
The loud crack of gunfire fills the air, but it doesn't come from his weapon.
The man's body jerks violently as a burst of bullets tears through him, and he collapses to the ground, lifeless.
Your breath catches in your throat, and you spin around.
Your wide eyes locking onto the figure standing behind him.
"Jay," you whisper, your voice barely audible.
He steps forward slowly, his shotgun still in hand. His expression is unreadable, his eyes flicking over the bodies surrounding you before settling on you.
You brace yourself for the anger you expect to see in his face. For him to yell at you, demand answers, maybe even tell you he's done with you.
But he doesn't.
Instead, he stops in front of you, his gaze softening as he raises a hand to your face. His thumb brushes gently across your cheek, wiping away the streaks of blood smeared there.
"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice full of worry. "Are you hurt?"
You can't speak. Your lips tremble as tears blur your vision. Slowly, your hand rises to hold his against your cheek.
"I'm sorry," he says quietly, his voice heavy with guilt. "I'm sorry for not noticing sooner that you weren't okay. I should've known."
His words hit you like a punch to the chest, and you shake your head, your tears spilling over. "W-what are you doing here?" you manage to say, your voice shaking. "It's dangerous."
Jay smiles softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I could say the same thing to you, love," he murmurs, pulling you into a warm, protective embrace.
His arms wrap around you tightly, holding you like he's afraid to let go. You bury your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt.
"I can't let my girl be out here alone on Purge Night," he whispers into your hair.
You pull back slightly, looking up at him, your smile shaky and uncertain. "Y-you're not angry?"
Jay shakes his head slowly, his warm hand cupping your face as if to anchor you. "No, baby. I'm not angry," he says softly.
Your lips tremble, the guilt clawing its way up your throat as you look into his eyes. "I... I'm a monster, Jay. Look at what I did," you whisper, your voice cracking.
His thumb gently strokes your cheek, his gaze never leaving yours. There's no judgment there, no fear—just a quiet understanding that makes your chest ache.
"I don't think I'm normal anymore, Jay," you say, your voice barely audible as tears spill freely down your face. "I don't even know what I'm feeling right now. I don't know who I am anymore."
You start to sob, the raw emotion pouring out of you like a dam breaking. Jay leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours, his other hand sliding to the back of your neck to hold you steady.
"I love you," he whispers into the space between you. "No matter what. No matter what you've done, no matter what you want to do... I love you."
His words hit you like a wave, and your sobs come harder, your body trembling in his arms.
"You always ask if you're normal," he continues, his tone soothing as he brushes a stray tear from your cheek. "But I already told you, love. Who cares about normal? Normal doesn't matter to me. You matter to me."
His arms wrap around you tighter, pulling you against his chest.
"If this is what you need to do to heal, then I'll be here," he whispers into your ear. "And I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you couldn't say this to me. I'll always understand, love. Always. Just... don't do this again without me knowing, okay?"
You nod against his chest, your sobs muffling into his shirt.
"I'm such a—" you try to speak, but the words get caught in your throat, your cries making it impossible to finish the sentence.
Jay shushes you softly, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back. "You're not. You're not anything bad, baby. You're just... hurting."
You pull back slightly, your hands clutching his shirt as you look up at him, your voice trembling. "I hate it, Jay. I hate what I've become. I'm not me anymore. It terrifies me."
His hand moves to cradle the back of your head, and he presses a soft kiss to your hair. "I know," he whispers. "But I'll be here. I'll be with you through every terrifying moment, love."
For a long moment, the two of you just stay like that—his arms holding you close, your head resting against his chest as your breathing slowly evens out. The tension in your body begins to ease, though the storm in your mind still churns.
Jay pulls back slightly, tilting his head to meet your gaze, his smile growing softer but never losing its warmth.
"Are you enjoying yourself right now?" he asks, his voice light and genuine, almost teasing.
You blink at him, surprised by the question, but the answer bubbles up inside you before you can stop it. A faint smile begins to form on your lips, something that feels both wrong and inexplicably right.
"Yes," you admit quietly, your voice steadier than before. "I think I am."
Jay's smile widens just a little, his thumb brushing against your cheek again as if to ground you.
"That's all that matters," he says softly, his voice filled with a calm acceptance that makes the tension in your chest ease.
Then, his eyes flicker toward the carnage surrounding you—the lifeless bodies, the blood that stains the street, and your hands, still trembling but steady enough to hold the knife.
"What do you want to do? Hmm?" he asks, his tone curious yet understanding, as if ready to follow wherever your answer leads.
You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the gun in your hands and the heat of the night pressing against your skin. Your lips curve into a determined smile, and your answer comes without hesitation.
"I want to kill purgers," you say, your voice clear and sharp, your eyes shining with a fire that you hadn't felt in years.
Jay doesn't flinch or waver at your words. Instead, he nods, stepping closer to you and holding out his shotgun. "Here," he says, his voice calm as he hands it over.
You take it, your hands steady now, and your eyes glint as you examine the weapon.
"Is this a SPAS-12?" you ask, running your fingers along the smooth barrel.
Jay chuckles softly, watching the way your gaze flickers with excitement.
"Yeah. My dad gave it to me," he replies as he takes your free hand in his.
"Come on," he says, tugging you gently toward his car. "Let's get out of here. It's dangerous to stay in one spot too long."
You follow him, practically bouncing on your heels as you intertwine your fingers with his. As the two of you approach the car, a question bubbles up, one you hadn't thought to ask before.
"Where's your dad, anyway? I've never met him," you say, glancing at him as he unlocks the driver's side door.
Jay shrugs lightly, opening the door for you.
"He's overseas," he explains as you climb in. "He's been busy. A lot of countries are starting to plan their own versions of the Purge, and he's consulting on security systems for them."
"Wow," you mutter, settling into the passenger seat as Jay slides in beside you.
He starts the car, the engine rumbling to life as he glances over at you. "You ready?"
"Is this car bulletproof?" you ask, running your hand along the interior with a raised eyebrow.
Jay smirks, shrugging. "I don't think so, but who needs bulletproof when we've got each other?"
You giggle, the sound light and unexpected, even to yourself.
As he presses the gas pedal hard, the car lurches forward, and the thrill of speed courses through you.
The windows are down, and the cool night air rushes past you as you cock the shotgun, the familiar click of the weapon sending a chill down your spine.
You lean halfway out the window, scanning the streets for purgers, your eyes narrowing when you spot a group down the road.
"Hey, fuckers!" you shout, your voice carrying across the night.
Jay glances over at you, his grin widening as he watches you. "Careful with my car, love," he teases, though there's nothing but pride in his tone.
You don't respond, too focused on your target. Raising the shotgun, you take aim and fire. The blast rings out, and one of the masked figures crumples to the ground.
Jay chuckles, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he drifts the car in a sharp circle, giving you a clear view of the rest of the group.
You take the opportunity, cocking the shotgun again and pulling the trigger, your laughter bubbling up as another purger falls.
Jay's eyes are on you the whole time.
There's a softness in his gaze, even amid the violence. A quiet love that seems to radiate from him as he smiles, the chaos of the night fading away for him.
There's just you, him, and the shared thrill of the hunt.
March 22, 4:00 AM
The two of you stand on the rooftop of an abandoned building, the city stretched out before you in ruins. Fires burn in the distance, their orange glow painting the night in an eerie light. Screams and gunshots echo faintly through the air, but up here, it almost feels quiet.
Jay's arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you against him as he rests his chin on your shoulder.
"When I first saw you, I thought you were the prettiest girl I'd ever seen," he says softly, his voice low in your ear.
You snort, your lips twitching into a faint smile. "I smelled like shit, Jay. I looked like skin and bones. Where's the 'pretty' in that?" you ask, a chuckle escaping you.
Jay presses his lips to your neck, his voice a murmur against your skin. "You were pretty then. You're pretty now. You've always been pretty."
"You should hate me," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the distant crackling of fires below. "For leaving. For running away."
Jay's grip tightened, his hands pulling you closer as his forehead pressed against the back of your head. "I could never hate you," he murmured. "Not when I know what you've been carrying."
You opened your mouth to argue, to push back
"I don't deserve you," you admitted, your voice cracking as the weight of the night caught up with you.
Jay let out a soft laugh, the sound warm and reassuring. "You don't get to decide that," he said, his tone teasing but full of affection. "That's my call, and I'm not going anywhere.
You tilt your head slightly, giving him more access, your breath hitching as he kisses the sensitive spot just below your ear. His lips linger, soft and warm, before his tongue flicks against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.
A quiet moan escapes you as he nips at your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before he soothes the bite with a kiss. "Jay..."
His hands begin to roam, one sliding up to cup your breast, squeezing gently, while the other dips beneath your dress. His fingers brush over the fabric of your panties, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves there.
"You're really doing this?" you sigh, half-laughing even as your body arches into his touch. "In the middle of the purge?"
Jay chuckles softly, his lips still pressed against your neck. "We're standing on a rooftop, watching the world burn," he murmurs. "Seems like the perfect time to me."
His fingers move with more purpose now, slipping past the fabric of your panties and brushing against your wet folds. You gasp, your body trembling against him as he slides one finger inside you, curling it just enough to make you bite down on your lip.
"You know," Jay whispers, his voice low and rough as his free hand kneads your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. "I'm not normal either."
You barely manage to form a response, your mind clouded by the pleasure building inside you. "W-what do you mean?"
Jay bites gently at your neck again, his lips curling into a grin. "Watching you out there... gunning down those purgers... smearing blood all over that cute little dress..." He groans, his hips pressing into you so you can feel just how hard he is.
"Fuck, it turns me on so much. You looked so beautiful. So fucking dangerous."
His confession sends a jolt of heat straight through you, and your legs almost buckle as he slides another finger inside you, his pace increasing. His other hand slips beneath the neckline of your dress, tugging it down just enough to expose your chest as he palms your bare skin.
"Jay..." you gasp, your head falling back against his shoulder as his fingers work you over, pushing deeper and curling just right.
"You're so perfect like this," he whispers, his voice breathy and filled with adoration as he watches your face twist with pleasure.
"The way your body moves, the way you moan for me... I'll never get enough of you."
His thumb brushes over your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. You grip his arms, your nails digging into his skin as your body starts to shake.
"F-fuck, Jay," you cry out, your voice muffled as he kisses your temple.
"That's it, baby," he encourages. "Let go for me. Let me see you lose yourself."
You're barely holding on, your body trembling as he picks up the pace, his fingers sliding in and out of you relentlessly.
The pressure inside you builds and builds until it snaps, a wave of heat and pleasure crashing over you as your orgasm takes hold.
You cry out, your hips bucking against his hand as you ride out the high, your walls clenching around his fingers. Jay doesn't stop, his movements gentle now as he works you through it, his lips pressing soft kisses to your neck and shoulder.
When the aftershocks finally subside, you collapse back against him, your chest rising and falling as you catch your breath. Jay wraps his arms around you tightly, holding you close as he presses a kiss to your temple.
"I love you," he whispers, his voice soft and sincere. "Now, let me eat."
Before you can respond, he gently turns you, guiding your back to the cool metal railing. His hands are steady on your waist
"Park Jongseong!"
He crouched, his teeth hooking the edge of your panties and dragging them down, baring you inch by inch. The fabric pooled at your knees before his face dove between your thighs, his tongue parting you
He worked his way up to your clit, licking slow, teasing circles that made your knees threaten to buckle.
His grip tightened on your waist, firm hands pulling you closer, urging your hips to rock against his face.
Your right leg lifted, hooking over his shoulder for balance, your fingers threading into his hair to anchor yourself. You tugged, hard, grinding yourself against him. His groan reverberated through you, the vibrations sending shockwaves straight to your core.
"Jongseong!" you sobbed, your voice breaking as the intensity overwhelmed you. Your grip on his hair tightened, your body trembling.
Abruptly, he pulled away, leaving you breathless and desperate.
Before you could protest, his hands were on your shoulders, pushing you down. You hit the rough ground with a muted thud, your palms scraping against the coarse surface.
You barely had time to process the sensation before his hands were on your hips, lifting you up.
"Need to be inside you, baby."
You heard him groan softly, the sound of him stroking himself before he pressed against your entrance.
The stretch as he slid inside you was slow, deliberate, every inch a sensation that left you gasping. You clenched around him instinctively, earning a hiss from him as he threw his head back, savoring the feeling.
"Faster," you whimpered, your voice trembling with need. Your hands scrambled to reach his, gripping the one on your waist.
"My baby wants more?" he laughed, a dark, almost mocking edge to his tone.
Before you could answer, he gathered your wrists in one hand, pulling them behind your back and holding them there. His pace quickened, his hips snapping against yours with bruising force.
You screamed, your voice raw, your body pliant in his grasp.
He didn't stop, didn't relent, even as your cries turned to desperate whines. You felt yourself teetering on the edge, your body trembling violently. But just as you were about to fall over, his movements faltered.
"No!" you cried out, shaking in his hold, trying to move, to chase the release that hovered just out of reach. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pressing you down firmly.
"Don't move," Jay ordered, his voice low and commanding. "I'm still enjoying the view."
You sobbed, your body trembling, your desperation mounting. "Please! I'll be good, I swear, please!"
He growled low in his throat, his hips slamming forward again, harder, rougher, making you cry out.
Gunshots echoed faintly in the background, but they felt distant, irrelevant. All that mattered was the man above you, his hands pinning you down, his movements relentless.
Your mouth fell open as you felt him twitch inside you, his pace faltering before he suddenly flipped you onto your back. Your legs went limp, draped over his shoulders as he sank into you again, his face hovering inches from yours.
Your focus locked on him, the way his brows knit together, the way his jaw clenched, the way his sweat-dampened hair clung to his forehead. He was beautiful in his rawness, primal and consuming.
"I wanna cum," you whimpered, your hand reaching for your clit, desperate for release, but he slapped it away with a sharp look.
"Hold it, love," he commanded, his breath ragged. He leaned down, his mouth latching onto your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple before he bit down, hard.
You screamed, tears streaming down your face as your body writhed beneath him.
"Can't hold it anymore," you sobbed, shaking your head, your pleas growing more desperate.
"Just a little longer," he whispered, his voice a strained plea of his own. His thumb found your clit, pressing down in firm, maddening circles, even as his hips drove into you faster, harder.
The moment came like a tidal wave, crashing through you with a force that left you breathless, your body spasming around him.
"A-ah fuck!" you screamed, your voice breaking.
His rhythm faltered as you tightened around him, pulling him over the edge with you. He buried himself deep, his groan low and guttural as he came, filling you completely.
"Jay, can't!" you whimpered, your body oversensitive, trembling as he continued to move, chasing the last echoes of his high.
"Fuck, I love you," he muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion
Finally, he stilled, collapsing beside you. His arm looped around your waist, pulling you close.
"You're not falling asleep on me, are you?" he teased, his voice soft.
"Tired," you mumbled, pouting with your eyes half-closed.
"What happened to killing purgers all night?" he asked, his tone light, teasing.
You cracked one eye open to glare at him. "It's morning," you grumbled.
Jay chuckled, his fingers gently smoothing down your dress as best as he could. His eyes lingered on you, softening as you murmured sleepily against his ear.
"I wanna kill Ms. Wilson next year," you whispered, your voice faint.
His lips curved into a small, knowing smile. He kissed your forehead softly, his breath warm against your skin. "Anything for you, love."
You hummed in response, your body melting further into his hold. "I hate how the Purge is so right," you mumbled, your words fading into the quiet dawn. "It really did cleanse my soul."
March 22, 6:45 AM
The sun hung low on the horizon, casting a pale golden glow over the city. The streets were eerily still, a grim quiet settling over the aftermath of the Purge.
Jay carried you carefully to his car, his movements slow and deliberate as he set you down in the passenger seat. For a moment, he lingered, crouching beside you. His hand brushed a stray strand of hair from your cheek, his fingers ghosting over your peaceful expression.
You had found yourself, hadn’t you? Maybe not in the way most people would expect, but in a way that felt undeniably true to you.
Your eyelashes fluttered, your eyes opening just enough to glance at him groggily. "What time is it?"
"6:45," Jay replied softly, his voice low. "The Purge is almost over."
You nodded weakly, your head tilting back against the seat as your eyes drifted closed again. But before sleep could take you, they snapped open once more, and you turned your head to him.
"Why? What’s wrong?" Jay asked, his voice laced with gentle concern.
You smiled sweetly, your lips curving in a way that made his heart skip.
"Kiss me."
His lips twitched into a chuckle, but he leaned down without hesitation, pressing his lips to yours.
"I love you," you whispered as your eyes closed again, this time surrendering completely to sleep.
"I love you too," Jay echoed, his voice just above a whisper. His hand lingered on your cheek for a moment longer before he straightened up, gripping the steering wheel as he started the car.
The streets stretched out before him, empty and silent now, save for the faint echoes of distant sirens. The Purge had ended.
Jay chuckled softly to himself, glancing over at your sleeping form in the passenger seat. You looked so peaceful now, your lips slightly parted, your head resting against the window. It was hard to believe that just hours ago, the two of you had been surrounded by blood.
"Next year, huh?" he murmured under his breath, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Jay definitely needed to watch his back next year.
But with you by his side, what could any purger do?
There was no telling what the two of you were capable of.
I need RLLLY GOOOD LIKE NEXT UNIVERSE TYPE LEVEL FIC RECOMMENDATIONS FOR JAY PLEASEEE , like i’ll get on my knees n beg 🙏🙏 just give me jay fic OR MAKE MORE….. i’m starving for them🥺🥺🥺 LINK TGEM IN TGE COMMENTS PLS IM SO HUNGRYY😋😋😋😋🤤🤤🤤🤤
