#Day 21: “Let's play a game” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mssishipi · 2 months ago

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THE PURGE SERIES #1: Kiss Me - pjs

PAIRING: privileged jay x purger reader

SYNOPSIS: 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: 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 (3 diff scenes smut), fingering, nipple play, pussy eating, unprotected sex, doggy style, 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, cold and mechanical, 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.

taglist: @fancypeacepersona, @tunafishyfishylike

#enhypen #the purge au #park jongseong #jay fanfic #ni-ki #heesung #jake #sunoo #enhypen fic #jay smut #jungwon #sunghoon #jay x reader #enhypen fanfic #enhypen au #enhypen jay fanfic

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vicsstufff · 17 days ago

Text

LOVE LANGUAGE —

۶ৎ - summary: talk to me in your love language, show me how to connect to you. headcanons about the love language of some of the uconn wbb girls!

۶ৎ - wc: 888

۶ৎ - content/players: p. bueckers, m. cheli, k. arnold, c. ducharme, a. fudd, a. griffin and s. strong + j. watkins !

authors note | HEADCANONS! idk what to say tbh. enjoy!

P.B 5 — PHYSICAL TOUCH

this girl is touchy asf, can’t get her hands off you, don’t get me started the times you guys have been caught in live because of her.

“private but not a secret.” goes down the drain after being together for 4 months. how? the time you, paige and caroline went shopping, a fan spotted both of you in the nike shop. when they were building up courage to go and ask for a picture (while filming both of you) paige boldly kissed you unexpectedly because you got angry at her for not choosing quickly.

she doesn’t regret getting exposed in X, she can now enjoy her girl freely.

don’t allow her to get too comfortable! in dinner nights with friends, her hand will linger to far up your thigh or will suddenly squeeze your boob thinking nobody is watching. she is definitely both ass and boob girl (she can’t choose!) i can see her pressing herself against your back while you cook, shopping, brushing your teeth and doing your make up. lovesss helping you do your skincare or preparing a bath for you after a long day.

you always have a arm around your waist or shoulders.

M.C 23 — QUALITY TIME

her schedule now that she has joined uconn’s basketball team, is full but she always make space for you, binge eating to a random 2000’s love movie, or just spending time watching tv, enjoying each others presence, she loves feeling that you are there with her.

drags you to the gym (even if you don’t do anything), having you sleep in top of her, just hearing your breathing and feeling your heartbeat makes her happy.

protect her. please. girl be tripping on the smoothest walkway possible, she will say she doesn’t need you protecting her, but! will feel giddy in love when you protect her. will also show you sign language! (don’t worry about her getting frustrated when you don’t remember a sign, she has tank full of patience just for you). going back to the part of protecting her, she is also a basketball magnet, you can’t do much for her when she is practicing or in a game.

K.A 2 — GIVING GIFTS

not only does she give you candy, clothes etc. she gives you parts of herself (the team knows she is WHIPPED when they see her sharing her trufru with you) don’t you dare reject her gifts! not only will she feel bad but she’ll also force you to accept them (there’s no way out) takes caroline and azzi with her to the mall, helping her choose gifts (and also bc they won’t leave her there)

C.D 33 — ACTS OF SERVICE

we know this girl carries the team on her shoulders, the perfect mom to a group full of children only being serious when playing with a ball.

you need help on a project? there she is, finishing it within hours, you got in trouble? she speaks calmly with your teacher (her voice is so soothing, i can she her whispering songs or praises while you lay your head on her chest, caressing your hair)

A.F 35 — PHYSICAL TOUCH

her schedule is also full, but 2X more, adds, sponsorships, games, practice, college, like it’s a lot, but there’s nothing this girl can do! so, she also makes quiet moments part of her schedule, like staring at the stars after her basketball practice, analyzing games, or yapping about random things late at night.

A.G 44 — WORDS OF AFFIRMATION

her words are genuine and tender, you could just be cooking and she would start praising randomly, i can also see her commenting wild things on your instagram.

you finished you homework quickly? she is praising you for it, she loves the dress you picked for your anniversary? she is washing you with praises. you are so perfect and beautiful, she needs to let you know!

S.S 21 — QUALITY TIME

she is so giggly and awkward, i love her.

she values any time spent together, even if it’s just hanging out, talking about the past, or watching her do shots. help her with media training, she sometimes forgets where she is and doesn’t listen to what the media questioned. she genuinely questions herself rather present you to the team, not because she is embarrassed of you but because she is afraid they will scare you away.

like, they’re freshman got a lady? they NEED to meet her, no excuses! if she reuses the idea, they make a whole plan to catch her on a date with you.

J.W 12 — PHYSICAL TOUCH

i am confident in my instincts and i know this girl is touchy (off camera!) a funny scenario i can see is that while dominique is filming, she focuses on you and juju, she has your arm wrapped around your shoulders while your head is resting on her shoulder and lingering your hand on her thigh, you see she focuses the camera on you two and you immediately separate, juju is hella confused and looks at you, her eyebrows knitted together, her head snaps towards dominique who still has the camera pointed towards you and she gives dominique the fattest side eye ever (obviously she edited that part out)

she is so cuddly after practice or a game, laying her entire body on you.

#paige bueckers #wcbb #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #paige bueckers fluff #wcbb x reader #ncaa wbb #paige bueckers fic #wbb #azzi fudd #caroline ducharme #kk arnold #kk arnold x reader #kk arnold x fem!reader #aubrey griffin #juju watkins #juju watkins x reader #sarah strong

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redflagshipwriter · 8 months ago

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Fast Car Masterpost and Prologue

dead on main fic, intro + four chapters.

Summary: The Red Hood starts off his righteous campaign with a lot of nerve but no legal identification that will let him behind the wheel of a car. Public transportation really doesn't have the panache he needs to start off as a fearsome crime lord, so he needs a driver. He finds Danny Fenton, a grungly college student trying not to be noticed by any government agencies or vigilantes.

to subscribe to this post, on mobile open the notes and click the bell on the upper right hand corner of the post. on desktop, open the notes at the bottom and press the bell on the right edge of the notes.

Links will be added to chapter list as the story posts. Chapter one will go up on July 14th. Updates are approximately every other day.

LINKS/ chapter count

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4

prologue

“No, Habibi,” Talia said calmly into the phone. “I will not falsify you an American non-commercial driver's license for motor vehicles. If you cannot prove yourself to Gotham without American motor vehicle operating permissions, you will never prove yourself. Rise above this challenge.” Talia covered the phone for a second but he could hear her talking to someone else about tile options.

“It's an unnecessary challenge,” Jason argued, doing his level best not to let his tone go up. It was undignified to whine. He was a man now. “The important parts of the challenge are the tactical planning and the skills.”

Talia sounded like she was filing her nails. “Tactically plan to take the bus. Or walk. Walking is free and healthy.”

Jason made an indignant sound but she mercilessly hung up. The worst! She made the top three of his worst mother figures, easily.

“She's just doing this so I can't go drinking.” He scowled into the air. “I don't even want to!” His voice broke mid whine, which was an insult to add to all the injuries visited upon him by the cruel whims of women who weren't even his legal guardian. He was an adult in most countries!

The worst part was that Talia didn't care about underage drinking. She just didn't want to hear shit about enabling him from Bruce when he eventually figured out that Jason was alive, 19, and in Gotham. His passport claimed he was 21 because it had to for him to travel alone, but she knew damn well no one used their passport as ID in bars.

He couldn't just go get a license. Jason sulked viciously and threw himself into fixing his plans to accommodate for this.

He was legally dead and living under a fake name. If he tried to sign up for the driving exam, it'd be too much scrutiny on his paperwork. But he was not taking the bus around as a crime lord. It lacked panache. More importantly, it didn't go where he wanted it to go.

Fine. He didn't need her help. He didn't need anyone's help. He just needed to download Uber.

That was how Jason wound up wiping a mob lieutenant’s blood off of his hand onto his pants so that he could use the guy's touch screen phone. Victor Woodward's account put in a request for a ride to the Gotham police headquarters. He killed time kicking ass in all the Words with Friends games that Victor had ongoing, which was really gonna surprise anyone who normally played with that boob. Victor’s last ever play was ‘cat,’ for fuck’s sake.

A few minutes later, a skinny teenager pulled up in his clanker and opened the door. Jason put on a smile and hefted his duffle bag a little higher on his shoulder.

“Hi! Victor?” The guy, Danny, waved his phone at Jason.

“That's me!” Jason lied breezily. “Can I put this in the trunk?”

“Go for it.” Danny popped the trunk open from inside the car. He watched Jason with his big blue doe eyes.

For an instant, Jason thought that Danny might have seen something. Paranoia reared up. Was there blood visible? Was it easy to tell that the shapes in the bag were heads?”

The moment passed. Danny cleared his throat and whipped his face forwards again. “Normally I say to sit in the backseat, but I'm not sure that's enough room for your legs. Either is fine.”

Jason got in the car and let satisfaction wash over his body as the weirdly timid kid pulled them out into traffic at a snail’s pace. Whatever. They wouldn’t get stopped for a traffic violation when the driver was cautious.

He’d done it. His debut as the terrifying Red Hood, hunter of the wicked and bane of the Batman, was launched. And he didn’t need a license to do it.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dead on main

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shiftthemoon · 3 months ago

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50 WAYS YOUR LOVER SAYS, "je t'adore, mon amour"

✦ read this and let it be your reminder: love exists for you, too.

before you keep scrolling, let’s play a little game. close your eyes and place your phone down gently—it’ll still be here when you come back. take a deep breath and step into the life waiting for you. imagine them—your lover—holding your hand, leaving little kisses on your forehead, doing all the quiet, beautiful things that whisper “i love you” in ways words never could. picture it vividly, feel it in your chest.

you’re closer than you think. let these words carry you closer still. this is what love feels like when it’s made just for you.

✸ “whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

— emily brontë, wuthering heights

1. they trace constellations on your back with their fingertips until you fall asleep, whispering the names of stars like they were named just for you.

2. every morning, they memorize the exact shade of your eyes as sunlight touches them for the first time.

3. when they see a flower, they always pick the one that reminds them of you.

4. they hum songs they wrote in their head about you, forgetting the rest of the world even exists.

5. their hands hold yours like they’re anchoring themselves to the only thing that’s real.

6. they remember how you like your tea or coffee, down to the exact second it needs to steep.

7. they’ll start reading your favorite book, even if they can’t make sense of the metaphors, just to understand what makes your soul hum.

8. they run baths for you after hard days, scattering petals and lighting candles like it’s a ritual for a deity.

9. they defend your name in rooms you’ve never stepped foot in, making sure the world knows how sacred you are.

10. every time they kiss your forehead, they close their eyes, like they’re making a wish.

11. they memorize the cadence of your voice, the way it lilts when you’re excited or drifts when you’re tired.

12. they notice the tiny details no one else sees—the way your nose wrinkles when you think or how your foot taps to an invisible rhythm.

13. when you feel invisible, they find a way to make you shine.

14. they make plans for the future and always say “we” instead of “I.”

15. they look at you like they’ve just found a piece of eternity tucked away in the mundane.

16. they remember the things you’ve forgotten—like where you put your favorite sweater or what your dream was three weeks ago.

17. they’ve written your name in the margins of their notebooks, just to feel closer to you when you’re not around.

18. they tuck blankets around you when you fall asleep on the couch, careful not to wake you.

19. they call you by nicknames you didn’t even know you needed, sweet and soft like poetry only they can write.

20. they let you win arguments sometimes, just because giving you a kiss after is more satisfying than proving their point.

21. when they laugh, it sounds like music only you get to hear.

22. they’ve memorized the way you like your pillow fluffed and always fix it before you lay down.

23. when you’re sad, they remind you of all the reasons the universe is lucky to hold you.

24. they press their forehead against yours, quiet and gentle, like they’re saying “i’m here” without words.

25. they notice the little ways you show love—your touch, your words, your silences—and treasure each one.

26. they’ve started carrying your favorite snack in their bag, just in case you need it.

27. they touch the small of your back as if grounding you to this moment, this place, this love.

28. they dream of you when they’re awake, turning every thought into a love letter.

29. they’ve memorized the rhythm of your heartbeat and swear it’s their favorite song.

30. they walk on the outside of the sidewalk, shielding you from passing cars like you’re made of glass.

31. they press kisses to your wrist, your temple, your shoulder—anywhere their lips can reach.

32. when they see something beautiful, their first thought is to share it with you.

33. they hold space for your silence, knowing it’s just as important as your words.

34. they learn your love language, even if it feels foreign to them, and speak it fluently.

35. they let you wear their clothes, claiming you make them look better anyway. (you do!)

36. they find ways to bring your name into conversations, just to say it out loud.

37. they never forget the sound of your laugh, even when the world gets too loud.

38. they hold your face like it’s the answer to every question they’ve ever asked.

39. they light candles during thunderstorms because they know the flicker calms you.

40. they kiss your scars and call them the roadmap to your soul.

41. they tell you their secrets, the ones even they are scared of, because they trust you with their heart.

42. they leave notes in your bag, on your mirror, in your books—little pieces of love tucked away for you to find later.

43. they say your name like it’s their favorite word.

44. they teach themselves your favorite song on a musical instrument, even if they don’t know how to play.

45. they dance with you in the kitchen.

46. they stay up late just to talk to you about the things that matter to you.

47. they carve your initials into the soft bark of their heart, promising to carry you with them always.

48. they hold your hand in crowded spaces, making sure you feel safe in the chaos.

49. they memorize the way you breathe when you’re asleep, every inhale a symphony.

50. they love you not just in the grand gestures, but in the quiet, everyday moments—the ones where love doesn’t need to be spoken to be felt.

𖦹࣪˖ shift with the faith that someone, somewhere, is ‘waiting’ to love you this fiercely. you are worth every ounce of it. ׄ ִֶָ.

#shifting #reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting community #loassumption #shifting tips #shifting antis dni #shifting script #law of assumption #shifting motivation #shifting blog #shifting realities #reality shift #shifting diary

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blkkizzat · 1 year ago

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ღ 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞!𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 ღ

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 𝐨𝐟 𝟐 (part 1)

18+ONLY MDNI

kizzatober series: Smooth Criminals

Kinktober Prompts: Clothed Male/Naked Female, Thigh Riding, Knife Play Synopsis: The university campus is being terrorized by a copycat Ghostface killer. As a popular sorority girl with a dumb jock bf, you are a prime choice to be his next victim especially given how he can't stop thinking about you. But you're no ordinary Sorority Girl bimbo, now are you? CW: AU college fic. blood obsession/hematolagnia, bimbo reader, murder, slight DV/SA mentions (from your npc jerk ass bf), unprotected sex, masturbation, LOTS of teasing/foreplay, slight age gap (roughly 21 vs 28) and dark content. NOTE: If death/killer romanticization related shit triggers you this is probably a fic to avoid because that is happening all through this bitch. I literally wrote a murder fluff smut fic lmfao. WC: 9.9 of 15.4k Lightly black fem coded (reader is an AKA lmfao) but no descriptors.

A/N: I had no idea so many people would be this hyped for Part 2. No really, I'm shocked! But It gets real here peoples! Lots of smut and dark shit below so please read the content warnings! I don't want no crying in the mentions and DMs cause y'all should know how out of pocket I am by now and I took it there lmfao.

If you riding with me still Thank You for putting up with my OCD bullshit and for all the support, comments and reblogs on Part 1! y'all real asf & ilysm

Enjoy!

Previously:

“Whatever, let’s fucking go Y/N. We have an important party to throw later.”

Dean grabs your wrist and jerks you away with you barely being able to grab your bag.

Your stomach twists and you are at a complete loss for words but manage to flash an apologetic look at Choso while you are dragged off.

However when your eyes meet he looks right through you.

The expression on his face is stone cold and it sends a chill up your spine.

☠

Sigh.

For the first time ever in your life you are miserable at a party.

To say you had been excited leading up to today would have been an understatement. The initiation party after rush was one of the biggest events in the greek system and you had led the charge this year in planning the party.

Nevertheless, any cheerful enthusiasm you held had been trampled on by the disaster that had taken place earlier in the day with Choso.

If getting out of going wouldn’t be more trouble than it was worth you would have faked being sick. It’s not like you hadn’t already stressed yourself into a headache.

Yet here you were suffering through, completely sober. Not even being able to bring yourself to drink away your problems.

How could you even pretend to enjoy yourself when your forced smile cracked as soon as the mental image of Choso’s icy expression looped through your mind?

Your chest got a little tighter each time you remembered and it frazzled your nerves.

Just about everyone and everything annoyed you right now.

Even the party: Hunter vs Hunted, one of your favorites, was soured.

Typically the theme entailed girls dressed up as various exotic animals or woodland creatures and the boys dressed as safari game hunters or woodsmen. But this time around, no thanks to singular frat boy hivemind, they all got the bright idea to collectively cosplay as Ghostface.

Taking a new meaning on Hunter.

They couldn’t carry knives on campus of course so they all carried around metal bats which they probably stole from the baseball team.

Sure, let’s all dress up as the masked serial killer while he is still on the loose.

You rolled your eyes.

The pilfered bats were a hazard waiting to happen too. You could only be thankful that the party was at Dean’s frat and not your own sorority so him and the rest of those idiots could fuck their own shit up once they inevitably got way too hammered and started swinging them around.

You mostly just wished they hadn’t changed the plan without telling you.

Then at least you could have dressed up in line with the horror theme and wouldn’t have had to wear this sexy Bambi costume which although skimpy, the fur parts made it way too hot to be wearing in a crowded party indoors.

On edge and not being able to leave, you did the next best thing and sequestered yourself in the kitchen pantry.

It was spacious and a lot cooler than the rest of the house.

You made yourself look busy in there by restocking snacks and making sure there was an ample supply of red cups ready to go around for the keg.

When someone did notice you tucked away, you gave the best fake smile you could muster and made-up an excuse not to join in on whatever drinking game they were playing promising you would ‘catch up in a minute.’

Fortunately for you, most of your friends and sorority sisters were a bit too faded by this point to notice you missing and never joining in.

Maybe a bit longer and you could slip out unnoticed?

That was your plan at least until you felt Dean throw an arm over you from behind.

“There you are babe!”

Urgh.

The overwhelming ick and nausea you felt from him touching you rivaled your worst hangover.

You immediately shrug him off.

“Come on babe don’t be like that. Get a freshman to take over. We're gonna play rage cage.”

You threw Dean a wary look.

You try to tell him you aren’t in the mood but of course your selfish dickhead of a boyfriend ignores you.

Dean then proceeds to pull your arm and lead you out of the pantry through the kitchen.

On a different day you probably would have just given in, easier to go along with the flow than cause an issue. Today however was different and the last thing in the world you wanted to do was play fucking rage cage with a bunch of horny frat boys who were just trying to get girls drunk enough to fuck.

“Goddamnit, Dean I said no!”

Your tolerance had boiled past its limits.

You forcibly snatch your hand back, knocking some empty bottles over on the counter in the process which come crashing down to the floor shattering into pieces.

Your words and movements dripped with so much aggression you surprised yourself, Dean and the people around you who had turned to see what the commotion was.

”No? No? You’re really telling me no Y/N? After you’ve been acting like a fuckin’ bitch all day since I crashed your make out session with that freak.”

Immediately self-conscious, your eyes darted around the crowd of people that had now turned their full attention toward you.

You hated confrontation and never wanted to be that couple fighting at a party.

Ducking down quickly, you begin to pick up the shattered pieces of bottled glass on the floor.

The pounding of your headache against your temples grew feverishly and the harsh fluorescent kitchen lights started to make you feel faint, you hoped Dean would just let this go if you backed down.

“Look, we’ll talk about that later, ok? Just please don’t be an asshole Dean, I really don’t feel good right now.”

You pleaded with him, quietly trying to quell the situation.

But true to his infamous asshole nature, Dean wasn’t going to let you off so easily. He wanted to humiliate you as he felt you humiliated him in front of his friends earlier with that nobody loser.

”Now, I’m the asshole?” Dean questioned to his frat brothers smugly.

“Hey, maybe I am for having a girlfriend like Y/N, who would slut herself out for a grade in front of the entire quad!”

Dean had all but yelled that last part out. Your drunken clown of a boyfriend didn’t care if he caused a scene at your expense.

Now you had the full attention of everyone in the kitchen.

You took a shaky breath as you stood up and felt the crunch of broken glass beneath your heels.

An unfamiliar sensation of rage rises within you.

It really wasn’t in your nature to be angry even when you were upset, you mostly just cried but now you were pissed to say the least.

He has some fucking nerve.

Especially when you knew no one starting on the football team studied at all and were all automatically passed through whatever easy bullshit major they signed up for.

“Dean–”

You start yet pause for a moment, trying to keep your cool.

“–you know how hard I study.”

Twisting the proverbial knife in your back to wind you up further Dean continued.

“Yeah, Y/N That's what’s so pathetic about it. You get Bs. That pussy ain’t even good enough for an A. I would know.”

Collective gasps, snickers and whispers arose from around the kitchen. Word had spread of your fighting as more people gathered in the doorway.

Typically this is where you would have run off crying. However, you were exhausted mentally and emotionally. You had already cried for a good hour today while getting ready.

The only emotions you had readily available to tap into was the hidden well of resentment and ire you held for Dean.

“And how would you even know what good pussy is Dean? You can’t last longer than two pumps, is it not all the same for you?”

You snapped back.

Your fists had formed into a tight ball.

You are so enraged you can’t even feel the prick from the broken glass bottle still in your hand puncturing your skin.

How long has it been since you stood up for yourself?

You can’t remember the last time you even fought with anyone like this but it felt good seeing the smug look on his face fall as his friends around him jeered and laughed.

“I know how to settle this Y/N.”

Dean mused as he yanked one of your sorority sisters nearby toward you.

“How ‘bout we ask Aaliyah then, eh? She got more than 2 pumps last weekend after you left the party to go chase after Ghostface–”

Your head snaps to your AKA sister in question, Aaliyah, who looked like she saw a cursed spirit as all the color drained from her face. Her eyes shamefully hit the floor before they met your gaze.

She couldn’t even look at you which only further solidified Dean’s accusations.

So Dean himself confirmed he’d been cheating on you? Cool.

With your own Sorority sister, who you considered one of your besties since you both rushed together?

Even better.

Blood slowly trickled out of your hand to drip on the floor from how rigidly you held onto the glass but the small red puddle went unnoticed as your whole vision was already saturated with the color red when you looked at Dean who hadn’t even finished his disrespectful tirade.

“–Although on second thought, it was probably an excuse for you to go suck off that loser freak TA of yours right?”

More heckles erupted from the crowd around you and you don’t think you have ever hated someone so much in your life as you hated Dean right at this moment.

Sure you were upset with Aaliyah but your fury was purely focused on Dean.

He had some nerve to start so much shit earlier over an almost-kiss when he was fucking your good friend behind your back.

“And how fucking out of her mind was she then, huh Dean? Would she even remember? You pathetic piece of shit...”

You get directly in his face.

“...that limp dick of yours fumbles orgasms like you fumble passes. That’s why we lost the big game last week. And guess what? That's also why we’re now OVER!”

Dean’s bulky build towers over you but he might as well have been 3 feet tall to you as the razor edge of your words eviscerate him.

“So who’s the fucking loser now Dean?”

Everyone in the room was stunned into silence by the venom dripping from someone they had never even heard raise their voice before.

You don't notice anyone else's reactions though as suddenly you became hyperaware of the large fractured piece of bottled glass cutting into you.

Your eyes flickered back to Dean as your hand twitches.

For a fleeting moment you felt an inkling urge to drive the glass in your hand directly into Dean’s smug ass face.

Yet whatever dark fury burned in you was instantly snuffed out as you felt a flood of cold bitter beer splash down on you from Dean’s red solo cup.

”Why don’t you cool off for a bit dear,” Dean cooed at you, mocking you and your now ruined Bambi costume as he and the frat boys around you started to roar with laughter.

That was it.

You were done.

Dean had succeeded in humiliating you.

Any contention or further will to fight within you had dissipated the moment you were doused in beer.

The glass in your hand drops onto the ground as a dull ache radiates from your wound that continues to seep blood onto the floor.

“I hope you realize this is the last time an AKA will grace this sorry ass frat for a party. I’ll see to that. Enjoy the rest of your night fellas!”

The icy air of your words contrasted with the perfect pageant smile you gave them and it unsettled those around you especially as they all notice the blood gushing from your hand.

The crowd immediately parts as you leave. No one dares utter a word to you as you exit the party through the side kitchen door.

You can feel your phone go off as you get a flurry of group texts and missed facetimes. Most of your sisters weren’t even in the kitchen to witness the scene.

You respond to the group chat to tell them just to stay and enjoy the party and turn your phone on ‘do not disturb.’

You just wanted to be alone.

You’d deal with the fallout tomorrow.

☠

Choso wore a twisted grin hidden under his Ghostface mask.

The hunter vs hunted party meant a perfect time for him to hunt.

Leaning against a building Choso was shrouded in the dark cover of shadows far removed from campus lights.

Old habits, he mused. There was really no need for him to hide at all tonight.

He could actually walk around openly as Ghostface now without causing alarm seeing as how most of those fraternity morons were dressed up like him tonight.

This made things even easier.

Choso scanned the area for his next prey.

Someone, anyone alone would do.

Choso had been itching to spill blood since he had the enticing inclination to slash your boyfriend’s throat earlier.

Currently he wanted nothing more than to see a violent geyser of blood spurt from his next victim. Having it be a shithead frat guy would only sweeten the kill so he had stalked close to frat row for his latest victim.

There.

Seeing movement in the distance, a lone figure, Choso cautiously advances trailing in the shadows towards them until they come into focus under the street lights.

He nearly does a double take when he recognizes it's you.

Shouldn’t Miss-Perfect-Social-Butterfly be having the time of her life right now with her cretins being crowned queen of the frats or something?

Choso thought bitterly.

That is, until he got a good look at you.

You were wet and shivering as you failed to sniff back the tears pouring down your face.

Despite his desire to stay angry with you, his jaw involuntarily clenches as he had never seen you this upset before.

Something had happened.

Choso confused look turns deadly as vision travels down to see you nursing the hand you cradled to your chest. He recognizes blood running down your forearm to stain your already soiled costume.

A territorial urge swelled within him, not knowing you had inflicted your own injury.

You were his prey.

It was unforgivable for someone else to spill what was his to enjoy.

Choso immediately concluded the cause of it was Dean.

Boyfriend or not he would gladly gut that motherfucker at the drop of a dime.

He hadn’t forgotten how roughly he had dragged you off earlier.

And more importantly how you had let that asswipe drag you off. That honestly had fired his temper more than anything.

A storm of conflicting feelings, Choso yearns to see more of your blood splattered on the ground as much as he secretly covets to have you writhing underneath him.

Should he approach you?

No. Not yet.

Although, he would never have a more perfect chance than now to kill you if he was ever actually going to go through with it.

Securing his knife on the inside of his robe, Choso silently propels himself after you.

Never falling too far behind, he vigilantly watches you from a distance as both your protector and predator.

☠

A warm shower was just what you needed but you were pissed you had to wash your hair 3 times to get the smell of Milwaukee's out, which proved insanely hard to do with one functioning hand.

You could have killed Dean.

No actually though, as you remembered the dark seething compulsion you felt.

You weren’t sure what had gotten into you earlier.

Pushing those thoughts to the side though you focused on the gash in your hand, it was pretty gnarly.

You were just thankful the first aid kit in your sorority house had enough gauze and tape until you could get to the campus nurse tomorrow.

You probably needed stitches as any sudden movements had the fragile skin of your palm bleeding again.

Returning to your room in a comfy pink cotton bra and thong you throw your towel over a chair.

You start to reach for your fluffy robe when you see Choso’s black track jacket on your desk. It still had the small coffee stains on it from earlier but you opted to slip into it anyway.

Truthfully, you lied to him.

You hadn’t just been carrying it around waiting to give it back to him.

You had worn it more times this past week than you would willingly admit to anyone.

You even took it on purpose instead of your actual jacket this morning not actually thinking you would run into Choso but when you had seen him, you knew you wanted him to see you in it.

With a sigh of frustration, you dove face first into the pillows of your bed as you curled into his jacket.

It was your only comfort at the moment.

Your mind wanders and you can’t help but think of how better a boyfriend Choso would have been to you.

Dean would never let you wear his jackets, no matter how cold you were. He said you were too air-headed and would ruin or lose it.

Not that he wasn’t right, you definitely were accident prone.

But that's why it had meant so much to you when Choso, not even your boyfriend, had given you his own without a second thought.

You only hoped he didn’t hate you now.

Not that you could blame him if he did.

Even you hated you a bit for even being with a jerk like Dean in the first place no matter how convenient you thought it had been for you.

How could you even face Choso in class next week?

Despite your heart crumpling when you thought of Choso’s cold intimidating gaze being cast upon you again, you admittedly had never seen a look that intense before from anyone.

It was also impossible to forget the ravenous look in his eyes when he was so close to kissing you.

He looked as if he would devour you whole.

God, everything about him was so sexy.

His strong jaw set firm, his eyes dark pools that sucked you in even from memory, his lean muscular body.

You wish you had realized how bad you had been crushing on him sooner. Before everything got so fucked up.

You fidgeted as an ache developed between your legs.

Turning your head to the side you used your bandaged hand to gently push his jacket collar into your face.

It still smelled like him despite how many times you’ve worn it this week and despite the faint smell of old coffee from earlier.

Squirming on your bed, you tried in vain to keep your legs from sliding against each other creating more friction as your body became increasingly hotter.

A shameless whine escaped your lips as you huffed his woody masculine scent in and out.

Your legs rubbed together more eagerly.

Shit, you were so horny.

Still laid flat on your belly you lifted your hips up for access as a manicured finger pressed into your clit toying with yourself from the outside of your pink cotton thong.

Choso was so meticulous, so knowledgeable in everything he did you were sure he knew how to make you cum.

You were desperate for him as you remembered what it felt like when he caught you from falling last week.

How good would his sculpted chest feel pressed into you now?

Would he look at you with the same want that flared across his features when he had gotten a glimpse of your panties you had intentionally put on display for him?

You didn’t miss how it matched the look he gave you when he nearly kissed.

“Choso…”

You moaned out loud.

You could feel the wet spot your teasing was earning you spread over your thong as your cunt continued to drool over your fantasies of him.

Craving more you lifted your ass up higher while your fingers fumbled to slide under the flimsy fabric.

“A-ahhh s-shit Cho– F-fuck!”

You panted as you sunk two fingers into your cunt. You worked to diligently pump them in and out of you as you pressing your palm down firmly over your swollen clit.

Your face buried itself deeper in his jacket as you gasped and your warm breath pushed back against you as you imagined it was his own tickling your neck.

All your senses screamed with want to be consumed by him and you pined for the feeling of his cock stretching your wet cunt instead of your slim fingers that weren’t cut out for the job.

“F-fuck C-Choso.. Mmm, let me cum.”

You practically sobbed when you glided a third finger into your pussy, two wasn’t enough to quell the craze that had overtaken you.

Ironically and unbeknownst to you, Choso (who had hidden himself in your closet during your shower), was mere moments away from losing his own goddamn mind.

Wholly entranced, he listened to you wantonly call for him like a sweet siren song and watched utterly fixated on the way you fiercely finger fucked your pussy like it was his own cock.

All the while in his jacket sniffing the sweaty soiled material like some filthy fucking pervert.

Fuck!

When he had followed you back to the sorority house he had finally resolved to kill you, but now he was at a standstill as there was no plausible way this was actually happening in front of him.

The obscene ASMR of your cunt sloshing rang in his ears and your legs quivered obscenely with you approaching your orgasm.

Your desperate thrusts caused his oversized jacket to ride up to your hips revealing the way your ass bare ass jiggled when you drove your hips down and pushed your digits up deeper into your core that waited greedily to suck them in.

You chanted out Choso’s name with urgency straining your voice as you climaxed. The bed creaked from you now humping the mattress while riding out your high.

Shit you were fucking sexy.

Thought you'd just been toying with him for fun all this time...

Until now.

Choso’s grip on his knife tightened as adrenaline surged through his body.

He could feel the blood pumping through his dick.

He wanted to fuck you.

Badly.

Give you what you’ve both been needing all this time.

Choso fully bricked, suppressed a hiss through clenched teeth as he palmed the bulge in his pants but remained otherwise still.

He can’t imagine a positive reaction if he burst out of your closet as Ghostface nor could he just take off his mask and pop out of your closet as your TA like he was some fucking creeper.

This was pure agony.

You never failed to find some way to unravel him.

Choso was so tense, his body coiled so tightly, he couldn't control his thigh involuntarily twitching and his knee recoiled against your closet door.

He cursed himself for the millionth time at the lack of control he had around you, he had never had to restrain himself so much around anyone else.

Ecstasy was etched on your features as you looked around puzzled from where the noise came from.

However, the even louder boom of the front door slamming shocked you out of your blissful daze and stole your attention away.

You sat up quickly and wondered if your sorority sisters were back already.

You glanced at the clock.

10:32 pm.

It was still much too early for them to leave.

But who else could it be?

You groaned and reluctantly hopped off the bed, zipping up Choso’s jacket fully to hide the slick between your legs and went out to greet them so you could avoid them coming into your room and return to your solitude as quickly as possible.

You were tired, frustrated and still horny as hell.

You only wanted make yourself cum hard enough you could fall asleep and end this miserable ass day.

☠

“Girls~! You really didn’t have to leave so early~!”

You call out to your sisters.

It was a little late for a show of solidarity if that's what they thought they were doing.

You rolled your eyes.

But it was eerily quiet as you received no response.

That’s odd.

Walking down the hall you froze once the view from the top floor opens into the foyer below and you see the front door wide open.

Not a single soul in sight or to be heard.

“Girls?”

Fight or flight senses kick into gear alerting you to the possible dangers below.

You might be a bit of a ditz but you studied enough forensics and had seen enough scary movies to know how this shit usually ended.

You turn back to run to your room to call someone but stopped as you noticed your phone on the entryway table by the door.

Crap.

Steeling yourself you slowly inched your way towards the staircase, stopping at times to lean over the banister for any signs of someone.

“This isn’t funny girls! You know I’ve already had a really shitty night!”

But only the hollow sound of wind whipping through the door answered you as it swayed on its hinges.

This was an older house.

Maybe you didn’t close the door all the way in the beginning?

No one in your sorority house ever locked the doors, which now you considered probably wasn’t the greatest tradition to keep up while you were at home all alone and a serial killer was on the loose.

You crept down the stairs trying to silence any creaks as best you could.

“I swear on a stack of Vogues if this is a prank you all of you whores will all be on campus clean-up community service duty for the rest of the semester!”

Still nothing but silence as you reached the bottom of the staircase.

The lights were on in the entire house. From what you could tell the den and living room areas surrounding the foyer were empty.

You sighed. Maybe it was just the wind.

You close the door and this time make sure to lock it as you clutch your phone and turn to scamper back upstairs when you feel something grab at you from behind.

“Want to die Y/N?”

You let out a screech as you whip your around to see a figure you recognize as Ghostface reach for you as you stumble backwards into the den.

Tripping over your own feet, you fall back landing on your injured hand and knocking your head against the edge of a coffee table.

A roar of laughter erupts as you groan dazed from the floor.

“You really are a clumsy ditz, babe.”

Puzzled and near concussed, you blink through blurry vision to see Dean pull off the Ghostface mask as he crouches down to your level and leans on his metal bat tauntingly.

Pain blossoms sharply in the back of your head and you can feel the puncture wound on your hand open and saturate your bandage.

“The fuck are you doing here Dean?”

You glared up at him through your one good hand that covered your face as you struggle to get your bearings back.

You couldn’t catch a fucking break tonight.

“Still being a huge bitch even though I came all the way over here to say sorry, eh?”

Dean hummed, brow raised as he chuckled.

“I thought a little fright would put you in a good mood, Y/N.”

“Nice way of apologizing Dean. Insult me, scare me half to death and give me a concussion.”

You knew this man was not sorry at all.

Someone sober enough had probably informed Dean that you did have the power to essentially kill their fraternity’s social life, cucking his entire house for the foreseeable future. They likely sent him to make things right with you ASAP.

But even with all that on the line your tool of an ex was such a huge dick he couldn’t even do the bare minimum to give you a decent apology like an actual human being (not that you would have accepted it).

“I see I was right about one thing though.”

Dean got your attention as he pointed down at the moisture running down your legs.

You immediately pull Choso’s jacket down further to cover yourself.

You couldn’t give a fuck what he thought at this point. You’d confess to fucking the entire Forensics department if got him out of your face.

“Sure Dean, think what you want okay? Just fucking GET. OUT.”

You felt dizzy from the pressure thrumming in the back of your skull.

“Yeah and if I say no whore? Then what?”

Dean slid a clammy hand over your knee which sent another wave of nausea through you, your head spinning.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to stop his hand traveling lower before you suddenly noticed Dean’s body being ripped away from you entirely.

The scene that followed occurred in a whirlwind as your head felt like it would explode trying to focus on anything.

Your eyes strain to keep up with the action only registering fractions of it through your blurred vision.

You see…blood?

Is it yours?

No. It’s flowing from Dean’s shoulder.

Another person?

…Ghostface?

Yes.

Your double vision struggled to pinpoint exactly what was happening as Dean and the masked Ghostface fought for dominance, somehow ending up back in the foyer.

Dean was barely able to keep the large hunting knife from sinking into his chest.

Was this even real?

Were you really about to witness a Ghostface crime scene in action?

Were you next?

You felt like you were witnessing it all play out through someone else’s body as your mind floated off and you felt more disconnected.

Your awareness faded in and out.

There was no doubt, you definitely had a small concussion.

“Y/N!”

Your head snaps up as you finally hear Dean shouting your name although it sounded like you were in a fishbowl.

He had somehow gotten leverage and evened the odds with the killer as they both now had a hold of the blade’s handle.

“Y/N! Pay attention you ditzy ass bimbo! Don’t just sit there looking stupid, get the fucking bat.”

You scanned the floor around you.

Sure enough, there was the scuffed metal bat shining back at you resting by your knees.

Your injured hand grazes it and you see a red trail of blood smearing across it as the cool smooth metal soothes your ruptured skin.

“Y/N, what the fuck are you daydreaming about?! Get your ass over here!”

You grip the bat’s handle, ignoring the pain to use it and the coffee table as leverage to push you up off the floor.

You sway on your feet as your blood pressure drastically drops from standing too quickly.

Your head feels light.

Your body feels light.

Surprisingly too, even the large heavy metal bat now feels light in your injured palm.

“Fucking finally, Y/N!”

Dean yelled as he saw you on your feet.

“It’s not like I’m trying to fight off a killer here or anything dumb bitch.”

Dumb bitch?

Oh yeah, he means you.

God, Dean was fucking annoying you just wished he would shut up sometimes.

You couldn’t even think straight.

What were you doing again?

Right, the bat. He told you to bring it to him.

You wanted to sit down again. You were so tired.

You couldn't rest though as Dean’s voice was ringing in your ears.

You just wanted him to shut up more than anything so you willed yourself forward.

“Give Dean the bat, Give Dean the bat.”

You lowly repeated in a mantra like state.

Your vision was spotted with black dots swirling like the pain in your head.

GiveDeanthebatGiveDeanthebatGiveDeanthebat

You gripped the handle in both hands.

You were going to give Dean the bat.

“Y/N! Goddamn bitch move your lazy fuckin–”

C-R-A-C-K!

The slick sound ricochets throughout the entryway and reverberates in your ears.

C-R-A-C-K!

You feel warm droplets of moisture spray on you.

C-R-A-C-K!

The bat and Dean’s motionless body both simultaneously hit the floor with a thud.

You closed your eyes.

You felt… relief?

Like you could breathe again as the hazy veil that had shrouded your thoughts lifted and the throbbing in your head slowly receded.

You weren’t sure how to describe what you were feeling but it was some mix between euphoria, exhilaration and… freedom?

Well, you were finally free of Dean for good now.

You couldn’t help but be amused by that thought as you wiggle your toes in the warm red liquid that pooled around them.

A child-like giggle resounds from you.

Was this post nut kill clarity?

Catching a glimpse of yourself in the hallway mirror you noticed blood and chunks of brain matter strewn all over Choso’s jacket.

You wouldn’t be able to go without washing it now.

You frowned at the thought of his scent being washed away as well as you unzipped it, checking to see if the stains seeped through the lining too.

You had made such a mess.

Quick movements out of the corner of your eyes reminded you of the fact you were not alone.

The actual Ghostface killer stood mere feet away from you, his intentions clear as he visibly heaved and extended his knife out to the side approaching you.

You sighed exhausted.

“I’m not going to be able to blame this one on you, am I?”

Ghostface shook his head, confirming what you already knew.

☠

Choso felt his own adrenaline reach a frenzied peak.

He approached you with the animalistic stature of a predator who was sizing up another.

You were a killer now, no longer simply his prey.

Proving as much as eyes showed no remorse for the life you had taken.

Yet given what he had walked in on just minutes ago and how distraught you were leaving the party, there was nothing for to mourn anyway.

The only emotion shown was concern for the on coming threat of him as you backed up to keep from his advances.

Heh, that could just as easily be him right now bleeding out on the floor.

He mused as he side stepped Dean’s body to stalk closer towards you.

Choso smirked, he was only disappointed he wasn’t the one to kill him.

Although he couldn’t deny how beautiful you looked creating your own work of art.

A bit abstract and not as precise as his own methods.

Nevertheless, Choso continues to be amazed by how his cute and clumsy little undergrad just showed him a darkness he had only previously recognized in himself.

Choso watches you back away until your ankles hit the bottom of the staircase.

Your feet and hands were slick with blood and you couldn’t find your footing on the steps nor support yourself on the railing so you were forced to scooch up the stairs.

Yet given your injury even that proved difficult for you.

What would he do with you now?

“W-We’re even right? You saved me, I saved you.”

You tried to bargain as you saw him crawl up the staircase after you.

Ghostface cocked his head to the side considering your words as he reached you and stopped your escape with a strong gloved hand digging into the flesh of your hip.

Ghostface suspended himself over you covering your frame entirely and his metallic blade glared in the light as if it would pierce into you at the slightest whim.

Were you going to die like this?

Despite the danger you couldn’t help but be a bit turned on.

Especially as Ghostface’s touch reminded you so much of–

“Did you get off on killing your boyfriend, Y/N?”

Ghosface taunted, speaking for the first time.

“...or were you already this fucking wet from fantasizing about someone else, hm?”

Your eyes widened.

Your mind raced too fast to reach a succinct conclusion. But you were disappointed to hear a voice box distortion instead of the actual person's voice beneath the mask.

Your flurry of jumbled thoughts are paused when you feel the cool caresses of the flat metal side of his blade drag across the skin of your stomach leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Your chest heaved slowly with steady intensity as your breath shuddered.

“Are you turned on now Y/N?”

You look away from Ghostface as he taunts as you. You feel more self-conscious considering who you think is under the mask.

Just how fucked up was it you were turned on from murdering your boyfriend in cold blood to save a serial killer who might have been the guy you had just been masturbating to who was also the serial killer Ghostface and very likely about to kill you now?

Very.

Very fucked up was the answer.

You would have been ashamed if you could bring yourself to care.

Choso’s jerks your face back to him as the hand with the blade parts your legs.

The lust in your eyes and your drenched cunt were all the answers he needed.

“AHH!”

You cry out as you feel the smooth metal come down to slap your clothed cunt hard, sliding over your pussy lips.

You fight the urge to close your legs. You can’t or the sharpened edges of the knife would stab into your thighs.

You bite your bottom lip to the point of drawing blood.

This does not go unnoticed by Choso as he brings his gloved hand to your lips to soothe the bite.

His soft leather covered thumb hooks to guide your jaw open, exploring your mouth as you openly moan.

“Tsk, Tsk, we can't have you breaking skin and wasting more of that pretty blood that belongs to me.”

You shiver at his words dripping in possessiveness and your mouth encloses around his thumb, sucking as your tongue still squirms under its pressure.

A strained hiss comes from Choso and his eyes roam down to admire the slime trail of sticky fluid your clothed cunt dripped his blade.

Before Choso can get a peak at your pussy your hands fly down to cover yourself.

Amused, Choso gently removes his hand from your mouth to palm your inner thigh as his thumb slick from your spit rubs circles into your flesh.

His coaxing has you spreading your legs wider as he brushes up against the hands covering your cunt.

“Show me Y/N.”

He breathed out.

You pouted and shook your head.

“Is my little slut a liar then? I recall you telling me you didn’t mind if I saw your panties.”

Your suspicions confirmed you gasped in realization but Choso could no longer control himself as his hunting knife returned to your body to trail up your stomach this time the pointy edge hovering over your soft skin.

Your stomach sucks in to create distance between the blade and your skin causing your chest to push up through your arms but it's exactly what Choso had wanted.

Whoosh

With a swift slash through the air his blade slices your bra in two and its straps fall back down your shoulders laying bare your breast and hardened nipples to the cool air.

Exposed, your hands instinctively move from you core to cover your tits.

You see Choso pull back from you to sit up fully.

No longer touching you as he opted to imprint into his memory the imagery of your wet puffed pussy glistening through the soaked and now nearly transparent thong which clung to your lower lips like second skin.

He shifted his mask as the voice box moved from over this mouth.

“Y/N” he sighed.

Hearing his actual voice had you whining with need again.

Choso couldn’t keep his hands off you for long as he grasped hold of your thong and slipped his fingers between the fabric covering your cunt.

Choso rubbed the sticky moisture on the thin fabric between his thumb and forefingers while his knuckles bullied into your clit, causing your toes to curl.

“Mmm C-Choso.”

Your hands went from simply covering your tits to messaging them, pulling on your nipples, as you couldn’t hold back the sounds from the pleasure you felt from him touching you.

Shit. He wanted to ruin you.

Choso’s knife returns to your throat applying soft pressure dangerously close to breaking skin.

“So tell me what you want then, Y/N?”

Choso knew you wanted him but he wanted you to say it.

He needed you to admit it to him outright before he could really believe it.

His knuckles had stopped teasing your clit and your body trembled as you bucked your hips into his hand and pouted.

“I want you to hurry up and decide if you’re going to fuck me or kill me before my sorority sisters get back Choso!”

Choso smirked under the mask.

Becoming a killer turned you into a bit of a brat.

But he knew how to handle you.

Heh, fair enough.

Driving the knife into the staircase behind your head he pulls you up, swapping positions and seating you on his thigh.

He pulls his soiled track jacket off of you and you shiver as the cold air hits your back.

“Mm, Fuck me Choso”

You sighed longingly, arms encircling his neck.

“Mm, Should I though?”

Choso questions out loud as you melt deeper into him from his hands roaming your body.

One settles on your hip under the band of your thong and the other peels you back by your hair so Choso can see your eyes blown out fully with lust.

“Or should I make you wait like I’ve been waiting ever since you first stumbled into class in that slutty green skirt?”

You cried out and our tongue lolled out of your mouth when he yanked your panties roughly by the front, pulling the material between your pussy lips.

Your clit was cradled in the steamy fabric and you clutched the front of his robes for stability as your eyes rolled back.

“Do you know how much you made me suffer thinking about that pretty pussy of yours? How many times I fisted my cock? How much blood I spilled to forget the way you looked in those slutty outfits?”

Choso's own desire was apparent in his raspy voice.

You shake your head and tears spill as he pulls the fabric tighter over your clit.

“I-I w-wanted you too,” you sniffled out.

“Then prove it,” Choso breathed out huskily.

“I want that needy cunt of yours to beg me by fucking herself real nice on my thigh like she did on your mattress earlier.”

You could have combusted as he all but admitted he had in fact been watching you from your closet, still you couldn’t help but obey his orders.

The frantic way your heart pounded in your chest couldn’t trump the unbearable arousal between your legs.

You braced yourself on his shoulders as you began to rock your hips down on him.

“That’s it baby.”

Choso encouraged you as you heard a loud rip and realized he had cut away your thong when you felt him snatch the material right off of you.

Your plump pussy lips parted when pressed onto his thigh and you felt the rough material of his heavy robes directly chafing against your clit.

Surrendering to pleasure you circled your hips to grind down on him as Choso started bouncing you on his leg.

The impact of your weight forcing your clit down while his thigh pushed up into you shaking.

“S-shiiiit D-daddy!”

You cried out arching back.

Choso could have busted in his pants completely untouched when he heard you call him daddy.

You didn’t know how much you had him wrapped around your perfectly manicured fingers.

He would kill every single one of those bastard frat fucks on campus on a whim if you asked him to.

He would do anything for you.

Choso's muscular thigh flexing underneath your cunt felt amazing but your hole was screaming to be filled as it gaped around the phantom thought of his cock penetrating you.

“N-Need more. S’not enough Daddy”

You beg, whining into the mouth opening of his mask.

Your breath enters through the material as your hot tongue presses against the cloth barrier hungrily.

His own tongue responds in kind, entangling with yours through his mask and you moan deeper into the opening.

You feel so good yet are still frustrated that you alone are naked while you couldn’t even see a sliver of skin from him still in his full Ghostface attire.

You move to lift up his mask when he stops you, breaking the makeshift kiss.

“Now, now Y/N.”

Choso playfully chides.

“Can you think of nothing but my dick? You’ve forgotten so quickly this is still a crime scene?”

You panted as you looked over your shoulder and spot the gruesome remains of Dean’s lifeless body and half bashed in face. Blood stained the foyer rug and pieces of tissue splattered on curtains, walls and even the fake plants.

Right.

You still had no idea what you were going to do about that situation but Dean was already dead. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Honestly you felt as if you might die as well if you couldn’t get Choso’s dick inside of you soon.

Your hips never stopped grinding down on his thigh as you returned your attention to him.

You knew if Choso couldn’t even kiss you, he couldn’t fuck you either as those same rules applied to both potential sources of DNA.

“S’fine.”

You pout.

“I-I had your jacket, y-your DNA could c-come from that.”

Your injured hand came to cup the slide of his masked face and your other rubbed the outline of cock over his jeans, feeling the precum soil through them despite the thickness of the fabric.

Blood from your hand smeared onto the pristine white Ghostface mask as you pulled your foreheads to touch.

“I’ll admit Dean was right, w-we w-were sleeping together...”

Choso chuckled.

“...and then get me expelled for sleeping with a student on top of a motive to connect me to your victim?”

He gave your ass harsh smack.

Your cheeks clenched and your panting grew more ragged as you chased your high against him.

“Y/N you gotta think with that sexy little head of yours not that needy little cunt if you really want me to fuck you. I know you’re smart. This should be easy for you.”

You groaned.

Thinking was virtually impossible right now.

You wanted to give up and resort to begging again but Choso calling you smart (something your recently deceased ex never did) and now rubbing your thighs encouragingly, had made you so happy you wanted to make him more proud of you.

You reluctantly stopped your hips, ignoring the fiery ache shooting through in your cunt but you wanted to cum from his cock not his thigh.

You closed your eyes and exhaled a shaky breath.

Focus Y/N, you willed yourself.

Focusing became harder to do though when Choso became impatient and had nuzzled his masked face into your chest.

His mouth latched to your nipple through the black cloth, swirling his tongue and grazing his teeth against your bud causing it to swell.

“Oh!” you smiled sweetly down at him and his abs tightened as he held you closer to him.

“We get rid of the body! Clean up and make sure there's no crime scene to be found!”

“That’s correct,” Choso praised you as if you answered a question in class correctly.

“Now, most importantly, how exactly will we get rid of the body, Y/N?”

“We…w-we..”

Your fingertips grazed your lips and you bit a nail as you pensively considered your options.

You looked like you were thinking so hard on this.

So fucking cute.

“Come on baby, tell me.”

Choso was the one begging you now while he lifted your hips just enough to pull up his robes and position you to straddle his dick straining against his jeans.

You were so close to the answer. He knew it would come to you and he wanted to be inside of you as soon as you got it.

You clasped your hands together and gave him one of your pageant winning smiles he grew to love.

“We make a kill room!”

“Smart girl” Choso said as he lifted his mask and his lips came crashing down on yours.

☠

“Shit-Shit-Shit!”

You cried as you lower yourself onto Choso’s cock.

You had begged and pleaded him for this but Choso was so much bigger and longer than you expected.

You never had a problem taking dick before but not only was Choso huge he had 3 rows of frenum ladder ball piercings on his long veiny cock that dragged against your gspot when you tried to force him inside you.

You still had about an inch to go and his fat cockhead was already pressing against your cervix.

“Fuck baby, you really been keeping all this good pussy from me?”

Choso spread your cheeks to assist you down on his enlarged length but your walls vice gripped his cock preventing him from guiding you down further.

Choso grunted, he was going to too cum fast if you didn’t ease up.

Pulling you back, he captured your lips again devouring them as he violently pushed his tongue into your mouth in a sloppy kiss, dominating you completely.

A tremor shot through your cunt as your hips jerked and your legs quivered.

“My slutty girl is so sensitive she came from just kissing?”

Choso teased knowingly pulling back to allow you air and lapping at the drool from the corners of your mouth.

It wasn’t just a kiss.

Without the hindrance of a mask Choso’s kisses felt like he was eating you alive and set your body ablaze.

Your orgasm came with enough intensity to loosen your walls allowing you to finally sink down to the base. However your legs are still vibrating and unable to support you riding him.

You fall forward into the crook of his neck.

“C-can’t D-daddy” you babbled into his neck drooling.

Choso wanted to tease you more. He wanted to goad and praise you enough so you would ride him in earnest until your pretty face sobbed for him to fuck you but time was of the essence now.

You both probably had a good hour and a half left before the cops broke up the party and members of your sorority started heading back.

He needed to finish you quickly and he silently promised to take his time with you later.

Rising up, Choso positioned his arms under your thighs to keep you seated on his cock as he walked up the few steps to reach the landing in the middle of the staircase.

Placing your back carefully against the wall he glides his hands over your sweat and blood laden skin to lift your legs onto his shoulders. His grip settles onto the fat of your ass and he marvels at how his fingers sink into them.

Choso allows you time to get adjusted to the new position as he now held you in a standing mating press.

“Ready?”

You nod and Choso takes that as his greenlight to rigorously fuck you into the wall with such vigor you felt it quaking behind you.

There was no possible way you could have ever been ready for that though and your hands dive into his hair tugging at the roots under his man buns as if you intended to scalp him.

Your reactions fuel his cruel thrusts as Choso greedily drinks your guttural screams into his mouth.

They sound more heavenly than any he had heard before even from his own victims.

Slamming you down on his cock, Choso manhandled you like you weighed nothing to him.

His piercings and engorged veins continue to scrape the walls of your core with every stroke as you gush around him soaking his robes.

Choso wanted more of you.

He didn’t think he would ever get enough.

You felt so fucking good he could fuck you like this for hours and he cursed the dwindling time he had before he needed to remove himself from the warm comfort of your mushy cunt.

The hallway echoed with sounds of his hips sadistically ramming your body further into the wall as well as the sloshy vulgar noises his cock tore from your tight creamy cunt.

“S-so c-lose Cho–”

Were the only words you could croak out as your cries become lodged in your throat.

The pleasure you received being folded between Choso and the wall had you salivating like crazy. Drool was pooling in your mouth faster than it could dribble out down the sides.

You locked eyes with him.

The wild glint in them was so primordially feral you can’t believe you ever mistook the restraint he tried to maintain around you for shyness.

Frankly, there was nothing timid about him.

The cold confidence of a true killer radiated off of him and into your core as each of his thrusts felt like they were stabbing into your womb.

Your whines turned into horse croaks as you desperately gasped for air.

Like a killer he showed you no mercy as his long cock shifted your guts up and into your lungs.

Choso was quite literally murdering your cunt.

“Yeah Y/N? Is my girl gonna cum all pretty like on this dick?”

Too cockdrunk to reply, your pussy readily spoke up for you as your walls clenched and spasmed. White stars flood your vision as your body vibrates against him as you cum hard, gurgling his name.

Choso’s hips stuttered and his moans increased as he fucked you through your orgasm and chased his own.

He knew better than to cum inside you, he wasn’t wearing a condom and didn’t even know if you were on birth control.

But your cunt was like a drug to him so Choso resigned himself to cleaning you up after as he gave one last thrust, injecting you with his hot seed that scorched your insides and sent you spasming all over again.

It took a few minutes for Choso to catch his breath but he gently released your legs down to touch the floor as he pulled out of you.

You groaned immediately at the loss after being so full as you still tried to regain your own steady breaths.

Not missing a beat, Choso moved with reverence as if he was worshiping your form from the kisses he peppered down your chest and belly.

“Eyes on me, baby,”

Choso ordered, glancing up at you.

You nodded your breath hitching once he reached below your belly button and he threw one of your legs over his shoulder again.

He shamelessly breathed in the scent of sex wafting off your pussy.

The musky mixture of his cum and your juices combined with sweat and blood entered his nostrils and sent his eyes rolling back into his skull.

You shuddered.

You wanted to feel his mouth on you more than anything but you knew you couldn’t both remain like this in the open hallway for much longer.

Seemingly forgetting all concerns of time, Choso’s thumbs lightly ghost over your battered pussy lips as he slowly peeled back the slippery folds.

His chest swoll with pride seeing how much of his cum you had taken inside of you.

Choso's tongue salaciously darted out to catch the drippings that seeped out of your messy little cunt.

Despite your concerns, you can’t resist bucking up towards his face as he brought your hips off the wall towards him.

“Be patient princess, let me enjoy this.”

Choso open handedly spanks your pussy, landing a direct hit on your clit which has you shaking as your squirt spritz onto his face.

His thick tongue rolls out of his mouth like a man starved licking his lips at the feast before him

“Goddamn, I already love her so much”

He cooed into your cunt while looking up at you with puppy dog eyes.

“Go out with me, yeah Y/N? I’ll treat her right. Just let me have a taste of her everyday.”

You almost came on his face again from the utter display of depravity he was showing you, not missing the fact he was so pussy drunk he was technically asking your cunt to be his girlfriend instead of you.

To be fair you were both way past the point where he needed to ask you out anyway as he was an accomplice to your homicide and soon-to-be cover up.

“Okay Choso, I’ll be your girlfriend,”

You grinned at him.

Choso thanked you by gently placing a kiss on your clit before nose-diving into your folds like a mad man between your legs.

Seeing how sensitive you are it wasn't long before he had you thrashing on his lips from the nasty way he heartily ate your cunt out.

The suckling, bubbling and squeaking sounds of him inhaling your pussy nearly had you at your peak again.

Yet you were snapped out of your pleasure when you heard the grandfather clock in the hall ring signaling it was midnight.

Fuck what if the party got broken up earlier than expected?

“W-we don’t have time for this Choso.” You plead anxiously as you pry his head out of from between your legs.

The sounds of the clock chiming and the sight of Dean’s body still laying in the entryway made you more nervous with every passing minute it remained there.

His eyes narrowed dangerously on you as he nuzzled his nose back into your cunt hooking it under your clitoral hood.

“Oh? My sweet girl gets one kill and thinks she knows better than me what we have time for?”

His expression dares you to pull him away again as he drags the flat of his tongue lazily over your clit.

“Please Choso…”

Choso relents as he feels you tense up more, he wouldn't be able to enjoy himself unless you were.

“You trust me right Y/N?”

“Yes”

You breathe out as his fingers play with your puffed pussy lips.

“Do you have the key to the basement?”

You nod.

“And you know exactly where the supply closet is, baby?”

You nod again.

“Perfect. This won't take long at all then.”

Choso assures you as his confident words calm your worries.

“So now just relax princess and let me take care of you. This isn’t my first clean up job babe…”

You weren’t sure if Choso was talking about your cunt or the dead body, but you didn’t doubt he was experienced in both.

“Give me 15 minutes to see how many times I can make you squirt on my tongue. Then we can finally make that dexter kill room you like so much, yeah?”

You nodded once more and Choso wasted no time drowning his face back into your cunt.

You sighed contently.

He was already the best boyfriend you ever had.

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ

A/N: How was that? Did I do our emo kang justice? Lmk! (y'all better lmk cause y'all busted my balls for days over this lmfaoooo)

Also ding dong Dean is DEAD thank fuck. Whew I made that man as horrible as possible so you could kill him. Tbh, I would kill a nigga just for pouring Milwakees in my hair alone, that shit smells and tastes like cat piss lol.

Also here if y'all wanna see a cute lil pixivi I made of me bimbo!reader x Ghostface!Choso.

You know the original idea for this was actually based on a fic I was writing where Choso, Yuji and Sukuna (all brothers) all transfer to your university and bimbo!reader (no bf this time) clearly likes Choso but his oblivious emo ass has no idea and keeps being a dick to you cause he thinks you are just making fun of him. LOL! I may in the future still end up writing a version for that since this ended up going in a completely different direction with Ghostface thrown into the mix.

Y'all this fic was way too fuckin long. I know theres likely errors/redundancies still so I will comb through it later and I may edit/reword somethings too but general content will stay the same. Tbh, what took so long is the last scene cause I decided I cannot write a smut fic with Choso where that man isn't acting completely deranged and unhinged over the taste of pussy. He's munch, he can't help it.

Reblog for Ghostface!Choso to be your personal munch, but likes and comments are appreciated all the same!

Next up on Kizzatober, Werewolf!Toji from Thrilling Ghouls! (PWP)

ღTaglistღ: @callm3senpaii @arxliana @jujutsualy @luxiethefairy @akaza-simp01 @fredswh0re @missphanosaur18 @moon-esque @samicamy-13 @strvqtt @wisteriaflowersss @spookyy-gracee @jujutsualy @anakalana @crying-person @missphanosaur18 @jazzmynerule @megatqistina @trobed1312 @mimiemie @insomninaz @bloodysweetcat @cyyberm00n @nikkitc0703 @briefrebelfanalmond (so sorry if I missed anyone but I'm delirious rn forgive me ily)

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fairyniceyeah · 9 months ago

Text

💎😇Day 21: "Let's play a game"

Stairs/Pressure Points/Trap Door

@juneofdoom

Day 20: "I can handle it."

Summary: Let’s play a game, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. Jeonghan was not having fun.

CW: injuries, emeto, swearing (but like the amount I wouldn’t tag in a The Rose fic)

Whumpee: Jeonghan

Caretaker: Minghao

Let’s play a game, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

That was all that was running through Jeonghan’s mind as he himself ran through a villa they had rented for a Going Seventeen Episode.

In teams they were tasked to find pieces of papers with numbers which in turn held codewords which they would have to tell the staff who then had a list of other tasks they had to do before running off to find another number with another codeword in order to…

Yeah, Jeonghan wasn’t a fan. Especially since his team was the worst. Vernon, oblivious as fuck, had ran past the number they had been searching for three times until Jeonghan himself had noticed it. Jihoon wasn’t faring much better. Nobody had thought about the fact that the producer could at times not even see the numbers hanging in high areas or reach them to turn the paper around to find out the codeword. Jeonghan was the best of the three and … well, he was lazy, hated running and was more than a little annoyed that he had not yet found a way to cheat.

Well, he had tried and then Seungcheol, bastard that he was, had reported him removing numbers to the staff which had turned into a penalty for his group and the rest of the members laughing at them.

At least Jihoon also was not having the time of his life - he was currently pouting in a corner as Hoshi laughed at him and asked him if he needed a box to reach things. Hoshi, who was in a team with sore-loser Seungcheol and tall-as-fuck Mingyu - they were so far ahead of Jeonghan’s team that he could spare the time to make fun of Jihoon.

So, yeah, what if Jeonghan was annoyed?

It was only a game.

… a game that he wanted to win.

Jeonghan was torn out of his thoughts by Jihoon calling his name. The tiny producer had managed to shake Hoshi off and was now staring in disdain at a paper that hung unfairly high on the wall by some stairs. It had likely been placed there to be out of eyesight but even for Jeonghan who was half a head taller than Woozi it was very high.

“I hate this game”, Jeonghan groaned.

“You’re telling me that?”, Jihoon complained, crossing his arms.

Jeonghan cooed and patted his head, grinning even as Jihoon hit him - hard - in retaliation.

“Cute.”

“You’re just pissed that you were caught cheating”, Jihoon said.

“I am not”, Jeonghan replied. “Only that Seungcheol betrayed me like this.”

“Hey”, the leader called across the hall, having heard his full name. “Stop pouting. You deserved that!”

“Shut up”, Jihoon and Jeonghan called back.

Together, with similarly crossed arms, they both stared up at the paper taunting them. Carats would have a field day with that view of them.

“What are we gonna do about that?”, Jihoon finally dared ask.

“I suppose, I could try balancing?”, Jeonghan suggested.

“Are you crazy?” Jihoon whirled around to look at him. “You’ll fall.”

“I won’t.”

Maybe it was the frustration over the game or it was recklessness itself that caused the petulance in Jeonghan’s chest. He would get that piece of paper no matter what it took. Without waiting for Jihoon to argue back, Jeonghan stepped closer to the edge of the stairs and forced his weight forwards against the wall. Standing on his tip-toes he reached out to the paper but he soon had to realize that it was futile. He was too far away even on the top of the stairs. Going down a step would bring him closer horizontally but he wouldn’t be tall enough then.

“Hold me”, he ordered and grasped onto Jihoon’s hand before the younger had a chance to stop him again.

“Hyung, don’t”, Jihoon said, sounding a bit afraid, but Jeonghan trusted his dongsaeng to hold him. Slowly he inched closer to the paper with his fingers, centimeter by centimeter.

Then he managed to hold the edge but it wouldn’t come off easily.

“Hyung”, Jihoon called, his voice now more frantic. “Hyung.”

But Jeonghan would not fail on the last millimeters. He leaned forward and then he held the paper in his hand.

Yet, he had not considered that the force he used to lean forward would also force Jihoon forward and that only Jihoon would be able to pull his momentum back. Jihoon, while having started to work out a few weeks ago, was still not that strong and could definitely not compensate for Jeonghan’s weight - not on top of the stairs.

“Hyung”, Jihoon yelled desperately, but it was too late. Jeonghan’s hand slipped from his grip as Jihoon desperately tried to pull him up.

They both fell backwards. Jihoon? Onto the top of the stairwell. Jeonghan? Down the stairs.

Pain exploded all over his back, along with the back of his head.

Jeonghan screamed.

People were yelling, shouting over each other. Jeonghan furrowed his brow as he struggled to catch his breath. It was like his whole body was consumed by pain. A foggy haze was over everything.

He blinked a few times and then managed to keep his eyes open.

“Han-ah?”, Seungcheol’s voice asked and then his best friend’s face came into focus. He sounded very frightened. His voice was more shaky than Jeonghan had heard in a long time.

“Cheollie?”, Jeonghan rasped and tried to push himself up to get to him. Immediately hands pressed him down and he winced as pain engulfed his back. This was not nice. Turns out: Falling down the stairs hurt. What a surprise. He’d been too reckless and paid the price. He just hoped that Jihoon…

“Stay down, hyung!”

While the earlier pain had dazed him, now everything became much clearer. He blinked. Seungcheol was kneeling by his side, as were several of his dongsaengs and some managers. Jeonghan definitely saw Vernon, Joshua, Dino, Seokmin and Seungkwan but the one he subconsciously was searching for, was not there.

“Jihoon-ah?”, he questioned, eyes flickering all over the area. Where was Jihoon? Had he fallen too due to Jeonghan’s recklessness?

“He’s okay. Scared and in shock, but physically okay. Soonyoung and Wonwoo are with him”, Seungcheol soothed though his voice was still off. Jeonghan couldn’t blame him for it. He didn’t want to know how he himself would have reacted in a similar situation.

At least Jihoon was fine.

Good. As Jeonghan breathed out, he realized everybody held their breath in anticipation. Several pairs of eyes were watching him, piercing him.

Jeonghan supposed he must be quite a frightful sight. Collapsed on the floor after falling down the stairs due to his own stupidity. That had not been his plan at all. Now everybody was worried. He most certainly didn’t want that. So he tried to push himself up again. Pain flared up all over his spine and vertigo hit him so hard he nearly blacked out. There was sudden nausea in his throat and he gagged.

“Hyung, hyung”, Seungkwan called, pressing onto Jeonghan’s chest, “don’t move. The managers already called an ambulance and they said you shouldn’t move. You might have seriously hurt your spine or head.”

Several pairs of hands held Jeonghan down, even as he squirmed. It was too much. Everything hurt. He was so nauseous. People were crowding him. There was no space to breathe.

Jeonghan was going to throw up.

He gagged, trying to jerk his head to the side in desperation but someone - Dino? - stopped him.

Jeonghan was going to choke if they didn’t let him turn.

It was all too much. So many people and so many feelings and he was so small and helpless on the ground. He started to sob. More hands came to touch him, brushing his hair away and leaving his skin crawling.

Then the most beautiful sound came: “Stop! Stop touching him! Can’t you see he is overwhelmed? Move away, now!”

The hands retreated and Jeonghan cried in relief. Fat teardrops fell down his face and dripped into his ears, laying on his back as he was. He weakly tried to move his head, gagging again. He didn’t want to be sick but his stomach lurched so badly.

“Hyung?”, the same voice as before said, “can you open your eyes? I promise, nobody is going to touch you. I just want to see your pretty eyes.”

Jeonghan reluctantly opened his eyes, only now realizing he had squeezed them shut. Above him, Minghao was looking down at him - close but far away enough to not overwhelm. Everybody else was gone. It was just the two of them. Jeonghan hoped Minghao was not as terrified as he looked. It shouldn’t be his responsibility to take care of his stupid hyung. But he was helping - much better than anybody else. His gentle calmness calmed Jeonghan down.

“Eissa”, Jeonghan whispered, “I feel so sick. I’m going to throw up. I need to turn. Please. Please, I …”

Minghao had been the most understanding of them all. He hadn’t crowded Jeonghan. He surely would allow his hyung to move, to turn, so he wouldn’t choke on his own sick. Right?

“I’m sorry, hyung. You can’t move. You fell on your back, you might have seriously injured your spine”, Minghao said apologetically, worriedly.

Jeonghan started to panic again. His breath came faster, hurting his back and head. Everything was spinning. He retched, a tiny dribble of vomit coming up and with the force of his back muscles rippling, it spewed out of his mouth and dripped down his lips onto his chin. Jeonghan cried out in pain as the movement hurt his back, trying hard to stay still but also so scared. At least he wasn’t forced to inhale his own throw up. Instantly a hand wiped at his mouth, making sure nothing could run back into his mouth.

All Jeonghan could do was try to stop himself from vomiting again, all the while sobbing so badly it upset his stomach even more. He couldn’t remember feeling so scared for himself ever before. The nausea wouldn’t relent and he was sure he would die then and there, choking on his own vomit. Even as he tried to stay still to keep the pain at bay, his body was trembling with the sobs.

Then something pressed into his hand, the space between his thumb and index finger. It was so much of a surprise - why would anybody do that instead of holding his hand or something? - he stopped crying. Another hand was stroking his hair but this time it felt good. Comforting.

Through blurry sight he saw Minghao holding onto his hand with both his hands, pressing down.

“Is this better?”, the dancer asked worriedly. Dazed, Jeonghan hummed in agreement. Yeah, he did feel better. The nausea was dying down and his throat didn’t feel like it would contract any second anymore. He didn’t understand.

Minghao must have seen the confusion on his face as he explained: “I once read that there was a pressure point for nausea between the thumb and index finger. I thought I’d give it a try. It’s helping, yes?”

“Yeah”, Jeonghan agreed. He truly felt much better. The pain was persistent and he was still very scared of what he had done to himself but the overwhelming panic and dangerous nausea were gone.

“Please keep still, Jeonghan-hyung”, Minghao now said, “the ambulance should be here soon and they’ll take very good care of you. Are you in much pain?”

“My back, mostly”, Jeonghan replied truthfully. He owed Minghao that - he never liked being lied to. “My head, too, a bit. But I can endure it.”

Jeonghan knew he might have really injured himself. It could be a career-ending injury even. But he didn’t care at the moment. His heart was too full of worry for his members who were left to deal with him.

One of Minghao’s hands let go of his, though the young dancer made sure to hold onto the pressure point with the other. The free hand came up to wipe away the tears on Jeonghan’s face and then stroked back long strands of hair that were sticking to his cheeks.

“I’m glad. Please be more careful, hyung”, Minghao whispered, “it was terrifying. I was taking a break and was watching you and Woozi-hyung. Seeing you fall so suddenly … I … you really scared us today.”

“I’m sorry, Eissa. I didn’t think”, Jeonghan mumbled. He wished he could comfort Minghao with touch but he knew that moving was not the greatest idea in his state. “Are the others okay?”

“So much is clear”, a new voice said, trembling slightly. Then Jihoon came to sit by them, one arm coming up to wrap itself around Minghao. Jeonghan was glad there was somebody was taking care of their shy young member. “That you didn’t think, I mean. Do you know how terrifying it was to feel your hand slip out of my grip and see you fall?”

Jihoon and Jeonghan locked gazes. The producer’s eyes were red and a bit swollen. He had been crying, Jeonghan realized. He hadn’t wanted to make Jihoon cry - Jihoon who of all people barely cried and if he did never wanted to do it in front of the members. Jeonghan wasn’t sure if - outside of award shows and concerts - anybody beside himself, Seungcheol and Hoshi had seen him cry.

“I’m sorry, Jihoon-ah”, Jeonghan apologized quietly. “I never wanted to make you go through that.”

“I know, hyung. Please don’t be so reckless in the future”, Jihoon replied and started to say something else but was drowned out by the hectic of paramedics arriving out of a sudden. Finally.

They carefully transferred Jeonghan onto a stretcher and really, it was scary being encompassed by the neckbrace like he was. Moving was nauseating, too. Minghao, who had moved away from him to let the paramedics work, seemed to understand what Jeonghan was asking as he stretched out his arm towards him.

Seungcheol and Joshua came up to him, a bit reluctant after Jeonghan’s earlier panic, but he shooed them away. All he needed for the hospital trip was for Minghao to keep holding his hand.

“What was it?”, Jeonghan asked two days later, laying on his bed in the dorm. His back was bruised and there was a lovely bump on his head but he was as well as he could be. The members, still scared, tip-toed around him. If he wasn’t so bored, Jeonghan would have loved the pampering. Jihoon, especially, had been a permanent fixture in his room.

“What was what?”, Jihoon asked, looking up from his laptop screen.

“The codeword I nearly broke my back for?”

“Fuck off, hyung.”

Day 22: "What's the bad news?"

Story from Woozi's perspective: Eyes on you, eyes on me

Masterlist link: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's June of Doom 2024

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reveriebae · 2 months ago

Text

Love Overdose

pairing(s) : Park Seonghwa x reader

word count : 7946

genre : smut

summary : seonghwa’s been burned before and swears he’ll never fall for anyone again. But when he meets you, he decides to make you fall for him first—playing mind games, teasing you, and letting you get obsessed. Only then will he let himself care.

warning(s) : dom!Seonghwa, sub! reader, Seonghwa is pushing and pulling, unprotected sex, begging, oral, cunnilingus(?), slight hand job, edging, creampie. Let me know if I missed something!

Part of Songfic

Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!

🪐smut under the cut🪐

It started subtly—just enough to get under your skin without you realizing it.

Seonghwa had always been careful, always in control. Love had ruined him before, and he had sworn never to let himself fall first again. But when he saw you for the first time, something shifted. A spark. An ache. A temptation.

He refused to acknowledge it. Instead, he turned it into a game.

At first, he was polite—charming in that effortless way that made him so damn magnetic. He wasn’t too obvious, never too eager. He let you come to him. And when you did, when you found yourself drawn in by the way he spoke, the way his eyes lingered just a second too long, he gave you just enough to make you want more.

The first time he called you late at night, his voice was smooth, dripping into your ear like honey. “Can’t sleep?” he murmured, low and intimate.

You didn’t even question why he was calling you. It felt natural—Seonghwa had a way of making things feel that way. You talked for hours, your laughter soft, your voice laced with sleep. And just when you started to feel comfortable, just when your heart started to flutter at the sound of his deep, soothing voice, he ended the call with a teasing chuckle.

“Sleep well, sweetheart.”

The next day? He barely acknowledged you.

You caught glimpses of him—passing by in the hallway, standing with friends, laughing at something on his phone. But he never looked your way. Never acted like he had spent the night making you feel special.

It made no sense.

The second call came a few nights later.

“Missed me?” His tone was playful, edged with something darker.

You had missed him, though you wouldn’t admit it. He spoke to you like you were the only person in the world, his voice warm, teasing, addictive. He asked about your day, hummed in amusement at your stories, flirted just enough to make your stomach flip.

But again—when you saw him the next day? Nothing. Not a glance, not a word.

It drove you insane.

You didn’t understand it. Every time he spoke to you, you felt like he was pulling you deeper, making you feel something real. But then he shut you out like none of it ever happened. It was like he wanted you on the edge of something—something just out of reach.

And the worst part? It was working.

You started thinking about him more than you should. Wondering when he’d call again. Replaying his words in your mind. Craving his attention, even when you told yourself you didn’t care.

Seonghwa could see it. He could see the way you started watching him when you thought he wouldn’t notice. The way you hesitated before walking past him, waiting—hoping—he would acknowledge you.

He smirked to himself.

You were already getting hooked.

And he hadn’t even touched you yet.

The first time you confronted him, Seonghwa nearly laughed.

You had been patient—painfully so. But patience had limits, and yours had finally snapped.

He was leaning against the wall in the dimly lit hallway, scrolling through his phone like he didn’t have a care in the world. That same air of effortless confidence, that infuriating calmness. Like he hadn’t been calling you late at night, whispering things that made your heart race. Like he hadn’t been slowly pulling you deeper into whatever twisted game he was playing.

You marched straight up to him, your hands clenched at your sides. “What the hell is your problem?”

Seonghwa barely looked up.

“Hmm?” he hummed, his thumb lazily scrolling across his screen.

That infuriating, dismissive reaction made your blood boil.

“Don’t ‘hmm’ me,” you snapped, stepping closer. “You call me in the middle of the night, you talk like—like I actually mean something to you, and then you act like I don’t even exist during the day? What kind of sick game are you playing?”

Seonghwa finally lifted his gaze, dark eyes locking onto yours. There it was—that look. Amusement. Amusement at you. Like he had been waiting for this moment. Like he wanted you to get mad.

His lips curled into a slow smirk. “Oh?” he mused, pushing his phone into his pocket. He tilted his head slightly, watching you like a predator watches its prey. “You’ve been thinking about me that much, sweetheart?”

Your stomach twisted.

You had walked straight into his trap.

The realization hit too late. Seonghwa was already moving, stepping into your space with that unbearable confidence, that smooth, deliberate grace that made your pulse stutter.

“You’re cute when you’re mad,” he murmured, his voice just low enough to make your breath hitch.

You took a step back instinctively, but his hand shot out, catching your wrist.

Your heartbeat slammed against your ribs.

Seonghwa studied you for a moment, his grip light but firm. His thumb brushed against your skin absently, almost like he was testing something. Testing you.

And then, as if he hadn’t just trapped you against the wall, as if he hadn’t just sent your mind spiraling into chaos—he let go.

Stepped back.

Shrugged.

“Relax, Y/N,” he said, his tone almost teasing. “I was just having a little fun.”

He turned to walk away.

Your nails dug into your palms.

Seonghwa paused, glancing over his shoulder. That smirk was still there, sharp and knowing. “Don’t be too upset, sweetheart.” His voice dropped just enough to make your skin prickle. “I’ll call you tonight.”

Then he was gone.

And you were left standing there—seething, confused, and somehow, desperately waiting for your phone to ring.

That night, you hated yourself for how quickly you reached for your phone the moment it buzzed.

His name flashed on the screen. Seonghwa.

You hesitated. You shouldn’t answer. You should make him wait this time, make him feel the same frustration he put you through. But your fingers moved before your brain could catch up, swiping the call open.

You pressed the phone to your ear. “…What?”

A low chuckle. “Aww, sweetheart. You sound upset.”

The sound of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. Slow, rich, dripping with amusement. Like he already knew exactly how much you had been thinking about him.

You gritted your teeth. “I should hang up.”

“But you won’t.”

Your breath hitched.

There was a rustling sound on his end, like he was shifting, settling in somewhere comfortable. “You’ve been waiting for my call, haven’t you?” His voice dropped, honey-smooth. “Spent all day thinking about me?”

You refused to answer.

Seonghwa hummed. “That’s cute.”

Your grip tightened around the phone. “You’re an asshole.”

“Mmm. Am I?” A soft exhale, almost like a sigh. “But I bet you’re in bed right now. Lying there, holding your phone with both hands, trying not to admit how much you wanted to hear my voice.”

Your pulse stuttered.

“Tch.” He made a small, mocking sound. “I bet you look so pretty like that.”

Your breath grew uneven. You swallowed hard, forcing your voice to stay steady. “Why are you calling me, Seonghwa?”

He exhaled a quiet laugh, like he was enjoying this far too much.

“I told you, sweetheart.” His voice was barely above a whisper now, deep and smooth, seeping into you like a drug. “I just like having a little fun.”

You clenched your jaw. “This isn’t fun for me.”

“No?” He tsked. “Then why haven’t you hung up?”

Your fingers twitched.

Silence stretched between you, thick and heavy.

Then his voice dropped even lower, dark and deliberate.

“Be honest, baby.” The way he said it—baby—made your stomach flip. “Do you want me to stop?”

Your lips parted.

You should say yes. You should.

But you didn’t.

Another chuckle. “That’s what I thought.”

He let the silence linger, letting his words settle in, letting the tension coil around you like a vice. Then, just as you felt like you might drown in it, he spoke again—soft, teasing, devastating.

“Sleep well, sweetheart.”

And then the line went dead.

You stared at your screen, your heart hammering against your ribs.

You hated him.

You wanted him.

And worst of all?

He knew it.

The next day, you swore you wouldn’t fall for it again.

You wouldn’t check your phone every five minutes.

You wouldn’t let him get to you.

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

And yet, the moment you spotted Seonghwa across the room, your stomach twisted into knots.

He was leaned back in his chair, legs spread casually, one arm draped over the backrest, looking as effortless as ever. His long fingers tapped absently against his knee, his lips quirked in that same unreadable smirk. He wasn’t even looking at you.

Like last night had never happened.

Like he hadn’t spent the entire call pulling you deeper, making your breath hitch, leaving you burning with frustration and something else—something you didn’t want to admit.

Your nails dug into your palms. Asshole.

You forced yourself to ignore him, to act like you didn’t care either. But then, as you passed by, something shifted.

You felt it before you saw it—the weight of his gaze, slow and deliberate, dragging over you like a touch.

You refused to look at him.

But then, just as you reached the door—

“Y/N.”

His voice was smooth, rich, curling around your name like a secret. It sent a shiver straight down your spine.

You froze.

Slowly, you turned to face him.

Seonghwa’s eyes met yours, dark and unreadable. He tilted his head slightly, his lips curling at the corners. Like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“You forgot something.”

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

He leaned forward, resting his chin against his hand, his gaze locking onto yours. The way he looked at you—it wasn’t playful, it wasn’t teasing. It was intentional. Calculated.

And then—his lips parted, and his voice dropped to that devastating, intimate murmur.

“You didn’t say goodnight.”

Your breath caught.

Heat rushed to your face, your chest tightening with something sharp, something infuriatingly needy.

The audacity. The absolute nerve of him.

Your jaw clenched. You opened your mouth to snap at him, to say something—anything—but his smirk deepened. Like he was waiting for it. Like he wanted you to lose control.

You refused.

Instead, you straightened your spine, forced your expression into something neutral, and turned on your heel without another word.

You didn’t see it, but behind you—

Seonghwa chuckled under his breath.

Hook.

Line.

Sinker.

The days blurred together in a haze of tension. You tried to keep your distance, tried to act indifferent, but Seonghwa’s presence was like a magnetic pull you couldn’t resist. Every glance from him, every teasing word, set something off in you. Your patience was wearing thin, and you knew it.

And then it happened.

You were sitting in the quiet, dimly lit café, attempting to distract yourself with your phone, pretending that nothing he’d said or done had affected you. You were fine. You were so much better than this.

Then, the door chimed as it opened, and the very air seemed to shift.

You didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

Seonghwa.

You could feel the weight of his gaze on you the moment he entered, the way his presence seemed to fill up the space, making everything else around you feel insignificant. You resisted the urge to look up. You kept your focus on your phone, acting casual, but it was like you could sense him drawing closer.

And then—his voice.

“I thought you’d be here.”

You finally looked up, your heart giving an involuntary skip at the sight of him standing there. He was leaning casually against the table, his hand brushing lightly against your shoulder as he glanced down at you, that smirk of his playing at the edges of his lips.

You swallowed, trying to keep the annoyance in check. “What do you want?”

Seonghwa’s eyes darkened just the slightest bit, his gaze locking onto yours. “I wanted to see you, sweetheart.” His voice was low, seductive, like he was savoring each word. “Is that a problem?”

You clenched your jaw, trying to keep your composure. “No, just... annoying.”

He chuckled. “I like when you’re annoyed.” His finger brushed against the edge of your cup, tracing the rim slowly. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

You shook your head, half-tempted to leave the café entirely, but the thought of walking away, of letting him win that easily, burned too much.

Seonghwa leaned in closer, his breath brushing against your ear. “What’s the matter? Did I make you miss me, sweetheart?” His voice was almost a whisper, sending a shiver down your spine.

The proximity, his voice, the way he was so effortlessly close—it made your mind whirl. “You think you have that power over me?” You whispered, heart racing, feeling caught between the desire to push him away and the urge to pull him closer.

Seonghwa’s lips curled into that familiar smirk, but this time, there was something darker beneath it. “I know I do.”

And then he was gone. Just like that. He turned and walked away, leaving you there, trying to catch your breath, the weight of his words pressing against your chest.

The game was far from over. In fact, it had just begun.

The next few days felt like you were stuck in a loop, and Seonghwa was the center of it all. The more you tried to ignore him, the more he seemed to slip into your mind, infiltrating every thought, every breath. His words, his smirk, the way he looked at you with that cocky confidence—it haunted you, gnawed at the edges of your sanity.

And then, on one of those nights, when the air was thick with tension and the world felt too quiet, your phone buzzed again.

His name flashed across the screen.

You stared at it for a moment, debating whether or not to pick up. You had sworn you wouldn’t do this again. You wouldn’t fall for it.

But a part of you... wanted to.

With a sigh, you answered. “What now, Seonghwa?”

His voice greeted you almost immediately, smooth and lazy, like he’d been waiting for you to pick up. “I’m thinking about you.”

Your breath caught at the directness of it. You cursed yourself for the way your heart fluttered, for how easily you let him get under your skin.

“What’s new?” You tried to sound indifferent, but it came out breathless, like you were already unraveling.

He chuckled softly on the other end, his tone dripping with amusement. “Oh, it’s new, sweetheart.” His voice dropped lower, quieter. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot... in ways I shouldn’t.”

Your breath hitched. You felt your pulse race at the words, a mixture of confusion and something dangerously close to excitement curling in your stomach.

“And what ways are those?” you forced out, trying to sound unaffected, but failing miserably.

He was silent for a moment, the air between you thick with anticipation. And then—“In ways that make me want to break every rule I’ve set for myself.” His words were slow, deliberate, like he was savoring the effect they were having on you. “You think I don’t know how much you crave this? How badly you want me to touch you... feel me against you...”

Your fingers trembled as you gripped the phone tighter, trying to steady yourself. But every word he said, every inch of his voice seemed to tear down the walls you’d built around yourself.

“You want me to make you beg, don’t you?” Seonghwa’s voice was a whisper now, the air between you so thick you could almost feel him beside you. “To make you desperate... because I know you are. You’ve been desperate for me since the moment we met.”

A sharp breath left your lungs before you could stop it, the heat of his words searing through you. You wanted to say something, anything, to push him away, but it was like your mouth had gone dry.

Seonghwa’s laugh was low, dark, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

You swallowed, the words dying in your throat.

He wasn’t waiting for an answer. He never did. His voice slid over you again, more sensual now, more demanding. “I think it’s time you stop pretending you don’t want me.” His words were practically dripping with heat. “Stop pretending you don’t want me to do everything I said I would. To make you mine.”

Your heart slammed in your chest, and the desperation you’d been hiding deep inside you bubbled to the surface, uncontrollable.

“Seonghwa...” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” His tone had shifted, the sweet, teasing layer now stripped away. There was something darker now, something that promised consequences. “You want me to come to you? To take you?”

Your skin burned at the thought, but you didn’t have the strength to deny it.

“Yes...” you whispered, feeling your chest tighten.

Seonghwa exhaled sharply, the sound almost like a growl. “I knew it.” The words were a mixture of satisfaction and something dangerous. “I’m going to make you regret ever pretending you could resist me.”

You felt the words hit you like a wave, crashing over you in a force you couldn’t fight. The tension, the craving, the maddening desire you’d been hiding from—it all snapped.

You wanted him. And he knew it.

The silence that followed was unbearable. Your body was hot, your mind clouded, and every second that ticked by only made it worse. Seonghwa had left you hanging, lingering in that space between wanting and needing, knowing exactly what he was doing to you.

You gripped your phone tighter. "Seonghwa..." You tried again, your voice smaller this time, laced with frustration.

A soft chuckle, smooth and taunting. "Hmm?"

You swallowed. Your pride was slipping fast, and you hated how easy it was for him to pull it from you. "Are you coming or not?"

Seonghwa hummed like he was thinking about it, like he was weighing the decision. "I don’t know, sweetheart." His voice was dripping with amusement. "I think I like you like this. Flushed, restless... waiting for me."

Your stomach twisted, frustration bubbling into something closer to desperation. "You’re cruel."

Another chuckle, deeper this time. "Oh, but you like that, don’t you? You like when I make you wait. When I make you beg."

Your breath hitched.

“Say it, baby. Tell me how bad you want me.”

You clenched your jaw, fists curling in the sheets. It was infuriating how easily he unraveled you, how much control he had over your thoughts, your body. But you needed him. More than you wanted to admit.

And he wasn’t going to let you have him until you did.

Your voice was barely above a whisper. "I want you."

“Louder.”

Your fingers trembled around the phone. Your heart was racing. "I need you, Seonghwa."

A sharp inhale from his end. And then, something shifted. His voice dipped lower, silkier, more dangerous.

"Good girl."

A click.

The line went dead.

And your breath caught when you heard a knock at your door.

You barely had time to gather yourself before another knock echoed through the room. Your pulse pounded in your ears as you pushed off the bed, your legs feeling weak before you even reached the door.

When you opened it, Seonghwa was there, leaning against the frame, his eyes dark and unreadable. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. The heat in his gaze alone sent a shiver straight down your spine.

Before you could say anything, his hand was on your waist, pushing you back inside with a slow, deliberate step. The door shut behind him with a soft click, sealing you both into the tension-thick room.

His fingers trailed up your arm, featherlight, teasing. "Took you long enough to say it, sweetheart."

You swallowed hard. "You’re the one who made me wait."

Seonghwa hummed, tilting his head as he stepped closer, his chest nearly brushing yours. "Mm. And yet, look at you." His fingers lifted to your jaw, tilting your chin up so your eyes met his. "So ready for me. Just like I knew you'd be."

Your breath hitched. His scent—clean, intoxicating—wrapped around you, and his presence was overwhelming, swallowing you whole. You felt small beneath him, like you were melting under the weight of his gaze alone.

“Seonghwa—”

He cut you off with a slow press of his lips to your temple, lingering just long enough for your body to tremble. "Shh, sweetheart. I want to take my time with you."

His hands trailed down your sides, fingertips tracing over your hips, toying with the hem of your shirt. "You wanted this, didn’t you?" His voice was smooth, knowing. "Say it again."

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. But you couldn't hold back anymore.

"I need you."

Seonghwa’s breath ghosted over your skin as he exhaled, satisfied. His lips curled into a smirk against your jaw before he whispered, "Then let me ruin you."

Seonghwa’s fingers brushed over the fabric of your clothes, slow, deliberate. Every touch was designed to make you shiver, to make you feel helpless under his hands. His lips hovered just over yours, his breath warm, teasing.

But he didn’t kiss you.

Instead, he smirked as he tilted your chin up, forcing your gaze to meet his. “You’re already shaking, sweetheart. We haven’t even started.”

You let out a frustrated whimper, gripping the front of his shirt. "Seonghwa..."

He chuckled, low and dark, completely unfazed. "What is it, baby? Use your words." His thumb dragged across your bottom lip, pressing in just enough to make you part your mouth slightly. "Tell me exactly what you want."

Your body was burning, the tension unbearable. He was so close, his hands touching, teasing, but never giving you what you needed.

“Kiss me,” you finally breathed, voice trembling.

Seonghwa exhaled a soft laugh. "So desperate already?" He leaned in, lips just brushing against yours—but before you could press forward, he pulled back, his smirk widening.

You whimpered again, frustration bubbling over. “Stop teasing...”

His fingers traced over your waist, slipping beneath your shirt, just barely skimming your heated skin. "Oh, baby... teasing is the best part."

Your hands clutched his shoulders, trying to pull him in, but he was stronger. His grip tightened around your wrists, pinning them above your head against the wall.

“Try again,” he murmured, his voice velvet-smooth. “Ask properly.”

Your breath was ragged, body arching against him as you bit your lip, struggling against the ache he had built inside you.

“Please, Seonghwa.”

His expression darkened, satisfaction flickering in his eyes. His fingers squeezed your wrists just a bit tighter. “Please what?”

You swallowed, throat dry. He was going to make you say it.

“Please... touch me.”

Seonghwa hummed, like he was considering it. His knee slid between your thighs, pressing just barely enough to make your legs tremble. “That’s a start.”

Then—finally—his lips crashed onto yours.

The kiss wasn’t sweet. It was starving, all tongue and teeth, like he had been waiting for this just as long as you had. His grip on your wrists tightened as he pushed you further against the wall, pressing his body fully against yours.

You moaned into his mouth, legs threatening to give out. He growled softly at the sound, swallowing it greedily as he deepened the kiss.

His free hand slipped lower, fingertips teasing along your thighs before he gripped your hips, pulling you harder against him. "Fuck, you feel so good against me," he murmured against your lips.

Your head spun as his kisses trailed lower, down your jaw, your neck, his tongue flicking against your skin just to hear you gasp. "I love how easily you melt for me," he murmured against your pulse point. "So obedient when you're desperate."

You whimpered again, arching into him, but he still wasn’t giving you enough.

“More,” you breathed, your voice breaking.

Seonghwa chuckled, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. "Say it again, baby."

You clenched your fists, shaking in frustration. "More. Please, more—"

He exhaled a sharp breath, his fingers finally slipping beneath your waistband, teasing at the heat waiting for him.

"Good girl."

Seonghwa’s fingers dipped lower, teasing over your heat, his touch featherlight—too light. You gasped, hips jerking forward, but he only chuckled, his grip tightening on your waist to keep you still.

"So needy," he murmured against your skin, his lips tracing the sensitive curve of your neck. "You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you? Thinking about it? Thinking about me?"

Your breath hitched.

He pulled back slightly, his dark eyes locking onto yours as his fingers traced slow, lazy circles right over where you needed him most. "Tell me, sweetheart. Did you touch yourself, thinking about me?"

Your face burned, shame creeping up your spine, but your body betrayed you, hips rolling toward his touch.

Seonghwa smirked. "I’ll take that as a yes."

Then, without warning, he pushed his fingers deeper, pressing firmly against the damp fabric covering you. Your back arched, a sharp moan slipping from your lips, and his smirk widened.

"Fuck, you’re soaked," he muttered, voice low and rough. "All this just for me?"

You nodded frantically, but that wasn’t enough for him.

"Use your words."

Your fingers clutched at his shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto. "Yes—Seonghwa, please—"

"Please what, baby?" He moved his fingers just slightly, rubbing slow, teasing strokes over your heat, keeping you teetering right on the edge.

Your whole body was trembling now, your mind fogged over with need. "Please... don’t tease."

Seonghwa clicked his tongue. "But you look so pretty when you beg."

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts, dragging them down in one slow, torturous motion. His lips brushed against your ear, voice dripping with satisfaction. "Let’s see how much more you can take, hmm?"

Then, before you could even catch your breath, he dropped to his knees.

The sight alone nearly made you break. Seonghwa, looking up at you with dark, hungry eyes, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you steady. His breath was warm against your skin as he pressed soft, teasing kisses along your inner thighs, deliberately avoiding where you needed him most.

Your legs shook, fingers threading into his hair, tugging slightly. "Seonghwa—please—"

He exhaled a sharp breath, his hands tightening around your thighs. "You sound so fucking sweet when you beg, baby."

Then, finally—finally—his lips met your core.

The first swipe of his tongue was slow, languid, savoring you like he had all the time in the world. Your body jerked at the sensation, a strangled moan escaping before you could stop it.

Seonghwa groaned softly against you, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure up your spine. His grip on your thighs tightened, holding you in place as his tongue flicked against your clit, relentless and precise.

You gasped, your head falling back against the wall. "Oh—fuck—Seonghwa—"

He hummed in response, his tongue pressing harder, working you open, drinking in every sound you made like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

Your legs trembled, the pleasure building too fast, too intense. You tried to shift, to run from the overwhelming sensation, but Seonghwa wasn’t letting you go anywhere.

"Stay still, baby," he muttered against you, his voice thick with lust. "Take what I give you."

You cried out as he sucked harder, his tongue flicking mercilessly over your most sensitive spot. Your whole body tensed, the coil in your stomach tightening dangerously.

"S-Seonghwa—"

He pulled back slightly, his lips slick and glistening, his breath heavy against your skin. "You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?"

You nodded frantically, barely able to form words.

Seonghwa smirked. "Then do it. Come undone for me."

Then his mouth was on you again, working you over with devastating precision, pushing you closer, closer—

Until you broke.

Your whole body tensed, back arching as pleasure crashed over you in waves, a sharp cry slipping from your lips. Seonghwa groaned against you, holding you through it, dragging out every last tremor until you were nothing but a trembling mess in his hands.

When he finally pulled away, his lips were curled into a wicked smirk. He wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

"You taste even sweeter than I imagined," he murmured.

Then, slowly, he rose to his feet, towering over you once again. His hands gripped your waist, steadying you as he pressed his lips to your ear.

"And I’m not done with you yet."

Your body was still trembling, breath shallow, mind spinning, but Seonghwa? He was completely in control—calm, composed, devastatingly sexy.

His lips were still wet, glistening with the evidence of what he had just done to you. His tongue flicked out, slow and deliberate, swiping over the corner of his mouth like he was savoring the taste. And God, the way he looked at you.

Dark, hooded eyes filled with hunger. That smug, knowing smirk curling at the edges of his mouth. He knew what he had done to you. Knew you were utterly wrecked, shaking, barely able to stand. And he loved it.

"Look at you," he murmured, voice dripping with satisfaction. His fingers ghosted over your flushed skin, sending shivers through your already-weak body. "Completely undone... all because of me."

Your eyes flickered over him, drinking him in. The sharp cut of his jaw, the way his tongue ran over his lips, the way his black shirt stretched over his lean, sculpted torso. Even the way he stood—towering over you, exuding raw, effortless dominance—had your stomach twisting into knots all over again.

"So fucking beautiful," you whispered before you could stop yourself.

Seonghwa stilled.

Then—slowly—his lips curved into a smirk, something dark flickering in his gaze.

"Say that again."

Heat crawled up your neck, but you couldn’t look away from him. "You’re beautiful."

Seonghwa exhaled a quiet laugh, but there was nothing soft about it. It was laced with arrogance, with desire. He took a step closer, so close you could smell his cologne, the lingering scent of skin and sweat and something undeniably masculine.

"You think I’m beautiful, sweetheart?" His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. "That’s cute."

Your lips parted, breath coming in short gasps. Every little movement he made had you teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

His hand slid lower, fingers tracing along the curve of your waist, slow and deliberate. "Tell me more."

You swallowed hard, heart hammering. "You’re... you're sexy."

Seonghwa hummed, pleased. His other hand came up, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, teasing, testing.

"How sexy?"

Your body was burning now, aching all over again despite just having come undone beneath him. "Too sexy."

His smirk deepened. "Mm. That’s better."

Then, before you could react, he grabbed your wrist and guided your hand downward—down, down, until your fingers brushed against the hard, straining bulge beneath his pants.

Your breath hitched.

Seonghwa groaned, low and rough, his head tipping back for a split second before his gaze snapped back to yours, sharp and intense. "See what you do to me?"

Your fingers twitched, the heat between your legs returning at full force.

"Do you want to feel just how much I want you, baby?" His voice was lower now, thicker, dripping with something dangerously seductive.

You nodded weakly, and that was all he needed.

His fingers worked quickly, undoing his belt with a sharp clink, his zipper sliding down in one slow motion. Your pulse spiked as he freed himself, his cock hard, flushed, impossibly thick.

Seonghwa let out a soft sigh of relief, his fingers wrapping around himself as he gave a few lazy strokes. The sight alone had your knees threatening to give out.

"Touch me," he commanded, his voice nothing but smooth, seductive dominance.

Your hand trembled as you reached out, fingers wrapping around him. A sharp hiss slipped from his lips, his jaw clenching as he let you feel just how hard he was.

"That’s it, baby. Just like that."

Your touch was hesitant at first, but Seonghwa was patient—teasing you, guiding you, letting you explore him.

Then, he groaned, low and deep, the sound sending a violent shiver down your spine. His head tipped back slightly, his lips parting just enough to let out another breathy moan.

And you realized—this was what he wanted.

He wanted you to see him like this. Wanted you to fall apart over how beautiful, how strong, how unbearably sexy he was.

"Does this turn you on, baby?" His voice was a husky whisper now, breath hot against your ear. "Seeing me like this?"

Your fingers twitched around him, and he smirked.

"Of course it does."

He took your wrist, guiding you back, forcing you to release him before his hands found your hips, gripping them tightly. His voice dropped even lower, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

"Then how about I make you fall apart all over again?"

Before you could even process his words, Seonghwa was flipping you around, pressing your back against the nearest surface. His body caged you in, all heat and hard muscle, his hands gripping your waist as if he never wanted to let go.

"You’re already shaking, sweetheart," he murmured, amusement lacing his tone. His fingers skimmed along your thigh, slow, deliberate, teasing. "I haven’t even done anything yet."

Liar.

He was everywhere. His scent, his touch, the way his voice alone sent a shiver down your spine—it was all too much, and not enough at the same time.

"Please," you whispered, not even sure what you were begging for anymore.

Seonghwa tsked, shaking his head with that signature smirk. "You sound so desperate. Have I really been driving you that crazy?"

Yes. Yes, he had.

And he knew it.

He pressed forward, his thigh slipping between your legs, his mouth ghosting over your jaw. His lips barely brushed against your skin, teasing, tormenting, never quite giving you what you wanted.

"Tell me, baby." His fingers trailed up, tracing the neckline of your top, playing with the fabric but never removing it. "Tell me how bad you want me."

Your breath hitched. "S-So bad."

"Mm." He hummed approvingly, but his movements remained agonizingly slow. His hands traveled lower, fingertips grazing over the sensitive skin of your thighs, over the heat between them.

Then he stopped.

You whined.

Seonghwa chuckled, dark and deep, his lips finally pressing against your neck in a slow, open-mouthed kiss. "You’re adorable when you beg, you know that?"

You shuddered.

"But I think you can do better."

You whimpered, pressing your hips against his, desperate for anything, but Seonghwa only tightened his grip, holding you in place.

"Use your words, sweetheart." His voice was a taunt, a tease, a wicked temptation. "Tell me what you want."

You swallowed, body burning, head spinning. "I want you to touch me."

"Where?"

Your cheeks burned. He knew where. He just wanted to hear you say it.

You clenched your fists, every inch of you burning with need. "I want you to touch my—"

Before you could finish, Seonghwa was already moving.

His fingers slipped beneath your clothing, finding your heat with terrifying precision. His breath caught, his body tensing for just a moment before a low, satisfied groan rumbled in his chest.

"Fuck, baby." His lips brushed against your ear. "You’re soaked."

You whimpered.

Seonghwa smirked against your skin, his fingers moving in slow, lazy circles, barely applying pressure. "All this for me?"

You nodded frantically, only for him to stop.

"Words, sweetheart."

Your body ached, your nerves screaming for more, for anything.

"Yes, yes—fuck, Seonghwa, all for you!"

"That’s my good girl."

And just like that, he gave in.

His fingers moved with purpose now, rubbing slow, firm circles against your most sensitive spot, his free hand gripping your hip to keep you in place as you writhed against him.

"That’s it, baby." His voice was lower now, almost breathless. "Let me hear you."

You didn’t even care who else might hear. Your body was already teetering on the edge, the pleasure building, tightening, consuming—

"Not yet."

Seonghwa stopped.

A desperate sob ripped from your throat, frustration clawing at your chest as you tried to chase the pleasure he so cruelly ripped away.

"You don’t get to come that easily, sweetheart," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Not until I say so."

You nearly cried. "Seonghwa—!"

He only smirked, his voice a dangerous whisper against your skin.

"I told you, didn’t I? I’m going to make you obsessed with me."

Seonghwa stared at you, drinking in every little reaction—the way your chest rose and fell in frantic little gasps, the way your fingers twitched at your sides like you wanted to grab onto something, onto him. The way your lips trembled, swollen from how much you’d been biting them to keep quiet.

And fuck, if that wasn’t the prettiest sight he’d ever seen.

"You’re already falling apart," he mused, tilting his head as if he were observing something fascinating. "And I’ve barely touched you."

Your entire body shuddered, thighs trembling as you clenched them together, desperate for any bit of friction. But Seonghwa saw. He caught the movement instantly, his smirk curling into something darker.

"Ah, ah, ah—" He tsked, pressing his knee between your legs, keeping them apart. "Don’t be greedy, sweetheart. If you want something, you ask me for it."

You swallowed hard, blinking up at him, completely at his mercy. "Please—"

"Please what?" His fingers dragged lazily up your thigh, making no move to touch you where you needed him most. "You have to be specific, baby."

Your entire body was shaking now, the frustration burning in your chest, twisting into something wild, needy.

"Seonghwa, please—touch me again," you choked out.

"Like this?" His fingers ghosted over the waistband of your underwear, skimming just over your heated skin.

"More," you whined, gripping his wrist, trying to push him lower.

Seonghwa chuckled, effortlessly pulling his hand away. "So impatient," he murmured. "I told you, baby, you don’t get to come that easily."

A desperate sob bubbled from your throat, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt. "You’re so mean."

His head dipped, lips brushing over the shell of your ear. "You love it."

You hated that he was right.

"But I think you’re ready now," he continued, voice smooth as silk. "Ready to prove just how much you want me."

Your stomach flipped. Your lips parted to ask him what he meant, but he was already taking your wrist, guiding your hand downward again—back to where he was aching for you.

The moment your fingers wrapped around him, Seonghwa let out a sharp exhale, his jaw clenching.

"There we go," he muttered. "Such a good girl, always listening so well."

Heat rushed through you at the praise, and you swallowed, tightening your grip slightly.

Seonghwa groaned.

"Fuck." His forehead pressed against yours for a brief moment, his body trembling now too. But then he was tilting your chin up, making sure you saw what you were doing to him. "Feel that, baby?"

You nodded weakly, breath hitching.

"You’ve been whining for me all night, begging me to touch you, but look at you now." His lips ghosted over yours, not quite kissing, just teasing, taunting. "You’re the one touching me."

Your fingers twitched around him, the weight, the heat, the power of it making your thighs squeeze together involuntarily.

Seonghwa smirked. "Are you getting off on this, baby?"

Your face burned, but you couldn’t lie. "Yes."

His chest rumbled with a quiet chuckle, his fingers curling around yours, guiding your movements.

"That’s my girl."

The words wrecked you. Your breath came in short, shallow gasps as he made you work him, slow, agonizingly controlled. The way his muscles tensed under your touch, the way his lips parted ever so slightly when you twisted your wrist just right—every reaction had heat pooling low in your stomach all over again.

"Just like that, baby," he groaned, his free hand gripping your hip like he needed something to hold onto. "Fuck, you feel so good."

Your thighs clenched. His voice alone was enough to push you to the brink, the way it dripped with praise, with pleasure, with barely-contained restraint.

"If you keep being so good for me," he muttered, pressing his forehead to yours, his voice nothing but a husky whisper now, "I might finally let you have what you want."

Your pulse spiked.

"Do you want it, baby?" He lifted your chin, forcing your gaze on him. "Want me to fuck you like you’ve been begging for?"

You nodded, desperate.

"Use your words."

"Yes—yes, please, Seonghwa," you gasped.

His smirk returned, dark and knowing.

"That’s my good girl."

Then, in one swift movement, he grabbed your hips, spun you around, and pressed your body against the nearest surface.

"Now, let’s see how well you can take me."

Seonghwa’s breath was hot against your ear as he positioned himself above you, a slow, deliberate grind that had you gasping in anticipation. Every shift of his hips sent a jolt of electricity through your body, but it wasn’t enough. Not yet. He was teasing you, keeping you right on the edge, dragging the tension out, letting you ache for more.

"Beg for it," he whispered, his voice a seductive rasp as his hands moved down your body, gliding over your skin like he was mapping out every inch of you. He wasn’t rushing. No, he wanted to savor this, make you squirm, make you need him.

You couldn’t hold back. Your body, already trembling under his touch, instinctively shifted against him, desperate for more.

"Please, Seonghwa, just… just give me more," you begged, your voice trembling as you arched up against him.

He smirked, the movement of his hips growing slower, teasing, as his hands found the sides of your waist, holding you in place. "You’re so impatient, baby. I want you to beg a little more."

You whimpered, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your fingers dug into the sheets beneath you. Every inch of your body screamed for release, but Seonghwa was playing with you, testing your limits.

"You like this, don’t you?" His voice was dark, his lips trailing down your neck as his hips circled against yours, his hard length rubbing against your most sensitive spot. "You love how I make you wait."

You moaned softly, your thighs shifting, trying to find something, anything to create more friction, but Seonghwa pulled back, holding you still.

"Don’t move," he commanded softly, his hand on your hip firm as he watched you. "I’m in control here, sweetheart. You don’t get to move until I let you."

You shuddered, the words driving you wild, the teasing so unbearable you could barely think straight.

"Please, Seonghwa," you gasped, the words falling from your lips without hesitation. "Please, touch me. I need you."

His smirk deepened, satisfaction evident in his eyes. "Good girl." He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue, a hard, hungry kiss that made your mind spin. His hips finally pressed against yours fully, the delicious pressure building again.

"You feel that, baby?" Seonghwa growled, pulling back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide with lust. He rocked his hips slowly, letting the friction build at a maddening pace. "You like how I fill you up, don’t you?"

The sensation of him inside you, so deep, so slow, was enough to make your head spin. You whimpered in response, nodding desperately. "Yes, Seonghwa, I need more—"

Before you could finish your sentence, he pulled away slightly, teasing you with a long, drawn-out thrust, just enough to leave you aching for more, before pulling back again.

"Fuck, Seonghwa—"

He smirked, taking control again, his hands gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head as he began to thrust into you with a slow, agonizing rhythm, each push deeper than the last, sending waves of heat flooding through your body.

"That’s right," he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. "You take everything I give you, don’t you?"

You nodded, your hips instinctively lifting to meet each of his slow, deep thrusts. He had you right where he wanted you, desperate, broken by his teasing.

"You’re mine," Seonghwa whispered, his voice thick with lust. "All mine."

His thrusts began to pick up pace, and the pressure, the heat, the building tension was driving you wild. You could barely hold it together, your body trembling, desperate for the release he was so expertly holding back.

Seonghwa’s movements were relentless now, each thrust harder, faster, until there was no room to think—only to feel.

"Seonghwa—please, I—" You couldn’t even finish the sentence before your entire body erupted in pleasure, a loud moan tearing from your throat as you came undone, your nails digging into his back as your body shuddered beneath him.

He groaned at the sight of you, watching as you fell apart, your body convulsing around him. But he didn’t stop, not even for a moment. He kept fucking into you, hard and deep, until you were begging for him to stop, your voice hoarse with desperation.

"Please, Seonghwa, too much, I can’t—"

But he wasn’t done. He only smirked, his pace relentless, his lips brushing your ear once more as he fucked you through your orgasm.

"Good girl. Take it all. You wanted this."

Your legs shook violently as another wave of pleasure crashed over you, and finally, with a low groan, Seonghwa let himself go, burying himself deep inside you, his body tensing as he came with a soft growl of your name.

For a few moments, you both were still, just breathing, hearts racing in the aftermath.

Seonghwa collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, his fingers gently caressing your skin as you caught your breath. "You did so well, baby," he murmured softly, his voice still thick with lust, but with a tenderness that made your heart race. "I’m proud of you."

You let out a soft, exhausted sigh, burying your face against his chest. The heat of his skin, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, calmed the storm inside you.

"You’re mine now," he whispered again, his hand threading through your hair as he kissed your forehead gently. "And I’m not letting you go."

#Spotify #ateez #ateez fic #ateez smut #smut #park seonghwa #seonghwa fic #seonghwa smut #seonghwa

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dewdropdinosaur · 5 months ago

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Kinktober Day 21: Monsterfucking

Summary: You thought making your boyfriend jealous would end in your favor, and some would say it did. Lucifer full of jealously and adrenalive, fucking you feverntly into his mattress while in demon form sounds pretty good to you too. Warnings: P in V Sex, fingering, jealousy, possesiveness, sub/dom dynamics, mosterfucking, demon forms, etc. MDNI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. Kinktober Mention of the Day: @minkdelovely

Lucifer found himself in a rare mood—one that was neither light nor playful nor duck involved. He watched from the corner of the Hotel bar as Alastor, the Radio Demon, his sworn enemy, leaned in close to you, his laughter echoing with static in the air. Alastor’s sharp smile glinted like polished teeth, his voice smooth and teasing. "Oh, Y/N, darling! You are truly a marvel!," he said, his tone dripping with mischief.

Lucifer felt a twitch in his chest—a heat rising that was unfamiliar, yet unmistakable. Jealousy clawed at him, gnawing at his calm demeanor. How dare Alastor flirt so brazenly with his girlfriend? You giggled, a sound that felt like shards of glass in Lucifer's mind, and he clenched his jaw. That cute little giggle should be directed towards him and him alone.

"You know," Alastor continued, seemingly oblivious to the dark aura gathering around Lucifer, "I’ve always said a girl like you deserves a little excitement. Lucifer can be rather… dull sometimes."

The air crackled with tension, the mood shifting as Lucifer’s form began to shimmer, dark red eyes glowing and sending waves of red smoke swirling around him. His eyes glowed like embers, the familiar contours of his demon form creeping into view with his wings unfurling; towering and fierce. Jealously was a little green devil that he hated but by Hells, he wasn’t the sin of Pride to just not let his girlfriend been sullied by that god-forsaken mortal right in front of him.

“Alastor,” Lucifer said, his voice low and dangerous, “why don’t you find someone else to amuse yourself with? I’m sure there are plenty of other souls in Hell who would appreciate your… charm.”

You turned to Lucifer, and what started as confusion morfed into a mix of excitement and immediate arousal flooding your pants. You loved seeing this side of him, the protective, possessive nature that emerged when he felt threatened. “Lucifer, dear, we are just talking” you said lightly, but your smile held a hint of mischief. “Alastor’s just teasing.”

“Oh, but Lucifer,” Alastor chirped, unfazed, “you must admit, a little attention never hurt anyone, mhm?”

With a flick of his wrist, Alastor summoned a crackling radio transmission, playing a chaotic tune that seemed to mock the situation. The sound danced through the air, and he leaned even closer to you, an unabashedly charming smile gracing his features. Lucifer's patience wore thin, and with a growl, he stepped forward, his demon form radiating dark energy. “I don’t recall inviting you to play games with my girlfriend, Alastor,” he said, his voice a smooth, dangerous whisper.

You, caught between the two powerful demons, found the situation thrilling. The tension sparked in the air, making your heart race. “Lucifer, maybe we should just let Alastor have his fun?” you suggested, half-teasing, eyes sparkling with excitement. If all went according to you and Alastor’s plan, this was headed right where you wanted…Lucifer's glare turned from Alastor to you confusion and frustration mixing with something deeper—desire.

“You think this is fun?” he asked, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice.

“Not in the way you think,” you replied, stepping closer, gaze unwavering. “But I do think it’s… hot when you get all worked up.” You ran a finger down the lapels of his suit jacket, his horns shrinking slightly at the touch and wings softening.

With a deep breath, Lucifer glanced at you, then back to Alastor, his voice steady but filled with an intensity that made you heart skip. “Just remember, Alastor, there are consequences for crossing me.” With a sudden snap, both you and your demon boyfriend were teleported away from the red and cackling radio demon into the sanctuary that was Lucifer’s room. The door’s lock rang out with a defined click and soon towering before you, Lucifer’s bright red and angry eyes bored into yours.

“Mind explaining what that was about?” His tone was laced with frustration but you could tell what was underneath, confusion, fear, and adrenaline. A soft smirk came to grace your features as you sauntered toward him, hands laying gracefully on his chest. Your fingers came to trace one of his horns delicately, reveling in the shiver that past through he body beneath your touch.

“I may have entreated Alastor to help me rile you up.” Your voice was nothing short of confident, as if you plan had come to fruition. Which it had. Lucifer’s eyes shone with confusion, his eyes momentarily flashing back to their beautiful original color as his lips formed a small pout.

“You wanted me to be annoyed?’

“Not annoyed, per se. More…jealous and wanting to fuck me while you are big and powerful.”

Now that was a statement if he had ever heard one. Did he hear you right, were his ears decieving him? By Heaven, he hoped not. A ravenous sneer bloomed on Lucifer’s face, his eyes and body once again resuming his full demonic state. With a flash of white and red, the King of Hell pinned you against the headboard of his mattress. Your hands now sat pinned and body pliant to the whims and wishes of the fully demonic figure that hovered above you. And Hells, did it make you horny. Heart racing, body quivering with anticipation, every nerve seemed to sparkle with desire at the scene that played out before you.

“So you want me to fuck you, ducky? Want me to throw you around like the little slut you are?” With quick and rapid nods, he had his answer as you writhed below him. He could smell you, how soaked you were. That damp spot on your pants did little to hide salaciousness of your thoughts and needs. Bringing a clawed finger to rip down the waistband of your pants, the fabric tore at the seams off your skin. Choking back a breath at the flash of cool air that rushed towards your panty-clad cunt, you shiver with delight as he ran a knuckle across your slit.

“Oh, you really want this don’t you? Have barely touched you and you’re already a mess for me.” A lewd mewl passes your lips as Lucifer peeled the panties off your body, the fabric came off with an agonizing of squish of heavy damp slick. Wasting no time on formal foreplay, your body clearly ready and willing, Lucifer sank two fingers into your weeping pussy and started to scissor you wide. Plunging his large and deft fingers in and out of you, your body became lost in the erotic rapture of your senses.

You could feel his touch everywhere. One hand digging into your hips, his mouth leaving sloppy kisses on the valley of your neck, and the other hand knuckle deep inside you in such a way you felt you mind explode. The feeling of fullness was almost an impossible feeling to describe, an ardent need as close as you could think. There he towered over you, the soft outline of his toned chest peaking through the few buttons that had come undone from his top in the frenzy of fervent activity that was occuring. His face was laced with a carnal grin, clearly lost in the rhasposdy that was playing out. He looked so angelic like this, despite his forminable appearance. Eyes shinning with ectasy, lips parted and panting, ripe for you to slip your tongue into if you weren’t getting fingered till you saw stars. He was the stars of Heaven to your mortal form, gazing upon his power and gracefullness as you laid bare and ready to worship the alter of his every desire. How faiithfully you would serve, dutifully his Hellish preist.

The thoughts swam in your head, imagining all the ways you based and mortal soul could only but be of service to the King that hovered before you. But your Heavenly escapdes were quickly brought down the sinful indulgence of the present as Lucifer curled his fingers up into you, massaging that perfect point on the front wall of your cunt racking your body with pleasure.

“So sweet for me, such a precious little whore. You wanted to get fucked by the big bad King of Hell? Well, your wish is my command.”

Removing his fingers with a swift motion, leaving you no reprieve, he sunk his heady and heavy cock into you with one deft motion. Both of you moaning both at the sight and feeling, the delicious yet somewhat burning friction that both of you so desperately craved. Slowly thrusting, taking his time to draw out every noise, he relished in the sight below him. All laid out and pretty, moaning and writhing in pleasure all because of him, his power. How you had planned all of this just for him. You were truly such a loyal little sinner, so obedient and ready for him. After Lillith, he thought his life was crumbling, ready to end his own immortal exsistence. But there you came, waltzing into his life like you owned his soul and now here you were, eager and willing for him in every way he never thought possible. The thoughts alone nearly had Lucifer busting inside you, mumbling incoherently as he picked up the pace, driving deeper, the walls of your cunt squeezing onto him for dear life. The added weight and pace was becoming nearly too much.

“Go on Ducky. Tell me….tell me how good I feel….”

“Fuck, good, so fucking good—” Sobs of pleasure racked your body, cute and plush face stained with streak of tears that Lucifer bent down to lick gently off your face. You can feel your release barreling towards you with a unrecognized speed. Maybe it was all the build up of this moment; how long you had imagined this very thing or maybe it is just that good, you’ll never know. But Lucifer knows your body like it’s his and it is. Where to drive, the right spot to hit every time that had the pressure building and building till you felt the coil in your stomach snap as you cry you lover’s name.

Gasping for air, you peeked your head up as you calmed down, only to see Lucifer’s eyes completely dialated and black; staring at the way your body soaked up his seed. He did not move, admiring the full indent in your stomach as your body greedily swallowed his cock and cum, Heavens, he prayed it would take.

“So ducky, feel like riling me up again anytime soon?”

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gigabyte-flare · 3 months ago

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Pause the Game

[A Gigabyte Flare One Shot]

Summary: You decide to play a video game to help you wind down so you can go to bed. Sylus has other plans.

Word Count: 1.9k

Pairing: Sylus x fem!Reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Pet names, dubcon, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie

A/N: Part one of 21 Reasons is going to be freaking massive so I wanted to get a one shot out to help hold me over (especially after yesterday's banner reveal WOOF). This is loosely based on Sylus's "Crying Wolf" Secret times; as an avid gamer, that audio rewired my freaking brain. So naturally, this is 5000% self indulgent, but I hope you guys enjoy it anyway!

It's now morning, you begin to make a mental note of all the things you have to do today before the day ends; you don't have much time.

Wake up, go water the plants, collect the eggs, milk the cows, collect the duck feathers, sheer the sheep--

"What are you playing, Sweetie?"

You practically jump where you're sat up in bed, dropping your phone in the blankets on your lap. You didn't even hear Sylus come into the bedroom.

"Are you trying to scare me, Sy?" you ask, rolling your eyes up at him as he leans over the bed to see what you're so focused on.

"Me, try to scare you? Never. Although I am shocked my little Hunter didn't even notice me…" a devious smirk appears on his lips as he leans in close to your ear, "when I was this close."

His breath on your ear causes a chill to run straight down your spine and into your core, the depths of you throbbing in response to his voice; he knows exactly what buttons to push on you. You shake your head, pushing the lewd thoughts aside just as you bring your hand up, pushing his face away.

"Sylus, come on, I was just really focused on what I was doing!"

He instantly grabs your wrist, holding it still for a moment before letting go; his devious smirk transforming into something darker, "you should know better, it'll take more than just your hand to keep me away, Kitten."

A sudden sad sounding chime emanates from your phone, drawing your and Sylus's attention to it, the words 'YOU LOSE: The wolf ate your livestock!' hovering on the screen. You let out an annoyed sigh as you pick up your phone from your lap.

"Oops… looks like you lost. Sorry for interrupting your game, Sweetie," he says with a low chuckle as he stands back up straight, slipping his hands into the pockets of his dress pants, "don't I recall you telling me this morning that you are going to start going to bed early from now on? Only naughty Kittens stay up and play games."

You clear your throat, once again willing yourself to not let Sylus get you worked up, "I like to play video games to help me wind down and go to sleep!"

Looking down at you, Sylus raises a scrutinizing eyebrow, "playing video games to fall asleep? That is the most absurd thing I've ever heard. I think someone is trying to pull the wool over my eyes."

"No I'm not! Here, give it a try! It's relaxing!" you reply, holding up your phone to Sylus.

"You want me to play your silly game?" he raises his brows, glancing down at your phone before his crimson gaze shifts back up to you, he smirks again, "Oh… you're trying to prove your innocence to me. I suppose I'll indulge you."

He gently takes your phone from you, pulling the comforter back to sit in bed next to you, "scoot over, Sweetie."

You immediately shift over so he can sit next to you, laying your head against his upper arm as he cradles your phone in his hands.

"So, what exactly do you do in this game?" he asks softly.

"It's a farming simulator; you take care of your crops and livestock each day, but if you're not paying attention, the wolf will come and eat your livestock," you explain as you watch him start to play your game, the upbeat music of the game once again filling the bedroom.

"I can see how you fall asleep playing this, it's awfully boring," he replies with another soft chuckle, "let me count the sheep… one, two…"

You playfully poke Sylus's side, "well I like this game, quit being a jerk."

Sylus lets out a huff as he smiles down at your phone. He mindlessly takes care of your farm for a few minutes before his gaze begins to wander; starting with your hands folded in your lap, up your arms until he finally settles on the necklace adorning your neck.

His breath hitches upon recognizing the necklace, "is that the necklace I gave you for your birthday?"

"It is, actually," you reply, looking downwards as your bring you hand up to gently caress the necklace resting on your collarbone area, "I really like it."

"I have good taste, don't I?" Sylas asks, his own hand caressing the necklace, leaning over so that his lips hover just next to your ear, "so pretty."

He kisses the shell of your ear, intentionally making a sound knowing it drives you absolutely wild with need. His lips move from your ear, to just behind your ear, using his tongue, teeth and lips to mark your skin. You can't help but let out a soft whimper, however, you advert your gaze to your phone in his hand, the farm being left unattended.

"Sylus, what are you doing?"

"Sorry, Sweetie. This spot was too enticing for me to resist…" he purrs into your ear.

"But the farm--"

"The farm?" Sylus sits back up, his crimson eyes giving you a predatory look, "I don't have your undivided attention, do I?"

He growls, turning his body and climbing on top of you while still under the blankets, essentially caging you with his body, his ruby eyes practically burning into your soul as he looks down at you, "you know how much I hate sharing, Kitten."

Your phone, now laying on the bed next to the two of you, plays the same sad chime from earlier. You watch Sylus's eyes shift over to your phone, that smirk you love so much appearing once more, "oh dear… looks like we lost again."

Leaning down to you, his lips hover above yours, his breaths ragged, hot and heavy as he whispers, "the wolf ate all the animals."

Before you can even say a word, he descends upon you, his mouth devouring yours like a man starved. His hands grip your upper arms like a vice as he turns his head to invade your mouth with his tongue, savoring you. In the midst of this, you try to reach over to grab your phone, but Sylus is quick to grab you by the wrist again, pinning your arm to the mattress before shoving your phone away, so hard that it falls off the bed.

"Now, why are you reaching for your phone?" he asks, burying his face into the crook of your neck, "if you need something to help you fall asleep, I can fulfill that role."

He props himself up on his arms and knees, once again caging you beneath him. First, he slips your pajama top up over your head before he slowly moves downward, trailing his lips and tongue down your body as he moves.

He stops briefly over your breasts, his hot breath caressing your hardened nipples before he speaks, "how do you think the wolf ate the animals? Like this?"

His mouth seals itself over one of your breasts, his tongue swirling and flicking your nipple; all the while his crimson gaze is locked on you. You can't help but let out a strangled moan, covering your mouth with your hand as your body trembles beneath him.

He relinquishes your breast with a pop, then proceeds to continue moving downward once more, gracing your skin with his soft lips as he moves lower and lower. He reaches the hem of your pajama bottoms, hooking them and your underwear beneath with his fingers, peeling them off slowly and tossing them off the bed once they're off. He pries your legs apart, looking up at you with an animalistic grin.

"Or like this?" he growls before diving into the spot between your thighs, lapping up the sweet nectar of your arousal.

"Sylus!" you cry out, your hand moving down to tangle your fingers in his silver locks, but rather than push him away, you force him down into your heat, earning you a dark chuckle in response; the vibrations coursing through your folds, sending shivers of pleasure through your body.

He starts by flicking your throbbing clit with his tongue, then wrapping his lips around it, sucking it like his life depends on it. The coil of your release binds tight in your stomach and just when it's about to snap, he moves lower. His tongue delves into your leaking hole, caressing your walls as his nose rubs your clit. Your heels dig into the mattress, trying to stop your legs from violently shaking, but your efforts are useless. Your makeup is running down the sides of your face from your violent cries of his name. He lets out a low growl, the vibrations hurling you over the edge. Your release covers tongue and mouth; when he pulls himself away from your sex, strings of your orgasm pull away with him before snapping and dripping onto the sheets below.

Sylus sits up onto his knees, his deft fingers making short work of his belt and pants zipper, "is my Kitten prepared?"

Your eyes widen when he pulls out his hardened length, the tip red and angry, dripping with pre-cum. He then proceeds to crawl back up to you, nestling his hips between your spread legs; you feel the tip of his cock prod at your entrance.

"Because the wolf is coming."

With a single jerk of his hips, he sheathes his whole length into your warm depths, causing you to yelp. As Sylus stares down at you, you drape your arms around his shoulders, trying to brace yourself as he begins to brutally thrust into you. Each thrust hits your cervix, making your eyes flutter and roll into the back of your head. Sylus buries his face into the crook of your neck once more, biting and sucking dark bruises into your skin.

"Don't hold back, Kitten. I want to hear how good I'm making you feel."

His ministrations move to your throat, but not before running his tongue over the necklace he bought you, pulling a strangled moan out of you. His tongue continues to run up your throat until he reaches your chin. He smirks, a low chuckle emanating from him before his lips are on yours once more. You can taste the tangy flavor of your release as your tongues dance with each other. His large hands grasp your breasts, gently squeezing them before he rolls both nipples between his index fingers and thumbs. You sob into his mouth, which he happily devours with a growl. Soon, his thrusts become uneven, heralding his release.

With a breathy moan of his own, he snaps his hips into you once last time, his member throbbing as he paints your pussy walls white with his love. His hands grasp the pillow under your head as he rests his forehead against yours. You whimper as your legs hook around his waist, your body shaking as you come down from your own release. Your breaths are shaking as you place a gentle kiss onto the tip of his nose. He can't help but smile and laugh.

"That was more fun than you silly little game, wouldn't you say, Sweetie?"

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace smut #lads smut #sylus #sylus love and deepspace #sylus lads #sylus x reader #sylus x reader smut #sylus smut #gigabyte writes

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wlwsoccerfics · 1 month ago

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Clingy Girlfriend (Grace Clinton X Russo Reader)

Summary: If is time England Camp and you finally See your girlfriend again. You two are doing Long Distance because she plays for Manchester United and you okay for FC Barcelona.

Warnings: some talks about siblings having to compete with one another, migraine, throwing up.

"Baby!" You hear Grace voice and then you nearly got knocked over because she was jumping on your back, but you managed to keep her up with your arms and steady yourself so you wouldn't fall.

"hey Love!" You said and smiled gently. "I guess asking If you missed me isn't necessary anymore after this!" You replied and giggled softly. Ella walked over with your sister.

"hey little Sis!" Alessia said and smiled at you.

"thank god you are here! Every day at practice she was talking about you y/n! It was getting annoying!" Tooney told you, playfully rolling her eyes.

"hey Less! Hey Ella! What can i say? I am amazing!" You let them know. Winking softly, obviously joking. "But on a serious Note, GracieBean? Where is my kiss?" You asked. Grace quickly got down from your back and turned you around. Kissing you softly. You kiss back and smile into the kiss.

"get a room!" Your sister yelled out, chuckling softly.

"These two in one room and the entire floor won't be able to sleep at night! They haven't seen eachother in a while! So they aren't sharing!" Leah stated, walking over. Smirking softly.

"hello Captain!" You answered teasingly. Hugging Leah, before hugging your best friend Hannah. "Hi Hampton!" You playfully said. "Hi little R." She answered, hugging you back. Smirking softly.

You shared a room with Beth while Grace shared one with Lucy. It did feel like the two were chosen to make sure the two of you didn't sneak into eachothers rooms. Both of you clearly weren't happy about this.

It didn't take long before there was a knock on the door of your room, which Beth opened and Grace walked straight past her, into your open arms.

"i needed some cuddles!" She informed you.

"you two saw eachother like 40 minutes ago!" Beth stated. "I know long distance sucks. But please remember to Focus on Camp too!" She added.

You and Grace look at her, frowning softly.

"playing for two different countries and making a relationship work is way harder then playing for two different Teams in the same country. Both hard but it's even more challenging for us." Grace explained. She sure didn't sound like a 21 year old. But more like someone in their 30s with way more life experience then she actually had. Same goes for you though. You are 22 years old.

"yeah Beth i agree. For you and Viv it's challenging, for us it's even worse." You replied and held Grace close.

"i know, i know." Beth answered with a soft sigh escaping her lips.

"we are very professional and when we are on the pitch or at practice we will be very focused!" You tell her gently. Offering her a small smile.

"okay good. i will be downstairs and play some games with some of the Girls. So you two can have some alone time, just remember we have practice in three hours." She stated and smiled at you before leaving the room. Leaving the two of you alone.

You cuddle with Grace, fingers intertwined. Kissing every now and then. Just enjoying eachothers company.

"i feel so lucky that i get to love you!" Grace told you. You smile at her.

"you are sweet Babe. But i am the lucky one! I can't believe how much love i always feel from you. You don't make me feel like i am second best or like i have to compete for favorite Russo." You explain to her. "I know it's not a competition and i am proud to be Lessis sister but it just sucks that people always seem to compare the two of us!" You admitted. She kissed your head. Holding you as close as possible.

"you two may be sisters but you both have your own personality! And you are different people! There shouldn't be people comparing you with one another!" Grace stated. "And if that helps, i like your sister but for obvious reasons you are my favorite Russo!" She added and smiled a little. You smiled back.

"i would hope so." You replied with a genuine giggle escaping your lips.

You two get ready for practice in your seperate rooms before meeting up with everyone else in the Hotel Lobby.

"the lovebirds actually managed to make it on time!" Tooney said teasingly.

"i am always on time!" You stated and chuckled softly.

"not always!" Alessia replied, teasingly.

"okay you two leave the little lovebirds alone!" Mary answered with a soft smile. You walked to the trainings pitch, holding Grace' hand while talking to Hannah.

You did some drills and partnerd up with Grace, no one was surprised about that. The two of you were working well together. It was like, you didn't even have to talk to one another ,but still managed to communicate with your eyes.

After that you did some practice games. 3vs3 and you played with Ella & Leah against Beth, Lucy & Jess. This was alot of fun and a good way to start of England Camp.

When practice was done you all went to shower and decided to meet up for Team Dinner later that day.

You got out of the shower and dried yourself off. Putting on some England shorts & an England Hoodie, before walking out of the bathroom and over to your bed. Beth went to take a shower next. You felt a migraine coming up so you took some meds, hoping you caught it just in time. But unfortunately around 10 minutes later you realized that it in fact was too late so the migraine was in full swing now.

You laid on your bed. Legs pulled up to your stomach. Eyes closed. Focusing on your breathing, wanting to breathe through the pain.

Beth walked out of the bathroom, dressed up in an outfit that was similiar to yours. She saw you lying there and knew right away what was going on. Having seen that many times when Viv had a migraine. Cause unfortunately the dutch Woman struggled with it as well.

"sweets, anything i can do?" Beth whispered out. You sniffle softly.

"can you get Grace for me, please?" You asked her.

"yes of course." She answered but closed the blinds before she left, walking to Grace' room. Lucy was the one who opened the door.

"what's up, Meado?" Lucy asked.

"is grace here? Y/n is asking for her. She is having a full on Migraine right now." The blonde answered.

"damn, poor, Russo!"Lucy stated, not having much time to say anything else because Grace was already walking past them. In a hurry to get to you. Beth quickly followed her. When the door to the room was opened you weren't in your bed anymore though. No both Grace & Beth could hear you throwing up.

"i will be hanging out with Leah, good luck!" Beth turned around and walked out quickly. She wasn't good with hearing people throwing up but always managed to pull through when it came to Viv.

Grace walked into the bathroom , kneeling down next to you. Rubbing your back and holding your hair. "I have got you babe." She whispered out.

After a few minutes you were finally done. Leaning against Grace.

"i am so angry with myself." You sobbed out. Grace was really confused, frowning softly.

"Love this isn't your fault!" She said softly. Kissing your head gently.

"feels like my body is betraying me! We see eachother only a few times a year and i now manage to ruin one of the times with a migraine. I am sorry Baby!" You sighed sadly and tried to stop yourself from having a full on emotional breakdown.

"hey stop. This isn't your fault! You didn't ask for that migraine!" She answered. Cuddling you and managing to calm you down. Helping you brush your teeth before carrying you back to bed. Holding you close. Laying down with you. You took a hold of her like a koala baby did to it's momma, but you didn't care how clingy you were right now. All you wanted was to be close to your girlfriend.

You ended up sleeping for the rest of the day, Grace staying with you the entire time. She even spend the night and Beth stayed with Lucy.

You felt much better the next day but everyone still was keeping an eye on you. Especially Grace but also your sister. It was good to know that you both were clingy. And neither one of you cared.

#woso x reader #graceclintonxrussoreader #Grace ClintonXReader #lucy bronzexreader

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jburrgf · 2 months ago

Text

Friends; The Love Trope Series

You Belong With Me, Part. 1

◦pairing: ¡bestfriend! joe burrow x ¡bestfriend! reader

◦summary: friends to lovers, childhood friendship. slow burn, soulmates.

◦description: you and joe are best friends since day one. both of you are on yours last year of high school. being part of the graduation committee means a lot to you, and you are all 100% with prom preparations. on the other side, joe is there, helping you like always. but now, things hit different when you realize he’s not just a high school sweetheart: joe burrow is the love of your whole life.

° playlist: Friends, Ed Sheeran From Eden, Hoozier 21, Gracie Abramns You Belong With Me, Taylor Swift I Couldn’t Be More In Love, The 1975

◦From the Love Trope Series. Part II / Part III / Part IV

THE PLAINS, OHIO — SPRING 2015

JOE BURROW.

The cafeteria buzzed with the usual hum of overlapping conversations, laughter, and the occasional clatter of a dropped tray. I leaned back in my chair, balancing it precariously on two legs as I half-listened to my teammates debating the best dunk from last night's school game.

My attention, though, was elsewhere. It always was these days.

“Bro, you’re staring again.”

I turned, scowling at Sam, one of my teammates. He was grinning like he’d just caught me red-handed, which, to be fair, he had.

“I’m not staring,” I muttered, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder.

“Sure you’re not,” Sam said, dragging out the words. “Just like you weren’t staring yesterday when she was hanging up those prom posters.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to brush him off, but the heat creeping up my neck gave me away. He wasn’t wrong. I had been staring.

It wasn’t like I could help it. Y/N had been my best friend since we were five years old, but somewhere along the line, things changed. It was subtle at first—a skipped heartbeat here, a lingering glance there. By sophomore year, I’d gone from thinking she was cute in that “best friend” way to realizing I was completely, hopelessly in love with her.

And now? Now I was just the idiot who couldn’t tell her.

Y/N was sitting at the table near the windows, her head bent over a clipboard, her pen scribbling furiously. Her lips moved as she mouthed whatever notes she was jotting down, and her brows furrowed in that way they always did when she was focused. It was one of those little things about her that I couldn’t help but find endearing—like the way she’d unconsciously tap her pen against her cheek when she was thinking or how her voice would rise just a bit when she got excited about something. Watching her now, so completely absorbed, I couldn’t help but smile to myself, even if the ache in my chest reminded me why I kept these thoughts to myself. She had been like this for weeks—wrapped up in her role on the prom committee. She’d tell me about it every chance she got, her voice lighting up as she described color schemes, playlists, and centerpieces. It was cute, really, how excited she was.

But then there was him.

Brian Harris, the shooting guard from our basketball team, sauntered over to Y/N’s table. He was the type who thrived on attention, always quick with a joke or a flashy move to keep the spotlight on him. Brian and I didn’t exactly get along—Brian’s cocky demeanor had rubbed me the wrong way since freshman year, and our clashes during practice, when I used to play basketball, were almost legendary. I stiffened. He leaned on the edge of her table, his stupid, cocky grin plastered across his face as he said something that made her laugh. My stomach twisted at the sound.

He always wanted everything that I had, My talent, my position, my girl. And after I left basketball for good and he became captain, he’s on the run of the other things that he misses.

“Dude, you’re gonna snap that chair if you keep leaning back like that,” Josh, one of my friends, said, smirking.

“Shut up,” I muttered, letting the chair drop back onto all four legs with a thud.

“Oh, someone’s grumpy,” Sam teased, following my gaze. “Ah, I see. Miller’s making a move on Y/N, huh?”

“He’s not making a move,” I snapped, even though the words felt hollow. Of course he was making a move. The guy was a known flirt, and Y/N was...well, Y/N. Beautiful, smart, funny. She had this way of making everyone feel like they mattered, and apparently, Brian Harris wasn’t immune to her charm.

“Relax, man. She’s your best friend. It’s not like she’d go for him,” Josh said, but there was a knowing glint in his eye. “Unless...”

“Unless what?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“Unless you’re finally ready to admit you’re into her,” Sam said, grinning from a distance.

“I’m not—” I started, but the words died in my throat. What was the point? Josh wasn’t going to believe me, and honestly, I wasn’t sure I believed myself anymore.

Y/N

Prom committee meetings were the highlight of my week lately. Sure, they were hectic, and half the time I felt like I was herding cats trying to get everyone to agree on something, but it was worth it. This was *our* prom, and I wanted it to be perfect.

Today, I was finalizing the seating chart when Brian Harris’s shadow fell over my table. I looked up, surprised to see him smiling down at me.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, his voice smooth. “You’re working hard over here. Need a break?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Not really. There’s too much to do.”

“Come on,” he said, leaning closer. “Even superheroes need a break.”

I laughed, though it felt more polite than genuine. The truth was, Brian’s attention did nothing on me. Sure, it was nice to be noticed, but his charm felt too practiced, too rehearsed. Deep down, I knew the only person whose approval I wanted was Joe’s. Brian was nice and all, but he wasn’t exactly the kind of guy I’d go out of my way to talk to. Still, it was flattering that he was paying attention to me. It wasn’t like I had guys lining up to flirt with me.

“Maybe later,” I said, hoping he’d take the hint.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Joe watching us from across the cafeteria. His jaw was clenched, and he was gripping his water bottle so tightly I thought it might burst. I fought the urge to smile. Joe could be so obvious sometimes.

“Alright, but don’t work too hard,” Brian said, winking as he walked away.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Joe appeared at my side, dropping into the seat across from me.

“What did Harris want?” he asked, his tone sharper than usual.

“Nothing,” I said, shrugging. “He was just being nice.”

“Nice? That guy doesn’t do nice, Y/N. He was hitting on you.” He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I just… I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

My heart skipped a beat. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” he said, his voice low. “He’s into you.”

I stared at him, trying to process his words. Was he… jealous?

“And what if he is?” I asked, testing the waters.

Joe’s expression darkened, and for a moment, I thought he was going to argue. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “You can do better than him,” he muttered, his fingers drumming against the table as his gaze shifted away, like he couldn’t bear to watch me react.

I opened my mouth to answer, but the words caught in my throat. How could I tell him the truth? That I didn’t care about Brian or any other guy because the only one I wanted was standing right in front of me?

Instead, I shrugged. “He’s nice.”

Joe’s expression darkened, and he took a step back. “Right. Well, I’ve got practice. See you later.”

My heart skipped a beat. Was it just my imagination, or did he sound...jealous? I bit my lip, unsure of how to respond. I’d been in love with Joe for as long as I could remember, but he’d never given me any reason to think he felt the same way. Still, moments like this made me wonder.

JOE BURROW.

I couldn’t focus during practice that afternoon. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Brian Harris leaning over Y/N’s table, making her laugh. It shouldn’t have bothered me so much. She was her own person, and she could talk to whoever she wanted. But the thought of her with someone else — especially someone like Miller — made my blood boil.

“Earth to Joe,” Coach called, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Are you planning on joining us today, or are you just here for the view?”

“Sorry, Coach,” I mumbled, jogging back to my spot on the field.

After practice, I found myself walking toward Y/N’s locker without even thinking about it. She was standing there, talking to Tracy, one of her friends from the prom committee. When she saw me, her face lit up, and for a moment, the tightness in my chest eased.

“Hey,” I said, my voice soft but warm. “Long day?”

“Exhausting,” Y/n replied with a laugh. “But worth it. The decorations are coming together, thanks to you.”

“Just doing my part. Are you sure you don’t need a ride home? My truck’s right outside.” As the words left my mouth, I couldn’t help but hope she’d say yes, imagining the quiet moments we could share on the drive back. My mind flickered to the idea of her sitting beside me, her laughter filling the cab, but I pushed the thought aside, afraid of reading too much into the moment.

Y/n hesitated, her gaze dropping for a moment. “Actually, I’ve got a ride with a friend. We’re going to the party store, me and Tracy.”

“Right. Prom,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment.

“You’re still going, right?” she asked, her tone almost...hopeful.

Of course.

With you, I thought.

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” I said, forcing a smile. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Before the moment could grow awkward, Y/n stepped closer and leaned up to press a quick kiss to my cheek. I froze, the warmth of her lips lingering on my skin like a brand. My heart thundered in my chest, my mind scrambling to process what had just happened. I raised a hand instinctively to touch the spot, a faint blush creeping up my neck as I tried to fight back a grin. It was such a simple gesture, yet it sent a surge of hope through I that he couldn’t ignore. “Thanks for always looking out for me, Joe.”

I froze again, my heart pounding as her words echoed in my mind. But when I tried to talk again, she was already gone, leaving me standing in the middle of the hallway with my heart in my hands.

Y/N

As Tracy and I drove to the party supply store, I couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Joe’s face when I told him I didn’t need a ride. He’d seemed...off. Almost sad. Or maybe I was just imagining things.

“So,” Tracy said, breaking the silence. “When are you finally going to tell Joe how you feel?”

I nearly choked on my soda. “What? I don’t—”

“Please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Everyone knows you’re into him. Well, everyone except Joe, apparently.”

I sighed, sinking lower in my seat. “It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t feel the same way.”

“Are you sure about that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, her tone teasing yet firm, as if daring me to challenge her judgment. My heart stuttered at her certainty, and for a moment, I wondered if Tracy knew something I didn’t. Was I missing signs? Or was I just too afraid to believe she might be right? The idea was both exhilarating and terrifying, a dangerous hope I wasn’t ready to fully embrace. “Because from where I’m standing, he’s just as into you as you are into him.”

Could she be right? The thought sent a flicker of hope through me, but I quickly pushed it down. Joe and I were best friends, and I couldn’t risk losing that. Even if it meant keeping my feelings to myself.

For now.

JOE BURROW

I watched her walk to her car, her hair catching the golden light of the setting sun, and I wanted to scream.

Why couldn’t I just say it? Why couldn’t I tell her that seeing Brian flirt with her had made me feel like I was losing my mind? That the thought of anyone else being close to her made my chest ache?

Because you’re a coward, Burrow.

I climbed into my truck and gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. Sam’s voice echoed in my head: You should just ask her to prom.

Easier said than done.

I’d known Y/N my whole life. She was my best friend, my partner in crime, the person who knew me better than anyone. But she was also the girl I was in love with, and the thought of risking everything—our friendship, the way she looked at me, the way she laughed at my stupid jokes—was enough to keep my mouth shut.

Still, as I drove home, I couldn’t shake the image of her and Brian at the booth. Her smile, her laugh—it should’ve been me making her laugh like that.

It should’ve been me.

By the time I pulled into my driveway, I’d made up my mind.

I was going to ask her to prom.

Y/N’s POV

I got home super tired from the afternoon that I had with Tracy. After the store supplies, we went to grab some food on our way home. Now, I was sitting at my desk, trying—and failing—to focus on my calculus homework. My phone buzzed, and I glanced at the screen, my heart skipping a beat when I saw Joe’s name.

Joey: Can I come over?

I stared at the message for a moment, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. We texted all the time, but something about this felt… different.

Me: Yeah, sure.

Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on my window.

I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at my lips as I got up to let him in. Joe had been climbing through my window since we were kids, and even though he was way too big for it now, he still insisted on doing it.

“You know,” I said as he swung his legs over the sill, “we have a perfectly good front door.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he said, flashing me a grin.

But the grin didn’t quite reach his eyes, and I felt a pang of concern.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, sitting back on my bed.

He hesitated, standing awkwardly in the middle of my room. “I, uh… I wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay…”

He took a deep breath, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Do you have a date for prom?”

I blinked, caught off guard by the question. “No. Why?”

His cheeks turned pink, and he looked down at the floor. “I was wondering if you’d want to go with me. You know, as friends.”

My heart sank at the word friends, but I forced a smile.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’d love to.”

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—relief, maybe? Or was it disappointment? I couldn’t tell.

“Cool,” he said, his voice softer now. “Thanks.”

He stayed for a while after that, talking about everything and nothing, just like we always did. But when he left, climbing back out the window with a quiet “Goodnight,” I knew something was different, I could feel in the air. But I couldn't tell what.

The next morning, I walked into school with a strange mix of excitement and nerves buzzing in my chest. I was going to prom with Joe. My best friend. The guy I’d been hopelessly in love with for years.

Sure, he’d asked me “as friends,” but that didn’t stop the part of me that clung to the idea that maybe—just maybe—prom night would change things.

I was lost in thought as I made my way to the gym, where the prom committee was meeting to finalize decorations. I’d barely set my bag down at the table when a familiar voice interrupted me.

“Morning, Y/N.”

I looked up to see Brian Harris standing there, his easy smile firmly in place.

“Oh, hey, Brian,” I said, offering him a polite smile.

“Got a minute?” he asked, leaning casually against the table.

“Uh, sure,” I said, setting down my clipboard.

Brian glanced around, as if making sure no one was listening, then turned back to me. “So, I was thinking… you’ve been working really hard on all this prom stuff, and you deserve to have a great night. How about going with me?”

The question caught me completely off guard. I blinked, my brain scrambling to catch up. “You… want to take me to prom?”

“Yeah,” he said, his grin widening. “I mean, who wouldn’t? You’re smart, funny, hot… the whole package.”

Heat rushed to my face, but not in the way it did when Joe said something sweet. This was different—flattering, sure, but not the kind of butterflies that made your stomach flip.

“Brian, that’s really nice of you, but…” I hesitated, searching for the right words.

“Let me guess,” he said, cutting me off. “You already have a date?”

I nodded, feeling a little guilty for turning him down. “Yeah, I do.”

Brian raised an eyebrow. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Joe,” I said simply, and for a split second, I thought I saw something flicker in his expression—surprise, maybe? Or disbelief?

“Joe Burrow?” he asked, his tone laced with skepticism.

“Yes, Joe Burrow,” I said, crossing my arms defensively.

Brian chuckled, shaking his head. “Didn’t think he had it in him.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Just… didn’t peg him as the prom type. But hey, good for him. And for you.”

“He's my best friend. Thanks.” I said, though his words left a sour taste in my mouth.

As he walked away, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of annoyance. Why did everyone act like Joe and I couldn’t be more than friends?

JOE BURROW

I was halfway through practice when I got the text from Sam.

Sam: Dude, Brian just tried to ask Y/N to prom.

My grip tightened on the football, my jaw clenching so hard it hurt. I couldn't believe it. I kinda figured it out he was about to do something like that, he spent too much time quiet with me, it was weird. And now, he found a way.

“Burrow! Pay attention!” Coach barked.

I nodded, forcing myself to focus on the play, but my mind was somewhere else entirely.

Brian Harris. I should’ve known he wouldn’t give up that easily.

By the time practice ended, I was practically sprinting to the parking lot. I spotted Y/N by her car, her head bent over her phone, and I spent the whole time hoping it wasn’t Brian.

“Y/N!” I called, jogging over.

She looked up, her face lighting up in a way that made my heart skip a beat. “Hey, Joe. What’s up?”

“I heard about Brian,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual. The truth was, I wasn’t casual at all.

Her smile faded slightly. “Who told you?”

“Sam,” I admitted, leaning against her car.

She sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, he asked me this morning.”

“And what did you say?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

She gave me a look. “I told him I already had a date. You.”

The tight knot in my chest loosened a fraction. “Good.”

“Good?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to play it cool. “I mean, we already have plans, right?”

“Right,” she said, her expression softening.

For a moment, we just stood there, the afternoon sun casting a golden glow over everything.

“So,” I said, breaking the silence, “do you need help with any of the prom stuff? Decorations or whatever?”

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. “You’re offering to help?”

“Why not?” I said, shrugging. “I could use the extra credit.”

She laughed, and the sound was like music to my ears. “Alright, Burrow. Let’s see if you can survive an afternoon with the prom committee.”

Y/N

I didn’t know what had gotten into Joe, but I wasn’t about to question it. If he wanted to spend more time with me—even if it was just to help with prom decorations—I wasn’t going to say no. We spent the next few hours in the gym, stringing up fairy lights and setting up tables. Joe grumbled about the glitter (“It’s going to be stuck to me for weeks”), but he didn’t complain when I handed him another box of decorations.

At one point, I climbed a ladder to hang a banner, and when I wobbled slightly, Joe was there in an instant, his hands steadying the ladder.

“Careful,” he said, his voice low.

I glanced down at him, my heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the height. “Thanks.”

He held my gaze for a moment, his hands still gripping the ladder, and I felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of us.

“Anytime,” he said softly.

By the time we finished, the gym was starting to look like the prom of my dreams.

The next day, the buzz about prom was everywhere. People were swapping dress ideas, talking about their dates, and sharing excitement about the night that was quickly approaching.

By lunchtime, I was sitting at our usual table in the cafeteria, flipping through a prom checklist on my phone. Joe was sitting across from me, picking at his fries, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Are you seriously still doing prom stuff?” Tracy, my best friend, asked as she slid into the seat next to me.

“Somebody has to,” I said, not looking up.

“Somebody who isn’t you,” she shot back. “You’re already doing, like, ten other things. Delegation, Y/N. Learn it.”

“She’s too much of a control freak,” Joe chimed in, smirking at me.

I narrowed my eyes on him. “I’m organized, not a control freak.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” he said, popping a fry into his mouth.

“Speaking of prom,” Tracy said, leaning forward conspiratorially, “have you told Joe what color your dress is yet? Or are you going to make him show up looking like a colorblind disaster?”

I froze, suddenly aware of Joe’s eyes on me. “I—uh—I hadn’t thought about it.”

“Seriously?” Tracy said, looking between us. “You two are going together, and you haven’t talked about coordinating?”

“We’re going as friends,” I said quickly, feeling my cheeks heat up.

Tracy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure. Friends.”

Joe shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or embarrassed. Maybe both.

“Anyway,” I said, trying to change the subject, “what about you? Who are you going with?”

Tracy grinned. “Brian Harris asked me this morning.”

My stomach dropped. “He did?”

“Yep,” she said, clearly oblivious to the way my hands tightened around my phone. “Apparently, you turned him down, so he went with his second choice. And that’s exactly why I don't go out too much, I Said no, I’m going with Sam.”

“Second choice?” I repeated, the words stinging more than they should have.

“Oh, don’t get all weird about it,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “You’re going with Joe, so who cares what Brian does?”

She had a point. I was going with Joe. But why did it feel like I was still losing somehow? I wasn't surprised about what happened. Couldn't get me, it’s not going to get my best friend either.

JOE BURROW

Sam and Josh , my two closest friends from the football team, were waiting for me by the vending machines after lunch.

“So,” Sam said as soon as I walked up, following me into the hallway “you’re really going to prom with Y/N, huh?”

I rolled my eyes, shoving a dollar into the machine. “Yeah. Why?”

“Because it’s about damn time,” Josh said, leaning against the wall.

I turned to glare at him, while I took my Kit-kat from the machine. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sam snorted. “Come on, Burrow. Everyone knows you’re crazy about her. You’ve been in love with her since, like, the fifth grade.”

“That’s not true,” I said automatically, but even I could hear how unconvincing I sounded.

Josh raised an eyebrow. “Really? Then why did you almost rip Brian Harris’s head off at practice yesterday when Sam told you he asked her to prom?”

“That’s different,” I muttered, punching the button for a soda.

“Sure it is,” Sam said, smirking. “You’re totally not jealous or anything.”

“I’m not,” I insisted, but the words felt hollow.

The truth was, I had been jealous. Seeing Brian talk to her, flirt with her, try to take her to prom—it had made me feel like I was seconds away from losing something I hadn’t even realized I was holding onto.

And that scared the hell out of me.

“She’s my best friend,” I said finally, throwing the paper on the trash. “Exactly,” Carter said, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Which is why you need to stop screwing around and tell her how you feel.”

I didn’t respond, because what was the point? Even if I did tell her how I felt, there was no guarantee she’d feel the same way.

And if she didn’t?

I couldn’t risk losing her.

Y/N

By the time the final bell rang, I was ready to go home and collapse. But as I was walking to the parking lot, Tracy caught up with me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. I know she was planing something I could feel in tHE air.

“Guess what,” she said, falling into step beside me.

“What?” I asked, too tired to play along.

“There’s a group going to that new dress shop downtown tomorrow, and you’re coming with me.”

I groaned. “Tracy, I already have a dress.”

“Yeah, but I don’t,” she said, grinning. “And I need moral support. Plus, we need to make sure your dress doesn’t clash with Joe’s suit.”

I rolled my eyes. “Joe doesn’t care about that stuff.” And It was true. It didn’t matter if I was going with a red dress or blue.

“Maybe not,” she said, “but you do.”

I hated that she was right.

“Fine,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll go.”

The next afternoon, Tracy picked me up for the trip to the new dress shop downtown. The store was buzzing with excited chatter, racks of shimmering gowns lining the walls, and mirrors reflecting endless possibilities.

Tracy dragged me to the section with bright, glittery dresses that screamed “look at me.” I could tell she was in her element, flipping through racks like a woman on a mission.

“What about this one?” she asked, holding up a strapless red gown with a thigh-high slit.

“For you or for me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. It was too much.

“For you,” she said with a grin. “You’d kill in this.”

I shook my head. “It’s too much.”

“Y/N, you’re going to prom with Joe Burrow. You have to make an impression.”

“I’m already going with him,” I said. “Why do I need to impress him?”

Tracy shot me a look. “You’re kidding, right? You’re hopelessly in love with the guy, and you don’t think this is your chance to finally make him see it?”

My heart skipped a beat, and I froze mid-reach for a more modest gown. I didn’t even know what to say. “I—what? I’m not—”

“Save it,” she said, cutting me off. “You might be able to fool everyone else, but not me. So pick something that’ll make his jaw drop.”

I sighed, knowing there was no point arguing. Tracy wasn’t going to let this go.

After what felt like hours of trying on dresses, I finally stepped out of the dressing room in a floor-length navy gown with a sweetheart neckline and delicate lace detailing.

Tracy’s jaw dropped. “That’s the one.”

I turned to look at myself in the mirror, and for a moment, I didn’t recognize the girl staring back at me. The dress hugged my figure in all the right places, and the navy color made my skin glow. It was that one, I know that.

“Wow,” I whispered.

“Joe’s going to lose his mind,” Tracy said with a satisfied grin.

I didn’t know about that, but for the first time, I felt like I might actually look like someone worth noticing.

JOE BURROW.

Later that evening, I was sitting in my room, staring at my phone. Sam and Josh's words from earlier in the week were still playing in my head.

“Tell her how you feel.”

I sighed, tossing my phone onto the bed. It wasn’t that simple.

Or maybe it was, and I was just a coward.

My phone buzzed, and I picked it up to see a text from Y/N.

Y/N:Just finished dress shopping with Tracy. I think I found the one.

Me: Cool. Send me a pic.

There was a long pause before she responded.

Y/N: Nope. You’ll have to wait until prom.

I frowned at the screen, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard.

Me: Not even a sneak peek?

Y/N: Nope.

I sighed, but a small smile tugged at my lips. She always knew how to keep me on my toes.

The next morning, Sam and Josh cornered me in the locker room after practice.

“You figure out your prom look yet?” Josh asked, tossing a towel onto the bench.

“I’m wearing a suit,” I said flatly.

Sam snorted. “Wow, groundbreaking.”

“Do you even know what color she’s wearing?” Josh asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” I lied.

“Bullshit,” Sam said. “You didn’t even ask her, did you?”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “No, but I’m sure whatever I pick will be fine.”

Carter shook his head. “You’re hopeless, man.”

I’m in Love. It 's different.

Y/N

The week of prom flew by in a whirlwind of final preparations. The committee was meeting every day after school, and by Friday afternoon, the gym was completely transformed.

I stood in the middle of the room, surveying the decorations with a mix of pride and exhaustion. The fairy lights twinkled above, casting a soft glow over the tables, and the dance floor was ready to go.

“It looks amazing,” Joe said, walking up behind me.

“Yeah,” I said, smiling up at him. “I think we pulled it off.”

“You think?” he teased. “You’ve been running this show since day one.”

I rolled my eyes. “It wasn’t just me.”

“Sure,” he said, smirking.

For a moment, we just stood there, the hum of the committee members packing up around us fading into the background.

“You’re going to look great tomorrow,” Joe said suddenly, his voice soft.

I looked up at him, my heart skipping a beat. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes meeting mine. “I know so.”

I gave him a smile, and he opened his arms, asking for a hug. I got on my tiptoes, hugging Joe tight while his arms went around my waist.

[...]

The air was electric that morning. The last day of high school had arrived, and it felt like every hallway, every classroom, every moment was buzzing with a mix of nostalgia and excitement. People were signing yearbooks, taking pictures, and talking about their plans for the summer and beyond.

Even I couldn’t help but smile as I walked to my locker. It was bittersweet, knowing this chapter of our lives was coming to an end.

“Y/N!” Tracy called out, jogging to catch up with me. She had her camera slung around her neck, determined to document every second of the day.

“Ready for the waterworks?” I teased.

“Please, you’re the emotional one,” she shot back, grinning. “Anyway, don’t forget we’re doing a group photo at lunch. You and Joe better be there.”

“Of course,” I said. “Speaking of Joe, have you seen him?”

“Probably at his locker, brooding like usual,” Tracy said with a laugh. “Anyway, any big plans for tonight?” she asked, nudging me playfully.

“Just the prom committee meeting,” I said with a laugh. “And then maybe collapsing from exhaustion.”

She rolled her eyes. “You need to have more fun, Y/N. Let loose. Do something crazy for once.”

I shook my head. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

And I heard a voice.

“Y/N!” Joe was striding toward me, his long legs making quick work of the crowded hallway.

“Your shadow approaches,” Tracy whispered with a smirk before disappearing into the crowd.

“Hey,” I said as he reached me.

“Are you ready for the pep rally?” he asked, leaning casually against the lockers.

“Always,” I said, trying not to smile too hard at the way his hair was slightly tousled from football practice. “Are you ready for this?” I asked, gesturing around us.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said with a shrug.

“You don’t sound excited.”

“It’s just a day,” he said, closing his locker.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s the day, Joe. Our last day of high school. Try to act like it’s a big deal.”

We walked to the gym together, the noise and chaos of the hallways swirling around us. Everything felt heightened—like we were living in slow motion, with every moment stretched out and glowing.

JOE BURROW.

The pep rally was loud, chaotic, and exactly what it needed to be. Seniors were on fire, shouting chants and tossing confetti in the air like it was the Super Bowl.

I couldn’t stop glancing at Y/N, though. She was sitting with Tracy and a few other committee members, laughing as they worked on last-minute plans for tomorrow’s prom.

She looked happy—really happy—and it hit me like a punch to the gut.

I wasn’t the only one who noticed her, either.

Brian Harris, the basketball player who’d been hovering around her all week, kept glancing in her direction.

“Man, you have to do something.” Sam said to me, loud enough for me to hear him on top of the school band chant’s. I looked over at him, still seeing Brian smiling to Y/N, and I don’t know, I’m almost sure that she’s not comfortable.

JOE: you good?

I said in my message. Saw her opening her phone, but she didn’t text me back.

“He invited her that day, as soon as you steped back to class.” Josh said as well, looking at Brian ans Y/N.

“She is independent, can be with anyone she wants.”

“And you want that, Burrow?”

Sam asked me, and before I could respond to him, he was running back to our friends. By the time the rally ended, my mood had gone from celebratory to sour.

By the time lunch rolled around, my patience was wearing thin. The day was supposed to be perfect—our last day as seniors, with Y/N by my side—but Brian Harris was determined to ruin it.

I saw him hanging around her at the pep rally, throwing those cocky smiles her way like he thought she’d actually fall for it.

And the worst part? She’d smiled back.

It wasn’t the same smile she gave me, though. Hers was polite, almost distracted, but it still made my chest tighten.

I knew Brian wasn’t going to back off, and the thought of him getting even one step closer to her made my blood boil.

Y/N

The last day of high school felt magical in a way that I couldn’t quite put into words. The hallways were alive with laughter, and the air was thick with excitement and nostalgia. Everything about the day seemed to shimmer—the sunlight streaming through the windows, the fresh breeze that wafted through open doors, the sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished floors.

It was hard to believe this chapter of our lives was ending. Every smile, every hug, every glance at the crowded hallways felt like a snapshot I wanted to hold onto forever.

But beneath the sparkle of it all, I couldn’t shake the tension I’d felt since the pep rally. Joe had been quieter than usual. He was there, walking me to class and teasing me like always, but something was… off.

“See you at lunch?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice softer now.

But there was something in his eyes that made me pause.

“Joe—”

“Go,” he said, forcing a small smile. “You’ll be late.”

I didn’t push him, though. Joe wasn’t the kind of person you were forced to talk to. He’d tell me what was on his mind when he was ready.

Or so I thought.

I was walking with Tracy to the cafeteria when I heard someone call my name.

“Y/N!”

I turned to see Brian Harris jogging toward me, that signature smug grin plastered across his face.

“Hey,” he said, stopping a little too close.

“Uh, hey,” I replied, glancing at Tracy, who raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet.

“I was wondering if you’d thought about the prom thing.” he said, leaning against the lockers like he owned the place.

I blinked. “Oh, um… I’m going with Joe. I told you that already.”

Brian’s grin faltered for a second before he recovered. “Right, the football star. But, you know, if you want a real man to take you, I’m available. Joe’s it’s just a football player like every single other one, He’s going to fuck you and forget your name right after.”

I froze, my stomach twisting in discomfort. “Excuse me?”

“You’re too pretty to waste your time on a guy like that,” Brian said, his voice dripping with arrogance. “I’d show you a better time, Y/N. You deserve someone who can actually keep up with you, ‘ya know? Not that bullshit.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, a familiar voice cut through the tension like a blade.

“What the hell did you just say?”

JOE BURROW.

The second I saw Brian cornering her, my body moved before I even realized what I was doing.

I knew that look on his face. It was the same one he used to intimidate guys on the court, and it made my blood run hot. When I heard what he’d said to her—when I saw the way her face twisted in discomfort—I saw red.

“You got something to say about me, Harris?” I said, stepping between him and Y/N.

Brian smirked, crossing his arms. “Relax, Burrow. I’m just saying the truth. She deserves better than some meathead quarterback.”

“Back off,” I said, my voice low and dangerous.

“Or what?” Brian challenged, his grin widening.

I glanced at Y/N out of the corner of my eye. She looked uncomfortable, like she wanted to disappear.

“You’re pathetic,” I snapped at Brian. “You don’t even know her.”

“And you do?” he shot back, laughing. “What are you, her guard dog? Or just her backup plan when no one else asks her out? You afraid cause I can fuck her better dan you do?”

That was it.

Before I even thought about it, my fist collided with his jaw.

I barely felt Brian’s punch. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins, and all I could think about was wiping that smug grin off his face.

The hallway erupted into chaos as people gathered around, shouting and gasping.

Y/N

“Joe!” I shouted, shoving my way through the crowd.

Brian staggered back, clutching his face, and then lunged at Joe.

Teachers swarmed the hallway, pulling them apart before Brian could land a punch.

“You’re insane!” Brian yelled, glaring at Joe as he wiped blood from the corner of his mouth.

“Better insane than a creep,” Joe shot back, his chest heaving.

The teachers dragged them off in opposite directions, and I stood frozen, my heart racing as I tried to process what had just happened.

I burst into the principal’s office, my heart racing.

When I pushed open the door to the office, Joe was sitting in one of the chairs, a bag of frozen peas pressed to his eye. He looked up when I walked in, his expression a mix of embarrassment and defiance. His lip was cut, and his knuckles were red, but he didn’t look the least bit sorry.

“What were you thinking?” I demanded, walking over to him.

He shrugged. “Brian deserved it.”

I crossed my arms, glaring at him. “You know you’re going to have a black eye at prom, right?”

He smirked, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a way that made my heart stutter. “You think it’ll match my suit?”

I rolled my eyes, but my expression softened as I crouched beside him.

“Let me see,” I said, gently pulling the bag of peas away.

His eye was already starting to swell, the skin around it an angry shade of red.

I reached out, gently brushing my fingers against his cheek. “You didn’t have to do that, Joe.”

“Yes, I did,” he said quietly, his eyes meeting mine.

For a moment, we just sat there, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. Then, impulsively, I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the uninjured part of his cheek.

“For good luck,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Joe froze, his gaze locked on mine. My heart raced like a roller coaster.

“You’re unbelievable,” he said, but his tone was soft, almost affectionate.

“You’re an idiot,” I shot back, standing up.

He grabbed my wrist before I could step away, his fingers warm against my skin.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice low.

“For what?”

“For being you,” he said simply.

I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded.

“Come here,” he said, pulling me into a hug.

I hesitated for a moment before wrapping my arms around his shoulders. He buried his face against my side, his grip firm but not overwhelming. I felt my skiing getting hotter and hotter, and I just could smile. My hands went to his hair, my fingers went through his dirty blonde hair. We stayed like that until the principal walked in, but by then, I wasn’t sure I cared about anything else.

It was just me and him against the world, and nothing else.

[...]

And that was it, it was prom night.

The house smelled like hairspray and perfume, and my room was a disaster zone. Dresses were scattered across the bed, shoes piled in a corner, and makeup brushes lay abandoned on the vanity. Tracy, as usual, was in full control, directing the chaos like she was the queen of prom night.

“Hold still, Y/N!” she barked, holding up a curling iron dangerously close to my face.

“I am holding still!” I protested, wincing as she tugged on another section of my hair.

Tracy sighed dramatically, stepping back to examine her work. “Okay, that’s better. You’re going to look so good tonight. Joe’s going to lose his mind.”

I rolled my eyes, pretending the mention of his name didn’t send my stomach into a flutter. “It’s just prom, Tracy. Not a wedding.”

She smirked. “Sure, keep telling yourself that. One day you’re going to marry him.”

Those words echoed in my mind, like a prophecy. Marriage, Joe, his last name. I felt like a little girl dreaming big.

Deep down, I knew she was half right. Prom wasn’t just another night. It was the last big event of high school, the last chance for everything unsaid to finally come to the surface. And with Joe… there was a lot to say.

JOE BURROW.

I couldn’t stop pacing.

The suit felt too stiff, the tie too tight, and my reflection in the mirror wasn’t doing much to calm my nerves. The bruise under my eye had turned a deep shade of purple overnight, standing out against my pale skin like a neon sign.

“You look ridiculous,” Sam said, lounging on my bed with his arms behind his head. “Like someone punched you in the face or something.”

I glared at him. “Shut up.”

“Relax, man,” he said, grinning. “Y/N doesn’t care what you look like. She’s already obsessed with you.”

“Y/N’s not obsessed with me,” I muttered, adjusting my tie for the tenth time.

“Right,” Sam said, dragging out the word. “And you’re not obsessed with her either.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why’d you deck Brian Harris yesterday?”

My jaw tightened, but I didn’t answer.

“That’s what I thought,” Sam said, sitting up. “Look, just tell her how you feel tonight. It’s prom. You’re supposed to be a little dramatic.”

I groaned, rubbing the back of my neck. “You make it sound so easy.”

My mom’s voice got into my ears, from downstairs, screaming at us saying that Josh got there with his mom’s eight places SUV.

“Because it is,” Sam said, standing up and clapping me on the shoulder. “Now come on. Let’s go pick her up.”

Y/N

The knock on the door sent a ripple of nerves through me.

“Y/N, they’re here!” my mom called from downstairs.

Tracy gave me a final once-over, her eyes narrowing in approval. “You look perfect. Now go knock him dead.”

I smoothed down the front of my dress, took a deep breath, and made my way downstairs.

When I saw Joe standing in the entryway, my breath caught. He looked… incredible. The black suit fit him perfectly, and even with the bruise under his eye, he somehow managed to look like he’d stepped out of a movie.

He looked up as I descended the stairs, his mouth parting slightly as his eyes locked on me.

“Wow,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

I blushed, smiling nervously. “Hi.”

“You look…” He shook his head, searching for the right words. “You look beautiful, Y/N.”

“Thanks,” I said softly, my heart pounding. “You look pretty good yourself.”

He grinned, and for a moment, everything else faded away. My heart was beating so fast… It was crazy.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked, holding out his arm.

“Yeah,” I said, slipping my hand into the crook of his elbow. “Let’s do this.”

JOE BURROW.

The ride to prom was a blur of nerves and stolen glances. Y/N was sitting beside me, her dress shimmering under the streetlights, and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to tell her the truth.

That I’d been in love with her for as long as I could remember.

That seeing her with anyone else felt like a punch to the gut.

That she was the only reason high school had meant anything to me at all.

But every time I opened my mouth, the words got stuck in my throat.

When we arrived at the venue, the place was already packed. Lights twinkle from every corner of the ballroom, and music echoed through the open doors.

“Come on,” Y/N said, tugging on my arm. “Let’s go find Tracy before she starts texting me a thousand times.”

I followed her inside, my chest tightening as I watched her weave through the crowd with that familiar confidence. She belonged here, in the center of it all, surrounded by laughter and light. And I couldn’t help but feel like I was just lucky to be standing next to her.

We walked through a crowd of teenagers, everyone stopping Y/N to say that the place was awesome. I was holding her hand, walking behind her and letting her set the pace.

“I’m not finding Brian.” She said, the happiness palpable in her voice.

I gave her a smile. “Cause tonight is your night.”

Y/N

Prom was everything I’d hoped it would be. The decorations, the music, the energy—it all felt like a dream, but even as I danced with my friends and laughed at Tracy’s terrible attempts at doing the cha-cha slide, my attention kept drifting back to Joe.

He was standing by the punch table, talking to Sam and a couple of his football buddies, but every so often, his eyes would find mine across the room.

And every time they did, my heart skipped a beat.

“You should just go for it,” Tracy said, nudging me.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, pretending not to know exactly what she meant.

“Joe,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You’re practically glowing every time you look at him.”

I glanced at him again, my stomach doing flips.

“What if he doesn’t feel the same way?” I asked quietly.

Tracy gave me a knowing smile. “Trust me, Y/N. He does.”

“How–”

“Babe, he walks you to your car everyday, even when he has practice. He’s your pair in chemistry cause he found out you're not that good. He just use his cologne cause you like it. That guy has been in love with you for ages. Go.

But as I walked to meet me, he came down my direction.

JOE BURROW.

By the time the slow songs started playing, I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Do you want to dance?” I asked, walking up to her before I could lose my nerve.

She looked up at me, surprised, and then nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

I led her to the dance floor, my heart pounding as I rested my hands on her waist. She placed hers on my shoulders, and for a moment, we just stood there, swaying to the music.

“You having fun?” I asked, my voice quiet.

She nodded, smiling up at me. “Yeah. Are you?”

I hesitated, my eyes searching hers. “I think this might be the best night of my life.”

Her smile faltered slightly, her brows furrowed in confusion.

“Y/N,” I said, my voice shaky. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Her grip on my shoulders tightened, and I could see the fear and hope mingling in her eyes.

“What is it?” she asked softly, looking over my eyes, and my mouth. I almost fainted.

I took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage I had.

“I—”

The words sat heavy on my tongue, burning to be said, but no matter how much I wanted to just tell her, my chest felt too tight. Y/N looked at me expectantly, her hands light on my shoulders as we swayed to the music. Her eyes searched mine, and I could feel the weight of her gaze, like she was daring me to break the silence between us.

But I didn’t.

“Never mind,” I said, forcing a small smile. “It’s nothing.”

Her expression faltered for a split second, a flicker of disappointment flashing across her face before she recovered. She gave me a soft smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You’re acting weird tonight,” she said, her voice teasing but gentle.

“I’m fine,” I lied.

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing me, but she let it go. “Okay. If you say so.”

The song ended, and the crowd around us erupted into cheers and applause. Y/N stepped back, her hands falling from my shoulders, and I immediately missed the warmth of her touch.

“Let’s get some punch,” she said, her tone light as if she hadn’t noticed the tension that had been building between us all night.

I nodded, following her off the dance floor, kicking myself for chickening out again.

Y/N

Joe was acting so strange, and I couldn’t figure out why. He was quieter than usual, and there was something in the way he looked at me that made my stomach twist in knots.

For a moment on the dance floor, I thought he was going to say something—something important. But then he didn’t, and the moment passed, leaving me feeling more confused than ever.

I tried to shake it off as we made our way to the refreshment table, but it was hard to ignore the nagging feeling in my chest.

Before I could dwell on it too much, the DJ’s voice boomed over the speakers, announcing that it was time to crown the prom king and queen.

“Oh my god, here we go!” Tracy squealed, bouncing on her heels next to me. “This is my favorite part!”

The crowd gathered around the stage as the principal took the microphone, holding two glittering crowns in his hands.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his voice echoing through the ballroom. “The moment you’ve all been waiting for—the announcement of your prom king and queen!”

The room buzzed with excitement, and I couldn’t help but smile at the energy in the air.

The principal unfolded a piece of paper and cleared his throat dramatically. “Your 2015 prom king is…” He paused for effect, dragging out the suspense.

“Joe Burrow!”

My heart stopped.

The room erupted into cheers and applause as Joe’s friends pushed him toward the stage. He looked completely shocked, his face turning red as he stumbled forward.

“Go, Joe!” Sam yelled, clapping him on the back.

Joe climbed onto the stage, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as the principal placed the crown on his head. He looked out at the crowd, his eyes wide and uncertain, and when his gaze landed on me, I couldn’t help but laugh.

He looked like he wanted to bolt.

“And now,” the principal continued, holding up the second crown, “your 2015 prom queen is…”

I barely had time to register the words before they hit me.

“Y/N Y/L/N!”

My jaw dropped.

Tracy shrieked, grabbing my arm and shaking me. “Oh my god, Y/N! You won!”

The crowd cheered again, and I felt my cheeks flush as everyone turned to look at me.

“Go,” Tracy urged, pushing me toward the stage. “Go get your crown!”

I stumbled forward, my heart racing as I climbed onto the stage. Joe was standing there, still looking like he couldn’t believe what was happening, and when I reached him, he gave me a lopsided smile.

“Guess it’s our night,” he said softly.

I laughed nervously, and before I could respond, the principal placed the crown on my head. The crowd roared, and for a moment, I couldn’t think about anything except how surreal this all felt.

“I voted for you, actually.” He said to me. “Everyone else felt wrong.”

“And now, for the king and queen’s first dance!” the DJ announced, cueing up a slow song.

My stomach flipped.

Joe held out his hand, his eyes meeting mine. “Shall we?”

I hesitated for half a second before taking his hand. “Let’s do it.”

JOE BURROW.

I couldn’t believe it.

Of all the people to win prom king and queen, it had to be us.

The crowd parted as we stepped onto the dance floor, the music soft and slow. I held her close, my hands resting on her waist, and for the first time all night, everything else faded away.

She looked up at me, her eyes sparkling under the dim lights. “This is… unexpected,” she said, her voice light and teasing.

I chuckled, feeling a little more at ease. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

We swayed to the music, and for a moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the room.

“You’re a good dancer,” she said, surprising me.

“Don’t sound so shocked,” I replied, grinning. “My mom uses me as a pair for her dance classes every wednesday.”

She laughed, and the sound sent a warm rush through me.

I wanted to say something—anything—that would let her know how I felt. But every time I opened my mouth, the words got stuck. So instead, I just held her a little closer, hoping she could feel everything I couldn’t say.

Y/N

Dancing with Joe felt like a dream.

The music, the lights, the way his hands fit so perfectly on my waist—it was all too perfect, too much.

And yet, it wasn’t enough.

I wanted to say something to him, to break the tension that had been building between us all night. But I didn’t know how to start, or what to say.

So I just smiled, letting myself get lost in the moment.

As the song came to an end, the crowd erupted into applause, and Joe stepped back, his hands lingering on my waist for just a second longer than necessary.

“You’re amazing, Y/N,” he said, his voice barely audible over the noise.

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, Tracy grabbed my arm, pulling me back into the chaos of the crowd.

I glanced back at Joe, my heart aching with everything I didn’t say.

But the night wasn’t over yet.

It was hard to believe that prom had ended. We had just been crowned king and queen, dancing beneath the dim lights, and now here I was, stumbling out of the ballroom with Joe, our friends trailing behind us like a pack of wild animals, laughing and shouting.

“I can’t believe you’re the prom queen,” Tracy yelled, her voice echoing in the parking lot. “You deserve it, though. No one shines like you.”

I laughed, the night air cool on my flushed cheeks. “I don’t know about that,” I said, glancing over at Joe who was walking beside me, his hand brushing against mine. My stomach fluttered at the contact, but I didn’t say anything.

The parking lot was chaotic as everyone piled into cars. Tracy, Sam, and the others crammed into one, while Joe and I ended up in another with a few other friends, laughing and joking like it was just another night. But it didn’t feel like just another night. This felt different. This felt like the last time we’d all be together in this way.

“You guys are gonna miss each other so much,” Tracy said, her words a bit slurred. “This is the last time we’re all gonna be together.”

I looked around at everyone—Sam and his crew, Tracy with her beaming smile, and Joe, sitting across from me, his eyes twinkling in the dim light. I didn’t want this night to end. It felt like the end of something—something big.

JOE BURROW.

The night ended up going by in a blur. The prom was exactly what I expected and nothing like I imagined. My crown, which had been placed atop my head in a daze, felt heavier with every passing second. But as I glanced over at Y/N, standing beside me, I realized that tonight wasn't about the crown or the glittering dance floor—it was about the fact that we had both made it here together.

As soon as the prom ended, everyone piled into cars, the laughter and chaos of the night spilling out into the streets. Tracy and Sam were in the front seats, and the rest of us packed into two cars heading for our usual spot: the 24/7 fast food joint down the street.

“Best night ever!” Tracy yelled from the front seat, her voice full of excitement and maybe a little too much sugar.

Y/N, sitting next to me, leaned her head back against the seat and sighed. “Honestly, this is the only place I wanted to end up tonight.”

I glanced at her, a grin tugging at my lips. “It’s perfect, huh?”

The group of us shuffled into the fast food place, everyone high on adrenaline, and suddenly, the night felt endless. I grabbed a large soda and some fries, and we all sat around, teasing each other, making fun of the awkward moments at prom. It didn’t take long before someone—probably Sam—suggested spiking the punch.

Y/N was sipping her soda innocently, but I could tell the punch had begun to work its magic. Her eyes were a little glassy, and her giggles were more frequent than usual. I could feel it too. The alcohol had taken over, making everything feel lighter, blurrier.

After a few more rounds of punch and laughing over ridiculous prom photos, our group decided to walk. No one really wanted the night to end just yet. Y/N and I stumbled a bit, weaving through the streets as we made our way toward my house. It was a warm night, and we walked slowly, the stars twinkling above us, as if everything in the universe had aligned for this very moment.

By the time we made it to the end of the place, I was barely able to keep my eyes open. But I didn’t want to go home yet. Not like this.

“Joe, we’re walking,” Sam said, slurring his words as he jumped out of the car and started heading toward the neighborhood. “Come on! We’re taking the long way back!”

I looked at Y/N, and she just shrugged, smiling. “I’m in,” she said, laughing.

And just like that, we all piled out of the cars and started walking through the dark streets, the cool night air refreshing against our skin as we stumbled down familiar roads.

We walked past houses, the sidewalks empty, the only sounds coming from our group and the occasional rustling of trees. We didn’t have any particular destination in mind. We just walked and talked, our laughter echoing through the empty streets. It was so easy, so natural, like we had all the time in the world.

At some point, we ended up on my street. My house loomed ahead, warm lights spilling out from the windows. We’d spent so many nights here before, just talking and watching the stars, and tonight felt like no different.

I led Y/N to my backyard, where a small patch of grass sat beneath a canopy of trees, almost tripping on our feet. The stars were clear in the sky, shining brighter than I had ever seen them before. It was like everything was glowing, alive, and the world was just right.

We laid down on the grass, our arms touching, but not quite close enough for me to feel her warmth completely. The alcohol from the punch made everything fuzzy, the stars spinning above us. My thoughts were scattered, my words slow, but somehow it all felt peaceful.

She was lying beside me, her hand resting on her stomach, her eyes on the sky. I could feel her breath in the air, feel her presence beside me. And in that moment, I realized how much I didn’t want this night to end.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said, her voice quiet as I stared at the stars.

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice a little deeper than usual, probably from the alcohol. “It’s crazy how small we are, you know? It’s like everything else fades away.”

My body felt heavy with the weight of everything I had left unsaid. The way I felt about her. The way she made me feel every time she was near.

“I’m glad you’re here with me tonight, Joe,” She whispered.

“I’m glad you’re here too, Y/N.” There was a slight hesitation in my voice. A flicker of something I couldn’t place.

The alcohol had taken over, and everything felt like it was happening in slow motion. The way her voice sounded, the way the world felt too big and too small at the same time—it was all a blur, but one thing was crystal clear: I didn’t want this night to end. I didn’t want her to leave.

I turned my head slightly, catching a glimpse of her face in the dim light of the stars. She looked like she was deep in thought, her lips slightly parted. There was something about the way she looked at me, something that made my heart race and my stomach twist.

I didn’t think. I didn’t even hesitate. I just leaned toward her, closing the distance between us. The moment our lips met, everything else melted away. The world stopped spinning, and all that mattered was her. Her taste, the way her lips felt against mine, the way she kissed me back as if she’d been waiting for this moment too.

It was like time didn’t exist. Like it was just the two of us, under the stars, finally doing what we had both wanted to do for so long.

When we pulled away, breathless and dizzy from the kiss, neither of us said anything. We just laid there, looking up at the sky, the stars blurring into streaks of light as our minds swirled.

The night ended with a haze, the kiss lingering in my mind but slowly fading as the alcohol wore off. The stars were still shining, but everything felt a little more distant now.

I couldn’t remember exactly how we got back to the house, how we ended up on my couch, or how we fell asleep, side by side. But when I woke up the next morning, my mind was foggy, my lips still tingling, and the memory of the stars felt far away.

I could remember nothing about last night.

#joe burrow #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic #joeburrow #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow x reader #bengals #friends to lovers

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luvashli · 2 months ago

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THE BET

Synopsis -> Heeseung, the campus heartthrob known for his charm and devil-may-care attitude, makes a bet with his friends: he’ll win you over in just one week. However, as he spends more time with you, his cocky facade starts to crack. What starts as a game becomes a test of emotions neither of you expected.

PAIRING: nonidol!heeseung x fem!reader

GENRE: oneshot, College au, romance, angst, slowburn, drama

STARTED: 1/21/2025

STATUS: complete

WC: 4.2 K

The whispers about Heeseung started the first day you set foot on campus. “The guy’s a legend,” someone had said during freshman orientation. “He can charm anyone.”

You hadn’t paid much attention then. Sure, you’d seen him around—leaning against his car in the parking lot, laughing with friends as if the world was his playground. He was tall, undeniably handsome, with the kind of effortless confidence that made people gravitate toward him. But you didn’t like people like him. People who lived their lives on autopilot, coasting on good looks and charm.

You prided yourself on being different. Confident, independent, and no-nonsense, you had no time for boys who thought they could play games with your heart. Your focus was on your studies, your goals, and your small circle of friends who valued authenticity over popularity.

But everything changed on a rainy Wednesday afternoon in the campus library.

“Let’s make it interesting,” Jay said, smirking as he leaned back in his chair.

Heeseung rolled his eyes, already tired of his friend’s antics. They were hanging out in one of the campus lounges, killing time between classes. Jay, Jake, Sunghoon, and Sunoo—all of them notorious for their friendly but reckless behavior—were egging him on as usual.

“You’ve won over every girl on campus,” Jake added. “Except for her.”

Heeseung frowned, glancing across the room where you sat, headphones on, flipping through a thick textbook. You looked focused, completely unaware of the world around you.

“Y/N?” Heeseung asked, raising an eyebrow.

“She’s untouchable,” Sunghoon said with a shrug. “I heard she turned down three guys last semester, all of them way more charming than you.”

Heeseung smirked, leaning back. “Is that a challenge?”

“It’s a bet,” Jay said, his grin widening. “Seven days. You get her to fall for you, and dinner’s on us for a month.”

Heeseung hesitated for a moment, his eyes lingering on you. He wasn’t sure why, but something about you intrigued him. You were different from the girls who usually threw themselves at him. Confident, uninterested, completely in your own world.

“Fine,” Heeseung said, grinning. “Seven days. Watch and learn.”

Day One

The rain had started to pour outside, the steady rhythm tapping against the library windows. You were lost in your reading, trying to make sense of a particularly dense paragraph in your sociology textbook, when a shadow fell across your desk.

“Mind if I sit here?”

You looked up, and there he was—Lee Heeseung, in all his cocky glory.

“Yes, I mind,” you said curtly, turning back to your book.

He didn’t leave. Instead, he pulled out the chair across from you and sat down, a lazy smile on his face.

“Y/N, right?”

You narrowed your eyes. “How do you know my name?”

He shrugged, leaning forward slightly. “I have my ways.”

You rolled your eyes, already annoyed. “Look, I’m busy. Whatever game you’re playing, go play it somewhere else.”

But Heeseung didn’t budge. Instead, he spent the next hour pretending to study, stealing glances at you and making small comments that made you want to scream.

When you finally packed up your things and left, he followed you outside.

“Hey, wait,” he called out.

“What now?” you snapped, turning around.

Heeseung hesitated for a moment, his usual confidence faltering. “Let me walk you home. It’s raining.”

You stared at him, trying to figure out his angle. But in the end, you let him.

Day Two

The sun had barely risen, casting a warm, golden glow over campus as you settled into your favorite corner of the coffee shop. It was your sacred morning ritual—black coffee, a half-eaten muffin, and your notebook open to a page of neat, organized notes. The world outside could be chaos, but here, with the hum of coffee machines and quiet chatter, you had control.

Heeseung, however, seemed hellbent on disrupting that control.

You didn’t even notice him at first, too engrossed in highlighting an important section of your notes. It wasn’t until you caught the faint whiff of cologne—something subtle but maddeningly alluring—that you glanced up.

“Morning,” he said, already sliding into the seat across from you as if he belonged there.

You narrowed your eyes. “Do you make a habit of invading people’s mornings uninvited?”

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, a lopsided grin on his face. “Only when they look like they need company.“

“I don’t,” you replied flatly, going back to your notes.

He didn’t move. Instead, he leaned forward, propping his chin on his hand as he studied you. “You know, you’re kind of infamous around here.”

You paused, raising an eyebrow. “Infamous?”

“For being the girl who doesn’t fall for anyone,” he said, his tone teasing but with a hint of genuine curiosity. “It’s impressive.”

You rolled your eyes. “Let me guess. That’s your opening line for every girl you’re trying to charm?”

“Not every girl,” he said with a smirk. “Just the ones who don’t seem to like me.”

Despite yourself, you felt the corner of your mouth twitch upward. You quickly masked it with a sip of coffee, trying to remind yourself that Heeseung was nothing but trouble.

“What do you want, Heeseung?” you asked finally, your tone sharp.

“To get to know you,” he said, his voice softening.

You weren’t sure if it was the sincerity in his tone or the way his eyes seemed to hold yours for a moment too long, but something about his words caught you off guard. You shook your head, determined not to let him get under your skin.

“Not interested,” you said, closing your notebook and standing up.

Heeseung watched as you gathered your things, his smirk fading into something more thoughtful. Just as you were about to walk away, he called out:

“See you around, Y/N.”

You didn’t turn back, but his words echoed in your mind long after you left the coffee shop.

Later that day, you found yourself replaying the encounter in your head, annoyed that he had managed to occupy even a fraction of your thoughts. Heeseung was just another cocky guy who thought he could charm his way into anything. You’d seen it a thousand times before.

So why did the memory of his stupid grin make your chest tighten?

On the other side of campus, Heeseung sat with his friends, half-listening to their conversation while his mind wandered back to you.

“She’s different,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Jay raised an eyebrow. “You’ve only talked to her twice.”

“Yeah, but…” Heeseung trailed off, unable to find the right words. You were a challenge, sure, but it was more than that. The fire in your eyes, the way you held yourself like you didn’t need anyone—that was what fascinated him.

“Just don’t screw it up,” Jake said with a grin. “You’ve got five days left, and she’s not going to make it easy.”

Heeseung smirked, but inside, he felt the first pang of doubt. This wasn’t just a game anymore, and he had no idea what he’d gotten himself into.

Day Three

You told yourself you were overthinking things. Heeseung was just another guy trying to get your attention, and if you ignored him long enough, he'd eventually get bored and move on. But when you walked into the campus library that afternoon, the last thing you expected was to find him there—leaning against a bookshelf in the fiction section, skimming through a book like he belonged there.

You froze for a moment, cursing your luck. He glanced up almost immediately, his face lighting up when he saw you.

“Well, look who it is,” he said, closing the book and tucking it under his arm. “Didn’t take you for a library kind of person.”

You rolled your eyes, clutching your notebook tighter against your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he said innocently, though the smirk tugging at his lips said otherwise.

“Do you just… follow me around campus now?” you asked, your tone sharp.

Heeseung laughed, shaking his head. “Believe it or not, I have other hobbies besides annoying you.”

You stepped closer, trying to find the book you came for. Heeseung didn’t move, his presence radiating far too much confidence for someone standing in your way.

“Do you mind?” you asked pointedly, gesturing toward the shelf behind him.

Heeseung glanced over his shoulder, then back at you. “What are you looking for?”

“None of your business,” you snapped.

“Fair enough,” he said, stepping aside with an exaggerated bow. “Go ahead.”

You ignored him and quickly grabbed the book you needed, but his gaze lingered on you as you tried to focus.

“You know,” he said after a moment, “you’re kind of fascinating.”

You sighed, turning to face him. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Nope,” he said, his grin widening. “See you around, Y/N.”

As he walked away, you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of irritation and intrigue. Heeseung was persistent, you’d give him that. But there was something about the way he looked at you—like he actually wanted to figure you out—that made your defenses waver, if only for a moment.

Day Four

It was late in the evening, and the campus was unusually quiet. You were walking back to your dorm, lost in thought, when you heard footsteps behind you. You glanced over your shoulder, already annoyed, and sure enough, there he was.

“Are you seriously stalking me now?” you asked, stopping in your tracks.

Heeseung raised his hands in mock surrender. “Relax. I was heading this way anyway.”

You narrowed your eyes but kept walking. He fell into step beside you, hands in his pockets, his usual cocky demeanor oddly subdued.

The two of you walked in silence for a while, the quiet night settling between you like a fragile truce.

“Why do you hate me so much?” he asked suddenly, his voice softer than you expected.

“I don’t hate you,” you said, glancing at him. “I just don’t trust you.”

Heeseung nodded, as if he’d been expecting that answer. “Fair enough.”

You didn’t know why, but his lack of a comeback caught you off guard. For once, he wasn’t trying to charm you or get under your skin—he was just… there.

As you reached your dorm, he stopped and turned to you. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You hesitated, then nodded. “Goodnight.”

And for the first time, you realized you weren’t entirely dreading seeing him again.

Day Five

By now, you’d started noticing Heeseung everywhere. In the coffee shop, at the library, even in passing conversations with your friends. It was like he’d found a way to exist on the edges of your world without completely intruding.

That evening, you were sitting on a bench outside the student center, flipping through your notes, when Heeseung appeared again. This time, he wasn’t smirking or teasing—he looked almost… nervous.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the space beside you.

You considered saying no but sighed instead, scooting over to make room.

He sat down, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. For a moment, neither of you said anything.

“I know I can be annoying,” he said finally, his voice low. “But I’m not a bad guy, Y/N.”

You glanced at him, surprised by his sudden honesty. “Then why act like one?”

Heeseung chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “I guess it’s easier that way. People don’t expect much from you if they think you’re just messing around.”

You studied him for a moment, trying to reconcile the cocky persona he usually wore with the vulnerability he was showing now.

“Maybe you should stop pretending,” you said softly.

He looked at you then, his eyes searching yours as if he was trying to figure out if you really meant it.

“I’m starting to think you’re right,” he said.

And in that moment, you felt the walls you’d built around yourself begin to crack, just a little.

It was the sixth day when everything fell apart.

You were walking across campus when you overheard them—Heeseung and his friends, laughing about the bet.

“Did you really think she’d fall for it?” Jay said, grinning. “Man, you’re good.”

Your blood ran cold. You turned the corner, and there they were, laughing as if it was all just a game.

“Heeseung,” you said, your voice icy.

He turned around, his smile fading when he saw your expression.

“Y/N, wait—”

“Don’t,” you snapped. “Don’t you dare try to explain. I should’ve known this was all a joke to you.”

“It wasn’t—”

“Save it,” you said, your voice breaking. “I don’t want to hear it.”

And with that, you walked away, leaving him standing there, his heart sinking.

The knock on your door came just as you were about to turn in for the night. You frowned, glancing at the clock—it was nearing midnight. Pulling on a hoodie over your tank top, you padded to the door, already bracing yourself for some random excuse from your roommate or a delivery mix-up.

But when you opened the door, there he was.

Heeseung stood on the other side, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. His hair was a mess, as though he’d run his hands through it a hundred times, and his eyes… They weren’t cocky or playful like usual. They were wide, hesitant, and uncharacteristically vulnerable.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“I needed to talk to you,” he said, his voice quiet—almost pleading.

You hesitated, debating whether or not to shut the door in his face. But something about the way he looked, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, made you pause.

“Fine,” you said reluctantly, stepping aside.

He walked in, but his usual confidence was absent. He didn’t try to sprawl on your couch or crack a joke. Instead, he hovered near the door, hands fidgeting at his sides.

“Y/N…” Heeseung started, then stopped, as if the words were too heavy to say.

You crossed your arms, leaning against the counter. “If you’re just here to waste my time—”

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, cutting you off. His voice cracked, and it made you freeze.

“What?” you said, your tone softer now, caught off guard by the rawness in his voice.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, his gaze fixed on the floor. “For the bet. For being an idiot. For… for hurting you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral. “You’re really going to apologize now? After everything?”

“I know,” he said quickly, lifting his eyes to meet yours. “I know it’s late, and I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I… I couldn’t just leave it like this. You have no idea how much I hate myself for what I did.”

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your chest tightened at the sight of him like this—so undone, so unlike the Heeseung you thought you knew.

“I didn’t mean for it to go this far,” he continued, his voice trembling. “At first, it was just… stupid. I wanted to win, I wanted to prove I could get to you. But then…” He took a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. “Then I got to know you. And suddenly, it wasn’t about the bet anymore. It was about you. And I ruined it.”

You stayed silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

Heeseung’s voice dropped, almost a whisper now. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right. I swear, Y/N. Just… tell me what to do.”

The vulnerability in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. Heeseung, the guy who seemed untouchable, was standing in your apartment, completely unguarded and entirely at your mercy.

“Why should I believe you?” you asked, your voice trembling despite yourself. “How do I know this isn’t just another game?”

His eyes softened, and he took a step closer, hesitating as though afraid you’d push him away. “Because you’re the only person who’s ever made me want to be better,” he said, his voice barely audible. “And I can’t lose that.”

You stared at him, your emotions warring inside you. The anger, the hurt, the lingering attraction—it all came to a head as he closed the distance between you, his hand hovering just inches from yours.

“I don’t want your words, Heeseung,” you said, your voice breaking. “I want proof.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he’d retreat. But then he stepped even closer, his breath mingling with yours as he looked at you with an intensity that made your knees weak.

“Then let me show you,” he murmured, his voice trembling.

And before you could think, before you could push him away or pull him closer, he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft or gentle—it was desperate, raw, filled with all the tension and unspoken emotions that had been building between you. His hands cupped your face, almost reverently, as though he was afraid you’d slip away.

You wanted to stay angry. You wanted to shove him back and tell him he didn’t deserve you. But the way he kissed you, like you were the only thing anchoring him to this world, made it impossible to pull away.

When he finally broke the kiss, his forehead rested against yours, and his breath was shaky.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I mean it, Y/N. I’ll prove it to you every single day if I have to.”

For the first time, you saw the real Heeseung—not the cocky playboy or the overconfident charmer, but the broken boy underneath, desperate for a second chance.

And for the first time, you thought maybe—just maybe—you’d give him one.

It had been a few weeks since Heeseung's late-night apology at your apartment, and things had undeniably shifted between you both. What started as a tangled mess of hurt and confusion had slowly transformed into something new, something unexpected—something real.

You had no idea what would happen next. You still had questions. You still had doubts. But when Heeseung had come to you, laid bare his vulnerabilities, and shown you his true self, it was hard to ignore the connection you’d always had. Something had cracked inside you, and though the wound was still fresh, it had given way to the possibility of something more.

And so, you moved forward, cautiously at first, but with each passing day, your trust in him grew. The dynamic between you had changed completely, but it wasn’t what you expected. Heeseung wasn’t just the cocky, confident guy he once was—he was more patient now, more introspective. It was clear that he was trying to prove that he meant what he said, and you found yourself falling for him again, in a way that was different. It wasn’t the infatuation of the bet or the thrill of the game; this time, it was something deeper, quieter—something more meaningful.

He still had his playful side, of course. But when you looked at him now, you saw the layers that were once hidden beneath the surface. You saw the side of him that had always been there—the side that cared, the side that loved fiercely, and the side that wanted to make things right.

You didn’t have to say the words out loud to feel it—you could see it in the way he looked at you. Heeseung’s eyes no longer held that playful arrogance; instead, they were filled with warmth, tenderness, and sometimes, a hint of uncertainty. It was a vulnerability that you never would’ve expected from him, but it made him more real, more human.

One evening, as the two of you sat together in the common room, sharing a quiet dinner, you caught him looking at you in a way that made your heart flutter.

“You’re staring,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

Heeseung smirked, but it was different now. “I can’t help it,” he said, leaning in slightly. “You’re kind of… amazing.”

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. It had taken time, but it was clear now—there was no more pretense. Heeseung had let his guard down, and so had you.

But as much as you had grown closer, there were still moments where you felt the weight of the past. You still remembered the bet, the hurt, the betrayal. But Heeseung didn’t shy away from these moments; he acknowledged them, apologized again when needed, and showed you, through his actions, that he was working to be better.

It wasn’t long before the others started to notice the subtle shift in your relationship with Heeseung. They weren’t blind—how could they be? The playful banter between you two had transformed into something much quieter, something that wasn’t as easily hidden.

At first, they were confused, unsure of what had changed. They had seen you and Heeseung bicker before, but this time, the air between you both was different. It was as if something unspoken was lingering, a secret that neither of you could hide.

One afternoon, you were all gathered in the living room of their shared apartment, hanging out after classes. The guys were being their usual selves—loud, playful, and full of energy. You were sitting next to Heeseung, your knees brushing together as you chatted with Sunghoon about an upcoming project.

But Heeseung’s hand was resting on your thigh, just enough to let you know he was there, a silent reassurance. It was subtle, but it wasn’t unnoticed by the others.

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, glancing between you two. “Okay, seriously. What’s going on with you two?”

You tensed slightly, but Heeseung leaned back in his chair, his expression relaxed. “What do you mean?” he asked, a playful grin tugging at his lips. But you could see the way his eyes flicked to you, a little too aware of how the conversation was turning.

“You two are… different,” Sunghoon said slowly, his gaze lingering on the hand that Heeseung had placed on your thigh. “You’re not acting like you used to. So, what’s up?”

Jake, who had been quiet up until now, smirked. “I’m just waiting for one of you to break the silence and admit it already.”

Heeseung shifted uncomfortably, but instead of retreating, he met your eyes, as if silently asking if he should say anything. You sighed, shaking your head slightly.

“I think it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?” you said, your tone casual but with a hint of amusement. “We’ve been through a lot, and we’re…”

“Together,” Heeseung finished, his voice steady, but there was a trace of something—nervousness, maybe?—lingering in his tone.

The room fell into a stunned silence. You could practically hear the gears turning in their heads as they processed your words.

Jay, who had been leaning back on the couch with his arms crossed, raised an eyebrow. “So, wait, you’re telling us that you two are, like… official?”

You nodded, but before you could say anything else, Sunoo broke in, his grin wide. “Well, it’s about damn time!”

The others erupted into laughter, but you could tell that there was a mixture of surprise and understanding in their eyes. They hadn’t expected this, not after the way things had started, but they could see the change in both of you.

“You two are cute,” Sunghoon said, shaking his head with a smile. “I guess you’re not the cocky, arrogant guy you once were, huh, Heeseung?”

Heeseung rolled his eyes, but there was a genuine smile on his face. “Nope,” he said with a mock sigh. “Guess I’m whipped now.”

You snorted, reaching over to nudge him. “Shut up,” you muttered, but there was warmth in your voice.

“Well, whatever happens, I’m glad you two are happy,” Jake said, giving you both a thumbs-up. “But seriously, Heeseung, don’t mess it up this time.”

Heeseung raised his hands in mock surrender. “I won’t, I won’t. I’ve learned my lesson.”

You chuckled softly, your gaze softening as you looked at Heeseung. There was no doubt now—things had changed, and for the better. The trust between you had grown, and so had your feelings. It wasn’t going to be perfect, and there would still be bumps along the way, but you both knew you were in this together.

And as the conversation continued, you realized just how much you had both changed since that first bet, that first moment of rivalry. You had gone from strangers to something much deeper—partners, lovers, friends—no longer bound by the past but by what you had created together.

And for the first time in a long while, you were certain that whatever came next, you were ready to face it with Heeseung by your side.

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