Genre: Angst, Dark Romance, SMUT, PWP, psycho!won x fan! reader, psychological horror
WC: 11k
DISCLAIMER: this is for entertainment purposes only this does not reflect my opinion on any mentioned characters
Content Warnings: psycho fanboy Jungwon, manipulation, intimidation, stalking, obsession, gaslighting, tracking, isolation, bodily harm, overworking, Jungwon overall is not a good person here, honestly neither is reader. Reader is gullible and it will be insufferable, that is intentional,
NSFW Content Warnings: None (For now)
It’s crazy how someone can inspire thousands, no, millions of people to create beautiful things. One man, millions of fans, each one more talented than the other. There’s fanartists who could capture the essence of any moment, through drawings. There are cover artists, whose every perfect note, every carefully choreographed dance move was a tribute to their artist. There are impersonators, cosplayers, whose likeness is uncanny. Fanfiction authors. Yes, them too. They put our delusions into words, and that too is a tribute in its own way. All of them, so diverse yet completely the same. They all love their artist. He’s their muse, their idol, the reason they create art in the first place. How crazy is it then, that his muse, his inspiration, his unhealthy obsession is his very own fan?
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
—prologue
Enhypen were known for their moody sultry music and aesthetic which was led by their very own Yang Jungwon, the leader in the group of 7. Thanks to is genius, the kpop group rose in the charts quickly, and violently. Everyone praised not only his abilities but his members’. But times were tough on the group, so the group announced a hiatus.
Many fans were worried, disappointed, but understood that they may need to rest, regroup, recuperate and instead found solace in each other’s work, keeping the fandom alive through their own tributes. Among them rose a few fan artists, getting recognition as minor celebrities in their own right.
It was after this boom of fan interaction that Enhypen came back in full swing with back to back albums, singles, music videos, performances, the works, all to promote their newest album Taste, a refreshing and chilling album with the songs starting light and flirty and progressively getting darker. The album reached global success, with the music video breaking multiple view and replay records. Enhypen’s activities and schedules saw no end.
“-and now I’d like to welcome in our star guests of the evening to talk about their newest album. ladies and gentlemen, we’ve hosted many amazing kpop groups but this one rose to legend status almost immediately. Please help me welcome ENHYPEN!”
The studio erupted into cheering and screams, as 7 men walked into the studio, waving and bowing to the people as they sat down.
“Thank you so much for coming and thank you so much for coming back!” The host exclaimed.
“Thank you for having us.” Heeseung smiled, sending the crowd into squeals. “We happy to be back!”
“Yes, yes, for those of you who don’t know, Enhypen has just released a new album called Taste, correct?”
The group nodded. “Taste: Addiction.” Jungwon added.
“So, Jungwon, as the leader of Enhypen, I have to ask.” A host covering their booming success asked. “What happened? How did you come back so strong?”
Jungwon replied. “Well, we just needed a little time to make something ENGENE could be proud of listening to.”
“Right, and who are ENGENES?”
Heeseung smiled fondly. “ENGENE’s are our fans. They are the driving force behind us, everything is for them.”
“I see so would you say that the fans gave you the push you needed to create music again?”
“Absolutely. While we were on hiatus, I’ve seen so many of the tributes that Engenes made for us.” Jungwon nodded. “Their love for us resonated with me, so we had plenty to be inspired by.” His band members nodded along, replying with their own words of affirmation.
“It’s amazing how much you love your fans, really.” The host grinned, leaning in. “So tell me. Is there a particular fan that caught your attention?”
The members exchanged cautious glances. “Well..” Jungwon started. “Yes. There is a dance cover group that I’m a pretty big fan of.”
“Really? Would to care to share the name?”
“Maybe not this time.” Jungwon chuckled nervously. “I don’t think they want to become overwhelmed by the fans.”
“Why, are they well known?”
“They’re pretty popular.” Jay nodded. “They’re all watches Jungwon nowadays. They’re pretty good I like their videos too.”
“Well, maybe some day you could collab?”
“Maybe some day.” Jungwon shook his head. “But not yet at least.”
After that day, speculations and theories crowded every fan community page, everyone tossing in their guess of who is the mystery group. Countless group names have been dropped, Code9, Koreos, Axis, Luminie, and Engenue, just to name a couple.
Soon, however, the buzz died down as a Weverse notification pinged on every phone.
[Notice] ENHYPEN TASTE:ADDICTION Fan Event Announcement
Hello.
We are excited to announce a one of a kind fan event. 50 fans will be randomly selected in a drawing to be invited to a choreography masterclass with one member of ENHYPEN.
Details to enter drawing:..
—-
“OH MY GOD.” You screamed, sprinting out of your practice room.
“What what what?” Ria shouted, horrified by your sudden burst of energy after you were just planning your own death on the practice room floor. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing..” you grinned. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s perfect Ria!”
“Clearly not, you’re losing your shit before noon.” She folded her arms.
Wordlessly you held up your phone. She squinted at it. Her lips moved silently as she read the email on her phone. Her eyes widened as she got to the word “congratulations.”
“You’re kidding.” She whispered. “You won?!”
“I won!” You shouted, your screams of excitement being met with her own. “We’re going to see Jungwon up close and personal!”
“Woah hold on we?” She stammered, pressing down on your shoulders to stop your jumping.
“Well yeah.” You shrug, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I can bring a friend. What, you really think you wouldn’t come with me?”
Her face dropped. “And be perceived?” She let out a sound that was something between a scoff and a gasp. “Hell no!”
“Why not?” You crossed your arms. “Ria you’ve been there every step of the of the way with me when we created Engenue. This is gonna be a big thing for us!”
She sighed. “I don’t know girl.”
“C’mon.” You grinned. “It will be worth every second.”
“Fine.”
- -
The time between the email and the day of the masterclass went by like a blur. One moment, you were celebrating your win with your team in LA, and in the next you were overthinking over your outfit in Seoul.
“Girl.” Ria rolled her eyes. “Just pick one. They’re both green.”
You stood in front of her in nothing but a bra and black loose fitting cargo pants, holding two nearly identical tight fitting green crop tops. “Yeah..” you mumbled, staring at the fabric in your hands. “But like…one’s forest green and the other’s army green.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” She gave a shocked laugh. “Look.” She stood up. “I’m wearing army green pants and a black top. So do you want to match or do you want to be different.”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh my God, just wear the army green and let’s go.” She huffed, yanking the forest green top out of your hands.
“Thank youuu.” You replied in a singsong voice, pulling the top over your head.
—-
1 hour left.
You stood in line with Ria and 48 other lucky participants inside the building. Everyone whispered nervously amongst each other, excited giggles breaking through the murmur. The atmosphere was tense with excitement and a weird intimate feel. Like you are just moments away from meeting him. Your idol, Yang Jungwon.
You nervously smoothed out your cargo pants against you legs when you felt a light tap on your elbow. You looked up.
“Sorry.” A girl that looked no older than 16 whispered, her eyes wide with wonder. “Aren’t you guys a part of Engenue?”
You grinned. “Yeah we are.”
Her face lit up. “I watch your guys’ dance videos all the time! You’re really good.”
“Thank you!” Ria smiled at the young girl.
After her, a couple other fans noticed and came up to you and Ria, giving compliments and asking for tips. The conversation helped you relax focusing on your fellow fans instead of nervously wiping your sweaty palms against your crop top every five seconds.
Finally, you were led into a giant practice room. The group was quiet until the slow realization of what this oddly familiar room is hit them simultaneously. This is Enhypen’s practice room. Nervous Whispers and giggles about how real this felt filled the room as you and the others were carefully assigned and positioned to points across the room.
As you warmed up with Ria you heard the doors to the room creak open. You tensed, every muscle and nerve strung with anticipation. The practice room was blanketed with a reverent silence. You stared so hard at the door you were sure you could burn a hole in it. The door opened to reveal..
Enhypen’s choreographer.
The crowd breathed a collective sigh of relief and disappointment. You let out a slightly annoyed tsk before giving Ria a sheepish grin.
“Got riled up for nothing.” You mumbled. She rolled her eyes with an affectionate smirk. “You better breathe now, or you’ll pass out before he walks in.” She whispers, nudging you with her shoulder.
“How are you so calm about this?” You whispered back.
“I’m not.” She replied. “I’m just really good at hiding it.”
You giggled as the room quieted as the choreographer spoke. “Alright ladies and gentlemen, I know you’re ready to see Jungwon in action, but I want to set some ground rules first. And let’s get through them quick because he’s just behind that door.” The room rushed with excited giggles. “Now. Please do not scream, mob, or try to touch Jungwon unless he specifically instructs otherwise. Keep a distance between him and amongst yourselves. Be respectful, pay attention, keep your phones away unless instructed otherwise. Sound good?”
You nodded absentmindedly. You were so close. So close to seeing him. Meeting him. Being perceived by him. Your hands clenched in anticipation. In the tense silence, the door reopened. And suddenly the room was hot. And then cold. And then fuzzy. Shit. There he was.
Yang Jungwon.
Your breath caught in your throat, the sound drowned out by your own hammering heart. He was effortlessly ethereal, an angel in a loose fitting zip up and jeans. He walked into the room with a practiced efficiency, if not with a slight charming tensity. As he stood in the front of the room, everyone was silent, frozen in awe. He watched the crowd, with an awkward little bow.
“Hi everyone!” He smiled brightly. “Are you guys ready to dance?”
The crowd finally broke out of their stupor with excited cheers. He laughed, giving another shy little nod. He’s perfect.
You squeal with the rest of the girls in the giant practice room as he turned his back to the crowd, directing from the mirror. His eyes flicked to you for a second. A rush of giddiness flooded you and you whispered excited little “he looked at me!”’s to Ria who held your arm, partially in moral support partially to stop you from jumping.
“Let’s start with a warm up.” Jungwon said, loud enough for everyone to hear, taking a wider stance.
The masterclass was the best kind of torture as you balanced on the fine edge of doing everything he said and trying not to freak out any time he scanned the room. His technique, his strictness, his demand for perfection yet effortless instruction showed exactly why he was the leader of Enhypen. He didn’t go easy on the class, making sure every move was perfect with strict, ruthless corrections. And he did it with a smile. You followed every move, every command like it was the law.
“Okay everyone, let’s have a quick 5 minute break.” He called out. “Then we’ll try a run through with music.”
He stepped out of the room to safety as the crowd relaxed. You slumped against the nearest mirror, bottle in hand.
“He was definitely looking, girl.” Ria sat next to you, quirking your eyebrows.
You shook your head mid sip. “Don’t make me more delusional than I already am.”
She chuckled, taking a sip from her own. “I’m not, I’m serious.”
“Right.” You rolled your eyes. “Hi Serious.”
The moment Jungwon walked back into the room you shut up, quickly scrambling to your feet and to your spot.
“Alright.” He said, eyes finding yours for just a second, but enough for all your nerves to stand at attention. “Let’s try it with music.”
He was perfect. Effortless. Like this was a walk in the park for him. And the music, it changed you.
You loved to dance since you were a child. Dancing felt like home. And it showed in the way your eyes glazed over and you transformed from nervous fangirl to the main dancer of Engenue, showing exactly why you deserved to be here. Even if it was a random drawing.
You and Jungwon fell in sync, perfect mirror images, not just in form but in power, in energy down to the facial expressions. Heads whipped around, left and right, between the two of you. The other lucky dancers faltered, distracted by the wild movement that was amplified by the mirroring effect. It was like you were possessed by the same music. The drive. The real desperation. It was completely identical.
The song finally ended, and you stood, eyes burning, lungs burning. Suddenly the other dancers began to applaud and cheer for Jungwon. Pride, excitement, gratitude filled heart as you grinned at Ria, trying to catch your breath.
“You were amazing.” She whispered, just loud enough for you to hear through the excited chatter of fans.
“So were you.” You whispered back, head spinning with adrenaline.
“Okay okay, quiet down.” Jungwon shushed the crowd. It baffled you how commanding his presence can be despite how cute he was. “I want to try something. Please step all the way back to the wall.”
Once everyone complied, he walked out to the center of the room. “Who here knows the choreography to Moonstruck?”
A handful of hands went up. You just stared at Jungwon enamored, until Ria smacked your arm. “Oh shit, right.” You shook out of your stupor, raising your hand.
His eyes carefully scanned the crowd. “I want to try it a little differently. I need a volunteer.”
Immediately all hands shot up, even those who didn’t know the choreography. with excited “Me!” “Me!”’s Peppering the chatter. You of course, bounced along with everyone with your hand up, chest pounding with hope. Jungwon’s scanning eye fell on you. And your heart stopped in its chest. He pointed.
“You in the green top.” He said, still pointing.
“Come up here for a minute, what’s your name?” You looked behind you expectantly, just to not make a fool of yourself. Jungwon cleared his throat, beckoning at you. “You’re the only one wearing a green top.”
Me? Your head stopped working. Me? Oh my God ME? HE’S LOOKING AT ME?
“I-uh…” you stammered. “Yeah..I- um..dancing- I mean…sure, I can..”
Ria shoved you forward. Hard. Gaining exactly 2 seconds of consciousness you made your way to toward Jungwon on stiff legs.
Oh my God..Oh my God..Oh my God..
“Hi Jungwon.” You tried to sound confident but your voice came out a hoarse whisper, as you tried to not lose your cool more than you already have. You winced at yourself, knowing exactly how much of an embarrassment you were being.
“Hi!” He smiled. “What’s your name?”
You mumbled your name out quietly, suddenly deeply embarrassed, wanting to crawl out of your skin and hide somewhere.
“You know the dance to Moonstruck, right?”
“Uh-huh..” you nodded slowly, completely stupefied. “I…yeah I know the dance.”
“Great.” He nodded and turned to the crowd. “We’re going to try a partnered dance.” Then his eyes trailed back to yours. “But we’ll do your interpretation.”
“What?” You tensed. There’s no fucking way. “You know my version?”
“You’re one of the dancers from Engenue Studios, right?” He tilted his head, examining you.
“I am. Yes, that’s me, I am.” You mumbled under your breath, nodding. “I’m Engenue.”
He smiled. “So we’re doing Engenue’s couple version of Moonstruck then. You know it don’t you?”
Know it? You created it. Performed it. Months of thought and hard work went into a meticulously choreographed couples dance. You designed it for the man and woman to touch as little as possible, instead opting to create an illusion of intimacy through proximity. Alright fine. I can do this. You swallowed hard. I know this. He’s just a dancer. I got this. HE KNOWS MY WORK. HE’S SEEN ME DANCE I need to calm down.
“Yeah.” You nodded, your voice small. “Yeah I know it.”
“Perfect.” He replied. “Music!”
The delicate beginning poured through surround speakers and suddenly your nerves didn’t matter. The graceful melody possessed you, melting away any fear, leaving only the emotions of the song. You rolled your shoulders back, straightened your back and locked into the moment. Your body fully relaxed, bending and swaying gracefully on muscle memory alone like your were made of water. Jungwon stepped in, easily mimicking your rhythm, your feel, completing the picture of impossible love you were trying to convey.
This wasn’t Enhypen’s usual sharp high energy dance. This was a jagged mix of slow fluidity and quick sharpness, requiring high flexibility and core strength. Anyone who’s seen the work of Engenue would recognize this haunting style as uniquely yours, perfect in its imperfection.
“Just the two of us..”
You lost yourself in the dance. You didn’t see anyone in the room, you didn’t even see Jungwon. You just saw a partner, encircling you, spinning around you so closely your noses nearly touched. But you weren’t nervous. You welcomed it. In that moment, it really was just the two of you. You held his gaze as long as you could before your arms obscured the view. You took a delicate step back, arching away but Jungwon wouldn’t allow it.
“Let me hold you close..”
Jungwon gingerly took both your wrists, pulling you in so close his nose rushed your cheek. Just an accidental skim, barely a touch, and yet it felt like fire against your skin. For a moment you gained clarity, your breath stopping in your lungs as you looked into his eyes. This wasn’t a part of your choreography. He was fully lost in the music, gazing into your eyes so tenderly, it nearly melted your heart. His hands on your wrists were warm, firm, sending sparks directly into your veins. It was beautiful.
It almost made you feel guilty, like you were seeing a part of him you weren’t supposed to. Like who were you to see what Jungwon looks like when he is vulnerable in love? But then again, this is just a performance. An act. And he’s perfect at it.
Before you can second guess yourself you leaned into it, not allowing another misstep. You took charge, putting some respectful space between you two with a few graceful turns and maneuvers, as you led him to the end of the final chorus. The music stopped. The room fell silent, yours and Jungwon’s heavy breaths and the steady hum of the air conditioner the only sound.
“Wow.” Someone in the crowd muttered.
The fans burst into cheers, the sound finally shaking you out of your trance like state. Your head whipped to Jungwon, whose gaze went from longing to clinical professionalism. You stared, desperate to hear what he thought of your performance.
“Not bad.” He said, blowing a lock of hair out of his eyes. “You did stiffen up there at the end, your upper back was completely tensed. But otherwise great form.” As you nodded he didn’t let go of your wrist. “Everyone, notice that I didn’t follow the choreography exactly towards the end. And notice how she tensed up. Dance is not just movement, it’s an act. It’s method. So if you feel in that moment that you can add something even better to the performance do it. However,” his eyes flicked back to you. “It’s also important to expect the unexpected from your partner and not seize when they go off script.”
You nodded vigorously as if trying to shake his words into your brain. “Got it, Jungwon. Thank you for the advice-“ You began to talk but his grip on your wrist tightened. Not tight enough to hurt, not even tight enough to force, just a gentle squeeze telling you to wait. You faltered, face flushed.
“Let’s try that again, with that tip in mind, yeah?” He asked, raising a brow at you expectantly. “You ready?”
“Uh…yeah.” Your face flushed red, still overwhelmed from the shockingly intimate moment you shared with your own bias and now with the anxiety of having to do it again. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
“Music!”
And you were gone. No nerves, no anxiety or flush, you poured yourself back into the music, hitting every beat with purpose. This wasn’t just muscle memory anymore, it was deliberate, every motion delivered with calculated precision and finesse. As the song neared the final chorus, the tender affection in Jungwon’s eyes darkened with a small eyebrow quirk. Be ready.
With a barely there nod, you knew you had to expect anything. I’m ready.
“Let me hold you close..”
Jungwon’s hands, warm and sure, caught your waist. He pulled you flush against his chest, his breath ghosting across your face. His lips curled into a small challenging smirk. You couldn’t even gasp. Your heart hammered so loudly in your chest you were sure he felt it against his own.
Oh my God, OH MY GOD, Jungwon is holding me Yang fucking Jungwon is holding me in his arms, this isn’t a drill, okay PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER don’t panic THINK OF SOMETHING, he’s waiting, fuck it SPLIT
You wrapped your arms around his neck and let yourself free fall into a split between his legs. His eyes widened in shock but he didn’t falter, clutching your waist tighter, lowering you both to the floor, creating a beautiful silhouette, exactly as you envisioned it. The joint pose came out so well it shocked you. It was like he knew exactly how to position your body, as if he was your partner for years. His expertise was astounding but also you were distracted by the fact that it’s Jungwon, dammit!
The music cut, and you were still frozen, panting. Jungwon stared into your eyes hard as he tried to catch his breath. Slowly, his face melted from hard determination into a broad smile. His eyes shone with pride, captivating your mind to the point of not hearing the crowd go wild for your join performance. His grip on your waist finally loosened and he helped you off the floor, his touch sending sparks through you, despite his hands were all over you just now.
“See that’s what I’m talking about!” He exclaimed proudly. “Great, job. Thank you for demonstrating with me.” He motioned for you to walk back to the mirrored wall, into the excited awaiting crowd. You smiled blankly at the praised and congratulations, your mind focused on nothing, just-
Jungwon Jungwon Jungwon Jungwon
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ria whispered into your ear, voice fierce with awe. “You killed it up there. And the way he was looking at you? Girl, that was absolutely insane and the split-“
“I danced with Jungwon.” You mumbled deliriously, dumb grin finding its way onto your face as you looked at Jungwon, his voice not even audible over your thundering heart. What you did catch was the way his eyes subtly flicked to you every few minutes.
The masterclass ended with plenty of fanfare. Staff came in to pose the crowd, taking group photos and bringing in merchandise that Jungwon signed for each person. You waited giddily with Ria, album in hand, as if you’re meeting him for the first time as he makes his way down the line, signing gifts that staff handed him.
“For your hard work.” He held out an extra plushy to you with a sweet dimpled smile. His gaze lingered as if he was holding back a secret he was dying to tell you. “Just a little something extra for helping me demonstrate today.”
Your heart swelled at the recognition. It was a funny little thing, no larger than the palm of your hand, a light blue bat with a star on its eye. You held back a squeal.
“Thank you so much! Really I appreciate it!” You bowed continuously, carefully taking it from his outstretched hands. They lingered for just a second, fingertips accidentally brushing yours. That felt more intimate than any touch, grab or caress during the dance. Your face flamed. “Thank you! Thank you so much!” You babbled, just to drown out the screams in your own head. “Really I-you don’t know how much this means to me. Thank you!”
He gave a flustered chuckle before bowing a little and turning his attention to the next fan. And you? You were on cloud 9. As he said his goodbyes amongst cheers and left, you turned to Ria with a grin that could only be described as glee in its purest form.
“Ria!” You whisper screamed as you clutched the plush tightly to your chest like it might run away. “I can’t believe it. Look at the foot! It’s signed!”
She chuckled, ushering you out of the HYBE building. “You just danced with the Jungwon, who wouldn’t stop looking at you by the way, and you’re excited over a plushy key chain?” As you nodded, she laughed, shaking her head. “Honestly I don’t blame you.”
You grinned. “I’m literally never parting with it.”
—- meanwhile
Jungwon, the perfect, poised image of a global idol walked back with the staff to Enhypen’s private practice room, politely greeting oncoming staff and answering necessary questions as he went.
“I’m just going to try a sequence I had in mind. You go ahead.” He waved them off, stepping into the room, closing the door with a decisive click. The facade crashed.
He slumped to the floor against the mirrored wall, shaking. His heart thundered loud in his ears, breathing coming to him heavy. And yet, a rush of pure euphoria filled him. He couldn’t stop replaying the dance with you in his head. The way you looked at him, face mirroring the devotion that he felt, the way your hands trembled under his touch, the way you mouthed the words of the song like you meant them. He finally did it. He saw you up close.
“Oh my God.” He muttered into his hands, a shaky grin spreading across his lips. “I can’t believe it.”
The door to the practice room creaked open and Jay poked his head in. Seeing Jungwon’s jellified state, he smirked. “Saw the Engenue dancers made it. How was it?”
Jungwon lifted his head up, eyes shining with pure star struck bliss. “Jay-hyung. I saw her. She was right in front of me!” He whispered as if he didn’t trust his own voice. “She danced with me, she touched me, she…she’s real!”
Jay chuckled, plopping on the floor in front of Jungwon. “That good, huh?”
“She’s even prettier in person, Jay-hyung!” Jungwon exclaimed, beaming with excitement. “You should have seen the way she danced, the way her face glowed! She’s everything.”
“Told you the masterclass would be a good idea.” Jay quirked his brow. “At least now you’ll calm down and lock in after seeing her, right?”
“Yeah.” Jungwon murmured absentmindedly, unlocking his phone and opening up a live feed, staring into it with intense focus. “Yeah, right. Lock in.” An odd, secretive little smile worked its way onto his face, one of a dark, almost smug satisfaction. “Yeah I’ll definitely lock in now.”
—-
You flew back to LA in a constant buzz of pure joy, cuddling the small plush keychain in your hand.
“It really is cute.” Ria smiled down at it as you stroked it reverently with your thumb.
“I know.” You sighed, squishing it softly in your hand. “Not as cute as Jungwon though. This is one of the craziest core memories, let me tell you.”
“How did it feel?” She tilted her head at you.
You answered a shy wistful smile. “He’s a lot stronger than I expected. And his hands are so warm. And he smells so good, even after dancing for hours.”
Ria shook her head with a knowing grin. “Don’t get all delusional now.”
“I won’t.” You promised with a giggle. “Just…gonna appreciate the memory.”
By the time you landed in LA, the envlog showcasing the masterclass blew up. Everyone was wondering who the girl with the blurred out face was, who was lucky enough to dance with Jungwon. The one who had Jungwon watching her like she hung the moon.
—-
With how busy you are, you almost missed the notification. But you must have gotten lucky.
ENHYPEN TASTE:ADDICTION
WORLD TOUR: MUSE
Concert Information
Hello.
We are excited to announce another drawing. 40 front row seats will be raffled off to 20 lucky fans to the Los Angeles stop of the MUSE world tour. No purchase required. Fill out the application below to participate in the raffle.
You and Ria exchanged glances. “What are the odds?”
She shrugged. “Worth a shot.”
Thousands, no, millions of fans, including you filled out the application. As the world nervously waited for the deadline, the announcement, you lost yourself in your team. Engenue had their work cut out for them, with ENHYPEN releasing 8 new songs that need multiple versions of fan choreographies. If you’re busy, you don’t have time to get your hopes up.
You were back in LA, in the Engenue Studios practice room dancing to a DPR Ian track when Ria walked in, clutching her phone.
“It’s here.” Ria said quietly, holding up her phone for you to see. On it, an unopened email from HYBE. She looked relaxed but the tension in her shoulders gave her away. She was just as nervous as you are. “Did you get it?”
“Yeah.” You all but whispered, looking down at the notification. “On 3?” She nodded.
“1..2..3!”
She looked up at you, disappointed but not surprised. “Didn’t get it.” She said with a sad little smile, holding up her phone, apology email on display.
You didn’t even notice. You widened eyes were fixed to the message. “I did.” You replied, monotonously, too shocked to freak out properly.
“What?” She exclaimed, clutching your phone, angling it to see better. “You’re kidding…” she murmured, skimming the edge of the phone with her fingers like it was magical. “There’s no way.”
“I guess there is.” You whispered back. “2 seats.”
Ria’s eyes shifted between you and the phone. You nodded, face breaking into a grin.
You both broke into excited squeals like children, hugging tightly. “We’re getting barricade for sure!”
Ria pulled away with a teasing smirk. “Of course we will. You’re the luckiest person alive apparently, 2 raffles in a month.” She laughed. “Almost like someone is looking out for you.”
“Yeah sure.” You scoffed. “Of course they are.“
—-
The day of the concert loomed near, with everyone, ENHYPEN and fans alike getting frantically ready. You stood with arm in arm Ria hand clutching the barricade railing, dressed to the nines.
“I’m so excited!” You whispered to Ria. She agreed with a small squeeze to your hand, watching the other 20 thousand fans buzz with excitement.
Backstage, stylists, managers and interns with clipboards bustled about, frantically preparing the 7 member band for the show ahead. Jungwon sat in his makeup chair, fully immersed in the video playing on his phone, humming Beautiful by DPR Ian. He was watching the video like he was trying to commit every single frame to memory.
“Boys we’re on in 5!” A staff member called as he passed by.
Jungwon looked up from his phone, eyes slightly dazed. “Alright.” He murmured to practically himself. “I’ll be right there.”
“Are you alright?” Jay raised a brow at him. “You’ve been weird all day, constantly your phone.”
“Hm? It’s nothing.” Jungwon locked his phone. “Let’s go.”
The group made their way to the stage, just a few feet away from the rest of the world. Jungwon peaked around the corner to survey the crowd. Suddenly his eyes found your face, laughing along with fans at barricade, so close he could see your eyes shining. You looked beautiful. Radiant. Jungwon’s chest pounded at the sight of you. After meticulously, no religiously following your dance career over 2 years, you’re finally right in front of him. Below him. Frustratingly within reach yet so far. A nervous shudder threaded his nerves. What if he made a fool of himself?
“Jungwon?”
He jolted back, pressing his back against the wall, eyes wide, face flushed. He was shaking.
“Woah.” Heeseung rushed out to steady him. “You okay? Stage fright?”
Jungwon’s unfocused gaze flitted to him. “Hyung.” He whispered, voice tight with nerves and reverence. “She’s here!”
“Who?” Heeseung raised a brow. Then it hit him. A slow teasing smirk spread across his face. “That Engenue girl, huh? The one you never shut up about?”
Jungwon nodded. “I don’t think I can-“
“Yes you can.” Heeseung scoffed. “Remember. She’s your fan. She’s here to see you. She’s expecting a show from you tonight.You got this.”
Jungwon took a deep breath. “Yeah.” He smiled. “She’s my fan.” My fan. Mine.
Heeseung’s little pep talk did have an effect on Jungwon. Just an unexpected one. And so he knew what he had to do. He had to put on a show like never before, like rent was due in the morning. All for you. Only for you.
—-
The show was like nothing you’ve seen before. Nothing of this magnitude. You screamed along to every song, jumping up and down, heart bursting with joy. Your face hurt from smiling. The boys, although you’ve seen them perform before, outdid themselves. They danced like their lives depended on it. And Jungwon.
Jungwon seemed to favor your section, interacting with the fans closest to you, sending them into squeals and screams anytime he’d get close. You couldn’t have asked for a better day. This was it. This was everything. During ments, the crowd went quiet.
“Thank you LA!” Jungwon shouted, sending the crowd into cheers. “I know we’ve been away for sometime, but don’t worry, we’re here now. Did you miss us?” You went wild with the rest of the stadium. Jungwon chuckled, shushing the crowd. “While we were gone, we were thinking of ways we could make it up to ENGENE, what kind of album we’d want to give you.
And well, we were inspired by-“ he faltered, staring into your section. Into you. He cleared his throat. “By um…” He gave a sheepish chuckle, awkwardly combing his fingers through his hair. “Sorry, everyone, I-uh…I’m just a little nervous. There is someone here, who I deeply respect, who has been a great inspiration to me. A choreographer who’s incredibly talented.” He gazed into your eyes, catching your breath. You clenched onto your lightstick, trying to ground yourself. There’s no way he’s talking about me. Right? Not possible. He wouldn’t even know I choreograph. You convinced yourself to climb out of your delusions.
“I won’t say who for now, but they know who are. I’m really honored to see them here today.” Amongst the cheers of the crowd, he smiled at you, a soft lingering smile, as he turned back to the front. For the rest of the evening, you couldn’t concentrate on anything but him and the tension headache that was building in your temples from all your screaming.
The encore was its own monster. As ENHYPEN performed Helium, running across the stage, interacting with fans, you screamed your heart out to the lyrics, holding your phone out for the perfect shot. You were busy recording Jake and Heeseung messing around when a firm looking chest obscured the view. You looked up to see Jungwon loom directly in front of you. You screamed, half in shock, half in glee. He laughed, giving a little wave amongst screaming fans and held his hand out. “Phone” he mouthed.
Without a second thought, you tossed your phone to him. He caught it with ease, turning around to take a selfie with you and other fans. You didn’t care how you looked and smiled as hard as you could, along with Ria and the fans around you. You held out your arms, ready to catch your phone back. But he didn’t throw it. Instead he made his way off stage to the barricade, much to the joy of all the ENGENE’s. He walked toward you, eyes fixed and phone in hand, that beautiful lingering smile still playing on his lips. Your stomach flipped with nerves.
“There’s no way!” You screamed. “There’s no way.”
He stood directly in front of you, tantalizingly close, enough to reach out and touch you. Suddenly, the world went mute. You could my hear anything, not the song, not the fans. The only thing you were able to perceive is him. He handed the phone back to you, taking extra care to make sure it didn’t drop or get snatched. His care was so expected yet so overwhelming for you. Like of course he was responsible, he’s the leader of one of the biggest groups in the world. Of course he had to be attentive. But it’s also Jungwon.
You were blushing mess at this point. “Thank you!” You shouted over the cheers. “Thank you Jungwon!”
He didn’t respond, just smiling at you fondly, before reaching over your head to brush loose confetti off of your head. You froze, feeling his hand carefully carding through your locks. It was just a second, a brief touch, but it was enough. Enough for you to fully register what is happening, and for the fans to scream in excitement, and maybe a little jealousy.
“I-“ you couldn’t even speak as he walked away, back onto the stage. What the fuck was that?
—-
“Girl I’m telling you.” Ria sighed as you made your way out of the stadium together. “You’re lucky as hell.”
You grinned, still dazed. “I know.”
Ria took your hand, seeing you stumbling over your heels. “Let’s see if we can use that luck for fansigns now, hm?”
You nodded solemnly eliciting a laugh from her. “I’ll see what I can do.”
You finally made it to your shared apartment, and bid each other goodnight. You showered, toweled off and dressed into a tank top and panties before settling into your cool sheets, hair still damp. You held the small plush key chain in your hands, reminiscing of the unforgettable night before lulling yourself into a deep sleep.
And yet somewhere in a Los Angeles hotel, unbeknownst to you someone is guarding your sleep with shaking reverence, worshipping every sleepy sigh like it was sacred.
For months, many people debated the identity of “blurred face” and “confetti girl” both moments going viral. Thankfully for you, the media is assuming they are different people.
Months have passed since that fateful concert when the producer of Engenue Studios, Erin, called you and Ria in for a meeting. “We’re getting bought out.”
—-
You furrowed your brow. “What do you mean bought out?”
“I mean literally.” She said numbly, like she herself couldn’t believe it. “I just spoke to Dani. Apparently she got an offer and it was too good to refuse.”
That didn’t make sense. Dani, the owner of the studio, built it on her own dime from scratch for you and Ria. She wouldn’t not consult you. Sure it was her property, her business but she wouldn’t leave you out of your own fate would she?
“It better be fucking good, what the fuck?” Ria seethed. “Why didn’t Dani call us?”
“You were on the plane.” The manager responded.
“That was 4 months ago!” You exclaimed. “Why is she telling us this now?”
You didn’t let Erin respond, and dialed Dani. “Dani what the fu-“
“Hear me out.” She cut you off. “I know you’re mad I didn’t talk to you. But this is a really good opportunity for you and you’d be too scared to take so I made an executive decision. The company is a pretty big deal.”
“WHAT?”
“Yeah, they wanted a group that will function as a dance team. You know, performing alone, but also performing as back up for the idols.”
“Why didn’t they just do auditions like they usually do?” Ria asked over the speaker.
“They wanted recognizable dancers, ones that won’t have to cover their faces and apparently, they got an internal suggestion.” Dani replied, her exasperation audible. “Listen, don’t freak out, they won’t be breaking us up too much. The studio will remain here, just the name will change.”
“Alright fine.” You nod hesitantly.
“And a few girls are gonna tried as background dancers for ENHYPEN’S next tour.”
“Huh?” Your eyes nearly popped out of your head.
“You heard me.”
“Who?” You mustered out.
Dani replied with a long string of names. “Scouts are coming by next week to do a final selection.”
“I…alright.” You hung up not knowing how to feel.
Your company got absorbed. Bought out and you didn’t even know. Now you’re label mates with Enhypen. . How does that even happen? What does this mean for Engenue? How will all this change? You thought to yourself as you practiced choreo absentmindedly.
You went home with Ria, bidding her a quiet night and slipping into your room. After a shower that consisted mainly of staring into the wall you came back into you room, toweling off and dressing in a cami and panties. Same routine, yet everything felt so different. You slid under the covers and held the small plushy over your head, examining it.
“Something weird’s going on. How did we just get traded like that? That doesn’t happen. Right? But at least I get to see Enhypen again.” You murmur to it, cuddling it close to your chest. “We’ll figure it out. It’s you and me against the world, plushy.” You stifle a laugh at your own childishness and drift off to sleep.
In a private Seoul studio, Jungwon smiled softly at his phone, stroking your sleeping image with his finger with a possessive reverence. His eyes shown with a worshipful adoration so intense that if you’d ever see him like this, he knew it would scare you.
“Yeah.” He whispered, his thumb pressing against the image of your lips. “You and me against the world, beautiful.”
—-
The next few weeks flew by in a blur of changes. 12 girls from your studio were chosen auditioned and 7 including you selected to go to Korea for a few months of training. While the agency wanted you to move to Korea indefinitely, you advocated for a split in residence, spending a few months in the U.S, and a few months in Korea, leading up to the tour.
“It’s just not feasible.” You shook your head, not backing down in front of the representative. “It would be different if it was a solo thing, but we’re just back up dancers. This is a trial run, isn’t it? We can’t justify uprooting our entire lives for a trial run.”
“Alright.” She finally sighed. “We can have you come in 3 month increments. Housing provided.”
In a deal that ended in shook hands and signed contracts, you left the building with Ria. “You think a lot will change?” You asked quietly.
“God I hope not.” She replied.
The flight to Seoul was long and uneventful, but at least you had your girls with you. Together you stepped into the agency building, memories of the masterclass coming back to you. You craned your neck as you passed any open door hoping to catch a glimpse. The day groaned on with paperwork, rules, choreographers, producers, run throughs. You were thoroughly exhausted, feeling wrung out like a wet rag. Despite the exhaustion, you were thrumming with nervous excitement. They’re in here somewhere.
“Alright ladies, rest up in here for a bit, then we’ll explain the logistics of the tour in a few minutes.” The guide who will now be your new manager smiled warmly, leading the group to a practice room. It was a little smaller than the other one but still just as pristine.
“What do you think we’re waiting for?” Abby asked, plopping down on the ground.
“I don’t know.” You replied, plopping down on the ground next to her, fully laying down. “Probably gonna give us more shit to sign.” You were getting impatient. “When do you think we’ll meet the members?” You huffed, rolling over onto your stomach.
When Ria opened her mouth to speak, the door swung open. You scrambled up to your knees.
In walked a manager, followed by the members of Enhypen. The very men you’ve been employed to dance with. The air in the room split. The group members walked in with relaxed smiles and polite expressions greetings.
Your heart stopped in your chest. Your palms clammed up immediately, your eyes were blown. This is the third time that Jungwon walks into a space, and his eyes fall directly to you. Whether it’s respect or recognition, the warm intensity of his eyes knocked the breath out of you. You scrambled up to your feet as he walked toward you.
“Glad to see you again!” He smiled brightly, reaching for your hand. You took it, nearly fumbling as you gave him a weak handshake.
You glanced around the room, seeing the members of Enhypen try to make small talk with your petrified, star struck teammates. You would have found it funny if you weren’t in the same predicament. Not Ria though. She’s a professional at keeping cool as she easily made small talk with Jake.
“Yeah, I…” you coughed. “I was really surprised when we found out we’d be working with you guys. It’s really an honor, you are really-“
“C’mon.” He chuckled cutting you off gently. “I’m just Jungwon. We’re teammates for the next year, you don’t have to sing my praises.”
But how could you not? You looked down, seeing he still hasn’t let go of your hand. You pulled it out of his grip. He let go, yet an odd blank look flashed in his eyes.
“I’ll try not to.” You offered a timid smile. “Sooo…” you turned away to look at the girls, the panic in their faces easing into a respectful excitement. “Are we starting today?”
“Today?” Jungwon shook his head. “No of course not! You just landed, you’re tired. We just came in to meet our partners for the comeback.”
“Oh.” God I really suck at interactions don’t I?
“You know,” Jungwon turned to you, his eyes oddly soft. “I’ve seen Engenue’s covers.”
Although it’s not news, the fact that he’s seen your work still brings and excited shiver down your spine. You shrug off your flusteredness. Or try to.
“Technically we’re called KORA now.” You say, nearly spitting the word. You hated that they asked you to change the team name.
“Either way.” Jungwon continued. “You really stand out, you know that?”
Oh my God he thinks I stand out. Does that mean good or bad? Wait what if he means I need to step out? You look back towards Ria, in attempt to hide your burning face but dammit every single wall is mirrored. You caught his warm gaze in the mirror. “I…how many of our covers have you watched?”
“Just a few.” He shrugged. “That’s why I know I could count on you for a good demonstration.“
“Thank you!” You muttered, barely containing your own embarrassment. “I honestly don’t know how to accept this recognition and I’m nowhere near as talented as you are-“
“You don’t have to be so nervous around me.” Jungwon took a step back to your relief. “You’re really talented and have potential for a lot of work here.”
You smiled back finally, turning your head to look at him. The butterflies in your stomach eased just a little. “I’m not there yet. Still have a lot of things to perfect.”
“There’s always room for improvement.” He said, his eyes lighting up. “I can mentor you for some time! You know, get you where you want to be.”
Your eyes widened. “You’d do that? Wouldn’t it be too much on you?”
“Well, I offered, didn’t I?” He answered with a light chuckle. “It’s no different than the masterclass. Just think about it, okay?”
As much as you loved Jungwon, you wanted this interaction to be over. Being the subject of his undivided attention was just too much. But the opportunity was too good to pass up. “Alright.” You have a slight nod. “I’ll think about it. Thank you.”
The time went on with polite conversation with the rest of the and a few attempts at the new dances. Getting acquainted with Enhypen slowly felt easier, even if your eyes were glued to Jungwon nearly the entire time. How could you not stare when he is that stunning? Or more accurately, how can you not stare back?
—-
The next day, you stood with your team just outside the practice room doors, dressed in casual practice wear with bags and water bottles. You stared at the door, barely breathing.
“Walk in first.” Abby pushed you to the door of the practice room where the men were practicing, their stomps and loud music audible through the door.
“Why do I have to do it?” You hissed. “You do it!”
“You’re the senior!”
“Ria’s older than me!” You argued, pushing back.
“Hey, no, don’t rope me into this.” Ria spoke up. “You’re the team lead.”
You stared back at her. She crossed her arms, not budging.
“Ugh, fine.” You opened the door of the room, peaking in to find ENHYPEN practicing.
Your jaw almost hit the floor. Seeing the boys in concert was one thing. Seeing them perform up close was another. Mesmerized, you took a hesitant step forward. The track cut, filling the space with the boys’ labored panting.
“Let’s take a quick break.” Jungwon breathed out, grabbing his waterbottle off the floor taking a greedy swig. You couldn’t help but stare at him, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he drank. He was a Greek god in a black wifebeater tight against his toned chest, sweat glistening off his bare shoulders. Oh my god oh my god oh my god. You looked away into the mirrored wall. Your reflection stared back at you confirming how hard you’re blushing.
“Thank God!” Jake sighed, before looking up, catching you and the rest of the girls walking in. “Oh!” A friendly smile spread across his face. “Hey guys!”
“Hi!” Ria smiled back, letting her bag drop to the floor. The team quickly followed suit, shedding bags and hoodies. You yanked your sweater over your head, leaving yourself in a cropped mock neck.
Jungwon nearly choked on his water. “Oh hi ladies!” He set down his bottle with a sheepish smile. “The choreographer just stepped out, but we can get started now.”
The practice went well. Jungwon was attentive, professional, and most of all strict. And you loved it. There was nothing better than a disciplined teacher who requires perfection.
“Keep your elbow in on the turn.” He said, pressing your elbow into your side. You nodded, fixing it.
“Keep your head up.”
“Posture, posture!”
“That turn needs to be tighter.”
Every correction came with a touch. A hand on between your shoulder blades, a finger under your chin, a light scuff at your feet. By the end of practice, you were sore, out of breath, and deeply humbled.
“Let’s call it a day.” Heeseung huffed. “I need sleep.”
You slump onto the floor against the mirror, focusing on your breathing. Your head swam with exhaustion and a deep satisfaction after a good training session. You went for a sip of water from your bottle only to find it empty. You groaned, pushing your self up to steal Ria’s water bottle.
“You okay?” You heard a deep voice above you. You looked up.
“Oh, Ni-Ki!” You scrambled to your feet. “Hi!”
“Woah slow down.” He chuckled, helping you steady yourself against the mirror. “You good?”
“To be honest I got a headache and I’m cockeyed and I can hear colors.” You gave a self deprecating laugh.
“That’s because you’re dehydrated.” He chuckled. He held out an unopened waterbottle. “Here.”
You took the water with a grateful smile. As the two groups slowly filed out of the room, a warm hand clasped your arm. You froze, turning around to see Jungwon, his zip up open, that damn tank top underneath. Your eyes momentarily flicked down to his torso, immediately embarrassed.
“Yes Jungwon?” You asked, suddenly looking anywhere but him. “Was there something you needed?”
His tired eyes brightened. “You’re still nervous.” He chuckled. “Have you thought about my offer?”
“Oh, uh..” you frantically looked out to your friends. “Yeah. Yeah I did.”
“And?” He tilted his head, his gaze expectant.
“I’d be honored if you’d mentor me.” You smiled, to mask or ease your nerves. His eyes softened into that kind warmth you found yourself obsessing over.
“Perfect!” He let go of your arm, instead leading you out of the building with a hand on your back. “Then we’ll start tomorrow. Stay after practice a bit, okay?”
“‘Kay!” You grinned, excitement already buzzing in your veins as he walked you to the manager’s awaiting car. “I’ll see you then.”
“Good night!” He smiled, helping you into the car.
On the way home, you leaned against Ria’s shoulder, feeling warm and fuzzy, but also strung with a giddy joy. Starting tomorrow, you will be a protégée to one of the biggest kpop idols in the world.
—-
The next day, practice was as expected. Jungwon led with an iron grip and a dimpled smile, confusing but also disarming you. He was introducing the title track choreography. The one that may get the most hate, if Bite Me from before was any indication.
“Guys, Taste is the title track, we need to get it right.” He warned, showing us the dance video again. “This is the pair dance, so we’ll need you girls to really put in some effort, this dance isn’t easy. Pair up and remember. This is your partner for the full tour so please be kind and accommodating.” Jake looked to Ria who was already looking at Heeseung.
Jungwon looked up at you immediately. His eyes softened for just a second. “You’re with me.” He said it with so much confidence you had no room to argue.
You gave a hesitant nod. It only made sense, right? He’s your mentor now, of course he’d partner with you. Yet you felt a cold pang in your stomach at his insistence. Would you be able to keep up?
“Alright, let’s run it again, with partners now.” Jungwon called, leading you to your spot by the elbow. “Music!”
It didn’t get easier from there. You’d hoped that partnering with Jungwon would be simpler, considering you’re most familiar to him. But that familiarity came with a harsher standard of perfection.
“Posture!”
“Focus!”
“Come on, you know better!” He barked out corrections like a drill sergeant.
“Yes Jungwon.” You mumbled.
Jungwon finally announced a five minute break. You heaved a pant as you took a sip of water, every muscle tight with overexertion.
Jungwon slumped next to you, shoulder to shoulder. As if on instinct your back immediately straightened. He looked at you with a drained grin.
“Relax.” He chuckled. “We’re on break.”
“I know.” You offered a smile, the butterfly’s in your stomach never fading. “It’s habit now.”
“Hm.” He took a sip of water. “You do know I’m only hard on you because you’re already a great dancer, right?”
You nodded. “Yeah I know.”
“So you’ll stay after?”
The thought made your heart jump with excitement. A solo training session with THE Yang Jungwon. Your bias. The object of your delusions. He turned his head at your silence, eyes finding yours. The eye contact made made you lose your ability to think.
“Uh..” you mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant, but your shaking voice gave you away. “Yeah. Of course.”
“Good.” He nodded with a smirk. “Don’t expect me to go easy on you though.” Damn.
“I know.” You sighed.
Practice wrapped up quickly after that. It almost felt like the dances were rushed through.
Jungwon shrugged when you brought it up after practice. “We still have tomorrow to refine. We just needed a basis.”
Ria walked up behind you, slinging her arm around your shoulder as you grabbed your bag off the floor. “Ready to go back?”
“I’m not going yet.” You replied, zipping up the bag.
“What?” She furrowed her brow. “Why not?”
“Jungwon asked me to stay for some training after.” You replied, heat spreading through your cheeks.
A slow knowing grin crept its way onto Ria’s face. “One on One?” She wiggled her brows. “With Jungwon??”
“I know!!” You shoved her lightly, face now rivaling a traffic light. “Go home.”
“You better call me and tell me everything.” She laughed, walking toward the exit. “Have fun!”
Heaving a sigh to settle your stomach, you turned back into the practice room. Jungwon was already waiting, fiddling with his phone, leaning against the cool mirror. His hoodie was half way on, one shoulder bare in a way that made you think, what’s the point of wearing the hoodie at all? Lean, toned, messy hair, he was perfect. He looked up, his gaze finding yours. His eyes were commanding, sharp like he was measuring your every breath.
“You ready?” He asked breaking the silence, his voice a mix of friendly and professional.
“I guess so.” You forced a smile through your nerves. “What song’s first?”
“We’re not working on choreo.” He set his phone down, walking toward you. His hand pressed between your shoulder blades, straightening your back. His touch sent electricity down your spine. He tapped your chin, a reminder to keep your head straight. “We’re working on technique.”
—
Jungwon was an amazing teacher. During practice with everyone, he was tough but fair. But with just you, he was a different kind of monster, one with sky high expectations and an intolerance for tiredness. And if you were too tired, he would grab your arms and position you himself. His touch was firm, yet lingering. The heady mix sent your brain and heart into confusion, flustered, but with a gnawing worry about being professional. He was exactly the kind of mentor you hoped for, but damn it was so distracting.
For the next two weeks, you’d stay with him after hours, and he did not show mercy, even if your run through was good. Nothing impressed him, there was always room for improvement and you were okay with it. You wanted that perfection as much as he did. You were a willing student if nothing else.
That came to ahead one day. You were exhausted. Spent. Barely standing. And Jungwon was the exact image of a strict instructor. Your sequence was perfect. But..
“I’m not worried about the accuracy of the choreo right now. I’m worried about how you keep locking up.” He folded his arms, with a determined frown. “We aren’t stopping until you get the turn right. Do it again.”
The comment made you crumple in defeat. You’ve already done the turn like 9 times, each time spinning faster, keeping your back straighter, your moves tighter. Yet he was never satisfied.
“Again.”
“Again.”
“Again.”
“Jungwon..” You protested, shaking with exhaustion. “If you don’t like how I do the turn then do it yourself and show me.”
He raised his brows at you. His cold gaze made you freeze in place. Never in your life did you ever think to lip off to Jungwon, and the fact that you did shocked both him and you. You swallowed nervously, hating the silence that followed. It would have been better if he yelled, or made a mean comment, anything to drown out your racing heart but no. He never yelled, he was never rude. Right now you almost wished he was instead of staring into you. Damn, for someone with such a cute face, he had some piercing eyes.
“Alright.” He murmured, his lips forming into a tight lipped challenging smirk. “I’ll do it. But if I show you, I’m not letting you go home until you do 5 perfect turns.”
“Fine.” You replied, folding your arms against your chest, your voice meeker than you intended.
“Watch.” He said, playing the track from the chorus.
He entered the sequence seamlessly, as if he created it himself. He moved like water, each step and movement smooth and deliberate, sharp enough to show all the tiny nuances that nobody but you or your team would catch. Then came the turn. The turn, sharp and quick in nature, still had to be fluid gentle. He landed on his right leg, tensing it just enough to catch himself, but never locking. That shit was hard to nail. And yet, he did it perfectly with no warm up.
“Wow.” You muttered.
Jungwon made it look too easy. His sharp eyes flicked to you as he caught his breath. You turned away quick, trying to hide your shameless awe. He smiled.
“Your turn.” He said, motioning with his head. “Center.”
You had no choice but to comply, waking forward shoulders slumped. And immediately.
“Posture!”
With a silent groan you straightened up, trying your best not to look as tired. You followed his moves to a tee, keeping the same slight tension in the right thigh, fluid movement, sharp transition, turn. You gritted your teeth, willing yourself not to lock up again. You looked up at him, eyes hopeful, pleading.
Jungwon’s stony expression melted into one of calm satisfaction. His approval went directly to your chest, blooming a deep pride that you were finally able to impress him. Yang Jungwon is impressed by me. Oh my God, I finally did it.
“That was beautiful. See?” He smiled excitedly. “I told you you could do it. Now,” he tilted his head, his eyes darkened ever so slightly in a smug demand. “Do it again.”
Damn it. You hung your head. You hoped he’d forgotten his little rule, but no. He watched you like a hawk, following your every move like he was memorizing your form, with the slightest hint of pride in his face. Your tiredness was overtaken by a severe motivation to impress him.
“Again.” You pushed yourself harder.
“Again.” You spun faster.
“Perfect! Again!” With newfound energy you threw yourself into the routine, despite all of your muscles’ protest.
You executed the turn with precision and grace, landing on your right leg. But you didn’t land. Your foot caved under the strain. A sharp, screaming pain exploded through your ankle and spread like lightning. You gasped, falling to the floor with a sickening thud.
“FUCK!” You screamed into the ground, half in pain half in frustration.
You grit your teeth as you held your ankle, curled up on the floor. Shit. Of course. Of course it had to be on the last run through. Of course it had to be in front of Jungwon.You looked up at him, tears pricking your eyes in pain and shame.
Jungwon’s gaze was unreadable. You half expected him to tell you how disappointed he is, make you get up, but he turned on his heel and left the practice room. You stared incredulously at the empty spot on the floor where he stood, clutching your ankle, struggling to sit up. Did he just…leave me here? You swallowed a lump in your throat, fingers gingerly pressing the swollen tender bruise.
“Don’t try to move it.”
You looked up to see Jungwon walking back into the practice room holding a small red box. He knelt in front of you, opening the box with focus.
You opened your mouth to defend yourself. “Jungwon I-“
“Shhh.” He soothed, lifting your foot onto his knee. He pulled off your shoe with almost trembling care. It was overwhelming, seeing him like this. You furrowed your brow, willing the butterflies in your stomach to dissolve.
“You don’t have to-“
“It’s okay.” He said quietly. “Let me help.”
He checked the sprain, gingerly pressing his fingers against the swelling bruise, wincing sympathetically when you yelped in pain.
“I know.” He murmured, gently rubbing the featherlight circles into the tender skin. “I know it hurts. You’re okay.” He reached into the box, pulling out a roll of gauze. He met your gaze with grounding concern.
“This is gonna hurt.” He warned as he took your hand, guiding it to his arm. “Grab on.” He said. “Squeeze if it hurts too much, okay?”
You nodded, flustered at his sudden tenderness. He set your foot in the correct angle. You gasped in pain, digging your fingers into the flesh of his forearm as he gently maneuvered the joint.
“Just a little more.” He whispered, “I’m almost done, you’re doing so good.”
You froze. Is.. he talking me through it? Your face burned wildly, nearly forgetting the pain until he turned your ankle some more. You let out a pained whimper, clutching onto his arm. He froze for a moment, eyes widening. You must have squeezed his arm too tight.
You watched him wrap your set ankle in gauze, his movements slow and almost reverent. It amazed you how quickly he went from strict and unforgiving, to tender and attentive. He pressed a cooling pack against your ankle.
“Can you stand?” He asked, pulling you up just enough to find your footing.
“I think so.” You mumbled, trying to take a step. Pain shot through your ankle. “I don’t think so.”
Jungwon sighed, eyebrows knitting together in thought. “Come here.” He took your arm, wrapping it around his broad shoulders, helping you stand upright. “Put your weight on me.”
You shook your head. “No it’s okay,” you tried to sound more polite than flustered. “I don’t want to burden-“
He wrapped his arm tightly around your waist. “Come on.” He said, helping you hop along to the exit.
Instead of a manager’s van, he led (carried) you to his own car, situating you in the passenger seat. You curled in, a gnawing feeling of guilt marring your stomach. He didn’t have to do all this. I’m just a back up dancer.
“I don’t want to be a bother.” You murmured staring into your lap. “You need rest too.”
He didn’t even look at you. “It’s not a bother.” He said quietly.
The drive was mostly quiet, intense, charged with electricity and something darker. When you arrived at your building, he insisted of helping you get into your dorm. You agreed reluctantly, knowing you’ll never make it on your own, but very nervous about him being inside your dorm. Shit, did I leave anything out? You mentally checked your entire dorm, hoping and begging your posters of him were put away, not hung up yet.
“Make sure you stay off of it for a while.” He said flatly. “Can’t have another injury risk.”
“Okay.” You nodded as he helped you to your bedroom. “Thanks for your help, Jungwon.” You added quietly, still embarrassed at the tenderness he showed you.
He didn’t look at you, as he grabbed his keys. “Yeah, not a problem. See you tomorrow.”
“Bye.” You called after him, waiting for the front door to click shut before immediately dialing Ria to fill her in.
“Dude.” You muttered as soon as you heard her sleepy greeting.
“What?”
“You’ll never guess what happened.” You filled her in on exactly everything that happened, the dance, the fall, the care. For that entire hour, you and Ria squealed over his concern, overanalyzing every word not even remembering the pain.
—-meanwhile
Jungwon gripped his steering wheel, knuckles white. He was like a wire pulled taught, barely even breathing, clenching his teeth so hard he shook. Tears shone in his eyes.
“I hurt her.” He whispered to himself, voice tight with anger at himself. “I fucking hurt her.”
A hot tear spilled over his cheek. He hated himself for hurting what he worshipped most. But all he wanted was for you to be a perfect mirror image. An exact match to him, something trained by him for him. Was that so wrong? No. He has a right to you, to your perfect form, affection, recognition.
His heart broke as he recalled how you looked at him, wide eyed and teary, pained from the fall, flustered from his care. It took all of his self restraint to not pull you close, kiss the pain away, wipe your tears, tell you he’s not going anywhere. Yet he reveled in the way you looked at him like he was your savior.
“The kpop industry is cruel.” he whispered to himself. “If I don’t break her myself, the industry will destroy her.” A twisted justification for his obsession bloomed in his mind. “And if she must break, she must be broken gently and put back together with the utmost care like she deserves. She deserves all the care. All the love and devotion. Nobody’s able to provide that.” His lips curled into an odd smile as he admired the satin hairtie stretched around his wrist, a memento of you stolen from your dorm. “Nobody but me.”
The moment he stepped into his home he tapped into the live feed, finding your sleeping form curled around the plushy he gifted you. You were so beautiful, so fragile. He couldn’t help but feel guilty, seeing y ou wince in pain in your sleep. “Just wait a little longer, my angel.” He whispered with dark tenderness, stroking the screen. “I’ll make everything better. I promise.”
Thinking about how Hanbin can be a bit overprotective sometimes...
You're out with friends and he tells you to call when you want to be picked up, but you don't want to bother him so late so you text him that you're going to take the bus. He calls like 0.2 seconds after the text is delivered and asks if you're okay and that he will get you. If you try to sell the bus idea again he's so stern it's almost scary: I. Will. Get. You. Absolutely no room for debate.
He picks you up and greets you with a soft peck on the cheek and always makes sure to ask if any of your friends needs a lift. When you get in the car he hands you a water bottle without even asking if you're thirsty. Just a soft "drink up" while he starts the car. He's calm but focused while driving and you feel yourself looking his way a little more intense than usual. He just looks so sexy, one hand on the steering wheel. And he's so aware of you, always. Puts on hand over yours and gently caresses it for the rest of the drive.
Hanbin always insists on opening every single door for you and leading you everywhere with a hand on the small of your back. It sometimes bothers you, but not tonight. You're a bit tired from your night out, and his hand feels warm, safe, and a bit exciting. He smells nice too.
When you get inside, he spins you around and meets your lips in a soft kiss. Your slightly unsatisfied whimper makes him smile to himself when he pulls away from you. "Did you want something? You have to tell me baby." You just tug at his shirt for him to get closer, you feel tired but so so needy for him. "Tell me what to do," you whisper, wanting him to guide you, take control. He kisses you again, gives you what you want for approximately 30 seconds before pulling away again, whispering in your ear: "Go remove your makeup and get changed." You start complaining cause no, that's not what you meant! "You told me to tell you what to do," Hanbin answers with a smirk.
The thing is however, that no matter how much he likes being in charge, the thing he likes even more is pleasing you. So when you've gotten ready for bed and told him around 20 times that you're not tired, he will do literally anything to satisfy you...
⟢ 𝓻achel: been cooking this up for a while now, and let me say - i am not done. i have about three blurbs of these two [freaks] that i cannot wait to write and release, and plenty more ideas. so, without further ado, i introduce to you: my contribution to (and take on) the vamp!ilia agenda. heavily inspired by tvd rules and stories.
WARNING: DARK THEMES. DEPICTIONS OF BLOOD AND GORE. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.
── tags below the cut .ᐟ
𝓬ontent: smut mdni, feeding, unprotected sex, creampie, bloodsharing, heavy mentions of blood, vampires, mentions of other supernatural beings, depictions of gore, deceased bodies, (brief) decapitation, rippers (feral, predatory, murderous vampires), tvd rules and regulations; if you have not seen it u might need a quick google search for the future, slightly ambiguous ending for future considerations
I.
the leaves rustle under your feet as you take a step across the sidewalk. a beam of light from the moon shines just along the path, through the wooded area surrounding you, a crow flying overhead to break you from your trance.
"it's warm tonight," you whisper into the early-summer air, fingers brushing against ilia's.
he nods.
his black jean jacket weighs heavily on his shoulders — the weather a little too warm for it, but it shields him from the cooler breeze that passes by on occasion.
not that he's ever really cold.
"i think i'm gonna try to compete."
your head turns; the crackle of a streetlight nearby breaks the silence in the air, save for the rustle of an animal or two. "really?" you ask. "i thought you couldn't have your name in records like that. vampire stuff…and all that."
"i can, i'll just…have to be careful with it," he shrugs. "erase it, if need be."
your elbow nudges his arm. "unfair advantage."
"not really."
"compelling a bunch of people to forget you? come on," you scoff; he laughs quietly beside you, and your tone softens. just a little. "and you have literal superhuman strength, ilia. i'm pretty sure that's going to affect the way you skate."
"for your information, i thought i was going to die the first time i put on skates."
"you can't die."
"i'm immortal," he corrects, "i can be killed."
"not from a nasty fall."
"what if i fall face-first onto a piece of wood?"
you close your eyes and sigh. "ilia, where would there be a sharp piece of wood lying around on an ice rink?"
"i don't know. it was a figure of speech, you know. i knew i wasn't actually going to die."
even the smallest phrases like that can send a chill through your body; you've been together for all of a year and five months, give or take, and you often feel like you know everything about him and nothing at all. a feeling you couldn't begin to put into words, something you'd have to experience to understand to its fullest.
and it scares you.
not of him — of what it means. what it comes with. what he's been warning you of since the moment you decided to step into that realm.
"anyway, there's a local competition in november." around two years since you met him. "it's not too big or anything. i think i might have a chance. maybe it could be fun."
"i think you have more than a chance with your — er…"
"lutz."
"yeah, yeah. that."
you blink. "when did you start skating?"
"i was twenty-eight, so," he pauses, teeth gnawing on his bottom lip as he thinks, "1930?"
your head tilts back, and you blink again. "woah."
"yeah," he laughs quietly, a hint of pity seeping through the cracks. "about eighty years of practice. i've been working with one of the ladies at the rink on choreography for it. i think with a little tweaking —"
he stops.
you keep walking at first, only noticing the halt when his hand begins to slip out of yours, falling limp at his side. you furrow your brows and turn carefully on your heel, now standing just a few feet in front of him.
when your eyes catch his face, your stomach drops.
dark circles. veins. clouded eyes.
"ilia?"
he isn't looking back at you; eyes transfixed on something past you, behind the trees, what you assume is something too far away for someone like you to register.
fear settles in your stomach.
you don't often see him like this.
not so — god, you don't even have the word.
you never know why, because he's always refused to tell you.
ilia had frozen at the scent of blood; fresh, human, still dripping from the tap. when it's human, he knows. when it's thick, heavy, still warm, he knows. he doesn't want to know. and he doesn't have a choice.
"someone's dead."
he says it as if it's normal.
but the tinge of something unpleasant in his tone says otherwise, never mind the deceased — when you're caught up in his web, death follows. it becomes normal. disgustingly and immorally ritual.
but it's that barely-identifiable edge in his voice that sets you off — that, and the look in his eye, the veins protruding from skin paler than usual. the sheer lack of control in his body. the subtle twitch of his index finger just by his thigh.
"what?"
"i said," his eyes finally slide over to you, "someone is dead."
when he blinks, his features return to normal.
"you're just…hearing things. or, seeing. i'm sure it's fine," you try to intervene, stepping closer and carefully taking his hand again. "come on, we're almost back at the car."
"bad idea."
as you walk further down the path, he obliges, albeit reluctantly. he swallows heavily, body fighting off the urge to follow the scent.
a heartbeat pumps in his ears.
not his own.
"oh — oh my god."
you step back when you see it.
a girl. you don't know how old she is — or was — maybe twenty, no older than you. her neck is mutilated, blood still pouring from what had to have been her carotid and forming a dense pool on the grass below her.
her shirt is torn, stained with crimson, but once colored a bright pink.
even with the scene, you're able to see the marks littering her wound. teeth. all too familiar. equally as daunting.
when ilia gave in, he told you he would protect you from all of this. he swore on everything he'd ever loved that he wouldn't let you fall into his fucked-up version of living, too. that he'd either shield you from everything or die trying.
the funny thing is, no amount of time and effort will ever make it possible.
this only proves it.
"ilia, what — i thought we were safe here, we're towns away," you shake your head, turning back to him, expecting him to be stable, calm, comforting as he always would be.
but he's staring.
he can't stop fucking looking at it.
at her.
at her neck.
at the blood.
"we need to go."
"what's wrong with you?" you ask, perhaps a little too loudly. if someone is even half a mile away, they might have heard. "you don't look like yourself. you're not acting…yourself."
"it's too dangerous."
"don't ignore me, ilia," you bite back. "stop hiding things from me."
"i'm not, i just —" he swallows, "shit."
his eyes flutter shut as he fights with his own body, torn between rushing to the scene and staying firm in his place. he knows that if he tastes even a drop, he loses you. he loses everything. again.
"feed if you need it," you try, "i'll look away."
"i can't."
"why? god, make me understand, ilia!"
"because i'm a ripper!"
he finally snaps, veins reappearing on his face, expression morphing into something you've never seen him wear; it scares you so deeply that a tremble runs to your fingertips.
he sees it in your eyes — the fear, the confusion. and it hurts.
"because i can't stop. even if i want to, i can't stop. if i got my hands on her — on anyone with human blood — i won't stop until every ounce is drained from their body," he finally admits as the words turn stale in the humid air between you. he notices the way your foot steps backward. "i'll kill them."
his voice cracks on the last words.
"i—"
"i tried to keep it from you. i tried so hard, because i don't want you to think i'm some kind of monster," he tries, but you can't find it in you to move. "i would never hurt you."
"i know," you whisper.
"i should have told you." he steps closer, and you let him, watching the life slowly return to his eyes. "i'm sorry."
"let's just — get out of here before someone finds her."
he nods, and you grip his wrist firmly. he whisks both of your bodies out in the blink of an eye — you don't think you'll ever get used to the weightless feeling — and plants your feet in the grass beside his car, moist from the earlier rainfall.
you shift your weight, swallowing when his gaze catches yours again. he's embarrassed. you're…conflicted.
"so, if you got ahold of her…you'd just…drain it."
ilia waits for a moment, lets a short beat pass. "yeah."
"i can't blame you for something you can't control," you tell him honestly, fingernails dragging light paths up and down your forearm. "but…i need time to think, ilia."
his chest releases a breath that borders on a sigh; shaky, weak. but he nods in understanding.
"i'm gonna walk home. okay?"
"no," he shakes his head. "it's dangerous," he warns, a spark of worry igniting within his voice. "that girl could have been you."
"ilia."
"whoever killed her is still out here," he scolds. "if something happens to you, i won't forgive myself."
"ilia."
he stops. lets out the rest of his breath and swallows.
"i know," you add quietly, folding your arms loosely in front of your chest. "but i need this. i need to clear my head."
his shoulders fall as he sighs in defeat. "be careful. please."
"i will."
your heels click on the half-damp pavement below as you walk away. ilia watches until the sound dulls — long after you've left eyeshot — and even his extended hearing no longer senses your presence.
he takes a long, heavy breath and leans against the side of his car — a deep blue '67 camaro that followed him with each new restart, every new town he'd set foot in since he bought it. the only constant in his life since his best friend was killed, until you came along.
the question suddenly blooms in his mind.
how did she end up there?
towns away, intentionally. directly on ilia's path. where he wasn't alone.
who killed her?
the smell of her blood still lingers in the air; it distracts him. the sight of her neck. the sound of her heart completely stunted — or, rather, the lack thereof. every bone in his body aches for the taste.
you're long gone, yet he still quells the urge.
he wasn't always like this; he never wanted to be. he never even asked to be.
eighty-three years go, ilia turned twenty-one. he's been that age since — or, his body, at least.
she was blonde, at least ten years older than he was. he'd seen her in passing, riding gracefully in her carriage with two beautiful horses pulling her down the old dirt road. her status was eons above his — wealthy, beautiful, self-righteous. the perfect man on her shoulder.
yet she'd taken a liking to the young, human ilia.
one night taken him out to the woods and bared her secret to him. watched the life freeze in his eyes as he stepped away from the tree in bewilderment.
she was obsessed with his innocence — the filth and forbiddenness of it all. he was vulnerable, too gullible, too enamored with her to see the flashing red lights behind her.
and when she brought her teeth to her wrist, forced a drop, another, a third into his mouth, he complied. he hadn't known the consequence. not yet. not until her hand tenderly gripped the back of his head and brushed the light brown hair down.
pulled sharply until a snap registered in the air.
and he woke up on the ground, suddenly starving, nightfall reaching its peak. there was no sign of her — gold, was her name — only the silence of dusk, and…
blood.
a deceased figure in the distance, yet close enough for his wandering eye to catch. he'd stepped closer, tentatively, until it came into view. ilia fearfully knelt down and pushed the man's coat to the side — covered with deep red stains. he dragged a finger along the cold, stiff expanse of his neck, enough to gather a droplet of blood onto his fingertip.
and like instinct — something he would have never imagined himself doing — he brought it to his mouth.
he hadn't known it then. how could he have, alone and cold in the depths of the woods? but there, in the silence, in the darkness that chilled his spine, he'd become the impossible.
he'd been turned into a vampire.
"good job, ilyusha."
he'd turned to find the blonde rounding the corner, a falsely proud smile displayed on her face that involuntarily settled in his chest. she stepped closer, ran a hand through his hair, whispered a sentiment of praise into his ear.
let him discover what he'd become as she leaned into the tree behind her, lifted the layers of her dress; finally allowed him to have his way with her. laughed into his ear — the sound of superiority, her obsession with power — and held him as if she cared.
she parted with a kiss to the tip of his nose, whispered a sultry goodbye into the thick air, and whisped away in the blink of an eye.
and the woman he'd fallen in love with — perhaps, more infatuation than pure love — with whom he'd spent months sneaking around, was gone.
the bitter memory fades back into obscurity.
ilia kicks off from the door of his car, bends over, and wipes the dirt smear away. he slides into the seat; your scent remains etched in the cream-colored leather. a stinging reminder that this whole ordeal, this whole relationship, was founded on the lie he wanted to protect you from.
he wonders if you got home safely.
I.II
the air is still when you step outside.
two weeks since you told him you needed time. and you took it; thought over everything he'd admitted to you, and sat with it. ultimately, you wanted to hear him out.
you looked for him. he wasn't in the dorm, where he barely spent any time, anyway. he wasn't at his house. hadn't been much of anywhere, really. but you remembered where he spent most of his friday nights. so you took yourself to the only place you thought you'd find him and landed yourself here.
it's dark. so quiet that you can hear the crickets in the grass. about twenty degrees warmer than the rink.
you're about to part your lips when you hear the noise.
it's familiar — something you've only heard from a distance, feared when ilia would shield you from the threat. you know what it is.
feeding.
but something is different. something is entirely off.
you step forward, a few inches toward the sound. the moon shines off the burgundy brick wall beside you. you swallow and take another careful step — land just a few feet shy of the corner, the only edge separating you between this and whatever waits on the other side.
as you slowly round the corner, you freeze.
you know his silhouette.
you know his hair. you know the side of his face.
and worse —
"ilia?"
then, the body.
dropped to the cold ground with disregard.
you gasp. jump back on instinct. eyes dart around — no sign of other pedestrians — and center back to the figure. drenched from head to toe in blood, female, limp. neck torn and littered with deep craters.
you think the shock has settled until you recognize what sounded so different.
her head has completely separated from the remainder of her body.
and the person standing above it?
"oh my god."
slowly, he turns.
eyes dark, completely faltering when they find your face. veins slowly fading back into hot skin.
crimson decorating his lips, running down his chin, dripping down his neck and onto the neckline of his shirt. daylight necklace stained. fingers and palms dyed completely red.
the first thought thrashes in your head.
you're dating a murderer.
"what did you do?" your voice horrified, so frail that the noise barely carries to his body, still about twenty feet away, still frozen. "you killed her."
his arms lower to his sides.
"i didn't — i wasn't trying to."
the skate hadn't gone as planned. he'd been off his axis every time he left the ice. he popped three times. all his mind could focus on was you. and later, those walking outside, their blood, their hearts pumping in their chests.
after he'd rushed out, the stale summer air slapped his face. he turned the corner for the parking lot, and there she was: heading in the opposite direction, minding her own business.
it was almost…convenient.
so he grabbed her. fed. tried so fucking hard to prove that he would stop, that he could stop.
and he didn't.
"you tore her fucking head off, ilia!"
your head shakes, and you swallow, tears springing unwillfully to the corners of your eyes.
you'd come here to apologize.
but now, you've seen what he's capable of. what he does to people. what he could do to you, no matter how many times he could assure you otherwise. everything he's been hiding from you for an entire year, to what — keep you safe, or in the dark?
"i tried. fuck, i tried."
his eyes have glossed over, too.
you open your mouth to speak, but the words die on your tongue before you can even utter them.
ilia steps forward. it's careful, hands only slightly raising in reassurance, pain throbbing in his chest as he fights the sound of your pace quickening.
you flinch.
you're scared of him.
and god, it hurts.
"do you think i'm a monster?"
teardrops slip down your cheeks and catch along your jaw. your lips don't part. your chest rises and falls. he watches your throat bob as you swallow, yet make no effort to speak.
"…you do," the coating around his mouth glistening beneath the moonlight.
"i'm so sorry, ilia."
you shake your head and take another hesitant step backward, breath hitching as if he'd chase. "i can't."
he doesn't stop you when you run.
and curls into himself on the cold cement, head pressing into the brick wall behind him as tears stream down his face, guilt eating at him for taking another innocent person's life.
wondering when the torment ends.
a flash of blonde whisks away in the distance.
II.
when you met him, you hadn't expected any of this.
it was 2011, late november. you were twenty, out with your roommate on a friday night. a half-empty cup of whatever in your hand; probably something you shouldn't have been drinking.
people loved to make a big deal out of friday the 13th; you always thought it was stupid. halloween was over, people — come on.
but even then, in the height of your disapproval, when your roommate slipped off to the bathroom, he was there.
blond. no taller than five-foot-ten. eyes so starkly blue that you could see them from your comfortable hundred-foot distance away.
he wasn't putting a move on. in fact, you weren't even sure that he was looking at you. if anything, he looked…nervous.
no,
hesitant.
as if he was holding something back.
you shrugged it off when your friend came back and mostly forgot about him.
but you kept seeing him — in the hallways, at the campus restaurant where your friend, liv, worked, simply walking around wherever he saw fit.
you finally approached him after two weeks of the "convenient" back and forth. complimented his necklace — which you'd grown to recognize him by, after noticing he regularly wore it — and bought him a coffee, which he reluctantly accepted.
something was different about ilia.
you didn't know what.
you just felt it.
pulsing in your veins, pulling you toward him as if you were tethered to him by some supernatural string.
you knew he felt it, too, when he'd appear just outside your lectures, americano in hand, prepared exactly the way you liked it. or when he'd find you sitting on a bench a few hundred yards away from your dormitory building, working on a research paper, and sit calmly beside you.
but when you'd inch closer, he'd pull away.
any time you wanted in, he'd force you out.
you were pure.
he was everything but.
you didn't deserve that. he couldn't involve someone like you in his fucked-up life, couldn't let himself put you in that position. in the grand scheme, he barely knew you — but even still, he wouldn't let you become just another casualty.
"is something wrong with me?"
you'd asked the question with a tentative voice, turning to look at him as he walked you to your door. one sleeping roommate perched on her bed on the other side, your movements deliberate.
"what?"
"i mean, is — is something wrong with me?" you repeated a little quieter as your thumbs toyed with one another. "every time i try to tell you, it's like — like you don't want to be near me anymore."
"tell me what?"
"that i want you."
he let the words hang dry between you, turning more stale with each dragging second, the low tick of the clock down the hallway serving as the only nearby noise.
you swallowed and dropped your hands to your sides. "okay," you whispered, turning to the door, "you made your point."
"no, it's not that," he tried, but you shook your head and brought the key to the knob.
his head whipped around to scan the hallway — cameras weren't allowed in the buildings; he should have known that by now.
"i'm not human."
you froze.
"what?"
ilia swallowed.
"i said," as he took a careful step closer, dark gray veins spreading across his cheeks beneath bloodshot eyes, "i'm not human."
your lips parted.
from shock or fear, you weren't certain.
"this isn't real," you shook your head, "this is a joke. you're not — i'm not — i'm hallucinating, right? too much homework, not enough sleep."
ilia's face didn't change. it stilled, the inhuman features fully settled as your eyes shot back and forth, unwilling to believe what they were seeing.
when his lips parted just slightly, you caught them — the fangs.
a small gasp.
and a step backward.
"i'm not gonna hurt you," he whispered, unmoving.
you watched his hands extend forward in surrender. slowly trailed your gaze upward and back to his face, where the blueness in his eyes glowed from within the deep red fog.
but even now, their gaze hadn't changed — he still looked at you like something precious, something he adored, cherished.
and with an unsteady breath, you stepped forward to kiss him.
the insistent press of your lips startled him at first, and his immediate instinct was to pull back — too afraid of letting you in. but the softness of your lips, the way your hand suddenly slid up to his cheek and traced over the veins, convinced him otherwise.
his hands found your waist, pulling you closer without force. a quiet hum into your mouth that was reserved only for your ears, perhaps the buildup from two months of suppressed desire.
the moment he felt your head tilt back, he removed his hands from your body and swallowed. his face had returned to its normal state — eyes a little jaded and lips slightly smudged with the remnants of your clear lip gloss.
"i trust you," the words fell before you could stop them, "and i still like you. more than i want to admit, so…"
ilia swallowed, shook his head. "i'm not good for you."
"i didn't ask you to be."
"i can't let you get hurt."
"you won't. you said it yourself, right?" you stepped closer and brought your hand to his chest, spreading the warmth from your fingertips through his white t-shirt. "then i trust you."
"it's not just me, it's…everyone. everything that comes with me, follows me."
"so, you're a…" you hesitated, "…vampire…?"
he nodded.
"oookay," you cleared your throat.
ilia's brow twitched; his eyes drifted shut, and he stepped back again. "i can't."
"ilia—"
"—i hurt people. i kill people."
your breath caught in your throat.
"i won't involve you in that."
"what if i want to be involved?" you countered firmly, voice raised, yet still quiet enough not to wake the girls on your floor.
"why?"
"because i'm not ready to let you go."
it was ilia's turn to kiss you this time.
as firm as your words, hands finding their resting place on your waist again. still a little nervous, held back in fear of scaring you off.
and maybe you were a little scared — hands shaking as they found the curve of his jaw and the edge of his shoulder. but something in your heart still told you that you were safe with him, at least in this moment, at least now.
even if he was fighting every bone in his body to ignore the sound of your blood flowing through your body, up your neck.
"okay," he murmured against your lips, the buzz electrifying the air between your bodies, "you win."
III.
you haven't seen him in five months.
not even a passing glance.
somewhere between three and four, you'd assumed he left. started over again in a new town. found another girl.
it was one week ago that you saw it: a lazily hung sheet of paper on the bulletin board in the hallway. an advertisement for the competition. surely, he wouldn't be there.
but the shred of hope left in your heart brought you here.
feet planted on the concrete floor below metal seats. hands folded in your lap, a crowd of people slowly filtering in as the sky transitions into darkness.
ilia steps onto the ice around two hours in.
he takes a few steady laps around the rink — gets a feel for the environment, the steady hum of the audience watching. and then, the muffled hum of bloodflow from the hundreds of sitting bodies, gradually rising in volume. as he steps into his beginning pose, everything falls silent.
all except one little noise.
your heartbeat.
of course, he recognizes it. and now, he knows you're here.
he skates like butter until the final jumping pass; a pop.
your breath stunts.
a few more mistakes — small, barely noticeable, but there. it isn't a perfect skate; his heart races in his chest; his palms are unsteady at his sides.
his body only withstands the ending position for half a second before he's gone. no bow, no kiss and cry, no score. just the quick bolt off the ice and past the doors, not even bothering to slip on his guards. the crowd gasps; a few patrons around you whisper to one another as they watch with confusion.
you follow without thinking.
the door nearly snaps off its hinges when he pushes past the threshold; it doesn't close behind him, not as quickly as it should. only once he has crossed the street does it slam shut, footsteps clicking loudly behind him that take no effort to recognize.
"ilia."
"go back inside."
"no."
you walk faster, and he picks up his own pace. maintains the careful distance between you, not even bothering to turn his head and face you directly.
even now — months since you've last seen him — you recognize the shift in his body. the paleness plaguing his skin, even if his face is still hidden. the way he hesitates with each movement, as if one misstep will cause another unnecessary death.
"you're hungry again."
it's then that he turns.
he looks unhealthy. not just hungry — starved.
deprived.
"go back inside," he repeats, voice heavier, chest releasing a huff of air to keep him leveled. "i'm not asking."
and rather than listening to whatever counterargument you could conjure up, he walks again in the opposite direction, forcing his back into your view once again.
you follow him to the car.
your heartbeat hammers in his head; he tries so hard to ignore it. the stress, the pressure, the skate, the handfuls of bodies sitting idly in the arena just a few hundred feet away, and the severe lack of blood consumption from the past few months. it all meshes together inside of him. makes this whole ordeal so fucking difficult.
"feed on me."
his body turns on a swivel. "are you crazy?"
"are you?" you rebut, raising your voice to match his. "you can't just leave like this, ilia! i can tell you've been starving yourself, and it's dangerous. another person will end up dead."
"so you want it to be you?"
"you said you wouldn't hurt me," your fingers slip beneath your sleeve and tug it forcefully up your forearm until it bunches at the bend in your elbow, "so feed on me."
you hold your wrist up in front of you. for a split second, his eyes shift. something behind them as they flit down to the warm skin, veins in your arm protruding with the constriction of your muscles.
his own spread like dead roots beneath his eyes, and his fist tightens at his side.
he takes one small, quiet step forward.
wraps his fingers around your forearm.
clouded eyes find yours. slightly glossed over, perhaps only an effect of the moonlight. or maybe, guilt.
an intensity behind them that only exists when he's trying to — oh, fuck.
"turn around, go home, and forget i ever —"
your arm thrashes out of his grip. "don't do that," you grit. "don't try to compel me to listen. it won't work."
that damn vervain bracelet he gave you.
you raise your wrist again and shove it closer to his face. "you need this, so take it."
"no," he rasps firmly, shaking his head.
a tear wells at the corner of your eye and slowly cascades down your cheek. and even in the face of the bloodthirsty, intensely unfamiliar version of your [ex] boyfriend, you don't relent. "you're weak, ilia. feed."
he tries to pull back, but you won't let him.
through the agony, he can see your hand shaking. you're scared — of course, you're scared.
of him.
a part of you, somewhere, buried beneath the trust that's still settled around your heart, fears him. the sight burns deep within his chest.
but you'd rather it be you than another innocent person.
"go home," ilia warns, voice raised again in a manner that doesn't quite match the person you know — or, knew. something caught between desire and hesitance. between giving in and staying under crafted control; keeping your innocence, your safety.
"you don't want to be a part of this."
"and i don't want you dead, either," your voice cracks at the very end, and your wrist inches closer to his face.
the torment behind his expression is undeniable.
"i don't care that this makes me insane. i don't care if this kills me," you shout, tears slipping looser, more frequent. "fuck, i still care about you, ilia! why do you think i even came tonight?"
when he doesn't respond, you shove your arm further into his closed lips, forcing it into range. "feed," your voice a little louder, a sharp edge to your tone, "i'd rather die myself than let you wither away until —"
sharpness piercing through warm skin.
a shot of excruciating pain up your arm until it dissipates in your shoulder. a whimper pried from the back of your throat like a consequence.
you hadn't known what to expect. the pain, sure; that's a given. perhaps, it's the discomforting pull of your blood towards the identical wounds that you hadn't accounted for. the way ilia's lips create an airtight seal around your skin, suck until you can feel the liquid seep out.
somehow, his hand finds the edge of your wrist, where it bends to meet your hand, and wraps so tightly around it that you can barely feel your fingers.
and it hurts — god, it fucking hurts — but one curt glimpse of his face is enough to counteract the pain.
he makes no effort to stay clean; crimson already smeared across the expanse of your inner forearm, loose droplets falling onto the white cotton shirt adorning his chest. and the more he tastes, the weaker he gets.
he's fucking insatiable.
leaning against his car, ignoring the smudge across the handle that will take hours to clean off. it's messy — so fucking messy — and you're bracing your weight onto your palm, fingerprints decorating the old backseat window. on a normal day, he'd be furious; tonight, the car could be totaled, and he wouldn't bat an eye, so long as the taste of your blood still lingers on his tongue.
"ilia," a heavy whisper, your hand shaking within his grasp.
you're still frightened.
and worse, some part of you almost likes it.
he grips you tighter; a hand flies to your waist to keep your body stable. teeth sink deeper into sensitive skin.
lightheadedness bleeds into your senses, and the trees up ahead begin to tilt. yet still — despite the obviously-threatening state of your body — you don't try to pull away.
you told ilia to feed; this is what you asked for.
a loud slurp that makes you gasp, and ilia pushes you off, hard.
he drops your arm and watches it fall limp at your side, two small holes punctured in the skin as fresh blood forms around the wounds and drips onto the cold, damp concrete. you stumble, nearly falling back from the sudden force.
he lets only a few moments of recollection pass before taking your wrist into his grasp again. pulls you into a firm, hungry kiss that makes you gasp into his mouth before settling in.
you taste yourself on your tongue — warm, metallic, almost revolting in a way that, oddly, makes your stomach flutter. his hand finds the back of your neck and smears a rough trail of blood across the hem of your shirt and along the crook of your neck.
ilia moans softly into your mouth; a heavy, breathy noise that prevails amid the quiet of nightfall, save for the gentle hum of the crowd still inside, wisping through the air.
he kisses you the way he feeds — hungry, desperate, starved for every last drop you'll give him.
and after the last five months, you think you'd give him anything if he asked. surely, if offering up your body under the notion that it would kill you is any proof.
"i love you," ilia murmurs, the confession a buzz against your lips that has your body arching into his, begging for the friction.
your lips curve into a grin, smudged with the filthy mix of lipstick and dried blood, "good."
you almost forget about the searing pain still in your wrist. the blood still oozing down your arm and destroying his shirt, dirtying his daylight necklace; the sexiest stain in the world, in ilia's mind.
he finally breaks off the moment your lips begin to pull away. heavy releases of breath into the crisp fall air, his fingers digging into your body with pressure far beyond human. his vision unblurring to find the state of your face — pupils blown out, makeup smudged, eyebrows knit together in weakness.
"…fuck," he whines.
brings the pad of his thumb to the corner of your lip and wipes away the amassed liquid.
licks it off the tip and hums contentedly.
"i don't think you're a monster."
the words land heavier than you might have intended; ilia breathes.
his breath fogs and rises between you.
"you don't know what i've done."
"maybe i don't care," you whisper softly, fingers trailing up the side of his arm.
"you should."
you swallow, inching closer as his thumb rests just below your jawline. applies the smallest bit of pressure to feel your pulse beneath the pad — reminding himself that it's still there.
"you didn't kill me," is your response, voice a low hum that only falls on his ears. "that's enough for me to keep loving you."
the corner of his mouth pulls into a smile at your own admission.
he leans down to kiss you again, his fingers drawing your head closer until you have to steady your balance again. your head still feels light, and your wrist still throbs where the two wounds remain open, laced with the remains of something far beyond human; perhaps, you simply don't care.
"so you are crazy, then," he mumbles, amusedly against your lips, half-limp body still pulled closely against his.
"enough to date a ripper? yes," you respond quietly, only really half joking. maybe less. "enough to enjoy it?…maybe."
he kisses you harder.
⎯⎯ ⚜.⋆♱🩸♱ ⋆. ⚜ ⎯⎯
two months later, and you can't keep your hands off each other.
it's disgusting, really; extremely uncouth. the sheer display of want with every look — public or private — the way it almost always escalates into something neither can speak of. you weren't even like this before.
it's happened everywhere — bedrooms, counters, bathrooms, against alley walls, one time in a closet (that you'll never forget). you'll claim it's to make up for lost time, yet before all of this, you'd barely touched each other.
and worst of all, it's the goddamn messes you leave.
sheets mangled and covered in blood stains (he's getting much better at feeding), scratch marks left on soft surfaces, clothes ruined with stains that no amount of cleaner can remove. three times already ilia has had to visit the store, find a set of replacement sheets, and purchase them, with the same cashier every time.
"buddy, what do you need all of this bedding for?"
"i run a hotel."
but god, you've become addicted to the feeding; his face buried in your neck, the shot of pain that stings with the first pierce, the moans he produces while your blood flows straight from your body.
it's all so much.
you once would have refused to even entertain the idea of him doing this to anyone, let alone yourself.
you love it.
ilia kisses a path from the corner of your mouth to the edge of your jaw, teeth taking your skin between them to leave a mark. you moan weakly, hands finding his shoulder blades and splaying flat across them, feeling the muscles tense as he moves.
his cock drags along your walls, bare, heavy, persistent when a sob blisters in your throat. somehow — still — it feels as if you're begging for more.
his lips trail down your neck and kiss the familiar spot; the curve, just along your carotid, where his ears find the steady pulse beneath.
hips moving rhythmically against yours, your knee curled to wrap around his waist.
"i'm hungry," he mumbles into your neck, his voice some shred of wrecked and insistent all at once.
your neck cranes further to the side. "eat," you whisper back.
and he does.
teeth push out and sink into your skin; an elongated moan falls from your lips, rather than the usual whimper. you're becoming used to this. in fact, you're starting to want it.
heavy slurps fall on your ears. your nails dig into his shoulder blade — bracing yourself from the pain that doesn't quite dissipate with time, but somehow evolves into arousal.
his tip brushes your cervix; a sob into the air, and he's drawing you closer by the waist. your hand slips into his hair, almost applies pressure, but can't quite find the strength to.
ilia breaks off and watches a trail of crimson trickle down the side of your neck, fall onto the sheets he'd just replaced for you a few nights ago. he thinks he might contact that bennett witch to find some way to keep a new set clean.
he watches the way your eyes flit to his, brows knit together as if to ask for more, despite arriving at death's door if he takes too much. yet his mouth finds your neck again, draws a path of hot, wet kisses into the skin. smears the evidence across your throat. hips driving into yours, the line of tension pulled taut in your stomach, threatening to break at any given moment.
when he feels a shred of strength return to your muscles, a little color return to your skin, his teeth sink in again; another sound derived from pleasure, his own mouth depositing a groan against your neck.
god, he's obsessed with you.
the way you let him do this — help teach him to control it, even ask him for it most days — the softness of your moans, the ease with which he fits, as if your pussy was made for him.
the sweet, delicious taste of your blood that he doesn't think he'll ever get enough of.
"ilia," the syllables barely able to roll off your tongue.
you're never really able to speak. or regain the ability to, once it's lost, given the consistent lack of blood in your system when you're only fooling around.
let alone fucking.
"mm," he hums, knowing you won't respond. takes another thick mouthful of blood onto his tongue, letting it marinate on his taste buds. feels it slide smoothly down his throat when he swallows. warm, sweet, perfect.
no matter how many times he trains himself, his hunger will always be insatiable.
especially for you.
his fangs pull back into hiding when he breaks off again; features revert to their human state, hot breath fanning the slick, coated skin on your neck.
he presses the first kiss to the dip in your shoulder. your chest releases a breathless sigh — he grins, moving up. finding the crook, the sweet spot sporting two lasting wounds, with small droplets forming around the openings.
then, it's his tongue licking a stripe over stained skin, dried remnant that barely lifts under the wetness. the muscle curling at the tip when he reaches your jaw. his breath finds the wet skin again, and your body shivers, involuntarily writhes into him as your dirtied fingers dye his blond roots red.
lightheaded, limbs just strong enough to keep you grounded, throat sore and covered in marks, saliva, blood, sweat — cock pressing into the exact spot that tips you over.
his mouth finds yours when you come, hot, breathy, tongue grazing his teeth as if to somehow map out more of him without wasting your breath on another word. blood smears across your lips and chin like old lipstick; you taste yourself in his mouth, flavor still foul, yet somehow delicious.
you clench around him — pull him in as your nails scratch disappearing marks into his back, pressing, digging until he's there with you. voice a heavy rasp against the corner of your mouth, the noise something you'll never be quite used to.
your neck throbs with pain; a groan that blurs into his name wisps from your throat, into his ears, pale blue eyes almost too enamored by you to care.
ilia loves to admire the mess he makes of you.
every single time.
before you knew what he'd done, before the rink, before the feeding — any of the fucked up turnout of this relationship — he wouldn't have ever thought this possible. you'd slept with him once, twice? and he was softer; you were cleaner, innocent, well-kept and mannered. but now?
god, he ruined you.
your inner thighs pulse as he carefully pulls up and out — covered in mixed release, never mind new stains once again seeping into the fresh sheets. a breeze streams in from the cracked window, mid-winter, the room at least ten degrees cooler than it should be (not that it would bother ilia). and although your body is drenched in various liquids that should make you shiver, one of them is sweat; skin hot, rosy, sensitive all over.
his weight lowers onto the bed just beside you, and for a moment, your eyes fall shut as the aches slowly dissipate into the air. though the slow trickle of blood down the side of your neck doesn't fall unnoticed. it stops only when the edge catches on the bedsheet below and bleeds into the expensive fabric. because — of course — even given the number of replacements, he makes sure you live in luxury.
your body slowly turns on its side in favor of facing him, who lies comfortably on his back; the tarnished necklace reflects the dim moonlight onto the wall opposite the bed.
your hand slides across his chest and lands softly against his collarbone, wrist facing upward. despite its proximity, ilia's eyes don't leave your face — albeit wrecked — laser-focused on the gaze you return.
"still hungry?" you whisper, lifting only to brush a few messed-up strands of hair out of his face.
the corner of his mouth quirks up.
you hold the edge of your wrist just in front of his lips, "eat, baby."
fingers carefully wrapping around your wrist as sharp teeth puncture skin; just a quiet breath inhaled through your nose, since you've become so accustomed to the feeling. and in some sort of screwed-up way, it makes you feel more connected to him than ever.
doesn't seem to hurt so much anymore; not like this.
your free hand shifts from its place and finds its way into his hair, fingers gently running through it as if any of this is normal. as if something so inhuman could ever be this intimate.
his eyes still lock onto yours, something unplaced behind them.
you smile.
when he notices the shift in your features — the weakness starting to settle in your eyelids — his mouth disconnects, parting from the skin with a soft kiss.
"lean over."
you do as he says, inching forward as he brings his own wrist to his mouth; the crunch sounds between you, sharper than normal, perhaps within the silence of your bedroom.
you part your lips to invite him in and take what he offers — the taste always unfamiliar on your tongue, different from that of a human, though you have only your own to compare it to. warm as it spreads through your bloodstream and closes the wounds embedded in your skin, marks that decorate your throat blending back in with your complexion. the taste equally unpleasant, though you find yourself willing never to stop, so long as the source is him.
the pad of his thumb wipes the remainder away that remains on the surface of your bottom lip; your head finds its resting place on the edge of his shoulder, where his jaw brushes against your hair.
your fingers slip between his hand and the place it rests on his stomach, and you run the pad of your thumb along the soft surface of the back. a thick swallow as your eyes study the everlasting youth embedded within his skin.
"you've really been here for a hundred years," your voice a careful whisper when you say it, as if speaking it aloud acts as some kind of curse.
"yeah."
a wisp of cool air blows into the room and kisses bare skin. "…then why me?"
ilia's breathing pauses for just a moment. a quiet beat passes through as he thinks.
his necklace charm suddenly feels as if it's burning through his chest, and your heartbeat pulses in his ears like a threat. the clock ticks in the corner of the room. his eyes flit toward the calendar, which reads as just another year, another life he'll live. then to the bracelet on your wrist, made to protect you from people like him.
from him, even.
his hand shifts to lace his fingers with yours.
"you're different."
you smile,
but you have no idea just how different you really are.
i don’t usually read supernatural stuff (mostly because i don’t really fuck with it LMAO) but i do enjoy some good vampire stories from time to time ,,,,,, and rachel you might have changed this because i need more vampire!ilia RIGHT NOW rachel this is a masterpiece and you’ve created a monster (not ilia)
ꨄ︎ warnings : mention of periods, skinship, kissing, lowercase intended
ꨄ︎ word count : 800 (roughly)
ꨄ︎ author’s note : this was written for the sweetest ever nika!! i hope it’s what u had in mind, i wrote it in like 30 mins so it might be a little bad.. all support is appreciated! hope u enjoy jokitties 🪽
ִֶָ. ..𓂃currently playing: heavy - the marías ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐
⠀⠀ ⠀ ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ 戯作ᰍ໋ ۫ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹⠀ 𓈒 読む⸝⸝ ⟡
the daunting build up to the first week of every month was always dreadful for you. the preparations you had to do for your period were a lot; stocking up on all kinds of pain medication, heat packs, sanitary products, the lot. filling your bedside table drawer with your favourite snacks, covering your bed in blankets for when you stayed bedridden for the week. you had always suffered painful periods, but could never seem to get used to it.
---
the first week of may came way too fast, and you were struggling with the worst cramps of your life. curled up into a ball on your bed, one hand clutching your stomach, the other squeezing your sheets, your body felt like it was ripping itself apart.
unable to bear the pain on your own for any longer, you reach for your phone, shaky fingers finding taki’s number. your boyfriend was always able to take care of you just how you needed him to, and you were sure he could help you now. your phone buzzes quietly as it calls him.
taki picks up almost instantly.
“hey baby, you okay?” his voice echoes through the speaker. “i missed you.”
“m-missed you too, ah-” you groan, another wave of cramps hitting your lower stomach. “it’s my period again.”
you could hear taki sigh on the other end. he always worried about you when it came to your reoccurring problem that is your menstruation, and today was no different.
“need you, taki. please can you come over?” you asked, voice softly begging. you craved his comfort, you just wanted to bury your face into his chest and ignore everything else.
“of course, baby.” he says almost instantly, taking on a tone of sympathy. “gimme 10 minutes, alright? i’ll be there.”
taki could never say no to you, he was always willing to take care of his sweet girl.
you hung up, body curled into your pillow. you couldn’t wait for taki to get here and comfort you.
---
taki practically flew to your apartment, being there in an impressive 7 minutes and 35 seconds. you figured he must’ve stopped at the convenience store before driving to your apartment - he was carrying a plastic bag when he came in.
“i’m here, baby.” he said, kicking his shoes off and sitting on the edge of your bed. “i got you a few things.”
he puled out a big box of chocolate, your favourite sweet tea, and a small, hand-held bouquet of pink flowers. you felt like you could cry of happiness due to how thoughtful he was. but despite this, all you craved was taki. you just needed him - his big arms wrapped around you - and nothing else.
sensing what you wanted through your silent, pleading expression, taki moved the bag to your bedroom floor, and crawled over to your small frame. you buried yourself in his arms instantly, face smushed against his chest, the smell of his musky cologne filling your nose. you didn’t know if it was a placebo effect, but you somehow felt much better with taki holding you.
taki pressed a kiss to the top of your head, hands splayed across your back. he pulled you into him, rolling onto his back and pulled you to lay you on top of him.
“my poor baby,” he cooed, his voice gentle. one of his hands slid under your shirt, making contact with your bare skin. the sensation sent a shiver down your spine. “feel better?”
you nod, humming quietly. everything in this moment felt perfect, and you felt so safe in your boyfriend’s arms. lifting your head, you meet his lips in a tender kiss, the mutual sleepiness evident in how slow the both of you moved. taki sighed into the kiss, basically melting into you.
taki’s arms tightened around you, and he pulled back from the kiss to rest his head back on the pillows, looking up at you.
“thank you for coming over, taki.” you whispered, pressing your lips to jaw. his fingers traced small, comforting circles onto your back. “you always make me feel better.”
taki smiled, his other hand cradling the back of your head, threading into your hair.
“you don’t need to thank me. i always wanna comfort my pretty girl.”
---
your eyes eventually fluttered shut, your face buried in the crook of his neck, and you finally succumbed to sleep. you were exhausted, and this was the first time you had managed to fall asleep without being in agony.
“sleep well, baby.” taki whispered into your hair, the individual strands tickling his lips.
taki stayed in his position under you, arms staying wrapped around your body, cuddling into you until he fell asleep too. the two of you slept peacefully tangled up under your pink duvet, period cramps long forgotten.
💬 。 jo has been pinning for years and all it takes to change that—is a drunken selfie
masterlist 𓋰 asakura x f!rea⠀ ✶⠀ fluff, teasing, kissing !!
wc: 2784 don't copy/translate my work. i only write on tumblr.
the fairy lights are dim, your living room a mess of blankets, popcorn bowls, and giggles echoing off the walls. your friends are sprawled across the floor in their oversized hoodies and fuzzy socks—classic sleepover chaos. maki is playing a horror movie no one’s actually watching, and you’re laughing at a story about yuma’s failed situationship when your phone buzzes for the tenth time that night.
you already know who it is before you check.
jojo ♥︎
[1:47am] why am i never invited ur sleepovers? :(
[1:48am] i see the pics on your story
[1:48am] you always invite the others
you swallow hard, thumb hovering. the truth is too embarrassing to type: because if you slept over i’d probably combust from how much i like you, and what if you think it’s weird, and what if—
another buzz. this one’s a photo.
your screen fills with jo—shirtless, golden skin glowing under the warm lamp in his bedroom, sheets pooled low around his hips, one arm lazily behind his head. his abs are unfairly defined for someone who claims he “doesn’t even work out that much,” messy black hair falling into his eyes, lips parted like he just woke up (or never went to sleep). the caption in the message bar reads: this is what you’re missing btw
your face burns instantly.
you stare at the photo way longer than you should, heart slamming against your ribs like it’s trying to escape. jo’s never sent you anything like this. ever. he’s always been the quiet one—soft smiles, gentle teasing, the kind of boy that tugs at your shirt to order for him at cafes. but this? this was not like him whatsoever.
jojo ♥︎
[1:55am] the hyungs made me drink
[1:55am] i told them everything
[1:56am] k said i was acting like a jealous baby
[1:56am] nicholas-hyung kept laughing and saying “just confess already you idiot”
[1:57am] so here i am. confessing. at 2am. i really like you. i’m sorry for the photo. i feel like an absolute loser for sending that oh my god.
[1:58am] but i want to be invited. i want to be the one next to you
[1:59am] please
you stare at the last message until the screen dims, your thumb frozen over the keyboard.
the usual jo—the one who blushes cherry-red from his cheeks all the way up to the tips of his ears and down his neck whenever you’d tease him—is somewhere in there, buried under the soju and the courage. but he still apologized for the thirst trap. still called himself a loser. your heart squeezes so hard it hurts.
you
[2:01am] jojo
[2:01am] don’t apologize for the photo… i didn’t hate it
[2:02am] i’ve liked you for so long too. since we were fifteen, probably longer
[2:03am] that’s exactly why i never invited you
[2:03am] i was scared that if you were here, under the same blanket as me, i wouldn’t be able to hide it anymore
the living room at the dorm is hazy with soju bottles and half-eaten ramyeon cups. the hyungs are sprawled everywhere—k on the couch with his legs thrown over the armrest, fuma cross-legged on the floor spinning an empty bottle like it’s still middle school, ej gone to retrieve pizza, nicholas against the wall because smirking like he knows everything. because he does... well that's the last time jo will confide in nicholas regarding his love life.
jo is sitting hunched over his phone on the carpet, knees drawn up, ears burning scarlet. his heart is hammering so hard he can feel it in his throat. the second your messages pop up, he makes this tiny choked sound that’s half wheeze, half squeak.
“fuck—fuck, she replied—”
he shoves the phone toward the group like it’s evidence in court.
nicholas snatches it immediately, eyes scanning. his eyebrows shoot up.
the slap lands square between jo’s shoulder blades, making him jolt forward with a startled “oof!”
nicholas is tipsy, grinning like a fox as he holds the phone high, reading your messages aloud in an exaggerated lovesick voice:
“'i didn’t hate it~’… ‘i’ve liked you since we were fifteen~’… bro. i think she’s been down bad for you longer than you’ve been down bad for her. this is historic.”
jo’s face is nuclear. he tries to snatch the phone back but nicholas dances it out of reach, laughing.
k lets out a loud wheeze, nearly tipping over from how hard he’s cracking up.
fuma, still lounging on the couch, kicks k’s shoulder with his foot. “you literally called him a jealous baby for three hours straight before he caved.”
jo covers his burning face with both hands, peeking through his fingers. his ears are so red they look like they might glow in the dark. “nicholas, please—stop reading them out loud… “
“you are such a loser,” nicholas teases, but his tone is warm. he finally drops the phone back into jo’s lap and ruffles his messy black hair. “a very lucky loser, though. she just handed you the green light, man. you’ve been pining like a loser for years and she was scared she’d jump you under the blanket? this is gold.”
jo makes a mortified noise and lunges again, finally managing to snatch his phone back. he curls protectively around it, knees pulled tighter to his chest, face buried halfway into his oversized hoodie sleeve. the tips of his ears are glowing crimson.
hands are trembling as he picks up the phone again. he stares at your last messages, the little heart-squeeze feeling in his chest almost too much to handle. a shy, disbelieving smile breaks across his face.
k flops down beside him, slinging an arm around jo’s shoulders and squeezing softly. “stop hiding and text your girl back before she thinks you died. this is your moment, lover boy.”
jo lets out a long, shaky breath and finally opens the chat again. his thumbs hover for a second before he starts typing, cheeks still glowing.
jojo ♥︎
[2:20am] sorry for the wait… the hyungs are being chaotic
[2:20am] nicholas called me a loser and fuma is poking my ears
[2:21am] but i don’t even care anymore
[2:21am] you’ve liked me since we were 15?? that’s…that’s so long. i liked you even before that i think. i was just too scared to say anything
he bites his lip, then adds quickly:
jojo ♥︎
[2:22am] i still can’t believe you weren’t inviting me because you liked me too
[2:22am] i thought you just didn’t want me there… it made me so jealous seeing the pics on your story
[2:25am] please let me come over
[2:25am] i’ll bring snacks or whatever you want
[2:25am] i just really really want to be with you tonight
“hyungs… i just begged her to let me come over at 2:30am. i sound so desperate.”
nicholas snorts, lying on the floor beside him. “you are desperate. been desperate for years. it’s cute though.”
fuma kicks jo’s foot lightly. “she’s gonna say yes. just wait.”
jo’s phone buzzes almost right away. he sits up so fast he gets dizzy, snatching it up.
you
[2:26am] jojo you’re so cute it hurts
[2:26am] of course you can come over
[2:27am] but… are you okay? like actually okay to walk here? you’ve been drinking and it’s late
[2:27am] i don’t want you getting in trouble or feeling sick :(
[2:28am] also warning… yuma’s here and he’s already smirking at my phone. he’s gonna tease you so bad when you show up lol
k leans over jo’s shoulder, reading the messages. “aww, she’s worried about you. she’s so sweet. i’ll take you to her—hurry reply fast before she changes her mind.”
jo’s cheeks are burning again, but he’s smiling that big, shy, heart-eyed smile. his thumbs fly across the screen.
jojo ♥︎
[2:29am] i’m okay!! promise
[2:29am] i only had like… three shots? four? not that much
[2:30am] k-hyung said he’ll take me
[2:30am] and yeah… i figured yuma would tease me lol
[2:31am] but i don’t care. i’ll take all the teasing in the world if it means i get to see you
he pauses, then adds with slightly shaky fingers:
jojo ♥︎
[2:31am] i’ll leave in like 10 minutes
[2:32am] can’t wait anymore
k grabs his own jacket and throws an arm around jo’s shoulders. “let’s go get you your girl.”
the living room is a cozy disaster of fluffy blankets, scattered popcorn bowls, and fairy lights strung lazily across the walls. the horror movie is still playing on low volume — no one’s paying attention anymore.
you’re sitting cross-legged in the middle of the blanket fort, phone clutched tightly in your hands, cheeks still warm from jo’s last messages. every time you reread them your stomach does a little flip.
“he’s coming,” you murmur, half to yourself, half to the room.
yuma immediately perks up like a meerkat, a wicked little smirk spreading across his face. he’s been waiting for this moment all night.
“ohhh? he’s actually coming?” yuma says in that sweet, dangerous voice of his. he crawls closer on his knees, peering at your phone screen even though you try to hide it.
“yuma—lay off him when he comes.” maki, who’s been half-dozing against the couch, mumbles.
“lay off him?” yuma repeats sweetly, tilting his head. “maki-ya, i would never. i’m just going to… warmly welcome our dear jojo into the sacred blanket fort. with love. and maybe a few questions about that shirtless photo he sent~”
harua snorts into his blanket. taki is already grinning, whispering something to harua that makes both of them giggle.
you shoot yuma a look. “i’m serious. don’t bully him too hard the second he walks in. he’s probably already dying from embarrassment.”
yuma puts both hands over his heart like he’s been wounded. “me? bully? i’m simply an observer of their romance. a humble narrato if you will. a—”
a soft knock on the door cuts him off mid-sentence.
everyone freezes.
your heart leaps into your throat. you scramble up from the blanket fort, legs a little shaky, while yuma’s eyes light up like a predator spotting prey.
k’s voice comes through the door, low and amused. “special delivery.”
you open the door before yuma can volunteer.
there he is.
jo is standing in the hallway, trying to remian half-hidden behind k’s broad frame despite his height, hood pulled over his hair. his cheeks are flushed deep pink—whether from the cold night air, the soju, or pure nerves, you can’t tell. his ears are glowing red. he’s clutching a plastic bag of convenience store snacks in both hands like a shield.
the second his eyes meet yours, his breath catches visibly. that shy, disbelieving little smile breaks across his face, soft and overwhelmed.
“hi…” he says, voice quiet and a little hoarse. “sorry it’s so late. i…i brought melon bread and those honey butter chips the boys like.”
yuma appears behind you like a ghost, leaning against the doorframe with the biggest, most dangerous grin. before he can even speak, you elbow him in the stomach.
“ow—!” yuma dramatically folds over, clutching his side like you just stabbed him. “betrayal! i’ve been stabbed by the hostess herself!”
he stumbles back two steps, pretending to wheeze, then immediately straightens up with a bright, mischievous grin. “fine, fine~ i’ll behave. for now.”
k chuckles behind jo, patting his shoulder once. “good luck, kid. text me if they bully you too much.” he gives you a small, knowing smile and a little wave before heading back toward the elevator.
jo is still standing in the doorway, looking equal parts relieved and mortified. his ears are impossibly redder after yuma’s dramatic performance. he glances at you with those wide, sparkly eyes, the shy smile returning full force.
“thank you…” he whispers, barely audible.
you gently take his wrist and tug him inside, closing the door behind him. the warmth of the living room wraps around both of you immediately. jo kicks off his shoes quickly, still clutching the snack bag like a lifeline, and lets you pull him straight toward the blanket fort.
the second he sits down beside you—so close that your thighs press together under the big shared blanket—the chaos resumes.
yuma flops down dramatically on your other side, resting his chin in his hands like a gossip queen. “so. jojo. be honest. did you rehearse that shirtless mirror selfie? how many takes? did you do the whole ‘one arm behind the head, sultry gaze’ pose?”
jo makes a tiny strangled sound and hides his entire face in your shoulder, burying himself against you. his voice comes out muffled and embarrassed. “yuma-hyung… please…”
harua and taki are already giggling uncontrollably. maki just shakes his head with a fond grin, passing jo a can of soda. “here. hydrate before you spontaneously combust.”
you reach up and gently tug jo’s hood down a little, brushing his messy black hair back a bit. he peeks up at you, cheeks still blazing, but his expression softens the moment your eyes meet.
“i really did bring the melon bread,” he mumbles, offering the plastic bag like a shy little gift. “and the chips…oh—and some strawberry milk because i know you like it cold.”
your heart feels like it’s going to explode.
yuma fake-cries into a pillow. “he even brought snacks. god—he’s so whipped. this is too cute. i’m emotionally damaged.”
harua and maki roll their eyes, quickly nabbing the chips from the bag.
you ignore yuma completely, and lean in closer to jo, your voice soft just for him.
“i’m really happy you’re here, jo” you whisper. “even with all the teasing.”
jo’s hand finds yours under the blanket, fingers trembling slightly as they intertwine with yours. he squeezes once, then doesn’t let go.
the room slowly settles after another round of laughter.
taki suddenly sits up straight, pointing at the tv with wide eyes. “wait—wait—everyone shut up! this is the best part! the ghost is about to appear—shhh!”
the boys instinctively quiet down (even yuma only makes one last dramatic “hmph” before flopping back into the blankets). the horror movie flickers on, casting soft blue light across the blanket fort. everyone snuggles back in, the chaos finally simmering into comfortable background noise.
you wait until the scene ends and the room is calm again. jo is still glued to your side under the big blanket, your fingers loosely intertwined. his thumb keeps brushing nervous little circles over the back of your hand.
you lean in close to his ear and whisper, “jojo…do you want to help me make more popcorn in the kitchen? i think we’re almost out.” you shake the mostly empty bucket.
jo blinks at you, then nods quickly, ears already turning pink again. “y-yeah. i’ll help.”
you both slip out from under the blanket as quietly as possible. yuma’s head pops up like a prairie dog anyway, but maki yanks him back down with a low “let them breathe, yuma.”
the kitchen is just around the corner—dim, warm, and quiet compared to the living room. the fairy lights from the living room barely reach in, leaving everything in soft shadows.
the second you’re alone, you turn to face him.
jo sets the half-empty popcorn bowl on the counter, then just…stands there, looking at you. his short black hair messy from running his hands through it—a nervous habit. his cheeks and ears are still flushed, eyes shiny and nervous and happy all at once.
“i still can’t believe i’m actually here,” he whispers.
you step closer, gently tugging the front of his hoodie. “i can’t believe it either.”
for a moment you both just breathe the same air, hearts hammering. then jo leans in first—slow, shy, almost hesitant—and presses his lips to yours.
it’s soft. sweet. a little clumsy from nerves and leftover soju courage. his hands hover for half a second before settling lightly on your waist, fingers curling into your hoodie like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. you kiss him back, tilting your head, one hand cupping his burning cheek.
when you pull apart, jo’s eyes are wide, lips slightly parted, completely dazed.
“…wow,” he breathes, voice cracking. a shy, giddy smile breaks across his face as he rests his forehead against yours. “i’ve wanted to do that for so long.”
you laugh softly, thumb brushing his cheek. “me too.”
he kisses you again—quicker this time, but still so gentle, like he’s savoring every second. his ears are glowing bright red even in the dim kitchen light.
from the living room, you hear yuma’s muffled but dramatic voice: “if they’re making popcorn, why is the microwave not on yet—?”
authors note: this was based off this ask and i loved writing this, so i made it a full post!! writing cute fluff heals something me.. i wish more people would request it ㅠ_ㅠ i hope u all enjoy this sweet piece!
synopsis : living next door to lee heeseung has always been a nightmare loud, cocky, and impossible to ignore until one reckless night at a party leaves you waking up in his bed and running before it can mean anything you try to forget it ever happened, until two lines change everything, and suddenly the one person you can’t stand is the one you can’t escape.
pairing : basketball captain heeseung x neighbourf!reader
trope : accidental pregnancy + forced proximity
word count : 19.6k
warnings : heeseung is a an absolute asshole, accidental pregnancy, alot panic and guilt, abortion / termination discussion, fear of the future, alcohol use, one night stand, dirty talking, cursing, foreplay, dry humping, oral, drunk sex ( consent is present ) , unprotected sex, mild degradation, hair pulling, creampie
🗯️ JO’s NOTES < 🐻❄️ 3 ! : omggg finallyy juno part one is out, hope you have an absolute amazing time when reading. navi did the proofreading for me ilysmm <3333
The bass from the apartment next door was so loud it made your pencil roll off the desk for the third time tonight thump thump thump. Each beat vibrated through the thin wall like it was personally trying to ruin your life.
You stared at the half finished notes in front of you, frustration bubbling hot in your chest. Midterms were in two weeks. Two weeks and Lee Heeseung, the campus golden boy, basketball captain, and your personal nightmare of a neighbor was throwing another one of his legendary parties like tomorrow didn’t exist.
This was the nth time. The nth damn time since you’d moved in six months ago. With a sharp exhale, you shoved your chair back and stormed out of your apartment, not even bothering to change out of your oversized hoodie and sweatpants. The hallway reeked of spilled beer and expensive cologne.
You could already hear the chaos before you even reached his door. Laughter, glasses clinking, some girl’s high pitched giggle cutting through the music.
You banged on the door harder than necessary. It took a few seconds before someone inside yelled over the noise, “Yoo Heeseung! Someone’s banging at your front door!”The door finally swung open.
Heeseung stood there in all his infuriating glory tall, broad shouldered, black hair slightly tousled like he’d been running his hands through it. His button up was half undone, revealing a silver chain that rested on his collarbones and a glimpse of toned chest. Behind him, the party pulsed with red solo cups, dim lights, and at least half the basketball team.
A pretty girl with long hair and a tight dress was pressed close to his side, her hand resting possessively on his arm. He’d clearly been in the middle of charming her into his bed by the end of the night.
The second his dark eyes landed on you, that signature cocky smirk curved his lips.“Hi, miss morals,” he drawled, voice low and teasing, like he’d been waiting for this exact interruption.
You rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck. “Can you turn it down? The music is too loud.”
Heeseung didn’t move. Instead, he leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his arms in a way that made his biceps strain against the fabric of his shirt. The girl behind him shifted, clearly annoyed at the sudden attention shift, but Heeseung didn’t spare her a glance now.
“Miss morals strikes again,” he laughed, the sound rich and mocking. It sent an unwelcome spark of irritation down your spine. “What’s the problem this time, neighbor? Come to bless us with your righteous presence?”
“I’m serious, Heeseung,” you said, voice sharp as you folded your arms tightly across your chest. “Not everyone has the pleasure of partying all night. Others have to actually study to pass their exams whereas others can just have daddy pay for everything when they fuck up.”The words hung in the air between you.
Heeseung’s smirk faltered instantly. His jaw tightened, and he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. For a split second, something raw annoyance, maybe even hurt flashed across his face before he quickly shoved it back into that indifferent mask. His eyes darkened, the playful glint gone.
“Whatever,” he muttered, voice suddenly flat and cold. “I’ll lower the volume.”He said, “Thank you,” you replied curtly, refusing to let the small victory show on your face even though your heart was hammering.
Heeseung didn’t say anything else. He simply stepped back and shut the door right in your face with a firm click that echoed down the empty hallway.
You stood there for a moment, staring at the closed wooden door, fists clenched at your sides. The music inside dropped almost immediately, not completely off, but low enough that you could finally breathe. Muffled laughter and voices still filtered through, but at least your walls wouldn’t shake anymore.
“Asshole,” you whispered under your breath, turning on your heel and heading back to your apartment.As you closed your own door behind you, you leaned against it for a second, eyes closed. Why did he always have to make everything so difficult? Why did one look from him always manage to crawl under your skin like this?
You shook your head, forcing the thoughts away. Back to studying. Back to pretending Lee Heeseung didn’t exist. But deep down, you already knew tonight’s silence between you two had just gotten a little louder.
You were halfway through rewriting your notes when your phone buzzed on the desk, the screen lighting up with a new message.
yunjin : you know sunghoon righttt? he’s throwing a massive party after midterms and he personally invited me. pleeease come with me?? i don’t wanna go alone 🥺
You stared at the text, already feeling the familiar dread settle in your stomach. Another party of course. You typed back quickly
you : No thanks im good have fun tho
The two dots appeared immediately.
yunjin : babe come onnnn
yunjin : it’s after midterms!! you deserve to relax
yunjin : sunghoon’s parties are actually fun i swear
yunjin : there’ll be good music, free drinks, and i heard the basketball team is coming too 👀
You groaned, rubbing your temples. The last thing you wanted was to be anywhere near the basketball team especially not after tonight’s lovely encounter with their captain.
you : exactly why I’m not going pass
yunjin : please please please i really like sunghoon and this could be my chance
yunjin : i’ll owe you big time i’ll even help you study for the next round of exams i’ll buy you that expensive matcha you like for a month!!
You leaned back in your chair, biting your lip. Yunjin was relentless when she wanted something. And honestly she had been there for you through every late night breakdown this semester. Saying no felt a little cruel the pleading texts kept coming
yunjin : i won’t leave your side the whole night ( she is lying )
yunjin : we can leave early if you hate it , pretty please with cherries on top?? 🥺🍒
You sighed deeply, already knowing you were about to lose this battle.
you : fine, ONE HOUR that’s it if it sucks, we’re out.
yunjin : YESSSSS!!! you’re the best i love you so much
yunjin : we can dress up together at my place okay , see you tomorrow <33
You tossed your phone onto the desk and dropped your head into your hands. Great, just what you needed. Another night surrounded by loud music, drunk athletes, and the very real possibility of running into the Lee Heeseung again.
You glanced at the wall that separated your apartment from his. The music was still playing faintly, but at least it was bearable now. Just one party, you could survive one party right?
The next morning, the art history lecture hall was already filling up with the usual mix of sleepy students and last minute crammers when you slipped into your regular seat in the middle row.
The faint scent of fresh coffee and old books lingered in the air. Yunjin dropped dramatically into the chair on your right, her long hair still slightly damp from her morning shower, eyes bright with far too much excitement for a 9 am class.
On your left, Soobin settled in quietly, tall frame folding gracefully into the seat. He placed his neatly organized notebook on the desk and pulled out a perfectly sharpened pencil, offering you a soft, reassuring smile.
Soobin was always like this calm, steady, the kind of friend who showed up without making a fuss. He was the complete opposite of the loud, chaotic energy that seemed to follow Heeseung everywhere.
Yunjin, however, was already completely distracted. She was leaning forward, chin resting on her hand, openly staring toward the front rows where Sunghoon sat chatting with a couple of friends. Her gaze was soft and dreamy, a tiny smile tugging at her lips every time he laughed at something.
You nudged her arm with your elbow, voice low and teasing. “You’re oogling him again it’s getting embarrassing at this point.”Yunjin didn’t even pretend to deny it. “I’m not oogling, im appreciating art,” she whispered back, still not tearing her eyes away. “Look at him he’s literally perfect.”
Soobin let out a quiet chuckle beside you, shaking his head as he flipped open his notebook. “Sure ‘appreciating’ that’s why half your notes from last week were just little hearts around his name.” He teased her, to which she replied,
“Traitor,” Yunjin hissed playfully, finally glancing at both of you as her cheeks flushed pink. “You two are supposed to be on my side.”The light banter continued until Soobin turned to you, lowering his voice a little. “Hey, I heard there was a party at Heeseung’s last night, did you survive the noise?”
You let out a long, dramatic groan and slumped back in your seat, the memory of last night’s confrontation still fresh and irritating. “Barely. That idiot had the music blasting so loud my textbooks were literally vibrating on the desk. I had to march over there in my hoodie and sweatpants like some angry neighbor from a sitcom again.”
Soobin listened attentively, his expression patient and sympathetic. He never interrupted your rants or told you to just ignore it. He just nodded along, dark eyes focused on you, making you feel genuinely heard.
It was one of the many reasons you treasured his friendship he was thoughtful, kind, and never loud or arrogant for the sake of it. The polar opposite of Heeseung.
“And of course he answered the door half dressed with some girl hanging off his arm like a trophy,” you continued, voice dripping with annoyance. “Called me ‘miss morals’ like it’s the funniest joke in the world.
Then when I pointed out that not everyone has a rich daddy to bail them out when they party instead of studying, he got all pissy, sucked in this dramatic breath, and slammed the door right in my face. He’s such an entitled asshole.”
Soobin hummed softly, a small frown creasing his brow. “That sounds exhausting, you should’ve texted me you know, i could’ve come over with snacks and we could’ve studied together instead of dealing with his nonsense alone.”
You smiled faintly at the offer, warmth cutting through the irritation. “Next time, maybe at least someone in this building has basic human decency.”
Yunjin finally tore her gaze away from Sunghoon long enough to grin at you. “Heeseung’s just bored and likes getting a rise out of you if you stopped reacting, he’d probably get bored and stop.”
“Easy for you to say,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “You don’t have to live next door to the human equivalent of a walking migraine.”The professor walked in moments later, cutting off any further complaints.
The next hour passed in a blur of projected slides on Renaissance techniques, quiet note taking, and the occasional whispered comment from Yunjin whenever Sunghoon shifted in his seat.
When class finally ended, the three of you packed up your things and joined the stream of students flowing out into the crowded hallway. The air was filled with chatter about upcoming midterms, weekend plans, and the usual campus gossip.
As you walked side by side, Yunjin suddenly looped her arm through yours, her excitement bubbling over again. “So, about Sunghoon’s party after midterms you’re definitely coming, right? And Soobin you should come too! It’ll be so much more fun with all three of us there.”
Soobin blinked, surprised, his eyebrows raising slightly. “Wait you’re actually going?” He looked at you, genuinely shocked. “I thought you hated parties, especially ones thrown by the popular crowd.”
You shrugged, already regretting your decision a little. “Yunjin begged a lot and guilt tripped me with matcha promises. One hour max, if it sucks, I’m dragging her out.”
Yunjin squealed happily and squeezed your arm. “See? She’s coming! So you have to come too, Soobinn please?”Before Soobin could respond, a familiar voice cut through the hallway noise from behind you.
“Can’t imagine miss morals at a party but I’m looking forward to seeing you there.” Your stomach dropped, you didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was.
Heeseung was leaning casually against a set of lockers a few feet away, arms crossed over his varsity jacket, that signature cocky smirk playing on his lips. He must have overheard the entire conversation.
His dark eyes locked onto yours with clear amusement, like he lived for these moments of catching you off guard.
You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a verbal response. Heat crept up your neck partly from annoyance, partly from the embarrassment of him hearing your plans.
Yunjin stifled a laugh beside you while Soobin just shook his head quietly, a small, amused smile tugging at his mouth.
Heeseung’s low chuckle followed you as the three of you kept walking, but you kept your gaze fixed straight ahead, jaw tight. God, you really, really hated that guy.Midterms week stretched into a brutal two week marathon, and as an art curator major, you felt every single hour of it in your bones.
Your apartment had become a war zone of curated chaos towering stacks of books on museum exhibition design, printed slides from Art Conservation and Curatorial Practices, mood boards pinned to the wall for your upcoming gallery proposal project, and color coded flashcards scattered across every surface.
Late nights blurred into early mornings as you hunched over your laptop, drafting proposals for hypothetical exhibits while trying to memorize the intricate history of 19th century European collections. Sleep was a distant dream. Caffeine was your only reliable companion.
And then there was Heeseung.
He didn’t blast music or bring girls over every single night that would have been almost predictable. No, he was crueler than that. He chose random days, like he knew exactly how to keep you off balance, turning your already exhausting study schedule into a minefield of unwanted interruptions.
The first time hit on the second night of midterms. You were deep into analyzing a case study on museum ethics when the wall behind your desk started to vibrate faintly. At first it was just low music.
Then came the giggles two distinct female voices, breathy and flirtatious. Heeseung’s deep laugh cut through it all, followed by the unmistakable sound of bodies moving against furniture.
“Fuck, Heeseung you’re so good at this,” one of the girls moaned loudly, the words carrying crystal clear through the thin shared wall. The headboard started thumping a slow, steady rhythm against your wall rhythmic, insistent, growing faster.
You could hear the wet slap of skin, her exaggerated gasps turning into full throated cries every time he thrust.You yanked your noise canceling headphones on so hard the band dug into your temples, cranking the volume until classical music drowned most of it out.
But you could still feel it, the steady bang bang bang vibrating through your desk, through your chair, through your skull. Your cheeks burned with secondhand embarrassment and pure rage.
'Of course he’s fucking some random girl while I’m trying to memorize the difference between Baroque and Rococo curation techniques.' You thought bitterly, stabbing your highlighter across the page. Must be nice to have zero responsibilities except basketball and dick appointments.
It stopped around 2 a.m., but the damage was done. You only managed three hours of sleep before your 8 a.m. lecture.
The next morning, you were running on pure spite and too much coffee when you caught Heeseung in the hallway just as he was stepping out of his apartment. He looked annoyingly fresh — hair still damp from a shower, varsity jacket slung over one shoulder, that perpetual cocky smirk already in place.
You stopped right in front of him, arms crossed tightly. “Keep it down next time,” you said flatly, voice low but sharp. “Some of us are actually trying to pass our midterms instead of auditioning for porn.”
Heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Aw, miss morals heard everything? Didn’t know you were such a light sleeper.” You glared at him, heat rising to your cheeks. “Just tone it down, the headboard banging is ridiculous.”
He chuckled lowly, the sound sending another spike of irritation through you. “Noted.” Then he leaned in slightly, voice dropping. “Though from the sounds of it last night, she seemed to enjoy the banging.”
You rolled your eyes and walked away without another word, his soft laugh following you down the hall.The next disruption came four days later. A random Thursday when you had a massive group project due on modern curatorial strategies.
You’d just settled in with your laptop open to a half finished exhibition proposal when his door slammed open down the hall. One girl this time, but she was even louder.
The moment they got inside, the sounds started again her high pitched whimpers, Heeseung’s low, cocky murmurs “Yeah? You like that? Tell me how much you want it” followed by the unmistakable wet sounds of them going at it on what sounded like his couch first, then migrating to the bed.
The headboard slammed against the wall so hard your framed print of Van Gogh’s Starry Night rattled. Her moans turned into broken sobs of pleasure, each one punctuated by Heeseung’s grunts and the filthy slap of bodies. “Harder fuck, right there, Heeseung don’t stop—”
You ended up studying in your bed instead, laptop balanced on your knees, pillows stacked around you like a fortress. Headphones on full blast. Still, every thrust made the wall tremble.
Every moan crawled under your skin and made focusing on your notes feel impossible. By the time they finally finished (or at least quieted down) around midnight, your eyes were burning and your proposal was only half done.
You hated how your body reacted sometimes not with attraction, but with pure, simmering resentment that made your stomach twist.That same night, after the noises finally stopped, you grabbed your phone in a fit of exhausted anger and texted him.
you : keep the noise down, some people are trying to study for actual grades, not coast on basketball talent and daddy’s money
His reply came faster than you expected. A picture popped up first. A close up selfie of Heeseung lying in bed, shirtless, messy hair, lazy smirk on his face, with the caption
heeseung : sorry, miss morals hard to stay quiet when they scream my name like that
heeseung : next time i’ll try to fuck quieter or maybe you can just join and tell me how to do it right?
You stared at the message, face flaming with a mix of rage and disbelief. You immediately blocked the image from your mind ( and definitely did not linger on the way his abs looked in the dim lighting ) before typing back a single furious reply
you : delete my number, asshole
The worst random night came during the final stretch, just three days before your last exams.
You were pulling an all nighter on your capstone project a full digital mock up of a contemporary art exhibit you’d spent weeks perfecting when the noises started again around 11 p.m. This time it was two girls.
Their laughter spilled into the hallway first, then straight through your wall. Heeseung’s voice was low and teasing, the kind of filthy charm that probably worked on every girl on campus.
Soon the bed was creaking loudly, headboard banging in a frantic rhythm while both girls moaned in tandem one breathy and high, the other deeper and more desperate.
“Heeseung oh god, yes fuck me like that—” mixed with wet, obscene sounds that left zero doubt about exactly what was happening next door. The wall vibrated so intensely your coffee mug slid an inch across the desk.
You sat there in your oversized hoodie and sweatpants, staring at your glowing screen, jaw clenched so tight it ached. Every moan, every dirty encouragement from Heeseung, every rhythmic thud felt like a personal attack on the one thing you actually cared about your future.
Your grades, your dream of curating real exhibitions someday. While I’m over here trying not to fail out of the only thing I’m good at, you thought, fingers flying angrily across the keyboard, he’s over there living his best life with a rotating cast of girls screaming his name.
You wore the headphones until your ears rang. You even tried white noise apps, earplugs underneath nothing fully blocked it. The sex noises went on for nearly two hours that night, loud and shameless, until they finally quieted around 1:30 a.m.
By the end of the two weeks, you were running on fumes dark circles under your eyes, caffeine shakes in your hands, and a permanent knot of irritation lodged in your chest whenever you passed his door.
The random nights had been spaced out just enough to feel like psychological warfare instead of constant chaos.Heeseung never once toned it down. Never once seemed to care that someone on the other side of the wall was actually trying to build a future that didn’t involve daddy’s money or NBA scouts.
When Friday morning finally arrived and your last exam was over, you dragged yourself back to the apartment building, shoulders heavy with exhaustion. The hallway was quiet for once. Heeseung’s door looked innocently closed.
You unlocked your own door, stepped inside, and immediately collapsed face first onto your bed, still in your clothes midterms were done.But the resentment toward the boy next door had only grown sharper and Sunghoon’s party was tonight. You groaned into your pillow one hour in and out. Just don’t kill Heeseung on sight.
You took the quickest shower of your life, and changed into the first comfortable outfit you could find—a simple black crop top that showed just a sliver of your midriff and your favorite pair of dark jeans—comfortable, practical, safe.
You texted Yunjin that you were ready to head over to her place to “get ready together,” secretly hoping she wouldn’t make a big deal out of your clothes—big mistake. Yunjin’s apartment was only two blocks away, and the second you stepped inside, she took one look at you and gasped like you had personally offended her.
“No no absolutely not,” she declared, hands on her hips, eyes scanning you up and down with pure horror. “You cannot go to Sunghoon’s party looking like that.”
You glanced down at yourself, confused. “What’s wrong with this? It’s cute it’s comfortable.”“Cute? Comfortable?” Yunjin repeated, already dragging you toward her bedroom like a woman on a mission.
“Babe, we’re going to a party, not the library. You just survived two weeks of hell tonight you’re supposed to look hot, not like you’re about to give a museum tour.”
Before you could protest, she flung open her closet and started pulling out clothes with frightening speed. She held up a black mini skirt dangerously short, made of soft leather like material and a sheer black button up shirt that was practically see through.
“Try these,” she ordered, shoving the hanger into your hands. You stared at the outfit like it might bite you. “Yunjin, no way, that skirt is barely legal and the shirt is see through i’m not wearing that.”
“Yes way, you are,” she sang, already pushing you toward the bathroom. “You agreed to come to the party that means you’re under my styling jurisdiction for tonight go change now”
You argued the entire time you were changing. “This is ridiculous! im going to freeze, people are going to stare i look like I’m trying way too hard—”
But Yunjin was relentless. The second you stepped out in the mini skirt and sheer shirt ( with a black bralette underneath so you weren’t completely exposed ), she clapped her hands and squealed.
“Oh my god, yes! Look at you!” She spun you around in front of her full length mirror. The skirt hugged your hips and ended high on your thighs, making your legs look longer.
The sheer shirt draped softly over your shoulders, the black bralette visible underneath in a way that was teasing but not outright scandalous. “You look insane like, dangerously hot.”
You tugged at the hem of the skirt, cheeks burning. “I feel naked. Can't I at least wear the jeans over this or something?”“No,” she said firmly, already sitting you down in front of her vanity. “We’re doing makeup now sit still.”
For the next twenty minutes, Yunjin worked her magic. Winged eyeliner sharp enough to cut glass, soft smoky eyes, a touch of highlighter on your cheekbones, and a bold red lip that made your mouth look fuller. She even styled your hair into loose, effortless waves that framed your face perfectly.
When she finally stepped back, she let out a satisfied sigh.“Anyone would worship the ground you walk on looking like this,” she said, grinning proudly. “Trust me tonight, you’re not the stressed out art curator girl who yells at her neighbor. You’re the girl who turns heads even Heeseung won’t know what to do with himself when he sees you.”
You rolled your eyes, but a small flutter of nerves mixed with reluctant confidence settled in your stomach as you looked at your reflection. The outfit was way bolder than anything you’d normally wear, but you had to admit it looked good.
“Fine,” you muttered, smoothing down the skirt one last time. “But if I hate it, we’re leaving early and if Heeseung says one word about ‘miss morals’ in this outfit, I’m pouring a drink on him.”Yunjin laughed and linked her arm with yours. “Deal now let’s go make Sunghoon’s party unforgettable.”
You and Yunjin barely made it out of her apartment before your phone buzzed with a text from Soobin saying he was already waiting downstairs. The three of you had agreed he would drive so none of you had to worry about getting home later.
The elevator ride down felt too short. Your heart was already beating a little faster than usual partly from the unfamiliar outfit, partly from the knowledge that you were actually going to a party after surviving two brutal weeks of midterms.
The black mini skirt kept riding up slightly with every step, and you kept tugging nervously at the hem while Yunjin wouldn’t stop complimenting how good you looked.
When you stepped out of the building into the cool evening air, Soobin’s car was parked right in front, engine idling. He was leaning casually against the driver’s side, scrolling through his phone, but the moment he looked up and saw the two of you approaching, his eyes widened noticeably.
Especially when they landed on you. Soobin froze for a second, his usual calm expression cracking into pure, genuine shock. His gaze traveled slowly from your loose waves and sharp winged eyeliner, down to the sheer black shirt that subtly revealed the black bralette underneath, then to the dangerously short leather like mini skirt that made your legs look endless.
He blinked once, twice, before quickly clearing his throat and straightening up, ears turning a light shade of pink.“Wow” he said, voice a little higher than his normal soft tone. “You both look really nice like, really nice.”
Yunjin grinned triumphantly, looping her arm through yours and squeezing. “See? Told you! Even Soobin is shook, she looks hot, right?”
You felt heat creep up your neck and quickly crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly hyper aware of how different you looked from your usual oversized hoodie and jeans self.
“It’s all Yunjin’s doing. She basically held me hostage in her room until I changed. I tried to wear my normal clothes and she acted like I committed a crime.”
Soobin gave a small, shy laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as he opened the back door for both of you like the gentleman he was. “No, it really suits you, you look great tonight.” His compliment was sincere and gentle, making the awkwardness feel a little softer. “Ready to go? Sunghoon’s place isn’t too far from here.”
The car ride was filled with easy, light chatter that helped calm your nerves. Yunjin sat in the front passenger seat, already buzzing with excitement about seeing Sunghoon, while you sat in the back, occasionally tugging at your skirt and staring out the window at the passing streetlights.
Soobin kept the conversation flowing comfortably, light complaints about how brutal midterms had been, predictions about how wild the party might get, and Yunjin’s endless teasing about how
Sunghoon had “personally invited” her. Every now and then Soobin would glance at you through the rearview mirror, still looking a little flustered whenever your eyes met.
Before you knew it, Soobin was pulling up to a large off campus house that was already pulsing with loud music and flashing colored lights. Cars lined both sides of the street, and groups of people were laughing and chatting on the front lawn, red cups in hand.
The three of you climbed out of the car, and the heavy bass from inside immediately hit you like a wave. The night air smelled like a mix of cheap beer, sweet perfume, and fresh cut grass. Yunjin practically bounced on her heels with excitement as the three of you walked up the pathway toward the front door.
Sunghoon was standing right at the entrance, playing the perfect host in a simple black shirt and jeans. His sharp, handsome features broke into a warm, genuine smile the moment he spotted your group approaching.
“Hey! You guys actually made it,” he greeted cheerfully, voice carrying easily over the noise from inside. His eyes lingered on Yunjin for an extra beat, a soft grin tugging at his lips. “Yunjin, glad you came and you brought friends, nice.”
He gave Soobin a friendly nod and then turned his attention to you, eyebrows raising slightly in pleasant surprise as he took in your bold outfit. “Hey! you clean up really well. Welcome to the party, hope you guys have fun tonight.”
You managed a small, polite smile, still feeling slightly out of your element. “Thanks for inviting us.”Sunghoon handed each of you a red solo cup filled with something fruity and strong smelling a sweet cocktail that had a sharp kick of alcohol when you took your first cautious sip.
“Drinks are flowing inside help yourselves to whatever you want. There’s food in the kitchen, beer pong in the living room, and dancing. Pretty much everywhere enjoy!”
Yunjin thanked him brightly, her cheeks already a little flushed with excitement, and steered you and Soobin further into the crowded house. The interior was packed wall to wall with people.
Students were laughing loudly, dancing in the middle of the living room, playing intense games of beer pong, and making out in dimly lit corners. The music was loud but not yet overwhelming, colorful lights flashing across the walls and bodies.
For the first few minutes, the three of you stuck close together, weaving through the crowd while sipping your drinks. Soobin stayed protectively near your side, occasionally leaning down to say something quiet and reassuring whenever he noticed you looking a bit overwhelmed by the chaos.
Then you felt it. That familiar, annoying prickle on the back of your neck, like someone was watching you. You turned your head slightly, and there he was.
Heeseung was leaning casually against the wall near the staircase, a red cup dangling from his fingers. He was surrounded by a small group of his closest friends—Beomgyu laughing at something on his phone, Jake with his usual bright smile, and Jay nursing his own drink while scanning the room.
Heeseung looked effortlessly good tonight in a black button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his toned forearms, and dark jeans that sat low on his hips. His hair was styled in that signature messy but perfect way.
The moment his dark eyes found you across the crowded room, his conversation with the guys stopped mid sentence.
His gaze dragged slowly and shamelessly down your body, taking in the short black mini skirt that hugged your hips and thighs, the sheer shirt that teased the black bralette underneath, the way the outfit accentuated your curves before snapping back up to your face.
For once, his usual cocky smirk didn’t appear instantly. Instead, there was a flash of genuine surprise, followed by something darker, more heated, and appreciative.
He pushed off the wall and started walking straight toward your group, completely ignoring whatever Beomgyu was saying behind him.
“Well, well, well,” Heeseung drawled when he was close enough, his voice cutting smoothly through the music. His eyes were still shamelessly roaming over you. “Look who decided to show up. Miss morals in a mini skirt i almost didn’t recognize you damn.”
You felt your stomach twist with that familiar mix of irritation and unwanted warmth. Before you could even open your mouth to snap back, Yunjin jumped in defensively, stepping slightly in front of you with a bright but sharp smile.
“Excuse me, Heeseung? She looks amazing, and she doesn’t need your backhanded compliments,” Yunjin said, tilting her head with fake sweetness.
“Unlike some people who only know how to throw loud parties and bring random girls over during midterms, maybe focus on your own game instead of commenting on her outfit.”
Heeseung chuckled lowly, clearly amused by Yunjin’s quick defense, but his eyes never left you. Jake, Beomgyu, and Jay were now watching the exchange from a few feet away, Beomgyu smirking like he was enjoying the show and Jake looking mildly entertained.
“Relax, Yunjin,” Heeseung replied smoothly, taking a sip from his cup. “I’m just saying that she cleaned up dangerous tonight, didn’t think our neighbor owned anything shorter than ankle length. Beomgyu, Jake, Jay back me up here. She looks good, right?”
Beomgyu grinned and raised his cup in a lazy toast. “Yeah, she do be looking fire tonight.”Jake nodded with a bright laugh. “For real, new look suits you.”Jay just shook his head with a small smile, staying quiet but clearly entertained.
You rolled your eyes, lifting your red solo cup to your lips to hide the flush creeping up your cheeks. “Don’t start with me tonight, Heeseung i’m only here for one hour, and I’d rather not spend it dealing with your nonsense.”
Heeseung tilted his head, that signature cocky smirk fully back in place now as he took another slow step closer. The way he was looking at you made the noisy room feel suddenly ten degrees warmer.
“Gonna dance tonight, or are you just here to supervise everyone else’s fun like usual, miss morals?”
You didn’t even give Heeseung the satisfaction of a proper reply. Instead, you flipped him off with a sharp middle finger, turned on your heel, and grabbed Yunjin’s arm. “Come on, let’s go.”
Yunjin laughed loudly, clearly proud of your reaction, and let you drag her deeper into the crowded house while Heeseung’s low chuckle followed behind you. Beomgyu, Jake, and Jay were already teasing him in the background, but you refused to look back.
For the first half hour, the party actually felt manageable. You stuck close to Yunjin and Soobin, sipping from your red solo cup and people watching from a quieter corner of the living room.
The music was loud, the lights flashed in rhythm with the bass, and the alcohol slowly started to loosen the tight knot of stress that midterms had left in your chest. Then Sunghoon appeared again.
He approached your group with that easy, charming smile, eyes mostly locked on Yunjin. “Hey want to dance?”Yunjin’s face lit up like he’d just offered her the moon. She turned to you quickly, squeezing your hand. “You’ll be okay for a bit, right? I’ll be right back!”
Before you could even answer, she was gone, disappearing into the sea of bodies on the dance floor with Sunghoon’s hand on her waist, now it was just you and Soobin.
You tried to keep the conversation light, but the longer you stood there, the more the party energy started to pull at you. The drink in your cup was strong and sweet, and after two weeks of pure academic hell, the idea of letting loose felt dangerously tempting.
“Fuck it,” you muttered under your breath. You downed the rest of your drink in one go, the burn sliding warmly down your throat. Then you grabbed another cup from a passing tray and started sipping again. Why not? Midterms were over. You deserved this.
Soobin noticed and raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t judge. He stayed beside you, chatting quietly, making sure you weren’t completely alone. But after a while, you started feeling guilty. He was sweet, always listening, always there and here he was babysitting you instead of enjoying the party.
“Go talk to your friends,” you told him, giving him a gentle push toward a group of guys waving at him from across the room. “Seriously, Soobin i’ll be fine, i don’t want you wasting your night stuck with me. Go have fun i’ll text you if I need anything.”
He hesitated, looking concerned, but you begged him with your best pleading eyes until he finally nodded. “Okay but stay safe, text me if anything feels off.”
Once Soobin walked away to join his friends, you let yourself drift toward the dance floor. The alcohol was hitting nicely now a warm, fuzzy buzz that made the music feel better and your body lighter.
You moved to the edge of the crowd first, swaying gently, then slowly worked your way deeper into the pulsing bodies.
You didn’t notice him at first. But Heeseung had been watching you the entire time. From the moment Yunjin disappeared with Sunghoon, his eyes had followed you. He watched you down your drinks. He watched you convince Soobin to leave.
And now he watched as you finally stepped fully onto the dance floor, hips moving to the heavy beat, the short black mini skirt riding up just enough to draw attention, the sheer shirt catching the flashing lights.
Heeseung set his cup down and started moving through the crowd toward you, slow and deliberate. When he was close enough, he didn’t just grab you like most guys would. Instead, he leaned in slightly, voice low and surprisingly respectful against the loud music.
“Hey can I dance with you?”
You turned your head, alcohol making you bold. Your eyes met his, and for once, you didn’t immediately snap at him. The buzz in your veins, the way he was looking at you like he couldn’t look away…it made something reckless spark inside you.
You nodded “Yeah okay.” Only then did Heeseung step closer. The moment he did, the space between you disappeared. His body pressed lightly against yours at first, hands hovering respectfully before you started moving together.
The music was sensual, slow and heavy, and your bodies naturally fell into rhythm. It didn’t stay innocent for long. Heeseung’s hands gradually grew bolder one sliding to your waist, the other brushing up your side, fingers grazing the sheer fabric of your shirt.
You moved closer, hips rolling against his, the short skirt brushing against his thighs. His touch grew hotter, palms sliding down to grip your hips, then slowly roaming over the curve of your ass, pulling you flush against him.
The air between you thickened. Your breathing grew heavier. Every brush of his body sent sparks through your skin. Heeseung leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke, voice low. “fuck, not being able to kiss you right now is actual torture.”
The words hit you like a shot of pure heat. The alcohol, the weeks of built up tension, the way his hands felt all over your body everything crashed together in one reckless moment.
You didn’t think, you just acted. turning your head as you grabbed the front of his shirt, and crashed your lips against his.
The kiss was messy, desperate, and instantly wild. Heeseung groaned into your mouth the second your lips met, one hand flying up to cup the back of your neck while the other tightened possessively on your waist, pulling you even harder against him.
You kissed like you were angry at each other—teeth clashing, tongues sliding hot and deep, lips moving with raw hunger.
Heeseung kissed like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. His mouth was demanding, devouring, tilting your head to kiss you deeper. You moaned softly against him, fingers threading into his hair and tugging, which only made him kiss you harder.
The dance floor disappeared around you. The music faded into background noise. There was only the heat of his body, the taste of alcohol on his tongue, and the way his hands roamed greedily over your curves sliding up your back under the sheer shirt, gripping your hips, pressing you so close you could feel exactly how much he wanted you.
The makeout was crazy sloppy, passionate, breathless. You bit his lower lip, and he responded with a low growl, sucking on your tongue before kissing you even harder.
Your bodies moved together to the beat, grinding slowly while your mouths stayed locked in a heated battle.
When you finally pulled back for air, both of you were panting, lips swollen and shiny. Heeseung’s eyes were dark, pupils blown wide as he stared down at you like he wanted to devour you right there on the dance floor.
“Shit” he breathed, forehead resting against yours. “You’re going to kill me tonight.”The kiss finally broke, both of you breathing hard, lips swollen and glistening under the flashing party lights.
Heeseung’s forehead rested against yours, his hands still gripping your hips like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.
His eyes were dark, pupils blown with want, and the way he looked at you sent another rush of heat straight through your body.
You didn’t think. The alcohol, the weeks of hating him, the way his hands had felt all over you everything made you reckless. You leaned in closer, voice low and breathless against his ear. “Wanna go back to your apartment?”
Heeseung pulled back just enough to look at you, a dangerous smirk tugging at his swollen lips. For a split second, surprise flashed across his face, but it quickly melted into pure hunger.
“Fuck yes”
He didn’t waste another second. His hand slid down to grab yours firmly, fingers lacing tight as he started pulling you through the crowded dance floor. People moved out of the way as Heeseung cut a path toward the front door, his grip on you possessive and urgent.
You barely had time to register anything else Yunjin and Soobin were somewhere in the house, but right now, none of that mattered.The cool night air hit your flushed skin the moment you stepped outside, but it did nothing to calm the fire burning in your veins.
Heeseung’s car was parked a little down the street. He didn’t let go of your hand the entire way, and the second you reached the passenger side, he opened the door for you with surprising speed before rounding the car and sliding into the driver’s seat.
The moment the doors closed, the tension exploded again. Heeseung started the engine, but you were already growing impatient. The short drive back to your apartment building felt too long. Every red light, every stop sign made the ache between your legs worse.
You kept stealing glances at him his jaw tight, hands gripping the steering wheel, the way his shirt was slightly undone from your earlier tugging. At the third red light, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.“Fuck this,” you muttered.
Before Heeseung could react, you unbuckled your seatbelt, climbed over the center console, and straddled his lap in one swift motion. The mini skirt rode up high on your thighs as you settled on top of him, your hands immediately cupping his face as you crashed your lips back onto his.
Heeseung groaned loudly into the kiss, his hands flying to your waist to steady you. The kiss was even wilder than on the dance floor desperate, messy, all tongue and teeth. You rocked your hips against him, grinding down slowly at first, then harder, feeling him harden beneath you through his jeans.
His hands roamed greedily, one sliding up under your sheer shirt to palm your breast over the bralette, the other gripping your ass and pulling you tighter against his growing bulge.
“Shit you’re driving me crazy,” he muttered against your mouth between kisses, voice rough and wrecked.
You moaned softly, grinding down harder, the friction sending sparks through your entire body. The car windows started to fog up as you moved together, lips never leaving each other for long.
Heeseung’s tongue slid against yours, deep and filthy, while his hips bucked up to meet your movements, the steering wheel pressing into your back.
You were completely lost in him hands in his hair, tugging, lips sucking on his bottom lip, hips rolling in desperate circles when the sharp sound of honking suddenly pierced through the haze.
Once, twice, then a chorus of angry car horns blaring behind you reality crashed back in.
You pulled away from the kiss with a gasp, lips shiny and swollen, breathing ragged. The light had turned green, and the cars lined up behind you were laying on their horns, some drivers shouting out their windows.
Heeseung let out a breathless laugh, his hands still gripping your thighs tightly. His eyes were dark, hair messy from your fingers, lips red and kiss bitten.“Fuck,” he rasped, voice hoarse. “We’re gonna cause an accident if you keep this up.”
You quickly scrambled back into the passenger seat, heart pounding, cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and lingering arousal.
Your skirt was hiked up dangerously high, and you tugged it down with shaky hands while Heeseung adjusted himself in his seat, clearly struggling to focus on the road.
He shot you a heated sideways glance, smirk returning as he pressed the gas pedal.“Almost home,” he said, voice low and promising. “Try not to jump me again until we’re inside or don’t. I'm not complaining.”
The rest of the short drive was torturous. The air in the car was thick with tension, both of you stealing glances, the memory of your grinding still fresh and electric.
When Heeseung finally pulled into the parking spot outside your shared apartment building, he killed the engine and turned to you, eyes blazing.
The second you were both out of the car, he grabbed your hand again and practically dragged you toward the entrance, the promise of what was about to happen hanging heavy between you.
The second the door to Heeseung’s apartment slammed shut behind you, all restraint vanished.He had you pinned against the wood before you could even catch your breath, mouth crashing back onto yours in a filthy, open mouthed kiss.
His hands were everywhere one sliding up under your sheer shirt to palm your breast roughly, the other gripping your ass and yanking your hips flush against the hard line of his cock already straining in his jeans.
“Been thinking about this since you walked in wearing that tiny fucking skirt,” he growled against your lips, biting your bottom lip hard enough to make you moan. “Look at you acting like such a good girl all semester and now you’re begging to get fucked in my bed.”
You didn’t deny it you couldn’t. The alcohol and weeks of pent up hatred had turned into pure, desperate need. You tugged at his shirt buttons, popping a few open in your haste, and Heeseung chuckled darkly before ripping the rest off himself.
The shirt hit the floor. Yours followed a second later, then your bralette, leaving your tits exposed to the cool air of his apartment.
Heeseung’s mouth was on your neck instantly, sucking a mark right below your jaw while his hands squeezed your breasts, thumbs flicking over your nipples until they were hard and aching. “So fucking pretty when you’re needy like this,” he muttered, voice low and rough. “Bet you’re already soaked for me, huh?”
You whimpered when he shoved the mini skirt up around your waist and cupped you over your panties. His fingers pressed against the soaked fabric, rubbing slow circles over your clit.
“Shit you are dripping already.” He smirked against your throat. “Such a dirty little secret you’ve been hiding, miss morals.”
You didn’t have time to snap back. Heeseung dropped to his knees right there in the entryway, hooked your panties to the side, and buried his face between your thighs without warning. His tongue dragged a long, nasty stripe up your pussy, groaning at the taste of you.
“Oh my god—” Your head thunked back against the door as he licked and sucked like a man starved, two fingers sliding inside you easily because you were so wet.
He curled them perfectly, pumping fast while his tongue flicked mercilessly over your clit. The sounds were obscene wet, sloppy, loud and he didn’t care. He ate you like he wanted to ruin you.
You came hard on his tongue within minutes, thighs shaking, fingers yanking at his hair as you cried out his name. Heeseung didn’t stop until you were trembling and pushing at his head, then he stood up, lips shiny with your arousal, and kissed you deep so you could taste yourself.
“Bedroom now,” he ordered.
He didn’t wait for you to walk. He grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you like you weighed nothing, carrying you down the short hallway while your legs wrapped around his waist.
Your skirt was still bunched around your hips, panties shoved to the side. You could feel his cock pressing against your soaked core with every step.
The second he kicked his bedroom door open, he dropped you onto the bed. You barely had time to bounce before he was stripping the rest of his clothes off. His jeans and boxers hit the floor and his cock sprang free—thick, hard, and already leaking at the tip.
Your mouth watered at the sight. Heeseung climbed over you, caging you in with his arms. “You want this?” he asked, voice dark, one hand stroking his cock slowly as he looked down at you. “Tell me you want it.”
“I want it,” you breathed, reaching down to wrap your hand around him. “Fuck me, Heeseung.”That was all it took.
He shoved your legs apart wider, lined himself up, and pushed in with one long, brutal thrust. You gasped at the stretch, nails digging into his shoulders as he bottomed out inside you, so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach.
“Fuck, so tight,” he groaned, forehead dropping to yours. “Taking me so well already.”Then he started moving hard fast and filthy.
The headboard slammed against the wall with every thrust, the same wall that separated your apartments. The irony wasn’t lost on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
Heeseung fucked you like he’d been imagining this exact moment for months.Deep, punishing strokes that made your tits bounce and your breath hitch.
He grabbed one of your legs and hooked it over his shoulder, folding you in half so he could fuck you even deeper. The new angle made you cry out, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the room.
“Look at you,” he rasped, eyes locked on where his cock was disappearing inside you. “Taking every inch like a good little slut, who would’ve thought the girl next door gets this fucking nasty?”
The degradation was light, just enough to make your pussy clench harder around him. You moaned louder, hips trying to meet his thrusts.
Heeseung’s hand slid between your bodies, thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit while he pounded into you.
“Come on, baby. Come on my cock again, wanna feel you squeezing me.” You shattered for the second time, back arching, walls fluttering around his thick length as your orgasm crashed through you. Heeseung fucked you through it, hips never slowing, chasing his own release.
“Fuck— I’m close,” he growled, voice strained. “Where do you want it?” He asked, “Inside,” you gasped, still riding the high. “Come inside me.”
Heeseung cursed loudly, thrusting a few more brutal times before he buried himself to the hilt and came hard. You felt every pulse, every hot spurt filling you up as he groaned your name against your neck, hips jerking through the aftershocks.
For a moment the only sounds were both of you breathing hard, bodies slick with sweat.
Heeseung stayed inside you for a long minute, forehead pressed to yours, before he finally pulled out slowly. A trickle of his cum leaked out of you onto the sheets, and he watched it with dark, satisfied eyes then collapsed beside you.
Instead of pulling away, Heeseung immediately reached for you. He wrapped one strong arm around your waist and tugged you against his chest, your back flush to his front in a tight, warm hug. His other hand gently pulled the duvet up over both of you, cocooning your naked bodies in soft warmth.
You were still sticky with sweat and cum, thighs trembling, but the way he held you possessive yet surprisingly gentle made something soft flutter in your chest despite everything.
Heeseung pressed a lazy kiss to the back of your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.“Stay,” he murmured, voice already thick with sleep as he tightened his arm around you. “Just stay.”
Exhausted, fucked out, and strangely comforted by his warmth, you let your eyes drift shut. His steady heartbeat against your back and the heavy duvet wrapped around you lulled you quickly into sleep, safe in Heeseung’s arms for the night.
ꪆ୧ ─── ドラマ. next morning !
The first thing you registered was the pounding in your head. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, the dim light filtering through unfamiliar curtains making everything feel hazy. The digital clock on the nightstand glowed red 4:28 a.m.
Your mouth was dry, throat scratchy, and a dull throb pulsed behind your temples the unmistakable aftermath of too many drinks and not nearly enough sleep. You shifted slightly under the heavy duvet, and that’s when you felt it.
A warm, solid body pressed against your back. An arm draped heavily over your waist, holding you close skin against skin. The faint scent of cologne, sweat, and something distinctly masculine filled your senses.
Your heart slammed against your ribs. Memories from last night crashed over you like ice water.
The party, the red solo cup dancing. Heeseung’s hands all over your body on the dance floor. The reckless invitation. The car ride where you’d climbed into his lap like you had no shame.
The way he’d pinned you against his door, dropped to his knees in the entryway, fucked you hard on his bed until you were crying out his name. The filthy sounds. The way he’d filled you up. The way he’d pulled you against his chest afterward, hugging you tight under the duvet as you both drifted off.
You had fucked Lee Heeseung
You had fucked your loud, cocky, insufferable neighbor the basketball captain you’d spent months complaining about, the one who called you “Miss Morals” like it was the funniest joke in the world.
Mortification burned hot through your entire body. Your stomach twisted violently. What the hell had you been thinking? The alcohol had stripped away every ounce of common sense, and now you were lying naked in his bed, his cum still faintly sticky between your thighs, his arm wrapped around you like you belonged there.
Heeseung was still sound asleep behind you, breathing deep and even, his chest rising and falling steadily against your back. His face was relaxed in sleep no smirk, no cocky grin but you knew the second he woke up, everything would change.
He would never let you live this down. The teasing would be relentless. “Miss morals” would turn into something far worse. He’d smirk every time he saw you in the hallway, make dirty little comments about how loud you’d been, how desperate you’d sounded begging for him.
The walls between your apartments were thin he’d probably bring it up every time you complained about his noise again. Your life next door would become a living hell.You couldn’t stay here.
Panic clawed up your throat. You had to leave before he woke up. Before this became real. Before he opened his eyes and looked at you with that knowing, satisfied smirk.
Carefully, so carefully, you lifted his arm from your waist. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake, murmuring something incoherent under his breath. Your heart hammered as you slowly slid out from under the duvet, the cool air hitting your naked skin and raising goosebumps.
You moved like a ghost around his room, gathering your scattered clothes as quietly as possible. Your sheer black shirt, the black bralette, the dangerously short mini skirt, your panties all crumpled on the floor where they’d been tossed in the heat of the moment.
You dressed as fast as you could, fingers trembling as you buttoned the sheer shirt and tugged the mini skirt down your thighs. Your hair was a mess, makeup probably smudged, but you didn’t care. You just needed to get out.
Barefoot, shoes in hand, you tiptoed toward the bedroom door. Every creak of the floorboards felt deafening. You glanced back once at Heeseung still asleep, one arm now stretched across the empty space where you’d been, dark hair messy against the pillow.
A strange, unwelcome pang twisted in your chest, but you shoved it down hard. This never happened.
You slipped out of his bedroom, quietly closing the door behind you. The living room was dark and silent. You navigated through the unfamiliar space, heart racing, until you reached the front door. The lock clicked softly as you turned it.
The hallway was empty and dimly lit when you stepped outside. The cool air felt like freedom. You didn’t even bother putting your shoes on yet you just hurried the few steps to your own apartment door next door, fumbling with your keys until they finally slid into the lock.
The moment you were inside, you locked the door behind you, leaned against it, and slid down to the floor, breathing hard.
Your body still ached in the best and worst ways. Thighs sore, a faint bruise forming on your hip from his grip, the ghost of his touch lingering everywhere. You could still feel him inside you, still taste the heat of his mouth.
You buried your face in your hands, mortified beyond words. What had you done?You had slept with the one person you couldn’t stand and now you had to live right next door to him, pretending it never happened.
Because if Heeseung ever found out you’d run away like this, the teasing would only get worse much, much worse. You spent the rest of that early morning in a haze of denial.
Your phone vibrated then again. You reached for it with a heavy sigh, squinting at the bright screen.
yunjin ( 3 new messages )
yunjin : babe where did u go?? one second u were dancing and then u disappeared 😭
yunjin : sunghoon said he saw u leave with someone?? pls tell me ur okay
yunjin : im worried call me when u wake up!!
soobin ( 4 new messages )
soobin : hey, you okay? you left pretty suddenly last night without telling both of us yunjin’s freaking out a bit
soobin : let me know if you got home safe
soobin : if you need anything or want to talk, i’m here no pressure
soobin : hope you’re resting well ❤️
You stared at the messages, throat tightening. The kindness in Soobin’s texts and Yunjin’s worried energy made fresh tears prick at your eyes. They had no idea what you had done. No idea you had spent the night in Heeseung’s bed, letting him touch you, kiss you, fuck you like you’d lost all common sense.
You typed back with trembling fingers, keeping it short and vague
you : got home safe, just drank too much and needed to leave early sorry for worrying you guys i’m okay, just tired talk later ❤️
You sent it and immediately turned your phone on silent, burying your face in your hands the memories wouldn’t stop replaying. Heeseung’s hands on your hips, his mouth on your neck. The way he had groaned your name when he came inside you.
How safe and warm his arms had felt when he pulled you under the duvet afterward. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push it all away this never happened.
After sliding down your front door and sitting on the cold floor for what felt like hours, you finally dragged yourself to the shower.
You scrubbed your skin until it was raw, trying to wash away every trace of Heeseung his scent, his touch, the sticky evidence of what you’d done between your thighs. The hot water did nothing to erase the soreness or the vivid flashbacks that kept playing on loop in your head.
By the time the sun came up, you had made a decision this never happened. You would bury it so deep that even you would start to believe it. No one needed to know. Not Yunjin, not Soobin, not even yourself on most days.
You would go back to normal go to classes, focus on your art curator projects, complain about the noise next door like always. And most importantly, you would avoid Lee Heeseung at all costs.
ꪆ୧ ─── ドラマ. flashback !
Heeseung stepped out of his apartment with a half empty water bottle in hand, planning to grab the last box from his car before the evening practice. The hallway was quiet until it wasn’t.
A girl came rushing around the corner, arms overloaded with a massive cardboard box that completely blocked her line of sight. She collided straight into his chest with a startled gasp.
The box flew out of her hands and crashed to the floor, spilling books, notebooks, and what looked like art supplies everywhere across the hallway carpet. Heeseung instinctively reached out and grabbed her arms to keep her from stumbling backward.
She looked up at him, flushed and clearly annoyed, strands of hair falling across her face from the chaotic move. She was pretty, sharp eyes, determined expression the kind of girl who didn’t seem impressed by campus status.
A smirk tugged at his lips before he could stop it.“Easy there, neighbor,” he drawled, voice laced with amusement. “You always run into people like you’re trying to tackle them, or am I just lucky?”
She blinked, then quickly crouched down to gather her scattered belongings, avoiding his gaze.“Sorry,” she muttered, tone tight and clipped. “Didn’t see you.”
Heeseung crouched down as well, picking up a thick book on museum curation that had slid toward his foot. He turned it over in his hands, raising an eyebrow.“Art stuff, huh?” he asked casually. “You moving in next door?”
“Yeah just today,” she replied shortly, snatching the book back from him with a little more force than necessary.
He stood up first and leaned against the wall, arms crossing over his chest as he watched her struggle to reorganize everything into the box. Most girls would have smiled, maybe even recognized him as the basketball captain.
This one? She looked like she already wanted nothing to do with him.“I’m Heeseung,” he said, flashing his most charming grin. “Lee Heeseung, your new neighbor. Need help carrying that? Looks heavy.” He offered,
“I’m good thanks,” she answered without even looking up, standing quickly and slinging the tote over her shoulder.
Heeseung didn’t move out of the way. Instead, he tilted his head, studying her with open curiosity. There was something refreshing about her indifference that it made him want to push a little harder.
“Just so you know,” he added, voice dropping into a teasing tone, “The walls here are pretty thin, try not to be too loud when you’re studying or doing whatever it is, serious art curator girls do at night.”Her eyes finally snapped up to his, narrowing with clear irritation.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said flatly. “And maybe you can try keeping your parties down some people actually have to study to pass their classes.”
Heeseung let out a low, genuine laugh that echoed down the empty hallway. She had bite and he liked that.
“Welcome to the building, miss morals,” he called after her as she turned toward her door, the nickname slipping out naturally. She didn’t respond. She fumbled with her keys, unlocked her apartment, and slipped inside without another word, the door shutting with a firm click.
Heeseung stood there for a moment longer, still grinning to himself. The girl next door already hated him, and he hadn’t even thrown his first party yet. This was going to be interesting.
The gym echoed with the sharp squeak of sneakers and the rhythmic bounce of basketballs. Afternoon practice was in full swing, but during a water break, Heeseung leaned against the bleachers, towel draped over his shoulders, a cocky grin already plastered on his face.
Jay tossed him a bottle of water. “You look way too happy for someone who just ran suicides.”Heeseung laughed, taking a long sip before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Can’t help it ran into the new neighbor again this morning.”
Beomgyu perked up immediately, spinning the ball on his finger. “The girl next door? The one who already hates your guts?”
“miss morals herself,” Heeseung confirmed, his smirk widening. “I was just leaving for practice when she came out, i told her the walls are thin and she should try not to be too loud at night. You should’ve seen her face, she looked like she wanted to throw her coffee at me.”
Jake, who was stretching nearby, let out a loud laugh. “Dude, you’re obsessed! that’s like the third time this week you’ve mentioned her.”
“I’m not obsessed,” Heeseung shot back, but his grin betrayed him. “It’s just too easy. She gets so worked up over the smallest things. Last week I had a couple of people over, nothing crazy and she banged on my door at midnight like the apartment was on fire, called me an entitled asshole who only passes because ‘daddy pays for everything.’”
The group burst into laughter. Sunghoon shook his head, amused. “She’s got balls, most girls on campus would be throwing themselves at you the second they find out you’re the captain.”
“Exactly,” Heeseung said, tossing the towel aside. “That’s what makes it fun, she doesn’t give a single fuck who I am. No flirty smiles, no asking for tickets to games, nothing. She just glares at me like I personally ruined her life by existing next door it’s hilarious.”
Beomgyu grinned mischievously. “So what’s your plan? Keep annoying her until she moves out?”
“Nah,” Heeseung replied, bouncing the ball once. “I’m just getting started, next time the music’s on, I might turn it up a little louder to see how long it takes before she comes marching over again. Bet she’ll have that cute little angry face on.”
Jake, who had been quietly listening while stretching his hamstrings, suddenly straightened up with a knowing look.“Don’t you think you’re in love with her or something?” he asked casually, but loud enough for the whole group to hear.
The gym went quiet for half a second before the guys exploded with laughter and teasing whistles. Heeseung nearly choked on his water. “What the fuck, Jake?”
Jake shrugged, completely unfazed. “Think about it, she’s literally the only girl who doesn’t give a shit about you no ego stroking, no chasing after the basketball star. She treats you like any other annoying neighbor and instead of leaving her alone, you keep poking at her like a kid with a new toy. That sounds like a crush to me.”
“Bullshit,” Heeseung scoffed, but his ears turned slightly red. He dribbled the ball harder than necessary, trying to play it cool. “I’m not in love with her, she’s just entertaining. It's fun watching her get all riled up, that’s it.”
Jay raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Sure ‘Entertaining.’ that’s why you bring her up every single practice.”
“Exactly,” Jake added with a grin. “If she suddenly started being nice to you, you’d probably be bored in a week but because she ignores you and calls you out, you can’t stop thinking about her.”
Heeseung pointed the ball at Jake threateningly, though his smirk was fighting to stay hidden. “Keep talking and I’ll make you run extra laps, Sim.”
The team laughed again, but Jake just held up his hands in surrender, still smiling. “I’m just saying, man. One day you’re gonna realize you’re not annoying her because it’s funny, you’re doing it because you like the way she fights back.”
Heeseung rolled his eyes and turned away, dribbling the ball toward the court to end the conversation. But as practice resumed and he sank a clean three pointer, Jake’s words lingered in the back of his mind longer than he wanted to admit.
Maybe there was a tiny bit of truth to it. Or maybe he just really, really enjoyed getting on your nerves.
The laughter from the team slowly died down as practice resumed. Heeseung shook off Jake’s teasing comment, channeling the slight irritation into sharper shots. He sank another clean three pointer, the ball swishing through the net with satisfying precision.
For a few minutes, the court felt like the only place where everything made sense no annoying neighbors, no complicated feelings, just the game. Then the gym doors swung open with a loud bang.
Everyone turned as a tall, sharply dressed man in a tailored coat strode in, his presence immediately sucking the casual energy out of the room. Coach paused mid instruction, nodding respectfully.
Heeseung’s stomach dropped the moment he recognized the figure his father. Mr. Lee didn’t smile. He never did when he showed up unannounced like this. His eyes scanned the court with cold calculation, lingering on Heeseung with clear disapproval.
“Take five, boys,” Coach called out, sensing the shift in atmosphere. Heeseung wiped the sweat from his brow and walked over, jaw already tight. “Dad what are you doing here?”Mr. Lee stopped a few feet away, arms folded behind his back. His voice was low but carried easily across the quiet gym.
“I came to see if my son is actually putting in the work that’s supposed to get him into the NBA,” he said flatly. “From what I’ve been hearing, it doesn’t look like it.”Heeseung’s friends lingered nearby, pretending to drink water but clearly listening.
“I’ve been at every practice,” Heeseung replied, keeping his tone even. “Coach said my shooting percentage is up this week—”
“Don’t make excuses,” his father cut him off sharply. “Your brother Heedo was never this distracted at your age, he was laser focused top scorer captainfull ride to the best program in the country. And you? You’re out here laughing with your little friends during water breaks, probably thinking about parties and girls instead of the game.”
Heeseung’s grip tightened on the basketball until his knuckles turned white.“I’m not distracted,” he said through gritted teeth. Mr.Lee stepped closer, voice dropping into that familiar, cutting tone that always found its mark.
“You’re good for nothing if you can’t even focus on what matters. All that talent wasted because you’d rather play around and act like some campus king. You think the scouts care about your popularity? they don’t, you will never be enough if you keep this up and you will certainly never be better than your brother.”
The words landed like punches. Heedo — the golden child. The one who had already made it pro overseas. The one their father never stopped comparing him to.Heeseung’s jaw clenched so hard it ached. He wanted to snap back, to defend himself, but years of this had taught him it was useless. His father never listened.
Mr. Lee straightened his coat, expression unchanging. “Fix it or don’t bother coming home for the holidays, i didn’t raise a failure.”Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked out of the gym, the heavy doors swinging shut behind him with a final, echoing thud. The silence that followed was uncomfortable.
Heeseung stood there for a moment, staring at the floor, chest tight with anger and something heavier he refused to name. The team slowly went back to practice, but the energy had shifted. Jake shot him a concerned look, but Heeseung ignored it, dribbling the ball harder than necessary as he moved back onto the court.
Inside, the familiar bitterness churned.His father’s words echoed louder than any cheering crowd ever could. You will never be enough. You will never be better than your brother. Heeseung sank another shot, but this time it didn’t feel satisfying.
All he could think about was how easy it was to annoy the girl next door because at least when she glared at him and called him an entitled asshole, he felt something other than this hollow, crushing weight.
The heavy gym doors swung shut behind Mr. Lee, leaving an awkward silence in his wake. The team tried to resume practice, but the atmosphere had soured.
Heeseung stood frozen for a few seconds, staring at the spot where his father had been. The familiar sting of those words good for nothing, never enough, never better than your brother settled heavy in his chest like lead.
Jake jogged over, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, man don’t let him get to you, your dad’s always been like that you’re killing it out here.”
“Yeah,” Beomgyu added, spinning the ball on his finger. “Ignore him, you’re the one who’s gonna make it to the NBA, not Heedo.” Jay nodded. “Come on, let’s run some more plays we’ll crush the next game.”Heeseung forced a half smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah sure.”
He went through the motions for the rest of practice dribbling, shooting, defending but he was quiet. No cocky jokes no teasing his teammates no loud laughter. Every time someone tried to pull him into conversation or hype him up after a good play, he gave short, one word replies and kept his head down. The usual spark was gone.
Even Coach noticed, shooting him concerned glances but saying nothing.The moment practice officially ended, Heeseung grabbed his bag and left first, ignoring the calls from his friends asking if he wanted to grab food. He needed air. He needed to get away from the echoes of his father’s voice.
He walked aimlessly for a while, the cool evening air doing little to clear his head. Eventually, his feet carried him toward the small café just off campus the one with decent coffee and quiet corners where he sometimes went to think.He pushed open the door, the bell jingling softly, and scanned the room out of habit and then he saw you.
You were sitting alone at a corner table near the window, surrounded by textbooks, notes, and your laptop. Your hair was tied up messily, a pen between your teeth as you frowned at something on the screen. You looked focused serious and annoyingly cute in that concentrated way of yours.
A small, familiar spark ignited in his chest the one that always appeared whenever he spotted you. Before he could think better of it, Heeseung walked straight over and slid into the seat across from you without asking.You looked up, startled at first, then your expression quickly shifted into pure annoyance.
“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked, voice sharp but low enough not to disturb the other customers. You closed your laptop slightly, glaring at him. “This is my table, go sit somewhere else.”
Heeseung leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms, that signature smirk slowly returning despite the heavy weight still sitting in his stomach. Seeing your irritated face felt lighter somehow. Easier than dealing with everything else.
“Relax, miss morals,” he said, voice teasing. “I’m not here to ruin your precious study time. Just saw you and thought I’d say hi to my favorite neighbor.”
You rolled your eyes so hard it was almost impressive. “Favorite? We barely tolerate each other and I’m trying to work unlike some people who can afford to slack off because ‘daddy can pay for everything.’”
The jab should’ve stung more, especially after his father’s visit, but instead it made Heeseung’s smirk widen. There, it was that fire. That complete lack of care for who he was or what people usually said to him. You didn’t tiptoe around him. You didn’t try to impress him. You just called him out.
It felt strangely nice. Not in a romantic way, just refreshing ( liar liar liar he is totally in love with her ) He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “Ouch straight for the throat today. What are you working on that’s got you so grumpy? Another museum thing? Planning to curate an exhibit called ‘Why Heeseung Should Shut Up’?”
You gave him a flat look, clearly not amused. “It’s for my capstone project and yes, if it helps keep loud neighbors quiet, I might include a whole section on it.”
Heeseung chuckled softly, the sound genuine even if it was quiet. For the first time since his dad had shown up, the tight knot in his chest loosened just a fraction. He realized something in that moment. Your company wasn’t bad.
In fact, sitting here watching you get all annoyed and snappy at him felt better than sitting alone with his father’s words ringing in his head. It was simple predictable in the best way. You gave him a reaction real, unfiltered and for a few minutes, it made everything else fade into the background.
He loved annoying you. Not because he wanted to hurt you but because when you pushed back, it reminded him he was still here. Still capable of feeling something other than pressure and disappointment.
“Fine,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender, though he made no move to leave. “I’ll behave for now but only if you tell me what that exhibit is actually about.” You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, clearly debating whether to kick him out or just ignore him. Heeseung waited, smirk still in place, secretly hoping you’d keep arguing with him a little longer.
ꪆ୧ ─── ドラマ. heeseung’s pov !
Heeseung woke up to a heavy, unfamiliar silence.
His eyes opened slowly, the soft gray morning light filtering through the curtains. His body felt sore in places that reminded him immediately of last night a dull ache in his shoulders, the faint stickiness between the sheets, the faint scent of sex still hanging in the air.
He turned his head to the side the bed was empty. The spot where you had been lying was cold, the pillow slightly dented but untouched now. No clothes scattered on the floor no shoes by the door nothing.
Heeseung sat up slowly, rubbing his face with both hands. The memories came back in quiet, unflinching flashes the party you in that short black skirt.The heated dancing that turned into something reckless.The desperate makeout in his car while horns blared behind you.
How he’d carried you inside, how urgently you both had moved against each other against the door, then on this bed.The way you had moaned his name.The way he had finished inside you.
And how, afterward, he had pulled you close under the duvet, your back against his chest, both of you falling asleep in silence.
Now you were gone. He glanced at the clock. 7:23 a.m. You must have woken up in a panic sometime in the early hours and slipped out while he was still asleep. The realization settled in his stomach like a stone heavy, uncomfortable, and strangely final.
Heeseung let out a long, tired breath and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He sat there for a moment, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. This was a mistake, a stupid, drunken mistake.
You had always made it clear how much you couldn’t stand him. The constant complaints about his noise, the glares in the hallway, the way you called him entitled behind his back.
Last night had been nothing more than too much alcohol and bad judgment on both sides. You waking up and running away only confirmed it.He didn’t blame you. If anything, he felt a quiet wave of regret wash over him. He should have known better.
He should have stopped things before they went that far. Now things between you two were already tense, this was going to be even more awkward.
Heeseung stood up and walked to the bathroom. While the shower heated up, he looked at himself in the mirror. There were faint scratch marks on his shoulders and a small bruise near his collarbone. Physical proof that last night had really happened.
He stepped under the hot water, letting it run over his face and shoulders. It never happened, he told himself. That was the only way forward.He would forget about it. Pretend the entire night was a blur he couldn’t quite remember.
No teasing no comments in the hallway no bringing it up ever again. You clearly wanted to erase it, and honestly so did he. The last thing he needed right now was more complications in his life especially with someone who lived right next door.
After the shower, he got dressed in a simple black t-shirt and sweatpants. He made coffee in the kitchen, moving on autopilot. The apartment felt too quiet now.
Heeseung leaned against the counter, sipping the bitter drink, and stared at the wall that separated his place from yours.From now on, things would go back to normal. You would keep avoiding him like you always did.
He would keep his music at a reasonable volume when he remembered. And neither of you would ever speak about what happened last night. It was better this way, cleaner and simpler.
He finished his coffee, rinsed the mug, and set it in the sink. Last night was a mistake and as far as Heeseung was concerned, it was already forgotten.
For the next two weeks, you turned your life into a carefully orchestrated mission of avoidance while your body slowly started betraying you in ways you couldn’t ignore. The mantra remained the same this never happened.
Every morning began the same way. Your alarm went off at 6:15 a.m., pulling you from restless sleep. The moment you sat up, a familiar wave of nausea rolled through your stomach, not violent, but persistent and queasy, making the room feel slightly off balance.
You’d sit on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, breathing slowly through your nose, waiting for it to pass. Some mornings it did. Others, you’d rush to the bathroom and dry heave over the sink, nothing coming up except bitter bile and a metallic taste that lingered on your tongue.
Once the worst of it subsided, you’d quickly get ready, choosing simple, comfortable clothes that wouldn’t draw attention. Then came the listening part. You’d press your ear to the front door, heart beating a little too fast, straining to hear any sound from Heeseung’s apartment next door.
If you caught even the faintest click of his lock or the low murmur of his voice on a phone call, you’d wait sometimes ten minutes, sometimes twenty pretending to reorganize your bag or check your notes until the hallway was silent again.
Leaving became a tactical exercise. You slipped out as quietly as possible, taking the side staircase instead of the main hallway whenever you spotted his car in the parking lot. The fatigue hit hardest during these moments.
Your legs felt heavier than usual, and by the time you reached campus, you were already drained, needing to sit down in the library for a few minutes just to catch your breath. Coming home was even more stressful.
You started timing your returns obsessively. If practice usually ended around 6 p.m., you’d stay late at the library or in an empty classroom, working on your capstone exhibition proposal until you were sure Heeseung was either out with friends or already inside. One evening, the dizziness caught you off guard.
You had just turned the corner into your hallway when the world tilted slightly. You had to lean against the wall, breathing shallowly, while a strong wave of nausea made your stomach churn.
The faint scent of someone’s dinner cooking nearby sent you rushing the last few steps to your door. The moment you got inside, you barely made it to the toilet before vomiting actual, forceful vomiting that left you trembling on the cold tile floor.
You told yourself it was stress. The constant hyper vigilance. The lack of proper sleep. The emotional weight of pretending that night had never occurred. But the symptoms kept creeping in, growing harder to dismiss.
Smells became your enemy. The aroma of coffee from the café near campus, which you used to love, now made your stomach revolt. You switched to plain crackers and ginger tea, keeping a secret stash in your bag.
Even the scent of your own shampoo sometimes triggered a gag reflex. Food tasted strange too salty, too sweet, or completely off. You lost interest in meals altogether, surviving on small portions that you could keep down.
The fatigue settled deep in your bones. You’d come home from classes, collapse on the couch, and wake up hours later feeling like you hadn’t rested at all.
Your breasts felt tender and slightly swollen, brushing against your shirt making you wince. Mood swings hit at random. One minute you were focused on your work, the next you felt inexplicably teary or irritable. All of this made the avoidance even more draining.
One Thursday night, your timing failed you had stayed late at the library, hoping Heeseung would already be inside. When you finally dragged your tired body back to the building, the hallway lights felt blindingly bright.
Just as you reached your door, fumbling with your keys, you heard the unmistakable click of his lock opening.Panic surged through you. Your hands shook so badly that the keys nearly dropped. You managed to slip inside just as his door opened, pressing your back against the wood, heart hammering wildly.
You held your breath, listening to his footsteps pass by. The moment they faded, the nausea hit like a wave. You barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up again, knees weak, tears stinging your eyes from the force of it.
Afterward, you sat on the bathroom floor with your forehead resting on your knees, breathing shakily. This was getting worse.You were exhausted from the constant calculation when to leave, when to return, which route to take, how long to wait in the stairwell. The thin wall between your apartments felt like a constant threat.
You’d hear him moving around sometimes. The low sound of his music ( mercifully quieter these days ), the murmur of his voice when he was on the phone, the occasional laugh. Every sound made your stomach twist with anxiety and unwelcome memories.
You became hyper aware of everything. You avoided cooking anything with strong smells. You did laundry at 2 a.m. when you were sure he was asleep. You even changed the time you took showers, worried the sound of running water might coincide with him coming home.
Yunjin and Soobin noticed the changes. “You’ve been canceling plans a lot,” Yunjin said during one quick lunch. “And you look really tired, are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” you lied, forcing a weak smile while fighting the nausea brought on by the smell of her food. “Just stressed about the capstone deadline it’s taking everything out of me.”
Soobin watched you quietly, concern clear in his eyes, but he didn’t push. Inside your apartment, the symptoms continued to build.
Mornings were brutal. You’d wake up with tender breasts and that persistent queasy feeling. Some days the vomiting was so bad you had to keep a small bucket discreetly by your bed.
The fatigue made it hard to focus during lectures. You'd find yourself zoning out, head heavy, fighting the urge to lay your head on the desk. Yet you refused to connect the dots .It’s just stress, you told yourself repeatedly. The avoidance the guilt the lack of sleep.
You pushed through, continuing your careful dance of avoidance. You timed every exit and entry with military precision. You became an expert at predicting Heeseung’s schedule ( she should become a dispatch employee )
You kept your headphones on to drown out any sound from next door. You buried yourself in your art curator work, sketching exhibition layouts late into the night until your eyes burned.Two full weeks passed in this strange limbo.
You were pale, exhausted, and constantly on edge. The nausea came in unpredictable waves. The fatigue made simple tasks feel monumental. And the fear of accidentally seeing Heeseung in the hallway kept you trapped in this self imposed isolation.
Deep down, a small, terrified voice in the back of your mind whispered that something was very wrong. But you silenced it the same way you silenced every memory of that night this never happened.
You would keep avoiding him. You would keep pretending everything was normal.Even as your body screamed louder and louder that nothing was normal anymore.
One ordinary afternoon, everything shifted. You were sitting in the small campus café with Yunjin and Soobin, the three of you squeezed around a corner table. Yunjin was dramatically slumped in her chair, one hand pressed to her lower stomach, complaining loudly.
“Ugh, my period is literally killing me today,” she groaned, stirring her iced latte with a pout. “Cramps are so bad, I can barely sit straight why does it always hit the worst during the worst season? I swear my uterus hates me.”
Soobin chuckled softly, offering her a sympathetic smile. “Do you want me to grab you some painkillers from the convenience store?” You tried to smile and nod along, but the words barely registered.
Her period is killing her…..
The sentence echoed in your head like a siren your own period. You mentally counted the days. It should have come a full week ago. Seven days late. Maybe more.
You had been so caught up in avoiding Heeseung, dealing with the constant nausea, fatigue, and vomiting that you hadn’t even noticed the date slipping by. Your heart started beating faster.
You pulled out your phone under the table and quietly opened your cycle tracking app. The screen glowed with the familiar calendar. A bright red notification stared back at you
period : 7 days late
You stared at the words until they blurred. No no, no, no. You tried to push the thought away immediately. It had to be stress. The irregular sleep, the constant anxiety of avoiding Heeseung, the vomiting all of it could easily throw your cycle off. That was normal right?
But then the symptoms started flashing through your mind like warning lights. The persistent nausea every morning. The vomiting that left you weak on the bathroom floor. The crushing fatigue that made it hard to stay awake in lectures.
The dizziness, sensitivity to smells, tender, swollen breasts. Your stomach dropped, could you be pregnant?
The word felt foreign and terrifying in your head. No. Absolutely not. You wouldn’t get pregnant from one night. One reckless, stupid night. People had unprotected sex all the time and nothing happened.
You were on the pill…wait, were you? You had been so stressed with midterms that you couldn’t even remember if you had taken it properly that week. The thought made bile rise in your throat again.
Across the table, Yunjin and Soobin were still talking something about upcoming assignments and a group project. Their voices sounded far away, like you were underwater.You couldn’t focus on a single word they were saying. Your mind was spinning, heart pounding so hard you were sure they could hear it.
Yunjin waved a hand in front of your face. “Hello? Earth to you! you’ve been spacing out the entire time are you okay?”You blinked, forcing yourself back to the present. Your mouth felt dry.
“I—yeah, sorry just tired,” you mumbled. “Guys, I think I’m gonna head home early today my head’s killing me.”Soobin frowned, concern clear in his eyes. “Do you want me to walk you back?”“No, it’s fine,” you said quickly, already standing up and grabbing your bag. “I’ll text you later promise.”
You left the café before they could protest, walking fast, then almost jogging once you were out of sight. The nausea was back, stronger now, mixing with pure terror. Your hands were shaking as you headed straight for the small convenience store two blocks away.
Inside the store, you felt like every camera was watching you. You moved quickly through the aisles, heart hammering, until you found the family planning section. There were several pregnancy test kits.
You grabbed the most reliable looking one with trembling fingers, not even reading the brand properly. The cashier gave you a neutral look as you paid, but you couldn’t meet her eyes.
Bag clutched tightly to your chest, you practically ran the entire way back to your apartment building. You took the side stairs again, praying Heeseung wasn’t around. The moment you were inside your own apartment, you locked the door twice and leaned against it, breathing hard.
You pulled the kit out of the bag with shaking hands. The box felt heavy dangerous. You read the instructions carefully, twice. Pee on the stick. Wait three minutes. One line = not pregnant. Two lines = pregnant simple but terrifying.
You went to the bathroom, heart pounding so loudly it echoed in your ears. You followed every step exactly, hands trembling so badly you almost dropped the test. When you were done, you placed the stick on the counter and set a timer on your phone three minutes.
You paced the small bathroom, arms wrapped tightly around yourself. Every second felt like an hour. The nausea was back, but this time it had nothing to do with morning sickness. It was pure fear.
What if it was positive?
What if you were actually pregnant with Heeseung’s baby?
The thought made your knees weak. You slid down the wall until you were sitting on the cold tile floor, staring at the test on the counter like it was a bomb about to go off.The timer was still counting down.
Two minutes left. You hugged your knees to your chest, eyes fixed on the small plastic stick that now, held your entire future in two little lines. You were so scared.
The timer on your phone hit zero with a soft chime that felt deafening in the small bathroom. You stayed frozen on the cold tile floor for several long seconds, knees drawn to your chest, staring at the pregnancy test lying face up on the counter like it was a live grenade.
Slowly, you pushed yourself up on shaky legs and stepped closer. One line was already dark and clear the control line. The second line was faint at first, but unmistakable. A pale pink line slowly darkening right beside the first one.
two lines = positive
You blinked hard, once, twice, as if the result would magically change if you stared long enough.“No…” you whispered, voice cracking. “No, that can’t be right.”Denial crashed over you like a wave. You snatched the test off the counter and held it closer to the light, turning it at different angles. Maybe it was a faulty test.
Maybe the line was an evaporation line. Maybe you had read the instructions wrong. You grabbed the box again and reread the instructions three more times, your hands trembling so badly the paper shook.
But no matter how many times you checked, the two lines stared back at you, clear and undeniable. It was positive. You were pregnant. The reality slammed into you all at once.
Your knees buckled. You sank back down to the bathroom floor, the test still clutched tightly in your hand. A sob tore out of your throat before you could stop it. Hot tears spilled down your cheeks as the full weight of what this meant crashed over you.
You were pregnant with Heeseung’s baby. The boy you couldn’t stand. The neighbor you had spent months avoiding. The one person you had sworn to pretend never touched you.
A broken sound escaped you half sob, half laugh of pure disbelief. Your free hand moved instinctively to your stomach, pressing lightly against the still flat surface. There was a life growing inside you right now. A tiny, real consequence of one reckless, drunken night.
The crying came harder. You curled in on yourself, forehead resting on your knees as sobs wracked your body. All the symptoms you had tried to blame on stress the nausea, the vomiting, the fatigue, the dizziness suddenly made perfect, terrifying sense.
You were going to have a baby. And the father was the last person on earth you wanted to be tied to. After several long minutes, the tears slowed, leaving you drained and hollow. You wiped your face with the back of your hand, staring blankly at the two pink lines.
You made a decision right there on the bathroom floor. You were not telling Heeseung anything, not a single word.He didn’t need to know. He would never know. Telling him would only make everything worse the teasing, the drama, the forced proximity, the endless complications with someone you already couldn’t stand.
You could barely handle living next door to him as it was. Bringing a child into that mess was unthinkable. This was your problem. Your body, your choice. You would handle it quietly. You would get rid of it.The thought made fresh tears sting your eyes, but you forced them back. There was no other option.
You were still in school, chasing your dream of becoming an art curator. Your life was barely stable right now. A baby, especially one with Heeseung as the father would ruin everything.
You stayed on the floor for a long time, clutching the test, letting the weight of the decision settle over you.
Eventually, you stood up on unsteady legs. You wrapped the test in toilet paper and hid it deep in the trash can under some tissues. You washed your face with cold water until the redness in your eyes faded a little.
You looked at your reflection pale, exhausted, terrified and whispered to yourself “This never happened.” You would schedule an. appointment. You would end this quietly.You would move on with your life and never speak of that night again.
But as you turned off the bathroom light and stepped into your silent apartment, the weight in your chest felt heavier than ever. You were pregnant. And for the first time since that night, the wall between you and Heeseung felt like it was closing in.
The decision sat heavy in your chest like a stone. You weren’t going to tell Heeseung. You were going to end this quietly and move on with your life. The very next morning, you tried to make the appointment.
You sat on your bed with your laptop open, hands shaking as you searched for clinics near campus that offered termination services. Your stomach was already churning with nausea again, but you forced yourself to focus.
You found a few options a women’s health clinic downtown and a Planned Parenthood branch about twenty minutes away. You clicked on the booking page for the first one. The form asked for your name, date of birth, contact number, and reason for visit.
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long time. You couldn’t do it. Every time you tried to type your real information, panic surged through you. What if someone recognized your name? What if the clinic called or sent confirmation texts while you were near Heeseung?
What if the appointment somehow got back to campus gossip? The thought of walking into a clinic alone, explaining your situation to a stranger, and going through with it made your throat close up.
You closed the laptop without saving anything. You told yourself you’d try again tomorrow when you felt calmer. But tomorrow came and went. Then the next day. And the next. Meanwhile, the symptoms grew worse.
The nausea was no longer just morning sickness it hit you at random times throughout the day. The smell of food in the cafeteria made you gag. Even walking past the coffee shop near campus triggered violent waves that left you rushing to the nearest bathroom.
You started carrying saltine crackers and a small bottle of ginger ale everywhere, but they barely helped anymore.
Vomiting became more frequent. One afternoon during a lecture, you had to excuse yourself midway through and barely made it to the restroom before throwing up.
You returned to class pale and sweaty, mumbling something about food poisoning when Yunjin looked at you worriedly.
Fatigue wrapped around you like a heavy blanket. You fell asleep in the library twice that week, waking up with your cheek stuck to your notebook. Simple tasks like climbing the stairs to your apartment left you breathless and dizzy.
Your breasts were constantly tender, and your mood swung wildly one moment you were numb, the next you felt like crying over nothing. Yunjin and Soobin started noticing. During lunch on Thursday, Yunjin set her chopsticks down and stared at you.
“Okay, something is seriously wrong,” she said, voice firm but concerned. “You’ve been looking like a ghost for days, you barely eat anything, you keep disappearing to the bathroom, and you look exhausted even when you say you slept are you sick? Is it stress? Talk to us.”
Soobin nodded, his gentle eyes filled with worry. “You’ve been canceling plans and spacing out a lot. If something’s going on, you don’t have to deal with it alone. We’re here.”You forced a weak smile, pushing your untouched food around your plate. The smell of it was making you nauseous again.
“I’m okay, really,” you lied, voice quieter than usual. “Just… really behind on my capstone. The deadline is stressing me out more than I thought. I’ll be fine once I catch up.”
They didn’t look convinced, but they let it drop for the moment. Still, you could feel their eyes on you for the rest of the meal. Even Heeseung started noticing something was off.
You had managed to avoid direct contact with him for weeks, but it was impossible to hide everything when you lived next door.
One evening, you were coming home later than usual after another failed attempt to book the appointment online. You felt dizzy and nauseous, moving slowly up the hallway with your keys already in hand. As you reached your door, Heeseung’s door opened.
He stepped out, wearing a simple black hoodie, hair slightly messy like he’d just come back from practice. His eyes landed on you immediately.
You froze for half a second, then quickly turned your face away and fumbled with your lock, trying to get inside before he could say anything. But Heeseung didn’t tease you this time.
Instead, he paused in his doorway, brow slightly furrowed as he watched you. You looked pale. Thinner. There were dark circles under your eyes, and the way you moved seemed off fragile.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. For once, the usual cocky remark didn’t come.“You good?” he asked quietly, voice lacking its normal edge.
You didn’t answer. You finally got the door open and slipped inside without looking at him, shutting it quickly behind you
Heeseung stood there for a moment longer, staring at your closed door with a strange, unsettled feeling in his chest. Something wasn’t right with you. He could see it.But after everything after that night you both had silently agreed to forget he didn’t know if he had the right to ask.
Inside your apartment, you leaned against the door, breathing hard. Fresh tears stung your eyes as another wave of nausea hit you. You slid down to the floor, hugging your knees. You still hadn’t been able to book the appointment.
The symptoms were getting worse every day, your friends were worried and now even Heeseung had noticed something was wrong. You pressed your forehead to your knees, whispering to yourself again and again
“This never happened… this never happened…” But the lie was starting to feel impossible to keep. Heeseung had noticed. For the past two weeks, it had become painfully obvious that you were avoiding him like the plague.
At first, he thought it was the usual the cold shoulder after that night you both had silently agreed to forget. But it quickly went beyond that. You timed your movements with military precision.
He would hear your door open and close at odd hours, always when he was either inside or already gone. You took the side stairs. You left earlier than usual in the mornings and came back much later at night.
Even at university, catching a glimpse of you had become nearly impossible. You seemed to disappear into the library or empty classrooms the moment practice ended.It was clear you were doing everything in your power to never cross paths with him.
Heeseung told himself it didn’t bother him. He had decided to forget that night too. No teasing. No bringing it up. Just normal or as normal as things could be when you lived right next door
But something was wrong. You looked terrible lately. He first noticed it in passing the dark circles under your eyes, the way your shoulders seemed to slump with exhaustion. Then it got worse you moved slower.
Your face was paler than usual. You barely left your apartment except for classes, and even then you looked like you were running on empty.
One evening, after a long basketball practice, Heeseung was walking back to the apartment building, gym bag slung over his shoulder. The sun had already set, and the streetlights cast long shadows on the path. That’s when he saw you.
You were a few meters ahead, heading toward the entrance. Your steps were unsteady, one hand pressed lightly against the wall for support.
Even from behind, he could tell something was very wrong. Your posture was slumped, your breathing looked shallow, and you looked like you were barely holding yourself upright.
Heeseung’s stomach tightened. He quickened his pace without thinking and caught up to you just as you reached the building door.“Hey,” he said, voice low and serious, no trace of his usual teasing tone. “Are you alright?”
You turned your head slightly, eyes glassy and tired. The moment you recognized him, your expression hardened.“I don’t have time for your teasing right now, Heeseung,” you muttered weakly, trying to push past him toward the elevator.
Heeseung felt a flash of annoyance, not because you were dismissing him, but because he was genuinely worried and you clearly didn’t believe it.“I’m not teasing,” he said, more sharply than he intended. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
You didn’t respond, just kept walking toward the elevator. Heeseung followed, stepping in right after you. The doors closed, trapping the two of you in the small space. The silence was thick and uncomfortable. He could hear your breathing too fast, too shallow.
When the elevator reached your floor, you stepped out first. But the moment your feet hit the hallway, your legs buckled. You swayed dangerously, one hand reaching out blindly for the wall as the world spun around you. Heeseung moved fast.
He dropped his gym bag and caught you before you could hit the floor, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other supporting your back. Your body went limp against him for a few terrifying seconds.
“Shit—” he muttered, heart pounding. “Hey, stay with me.” You were half conscious, mumbling something incoherent about being fine. Heeseung didn’t waste time arguing. He adjusted his grip and lifted you carefully into his arms in bridal style, your head lolling against his shoulder.
Your apartment was right next to his. He fumbled for a moment with your keys ( which had fallen from your hand ) until he managed to unlock the door. He carried you inside, kicking the door shut behind him, and headed straight for your bedroom.
The room was neat but clearly lived in textbooks stacked on the desk, a half finished sketch on the table, a small trash can near the bed. Heeseung gently laid you down on the bed, pulling the blanket over you. Your face was pale, forehead slightly damp with sweat.
He stood there for a moment, unsure what to do. You looked so small and fragile like this. Nothing like the fiery girl who used to bang on his door and call him an entitled asshole.
Heeseung grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and placed it on your nightstand. Then he pulled up the chair from your desk and sat down beside the bed, watching you carefully.
Your breathing slowly evened out. The tension in your face relaxed as you slipped into a deeper sleep. Heeseung stayed there, elbows on his knees, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t know what was going on with you.
He didn’t know why you looked so sick. He didn’t even know if you’d want him here when you woke up. But right now, leaving you alone didn’t feel like an option. So he stayed quietly waiting.
Until your breathing became steady and deep, and he was sure you were fully asleep. Heeseung stayed. He told himself he’d only wait until you fell into a proper sleep, but the longer he sat there watching your pale face and shallow breathing, the harder it became to leave.
You looked exhausted, truly exhausted in a way that went beyond simple tiredness. Dark circles under your eyes, lips slightly chapped, skin lacking its usual color. Something was clearly wrong, and the protective instinct he didn’t know he had kept him rooted to the chair.
After almost an hour, when your breathing had deepened into steady, even inhales, Heeseung stood up quietly. He couldn’t just sit there doing nothing. He moved silently through your apartment, careful not to make noise.
Your kitchen was small and neat, but the fridge was nearly empty a few bottles of water, some crackers, and not much else. Heeseung frowned. No wonder you looked so drained. He opened the cupboards and found rice, a couple of eggs, and some ginger.
Simple gentle on the stomach. He decided to make congee something light that his mom used to make for him when he was sick.
He worked quietly, chopping what little he could find, boiling water, and stirring the pot on low heat. The smell of ginger and warm rice slowly filled the small apartment. He hoped it would help when you woke up. Maybe it would make you feel a little better.
He kept glancing toward the bedroom every few minutes, making sure you were still resting. Almost two hours later, you started stirring.
Heeseung was just turning off the stove when he heard movement from the bedroom. He poured some congee into a bowl, added a bit of water to make it lighter, and was about to bring it to you when
You bolted upright in bed, eyes wide with sudden panic. The smell of the food hit you like a wave. Your face went even paler, hand flying to your mouth as nausea surged violently. Heeseung’s eyes widened. “Hey—”
You didn’t wait. You scrambled off the bed on shaky legs and ran straight to the bathroom, barely making it in time.
Heeseung followed right behind you, worry spiking through his chest. He reached the bathroom door just as you dropped to your knees in front of the toilet and started throwing up violently.
“Shit—” He moved quickly, kneeling beside you without hesitation. One hand gently gathered your hair, holding it back from your face. His other hand rubbed slow, soothing circles on your back. “It’s okay I’ve got you, just breathe.”
You retched again, body trembling with the force of it. Heeseung stayed right there, murmuring quiet reassurances, his hand never stopping its gentle motion on your back.
When the worst of it seemed to pass, he reached over and flushed the toilet, then grabbed a clean towel from the rack and dampened it with cool water.“Here,” he said softly, handing you the towel. “Wipe your face.”
You took it with trembling hands, still breathing hard. Heeseung stood up briefly to get a glass of water from the sink and brought it back to you.“Small sips,” he instructed, crouching down again. “Don’t drink too fast.”
While you rinsed your mouth and took careful sips, Heeseung’s eyes wandered around the small bathroom, looking for anything that might help. His gaze landed on the trash can beside the sink. Something white and plastic was poking out from under some tissues.
Curious, he reached down and pulled it out, it was a pregnancy test. Two distinct red lines stared back at him clear, unmistakable, and positive. Heeseung froze.
His brain short circuited for a second. The test felt heavy in his hand as the reality sank in. Positive you were pregnant. He slowly turned his head toward you. You were already looking at him.
Your eyes were wide with pure terror, face drained of all color, lips parted in shock. You looked caught completely and utterly caught like the worst secret in the world had just been ripped open. The glass of water trembled in your hand.
Heeseung’s mouth opened, but no words came out at first. His gaze flicked between the test in his hand and your terrified expression.
The pieces clicked together horribly fast the avoidance, the exhaustion, the vomiting, the way you looked like you were barely holding yourself together for the past two weeks.
This wasn’t just stress this was because of that night because of him. Heeseung swallowed hard, his voice coming out quieter than he expected.
“…Is this yours?” The bathroom fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. You were still staring at him, tears already gathering in your eyes again, looking like you wanted the floor to swallow you whole.
Heeseung didn’t know what to say. He only knew that everything had just changed. Heeseung stared at the two red lines on the pregnancy test for what felt like an eternity.
The bathroom was deathly quiet except for your shaky breathing. When he finally looked up at you, your face was pale, eyes wide with pure terror, tears already spilling down your cheeks. He swallowed hard, his throat tight.
“…Are you pregnant?” he asked, voice low and rough. You didn’t speak at first. Your lips trembled as fresh tears rolled down your face. Then you gave a small, barely noticeable nod.
Heeseung felt something twist sharply in his chest. He looked back down at the test, then at you again. His next question came out quieter, almost hesitant.
“Is the baby mine?” The moment the words left his mouth, your face crumpled completely. You broke into heavy, broken sobs, shoulders shaking as you tried to cover your mouth with one hand.
“I’m sorry…” you choked out between cries. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t want this to happen, i never meant for any of this, it was just one stupid night and I— I’m planning on getting rid of it. I won’t bother you with any of this, i won’t get in your way. You don’t have to worry about anything, i’ll handle it quietly.”
Heeseung’s expression shifted the instant you said those words. Hurt flashed across his face raw, unguarded hurt. His brows drew together, jaw tightening as he processed what you were saying.
The idea that you were planning to terminate the pregnancy without even telling him felt like a punch to the gut. His hand holding the test lowered slowly to his side. You kept crying, words tumbling out faster now, desperate and apologetic.
“I’m really sorry. I know you didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for this either, i’ll take care of everything. You can just forget about it…i promise I won’t drag you into anything.”
Heeseung stayed silent for a long moment, staring at you as you sat on the bathroom floor, looking small and devastated.
The hurt in his chest mixed with something heavier confusion, disbelief, and a strange ache he couldn’t quite name. Finally, his voice came out low and strained.
warnings :: smut mdni. exhibitionism, blowjob, face fucking (rough), it's so filthy im sorry, cum eating, angel bunny sweetheart used for reader, degradation, nicho calls reader his fucktoy, uhhhh idk anymore (lmk if I missed any) NOT PROOFREAD.
a/n :: this is for my baby @nichozzystuffs MUEHHEHEHE
getting dragged around by nicho around the chrome hearts store was one of your favourite hobbies, especially with your love for the brand and fashion.
But today was specifically, utterly difficult because you could not focus on any of the new collection that dropped, or the placement of mannequins, or the colour coordinated arrangement of accessories which you always noticed and talked about.
all you could see were nicho's arms. it wasn't a new sight, you've seen him multiple times in tank tops and sleeveless clothes— even shirtless that one time your friend group decided to go to a waterpark, though you definitely remember not being normal about it.
nicho was now staring at a bunch of boxers that were arranged in a pattern at the store, trying to pick the best one among them. within a few minutes, he grabbed one of them and headed towards the trial room.
now that nicho's tones, tall and lean figure with exposed arms was out of your sight, you began to scan the store carefully. a minute or so had passed and you made yourself back to the trial rooms, plopping yourself down on the sofa that faced them.
just then, nicho stepped out with his grey sweatpants worn differently— in a way which you couldn't point out, but they were definitely lower. you could see the chrome hearts band peeking out of his pants, lining perfectly along the stretch of his sweatpants.
your mouth fell agape, the phone in your hands long forgotten as you clicked it off as soon as you saw him emerge from the trial room.
nicho shifted his attention to you, and back to his reflection in the mirror to check the clothing out, meanwhile you just stayed frozen in your place.
his perfectly sculpted arms, the beauty of the chrome hearts band around his waist— so fucking close to the edge of his pelvis and his- cock? of all the thighs, you didn't expect to notice the size of nicho, among everything.
you didn't know if he was hard or just that big but the outline of his cock was so clearly visible, it made you rub your thighs together, drool almost slipping out of your mouth.
right when you look up to his face, he's already staring at you. you notice the subtle smirk on his face as you clear your throat.
"yeah... yea it's good, buy it." nicho's smirk grows at your stuttering as he walks back into the trial room to change.
a few seconds later, you see his head peeking out from behind the trial room door. he gestures for you to come closer and you do. nicho leans out further, looking all around and to the sides and after he registers the absence of people, his palm wraps around your wrist and with a swift yank, he pulls you into the room, locking it within a jiffy.
his body is pressed against you as he cages you between himself and the very thin trial room walls. you can feel your heart drumming against your rib cage at the proximity.
nicholas was gorgeous. those sharp, deep eyes and his plump lips. the subtle eyebrow raise that he does when he knows. his hands slip under your shirt and rest at the curve of your hips, thumb caressing your soft exposed skin. the closeness of him made you almost whimper.
sexual tension between you and your best friend wasn't something new, but also always unintentional. this, this intentional, physically super close tension was so new to you, especially considering the fact that you were absolutely self aware of being attracted to your best friend.
nicho's eyes, oh those captivating eyes, travelled along your features— your round bunny eyes, soft cheeks now heavily dusted in crimson, slightly parted lips that held the scent of cherries within the shallow creases at the edges of them.
"you were staring, bunny." he states as a matter of fact, his low tone making you almost shiver, your brain still processing his touch on your waist. you could feel him press against you, your legs almost parting unconsciously.
you open your mouth to speak, to tell him that you weren't staring. that he was just too distracting like he always was. nicholas wang has always been an absolute distraction to you, ever since he walked into your classroom in high school.
his hand flies to your cheek, his big, big palms cupping your face effortlessly. nicholas inches closer.
"you were staring at my cock weren't you?" his breath fanned at the side of your neck, causing you to shudder against his lean, tall frame.
words wouldn't come out of your mouth as the weight of his presence felt way too heavy for you to handle. you found yourself melting into his touch and his essence, almost losing all sense of your actions.
your hands travel across his chest and move above to wrap around his neck to pull him closer, and just as your noses brush against eachother, your lips crash against his.
the kiss wasn't hungry, it was intimidating. slow but needy, like it was an indication towards an upcoming storm. nicho's hands wrapped around your waist fully now, pulling you in clooose while your fingers tangled with his pink hair.
the absolute physical closure made you moan into his mouth, the conscious of being in a public place leaving your mind as soon as you locked lips with him.
nicho's arms unwrap as he pushes you back against the wall, his lips still attached to yours, his head dipping to meet your height. his big, big palms press against your tits as he massages them— he sighs into your mouth when your hardened nipples grace against his skin through your shirt. he parts away from you, his hands reaching to the buckle of his belt, unbuckling swiftly.
through all this heated moments, the image of nicho's perfectly lined dick hasn't left your mind, especially not when it was rock hard beneath his boxers and straining against your heat while you made out. oh how big, long and delicious he looked.
so taking the clank of his belt to the floor as a cue, you sunk to your knees and pulled his boxers down hastily.
fuck. his cock went free, his tip deliciously glistening with precum already. nicholas sighed, his body shuddering as your feather light touches graced his thighs. you grabbed the base with your left hand, palming gently.
nicholas was absolutely losing it. he had wished for this for so long, he had wished to have you on your knees, your fingers wrapped around his cock and your doe eyes looking up at him waiting for him to fuck your face.
you loved the view. a thick vein ran along his cock, disappearing right at the base of the head, his pink top adorned with pearls of lre undi. you were salivating at the sight, your body almost giving up at how weak he made you. your lean forward, licking a long stripe along his vein, ignoring his tip. nicholas hisses at the feeling of your hot tongue pressed against him. you lean further in and nuzzle your right cheek against his thighs, straining your tongue to kitty lick his base.
nicholas, once again, loses his composure completely, at the sight of you acting like a fucking pup, all under his control and so needy for him.
"fuck, angel." he whispers.
your mouth continues to work on his cock, sucking and licking as you savour every inch of him. strings of curses leave his pretty lips, his brows knitted with pleasure and his head thrown back. you feel him trying his best to not buck his hips into you and fuck you stupid.
you take his length fully into your mouth, gagging around his head, your eyes rolling back as his tip hits the back of your throat. the groan that left his mouth sounded so sinful and so real. he tips his head down as his eyes meet yours.
you bat your eyelashes at him innocently as you pull back, a string of saliva connecting the edge of your lips to his tip.
licking your lips, you grab his hand and guide it to the top of your head, his fingers automatically threading through the luscious locks of your dark hair.
"fuck my face, nicho. do not hold back."
something unleashes within him. his eyes turn dark, his lips curve into a smirk as he grips your hair tighter.
"alright, angel. I'll give you all you want."
he grabs his cock, hollowing fist and jerking it thrice, letting it enter your mouth. your now plump, glistening lips wrap around his girth, your cheeks sinking in to suck him in desperately.
he picks up his pace, his grip on your hair tightening with every thrust. his tip hits the back of your throat, making you whine loud enough for others to hear. the fact that you could be heard very clearly didn't bother either of you anymore. all you could focus on finally getting to suck your best friend's cock, even better when he tasted so fucking delicious.
his breaths get heavier, followed by the grunts that erupt from the depth of his throat. nicholas was lost in the pleasure of your pretty, little mouth taking him in so damn well.
"fucking hell." he cursed as he looked at your cock drunk face, your body jerking due to the force of his hips slamming against your throat. saliva dripped down your chin, eyes teary and nose red with all the pleasure and strain his dick was giving you.
nicholas could feel his orgasm coming. his hips wrenched unevenly, his moans became whimpers and the grip on your hair loosened and tightened randomly as his thrusts faltered.
he grabbed the back of your head, pushing his cock right into you, filling your mouth completely. the constant touch of your throat to his hip made him whimper helplessly, as his hips jerked, thick ropes of cum ejecting into your mouth.
"angel, you look so fucking pathetic. like my personal fucktoy. so damn pretty, taking all—hah— all of me." he threw his head back, the last drops of cum filling your mouth to the brim.
he pulls out, tapping the head of his cock against your cheek.
"swallow. yes that's right. goooodd girlll." he pats your head, smoothening the tangles of your hair caused by his hold on you. he leans down, wiping the remains of his cum on your lips with his thumb, instantly pushing it into your mouth, making you suck on it.
he tucks a bunch of hair strands behind your ear, making your fucked out face, and teary eyes more visible to him.
"such a pathetic girl." he leans in and kisses your eyelids, followed by pressing his lips against yours in a contrastingly sweet kiss, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb brushes against your skin.
"come on sweetheart" he gestures to you to follow him, zipping his pants up, his lips curving into a smirk. "don't want to get caught after the act, do we?"
❥ warnings: established relationship, skinship, making out
❥ word count: 900 (roughly)
❥ note: this was fun to write! i let it get kinda frisky but didn’t push it too much. all support is appreciated! hope u enjoy 🪽
“Hi pretty!” He exclaims, kicking his shoes off by the door and practically swallowing you in his arms. “Mmm.. missed you.” He says, his voice slightly muffled due to his face being buried in your neck.
The man was so giddy to see you, his hands were squeezing your waist.
You use your free hand to push the door shut, before threading it into his hair.
“I missed you too, Taki,” You giggle as he lifts you up slightly. “Are we still watching that movie you’ve been wanting me to see?”
He pulls back from your neck to look down at you, nodding excitedly.
“Mhm! Please!”
“Alright, baby, let’s go to my room.”
You and Taki have been dating for nearly 3 months now, and despite him being very physically affectionate, you were both taking it slow, via your request.
The truth is, this is your first relationship. It’s Taki’s first too, but as far as you’re aware he’s a lot less nervous about the typical ‘relationship’ stuff, whereas you’re very careful and tend to overthink such acts.
So the two of you haven’t even kissed yet, which you feel guilty about, but Taki looks at you with pure hearts in his eyes so he does whatever you say. Anything to make his pretty girl happy and comfortable.
Under your thick covers and blanket, Taki clings to your arm whilst you navigate netflix to find the movie he’s been begging you to watch with him for 2 weeks now. Once finding it, you press play and sit back against the pillows, leaning your head on his shoulder.
“This is gonna be so good” He whispers to you as the intro of the movie starts. Glancing at him, you see nothing but pure joy on his face. Cute.
As the movie progresses, you and Taki eventually shift from sitting up to laying down together, legs intertwined. You were comfortable, and so was he.
Taki’s cheek was pressed against the side of your head, hand resting on your arm. He was mindlessly playing with the sleeve of your shirt, his warm skin occasionally skimming yours.
You could feel his breath as he exhaled, the sensation tickling your neck. You shift, turning into him more.
Taki presses a small kiss to the top of your head, something he does a lot. He does this in replacement of actual kisses, staying respectful to the boundaries you set when you first started dating.
The tension between you had gotten more intimate, both you and Taki could sense it. But it remained unspoken, neither of you acting on it. For now.
A few moments pass, and Taki adjusts his hold on you, causing you both to face each other more than before. He breaks his gaze from the screen to look at you. Sensing this, you glance from the TV to him as well.
The eye contact between the two of you had a charge of something you hadn’t felt with Taki before, and you knew he could feel it too. Your heartbeat was going crazy.
Before you can say or do anything, Taki crashes his lips against yours, hand gripping your arm to pull you closer.
Instead of pushing him away, you leant into it, letting him kiss you. Your lips part and your head tilts, and you manage to lift your hand to the back of his neck, which causes Taki to let out a small whine.
He adjusts again, his hand letting go of your arm to rest on the mattress below you, and he moves to hover on top of you, all while not breaking the kiss.
You welcome the new position, kissing him back. You’d never done this before, and you were worried he could tell, but forced yourself to focus on Taki rather than your inexperience.
By now, Taki is fully on top of you, tongue pushing into your mouth. He keeps letting out soft sounds which were only encouraging you to get more into it.
“Mm, my pretty..” He whispers against your lips between kisses, his tone deeper, something you’d never heard from Taki before. But you definitely liked it. Loved it, even.
Eventually he pulled back, panting like a dog.
“Wow.. that was good.” He says between gasps for air. You were focused on his lips, which were slightly swollen and shiny with a mixture of both of your saliva. You couldn’t help but admire him from this angle.
“Was that.. That was good, right?” He asks you, tilting his head and looking down at you, brushing some hair from your face.
You nod, out of breath.
“Yeah, I, um.. I liked it.” You say, looking up at him, your expression unreadable to him.
Taki pouted at your tone, his hands finding your ribs, beginning to tickle you. You start giggling, attempting to push him off you.
“Sound more excited then!” He says, grinning at your reaction.
Despite being extremely reluctant and nervous for your first kiss, Taki had managed to make you feel comfortable the whole time. And you definitely wouldn’t hold back from kissing him from this point forward.
Ricky buying you underwear/lingerie sorry he makes me unwell
Ricky × fem reader
nsfw content (suggestive) under the cut ↓↓↓
His first intention isn't even for it to be sexy, that just came as a plus. He caught a few of your complaints about underwear being so ridiculously expensive (especially for women) and the idea formed. The big challenge was to make sure he knew your size for everything since he wanted to keep it a surprise, which resulted in him going through your underwear drawer...
Felt super shy going into the shop but started to feel more at ease after a while. Probably asked the staff for help asdfghnk He would make sure to get a few practical and comfortable pieces before he starts looking at all the lace and bows. I feel like Ricky would go a bit crazy for that type of lingerie, imagining you in such pretty things makes his head spin.
When it's time for the surprise he feels flushed and mischievous at the same time, sooo proud of himself that he got you a present that you actually needed AND was fun and sexy. When he has made sure that you are comfortable with the gift he will definitely test the ground a bit,
"Are you gonna model this for me or what?"
"I bet you would like that huh?"
And then he would literally just nod because yes he would like that. And he wants you to spin around for him too, showing every angle. Gets so exited and gives you so many compliments.
I totally feel like Ricky finds the whole concept of spoiling his loved one a major turn on. So it's not only how good you look that drives him crazy but the pure fact that he bought the pieces for you. Wants you to sit on his lap while he pretends to inspect the lacey bra and we all know where this will eventually lead...
❥ warnings: drinking, kissing/making out, skinship, kei is kinda manipulative, suggestive if u squint
❥ word count: 1.7k
❥ note: this took ages to write but i think it’s pretty good! tried writing something darker this time around. sorry for making kei evil in this, i swear i love him.. all support is appreciated. hope u enjoy 🪽
Being mixed in with the wrong crowd as a teenager is what shaped you into the party animal you are today. Every week, similar crowd, similar music, similar drinks. Any normal person would’ve found it boring, repetitive even. But not you. You were built for this kind of life.
The crowd at these parties was always relatively similar; a few familiar faces in the sea of people dancing, shouting a greeting at you over the loud music and chatter. At one of the popular Friday-night parties down town, one of your friends had introduced to this guy - Koga Yudai, but he preferred Kei.
The first thing you noticed about him wasn’t how handsome he was in the strobe lights, but how tall he was. The guy was super tall, it was crazy. You had to tilt your neck up if you wanted to make eye contact with him, his head being so high up it was practically unreachable. Kei had a rather outgoing personality, warming up to you almost instantly He was also crazy charming, constantly flirting. You found yourself blushing over anything he said to you, and he grinned at your reaction every time.
Kei was the most perfect guy you’d ever seen.
It had been a week since the last party you went to, and you were buzzing as you approached your friends house. She was throwing yet another party, and you wouldn’t miss it for the world.
You were warmly greeted by said friend, giving you a tipsy side hug, guiding you deeper into the house, into the crowd.
Approaching a familiar group sitting on a low couch, your friend joining them on it, your eyes catch Kei within them. He gave you a knowing grin, standing up to pull you into a lingering hug.
“Y/N, right? We met last week? It’s great to see you again.” He says, squeezing your waist with his hands as he smiles at you.
“Nice to see you too, Kei.” You reply, watching as he leans back against the wall, his eyes never leaving you.
“You look amazing, by the way.” He compliments you confidently, his gaze running over your body. You felt your cheeks heat up as he stared, as he studied you. The effect he had on you was strong.
Conversing with Kei was easy due to him being a social butterfly, and before you knew it 20 minutes had passed, the two of you talking about everything and nothing at the same time, some fast-paced 2000s song playing from the speakers.
He leans in to your ear, hand grazing your forearm.
“You wanna go somewhere quieter? Feels like I’m going deaf.”
You giggle, nodding, and he slips his hand into yours, guiding you through the crowd, out of the main room into the hallway.
You didn’t know if it was how Kei was acting with you or the alcohol affecting your judgement, but you couldn’t help thinking that something would happen between the two of you tonight.
Regardless, you were right.
Before you could even process what happened, Kei had you pressed against the wall, hands tilting your head up as his lips crash against yours, his tongue pushing into your mouth. He tasted like vodka and some kind of cheap beer.
Your hands grip his shoulders, holding him against you as you reciprocate the kiss. His tongue was practically fighting for dominance with yours, but you gladly let him win. It was Kei after all.
One of Kei’s hands slide down from your jaw, trailing down your body and finding your thigh, gripping the underside, allowing him to push himself between your legs and closer to you.
The two of you were completely lost in the kiss, in your own world. It felt magical.
Kei pulled back from the kiss as fast as he had leaned into it, his lips glistening with saliva. He put your leg back down, hand lingering on your thigh before fully letting go.
You catch your breath, looking up at him. He grins at you, the same smirk he wears when he knows he’s gotten to you.
“You liked that, hm? Knew you would.” He whispers to you, hand brushing the hair from your hair. You nod, still in a daze. He chuckles at this.
Kei pulls his phone out of his back pocket, turning it towards you.
“Gonna give me your number, right? Wanna keep in touch with a pretty woman like you.” You don’t hesitate, typing your number into his phone. He saves it by sending a brief text, before pocketing his phone again. He glances around the hallway.
“I gotta find my friends, alright? Stay safe, sweetheart. I’ll see you around.”
And just like that, he was gone. Out of reach.
You texted him the next morning, your head pounding. The hangover had hit you like a train, but that didn’t stop you from thinking about Kei, about the kiss.
You send him a simple “Hey”, not wanting to seem to eager. You have to play it cool. As if last night hasn’t been the only thing you’ve been thinking of all morning.
By the time you had rolled out of bed, had a shower and eaten a small breakfast, he still hadn’t replied. Maybe he was hungover too. Probably still asleep, you thought.
But to your dismay, as you settled into bed at 10PM, your message still hadn’t even been read. Whatever. You didn’t care.
Definitely not.
You adjusted your dress as you walked into the house, Another party. It had been 5 days. You didn’t want to spend too much time overthinking about Kei. It would only make you feel shitty.
You greet your friends, drinking with them in the corner of the main room.
It was the third round of drinks before you spotted Kei enter with one of his friends, EJ, his typical smirk plastered on his face as he laughed at whatever EJ muttered to him.
Kei’s eyes scan the room before landing on you, and you swear you see his expression falter.
Leaving his friend, he glides through the crowd of people dancing, approaching your direction. Greeting you, he gives you a small side hug.
“You good? This party is amazing.” He says, leaning in slightly due to the loud music. You nod, looking him up and down.
“You never texted me,” is all you say, unable to hold back from confronting him about it. His grin fades into a pout.
“Sorry about that, sweetheart. Been super busy with work ‘n shit. You understand, don’t you?” He apologizes, his hand tucking your hair behind your ear. His touch felt good, you had missed it. You had missed him, despite barely knowing him.
Letting out a small sigh, you nod again. You take a large sip of your drink, finishing it. Kei watches your throat as you swallow. He wraps an arm around your waist, lips brushing your ear.
“Let’s go upstairs, beautiful. Let me make it up to you.”
You were too easy, and Kei knew that.
Pulling you into an empty bedroom, Kei attaches his lips to yours, guiding you backwards until you were falling back onto the bed.
He climbs on top of you, knees caging your legs beneath him. The kiss deepens, and you let out a small whine. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him down further.
“Sound so pretty,” he whispers against your lips, before trailing kisses down your jaw, to your neck. He starts sucking small red marks into your skin. “Just for me.”
You felt the same feelings returning, the feelings you had the last time you were with Kei like this. You wondered if he’d let things go further this time.
Kei pulls his mouth off your throat, panting slightly as he looks down at you, that damn grin appearing on his face again.
“Look at you, so beautiful. You want me to get you a drink?” He offers, hands resting on your ribs. You didn’t feel crazy thirsty, but you honestly just found yourself going with whatever he said, so you ended up nodding.
Kei presses a brief kiss to your cheek before getting off of you, heading to the bedroom door. He turns to you as he opens it.
“Stay here, okay? I’ll be right back.” With that, he was gone, the door closing behind him.
You sit up, fanning yourself. Things had gotten pretty heated just now, and you felt like you might actually sleep with him tonight. Surely he’d text you back after this, right?
Restless, you glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table. Kei had been gone for 20 minutes. He was only going to get you a drink, what was taking so long?
Leaving whoever’s bedroom that was, you head downstairs, reaching the hallway.
Now you know what was taking so long.
Kei had some random woman pinned against the wall, their tongues down each other’s throats.
You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. Was this even real? You had a lot to drink.
As you continued watching, it became more and more real, and it became more clear that Kei was not planning on getting the drink.
Tears welling up, you decided to get out of there. You pushed past them, past people dancing and laughing, choking back a sob. How could you be so stupid? You should’ve known you weren’t special to him.
The cold night air hit your face and legs, which only made you feel worse. You wipe away the tears threatening to fall, adjusting your dress as you start walking down the street, away from the party, away from Kei.
Stupid. So stupid.
You should’ve known from the start that Kei was out of reach.
synopsis: you always thought those drinking game cards were bullshit, until your crush gets too drunk and his secret eventually gets to you.
pairing: jay x female reader
genre: smut, a tinge of fluff
word count: 2005
warnings: alcohol consumption, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), fingering, slight voyeurism at the end (?)
“Take a shot if…”
Sunghoon slowly pulls out the card from the stack with his fingers, painfully slow that it builds up a strange tension in the atmosphere. Jake has his hand out, getting ready to take a shot glass full of gin if ever the description in the card would fit him. Heeseung begins to create a drumroll sound with his hands on the floor, making Sunoo slightly jump in surprise beside him. Jay, meanwhile, gives Sunghoon an anticipating look as his hand instinctively squeezes your thigh.
Anyone from afar can tell that all of you were being edged.
All of you have had a couple of shots, Jake the most. The house is a mess and so are your spinning heads. Jay, being the little devil that he is, chose to play a drinking game despite all of you being already tipsy. Cards Against Humanity would’ve been better, you thought.
Sunghoon finally lifts up the card and proceeds to read it. “Take a shot if you want to get railed or rail someone…?”
“Oh, fuck it.”
“What the fuck?”
“What kind of a question is that?”
“Boo! Pick another one!”
A string of boos and profanities fill the whole living room as Sunghoon himself grumbles at the question. Seriously, the game creators could’ve done a little bit better. Sunoo was inexperienced and didn’t want any at this point in time, he just finished high school. Heeseung, Jake, and Sunghoon are too busy with university to even get a girlfriend.
However, silence fills the room as a loud exhale is heard from one person—Jay.
Right. He was the only person who didn’t have too much on his plate. He bottoms up the small shot painfully, making him grimace at the sting of the alcohol in his mouth. you all could tell that he had too much, judging by his unusual antics. Where did the prim and proper Park Jongseong go just now? Just earlier, he was talking about business and science with the boys, but now he’s laughing like a moron…
“Are you fuckers seriously lying to yourselves? Hah! I doubt you wouldn’t want a taste of a pretty cunt… don’t lie to me.”
… with his eyes directed to you.
What is he on about? You raise your brows, clearly confused about why he is staring devilishly at you. He just chuckles, finding your reaction cute. The rest of the squad stares as well, watching the buildup of sexual tension slowly unfold in front of them. Everybody knows how much you have been pining for Jay and him.
Little did the two of you know that the boys have slowly escaped in their respective rooms, leaving the space to only you and Jay who are still in a hot staring contest.
“Y/N,” he slurs, eyes not leaving yours. “You look particularly hot tonight.”
“Jongseong,” you reply, stroking strands of his hair back to the top of his head. “Is that a way for me to compliment you back?”
He snorts. “Definitely not. I don't force compliments out of people.”
You chuckle, leaning forward until your lips are dangerously close to his. His senses heighten as the alcohol kicks in; he can smell your perfume better now. He chuckles, too, and the mixed smell of alcohol and mint fills your nostrils. Fuck. you wouldn’t be able to keep your cool if he keeps this up.
“You were saying?” he whispers, looking lustfully at your lips.
“You wanna rail someone.” you reply as you feel his hand go up and down your arm. “Am I your only choice, then?”
“You are.”
Jay suddenly scoops you up by the ass, pulling you into his lap and making you squeal. He wonders if he could get more of those out of you, because that sound may or may not have caused his cock to slightly twitch.
“But I'm not bringing you to bed just because of that.” he continues, slowly bunching up your skirt around your hips. “Have I told you that you’ve been living rent-free in my mind lately?”
You squint, not knowing whether to believe what just came out of his mouth. He's drunk. There’s no way he would spew random shit on the get go, right? He senses this and buries his head in the crook of your neck, just where he can kiss and mark it up later on.
“Cat got your tongue, Y/N?” he teases, voice dropping a few tones as his hands travel up your waist. You tense up in his hold, and he smirks on your neck. “Your subconscious is telling me something.”
“And that is?” you respond despite knowing he was joking.
“She wants to get fucked so bad,” he gives your neck an experimental lick to which you gasp audibly to. “and it’s not because of the alcohol. It's because she’s been staring at me all night… isn’t it?”
“Jay.” you sigh as his hand travels upward to your inner thigh. “This is not how I wanted to confess to you, you know?”
“Mm-hmm, keep talking, little girl.” he mumbles, drawing little circles along your soft skin. It felt pillowy against his rough finger pads, which he loved so much.
“You're drunk.”
“What about it?”
“The guys have left us here… alone.”
“Isn't that supposed to be a good thing?” he tugs the crotch of your panties down and prods on your clit experimentally. You whimper softly.
Here you are, sitting on the lap of the Park Jongseong you have been crushing on for quite a while, with his fingers on your sex. He’s smirking to himself, thinking about how you’ve touched yourself to the mere thought of him. To say he hasn’t jerked himself off of the thought of you stripping for him would be a total lie. That would be unfair of him, wouldn’t it?
“Don't you get it, Park? I want to—ah!” you suddenly cry out as two of his fingers effortlessly slide in your pussy. They feel thick and boney inside of you and are already teasing you. God, how would you be able to take his cock if you’re already going haywire because of his fingers, then?
“You want to do what?”
“Confess to you in a more proper setting and situation?” you ask, sounding like a desperate whine as he starts pumping his fingers slowly into you. “Fuck, Jay, I wanted to dress up for that special day.”
“Isn't your fit appealing enough, sweetheart?” he coos, looking at you from head to toe. You wore your work skirt and a graphic tee that was big enough to be a dress. “I'd just rip off whatever expensive shit you want to buy. Would you want that?”
If it were you, I'd love that a lot. “No, Jay.” you shake your head, legs clenching around his arm as he continues to toy you with his fingers. He doesn’t forget to rub your clit, teasingly slow that makes you see stars.
“Spread your legs for me, please?” he nibbles on the lobe of your ear, and you oblige. “Good girl.”
He pulls his fingers out of you, and you whine at the loss of contact. He then lays you flat against the fur carpet and crawls on top of you, licking his fingers and tasting your wetness on his tongue. A part of you wanted him to just fuck you senseless, but the way he was undressing you with his eyes made you want to stare at him for longer until you were dripping wet again.
“What now?”
His domineering tone makes you feel so little under him that you could only respond to him with a whine.
“I’ll take that as a yes."
The next few minutes are a bit hazy for both you and him as the gin starts to kick in. He messily captures your lips in a kiss, tongues clashing together in a fight no one would win. The sting of alcohol on his tongue heightens your senses, and the taste of strawberries on yours elicits a low grunt from him. He hooks your legs around his hips, rubbing his clothed cock against your clit before completely taking his bottoms off.
“You on the pill?”
You nod. That was all he needed to line himself up against your cunt and enter you slowly until he had filled you up to the hilt. You instinctively bite on his shoulder to suppress whatever noise was to come out of your mouth, taking note of the fact that you two weren’t alone in this house.
“Come on, princess.” he coaxes, taking your head in his hands as he rubs his nose against yours. “Are you still trying to stay silent when you’ve been whining on my fingers now? Does that make sense?”
“Fuck, Jongseong!” you gasp as you feel his balls slap against your ass cheeks while he catches you off-guard with slow, sharp thrusts. He knew how to kept you going. “You feel so fucking good…”
“I know, baby.” he whispers, feeling you clench involuntarily around his cock. Sober Jongseong would never assert something that easily. “I know how good it feels.”
He proceeds to kiss you fervently and mindlessly as his hands grope your ass from under. You desperately cling onto the fabric of his shirt for stability as he is going berserk above you. Eventually, you stop caring about how loud you were moaning and just let your long-time crush do the work for you. These were one of your fantasies waiting to be fulfilled, anyway.
Your vision blurs, your eyes roll to the back of your head as Jay picks up his pace and rams into you, letting the alcohol take over his body. His hand finds its way to your clothed breast, squeezing it against his fingers and feeling for your nipple under your shirt. He tugs onto it, your whines get louder and more wanton and it drives him closer to his high.
“Mmm, are you cumming, baby?”
“Yes, fuck… I'm so close… want you to cum in me.” you beg. Heck, even making out words was hard under his ministrations.
With loud grunts, he spurts out his seed inside you, triggering your own orgasm. An array of moans and grunts fill the living room as you ride out your high, and the mixed smell of perfume, sweat, and sex fill your noses. To your surprise, he passes out above you, completely sandwiching you between his weight and the floor.
“Let's do this again, Y/N, baby…” he mutters against your chest, words slurred and almost incomprehensible. “This is so much better than the formal confession shit you were planning.”
“Jay.” you roll your eyes, hand finding his hair and gently stroking it with your fingers. “I still want it—”
“Shh.” he throws a hand above your mouth, feeling like a slap on your face though it was unintentional. “You talk so much for a little girl.”
“I’m not little!”
“Don't lie, Y/N. I can pick you up on one arm… throw you around and…”
“And?” you raise your brows, anticipating his answer. “What's next, Park?”
“And I'll wrestle you and…”
And he’s suddenly snoring. You snort. He's right. maybe this can wait until the next morning…
… or until he’s fucking you again.
“Oh, fuck. Harder, Jay, please!” you scream against the mattress as Jay pistons into you from behind. It was either you staring at the mirror or him pinning you down and letting him take over.
“This is so much better without the alcohol, don’t you think?” he suggests, landing a harsh slap on your ass. “Answer me, babe.”
“Damn, right, it is.” you whine out. “Did you lock the door, by the way?”
He slows down and whips his head to the fully opened doorway. Sunghoon stands meters away from it.
“Get the fuck out!” Jay screams, covering your bodies with the blanket.
“Lock the door next time, you moron!” Sunghoon screams back, slamming the door shut.
Well, that was embarrassing.
a/n: this is one of my old fics (from heeyunkist) that i was luckily able to retrieve! this is for all my jay hoes and non-jay hoes alike who enjoy the concept of him drunk and hot af. also this is clearly not inspired by queen beyoncé’s song of the same title /j
NSFW TAGLIST [OPEN]: @thots4hee @jaylaxies @ddeonuism @jojayke @vernonluvs-archived @puphee @forjongseong @jaeyunsz @muffinminnie @shu-ramyeonz @poutyjaeyun @fairy-junseong @duolingofanaccount @polalvsjy @taetaemylovie @heetro @yizhoutv @lavhikaru @kaislinging-slasher01 @cha0thicpisces @en-archv @simplewonderland @exactlygreatcoffee @lhseth @aerinaga @xwonniex @celeste-hoon @ajayke @enhastolemyheart (send an ask or a dm to be added!)
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