well, you lied. you said you were fine. but now you're terrified, 'cause you don't want to die. then you start to cry, you wish that you could take it all back.
all in one night, she just went to heaven and back.
partyhost!heeseung x partygirl!reader
length: 8.1k
warnings: angst, college au, drug use, drug overdose, heavy drinking, emotionally unstable reader, depression, unhealthy coping mechanisms, themes of addiction, family trauma, money problems, academic failure, one (1) inebriated kiss
synopsis: Your self-control wasn't lost in a single night. It took weeks to chip away. You just needed a little something for the pain. To help you forget that everything was crumbling around you.
And as much as Heeseung wanted to say something, he didn't. If you wanted to fuck yourself up, that was your choice. No amount of reasoning on his end was going to change that.
At least he’d tried. He could say that much. So why did he still feel like this was his responsibility?
( 音楽 ) :: heaven and back, chase atlantic ☆ colors, halsey ☆ swim, BTS ☆ fleeting touch, sarah kinsley ☆ call me back, chase atlantic ☆ headlights, in color :: ₊ ⊹
⤷ chuu's💌── .✦ hiuihiuuuu long time no see. let's not talk about heeseung's departure bc i'll get upset LMAOAO. i'm still writing about him idc enha is 7 forever! anyways, FINALLY unlocked gradient text (coding is scary how do y'all do this). idk what this story is. i had a bad week so i had to cope by imagining myself getting addicted to drugs idk guys i think we're all in psychosis post-heeseung news so let's just take care of each other and ourselves (writing abt poor coping mechanisms instead of engaging in them ;P) enjoy!
· · ─ ·✶·
Self-control wasn’t something that could be lost in a single night. At least, yours wasn’t.
Yours took weeks to chip away at. A string of bad luck had left you reeling—a layoff at work, your roommate up and leaving without so much as a note, or next month’s rent. Late bills, a threat of eviction if you couldn’t pull things together.
At first, it felt distant. Fixable, if you worked hard enough.
A bad week. A rough patch. You told yourself you’d catch up over the weekend, that you just needed one good night’s sleep, one clear head. But the weekends began to blur into endless incomplete to-do lists, and the version of you that used to plan ahead began to feel like a stranger you couldn’t quite conjure anymore.
“This is the last time we help you out, y/n,” Your mom had said after you called for help with the 2-people’s-worth of rent that you were in no place to pay. “You’re 22 years old; it’s embarrassing to still be living off your parents’ money.”
She’d left no room for discussion. You’re on your own now. Your face burned just remembering it. Humiliated, helpless, unable to focus on the daily obligations you’d never struggled with before. Every late assignment, every email from your professors, every rejection letter from jobs you should’ve had no problem getting made the feeling worse.
You started to ignore your grades. Notifications piled up until you stopped checking them. Even showing up to class felt pointless, like a mountain you were already too far fallen to climb back up.
You had friends, still. A few partners from class projects that you kept up with. There was the guy you’d been hooking up with on and off since the start of the semester, Sunghoon. But his texts had been coming in fewer and shorter with every week you spent drowning in endless overdue responsibilities. He offered no more of an escape than what you could offer yourself.
You needed something else. Something to help you forget the way things were crumbling down around you. There was a hole in the party scene that your roommate had left behind, which her friends were all too eager to have you fill. At first, you’d forced yourself to go, feeling awkward trying to fill the shoes of someone you weren’t.
You coached yourself through it. Smile here. Laugh now. If someone offered you something, you took it. Another drink. Another house. A forty-minute walk home at 2am. Anything was better than lying awake at night running down the list of ways in which you were failing.
It got easier. You started craving weekends. The release. The freedom. A room full of strangers who expected nothing of you but to let go and have fun.
Perhaps that was the real mistake.
Trying to lose yourself in a crowd you didn’t belong to.
· · ─ ·✶·
Stars danced colorfully at the edges of your vision, going from pink, to blue, to gold, in tandem with the lights. Your body felt airy, your head thick and slow. Another bad day. Another bad week. That was all your life seemed to be now. Bad days and blurry nights, worth nothing but the bliss of a crowd you could lose yourself in to forget the failings of every other aspect of your life.
The party roared loud around you, but you hardly noticed anything outside the immediate circle you were standing in. Your head was swimming already. The edges of your vision softened, like staring through murky water, and with it the anxiety that had kept you awake all last night.
The scene wasn’t new. But the pills were.
It had started two weeks before, when the girl next to you had noticed you nodding off in the middle of class.
“Have you ever tried one?” She asked as you were packing your things, a tiny orange pill held out in the palm of her hand. “Saves my ass during midterms. The only way I can get everything done, you know?”
Finding someone in your social circle to lend you some of their prescription was no problem. One to help you catch up on assignments, you’d told yourself. One so you could get a few extra job applications in. Your friend had seen the repurposed contacts case open on your desk one night, the three orange tablets inside.
“You like those? You’re gonna love this.”
It kicked in faster than you thought it would. It wasn’t Adderall, and maybe you should’ve cared to ask before taking it, but you needed to stop thinking. Mission accomplished. All thoughts of the failed exam you’d received earlier were replaced by the throat-tightening churn of your vision swaying. The lights seemed to throw off shower sparks with each shifting color, burning more than they usually did.
You blinked, trying to adjust, but you couldn’t. Your stomach dipped. You swallowed it down. You were fine. You were fine.
“Always takes a second to get good,” Your friend said, grinning. “Feeling alright?”
“Mmm,” You nodded, taking a breath.
Stop thinking. Stop thinking. You inhaled again, and it was like something melted out of you. Everything slowed. The pounding your head subsided, the lights drifted easier across your eyes. You breathed out.
For the first time all day, things quieted. Your grades didn’t matter. Making rent on time wasn’t such a big deal. You’d figure it out, you always did.
Someone squeezed through the crowd, balancing a collection of spilling drinks in their arms. You smelled tequila. One appeared in front of you and you took it. Why shouldn’t you? Everything else was out of your control, but this? This was your choice. You deserved to feel good for once, didn’t you?
That night was the first time you blacked out. It wasn’t the last.
· · ─ ·✶·
Heeseung had never noticed you on campus. He hardly went on campus.
He was smart, despite his reputation. He knew exactly how little effort he could get away with; how few chapters he needed to pass an exam, how many classes to keep his attendance just high enough.
Graduation rates, fellowships, world-class research labs, none of that stuff had mattered to him when he’d applied to school. What Heeseung really cared about were parties.
He loved them. Not in the sloppy, desperate way some people needed them—as if trying to drown everything else out with loud music and cheap beers.
He liked the control. Bending a night around his mood and watching as everyone else bent with it. He had a knack for atmosphere, for music, for figuring out which drinks people liked for which events, and which faces needed to show for the right crowd to follow after. It was a kind of rhythm, and he was good at keeping it going.
People thought he hosted because he was a big partier himself. And he was, sometimes. But mostly he watched. Managed. Made sure no one was mixing the wrong things or pushing past their limit. He was good with faces, less with names, but people knew they were in good hands when they were with him. You didn’t need an invite; you just had to know someone he knew. And once you were in, you were in.
It was a strange reputation to have—king of every party and the one everyone went to when things went wrong—but the truth was that he knew the scene well. Well enough to know how dangerous it could get.
Which was why you’d caught his attention in the first place.
· · ─ ·✶·
It wasn’t right away.
At first, you were just another face in the crowd. Another body moving through his space, one he could count on to show up regardless of if your group changed. The first few weeks you were always with the same group of girls who’d frequented his place before. Then, you started showing up even when they didn’t.
Same easy smile, same willingness to partake in whatever was happening around you. You blended in well—better than most. Didn’t cause problems, didn’t cling, didn’t complain about the music or the drinks. The kind of person Heeseung never had to think twice about letting in.
Reliable, in a way.
If he noticed anything, it was that.
If he’d looked closer, he might’ve noticed the shift. Slow and subtle, like the tide receding from the shore—gone before you knew it. Your eyes got glassier each night you showed up. Your laugh louder yet less convincing. But that wasn’t his problem. He never involved himself unless things got out of control, and with you, he was sure he had nothing to worry about.
That was until he saw the group you were with.
He spotted you across the living room sitting on the couch, flanked on either side by a pair of familiar faces. Jake on your left, Jay your right. His brow furrowed. They weren’t friends. They were hardly acquaintances. Some of Sunghoon’s friends that Heeseung never saw outside of his parties, but it was his job to know what kind of people were in his house, and he knew their type. Heavy-handed, always on kind of stuff that moved too aggressively through campus. Big sharers. Overly eager with first timers like you.
New crowd, he thought to himself, watching the way you finished drinks one after the other, thrusting your cup out each time like you were trying to prove something. He glanced back at the joint he was rolling long enough to lick the paper and seal it before his eyes drifted back to you—the sharp burst of laughter, the loose movement of your body.
Jay reached into his jacket and pulled a small Ziplock bag out, the plastic flashing orange as he opened it.
Not my problem, he reminded himself, fingers closing around the end of his joint.
Until he saw you hesitate.
It was small. So small, no one else would’ve caught it. Jay held the bag out to you, and for just a second, your hand hovered. Your expression flickered. Doubt. Uncertainty.
You looked tired. It was plain to see now that he was really looking. There was a weariness in your eyes, a lack of confidence that seemed to run deeper than the question held before you.
In an instant, the look vanished, replaced by an eagerness that didn’t quite reach your eyes. Heeseung’s jaw tightened as he watched you down the rest of your drink, hold out your hand, and toss back the little blue pill placed in the center of your palm.
Normally, he wouldn’t have cared. People did all sorts of things at his parties, and he did his best not to intervene unless absolutely necessary. It was why people trusted him enough to let loose. But this was different. The gloss in your eyes was different. The sag of your shoulders was different. He got to his feet.
“Here, take this,” Heeseung said, passing the joint to his friend. “You can spark it without me.”
“Someone in trouble?” The guy asked.
“Nah.” He stepped around the coffee table. “Just checking something.”
· · ─ ·✶·
Your weeks had begun to blend together.
Every Sunday, you would tell yourself that this would be the one you’d get back on track, and every Friday you’d be so beat down all you wanted was a dark room and plastic cup of something strong. That, and the orange bottle in your friend kept in her purse.
You never bought any of your own, but what did it matter? Every weekend was the same. Lights, music, empty bottles. A hand pressing something into yours and your head tipping back, euphoria washing down your throat with the acid burn of convenience store vodka.
The room would swim for a time, and you’d be sure you were dying, and then from utter darkness came a sense of absolute invincibility. The best nights were when you went dancing, where the lights were strobed and looking at your own hands was like watching someone else’s body moving in front of you.
Tonight, the girls you normally arrived with were late, having more fun at a different party than they’d anticipated. You didn’t care. You never showed up to Heeseung’s sober anyway.
Jake found you first.
He was sweet, funny, the kind of guy that made you feel at home after only a few minutes of conversation. He knew your group rolled most weekends and wanted to know if you had anything with you. “My friend’s got my stuff, and he won’t be here for a while longer.”
You apologized as you shook your head, but he didn’t seem to mind. Stuck with you anyways.
You ended up on the couch together, talking about plans for post-grad. You laughed when prompted, reacted when it seemed appropriate. But already, the conversation was wearing on you.
What were your graduation plans? You used to have a vague idea. Now it was a question if you’d even finish the term. Thankfully, Jay arrived shortly after.
“I brought extra,” He offered, holding up his bag.
You hesitated. Was this your normal now? With your friends, it was easy to tell yourself that the weekend benders, the pills, it was all their world. Something you slipped in and out of when you needed it bad enough. But you were alone now, with no one but yourself to blame if things went too far.
You thought about the pile of work waiting for you at home. The morning shift at a restaurant in the next town over. 6:00am open. 30-minute commute. 4 new notices from your professors. 5 big, fat zeroes staining the front page of your grade portal.
Then you thought about the bliss of a weekend like this one. The diamond-edge of a set of bright lights. The slow-motion weightlessness of your body beneath them. It didn’t take much. 6 drinks. 3 good songs. 1 blue pill.
“Let’s do it,” You said finally, holding your hand out.
They cheered, Jake pressing closer from behind as you swallowed.
“Atta girl.” Jay held his between his teeth as he closed his bag. “You know Sunghoon, right?”
You laughed into your cup. “Sure do.”
“I think he’s mentioned you before. Here.”
You took a third pill and turned, laughing as Jake opened his mouth for you. He was cute, you thought, as you placed it on his tongue—bright blue on pink. If you’d already been high, you might have tried. On a night like this, it would’ve been easy. The drugs were nice like that—everything felt possible. One more drink. One more dance. As easy as breathing.
A rush swept through you, and you straightened, letting out a breath. Your cup was empty, so you set out to searching for a different one. You had the buzz; you wanted the blur too. Jake offered his. You smiled over the rim, satisfied by the way he held your gaze, brow raising slightly. Time passed and you felt better. Good.
You didn’t notice him approach.
“Hey.”
You looked up, eyes taking a second to register the familiar dark eyes, darker hair.
You’d never talked, for all the nights you’d spent on his couch. He was striking up close—tall, handsome. He carried himself well, and spoke with a strong, firm voice. Easy-going, but still in charge.
“No,” Heeseung said. “Just checking in. You good?”
It took you a moment to realize he was talking to you. Your eyes widened, lashes fanning out around the glassy sheen of your pupils. “Me? I’m fine.” You said, although the words came out wrong. Airy and smushed together.
“Yeah? Come here,” He said.
“I’m in trouble,” You giggled, getting to your feet. The room swung, a wash of color that shimmered across your vision. It wasn’t until you felt Heeseung’s hand on your arm that you realized you’d stumbled.
“I’m drunk,” You laughed, grabbing him to steady yourself.
“I’m sure. Did you take something, too?”
The simplicity of the question made you giggle again. Everything was funny. Far away. “Maybe,” You laughed, lifting Jake’s cup to your lips again.
He put two fingers to your wrist, pushing your hand back down. “What was it?”
You made a face, shrugging him off. “Are you always so intense? It’s your party, you know. You should enjoy it.”
“I am. But not so much if someone ends up passed out on my couch.”
Jay frowned from behind you. “We got her, bro. It’s fine.”
You gazed up at Heeseung from behind your cup, eyes sparkling. “Worried about me?”
“Just making sure you don’t overdo it.”
You huffed out a laugh. Light. Hollow. Your words were slurring now, bumping into each other as you spoke. “You’re kinda cute when you’re bossy.” The ground swayed beneath your feet; you grabbed onto his shirt as you righted your balance once more. “My boyfriend’s gonna be real mad if he sees you talking to me.”
Heeseung’s chest tightened. He saw the look Jay gave Jake behind you. You didn’t have a boyfriend. They knew that as well as he did. You had Sunghoon, who was upstairs in the hallway with his hands up some other girl’s shirt. But you didn’t know that; you didn’t even realize that you’d misspoke.
“Maybe he should be down here looking after you, then,” He said.
Maybe he’d jumped the gun. You seemed fine enough. High, for sure. Drunk, too. But you were smiling, and it wasn’t really his business what you did as long as you didn’t take things too far.
He looked you over one last time. “Just… take it easy, okay? You really shouldn’t drink so much if you’re rolling. It’s dangerous.”
There was a commotion by the door and one of your friends came pushing through the crowd. “Y/n! Thank god, I found you—everyone else is waiting outside. That club downtown is doing free entry for girls past 11. Wanna go dancing?”
You turned back to Heeseung, grinning up at him. “I’m going dancing.”
“Great,” He said, taking a step back. Not my problem. “Be careful out there.”
You gave his shirt a light tug, eyes sparkling. “Thanks, Heeseung. See you later.”
He watched you go, throwing your jacket on haphazardly as you stumbled out after your equally-plastered friends. Not my problem. He watched the door swing closed behind you, caught a last echo of your laugh in the second between songs. And the whole time he thought, Not my problem. Not my problem.
· · ─ ·✶·
As much as Heeseung might’ve wanted to say something after that, he didn’t. Not yet. There was nothing to say. So you popped pills and drank too much. So did half the people under his roof. He had no way of proving that what you were doing was different from them. That he could tell it wasn’t about the drugs, but something else you refused to name.
He didn’t say anything, but he watched you. He watched and learned.
He learned to tell your real smiles from your fake ones. The musical quality of a laugh you meant, and the edge of one you didn’t; brittle, like glass cracking under too much pressure. You never came sober. You didn’t like talking about yourself. You took things harder than you wanted people to see.
And every time he saw you, the drugs had crept a little further into the picture. Drinks. Pills from your friends. The occasional line at someone else’s place.
It was obvious that you were trying to escape something. There was a look in your eye, like you were chasing a feeling you could never quite grasp, not to mention the number of red flags—you drank too fast, accepted things too eagerly, let people pull you into other rooms without asking questions.
Heeseung didn’t stop you. Even though he knew the signs. Even though he knew how painful the consequences could be.
He caught you one night in the hallway upstairs. The music was quieter, the lights darker. He hadn’t even realized it was you until you bumped into him. When you looked up, your eyes had that technicolor sheen to them. The same starry, wide-eyed expression you’d had the first time he’d talked to you.
“Heeseung,” You breathed, lips softening into something like a smile. “Hey.”
“Hey. You doing alright?”
You nodded. “I’m fine.” There was a ghost of white on the edge of your noose. Left over from the bump you’d just taken in the other room. “You always do that,” You chuckled.
“Do what?”
“Look after me. You don’t have to, you know. It’s very chivalrous. But you don’t have to.”
He smiled. “Nah, that’s why I’m here.” There was a frenzy to your gaze that he didn’t like. “I can get you something,” He tried. “You want some water?”
“How romantic,” You teased.
“I’m serious.”
“I’m having fun.”
“You’re high,” He said.
You shrugged as you leaned against the wall, a rebellious smile on your face. “Same thing.” Your hand flashed and he saw the capsule in your palm. Different color this time. His reaction was immediate.
“No.”
You looked amused. “What did I say? Bossy.”
“You just did a bump, y/n.”
“A line, actually. And, so what?”
“So give it a minute.”
“Heeseung.” You gave him that look. The are you serious? look that people sometimes gave when he tried to slow them down. The look that said he was a host and should act like it—getting in the way of people’s fun was counterintuitive. But he was being a good host. The feeling in his gut told him so.
He let out a tense breath as you took the pill anyways. Deliberate. Like you were trying to test him. Sober, you’d have realized how upset her was—but the look on his face just made you laugh. “You’re acting like I’m dying.”
He crossed his arms. “Well you’re acting like you kind of want to,” He shot back.
Something flickered across your face at that. The ghost of a frown. “Relax,” You said, pushing off the wall. Your head swayed, eyes focusing and unfocusing. “I’m fine, Heeseung.”
You made to give him a playful shove, but it was too quick of a movement. You stumbled forward, nearly landing against his chest before getting a handle on your feet. You blinked. Looked up at him. “You’re tall,” You mumbled.
“Yeah.” His tone was cold. “And you’re fine, right?”
Your face scrunched, hand going to the side of your head. It was pounding. With a sigh, you reached for the cup in his hand, pulling it out of his grasp.
“Y/n—” He started, voice hard.
“Relax,” You insisted. “For water. C’mon.”
The bathroom was bright but quiet, like stepping into another world entirely. Heeseung shut the door behind him as you dumped the contents of his cup into the sink and filled it with water. You felt him watching as you drained it, sensed him ease off a little as you finished a second.
The overhead bathed everything in a tangerine light, glossing the wooden floor beneath your feet. With the door shut everything felt infinitely closer, easier to focus on. Heeseung took up more space than you realized, standing opposite you against the wall. He was tall, it was true, but it was something else, too. A grounding presence that seemed to fill the room as he stood. Your vision spun in a wide arc, with him at the center.
“You know,” You said, turning to lean back against the edge of the sink, “I always thought you didn’t like me.”
That surprised him. “Why?”
“You’re always watching me. Like I’m gonna do something stupid. Or ruin your night.”
“That’s not—” How could he explain it? That he saw through the façade you had built, knew that you were losing yourself on purpose. Even standing there, watching as your lashes fluttered against the intense red of your cheeks, what right did he have to say it to you?
You barreled straight over him, unaware that he’d begun speaking. “I’m not trouble. I’m not—I don’t want you to think I’m some mess you’re going to have to clean up. It’s not… it’s not like that,” You mumbled, looking at him.
“I don’t think that.”
Your laugh came out in a sharp burst, erratic. “You have a funny way of showing it.”
Heeseung gave you a look. “I’d question anyone stupid enough to mix stuff like you did. You know it’s dangerous.”
“I know.” You smiled down at your feet. “I realized you watch everyone like that. Like… it’s your job.” Your voice was lighter now, eyes traveling up to trace the wood trim that spanned the wall.
“I just want to make sure nothing gets out of control.”
You hummed. “It’s more than that. More than just making sure people don’t get into fights or fuck your house up. It’s like you have to make sure everyone is okay. Having fun. Being safe.” Your eyes met his. “Why is that?”
Heeseung swallowed. His throat had gone dry, his cup still dangling in your hand. He leaned back against the wall, ran a hand through his hair.
“My brother,” He said finally, clearing his throat. “My older brother OD’d when I was in high school. I—” He noticed his hand had begun to shake. Just barely. He curled his fingers closed as he looked back at you. “—I knew something was up and I didn’t say anything when I should have.”
You stared back at him, still fidgeting with the edge of his cup. “You think it was your fault—?”
“It was.” There was an edge in his voice, the same one you got when you’d spent too long forcing out your laughter. Brittle. Cracked. “I was the one who noticed something had changed. He was… different, after he left for school. It was obvious every time he came home. I knew something was going on. And I didn’t do anything about it.” He palmed the back of his neck. “So,” He cleared his throat again. “It was my fault. No other way to put it.”
He felt laid bare. It wasn’t a confession—he wasn’t even sure why he was telling you—but it felt like one. His skin prickled beneath your gaze, throat tight around the weight of something that was never talked about but always felt.
You looked down at your hands. “I didn’t know that,” You said quietly.
“It’s fine. Not many people do.”
Your expression wavered, eyes filling suddenly. Heeseung tensed.
“Gosh, I’m sorry,” You laughed, shaking your head. You tossed the cup into the sink and wiped at your eyes hastily. “I feel like an idiot. Moping around your house like this. You have real pain—actual pain—in your life, and I just…come here every weekend because I can’t handle a few stressful months.” You looked at him. “I’m failing my classes. Flunking out of the term, actually. Can’t make rent, can’t go to my parents for help. That’s it. That’s the whole thing. One rough patch and I put on this whole act, and everyone sees through me. Knows it’s bullshit. The drinking. The drugs. It’s just me feeling sorry for myself.”
You were rambling now. Words bubbling up before you could think them through. Angry. Ashamed. How insignificant your problems must seem to him. You could hardly stomach it.
“I can be so selfish,” You said. “And self-absorbed. Don’t make that face—it’s true. I can be such a bitch, and I haven’t even gone through anything.” You looked at him. Two perfect tears hung in your lash line, like stars. “And you—you help people. You make things better, and I just… hide. With alcohol,” You laughed. “And pills. I do it to feel better, but it just makes me feel so…” You bit your lip.
“Crazy?”
“Weak,” You whispered.
“You’re not weak, y/n,” Heeseung said, taking a half step forward. “Trust me. You’re coping because you know this isn’t you. And you’re angry because you want to fix things.” He hesitated. “I know what it looks like when someone stops caring. That’s not you.”
Your eyes kept drifting from him then snapping back, like you had to remind yourself to focus. You swayed gently, even leaned against the counter. “You should know it wasn’t your fault, then.”
He flinched. Took a step back.
“You know it was out of your control. Don’t you? You were just a kid.” You reached a hand out, pulling the rumpled edge of his collar straight.
“Still.” His voice wavered. “I could’ve stopped it.”
“It wasn’t your job to look out for that kind of thing.”
“No. But it is here.”
You looked up at him. “That’s why you care.”
“That’s why I care.”
You stared at him for a long moment. Then your hand slid up to the back of his neck. Before he could react, you leaned forward and kissed him.
It wasn’t graceful. Your balance wobbled slightly, and your lips were clumsy against his, but it landed just the same. He inhaled sharply, frozen as you stepped into him. He could smell the liquor on your mouth. Feel the heat of your skin against his; your body fighting the mix of drugs coursing through you.
He pulled back. “This is a bad idea.”
Your brows lifted slightly. Confused. Hurt. “Why?”
“You’re not even close to sober.”
You swayed. “So?”
“So… it’s wrong. I don’t want you waking up tomorrow regretting this.”
You huffed out a laugh, eyes dropping back to his mouth. “I won’t.”
“Y/n…”
You kissed him again. This time he didn’t stop immediately. His hands came up to cup your cheeks. The kiss was deeper now—you leaned up on your tiptoes, hands sliding from his neck down his chest.
When he finally pulled away, his breathing had changed slightly.
“You’re making this very difficult,” He muttered.
You laughed. Warm. Musical. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
He went cold as you pulled away, taking your feverish heat with you. “Right. I’ll try and remember that.”
The moment passed as suddenly as it had come. You thanked him again as you swept out the door, swallowed up by the dark of the hallway. He stood there for a second, still smelling the trace of tequila and perfume you’d left behind.
He was breathless.
It didn’t count, he knew. You were high. Swept up by the emotion of finally getting to confide in someone. So out of it he had almost stopped you from going. And still, he was breathless.
You don’t need to worry about me, you’d said. Eyes flashing. Wide smile.
A second later, he pushed off the counter. “Fuck,” He muttered.
He didn’t believe you.
· · ─ ·✶·
Two weeks. Two weeks spent with your head down in the library, up late at your desk in your room.You were determined to get back on track: making up assignments, inquiring about whatever extra credit was still available, taking on extra shifts the second they were posted.
Your eyes burned. You could hardly stand by the end of the day, but things started turning for the better. Your grades inched up a point here, a point there. Things didn’t feel nearly so impossible by the second weekend that came and went without a drink, a pill, a party.
The following week you went to as many office hours as you could fit in your schedule. Tossed the contacts case of handouts from friends into the trash, letting the lid slam shut behind you. Your boss offered you a promotion—nothing special, a few hostess shifts on top of your waitressing. Wednesday night you had your first full night of sleep in months.
For the first time in a long time, you began to feel like the old you. Stressed. Over-worked. But hopeful.
You noticed the notification on Friday night. 11:34pm. An automated email that had come in that earlier.
Dear Y/N,
We hope this message finds you well. We are writing to inform you that, following a review of your academic record for the winter term, you no longer meet the eligibility requirements to maintain your National Merit scholarship.
As per the scholarship guidelines, recipients are required to maintain a minimum GPA of 3.5. According to our records, your current academic standing falls below this threshold. As a result, the scholarship amount of $10,000 will not be renewed for spring term.
We understand that academic challenges arise for a number of reasons. We encourage you to connect with your academic advisor to discuss strategies for future success. For further questions or concerns, please feel free to call or visit our offices during operating hours.
Warmly,
The Office of Student Financial Aid
You stared at your screen. For one blissful second, you didn’t understand. Your eyes passed over the words again—eligibility… minimum GPA… $10,000… spring term.
Then it finally hit. Your stomach lurched like you’d missed a step on the stairs. The room tilted. You got to your feet, knocking your mug off your desk in your hastiness. It fell with a crash, ceramic shards flying across the floor.
You didn’t notice. You weren’t breathing right. The words stood out cruelly stark, black on bright white. Unmistakable. You read it back, searching for the mistake. There wasn’t one. You read the number once more, $10,000, and felt your stomach drop all over again.
Your mind tried to kickstart back to functionality—to calculate, to solve it like something that could be worked through if you only thought hard enough. But it was pointless. Your thoughts had been scattered. Unsalvageable. Rent. Tuition. Living.
There was no fixing this. No making it work.
You panicked.
You scrambled for your phone, dialing your parents’ number with clumsy fingers. Then paused. Tried to take a breath. Your hands were shaking so hard you could hardly press the right keys. Your mom’s voice replayed in your mind—stern, absolute, disappointed.
You let out a sob. You didn’t even realize you were crying, backspacing the numbers on your screen. Who else was there? There was no arguing your roommate back into her part of lease. Your friends didn’t even know that you were struggling. You just needed to talk to someone. To be told it was going to be okay.
Sunghoon. You had Sunghoon. He wasn’t your boyfriend, but he’d always cared. Looked after you when you needed it. You dialed his number, pacing back and forth across the floor, your laptop screen glaring at you from your desk.
The call went to voicemail. You left a hasty message. Crying. I need to talk to you. Begging. It’s an emergency. Praying. Call me back when you get this.
The silence after cut straight through you. Your apartment seemed to press in—the walls way too close, your thoughts way too loud. You couldn’t stay there. Sunghoon would be out tonight. You knew exactly where he’d be. You grabbed your keys, the door slamming shut behind you.
As panicked as you were, you knew you couldn’t go to Heeseung’s like this. You needed to calm down, and there was only one thing that would work as quickly as you needed. You parked down the block, ducked into the convenience store on the corner, grabbed a drink from the cooler and paid, not bothering to wait for change. It was drained before you even made it to the end of the block.
Heeseung’s house loomed tall in the darkness, casting yellow light across the lawn. You took the steps two at a time, throwing the door open to a cacophony of sound and heat. The commotion threw you off, stopping you dead for a second in the entryway.
Someone you barely recognized called out to you. “Y/n? Hey! I was wondering if you’d come out tonight.”
You took a breath, stepping into the whirl of color and sound. You went up to the guy, the empty can in your hand sweating ice cold against your skin. “Hey, have you seen Sunghoon?”
“Here, we just filled these.” He passed a shot glass into your hand. “Heeseung let me hide a bottle in his fridge,” He snickered.
“I really need to talk to him—”
“C’mon, in a second,” He complained. “Cheers with us.”
You were too upset to argue. In a second, your head was tilted, swallowing the shot back. You hardly registered the taste of cheap bourbon; your throat had stopped burning weeks ago.
Your head swam. The drink you’d finished was hitting you all at once, the bourbon chasing close behind. A fresh wave of panicked despair ran through you. You needed to find Sunghoon. Needed to talk to him, to hear him say that everything would be alright. You hadn’t seen each other in weeks but that wouldn’t matter. He would be there for you. You knew it.
People surged all around you, bumping up against you, grabbing at your arm. This was what you got; frequenting these parties meant people recognized you. There were drinks pushed into your hand. You tried to give them back, took a polite sip if they were pushy, but your mind remained on the task at hand: black hair, broad shoulders. The only person who could offer you any ounce of comfort.
You caught sight of him from the hallway. People choked the doorway, clutching their friends’ hands as they pushed their way through the crowd. You shoved your way through, trying to ignore the pressure in your head. Your heart hammered in your chest, the can slipping out of your grasp and crushing noiselessly underfoot. A hole opened up. A path you could fit through to get to him.
You froze.
He was leaned forward, one arm to brace against the wall. You noticed the hand first—small, curled into the fabric at his shoulder. Then the pair of legs between his.
He bent his head down to hear her talk, her lips brushing his ear. They laughed. His hand went to hers, their fingers threading together.
You took a step back.
Something ugly twisted in your stomach. You don’t remember backing away, only the hole that had torn itself open in your chest. A fresh pain ripped through you, followed by a sudden need.
You didn’t think. You just pushed your way back through the crowd until you found him, bag open on a table, contents spilling out.
“Jay,” You said over the music, sliding into his space.
It was too easy. He offered you one tablet, a second of a different color. “Complimentary,” He grinned, handing you his drink. “I never take one without the other these days.”
You didn’t need anything to wash the pills down, but you took the cup anyway. “Is Jake bumping tonight?”
He gave you a look, a hesitant laugh. “Slow down, party girl.” He nodded at the stairs. “He’s upstairs. Give it a few minutes, though, yeah?”
You nodded. You didn’t want a few minutes. You wanted everything to stop. And you didn’t care what it took to get there.
· · ─ ·✶·
Heeseung noticed you right away.
You’d been gone for the past few weeks, and he’d started to think you were onto different things. Better things, he’d hoped. But there you were, standing in his living room like he hadn’t bared his soul to you two weeks ago.
He saw you walk right past your usual group of friends, searching someone out. You stopped next to Jay, exchanged a few words. He noticed you take something and swallow it back with an urgency that was new, even for you.
Then Jay motioned upstairs and you turned, and Heeseung saw it right away.
Something was wrong.
Your mascara was smudged around the edges. Your eyes were red.
You’d been crying.
He pushed off the wall, craning to keep his eyes on you. He thought he’d lost you for a second, weaving his way through the crowd, but he caught sight of the back of your head and reached out, grabbing your arm.
You spun, frowning, before realizing it was him. Something flickered in your eyes. Reluctance. Guilt.
“Sorry, I’m looking for someone—” You said, trying to take your hand back.
“What’s wrong?” Heeseung asked, tightening his grip. His face was serious. Direct.
Your mouth thinned. “Nothing.”
He shook his head. “I don’t believe you. Tell me what happened.”
“Nothing happened. Didn’t I tell you? You don’t need to worry about me.” You looked angry. Your voice came out sharp. Mean. Your fist was closed by your side.
He scoffed. “You don’t expect me to believe that do you? I think I can tell when something’s up—”
“I think you’ve got a savior complex that’s gone a little too long unchecked,” You snapped, wrenching your arm free. “Move on already. I’m not your redemption story.”
“Fuck you, what is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’m fine.”
He crossed his arms, face burning. “Oh yeah? What did you take?”
“I don’t wanna do this with you right now.”
“No? I thought you said you wanted things to get better. Some attempt you’re making.”
Your brows twitched. Tears began to well up behind your eyes. “Fuck you,” You breathed out.
“You can talk to me.”
“I’m leaving.”
He grabbed you again. “Y/n, wait—”
You spun around, throwing his arm off. You were yelling now. “I’m fine, Heeseung, just leave me the fuck alone!”
Someone had noticed you two. There was a hand on Heeseung’s shoulder, a few girls stepping toward you. You glared at him from behind their concern, chest heaving. Before he could explain, you were spinning on your heel and disappearing into the crowd.
He pulled his shoulder out from the guy’s grasp, jaw clenching.
I’m not your redemption project.
He balled his fists. Fine, he thought. If you wanted to fuck yourself up, that was your choice. No amount of reasoning on his end was going to change that. He had opened up to you, and you seemed incapable of doing anything but shutting further down.At least he’d tried. He could say that much.
Someone said his name and he turned, pushing the thought of you as far out of his mind as he could.
· · ─ ·✶·
It was an hour later.
Heeseung was on the couch with his friends, finally able to relax after your interaction earlier. They were passing a joint back and forth, trying to stack their beer cans in a pyramid on the coffee table. Someone knocked into someone else. Everyone laughed as the cans came tumbling down.
“Heeseung! Heeseung!”
He looked up. Jake was leaning forward, using his elbows to make space in the wall of people standing between them. His eyes were wide. Face pale.
Heeseung stood up.
He didn’t bother asking. Didn’t have to. The cans clattered to the ground as he rushed around the table, following Jake as he began shoving back through the throng. They took the stairs two at a time, skipping over people’s legs and forgotten cups.
Somehow, Heeseung knew what was waiting for him before he got there.
You were in the bathroom, surrounded by a group of concerned looking girls. One of them was standing outside, took a sharp breath when she saw him.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, shoving his way through.
You were seated on the floor, one hand on your chest, the other braced against your knee, holding your head up. His heart sank.
“Y/n.”
You looked up. The motion hurt, a stabbing pain shooting behind your skull. Heeseung’s chest tightened. There was something wrong with your eyes. He crouched, pulling your hand away from your face.
“What did you take?” He asked.
You let out an erratic laugh, your breath skipping.
Heeseung looked back at Jake. “What was it?”
He shook his head, afraid. “I— we were doing lines. She said she wanted double. A rough day, I don’t know. I didn’t—I didn’t know she’d taken something earlier. She said she was fine—”
He looked back at you. You’d lied. To both of them. “Everybody out. Now. Jake, water.”
The group began to disperse. Your breath caught suddenly. Heeseung looked at you.
“I’m—” You started, hand flying to his chest, fingers closing around the fabric of his shirt. “Heeseung, I don’t—” You swallowed again, harder this time. “I don’t feel—”
Your voice broke. Panic flooded your face, sudden and raw. “I don’t feel good.”
Heeseung’s throat tightened. “Okay,” He said quickly, dropping to his knees, taking your hand. “Okay, hey—look at me.”
Your eyes darted around, unfocused, struggling to land on his. Your breath picked up, shallow and uneven. “I feel—” You chokeed out, fingers trembling against his. “I feel bad, Heeseung—my heart— I don’t—” It came out in a sob. “I’m scared.”
Something in his chest twisted violently. “I know. It’s okay. Just breathe. I want you to breathe with me—can you do that?”
You tried. Your brows twisted, lashes shining with tears. You took a stuttering breath in and grabbed his shoulders. It wasn’t working. You couldn’t control the spasm of your lungs. Your heart was beating so fast it felt like it was in your throat, blocking your airway.
“Heeseung.” Your voice sounded terrified.
“Okay,” He soothed. “You’re okay.”
“I’m sorry,” You cried, tears spilling over your lash line. Your head bobbed. “I’m sorry—for what I said. I shouldn’t—"
“Hey,” He cut in, bringing a hand to your face. “Don’t do that right now. Just stay here.”
“I’m…” You squeezed your eyes closed. The room was fading in and out, making it hard to keep them open. “I’m…”
“Stay with me,” He repeated, louder now, shaking you. “Y/n—look at me.”
You lifted your head, eyes struggling to land. Your face broke, whole body shaking now. The fingers at his shoulder tightened.“No, I can’t—” You sobbed. “I can’t see.”
Heeseung’s stomach dropped. “Yes you can,” He lied. His heart was pounding in his ears. “You’re okay. You’re right here.”
Your grip on him weakened, your head falling again. “I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have… wanna go back.” Your head fell into his chest now, hand slipping from his shoulder.
He caught you before you could slump forward, cursing. Jake arrived in the doorway, water spilling onto the floor. He made a sound when he saw you.
“Jake, my phone. Call someone. Now.”
“Is she—”
“NOW!”
People had gathered behind him, murmuring and gasping from the hallway. Heeseung didn’t hear them. He slid you down, resting your head in his lap. He could hardly think.
Everything blurred into one endless nightmare. He was dreaming. The thought repeated over and over in his head. I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming, this isn’t real.
Pulse. Breath. Airway. The words crashed into each other, unintelligible, useless. He blinked back tears. Hot. Angry. Terrified. He could barely register your pulse, his hands were shaking so badly.
It was fast. Hammering forcefully against his fingers. He squeezed his eyes shut. It all came back. The day they found out. The look on his parents’ face. The sound of his brother’s laughter.
“Don’t do this,” He said, cracking. “I can’t— hey, y/n, look at me. Please don’t do this.”
There were footsteps pounding up the stairs. “Hey, there’s an ambulance down the street!” Someone shouted.
Movement exploded in the hall. People dispersed, scrambling to get downstairs and out the door. The party fractured instantly, emptying out into the darkness of the street. The commotion floated up but Heeseung hardly heard it. He moved out from under you, hardly breathing, trying to keep you awake.
“Breathe,” He murmured. To himself or to you, he didn’t know. It was all he could think of. The only thing he could muster. “Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.”
The sirens were louder. A flash of red streaked the wall from the room across the hall.
You made a sound.
Heeseung froze. His hands shook, hovering over you, waiting. Praying. Then he saw it—the flutter of your lashes, the crease in your brow. You groaned, so quiet he almost couldn’t hear it.
He let out a breath so deep it made him lightheaded. Tears flooded him then, relief spilling out over his cheeks. There were footsteps downstairs, someone shouting to go up. There was a hand on his shoulder, ushering him to his feet, pushing him out into the hall.
Heeseung felt weak. He sank against the wall, head in his hands, as people filed into the bathroom with their red bags and heavy boots. You were going to be okay. Something split open in him at that. Regret. And anger. Grief.
Regret because he was here for you. Because he hadn’t been there for his brother. Anger at the fact that it was so simple. One phone call. One person to notice something was wrong. Why couldn’t his brother have had that? Why couldn’t someone have been there?
Your voice rang in his mind. You know it was out of your control, don’t you? It wasn’t your job to look out for that kind of thing.
He looked up at the ceiling. Took a breath. Someone’s voice came from the bathroom, “There we go. Easy, easy. Don’t sit up. Just breathe.”
He wasn’t there before, but he was tonight. That was enough. For the first time, finally, that was enough.
promiscuous girl, you're teasing me. you know what i want, and i got what you need.
famous!heeseung x famous!reader
length: 6.9k
contains: smut, unprotected sex, flirting, alcohol consumption, model/dancer y/n, celebrity fantasy, y2k glamor it-girl aesthetic, heeseung is a gentleman and pursues tf out of you, praise, yearning, hot sex <3
synopsis: everybody knows your name. you've grown used to the lights, the cameras, the endless parade of champagne and designer brand deals.
after so long in the public eye, it's hard to surprise someone as well-respected and sought after as you. but tucked away in the corner of your own party, that's exactly what tall, well-dressed, effortlessly charming Heeseung manages to do. and him? he just wants the chance to treat you right ♥︎ ᩚ
( 音楽 ) :: i'll do it, heidi montag ఇ the way i are, timbaland ఇ SAD GIRLS LUV MONEY (feat. kali uchis), amaarae ఇ art deco, lana del rey ఇ lost in the fire, gesaffelstein and the weeknd ఇ i was never there, the weeknd ఇ :: ♡ ̆̈.ᐟ.ᐟ ʚ
⤷ chuu's 💌 ── .✦ hellooooo!! i hope you enjoy what was meant to be a very chill lowkey smut for my bestie but turned into a full on indulgent fantasy of my dream life meeting heeseung as a famous and talented artist. i really cranked the dial on the rich-and-famous-it-girl-from-new-york so if that's your thing, I hope you'll love this. enjoy! ⸝⸝⸝♡ ˎˊ˗
__
It's cold in New York. The city lights reflect off the glass windows as you speed past the endless streets of shops and high-rise apartments. Steam rises from the underground between the sleek black cars and yellow taxi cabs. Everywhere you look, people rush by in their big coats and cashmere scarves, braving the long commute home after a long day of work.
Your day isn't over, though.
You're in the back of one of those black cars, headed deep into the heart of Manhattan where a release event for one of the top trending brands of the year is well underway. You're running late—fashionably late, as your manager put it—to your own party.
"No one wants the star of their show to arrive at the same time as everyone else," She had said, glancing at you. “No, we don't want you there until everyone else has already mingled. You'll get your big entrance. Of course, that means that every detail matters: your clothes, your hair, what bag you're going to carry."
Another rack of clothes had been wheeled out, completing the row of looks up for consideration. She dropped her phone onto the couch as she waved them by.
"You'll meet the other artists working on this project, promote a few brands simply by walking around and being you." She put her hands on your shoulders. "All you have to do, my dear, is be yourself. Drink, eat, make friends. This is your night, y/n. You've earned it."
Now, a hostess stands on the sidewalk waiting for you, velvet collar, bright black heels. Her dark hair is pinned back in a French twist, allowing the chain of white stones at her neck to shine in the street light. Here, even the greeters serve as status symbols.
"Y/n," She says warmly as you step out from the car. She has the kind of classic beauty that places like this love—dark red lips, black liner. Even her voice is practiced-perfection, warm as the lights coming through the windows. "We're so excited to have you. If you'll follow me, everyone is downstairs."
She doesn't say anything else as she leads you through the revolving door and into the deep wood warmth of the hotel.
Embossed light fixtures, crystal chandeliers, deep, plush carpets the muffle the sound of your steps. You don’t stop to look up at the vaulted ceiling, or gold-framed works of art that cover the mahogany walls. It’s one of the side effects of this lifestyle: luxury like this has become comfortably commonplace.
You’ve be been in and out of high-end hotels for the past five years. You’re no rookie. Full-time dancer, part-time model. The second seemed to come naturally with the first, as if the universe was finally rewarding you for the countless hours spent in the studio, the sprained ankles, the tireless auditions.
First, it was a group-part in an overseas fashion ad. Then, it was a booking as a background dancer in a music video. From there, it was sponsorships, contracts, brand deals. Now, you’re on more ambassador lists than you can count. Your mom still sends you pictures every time she sees your face in a magazine or spanning the window of a designer store.
It wasn’t always easy. And it wasn’t always glamorous. But one thing is for certain as you make your way to the very back of the hotel, where the light reflects in pools against the glossed wood: it is now.
. ⊹ ࿐ ・
The music is loud.
The hostess leaves you at the door with a smile and a nod, and you can hear the heart-shaking pump of bass coming from below, a group of people talking over it.
Grand entrance, indeed. The descent into the club leads down to the very front of the room. Below, fifty heads turn to look at you. A more inexperienced version of yourself would have dreaded such attention, the commotion, the press of eyes upon your skin.
But now, you feel good. How could you not?
It’s like something out of a 2010s Justin Timberlake music video: the bouncing lights, the set of glass stairs. People stand in groups at the bar or mill about from table to tiny table. An array of food is set out on the far end of the room, at the center a massive ice sculpture glitters in the shape of a swan.
You take in as much information as you can while making your way down the stairs, mindful of your feet and your bare legs and the way people are murmuring.
You recognize a few people already—a designer you worked with years ago for your first Prada campaign, a group of dancers you met briefly at New Years Eve afterparty. They mingle excitedly; any chance to meet another person in another industry is a chance to stake a claim within it.
But you and they all know the truth: everyone cares a lot more about seeing you than they do each other. Your foot lands on the floor and people are already making their way over, reintroducing themselves, asking if you remember them.
Of course, you answer, beaming back at their smiling faces. The questions and congratulations mix together until you can hardly tell what sentences are coming from who. Are you excited for this series to drop? You must have been so busy. As soon as they launched this concept, I pictured you as the face.
You answer graciously, with the poise and humble gratitude that interviewers and articles are always praising you for. It’s groundbreaking. Innovative. Ultra-modern. You’re honored to be part of it. You can’t wait for them to see it. You’d love to talk more about future projects, but they’ll have to wait until next month, when you get back from your shoot in Paris.
People laugh at your jokes and press you for stories. You’re witty, intelligent, and talented. Some might find your kind of charm intimidating, but none that are in this room tonight.
Someone offers you one of the drinks brought over on a large tray, and you politely decline. Their round of cheering and clinking glasses gives you an excuse to slip away, to make your way to the bar where you can take a momentary break from the people, and the questions, and the congratulations.
On the other side of the room, you rest back against the bar and use the moment alone to take in the rest of the crowd. You know most everyone there. Majority of them are designers; candidates for next year’s schedule that your manager has been carefully sifting through. Tonight is an opportunity to screen them yourself, to see which you take a liking to so that she can begin to negotiate contracts.
There are a few other models, a handful of prestigious art curators, a sprinkling of actual artists. It’s them you’d like to talk to most—other creators. People who might ask about your craft rather than its subsequent fame. But they keep to themselves, and you don’t miss the snobbish turn of their noses. Models and stage performers, what a vapid turnout.
Well, not all artists are alike, you suppose.
“Am I interrupting?”
The voice takes you by surprise; you hadn’t noticed anyone approach. You look up to find a tall, well-dressed man standing beside you. He looks vaguely familiar, like you might have seen him somewhere on TV or in a magazine, but you’re almost sure he was blonde in the photos you saw.
His hair is dark now, the same deep, rich color as the wood of the bar. His natural color, you guess. It’s the kind of brown that you can’t coax out of a dye bottle, no matter how many hours you sit in the chair. His eyes are the same, warm and lined with dark lashes.
He’s handsome, you think, but you’ve seen his type before. You note the casual air of confidence about him, his easy posture as he rests against the bar. Lean, angled, far too pretty for his own good. The girls must have loved him all his life.
“No,” You answer, gesturing at the empty air around you. “Not anything important, anyway.”
He smiles, the corners of his mouth tugging up somewhere between a smirk and a genuine grin. “Then, mind if I buy you a drink?”
You find out his name is Heeseung.
He’s the same age as you, same number of years in the business with a start-up story that sounds eerily similar to yours: an NYU student turned singer/songwriter/rapper/producer.
The more he talks, the more it starts to sound like there’s really nothing that he can’t do. He’s one of the artists featured in the very same brand release that you are, the one you’re all gathered to celebrate. As a singer, a model, and even a designer. Like you, he had a hand in creating a few of the accessories that are launching alongside the new clothes. He even gave dancing a try, he tells you, his senior year of undergrad.
“But I’ll leave that to you,” He laughs, putting both elbows on the bar. He’s magnetically charming, well-spoken, put together. And yet, there’s something laid back about him, something casual and inviting that makes him easy to talk to.
Somewhere nearby, a champagne bottle pops. You rest your head on your hand as you look at him, swirling your glass gently in the other. You’d allowed him to pick your drinks, and he’d ordered you a Greenpoint.
“I used to live in Greenpoint,” You say, narrowing your eyes suspiciously at him. “It was the first apartment I paid for by myself.”
He lifts his brows from behind his glass, the ghost of a smile on his face. “Lucky guess, I suppose.”
You learn that he’s a whiskey guy, a Libra, a younger brother. That his favorite fruit are pears, he can’t sleep on planes, and that he’s 5’11”.
“Six-foot,” He says seriously, placing his drink down. You can tell by crease in his brow: he means business.
You laugh into your cup. “I’m a model, you can’t fool me. Five-eleven.”
You share a sparse few acquaintances, but for the most part, Heeseung is entirely new to you. You find yourself wondering how a person like him—smart, funny, talented—isn’t more well-known, and, indulgently, how you two didn’t meet sooner.
For Heeseung, though, you’re no stranger.
He knew who you were the moment your little vintage Dior heel came down that first step. Then the legs, the hips, the neck. You’re a dancer alright; you make something as trivial as walking down a set of stairs seem captivating.
He’s known your name since you first entered the industry. You were what every aspiring artist wanted to be: hardworking, well-resourced, immediately successful. When his label told him that he’d be joining a project that you were the face of, his first thought was of finally getting a chance to talk to you.
“I’ve seen you perform,” He says, nodding at the bartender as he takes his empty glass, replaces it with another. Darker liquor, no mixer.
“Oh, yeah? When was that?”
He laughs a little, almost embarrassed. “Two years ago. Tate McRae. You were one of her backup dancers.”
You burst out laughing at that—full, rich, warm, the kind of laugh that makes Heeseung feel like he’s drunker than he is—before realizing that he’s being serious.
“I really didn’t take you for a pop princess, Heeseung.”
And the sound of his name on your tongue is the second most beautiful thing he’s heard all day.
“Well, no,” He chuckles, “She’s not entirely my thing. Her backup dancer though—“ He meets your eyes, and you can see something there. A challenge. A question he’s not sure if he’s allowed to ask yet. “—she was pretty incredible.”
You smile. You’re used to the praise, but something about it coming from him feels different. The words sink right through your flushed skin, right into your veins.
“So, you saw me perform two years ago, and we’re only just now being introduced?” Your eyes meet his, asking questions of their own. You’ve been inching your way closer to each other all night, and now, you’re almost close enough to touch. You can feel the heat of his hand resting next to yours.
“Thank god,” He laughs. “Two years ago, I would’ve fumbled the whole thing.”
Your cheeks heat up. You roll your eyes to hide the blush creeping into your skin. “No way, you were, what, producing your first album? I would’ve thought that was so cool.”
You like the way your compliment blushes across his skin. “Nah, trust me. It’s better this way. I was such a rookie back then, I had no business talking to someone like you.”
“I see,” You laugh, teasing. “And you think now you can keep up?”
He smirks, tilting his head slightly as he looks back at you. “I can keep up.”
. ⊹ ࿐ ・
He’s got an apartment in Chelsea. He says it in passing, recounting a story about the time he had to carry his friend a mile home from an afterparty through the snow, but the information tucks itself neatly into the back of your mind.
“Y/n, mind if I steal you away?” You turn around and find a pair of makeup artists you worked with a few months ago eyeing the two of you suggestively. Your face heats up. How long have you been at the bar with him? Your manager would scold you for ignoring the other guests—bad manners.
“There’s someone I want to introduce you to. The creative director at YSL has been asking to meet you all night. He’s very French… don’t be alarmed if he tries to kiss you.”
“He’ll have to get in line,” Heeseung laughs, and he’s joking, you know it, but you sort of wish he wasn’t as you’re whisked away towards the other side of the room.
You don’t see Heeseung for the rest of the night. As much as you wish to go and find him again, you know you can’t ignore the other people here anymore than you already have. They’re interesting enough, but you can’t help the way your eyes dart away every few seconds, hoping to catch sight of his dark hair coming your way.
The party winds down, people begin exchanging information and kissing their goodbyes. You realize you missed your chance to do either with the one person you really wanted to, but there’s nothing you can do. Your manager wouldn’t want you to be caught leaving last, so you take your cue and say your goodbyes, feeling strangely disappointed.
“641,” You say, handing the woman at coat-check your ticket. She takes it and disappears, returning a moment later with your coat. It’s huge and brown, the fur soft against your skin.
The girl hesitates. “I don’t want to bother you at all, but—if it’s okay—would you mind signing this for me? My sister’s a dancer. She absolutely adores you.”
You’re tired, and still feeling a strange sense of disappointment about not getting to say goodbye to Heeseung, but you smile and take the pen from her, signing your name on the back of your ticket.
“Think I could get one, too?”
You look up, and a rush of satisfaction floods through you. Heeseung stands with his hands in his pockets, leaning against the counter.
“I thought you left,” You say, hoping to sound nonplussed.
“Without saying goodbye? Never.”
The girl thanks you for the autograph and disappears into the back, leaving you and Heeseung alone. It’s brighter at coat-check, and to your simultaneous delight and dismay, he’s even more good looking in the light.
He clears his throat, straightening. “I was thinking, since we’re going to be working together for this launch… maybe we should go over some of the details together.” His brow quirks. “At my place.”
“Go over the details.” You repeat.
“Right,” He says, “Make sure we’re on the same page and everything.” There’s that tone in his voice, the double-speak that makes you feel like you’re in on something together. “I mean, I’m not a rookie anymore, but, I’m sure there’s still a lot I could learn from you.”
You bite back your smile. “Oh. Right. Make sure our visions line up and all that.”
“Exactly.”
You don’t even have to consider it.
Heeseung’s car is down the block. He drives a Porsche—typical—and gets your door for you before sliding into the front seat. It smells more strongly of him, like spice, and clean leather, and Chanel. You bite your lip. Blame it on the alcohol, you think, for the way your stomach is fluttering. Your mouth still tastes like whiskey, you wonder if his does, too.
Heeseung weaves down the streets smoothly, one wrist dangling over the steering wheel as the lights streak past your window. His music taste is good. You feel sexy. You can sense the tension between his hand, resting on the gear shift between you, tapping to the song playing, and your bare leg, only a few inches apart. Your body buzzes with energy, the gnaw of pent up attraction built over hours of good conversation.
You can tell he feels it, too.
His building is exactly what you imagined—tall, sleek, gleaming with the reflection of the city around it. He leads you through the lobby, calls the elevator, punches the button for the 20th floor.
“Top floor,” He says, resting back against the wall.
“You are a popstar,” You tease. “The penthouse, the car. Now we just need to find you an expensive exotic animal.”
“I believe they call it a loft here,” He corrects. “And don’t be so pretentious, I saw your house tour on Vanity Fair.”
“You’re quite the fan.”
“Hard not to be.”
Heeseung likes the way you smile at that. He wonders what else he might say to get a reaction out of you, or to hear you say his name again. Ideas come easily enough.
But instead of flirting more, he notices the way you shift your weight on your feet, working out some of the tension from a night in heels. You’re distracted by the flashes of city visible through the elevator window, probably not even noticing that you’re doing it.
Anyone who’s seen you perform, seen you on set for a shoot, knows that you don’t fidget. Something about seeing you do it here, with him, is more attractive than anything he’s seen or heard from you yet. That you’re relaxed enough to express a hint of discomfort, as subtle as it is, fills him with smug pride.
You huff down at your shoes. “Knew these weren’t the right size. My stylist tried to warn me, but I never listen.”
“You wore a pair of shoes you knew were too small for you?”
You make a face, poking a foot out at him. “Look at them! They’re so cute. What was I gonna do, not wear them?”
He laughs. “Unbelievable.” His tone is light. He’s not criticizing, he truly thinks you’re funny. When he steps out of the elevator, he offers you an arm. “Here, just take them off. My door is right there.”
You grab onto his arm and step out of them, feet landing on soft carpet. He leans down and scoops them up by the backs. “So, are you all finished with preparations for the launch, then?”
You nod. “All the digitals have been approved for print. We wrapped all the content last week. I’ll have a performance at the show but I don’t start rehearsing until the end of the month.”
“You’re going to Paris, right?”
“On Thursday. Ever been?”
He shakes his head and unlocks his door, your shoes dangling from his fingers. “Nope.” He pushes it open, grins down at you. “You’ll have to tell me how it is when you get back.”
The inside of his apartment is not far off from what you imagined. To call it a loft is laughable, and yet, penthouse doesn’t seem quite right either. It’s not pretentious enough.
His living room is wide and flat. Across the open floor plan are those classic high-rise windows you pictured, stretching from the dark wood floor to the tall white ceiling. You’re used to pretty views, but this one takes your breath away. The whole city stretches out beneath you, twinkling in the dark.
“Can I make you a drink?”
“Always,” You answer, dropping your things on his couch.
He flips a switch on the wall and a scatter of warmly colored lamps wash the room in light. He marches right over to the kitchen and starts pulling things from his fridge. With his back turned, it gives you a chance to examine the place further.
It’s nice, everything curated perfectly to a style that can only be described as uniquely his. An expensive rug in the center of the living room, a flatscreen TV. He’s got books scattered around the place, a speaker system hooked up to a record player in the corner. There’s a fireplace by the couch, above it sit a collection of music awards with some photos.
And, because it’s Heeseung, there are a few things that make you want to laugh, things so stereotypically boy that you can’t help the smile: a set of signed superhero comics framed by the door, a collector’s edition figurine of Mercy on a shelf, a signed League Championship poster behind it.
You don’t miss the limited release PlayStation beneath it, or the Lego Star Wars build sitting proudly beside a box of records. It’s all so undoubtedly… him. If you weren’t attracted to him before (which you definitely were), you are now.
“Like what you see?” Heeseung comes up beside you and hands you the drink he’s made. Rum and coke. One of the favorites that you mentioned at the bar.
“I didn’t realize you were such a nerd.” You laugh.
He shrugs as he takes a sip of his own, sitting down on the couch. “Why have money if you’re not gonna spend it on all the stuff you wanted as a kid? Even if it does make bringing girls over slightly embarrassing.”
“Trust me, it’s not embarrassing,” You say.
“No?”
“It’s hot.”
He hums, watching you over the edge of your glass. There’s a heat to his gaze that sends your skin prickling with sensation. When you sit down, your leg brushes against his and he doesn’t move it. Somehow that small thing, the most innocent touch in the world, does more to you than any pair of lips has before.
“So, about those details,” You say, resting your arm against the back of the couch, your head against your hand. “Anything I should know about in specific?”
He chuckles, putting his glass on the table before you. “You’re the professional. What do you think? Do you like how it’s turned out?”
Your chest swells. The other people you spoke to tonight offered praise, endless congratulation on such a major success. And major success it was. So much so, that no one had thought to ask you if you actually liked any of it.
“I do,” You answer truthfully. It feels good to say. Like it’s the first time you’ve really answered as yourself. “It feels different from the other projects I’ve worked on. It feels… grown up. Is that weird to say? I’ve changed so much these last couple of years, and I think this finally reflects that.
I mean, they trusted me with so much of the process. This is the first thing I’ve built from the ground up. The photo concepts, the sets, the marketing. I’ve never had so much creative freedom and it’s—it’s the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done.”
He nods, a small smile curving the edges of his lips. Something about his face—the openness, the genuine interest—has your words spilling out without second thought. How rare it is for you, a genuine conversation like this. In a world of scripted interviews and strategic networking, talking to Heeseung is like a drink of water after a lifetime of dehydration.
“This is one of them, actually.” You hold your arm out, where a set of twin bracelets jingle lightly around your wrist. “One of the designs they let me do myself. The rings, too.”
He reaches out and turns the bracelets, examining them earnestly. His hand slides down from your wrist to look at the rings, and the touch almost makes you shiver. There’s something so intensely intimate about it—his fingers against your skin—that you almost pull away. Beneath the pendent at your chest, your heart is pounding.
“You know, my design team showed me your concept images from the first shoot you did—just so that I had an idea of what your vision was. They wanted me to describe it with one word.”
You hold your breath. This is intimacy, too. “And?”
His fingers slide up the bottom of your wrist, feather-light, before he pulls away. “Focused,” He answers, looking back to you.
You’re surprised. “Focused?”
“Focused. I know that’s probably not what you intended—I mean, everyone else in the room said ‘sexy’ or ‘sophisticated’, which is all true, too. But what struck me most about those pictures was your focus. Like, you had your eye right on what you wanted, and you knew you were going to get it.”
He’s the most serious you’ve seen him all night.
“I’ve joked about being a fan of yours for a while, but I really have seen the stuff you’ve been putting out for years. This is definitely your best, y/n. Dynamic, refined, original. This is the sharpest I’ve ever seen you.”
His words shoot straight through, lodge right into your chest, right in the hollow of your ribs. Part of you wants to grab him and pull him into you right there. Instead, you smile. Laugh a little. Shake your head. It seems too good to be true, as if he’s spent a week planning and practicing exactly what to say.
And for a moment, you consider that maybe he did. He wouldn’t be the first person try and win you over like this, each word a carefully placed tile; calculated, pre-planned. All in hopes of getting you right where they want you.
It couldn’t matter less, you realize. You’re already there. Already where he wants you.
“You keep doing that.” You say softly, hiding behind your glass. “It’s a bad habit, you know.”
He smirks. He likes this game between you, the not saying what you really want to. “Do I? A bad habit of what?”
“Of making people feel like you know them. Even though you’ve only really known them for a few hours.”
“I think maybe you’re just not as difficult to understand as most people would have you believe.”
There’s a flicker behind his eyes. A shift in his gaze. This is it. You can see the subtle tilt of his head, how his body tenses like it’s about to move. He’s going to kiss you.
This isn’t the first time you’ve accompanied an attractive stranger home from a party; you know how to dance this dance.
You know how to draw them in, how to lean forward and set your glass down so that you have an excuse to settle back even closer. Heeseung takes a breath, like something as small as your legs pressed up against him is overwhelming.
He leans in, almost absentmindedly; his eyes are fixed on your mouth, as if he can’t focus on anything else. He’s waiting for you to make the final move, to take the opening and show him that you want him back. But his desire is so thinly-veiled, so barely contained, that it’s almost more fun watching him fidget for you like this.
“Heeseung.” Your breath on his lips makes him shiver. You smile.
“Hm?” His voice is far off, distracted.
“Will you teach me how to make that drink you ordered me?” Your voice is sugary smooth, drawing him in until you can practically feel his mouth on yours.
He sounds almost pained. “Right now?”
“Right now.”
He hesitates, sets his jaw, takes a sharp breath. It seems to take all his strength to pull away from you, but Heeseung’s a gentleman; he’ll do as you ask. It makes it all the more pleasing to play with him.
His kitchen is organized, fully stocked, if not a little excessive. He loves to cook—you can tell by the precision with which he lays out his ingredients, moves from each cupboard and drawer to the next. It’s the same meticulous focus he has when he’s driving, or talking, or touching your wrist.
And he’s still slightly distracted. He keeps finding excuses to touch you: a hand at your hip as he steps around you, or brushing your hair out of the way as you measure out your drinks. He watches from over your shoulder, close enough that you can feel his chest brush against your back.
When you finish making the drinks, you cheers, your back to his counter, his hands resting on either side of you. Your face is flushed; he’s been making you laugh, and you can feel the heat of his body.
“Don’t drink it, I fucked all measurements up,” You complain, watching as he takes the glass from your hand to try it.
He makes a face. You burst out laughing.
“It’s—good!” He chokes out, trying to supress a cough. “You’re a natural.”
You giggle, hitting his chest. “You are such a liar.”
He laughs, leaning forward until his hips are resting flush with yours. Your hand is still on his chest, the poorly mixed drinks already forgotten on the counter. Your fingers trail up his chest and around to the back of his neck. His hands go to your waist. You dig your nails into the nape of his neck.
This time, he leans in confidently, and you tilt your head, allowing his mouth to land squarely against yours. The sound in the back of his throat borders desperation.
Your whole body reacts. Heat streaks through you, like alcohol, burning your system. Your stomach tightens and flips, an unbearable ache of need shooting up through your core. His hands dig into your waist, dragging you closer as if trying to consume you. You flatten against him eagerly, curling your fingers into his hair.
He groans into your mouth, palms flattening up your back. The counter digs into your skin where he’s pushing up against you, grinding his hips needily into yours. The desire that’s been stretching between you all night has finally pulled thin, snapping like a rubber band.
You break away, a soft moan escaping as he attacks the skin at your neck. His tongue passes over your throat, voicing his desire as he nips and sucks his way to your jaw.
“Agh—Heeseung,” You gasp, pulling him back up to kiss him.
He breathes against your mouth, fingers tangling in your hair. “I thought you’d never stop teasing me. You’ve been driving me fucking crazy.”
You curl your fingers into the fabric of his shirt, groaning as he hikes your leg up around his waist. “I think,” You manage in between his sloppy, desperate kisses, “That we should keep things professional.”
One more jest. Just to show him that you can.
His breath is ragged against your lips, voice barely more than a whisper. “There’s nothing professional about what I wanna do to you.”
You groan into his mouth.
He pushes you clumsily across his living room, stopping in the hall to push you against the wall, his hands hiking your skirt up around your hips. He’s in shambles already—so hard it hurts.
You don’t have time to take in where he’s leading you until the backs of your legs hit the edge of his bed. He climbs over you hastily, sliding his hands up your waist beneath your shirt. His fingers dig into your skin as you arch beneath him, searching desperately for some kind of friction to ease the ache between your legs.
“So perfect,” He mutters, dragging his mouth over your hip as he reaches under your skirt, pulling your panties down your legs. “So fucking beautiful.”
You’re practically shaking for him, your cunt twitching in desperation as he hovers over you. He’s so gorgeous, it hurts. The red of his lips, swollen from your bites, the curve of his eyes—so pretty, you want to cry. And you do.
Just not from your eyes.
“You’re so wet,” He purrs, his hand sliding between your folds. “I’ve barely even touched you, and you’re so fucking soaked. You really want me that bad?”
You do. You really fucking do.
Your shirt is off in an instant, your bra with a practiced maneuver. He moves down your body, settling on the floor at the edge of your bed where he can see you. His hands slide down your thighs before pushing them apart, his thumb moving to stroke over your cunt.
“Fuck,” He breathes out from where he’s kneeling, “You’re unreal.”
You squirm as his lips press up your inner thigh, teeth grazing the soft skin there. “So sensitive,” He says against your skin, hooking his arms under your legs and pulling you even closer towards him. He presses his tongue to your cunt and you twitch, a moan bursting from your throat.
“Heeseung—“ You groan impatiently. He’s making a mess of you, your thighs trembling, back arching. “Heeseung, please—“
“You’re so impatient. Used to getting everything you want, aren’t you?” He teases. He moans into your pussy and your hand flies above your head, digging into his sheets.
You clench your teeth as he curls his tongue into you. “Just—you can eat me out in the morning, I need you to fuck me now.”
He makes a sound of disapproval, licking one more stripe up your cunt as if in protest, before coming back up. “You’re the one who made me wait.”
His mouth passes over your chest, drawing one of your nipples into his mouth with a gentle bite. You shiver.
“Had to make sure you really wanted it,” You shoot back, pulling his shirt over his head.
The sight of his bare chest, the rise of muscle at his arms and shoulders, sends heat pooling between your legs.
“Not true,” He says, kissing your neck. “I think I made it pretty obvious how much I wanted you the moment we met.”
You fumble for his pants, groaning impatiently as he discards them and sits back on his knees. He’s so fucking hot. His thumb slides between your folds, wrist turning to slide two fingers into you. You whine his name.
He bits his lip, cock aching painfully as you clench around his fingers. He’s dizzy; you’re even more beautiful than he could’ve imagined, laid out for him like this, fluttering around his fingers. He leans forward and slides your legs around his waist.
“Fuck.” His breath is shaky as he drags his cock between your folds. The sensation sends your eyes rolling back, thighs tightening around his hips. “Can I have it, y/n? Think I’m good enough for this?”
You moan, inching your hips toward him. “Fuck—please, Heeseung, I need you.”
His bangs fall in his eyes as he leans down to kiss you, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth. “I don’t think anyone’s good enough for this. For you,” He hisses, pushing into you.
He drops his head as his cock slides past the tight muscles at your entrance, slotting into you like he was made to be there. His hair brushes your face as he moans against your chest, pushing all the way inside.
“Oh, fuck,” You gasp, digging your fingers into his hair. “Move. Need to feel you, please—“
He listens, pulling out before stretching you open again, moving his hips against yours hungrily. The pleasure is blinding, shooting straight through your body as he drags his cock in and out of you.
“God, you feel so fucking good—“ He grits out, looking down to watch your his hips slap against yours.
You arch, stomach flattening against his. He slides his hand under your neck, leaning down to drag his tongue over your lower lip. You open for him, relishing in the heat of his lips, the sharp need of his teeth.
His voice breaks in stuttered gasps, catching at the back of his throat. You rake your nails down his chest, clenching at the red marks left trailing across his skin.
“Fuck—don’t squeeze like that,” He stutters, noises of desperation spilling out between his lips.
“Feels too good,” You whine, pressing your thighs together, drawing his hips closer in.
He bottoms out with a groan, knuckles going white as he pins your wrist down beside your head. His eyes squeeze shut, bottom lip clenched between his teeth. His perfect brows furrow in barely-contained restraint, and you think you might finish right there just from looking at him.
Your thighs loosen as he pulls away, sitting back on his knees and sliding them under your legs. The change in angle makes you moan as he drives into you, your legs draped over his thighs, stomach clenching beneath his hand.
He pins your hips down with his palm, watching the way his cock moves in and out of you. “Looks so good in you,” He mutters, grabbing your waist and drilling into you harder.
“Feels good,” You say. “Gonna come—“
“Not yet—please,” He rattles. He gets his hands on the backs of your thighs and pushes your legs up, thrusting in so deeply that you cry out. “Wait for me. Wanna come with you, baby, can you wait for me?”
You nod, grabbing hold of his wrist and pulling him back down to you. Your fingers curl into his hair as you crane up to kiss him, tugging him closer, closer, closer. He moans into your mouth, curling his hips against yours until your thighs are shaking with the effort of keeping your climax at bay.
“Heeseung, I can’t—can’t wait any more, please.”
He digs his fingers into your hip bone, your skin going white beneath his grip. “Fuck, let me feel it. Show me how good it feels.”
The rasp of his hips over your cunt draws a wave of pleasure out of you, racking your body as you clench around him. He moans, burying his face into your neck as if to muffle the sound of his moaning. You yank his head back as his hips begin to falter, desperate to hear the sound of him finishing, to feel him groan against your lips.
“Fuck, y/n, fuck,” He stutters into your mouth, the muscles in his stomach tensing.
You grab his hips, pulling him in deeper as he finishes. Your pussy clenches, sucking him in, shockwaves of pleasure, so good, it hurts, coursing through you. Your voices mix together, his face brushing yours, his shoulders red beneath your nails. He pushes into you one more time, letting out a defeated groan as he comes to a stop, his chest rising and falling in tandem with yours.
Your thighs ache from squeezing around his hips, your muscles burn with exhaustion. You lay back against his covers, washed by the smell of his room, his skin, his sheets.
Heeseung climbs off of you, settles to your side. He runs a soft hand across your skin, giving the tight muscle at your hip a squeeze. His lips are soft, moving from your shoulder, to your collar, to your chest. You can’t see his eyes from behind his hair, but they’re closed, breathing in the faint mix of your perfume and his cologne on your skin.
“When did you say you were going to Paris?” He says, quietly, as if afraid to speak louder and break the spell that you’re both still under.
“Next Thursday,” You answer. Your body is warm and comfortably worn-out, your alcohol-induced buzz finally burning off to a tired daze.
He hums, looking back at you. There’s fondness there that sends a jolt of surprise through you. It’s at this point that you usually find your way into a cab back home, or slipping over to one side of the bed to fall asleep for a few hours before sneaking out the next morning.
But Heeseung’s eyes are clear and focused on you, the desire for you to stay written plain across his face. He brushes your hair away from your face, wearing that same expression that had you so smitten at the bar: open, earnest, direct.
“Mind if I ask your manager for your schedule until then?” He asks, gauging your reaction. You can see him brace slightly for rejection, for the news that you got what you wanted from him and would take things no further.
You smile. It’s a miracle he’s made it as far as he has, wearing his heart on his sleeve like that. “You don’t need to ask my manager, I know what’s on it.”
“Yeah? Then, how’s tomorrow looking for you?”
You roll onto your side to face him, pushing his hair out of his eyes. It’s easy being with him like this. Natural. And it’s just as easy when you answer, “For you? Entirely free.”
warnings: smut, unprotected sex, friends to lovers, forced proximity, bed sharing, short n sweet, porn with the tinest plot you've ever seen
synopsis: you'd had a crush on sunghoon forever, but you're wayyyy too chicken to do anything about it. luckily, your best friend jay has a plan.
⤷ chuu's 💌 ── .✦ ermmmm so ik i've been gone forever and ik that i'm a heejake account but recently (literally yesterday) a friend suggested a hoon smut and i live to please. im trying to get better about writing low stakes short stuff rather than agonizing over making everything super complex and long. anyways hope u like!
——
"but I thought your roommate was going home for christmas. can't I stay in his room? it used to be mine anyways," you said.
you were standing over your stove, stirring mindlessly at the pan beneath you. across from you was your phone, propped against the wall, jay going in and out of view as he moved about his room.
"—pretty sure he'd think that was weird as hell, y/n. would you let a random stranger sleep in your bed while you were out of the country?"
you grumbled. "i would if there was literally nowhere else for them to sleep."
"there are plenty of places to sleep, quit being so dramatic. i'm pretty sure you've shared a bed with every single one of us at some point over the decade that we've been friends."
"I've only doubled with heeseung and jungwon," you argued.
"and niki when we went the beach for jake's birthday."
"sure, for two hours before we had to get up and catch the train back."
"and sunoo on last year's ski trip."
"during which he went home early."
"and you shared a room with me when we went to that summer camp. that was, like, a whole week."
" jay, we were 12."
"how about I pick for you? niki's got the biggest bed, but sunghoon's the easiest to sleep with, in my experience—"
"no," you said quickly. heat settled over your skin. "i don't want you to pick for me, that's weird."
"okay? it's only weird if you make it weird, and you're making it weird. which weekend did you say worked best for you again?"
you turned the stove off. "how will we even decide who's room i'm staying in, then?"
"oh, that's easy." he grinned. "we'll draw straws."
——
jay's house was exactly as you remembered it.
the decorations that lead all the way from the front porch to the street. the warm glow spilling out from the frosted glass of the windows. the green bundle of leaves wrapped in red velvet and hung not-so-subtly in the doorway. jay park was a romantic at heart, and an honest-to-god lover of all things christmas. he had staked claim as annual host of your friend group's holiday party years ago.
the only thing different about this year, was that it was a total front.
a modern-day mission-impossible heist. jay didn't tell you about the plan he'd launched to two of his closest friends together. he didn't tell you that he had started noticed the way you and sunghoon looked at each other when you all hung out, or that he knew you were both too chicken to do anything about it.
he didn't tell you that his roommate had said it was totally fine for you to spend the night in his room if you didn't want to share a bed with the other guys, and he certainly didn't tell you that he had rigged the straws everyone was going to pull to see who would be sharing a bed.
it was his good opinion as host that you didn't need to know any of that.
jungwon eyed the handful of colorful straws in his hand doubtfully. "i'm confused, why are we doing this? y/n can room with me, I don't mind."
jay shot him a glare. "because it's more fun. and it's more fair. this way no one has to feel left out."
"i won't feel left out," jake said. he was leaned against the wall, chewing on a cinnamon stick from the kitchen.
"me neither," sunoo added.
"yeah, i don't think any of us really care," heeseung said.
"will you guys just pull the fucking straws?"
jake pulled his straw, then glanced at the others. "i don't get it."
"did you forget to cut one?" sunoo asked, measuring his against heeseung's. they were the same normal length of any stereotypical plastic party straw.
the corner of jay's mouth twitched. "no, of course not." he held up the last straw clutched in his hand. "you guys just didn't choose it. this one's sunghoon's."
your heart jumped. you looked at jay, trying to gauge his expression. did he know? your feelings for sunghoon were one of your most well-kept secrets. no one, not even jay, knew about them. but he went on, blissfully unaware of the way your heart was pounding.
as if on queue, the front door swung open in the living room, letting in a cold gust of air from outside. a bundle of jackets and scarves stepped through the door, only vaguely recognizable as your friend.
"i know what you're going to say, jay, and I swear I left on time but no one knows how to drive in the snow so it's really not my fault that I'm late, it's the traffic's fault." he said, peeling layers off and hanging them by the door.
"you missed our straw ceremony," jake said, tossing the piece of plastic at him. "it was super official."
"you're our winner, bro, congrats." heeseung went up to him, straw tucked between his teeth.
"awesome." he grinned. "what did i win?"
"a super awesome enthusiastic bunkmate for tonight," jay answered, clapping you on the back. you groaned in response.
"oh, rooming with y/n?" sunghoon's eyes met yours. "that's fine with me. is it chill with you?"
your breath struck your lungs. "yeah," you said.
sharing with the one guy you've been trying to convince yourself you didn't like for years. perfect. "all good with me."
among the many things jay did not tell you, he didn't tell you that he'd purposefully kept the heat low that night, to make sure it was cold in your guys' room. and he definitely didn't tell you that he knew, beyond a doubt, that if sunghoon thought you were cold, he'd do what he could to warm you up; he was just that kind of guy.
it was like clockwork. the cold room, the slight shiver, the shift from sunghoon behind you as he noticed.
"are you cold?"
his voice was low, barely more than a whisper. the sound of it so close to your ear sent a shiver of desire racing through your body, from the base of your spine all the way to the top of your head. you felt your face redden in the dark.
"I'm fine," you managed. if the sound of his voice had this much of an effect on you, you dreaded to think what anything else from him would do. never mind that you absolutely were freezing your ass off, and the radiating heat from sunghoon's body was just out of reach, taunting you.
time stretched around you. you focused on laying as still as humanly possible, on conjuring all the warmest thoughts you could muster: wood fires, thick socks, sandy beaches in the middle of july. none of it helped. despite yourself, you twitched, again.
"y/n."
your name was like molten gold on his tongue. you clenched your jaw stubbornly, trying to feign sleep. you just had to get through tonight, and then you'd find some way to cut your affection for sunghoon out entirely. you swore it. if you could just get through tonight.
there was movement behind you, and then suddenly the warm, sturdy weight of a person's body pressing up against your back. you sucked in a breath as sunghoon's arms snaked under yours, pulling you against his chest. the heat of him washed over you, spreading from your back up your shoulders and into your chest.
"sunghoon," you gritted out as he fit you neatly into the curve of his torso. you were frowning, but the thrill of it was plain your body. your throat hummed with giddy gratification at the feeling of his chest against your back.
"you're fucking freezing," he chuckled, pressing his chin into your shoulder.
your heart pounded against your ribs. "it wasn't that bad."
"no?" he asked, his breath stirring your hair. you tensed as his palms began to brush up your bare arms, smooth and warm, like stones that had laid under the sun. "you're literally cold to the touch."
you shivered again, though this time it wasn't from the cold. if sunghoon intended any tenderness behind the gesture, he didn't show it. his breaths came and went steadily, as if already asleep, as his hands warmed over your chilled skin. but the intimacy of it left you breathless. the lightness of his touch, the breadth of his fingers and palms.
you found yourself relaxing into him—the tense of your muscles, the startled beat of your heart, began to ease. the most selfish and indulgent part of you pressed into him, craving more of the steady warmth his body gave off. more of the feeling of him around you.
his voice rasped gently at the cusp of your ear. "better?"
"relatively."
"still cold?" he lifted his head, glancing down at your face, which was as still and sleep-like as you could muster.
you were content to stay there, fake your way into a restless sleep that would leave you exhausted in the morning, when his hand went from your arm to rest at the crux of your hip.
your eyes flew open.
his fingers toyed gently at the edge of your shorts, soft enough to tickle where they met your skin. then, his hand flattened and smoothed down your thigh, following the curve of your legs. "you still feel cold," he said, eyes on you, as if gauging your reaction.
"do i?" your heart was up your throat.
"mhm."
he went on touching you, running his hands along your thighs until the skin there was warm again. his fingers brushed the crease between your legs and your stomach tightened, pulse dashing at the base of your neck—so strong, you were sure he could feel it.
something changed. the air felt heavy between you, the night dark and thick. sunghoon had his other arm curled beneath you, holding you tight against his chest. he curled his head into your shoulder, as if wanting to bury himself within you entirely. and you didn't miss it: the subtle press of his hips forward, against your back.
you swallowed. you were scared to move, scared to breathe. if you offered a bite, would he take it?
"you're right, it's pretty cold," you whispered as his hand smoothed up your leg.
"is this helping?" he asked, his cheek warm against your ear. your eyes fluttered shut as he brushed over your hip and under the hem of your shirt.
"yes," you answered.
when his hand smoothed over your stomach and down your other thigh, you let them part. just barely. just enough to let his hand slot between your legs where heat was pooling from his touch.
you felt his breathing catch. he pretended not to notice it—that nothing about this was anything out of the ordinary. his fingers traced your inner thigh and sent shock waves rippling up into your stomach. you were putting on an act—leaning into each other but pretending not to notice, moving slow enough you could deny that you were moving at all.
it was only when your hips twitched, seeking the pressure of his touch, that he broke.
he twisted his hand to cup between your legs. he dragged his fingers up and found you burning, your shorts nearly soaked through. "fuck," he sighed, pressing his face into your neck.
you put a hand to your mouth. his fingers circled your clit as his other arm wrapped across your chest, pinning you against him. his breath was loud in your ears.
"sunghoon," you said, the sound high and strained as he worked his wrist between your legs.
"would you be angry if i said i hoped this would happen?" he asked. "that i've wanted to do this for a long fucking time?"
your voice came out in a scratched groan, your throat aching with the strain of trying to keep the sound down. "they're gonna wake up," you tried, the pitch rising as he pressed his hips forward. you could feel him hard against your back.
sunghoon couldn't have cared less about who heard what. he curled his fingers against your clothed cunt and you began to move your hips, pressing into him hard enough to make him dizzy.
his fingers found your lips as his other hand hooked over your shorts, tugging them down your legs.
you could hardly speak for fear that your voice would betray you, and someone else would wake up, but you let out a soft whine as he pressed the head of his cock between your legs, spreading the slick there around your thighs.
"oh, fuck, y/n." he hummed, a desperate, barely-controlled sound of frustration and desire as he tried to still his body. you were shivering against him, not from cold from anticipation.
"sunghoon," you whined.
he squeezed his eyes shut. "just... just let me," he angled himself at your entrance and slid inside—so slowly you dug your nails into his wrist. "just let me stay here—for a second."
you moaned, and his hand flew to your mouth just in time to muffle the sound as it came out. he kept a tight hold on your face, his head buried in your neck, as he began to move in and out of you. so slow you wanted to cry.
"shh," he said, his breaths trembling as he dragged out of you. "you need to be quiet, or i'll stop—i'll—" he groaned low and deep as he pushed back inside of you, the sound muffled against your neck.
he began to move in earnest, fucking you with short, hard strokes that rocked your hips forward. he grabbed onto you to hold you in place, his other hand still clamped firmly over your mouth.
you were grateful for it. you could hardly contain the sounds spilling out of your lips and into his palm. the feeling of his cock stretching you out sent stars bouncing around the edges of your vision, your voice cracking every time he pushed all the way inside you. the bed shook lightly beneath you, mixed the sound of his heavy breaths filling the room.
"fuck, y/n—" his teeth clenched. "i'm gonna—"
you moaned into his hand, fingers scrambling for his wrist as he dragged against the most sensitive part of you. your stomach tightened, pressure building between your hips like a cord pulled taut.
sunghoon's voice broke, his hips stuttering against you as he tried to bite down on the sound. "shit, shit shit." he moaned, "y/n, fuck."
he let his hand drop from your face, relishing in the trembling sound of your voice as you squeezed around him, hips jerking. the band in you snapped, seering straight through you. sunghoon groaned as your pussy clenched through its orgasm. he kept you pinned against his chest, his teeth scraping against your shoulder, lips smoothing over the marks.
your head felt cloudy as you came down. only the feeling of his arms around you, and the thick pressure between your legs remained. the moment was over as soon as it started, but you found yourself exhausted, sinking back against his chest, giving into the warmth that had you surrounded on all sides.
sunghoon kept you held against him, his breaths evening out until, before long, you were sure he was asleep. you barely had time to worry about someone walking in the following morning before you were drifting off, too.
luckily for you, jay knew better than to go knocking on your door. the others let you sleep late into the next morning, though not without snickering every time they walked past your room. for now, they'd let you two sleep. they'd give you hell enough when you woke up.
man fuck your pride, just take it on back, take it on back boy ٠࣪⭑
heeseung x fem!reader
length: 4.1k
warnings: smut (minors dni), fighting, angry sex, miscommunication trope, cussing, very minor physical stuff (pushing and grabbing), fingering, unprotected penetration, smug asf heeseung, bratty y/n
synopsis: overhearing your boyfriend talking about you behind your back is a tough way to start date night. now, you’ve got an attitude. and heeseung isn’t having any of it.
__
You were halfway down the hall, tugging on an earring as you rushed toward Heeseung’s bedroom. He'd been ready for nearly an hour already, and was likely bouncing his foot impatiently, headset perched on his head as he waited for you to finish up.
Date night was non-negotiable in this house, and yet you were always somehow running ten minutes late.
You didn’t mean to linger by the door; your earring just was truly stuck, and you had to pause to focus on getting the clasp on right. That’s when the sound caught you—his low voice spilling out from behind the crack of the doorframe.
“Nah, it’s honestly hard,” He was saying. Sunghoon was on the other end of whatever 2v2 they were playing, though you couldn’t hear his voice.
He must have laughed, though, because Heeseung went on with a groan. “I’m serious. She takes forever to get ready. It’s like this every time. And she’s so damn stubborn. If I say anything at all she's pissed off.”
Your hand faltered at the door.
There was a pause—Sunghoon probably making some stupid joke—and another chuckle. Heeseung’s tone was light, warm, even, but you’d stopped listening for tone. Your face felt hot, his words going straight to your heart.
“You would not,” Heeseung chided, cursing under his breath at the game. “It drives me crazy. You wouldn’t last a minute.”
You spun on your heel, red in the face, and disappeared back down the hall. All your excitement, all your confidence, completely shot. Is that really how he talked about you behind your back? Like you were some inconvenience he had to put up with?
It all felt unbelievably stupid now. The little black dress you’d put on just for him, the white socks that cut off at your knees—the ones he once said drove him nuts. Even the heels that dangled in your other hand.
Stupid, you thought to yourself. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so embarrassed.
Behind you, in the room you’d disappeared from, Heeseung leaned back in his chair, exhaling in satisfaction at another victory.
Sunghoon’s voice came through Heeseung’s headphones. “I’m just saying, you’re not all that just because you’ve got a girlfriend and we don’t. Although, that running late thing—I guess that would piss me off pretty bad.”
“Yeah, exactly,” Heeseung chided, knitting his hands behind his head. “And that’s why she’s mine. None of you losers could make her happy.” He puffed his chest out. “Takes a man to handle all of that.”
“You’re so fucking weird dude. Go take her to dinner. If she’s even ready, that is.”
“Hey. Don’t talk shit about my girl, bro,” Heeseung said, logging out of his game.
“What? But you just—”
“Later,” He called, grinning as he pulled his headphones from his head.
He found you on the couch, finishing up with your heels. They were the ones he’d bought you on a trip you took last year. Cute, black, just enough of a heel to make your legs look irresistibly long, but short enough that he retained his height over you.
"Hey, baby," He said, reaching a hand out to help you up, "You ready to go?"
You glanced at him before standing up, ignoring the gesture. "Yeah," You answered, heading towards the door without another word.
Heeseung’s brow quirked as he watched you pass by.
He could smell a bad mood from a mile away, but what about? He had no idea. He followed you out to the car quietly, noting the way you avoided his gaze and slammed your door.
The drive into the city was tense. Heeseung couldn’t tell what had gone wrong in the time between you asking if he liked the dress you’d picked out—to which he’d answered indisputably and enthusiastically yes—and when you’d left his house together, but something had definitely changed.
Maybe you were angry that he’d been on a game with Sunghoon while waiting for you. Or perhaps he hadn’t made it quite clear enough how good he thought you looked. He glanced at you in the passenger seat, dolled up to perfection, the prettiest person he’d ever seen in his life, and couldn’t help but notice the way your brows were creased in the middle, or the slight downturn to your lips.
And you? You were fuming. Stewing silently like a storm that just wouldn’t break.
You felt off. From the moment you heard Heeseung's comments, everything about the night felt wrong. Your dress felt too tight in some places, too loose in others. Your makeup too much. Your hair too simple.
His words made you feel insecure, which was the worst thing of all. That your boyfriend, the guy who was supposed to make you feel like the most beautiful person in the world, had you second-guessing yourself.
A man, making you doubt yourself. Nothing pissed you off more than that.
Maybe you did take too long to get ready. Maybe you really were too stubborn, and exhausting to be around. But who was Heeseung to complain? He could spend hours at the mall, dragging you around a single department store until your feet ached. And you never said a word when he was in one of his moods, even when it threw the whole day off.
You never said anything at all. So why did he feel so comfortable complaining about you to his friends?
The question plagued you even through dinner.
You tried to play the good girlfriend. The bright smile, the sugary laugh. And you failed. Miserably. In turn, Heeseung's good mood became just that: a performance.
He leaned back in his chair, watching you with a furrow between his brows. He’d tried—god, he’d tried—to get you to open up. He asked about your day. He complimented how you looked. He even tried to crack a joke or two. Nothing worked.
He caught every dissatisfied glance, every fake smile. Soon, he was glowering at his food, too, all attempts to connect with you falling flat.
Finally, he let out an annoyed huff, stabbing at his food with his fork. "You know, if you didn't want to go out, you should have just said so."
You looked up. "Excuse me?"
"It's obvious you don't want to be here. You're acting like I forced you to come here with me."
"I'm not acting like anything," You mumbled, staring furiously down at your plate. It was pointless. You were no hungrier than you were back at the house, stomach sinking in the hall.
"Yes, you are," Heeseung insisted. "Did I piss you off, or something?"
"Forget it, Heeseung."
"No, why are you sulking?"
The comment made you bristle. "Maybe I wouldn't be if you didn't make it seem like being around me was such a chore."
He stared at you. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
You clamped your mouth shut, realizing too late that you'd said too much. Heat crawled up your neck. "Nothing."
But the damage was done. His posture shifted, concern turning to straight irritation. "So it is something I did. You've been pissed at me this whole time over... what, exactly?"
You avoided his gaze, trying not to notice the way the table next to you was glancing over. "It doesn't matter," You grumbled.
"There it is again. Forget it. It doesn't matter. Nothing's wrong." He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "You shut me out and expect me not to do anything about it. Do you know how crazy that makes me?"
You raised your brows, letting out a dry laugh. "I seem to be doing that a lot lately."
"Doing what?"
"Driving you crazy," You hissed under your breath, glaring at him.
He sat back, looking you over like you were a puzzle he couldn't figure out. "You're infuriating sometimes, you know that?"
You scoffed. "Got it. Thanks."
"What did I do?" He asked flatly.
"Can we just finish dinner? I don't want to get into this right now."
He let out a laugh. "I don’t believe that. You've been pulling faces all night. And you're crazy if you think I'm not going to do something about the fact that you've been off since we left the house."
You rolled your eyes and his jaw ticked, his food forgotten entirely. There were times when Heeseung loved your attitude—the little scowl you got, the bite behind your words—but this was different. This was petty. And he wasn’t having it.
"I hate it when you do this," He muttered.
"Heeseung."
"What? What am I supposed to do? You won't tell me what's wrong, I can't fix it." He shook his head angrily. "You probably don't even know what you're pissed about."
You slammed your napkin down, earning a look of surprise and confusion. "I want to go," You said, glaring at him.
"What?"
"I want to leave." You couldn't take it. Sitting here, surrounded by couples and families having a great night, while you were working your way towards one of your worst.
His frown deepened. "Are you serious?"
You reached for your purse beneath the table, digging around to find your wallet. Anything to get you out of this restaurant sooner. "Yes, I am. You want me to tell you what I want? I want to go home."
He watched in utter disbelief as you opened your wallet. "What are you doing?"
"I'll pay, let's just go."
"Yeah, that's not happening."
"It doesn't matter, Heeseung, I can—"
“Don’t,” He snapped. The edge in his voice stopped you in your tracks. "I said I'm paying. End of discussion."
You watched furiously as he stood, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. Did he really have to pull the gentleman act? Even when you were in the middle of a fight?
He stepped around the table to find a waiter, leaving you to brew in silence. Guilt and frustration swirled around your mind, turning your stomach to knots.
This is exactly what he was talking about, you thought dejectedly. Stubborn. Antagonizing. Exhausting. He had painted a picture of you, and in your resentment, you'd brought it to life.
But you were too proud to admit what was bothering you.
That you'd been eavesdropping. That you'd heard what he told his friend, and that you'd let it get to you. Maybe that was what frustrated you most of all.
That you just couldn't let it go.
Heeseung came after a few minutes, face red and jaw clenched. You’d really done it now, trying to pay for your dinner like that. You watched as he pulled his jacket off the back of his chair, ash-blonde hair falling in his eyes as he waited for you to gather your things.
As you headed for the door, he leaned in, his voice dropping. "Don't ever try and pull shit that again," He mumbled, hand ghosting over your lower back.
He wouldn't touch you, not when you were both this pissed off, but he was still there. Hovering. Like he wouldn't let anyone even look at you the wrong way, no matter how angry he was.
One suffocating car ride home later, and Heeseung was throwing the front door open, light from the street spilling into the dark of the entryway. You trailed behind, his jacket around your shoulders to stave off the early autumn chill that had set in after the sun went down.
It didn't matter that he'd put it around your shoulders when he noticed your crossed arms on the walk back to the car. Or that he was carrying your bag in his hand. You were both still unbelievably pissed.
He turned around as the door closed behind you, his hand on his hips. He looked unreal—dark brows furrowed, shoulders and collarbones exposed in the black tank top he'd worn under the jacket.
If you weren’t so angry you’d have had him half-undressed on the floor already. His neck glinted silver, the chain you'd bought him for your first anniversary resting at the base of his throat.
"Are you gonna talk to me now?" He asked, looking at you expectantly.
You tugged his jacket tighter around yourself, refusing to meet his eyes. “I told you, I don’t want to talk about it.”
"Yeah, well, I'm not accepting that answer. I'm sick of you shutting me out."
You pursed your lips. "Well, I wouldn't be 'shutting you out' if you didn't make me feel like I'm... annoying you all the time." Your voice faltered and you bit your lip, heat rising up the back of your neck.
"Annoying me? Where the hell did you get that from?"
"You said it yourself," You fired back. "That I take too long, that I make things difficult."
"When did I say that?”
“You think I’m too much!” You blurted out, your face feeling impossibly hot.
Heeseung’s expression changed, his frustration giving way to confusion.
“And it feels like shit,” You continued, throwing his jacket onto the couch, “To find our your boyfriend feels that way.”
He shook his head, his voice infuriatingly even. “You're putting words in my mouth and getting pissed at me for it?”
“I’m not putting words in your mouth,” You scoffed, shoving past him.
His hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist before you could leave. “Don’t walk away from me,” He snapped.
A jolt of electricity shot up your arm from where he touched you—sharp with anger and… something else you were too flustered to name. Your eyes shot up furiously, but he cut you off.
"I have never once said that you were too much for me."
“Yes, you did, you said that today on your stupid call with Sunghoon.”
He gaped at you. "Sunghoon?" A look of realization flashed in his eyes. Then, to your outrage, the hint of a smile. Like he was amused.
You made a face. "See, I knew it. I knew you wouldn't take me seriously.” You tried to pull out of his grasp but he wouldn’t let you go.
"What about Sunghoon?" He pressed.
You glared up at him defiantly. "You told him that I was too stubborn. That I'm too difficult—I heard you!"
His expression changed at that. Like he’d finally figured you out. He smirked down at you. "And you've been pissed at me all night because of that?"
You grimaced. "You are such a dick, Heeseung."
You tried to yank away, but he wouldn’t budge. He tightened his grip on your arm, pulling you closer until you were nearly chest-to-chest, his breath tickling your face.
"So this is why you were in such a shit mood all night," He taunted, leaning in. "You can be so fucking difficult sometimes, you know that?”
His voice was sugary smooth, a purr that tingled up the base of your spine. The smell of his cologne wafted around you, amplified by the heat of his temper.
"Fuck you," You spat back.
“How long were you gonna stew before you told me what was wrong, huh?”
"Let go of me."
"Is that why you didn't say anything? You didn't want to admit you'd been eavesdropping on my conversation?"
"Let go!" You snarled, shoving your arms into his chest.
There was a moment of struggle, a push and pull between you that had nothing to do with power or dominance. It was about anger. And desire. And the moment the two became indistinguishable. Shoulders bumped, hands shoved, and you both cursed, stumbling back against the wall opposite the door.
Your back hit the wall with a thud and you opened your mouth to cuss him out again, to call him an asshole. But your protests died on your lips as his hands grabbed your hips possessively, his mouth crashing onto yours.
It wasn’t tender, it was raw and biting. A challenge. A growl sounded in the back of his throat as he bit down on your lip—agitated, desperate, hungry.
You grabbed his face, digging your fingers into the hair at the back of his neck. He moaned into your mouth, tightening his grip on you. Your stomach flipped.
"You said—" You pulled back, gasping, "—that I was too much."
"I said that you're fucking mine," Heeseung hissed, dragging your hips toward him.
Your knees nearly buckled.
"Bullshit," You spat. "You think I'm difficult."
He chuckled, his mouth grazing your neck. "I think you're more than difficult."
You gasped as he sucked at your skin harshly. His hand slid up your thigh, goosebumps rising beneath his fingers.
"I think you're stubborn," He said against your throat.
He slid a hand under the hem of your dress.
"Pushy."
His fingers ghosted over your hip.
"Overdramatic."
He hooked a finger over your underwear, tugging them down your legs. You inhaled sharply as the cool air hit your skin.
He pulled back to look at you, his hand slipping between your legs. "And you drive me fucking insane."
You huffed, glaring through your blush as you gripped his shoulders. "Now you know how it feels."
He pressed his mouth to yours again as he slid two fingers forward. You let out a moan as he gained purchase inside you, his digits teasing out a stuttering breath from behind your lips.
“Can’t believe you ruined our night over this,” He chuckled, watching smugly as your head tilted back. His fingers brushed your sweet spot, earning another soft groan.
“Fuck you,” You breathed, your fingers tangling in his shirt.
“You really got this worked up over nothing?”
“Nothing? You were shit-talking behind my back,” You gasped, trying to keep from grinding your hips into his hand.
His laugh was low, his other hand sliding up your waist. “Everything I said is true.” His eyes were fixed on your face, catching every tiny shift in your expression as he pumped his fingers inside you. “But you know I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Liar,” You bit back, dragging your nails down his torso.
You pushed him suddenly, shoving him away and wriggling out of his grasp. He let you go with a scoff, watching as you tore off down the hall.
“Running?” He taunted, following close behind. “That’s a new one.”
“I’m not running,” You shot back, throwing his door open and turning to face him. “I just don’t want to do this in the god damn entryway.”
He was on your tail, smug and overly confident. “Oh, so you do want to do this.”
You glared, but your breath betrayed you, quick and shallow as you stumbled back until the backs of your knees hit the bed. “You’re impossible.”
He caught your wrist before you could fall back onto the mattress, pulling you flush against him once more. “And you’re still mad.”
“Of course, I’m still mad. You think this changes what you said earlier?”
He smirked, brows lifting as he leaned in. “Good. Stay mad. I like you better that way.”
You grabbed his shirt and pulled him into you, working your frustration out against his mouth. It was hard to tell who was pulling and who was pushing, but all that really mattered was that you couldn’t keep your hands off each other.
You landed against the mattress with a thud as Heeseung shoved you down, following a second later with his body over yours. His chain swung forward, brushing against your nose as he caged you in—an arm on either side, his knee pushing your legs apart.
“You really think I don’t take you seriously?” He said, dragging his lips across your jaw.
“I think you still haven’t apologized for what you said.”
He chuckled against your skin. “You don’t even know what you heard.”
“Oh yeah? How about you explain it to me then?” You challenged, flushing as he grabbed your wrist and pinned it above your head.
He tilted his head as he looked down at you, lips curved. “Nah, I like you like this. All flustered and pissed at me. And I think deep down, you like it, too.”
“You’re so full of yourself.”
He smiled, kissing his way down your collarbones. “And you love it.”
“I hate it,” You gritted out, arching beneath him.
He slid his hands down your body, across your stomach and over your hip. “You hate me?” His fingers dug into your waist. “That’s a first.” He taunted, reaching down to pull his belt buckle free.
“Right now? Yeah, I do.” You huffed. A shameless lie.
You wiggled beneath him, thighs squeezing him on either side. Your lower half was a knot of tension and desire, pulsing through your body every time the back of his hand brushed up against your cunt.
“I wanna hear you say it,” He egged you on, forcing your legs further apart.
You stared up at him defiantly, fisting his shirt to yank him down towards you. He opened his mouth willingly, pinning you down with another kiss. He slid his tongue over yours, muttering against your lips. “Say. It.”
“I hate you,” You exhaled. Not because it was true, but because you liked the sound he made in response. How his grip on your wrist tightened and his teeth found your neck.
He pushed inside you in one fluid motion, a moan scratching the back of his throat. There was a second of hesitation, one moment to adjust to the feeling of you, before he began moving. It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t tender. It was hard and fast, a physical manifestation of all his frustration.
“F-fuck,” You gritted, grabbing onto his shoulders.
“You didn’t hear shit earlier,” He hissed, holding you down. His hips curled upwards, hitting an angle that made you dizzy.
You dug your nails into his skin, for the pain as much as the stability. “But you said—”
“I said no one else is ever gonna make you feel the way I do.” He dragged his hips over yours, pushing your thighs back to get at you even deeper. “I was telling Sunghoon that you’re mine. That the only person who can handle you is me.”
Your stomach fluttered at the feeling of him pushing all the way inside you. His breaths came out ragged, his face flushed. You clenched around him and he groaned.
“Shit—” He said through his teeth. “You feel so fucking good.” It almost sounded like a complaint.
Heeseung didn’t stop until you were falling apart beneath him. He curled his hips into yours with purpose, each drag a sick sort of punishment for the grief you’d given him. A feeling so good it hurt.
You tried to fight back, to keep a level hand and undo him just as much as he was undoing you. But it was no use. He was right: no one could make you feel as good as he did. He did all the right things, so effortless it was like he could’ve done it in his sleep.
He grabbed a fistful of your hair. You bit down his lip. He wrapped a hand around your throat. You clawed your fingers down his back. He was rough with you and you were rough right back, dragging your tongue over the bites you’d left in his skin. His shoulders red with angry scratches, his throat covered in teeth marks.
It didn’t take long for you to come undone. Your legs trembled, fingers curling against his chest as you tried to fight the high building in your stomach. You clamped your mouth shut, trying, with all your might, not to give him what he wanted.
But Heeseung had your body memorized. He knew what the twitch in your hips meant. Knew what happened after your breath started catching like that. He wrapped an arm beneath you as he kissed you, teasing your lips open with his tongue.
You couldn’t help the moans that poured into his mouth, or the way you pulled him in closer. He drank in your sounds with smug satisfaction, his fingers wrapped white-knuckled around your waist.
When you began grinding up against him, he knew he’d won. He rocked his hips into yours and smirked, reaching down to play with your clit.
“Heeseung,” You cried, “It’s too—fuck, it’s too much, I can’t—”
“Yes you can,” He purred into your neck, licking a long stripe from your shoulder to the base of your ear. “Come on, pretty girl. This is what you wanted, right?”
You moaned, hips stuttering against his hand.
“That’s it. Show me how pissed I made you.”
“Fuck. You.” You ground your teeth, breaking open with a helpless moan as you came around him.
“Shit," He hissed.
You were clenching too tight around him, sucking him in until he couldn’t hold it back anymore. He pushed into you again, twitching as his stomach coiled and snapped, all his restraint coming apart inside you.
He moaned furiously into your mouth, fucking you through his come down. He kept you pinned down, chest-to-chest, bodies pressed together like you were made for each other.
“Next time,” He said, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, “Let’s skip the argument and get straight here, yeah?”
You rolled your eyes. “There better not be a next time.”
His eyes glinted. “Come on, baby. Knowing you? There absolutely will be.”
“tell me what would you do? if everything felt right when she dimmed the lights, i bet you would do what she tells you to.”
stoner!heeseung x fem!reader
length: 3.6k
warnings: smut (minors dni), drug and alcohol use, unprotected sex, car sex, mild infidelity (not really) (reader is non-exclusive with jake), shotgunning with smoke, high tension high reward
synopsis: you've never smoked weed before. and you've been seeing jake for the past who-even-knows-how-long. so how on earth did you wind up in his best friend's car with a joint between your lips?
( 音楽 ) :: gun show, lil hero ☆ swim good, frank ocean ☆ lavender sunflower, tory lanez ☆ paradise, chase atlantic ☆ nights like these, the kid laroi :: ❤︎₊ ⊹
⤷ chuu's 💌 ── .✦ ummm hello??? i've kinda of been on hiatus for a while but sudden inspiration (and a newly finished playlist) struck. i kind of wrote this with a few specific songs in mind, so if you want to be extra immersed you can listen while reading heehee
i probably still won't be posting regularly but i hope this is a worthy apology for my absence ㅤ♡
__
12:34am ─── gun show ☆ lil hero
you weren't one to cause trouble. really.
you wouldn't have stooped so low, pulled something so petty, if you weren’t so pissed off. anger made you reckless. messy.
and maybe—just this once—you liked where it left you.
jake was sweet enough—he was funny and popular, ambitious, responsible, and he always paid the tab when you went out together. you weren't exclusive. it was casual. no-strings-attached. blissfully uncomplicated, just the way you liked it.
then there was heeseung. tall, laid back, incredibly smart and equally funny. one of jake's best friends, and, incidentally, head over heels for you.
he'd never said anything, no, but jake made plenty of comments about it to you in private.
“do you have to wear that? heeseung’s gonna be there…” he’d complain, grumbling about how his friend could never take his eyes off you when the three of you hung out.
a less observent person might have passed jake’s discomfort as jealousy, but you knew better than that. heeseung wasn’t obvious. he didn’t cross lines. but he was there.
always opening doors for you, giving his seat up so you had somewhere to sit. when jake made a show of complimenting you in front of him, he’d just sit back and nod, a small smile tugging at his lips as he hummed in agreement.
he rarely drank at parties, but he loved weed. he'd roll up in the backyard or on the couch, offer you the first hit even though it drove jake crazy. you never accepted, but that didn’t stopped him from asking.
heeseung's crush was cute. funny. you liked the way he watched your lips when you talked and how he was always inadvertently leaning towards you as he listened, but you'd never been interested before.
not until tonight.
maybe it was because heeseung had offered you the front seat on the way to the function, instead of jake—or offered to drive at all when you lived so close. maybe you’d laughed too hard at what he’d said on the way over, or been a little too forward taking heeseung’s phone from his hand so that you could play the music you wanted to hear.
all you knew was that jake was in a bad mood. and in turn, you weren’t having any fun.
"it's a little loud," you'd said, irritable that the combination in your cup was having little-to-no effect on you, despite how much you'd consumed.
usually, you were game for the college parties that took place up in the hills. the houses were nice, the alcohol was free and flowing, and jake was well-enough connected that you could usually take from the stash of higher quality booze stashed in the garage.
"jake, can we leave soon?" you said, grabbing his hand.
"you wanna go?" he had asked, leaning in closer to hear you. "already? we just got here."
you hadn't just got there. it had been two hours already, and you were no closer to blissful intoxication than you were when you first walked through the door.
"i thought you liked these things," he continued, pulling that pout that you usually found endearing. now, you thought he looked like a child.
"i do," you said bitterly. "just... not to tonight. will you take me home?"
it wasn't that far of a walk, but you were drunk and it was almost 1am. the chivalrous, charming jake you knew would never have let you walk home alone.
this jake, however, was nonplussed.
"but i don't want to leave yet," he complained, pulling his hand away from yours. "you really want me to cut my night short for you?"
your frown deepened. "seriously? it's a fifteen minute walk."
"fucking of course," he mumbled, casting his eyes to the side. "why are you always like this?"
"like what?"
"no fun," he said flatly.
you stared at him. your thoughts were swirling around your head, each one as elusive as the last. all that seemed to stick was confusion. and anger.
"you're really gonna be an asshole and not walk me home?" you tried again.
he rolled his eyes, turning away as he spoke. "walk yourself. i'm not your boyfriend."
that was all it took. your feet had moved on their own at that, removing yourself from the situation before you started a fight you weren’t interested in having.
heat prickled the back of your neck as you pushed through the crowded living room to the back of the house. your legs felt warm and fuzzy—the copious amount of alcohol you'd consumed finally starting to catch up to you.
but you needed more.
still pissed, you wound your way to the dining room where the drinks were. you downed another drink from a bottle you didn't bother reading. as your throat burned, your eyes caught on a familiar head of brown hair in the kitchen.
heeseung was leaned against the counter, arms folded over his chest, signature joint tucked between his fingers, unlit. he laughed at the guy next to him, earrings flashing silver behind his hair.
you felt something wicked tug at your insides. a sudden urge to cause problems. to show jake that you could find what you needed elsewhere, and with the one person that would bother him most.
"hey," you said suddenly, appearing at heeseung's side. "have you been drinking?"
"y/n," he said, straightening. "no, i was gonna step out—"
"can we go for a drive?"
12:48am ─── swim good ☆ frank ocean
you were sure jake saw you leaving together.
it was hard not to notice the two of you. heeseung was plenty popular himself, and usually one of the last people to leave; people stopped him the whole way out to ask where he was going.
you followed behind, finding satisfaction in the way it all looked. in the way he kept checking to make sure you were behind him. in the way people eyed the two of you suggestively, trying to work out the likelihood that you were the reason he was leaving so early.
you caught jake's eyes as heeseung pulled the front door open and felt a sick sense of satisfaction at the way they narrowed at the two of you. he stepped closer to the girl he was talking to—a lab partner from class that he was always complaining about—as if to piss you off right back.
you didn't care. heeseung held the door open and let you walk out in front of him. in that moment, jake seemed like the most insignificant thing in the world.
the door closed gently behind you, muffling the sounds of people shouting over music. it was raining. a perfect night—early-autumn, crisp and fresh, the air thick with the smell of wet grass and pavement.
heeseung moved behind you, checking that the door was shut all the way. the heat of his chest brushed your back and your heart sped up, shameless and indulgent in the situation you were creating.
what were you to do? stay at a party you didn’t want to be at with a guy who acted like he could care less about you? when his best friend looked so good and practically worshipped the ground you walked on?
no. staying simply wasn't an option.
inside heeseung's car, the rain was nothing but a gentle patter on the windshield, blotting the glow of the city lights beyond. he pulled his door shut and turned to look at you.
"are you trying to piss jake off?"
you stared at him. "what?"
“are you trying to piss him off? make him jealous or something? you know he’s my friend—”
“heeseung.”
he paused, looking you over uncertainly. you saw the conflict in his eyes as he sized you up. yes, jake was his friend, and yet...
and yet here you were in his front seat, asking him to take you somewhere. alone.
hadn't he been wishing for this moment since he first met you?
"this has nothing to do with jake," you insisted.
flecks of shadow slid over his face as he stared at you, the brown of his eyes boring into yours. curious, but unconvinced.
"then what does it have to do with?" he asked.
"you."
his brow twitched. "me." he repeated.
you huffed. “heeseung, i'm asking you to drive me somewhere. i don’t care about jake, i just… i don’t want to be here anymore. it's too loud, and, besides, you like smoking where its quieter, don't you?"
he looked at you doubtfully. "yeah..."
"great. then take me somewhere cool and you can smoke that disgusting thing and then you can take me home. jake doesn't even have to know," you added.
he sighed, turning his key in the engine. "why do i feel like you're gonna get me in trouble."
you settled back as he pulled the car out of the drive, arms crossed. "you're so uptight. he's not even my boyfriend.”
1:13am ─── lavender sunflower ☆ tory lanez
heeseung's hand was steady on the steering wheel, but you could tell he was nervous. his eyes kept flitting over to you like he needed the reminder that you were really sitting there.
his anxiety excited you.
it satiated some sick part of you that craved being desired—one you hadn't even known existed before tonight. it thrilled you, the way he kept sneaking glances like he couldn't help himself. the way he kept licking his bottom lip, running his hand through his hair.
you wondered how long he'd been waiting for an excuse like this. if he ever thought about you when jake wasn't around.
you stared out the window, watching the water stream down the glass in little rivers that shone under the passing street lamps.
"you're staring," you said, eyes fixed on the lights outside the car.
"i'm not."
you glanced at him, smirking as you caught his eye before he could look away. "you are."
his knuckles whitened around the wheel as he shifted in his seat lightly. you watched his throat bob up and down and you swallowed in tandem, gaze caught on the curve of his jaw. had he always looked this good?
"maybe i'm just making sure you haven't changed your mind,” he said.
"about what?"
he shot you a look. "about being here with me."
you scoffed. "if i wanted to leave, i would have. the fact that i'm here and not at that party should tell you that much."
"he piss you off that bad?"
you fought a scowl. typical heeseung—he had what he wanted right in front of him but he was too scared to reach out and take it.
"i don't wanna talk about jake."
his brow lifted. "no?"
"mmh-mmh," you replied. "just wanna be here with you."
he played the comment off like a joke, laughing lightly, but there was tension behind the sound. he shifted in his seat again like he was trying to steady himself. to hold back.
the suburbs eventually faded into stretches of thick trees, dark green and slick with rain. you watched heeseung's hand on the steering wheel as he turned onto a road you vaguely recognized, transfixed by the curve of his wrist, the shape of his fingers on the leather.
the trees began to thin, the paved road turning to gravel. he always seemed to know the best spots for this kind of thing—the ones most people had to stumble upon by accident to find.
sure enough, an over-look of the city appeared from behind the trees, softened by the fog and glowing orange. a man-made sunset burning against the rain.
heeseung rolled the car all the way to the end of the road. he killed the engine. for a moment, the only sound was rain dripping from branches onto the roof.
"happy?" he said, leaning back in his seat.
you flashed him a smile. "very."
he was already reaching into his jacket, pulling out a plastic bag and from it, his joint from earlier.
"told you," you teased, watching as he tucked it between his teeth. "you like it quiet."
he shrugged, fishing a lighter out from his pant's pocket. "makes it better."
you were hardly listening—you'd never wanted to be between someone's lips so bad before. "better for what?"
"for both of us."
you felt your whole body twitch at the sight of him sparking up. hand cupped around the end, face illuminated from the flame. he dragged it a few times before exhaling, a cloud of white pouring out of his mouth as his shoulders dropped. you hated to admit it, but there was something hypnotic about the way his lips parted around the smoke.
you leaned in without meaning to, watching him exhale toward the cracked window.
“what?” he asked, half-smiling, half-nervous.
“nothing.” you sat back quickly, your face flushing. “it just looks… gross.”
“liar.” his voice was soft, teasing, but it sent a shiver down your spine.
another drag, another twist in your stomach. he tilted his head up to blow out the window—the stretch of his neck catching the light of the city.
you swallowed.
“you ever tried it?” he asked suddenly.
you shook your head. “no.”
a beat of silence. then, almost daring, “want me to show you?”
you raised a brow. “is that supposed to be some kind of line?”
heeseung smirked as he took another drag, more smoke spilling out as he spoke. “depends. is it working?”
you rolled your eyes, but your heart was pounding, hammering against your ribs with anticipation. “fine. show me, then.”
he blinked, like he hadn’t actually expected you to accept the offer. his smirk faltered, replaced by something heavier, slower.
“you sure?”
you leaned closer across the console, close enough to smell the sharp scent of his cologne beneath the smoke. “just do it before i change my mind.”
his eyes were sharp in the dark, cat-like, in the way they were fixed on you. he took another drag, demonstrating how to inhale properly and when to exhale.
then, it was your turn. you did your best to emulate what he'd shown you, but the heat of it caught you by surprise and you coughed, releasing the smoke almost as soon as it had entered your mouth.
he laughed. "wow, you've really never done this before."
"shut up," you retorted.
"try again."
you took another hit, prepared this time for the sensation.
"good job," he commented, his expression torn somewhere between amusement and attraction. "not yet. keep it in," he instructed, pressing a thumb to your lower lip as you began to open your mouth.
your breath hitched at the touch, causing you to cough again.
"i can't do this," you complained, handing him the joint. "i can't stop coughing."
he chuckled, putting the tip to his lips. "let me help you."
he inhaled once more, and, shifting in his seat, leaned forward. you took a sharp breath, fighting the urge to lean away from the sudden closeness. your heart pounded in your throat.
he tilted his head, lips just barely ghosting over yours. you felt the heat of his breath as he pulled your chin down, breathing out into your open mouth.
you nearly groaned at the feeling.
the smoke went down easier this time, settling into the pit of your chest all warm and heavy. you hadn't realized that you'd closed your eyes.
when you opened them, heeseung was still leaned in close, smirking at the surprised look on your face.
"better?" he asked, his breath tickling your bottom lip.
you didn't think. you just moved.
you leaned in, pressing your lips against his until you could taste the smoke on his lips.
heeseung froze for half a second, then gave in, kissing you back with a force that knocked the breath from your chest.
his hand slid from the back of your seat to your jaw, fingers digging into the side of your neck to pull you closer. like he’d been waiting all his life for this moment.
you sighed against his mouth and he swallowed the sound, tilting his head, deepening the kiss until you could hardly breathe.
you gasped, fingers curling against his shirt as you pulled him closer across the center console.
he groaned, bringing his hand down to pull your mouth further open, words spilling out against your tongue. "fuck—" another kiss, desperate, insatiable, "—i’m gonna be in trouble for this."
"good," you answered, raking your fingers down his chest. "i like trouble."
your words barely had time to sink in before heeseung’s mouth was back on yours, harder this time—messy, urgent. his shirt bunched in your fists as you tugged, trying to pull him closer despite the console pressing stubbornly between you.
he made a frustrated sound, leaning forward to drag his mouth down your neck. your nerves were buzzing, electrified from the weed and the feeling of his tongue sliding over your skin. he reached out to grab hold of your hips and pull you over the console and into his lap. you slid on top of him, legs pressed awkwardly into the leather beneath.
neither of you cared.
his hands were everywhere. sliding up your back, under the hem of your shirt, fingertips hot against your skin. you arched into him as he pulled you closer, pressing your weight down on him until he was groaning.
"fuck," he breathed, pulling away to watch your hips grind down on him again. his eyes were glassy and desperate. "you're driving me crazy."
you raked a hand through his hair, pulling his head back to look at you again. when you kissed him, he moaned into your mouth, hands trembling around your hips.
you sighed into him, rocking your hips against where he was stiff beneath his pants. he shuddered, pulling you down on him until you could feel every twitch of muscle, every shaky inhale.
you leaned back and pulled your shirt over your head, casting it aside as he gaped at you.
"you're—"
you cut him off, kissing him harder. you grabbed his hands, running them up your sides to your chest. his breath hitched.
"y/n—" he gasped, digging his fingers into you.
you moaned in response, your hips working harder against him. his head tipped back against the seat, lips parting, eyes fluttering shut.
“don’t—” his voice cracked, rough, “—don’t do that unless you mean it.”
"i do," you said, grinning wickedly at the way he twitched beneath you.
"you don't mean that," he rambled, hips lifting off the seat to feel you. "you can't mean that— we should stop, before i—"
“heeseung,” you groaned in frustration, pressing your lips against his again. "just fuck me already.”
he almost short-circuited. a strangled sound of desperation came up his throat, and then he was pulling his belt buckle loose and your skirt was hiked up around your hips.
you sank down on his cock with a broken cry, your fingers gripping his shoulder as he pushed further inside you.
"oh fuck— oh fuck—" he moaned, mouth falling open as you stretched around him. "oh god, fuck me."
you didn't need to be told twice.
the car rocked slightly as you began to move on top of him, your fingers digging into the leather seat behind him. the windows were nearly opaque now, the rain outside only making the heat inside more unbearable. your hair clung to your neck and shoulders, heeseung's sticking up in odd places where your hands had raked through.
"waited so damn long for this," he said through his teeth, his grip on your hips unrelenting now, pulling you into the rhythm he wanted.
"so stupid," you groaned helplessly as he pressed right where you wanted him. "i’ve been waiting for you to take me all night."
that seemed to push him over the edge.
he tilted his head back, a bead of sweat trailing down his neck. "fuck, don't stop, please—"
he was stuttering, jutting his hips up into yours as he did. your thighs slipped against his, pussy leaking as he dragged over your sweet spot again and again.
"heeseung," you panted.
your pussy fluttered around him, squeezing him just right as you felt your high building in your stomach. he was buried deep. so deep you could hardly think. so deep you could hardly speak.
he gripped your waist, watching with helpless desperation as your hips rocked over his, clenching so perfectly he was seeing stars.
"gonna fucking come—if you don't stop—"
you nodded desperately, grabbing his face as you kissed him again. all teeth and tongue, all the pent up tension between you bubbling to the surface.
heeseung twitched beneath you, his hand flying to the back of your neck as his hips jerked upwards.
"fuck," he hissed, curling his fingers in your hair. "fuck, it feels so fucking good."
"hee," you whined, your movements growing shorter, more frantic.
"come for me. say my name."
"heeseung," you cried, your hands tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.
"just like that, come on. show me how good it feels."
your body jerked, hips stuttering as you came in his lap, whining a slew of curses against his neck. he fucked you through it, lip caught between his teeth as his cock twitched. he spilled inside you with a low groan.
"god, this pussy's so fucking good," he hissed, tilting his head back. "knew it would be. sick of jake keeping you all to himself.”
you bit into his neck possessively—a silent rebuttal. jake might have had you before, but something in the way heeseung groaned under your teeth told you that was changing after tonight.
when you collapsed back into the passenger seat, the air inside the car was thick with sweat and the lingering trace of smoke. heeseung cracked the windows open, letting in a gust of cool, damp air that smelled like pine and rain.
"so," he said, still breathing hard as he turned to look at you. "does this mean you'll finally smoke with me now?"
you looked back at him, lips curving upwards. "if you fuck me like that again, i'll do whatever you want."
nerd bestfriend!jake teaching you how to squirt… with his dick :)
a/n: uhm, im not back. but this shit is too good to not share😞
>>>>>>>>>>
“okay, so—fuck—” jake hisses, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, fogged up from sweat, “so the, uh, the anterior vaginal wall is—shit—right here.”
he adjusts his grip on your thighs, pushing them up so your knees press to your chest, your pussy stretched wide around him, flushed and dripping. he’s buried deep, almost too deep, but you can’t think, can barely breathe, your hands fisting the sheets as you stare up at him.
he’s panting, face red, brows furrowed behind his glasses as he tries to keep himself from moving, trying to keep the “lesson” under control, but his cock keeps twitching inside you.
“j-jake,” you whimper, trying to move your hips, but he pins you down, glaring.
“stop, i’m teaching,” he snaps, but his voice is high, strained, as he tries to regain composure, pushing his glasses up with one trembling finger.
“a-anyway,” he continues, clearing his throat, “the g-spot is around two inches in, towards the belly button, and—fuck—when you stimulate it with the right pressure and rhythm—”
he shifts, pulling back slightly before rolling his hips forward, grinding against that spot, making your eyes roll back.
“you—ah, you feel that?” he stutters, his breath hitching, “th-that’s the—fuck, that’s the spot.”
your hands fly to his forearms, nails digging in, your body arching, “oh my god, jake—”
“and when you keep stimulating it, the skene’s glands—” he gasps as he thrusts again, “can cause—f-fuck—expulsion of fluid, which is—squirting—”
his voice cracks on the last word, his hips stuttering forward, cock dragging against your sweet spot again and again, your cunt fluttering around him.
“you’re clenching—shit, baby, you’re clenching too hard,” he moans, loud, glasses sliding down again as sweat drips onto your chest.
“jake, please, please—” you whine, tears pricking your eyes, your thighs shaking violently.
“s-shit, i’m—i’m trying to teach, okay?” he whines, loud and embarrassingly needy, “you just—fuck! you feel too good, it’s—so hard to—fuck!”
his hips snap forward harder, faster, despite himself, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he tries to keep talking.
“n-need consistent pressure—like this—” he pants, grinding his cock deep, making you sob, “and—ah—angle towards the belly button, right there, right—fuck, right there—”
your vision blurs, a tight coil snapping as you scream, your body locking up before a sudden gush of liquid spills out around his cock, soaking his thighs, the sheets, everything.
“holy shit—holy fuck—” jake chokes out, hips jerking, cock twitching inside you as he pulls out fast, wrapping his hand around himself.
he strokes himself frantically, eyes wide behind his fogged glasses as he cums, thick ropes spilling over your pussy, your stomach, some of it dripping onto your folds, warm and messy.
“s-sorry, fuck, sorry, you just—” he whines, shivering as his cum leaks between your thighs, “you just feel too—fuck! too good.”
you’re both panting, your body still shaking, your pussy still leaking from your first squirt, your skin sticky with his cum and your own mess.
he looks down at you, cheeks flushed, hair a sweaty mess, glasses crooked, before letting out a soft, breathless laugh.
“so, uh,” he says, clearing his throat as he pushes his glasses up again, “that’s… how you squirt.”
you smack his arm weakly, but you’re laughing, tears slipping down your cheeks, your heart pounding, your body warm, your best friend looking at you like you just gave him a reason to live.
“There she is,” he says against your skin, his voice muffled but giddy. You gasp, legs trembling slightly. Heeseung’s hands squeeze your thighs, grounding you. “Relax,” he says between kisses. “You’re doing so good. I got you.”
cw : face riding,smut, cowgirl and climbed up like it was a rollercoaster—nervous at first, but screaming by the end.
You're hovering above him, hands pressed into the sheets on either side of his head, heart beating somewhere near your throat. Every part of you is flushed, half from anticipation, half from the way Heeseung is looking at you.
Like you’re the only thing in the world he wants right now. You bite your lip, hesitating. “This feels… kinda awkward,” you admit with a shy laugh. Heeseung’s smile is immediate soft and lopsided. “Awkward?” he echoes, reaching up to run his hands along your thighs. “You, babe? No way. You look so hot right now, I’m fighting for my life down here.”
You snort, laughter breaking the tension just a little. “Shut up.” “No, really,” he grins, eyes sparkling. “I’ve been dreaming about this forever, and now you’re actually up there, looking like the literal goddess of my fantasies.”
You roll your eyes but your cheeks burn at the compliment. Still, nerves crawl beneath your skin. “I just… I don’t know what I’m doing.” Heeseung lifts his head slightly, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “You don’t have to know. That’s the best part.”
You exhale shakily. “But what if it’s weird? Or I crush you or—”
“Crush me?” he laughs. “Baby, if I die, at least I’ll die the happiest man alive. What a way to go.” You giggle, covering your face with one hand. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet you love me.” You peek at him from between your fingers, smiling despite yourself. Heeseung reaches up, gently pulling your hand away. “Hey,” he says, voice softening. “Look at me.”
You do. His expression shifts still playful, but with something deeper behind it. “You don’t have to be perfect. I don’t want perfect. I just want you. Comfortable. In your body. With me.”
Your chest aches at how easy he makes it sound. How sincere he looks, even lying beneath you like this. “Okay,” you whisper, heart pounding. “I’ll try.” Heeseung’s smile returns, softer now.
You start to lower yourself, slowly, still unsure. He watches you with reverence, like he’s seeing something sacred. “Go slow,” he murmurs, hands steady on your thighs. “Just move how you want. I’ll guide you if you need.”
You pause just before touching his lips, your breath caught. Heeseung chuckles gently. “C’mon, babe. I promise I’m ready. I’ve been training for this moment my whole life.” You can’t help the laugh that escapes you—nervous, but genuine.
And finally, you let go.
When your hips settle against him, he groans softly the moment you touch him, hands sliding up the back of your thighs to steady you. “There she is,” he says against your skin, his voice muffled but giddy. You gasp, legs trembling slightly. Heeseung’s hands squeeze your thighs, grounding you. “Relax,” he says between kisses. “You’re doing so good. I got you.”
Then his mouth moves.
And you forget how to think. His tongue licks a slow, upward stroke and your entire body jolts in response. His grip tightens ever so slightly, not forcing, just anchoring you to him as he pulls you in with ease. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t press too hard. He lets you adjust, lets you settle into it.
You let out a shaky breath, fingers threading through his hair as instinct takes over.
“Heeseung,” you whisper, your voice cracking on the syllable.
He hums in response, and the vibration against you sends another spark shooting up your spine. He’s gentle at first—his tongue exploring you with long, deliberate strokes, like he’s memorizing the shape of you, the way you react. Like he wants to learn your body the way he’s learned your mind.
He pulls back just a little to speak, voice low and utterly smug. “You taste so fucking good.”
You moan and his hands flex on your thighs again, encouraging, grounding.
“You can move, babe,” he says, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Ride me. However you want. I’ll follow your lead.” You hesitate for half a heartbeat.
Then you shift. Just a little.
Just enough to feel the slick glide of his tongue against you again, firmer now, slower. Heeseung moans into you like he’s the one unraveling. And you can’t help it you do it again. And again. Testing. Riding.
Heeseung responds every time, mouth meeting your movements with a perfect mix of pressure and softness. His tongue dips lower, then circles back up to swirl around your clit, teasing it, flicking just enough to make you gasp.
“F—fuck,” you murmur, breathless, your hips rolling forward now with more purpose, more need. “That’s it,” he groans, not even coming up for air. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.”
Your thighs tighten around his head and he lets out a deep, pleased moan, like he loves the feeling of being surrounded by you, devoured by you. His hands slide up to your hips now, guiding you, never controlling, just helping you keep rhythm.
Every time you grind against his tongue, he meets you with devotion. His nose nudges your clit just right. His tongue dips into your entrance, lapping up everything you give him like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.
“You’re doing so good,” he murmurs when he finally pulls back for just a second to breathe. “So fuckin’ pretty like this—on top of me, using me.” The words send heat straight to your core.
You whimper, needy now, chasing more. Heeseung’s tongue is relentless in the softest way. Never too much. Never too little. Just that perfect pressure that makes your thighs shake and your breath stutter.
Your moans get louder. Your rhythm less controlled.
And Heeseung? He’s right there with you. Eyes half-lidded, arms wrapped around your hips now, holding you close as he pulls you down into his mouth like he needs you to come for him.
“Let go,” he says against you, voice muffled but firm. “Come for me. Right here. Let me feel it.”
You’re right on the edge, the pleasure curling like heat in your stomach.
One more swirl of his tongue. One more perfect flick. One more moan from him that sounds like worship—And you fall apart. Your hips shudder. Your hands fist in his hair. Your thighs clench around his head and you cry out his name.
Heeseung doesn’t stop. He slows, but he stays with you, licking you through it, kissing you through the aftershocks like he’s savoring every last drop. When you finally still, breath heaving and body trembling, you feel his hands smoothing over your hips. Soothing.
Loving.
He looks up at you, lips wet and swollen, smile lazy and full of awe.
“You,” he whispers, “are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
You’re still panting when you slump forward onto his chest, muscles buzzing and loose, skin dewy with heat. Heeseung's arms wrap around you immediately, holding you like you’re something precious fragile and radiant all at once.
“Hey,” he murmurs into your hair, lips brushing the shell of your ear, “you okay?”
You nod, cheek pressed to the rise and fall of his chest. “More than okay…”
He laughs softly, a low, satisfied sound. “You should see yourself right now,” he says, brushing his hand along your spine. “Absolutely gorgeous.”
You shift slightly, straddling his waist now instead of his face, your core still soaked, throbbing, aching.
But it’s not enough.
Not anymore.
Heeseung looks up at you as you sit up, eyes slightly wide, lips still slick with you. His hands find your hips again instinctively. Your voice is soft, almost breathless, but there’s no hesitation in the words.
“I need you inside me now.”
The air thickens between you. Heeseung’s pupils darken instantly, mouth parting. “Shit.” His hands flex on your hips. “Yeah?” he asks, like he’s checking, like he needs to hear it again to believe it. You nod, voice firmer this time. “Please, Heeseung. I want you. I need to feel you. Now.”
His restraint snaps like a thread pulled too tight.
“Fuck—okay,” he breathes, shifting beneath you to sit up and kiss you. It’s messy, deep, laced with hunger but still so full of care. His hands frame your face for a moment like he needs to memorize how you look at this exact moment.
When you lower yourself onto him, it’s slow. Deliberate. Your body opens for him with a needy, aching stretch, and you both gasp at the contact. “Oh my god,” you whisper as he fills you inch by inch, impossibly deep.
Heeseung’s hands clutch at your hips, trying to stay still, trying not to thrust up too fast. “You feel so fucking good,” he groans, forehead resting against your chest. “So warm. So tight. Shit.” You start to move gently, rolling your hips, letting him slide deeper, angle just right.
Every shift makes your body tighten around him, and every little whimper you make drives him insane. His hands trail up your sides, one moving to cup your breast while the other presses against the small of your back, guiding your rhythm.
“You wanted me inside you,” he pants, eyes locked on yours. “Now you’ve got me, baby. All of me.”
And in this moment, nothing else in the world exists but you and the way your bodies are tangled together, breath meeting breath, heartbeat syncing with heartbeat.
Every time you sink down, he fills you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way. Every time you lift, he groans, chasing your warmth.
Heeseung’s hands never stop moving. One is spread across your lower back, the other cradling your hip, guiding, steadying, encouraging.
“God,” he breathes, watching you like you’re something holy, something he’s worshiping with every stroke. “You feel unreal. You’re perfect.” You whimper at the praise, at the way his voice trembles on the edge of restraint. “Heeseung…”
He bites his bottom lip, eyes dark and glazed, hips twitching beneath you with each glide of your body over his. “You’re so tight, so warm fuck, baby, watching you ride me like this…”
You lean forward, chest brushing his, and he meets you in a kiss deep, desperate. His tongue licks into your mouth just as his hips lift up, thrusting into you with a little more force, hitting that spot that makes your breath hitch.
“Right there—oh my god—” you moan, breaking the kiss, head falling back.
“Yeah?” he pants, voice wrecked. “There?”
You nod, your rhythm picking up now—needier, faster, slick sounds filling the room as your bodies find a perfect, frenzied rhythm. Heeseung’s hand slides between you, his thumb brushing over your clit with careful pressure, rubbing in slow, tight circles. Your gasp is instant. Your thighs tighten.
“There you go,” he murmurs, almost in awe. “That’s it. Let go for me again.”
You can feel it building, hot, sharp, relentless. The pleasure coils tight in your belly, spreading through your limbs until you’re trembling, moaning his name like a prayer. Heeseung thrusts up into you with purpose now, meeting your every grind, your every desperate cry for more.
“Come on, baby,” he whispers, eyes locked on yours. “I wanna feel you fall apart again. Want you to come all over me.” And with one more stroke seep, perfect his thumb pressing just right.
You shatter.
The orgasm tears through you like fire, like light, blinding and raw. Your body clamps down around him, pulsing hard, uncontrollable. You cry out, grabbing his shoulders, your whole body shivering as the waves crash over you.
Heeseung groans loud, gripping your hips as your release milks him, drives him right over the edge with you. “Fuck, fuck—baby, I’m—” he chokes on a moan, thrusting up once, twice more—
And then he’s gone, too.
Coming deep inside you with a broken gasp, his arms wrapping around your waist like he needs to hold you while he breaks. You both freeze locked together, breathless, trembling.
The only sound in the room is the echo of your moans, your panting breaths, your hearts trying to slow down. You collapse forward onto his chest again, utterly spent, boneless and blissed out.
And Heeseung?
He presses a kiss to your temple, arms pulling you even closer.
“You,” he whispers, voice hoarse and full of wonder, “just ruined me.”
you are sooo good at writing istg your stories make me feel some type of way 😭😭
Thank you so so much .°՞(っ-ᯅ-ς)՞°·. I’m really trying to work on my writing I’ve been in such a slump for so long and enha has been giving me so much inspiration lately
I love getting comments and replies on stuff it makes me soooo happy ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ luv you all
warnings: smut (minors dni), dry humping, drug use (marijuana), kissing, shotgunning smoke, dirty talk
synopsis: rule #1: never fuck your plug. but it’s oh-so hard to remember this rule when your plug is sooo hot and soooo into you.
⤷ chuu's 💌 ── .✦ anon requested stoner!heeseung dry humping and as a DH connoisseur I HAD to oblige :)
——
You weren't supposed to be here.
You had one rule. Don't date your plug.
It was too messy. Too close. Too many girls who were angling for the same thing—twirling their hair round their fingers as they asked for favors, dragging their nails down his bicep, adding extra emojis and letters to all their text exchanges.
You didn't want to be part of the entourage that trailed after him, sliding into his lap at parties, stealing the blunt from his lips mid-conversation. Not your style.
The only problem? He didn't seem to care about any of those girls. He had his eyes on one person. You.
Heeseung had started inviting you over to smoke a few months ago. It was innocent enough—a joint and a movie, most of the time. He was generous enough to let you smoke for free, though it wasn't lost on you why he treated you with such glimmering hospitality.
He made it obvious how interested he was.
And you made it obvious that you were not.
At least, that's what you told yourself.
Heeseung's pursuit was admirable, and you liked the way his attention made you feel, but he probably invited all the girls he supplied to over.
Probably flirted with each one the way he did with you, watched them with the same lazy hunger in his eyes that always had you stumbling over your words. What, were you supposed to believe he'd never had a crush on a customer before? He did this with everyone. It wasn't special.
Even if you were the only person he ever rolled up for.
Even if he always let you hit first, eyes locked on the shape of your lips as you inhaled.
Even if he always sat a little too close when the lights were off.
You stuck to your side of the couch. Kept your arms crossed over yourself like it might stop the tension from boiling up every time he moved and you felt him brush against you.
And usually it worked.
Until tonight.
There was something about being there with him, the way he kept stretching out on the couch, finding reasons to brush up against you. Eyes lingering on you as he passed you the joint, fingers bumping yours on purpose.
"You look tired. Long day?"
You shrugged, trying to ignore the way he was staring. “Just work."
"You should relax.” His face was soft and easy, lips curving into that smirk he always wore around you. The one that said all you had to do was push, and he’d give completely. “I could help with that.”
You threw him a sideways glance, hollowing your cheeks as you inhaled. He watched, shifting slightly. He was always doing that—watching your mouth as you smoked, like he was living vicariously through the joints he rolled you.
Maybe that's why he was always so eager to offer them.
"I'm not one of your girls," You retorted, exhaling towards the ceiling.
He tilted his head. Like you were a challenge he was all too willing to take on. “Never said you were.”
"I'm not just gonna slide into your lap," You said, a little too sharply.
Heeseung grinned. "Didn't ask you to."
Silence.
You ignored him, struggling to decide between being annoyed and mildly turned on. His persistence was flattering, you could admit that much.
He just smirked a little, clearly amused at how easily he was getting to you. “You keep saying no, but you always come back."
Your mouth went dry.
"I like your weed," You muttered, trying hard to focus on the movie playing in front of you.
"Mhm." He was smirking. "You like something."
"Give it a rest," You said, throwing him a look. "I don’t fuck plugs.”
He raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise. "Never said anything about sleeping together either. Where's your head at today?"
Your cheeks burned. God, he was so annoying. He knew exactly what he was doing—teasing you into a corner and then pretending like he had no idea how you ended up there.
You turned back to the screen, jaw clenched, trying to ignore the way your body was buzzing.
It was maddening.
"Watch the movie," You said flatly, not meeting his eyes, which were still locked onto you.
"Rather watch you," He answered casually.
"Not gonna happen, Heeseung."
A blissful fog was beginning to creep into your head, softening all the sharp-edged inhibitions that you normally carried. You settled back into the couch, exhaling softly as your head swam, senses dilating.
Heeseung’s cologne wafted around you, sharp and sweet intermingling with the ashy scent of smoke. You felt the heat of his body beside you—several inches closer than he’d been at the start of the movie—and every subtle movement as he shifted in his seat.
He was fidgeting. Messing with the ring on his middle finger, bouncing his leg every now and then. Like he couldn’t focus.
"You're not gonna kiss me," He said flatly, almost like he was confirming it for himself.
"No," You answered. "I'm not."
"Right." He settled back, leaning against the cushions. “That's probably for the best."
You hummed, side-eyeing him. It was almost amusing, how badly he wanted you.
Part of you wondered what might happen if you relaxed just a bit. If you gave an inch, would he take a mile?
"If you did," He continued, casual, his eyes back on the screen. "I'd let you."
You rolled your eyes. "Oh, really?"
He took a drag. "I'd let you do anything you wanted." He parted his lips, smoke curling up from his mouth. Then he glanced at you, teasing. "Just thought you should know."
You turned your head, studying him. "Anything?" You asked, voice low, almost amused.
His eyes flicked to you. Quick. Hopeful. “Yeah. Wouldn’t even do anything back. I’d just, like, sit here. Then you wouldn’t be breaking any of your precious rules.”
It was half a joke. Half entirely serious.
You nodded, fingers trailing from your lap to his knee. He stiffened beneath your touch, brow quirking up as you leaned forward.
"Didn't realize you were so obliging to all your customers," You said, sliding your finger up the inseam of his sweatpants, knee to thigh.
He flattened his hands on the couch, throat bobbing as he watched your finger move. "Nah, just the ones I really like," He said breathily.
It was hilarious. Watching his muscles tighten under your touch, like he was trying to contain himself. His hands curled into the cushions beneath him, knuckles going white, and in your hazy state you found yourself wondering for the first time:
How far would he let this go?
"I mean... what if I did want to sit in your lap?" You tested, voice light.
His breath hitched.
"Just to try it," You added, glancing up at him. "Doesn't mean anything."
He took a shaky breath. "Y-yeah. Okay."
You smirked, voice dropping almost to a whisper. "And what if I kissed you? But only because you look kinda hot tonight. Not because I like you."
Heeseung let out a sound from the back of his throat, leaning back from your touch like it hurt. Your stomach flipped in delight at the dazed look in his eyes, the way his tongue kept darting out to wet his lips.
You leaned in even closer, palm flattening on his thigh. "Still just my plug," You whispered.
"Mhm," He answered, eyes on your lips like he wasn’t even listening to what you were saying.
You didn't wait for his permission. He'd already given that up months ago. You’d just always been too reserved to take it, scared that he’d find some way to gain the upper hand. Make you the one who was scrambling to gain back control.
Not this time.
You just shifted onto your knees, one hand on his shoulder as you swung over his lap. Easy. Confident. Like you'd done it a hundred times.
And oh, Heeseung had imagined it a hundred times—how you'd feel on top of him, your body flush against his as you sat yourself down in his lap.
Only, you didn't sit.
You hovered, legs on either side of his, fingers trailing down his chest in a way that made his head fuzzy. He stiffened under you, pupils dark and wide, lip caught between his teeth.
"Still gonna let me do whatever I want?"
His fingers dug into the couch cushions. "Course," He said, chest rising and falling beneath your hands. "I'm all yours."
You flashed a wicked smile, enjoying every second of this. You dropped an inch, pressing just enough for him to feel you through his sweats. He sucked in a breath, hands tensing.
"You're such a mess for me," You teased, fingers ghosting over the side of his neck.
He let out a laugh. "You're really enjoying this, huh?"
"Just a little."
He straightened, looking up at you with wide, desperate eyes. “We don’t even have to fuck.”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
“I won’t even touch you.”
“Really? Thank god.”
He growled, eyes on your lips like he wanted to devour them. “You get off on teasing me?”
Your eyes glinted. “I don’t get off on you at all. That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?”
You really thought you'd won. That you had him right where you wanted—Lee Heeseung, everybody's favorite plug, king of nonchalance—squirming under you, begging for just a taste.
Until he put his hands on your hips, his voice darkening.
"Sit," He said seriously. "All the way."
You flushed. "I thought you weren’t gonna do anything."
"I'm not. I'm telling you to."
You lowered the rest of the way, biting down on a sound in the back of your throat as you felt him dig into you. Already hard.
Heeseung’s body was humming. He'd been hard since he opened the door. Waiting to get you in this position all damn night. He groaned, digging his fingers into your waist.
"Wearing this fucking skirt, teasing me like you're the one in control. You're smoking my weed, aren't you?"
You flushed, head spinning at the pressure of him between your legs as you nodded.
"And you want more of it, don't you?"
You nodded again, trying not to squirm. He was pressed so deliciously against you, straining against the fabric of his sweats.
He grabbed the second joint he'd rolled from the table, tucking it between his lips and lighting it. "Then come get it," He challenged.
You glared at him, the heat rising to your cheeks. "You’re—"
"What?" He leaned forward, his hands sliding up your back. His chin brushed against your chest as he looked up at you, eyes glassy and red. “You climbed on top of me, remember? All I did was sit here."
When you didn't budge, he shrugged and sat back. "Stay there then," He said, drawing another cloud into his mouth. "Makes no difference to me."
You protested, folding your arms. "And watch you smoke the whole thing yourself?"
"Sure. Unless you're ready to admit what you want."
"I want the weed."
He hummed, blowing the smoke in a stream against your skin. His breath tickled your chest, sending goosebumps rising across your arms. "That all?"
You had half a mind to climb off him, to remove yourself from the situation before things reached the point of no return, when Heeseung looked up at you and asked,
"Ever tried shotgunning?"
Your eyes widened. "No."
He didn't wait for an answer. He inhaled again and leaned forward, his mouth ghosting over yours as he exhaled the smoke into your lungs, breath tickling your bottom lip.
You gasped, startled by the closeness, and inadvertently drew the smoke into your lungs.
He watched as you swallowed it, eyes glinting.
"Good girl," He said, exhaling the rest away from you.
Your stomach clenched. He might not have thought twice about the comment, but it sent a jolt of desire shooting through your stomach. You squirmed in his lap, desire welling between your legs.
"You liked that?" He asked, glancing up at you as you shifted on top of him. "Come here.”
He did it again, pulling you down on him as he breathed into your open mouth, hands firm on your waist. You swallowed the smoke down, chasing the heat of his lips every time he pulled away.
Your head was getting foggier. Thoughts messier. All you could focus on was the feeling of him underneath you. The pressure against you. The way he was pushing you down on his lap, hips curling up to meet yours just slightly. Just enough to make you crave more.
"Your turn," He said, passing you the blunt.
You rolled your eyes, cheeks warm. "Still trying to get me to kiss you?"
"Still pretending you don't want to?"
The weed was making him cocky. And bold. It pained you to admit that you liked it.
You took another drag and leaned forward, smoke hitting his bottom lip as you exhaled softly.
"I don't kiss dealers," You murmured, watching the vapor curl between your faces.
He laughed, breathless, eyes darting down to your mouth. "Right. And you don't sit in their laps either."
You answered by leaning back, drawing another inhale of smoke into your lungs. He watched, breathing hard, like the effort of keeping still was taking all his strength.
He brought a hand up to your face as you blew out, dragging his thumb against your lower lip to open your mouth. Smoke spilled out from behind your teeth, drifting to the ceiling.
“Love watching you smoke,” He murmured, eyes locked onto your lips like he was entranced. “Love your mouth. The way you move your lips. It’s driving me fucking crazy.”
You laughed lightly, pushing his hand away. “You use that one on all the girls?”
He nodded lazily, eyes locked on your lips. “Only the ones I really really like.”
Your stomach clenched. This time, when you leaned in with a mouthful of smoke, you pressed your lips fully onto his, breathing smoke into his lungs as his lips parted beneath you.
He swallowed, groaning as you opened your mouth against his. The sound made your head spin.
Your chest flattened against his as you leaned in, hips curling against his. His hands flew to your waist, a stuttered moan climbing up the back of his throat as you began grinding against him.
"Fuck, keep doing that," He hissed, glancing down between your bodies to watch as your hips dragged against him.
You couldn’t help it—you moaned, body flushed with the mix of weed and Heeseung's bulge pressing right between your folds. Your underwear was so wet, you might as well have not been wearing any.
Heeseung didn't seem to care that you were leaking all over him. He grabbed your waist and pulled you onto him harder, bucking up slightly as your cunt dragged over his hard-on.
His head tilted back. "Shit," He moaned, lips parting open. “Fuck, you gotta let me inside you. Y/n—“
You silenced him by kissing him again—no smoke, no excuse. Just your tongue sliding over his as you ground your cunt against his dick, body tensed with craving.
Soon, this wouldn’t be enough. Soon, you’d start wanting more. You knew it. He knew it. It was only a matter of time.
“We’re not fucking,” Heeseung insisted, lip caught between his teeth as he rolled his hips into yours.
He was on top of you now, pressing you into his couch like he was trying to get inside you without removing a single article of clothing.
You kept a tight grip on the fabric of his hoodie, knuckles white. “No, we’re not. And we’re not ever going to be,” You reminded him, unable to keep your head from falling back as the bulge in his sweatpants pressed right up against your throbbing cunt.
He growled, head dropping against his chest as his thrusts grew more frantic. Your stomach tightened into a coil of burning nerves, your thighs aching where they were clenched around his hips.
“Hmhh— fuck,” Heeseung whispered, as if he didn’t want you to know how much he was enjoying it. Like he was scared you’d tell him to stop if you did.
“Don’t stop,” You said, voice low with warning.
You’d taken things this far. No way you were walking out of his place empty-handed.
He whimpered, body flush against yours as he rubbed his dick against your pussy, marveling at the way you’d soaked the entire front of his sweatpants.
“Gonna make you cum,” He gritted out. Determined. “Gonna make you wish you’d wanted this sooner.”
“Don’t push it,” You answered, gasping as he leaned back, grabbing your hips and dragging you roughly up against his cock.
“Gonna make you beg for it,” He rambled, jutting his hips against yours sloppily, like he was a second away from the edge.
“Heeseung—“
“Fuck, you’re so bad.” He whined, ignoring your stuttered gasps. “Wanted to fuck you so bad, but you never let me. Still aren’t letting me. Why won’t you let me fuck you, y/n? Wanna make you feel good.”
You moaned, rolling your hips in his hands to chase the friction of his bulge wedged between your folds.
“Yeah, you feel good right now, don’t you? I’ll show you. You’re gonna come back begging for more.”
“Heeseung,” You cried, grabbing the back of his couch as your muscles tightened. Your legs began to tremble, your breaths growing short and harsh.
“Fuck—just like that. You want it bad, don’t you? God, you’re gonna be the first girl who’s ever made me cum in my fucking pants.”
You stuttered against him, tossing your head back as your pussy clenched painfully around nothing. He rammed his hips into yours, groaning as his cock twitched beneath his sweats.
He moaned, pressing a few last exhausted thrusts against you as he collapsed over you.
His breath was hot against your neck, chest heaving as he dug his fingers into the couch below you.
He pulled back, just enough to look at you, his eyes blown, cheeks flushed. You stared back, head spinning, brain struggling to catch up with what had just happened.
always and forever, l.h. ⭑.ᐟ
⤷ part 2 of baby, baby, baby 𓂃🧸۶ৎ ˚ʚɞ˚ (read here.)
exboyf idol!heeseung x youngmom!reader
length: 13.7k
contains: angst, miscommunication, hurt/comfort, protective heeseung, protective ot7, abandonment issues, co-parenting, heeseung genuinely throws hands, enha has your back, group confrontation, happy ending
warnings: toxic ex-relationship, threats/intimidation, light violence (pushing and grabbing), fighting, implied trauma, toxic parent dynamic, slut-shaming, your ex is the acc worst
synopsis: you and heeseung finally have things figured out and, yes, it's everything you hoped it would be. but things get complicated when your ex-boyfriend (and the father of your child) appears at your home, demanding you make space for him in your daughter's life.
with a threat against heeseung and an unfortunate miscommunication, the trust he's been working so hard to build with you is put to the final test.
⤷ chuu's 💌 ── .✦ wowwowoww this took SUCH a long time but i was not done with y/n and heeseung. genuinely the most dramatic and indulgent angst i have ever written but, what can i say? i'm a sucker for a man who's willing to defend what's his.
——
“Heeseung!” You called, cursing lightly as Hana wriggled out of your grasp and tore off towards the car.
Heeseung looked up, eyes locking onto the small child barreling towards him as he closed the trunk of your car. His feet were covered in sand, hair sticking up, the dark strands stiff with sea water.
Your daughter looked the same—sandy, saltwatered, and windswept as she attempted to dodge him, her hands outstretched towards the fading light of the beach.
Heeseung caught her with an arm around the waist and hoisted her, kicking legs and all, to his chest.
“Come on, supergirl,” He said, using a free hand to brush the sand off her feet. “Time to go home.”
“No!”
Her new favorite word.
“No?” He said, bringing her around to the backseat. “You don’t want to go home and eat all this candy we got?”
“No!”
“No, you don’t want to put on your new pjs that Uncle Jay bought you?”
“No!”
He hummed while he wrestled her into her car seat, strapping her in with practiced ease. “No, you don’t want to get mommy all wet while she gives you your bath?”
“No!!”
He grinned. “I see. Guess I’ll have to take care of that one, then.”
You slapped him on the shoulder. "You're gross."
Hana laughed at that, mimicking you with a few light slaps to his hands.
"What do you think, baby, am I gross?" He asked, brushing her wet hair back from her forehead.
She rammed her little fists into his arm, squealing in delight. "No!"
"That's what I thought," He said, closing her door and climbing into the front seat.
There was a time when Heeseung thought co-parenting would be a challenge—that the demands of caring for a toddler might strain your relationship, make things overly complicated. Tense. The way they had been between you and your ex.
He used to lie awake in his room, eyes heavy, chest tight with the fear that he’d mess it all up. That he didn’t have what it took, and that he’d hurt you worse than he ever had before.
But—like most things about the two of you—he’d been wrong.
You and Heeseung had slipped into a rhythm so tender, so natural, it was hard to believe there’d ever been a time without it.
He still lived at the dorm with the other guys, but he spent most nights at your house. During the day, he attended recording sessions and rehearsals, filmed content, and planned for upcoming tour dates as they prepared for their album release.
But he found his way back to you every night. To the contained chaos of your house, the sound of your daughter's laughter, to the warmth of you beside him.
"Hey," He'd say, kicking his shoes off at the door. "How're my two favorite girls?"
"Fussy. And tired," You'd answer, relishing the feeling of his lips on your temple, and his hand on your back.
For every night he’d spent tangled in doubt, there was one you’d spent the same—lying awake with old fears rattling in your head. That you were getting yourself into something you might regret, and all the hours you spent together would one day come to an end.
But it was getting easier and easier to push these thoughts away.
Heeseung was intentional with you. Direct. Clear. All the things you’d wished for years ago during your first time together. When he made promises, he followed through. When he saw you having a hard time, he took over.
It seemed instinctual, the way he could tell what you needed when things were overwhelming. You weren’t used to it. Asking for help had never been your strong suit, and sometimes the discomfort of it brought you to tears.
But Heeseung guided you through this new territory with ease, never once making you feel like you were too much.
He fit into your life like a puzzle piece, something that had been a part of you even before you knew it was missing. It had only been three months, but Heeseung had quickly become an irreplaceable part of your life.
——
The car was quiet. Hana's babbling had grown softer as the day caught up to her. The radio was on the lowest setting, a song you could barely make out mixing with the sound of your daughter’s tired muttering.
Heeseung’s hand rested gently on your knee as he drove, his other wrist draped over the steering wheel while he traced absent-minded patterns over your skin.
By the time you were parked in your driveway, Hana was out, cheeks pink from the sun, head lolling against her car seat.
You reached back to brush a curl away from her face, your heart spinning at the feeling of her skin beneath your fingers. Heeseung's touch was equally gentle, thumbing over your knee as he watched you in the mirror.
"I think a bath will have to wait until tomorrow," You said quietly. "We should just get her to bed." You turned around in your seat as Heeseung moved his hand to rest on the nape of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair.
"Hm, an early night with no responsibilities. Whatever will we do with all the extra time?" He said teasingly, leaning forward to kiss you.
Your heart still fluttered when he did that.
"Get your mind out of the gutter, Lee," You muttered against his lips. "Come on."
Hana's body was heavy in your arms as you carried her up your steps, her diaper bag dangling from your fingers. The house was quiet, still warm from the summer heat as you pushed the door open, trying not to wake the sleeping toddler on your hip.
But as you stepped into the living room, your breath caught. The diaper bag slipped from your grasp, thudding against the ground.
"Babe, have you seen her water bottle—" Heeseung's voice trailed off as he came in behind you. You felt him tense.
He was there. In your house. Leaning against the kitchen counter like he owned the place.
Jace.
Looking at him now, it was so obvious that you'd started dating him all those years ago to get your mind off of Heeseung's absence. The two couldn't have been more different.
Jace's face was carefully guarded, eyes darting between the three of you with cold calculation. His gaze lingered on Hana, her head resting on your shoulder, hand curled around your hair.
His lip curled lightly at the sight of her, that same look that he used to give every time you'd ask him for help, every time you'd beg him to spend time with her. It wasn't hatred. It wasn't even disgust.
It was inconvenience.
Like simply being in the same room as you two was exhausting for him.
Heeseung moved closer behind you, silent. His presence eased some of the panic that was bubbling up your throat. The shift in his posture was unmistakable—tense, protective, itching to step in if you needed him.
His shoulder brushed yours, a silent reassurance. I'm right here, it said.
Something shifted in Jace's expression as his gaze flicked to Heeseung, taking in the man standing in his place. His face hardened, eyes narrowing, knuckles white as he crossed his arms.
"Long day?" He said finally, voice far too casual for how tense the air around you had become.
You tightened your hold on Hana, shifting her higher against your chest. “What are you doing here?” You asked, your voice wavering slightly.
Jace shrugged, as if there was nothing unusual about the situation at all. The tightness in your throat said otherwise.
"You've been ignoring my calls. Thought I'd stop by in person. I wanted to see my daughter."
The way he said it, my daughter, sent a shiver down the back of your neck. Heeseung let out a low breath, his brows furrowed.
"You can't just—" You swallowed, your throat dry. "You can't just let yourself in."
"Funny, I'm pretty sure my name's still on the lease. My key still fits in the door. Should've done something about that if you didn't want me coming home."
Heeseung stepped forward, dropping the bag he was holding with a thump. "You need to leave," He said, voice low and even. There was an edge to it that you'd never heard before. Wary. Defensive.
"Oh, right. The boyfriend." Jace pushed away from the counter, crossing the room until he was uncomfortably close. "Heeseung, right? So you're the one who hit the road all those years ago?" His face twisted disdainfully. "Surprised she let you back in the door. Maybe my odds are better than I thought."
Heeseung didn't budge. "You're not wanted here," He said steadily.
"You like playing house with someone else's kid?"
"If that's what you wanna call it, then yeah, I do." He retorted, eyes darkening. "You need to go."
"That's my daughter," Jace said, pointing at Hana. He looked at you then, eyes darting around your face. "Our daughter."
Your heart twisted painfully at that—our daughter—the words you used to pray to hear. The ones he used to spit at you, like she was some kind of disease you'd brought him.
“Figured it was time I start being a part of her life,” He said, fingers twitching like he was thinking about reaching out, touching her.
You took a step backward, your grip on Hana tightening. Heeseung’s hand was at your back instantly, steadying you.
"Why are you really here?" You asked. "You could have shown up any time before this."
Jace's face changed, that look of forced regret that you'd come to know so well settling over his sharp features. "I didn't know if you wanted me here, y/n. You said some harsh things last time we saw each other."
You frowned. “You didn’t know if... Jace, I called you— I..." You bit your lip, trying to focus on the feeling of Heeseung's thumb smoothing over your lower back.
"I know. And I know I should have been there..." He rubbed at the back of his head. "You know how hard it was for me. I wasn't... I wasn't ready."
"And you want me to believe that suddenly you are?"
He frowned. "Why are you acting like I was never there for you?"
"Because you weren't."
Your heart beat wildly in your chest. Jace had this way of making you feel small. You’d been through it before—his ability to twist every conversation, to make you question your own instincts.
You hated how easily he was doing it now.
"You know, I remember what it was like.” His voice was careful, measured. “When you were alone. When he was gone. I’m surprised you’ve forgiven him so quickly."
Your face hardened.
“Does he know what a mess he left behind when he took off to go prancing around onstage for a bunch of teenage girls?”
“Stop it, Jace.”
You saw what he was trying to do—force himself between you and Heeseung so he could wedge back into your life. You weren’t going to let him do it.
"What? You don't want him to know what a mess you were? How I had to pick up the pieces after he tossed you aside like you were nothing? Don’t act like I wasn’t there for you, y/n. We both know that’s not true.”
Your looked away, heat rising to your face. His words were dredging up memories you’d tried hard to forget. Moments that filled you with shame and disappointment: the nights you’d spent crying into his chest—long before the pregnancy, before the distance grew between you—begging him to help you forget about Heeseung.
The way you’d let him slip back in even after he'd left you and Hana, just for the help, just for the comfort of not being completely alone. Moments that you swore you'd never repeat.
"I was the one you'd call when you were scared and alone. I was the one who came over when you felt like you were doing everything wrong." He looked at Heeseung then. “You know she still calls me? Every time something’s up with Hana, I get a message. Did she tell you that?”
Heeseung’s face was hard, the edge of his jaw sharp as he ground his teeth. You hadn’t told him that.
It wasn’t like you were talking to Jace all the time, and the number of texts you sent him went down significantly when Heeseung reentered your life, but… he was the father of your child.
A part of you still clung to the idea that Hana would get to grow up knowing her dad. Could anyone fault you for trying to include him when it mattered?
“You think I’m gonna feel threatened by a few text messages?” Heeseung said, though you could hear the tension in his voice.
You glanced at him. This wasn’t how you’d imagined this conversation going. Still, Heeseung never wavered. He glared at Jace, who crossed his arms and shrugged.
“I just want to make sure you know who y/n’s going to when it really counts.”
You shook your head, as if clearing his words from your ears. "That's bullshit and you know it. I can’t rely on you for anything. You hated being here. You hated me.”
“Come on, y/n, is that really how you remember me?”
You laughed humorlessly. “It’s exactly how I remember you. You didn't mind it when things were easy—when I was the one carrying all the responsibilities, but when things got hard, you left. You gave up."
"And you think he won't do the same?"
Heeseung bristled beside you.
"You think he won't get sick of you, too? The sad single mom act gets old after a while, believe me."
"Fuck you," You snarled, pressing Hana to your chest as she stirred, letting out a whine at the volume of your voice.
His face twisted, the facade of concern vanishing behind one of anger, and there was the man you knew so well. The one who made you feel trapped, out of control, threatened. The one who couldn't stand being told no.
"I'm the reason you have a place to live," He spat back. "I'm the reason you have a kid to call your own. Why are you acting like I'm the bad guy? You used to love it when I'd come around like this."
Your chest tightened. "I'm taking care of my child."
"You're ungrateful."
Heeseung's fingers closed around the back of your shirt. His voice was sharp, dangerous. "Don't. Don't talk to her like that."
"Why the fuck are you still here?" Jace said, exasperated. "Have I not made myself clear? I've got it. You can run off like you did before. It shouldn't be very hard for you. The way she explained it, it sounded like leaving was the easiest thing you'd ever done."
"Jace," You said, voice low.
"No, we've spent enough time talking about me. How about him? Where were you while y/n was going through all this? If you're so great, why did she need me to pick up the pieces after you tossed her aside?” He looked at you. “What did he say? That things would be different this time around? You’re a smart girl, y/n, I find it hard to believe you’d fall for something like that.”
“You don’t know anything about us.”
Jace’s voice was steady. “I know he doesn’t know you half as well as I do.”
“Bullshit,” Heeseung said.
“Yeah? Try having a kid with someone first, maybe then you’ll get it.”
He scoffed. "Are you an idiot? You left her."
"So did you."
"I'm here now."
Jace held his arms out. "And what do you think I'm trying to do?"
Heeseung balled his fists, clearly trying to contain himself. Hana lifted her head slowly, blinking up at you tiredly.
Jace's eyes were locked on you. "Come on, baby. You're not really gonna kick me out, are you?"
Your throat tightened.
"That's my kid, y/n."
"I want you to go," You said firmly, digging your fingers into your daughter's shirt. "Now."
Jace sighed, dropping his hands to his sides. "You're not really giving me much of a choice here."
"Did you not hear what she said?! Get the fuck out!"
He narrowed his eyes at Heeseung, jaw tightening. That infuriatingly calm demeanor that always used to send you spiraling. He held his hands up.
"Look, I don't want to make your life harder. Especially you, man," He nodded at Heeseung. "I know you have a reputation to keep up. I'd hate for your fans to catch wind that their fav is too busy hanging around another guy's kid to keep singing his little songs."
You inhaled sharply. Heeseung tensed
The threat hung between them, crackling with energy. Heesueng kept his eyes on Jace as he made his way towards the door, his jaw set.
"I'll let you two think about that. See you soon, y/n."
The door closed behind him, plunging the room into an almost suffocating silence. Hana whimpered softly against your shoulder, and you rocked her gently, though you hardly realized you were doing it. Your pulse thundered in your ears.
Heeseung hovered beside you, his expression taut. He was breathing hard, the adrenaline of the interaction still fresh in the clench of his fists, the rigid line of his jaw.
His thumb brushed lightly against your shoulder, a wordless reassurance that he was there, he wasn’t going anywhere. But there was a flicker of something in his eyes—doubt, hurt—something you could see him trying to swallow.
“Are you okay?” He asked softly.
You nodded, your breath shallow. "I'm sorry you had to see that," You said, meeting his gaze hesitantly.
He was staring at the counter, where Jace had been leaning when you first walked in. You could practically see his mind racing, the thoughts flying behind his eyes as he worked his way through his emotions.
“I didn’t know you still talked to him,” He said flatly, not meeting your eyes. His voice was calm, neutral, but you knew that look on his face.
He was trying not to care. And he was failing miserably.
“I…” You started. “I don’t, Heeseung. Not really. It’s been weeks—”
“Weeks?” He looked at you.
The hurt was plain on his face. He’d been with you for three months—Hana had started walking, learned how to say your names—and the news that you’d been talking to your ex during that time seemed to crash over him, his expression falling.
You felt your throat tighten, defensiveness creeping up the back of your tongue. Jace was the father of your child. The man responsible for giving you your daughter. Did it really bother Heeseung that bad? That you had a one-off exchange every now and then to check in about your kid?
Of course, it did.
“I wasn’t trying to keep it from you,” You managed, searching his face. “It’s just… it’s complicated.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
His tone made you wince. Not because it was loud, or angry, but because he sounded genuinely hurt.
“I wasn’t trying to lie to you, I just— Look, nothing’s going on between us, Heeseung. I would never do that to you—”
“God, no, y/n,” He said, stepping away as he ran a hand through his hair. “That’s not what this is about.”
“Then what’s the big deal?” You asked defensively, fidgeting with the edge of Hana’s shirt. She had her fingers on your necklace, blissfully unaware of the tension growing between you and Heeseung.
“It is a big deal, y/n. Not because I think something is going on— I would never—” He huffed, frustrated. “I’m trying to be here for you. For both of you. I wish you would let me.”
“I am! That’s her dad, Heeseung! Are you really angry with me for trying to involve him in her life?”
“Yes! I am, actually.” He put his hands on his hips, his soft features hardened by the frown on his face. “What the hell could he possibly bring to her life but pain and confusion? Do you really want him around her, y/n? Really?”
You flushed. “I want her to be able to make that choice when she’s—”
He cut you off. “No. You have to make that choice for her. You’re her mom. You’re supposed to keep her safe.”
You tensed, anger rising up your chest. “You don’t get to talk about what being her mom means.”
“I don’t understand why you’d go to him for anything—especially about Hana,” He said angrily.
“It’s not for you to understand! You don’t know what it’s like—”
“He practically broke into your house, y/n! He threatened you—he threatened her.”
“He threatened you,” You snapped. “God, I knew this would happen!”
That shut him up for a second.
His jaw clenched. “Knew what would happen?”
“This!” You gestured at him. “That it was going to be too much, trying to balance your career and being here with us. You were going to have to choose eventually.”
His expression broke, actually broke. He looked away as his face cracked, eyes glassy. Hanna began to fuss against your chest, glancing between you with an upset expression on her face.
The sight of both of them broke your heart.
“You know what happens if people find out, Heeseung. You know.”
He shook his head. “I don’t care.”
“They’ll tear her apart. They’ll tear me apart.”
“I won’t let that happen!” He snapped. Then he looked at you, brows furrowed, the pain written across his face. “How could you say that to me? That I’d have to choose? You know I— You know that I choose this. Choose you.”
“Then what do you want from me!?”
“I want you to choose me back.” He stared at you, his lip trembling like he was a second away from breaking down completely. “I want you to rely on me. You think I can’t handle it, and I’m trying to show you that I can!”
“You heard what Jace said.”
“You think I give a fuck what he says? I’ll protect you, y/n— We’ll protect you.”
“And if he really does it?”
He paused, his gaze flickering uncertainly.
“If he leaks our relationship and people find out. Your fans get pissed off. They come for me and my daughter, they tear us apart. Threaten your future. What then? Are you still gonna be choosing me when that happens?”
He stared at you. “I don’t understand why you’re pushing me away.”
The words kept coming, bitter and breathless, like they were choking you. Tears welled behind your eyes. “Because, Heeseung. You don’t know what it’s like, to be left again and again and still try to believe someone when they say they’ll stay.”
You swallowed, voice trembling. “I’m sorry that you’re angry at me. I’m sorry that I text Hana’s dad sometimes, but—” You bit your lip, your vision blurring. “—I don’t know what I’m doing. I wasn’t trying to hurt you, I— I’m making it up as I go along, and I just—I just got used to you being here.”
Heeseung’s hand twitched by his side.
“So, if you’re going to go, do it. Now,” You spat, though your voice was weak. You were shaking, clinging to Hana like she was a lifeline, the only thing you could truly rely on. “Just get it over with.”
You felt your throat burn as he stepped towards you. You were used to the aftermath of a fight like this. The insults, the accusations. The days of silence that followed, that left you broken and scared.
And god, you were scared. Scared that you’d pushed him too far. That he was going to turn and get his things, slam the door closed behind him like Jace was always doing.
You whimpered as his hands went to your arms, fingers gripping your sleeves. Not harsh—sure. Steady.
You braced for the sting. The familiar recoil of being pulled away from. The snapping words, the withdrawal, the rejection. But they never came.
Heeseung’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “Why do you have so little faith in me?”
Your chest seized.
He looked pained. “I don’t know how else to show you that I’m here, but I’m trying.”
You couldn’t help it—you started to cry.
His voice was quiet, earnest. “You can trust me. I want you to trust me.” He said it firmly, pulling you to his chest as if he just said it the right way, said it enough times, the words might sink into your skin. Might finally stick.
The moment you were in your arms, that you realized he wasn’t leaving, the weight of it all came crashing down. Your breath caught in your throat, your hands shaking.
“I’m sorry,” You gasped out. “I’m sorry I said that. Heeseung—”
He pulled you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair. “I know. It’s okay.”
Smushed between you, Hana began to squirm, her voice rising in protest. Heeseung pulled away enough to look down at her.
You watched as he brushed her hair out of the way, his face soft, and sorry, and scared. It was written all over him—the way he had one hand wrapped around you, the other thumbing gently at Hana’s cheek—he was scared of losing you.
The same way you were about him.
“We’re okay, aren’t we?” Heeseung said, leaning down to look at Hana. The words were meant for her, but they sank into your heart all the same.
We’re okay.
You pressed your face to the top of her head and closed your eyes, allowing the lingering scent of salt and sunscreen to soothe the last of your unease.
We’re okay. If you could believe in nothing else, you believed in that.
You fell asleep that night with your face pressed against Heeseung’s neck, his heart thrumming gently against your cheek. Lying there with his arms around your shoulders, it was hard to remember that you’d fought at all, or that there had been anything to fight about in the first place.
Jace seemed a world away. The words you’d thrown out of fear and defensiveness seemed a world away. For that blissful night, you believed what he’d said: that he would protect you, and that as long as you were together, nothing was going to get between you and your family.
But it was never going to be that simple.
——
Things were tense for the next few days. There was no outright evidence to point to—no tone, no passive aggressive comments, no real change in behavior. They were just… different.
Heeseung seemed to be treading more carefully around you. He no longer stepped in to help you with Hana where he saw fit, like she was just as much his responsibility as she was yours.
You’d never minded when he did that. His instincts were usually right, and you liked that he felt a sense of entitlement to caring for her. It was a wordless sort of reassurance that you’d come to rely on.
Now, he waited for you to ask him for help, as if scared of overstepping a boundary that you couldn’t remember ever placing. He hovered. He was there the moment you needed him, but that sense of belonging, of being a single unit, it seemed to get smaller and smaller.
You tried not to read too much into it. He wanted you to trust him.
That’s what he had said.
That he wanted you to rely on him, that he wasn’t going anywhere, that your days of second-guessing yourself and your relationship could finally be over.
But it was hard for you. Of course, it was. You really did try, but it wasn’t easy when he seemed quieter than usual. It wasn’t easy when his once steady hand around Hana’s waist became hesitant, unsure.
And it wasn’t easy when he got a phone call Sunday afternoon, and stepped into the hallway to take it.
“Hey Heeseung, can you come back to the dorm? Management is here.”
Jungwon’s voice was casual, but there was an underlying that edge that made Heeseung’s stomach twist uncertainly.
“Sure. Is everything okay?” He asked, glancing back at you and Hana playing on the carpet.
“It’s fine. Just get here when you can.”
You looked up from the living room floor as he hung up the phone.
“Was that Jungwon?”
He nodded, grabbing his jacket from the couch. “Yeah, management is at the dorm. I guess they’re calling everyone in.”
You didn’t miss the flicker of uncertainty that crossed his face, the interaction with Jace still fresh in both your minds. But Hana was climbing across your legs, her hands grabbing at the strands of hair falling out of your braid, and the look was gone as soon as it came, replaced by one of soft encouragement at your daughter’s venturing.
Heeseung squatted down, brushing the hair out of her face and giving you a kiss on your temple. “I’ll be back later, okay? I’ll text you.”
“Okay,” You said, your throat tightening as he got up, the smell of his cologne lingering as the door shut behind him.
An uneasy feeling settled in your stomach in the silence that followed, but you did your best to push it away. We’re okay. Heeseung’s words echoed in your mind, and despite the age-old insecurities that still lingered in you, you chose to believe him.
He’d be back later. He’d text you. You’d fall asleep the same way you had for the past few months, wrapped within his protective embrace and comforted by the fact that no matter what happened, you had each other.
Only, he didn’t text you later that night.
In fact, he didn’t come back at all.
——
“This is bullshit.”
Heeseung stood in the middle of his dorm’s living room, jacket in his hands, shoes still on as if ready to bolt out the door at any moment. And he wanted to.
He was furious.
He’d told you he’d be back. That he would text you when he was on his way, but his phone—along with everyone else’s—now resided inside a cardboard box that was tucked securely under the arm of their manager, Sejin.
“It’s just while we figure out how serious this guy is,” Sejin reminded him for what was probably the tenth time that night.
Heeseung wasn’t having any of it. “That’s bullshit!” He repeated, looking to the others for backup.
They were scattered around the living room, looking equally annoyed at the news, but not very eager to chime in.
The email had come that morning. An vague threat from an unfamiliar contact that Heeseung had no trouble identifying as Jace. The members had been gathered back at the dorm to discuss the next step in dealing with this, and the plan that was proposed made Heeseung want to throw something at the wall.
Instead, he huffed at his groupmates’ silence, and shook his head. “You can’t keep us here,” He said angrily.
Sejin was exasperated. “I’m not changing my mind.”
“Give me my phone back.”
“We can’t risk it, Heeseung. You know that.”
“At least let me call her!”
“Heeseung, stop it!”
Sejin’s voice bounced off the walls. He pointed a finger, knuckles white.
“You are the reason that we’re in this situation in the first place. I told you restarting this relationship was a mistake, and now we have threats—serious threats—that someone is going to go public with this information.”
Heeseung ground his jaw, fists clenching by his side.
“Do you even understand what happens if this leaks?” Sejin stared him down, wearing a look Heeseung hadn’t seen since he was a trainee. The one that said he was in charge, and that Heeseung would do well to remember it.
It made his hair stand on end.
“If this story breaks, you can say goodbye to the comeback. To the tour. Your MNET nomination—any nominations. This won’t just tank your name, it’ll drag the whole group down with it.”
Heeseung’s gaze flicked toward the others, who sat silently, watching.
“None of them asked to be part of this,” Sejin went on, his tone sharp. “And now you’ve made them targets for a potentially career-ending scandal.”
Heeseung could hardly speak, he was so angry, “I’m not saying it’s not a big deal, but dating scandals come out all the time! We’ve survived worse, I don’t understand—”
Sejin slammed his hand on the table, causing everyone to flinch. “It’s not a dating scandal, Heeseung! She has a kid. That changes everything. You know it does.”
Heeseung bit his lip, so furious that his hands were trembling. He felt his rage contort into something else, something worse. Shame. Helplessness. Guilt.
Of course, he knew that this was serious, that he’d put the others at risk for something that didn’t involve them, but that wasn’t what he wanted to hear from his manager. Not even close.
Sure, he could comfort you. He could tell you everything would be alright until he was blue in the face, and he’d mean every word of it. But what he wanted—god, he felt so stupid—what he needed was for someone to say the same to him.
To tell him it would be okay.
That this would blow over. That someone was handling it. That he didn’t have to fix everything himself.
Because the honest truth was that Heeseung was scared.
The interaction with Jace had shaken him more than he could admit. He wanted to be strong for you, to protect you and Hana from whatever complications might come with your being together, but he felt powerless now.
He wanted someone to tell him that it was going to be okay. And Sejin wasn’t giving him that. Not even close.
“Stop thinking about yourself for one second and think about what happens if your name becomes associated with this kid,” He continued. “She’ll be the first thing that comes up when people look up anything related to you. Yours or not, she’ll be your headline. Your scandal. Your mistake.”
Heeseung glared, his voice low. “She’s not a mistake.”
Sejin didn’t budge. “It doesn’t matter what she is to you. She’s a liability to everyone else.”
“This isn’t fair.”
He held a hand up. Final. “No phone. No calls. No leaving this dorm until we hear back from our lawyers.”
“Sejin—”
“I’m not asking, Heeseung.” His voice was low. Dangerous.
The other looked between them nervously. Jungwon was perched on the arm of the couch, looking as though he wanted to say something but feared he might receive the same treatment Heeseung had.
He hesitated. “I think y/n should know what’s going on.”
Sejin sighed. “Jungwon, you heard what I—”
“I’m not saying Heeseung should be the one to do it,” He said quickly. “I just think you should tell her what’s happening. She’s going to wonder why Heeseung isn’t messaging her, and she might come here. It’ll be even worse if someone gets a picture of her outside the dorm.”
Sejin paused, considering his words. “Fine. We’ll get in touch with her. But that’s it,” He said seriously, eyeing Heeseung.
Heeseung bit back everything he wanted to say, everything he should have said, as the team shuffled out of the dorm. He kept his fists clenched by his side as the door slammed shut, leaving them all in silence.
For a moment, no one moved. Then, Heeseung collapsed into a chair and ran a hand through his hair. He sighed.
“I’m sorry,” He managed, struggling to look at the others.
Sunghoon shook his head. “It’s not your fault.”
The others murmured in agreement.
“You didn’t ask this guy to go sharing your personal life with the public.”
“No, but I should have known better,” He insisted, bouncing his leg restlessly. “God, I told y/n I’d be back tonight. She’s probably freaking out right now.”
Jake moved in, pulling a chair out from the table and sitting down. “What happened anyways?”
“Yeah, how did this guy even find out about you?” Jay came to join them at the table, the others following suit.
Heeseung broke into a long-winded explanation of how the evening had unfolded—getting home from the beach, seeing Jace there in the kitchen. The way he had spoken to you, like he was responsible for every good thing in your life.
Like he was the reason you had anything to call your own. Like he was the reason Hana was growing up so well. Like you weren’t the one who had fought tooth and nail to give your daughter a good life.
Just thinking about it made Heeseung’s hands ball in his lap.
“So he, like, broke in?” Jake asked incredulously. “Like, was just waiting for her to get home?”
“Yup.”
“I’m glad you were there with her,” Sunghoon said. “Who knows what would’ve happened if she was alone.”
Jungwon was quiet for a while before he glanced at Heeseung. “I can’t imagine how overwhelming this must be.”
“It’s fine… I just wish we were together right now, you know?” Heeseung sighed.
“Not for you. For y/n.”
He looked up.
“Maybe…” Jungwon said, speaking slowly, “Maybe this is good. The space, I mean.”
Everyone looked at him.
He held his hands up. “I’m just saying—this is a lot, right? The press, her ex, Hana..”
Heeseung blinked. “What are you trying to say?”
Jungwon hesitated. “I’m not saying it’s your fault, because it’s not. It’s just…” His voice softened. “Y/n’s had a really hard time. And I don’t think we’re making things any easier for her.”
It wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t even wrong. But it hit Heeseung like a blow to the stomach.
Not we, he thought. Me.
Sunoo looked between them, watching the emotions that passed over Heeseung’s face—the way his shoulders dropped, how quiet he became.
He half-laughed, clapping his hand on Jungwon’s shoulder. “Oh, come on, I don’t think that’s true,” He said lightly. “I mean, you might be right, the space might be good—but she loves you, Heeseung. And she’s tough. She can handle more than we give her credit for.”
Heeseung nodded, suddenly wishing that he was alone.
He didn’t say anything. Not when the others chimed in to agree, not when the conversation began to shift, not even when they dispersed to hang out in their rooms or go back to gaming on the couch.
He just sat there, Jungwon’s words replaying in his mind.
I don’t think we’re making things any easier for her.
It looped in his head like a chorus, burning at the back of his throat like a pill he couldn’t quite swallow. Jungwon hadn’t meant it to be harsh, but Heeseung couldn’t let go of it.
You’d had a hard time. He wasn’t making it any easier. You didn’t ask for this.
The worst part? It was the truth.
You hadn’t asked for any of this. Hadn’t asked Heeseung to come back into your world. Hadn’t asked him to help you. Hadn’t wanted to complicate your daughter’s life. You’d only started opening up because Heeseung had practically begged you to let him in.
Because he swore he could handle it. Because he thought loving you would be enough.
He pushed away from the table, biting back all his anger and frustration. In his room, he paced, sat down on his chair, got back up again. When he collapsed onto his bed, he reached for his phone on instinct, only to remember that it wasn’t there.
He sighed.
He just hoped that Sejin had messaged you already. That he’d made it clear Heeseung wasn’t blowing you off, and that everything would be alright.
That wouldn’t be long before you’d hear from him again.
——
Hello,
Due to internal circumstances, Heeseung is no longer available for contact. Please do not attempt to reach out to him or any other member of this team.
The buzz of your phone made you jolt, disturbing the momentary spell of shallow, restless sleep you’d managed to slip into.
It had been a rough night.
Hana had cried, and cried, and cried. She’d gotten used to Heeseung being there to put her down for the night, to the sound of his voice as he read—sometimes even sang—her to sleep. He was good at getting her to settle, even when she was at her most agitated.
But he hadn’t done either of those things.
He hadn’t even come home.
You sat up as you read the message, blinking at your screen. You read it again.
And again.
And again.
Heeseung is no longer available for contact. Please do not attempt to reach out.
Your body tensed, clutching your phone in your hand as if to make sure that it was real. That your mind wasn’t playing a cruel joke, taking advantage of your lack of sleep and weakened emotional state to recreate your worst nightmare.
But no. The text stared back at you from your screen. Incredibly real.
Heeseung is no longer available for contact.
Do not attempt to reach out.
You felt your resolve snap, the poorly constructed sense of calm and rational you’d been clinging to splintering into a thousand tiny pieces.
You let out a laugh. Sharp. Humorless. Half in shock and half at the irony of the situation.
Above the text, was another grey message bubble. The only other message you’d ever received from this number, date stamped to three years ago, glaring up at you with a sick glow that still made your stomach twist when you looked at it.
Hi Y/N,
As you know, ENHYPEN will be departing for their debut tour soon. After thorough consideration, it’s been decided that Heeseung and the rest of the group’s attention should lie solely on preparing for this major step in their careers. We thank you for your understanding and ask that you do not join us at the airport tomorrow. We wish you the best.
HYBE Management
You curled forward, gripping your phone so tightly your knuckles went white.
Everything came back.
Everything you’d been trying so hard to forget over the past three months. Heeseung’s silent departure from your life, the wordless goodbye, the way you didn’t even get to ask any questions. The decision had been made for you, just like it was being made now.
Were you really here again? Stuck in the same situation that had haunted you for months on end? Eyes glazed as you read and reread a message sent as carelessly as if you were some stranger on the street?
It wasn’t just the content of the message that stung; it was the method.
After everything—the laughter in the kitchen, the soft, stolen moments in the hallway, the promises Heeseung had whispered against your skin like they were prayers—you got this?
A text. Faceless and clinical, like you were inconsequential. Insignificant. Nothing. Your eyes burned with a kind of pain that was older than your relationship, older than your daughter, older than you.
The kind that came with realizing you’d ended up exactly where you swore you wouldn’t. Exactly where Heeseung had promised you’d never be again.
It was hard not to panic. Not to sink to the floor and fall apart, the way you had the first time you felt the stinging slap of reality hand-delivered by a text message just like this.
Your mind replayed a thousand moments of comfort—his fingers wrapped around yours, his protective hand on your back, the jokes, the reassurances, the I’m right here’s—clinging to the possibility that you were misunderstanding something.
Things were different now, weren’t they? Heeseung had made a promise—he’d promised—that he was going to be there. Didn’t that mean anything?
You took a breath. Steeled yourself.
There had to be an explanation for this. Something had to have happened—no way he would do this to you again.
You closed out of the contactless chat and opened your texts with him. Your face reflected back at you from your most recent exchange: a photo of you and Hana ankle-deep in the ocean, the surf bubbling around her feet.
You clenched your jaw as you typed.
Y/N
Management just texted me
What’s going on?
Call me please
When no reply came, you tried Jungwon. And Sunoo. And even Jake, who’d only ever texted you to get the password for your Netflix account and to ask if you wanted anything from the convenience store.
No one answered.
The day passed long and torturous, with no words of comfort from any of the people who had become so central to your life.
You sent an embarrassing number of texts to Heeseung, each met with stark, painful silence.
Y/N
Can you just tell me what’s going on
Y/N
Are we really doing this again?
Y/N
I don’t understand.
And every hour that went by seemed to bring on a new set of emotions, each more turbulent and frantic than the last.
Y/N
You couldn’t even spare the time to talk to me face-to-face?
Y/N
I can’t believe we’re back here again.
Exactly where we started.
Y/N
You make me feel so fucking stupid Heeseung
I never should’ve believed a word out of your mouth
You typed out a hundred different things: long-winded paragraphs explaining that he wasn’t welcome anymore, that he’d never be welcome around you or your daughter again. Cruel, curse-filled insults that stung the back of your throat as you typed them. Rambling sentences that barely made any sense, begging him to just talk to you. To explain what had gone wrong.
You didn’t send them. You deleted everything you wrote almost as soon as you were done writing it. Your thumb hovered over the ‘send’ button before moving up, your heart thundering at the base of your throat.
Blocked.
For now.
Let the silence swallow him instead, you thought angrily, throwing your phone across your bed.
You focused on Hana, clothing and feeding and playing with her, trying to ignore the way Heeseung’s presence seemed to linger around your house like a ghost.
A hint of his cologne as you walked into the room, like he’d been there only moments before. A glimpse of his silhouette in the corner of your eye, as if he were still there, leaned against the wall, watching you with that half-smile on the corner of his lips.
Your daughter sensed your shift in mood and became inconsolable herself, pushing your hand away as you fed her, turning her head when you went to kiss her cheek.
“Hee?” She said, frowning at you from her chair at the table.
It would have killed him, the softness in her voice, the way she stumbled over the syllables of his name. She’d been asking for him all day. You had no way to explain to her why he wasn’t the one feeding her dinner or playing with her on the couch.
“No, baby,” You said firmly, bringing her water bottle from the kitchen.
Hana glared at you. “Hee,” She said stubbornly, smacking her spoon against the table.
“He’s not here,” You repeated, trying to keep the edge from your voice.
“No,” She said angrily.
“Believe me, I’m upset, too.”
“No!” Her spoon clattered to the floor, spraying bits of food across the floor.
You frowned. “Hana, stop it.”
“No!” She screeched, straining against the safety belt at her lap.
You tried to get her bowl out of the way, but she was quicker than you, smacking it off the table with a sharp scream. “No!” She screamed, kicking her feet furiously.
You felt tears prick behind your eyes—hot, angry. Her wailing pierced your ears painfully, sending a wave of helpless frustration over you.
Where was your tantrum? Why couldn’t you scream and cry until someone came to comfort you? Your vision blurred as you picked the spoon and bowl up from the floor, dropping them into the sink.
You braced against the counter, trying to steady the wave of emotion that you’d been struggling to contain. Trying even just to breathe. Heeseung would have been offering to wash the dishes for you by now, or finding some way to distract Hana while you caught a moment to yourself.
Instead, you were alone, flinching every time her voice rose, wishing that he were there to help you. The fact that you missed it—missed him—made you feel pathetic. Weak. Like you were the same stupid girl who was still hoping someone else would come and save you.
Hadn’t you learned anything at all?
The sound of Hana’s screaming kept rising, rough and confused. You looked at her, all red and blotchy from crying, her tiny body fighting to escape her highchair into a pair of arms that weren’t even there to hold her.
The tears that had threatened you all day finally spilled over, dripping down your cheeks and onto the backs of your hands as you pushed away from the counter, exhausted.
“I know,” You choked out, voice wavering. “I know you want him. I know, I know. I don’t know what to tell you.”
You pulled at the belt around her lap, and she lunged toward you, arms outstretched. You lifted her gently, careful not to catch her legs on the table as you pulled her into your chest, rubbing her back in a fruitless attempt to ease her distress.
Her face was wet against your neck, voice vibrating against you, feet digging into your stomach. You held her tightly, unable to stop yourself from crying with her.
You felt so angry. So betrayed. So ashamed.
How many times had you told yourself not to listen to him? Not to trust what he was offering, which had always sounded too good to be true.
A stable presence in your life? Someone to help you navigate the uncertainty of raising your daughter? Even just a pair of arms to crawl into at the end of the day?
Your own child’s father couldn’t offer you that. Why on earth did you think Heeseung would?
Because he told you he would, your heart said stubbornly. Because he begged you to let him.
You shook your head, carrying Hana down the hall to the bathroom. That excuse wasn’t good enough. Not for you. The sun set behind the trees, casting your house into a second night of empty silence, and all you could think was:
I knew better. I should have known better.
——
The next day, Hana woke with a fever.
You stayed home from work, called off the babysitter, prayed that if you kept giving her water and dressing her in her lightest clothes that it’d burn off on its own.
It didn’t.
Hana’s voice grew hoarse from crying as the day passed by, her temperature continuing to rise and fall long into the night.
You tried to remain calm about it, but you couldn’t help the twinge of unease that crept into the back of your mind as you watched the hours tick by. The sun set as you rubbed a gentle hand on her back. You were still there when it began to rise again the next morning.
Hana fussed in her crib, too tired to cry, too uncomfortable to sleep, as you grew more and more anxious.
Before you knew it, you were googling symptoms, trying not to catastrophize over every horrible disease and illness the internet suggested she might have.
Mommy forums debated over potential diagnoses and treatments. Some posts offered encouragement, others words of warning. You read story after story of people who’d brushed fevers off as cold symptoms, only to discover their child was experiencing a life-threatening infection.
DO NOT WAIT!! I made the mistake of waiting to take my daughter to the doctor for a fever and we ended up spending the weekend in the emergency room. Please don’t make my mistake!
Fevers aren’t really something to worry about unless it reaches above 102°F. If they last longer than 24 hours—at ANY temp—go to the doctor immediately.
You looked at the clock. It was pushing 6am. Your stomach twisted uneasily, a million horrible scenarios spinning through your mind.
You called your mom, apologizing for waking her up so early as you watched Hana squirm in her sleep, her hair damp with sweat.
“She’s still burning. It’s been almost a full day.” Your voice cracked as you spoke. You didn’t want her to know how overwhelmed you were. You couldn’t bare the shame that would come with her concern.
“I keep telling myself it’s just a fever, but what if it’s not? What if I’m waiting too long? God, I don’t even know if I can take her in. I had to call out yesterday—my boss is already pissed. If I lose this job...”
“Isn’t Heeseung with you? Can’t he take her?”
Your eyes burned.
You knew telling your parents about him was a mistake. It had only been a few weeks of being back together, but you hadn’t been able to keep it to yourself.
You’d been too excited, too happy about being with him to keep it a secret. Now, it only reminded you how foolish you’d been.
“He’s busy,” You lied, throat dry. “Work stuff. You know how it is for them.”
You heard your mom sigh over the phone. “I don’t like that he leaves you alone so often, y/n. Having a kid is a full-time job.”
Your jaw clenched. “Well, she’s not his kid.”
“No, I suppose not. Can you call Jace? I’m sure he’d be happy to give you a hand with her. At the very least, a ride to urgent care.”
Your grip tightened on your phone. “I guess. I’ll try. Thanks, mom. Sorry for waking you.”
“That’s okay, honey. Let me know if things get any worse, alright?”
You hummed, settling back into silence as you hung up.
Can you call Jace?
The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. After your interaction earlier that week, talking to your ex was the last thing you wanted to do.
If you called him now, everything he said about you would be right. That you still needed him. That you were an idiot for trusting Heeseung.
You’re a smart girl, y/n, I find it hard to believe you’d fall for something like that. His words burned at the back of your throat.
You could see it now: his smug, gloating face, as he realized that he had you exactly where he wanted you. Alone. Desperate. Nowhere else to go.
But looking at Hana, you struggled to weigh your resentments toward him against her well-being. If your daughter was in danger, was there anything you wouldn’t do to help her?
Seeing her now, sweating in her crib, cheeks raw from all the crying, you realized that might have to include swallowing your pride.
You opened your phone again, avoiding the mommy blogs and tabs of medical advice, and found your text messages.
Heeseung’s name was at the top of the list.
You hesitated.
Thumb hovering over his name, you considered the possibility that maybe, just maybe, this could be an alternative to calling Jace. One you’d been too stubborn to entertain before. One that would likely result in nothing but an answering machine and the bitter taste of disappointment in your mouth.
But was it worth the try?
You clicked on his name, swallowing the lump in your throat as you unblocked his number and called it.
At first, you were surprised that it even rang. You’d figured Heeseung would have blocked you right back after discovering his texts weren’t sending. But then, you didn’t have any new messages coming in, and he probably didn’t care enough to even realize you’d blocked him in the first place.
The phone rang.
And rang.
And rang.
Unanswered.
You weren’t sure why you stayed on the line. Maybe you didn’t want to believe that this was really over. That his phone was receiving your call and he was actively choosing not to pick up.
Maybe you just wanted to hear the sound of his voice.
It came out the speaker into your ear, warm and bright, absent-minded, like he had recorded the message in the middle of doing something else.
“Hey, sorry I missed you. Leave a message or shoot me a text. Talk to ya later. Bye.”
You clutched your phone, breath trembling slightly.
“Hey…” You began, suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling that this was the stupidest thing you’d ever done. “Sorry—this is… Hana’s sick. Um, she’s got a pretty bad fever, and I think she needs to see a doctor…” You trailed off, staring at the wall numbly. “Sorry, you clearly don’t want to be a part of this anymore. I guess I just—”
Your chest tightened, voice faltering.
“You told me to trust you. You said that I didn’t need to rely on Jace anymore. You got mad at me for relying on him, actually, because you wanted me to rely on you.”
You let out a tired laugh, rubbing a hand over your face. It was hard to believe you were back here. Leaving messages for people who couldn’t care less about you or your problems.
But who were you kidding? Heeseung was never going to listen to this. Your stream of unanswered texts told you as much.
“I guess I’m just confused. Confused because I was ready to do it, to stop pushing you away, and then you just… disappeared. And the funny thing is, I’m not even surprised. I mean, this was what I figured would happen all along, right?”
Your gaze fell, throat burning with a mix of embarrassment and regret. “You’re not even going to listen to this. I’m just gonna… I’m gonna call Jace and see if he can take us to urgent care. Hana’s fever isn’t breaking, and I’m worried it could be something serious. I guess I just thought you might want to know. Anyways… Goodbye, Heeseung.”
Your voice cracked as you hung up, hurrying to find Jace’s contact buried under your other texts. You feared that if you hesitated, even for a second, you wouldn’t do it.
The line rang twice before he answered. Your throat felt tight, like you wanted to scream, or cry, or throw up. Probably all three.
“Y/n?” He sounded groggy. It was barely 7am, after all. He was probably just waking up.
“Jace,” You answered, tensing. “It’s Hana.”
——
The ride to urgent care was quiet. Jace rested his elbow on the middle console between you, hand close enough that you could have taken it, if you wanted.
You didn’t.
He sat with you in the waiting room. Listened as the doctor quelled your fears about Hana’s fever. Nodded through the medication explanation and what to do if the fever wasn’t breaking—all as if he was the one who’d be taking care of her.
He managed to convince you to call your boss, who was gracious enough to give you the next few days off. Probably because you sounded half-dead, running on a few measly hours of sleep from two days ago.
Hana slept the whole time, waking only to protest as the doctor took her temperature, and falling back asleep before you’d even made it out of the building.
Jace watched the two of you carefully, as if waiting for the right moment to bring up what he’d said before. That he wanted to be a part of your lives. You desperately hoped that he wouldn’t. You were exhausted. And you weren’t sure if you had it in you to fight him off this time.
He waited until he was pulling into your driveway, his voice carefully even.
“I meant what I said, you know. About wanting to be around.”
“Jace,” You said quietly, the warning already in your tone.
“I’m not trying to make things harder,” He insisted. “I just—look at her. She deserves to know who her dad is.”
You closed your eyes, sighing. Your head was pounding. “She deserves stability. Not confusion. We can’t—” You took a breath. “I can’t keep letting people into her life who are only going to leave.”
“Come on, y/n. I’m here now.”
You clenched your jaw. “Where were you last month? Or the month before that? She turned two, did you know that?”
“I’m here now,” He repeated, like that was a reasonable answer to your questions.
“You don’t just get to drop in when you feel like it, Jace,” You said harshly, unbuckling your seatbelt and getting out of the car.
He followed, coming around the other side to stop you. He put a hand out as you opened Hana’s door, pushing it closed.
“Jace.”
“No, I’m not letting you do this anymore,” He hissed, eyes bright and angry. “You think you can just call me when you need something and then toss me aside once you get what you want? What is this, y/n? Why did you call me?”
“Because our daughter is sick! Because I’ve been awake for the past 48 hours, and I didn’t think it was a very good idea for me to get behind the wheel of a car.”
“Our daughter.” He repeated. “So you can admit that I’m her father but you won’t let me actually be a part of her life?”
“She might be your daughter,” You hissed, “But you will never be her father.” You glared at him, yanking the door handle open again.
He slammed it shut with more force this time, stepping closer.
“Don’t act like this is just about her,” He spat. “You needed someone, and he wasn’t there. So now you need me, right? The backup plan?”
Your mouth fell open. “Is that what you think this is?” Your voice was shaking. “You think I dragged myself out of bed, begged you to come, waited in that doctor’s office for forty-five minutes because I missed you?”
“You always do this,” He snapped. “You call when things are falling apart and then blame me for showing up.”
You shoved past him to open the door, unbuckling Hana with trembling fingers. She stirred, letting out a soft cry. “She doesn’t even know who you are.”
“Because you won’t let her!”
“Because you’re not what she needs!” You snapped back, pulling her to your chest. Her body was still hot. The medication from the doctor rattled in your bag as you adjusted her in your arms. “She doesn’t need people who only show up when I’m out of options—she needs people who are here. Every day. Who don’t disappear when they get tired of playing house.”
“Oh, you mean like Heeseung?”
The words hit like a slap to the face.
Jace’s lip curled at your shock. “Why isn’t he the one driving you to urgent care? Don’t tell me, I was right, wasn’t I? He finally figured out what a drag it is dealing with someone else’s kid and hit the road. Right?”
You ground your jaw. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No? Then where is he, huh? Why’d you call me and not him?”
“Shut up, Jace. Go home.”
He stepped in again, hands flexing by his sides, like he knew he’d upset you. Like he was enjoying it. “You wanna play dumb with me? It’s written all over your face, y/n. He’s long gone. Couldn’t even pretend long enough to stick around.”
Your grip on Hana tightened, stomach twisting. “I want you to leave. Now.”
“Right, because you're still holding out hope he'll come crawling back?” Jace scoffed. “I’m her father. I have a right to see her.”
“She doesn't know you!” You were yelling now. Both of you.
“You can’t just keep her from me—”
“She’s not a thing to be kept, Jace, she’s a child!” You shouted, your voice trembling with rage. “And I won’t let you confuse her just because you’re feeling left out.”
“So, what? You’re just gonna sit around hoping he comes back? Or maybe you already have another guy lined up. Is that it? Found someone else to burden with your issues? God, you’re so desperate, it’s pathetic.”
“Fuck you,” You hissed, turning to leave.
“Don’t you walk away from me.” He grabbed your shoulder, forcing you back around.
You gasped, shoving his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me, Jace.”
“I’ll do what the fuck I want—”
“Jace—”
But he wasn’t listening. He pushed you. Hard. Shoved his hands into your shoulders like he was testing you, daring you to stand up to him again. Your grip tightened on Hana, panic rising up the back of your throat. He sneered, stepping towards you again. And then—
“Get your fucking hands off of her.”
Heeseung’s voice. So sharp and furious it didn’t even sound like him. Your breath caught as you turned to see him rushing towards you.
Your voice cracked, half surprise, half disbelief. “Heeseung—”
He shoved Jace back hard—both hands against his chest, slamming him away from you. “Leave. Now. Fucking get out of here, or I swear to god—”
Jace made a noise of surprise, stumbling back slightly. “Well, well, well. Look who decided to show up—”
“Do I need to spell it out for you?!” Heeseung was shouting. Frantic. His chest was heaving like he’d run there. His phone was clutched in his hand, your texts flashing from his screen. “If you touch her again, I will ruin your life.”
“You really think you’re going to scare me off?” Jace retorted. “You think you can walk in here and tell me what to do?”
His voice was sharp. “You put your hands on her.”
Jace scoffed. “I didn’t hurt her—”
“You grabbed her.” Heeseung stepped forward. “You raised your voice. You pushed her with a baby in her arms.”
“I’m her father,” Jace snapped.
“You’re a piece of shit,” Heeseung spat, hands shaking by his sides.
“You gonna hit me?” Jace taunted, folding his arms over his chest. “Real classy. Real dad material.”
“You wouldn’t know the first thing about what it takes to be a father.”
“Oh, and you do?”
“Know more than you? Yes. I’d say I do.” Heeseung’s breath came in sharp bursts. “I’ve been here. Every day that you weren’t. Your daughter turned two last month—where the fuck were you? Gone. As usual. The only reason you’re here right now is because I couldn’t be.”
You inhaled sharply. Couldn’t be? What was that supposed to mean? Your heart hammered against your chest as Heeseung snapped at Jace, half a mind to just take Hana and leave. To lock your door and ignore them both. But Heeseung kept going, his voice harsh. Accusing.
“I would have been here today,” He said. “If my manager hadn’t taken my phone because of the threat that you sent in.”
You stiffened.
“And I’m not going to stand here and let you make them feel unsafe.” He finished. “Not now. Not ever again.”
Your head spun.
Jace had done it? He’d threatened Heeseung’s managers? And they’d reacted by… taking Heeseung’s phone. Of course. Keeping him offline until they could figure out how to handle it.
Your heart stuttered as the realization sank in. You felt sick.
Jace’s face twisted, his knuckles turning white. “Whatever. Keep acting like you’re better than me. This little fantasy you guys have? Not gonna last.” He looked at you. “Don’t forget who you called for help.”
“She called me,” Heeseung snarled. “How many times does she have to reject you before you get it through your head?”
Jace closed his fists, his voice lowering. “You really want to do this?”
Heeseung hissed, “I fucking dare you.”
You tensed, taking a step back. For a moment, it looked like he might really do it. Might really step forward.
Then, Hana whimpered against your neck, too tired to fully take in the scene unfolding before her. She reached a hand towards Heeseung, her voice cutting through the air that crackled between them.
“Hee,” She cooed, pouting tiredly at him.
Heeseung froze.
You watched his entire body shift. He turned, breath hitching, shoulders dropping, eyes darting between the two of you. You saw it written all over his face—the regret, the apology. He stepped towards you, hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure you even wanted him to.
And for a moment, you weren’t sure either. You were still processing what he’d said, what it meant. That he hadn’t ignored you, or disappeared. That Jace was the reason you’d spent the past two days drowning in self-doubt. It took a moment for this to become real, for your mind to catch up to what your heart already knew.
But Hana was insistent, squirming towards him with surprising strength. You brought her closer, chest aching as you watched her latch onto his hand with her own.
“Hey, supergirl,” He whispered, leaning down to look at her.
Jace let out a sharp breath behind him. “Unbelievable. You let him—”
“Shut up,” You snapped, your voice low, lethal.
You looked back at Heeseung, heart racing. He brushed his thumb over Hana’s knuckles and you felt something in you give. Loosen. Like a weight finally falling off your shoulders.
It took one look at the two of them to confirm what you’d been clinging to all along: Heeseung hadn’t lied to you. He’d meant every word he’d said. About being there. About protecting what was his. And looking at him now, you realized how serious he was.
But Jace wasn’t done. He was never done. You came to this realization as he growled angrily, balling his fists. He would never be done bothering you, not until you cut him out of your life for good.
He stared at the three of you disdainfully. “I really do care about her, you know. That’s the funny thing. It’s just a shame that her mom is such a bitch.”
Heeseung’s face changed. Livid.
He dropped Hana’s hand and turned—shoulders coiled, fists clenched—like he was ready to swing this time. But the commotion of a group of people stopped him, their voices carrying over from the street.
Before you could even register it, they were there. All of them—Jake, Jungwon, Sunghoon, Jay, Sunoo, and Niki—and they’d heard him.
Sunghoon surged forward and shoved Jace, hard. “Say that again.”
The others stepped around you defensively as Jace grunted, hands flexing like he wanted to shove back. But Sunghoon was tall, taller than Heeseung even, and his expression faltered slightly as he took him in.
“Great. There’s more of you,” He said, eyes darting around as the rest of them approached.
You felt a twinge of satisfaction at the way he looked between them, counting how many of them there were. Second-guessing his chances.
“What’s going on?” Jungwon asked, stepping between you.
“I just said what everyone’s already thinking,” Jace snapped, posture shifting like he was trying to ground himself. “She’s got you all wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she? Playing house with seven different guys. She open her legs for all of you or—?”
He didn’t get to finish.
Heeseung lunged first.
The shove was violent, sending Jace stumbling back into the side of his car with a loud thud. You flinched, turning your body to shield Hana as chaos erupted around you.
“Heeseung—” You started, but Jake was already grabbing him by the shirt, hauling him back.
“Let go,” Heeseung snarled. Breath heavy, teeth bared. Vicious. “Let go of me.”
“Not here,” Jake gritted out, struggling to keep hold of him.
“What the hell is going on?” Sejin snapped, storming up to the group, but his voice was drowned out by the sound of Jace scoffing—bitter, mean. Like a dog backed into a corner; snapping at whatever was within reach.
“Did I hit a nerve?” He spat, wiping his mouth. “You know what? I should be thanking you for taking her off my hands. That bitch’ll turn on you the second she loses interest.”
Sunoo moved fast, stepping in between Jace and the others before Heeseung could break free. “Get the fuck out of here,” He said sharply, his usual sweetness replaced by something colder, more lethal. “Now. Before we make you.”
“You’re not gonna do shit,” Jace sneered. But there was hesitation in his voice. He was outnumbered. Everyone knew it.
Jungwon’s voice was hard. “You’re not welcome here. You show up again and you won’t be walking away.”
That made him pause. You could see the cracks forming in his confidence. His eyes skirted over the wall of people between you, and for the first time, he looked scared.
Sejin shoved his way through the group. He wasn’t the tallest person there—not by a long shot—but his presence was sturdy. Protective. Not just of his team, but of you, and your daughter.
“Jace Mitchell.” The name was sharp on his tongue.
Jace’s eyes darted over him. “What.”
“I’m glad we get to meet. You’ll be receiving contact from our legal team by tomorrow morning,” Sejin said, holding a hand out to steady Heeseung, who was shaking, fists clenched, brows taut.
Sejin’s voice wasn’t loud. It wasn’t even angry. It was critical. Deathly serious. “The email you sent earlier this week contains a documented threat of blackmail. One that we are taking very seriously.”
Jace scoffed. “That wasn’t—“
“It was,” Sejin interrupted. “You threatened to disclose private information about an individual and a minor, along with a member of our company. A highly protected member of our company. We have the message and we have your contact information with it. I'm sure a lawyer—which I strongly suggest you get in touch with—can explain the gravity of that.”
“You think I care about your stupid company?”
“I think you care about your job. And being within fifty feet of your daughter.”
Jace’s smile faltered.
“We take our employee’s safety very seriously. If you make contact again in any form—text, phone, email, in person—without y/n’s explicit consent, I will have a restraining order filed within twenty-four hours. You will never see that little girl again.”
Jace’s jaw ticked.
He looked around them before his eyes landed on you. Cold, accusing, full of hate.
He raised his hands. Surrendering. “I tried. You remember that. When this—” He pointed at Heeseung. “—doesn’t work out, don’t come crawling back to me.”
You glared back. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
His gaze swept over you, at your daughter asleep against your chest, at the way Heeseung was murmuring to the both of you, making sure you were alright.
“Whatever,” He muttered. “More trouble than you’re fucking worth.”
You watched him turn towards his car, fist shaking around his keys. Then, like he couldn’t help himself—
”Fucking slut.” He hissed under his breath.
Heeseung rounded, the others exclaiming as he stepped towards Jace. Jungwon grabbed him by the arm roughly, yanking him back, as Jace ducked into his car.
Jungwon slammed the door shut behind him, cursing as Jace's car pulled out of your drive.
For a moment, no one moved. The others were breathing heavily, their faces sharp with disgust.
Then, the exhaustion hit. Full force. The emotional wreckage of the past forty-eight hours crashed over your body, dragging you under. Your arms weakened, struggling to support Hana’s weight as she fussed against your hold.
“Y/n,” Heeseung said, already moving towards you.
Someone—Niki, you determined tiredly—took Hana from your arms as you stepped into Heeseung’s embrace, collapsing against his chest. In relief or exhaustion, you weren’t quite sure.
“I’m so sorry,” He breathed. “I’m so sorry— I tried to call you. They took my phone, they wouldn’t let me. I got your messages when they gave it back, and your voicemail, I— Are you okay?”
You shook your head, whimpering lightly. You could feel the heat of his heart at the base of his throat, pounding against your cheek. “No,” You said weakly. “Heeseung— I thought—“
You couldn’t even get the words out. Your brain was practically mush, spent from the emotional whiplash of everything that had happened. His grip on you tightened, fingers digging into you like he feared you might pull away.
“I know. I’m so sorry. I swear, if I could’ve been here—”
He pulled away, letting you go just enough to reach behind Niki to where Sejin was standing, yanking him towards you by the jacket.
“Well?” Heeseung said, frowning at his manager.
Sejin gave him a sideways look before rolling his eyes and sighing. He looked at you apologetically. “I’m sorry, y/n. I was the one that texted you. I admit it wasn’t the most informative message—“
“It wasn’t informative at all,” Heeseung interrupted. “Like, not even a little.”
Sejin pursed his lips. “Yes. It was poorly done on my part. I apologize for any distress I caused. Our focus was on keeping our team safe, I hope you can understand.”
You nodded, dazed, struggling to even remember what the text had said. All you knew was that Jace was gone. Heeseung was here. And you needed to rest. Immediately. Or you wouldn’t be standing much longer.
The others recounted the story of getting there as you went inside. Of how Heeseung had reacted after getting his phone back, reading all of your texts, listening to your voicemail.
How he’d demanded that Sejin show him the message he’d sent you, and then insisted that they come straight here.
“He was freaking out,” Jake said, bouncing Hana gently on his lap.
“We got stuck in traffic, and he literally got out of the car. That’s why he got here first. He ran the rest of the way,” Jungwon laughed.
Heeseung’s ears turned slightly pink but he didn’t deny it.
“I was scared,” He reasoned, frowning as they continued to tease him. “You said Hana was sick, I didn’t know if she was okay— You said goodbye!! Like we were breaking up or something!”
“Yeah, Heeseung’s worst nightmare,” Niki laughed.
Heeseung shot him a glare but didn’t move his arm from behind you. If anything, he pulled you closer, like he couldn’t stand to be apart from you again, not even for a moment.
“I was scared, too,” You sighed, letting your head rest against his shoulder. “I’m sorry that he caused so much trouble for you. And that you had to see all of that. It’s my fault. If I hadn’t—“
“No way,” Jake said immediately, voice firm. “None of this is your fault, y/n.”
“We’re just sorry that we didn’t communicate with you better,” Sunghoon agreed. “Sejin is…”
“Blunt.”
“Good when you need to smack someone’s crazy ex down. Not so much when you need to deliver sensitive information,” Jay said.
A laugh escaped you, quiet, tired, but genuine. You felt your shoulders begin to drop, days worth of anxiety melting away. Being there with them—Heeseung’s sturdy presence beside you, the softness in the others’ voices as they cooed at Hana—healed something in you that, for a few days, you were sure might never heal again.
Your attention drifted back to your daughter, to the way she was beginning to droop against Jake’s chest, her fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt. Her lashes fluttered, torn between watching the toys in his hands and giving in to how tired she was.
Yours felt similarly, your head growing heavier and heavier against Heeseung’s shoulder.
He pressed his lips to the top of your hair. “Time to go?” He murmured, just loud enough for you to hear.
You nodded, grateful as he straightened to usher the others out. God, how you’d missed him. The soft attentiveness in his voice, how he always had his eye on what you needed. How he made sure you were the priority. Every single time.
Part of you wondered how you’d doubted him in the first place.
“Alright guys, time to head out,” He said. He clasped Jay’s hand, pulling him for a hug. “Thank you. For being here. Backing us up.”
“Always,” Jake said, lifting Hana carefully from his chest and handing her to you. “If you need anything, we’re here.”
“See you later, y/n,” Jungwon said, rubbing your back affectionately.
You hugged him, chest tight with emotion. You’d never be able to explain what their presence meant to you. How grateful you were to have them—all of them—in your life.
They grabbed their things and slipped their shoes back on, shuffling out the door.
“Dinner this weekend? Same old-same old?”
You nodded, grinning. “Of course.”
You wished you could say you and Heeseung had some kind of heartfelt, emotional reunion when it was just the two of you. Filled with tears and happy kisses, mumbled apologies and promises.
But you didn’t.
You were out. Immediately. The second your body hit the mattress, shoulders curled into Heeseung’s chest, your head tucked beneath his, you were asleep.
He stayed up for a while, unable to tear his eyes from your face, or keep his heart from racing at the feeling of finally having you in his arms again.
His chest ached at the memory of your voice through the phone. How broken you sounded. How sure you were that he’d left you. You’d really believed he was gone. That you were alone again.
He would never forgive himself for that.
And if he hadn’t been sure before, he certainly was now: he was never letting you out of his sight again. At least, not for a while.
He still had tours to think about. There were obligations he couldn’t avoid, stretches of time when the distance would be real, and difficult. But he wasn’t afraid of it anymore. Didn’t worry that it would create space between you.
He wanted to keep going. To do well. Not just because you’d always been proud of him—celebrated every success like it was your own—but to support you. To make sure you never had to worry about caring for your daughter again.
Heeseung was serious about you. As serious as a person could be about someone else.
And he was going to make sure you never doubted it again.
He was rock-hard, throbbing beneath his sweats, and every tiny movement from you made it worse. His hand had been gripping himself for the past ten minutes, trying to hold back, trying not to wake you — but you weren’t making it easy.
You were too warm. Too soft. Too close.
And his dick? So hard it hurt.
He exhaled a shaky breath and squeezed the base of it through the fabric, trying to ease the pressure, but the moment his palm pressed down, his hips bucked instinctively.
“F-fuck,” he whispered, voice cracked and breathless. “No, no… calm down. Chill out.”
But there was no calming down. Not with your leg draped over him like that, pressing into the space just beside where he was aching. Not with your tank top riding up, exposing the smooth curve of your waist. Not with the tiniest shift of your hips dragging against him just enough to make him twitch in his pants.
He gritted his teeth and gave himself another squeeze, trying to will the blood to go anywhere else. It only made him harder.
“God—baby, please.” His voice was hoarse now, nearly a whimper. “You’re killing me, and you don’t even know it.”
His hips flexed forward, just slightly, just once—seeking friction. The heat radiating off your body was maddening. He could feel every heartbeat in his cock, heavy and hard against the soft cotton of his sweats.
He grunted low in his throat and buried his face into your neck. “I can’t take this… I’m gonna cum in my fucking pants if you move again.”
Then your ass shifted—barely an inch—but it was right against him.
Heeseung let out a broken, choked sound and thrust his hips forward, pressing his length against the back of your thigh in a desperate, involuntary grind.
“Fuck—!” he hissed through gritted teeth, squeezing himself hard again as if punishing his own body. “Not like this… can’t cum just from cuddling you. That’s so fucking pathetic…”
But then you let out a soft hum in your sleep, still half-conscious—and your hips rolled again, slow and lazy.
He swore under his breath, jaw clenched, body trembling with restraint.
“Baby… wake up,” he groaned against your skin, one hand slipping beneath the blanket to gently grip your hip. “I need you. Please—if you move one more time, I swear I’ll lose it.”
Heeseung had to get out of that bed. Fast.
You were too warm. Too soft. Too unknowingly cruel.
So he slipped out from under the covers as carefully as he could, teeth gritted, trying not to groan at the way his hard cock brushed against his sweats with every step. It was angry hard now, leaking at the tip, straining against the waistband like it was trying to tear free.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered to himself, adjusting it downward with a hiss. “This is so bad.”
He padded down the stairs barefoot, hoodie thrown over his shoulders, trying to pretend like he wasn’t walking like someone had punched him in the dick.
But of course, Jay was already in the kitchen, leaning against the counter eating cereal straight from the box.
Jay looked up. Paused. And smirked.
“You good?”
Heeseung ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “No. I’m fucking dying.”
Jay raised a brow, still chewing. “Dying how?”
Heeseung opened the fridge, stood there for no reason other than to cool his face, and muttered, “Morning wood. Like. Bad.”
Jay snorted. “Damn. How bad we talkin’?”
“Like… I’m gonna cum in my pants if someone breathes on me wrong.”
Jay choked on his cereal.
Heeseung turned and gave him a dead-eyed look. “I’m not joking.”
“That’s your fault for cuddling her with a boner.”
“I wasn’t trying to! I woke up and it was already there, okay? Then she fucking… moved.” Heeseung looked genuinely betrayed. “She was dead asleep, doing shit with her hips, and I was just laying there squeezing my dick through my pants like a teenager trying not to bust.”
Jay laughed, setting the cereal box down. “Man, you should’ve just handled it.”
“I was gonna!” Heeseung rubbed his face. “But she was sleeping, and I didn’t wanna jerk off next to her, that’s psycho behavior.”
Just then, Jake wandered in, half-asleep, hair a mess. “What are we talking about?”
Jay grinned. “Heeseung’s got a boner so bad he ran away from his girl.”
Jake blinked. “Like, still hard?”
Heeseung just stared at him. “Jake. I could fuck a countertop right now.”
Jake laughed so hard he nearly fell into the kitchen island. “Bro, GO HANDLE IT. Go shower or something.”
“I CAN’T,” Heeseung groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “If I touch it, I’m gonna explode in like ten seconds. I’m not tryna be that guy.”
Jay: “You’re already that guy.”
Jake: “Honestly, respect. That’s a powerful kind of horny.”
Heeseung grabbed a cold water bottle from the fridge, cracked it open, and pressed it to his face. “I hate all of you.”
Jay smirked. “You gonna go back up?”
“No. Because if she even looks at me I’m gonna bust in my pants like a loser.”
Jake shook his head, laughing. “You sound like a 16-year-old with his first wet dream.”
“I FEEL like one.”
Then he heard it.
Soft, slow footsteps. The creak of the floorboard. And your sleepy voice floating down the hallway:
“…Hee?"
He froze.
Jay and Jake’s heads both snapped toward the sound at the same time, like they were watching a horror movie.
You appeared in the kitchen doorway in your little sleep shorts and oversized tee, eyes puffy and hair a mess, blinking like a confused kitten. You rubbed one eye with your fist and looked around blearily.
“…seungie?” you mumbled in the tiniest, softest voice.
Heeseung turned to look at you and instantly knew he was fucked.
His jaw clenched. His cock pulsed so hard it hurt. Why did you have to look so goddamn soft? So warm? So small?
You toddled over to him, still half-asleep, and rested your cheek on his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Why’d you leave? Bed’s cold now…”
He had to clench his fists at his sides just to keep from grabbing you and carrying you back upstairs like a caveman.
Jake muttered under his breath to Jay: “He’s not gonna survive this.”
Heeseung cleared his throat and wrapped an arm around your back stiffly, avoiding eye contact like a man walking a thin tightrope over fire.
“Baby…” he whispered, barely holding it together, “It’s too early for you to be awake.”
You looked up at him with that innocent little voice again. “But I woke up and you weren’t there…”
Your fingers gently tugged on his hoodie. “Wanna go back upstairs. Come with me…”
He swallowed hard, eyes flicking to the ceiling like he was begging for mercy from the universe. “Y/n… baby… you should sleep more, okay? I’ll be up in a bit…”
You pouted, completely unaware of the hell you were putting him through.
“But I want cuddles…”
He was silent for a second. Then he smiled down at you, painfully tight-lipped.
“Aww, you want cuddles?” he cooed in a baby voice. “You’re just a little sleepy thing, huh?”
You nodded slowly, still clinging to him. “Mmhmm…”
Jay had turned away completely, biting his fist to keep from laughing.
Jake whispered, “This is porn. This is literally the start of a porno.”
Heeseung shot them both a murderous glare behind your head before looking down at you again, his voice gentle but strained.
“Okay, princess. Go wait for me upstairs, yeah? Just five minutes. I’ll come tuck you in…”
You blinked up at him. “You promise?”
He looked like he was sweating bullets. “…Yeah. I promise.”
You gave him a little smile, kissed his jaw without thinking, and wandered back toward the stairs, leaving a sleepy, warm trail of your scent in the air.
Heeseung didn’t move.
Jake stared at him. “You good?”
Heeseung set his water bottle down very carefully, exhaled through his nose, and said:
“I need to jerk off. Right now.”
Heeseung didn’t say it.
He just let out a breath that sounded like it took all his self-control to release gently, instead of as a groan. Then he slid under the covers next to you and pulled you into him.
Not tight—not at first.
Just close enough for you to feel his warmth behind you. His arm around your waist. His breath tickling your shoulder as he tucked his face into the crook of your neck.
You gave a soft hum and wiggled back into his chest instinctively. “Mm… missed you.”
He gritted his teeth.
His cock was still painfully hard, flushed and heavy, pressed against your ass now through the thin fabric of both your sleepwear. But he didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe too loud.
Didn’t dare grind.
He could do this. He’d cuddle you, you’d fall asleep, he’d suffer quietly, and maybe he could sneak off later—
Then you moved.
Just a little shift — your hips rolling back, purely innocent, just trying to get comfortable.
And it pressed you right against him.
He hissed softly and tightened his arm around you.
“Don’t move like that,” he mumbled, voice hoarse and low.
You looked over your shoulder sleepily. “Like what?”
“That.” He swallowed. “Just… be still, baby.”
You blinked. “I wasn’t doing anything…”
He didn’t respond—just buried his face deeper into your neck, like hiding would help. But then your hips shifted again, just a little squirm…
He groaned.
“Okay, no—fuck—stop doing that.”
“I’m not doing anything,” you said, confused, like an angel who didn’t know how much danger she was in.
And that’s when he snapped.
You felt it before you saw it—the subtle but unmistakable roll of his hips against your ass. Slow, heavy, like a wave. His cock dragged against you through his sweats, hot and stiff and throbbing.
You gasped.
“Hee—”
“Shh,” he whispered into your neck, his hand sliding up under your shirt, not groping, just resting warm over your ribs.
“I tried,” he said, voice ragged. “Swear to god I tried.”
You could feel the heat pouring off him—his restraint unraveling. Another grind. This one deeper. Firmer. You could feel the shape of him now.
“Too soft…” he whispered against your skin, almost like he was blaming you. “Too warm. You kept wiggling. What was I supposed to do?”
You let out a tiny sound—not even a word, just a breathy little whimper—and his hips jolted forward again, more desperate this time.
“Just let me… do this for a second,” he muttered. “Not gonna go further. Just—just this. Just need it…”
And he started rocking.
Slow, dragging grinds of his cock between your thighs, like he was trying to imprint the shape of it into you.
Heeseung’s fingers dug into your hips, dragging you impossibly closer, breath hot and rough against your skin.
“God, baby, you’re killin’ me,” he growled, voice thick with need. “Been rock hard for hours, trying to keep it together with you all soft and innocent like this…”
You looked up at him, blinking sleepily, not fully understanding the storm you’d unleashed.
He smirked darkly, eyes hooded with lust. “You don’t even know what you do to me. Every little move, every soft sound—fuck, I’m losing my fucking mind.”
His hips jerked hard, grinding against you through his sweats. “I’m this close to ripping these off and burying my cock in you right now.”
You whimpered softly, and that was all the encouragement he needed.
He yanked his sweats down fast, exposing himself completely, leaking and desperate.
Leaning down, he pressed his mouth to your neck, teeth grazing, voice a hot whisper: “You ready, baby? Wanna feel you wrapped around me.”
Your voice trembled, “mhm…”
Without another second, he slid inside you hard and fast, the warmth and tightness making him groan low and deep.
“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he snarled, hips snapping, fucking into you like he’s starving. “Been waiting all damn morning for this, and now you’re mine.”
You gasped, nails digging into his back, breath hitching as he fucked you harder, faster.
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