pairings 𝜗𝜚 bad boy .ᐟ heeseung ៹ ex ballerina .ᐟ reader
ᧁ ; smut ˒ angst ˒ bad boy .ᐟ good girl
warnings ⊹₊ ⋆ heavy angst lots of deep mentions of death graphic depictions of death centering around the reader and heeseung meeting at a grief group smut car accidents fights drug & alcohol use cheating (not heeseung) reader is a flawed character socialites past and present shifting timelines - this is dark, please read at your own discretion will have a happy ending.
synopsis ୨୧ your world ended the day your best friend died. In the hushed corner of a grief group you never wanted to attend, you find him — the boy with the defiant gaze and a hard exterior. with cracked pointe shoes and a heart still pirouetting in the past, you feel your family’s disapproval tightening around you like an old corset. He is everything you’ve been taught to avoid: trouble, danger, thrill. But in the quiet ache of loss, you discover something soft in him, something that mirrors your own hollow, and you never want to let go.
.ᐟ rain's mic is on ⋆ ͘ . this one is heavy y'all so please read the warnings before reading, I have experienced a loss like this and let me tell you it is not easy. but honestly I think this will be therapeutic to write...I hope you enjoy.
You sit in a circle of battered folding chairs, each one occupied by a stranger cloaked in their own quiet ache. The walls are an unremarkable shade of beige, the ceiling tiles sagging as if even they are tired of holding up this room’s endless, aching confessions. A fluorescent light flickers overhead, buzzing like a fly caught between windowpanes. It hums in your ears, mingling with the low murmur of voices; voices that float around you like a fog you can’t seem to break through. They’re sharing their stories, each word rolling into the next, and yet none of them find purchase in your mind. You hear phrases —“I lost her six months ago,” “he was my brother, my twin soul,” “I don’t know who I am without them.” The syllables tangle together, a blurred melody of heartbreak and hollow confessions that should resonate, but don’t. Instead, your thoughts roam restlessly, slipping past the edges of this circle like water seeking an escape.
This is stupid. That’s all you can think. This room, these strangers, this forced performance of vulnerability. You don’t need to be here, you don’t want to be. It was your mother’s idea, or maybe your father’s, or maybe the friend who found you crying in the kitchen and didn’t know how else to help. “You’re not okay,” they’d said, their eyes soft, their voice careful, as though your grief were a fragile thing that might shatter at the slightest touch. “You should talk to someone.” But you don’t want to talk. Not to these people, not to anyone. You’re still angry — so angry you can taste it, bitter and bright on your tongue. Angry that she’s gone, that the world keeps turning anyway, that people you love can slip away as easily as breath. Angry that you’re here, forced to sit in this room and pick at the edges of a wound that still bleeds no matter how tightly you try to hold it shut.
Your hands twist together in your lap, fingers knotted tight as you stare down at the scuffed linoleum floor. You watch the shadows shift across the tiles, the way the cheap plastic chairs creak as people shift and sigh. You wonder what they see when they look at you; if they can sense how hollow you feel inside, how every breath feels stolen from the silence you can’t seem to fill. A voice cuts through your reverie, sharper than the rest. The instructor; her name is June, but she introduced herself so quickly you barely caught it, leans forward, her kind eyes settling on you. “Would you like to share today?” she asks, her voice gentle but insistent. Her question drifts across the circle, landing in your lap like a stone.
You hesitate. You want to say no. You want to slip back into the fog of your own thoughts, let the stories of these strangers wash over you without having to offer anything in return. But June’s gaze doesn’t waver, and there’s a quiet determination in her eyes that tells you she won’t let you slip away so easily. “I—” you start, your voice a dry whisper in your throat. The word feels foreign, as though it doesn’t belong to you. You swallow, trying to find something, anything to give her, even if it’s just a shard of the truth. But before you can force out another word, the door to the room swings open with a soft groan of hinges. The quiet murmur of voices stills, the air shifting like a held breath. You look up, startled by the sudden interruption.
He stands there in the doorway, framed by the flickering fluorescent light. A boy; no, a young man, but with a reckless, hungry energy that feels too big for this small, sorrowful room. He’s tall and lean, dressed in a black hoodie that hangs loose around his shoulders and jeans torn at the knees. His hair is dark, falling across his forehead in careless waves, and there’s a glint in his eyes that doesn’t belong in a place like this; mischief, or defiance, or maybe both. He walks in like he owns the space, his steps unhurried, each one deliberate and almost lazy. There’s a kind of swagger to him that seems out of place here, where everyone else is weighed down by loss and uncertainty. He moves like he doesn’t care who’s watching, like the world could fall away around him and he wouldn’t miss a beat.
Your breath catches in your throat as he turns his gaze on the room. His eyes sweep over the group, pausing on you for just a moment; a flicker of something electric in the space between you, something that hums along your skin like static. He smiles then, a small, knowing curve of his lips that makes your stomach tighten. June recovers first, her voice steady as she addresses him. “Heeseung,” she says, her tone calm, as though she’s known him for years. “Glad you could join us. Please, have a seat.”
Heeseung. The name settles in your mind, a word with edges that feel sharp and dangerous. He doesn’t say anything, just inclines his head in a mockery of respect before sauntering over to an empty chair across the circle from you. He sits with the kind of ease that seems to come naturally to him, sprawling back like he’s at home in this room of strangers and sadness. Your pulse is a drumbeat in your ears. You don’t know why you’re staring, why you can’t seem to look away. He’s trouble; anyone could see that. He carries it in the curve of his grin, the careless way he lounges in his chair like he’s got nothing to prove and everything to lose. Your family would take one look at him and see every mistake you’ve ever been too careful to make.
But there’s something about him that pulls at you anyway; something that feels like a challenge, or a promise, or maybe just a spark in a life gone too quiet. June’s voice breaks through your thoughts again, gentle but firm. “You were about to share,” she reminds you softly, her eyes encouraging. The others in the circle watch you with polite curiosity, their own pain momentarily forgotten as they wait for your words. You’re too caught up in the magnetic pull of the boy who just walked in, the way he lounges in his chair like it’s a throne and he’s the king of this quiet kingdom of broken hearts. His presence crackles in the air, a live wire of confidence and mischief that feels out of place here; like a thunderstorm that’s wandered into a library.
Your eyes meet his again, and for a moment, the whole room seems to vanish. The flickering lights, the shifting shadows, the low drone of sorrowful voices, they all dissolve into a hush that’s just the two of you, suspended in a glance that feels like a secret whispered against your skin. Heeseung holds your gaze with an ease that makes your breath stutter in your chest. His smirk is slow and deliberate, a curve of his lips that’s both a challenge and an invitation, and it sends a rush of heat to your cheeks, blooming like a flush of summer in the cold hush of winter. You can feel the rest of the group watching; feel their curiosity flicker and sharpen as they notice the way you’re staring, as if this boy has turned you inside out with nothing more than a look. Embarrassment burns in your veins, a bright, fierce blush that you can’t quite hide. You tear your eyes away, the weight of their collective gaze pressing in on you like a vice, but it’s too late. Heeseung’s smirk deepens, dark eyes glinting with amusement that slices right through you.
You cough, the sound small and fragile in the hush of the circle. Your hands twist together in your lap, fingers fumbling with the edge of your sleeve as you try to gather the tatters of your composure. “I—I have nothing to say,” you stammer, your voice barely more than a whisper. The words feel like an apology, but you’re not sure who you’re apologizing to, June, the others, or maybe just yourself. June sighs softly, a gentle exhalation that speaks of disappointment and understanding all at once. She doesn’t push further, her eyes lingering on you for a heartbeat longer before she shifts her focus to the next trembling soul in the circle. The moment slips away, swallowed by the rhythm of the meeting, but the echo of it still hums in your bones, a melody you can’t quite silence.
You risk one last glance across the room, drawn back to Heeseung like a moth to flame. He’s still watching you, his head tilted just slightly, as if he’s trying to see right through the careful mask you wear. His gaze is steady, unflinching, and there’s a kind of quiet challenge in it, like he’s waiting to see what you’ll do next, or if you’ll let yourself fall into the gravity of whatever this is between you. You know he’s trouble. The kind of trouble that’s all sharp edges and reckless laughter, the kind that would make your parents’ hearts seize with worry. But you also know that there’s something about him that feels like possibility, like the flicker of dawn on the edge of a long night, a spark of something wild and bright in the darkness of your grief.
You look away quickly, your pulse a ragged drumbeat in your throat. You tell yourself you’re here to heal, to stitch your heart back together with soft words and shared sorrow. But as Heeseung leans back in his chair, that smirk still playing at the edges of his lips, you can’t help but wonder if healing is really what you’re searching for.
Before
You’re back in the old studio, the one with mirrored walls that seem to stretch on forever and floors that smell of rosin and sweat and quiet determination. The soft strains of a piano echo through the room, each note a gentle command that your body obeys without thought. You’re in the middle of your rehearsals, your limbs aching in that sweet way that comes only from hours of repetition, from the careful sculpting of muscle and will. Your best friend Nari is there, her laughter ringing like wind chimes as she prattles on beside you. She’s tying the ribbons of her pointe shoes, nimble fingers weaving them into place as she talks a mile a minute about some party on Saturday. Her voice is a melody of excitement and mischief, rising above the music like a warm breeze. But you’re only half-listening, your mind caught on the precise line of your arabesque, the subtle shift of your weight that can make or break the beauty of a single pose.
The showcase on Friday night looms in your thoughts, its promise and threat shimmering like a mirage just out of reach. It’s everything; the culmination of years spent spinning your soul into motion, of dawns and dusks blurred by practice and sweat. If you can dance this one performance perfectly, if you can become the music itself, there’s a chance you might be seen — truly seen — by those who can open the doors you’ve been dreaming of since you were a little girl with stars in your eyes and blisters on your feet. Nari’s words ripple through the haze of your focus, a bright ribbon of sound you can’t quite catch. “Are you even listening to me?” she huffs, nudging your shoulder with a grin that’s all playfulness and exasperation. You blink, startled out of your reverie, and offer her a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Nari,” you murmur, breathless from both the dance and the sudden warmth in your cheeks. “Can you say that again?”
She rolls her eyes, but her smile never wavers, eyes alight with mischief and affection. “Beomgyu’s having a party on Saturday,” she says again, slower this time, like she’s repeating the steps of a new routine just for you. “He wants me to come, and he said I should bring you too. You know, his roommates are going to be there, and they’re… fun.” She raises an eyebrow in a way that makes you laugh despite yourself, the sound of it soft and surprising in the hush of the studio. You pause, your breath steadying, and you brush a stray lock of hair from your face. “I’ll think about it,” you reply, your voice careful even as your heart tugs in two directions, between the shimmering future of the showcase and the siren call of a night that promises a different kind of abandon.
Nari grins, satisfied. “You’ll come,” she says with the certainty of someone who’s already decided for you. “I’ll see you there.” She winks, and for a moment, the air feels brighter; like the soft glow of stage lights just before the curtain rises, or the hush of the audience as they lean forward in anticipation. You just smile, the knot in your stomach unraveling one by one.
Present day
The clink of cutlery on china fills the hush of your family’s dining room, each sound a brittle punctuation in a conversation that has long since dried up. You’re pushing your food around your plate, letting the fork drag through the creamy potatoes in swirling patterns that feel like they should mean something. The roast sits in thick slices, glistening with juices that have already gone cold. It tastes like nothing in your mouth, like dust and memory. Your parents are seated across from you, the soft glow of the chandelier casting their faces in warm light that doesn’t reach their eyes. Your father’s brow is furrowed, the way it always is when he’s trying to figure out how to reach you without knocking you further away. Your mother’s lips are pressed into a line that might have once been a smile, but now it’s just another careful crack in the façade she wears for dinner.
They ask you about your first day at grief group, their voices careful and measured like they’re afraid of stepping on shards of glass. You shrug, your shoulders stiff and aching with the weight of words you’re not sure how to shape. “It’s stupid,” you mutter, each syllable slipping out like a sigh. “I don’t need it.” Your mother sighs, and the sound feels like a door closing softly in the night. She doesn’t argue, doesn’t push, and for a moment you’re grateful for it, grateful for the quiet that settles like a blanket over the table, even if it’s heavy with all the things you’re not saying. She clears her throat, the small sound snapping through the silence. “There’s a banquet this weekend,” she says, her voice careful as she changes the subject. “I think it would be good for you to come. To get out of the house, to socialize a little.”
Something in you flares at that, a hot spark of anger that surprises even you. Socialize. Like it’s something you deserve, like it’s something you’re entitled to just because you’re still here and breathing. Your fork stills, the silver tines scraping against the porcelain as you lift your gaze to meet hers. “Why should I?” you ask, your voice quiet but sharp. “Why do I get to socialize when Nari doesn’t?” Her name hangs in the air like a ghost, and your mother’s eyes falter, her gaze dropping to the untouched green beans on her plate. The silence stretches, taut and trembling, and you can feel the shape of the words you’re holding back, a raw scream echoing in the hollow of your chest.
“Nari’s parents,” you continue, your tone as flat and bitter as the cold dinner in front of you. “Will they be there? Beomgyu? Should I smile and pretend it’s all okay while they’re looking at me, knowing I’m the reason she’s not here?” Your mother doesn’t answer. She doesn’t have to. The way her shoulders slump, the way she can’t meet your eyes; it’s enough. It’s everything. You push your chair back from the table, the legs scraping against the wood floor with a grating shriek that echoes in the quiet. Your hands are shaking, but you keep them fisted at your sides as you stand, your breath coming hard and ragged.
“I don’t deserve to socialize,” you say, your voice hollow and aching. “I don’t deserve to sit there and smile and pretend I’m okay when I killed their daughter.” The words fall into the silence like stones, and for a moment, no one breathes. Your father opens his mouth, but there’s nothing he can say, no soft reassurance or gentle lie that can wash the blood from your hands, even if it’s only there in the quiet chambers of your guilt. You turn away before you can see their faces; before you can see the pity or the pain or the fear in their eyes. Your footsteps are quick and sharp as you leave the table behind, your pulse a drumbeat in your ears. You don’t know where you’re going, only that you can’t sit there under the weight of it all, can’t stand to be in the same room with the echo of your own confession.
In the hush of the hallway, you pause, your hand pressed to the cool wood of the doorframe. Your breath is shaking, each inhale a jagged cut. You close your eyes, and for a moment, you can almost feel the soft press of Nari’s hand in yours, the bright laugh that used to pull you back from the edge of yourself. But that’s gone now, a memory that tastes of salt and regret. You open your eyes and step away from the door, the shadows of the hallway swallowing you whole. Empty.
Heeseung moved like a storm in a bottle, all coiled energy and restless, reckless hunger. The girl underneath him was a blur, a placeholder for a connection he didn’t care to remember the shape of. Her moans were a hollow echo in his ears, a soundtrack he barely noticed as he chased his own release. He didn’t know her name — he didn’t care to know. All she was to him was a means to an end. A small glimpse of euphoria in his already fucked up life.
“Oh god.” Her voice was pitched just right, her body taunt with pleasure as her nails deliciously traced the expanse of his back up and down. It sent shivers down his spine, his head falling forward to rest on her shoulder. His orgasm approached fast and unyielding; blinding him completely for only just a second. When it was over, he didn’t bother with softness or sentiment; he just rolled away, breath ragged, the sweat cooling on his skin in the stale air of his too-small room.
It was then that the pounding came, a hard, insistent thump on the door that rattled the handle and broke through the post-coital haze. Heeseung swore under his breath, his brow furrowing in annoyance as he pushed himself upright. The girl beside him made a soft, questioning noise, but he didn’t answer. Sunghoon’s voice called through the door, muffled but clear: “Hey man… I don’t mean to bother you, but your dad is at the door asking for you.” A string of curses slipped from Heeseung’s lips, low and biting as he turned to the girl. She was sitting up, her hair tangled and her eyes wide with confusion. Heeseung didn’t bother with apologies, he just grabbed her shirt from the floor and tossed it at her, his jaw tight. “Get lost,” he muttered, his voice like gravel.
She scowled but didn’t argue, her movements quick and sharp as she tugged the shirt over her head and gathered the rest of her clothes. Heeseung didn’t watch her leave — he was already halfway to his dresser, yanking on a pair of jeans and grabbing a wrinkled shirt from the floor. His movements were hasty, all careless urgency as he buttoned the shirt with fingers that didn’t quite stop shaking. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, he was still tucking the shirt into his waistband, his hair damp with sweat and falling into his eyes. His father stood in the doorway, the harsh afternoon light casting deep lines across his face and turning his eyes into cold shards of glass. The girl slipped past Heeseung in a hurry, not even sparing a glance at the older man as she ducked out the door.
His father watched her go, his mouth twisting into a frown that spoke volumes without a single word. “Is she your girlfriend?” he asked, his tone as sharp and clipped as the cut of his tailored suit.
Heeseung let out a short, humorless laugh, his shoulders rolling back in lazy defiance. “Nah,” he said with a smirk. “Random girl.” His father’s face darkened, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he shook his head in silent disappointment. Heeseung could feel the weight of that look like a hand around his throat, but he didn’t let it show, didn’t let it break through the practiced mask of indifference he wore like armor. “I’m only here because your mother wants you to come to a banquet this Saturday,” his father said, his voice cold and final. “No questions, Heeseung. You’ll be there.”
Heeseung’s lips twisted, his laughter gone as quickly as it had come. “No way in hell,” he snapped. “I’m not going to sit with a bunch of prissy rich kids and play pretend. Find someone else.” His father’s eyes narrowed, and the room seemed to go still around them, the air heavy with all the things they’d never said out loud. “If you don’t go,” his father said quietly, his words cutting deeper than any shout could, “I’ll yank your inheritance money right out from under you. I’m done watching you piss away everything your brother worked for.”
The mention of Han hit Heeseung like a blow to the gut, the name a ghost in the space between them. His father didn’t flinch, didn’t look away, just kept his eyes fixed on Heeseung like he was daring him to break. “Usually we’d be asking Han,” he said, his voice low and venomous. “But obviously, because of you, we can’t do that.” The words rang out, sharp and final, the old wound split open once more. Heeseung’s hands clenched at his sides, his breath a ragged snarl as he took a single step forward. “I’ll be there,” he spat, his voice low and dangerous. And then he slammed the door in his father’s face, the sound of it echoing through the quiet of the house like a gunshot.
He stood there for a moment, his chest heaving, the anger coiling in his gut like a living thing. The silence in the house felt heavy, the memory of his brother’s name still clinging to the air like a curse. Heeseung closed his eyes, let the weight of it settle over him for a heartbeat and then he turned away, his jaw set and his mind already miles from the echo of his father’s voice.
Before
The memory snuck in like smoke — thin, curling at the edges of Heeseung’s mind as he lay back on his bed, the anger from the encounter with his father still simmering in his chest. It arrived uninvited, as most memories of Han did, but he never had the heart to push it away. It was a Thursday evening. Late spring, the windows open to a warm breeze that stirred the curtains and carried the faint sounds of traffic from the road outside. Heeseung had just come home from his job; something menial and forgettable at a music store, the kind of gig he kept for pocket money and for the simple pleasure of thumbing through vinyls all day. His shoulders ached, his hair smelled faintly of dust and old plastic, and there was a smear of something, maybe ink on the hem of his sleeve. He strolled through the front door like he owned the place, calling out lazily, “Han! You alive?”
The house was quiet except for the subtle shuffle of papers in the den. Heeseung followed the sound, and sure enough, Han was there, tucked behind their father’s massive old desk, sleeves rolled up, brows drawn in that signature furrow that meant he was neck-deep in whatever the hell their dad had dumped on him this time. His tie hung loose around his neck like a forgotten noose, and the desk lamp cast a tired yellow light over his papers and the dark shadows beneath his eyes. Heeseung leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching his brother like a man studying a machine. “What are you doing?” he asked, not unkindly, but with a tone that leaned slightly into mockery. Han didn’t look up right away.
“Contracts,” Han replied eventually, flipping a page with fingers that were stained slightly with ink. “Dad wants me to review the Q2 proposals before the meeting next week. He’s testing me, I think.” Heeseung scoffed and stepped into the room, hands shoved into his pockets. “You know you’re twenty-six, right? You’re allowed to act your age. Get drunk. Flirt with someone. Sleep until noon. Come on, man, you’re wasting your golden years.”
Han chuckled under his breath, a soft, familiar sound. He leaned back in his chair finally and looked up, eyes slightly bloodshot, but sharp. “My golden years?” he repeated with an amused snort. “You sound like a commercial. Look; I get it. But I can’t afford to screw this up. If I’m going to take over the company someday, I need to prove I’m ready. Dad won’t hand me anything just because I’m his son.” Heeseung made a face, as if the very idea bored him to tears. “Yeah, yeah. Legacy, pressure, expectations, whatever.” He waved a hand dismissively. “You sound just like him, you know? Minus the part where he breathes fire every time I walk in a room.”
There was a beat of silence between them, a moment that stretched like taut string. Then Han smiled again, this time with a hint of warmth. “You’re not so bad, Hee. You just… don’t want the same things I do.”
“Damn right,” Heeseung said, grinning. “And that’s why I’m inviting you to this party saturday. You need to blow off steam. Come on, it’ll be fun. Booze, music, girls who don’t talk about market projections. Maybe you’ll get laid, huh?” Han threw his head back and laughed, a full-bodied sound that filled the room and warmed something deep in Heeseung’s chest. “God,” Han said, shaking his head, “you’re such an idiot.”
“An idiot who knows how to have a good time,” Heeseung countered.
Han leaned forward again, reaching for his pen, already turning back to his mountain of responsibility. “Maybe next time. I’ve got to finish this before morning.” Heeseung sighed dramatically, shoulders slumping. “Suit yourself, nerd.” He turned on his heel and headed for the hallway. “One day you’re gonna regret choosing paperwork over parties.” Han didn’t answer that, and Heeseung didn’t expect him to.
Present day
The kitchen is quiet, too quiet for a house that used to hold the hum of music and the scent of spices and your mother’s laughter like a cradle. Now, it’s just you, curled on a barstool with your knees drawn up and your fingers clenched around a lukewarm mug of tea you forgot to drink. The steam’s long gone, and the honey at the bottom has settled into something thick and bitter. You stare into it like it might offer answers, like it might bring her back. The fridge hums. A fly taps against the windowpane. Somewhere upstairs, your father’s voice filters down faintly as he takes a business call, every word sharp and clipped, like life never paused for him. Like the world didn’t lose her. But yours did.
Nari’s absence is a bruise that never yellows, never fades. It’s sharp even now, especially now. She would’ve hated this silence. She’d be here, chattering about nothing, raiding the pantry for snacks and nagging you to put down your damn phone and just be present. And maybe that’s why your thoughts won’t stay still, because they’re clawing for a world where she still exists, a version of today where she might burst through the back door in her worn-out slippers and call you “ballerina girl” with that lopsided grin of hers. You press your palms flat against the countertop. It’s cold beneath your skin, grounding. You try to focus on the pattern of the granite, the little swirls and veins, but your thoughts still pulse like static. You feel raw. Like someone scraped out your insides and filled you with salt. Then — Buzz.
The sound shatters the silence. Your heart jerks like it remembers how to beat.
You glance at your phone, already half-hoping it’s no one important. Spam, maybe. A group text you forgot to leave. Anything but —
Beomgyu.Can we please talk?
Four words. But they land like a punch. Your chest constricts so tight, it’s like your ribs are shrinking around your lungs. You feel your breath stutter. Your fingers twitch. The guilt is immediate, overwhelming, a tidal wave you don’t even try to brace against. You slam the phone down onto the table without thinking, the crack of it hitting the wood startling in the still air. You don’t check to see if the screen’s cracked. You don’t care. Maybe you want it to be. Maybe if it shatters, it’ll mirror something inside you that already has. You bite your lip hard enough to taste iron. Your eyes sting. You haven’t spoken to Beomgyu since the funeral. He hadn’t looked at you, not once. You’d sat three rows back, your nails digging into your palms, your throat like paper. He’d held Nari’s mother’s hand and stared at the coffin with a hollowed-out look that made you nauseous. You’d wanted to crawl out of your skin. You should’ve.
You think of how close they were; how easily they fit together. You’d seen it from the start. Even when Nari denied it, even when she’d said it was “just fun,” you’d known he was her heart. You’d seen the way she softened around him, the way she came alive when he laughed at her jokes. And now? Now he was just another ghost in your phone. Your gaze drifts to the corner of the kitchen where she used to sit, cross-legged on the counter, eating cereal straight from the box and swinging her legs like a child. You can almost see her there, smirking, eyebrow raised like you’re being dramatic again.
You whisper her name, just once, and it falls out of your mouth like broken glass. You don’t answer the text. You can’t. Instead, you let your forehead fall forward until it rests against the coolness of your arms. The silence returns, thick and absolute. And still, your phone waits. Quiet. Unanswered. Just like her.
The room is stuffy today; warmer than usual, like the air forgot how to move. You sit in the same chair you did last time, in the same semicircle of grief-soaked strangers and their tea-stained paper cups, their fidgeting hands, their voices weighed with sorrow and memory. You don’t bother pretending to listen anymore. Your eyes are fixed on a speck on the wall behind the group leader’s head, June, The voices in the room bleed together like watercolor in the rain, a blur of confessions and pain you can’t bear to carry. They all sound the same now.
“My mother was my best friend…”
“It’s been three years but I still smell her perfume…”
“He was just twenty-two…”
You know you should care. You want to care. But your grief is greedy and cruel, and it’s made your heart a locked box. There’s no room left inside for anyone else’s sadness. You hear his voice before you see him; low, a little rough, carved out of something not entirely soft. Heeseung. You turn your head, eyes flicking to him like gravity pulled them there. He’s slouched in his chair, legs sprawled, fingers twitching restlessly in his lap. The swagger he wore like armor the last time is gone today. He doesn’t smirk. He doesn’t wink. He looks different, heavier. Like something happened between the last session and now, something that hollowed him out and filled him with fire.
June is addressing him now. She’s calm, as always, her voice like a therapist’s lullaby. “Heeseung,” she says gently, “would you like to share something today?” He doesn’t move. Doesn’t answer. “Heeseung?” she prompts again, a little firmer.
He lifts his head slowly, his dark eyes hooded, unreadable. His jaw is clenched. His voice, when it comes, is low and sharp as a blade.
“I have nothing to say.”
There’s an edge there that silences the whispers around the room. Even June falters, just for a second, before she forges ahead. “Sometimes saying something helps. Even a sentence. Even a word.” Heeseung lets out a humorless laugh, short and bitter. He drags a hand through his hair and stares at the floor like it betrayed him. Then he looks up; at her, at the room, and then, briefly, at you. You look away too quickly, pretending not to care.
“I belong in jail,” he says flatly. A sharp silence follows, sucking all the air out of the room. Someone coughs. Someone else shifts in their seat. Heeseung doesn’t blink. “I killed my brother,” he says, his tone brutal and matter-of-fact, like he’s just telling them the weather. “I don’t belong in a grief group. I belong in a cell.”
Your breath catches. The words strike you like a slap. You sit a little straighter, unable to look away. June sighs, quiet and practiced. “Your brother died in a car accident, Heeseung. That’s not your fault.” He’s on his feet before she can finish, the chair scraping violently against the tile as he kicks it back. The crash of it slams through the room like thunder. You flinch before you can stop yourself, your heart kicking wildly in your chest. Heeseung’s jaw is tight now, his face pale beneath his sharp cheekbones.
“Yeah,” he spits, voice rising. “He died picking me up. That’s why he was in that car. Because I was too drunk to drive myself. Because he was always the one who cleaned up my messes.” His voice cracks at the edges; just slightly, but enough to make you feel like something inside you is cracking with it. “I killed him.”
He stands there for a moment, breathing hard, eyes burning like twin eclipses. No one dares speak. The silence wraps around him like a noose, taut and thick. And suddenly, he looks so young. So lost. Like he’s still standing on the side of that road, glass in his skin and his brother’s blood in the air. You’re stunned; not just by what he said, but by the way it pierces through you. Because for the first time, you see him — not as some reckless, charming bad boy you were warned about, but as someone broken in the same places you are. Someone who walks with a ghost too.
You’d thought you were different. You, the quiet ex-ballerina with your good-girl past and your polished life. Him, the disaster with smoke on his jacket and grief in his bones. But maybe you aren’t so different after all. Heeseung doesn’t wait for permission. He grabs his coat and storms out, the door rattling in his wake. The room doesn’t breathe until he’s gone.
You can’t stop staring at the door. You wonder if he’s crying on the other side. Or if he’s just like you, too angry to mourn properly. Too haunted to move forward.
You sit there in the silence, the words echoing in your head. I killed him. You know what that feels like. And somehow, it makes you feel less alone.
You wake with a gasp, like you’ve surfaced from drowning. The sheets are tangled around your legs, soaked in sweat, your skin clammy despite the cool air slipping through the crack in your window. Your lungs heave, but the air feels too thin, like it’s not enough. Like nothing is enough anymore. The nightmare clings to you, half-formed and shadowy at the edges, but the heart of it remains vivid, cruelly clear. Nari’s hand; slipping out of yours. Her eyes, red with fury. The way her voice trembled not with sadness, but with disappointment, with anger.
The way she walked away.
How you let her.
How she never came back.
You sit up, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes like you could rub it all away. The images. The guilt. The truth. The silence of the house is suffocating, so you shove off the covers and pad downstairs on bare feet, trying not to wince as the cold tiles bite into your soles. You want water; something cold, something real. Something to distract you from the storm in your chest. The kitchen lights are off, but the refrigerator hums faintly in the dark. You’re halfway to the cabinet when you hear it: the soft, broken sound of someone crying. You freeze.
At first you think you imagined it. But then it comes again — a quiet, trembled sob. Your eyes adjust slowly to the dimness, and there she is. Your mother, sitting at the kitchen island, her shoulders curled in on themselves like the weight of the world finally became too heavy to hold. One hand grips a crumpled tissue; the other is pressed over her mouth to keep the sound contained, like grief should be polite. You hesitate in the doorway, your instincts at war. Once, not so long ago, you’d have gone straight to her without question. But that was before. That was before everything fractured.
You were a different person then. Back when your world made sense. Back when you could still recognize yourself in the mirror. When you danced like your life depended on it, when your report cards came home like trophies, when your smiles were real. You’d never smoked, never drank, never snuck out. You’d dated the kinds of boys who brought flowers for your mother and shook your father’s hand. You were the girl everyone trusted, the girl who never let anyone down. But now?
Now you move through the world like it’s made of glass. Angry at everything. Detached. Numb. The mirror doesn’t recognize you, and neither do your parents. Especially your mother. You know it. You’ve felt it every time she looks at you like she’s searching for someone who disappeared. Still, something in you softens. You walk forward, slowly, and without a word, wrap your arms around her from behind. She flinches, surprised; your presence, your touch. You used to be so affectionate, but now? Now you rarely even speak at the dinner table. After a moment, she melts into you, her head leaning back against your shoulder. Her sobs taper into shaky breaths.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you murmur into her hair. “I just… I couldn’t sleep.”
She doesn’t respond right away. Her fingers find your wrist, holding gently. Finally, she says, her voice hoarse, “I miss you.”
You close your eyes. “I’m right here,” you whisper, even though the words feel like a lie. She pulls away just enough to look at you, and in the glow of the fridge light, you see her eyes are puffy and red. She studies your face for a long, aching moment, then says, “No. Not really.” It hits harder than you expect. But she’s right. You haven’t been you in a long time.
“I’m sorry,” you say, voice cracking. “I don’t know who I am anymore.” Your mother nods, slowly, like she’s known that for a while but didn’t know how to say it aloud. She reaches out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear the way she used to when you were little. “I know you’re hurting,” she says. “We all are. But I don’t want to lose my daughter.”
The silence swells again, thick with everything neither of you know how to say. The memory of Nari hangs heavy between you — so present, so piercing. After a long pause, your mother clears her throat. “The banquet this weekend,” she says, as gently as she can manage. “I was hoping you’d come. Just to get out of the house. Be around people again.” You want to say no again. It’s your first instinct. No to the dresses, to the small talk, to the pretending. No to the judgmental stares and whispered sympathies. No to the pressure of having to act normal when everything in you is still on fire.
But then you look at her. At the hope trembling behind her exhaustion. And for once, you don’t have the energy to argue. Or maybe, deep down, you want to try. Not for you; but for her. For who you used to be. “Okay,” you say quietly.
She blinks, surprised. “Really?”
You nod. “I’ll go.” Your mother smiles, small and sad, but genuine. And you wonder when the last time she smiled at you like that was. You get your water, finally, and sip it in the dark beside her, not saying much. But for the first time in a while, the silence feels a little less heavy. And upstairs, your nightmares wait. But at least now, you’re not the only one wide awake in the dark.
The night of the banquet arrives like a storm you’ve tried your best to ignore; thunder rumbling low in your chest, your limbs heavy with dread. You stand alone in your bedroom, the soft click of your heels echoing in the quiet, a fragile sound in the space that once held laughter. The mirror before you shows a girl you almost recognize. The dress clings in all the right places, something tasteful your mother picked. Your hair is pulled back with delicate precision, a touch of makeup to hide the exhaustion under your eyes. But there’s a hollowness beneath the polish, a dullness in your gaze that powder can’t disguise.
You stare at yourself and remember a different version of this same moment. You and Nari, side by side in front of this mirror, perfume in the air and bobby pins scattered like confetti across your desk. You remember how she'd curl your hair for you, then laugh when she burned her own ear. How she'd spin you around, tilt your chin up, and say “Look at you! total heartbreaker.”
And then she'd wink, adding, “Too bad you're a prude.” You press your hand to your stomach as if that could keep it from twisting. The ache there is sharp tonight. This isn’t right. She should be here. Not as a memory; but in the flesh, wearing that crimson dress she swore made her look “dangerously hot,” even though she always ended up changing it last minute. You’d have teased her for trying on three outfits, she’d have stolen your lipstick, and the two of you would’ve danced to some stupid pop song before leaving late and in a rush.
But tonight it’s just you. Just you and the ghost of her smile echoing in the silence. Your throat tightens. You don’t cry. You haven’t cried in days, not since the last nightmare; but the burn is there behind your eyes. That cruel, unshed weight. You let out a long, steadying breath, palms smoothing the sides of your dress. It’s too tight across the chest. Or maybe that’s just your heart.
Then, with lead in your limbs, you move. Open your bedroom door. Step into the hallway. One foot in front of the other, like choreography. Like a dance. Down the stairs, your parents are waiting. Your mother looks up and smiles, that practiced, brittle kind of smile she’s worn too often. Your father offers a quiet nod, adjusting the cuff of his shirt, saying nothing but scanning you like he’s not sure what version of you he’ll be dealing with tonight.
You don’t speak, just grab your coat and purse. And as the front door shuts behind you, you don’t look back at the mirror. You don’t want to see what’s missing in the reflection.
The car ride to the banquet was silent. No music. No idle conversation. Just the occasional turn signal and the sound of tires humming against pavement. You sat in the backseat, your hands clenched in your lap like a child trying to behave, your fingers twisting the fabric of your dress with a quiet desperation. Your mother, riding in the front with your father, was too busy reapplying her lipstick in the mirror to notice how stiff you were, how you hadn’t blinked in a minute. You watched the city pass by in blurs of warm gold and shadow. Each lighted window another life you weren’t living. When you arrive, it’s all so… much. The venue is a grand old hotel downtown, the kind of place people book months in advance, with chandeliers like frozen galaxies suspended above a sea of tailored suits and glittering dresses. A string quartet plays in the corner, the music slow and graceful, and the air smells of wine, floral arrangements, and money. You step inside, and it hits you like a punch to the chest. The whispers come fast.
Your chest tightens as if the air itself resents you being here. You swallow hard, your throat raw, and try to breathe around the phantom hands curling around your lungs. It’s not working. You shift your weight, your heels suddenly too high, too loud against the marble floors. Every breath feels borrowed, like you’ll have to give it back if you stay too long. But your mother doesn’t notice. Of course she doesn’t.
She’s swept into a conversation almost immediately, pulled in by polished friends with tight smiles and hands adorned in diamonds. You can see the way she lifts her chin, her lips curving perfectly, as though this night is a role she was born to play. She’s glowing beneath the chandeliers, nodding graciously, clutching a champagne flute like it’s the holy grail.
You’re a silent shadow beside her, just a flicker in the corner of their eyes. You hope it stays that way. You scan the room, dread rising like water in your throat. No sign of Nari’s parents. No glimpse of Beomgyu. You pray, silently, fiercely, that they don’t come. That they stay wherever they are. That you won’t have to meet their eyes and see the grief you gave them staring back. But fate has never been merciful to you. You barely have time to brace before another group approaches. Family friends. Old ones. People who used to pinch your cheeks at holidays and ask how your pirouettes were coming along. You recognize them instantly. The couple with the fox-faced smiles. The man in the navy suit and the woman with silver hair too stiff to move.
“Darling,” the woman says, voice dripping with pretend concern, “we’ve been thinking about you.”
You smile, tight, robotic. “Thank you.”
“And how have you been?” she continues, tilting her head like she expects something profound.
You don’t offer anything. Just one word: “Fine.”
A silence settles over the group, awkward and dense, before the man fills it with a polite cough.
“And ballet?” he asks, though it’s not really a question. More of a test. “Are you still keeping up with it?” You stare at him for a moment, then at the swirling wine in your untouched glass.
“No,” you say simply. “I don’t dance anymore.”
The woman blinks. “But you were so talented. Surely you’ll pick it up again once things settle?”
You force a smile. “Being a ballerina wasn’t in the cards for me. Not anymore.” The way you say it; final, flat, seems to unnerve them. They don’t push further. Just exchange a glance, murmur something about catching up later, and turn back to your parents. You’re left alone again, more alone than you were when you walked in. A knot forms in your stomach. It sits heavy, immovable, like stone. You sip your wine, but the taste is bitter, acidic. It doesn’t help.
Across the room, someone laughs too loudly. A toast is made. Another waltz begins. And still, all you can think about is Nari. About how she would’ve hated this place. About how her laugh would’ve cracked through the crystal calm like lightning. About how she would’ve made a joke about someone’s ridiculous earrings just loud enough for you to choke on your drink. She would’ve made it bearable. You set your glass down on a table and press your fingertips to your temples, as if that could stop the spinning. You want to leave. You need to.
But before you can step away, before you can disappear into the safety of some forgotten hallway, your gaze lands on a figure across the ballroom. Heeseung. He’s leaning against the far wall, half in the shadows, dressed in black like the storm he always brings. His tie is loose, his hair slightly tousled, and he looks like he doesn’t belong here either. His eyes, dark and sharp, scan the room until they land on you.
And just like that, the air shifts again.
Not like before—no, not suffocating this time. Different. This is tension. Electricity. A current you can feel down to your bones. He doesn’t smile. He just stares, unreadable. And you stare back, too stunned to look away. For a moment, it’s as if the crowd fades. The whispers fall away. The chandelier light softens. There’s just you, and him, and everything you haven’t said to each other yet suspended in the space between.
Before
The studio was nearly silent save for the soft shushing of your slippers against the marley floor, the gentle hum of the overhead lights, and the faint throb of your heartbeat in your ears. Outside, the sky had already turned a deep violet, streaked with orange at the edges where the sun had made its quiet descent. But inside, it was still you and your reflection, looping the same phrase of choreography over and over until your legs screamed and your lungs ached. Friday was the big day. The showcase that could change everything. The one that scouts were coming to, the one your instructors called a turning point. You needed to be perfect. There was no room for anything less. So you stayed long after the others had gone home, repeating your variations in dimmed silence, chasing something close to flawlessness.
You paused, chest heaving, sweat glistening along your collarbones. You stepped to the side and grabbed your water bottle, letting the cool liquid ease the burn in your throat. Just as you lowered it, the front door creaked open. You flinched. No one else was supposed to be here. And then, casually framed in the doorway with one hand in the pocket of his jeans and the other running through his shaggy dark hair, stood Beomgyu. Your heart jumped — not just from surprise.
He was in jeans and a soft flannel jacket, the collar folded haphazardly. His hair looked like he'd been in the wind, or maybe he'd just run his fingers through it too many times. He blinked when he saw you, a little stunned himself, then grinned. “Didn’t expect to see you here this late. Thought everyone cleared out by now."
You raised an eyebrow, tugging your towel over your neck. “I could say the same to you.” Beomgyu stepped in, letting the door creak shut behind him. The warm light cast soft shadows on his face, making his features look even gentler. “I came to pick up Nari’s pointe shoes. She said she forgot them in her locker.”
You nodded, gesturing to the changing room. “They’re probably still there. I can grab them for you.”
“Nah,” he said quickly, taking a few more steps inside. “I know where her stuff is. It’s cool. Didn’t mean to interrupt you.”
You gave him a small shrug. “Was just running through the piece again. Nerves.” Beomgyu lingered near the edge of the room, watching your reflection in the mirror. His gaze wasn’t invasive, just curious. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Big show Friday, right?”
“Mhm.” You leaned against the barre, stretching your arms over it. “It’s the one that decides my whole future, apparently.”
“No pressure or anything,” he said with a lopsided smile. You laughed, a real one. It slipped out without your permission, caught you off guard. Beomgyu seemed surprised too, like he hadn’t expected to be funny. “I get it though,” he added after a moment. “We have our first show this weekend. It’s nothing big, just a coffee shop gig. But I’ve been running lyrics in my head all day and still feel like I’m gonna forget everything.”
You tilted your head. “You’re in a band?”
“Yeah. We suck,” he said, grinning. “But we have fun.”
You leaned one shoulder against the mirror and crossed your arms, amused. “What do you play?”
“Guitar. I write most of the songs too. Kind of emo, kind of indie. We're in a genre crisis.” You chuckled. “That sounds about right.” The conversation stretched on easily after that. What started as a brief chat turned into something warmer, something slower. Beomgyu stayed, leaning against the mirror beside you, the two of you trading stories about rehearsals and routines, stage fright, and the strange way people expected so much from you just because you were good at something. He spoke with his hands, animated and expressive, his laughter full-bodied and contagious.
You hadn’t laughed that much in weeks. Eventually, the clock on the wall struck ten. Beomgyu checked his phone, then glanced at you. “Want a ride home?” You hesitated. You were tired, your legs aching. And the walk back felt far longer than it ever used to.
“Sure,” you said. You gathered your bag and hoodie, flicked off the lights, and walked with him into the cool night. The sky had gone pitch black by then, stars hidden behind gauzy clouds. The parking lot was mostly empty, quiet but for the hum of streetlamps and the occasional car passing by in the distance. His car was older, navy blue with a cracked windshield and band stickers on the bumper. He opened the passenger door for you like it was second nature. You climbed in, the scent of spearmint gum and cheap cologne lingering faintly inside.
The drive was short. You lived only a few blocks away. But the silence that settled in the car wasn’t uncomfortable. He parked in front of your house, engine idling, the headlights casting long shadows across the street. You turned to him, already reaching for your bag. “Thanks for the ride,” you said softly.
He was looking at you. The way his eyes lingered was different now. Slower. Focused. Under the streetlight, his features looked almost unreal. The softness of his mouth. The mess of hair falling into his eyes. The calm in his expression that made your chest tighten. “No problem,” he murmured.
You lingered.
So did he.
There wasn’t a single logical thought in your head when you both leaned in. It was instinct. A gravity neither of you had expected, too strong to ignore. The next you know your leaning over all the while he is too. The kiss was soft at first, tentative; but it didn’t stay that way. Your hand found his jaw, his fingers tangled in the hem of your sleeve. It was impulsive, reckless, and stupid in the way only something that feels too good too fast can be. His lips moved against yours like he’d been waiting for it, like he couldn’t believe it was happening either. Your heart pounded. You could feel it in your throat, in your fingertips.
The kiss deepened. Your limbs felt light, dizzy with adrenaline and guilt, a dangerous cocktail that made you bolder. You shifted, climbing into his lap as though something inside you had been aching to feel this wanted, this close.
But then; it hit you.
Like ice water over the head.
Nari.
This was Nari’s boyfriend.
Your best friend.
Oh god.
You jerked back like you’d been burned, scrambling out of his lap, your breath caught in your throat. “Oh no,” you whispered, voice cracking. “Oh no, no, no.” Tears welled up fast, hot and full of shame. Your lips still tingled from the kiss, but the pit in your stomach was already growing. This wasn’t just a mistake; it was a betrayal. Beomgyu looked stunned, his eyes wide, mouth parting like he wanted to say something.
“I—” he started.
But it was too late. You shoved open the door, stumbling out of the car into the cold night, tears trailing down your cheeks. You didn’t look back. Couldn’t. The porch light blurred in your vision as you fumbled with your keys, your hands shaking. The kiss echoed in your bones like an accusation, like thunder in a silent room.
You slipped inside, heart splintering. And upstairs, alone in the dark, you cried until your chest ached; because you had just made the worst mistake of your life.
Present day
The air outside was colder than you expected, bracing against the heat still clinging to your cheeks from the banquet. You leaned back on the stone ledge, your palms flat against it, grounding you as your heart slowly tried to even itself out. Too many eyes. Too many voices. You could still hear them; those low, pitying murmurs, the way people glanced sideways and then looked away like the sight of you hurt too much to bear. Or worse, like it was something juicy they weren’t supposed to talk about but would the second you turned away.
You hated it. All of it. The way the room had swallowed you whole, a ghost of who you used to be.
A failed ballerina.
The girl who lost her best friend.
The girl who killed her.
The air helped. A little. The night had a stillness to it, only disturbed by the occasional hum of a car in the distance or the soft click of someone else’s shoes along the sidewalk. You closed your eyes, tilted your head up to the stars that were barely visible through the city’s haze. That’s when a voice broke the fragile quiet. “Hey.” Your heart lurched, and your eyes snapped open. You turned, already bracing yourself, and there he was. Beomgyu. You cursed under your breath, low and bitter.
He looked like he hadn’t changed clothes since the last time you saw him, his tie slightly loosened, his shirt untucked like he hadn’t bothered fixing himself up fully. He looked… tired. More worn than usual. But you didn’t care. He was the last person you wanted to see. The last person you needed. “Did you get my message?” he asked quietly.
You turned your gaze back toward the dark, refusing to look at him. “Yes.”
He hesitated, then took a few steps closer. “Why didn’t you respond?”
That made your blood boil. How dare he act like nothing happened. Like you haven’t betrayed your best friend and now she's dead. Like your word didn’t end the moment the two of you decided hurt her so badly it drove her to her death. You can’t even look at him without feeling an overwhelming shade of shame.
You turned sharply, your voice cold. “Are you stupid?”
Beomgyu blinked. “What?”
“You really came out here asking why I didn’t respond? You really thought I’d want to talk to you?” His brow furrowed, eyes filled with a hurt he had no right to feel. “We can’t not talk about this.”
“Yes we can.” You pushed off the ledge, straightening your back, ready to walk away. “I have nothing to say—” He reached for you. His fingers closed around your wrist. And you yanked your hand back like his touch had burned you. And in a way it did. It felt like a zap to your soul.
“Don’t touch me.” Your voice was sharp, your body trembling.
He looked wounded, frustrated. “Please, Ju—”
“She said let go.”
Another voice cut through the air, low and cold like the crack of a whip. You froze. Beomgyu did too. Your head turned slowly, disbelieving, and there stood Heeseung. Beomgyu looked at Heeseung, eyes narrowing. “Get lost,” he muttered. “This doesn’t involve you.”
Heeseung didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink. He took a single step forward, slow and deliberate, his eyes steady. “It does now.”
Beomgyu scoffed, incredulous. “You don’t even know her.” But Heeseung didn’t answer. Not with words. Instead, before you could fully register what was happening, you felt his hand curl gently around your wrist; careful, unlike Beomgyu, and then you were being pulled forward, tucked against him, his arm coming around your waist like it belonged there.
“Don’t touch my girlfriend,” Heeseung said, cool and quiet, the lie sliding from his mouth like he’d rehearsed it a hundred times. Your breath hitched. What? You stiffened against him, frozen. Your eyes flicked up to his face, searching for a sign that he was joking; but he wasn’t looking at you. His gaze was locked on Beomgyu, steady, unflinching, sharp as cut glass. It wasn’t a threat. It was a dismissal. You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know him. You had barely spoken to Heeseung, and yet here he was, holding you like you were something worth shielding.
And Beomgyu — he just laughed. A single, humorless sound that cracked open something bitter inside you. “Really?” he said, his eyes sliding between the two of you, his smirk twisting. “This loser?” He turned to you then, gaze challenging, voice low. “You can do better.”
You felt the blood rush to your ears. Your spine straightened, anger fizzing to life under your skin. All the things you wanted to say for months clawed at your throat. You stepped slightly forward, still half wrapped in Heeseung’s arm. “Really?” you said, voice trembling with heat. “Like with you?” Beomgyu stilled.
For a second, just a second, you saw something flicker in his expression; something uncertain and maybe even ashamed. But then it hardened again, sealed over by the same easy indifference he wore like a mask. He gave a low chuckle. “Whatever.” He turned to leave, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his voice floating behind him like smoke. “I’ll catch you some other time. And we will talk.”
You didn’t say anything. You watched his back as he walked away, each footstep carrying the weight of too many things unsaid. The night closed around him until he was just another shadow swallowed by the dark. And then it was quiet. Heeseung’s arm still hovered around you, tentative now, uncertain. You stepped away slowly, enough to put a little distance between you, enough to breathe.
You stayed in silence for a few minutes, the kind that lingered not awkwardly, but gently; like fog curling around a streetlamp. The chill in the air touched your skin, but the tension in your body had started to ease, little by little. Then you turned to him, brushing your hair back from your face. “Thanks,” you murmured, your voice low, but sincere.
Heeseung shrugged, his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket. “It’s whatever.” And maybe it was. Maybe to him, stepping in like that didn’t mean anything at all. But to you, it meant more than he could know. There was a pause, and then Heeseung tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing in the direction Beomgyu had walked off. “What the hell’s his problem anyway?”
The question caught you off guard. You froze for a beat, lips parting. Then you shut your mouth again and gave him the most practiced shrug you had. “No idea.” Heeseung looked at you; really looked at you and you could tell he didn’t buy it. You could see it in the subtle lift of his brow, in the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. He wasn’t convinced. But he didn’t press.
He just nodded once, slowly, as if to say: okay, I’ll let it go. You didn’t thank him for that out loud, you didn’t need to. The silence consumed you for a few more minutes until finally Heeseung speaks, his words surprising you for the second time tonight.
“Wanna get out of here?” he asks, his voice low, edged with something reckless, something soft.
You blink. “What?”
“This place sucks,” he mutters, glancing back toward the golden-lit banquet hall like it’s a prison, not a celebration. “We don’t belong here.” You open your mouth, about to say something responsible; about your mother, the expectations, the whispers that would follow, but instead, you hear yourself say: “Yeah. Let’s go.”
You don’t know what possesses you. Maybe it’s the tightness still winding in your chest. Maybe it’s the look on Beomgyu’s face as he walked away. Or maybe it’s something else entirely, the gravity of Heeseung’s presence, the pull of someone who seems just as lost as you. The two of you slip away from the banquet like ghosts through a wall, unseen, unnoticed. The air outside is cool and silver. You trail behind Heeseung toward his car, your heels clicking softly on the pavement, each step peeling away the image of the girl you were expected to be.
You slide into the passenger seat of his dark sedan, a little stunned, a little breathless. He doesn’t say anything. Just starts the engine and pulls away from the curb like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The ride is quiet. Your hands fidget in your lap, your phone buzzes once — probably your mother, and you silence it without even looking. The streetlights blur past like slow-dancing stars, and you feel something rising in you that you don’t yet have the name for. Guilt, maybe. Relief. Fear. Hope. All of them, maybe.
You glance sideways. Heeseung’s face is unreadable, cast in the faint glow of the dashboard. His hand grips the wheel loosely, like he’s driving nowhere in particular. Like wherever he’s going, he just wants to go there with someone. Eventually, he pulls into a dark parking lot. Some vacant strip mall long closed for the night. A single broken streetlamp flickers near the far end, humming like it’s trying to stay alive. Heeseung parks, cuts the engine, and the silence rushes in like a wave. Neither of you speak.
You sit there, breathing it in, the quiet, the dark, the feeling of being no one, nowhere. You hadn’t realized how much you needed it. Then, after a while, he shifts slightly. Reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls something out.
A small, ziplock baggie.
Weed.
He doesn’t look at you. Just holds it in his palm like a casual offering, then tilts his head. “You cool?” You stare at it. You remember a time — clean ballet shoes lined up like soldiers, your life scheduled to the minute, your mother bragging about you at dinner parties. You remember being the good girl. The golden girl. But that girl is gone.
You turn your gaze to the windshield. The night stares back. “Yeah,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m cool.” And in a strange, twisted way, you think you mean it.
He watches you for a beat, his expression unreadable in the dark. The silence hums between you, heavy with something unspoken. Then, almost gently, Heeseung asks, “Have you ever smoked before?” You hesitate, then shake your head no. Never. You never had the chance, too many rehearsals, too many performances, too much pressure to be perfect. But you’d be lying if you said the idea never crossed your mind. If you said you weren’t curious. If you said a small part of you hadn’t longed for the kind of freedom where you could just… let go.
He raises an eyebrow, not in judgment but in quiet surprise. “Huh,” he says simply, like he’s filing the fact away. Then, he holds the baggie up again between two fingers, his gaze flickering to yours. “You wanna?”
Your heart kicks, once. Sharp and startled. But what startles you more is your answer. “Yes.” You don’t even let yourself think. You just say it. And it hangs there, bold and fragile in the air between you. Because you mean it. If it will help you forget, if it will quiet the scream you’ve been holding in your chest since the day the world cracked and Nari was gone, if it will make the ache a little duller, the past a little blurrier, then yes. You’d do it. Heeseung gives a slight nod, not smug, not surprised. Just understanding. Like he knows exactly what it’s like to want to float outside your body for a while.
“Alright,” he says. “Let’s make it a soft one.” He moves with practiced ease, fishing out a crumpled rolling paper and pinching the weed between his fingers. You watch, fascinated, the movements almost meditative. There’s something comforting in the way his hands work, steady, sure, deliberate.
The flame from Heeseung’s lighter flickered to life, casting a golden glow across his face before it kissed the tip of the joint. He inhaled slowly, his cheeks hollowing slightly, and the ember at the end burned a hot, bright orange in the dimness of the car. You watched him with something close to awe, or maybe curiosity, or yearning, or all three twisted into one. He looked so at ease, leaning back against the driver's seat, elbow perched casually on the window frame, his gaze fixed ahead like the night outside held all the answers he didn’t want to say aloud. He turned to you after a moment, his expression unreadable as he held out the joint.
You wanted it to help you forget — just for a moment; the aching cavern in your chest where Nari used to be, the guilt gnawing at your insides like acid, the unrelenting pressure of being whoever the hell everyone thought you were supposed to be. Heeseung passed it to you. You stared at the joint for a beat too long, unsure how to hold it, how to breathe it in, like it was an alien thing and you were fumbling through foreign rituals. He noticed. Of course he did. A lazy smirk crept onto his lips, his tongue darting out to wet them slightly.
“Here,” he said. “Don’t baby it. Just put it to your lips and inhale. Deep. But not too deep, or you’ll cough your soul out.” You rolled your eyes at his amusement, but you did as instructed. You placed it between your lips and drew in a breath, tentative, hesitant, but determined. The smoke filled your mouth and then your lungs and then; You sputtered. Violently.
Coughing ripped through you like a storm, your body jerking forward as tears sprang to your eyes. Heeseung cracked up, his laughter echoing in the small space between you. “Holy shit,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye. “I should’ve recorded that. You sounded like you were summoning demons.”
You glared at him, cheeks burning, but then you laughed too. Really laughed. A broken, breathless sound that felt like relief. Like freedom. You passed the joint back and forth after that, the air inside the car growing warmer, thicker with smoke and laughter and something else unspoken. You slouched lower in your seat, legs folded beneath you, and Heeseung mirrored your posture, his thigh brushing against yours now and then. The world outside faded. The banquet. Your mother. The whispers. The ache. None of it mattered.
You talked about everything and nothing. Dumb things. Childhood stories. Songs you hated. The worst school lunches you ever had. Heeseung told you he once got detention for throwing mashed potatoes at a substitute teacher. You confessed you used to fake headaches to get out of gym. You both laughed until your faces hurt, the high sinking its claws into your skin like a warm blanket wrapping around your bones. But somehow …..the conversation shifted.
Heeseung fell quiet. His smile slipped. The light in his eyes dimmed, like a shadow passed across his heart. “My brother used to love this song,” he murmured, nodding toward the faint music trickling out of his car speakers, some old indie ballad, moody and atmospheric. “He’d play it every night before bed. Drove me crazy.” You watched him closely, the haze not dulling your senses but sharpening them in ways that scared you.
“Is he… the reason you’re in the grief group?” you asked, soft, unsure. Heeseung didn’t answer right away. Then, finally: “I’m the reason I’m in that grief group.” His voice cracked, just a little, like something too heavy to carry was trying to escape his throat. He didn’t look at you, just stared ahead, into the dark.
And you understood. God, you understood more than you ever wished to. “I know the feeling,” you whispered. That made him look at you. Really look at you. And in that glance, smeared by smoke and shadows and sorrow, you both saw something reflected. A mirror image of broken pieces. A matching ache. Something shifted.
He leaned forward, just slightly, and you met him halfway. The kiss happened so fast you didn’t even think. It was clumsy, desperate, tasting like smoke and everything you’d never said aloud. His hand cupped your cheek, fingers grazing your jaw, pulling you closer like you were the only anchor he had. Your hands found the fabric of his shirt, tugging, gripping, needing to feel something — anything that wasn’t grief. It deepened in seconds. Lips parting, tongues meeting. Heated. Messy.
Heeseung moved with a hunger that mirrored your own, his hands roaming across your back, your waist, your thighs like he needed to memorize every inch. You felt his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your dress, your breath catching as his palm flattened against your bare skin. You didn’t stop him. You didn’t want to. This, whatever this was, felt like the first thing in months that made sense. That made you feel alive instead of just surviving. Your body reacted before your brain could catch up. The car was hot now, windows fogging, clothes tangling. His mouth left trails down your neck, and your fingers curled in his hair, pulling him closer.
You didn’t think of Nari. You didn’t think of anything but this moment, and the way Heeseung’s lips felt on your skin, the way his body pressed against yours like he needed you to breathe. It was exhilarating, your body alight like a flame catching fire. You didn’t know how to explain the feeling that seeped through your bones and laid a nest in your marrow.
His hand continued its climb on your thigh inching upward for what felt like a mile a minute. You broke away to catch your breath, your forehead resting on his. “I want you.” Heeseung said, his words low in his throat it almost felt buried, like he was trying to conceal himself but his body wouldn't let him.
“Ok.” You nod because that's the only word you could say that would be coherent.
“But not all the way. I want to take my time with you.” His breath shot shivers down your spine, his fingers caressing the skin of your knee. His lips find purchase on the skin of your neck sucking the skin slightly. A gasp falls from your lips, quick and breathy. You were not a virgin, that was the truth but you had never been as needy as you were now. In Lee Heeseung’s car of all people. He was trouble, that much was clear. You had just gotten high with the guy for crying out loud.
You didn’t care. Not anymore, at least. You were tired of caring. So, you let him continue his kisses down your neck, slow and careful, a strong opposition to your rapidly beating heart. A timeless boom let out into the quiet or your entire body and your entire soul. You welcomed it and it came crashing like a tidal wave.
His hand inched up, and under your dress. His hands caressing your clothed core with his finger. Your breath shook a small mewl leaving your lips. Heeseung smirked against your skin, a slow languid smirk that told you he was enjoying this just as much as you were. His thumb ran across your panties slowly like he was testing the waters. Watching your reactions, keening at your pleasure. Lee Heeseung knew what he was doing, that much was clear.
“I’m going to touch you now, Okay?” His voice was questioning but not uncertain. Like he knew you wanted this but just had to make sure. It was more appreciated than you could even say.
You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. His finger pulled your panties aside, his eyes never leaving your face, not even for a second. This was a movie and you were the star of the show, the leading lady. You deserved a fucking standing ovation after this one, only it wasn’t an act. This was real; very much so. You moaned breathily watching Heeseung with careful eyes. He was beautiful there was no doubt about it. His finger traced your clit, moving in slow circles over the nub. Your body felt electrified.
You reacted with a gasp, your hand reaching to grip Heeseung’s arm “Hee–” You whimpered as he slid a single finger into your entrance, eyes still locked on your face intently. “Feels good.”
“Yeah?” He asked with a smirk. “How good?”
“So good.” You withered under his gaze, your hips lifting to meet his fingers. It was euphoric. A mind numbing feeling you’d been searching for. It didn’t take long for you to tip over the edge. Your orgasm hitting you like a truck. Your moans ringing through the car and filling the space. Heeseung’s gaze turned dark, drinking you in.
“Beautiful.” He muttered “So fucking beautiful.” Then it was over. And not a single part of you regretted it. You had felt alive, ablaze with feeling. You needed this.
“What time is it?” You asked, after a stretch of silence. You watched as the foggy windows cleared your mind becoming less hazy as you came down from not only the high of your orgasm but the high of the weed.
“Just passed one. Need a lift home?” You nod tiredly, barely gaining the strength to lift your head. And before you know it, he was starting the car and taking off. Your perfect night ending as you knew it.
Before.
The house was already thick with tension, the air humid with summer heat and something more suffocating; disappointment, maybe, or something sharper, something older. Heeseung stood in the middle of the living room, jaw tight, fists clenched at his sides. The walls around him had once felt like home, but now they felt too close, like they were folding in on him. “You can’t just keep coasting like this,” his father barked, pacing across the living room with his arms crossed, brow furrowed like a permanent fixture. “You’re twenty-three, Heeseung. What are you even doing with your life?”
Heeseung leaned against the back of the couch, arms folded, expression unreadable except for the faint twitch in his jaw. “I’m figuring it out.”
“Figuring it out?” his father repeated with a humorless laugh. “You’ve been saying that for two years. Meanwhile, Han’s already lined up for internships, he’s tutoring on weekends, and he’s still pulling top grades. He actually wants something for himself.” And there it was. Han. The golden son. The measuring stick. Heeseung pushed off the couch, tension suddenly uncoiling in his limbs like a spring snapped loose. “Good for him,” he said bitterly. “Why don’t you make him a damn trophy?”
“Don’t talk about your brother like that,” his father snapped.
“I’m not talking about him,” Heeseung shot back. “I’m talking about you. You never look at me without seeing what I’m not.”
His father’s face hardened. “You have all the same opportunities. You just don’t take anything seriously.”
“Because I don’t want to spend my life miserable just to meet your standards.”
“God, listen to yourself,” his father muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “You think life’s about doing whatever the hell you want? You think you’re entitled to waste your time and your potential?”
“I’m young,” Heeseung barked. “Isn’t that what being young is for? I have the rest of my life to hate my job and sit in traffic and drink burnt office coffee. Why the hell would I start now?”
“You always have an excuse,” his father said. “Always. You’re lazy, Heeseung. And selfish. I’m just glad Han didn’t turn out like you.” The words sliced through the air like a blade. Heeseung went still. His chest rose and fell, his breath shallow. For a moment, neither of them said anything. The only sound was the hum of the fridge in the next room. Then Heeseung laughed; quiet and humorless.
He grabbed his keys from the counter. “You know what?” he said, voice brittle at the edges. “Thanks, Dad. Really. That was the push I needed.”
“Where are you going?” His father yelled after him.
“Out,” he snapped, walking toward the front door. “To do something useless. Just to spite you.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. The door slammed shut behind him, the sound sharp as a gunshot. Outside, the sun was still bright, but it felt cold in his chest. A hollowness had opened up inside him, and he didn’t know how to fill it, except to forget. So he texted the group chat, asking what parties were happening tonight. And as he walked down the street, hands in his pockets and jaw still clenched, Heeseung thought only one thing: Han can keep being perfect. I don’t want that life anyway. But part of him knew; even then, that something had cracked open. And that no party in the world would be enough to glue it back together.
Present day
The car ride home was quiet, the kind of quiet that sinks into your skin and makes a home there. After the haze and heat of that night with Heeseung, the soft high that blanketed your brain, the weight of his body pressed into yours like something grounding, you hadn’t thought about what came next. You hadn’t prepared for the way your real life would be waiting for you like a predator at the door. Heeseung pulls up slowly in front of your house, the engine humming low. The porch light is on. A silhouette moves behind the curtain. Your stomach knots. You should’ve known better. You should’ve gone home earlier. You should’ve texted.
You shouldn’t have disappeared. Heeseung glances at you. “You good?”
You nod, though you’re not. You open the door and step into the cool night air, the scent of pine and pavement rising with the wind. The moment the door swings open, you’re met with your mother’s worried face, and your father’s fury. “There you are,” your mother breathes, like the air had left her lungs hours ago and only now returned. Her eyes are wide, red-rimmed. Her robe is tied tightly at her waist, hands clenched. “Where have you been? We didn’t know if something had—”
“Where the hell were you?” your father’s voice cuts like a blade. He’s pacing now, his posture rigid, as if he’s been holding himself still for too long and has finally snapped the leash. The living room lamp casts long shadows on the hardwood, your mother’s expression flickering like candlelight. You cross your arms. “Out.”
“Out?” he repeats, incredulous. “You disappeared in the middle of the banquet. You didn’t answer your phone. We were about to call the police.”
“I was with someone.”
“Who?” he demands.
You shouldn’t say it. You know the weight the name carries in this house, the implications, the judgment it would bring. But you’re still high. You’re still reeling. And your anger, your rage, has been stewing beneath your skin for far too long. You tilt your head, smirk venomously. “I was busy having sex. With Lee Heeseung.”
Your mother gasps, small, but sharp. A sound of heartbreak and horror all at once. Your father stills. There’s a quiet moment, too quiet, before he explodes. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to your mother?!”
“I don’t care,” you snap.
His face darkens. “You don’t care?”
“No. I don’t. Because none of you care about me. You only care about what I do. How I act. How I reflect on you. You don’t care about how I feel; about what I’ve been going through.”
“We’ve given you space—”
“No,” you cut him off, your voice rising with the heat in your throat. “You’ve given me rules. Expectations. You wanted me to move on quietly. To cry behind closed doors and never, ever make you uncomfortable with the reality of what happened.” Your mother clutches her robe tighter. “We’ve tried—”
“You’ve tried to ignore it!” you cry. “You want to pretend Nari dying didn’t ruin me. You want me to go back to who I was. But I’m not her anymore.” Your father slams his palm against the wall, the sound like thunder. “We’ve given you so much grace this year after Nari’s death but—”
“There is no buts!” your voice cracks. “My life ended the same day Nari’s did.” A silence falls over the room, heavy as snow. Your father’s voice is low, seething. “No, it didn’t. You’re still alive. And you’re treating yourself like some kind of corpse. Wake up.”
“Why should I?” you whisper. “Why should I get to live comfortably, eat dinner, go to banquets, kiss boys in dark cars, when it’s my fault she’s dead?” Your mother lets out a sound like a sob, but you can’t stop now. The words are fire on your tongue, and they’ve been burning there for too long.
“You don’t get it,” you say to your father, your voice shaking. “You don’t know what it’s like to carry that kind of guilt every single day. To wish it had been you instead. You’re right. I am acting like a corpse; because I should be one.”
That’s when he takes a step forward, his face pale with fury and pain. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s true.”
“Don’t you ever say that again,” he growls.
But you don’t listen. You’ve already turned. Your feet carry you down the hall like instinct, your fingers fumbling for your phone. You scroll through your contacts with trembling hands, your vision blurred. You tap his name. He picks up on the first ring. “Hello?”
“Heeseung…” you breathe, voice cracking. “Please. Come pick me up.” There’s a pause. Then; his voice, calm and certain. “On my way.”
You hang up before your father can say another word, before your mother can cry any harder, before the weight of their stares suffocates you completely. You step outside into the night, wind rushing against your skin like a balm, your heart still thrumming with rage and regret and pain. The world outside is dark, the moon obscured by clouds. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barks. You stand there on the sidewalk, arms crossed tightly over your chest, waiting. And when his car turns the corner, headlights cutting through the dark like a lifeline; you breathe again. You don’t know where you’re going. But you know it’s away. And for now, that’s enough.
Before
The theatre smelled of velvet and varnish and a faint current of dust stirred by restless feet; an intoxicating mix that lived in your bones long before you ever set foot in its wings. It was Friday, the day everything was meant to unfold exactly the way you’d mapped it in your sleepless imaginings: the day the scouts filled the back row with clipboards poised, the day your instructors whispered Watch this one, the day your life would pivot on the sharpened point of a single relevé.
But all week your nerves had been a live wire sparking under your skin. You’d flitted through dressing‐room corridors like a ghost, ducking Nari’s bright grin, her lilting voice calling your nickname, the glitter of anticipation in her eyes. Pre‐show jitters, you’d told her, forcing smiles so wide your cheeks trembled. In truth, your heart was a glass ornament rattling in its box, because tucked into it was a secret kiss that did not belong to you; a kiss that belonged to Nari, to her late‐night confessions about Beomgyu, to the dizzy way she clasped your arm and said He’s the one, I feel it. That kiss replayed in your mind on a merciless loop: the blurred parking‐lot lights washing across Beomgyu’s face, the soft rasp of his flannel collar, the unplanned tilt of two mouths colliding in a moment that should never have existed. Every beat of silence afterward felt like a fresh betrayal. You’d tried to bury it beneath pliés and pirouettes, to sweat it out into the marley floor, but guilt is a clever shadow; it clings to the arch of your foot, the curve of your rib cage, rides the breath of every port de bras.
Now, backstage, the hush before the storm pressed in on you. Scuttling crew members tacked stray cables to the floor; the stage manager hissed cues into a headset. Beyond the velvet curtain came the low hum of an expectant crowd; parents adjusting programs, instructors scanning rosters, the occasional rustle as someone leaned to whisper good luck to a performer slipping past. Your fellow dancers flitted in and out of light like dragonflies, tutus trembling, pointe shoes ticking softly on the worn boards. Somewhere out there was Nari, waiting two numbers after you, hair pinned in a sleek crown, eyes surely hunting the auditorium for Beomgyu’s familiar silhouette. And somewhere, closer than you wanted to imagine, was Beomgyu himself, sitting with the audience’s polite hush draped about his shoulders. You had not dared to look for him during warm‐ups; the very idea set your pulse galloping.
An assistant stage manager approached, clipboard clutched, voice gentle yet insistent. “Five minutes, star.” The moniker landed like a shard of glass. Star. The word rang hollow when you felt anything but stellar, when every muscle was soldered to fear. Still, you nodded and stepped into the narrow spill of light at stage left, waiting for the house to black out and the overture to climb. The curtain would rise on silence, a single spotlight blooming down like moonlight. You would step from darkness into glow, offering your first breath to the rafters. You’d practiced that entrance so many times the floor all but remembered your weight. Tonight you would give it everything, because failure, you’d decided, was the only penance big enough to fit this sin. If you danced perfectly, perhaps the universe would not forgive you; so you vowed to dance beyond perfect, to dissolve into movement so wholly that the world could forget it ever saw you kiss the wrong boy.
The house lights dimmed. A hush rippled across the audience like the draw of a single breath. In that hush you caught the faintest sound: a program dropping, a throat clearing, the soft scuff of someone shifting in their seat. And beneath it all, your name inside your chest, repeating like a mantra: remember the choreography. remember the music. remember the reason you began. When the curtain ascended, it felt almost slow like dawn unfolding. The low whirr of the fly‐system chains, the gentle rustle of velvet reaching upward, revealing a stage hushed, waiting. The spotlight found you, and heat flooded your skin. Applause dotted the darkness: a scattering of claps, polite and anticipatory, then fading to a reverent hush.
The first note of the piano slipped from the orchestra pit; soft, deliberate, as if testing the air. You drew a breath so deep it lifted your ribs like wings, and then your body obeyed the command that had been etched into its sinew over months of repetition. You stepped forward, ankle rolling through demi‐pointe to full, the world narrowing to the music, the floor, the fire in your muscles. For a heartbeat, it was perfect. More than perfect: it was transcendence. Each développé carved an invisible ribbon through space; each alignement felt true, as though gravity itself had arced to cradle you. You surrendered to the dance and let it carry you across the stage like wind across water. Every beat of the piano pulled another secret thread tight inside your chest, and yet, incredibly, you didn’t unravel; you soared.
Then your eyes lifted. A reflex. A mistake. Rows of faces climbed into the darkness, features softened by the spill of stage light. Far left, a head of sandy hair, a familiar tilt of a jaw, a pair of wide dark eyes that had once closed under your kiss. Beomgyu.
The breath caught in your throat mid‐pirouette. The world jolted slightly off its axle. In that split second, the clarity you’d fought so hard for shattered like a mirror under stone, and the edges flew at you; every shard a memory: his smile in the glow of the streetlight, the click of his seatbelt as you leaned in, the soft shock of his lips. Behind those shards, the imagined face of Nari when — if — she discovered the truth. Your next placement faltered. The edge of your pointe shoe skidded. You tried to salvage it, shoulders tightening, arms shooting wide but the correction was too sharp, too late. Your ankle buckled, and gravity claimed you in a brutal, inelegant swoop.
You hit the floor hard enough to send a tremor through the wings. A stunned gasp rippled across the crowd; a collective intake of breath that sounded like a verdict. The spotlight kept shining, merciless, on the shape of your failure. For a moment you couldn’t breathe; the air seemed to have left the theatre entirely. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears. In that bright, silent agony, one thought screamed louder than the pain: I deserve this.
Your palms slipped on the marley as you scrambled upright, but the choreography was gone, blown out like a candle. All that remained was the monstrous echo of what you’d done, of who you’d betrayed. The music continued, an empty cascade of sound; and you, trembling, stared out at the sea of faces until one face met your gaze: Nari’s. Stage left, waiting for her entrance, eyes wide with horror and a heartbreak you prayed she couldn’t name yet. Something inside you broke fully then. You couldn’t stay. You couldn’t finish. You couldn’t breathe in a world where she might learn the truth. With a ragged sob, you spun on your heel and fled the stage, the curtains swallowing you, the orchestra faltering into confused diminuendo. Behind you, the audience erupted, someone calling your name, others murmuring like distant thunder, parents half‐rising from seats.
Backstage smelled of dust and rosin and your own panic. You tore down the corridor, past startled crew members, tutus swishing as dancers pressed back against scenery flats to let you pass. Someone called after you; an instructor, maybe but their voice drowned in the roar of your pulse. You pushed through the stage door into the alley, the night slapping cold against your fevered skin. The street beyond the theatre was shockingly normal, cars rolling by, a neon sign buzzing across the avenue, the faint peppery smell of a late‐night food truck. But inside you, the world had ended. You bent double, hands on your knees, tears splattering the asphalt. On the other side of the stage wall, the showcase continued; voices, hurried announcements, an onstage piano vamping to fill the space you’d left barren. You pictured scouts scribbling notes: promising, but no mental stamina. poor recovery. not ready.
None of it mattered. You deserved none of it. You deserved exactly this emptiness, this shame coiled tight as wire around your throat. Because what kind of friend kisses the boy her best friend loves? What kind of dancer lets the stage become collateral damage for her guilt? A monster. You pressed your fist to your mouth to stifle a sob. Down the block, an ambulance siren wailed; shrill, insistent and the sound echoed in your bones. You didn’t know it yet, but hours later you’d meet that wail again in a different key, flashing red against wet pavement, broken glass glittering under streetlights, the night Nari would walk away from you for the last time.
For now, there was only the alley and the wreckage of a dream that had shattered under a single glance. You slid down the cool brick wall until you were crouched amid puddles of stage runoff, trembling with adrenaline and remorse. Somewhere inside the theatre, Nari was stepping into her music, dancing her heart out; maybe flawlessly, maybe faltering because of you. You’d never know, because you couldn’t bear to watch.
You buried your face in your hands and stayed there until the music ended, until the applause rose and fell, until the night air numbed the sting of your scraped palms. By the time a teacher found you, voice gentle, jacket draped over your shoulders; you had already decided you were done. With ballet. With pretending. With believing you deserved good things. Because the monster inside you had spoken, and the stage had listened. And you felt certain — absolutely certain that nothing would ever be bright again.
Present day
The streetlights flicker past like ghosts, golden halos warping through the tears blurring your vision. You don’t bother wiping them away. You just hope Heeseung doesn’t notice, but of course he does. Silence may fill the cabin of his car, but it's not a silence that shelters. It’s the kind that listens too closely, hears too much. The air is thick; warmer than it should be for nightfall. The windows are cracked just enough to let in a breeze that carries the scent of damp pavement and something flowering in the dark. Your fingers are clenched in your lap, nails carving half-moons into the soft flesh of your palms.
You feel his glance before you see it. Heeseung shifts slightly in the driver’s seat, one hand loose on the steering wheel, the other drumming an idle rhythm against his thigh. He doesn’t say anything right away, and you cling to that mercy for as long as you can, but then his voice slips into the space between you. “What’s wrong?” he asks, gentle. Like he’s afraid you might break if he presses too hard.
You inhale sharply through your nose and keep your gaze pinned to the window. You watch as the night spills over rooftops and lampposts and blinking store signs, blurry and distant, as if you’re floating somewhere above your life instead of living it. You debate lying. It would be easy. Safer. You could tell him it was just a bad day. School stress. A family squabble about curfews or drinking or some other shallow wound that wouldn’t require stitching. But Heeseung doesn’t feel like someone you can lie to. Not right now. Not after the joint, the kiss, the way he touched you, the quiet understanding that crackled between you like static in the dark. This thing between you, it’s not defined, not shaped into anything real; but it’s honest. And in a world where most people look at you with pity or suspicion or sanitized grief, Heeseung looks at you like he sees past the performance.
So you speak. Quietly. “I got into a fight with my parents.” Heeseung nods, doesn’t push. Just gives you space. You swallow, your throat tight. “It was about Nari.”
There’s a brief pause. You can feel the shape of the question before he asks it, cautious and curious. “Who’s Nari?”
Your eyes close for a beat. The ache swells in your chest again, a slow, suffocating bloom. “My best friend,” you say. And then, sharper, crueler, the words tear their way out of you: “My best friend that I killed.”
Silence. A heavier one now. Weighted. You brace yourself for the flinch, for the retreat, for the cold rush of judgment that always follows. You wait for him to tell you that you’re being dramatic, that it wasn’t your fault, that grief warps memory and blame. But Heeseung doesn’t say anything. And in his silence, there is no retreat. There is no recoil. You glance sideways. His expression hasn’t shifted into pity or horror. If anything, it’s softened. Eyes dark and unreadable, mouth slack with something that might be understanding, or pain. Heeseung just nods. Like he knows exactly what it feels like to carry something unspeakable.
When he pulls into his driveway, you expect him to say something more, to fill the silence with platitudes or distractions. But he doesn’t. He turns off the ignition, tosses his keys onto the dashboard with a quiet clatter, and says, “Come on.” You follow him into the house. The air inside smells faintly like detergent and something warm from earlier; maybe toast or ramen. The lights are low, and the hallway creaks under your steps. There are photos on the wall, but you don’t stop to look at them. It feels like trespassing, being here. Not physically, but emotionally. Like you’ve brought the rot of your guilt into a space that deserves better.
Upstairs, his room is dim and a little messy; sheets rumpled, books stacked sideways on the desk, a hoodie slung across the back of a chair. You hover in the doorway, unsure, until he gestures for you to come in. You sit on the edge of his bed, suddenly small. Your hands knot in your lap. The air is thick again. Not from heat this time, but from the weight of what’s unsaid.
“I’m sorry,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. Heeseung drops to a crouch in front of you, hands braced on his knees. He looks up at you like he wants to memorize your face in this exact moment. “You don’t have to apologize.”
Your eyes sting again. “I do. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be doing this. I—”
His voice cuts you off. Firm. “You’re not a bad person for needing someone.” You shake your head, blinking hard. “I betrayed her. She was always there for me, and I hurt her. I broke something so sacred. She trusted me.”
Heeseung’s expression shifts. Not in disbelief, but in recognition. He knows this guilt. Wears it like a second skin. “I get it,” he says, softly. “I killed my brother.”
He doesn’t look away. “Not literally. But I might as well have. I— I did something. I didn’t mean to. But I did. And now he’s dead. And it’s because of me.”
Your voice is tentative. “That can’t be true.”
“It is,” he insists. His voice trembles just once, then steadies. “I might as well have put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger.” You stare at him, stunned. Not because of the words, but because of how familiar they sound. Like an echo of your own worst thoughts.
“I told her,” you say quietly, “that she didn’t deserve him. I told her he didn’t love her. I lied. I said it to hurt her.” You’re not even sure when the tears start again. They fall quietly, steadily, like summer rain.
“I kissed him. Her boyfriend. She found out. I never got to explain. I never got to say sorry.” Heeseung says nothing. He doesn’t have to. He just kneels there in front of you, steady as a lighthouse, his eyes locked on yours.
You can barely breathe. “It should’ve been me. Not her. I was the one who ruined everything. I should be the one—”
“Stop,” he says, gently but firmly. Your voice cracks. “Why does the world keep spinning when she’s not in it? Why do I get to wake up every day when she’s in the ground?”
Heeseung places a hand on your knee. Not romantically. Not out of pity. Just to anchor you. To remind you that you're still here, breathing, even if you don’t know why. “Tell me what happened,” he says. “That night.”
You don’t answer right away. You stare past him, past the walls, past the ache. Your throat works around the lump rising in it. That night. The one you’ve rewound and replayed a thousand times. The night everything shattered. You open your mouth. And the scene begins to unwind behind your eyes. But that’s for the next breath. The next storm. For now, you sit in Heeseung’s room, in the quiet aftermath of too much truth. And for the first time in what feels like forever, someone sees you in all your ruin; and doesn’t look away.
It was the night after the showcase, and you felt like a ghost in your own skin. The stage lights had faded, but their burn still etched itself behind your eyes, mocking you. You hadn’t even made it through the routine. You’d crumbled; right there, in front of everyone who ever believed in you. Your body, trained and honed like a blade for years, had given out at the mere sight of him. Beomgyu. His eyes in the crowd. His mouth, the one you’d kissed in secret. Nari’s boyfriend. Her everything. And you’d shattered. Now, your phone was a storm. Ping after ping, call after call. All from her.
Nari.
Her contact photo was a blurry selfie from last summer — her smile sun-kissed and wide, your arm looped around her neck. You looked so happy. So unworthy. She was worried. Of course she was. You were supposed to be avoiding her for pre-show jitters, remember? But now the show was over and the lies had nowhere to hide. The texts were a blur. hey.
please say something. i’m worried about you. i’m not mad. just talk to me. i love you. you know that right? That last one made you feel like you were going to throw up. You dropped the phone onto your bed like it was on fire. You paced. You screamed into your pillow. You considered telling her everything. The kiss. The guilt. The way your bones ached with shame every time her name crossed your lips. But you didn’t. Because what kind of monster kisses her best friend’s boyfriend and lets her say I love you like nothing happened? You pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes. You wanted to disappear. You wanted to punish yourself. And then she called.
The ringtone split the silence like a siren. You let it ring. Let it go to voicemail. It rang again. And again. On the fourth try, you picked up, breathless like you’d run a mile. “Hello?” Her voice came through, thin and frantic: “Oh my God; are you okay? Why haven’t you been answering? I’ve been freaking out—”
“I’m fine,” you lied. “Just… tired.”
“Tired? You disappeared after the showcase, you didn’t even stay for the closing photos. Everyone was asking about you. Your parents looked — I don’t know, really worried or something. What happened up there?” You couldn’t answer. Your throat locked up. The sound of her worry made you want to claw your skin off. Nari didn’t push. That was her gift and her curse. She gave you space when you needed it; even when you were lying to her face.
“I think you should come to Beomgyu’s,” she said after a long silence. “I know, it’s dumb. I know you don’t like these things. But maybe it’ll help. Just… I don’t know. I want to see you.”
The line crackled. Her voice wavered. “Please.” It was that word — please that broke you. Even after everything, even not knowing what you’d done, she still wanted you there. Still loved you. You whispered, “Okay.” And hung up before you could change your mind.
The second you stepped through the front door, the night swallowed you whole. Music pounded like a heartbeat, loud and consuming, the bass thudding through the soles of your shoes and up your spine until your body seemed to vibrate from the inside out. The house was an explosion of color and chaos; flashing LED lights staining the air red and green, the smell of alcohol and weed thick enough to choke on. Someone shrieked with laughter from the kitchen, their voice edged in hysteria. The living room looked like a scene from a dream gone wrong: bodies pressed together in the dim light, dancing on tables, spilled drinks soaking into the carpet, lipstick-smeared kisses exchanged without meaning. You were an intruder here, a ghost drifting through a world too loud, too fast, too alive for what was rotting inside of you. Your heart beat too loudly, but only with dread. You were here for one reason — Nari.
Your eyes scanned the crowd in desperation. Faces blurred together, a kaleidoscope of strangers and half-friends you didn’t care to recognize. Every movement felt slow, as if your limbs were dragging through molasses. You called out for her once, twice, but no one heard you over the noise. Your throat burned. Every second that passed stretched thinner than the last, stretched like the lie you’d built between yourself and the girl who’d once been your anchor. You grabbed a boy near the stereo, his breath reeking of vodka and his eyes glazed over with party-born indifference. “Have you seen Nari?” you shouted over the music.
“What?” he bellowed, tipping his head.
“NARI!” you yelled again, your voice hoarse.
He squinted, lips pulling into a sloppy grin. “Beomgyu’s room!” He jabbed his finger upward, then turned back to whatever game he was playing with the girl beside him. The words hit like a brick to the stomach. Your legs moved on their own, carrying you toward the stairs, each step heavier than the last. The music dimmed slightly as you ascended, replaced by the echo of your own breathing; shallow, frantic, uneven. The hallway was lit by a single flickering bulb, shadows creeping along the walls like phantoms. You hesitated at the door, the weight of what might be behind it pressing against your chest. You knocked.
No answer.
You tried again. Still nothing.
You opened the door.
The room was dim, just the low glow of a lamp in the corner casting a soft golden haze. Beomgyu was there, sitting on the edge of the bed, head bowed, fingers knotted in his hair like he was trying to rip thoughts straight from his skull. He looked up at the sound of the door creaking, his eyes dark and distant, the slump of his shoulders too familiar. You stepped inside, heart hammering. “Where’s Nari?”
He blinked like he’d just remembered you existed. “She’s in the bathroom,” he said, voice low. You nodded, relief flooding your system. You turned to leave, to find her, to finally talk, to explain.
But his hand caught yours. You froze. “Wait,” he murmured, standing. Your heart leapt into your throat. You turned toward him slowly, your fingers still curled beneath the weight of his.
“What are you doing?” your voice trembled.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said.
The room tilted, the words crashing into you like a rogue wave. You pulled your hand back, stumbling a step away. “What?”
“I—” He reached up slowly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, the gentleness of the touch striking terror into the hollow space beneath your ribs. “I think I’m in love with you. And I’m not sorry about it.”
Your breath left your body. The room suddenly felt too small, the air thick and cloying. Your thoughts scattered like dust in sunlight. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Couldn’t remember what day it was or who you were or why any of this had happened. Then he leaned in. And god help you, you didn’t stop him.
The kiss was soft, slow, nothing like what you should have felt. No heat. No passion. Just desperation. A collision of two broken people reaching for something to numb the ache. His lips pressed to yours like a promise he had no right to make, and your body moved on autopilot, not because it meant anything; but because you couldn’t stop unraveling. Because the guilt already inside you wanted to finish the job. And then the door opened.
“Sorry, Gyu, the line was lo—” Nari’s voice sliced the moment in half. You and Beomgyu broke apart instantly. Her figure stood in the doorway, her silhouette backlit by the hallway, her face frozen in pure, heart-wrenching horror. Her lips parted. Her eyes wide and glassy. A silence so violent followed that it rang in your ears.
“Nari—” you began, stepping forward.
“What are you doing?” she asked, voice cracking. “Are you drunk?”
“No,” you whispered, voice trembling. “I…”
Beomgyu stepped in front of you, shielded you. “I love her.” The words detonated. You saw them hit her like bullets, tearing through her chest, her stomach, her soul. Her mouth opened in disbelief. Her hand flew to her face, eyes flooding. A tear slid down her cheek, and then another.
“You love her?” she repeated, the disbelief in her voice shattering into something sharper. She turned to you, her face contorted. “How could you?”
You shook your head. “I don’t— I don’t love him—”
“Then what the hell was that?” she screamed.
Your words failed. Every explanation tasted like ash in your mouth. Nari shook her head in disgust, chest heaving, shoulders trembling. “I felt bad for you,” she hissed. “I was here crying for you after you fell at the showcase. I was the only one defending you, worrying about you — and you were falling in love with my boyfriend?”
“I wasn’t—I’m not—” You took a step forward, pleading. “Nari, please—”
“Save it,” she snapped, her voice tight with betrayal. Then she turned and ran. You chased her, heart in your throat, vision blurring with tears. The house blurred around you, voices rising in alarm as people stepped back, made room for the spectacle.
“Nari!” you cried out, louder. “Nari, wait!” You hit the yard just as she reached the edge of the driveway. You grabbed her hand, stopping her.
She spun to face you, eyes wild. “How could you?”
Her voice cracked in two. Your breath hitched. “I made a mistake,” you whispered, barely audible. “I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t thinking—I—”
“I loved him,” she spat. “And you knew that. You knew what he meant to me. And you let him touch you anyway.”
You shook your head, helpless. “I was hurting, I wasn’t—I’m sorry—”
But it didn’t matter. She stepped back from you, tears shining in her eyes, her voice growing louder, shriller. “How could you betray me like that?” she screamed. “I gave you everything—I trusted you!”
The crowd that had spilled from the party stood in silence now, some filming, some whispering, none stepping in. She kept backing away, one trembling step at a time, her anger unraveling into sobs. “I hate you,” she choked. “I hate you—” Then headlights cut across the street. A roar of an engine. Screams. Tires screeching too late.
Your scream ripped from your chest. “NARI!” But the car struck her before she could turn. The impact was sickening. Her body flew; crashed to the pavement like a marionette with its strings sliced clean. Gasps exploded around you, someone dropping a drink, the shatter echoing like gunfire. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. You stood frozen as her body crumpled on the road, limbs twisted, her eyes wide and unseeing.
Time stopped.
The music had gone silent. The world had gone quiet. And all you could hear — over and over and over again, was the sound of her body hitting the ground.
Before Heeseung’s pov
The world had already begun to blur around the edges. Music throbbed through his skull like a migraine, and every heartbeat pulsed with fury. Heeseung swayed in the middle of the chaos, a red solo cup dangling from his fingers, filled with something that tasted like gasoline and bad decisions. Sweat slicked his back beneath his shirt, his skin clammy and hot. He laughed too loud at nothing, danced with girls he didn’t know; arms flung over their shoulders, mouths close enough to kiss but never quite touching, never quite feeling. He couldn’t feel anything. That was the point.
He hated this place. Hated the way people looked at him like he was just some pretty face with skates on. Hated the smirk that his father wore every time he talked about Han; the good son, the real winner. The one who did everything right. The one who didn’t mess up. The one who didn’t get drunk and high just to silence the noise of expectation. He stumbled into the backyard, stars smeared across the sky like someone had finger-painted them in haste. His phone burned in his hand, screen too bright, too white. His fingers fumbled over Han’s name. He pressed call.
“Hello?” Han’s voice was soft, groggy, that worried older brother tone he always used. “Hee? Are you okay?”
Heeseung let out a bitter laugh, the sound catching in his throat. “You’re not better than me.”
There was a pause. “What? Heeseung, what’s going on?”
“You think you’re so perfect.” Heeseung’s words slurred together like wet paint. “Dad thinks you’re the golden boy. But you’re not better. I’ll show you. I’ll show him. You’re not better—”
“Heeseung, you’re drunk. I’m coming to get you. Stay there, okay? Just wait.” Heeseung hung up. Or maybe he didn’t. He couldn’t tell. Everything was spinning. He staggered forward, gripping the porch railing like it could keep him tethered. He felt like throwing up. Or screaming. Or both. The inside of his head was all static. And then headlights sliced through the darkness. Han’s car. Heeseung stumbled down the steps, nearly eating it on the last one, and staggered toward the passenger side. Han threw the door open, face pale and tight with worry.
“Get in,” he ordered. Heeseung obeyed, limbs heavy and unwilling. He slumped into the seat, slurring more than he was speaking. “You think you’re better than me, huh?” he muttered, leaning against the window, his cheek pressed to the cold glass. “Just 'cause you got your degree and your dumb finance job and your clean record.”
“I don’t think that,” Han said sharply. “And Dad doesn’t either, he’s just… Heeseung, he’s hard on both of us. You know that.”
“Bullshit,” Heeseung growled, eyes closing. “You never had to be perfect to be loved. He just loved you.”
Han’s grip tightened on the wheel. “That’s not true. You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re drunk.”
Heeseung kept going, words bubbling out like poison. “You think I don’t see it? The way he brags about you. Han graduated summa cum laude. Han never got suspended. Han’s never in the papers for fighting or failing.” He laughed. “I hope you’re proud. Look at me now, huh? Look how far I fell.” Han opened his mouth to answer, but he didn’t get the chance. Because just ahead, in the fog of motion and the flash of headlights —
There was a girl.
A blur of limbs and hair and horror, stepping backward into the road. Han shouted. The brakes screamed. But the moment came too fast. The sound, oh god, the sound, of impact was the kind that split your soul in two. Metal and flesh, a sickening crunch, a thud that would echo in nightmares for the rest of time. Heeseung’s body flung forward with the jolt, the seatbelt carving into his chest. Time bent sideways. Han swerved. The world spun. A flash of a tree trunk—then blackness. When he came to, everything hurt.
The car was mangled metal wrapped around bark. Smoke coiled from the hood. Blood ran down Heeseung’s face, sticky and warm, his head lolling forward. His ears rang like a bomb had gone off. He blinked once, twice. Tried to move; glass in his leg. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. “Han?” he croaked. There was no answer. He turned his head and screamed.
Han’s body was slumped over the wheel, motionless. Blood pooled under him, his face obscured. Something primal split through Heeseung’s chest; panic, dread, disbelief. “No, no, no,” he muttered. “Han!” He shoved at him with trembling hands. “Come on, wake up—wake up—” Sirens in the distance. Voices shouting. People running.
Heeseung’s breath caught. A sob clawed its way from his throat. It was all his fault. It was too late. And Heeseung had never hated himself more.
Present day
The silence stretches between you like a drawn-out breath, trembling and thin. Heeseung sits beside you on the edge of his bed, shoulders hunched, jaw clenched like he’s trying to bite back the storm surging in his chest. You can still hear the echo of the past in his voice, the shattered edges of guilt rattling in his throat. The room is quiet but not peaceful; it's the kind of quiet that comes after an earthquake, when everything has fallen and the air still trembles with memory. You sit there, skin cold, heart unraveling, both of you held in the soft aftershock of everything you’ve said. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.
His voice cracks like dry wood. And it catches you off guard, more than anything else could have. Of all the things you expected him to say, an apology wasn't one of them. Not to you. Not when the pain has stained both your lives in different, irreparable ways. You look over at him, eyes red but dry now, exhaustion threading through your bones like a second skeleton. “Why?” you ask him, barely above a whisper. “Why are you apologizing?”
He turns toward you slowly. The lamplight casts his features in shadow, sharp and soft at once; eyes that have seen too much, mouth that’s tasted too much regret. “Because,” he says, voice thick, “this all started with me. I was the one who called Han. I was the one who needed to prove something. I got drunk, I spiraled, I needed to be seen, and now he’s gone. And so is Nari.”
Your heart pulls painfully in your chest, but your voice is steady when you speak. “No. This isn’t your fault.” He looks at you like he doesn’t believe it, like your words are a kindness he doesn’t think he deserves. “I don’t blame you, Heeseung,” you continue, softer now. “Not one bit. We’re all carrying so much. And grief... grief makes monsters out of moments. It twists things until we forget where they really began.”
His eyes shine then; wet and wide. He opens his mouth to say something, but instead he leans in. Slowly, hesitantly, as though giving you a chance to stop him. You don’t. You meet him halfway. His lips brush yours with the gentleness of someone who knows how much you’ve lost, how much you’ve suffered. The kiss is slow, tender, and reverent. Like a vow whispered against a storm. His hand cradles the side of your face, thumb grazing your cheek, grounding you in the warmth of something fragile and real. When he pulls back, you both stay close. Foreheads touching. Eyes closed. For a moment, you just breathe. Then, he speaks. “Take a bath with me?”
The words are so simple, yet intimate in a way that leaves you breathless. Not lustful; this isn’t about escape or distraction. It’s about presence. About being in a space where nothing else exists. You nod, and he stands, offering you his hand. The bathroom is dim, lit only by the soft orange glow of a nightlight and a flickering candle someone must’ve left on the windowsill. The tub fills slowly, steam curling toward the ceiling like the last sigh of a day. You both undress silently, not shy, not rushed. You slip into the warm water, and he follows after, settling in behind you. His legs bracket yours. His arms wrap around your middle. The water laps at your collarbones like a gentle lullaby.
You tilt your head back to rest against his shoulder. He exhales into your hair. “I’ve been angry,” he says finally. “So angry. About everything. About my dad. About Han. About the fact that I’m still here when they’re not. That I keep waking up and they don’t.”
You nod slowly, fingers tracing patterns in the surface of the water. “I feel that too,” you say. “Like life just… kicked me. Over and over. Until I couldn’t stand anymore. Until I didn’t know if I wanted to. I keep wondering if this is the part where I break forever.” Heeseung’s grip around you tightens, just slightly. “You won’t.”
“I don’t know how to start over,” you admit. “Everything hurts all the time. Even the good things hurt.”
He kisses your temple. Not as a promise. Not as a cure. Just as a quiet I know. And maybe that’s enough. Because you’re not pretending it’s all better. You’re not trying to erase the pain. You’re sitting in it together. Letting it be real. Letting it matter. And in that space; where the warmth of the water holds you both like a womb, like a prayer, you begin to believe that maybe you can heal. That maybe ruin doesn’t mean the end. Maybe it’s the beginning of something else.
You don’t know where life will take you from here. You don’t know what redemption will look like, or if you’ll ever forgive yourself for what happened. But right now, wrapped in Heeseung’s arms, you believe in the small, aching miracle of this moment. Of choosing to stay. Of choosing to feel. Of choosing each other. You were ready to fall into the ruin. But not let it ruin you.
Epilogue 1 year later
The sky was soft that day, bruised with a gentle gray, the kind that made the world feel quiet; like the earth itself was holding its breath. You sat cross-legged on the dewy grass, fingers tracing the edges of Nari’s name etched into cold stone. A year had passed. A year of aching, unraveling, rebuilding. And now here you were, knees pressed into the earth, a heartbeat steadier than it used to be.
"You would love Heeseung, Nari, you really would.” Your voice came out tender, barely above a whisper. “He makes me laugh. He never lets me lie to myself. He doesn’t try to fix me, just holds me when it hurts too much.” You reached down and brushed away a few stray leaves that had gathered at the base of the headstone. “I wish you could’ve seen me now. I wish I could’ve said goodbye the right way.”
There were still tears sometimes. And nightmares. And those mornings where the weight of memory made it hard to breathe. But there was also sunlight. And laughter. And Heeseung’s steady presence like a compass in your shaking hands. Therapy had taught you to hold space for both joy and sorrow. Grief group gave you words for the things you once buried. But it was Heeseung who reminded you, every day, that you were allowed to keep living; that you didn’t have to stay in the ruins to prove your love for the ones you lost.
“Babe! I got the flowers!” a voice called out behind you, pulling you gently from the past. You turned to see Heeseung jogging toward you, a bouquet of soft blue hydrangeas cradled in his arms, cheeks pink from the wind. He still carried that quiet sadness in his eyes, the one only you really saw, but it was softer now; tempered by time and the work he’d done to understand it. He bent down beside you and laid the flowers in front of Nari’s grave, brushing your knee with his hand as he settled beside you.
“Did you talk to Han?” you asked, voice gentle.
He nodded, smiling faintly. “Yeah. It was good. I needed that.”
You turned back toward the grave, reaching for his hand. “I did too.”
The two of you sat there for a long moment, silence curling comfortably between your bodies. The cemetery was quiet, wind rustling through the trees, birds flitting through the distant branches. Around you, the world kept moving; cars humming down the road, life unfolding in soft, ordinary ways. But here, in this pocket of stillness, you felt grounded. Rooted. Whole.
Grief never left, it wasn’t something that vanished with time or faded into nothing. It changed shapes. Grew quieter. Some days, it bloomed like a bruise. Other days, it shimmered like memory. But always, it walked beside you, not as a shadow, but as a reminder. Of love. Of loss. Of the choice to keep going. You looked down at the stone again, your thumb tracing the curve of her name.
“I’ll keep living for both of us, Nari,” you whispered. “I promise.” And this time, when you stood, you didn’t feel like you were leaving her behind. You felt like she was walking with you.
CONTENTS ─────Heeseung is sick of yearning from you from afar, thankfully fate presents him with the perfect opportunity to worship your body and do all of the things your ex boyfriend Jake would never get to.
log: lee heeseung ֶָ֢. x reader. slight angst w smut, vulgar language. 8.5k w.c Jake is kinda a dick, Heeseung is a man that yearns. Oral, unprotected sex, body worship, praise, overstimulation kinda. Mentions of weed and alcohol. ꫂ ၴႅၴ ──★˙nainais library !!
an: um I have no Idea where this idea came from?? Especially since i rarely like to write smut unless requested but here ?? 😭😭
taglist open — nets! @k-films
Infatuation was a gruesome thing at times, a person could never look your way, never give you the time of day and yet you can find yourself deeply infatuated. Even worse when you don’t even have a name to put to the face and yet, you’ve been completely spelled by them and utterly taken. The lines between obsession, insanity and plain infatuation were starting to blur for heeseung. That weird realization that your like for someone was turning into something desperate and crazed was starting to sink in, and Heeseungs resolve was starting to slip away.
Heeseung was never usually the type to swoon, to be completely honest none of the girls on campus were worth it to him because when it all bubbled down they were all the same. The party type, the girl you could find at every frat, every sorority or campus party. Then there were your sports girls completely wrapped up in the game or proving themselves worthy for the team. Your geeks, your book lovers, the quiet girls and the list dragged on and on. The tropes were starting to run stale and he’d come to the depressing conclusion that he himself would never find anyone. He was the picky type, not willing to cut corners or go for the first girl that was willing to open their legs at the sight of him alone. He needed a girl with sustenance , someone that was worthy of getting on his knees and worshipping,worthy of making them his.
You were the missing piece of the puzzle that hadn’t quite fit. The piece that left confusion in the mind of the one piecing it together, confusion because you surely looked like the perfect fit yet when pieced together you differed from the rest of the puzzle. You were complex, you weren’t as easy to figure out as the other girls and that made him want to play the game. In Heeseungs eyes you were his manic pixie dream, the girl that left him wondering if you were truly real or just a figment of his imagination. He couldn’t fathom someone like you being real, in his mind you were created just for him, a puzzle for him to put together, a fire lit by a match that only he could spark. But you never saw him, never looked his way no matter how many times you’d crossed paths, and worst of all you had a boyfriend.
That left him wanting, no yearning, he craved it at this point. He craved your gaze, your touch, to be in the same vicinity as you alone was something he desperately seeked. For the first time in his life he was craving a cat and mouse game that the mouse hadn’t even realized she’d been wrapped up in. He needed more than just stolen glances in the hallways, or fingers brushing against one anothers in the food court. He could no longer hold back his glasses or side eyes when he saw the way your asshole of a boyfriend's fingers grazed your waist, it was beyond agonizing. It was starting to burn him from the inside out like a fire he simply couldn’t huff out without your touch, it was all becoming his torment.
Monday morning, you sat at your desk practically glued to your computer seat, having sat there unmoving over the last two hours wrecking your brain to come up with a topic for your essay. As if having to turn in a five page essay wasn’t enough, your professor also stressed the major detail that photos also needed to be included. To be completely honest you were subpar in your courses, not the top of your class but not the worst either. You found your place tethering between the two placements, you always excelled just enough to pass, just enough to blaze through each semester.
This semester your patience was starting to wear thin. Between your courses that seemed to drag on during the day and and the offtimes with your boyfriend dragging you along you’d rarely had any time for yourself and it was starting to weigh on you. Since the moment Jake had asked you to be his girlfriend you were like two lovers conjoined at the hip, he was always at your side ALWAYS. It left you no time alone, no essence other than those around you knowing you as just his girlfriend. It was starting to get to a point where even you yourself were finding it difficult to remember who you were. What did you like? Your favorite color? Favorite movie? Favorite flower? if you even truly liked them. All the things he’d liked were starting to morph together with yours, every dream or desire that his mind housed had eventually completely drowned out your own. Perhaps that was part of the reason you were so indecisive on what to write about, you could barely even bring yourself to remember the things you favored.
An annoyed sigh spilled from your lips as you slammed your finger against the keyboard, repeatedly hitting the backspace button until every word you had typed up had completely disappeared from the page. No matter how many meaningless words you typed, nothing was good enough, eventually you’d delete it all and be left with a blank page to start all over again.
Then a soft knock on the door interrupts your silent crash, pulling your gaze away from the computer you stare at the door, a tired and burned out look housed behind your doe eyes. After a moment of silence your roommate eventually enters the room to inform you that Jake had indeed just arrived to take you out.
“Jake is here….oh you look like shit.’’
“Thanks I thought the dark circles under my eyes made me look incredibly sexy.’’ you respond sarcastically, rolling your eyes and pushing yourself up from your seat.
“Are you sure that you’re alright to go to a party? I could always tell Jake that you aren’t feeling well so you could stay in and sleep?’’ Chuu reassures, a hint of obvious worry in her tone as she watches you shuffle over to the closet in search of something to change into.
“I’m fine Ji, besides if you tell him that all he’ll do is worry then he’ll spend the entire day trying to nurse me to health.’’
“Isn’t that better than going to a party with people you don’t even really like?’’ Chuu wasn’t exactly wrong, it wasn’t like you disliked any of the people that Jake hung out with, at times they were just overbearing.
“I’ll be fine, if I need to ill just do what I always do when I get burned out at these parties and find a room to hide in until he’s ready to go.’’ you shrug, pulling your hair back over your shoulder after changing into something a little more suitable for the party scene.
“Alright, but if you need to fake sick and leave early call me.’’ She responds, shooting you a playful wink as she makes her way out the door. When you finally mustered up the energy to make your way downstairs you found Jake standing at the door, the corners of his lips turning into a smile as he saw you finally making your way down the stairs. “There's my girl.’’
“You didn’t have to wait downstairs you know, you could have come up.’’ you tell him, and as they always had time and time again his arms wrap around your waist, an act that was starting to feel like more of a showcase than it was an act of adoration or love.
“Didn’t want to interrupt your girl time, you ready to go?’’ You hum in response, your mind seemingly elsewhere as his fingers tangled with yours to lead you out to his car.
“Who’s party is it this time anyways?’’
“Not sure? It’s one of Jay's friends apparently they go way back or something. He goes to chaconne too..uh, Heeseung?’’
“Mmm never heard of him.’’ you shrug, brushing off the man that was most likely just like any of Jake's other friends, loud, high maintenance and overbearing.
When you had finally arrived at the destination of the function you were surprised to see not many cars outside which ultimately made confusion arise within you. You turned to Jake, brows knit together in bewilderment when he seemed to catch on he forced the car into park before cutting the engine.
“He’s more private so it’s just a few of us this time, not too many people.’’ he says it so reassuring that it melts your heart to know he’d remembered how you got around too many people, but of course you didn’t know if you found this to be a good or bad thing, not many people meant you couldn’t hide away. That meant you would be forced to socialize, forced to stick by his side the entire night.
In contrast the usual house was compacted with sweaty bodies and those under the influence it was less than twenty of you all gathered in the house. Some you recognized from your rival school, guys you presumed to be either friends of Jays or the new friend Heeseung you knew only by name. As relieving as it was to know there weren't many in the house you still couldn’t stop yourself from wishing that the ground would swallow you whole. Part of you was wishing you had stayed home and just let Chuu tell Jake you were sick.
Heeseung on the other hand couldn’t stop himself from staring the moment you came in. Of course he knew you’d be here he wasn’t stupid, everywhere Jake went you seemed to follow it was no secret to anyone on campus. It was also no secret to him how he caught glimpses of your misery or maybe it was something else sinking deep down in you that had always been bubbling to the surface.
You being here was like a double edged sword, he got to be close to you, to have you in his vicinity but that also meant putting up with your boyfriend. Your perfect, proper loving boyfriend who he absolutely detests with every fiber of his being. But not because he was with you no, he wasn’t the type to be jealous especially when Jake didn’t even fall into the same category as he had. He hated him because everything about him seemed fake, every touch, every confession of love, every whisper in your ear seemed like proper bullshit, like he was playing a game but not the good kind, not the kind of games that Heeseung wanted to play with you no. There was something primal and deceptive about Jake's gaze at times, and maybe he’d imagined it, maybe it was something he’d made up to make liking someone with a boyfriend a not so bad thing. But something deep in his thoughts couldn’t bring him to shake off the idea that he just might be onto something.
Heeseungs gaze watched you even as you finally slipped away from Jake's side and disappeared down the hall into the bathroom. For a while you just sat there, the faint music in the background was enough ambience to not leave you just sitting in complete silence, alone in your thoughts. You weren't really sure what you were doing here to be quite honest, you hated parties but for some reason you couldn’t bring yourself to tell Jake no, he always poked out those lips and batted those eyes as if he knew you, he knew they’d always work. With a sigh you push yourself up from the floor and wash your hands before making your way out of the bathroom, and it was so faint that you could almost miss it if it weren't for the silence in between songs but you could make out Jake's words clear as day.
“She’s too fucking clingy, if I had known she’d be like this I wouldn’t have wasted so much time in trying to get her in bed.’’ the words stung like hell, your sweet boyfriend, the one that was always kind and caring and made sure you never felt disincluded, was talking about you as if you were a random girl on the street. Two months of dating him had turned into nothing, two months of being dragged from party to party all because you loved him had turned into just meaningless memories in less than a minute. You didn't dare walk back out, you didn’t have the strength to face them after hearing everything Jake really had to say about you. No matter how strong willed or minded you were, this was not something you could get over on the basis of strength alone. The man that you let in, the man you gave your heart to, the man that you were willing to give up your first time for was completely two faced. He never loved you and you were starting to question if he even really liked you, or did he just see you as someone to get into bed. A virgin to claim and add to a long list of others like some sort of trophy.
You slipped out back, breath heaving in your chest the moment the fresh air met your airways. Caught in the middle of wanting to cry and scream you’d decided on the previous choice, only no tears had fallen and your throat was starting to cave in on itself. You were caught flat in the middle of a panic attack, head thumping and racing with thoughts only quieting down when a voice spoke up and startled you out of it mid way.
“You alright?’’ though you hadn’t really had much of a conversation with him at all tonight you recognized the voice to be Heeseungs.
‘Great, first night meeting him and he’s seeing me cry’ you thought to yourself
“I’m fine.’’ you respond, shoving your hands into your pockets and glancing down at the empty pool right at your feet.
“I may not be an export on people, but you were seconds away from a panic attack just now and you’re saying you’re fine?’’
“I’m just. It doesn’t matter..you were probably part of the discussion.’’ You were too lost in your own thoughts to realize Heeseungs brows crease together in confusion.
“Discussion? I don’t know what discussion you’re referring to but i’ve been out here for the last ten minutes trying not to blow my buzz talking to those dumbasses inside.’’
“So..you’ve been out here the whole time..?’’
“Pretty much.’’ He watched as your mouth opened then fell closed again, as if you were preparing to tell him something but was hesitant. He wanted to reach out and touch you, to ask what was wrong and lul you back to security but he couldn’t as much as he wanted you he didn’t want to push your boundaries, he couldn’t give two fucks about Jake or how touching you would make him feel but he knew you were most likely not the type to cheat.
“Can you..can you take me somewhere that isn't here?’’ for the first time tonight you look at him, like actually look at him, your eyes so deep that he could sense himself getting lost in them before he pulls himself back.
“You want me to ditch my own party? What about your boyfriend?’’ once again he couldn’t give a fuck about Jake or the party, he just wanted to make sure that you really wanted to leave with him, someone you were meeting for the first time tonight.
“I just..i don’t want to be here and Jake..He’ll worry and come looking for me at the dorms.” you felt guilty for lying and not giving him all of the information but after all you hadn’t even fully come to grasp the fact that your boyfriend was just a loser who loved to use women like they were toys.
“I’ll do it.’’
“What..?’’
“I’ll take you somewhere else.’’ you stood there lips parted and eyes blinking as if he’d just spoken a language even you yourself couldn't understand. You didn’t know why you were shocked, after all you did ask him to take you away from the party. Maybe you’d just never anticipated he’d actually say yes.
“I’ll get my keys. I’m assuming you don’t want anyone to know we’re going so you can head out the side patio door.’’
“I left my jacket inside, my phone..”
“I'll get it.’’ despite how blunt he'd come off, his words had been reassuring, you’d just met him but you found yourself putting your trust in him as if you’d known him longer than just one night.
You watched as he disappeared back inside, slipping through the side door as instructed. you found yourself anxiously waiting for him to meet you out front. Minutes passed before the front door finally swung open and you held your breath as it slammed shut, hoping it hadn’t been Jake. Fortunately for you, it was Heeseung with your jacket thrown over his shoulder and keys in his free hand.
“He thinks you’re still in the bathroom.’’ He informs you, you respond with a nod before taking your jacket into your hands and pulling your phone from the pocket, dead of course it was dead.
“Great.” you sigh, slipping it back into your jacket pocket.
“There's a charger in the car, it’s honestly shit but it’ll give you some sort of charge until we get to where we’re going.’’ you nod, following behind him as he leads you to his car. As he pulled open the door and you took a seat inside you found yourself looking back at the door as the engine roared to life, you knew it wasn’t right to just leave without saying anything..but the way he talked about you back there left him no place in your thoughts at the moment.
The ride wherever Heeseung had been taking you was silent, other than the roaring of other vehicles that passed, or the sound of gravel against tires there wasn’t much ambience. Heeseung asked no questions, he knew better than to pry even if he was dying to know what hurt you, what had you feeling this way. He would wait until you felt comfortable and safe enough to tell him. You on the other hand sat staring out the window watching as everything passed by in a blur, part of you was wishing that you had drank, but you never liked the taste of alcohol and it always burned your throat.
By the time you’d finally arrived at what looked to be a high rise apartment complex and Heeseung cut the engine you had been completely out of it. You didn’t really speak a word, asked no questions up until the two of you stepped into the elevator and he swiped the keycard for the top floor.
“Where are we..?’’
“My brother's place, it’s one of his vacation spots when he comes back home but I stay here more often than he does.” he says it as if having a brother that stays in a luxury apartment complex, let alone a penthouse is the most normal thing in the world
“Then what about..the house everyones at right now?’’
“It’s mine but I stayed there with a few roommates, Sunghoon and Sunoo, they were at the party but Sunoo eventually left his room and Sunghoon isn’t exactly the party type so he most likely left early.” He explains.
Eventually you both arrived at the top floor and the elevator came to a halt before the doors opened into a whole new world. You could see the entire city from the elevator, the view was more than breathtaking and for a moment you had forgotten entirely what you were doing here until the ding of your phone dragged you back to reality. Twenty percent flicked at the top but on the main scream was twenty missed calls from Jake and fifteen unread texts. The thought of having to face him again made your stomach twist and turn. Ignoring his consistent texts of your whereabouts you text Chuu to let her know that you’d be out for the night and if Jake texted to just ignore him and she would explain it all later. Right now she just needed a break from everything, school, Jake, people.
Finally you shut your phone off, slipping it into your pocket and watching as Heeseung took a seat before pulling what you assumed to be a pre roll from his pocket. You’d never indulge so you weren’t entirely familiar with it but you’d known enough from hanging around a certain crowd in high school.
“Does that actually work?’’
“Depending on what you want it to work for, there are different strands for everything. This one just helps relax.’’ he responds, lighting it up as if he’d done it a thousand times. “Sometimes it can just heighten the things you already feel.”
“Can I try it?’’
“Only if you tell me what you need it for, you don’t seem like the type to just smoke because someone else is doing it, and i’m sure you didn’t have me drive you all this way so that you could try weed for the first time.’’ He was right, absolutely right..but how do you tell a stranger that you’re scared to face your boyfriend because you heard him speak ill of you.
“I’m assuming this has something to do with the Jake guy.’’ you immediately stiffen, you hadn’t spoken a word about your reasoning for not wanting to stay at that party, yet he read you like it was nothing, like it wasn’t his first time. And of course you hadn’t known it but it wasn’t.
“...he’s just not who I thought he was.’’ you respond, sparing him a quick glance long enough to see him staring at you in a way that suggests those little words aren't enough for him.
“I heard him talking about me to some of the other guys, the only reason he’s with me is to get me into bed. He said that I was annoyingly clingy but..to be honest he’s the one that’s dragged me everywhere. All i’ve done is follow him like a lost puppy, lose myself to be the girlfriend that he needed, that he wanted and he.’’ you suck in a breath, not even realizing when the tears had started to fall but they came pouring down nonetheless. Heeseung on the other hand was completely heated, he knew to trust his gut, he knew that something about Sim Jaeyun was two faced, but he let himself watch from afar and in the end you got hurt.
He tries his best to comfort you and calm you down tracing over your skin with his thumbs he wipes your tear stained cheeks until the essence of tears is no longer present.
“He’s a jackass. And any of those assholes that sat and listened to his bullshit without saying anything are just as stupid, that includes Jay no matter how long we’ve known each other.” he sets the pre roll aside, fingers grazing your skin as he held your face in his hands
“He’s not worth crying over, not worth your tears if he only sees you as something to get in bed, i'm sure he wouldn’t even know what to do with you if he actually did.’’ at his word you couldn’t help but laugh, a momentary release of dopamine, that felt like a slight weight lifted from your shoulders.
“Thank you Heeseung, I didn’t mean to drop any of this on you, I don’t even know what I was thinking when I asked you to take me from the party but i'm grateful you did.’’
“Anytime, and you can stay here as long as you need, but you can’t hide out here forever.’’
“I know..thank you.’’
“As for the weed it’s a no..you aren’t in the right headspace and it’d be stupid of me to let you try it knowing you aren’t in a good emotional headspace.’’
“You’re right..’’ it was all you could say in response, you didn’t know what you were thinking, to be honest you weren't sure you were thinking at all.
“Ask me again tomorrow and if I think you’re ready then i’ll teach you.’’ you watch as he stands up from the couch before disappearing down a hallway, coming back moments later with a handful of neatly folded clothes.
“These may be kind of big but they should hold off for tonight. If you decide to stay longer then we can stop by your place or go shopping around tomorrow.’’ You simply shake your head, grateful enough that he had done even this much for you.
“Thank you Heeseung really.’’ Those were the last words you’d utter to him other than goodnight before disappearing into the guest bathroom.
While you lay in bed hopefully fast asleep, Heeseung was wide awake, caught in between wanting to sleep off the events of tonight and wanting to drive all the way back to his place just to beat the shit out of the man that made you cry yourself to sleep.
—
The next morning you woke to the sun peaking through the curtains and once you finally realized you weren’t in your own bed it had come flooding back to you that the events of last night weren’t just some sick dream they were in fact real. Dragging yourself out of bed, you move into the bathroom, realizing Heeseung must have remembered the fact that you had nothing here when you found a toothbrush and a few other things sitting out on the bathroom counter for you.
After a quick wash up you saunter down the empty hallway, Heeseung was nowhere to be found but there was a note left for you on the kitchen counter. He had gone to his classes but he made sure to let you know you had free range of everything in his home, or brothers home you were still quite confused on that. You were in the middle of cooking breakfast when the chime of the elevator caught your attention. You were sure that it was Heeseung, but that theory was immediately disproven when your best friend came bustling in.
“Oh wow, maybe I should have gone to that party too.’’
“Ji what are you doing here?’’
“The Hee guy, He heard me asing Jake and Jay about what happened last night and where you were and he gave me his key and told me you’d be here but that was all he said.’’ she explains as she looks around, taking in the place in awe as if she had never seen anything like this before other than in movies.
“So what exactly did happen last night and how…how exactly did it lead you here?’’
By the time you’d finished explaining everything that happened last night leading up to you getting here it went without saying that Chuu wanted to completely ruin Sim Jaeyun. You on the other hand had no idea where you stood with him, you knew you weren't ready to face him but you needed to talk to him, you needed to break things off. So when Chuu had finally gone back home after the two of you sat chatting and eating breakfast you decided to make the call.
Your stomach twists as you hear the ring of the line, one time…two times..and then three until eventually the call is answered and you hear his voice on the other line.
“Baby..where have you been, are you alright..are you safe?’’ His sweet voice and caring tone was like a mockery, no matter how much you wanted to believe that this was him, the man you fell for last night's words kept replaying in the back of your mind.
“Can I see you at our usual spot?’’
That was how you ended up here, nervously twiddling with your thumbs, taking light sips of your coffee that you felt would come back up any second. Then you heard it, the thing of the door and in walked the man you had been dreading coming face to face with again since last night. When he noticed you he was all smiles, immediately going in for a hug, a hug which you rejected and got straight to the point.
“How long..?’’
“What?’’
“How long have you been pretending you like me? Acting like you love me then going back and telling your friends something else.’’ he immediately froze in his spot, he had been caught. “Did you ever actually like me? Did you ever have any sort of genuine feelings for me or is that all I was? Another woman to check off of your list and say that you fucked.’’
“Yn I can explain..’’
“If it isn’t the truth then there should be nothing to explain. I’ve gone everywhere for you, done everything a girlfriend should, I’ve fucking lost myself in the process of being yours and all for what? So you can fuck me and then act like we’re strangers the next day? Yo’re a fucking asshole Sim Jaeyun. Congratulations because not only did you manage to not get me into bed but I want you as far away from me as possible.’’ Not giving him the chance to spout any sort of bullshit excuses to you, you get up from the booth leaving him sitting there looking pathetic and in disbelief. Even after you’d broken up with him there were countless messages, and endless calls until you made the executive decision to block him on everything.
By the time you’d arrived back at Heeseungs place he had already returned home. You found him sitting in the kitchen, phone in hand watching what you assumed to be some sort of gameplay as he munched on a bowl of ramen.
“You’re back?’’
“Yup.’’ you respond, letting out a frustrated huff as you reach into the fridge for a bottle of water.
“Did your friend come by?’’
“She did..thank you for telling her where I was and allowing her to come see me.’’
“It’s not like you’re a prisoner or anything?’’ he chuckles before getting up from his seat and discarding his trash.
“I know but, I’m sure you’re used to coming here to relax alone and I didn’t want to drop all of my baggage on you.’’
“And I don’t mind you being here, I’d have taken you somewhere else if this bothered me yn.’’ You could tell he was genuine, or at least you were hopeful that he was, after the revelation of your own boyfriends sweetness and generosity being a simple ploy, you were no longer sure if you knew what true generosity was.
“Do you think that we can try it today? What we talked about yesterday?’’
“Are you absolutely sure? I still don’t think-”
“I’m sure Heeseung, please.’’ He couldn’t tell you no, not when you were looking at him like that. Not when you could ask him to steal the moon for you and he’d tell you yes time and time again. You and everything you were made weak.
You eyed him intently as he rolled a few more prerolls, the one from the previous night already having been gone and according to him they usually went pretty fast. Even up until the point where he lit it and took a drag himself you were absolutely nervous. Watching as he inhaled and held it there for a moment before puffing out smoke, you wondered how often he’d smoked and how long it had been since he started for him to be so unbothered by the smoke itself. Then he passed it to you, your hands clammed up and your chest tightened as you realized there was no backing out.
“Put your lips on it, inhale slowly, not too hard, just enough the burn the edges.’’ he instructs, and something about the way he walked you through made your stomach bubble with a feeling you’d never felt. His voice lulling you into it had something perverted swimming through your thoughts but you force it down. Your first drag was the worst, even listening to his instructions something was bound to go wrong, and it absolutely did, too big of a puff that sent you into a frenzied cough. Heeseung had to choke back a laugh, patting at your back and handing you a bottle of water to bring you down from your coughing fit.
“Well now you know what not to do.’’ he chuckles, taking it back between his own fingers and you watch the way his lips part, the way he sucked the smoke between his lips before puffing it out.
“Can we.. Can we try a different way?’’ you didn’t know if it was the fact that you were already feeling the warmth of the high, or if you were just plain stupid but his answer would lead you to either do something really stupid that you couldn’t take back or you’d be sat there with that urge going unfulfilled, luckily for you he did not oppose.
“A different way?’’ You watched as he brought it to his lips once more, waiting for himt to inhale before taking the opportunity to slip into his lap.
“Blow..’’ Heeseung was taken back, he’d nearly choked when you crawled into his lap and placed your hands on his face like it was a familiar place to be, luckily for him he held it together, blowing the smoke past his lips and right into yours watching you inhale.
“Yn..’’
“Please…let’s just stay like this.’’
“If I let you stay like this then I won’t be able to control myself.’’ The high had left him, with you sitting in his lap fingertips hot against his skin he was suddenly completely sober.
“Then don’t please don’t’’ your pleading whispers housed so many emotions, pain, need, desperation he wanted to tell you no, to push you aside and say that this was just something you were feeling in that moment but even if it was he wasn’t sure he really cared.
This was a moment he had waited for, many desperate nights of wanting to feel you under him. Cold showers to calm his desires so he wasn’t thinking of you pumping into his fist at night. You were too beautiful..too perfect to think about while doing something so lewd, so foul. Yet now he had you, he had you in his lap begging him to make a move, to give in to his yearning.
“Are you sure this is something you want? If I start now I won’t stop..no matter how your nails graze my back, no matter how much you beg or cry I wont..I wont be able to stop myself if you don’t tell me now you don’t really want this.’’ But you didn’t deny him, you didn’t tell him to stop, you didn’t tell him you didn’t want him..you just looked at him with those pretty eyes of yours, perfectly dilated and full of need, a need for him and no one else.
“Please.’’ you finally let out, your voice just below a whisper, and that was all he needed before he broke. Before he’s carrying you to his bedroom and lying you in bed as if you were something fragile. Months he had waited just to talk to you, to make his presence known and now he had you beneath him like you were his. His fingertips grazed your skin so delicately as if you’d fall apart beneath him if he didn’t take the time to admire you, to worship your body like it deserved to be worshipped. Your body was a temple for only him to explore the ins and outs of, even if Jake had had you before it didn’t matter because he would erase every essence of Jake Sim from your body even if it took nights without end.
He started slowly, kissing from your ankles, up your calves then your thighs. Your skin like velvet against his lips, he made sure that every inch of your body had felt his kiss and it completely set you on fire. It was like his kiss had set off something primal in you, you couldn’t care to think about anything else other than him calming the ache between your thighs. Even through your soft whines and pleading for more than just lips against skin he hadn’t listened. He was too lost in worshipping you, like you were a goddess sent for him to pray over, to worship until you blessed him over and over again in only a way he could be blessed. He was sure that the effects of the weed must have had you feeling even more sensitive, that you were certainly feeling everything times ten, it made you whiner, needier, and his containment was starting to slip away.
“You’re so beautiful.’’ he mumbles against soft skin as he starts with your shorts before stripping you down to only your underwear. It made you melt, fully clothed, naked he would compliment you, making sure you felt the weight of his words with every kiss.
You wanted nothing more than to have him completely overtake you but he took his time, like if he went too fast the moment why sip away and he’d lose his chance.
“Heeseung.’’ His name spilled from your lips so soft and sweet, rolled off the tongue like an angel's song, like a prayer meant for only his ears.
“I’ll take care of you baby, do what he couldn't. Treat you like you deserve to be treated. Worshipped. Praised.’’
Then without hesitance he pulled your panties to the side and dove in head first, like he’d been waiting lifetimes to devour you. He was completely relentless from the moment his tongue met your clit. Eyes locked onto you as he did it, watching the way your back parted from the bed and your chest heaved as you struggled between moans and harsh breaths. Somethin glimmered beneath his gaze, whether it was hunger or desperation you wouldn’t know because your eyes had rolled so far to the back of your head you were convinced a doctor would have to roll them back.
It took him less than a minute to find that one spot that made your legs lock around his head. Again and again he abused it until you lost all your strength and all you could do was tremble at its touch and fall apart on his tongue. This was the first time you’d been so vulnerable, the first time you’d heard such pornograhpic sounds spill from your lips. Heeseung absolutely loved it, he loved how you tugged at his hair, how he felt every spasm or shake of your body all while he made you fall apart.
For only a split second he pulls away, eyes glued to the sight before him as he replaces his tongue with his thumb, rubbing it against your clit as if he was prepping you, getting you ready.
“Doing so well for me, so fucking good beautiful.’’ then he shoves two fingers in, stretching you out like you were made to be wrapped around his fingers, around him.
“Fuck- Hee I can’t’’
“You can baby, remember this is what you wanted beautiful, just hold on a little longer for me yeah? I’ll make it feel better.’’ His voice was like velvet, running through your ears and melting there, stuck in your head every word seemed to play on a loop luling you into some sort of trance-like state that you didn’t want to come down from.
Between the sound of your moans coming out like sing song melodies and the filth of the wet sounds between your thighs he was completely lost in you, this moment he’d have sworn he experienced what heavy was like. His name spilling from your lips like it was natural to you, it melted him to his core. The woman he’s thought about time and time again coming undone and unraveling on his fingers like the petals falling off of a flower, it was amazing.
“Fuck.’’ his control had slipped away, the way your back arched, the way you clawed at his wrists and the sheets beneath you were getting him there, then five words, five words came spilling from your lips that made him lose any ounce of patience he’d had left.
“Hee please, I need you.’’ It was music to his ears to hear you beg for him, he had worshiped all he could, he took his time with you but now he was ready to make you fall apart completely. To watch you completely crumble beneath him so that he could build you back up and do it over and over and over again, as many times as he could until your mind was occupied by only him.
Something about the way he moved was desperate yet intimate, almost as if he’d made a personal vow to himself to savor every moment. From the way he stripped you down with his eyes, then with his hand it was like he was soaking it in wondering how this moment was real, how you could be real. Things had already gone past just casual and you had yet to tell him the one thing that kept Jake from getting past all the bases, you were timide, nervous that if you told him the moment would end and he’d no longer want you in this way. Then you remember how he took his time with you, how his praises made you feel confident, safe to let whatever words or sounds that spilled from your lips out freely.
“I’ve never..” your words came out so soft, barely a whisper and he was sure to miss them if it weren’t for the way you nervously gripped his shoulder. It didn’t take much more for him to figure it out, he starts to leave reassuring kisses on your fingers, then your wrist as if ensuring you were safe with him.
“I’ll take my time. I’ll make sure your body feels every second. I want every moment to be engraved in your memory. So that even when i’m not around your body will feel my absence, it won’t forget me.’’ His words make you shutter, and before the silence could drag on between the two of you his lips catch yours in a kiss, one that was heavy with certainty. A kiss that he poured out his heart to you in, he didn’t just want this to be a night that happened and was forgotten by the two of you. He wanted you to remember every waking second, the heat of fingertips against skin, the security of his grip, plush lips against lips.
His hand tightens gently against your thigh holding you still as he finally makes the move you were heavily anticipating from the moment he laid you down in his bed. He gives no warning just slides in with a breathshaking moan that makes you shiver at your core, he said no words like he was too wrapped up in you to whisper any praises or questions of security, he was in pure bliss.
You gasp– high and sharp like the breath was leaving you, the pain of him splitting you open finally seems to set in and it brings tears to your eyes. Nails break skin and he pulls your hands into his own leaving reassuring kisses, fingers, back of the hand, up your arms and stopping at your neck. He was trying to remain tame, to keep tha calm and attentive demeaner but it was becoming too much for him, the way your walls pulsedaround him wet, warm and waiting for him; waiting for him to be the first to ruin you. Deflowerlization, the act of picking off your flowers one by one, a sign that you were fully in bloom. His lips part watching the way your body reacts to him, your thighs trembling, your hips jerking up, your slick coating him as he begins to move his hips a slow, twisting rhythm that makes your stomach flutter.
“Fuck you’re perfect,’’ your fingers intertwine as he pins them just above your head, whispering soft praises into your ear about how well you were taking him— a string of “good girls” and “you’re doing so well baby.’’
‘Baby’ a word you’d heard so many times from Jake but they didn’t make you feel like this. Like you were burning from the inside out and the only way to put out the fire was having him so deep inside of you that you couldn’t think.
You can no longer bring yourself to speak any coherent words, your thighs begin to tremble uncontrollably, the pleasure peaking in your lower belly, every muscle tensing like you’re caught on the edge ready to throw yourself over. It's overwhelming, completely capturing your senses until you are wrapped up in him. His smell, His touch, the warmth of his skin, the intimacy of the way he touched you like it was something he had waited lifetimes to do.
“Heeseung..’’ his name spills from your lips like a cry for help, a plea for him to let go completely and ease every pain or hard emotion you’d felt before he was here buried so deep in you you were seeing the constellations right before your eyes.
“Fuck say it again.’’ he pleads, like a desperate man waiting to hear his lover speak for the first time he anticipates it, the way his name spills from your lips laced with sweet venom was so dangerous. Heeseung keeps rocking against you, not thrusting, just grinding, slow and deep, letting the drag of his cock over your soaked folds speak for itself. Every motion of his hips pulls a new sound from your lips, that’s like music to his ears. He doesn’t want it to stop, wishes that he could record it and make it a song, make it his ringtone so that he could hear those sweet sounds over and over whenever anyone made a call. Your fingers claw at his back now, slipping under his shirt, dragging your nails down the smooth muscle there as he grinds again and again until you’re on the brink of tears.
It went without saying that he was drunk on you, the way you lie beneath him flushed and overstimulated, letting him consume you, letting him claim you as his. This was a silent vow, one that promised him to you, no matter how unsure he was of what was to come after this moment, one thing was sealed in the stars and that was the fact that his body was completely yours, he was your first. Your body trembles beneath him, thighs twitching, toes curling, your hips arching off the mattress in a slow, involuntary motion that makes him groan. His hands are hot against your skin, gently tracing lines over your hips, holding you steady as he rolls his into you making sure you feel every inch. His thrusts were slower, deeper, purposeful —, like he was trying to get the in and outs of his body, like it was something for only gim to learn. Then he felt it, your hips stuttering as he drew deep and pulled back with a sharp inhale.
“Heeseung, I- I can’t” You didn’t have to say much more because he already knew, he felt it the moment your thighs trembled, the moment your hips stuttered and you held onto him tighter than before. His free hand slides down just between your thighs, fingers moving eagerly to circle your clit—you were a mess, completely soaked, legs trembling with how sensitive you are. “I know baby I know, let go for me yeah?”
he keeps fucking you slow and hard, his fingers pressing tight circles against your clit until your legs shake uncontrollably. “Come on, show me how well you can listen beautiful girl” he whispers, voice right in your ear now, he presses soft kisses against your skin while whispering sweet praises that push you ever the edge, a pull a reaction from you that even you were experiencing for the first time. your pussy clenches so tight around him it pulls a string of curses from his lips, walls fluttering around him, wet pulses as your orgasm finally blooms, an overwhelming stimulation that sends you into a fit of cries. “Heeseung!” you cry, your voice breaking, your whole body convulsing under him as you cum, hips jerking wildly, back arching, mouth open and gasping.
Heeseung groans, watching in awe at the way your body convulses beneath him. The sight alone pulls it out of him, low moans followed by desperate thrusts as he feels you out, chasing the high you’d felt only moments ago for his own. Your moans are pushing him deeper and deeper below the surface. Cries of overstimulation and whiny “I can’t take more’’ inching him closer to the edge until eventually he completely spills into you. He doesn’t stop moving, not right away—he keeps grinding into you, burying it deeper, fucking it up into you like he was leaving an impression, like anyone that came after him would feel it and know that he had you first. Your walls twitch around him, fluttering from the aftershocks, your breath shallow as he leaves soft kisses against your bare now sweatcovered skin. He wanted you to feel safe, like you weren’t just someone to fuck and pass on, you were safe with him safe in hs arms to unravel and show the deepest parts of yourself that you’d always suppressed with Jake.
The ambience of the silent room and ragged breaths eventually pulled you to sleep. He took the opportunity to wipe you clean and dress you in his shirt. Despite the fact that he could look at you like that all night long, your body was meant to be cared for just as much as it was meant to be worshiped. While you slept he himself slipped into the shower, washing away the sweat and sin of everything the two of you had done yet it would always be engraved in his mind, in him. He steps out from the bathroom towel wrapped around his waist and hair damp to hear the chime of his phone on the farthest end of the bed.
When he checks it the phone lights up with two texts from Jay.
“Yo are you okay?” “You disappeared last night.’’
Disregarding them for the time being he places the phone back in its rightful place on the nightstand and peers over at you who was fast asleep in his bed. Unlike Jake you were his secret to keep, he wasn’t going to run and tell the first person he came across that he had you in ways no one else had. Even if that person had been his best friend since high school, no one deserved to know. For the time being he wanted to savor the moment and keep it to himself.
PERM TAGLIST: (entire taglist is updated, to be readded to the permanent taglist please fill out this form) PERM TAGLIST : @sol3chu @hollxe1 @addictedtohobi @heartheejake @gweoriz @annybah @iarainha @nishimura-mimura @gweoriz @deaddcrow @bbangbies @kimuranirisi @wonzzziezzzz @dazeymazey11 @stayar1 @neogotmysam @starsmew @taystarr @icatpjs
synopsis ⤑ Hockey boys were nothing but egoistic man boys who threw each other around, chasing a puck for a living. They lacked sustenance, they lived their lives like barbarians and you hated them, and everything they stand for. So being tasked to tutor the worst one of them all? An impossible task. Lee Heeseung was the poster child for a frat boy disaster and you wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole. Or so you thought. Damnit.
pairings ⤑ hockey player!heeseung x fem!reader
word count ⤑ 19k
warnings ⤑ smut, loss of virginity, fingering, angst, a little bit of back and forth, frat boy activities, hockey, drinking, parties, tutoring trope, heeseung is a fuck boy and he’s kind of a dick, the reader is up tight, Ft. Yunjin (le sserafim), Soobin (txt), fictional relationships between real life idols, etc
crossing the line series.
You hated hockey. It was grueling and animalistic. Almost barbaric. It was not a hot sport and watching big hunks of men throwing each other around a big ice box was so not how you imagined your friday night would be going. But here you were, in the middle of the packed crowd of your college’s home hockey stadium. The arena is a frozen tundra of noise and chaos, packed with fans draped in red and white jerseys, faces painted and voices hoarse from shouting.
Yunjin bounces beside you, practically vibrating with excitement as she elbows your side for the tenth time in five minutes. Her eyes are fixed on the ice, where players crash into each other like it’s a battle to the death. She lives for the thrill of it. Loves coming to most of the games, i think her super hot boyfriend Choi Soobin being on the team really catapults her love for the grueling sport. And as her roommate and best friend you allow her to drag you along, sometimes.
“You’re gonna love this, I swear,” she insists, clutching her cup of overpriced soda with both hands. “Just wait until Heeseung scores. He’s, like, magic on skates.” You force a smile, but the sound of bodies slamming into the plexiglass makes your fingers tighten around the edge of your seat. The air smells like popcorn and sweat, and the fans behind you won’t stop shrieking obscenities at the referees. You don’t get it—any of it. The violent crashes, the speed, the way grown men bark and snarl at each other over a puck. Sure, Lee Heeseung was considered a star hockey player, one of the best your school has ever seen, they say. But you were impressed, what was so hard about chasing a puck and shoving each other. The announcer’s voice crackles to life, nearly drowned out by the roar of the crowd. “Goal scored by number seventeen, Lee Heeseung!”
Yunjin screams, leaping to her feet. The arena erupts, deafening, and you flinch as a pack of players smother Heeseung in a mess of helmets and gloves. They slap his back, crush him into the boards, grinning like wolves. You can barely see his face, but his name glows in bold white letters across the screen overhead, followed by a replay of the goal—a blur of motion and ice spray. It was disgusting, and you hated every second of it. You grimace, sinking lower in your seat. “Do they always act like that?” Yunjin was used to your need to abominate hockey and all it was so your question doesn't really phase her much. Yunjin laughs, eyes bright. “It’s called celebrating.”
“It’s called animalistic,” you mutter, but she doesn’t hear you, too busy cheering with the rest of the lunatics. The game drags on, seconds bleeding into minutes, periods crawling by in a blur of shouts and whistles and obnoxious goal horns. Every time a player crashes into another, you wince. The fights are even worse, gloves dropped and fists flying, the refs standing back like it’s some kind of gladiator match. Your butt is numb from the hard plastic seat, your ears ache, and you’ve never hated anything more. By the time the buzzer finally sounds, you’re half convinced you’ll go deaf before you escape. Yunjin beams at you, cheeks flushed and hair wild from excitement. “See? Wasn’t that amazing?” she gushes, grabbing your arm. “Heeseung was insane! I told you he’s the best.”
You manage a weak smile. “Uh-huh. Amazing.” Your sarcasm goes basically unnoticed by Yunjin, as she’s too busy celebrating the big win. The crowd around you turn to each other cheering loudly. You have to stop yourself from covering your ears with your palms to drown out the sounds. Finally, mercifully, the game is over. You shuffle out of the bleachers with Yunjin at your side, ears still ringing from the blaring horns and the relentless chants. College kids swarm the exits, jerseys half-zipped and voices hoarse, stumbling over each other as they yell about some after-party to celebrate the big win. You scuff to yourself because of course there is a party. A party you won't be going to. Instead you'll go back to the dorm and relax with a good book and a cup of tea. Lord knows you need it after spending hours in this ice box.
The hallway is a crush of bodies and echoes, and you’re too busy trying not to get trampled to notice the way Yunjin keeps sneaking glances at you—eyes wide and hopeful, lower lip caught between her teeth. It was painfully obvious she wanted to ask you something and even more obvious that you wouldn't like her question. You sigh. “Whatever it is, no.” shutting down any ideas she had before she could utter a single word. Her face falls. “But you don’t even—”
“No.” You adjust your bag higher on your shoulder, weaving through a trio of guys who reek of beer and cheap cologne. “I did my time. I sat through three hours of hockey without complaining—much. Can we please just go home?” You craved that night in to yourself. Yunjin grabs your arm, nearly making you stumble. “Okay, but hear me out. There’s a party at the frat house. The whole team’s gonna be there! Come on, it’s not even that far from campus. We can just—”
You cut her off again, rolling your eyes and saying “Absolutely not.” She pouts, eyes big and tragically betrayed. “Please?” begging you. She was begging you. And you couldn't give in. “Nope.”
“I’ll clean the dorm for a month,” she blurts, and you stop dead in the middle of the hallway. A guy with a blue foam finger scowls as he swerves around you, muttering something rude, but you barely notice. She puts up a tough bargain. Yunjin’s watching you like she’s just offered up her firstborn, palms pressed together in a silent plea. “I’m serious,” she says quickly, sensing you might actually be considering it. “Trash, laundry, dishes—everything. I’ll even organize your bookshelf!” Damn. She was good, she knew how to get you. Your eyes narrow. “Two months.” but you couldn't give up that easily. You had to fight at least a little bit.
“One,” she shoots back, biting back a grin. “And I’ll buy you coffee for a week.” You groan, already regretting this. “Fine,” you grumble, and Yunjin squeals, throwing her arms around you so suddenly you almost topple over. “You’re the best!” she cries, squeezing tight. “I promise it’ll be fun, I swear! Maybe you’ll even get to talk to Heeseung!”
You snort. “Not interested,” you laugh, prying her off with an eye roll. But your gaze flicks, unbidden, to the ice behind you—where number seventeen is still skating slow laps, head ducked as he talks to a teammate. His laugh is bright enough to catch even from this distance, mouth curved and eyes crinkling at the edges. You turn away with a scuff, no way you’d involve yourself with a man who plays hockey.
-
The party is already in full swing by the time you and Yunjin squeeze through the front door of the frat house. Music thrums through the walls, loud enough to feel in your chest, and the living room is packed shoulder-to-shoulder with sweaty college kids and empty red cups. Someone’s yelling something unintelligible from the kitchen, and a girl in a sparkly top rushes past, giggling as her friend tries to pull her back by the arm. It was like a playground. You had to stop yourself from cringy as you and Yunjin continued to push through the crowds of people. Your head spinning with irritation at the pure senselessness in the entire house. It was like no one here had half a brain. Yunjin, of course, lights up like a kid in a candy store. Within seconds, she’s weaving her way through the chaos, dragging you along by the wrist. You stumble after her, dodging spilled drinks and people making out against walls, and wonder for the hundredth time how you let her talk you into this.
Yunjin chats with everyone—absolutely everyone—with a pulse. She flits from one group to another like it’s the easiest thing in the world, tossing compliments and laughter around like confetti. You trail behind her awkwardly, fingers curled around a cup of something you’re too afraid to taste, smiling and nodding when you’re supposed to. Soobin must have not arrived yet so she was filling the gap with randoms until he got here.
You’re not sure how much time passes—long enough for your feet to start aching and for Yunjin to introduce you to at least fifteen people whose names you instantly forget—when she suddenly gasps, eyes going wide. “Oh my god, Jake!” she squeals, abandoning your arm to dart across the room. “Jay! You guys killed it out there!” You blink, half a step behind as you follow her gaze. Sure enough, Jake and Jay—both still in their team jackets, damp hair pushed back—are leaning against the staircase, laughing about something. Jake grins at Yunjin’s enthusiasm, eyes bright, while Jay salutes her with his drink.
“Yunjin!” Jake laughs, opening his arms for a hug. “You actually made it! Didn’t think hockey was your roommate’s scene.” His eyes flick to you, warm and teasing.
“It’s not.” You admit dryly. Jake chuckled, taking a big swig of drink before smirking at you both. “Well still, I bet you enjoyed Heeseung’s killer goal that won us the game. Pretty cool, right?”
“Sure.” Your answers were deadpan and you could tell you were making them both moderately uncomfortable but you didn't care. You’d much rather be literally anywhere else but here.
“Aren’t you having fun?” Jay asks, he was more nonchalant than Jake, less outgoing. He leaned against the sink with a lazy look on his face. It almost looked like he’d rather be anywhere else as well.
“I’m suffering.” Your candor had to have been appreciated because the look Jay sent you was one that screamed ‘i agree’. He definitely wasn’t the party type either. Which was almost unheard of when it came to team captains. Yunjin rolls her eyes fondly, but she’s already turning back to Jake, leaning in to ask about one of the plays from the game. You’re left to awkwardly clutch your drink, glancing around at the sea of strangers and trying to look less like a lost puppy and more like someone who actually belongs here. After a while of watching Yunjin converse with half the party you had to pee. Finding a bathroom in this massive house would be hard. And asking someone was out of the question, you've had enough socializing for one night. You right yourself preparing to walk among the sea of people in the way of the grand staircase. You clutched your drink in your hand weaving through the crush of bodies.
Reaching the staircase was no easy task, people were mushed together like a mosh pit. The hallway is somehow even more crowded, people pressed shoulder-to-shoulder and stumbling over each other in varying levels of drunkenness. You mutter apologies, clutching your drink to your chest and scanning the doors for a bathroom sign. There’s a line, of course, stretching halfway down the hall. You bite back a groan and resign yourself to waiting, tapping your foot impatiently and trying to ignore the obnoxious couple behind you sucking face like they might suffocate if they pull apart. You’re glancing at your phone when it happens. One second, you’re minding your own business—the next, someone slams into your side, and your drink splashes straight down your front, soaking your shirt in sticky warmth.
You freeze, disbelief flaring into white-hot irritation as you look up, ready to rip into whoever’s responsible— only to find Lee Heeseung drunkenly staring back at you with a tight lipped fake apologetic look on his face. It angered you, damn near enraged you. His hair’s mussed, dark eyes hazy and amused, and he’s laughing—actually laughing, low and unbothered—like he didn’t just body-check you into the wall. A girl no taller than you stood beside him hung onto his arm like her life depended on it. Her lipstick slightly smudged and hair ruffled, she looked like a hot mess.
You blink, rage sharpening like broken glass. “Are you—are you serious right now?” you snap, shoving your empty cup against his chest. “What the hell? Watch where you’re going!” Heeseung just glances down at the cup, brows raising slowly. The girl at his side huffs impatiently, tugging at his arm, but he doesn’t move—just smirks, dark eyes drifting over you in a way that makes your blood boil. “You’re kidding,” you scoff. “Is this funny to you?”
He tilts his head, grin widening. “Kinda,” he admits, and your jaw drops at his audacity. Where does he get off thinking he's the king of the world? What just because he won himself a game tonight means he’s the hottest thing around? Fuck that. “Oh, screw you,” you snap, swiping futilely at your soaked shirt. “God, just because you’re some hotshot hockey player doesn’t mean the world revolves around you, you know?”
Heeseung chuckles, a warm, lazy sound that makes you want to punch him right in his stupidly perfect mouth. “Actually,” he drawls, dark eyes glinting, “yeah, it does.” The audacity. Your hands clench, words stuttering uselessly on your tongue, but he’s already turning away—barely even sparing you a second glance as the girl tugs him down the hall, giggling and clinging to his arm. You stare after them, heart hammering with fury, cheeks hot and sticky drink dripping from your clothes. You hate him. You’ve never hated anyone more.
What seemed like forever soaked in sticky gold liquid, the line to the bathroom started dwindling down until you were the last one to reach it. You storm into the bathroom, slamming the door behind you harder than necessary. The mirror reflects the full horror of your situation—your shirt is soaked, sticky, and clinging to your skin in the most uncomfortable way possible. The scent of whatever cheap drink was in your cup lingers in the air, and no matter how many paper towels you use, the mess refuses to come off.
“Unbelievable,” you mutter, aggressively scrubbing at the fabric of your clothing. Your mind replays the scene over and over, fueling your irritation. The smug tilt of Heeseung’s grin, the way he had the nerve to laugh in your face, to dismiss you like you were nothing. Yeah, it does. You grit your teeth so hard your jaw aches. Frustration crackles in your veins as you give up on your shirt and push out of the bathroom. The party is still going strong—music blasting, people shouting over one another, the air thick with sweat and spilled alcohol. You need to find Yunjin, tell her you’re leaving, drag her out of here if you have to.
But as you weave through the crowd, she’s nowhere to be found. Your irritation shifts into mild concern as you make your way toward the last place you saw her—near the staircase where she’d been laughing with Jake and Jay. Jay’s still there, leaning against the railing, casually sipping his drink as he chats with someone. You march up to him, crossing your arms. “Where’s Yunjin?”
Jay blinks, glancing over at you. His gaze flicks to your ruined shirt, and his lips twitch like he wants to ask, but wisely, he doesn’t. “Uh, last I saw, she went upstairs with Soobin.”
Your stomach sinks. “What?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, like ten minutes ago. Looked pretty cozy.” You inhale sharply, your irritation skyrocketing to full-blown fury. So Yunjin dragged you to this stupid party, bribed you into coming, abandoned you in a sea of sweaty hockey fans, and now she was upstairs with her boyfriend, completely forgetting you existed? Perfect. Just perfect.
“I’m leaving,” you mutter, spinning on your heel before Jay can respond. You shove your phone out of your pocket, pulling up the Uber app as you push your way through the crowd, biting down the urge to scream. By the time you make it outside, the cold air is a welcome slap to your overheated skin. You stand on the curb, shivering slightly, arms crossed tight over your chest as you wait for your ride. Tonight was supposed to be chill instead, you’re suffering through a hockey game, putting up with Yunjin’s antics, dealing with a party full of people you didn’t know. But somehow, he had to make it worse. Lee Heeseung. You scowl at the thought of him, jaw clenching. If the universe had any mercy, you’d never have to see him again.
-
Turns out the universe had no mercy at all. Not even an ounce. The next day, you’re still in a sour mood. You spent all night scrubbing your shirt, trying to get rid of the sticky residue and the memory of Lee Heeseung’s stupid smirk. Even after showering twice, you swear you can still smell the drink on your skin. But at least you’re back in your element now—your history class, where you TA. The classroom is empty except for Professor Kim, who looks up as you walk in, giving you a polite smile.
“Ah, good, you’re here,” he says, flipping through some papers on his desk. “I have a favor to ask. I know you tutor in your free time, and we have a student who’s in desperate need of help.”
You nod automatically. “Of course. You know I don’t mind tutoring.”
“That’s great to hear,” he says, looking relieved. “Because this student is failing, and if he doesn’t get his grade up, he’ll be ineligible to play.” You barely register his words, still waiting for a name. Then he glances down at his notes and says it.
“Lee Heeseung.” Your stomach plummets. No. No way. The universe had no mercy. “Wait—what?” You blink at him, hoping you misheard.
Professor Kim sighs. “Heeseung’s been struggling all semester. I gave him a warning last week, but his last exam was a disaster. If he doesn’t pass the next one, he’s off the team.” You open your mouth to protest, to say literally anyone else but him, but before you can get a word out, the door swings open, and in comes the bane of your existence.
Lee Heeseung strolls in like he owns the place, pushing his hair back as he yawns. His hoodie is wrinkled, his backpack is barely slung over one shoulder, and he looks every bit like someone who definitely did not wake up in time for his morning classes. “Sorry, sorry,” he drawls, not sounding sorry at all. “Rough night.”
You scoff before you can stop yourself. “I’m sure it was.” At the sound of your voice, Heeseung’s gaze slides lazily to you, and then—his lips curl. A slow, knowing smirk spreads across his face, and you immediately hate it.
Wait.” He tilts his head. “You’re my tutor?” He says in a mocking way, he’s making fun of you.
You cross your arms. “Unfortunately.” Heeseung clicks his tongue, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Damn. Lucky me.”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes straight into another dimension. “Not so lucky for me,” you mutter. Professor Kim clears his throat. “So, you’ll meet twice a week until the next exam. I’ll leave the schedule up to you both, but I strongly recommend you start immediately.” You glare at Heeseung, who doesn’t seem remotely concerned about the fact that his academic career is hanging by a thread. Instead, he leans against the desk, watching you with amusement.
“Well, tutor,” he says, voice dripping with mock politeness. “When do you want me?” You open your mouth, then shut it. Heeseung’s smirk deepens, clearly enjoying the way you bristle. “Tomorrow at five,” you grit out.
“Perfect.” He pushes off the desk, stretching before making his way toward the door. Just as he reaches it, he glances over his shoulder, that irritating smirk still in place. “Try not to miss me too much until then,” he says, and then he’s gone. You stare after him, absolutely floored by his audacity. “Oh, I’m going to kill him,” you mutter under your breath.
By the time you make it back to your dorm, you’re fuming. Your entire walk across campus had been spent replaying your conversation with Heeseung, each smug smirk and cocky remark igniting your anger all over again. Of all people, why did it have to be him? You shove open the door, throwing your bag to the floor with a little more force than necessary. "Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable," you mutter, running a hand through your hair in frustration.
Yunjin and Soobin are sprawled out on the futon, a half-empty bag of chips between them as some random drama plays on the screen. It’s the first time you’ve seen Yunjin since she abandoned you at the party, and the second she looks up at you, she must sense the storm brewing in your expression. “Uh…” She blinks. “What’s wrong?”
You cross your arms, narrowing your eyes at her. “Oh, I don’t know, Yunjin—maybe the fact that you ditched me last night?”
Yunjin’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh my God.” She sits up, looking genuinely guilty. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I just—Soobin showed up, and—”
“Yeah, I know,” you snap, glaring at Soobin, who at least has the decency to look sheepish. “Jay told me you ran off with him ten minutes after we got there. You know, after I suffered through a hockey game for you.” Yunjin groans, dragging her hands down her face. “You’re right. That was a shitty best friend move. I swear, I’ll make it up to you.”
You roll your eyes, collapsing onto your desk chair. “Yeah, yeah.” You wave her off, still annoyed but too exhausted to keep the argument going. “That’s not even the worst part.”
She tilts her head. “What do you mean?” You exhale sharply, rubbing your temples. “I have to tutor Lee Heeseung.”
Yunjin’s jaw drops. Soobin raises an eyebrow. “What?” she asks, sitting up straighter.
“Yeah. Apparently, he’s failing history, and if he doesn’t pass his next exam, he’s off the team,” you huff. “Professor Kim roped me into tutoring him before I even knew who it was.”
Yunjin snorts, clearly fighting a laugh. “Oh, that’s hilarious.”
“It’s not!” You glare at her. “You don’t understand—he’s a dick. He’s entitled, arrogant, and walks around like the whole world revolves around him.” Soobin hums, popping a chip into his mouth. “Heeseung’s not that bad.”
You whip your head toward him. “Are you serious?” Who asked him? He shrugs. “I mean, yeah, he can be cocky, but he’s actually pretty chill once you get to know him.”
Yunjin nods in agreement. “Yeah, he’s nice. I’ve talked to him a few times. He’s always been cool.”
Your mouth drops open. “Okay, no. You guys don’t get it. You didn’t see him at the party last night.”
Soobin raises an eyebrow. “What happened?” You launch into a full-blown rant, recounting every infuriating detail. “I was minding my business, just trying to use the bathroom, when he and some random girl bumped into me. I spilled my drink all over myself because they were too busy making out to notice other human beings existed. And when I called him out on it, do you know what he did?” Yunjin and Soobin both stare, waiting.
“He laughed. He laughed in my face and said, ‘Yes, it does,’ when I told him the world doesn’t revolve around him!” You threw your hands in the air in exasperation. Yunjin lets out a low whistle. “Oof.”
“Right?” You throw your hands up. “And now I have to spend actual time with him, tutoring him like he’s some helpless little idiot who can’t read a history book!” Soobin chuckles, shaking his head. “Sounds like he got under your skin.”
You scoff. “No. He’s just the most infuriating person I’ve ever met.” Yunjin exchanges a look with Soobin before turning back to you with an all-too-knowing smirk. You narrow your eyes. “What?”
“Nothing,” she singsongs. “I just think this tutoring thing is gonna be very interesting.”
The next day, you show up at the library exactly at five. You even get there a few minutes early because, unlike some people, you actually value punctuality. You find a table in the back, away from the louder study groups, and start setting up—pulling out your notes, opening your laptop, lining up your highlighters like the responsible student you are. Then, you sit back and wait for Lee Heeseung to show up.
And wait.
And wait.
You check the time. 5:15. You exhale sharply through your nose, forcing yourself to stay calm. Maybe he’s just running late. Maybe he got held up. Maybe— 5:30. Okay, seriously? You shoot him a quick text, nothing too aggressive. Just a simple: “Hey, you coming?” Nothing. Not a single response.
5:45. Your patience is wearing paper-thin. You stare at your phone screen, resisting the urge to type out something way more aggressive. Maybe something like: “If you were planning on wasting my time, you could have at least had the decency to tell me instead of making me sit here like an idiot.” Or better yet: “Fuck you.”
By now, you’re fuming. Your fingers drum aggressively against the table as you glare at the empty seat across from you, debating whether you should just leave. Clearly, he has no intention of showing up. 6:30. That’s it. You’re done. You shove your notebook into your bag, ready to storm out and text Professor Kim that you refuse to tutor an insufferable jackass, when— a voice behind you mutters a simple “Hey.”
You slowly turn around, already brimming with rage, and there he is—Lee Heeseung, strolling in like he doesn’t have a single care in the world. He drops into the seat across from you, stretching his arms behind his head with the kind of casual arrogance that makes you want to throw something at him. "Sorry I’m late," he says. Not actually sounding sorry at all.
You slam your laptop shut with way too much force. "You’re an hour and a half late."
Heeseung just shrugs. "Yeah, my bad. I had practice. Then I had to change. And, y’know, eat. Then I ran into some people…" Your eye twitches at his nonchalant attitude “And at no point did it occur to you to let me know?”
Heeseung raises an eyebrow like he doesn’t understand why you’re so worked up. "Didn’t think it was that big of a deal." You inhale so sharply your lungs burn. "Not that big of a—" You cut yourself off, pressing your hands against the table to ground yourself because if you don’t, you might actually throw your water bottle at his stupid, smug face.
Heeseung just watches you with lazy amusement, clearly not taking this seriously. “Don’t be so uptight,” he says, flipping open his empty notebook like he actually plans on doing anything. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”
Oh. oh something inside of you snaps. You can’t help the next words that leave your mouth and to be quite honest you don’t know if you care much anyway. “Oh, fuck off Heeseung.”
Heeseung pauses, blinks, then smirks. “What?”
"You heard me." You stand up, grabbing your bag. "I don’t have time for your arrogant, self-important bullshit. If you actually cared about passing this class, you’d take it seriously instead of acting like you’re doing me a favor by showing up." His smirk doesn’t even falter. If anything, it deepens. “Damn,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “Didn’t know you were this feisty.”
You glare. “And I didn’t know you were this much of a dick. But here we are.”
Heeseung chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re kinda cute when you’re mad.” oh. That’s it. You’re officially done.
You shove your notebook into your bag so aggressively you nearly rip the zipper, and without another word, you storm out of the library. You can hear him laughing behind you. Actually Laughing. And you swear—you swear—you’ve never wanted to strangle someone more in your entire life.
The next day, you’re back at the library, sitting across from Kim Sunoo, a bright-eyed freshman who actually wants to learn. Unlike some people. You tap your highlighter against the open textbook, explaining a key point about the causes of the Industrial Revolution. Sunoo nods eagerly, his face lighting up in understanding. “Ohhh, that makes so much sense now! I swear, I was staring at this for hours last night and none of it clicked.”
You smile despite yourself. “It’s easier when someone explains it out loud, huh?”
Sunoo grins. “Way easier. You’re really good at this, noona.”
You chuckle. “It’s literally just history.”
“Yeah, but you make it less boring,” he says, scribbling notes as fast as he can. “I actually feel like I might pass this exam now.” Before you can respond, a shadow falls over your table. And suddenly, the lightheartedness of the moment is gone. You don’t need to look up to know who it is. The air shifts, tension creeping in like a slow-moving storm.
Sunoo notices before you do. His eyes flick upward, widening slightly. “Uh—”
“Hey”
You sigh. The last thing you need right now is him. Slowly, you look up. Lee Heeseung stands there, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, looking at you with something that is not his usual cocky amusement. His posture is relaxed, but there’s an awkwardness to it—like he’s not used to whatever he’s about to do.
You cross your arms over your chest. “What do you want?”
“I want to talk.” His gaze flickers to Sunoo. “Alone.” Sunoo, to his credit, looks between the two of you and seems to decide that this is not his business. He hurriedly starts shoving his books into his bag. “Oh! Yeah, of course, I—” You shoot Heeseung an annoyed look. “We’re in the middle of something.”
Sunoo waves a hand. “No, no, it’s fine! I was about to go anyway.” He flashes you a grateful smile. “Thanks for the help! I’ll see you next week?” You nod, still frowning as you watch him scurry off like he just escaped something dangerous. Which, honestly? Fair. Then, you turn back to Heeseung. You lean back in your chair, arms crossed, waiting. “Well?”
Heeseung exhales, looking almost uncomfortable. He shifts his weight, raking a hand through his hair before finally meeting your eyes. "Look… about last night…"
Your eyebrows lift. “You mean the hour and a half I spent waiting for you? Or the part where you acted like a complete asshole?” He winces, lowering his eyes to the floor. “Yeah. That.” You don’t say anything. You let the silence stretch between you, let him sit in it. And for the first time since meeting him, Heeseung actually looks nervous.
He exhales sharply, dropping into the seat across from you. “I was a dick,” he admits. “I know that. And I’m sorry.” You blink. Lee Heeseung, apologizing? Willingly? You half expect the ceiling to cave in. You narrow your eyes, skeptical. “Are you actually?”
He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. I am.” He leans forward slightly, his voice lower now. Sincere even. “Look, I need this. I need to pass. If I don’t, I can’t play.” Something flickers across his face when he says it—something restrained. You get the feeling he’s hating admitting this to you, like asking for help isn’t something he’s ever had to do before. You study him, watching the way his jaw clenches, the way his fingers tap against the table like he’s restless. For once, there’s no arrogance in his expression. No teasing smirk. Just… Lee Heeseung, stripped of his usual bullshit.
You hate that it actually works. That a small part of you softens. But still, you’re not letting him off that easy. “I’ll be on time,” he says, his voice firmer now. “I’ll take it seriously. Just… give me another chance.”
You tilt your head, considering. “And if you don’t?” He exhales through his nose. “Then you can tell Professor Kim to find me another tutor. You’ll never have to deal with me again.” You hesitate, watching him. You want to say no. Want to tell him to find someone else, that you don’t owe him anything. But at the same time… you do love tutoring. And despite everything, you’d hate to see someone fail because of their own stupid pride. Even if that someone is Lee Heeseung.
So, against your better judgment, you sigh. “Fine,” you say, and immediately he brightens. But you hold up a finger. “But if you pull that shit again, I’m done. No second chances.”
He nods immediately. “Got it.”
You squint. “I mean it, Heeseung. One more time, and I’m out.”
“I know, I know,” he says, lips curling up into something that almost looks like a real smile. “I won’t be late.” You purse your lips, still doubtful. “We’ll see.” Heeseung stands up, stretching. “Five sharp, yeah?”
“Five sharp.”
A slow smirk spreads across his face. “Yes, ma’am.”
You roll your eyes and start gathering your things. “See, this is exactly what I mean.”
He chuckles, holding up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. No teasing. I’ll be good.” Somehow, you highly doubt that. As he walks away, hands stuffed in his pockets, you watch him go, feeling a mixture of irritation and reluctant curiosity. Because for all his bullshit, for all his cocky, self-important assholery… A small, tiny part of you is curious to see if he’ll actually change. And you hate that. So much.
That night, you and Yunjin fall into your usual routine—Chinese takeout, pajama shorts, and an unnecessary rewatch of Grey’s Anatomy. The apartment is warm, dimly lit by the soft glow of your laptop screen. The air smells like sweet and sour chicken, and your chopsticks lazily poke at your carton of lo mein as Yunjin lies sprawled across the couch beside you. “I still can’t believe you’re actually tutoring Heeseung,” she says around a mouthful of fried rice.
You groan, letting your head fall back against the couch. “Don’t remind me.”
“You hate him.” Yunjin continues.
“Exactly! Which is why this is actual hell for me.” You huff, setting your carton down on the coffee table. “He’s such a dick. He thinks the world revolves around him just because he’s good at hockey.”
Yunjin hums, twirling a noodle around her chopstick. “Soobin says he’s not actually that bad.” You scoff. “Oh, of course Soobin would say that. Heeseung’s his teammate.”
Yunjin shrugs. “Yeah, but like… he really meant it. Heeseung’s just—” She pauses, pursing her lips like she’s debating whether or not to say something. You narrow your eyes. “What?”
Yunjin sighs, setting her food down. “Soobin told me something about him. A story, actually.” You blink. “About Heeseung?”
She nods, sitting up a little. “Do you wanna hear it?” You hesitate, rolling your eyes. “Do I need to?”
Yunjin grins. “Oh, absolutely.”
You groan, but you can’t deny that you’re a little curious. You grab your drink, leaning back against the couch. “Fine. Spill.”
Yunjin sits up even more, tucking her legs beneath her. “Soobin told me that back in high school, Heeseung wasn’t—like—this.” She gestures vaguely. “He wasn’t popular. Or cocky. Or even a star player.”
You raise an eyebrow in disbelief. “What do you mean? He’s insanely good.”
“I know,” she says, eyes widening. “But apparently, his coach barely let him play. He wasn’t one of the ‘favorites,’ you know? So he rode the bench most of the time.” That… does surprise you. The Lee Heeseung you know is the player everyone talks about, the guy who steals the spotlight like it was made for him. The idea of him sitting on the sidelines, ignored, is hard to imagine.
“One day,” Yunjin continues, “one of the team’s star players got hurt before a big game. They had to put Heeseung in, and—” she snaps her fingers “—just like that, he destroyed everyone.” You blink. Surprised, this was not what you were expecting at all.
“He played so well that the entire crowd went nuts. Coaches were watching. He basically stole the game, and after that? He got a full-ride scholarship. Just like that.” Your brows knit together, trying to picture it. “But after that game,” Yunjin says, tilting her head, “he changed. Like, overnight.”
You frown. “What do you mean?” She exhales, leaning against the couch. “I mean he stopped being the quiet kid. He got stronger, started training harder. And when he got to college? Boom. Whole new personality. He’s loud, cocky, untouchable.” You roll your eyes. “Yeah, well, that part tracks.”
Yunjin gives you a look. “But don’t you get it? He had to change. He was treated like nothing for years, and the second he proved himself, he made sure no one would ever look down on him again.” You chew on your lip, staring at the flickering light of the laptop screen. You don’t know what to do with that information. Because it’s easier to hate Heeseung when he’s just an arrogant, self-absorbed jock. When he’s just some guy who gets on your nerves. But now there’s a reason behind it. And you hate that it makes you see him differently.
The next day, when you step into the library, you expect to wait. You expect to sit down, go through your notes, tap your fingers against the table while checking the time, wondering how long you should stay before giving up. But Heeseung is already there And it throws you off.
He’s slouched in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, head tilted down as he stares at his phone. His brows are furrowed, lips pressed together, his thumb hovering over the screen but never quite moving. It’s an expression you’re not used to seeing on him. Tense. Quiet. Serious. It doesn’t suit him.
You shake it off, forcing yourself to walk over. You pull out your chair with a sharp scrape against the floor and drop your books onto the table. Loudly. Nothing. You fight the urge to roll your eyes and sit down. “Alright, we’re starting with Henry the Eighth today.”
No reaction. You tilt your head. “You know, the king who had six wives? England’s most dramatic ruler?” Still, nothing. Your patience thins. “What’s more important than not failing?” At that, he finally looks up, but instead of the usual lazy amusement or mild irritation, his expression is sharp.
“Mind your own business,” he snaps. It hits you like a slap. Of all the things you expected, that wasn’t one of them.
You straighten, gripping the edge of the table, surprised by the coldness in his voice. Heeseung has been many things since you met him—cocky, arrogant, insufferable—but he’s never been cruel. You inhale sharply, already pushing back your chair. “Okay. If you don’t wanna be here, I’m not wasting my time—”
“Wait.” The word is rushed, almost desperate, and before you can leave, Heeseung finally puts his phone down. He drags a hand through his hair, exhaling roughly through his nose. “It’s just my dad,” he mutters, like that should be enough of an explanation. You hesitate, watching the way his jaw ticks, the way his fingers tap restlessly against the table.
“What about him?” you ask, voice softer than before. Heeseung doesn’t look at you. “He was just asking how the season’s going. That’s it.” You study him for a moment, something itching at the back of your mind. This is the first time Heeseung has ever looked like this. Quiet. Withdrawn. Like his thoughts are somewhere else entirely. And last night, you learned something about him—something you never would’ve guessed on your own.
You shift in your seat, glancing at your open notebook before closing it. “You know…” You trail off, choosing your words carefully. “I heard a story about you.” Heeseung blinks, his gaze flicking to yours. “What?”
“I heard that back in high school, you weren’t allowed to play much,” you say. “And that when you finally got your shot, you proved everyone wrong.” His entire body stiffens. For a second, you think he’s going to let you keep talking, but then his expression hardens. His lips press together, his fingers stop tapping, and suddenly, the coldness is back.
“Don’t,” he says flatly. You frown. “I just—”
He cuts you off with his stern voice. A terrify you didn't want to wander “I said don’t.” It’s sharp, cutting, final. The look in his eyes makes it clear that whatever conversation you were hoping to have? It’s not happening. Your stomach twists, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat, unsure if you should apologize or pretend like you never said anything at all. For a moment, the silence is heavy. Unbearable.
Then Heeseung sighs, running a hand over his face. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter. “Just… drop it.” You swallow hard, nodding slowly. “Right,” you murmur, flipping open your book again. “Henry the Eighth.” For a second, you think he won’t even pretend to pay attention. But then he leans forward, picking up a pencil and tapping it against the table. And this time, when you start talking, he actually listens.
Over the next few weeks you and Heesseung began to find some kind of rhythm that worked for the both of you. And after no time Heeseung was back to usual self. Being extremely and unavoidably annoying. But it was clear to you that all your tutoring sessions were starting to pay off, he was actually learning the material and he..seemed to like it.
The moment stretches—just a second too long. Your hand lingers against his, warmth seeping through the space between your fingers. It’s stupid. It’s just a high-five. Something you’ve done a thousand times with other people. But when you pull away, you can still feel the ghost of his touch, like it left an imprint. Heeseung’s smirk flickers, something unreadable flashing across his face. But then, just as quickly, it’s gone, replaced by his usual cocky grin.
“See? I told you I was a genius,” he says, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. You roll your eyes, forcing yourself to focus. “That was one right answer out of ten, relax.”
“An improvement, though.” He points at you like he’s proving a point. “You should be proud. I might actually be learning something.” You scoff, gathering your notes, but your stomach twists in a way you don’t quite understand. Something is different.And you’re not sure what to do about it. One Part of you is scared, another part is excited. And that fear continues to grow the more time you spend with Heeseung.
The study room is too small. Or maybe it just feels that way because Heeseung takes up too much space—not physically, but in the way he leans back in his chair like he owns the place, the way his presence seems to stretch and fill every available inch. The air is thick with the scent of his cologne—something clean, sharp, a little woodsy—and you hate that you notice it.
It doesn’t help that you’re sitting way too close. Your knees bump under the table every time one of you shifts. His arm brushes yours when he reaches for his pencil. The tiny room makes every movement magnified, every accidental touch unavoidable.
You try to focus. You clear your throat and point to your notes. “Okay, so if you actually want to pass this test, you need to remember the causes of the French Revolution.” Heeseung hums, leaning forward. “Right. The people were pissed.” You deadpan. “And why were they pissed?”
“Uh…” He chews the end of his pencil, eyes flicking to the page in front of you. “Something about taxes?” You exhale. “Something about taxes,” you echo, circling the words in your notes. “Yes. Specifically, the Third Estate—” Before you can finish, Heeseung shifts, leaning over your shoulder to get a better look at your writing. And that’s when it happens. His arm presses against yours. His face is too close. And suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of everything—the warmth of his skin, the scent of his cologne, the way his breath fans lightly over your shoulder.
You force yourself to stay still, to not react. “You have really messy handwriting,” Heeseung murmurs, completely oblivious to the absolute chaos in your brain. You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the fact that his voice is lower, softer in the quiet of the study room. “Maybe if you actually wrote your own notes, you wouldn’t have to suffer through mine.”
“I like yours better,” he says, smirking. You scuff, shoving your notebook toward him. “Then read them yourself, genius.”
He laughs, finally leaning back, and you exhale—only now realizing you were holding your breath. It was nothing. Just an accidental touch. And yet your heart is pounding out of your chest. You shake it off, clearing your throat. “Okay. Back to the revolution.” Heeseung smirks like he knows something you don’t. But he doesn’t say a word. And somehow that’s worse.
The party is loud—too loud, too chaotic, too much. You don't even know whose house this is. The bass is thumping through the floor, the air is thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat, and way too much cologne. Yunjin, as always, is in her element, talking to literally anyone with a pulse, dragging you around as she bounces between groups of people. You don’t even know why she drags you along to these things if she’s not even going to stay with you.
You're scouting your surroundings when you see him. Lee Heeseung. But he’s not like he usually is, No cocky smirk, no playful teasing, no girls clinging to his arm. He looks… different. Closed off even. He’s leaning against the kitchen counter, a red Solo cup dangling from his fingers, but his eyes are unfocused, staring off at nothing. The usual arrogance in his posture is missing. He just looks… tired.
You hesitate. Normally, you’d avoid him. You’re not sure why you don’t this time. Maybe it’s because he’s alone, or maybe it’s because this version of him—the one that isn’t performing, isn’t playing up his reputation—intrigues you. So you walk over, crossing your arms. “No girl hanging off you tonight?” Heeseung barely reacts at first. He blinks, like he’s just noticing you, then shrugs. “Not in the mood.”
That’s not the response you expect. Usually, he’d fire back with something smug, something flirty, something to get a rise out of you. Instead, his voice is flat. You glance at him, studying his expression. His usual lightheartedness is gone, replaced with something heavier, something clouded. His fingers tighten around the cup, his jaw shifts slightly, and he isn’t looking at you. Something’s on his mind. And for some reason, you care.
“…You wanna get out of here?” The words slip out before you can stop them. Heeseung finally looks at you. There’s a flicker of something in his gaze—surprise, curiosity, maybe even relief. And for a second, you think he’s going to brush you off, flash you that smirk and tell you not to flatter yourself. But instead, he nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Let’s go.”
Outside, the night air is cold, but it feels… lighter. You walk side by side down the street, neither of you saying anything at first. The party fades behind you, the music growing distant, replaced by the quiet hum of the night. It’s weird. You’ve never been alone with Heeseung outside of the library. You’re used to him in controlled environments—study sessions, parties where he’s surrounded by people, the ice where he’s the star. Not like this. Not just… walking.
“You okay?” you ask eventually. Heeseung huffs a laugh, stuffing his hands in his hoodie pocket. “Didn’t think you cared.” You roll your eyes. “I don’t.”
He smirks, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Liar.” You bump your shoulder against his without thinking. “Seriously, though. You’re acting different.” Heeseung exhales, looking up at the sky. For a second, you think he won’t answer. But then—
“It’s nothing,” he says. “Just hockey stuff.”
You frown. “You’re always dealing with hockey stuff.”
“Yeah, well.” He pauses. “It’s my whole life.”
You glance at him, watching the way his features harden, his usual carefree exterior cracking just enough for you to see through. And you remember what Yunjin told you—that he wasn’t always the hotshot, that he had to claw his way to the top. You don’t push him. Instead, you say, “Wanna grab food?” He blinks. “At this hour?”
“Diner down the street’s open late,” you say. “And you look like you could use pancakes.” Heeseung huffs a small laugh, shaking his head. But then he looks at you—really looks at you. And something shifts. “…Yeah,” he says, nudging you with his elbow. “Let’s get pancakes.” And just like that, the night takes on a different shape.
The diner is the kind of place that always smells like coffee and syrup, no matter what time of day it is. The booths are cracked with age, the neon sign outside flickers every few seconds, and there’s a quiet hum of old music playing through the speakers. It’s not fancy. But it’s warm, and right now, it’s exactly what you need. Heeseung slides into the booth across from you, stretching out his legs so they nearly brush against yours. You don’t know if he does it on purpose or if he just takes up that much space. You ignore it.
A waitress comes by, barely looking at either of you as she takes your order—pancakes, coffee, extra whipped cream. Heeseung raises an eyebrow at you, amused. “What?” you challenge. “I told you. Pancakes fix everything.”
He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. But there’s something softer about him now. Not in the way he usually teases you—this feels different. And then the moment settles into a more calm setting. You lean forward, resting your arms on the table. “So,” you say, tilting your head. “Wanna talk about it?”
You expect him to dodge the question, maybe throw out some sarcastic remark to avoid actually telling you what’s going on. But for the second time that night, Lee Heeseung surprises you. He exhales, running a hand through his hair, making it even messier than before. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet. “My dad found out about my grades.” Your stomach twists. You already have a bad feeling about where this is going.
Heeseung lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “He says if I’m gonna throw my entire hockey career away for some stupid class, then I don’t deserve his financial support anymore.” He pauses, staring down at the table. “Says I should ‘get my priorities straight.’” Your heart clenches. You should’ve expected something like this. It’s not uncommon—parents putting pressure on their kids, pushing them toward success, expecting perfection. But something about the way Heeseung says it, the way his voice drops just a little at the end… You know that feeling.
“I just—” Heeseung exhales harshly, gripping his fork a little too tight. “I never feel like I’m enough for them, you know?”
You don’t even think. You just say it. “I do.”
Heeseung blinks, lifting his gaze to meet yours. You swallow hard, suddenly feeling vulnerable, but you push through. “My mom and I don’t talk anymore,” you admit. “She didn’t approve of me getting a history degree. She wanted me to go into the family business with them.” You let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “When I didn’t, she basically—shunned me. Acted like I was a disappointment. Like I wasn’t worth her time anymore.” Heeseung stares at you, expression unreadable. You feel like you should keep talking, should fill the silence, but then Heeseung leans forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table. His gaze softens.
“That’s fucked up,” he says, voice quieter now.
You shrug, picking at the edge of your napkin. “Yeah, well. It is what it is.” There’s a pause. Then— “I don’t think it is,” Heeseung mutters. You look at him, and for the first time since you met him, you realize that Lee Heeseung isn’t just some cocky, aggravating hockey star. He’s a person. A person with his own struggles, his own fears, his own wounds. The realization shifts something inside you. The waitress comes by, sliding plates of pancakes in front of you, breaking the moment. Heeseung blinks, like he’s shaking himself out of whatever just passed between you, and you do the same.
You don’t kiss. You don’t hold hands. You don’t even bring the topic up again, but the both of you feel it. Something was different.
You glance at the time on your phone and exhale sharply, tapping your fingers against the table. Heeseung is late. Again. It’s been twenty minutes, and you’ve already convinced yourself that if he’s not here in five more, you’re leaving. To say you were disappointed would be an understatement, you were more sad than anything. You had thought that the two of you had made some much progress. You’re mid-internal rant about how utterly irresponsible he is when you hear the sound of hurried footsteps.
“I know, I know,” Heeseung says before you can even open your mouth. He holds up both hands in mock surrender, slightly out of breath. “Before you rip my head off, I brought you something.” You narrow your eyes as he slides a coffee cup and a neatly wrapped pastry across the table.
You hesitate, suspicious. “What is this?”
“A peace offering,” Heeseung says with a grin. “Your favorite, by the way. Thought it might keep you from murdering me in cold blood.” Your lips part slightly, surprised. “How do you even know my order?”
He shrugs, like it’s nothing. “You get it every time we go to the campus café. Not that hard to remember.” You press your lips together, trying to ignore the fact that your stomach does a weird little flip at that. Instead, you roll your eyes and mutter, “Still an asshole,” before taking the cup.
Heeseung chuckles, sliding into the seat across from you. “Yeah, yeah. But at least I’m a thoughtful asshole.” You’re about to start the tutoring session when a static-filled announcement echoes through the library speakers. “Attention, students: The library will be closing early tonight due to a scheduled event. Please begin packing up your belongings.”
You blink, glancing at Heeseung, who’s already stuffing his books back into his bag. He shrugs. “Guess we’re taking this somewhere else.”
“Wait!” You call out. “Where are we going?” You ask him, beginning to pack up your own things.
“Just come with me.” He says simply with a shrug of his shoulders. You huff but follow after him like he said, through the crowd of people also leaving the library.
You’re not sure how it happens, but twenty minutes later, you’re sitting across from Heeseung in a quiet corner of a late-night café, your books barely touched. At first, you try to focus on history. You really do. But for once, Heeseung isn’t the one slacking off—you are. The conversation drifts. It’s not about Henry VIII or the French Revolution anymore. It’s about movies.
“What do you mean you’ve never seen Interstellar?” Heeseung looks genuinely offended. You roll your eyes. “Sorry, I just never got around to it.”
He lets out an exaggerated gasp. “Unbelievable. You call yourself educated?” You nudge his foot under the table. “Pretty sure history knowledge is more important than knowing a random space movie.”
“First of all,” he says, holding up a finger, “it’s not just a ‘random space movie.’ It’s a cinematic masterpiece.”
You snort. “Didn’t take you for the type to get passionate over movies.” Heeseung sends you a smirk, one that you had to admit made you feel mushy inside. What was happening to you? “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” And for some reason, you find yourself wanting to change that. Then the conversation shifts again. This time, it’s about childhood.
You tell him about how you used to sneak into your grandfather’s study to read history books that were way too advanced for you, even though you were explicitly told not to. Heeseung tells you about how he used to skate on a frozen pond near his childhood home, even when it wasn’t completely frozen over. “Nearly drowned once,” he admits with a laugh. “Didn’t stop me from going back the next week.”
You shake your head. “That explains so much about you.” The conversation flows too easily. The barriers that were once so firm between you are now… blurred. It scares yet excites you at the same time. At some point, you notice Heeseung looking at you for a little too long. His eyes flicker over your face, his smirk settling into something softer. Something unreadable. It has your heart pounding and your palms sweaty. You felt like one of those rom com heroines that were head over heels in love with the witty Jock. What were you doing? Lee Heeseung was so not your type. Hockey players were so not your type.
“You know,” he muses, tilting his head, “this kinda feels like a date.” Your breath catches in your throat.
You scoff, trying to ignore the sudden warmth in your face. “In what world?”
Heeseung grins, leaning forward slightly. “Come on. Late-night café, deep conversation, stolen glances.” He raises a brow. “You sure you don’t feel it?” Your heart stumbles. You don’t know what to say. So you shift the topic into something more casual but still you don’t miss the knowing smirk on Heeseung’s face, like he knew the effect he had on you and he liked it. And a part of you liked it too..
The next day, you and Heeseung are back at the library, tucked into your usual corner. The energy between you is… normal. The way it always is. You tell yourself that last night at the café meant nothing. That Heeseung’s words—this kinda feels like a date—were just him messing with you, the way he always does. So you push it away, bury yourself in your notes, and act like everything is the same.
And for the most part, it is. Heeseung slouches in his chair, tapping his pencil against the table in boredom while you attempt to drill historical facts into his thick skull. He groans dramatically when you ask him a question. He teases you when you sigh in exasperation. Everything is normal. Until—
“What’s this?” Heeseung suddenly reaches into your bag and pulls out a slightly worn copy of Pride and Prejudice. You blink. “Uh, my book?”
Heeseung raises a brow. “You’re one of those people?”
You cross your arms. “What does that mean? A person who reads?”
He grins, flipping through the pages. “Y’know. The ones who are obsessed with Mr. Darcy.”
You roll your eyes. “I like the book because it’s well-written. Not because I’m obsessed with some brooding 19th-century man.” Heeseung hums, still turning the pages. “Mm. I liked it, too.”
You stare at him. “What?” No way a guy like Lee Heeseung read and liked Pride and prejudice.
He looks up, amused. “What?”
“You read it?”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Yeah. Had to for a class in high school.”
You’re genuinely shocked. You don’t know why—Heeseung surprises you more often than you’d like to admit. But for some reason, the image of him reading Pride and Prejudice is not one you ever expected. “What did you think?” you ask, genuinely curious.
He leans back in his chair, tapping the book against his thigh. “I liked the way Mr. Darcy felt about Elizabeth. That whole ‘I tried not to love you, but I did anyway’ thing? Kinda hits, y’know?”
Your breath catches. Because the way he says it..It’s not teasing, it’s not sarcastic, it's not a joke. The air shifts between you and for a minute you just stare at each other, saying nothing but so many things all at once. Something pulses in the space between you—something unfamiliar, something dangerous, something you don’t quite know how to name. Then, before you can react— Heeseung laughs, then he leans forward and kisses you.
It’s quick. Just a press of his lips against yours. Light, fleeting. Like it’s nothing. Like it’s a joke. Something so trivial you do with the everyday person, something with no meaning. And it takes you a second to process what just happened before the reality of it slams into you like a freight train. You shove him back. Hard. “What the hell, Heeseung?” Your voice shakes with anger.
He just grins, laughing. “Relax. I just wanted to see you flustered.” Your stomach sinks. To him it was a joke, kissing me was a joke to see me– Flustered? That was funny to him? You don’t even realize your hands are shaking until you grab your things and shove them into your bag. Your chest feels tight. Your vision blurs. Because it wasn't a joke to you. You didn't enjoy being the punchline to someone's entertainment. “Hey, where are you—” But you don’t let him finish. You walk out.
You make it all the way out of the library before the first tear falls. You hate yourself for it. Hate that you’re crying. Hate that you’re letting Heeseung get to you. But you can't help it. That was your first kiss. And he stole it from you. It wasn't special, it wasn't meaningful if anything it was the opposite. It was just a joke. A way for Heeseung to entertain himself. You wipe your face harshly, forcing yourself to breathe. You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. That it’s not a big deal. That it’s fine. But it’s not.
You’re halfway across campus when you hear footsteps behind you. “Wait—wait,” Heeseung calls. You don’t stop. If anything you walk quicker trying your hardest to get away from him. “Hey—seriously—” He jogs up beside you, still laughing. Like it’s funny. Like it’s just another thing for him to tease you about. And that’s when you’ve had enough. That’s when you break.
You whirl around, eyes blazing. “You think this is funny?” Heeseung falters, caught off guard by the sharpness in your voice. You scoff, shaking your head. “You don’t get it.”
Heeseung frowns, finally realizing that you’re actually mad. “I mean, come on. It was just a kiss—”
“No, it wasn’t!” The words come out louder than you intend. Heeseung blinks. Your throat tightens. You stare at the ground, voice quieter now. “That was…my first kiss.” The words feel like ash on your tongue, burning your inside out. Embarrassment flooding your senses.
And silence followed, dead silence. Heeseung said nothing at your confession. When you finally look up, Heeseung’s expression has completely changed. He doesn’t look smug anymore. He doesn’t look amused. He looks like he just got punched in the stomach. “Shit,” he breathes.
You shake your head, swallowing hard. “Forget it.” You turn to leave again, but this time, he grabs your wrist. Stopping you from moving away from him. You want to rip your wrist from his hands, it feels like fire on your skin. You just wanted to get away from him even for just a few minutes to collect yourself, so you could calm down.
Heeseung, although unintentionally, took something from you. And for some people your first kiss would mean nothing but not to you. You had been waiting for the right time, a first kiss, in your mind, was supposed to be romantic. It was supposed to mean something. Even if you didn't end up with that person in the end. Even if you had the messiest break up it didn't matter because in that moment they were the right person and the feeling was there.
It was the reason you read romance novels like pride and prejudice. You were a foolish, foolish hopeless romantic and you didn't care. You embraced it but now stuck in front of someone like Lee Heeseung who kissed girls like he changed his clothes you were embarrassed. Because it meant nothing to him, it was a joke to see you red, to see you stutter. You couldn't help but be angry about that and you weren't going to let him downplay it. You had more dignity than that.
“I—” He hesitates, exhaling sharply. “I didn’t know.”
You laugh bitterly. “Yeah. No shit.” because of course he didn't. Because in his world silly little romantic gestures and the innocence of waiting for the right time to have your first kiss didn’t exist. Kissing was something you just did for him.
Heeseung runs a hand over his face, looking genuinely guilty. His usual cockiness is gone, replaced by something that almost looks like… regret. “I—fuck. I’m an asshole,” he mutters, shaking his head.
You sniff, wiping at your eyes. “Yeah. You are.”
He looks at you, jaw tight. “I wouldn’t have done that if I knew.” And you believe him. You can see it in the way his lips are pressed into a thin line, the way his jaw clenches like he’s punishing himself for something he can’t take back. A long silence stretches between you. Were you really about to forgive him?
Then, you exhale, your voice small. “It wasn’t supposed to be like that.”
Heeseung swallows hard. “I know.” Your throat tightens as you look away, the ache in your chest still present but no longer suffocating. “It was stupid, and it—it wasn’t supposed to be a joke.”
“I know,” he repeats. And this time, his voice is laced with something heavier. Something genuine. You hate that you can’t hate him for it. You chew on your lip, staring at the ground. A part of you wants to stay mad. Wants to tell him to leave you alone, to let you hold on to your anger because that would be easier. But another part of you—one you’re not sure you like—wants to believe him.
Because Heeseung might be an arrogant hockey player with a flirty smirk and a ridiculous ego, but… he isn’t cruel. You sigh, rubbing a hand over your face. “I can’t believe my first kiss was with you.”
Heeseung huffs out a laugh, though there’s no amusement in it. “Yeah. And I can’t believe I ruined it for you.” You look up at him then, surprised by the way his gaze is so… serious. He was being sincere. “I’m really sorry,” he says quietly. “I was just being an idiot. I didn’t think—I didn’t know—” He shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “I swear, I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”
You stare at him for a long moment, searching his face for any trace of insincerity. But there’s nothing. You could tell with utmost certainty that he was sorry, that he regretted it. And against all odds, you sigh, your shoulders dropping just a little. “I forgive you,” you murmur.
Heeseung blinks. “You do?”
You roll your eyes. “Don’t make me change my mind.”
A slow, relieved smile tugs at his lips. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
You shake your head, still feeling a little raw, but… better. Heeseung watches you carefully. Then, after a beat, he hesitates before saying, “You know… if you wanted, I could—” He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly looking almost shy. “I mean, I could give you a proper first kiss.” You freeze, your heart stuttering in your chest.
Heeseung seems to immediately regret saying it, his eyes widening. “Only if you wanted—and not now! I mean—just, like, someday. If you ever wanted to, uh—” You stare at him. Then, despite everything, a laugh bubbles up in your throat. Heeseung let out a groan, running a hand over his face in embarrassment “Just, forget i said anything.”
But you’re grinning now. It was your turn to tease him and man it felt good.
The arena is alive with energy, the kind that shakes the walls and hums beneath your skin. You’re here. At a hockey game. Voluntarily. Yunjin nearly fell off the bleachers when you agreed without your usual dramatic sigh and drawn-out complaints. She had pestered you the entire way here, elbowing you in the ribs, wiggling her eyebrows, making heart gestures with her hands.
“I know why you suddenly want to come,” she had sing-songed, a smug grin plastered on her face. You had simply rolled your eyes, refusing to entertain her antics. But now, sitting in the middle of the buzzing crowd, you feel… different.
For the first time, you’re actually watching the game. Not just tolerating it, not just suffering through it for Yunjin’s sake—you’re watching, eyes trained on one player in particular. Lee Heeseung.
You’ve never really paid attention before, never really noticed the way he moves across the ice like he was born on it. He’s fast, insanely fast, weaving through players with a sharp focus you’ve never seen from him anywhere else. The same guy who saunters into tutoring sessions late, who smirks and teases and never takes anything seriously—here, he’s different. He’s serious. Disciplined. And you suddenly understand why people look at him the way they do. Why he’s not just good—but great.
Your chest tightens as you watch him skate down the ice, stick-handling the puck with effortless precision before passing it off to a teammate. A minute later, the puck is passed back to him, and in one smooth motion, he winds up his shot. The slapshot is powerful, cutting through the air before slamming into the back of the net. The entire arena erupts. Heeseung’s teammates swarm him, cheering, helmets knocking against each other as they embrace. The student section roars, chants of his name ringing out through the stands.
And you— You cheer. For the first time ever a hockey game has actually excited you. You let the fact that it was a grueling, animalistic sport slip away from you and you allowed yourself to have fun. To watch the people around you at the edge of their seats and you be a part of it. You weren't sulking in your seat wishing you were anywhere but here, no you were having fun. It was liberating. Why hadn;t you allowed such a simple pleasure before.
You don’t even realize it at first. It’s small, just a quiet “yes!” under your breath, but Yunjin hears it. Her head whips toward you so fast it’s a miracle she doesn’t get whiplash. “Oh. My. God.”
You blink, startled. “What?”
Her jaw drops, hands gripping your arm in a death hold. “You just cheered.” You open your mouth to protest, but she’s already gasping dramatically. “I can’t believe it. You—you like hockey. You like hockey.”
You shove her off, cheeks burning. “I do not.”
“You do! You just cheered! You’ve been watching the game, and not in a ‘God, this is so stupid’ kind of way, but like a real fan.” She gasps again. “Oh my God, do you have a jersey under your coat? Are you secretly a hardcore Lee Heeseung fangirl?”
You glare at her. “I swear to God, Yunjin—”
But she just grins, eyes sparkling with pure mischief. “You like him.”
Your stomach flips. “I do not.”
“You do!” She wiggles her brows, giddy like she’s just discovered the best gossip of the century. “You’re watching him like he hung the moon, and you cheered, and you didn’t even complain when I dragged you here!”
You shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “I just—” You hesitate, glancing back toward the ice where Heeseung is still grinning, fist-bumping his teammates. And for the first time, you admit it to yourself. You like him. You really like him. Even if he stole your first kiss like it was a joke, even if he’s late sometimes, even if he never takes anything seriously with that stupid little smirk on his face. You like him. Lee Heeseung had surprised you. He was nothing you had thought him to be. He was funny, he was kind, he was smart even if he thought otherwise.
The realization settles over you like a weight you’re not sure you’re ready to carry. Because no way does Heeseung feel the same way about you. Does he? He called your little cafe hang out a date. He’s told you things about himself that i’m sure only his closest friends would know. He kissed you for god sake. Maybe he does like you back?
“Even if i do like him..” You mutter finding it hard to get the words out. “It’s not like he would like me back?”
“It doesn’t hurt to find out right?” Yunjin asks with a big dopey grin on her face.
“That’s the thing..” You trail off “It does hurt to ask, because if he doesn't like me back then it will be awkward, it will ruin everything we've done so far.”
“Sure.” Yunjin nods “But you can’t walk around with this crush looming over you. Things like this can’t go unsaid..”
You just nod at her not really wanting to further conversation here of all places. The game was over and everyone was starting to leave, it would be humiliating if someone were to hear the two of yours conversation.
“Come on.” Yunjin grabbed your arm “We have to wait for Soobin..”
You stand outside the rink with Yunjin, your arms crossed over your chest as she bounces on the balls of her feet, clearly eager to see Soobin. The energy is still electric from the game, students lingering in groups, buzzing about the win. You’re pretending to listen to Yunjin ramble about some play that Soobin made, but your eyes keep flickering toward the players filtering out of the locker room. Looking for him. But Heeseung’s nowhere to be found.
You’re not sure why you care. Not sure why your stomach twists in disappointment every time another player walks past and it’s not him. You were sure you looked like a little lost puppy, how pathetic of you really.
“Looking for someone?” Yunjin cooes, a grin on her face. You shake your head at her relentlessness. She never gives up does she.
“No.” You deadpan “I’m not.”
“Sure.” she giggles. But she didn't believe you. And truthfully you didn't believe yourself.
Luckily, Soobin finally emerges, and Yunjin squeals, launching herself at him. He laughs, catching her with ease, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder. “Did you see my goal?” he teases.
“I saw everything,” Yunjin gushes. You roll your eyes, but there’s a small, unbidden smile playing on your lips as you watch them. You always admired their relationship and the way Soobin takes such good care of Yunjin. Sure, you weren't the biggest fan of hockey players but Soobin was one of the good ones. Yunjin loved him, so in turn you loved him too. Unless he hurt her. Then he’d had hell to pay. But, they've been going strong for two years now so the chance of that happening was slim to none it seemed.
The moment is cut short when a group of guys from the opposing team walks past, their presence immediately shifting the air. “Nice win,” one of them says, voice dripping with sarcasm. His eyes land on Soobin. “Lucky, huh?”
Soobin tenses beside Yunjin, but his expression remains neutral. “Just played our game, man.”
One of the guys scoffs. “Right. Guess even a broken clock is right twice a day.” Jake and Jay join the group just in time to hear that, their easygoing post-game demeanor sharpening.
“Problem?” Jake asks, his usual grin gone. It was so unlike Jake to not have a beaming smile on his face. He was almost never this serious from what you’ve seen of him.
The guy just smirks. “Not at all. Just wondering what your team is gonna do when Lee Heeseung finally crashes and burns.” Something in your chest tightens.
Jake’s jaw ticks. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, come on. You know it as well as we do. Without hockey, Heeseung is nothing. Just another dude who peaked in college and has nothing to fall back on.” The guy laughs, shaking his head. “Damn shame, really.” You see red.
Before you even realize what you’re doing, you step forward. “Excuse you?” The guy turns to you, clearly amused. “Oh? And who are you?”
“I’m the person telling you to shut the hell up,” you snap, surprising everyone—including yourself. Heeseung might drive you insane. He might be arrogant and cocky and an infuriating flirt. But the way they’re talking about him—like he’s disposable, like he doesn’t matter beyond what he can do on the ice—it bothers you. It bothers you a lot. More than it should maybe. But at this moment you didn’t care. You sure as hell were not going to let sore losers talk down on him when he wasn’t even here to defend himself.
You keep going, anger bubbling to the surface. “You don’t know anything about him. You don’t know how hard he works, how much pressure he’s under. He’s one of the best players in the league, and that’s why you’re all so bitter.” You let out a scoff. “And if he did quit hockey tomorrow? He’d still be ten times the person any of you are.” The group goes silent for a beat. Then the guy just laughs. He actually laughs. You tense up, readying yourself to really have at them.
“Damn,” he snickers, looking at his teammates. “She’s got it bad.” Heat rises to your face. Was it really that obvious? Were you just humiliating yourself? You cursed yourself for opening your mouth in the first place. For allowing these assholes to get under your skin.
You open your mouth to argue, but he just shakes his head, still chuckling. “Good luck with that, sweetheart.” Then they walk off, leaving you standing there, seething and embarrassed for making a scene.
“Damn.”
You turn to find all eyes on you. It made you want to sink into yourself and put yourself away for the next year. A closed off hole in the dirt would be a better place for you right now then where you were currently. Jake raises his eyebrows, impressed. “Didn’t know you had that in you.”
“Neither did I,” Jay adds, smirking.
Even Soobin is looking at you like he’s seeing you in a new light. Everyone was looking at you like you were a totally different person than who you were. And you didn't know if you liked it.
But it’s Yunjin who nudges your side, grinning knowingly. “Interesting.” You groan, rubbing your temples. Because, yeah. It is interesting. Because for all the times you’ve denied it, all the times you’ve tried to pretend you don’t care about Heeseung— You just proved, in front of everyone, that you do.
The next day, you wait for Heeseung at the library, tapping your pen impatiently against your notebook. Five minutes turn into fifteen. Fifteen into thirty. But he never shows. Annoyance bubbles inside you. Typical. Still, something feels different this time. After the kiss, after everything that happened, you expected—no, hoped—things would shift between you. Instead, he’s just… disappeared. And you hate that you care. Everything was ok. He was flirty, so why was he ignoring you? Why was he flaking?
So, against your better judgment, you find yourself heading toward the frat house. The music is low, a few guys lounging around, but it’s nothing like the parties you’ve been dragged to before. When you ask where Heeseung is, they just gesture upstairs, some of them giving you looks you pointedly ignore. You don’t even knock. You push open his door to find him sitting on his bed, scrolling through his phone.
He barely spares you a glance. “What do you want?”
You scoff. “Seriously? You skip tutoring and act like I’m the one bothering you?” Heeseung tosses his phone aside, finally looking at you—but there’s no teasing glint in his eyes, no smirk. Just something unreadable, something guarded. “I didn’t ask you to come here.”
You frown. “Yeah, well, I didn’t ask for you to ignore me, either.”
Silence. Heeseung rubs the back of his neck, exhaling harshly. “Look, just forget it.”
You shake your head, frustration growing. “Why are you being like this?”
“Like what?” He quips with a sarcastic laugh. It makes your blood boil.
“Like this. Distant. Rude. A total asshole.”
He lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Funny. I thought that’s how you always saw me.”
“That’s not—” You stop yourself, clenching your fists. “What’s your problem?”
Heeseung stands, suddenly in your space, forcing you to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. “My problem?” His voice is sharp now. “My problem is you making me look like an idiot.”
You blink, taken aback. “What?” The confusion coursing through you was palpable. You couldn’t remember a time you had made him look like an idiot. The two of you hardly interacted outside of the library and you certainly hadn’t been around each other when your friends were near. So what the hell was he talking about?
“Last night,” he mutters, his jaw clenched. “You stood there, in front of everyone, and defended me like I’m some kind of fucking charity case.” Oh. Oh.
Your breath catches in your throat. “That’s not what I was doing—”
“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me,” he interrupts. “I don’t need you to tell people I’m more than hockey. I am hockey.” His eyes darken. “And just because we kissed doesn’t mean you’re my fucking girlfriend.”
The words hit you like a slap. You open your mouth, then close it. You don’t even know what to say. The silence stretches between you like a canyon.
“I wasn’t trying to-”
“I didn’t ask for you to do that,” he cuts you off. “I don’t need saving.” You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “I wasn’t trying to save you, Heeseung. I was just—”
He laughs, but it’s anything but amused. “You were just what?”
“Caring,” you snap. “I was caring, okay? God forbid someone actually gives a shit about you.” Something flashes across his face—something raw, something almost vulnerable—but it’s gone as quickly as it came. A beat of silence. Then, softer: “I don't need you to care.”
And that, somehow, it hurts more than anything else he’s said. You nod, pressing your lips together. “Just drop it.” He says with finality. But you weren't done. No, you were fired up.
You should. You should just let it go. But instead, you shove his shoulder. “No.”
He looks at you, startled. “Did you just—” You shove him again.
He catches your wrist. “You’ve got some nerve.” You glare up at him. “And you’re a coward.”
His grip tightens slightly. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” You take a shaky breath. “You push people away because it’s easier than letting them in. It’s easier than admitting that you actually give a shit.” Heeseung’s eyes flicker with something unreadable. “And what if I don’t?” You swallow. “Then prove it.” His grip on your wrist tightens. And then, suddenly— His lips are on yours.
This time you don’t push him away, this time you welcome him. Because you wanted this, more than you’ve wanted anything else before. It’s rough, heated, and you should push him away. You should be furious. But instead, you find yourself kissing him back. You barely register him walking you backward until your back hits the wall, his hands gripping your waist, his lips trailing along your jaw, your neck. The argument, the hurt, the frustration—it all melts into something else entirely. Something that has been building since the first moment you met. And you don’t stop him. How could you when this was all you’ve wanted. All you’ve been thinking of. The kiss is hard, almost punishing, like he’s trying to prove a point. But you don’t pull away. You kiss him back, fisting the front of his hoodie, pulling him closer.
It’s heated, desperate, fueled by something neither of you want to name. His hands find your waist, and before you know it, you’re stumbling back onto the bed. Your heart is racing. This is a bad idea. This is reckless and impulsive and everything you swore you wouldn’t do. But when Heeseung hovers over you, his lips brushing against yours— you don’t want him to stop. And you beg him not to.
“Don’t stop.” You breathe pulling away an inch to whisper the words. “Please.”
“But-” He stutters his own breathing labored “You’ve never..”
“I want to.” You nod at him, giving him all the reassurance he needs.
“Are you sure?” He asks you, his lips leaving a small trail on your neck down to your collarbone. “Tell me you’re sure.”
“I’m sure heeseung.” You grabbed his face, so his eyes were leveled with yours. “I want you.”
Heeseung’s hands continued down the expanse of your body. Running his palms up and down your sides until they reached your waist. He pulled at your body until you’re forced down onto your back with a huff.
“You’re so beautiful” Heeseung mumbles from above you. “I’m so lucky to be the only man to see you like this…” He coos as his hands made quick work of sliding your yoga pants down your legs revealing your white cotton panties to his eyes. “Right baby?” He hummed “I’m lucky right?”
You could barely form words as you watched drink in the sight of you. You nod at him that being the only form of communication you could offer him. His hands run up your body again, slowly caressing you. Until he reached your tank top covered breasts. His hands squeezed at them causing a broken gasp to leave your lips.
You had never been touched by a man like this. So sensually, so erotic. Your body felt ablaze with need for him; you didn't know how to contain yourself. “Please.” You whispered, lifting your hips off the bed, showcasing your ever growing need for him.
“Be patient baby, I want to take my time with you.” Heeseung pulled at the top of your tank top, yanking it down to expose your breasts to him. He smiled at you, a smile that had made you feel warm inside, safe. His hands kneaded the skin of your breasts. Breathy moans left your lips as you watched Heeseung in fascination. He was beautiful like this. You had never seen a more beautiful man before.
“I’m going to touch you now, okay?” Heeseung asked, and for a second you were confused until you felt his nimble fingers on your most sensitive area. An area that had not yet been explored. It had your breath stuttering, your nerves alight.
Heeseung’s finger circled your clit, his eyes watching your for any signs of discomfort. “This might feel a little uncomfortable, just tell me if you want me to stop and I will okay?”
“Okay.” You sigh. Heeseung’s finger dips inside of you and at first the stretch is uncomfortable but not painful and soon..it starts to feel good. A moan leaves your lips before you could stop it.
“Fuck.” Heeseung hisses eyes trained on your pussy and how well you were taking his finger. “I’m going to add another one..you’re so tight.”
“Oh my god.” You whispered as the feeling of his fingers going in and out of you became almost too much to bear.
“Does that feel good, baby?” Heeseung whispered eyes still trained downwards, watching himself fuck you with his fingers.
“Yes, fuck yes.” Your moans were loudly and could probably be heard throughout the entire house but you didn’t care. It felt too good.
Suddenly, the feeling was yanked from you when Heeseung pulled his fingers out. His hands immediately traveled to his pants, yanking them down in one fell swoop. “You’re ready for me.” He said, pulling your hips to the end of the bed.
“Heeseung…” You trailed off “Is it going to hurt?” You asked him. Heeseung looked at you with a softness you had rarely ever seen from him before.
“It will sting a little..” He admits “But tell me if it's too much and I'll stop right away.”
“Okay, i’m ready” You give him a little smile and a nod, mentally preparing yourself. You were about to lose your virginity to a guy that wasn’t even your boyfriend. And you wanted to, you were excited to.
Heeseung lined himself at your entrance watching your face to gauge your reaction, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. You felt him run the tip of his cock up and down your folds, collecting your wetness. And finally after what felt like forever he slid in. slowly, inch by inch. The stretch was far more uncomfortable than his fingers. And he was right to say it would sting. But it was not unbearable. And finally when he was fully inside, hips flush against yours you had felt so close to him, more close than you had ever felt to anyone. It was almost romantic. Not almost, it was.
Heeseung slowly moved himself in and out of you allowing you to get used to his size.
“God.” He hissed out, his fingers making dents in your thighs as he tried his best to contain himself. “So…fucking…tight.”
“Yeah?” You asked, your voice light and airy. Your hands reached for his shoulders digging your fingertips into his skin. “Does it feel good?”
Heeseung groaned at your words pistoning his hips harder inside of you. “Y-yes” He stuttered. “Best pussy i’ve ever felt.”
You smiled at his crude words but you would be lying if you didn't think his words to be oddly…sweet.
“Faster.” You moaned, moving your hands down to circle at your clit. “You can go faster.”
Heeseung let out another deep girdled groan lifting your knees to your chest allowing himself to hit a deeper spot inside of you. It had you gasping for breath. The new angle sends you hurtling to your orgasm before you could even catch your breath.
“Fuckkkk” Heeseung’s moans were like music to your ears, a sound you had never thought you would have the pleasure of hearing and now that you have you would never give up.
Your orgasm served as a catalyst to his as he pulled out, leaving you feeling empty. His hand worked himself up and down, his breathing heavy and chest heaving up and down. “Oh my god.” He groaned as droplets of his cum landed on your stomach. You watched him with wide eyes, your own chest falling in tandem with his.
“Are you okay?” He asks after a while, letting you both catch your breath.
“Yeah..” You sigh. “More than okay.”
The next day, Heeseung is out of town for an away game, leaving you alone with your thoughts—ones you don’t particularly want to sit with. Over thinking the night the two of you had over and over again. It was perfect, in your mind. And you didn’t regret not one bit.
When Yunjin suggests another movie night, you jump at the distraction. Wanting a way to calm your raging nerves. An hour later, the two of you are curled up on your respective sides of the couch, Chinese takeout containers balancing on your laps, Legally Blonde playing on the screen. But you’re barely paying attention. Your mind is still tangled in the events of last night—the heat of Heeseung’s touch, the way he kissed you like he couldn’t get enough, the things he whispered against your skin.
It’s only a matter of time before Yunjin notices. She shoots you a knowing look, pausing the movie. “Okay. Spill.”
You hesitate, staring down at your lo mein. “Spill what?”
She scoffs. “Don’t even try that. You’ve been acting weird all night. Like, more weird than usual.”
You exhale, pressing your lips together. Then, before you can overthink it, you blurt, “I slept with Heeseung.” The silence that follows is deafening. Yunjin just stares at you, chopsticks frozen mid-air. “You what?”
You groan, setting your food down. “You heard me.” She blinks. “Oh my god.”
“I know.”
“Oh my god.”
“I know!”
Yunjin drops her chopsticks and grabs your hands, shaking them. “Okay, okay. Start from the beginning. How did this happen?” So you tell her. You tell her about going to the frat house, about how Heeseung was being an asshole again, about the argument that escalated into something else entirely. By the time you’re done, Yunjin is still holding onto you, eyes wide. “So… what happens now?” You bite your lip. That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Because the truth is—you don’t know.
“I have no idea,” you admit. “We didn’t really talk about it. He had to leave early for the game this morning.”
Yunjin watches you carefully. “And how do you feel?”
You hesitate. “I don’t regret it.” That’s the one thing you’re sure of. Yunjin nods, but there’s a flicker of concern in her eyes. “Just… be careful, okay?”
You give her a small smile. “I will.” She studies you for another moment, then sighs dramatically, flopping back against the couch. “Well, damn. I guess this makes you a hockey girlfriend now.”
You snort. “I am not a hockey girlfriend.”
“Not yet.” She waggles her eyebrows. You groan, throwing a pillow at her. She yelps, laughing as she ducks.
Monday rolls around, and you’re actually excited to see Heeseung again. It’s ridiculous. You know it’s ridiculous. But after everything that happened, after the way things felt so different between you, there’s a small, traitorous part of you that wonders if things have actually changed. But then hours pass. And Heeseung doesn’t text. Doesn’t call. You tell yourself you're not the type of girl that obsesses over whether a boy will call her or not but it’s hard not to. Not when said boy just made you feel like the most special girl in the world. The one who took your virginity and made it the most special moment of your life. The boy you're falling so madly and deeply in love with.
You’re not that type of girl. By the time evening comes around, you’ve tried convincing yourself a hundred times that you don’t care—that you don’t need to hear from him. So when Yunjin texts you, asking if you want to grab food at the diner, you immediately say yes. A distraction is exactly what you need. A night at a little diner with your best friend who knows about Heeseung. You can get some perspective from a girl who's in a happy and healthy relationship. She’ll tell you that Heeseung is just tired, he was away all weekend playing Hockey he might just want to rest. All your worries will be satiated and then you can focus on having a good dinner.
The diner is packed when you walk in, the usual buzz of students filling the space. You and Yunjin are making your way to a booth near the back when she suddenly stops short. You follow her gaze—and feel your stomach drop. At a table near the center of the diner sits Heeseung, Soobin, and the rest of the hockey guys, all laughing loudly over burgers and milkshakes like they don’t have a care in the world. And Heeseung—he looks fine. Like nothing happened.
Yunjin glances at you. “Do you want to—” Before she can finish, you take a breath and start walking. You’re not going to hide from him. That would be pathetic. You’re just going to go over, say hi, and act normal. But the second you and Yunjin reach the table, you can feel the shift in energy.
Heeseung tenses when he sees you, his usual cocky smirk faltering for a second before he recovers. “What are you doing here?” You blink, taken aback by his tone. “Getting food. What does it look like?” Some of the guys at the table snicker, and your stomach twists. You feel small. You feel helpless.
Heeseung leans back in his seat, his jaw tightening. “Didn’t realize you were such a fan of hockey hangouts.”
You furrow your brows. “What?” Your heart drops to your stomach.
He shrugs. “I mean, I just didn’t peg you as someone who follows guys around, but hey—good to know.”
The table erupts into laughter, and heat flares up your neck. You cannot believe this. is he seriously—after everything—is he seriously doing this right now? He’s humiliating you. And for what? To look cool? To hurt you? Because it was working, he was hurting you. Soobin, however, notices immediately. His gaze flicks between you and Heeseung, frown deepening. You glance at Yunjin, whose mouth is already set in a furious line. But before you can say anything, she grabs a cup off the table—one full of soda and ice—and without hesitation, throws it straight at Heeseung.
Gasps ring out. The laughter stops immediately. Heeseung sits there, stunned, soda dripping from his hair and down his face. The entire diner is watching now, but Yunjin doesn’t care. “What the fuck, Yunjin?!” Heeseung exclaims, jumping up, shaking the liquid off his hands. She glares at him with pure, unfiltered rage. “You are such a fucking asshole, Lee Heeseung.”
Then she grabs your hand, yanking you away from the table before you can even process what just happened. Leaving your heart at the table with him. Shattered for everyone to see.
The second you’re outside, the cool air hitting your flushed skin, you exhale sharply. “Holy shit.” Yunjin looks just as pissed as you feel. “What the hell was that?”
You shake your head, anger and humiliation swirling inside you. “I don’t know.” But what you do know? You’re done. Done making excuses for Heeseung. Done thinking that maybe—just maybe—he’s not the person you feared he was. Because he just proved exactly who he is. And it hurts.
When the two of you are back at the dorm you allow yourself to cry, to feel the emotions as they came. The heeseung you thought you knew would never do this to you. But it was clear to you now that he only used you as a means to pass his class. His sweet personality was only a well executed act that you were stupid enough to fall for. How could you fall for that? Hockey boys were nothing but egoistic man boys who threw each other around, chasing a puck for a living. They lacked sustenance, they lived their lives like barbarians and you hated them, and everything they stood for.
You yanked your phone out of your back pocket before swiping to Heeseung’s contact. You hovered over his name for only a second before you opened messages and typed out; “Tutoring is done. Don’t text me, don’t call me. Goodbye.” and you wished you could gather the words to hurt him the way he hurt you but you just didn’t have the strength. You wanted to forget Lee Heeseung and hockey all together.
Days pass in almost a blur. You contine life as usual only Heeseung is no longer a part of it. You avoid him like the plague, if he’s near at all you bolt. There was no talk of hockey in the dorm anymore. Yunjin was just as pissed and hurt as you. She was the best friend anyone could ever ask for really.
It was Friday night when you finally had time to settle in for the night. You had an old copy of pride and prejudice in your hand and a hot cup of tea next to you. Yunjin was with Soobin for the night so you were finally alone. It was just past ten-thirty when the sound of pounding on your dorm broke you out of your reading trance. You hurried out of your bed, opening the door with a sense of urgency. Only to be met with Heeseung.
He was holding a piece of paper in his hand, sporting a grin on his face. The audacity of him. To show up to your dorm..grinning. Was it is lifes mission to torture because it sure did feel like it. The look on Heeseung’s face as you slam the door almost makes you falter. Almost. You stand there, heart racing, hands clenched into fists as you try to steady your breathing. On the other side of the door, you hear nothing at first—just silence. And then: “Wait—no. Wait.”
A loud knock. You squeeze your eyes shut. You don’t want to do this. You don’t want to do this. “Please, just open the door,” Heeseung says, his voice muffled.
You shake your head, even though he can’t see it. “Go away, Heeseung.”
“I—no. Not until you listen to me.” Another knock. Then another. “I swear I wasn’t using you.”
A bitter laugh escapes your lips. “Oh, really? Could’ve fooled me.”
“I mean it.” His voice is closer now, pressed right up against the door. “That night at the diner—I fucked up, okay? I was an idiot. I didn’t want the guys to know about—” He pauses. “About us.” Something about the way he says us makes your stomach twist. You hate that a part of you still wants to listen. “Why?” you ask, your voice sharper than you expect. “Why is it so humiliating to be seen with me?”
“It’s not,” he says immediately. “That’s not—fuck. That’s not what I meant.” You don’t respond. You don’t know what to say. “Can you—” He exhales, frustration laced in his voice. “Can you at least open the door so I can look at you while I apologize?” You hesitate. Of course, you hesitate. You should just tell him to leave. He doesn’t deserve the chance to explain himself after what he did. But against your better judgement and like a complete and utter idiot, you unlock the door.
The second it swings open, Heeseung is standing there, wide-eyed, like he wasn’t sure you’d actually do it. He looks… tired. Like he hasn’t slept in days. Slowly, he lifts the crumpled test paper in his hand. “I got a hundred”
You glance at it, then back at him. “Good for you,” you say again, flatly. “I guess using me was worth it.”
His jaw clenches. He rubs the back of his neck. “I know you don’t owe me anything. I just—” He shakes his head. “I panicked, okay? I thought if the guys found out about… us, they’d—”
“They’d what, Heeseung?” You cross your arms. “Make fun of you? Say something stupid? Newsflash—people say stupid shit all the time.” He looks away. “You don’t get it.”
“Then make me get it.”
His hands tighten into fists. His lips press together like he’s warring with himself. “I just—I’ve spent years making sure people see me a certain way. That I’m not the same loser I was before.” You stare at him. “And you think being seen with me ruins that image?”
His head snaps up. “No.” He steps closer, and for the first time since that awful night, his voice is softer. “That’s not what I meant.” He swallows. “You make me feel different. And that—” He shakes his head, frustrated. “That scares me.” You don’t know what to say. Because what do you do with that? What do you do with the fact that this boy, the same one who humiliated you in front of everyone, is now standing here saying things you never expected to hear?
A lump forms in your throat. “Then maybe you should figure out what you actually want, Heeseung.” He looks at you, something raw in his expression. “I already know what I want.” But you don’t let yourself believe him. Not yet. So you step back. And this time, when you close the door, you do it gently. And you let yourself cry because that’s the only thing you can control right now.
The next night you're curled up in bed, the soft glow of your laptop screen illuminating your face as a movie plays in the background. You’re not really watching, though. You’re just existing, letting the noise drown out your thoughts. The door swings open, and Yunjin and Soobin step inside, their laughter filling the space. Yunjin glances at you before excusing herself to the bathroom, leaving you alone with Soobin. He hesitates for a moment before sitting down on the edge of your bed. “Hey,” he says gently. “How are you doing?”
You don’t even look away from the screen. “I’m great.”
Soobin scoffs. “Yeah, and I’m the Queen of England.”
You sigh, finally meeting his gaze. He’s watching you carefully, like he’s trying to piece you together. His usual playful demeanor is gone, replaced with something softer. “Heeseung is a mess,” Soobin says after a moment. “He misses you. And he’s sorry.” You swallow the lump forming in your throat. You don’t want to hear this. You don’t want to care. But despite yourself, a single tear slips down your cheek.
“He used me, Soobin,” your voice cracks, and you look down at your lap. “How can I forgive him? Why would I?” Soobin sighs, shaking his head. He doesn’t hesitate when he says, “Because you love him. And he loves you.” Your breath catches. it’s so simple, so matter-of-fact, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like he’s just waiting for you to admit it to yourself. Before you can say anything, Yunjin steps out of the bathroom, looking between the two of you. “You ready to go?” she asks Soobin.
He nods, standing up. But before he leaves, he gives you one last look. “Just… think about it, okay?” Then, they’re gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sit there long after the door closes, Soobin’s words echoing in your mind. Because you love him and he loves you.
Your heart clenches, and you wipe at the tear on your cheek, frustrated. It shouldn’t be this hard. You shouldn’t still care this much. But the truth is—you do. You sigh, curling up tighter in your blanket. The movie playing in the background is one you’ve seen a million times, but you’re not paying attention. Your thoughts keep circling back to Heeseung. His face when you shut the door. The way his voice wavered when he admitted you scared him.
Does he really love you? Or is this just another game to him? You don’t know. And that uncertainty terrifies you. Opening your heart up terrifies you. A soft knock pulls you from your thoughts. Your stomach twists, half-expecting it to be Heeseung, but when you open the door, it’s Sunoo. “Hey,” he says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “Yunjin texted me. Said you might need company.”
You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. Of course she did. Sunoo plops down next to you on the bed, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl in your lap. He watches you for a moment, chewing thoughtfully. “So. Are we wallowing or plotting revenge?” You huff out a laugh, shoving him lightly. “Neither.”
“Boring.” He sighs dramatically, throwing himself back against your pillows. “Okay, then what’s the plan? You’re clearly miserable. And I’m pretty sure Heeseung is too.” You don’t say anything, just stare down at the popcorn in your hands. Sunoo sighs again, but this time, it’s softer. “Look, I get why you’re mad. You should be mad. But…” He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “I’m not close with Heeseung and I barely know him since it’s my first year, but I’ve never seen him care about anyone the way he cares about you.”
Your chest tightens. “Then why did he treat me like that?”
“Because he’s an idiot.” Sunoo shrugs. “And because he’s scared. But mostly because he’s an idiot.” You roll your eyes. “Not helping.”
He nudges you. “I’m just saying… Maybe talk to him. Really talk to him.” You sigh, rubbing your temples. “I don’t know if I can trust him again.”
Sunoo is quiet for a moment, then says, “Then make him prove that you can.” You swallow hard, his words settling into your chest like a weight. Heeseung owes you more than just an apology. Maybe if he really wants you, he’ll fight for you. And maybe you, just maybe you’ll let him.
That weekend, Yunjin had had enough. She wasn’t about to let you wallow in self-pity any longer. “You’re coming to the game,” she announced, standing in front of your bed with her arms crossed. You groaned, pulling your blanket over your face. “Pass.”
“Not an option.” She yanked the covers away. “You’ve spent all week moping. You need to get out.”
“I am out,” you deadpanned. “My bed is out.”
“Not what I meant.” She rolled her eyes. “Get dressed. Now.” Despite your protests, she wasn’t having any of it. Eventually, after an absurd amount of bribery (including the promise of ice cream after), you gave in. By the time you arrived at the arena, the energy in the air was electric—fans were buzzing with anticipation, the scent of popcorn and arena food filling your senses. The rink was already packed, the game about to start, and you felt out of place among the sea of jerseys and face paint. Yunjin, however, was thrilled, chatting with other students and cheering before the puck even dropped. You sat stiffly beside her, arms crossed, doing your best not to look at the ice—because you knew if you did, your eyes would immediately find Heeseung.
And you weren’t ready for that. A few minutes into the game, Yunjin’s phone buzzed. She pulled it out, eyes scanning the screen before she let out a dramatic sigh. “Ugh. Soobin left his gloves in the locker room. Can you please grab them for him?”
You turned to her with a glare. “Why can’t y—”
“Just go do it,” she cut you off, shoving your shoulder lightly. Something about her tone made you pause. She sounded too casual. Too… calculated. You narrowed your eyes. “This feels like a setup.”
She gasped, all mock innocence. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing?” You weren’t convinced, but the alternative was sitting here and enduring the game, so you sighed. “Fine.”
Yunjin grinned, and you shot her one last suspicious look before heading down the corridor. The locker room hallway was eerily quiet, the distant sound of the game muffled through the walls. You pushed open the heavy door, stepping inside, expecting to see rows of empty benches and Soobin’s gloves lying somewhere in the mess of gear. instead, standing in the middle of the room, was Heeseung. Your breath caught. He looked different off the ice—less intimidating without his helmet, his hair damp with sweat, curling slightly at the ends. He was still in his jersey, the bold number on his sleeve catching the light, his hockey bag slung over one shoulder.
And he was staring at you. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you was heavy, charged with everything that had been left unsaid. You clear your throat, gripping the strap of your bag tighter. “I’m just here to grab Soobin’s gloves.” Your voice is steady, indifferent. Like seeing him doesn’t completely shake you.
Heeseung nods slowly, then gestures to the bench behind him. “They’re over there.” You walk past him, determined to just grab the gloves and leave, but as soon as your fingers curl around them, Heeseung speaks again. “You’re here.”
You freeze, but don’t turn around. “Yunjin dragged me.” A beat of silence. Then, softer—almost hesitant—Heeseung says, “I didn’t think you’d ever want to see me again.”
You inhale sharply, gripping the gloves tighter. Finally, you turn to face him. “You made that pretty easy when you humiliated me.” Regret flickers in his expression. “I know,” he murmurs. “I was an idiot. A complete asshole. I told you, I was scared.”
You scoff. “Scared of what, Heeseung? That people would find out you actually cared about me? That you weren’t just some player?”
“Yes,” he admits, and the raw honesty in his voice takes you off guard. “I was scared of how much I cared about you. Scared that you’d realize I wasn’t good enough for you.” Heeseung runs a hand through his damp hair, exhaling shakily. “I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to make you feel like you didn’t matter, because you do. You do more than you realize.”
Your chest tightens, emotions crashing over you all at once. You want to be mad. You want to scream at him for the way he made you feel. But there’s something in his voice, in his expression—genuine remorse, vulnerability—that makes it hard to hold onto that anger. “You really hurt me, Heeseung,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. He steps closer, carefully, like he’s afraid you’ll run. “I know. And I’ll spend as long as it takes making it up to you.”
You swallow, emotions warring inside you. For a moment, neither of you move. Then, hesitantly, he reaches out—giving you the chance to pull away—but when you don’t, his fingers brush against yours, light and uncertain. “Can we just… start over?” he asks. “Please?”
Your heart pounds. A part of you wants to walk away, to protect yourself from getting hurt again. But another part—maybe the bigger part—wants to believe him. You take a deep breath, looking into his eyes. “Okay.”
SCENE ──── when you and your boyfriend, heeseung, wanted to take things slow in bed but he ‘accidentally’ slips inside.
𝝑𓏲 lee heeseung ⸝⸝⠀ f. reader genre smut—mdni. 1,438 ────── unprotected sex (wrap it up), creampie, petnames—princess, baby—overstimulation. ◜ᯅ◝ lmk if i missed any! ──── catalogue! ✶ requests are open!
you and heeseung had been dating for just over four months and it was about time that you both had started to want to experience in bed with each other. wanting to see how well your bed life would go together, even though you already knew it would do wonders.
and you were right.
heeseung obeyed your wish to start slow, to not actually fuck you yet, but just getting off with one another’s bodies. but you didnt know how desperate just that would make you.
you were laid down on the bed, legs spread open while heeseung was between them, his hard and leaking cock just resting on your pussy. not pushing in, just resting on it. you whined and heeseung only smirked, his hips slowly rolling forward, making his cock rub against your clit, the folds of your cunt desperately trying to wrap around his length.
“fuck..” he groaned, his hands gently resting on your thighs as he continued to slowly roll his hips. not rushing, not overwhelmingly, but calmly. his dick though—was throbbing.
he needed to get inside you as soon as possible, but he knew you wanted to go slow. you havent had much sex experience before him and this being your first time with him, heeseung didnt want to scare you off.
but every fucking second was pushing his buttons, testing his will power. he desperately wanted to ruin you, make you scream his name, fill you up with his seed so much where you feel like you could explode. but he waited.
“mmh, oh god,” you breathed out softly, head fallen back onto the pillows. your lips slightly parted open and every so often ,, small whimpers would leave your mouth—only driving heeseung more insane.
“yeah? how’s it feeling, baby?” heeseung asked, his voice already breathless. his tone wasnt anything but genuine, wondering how good he’s making you feel from just this. begging for you to praise him, need him, crave him.
you blushed softly as heeseung’s right hand went to caress your stomach, watching it suck in from the warm touch before relaxing again. “it’s good, so good,” you moaned quietly, his eyes lighting up as if you just gave him his favorite candy.
“can i go faster?” he asked. the second you nodded your head, his pace quickened. not too fast to be overwhelming, no, he knew better. it picked up slowly but surely. the redden head of his cock brushing so gently over your clit, your legs twitching everytime.
“mm, hee..” you moaned. heeseungs hips jolted forward, earning a gasp from you and a groan from him. his mind was drowning in thoughts of just you and with the sound of you calling out his name in such a sinful manner, oh he was gone.
“yeah, princess?” he replied back, eyes watching your face make all sorts of expressions, showing him how good he is doing. you didnt even say a word when you moved your hand to grab his and brought it up to your chest, allowing his hand to grasp a hold of your breast.
heeseung cupped your tit and gave it a gentle squeeze, his heart pounding when you let out a needy whimper, hips jutting up into his own thrusts. he wasnt sure how much longer he could take in just this, with how good you sound, look, feel.
heeseung must of pulled back a bit too much to you because in just mere moments his tip would be pushing slightly through your entrance, his mouth open as he leaned forward to take your lips into a kiss, his hips fully pushing forward into yours to push his cock all the way inside your cunt. you moaned loud but muffledly against his lips, your back arching off the bed and chest pushing against his own.
you placed your hands onto his chest and pushed him back gently, not rough to make it seem as if you were uncomfortable, but back enough in pleasure and shock that you just had to see what he did. and when you gave it a look, you felt yourself start to leak more.
“fuck, fuck, heeseung—“ you whined, not used to the feeling of being filled up. especially not by someone as big as heeseung. he could only fake a gasp and mumble out apologies.
“fuck—baby—i’m sorry, it slipped in—“ he tried to say, but you saw right through him. though, you didnt even mind anymore, you weren’t angry because how could you be angry at him when he’s now fucking into your pussy softly? making it feel like he’s tearing you apart from doing nothing but soft thrusts.
“oh my god—just—just fuck me,” you whimpered, pushing your hips back against his own, trying to get more from him. and how could heeseung ever resist a request like that? he grabbed onto your hips from both sides and pulled almost all the way out before he pushed back in, doing that over and over again while he slowly picked up the speed with each thrust.
the sounds of your wet pussy being fucked in by his cock echoed through the room, followed by loud moans from him and yourself. heeseung was now pounding into you—fast and rough—you were on fire, your mind was blank and all you could feel was heeseung.
“shit, princess, taking me so well,” he praised. his cock twitching between your walls as he desperately fucked into your heat. your stomach started to twist, your breathing started to stager, chest heaving. you knew you were getting close.
“‘m gunna cum, hee—“ you cry out, thighs trembling from either side of his waist, he didnt slow down. he only went faster, his long thrusts making your body jolt forward with each fuck into you. he needed to see your face when you came, he needed to see how fucking gorgeous you looked.
“cum for me, cmon, make a mess on my cock.” he groaned, nails now starting to dig into your skin as he got rougher, pure desire to make you cum. your back arched off the bed again and your hands flew to his arms, desperately trying to hold onto something as you came onto him. “fuck! fuck! heeseung,,” you moan out.
he didnt stop like you thought he would, he only started to chase his own high, pushing your legs close to your chest so he could fall deeper into your heat, hitting all new places to you. your whines and moans never ending, which only made him harder.
“feels so good, baby, your pussy swallowing my cock up so well,” he moaned lowly. sweat slowly starting to form on his skin, his hair covering his eyes as he only focused on using your cunt. the overwhelming feeling of being used after you came was catching up to you. your body twitching and trying to pull away from his thrusts, but he only fucked into you harder.
“please, hee—can’t take anymore,” you cried, but he only shook his head. watching how your eyes started to form tears but your face didnt show any signs of discomfort, just overwhelming pleasure.
“you can take it, your pussy was made for me, baby.” he praised, his thrusts getting sloppier as he felt his high coming. he watched as you practically screamed out his name when you came for a second time, your body worn out but heeseung needed to fill you up. he needed to claim the insides of your cunt, mark them with his own seed.
“fuck, princess, im gonna cum. gonna fill you up,” he moaned. you nodded quickly, toes curling up as he fucked into you once, twice and three more times before he pushed his cock deep inside and stilled, hips slightly twitching as he released inside your walls.
heeseung let go of your legs and let them fall to the sides of him again as he leaned down to kiss your lips, chest up against your own. you moaned into the kiss and let him fuck out his high into you.
“guess that wasnt starting out so slow,” heeseung laughed, only making you roll your eyes at him lovingly. “says the one who tried to use ‘it slipped’, like really?” you fought back at him, watching his face turn red in blush.
he pulled out slowly and went to grab some clean up clothes, helping you to the bathroom so you both could shower. you got in and he got in after you, allowing the warm water to hit your bodies.
“okay, but it really did just slip in—“
“heeseung.”
“okay, my bad.”
💌 ( wish to be in the permanent taglist? apply here ! )
synopsis: Y/N, a dedicated nurse, and Sunghoon, a graduating student nurse, as they navigate the intense world of healthcare and a growing, undeniable attraction. From late-night shifts to stolen moments in supply closets, their professional bond turns into something deeper, but when rumors threaten Sunghoon’s graduation, Y/N pulls away to protect him. Can their connection survive the rules of mentorship, or will love break through the walls they’ve built?
The emergency department was already humming with tension when Y/N walked through the automatic doors, her badge swinging and her coffee still hot. Another day, another double shift. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, but it was the familiar scent—antiseptic, sterile plastic, adrenaline—that grounded her. She was used to chaos. Thrived in it, even.
What she wasn’t used to was the new student nurse already standing at the nurses’ station, leaning far too comfortably against the counter like he owned the place.
He looked up as she approached, and the first thing she noticed was his face—sharp jawline, soft brown eyes, hair perfectly parted even at 6:58 in the morning. His ID badge hung around his neck, revealing:
Park Sunghoon. Student Nurse. Final Year.
“Morning,” he said with a smirk. “You must be Nurse L/N.”
She blinked. “And you must be too early.”
He laughed softly, unbothered. “I figured I should make a good first impression.”
“You’re not shadowing a CEO, Sunghoon. Just don’t kill a patient, and we’re good.”
He followed her down the hallway as she gave him a quick rundown of the day’s expectations. “You’ve been assigned to me for the next six weeks. Final rotation. That means I’m responsible for everything you do, good or bad. So, no flirting with patients, no disappearing for long bathroom breaks, and no thinking you know more than the nurses.”
“Do people usually flirt with patients?” he asked innocently, walking beside her. “Is that a thing?”
She gave him a look. “Not unless you want to be thrown into the linen chute.”
He grinned. “Noted.”
⸻
Just before the shift officially began, two more student nurses entered the ward—Jungwon and Sunoo—chatting quietly with clipboards in hand.
“Hey, you’re with Nurse L/N today, right?” Jungwon asked, glancing at Sunghoon with a quick smirk.
Sunghoon nodded. “Yeah. I’m with the scary one.”
Y/N raised a brow. “I can hear you.”
Sunoo stepped forward with a bright smile. “That’s why we like you, though. You keep us sharp.”
Y/N couldn’t help but smile back. “Good answer.”
Sunghoon blinked at the sudden friendliness. “Wait, you guys have already warmed up to her?”
Jungwon shrugged. “She actually helped me last week during a code. Told me exactly what to do. Super chill under pressure.”
“Also, she got me juice when I passed out during my first blood draw,” Sunoo added dramatically. “She’s basically our mom now.”
Y/N gave Sunghoon a look. “You could learn from your friends.”
“Oh, I will,” Sunghoon muttered, jaw tight. “I’ll be your favorite by week three.”
“We’ll see,” she said, already walking away. “Try to survive day one first.”
⸻
The shift was packed from the start. A suspected stroke in bay four. A toddler with a febrile seizure. A motorbike accident that left one man with a crushed femur and another with a punctured lung.
Sunghoon kept up better than she expected. He had quick hands and a focused stare. But there was still an edge of arrogance—like he knew he was good, and that made him a little reckless.
“Clamp the line tighter,” she barked at him as he adjusted a pressure bag. “You’re gonna let his pressure drop if you keep second-guessing.”
He nodded and followed, but she noticed the subtle clench of his jaw.
After the trauma was wheeled to CT, she caught him rubbing the back of his neck by the med cart.
“You did okay,” she admitted. “But this isn’t school. People crash fast here. You hesitate, they die.”
“I know,” he said. His tone was softer now. Less cocky. “I just—I didn’t want to screw it up.”
She looked at him a second longer than necessary. There was something in his voice. Vulnerability, maybe. But she turned away.
“Get used to screwing up,” she said. “Just don’t make a habit of it.”
⸻
They had dinner during their break—microwaved rice bowls in the staff lounge. Jungwon and Sunoo sat on the couch, halfway into a game of cards, while Sunghoon ended up at the table across from Y/N.
Sunoo glanced between them with a sly grin. “So, how’s Nurse Y/N treating you, Sunghoon?”
“She’s terrifying,” Sunghoon deadpanned.
“She’s nice to us,” Jungwon added with a shrug.
Y/N sipped her coffee with a smirk. “He just needs to earn it.”
Sunghoon met her eyes. “And how do I do that?”
“Stop trying to impress everyone and start listening,” she said simply.
He stared at her for a beat too long before replying, “You always this honest?”
“Only when I like someone,” she shot back, then stood. “You’ve got ten minutes left of break. Don’t be late.”
As she walked out, Sunoo elbowed Sunghoon with a grin. “Bro. You’re screwed.”
Sunghoon only sighed, eyes still on the door. “I know.”
⸻
Rounds were always chaotic, especially during the early shift change. Y/N walked quickly, her chart open in one hand, coffee in the other. Sunghoon trailed behind her, notepad tucked into his scrubs, trying to match her pace without tripping over a rolling IV pole.
“Keep up,” she said without looking back.
“I’m literally on your heels.”
“That’s the problem. Stay two steps behind. This isn’t a runway.”
He scoffed. “You walk like it is.”
She glanced over her shoulder with a raised brow. “Was that… your attempt at flirting?”
“No,” he said too fast.
She smirked. “Pity. I was gonna rate it a generous five.”
They reached the first bay—an elderly couple, Mr. and Mrs. Han, in for a minor fall. Mrs. Han sat beside the bed, clinging to her husband’s hand like he was still twenty-five and invincible.
“Good morning, Mr. Han,” Y/N greeted. “How’s the hip?”
“Still attached, thanks to you,” he said with a chuckle. Then his eyes drifted to Sunghoon, standing at the end of the bed, holding the chart.
Mrs. Han leaned in, squinting through her glasses. “Omo, is this your boyfriend?”
Sunghoon nearly dropped the clipboard.
Y/N laughed. “Definitely not. He’s a student.”
“He’s too handsome to be just a student,” Mrs. Han said slyly. “You should keep him.”
Sunghoon turned pink as Y/N smirked and scribbled something onto the chart.
“See? Even grandma’s rooting for you,” she muttered under her breath.
“She called me handsome,” he whispered back. “You’re just jealous.”
Y/N didn’t dignify that with a response—just handed him the chart and walked off.
He followed her into the next bay. “You are a little jealous.”
“I am your supervisor,” she said sweetly. “Don’t tempt me to assign you to mop duty.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“Wanna bet?”
He shut up after that—but the smug grin didn’t leave his face.
⸻
Later, they took vitals in the surgical observation ward, charted on tablets side-by-side, and bantered their way through patient interviews.
Sunghoon actually made her laugh at one point—like, really laugh—when a grumpy patient kept refusing meds and he deadpanned, “Sir, if you don’t take this Tylenol, I will personally write your obituary and make it dramatic.”
She snorted, then slapped his arm. “Stop. That’s not appropriate.”
“Did he take it, though?”
She shook her head, amused. “I hate that you’re good with people.”
He grinned. “Admit it. You like me a little.”
“Not even close.”
That softness—her half-smiles, the way she teased him without meaning harm, the way she still watched over him when she thought he wasn’t looking—lingered in his mind as they returned to the ER.
Sunghoon was mid-thought, debating whether to ask if she wanted coffee after rounds, when the trauma pager blared overhead.
CODE BLUE, TRAUMA BAY 2. MALE, 40s. UNRESPONSIVE. ETA 3 MINUTES.
The mood snapped.
Y/N was already moving. “Sunghoon, come on.”
They hit the trauma bay with barely a second to spare. The paramedics wheeled in a man pale and limp on the stretcher, the oxygen mask slipping slightly from his face.
“Suspected overdose,” one of the EMTs reported. “Unresponsive on scene. RR dropped en route.”
“Get him on the monitor,” the attending ordered. “Where’s the bag-valve mask?”
“I’ve got it,” Sunghoon said, reaching for the crash cart.
But the drawer jammed.
A beat passed.
Then another.
He looked up—saw the patient’s chest stalling. No air. No movement.
And he froze.
Everything blurred. The beeping. The shouting. His own heartbeat pounding louder than the alarms.
Y/N’s voice sliced through the chaos. “Bag him. Now!”
Still, his fingers didn’t move.
She shoved past him, mask already fitted in her hand. “I’ve got it!” she snapped, sealing the mask and beginning ventilation. “Start compressions! Move!”
The team jumped in, efficient, fast.
And Sunghoon just stood there.
Useless.
⸻
The patient stabilized. The code ended.
And Y/N didn’t say a word as she walked straight out of the bay.
Sunghoon followed her down the hall, chest tight, his skin burning with shame. When she pushed open the supply closet and yanked him in by the wrist, he didn’t resist.
The door clicked shut.
The air inside was tense and heavy. The overhead light flickered slightly, and the faint antiseptic scent filled the silence between them.
“What the hell happened out there?” she demanded.
He stared at the floor. “I—I froze. I know. I messed up.”
“You could’ve lost him, Sunghoon.”
“I know!” he snapped, voice breaking. “I knew exactly what to do, I just… I couldn’t move.”
She crossed her arms. “Why not?”
His voice dropped, defeated. “Because I didn’t want to do it wrong. Not in front of you.”
Y/N’s anger dulled into something more pained. “This isn’t about me.”
“It kind of is,” he admitted. “You’re the one I want to impress the most.”
That hung between them.
“You think I’m trying to be the best student nurse?” he asked, voice quieter now. “I’m trying to be good enough—for this place, for the patients… for you.”
Her lips parted slightly, surprised. But she didn’t move.
He took a hesitant step closer.
“I know I’m not there yet. But I want to be. And I need you to keep pushing me, even when I screw up. Especially then.”
Y/N’s brows furrowed, voice soft. “You scared me today.”
“I scared myself.”
He was too close now. The air too warm. Their eyes locked.
“You really care that much about what I think?” she asked, tone gentler.
He gave a short laugh, dry and honest. “You terrify me and I like it. That should tell you everything.”
She blinked—startled by the rawness of it.
The silence stretched, her heart thudding like it wanted to break the rules she’d set.
She reached for the door, voice low. “You’ll do better next time.”
He nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah.”
Her hand paused on the knob. “Sunghoon?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re not the only one who’s scared.”
Then she left.
Leaving him alone, pulse racing, staring at the door like it had taken all the air with it.
⸻
The supply closet door shut behind her with a quiet finality, and Sunghoon stood there for a full ten seconds before realizing he needed to breathe again.
He leaned against the shelves, exhaled, and scrubbed a hand over his face.
You’re not the only one who’s scared.
Her words replayed over and over in his head like a record skipping in a quiet room.
He was still flushed when he stepped back out into the hall, only to come face-to-face with two devils in pastel scrubs.
Sunoo raised an eyebrow. “So… you and Nurse Y/N gonna make out in every supply closet or just this one?”
Sunghoon nearly choked. “What the—how long were you standing there?”
“Long enough,” Jungwon said innocently. “Is that what they meant by hands-on learning?”
Sunghoon groaned and tried to walk past them, but Sunoo blocked the way like a mischievous wall of judgment.
“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this. What happened in there? She looked… flustered.”
“So did you,” Jungwon added helpfully.
Sunghoon narrowed his eyes. “You two seriously need to get a hobby.”
Sunoo gasped, fake-offended. “You are our hobby.”
“You’ve been heart-eyed for her since orientation,” Jungwon said, casually flipping through his clipboard. “It’s kind of adorable. Kind of pathetic.”
“I’m not—” Sunghoon began.
“—in love with her?” Sunoo cut in. “Please. You literally follow her around like a puppy. When she yells at you, you look happy.”
“I do not.”
“She called you incompetent yesterday,” Jungwon said. “You said ‘thank you’ like it was a compliment.”
Sunghoon sighed dramatically. “It was constructive criticism.”
Sunoo smirked. “Look, no shame. We get it. She’s hot. She’s terrifying. That’s… kind of your type?”
“I don’t have a type,” Sunghoon muttered.
“Oh, you do,” Jungwon said. “And it wears black compression socks, drinks three cups of coffee before 9 a.m., and rolls her eyes every time you try to impress her.”
Sunghoon scowled, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “You two are actually insane.”
“And you’re in denial,” Sunoo said brightly. “Just confess already.”
“Not happening.”
“Why not?”
“She’s a registered nurse. I’m still a student. And she literally threatened to assign me to mop duty yesterday.”
Sunoo wiggled his brows. “Kinky.”
“Get out of my face.”
⸻
Later that afternoon, the three of them reviewed cases together in the student breakroom. Y/N passed by once—just once—and Sunghoon immediately straightened up like he’d been caught doing something wrong.
She didn’t even glance at him.
But Sunoo did. He leaned over and whispered, “You’re so whipped, it’s actually poetic.”
Sunghoon threw a pen at him.
⸻
The hospital’s volunteer-run community clinic was smaller, slower-paced—an intentional shift from the high-pressure chaos of the ER. But that didn’t mean it was calm. It just had a different kind of buzz: tired patients with long waits, kids squirming in plastic chairs, and the hum of fluorescent lights overhead.
It was also—unfortunately for Sunghoon—where he had his Friday rotation.
With Y/N.
And Sunoo.
And Jungwon.
A dream and nightmare rolled into one.
⸻
Sunghoon stepped through the clinic’s back entrance, balancing a tray of vending machine coffees, and almost immediately collided with Y/N, who was shrugging into her navy cardigan.
“Whoa—sorry!” he said quickly, coffee tray wobbling.
She steadied it with one hand, the other grabbing his forearm instinctively. “You good?”
“Yeah,” he breathed. “You?”
Their eyes locked—just for a beat too long.
Then she dropped her hand and nodded at the cups. “Are any of those for me?”
He blinked. “Oh. Yeah. Here.” He handed her the exact one she liked: two sugars, no cream.
She raised a brow, impressed. “Look at you. Learning something useful.”
He smiled, a little proud. “Still terrified of you, though.”
“Good,” she said, smirking behind her cup. “Keeps you sharp.”
Sunghoon didn’t realize he was still watching her until Jungwon came up from behind and whispered, “Blink twice if you’re in love.”
Sunghoon glared. “Get a clipboard, Jungwon.”
⸻
Inside, the clinic was packed. They divided tasks: Y/N handled triage and diagnostics, while Sunghoon assisted with wound dressings and quick consults. Jungwon ran back and forth between rooms, and Sunoo—somehow—ended up entertaining the waiting kids by drawing cats on gauze pads.
Hours passed in a blur of stethoscopes, bandages, and sneaked glances.
Sunghoon was finishing up with an elderly patient when Y/N stepped into the room to help wrap the man’s foot.
Their fingers brushed as they reached for the gauze at the same time.
It was subtle—but the spark was immediate.
She didn’t pull away.
“Thanks,” he said quietly.
“For what?”
“Not giving up on me. After the code last week.”
Her eyes softened, just slightly. “I told you. You’ll get better.”
“I want to be the kind of nurse you’d trust on your team someday.”
A beat of silence.
Then her voice, softer. “You already are.”
⸻
Later, during a lull, Sunghoon collapsed into the break room chair, exhausted. Y/N was already there, legs curled under her on the worn-out couch, eating half a granola bar and scrolling through her phone.
He sat down across from her, resting his head against the wall.
She peeked over. “Long day?”
“I can’t feel my spine.”
She tossed him the other half of her granola bar. “Here. Eat. You look like you’re about to code yourself.”
He caught it mid-air, surprised. “You sharing snacks now? Is this… progress?”
“Don’t make it weird.”
“You’re literally hand-feeding me.”
“I threw it at your face.”
“Same thing.”
She laughed—just a soft one, but real. He’d take it.
That’s when Sunoo and Jungwon appeared in the doorway like twin demons.
“Wow,” Sunoo said loudly. “Intimate snack-sharing. We’ll leave you two alone.”
Sunghoon threw the granola wrapper at him.
“Do you guys need supervision?” Y/N asked, deadpan.
“Only if you’re into that,” Jungwon quipped.
Y/N rolled her eyes. “Go clean something.”
They didn’t move.
So she stood up—slowly—and added, “Or I’ll assign you both to bathroom inventory.”
They scrambled like rats.
Sunghoon was laughing when she sat back down beside him.
“You’re scarier than our preceptors.”
“I’m softer than I look,” she said.
And for a second, he saw it.
The quiet kindness. The way her guard slipped when she thought no one was watching. The warmth in her eyes when she wasn’t putting up walls.
He shifted closer.
She didn’t move away.
For one long moment, the clinic buzz faded. It was just them, shoulder to shoulder, sitting on a cracked leather couch with the fluorescent lights humming above.
Their faces were too close.
His voice came out a whisper. “Can I ask you something?”
Her eyes flicked to his, then his lips. “Yeah?”
He hesitated.
She leaned in just a little—
Then the intercom crackled: “Nurse Y/N, consult in Room 3.”
She blinked, pulled away fast. “Duty calls.”
He exhaled hard as she stood.
Before leaving, she paused, glanced back at him, and smirked. “Next time you want to kiss me, you might have to be faster.”
Then she was gone.
And Sunghoon sat there, stunned, heart in his throat, replaying that one sentence over and over.
⸻
Morning Shift.
The first patient of the day was an elderly man with a broken arm. He was chatty, more interested in talking about his cat than his injury, and Sunghoon was grateful for the distraction.
Y/N stood next to him, handing him the necessary forms with a soft smile, but the moment Sunghoon’s hand brushed hers again—completely by accident—there was that unmistakable charge in the air.
She cleared her throat and quickly moved to gather supplies. “You’re clumsy, Sunghoon,” she said, her voice a little higher than usual. “I’m surprised you’re not still tripping over your own feet.”
“I don’t trip—well, maybe a little,” he admitted with a sheepish grin. “But I’m learning.”
She rolled her eyes. “You better. Or I’ll have to start assigning you to less dangerous tasks. Maybe holding the clipboard for me. You know, the easy stuff.”
Sunghoon watched her as she worked, her eyes focused on the task at hand, yet the smallest smile tugged at the corners of her lips whenever their eyes met. He couldn’t help but wonder if she was trying to avoid something.
⸻
Lunchtime.
By noon, the clinic quieted down a bit. The lull was always the best time to catch a breath, and Sunghoon found himself walking into the break room to grab a drink. He didn’t expect to see Y/N sitting alone by the window, her coat draped over the chair beside her.
For a moment, the sight of her alone, so casually relaxed, made his chest tighten. He felt that familiar pull to sit next to her, to talk to her like they’d done so many times during their shifts. But this time, the tension was undeniable, like there was something more there, waiting to be addressed.
He approached cautiously, but as soon as she saw him, her gaze flicked up to meet his, and she froze.
“Sunghoon,” she said, her voice almost too soft. “What’s up?”
He didn’t trust his voice, so instead, he sat beside her. There was no question—it was comfortable. Despite the unspoken tension, there was a strange ease in the air between them.
Y/N turned her gaze back to the window, and Sunghoon mirrored her. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. It felt like there was something pressing between them, but neither of them knew how to bring it up without breaking the fragile silence.
“You know,” she said, breaking the quiet, “You’re always quiet when you’re near me. Like you’re afraid to say something wrong.”
Sunghoon’s heart skipped a beat. He turned to look at her, only to find her watching him with that damn knowing expression. The one that had been driving him mad for weeks now.
“I’m not afraid,” he said, though his voice came out quieter than intended. “I just… don’t want to mess up.”
Her eyes softened, and for the first time in a long while, she looked at him without that professional edge.
“You’ve been trying really hard, haven’t you?” she asked gently. “To be better. To be good enough.”
Sunghoon didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just nodded, feeling an unfamiliar tightness in his chest.
Before he could say anything else, the door to the break room slammed open, and in walked Sunoo and Jungwon, both grinning like they knew something he didn’t.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” Sunoo said, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “A quiet moment between the nurse-in-training and the actual nurse?”
Sunghoon shot him a glare, but Jungwon was already leaning in, whispering to him, “Is this where you confess, or do we need to stage a covert mission?”
Y/N snorted, unable to hide her amusement, and that was enough to send Sunghoon’s frustration bubbling over. “You two are impossible,” he muttered under his breath, though there was no real malice behind his words.
Jungwon tapped Sunghoon’s shoulder and pointed to the door. “We’re on call in five. Time to get back to pretending to be competent, right?”
⸻
Late Night Shift.
By the time evening rolled around, the shift had become a blur. The patients were all routine, but the real chaos was brewing in the air between him and Y/N. They were slowly closing up for the night when she caught him staring at her again.
This time, she didn’t let it slide.
“You’re looking at me again,” she said, a little teasing, but her voice was softer than before. “Is there something on my face?”
Sunghoon snapped out of his trance, but before he could answer, a loud beeping noise interrupted them—the monitor at the nurse’s station was flashing.
Without thinking, Sunghoon jumped up to check, but as he did, his foot caught on the edge of the chair, and he stumbled forward.
Y/N rushed to catch him, her hands landing on his chest, and their faces were suddenly inches apart.
Neither of them moved.
For a long second, neither of them said anything. Sunghoon’s pulse was pounding in his ears as he realized how close they were, how easy it would be to just lean in…
But he didn’t. He couldn’t.
The moment passed, but it left them both breathless.
“I—” Sunghoon began, but Y/N cut him off.
“Just get the monitor,” she said quickly, stepping back.
Sunghoon nodded, feeling the heat on his face. It was like a weight pressing down on his chest, and he wasn’t sure if he could handle it for much longer.
He got the monitor under control, but as he walked back to Y/N, he couldn’t help but feel the unspoken tension pulling them back together.
Before he could say anything, Sunoo and Jungwon walked by the hallway, glancing at them, then smirking.
“Guys, it’s cute, but please—no one’s dying of a broken heart in here,” Sunoo said, grinning.
Jungwon looked at Sunghoon with a pointed expression. “It’s okay, man. We’re all rooting for you.”
Sunghoon shot them a glare.
⸻
The shift was fast-paced, the patients endless, and Sunghoon had just barely managed to catch his breath before the next task was assigned. But of course, there was no time to relax when Heeseung was always around—always moving with an easy confidence, his every action smooth and practiced.
Today, Heeseung was working alongside him, but it felt like they were in two different worlds. Sunghoon was still in the “nursing student” mode—trying to prove he could keep up with the seasoned professionals. Meanwhile, Heeseung? He was the rock star nurse, the one who made every task look effortless.
It started with something small—seemingly small.
⸻
The Gauze Incident.
The moment came when they were both assigned to a patient who had just come in for a minor procedure. The patient’s wound needed to be dressed, and Sunghoon, eager to prove himself, darted toward the supply cabinet to grab the necessary materials.
Just as he reached for the gauze, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He whipped around to see Heeseung, who was holding the exact same gauze package with a smile that felt just a little too knowing.
“Beat you to it,” Heeseung said casually, as if he’d already won the race.
Sunghoon stiffened, his stomach tightening in irritation, even though he tried to keep his tone neutral. “Yeah, I see that. But I still have to prep the patient.”
Heeseung grinned. “Sure, sure. But just remember, it’s not about speed. It’s about precision.”
Sunghoon couldn’t help the eye roll that escaped him. Precision? What’s he talking about? “You’re such a show-off.”
“I’m just confident,” Heeseung replied, winking. “You’ll get there, rookie.”
Sunghoon forced a smile, not able to mask the flicker of frustration in his chest. He could feel the tension creeping in. I can’t let him get to me. It’s just a gauze. But the truth was, it wasn’t just the gauze. It was the way Heeseung made everything seem so effortless. The way he talked to patients with ease, the way they all gravitated toward him, and the way Y/N sometimes looked at him, laughing like he was the funniest person in the room.
That’s not just it, Sunghoon realized. It’s about her.
⸻
The Stethoscope Challenge.
Later that afternoon, things escalated again when Sunghoon found himself in another friendly “competition” with Heeseung—this time over the stethoscope. They’d both been asked to check on a patient’s vitals simultaneously.
Sunghoon moved to the patient’s left side, securing the stethoscope around his neck and preparing to listen to the patient’s heart rate. Heeseung was already by the other side, but before Sunghoon could even start, Heeseung placed his hand gently on the patient’s wrist.
“Let me do it,” Heeseung said with a lazy smile, his voice smooth, almost playful. “I’ve got this.”
Sunghoon’s brows furrowed. “We’re supposed to do this together, remember?”
“Sure,” Heeseung replied, but he didn’t budge. “But the patient is already relaxed with me.”
Sunghoon felt his jaw clench. So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? He wanted to argue, to snap back, but the patient was watching them, and he couldn’t risk looking petty.
He took a breath, stepping aside reluctantly. “Fine. But you’re really pushing it, Heeseung.”
Heeseung gave him a knowing smile. “I’m just here to help.”
⸻
The Final Showdown—Who Gets the Chart First?
The final straw came when they both reached the nurse’s station at the same time. There was one chart left to be signed off on—just one. And Y/N was standing by the station, casually reviewing some papers, her back to them.
Heeseung’s eyes lit up the moment he saw the chart. He moved toward it like a predator zeroing in on its prey.
“I’ll get it,” Heeseung said, his tone teasing. “I’ve got some notes for the patient. You mind, Sunghoon?”
Sunghoon’s heart rate picked up, the competitive edge in him flaring. I don’t mind? You think you can just take it?
Before Heeseung could make his move, Sunghoon stepped forward, grabbing the chart with just a little more force than necessary.
“I’ve got it,” Sunghoon said quickly, his voice firmer than he’d intended. “You’ve been signing off everything else, Heeseung. Let me handle this.”
Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “Alright, alright. I wasn’t trying to steal it from you, geez. Just thought I’d help out.”
Sunghoon didn’t care. It wasn’t about the chart. It was about winning—proving he could keep up.
⸻
Y/N’s Subtle Observation.
As the day wore on, Y/N noticed the little “games” they’d been playing—mostly because she’d caught them a few times. She watched Sunghoon’s brow furrow whenever Heeseung took charge, and she noticed the way Sunghoon was almost overcompensating—whether it was rushing through his tasks, answering questions before they were asked, or just trying to prove something.
Later that evening, she caught him in the break room, leaning over a sink with a sigh, clearly worn out.
“You okay?” Y/N asked, her voice soft. “You’ve been on edge today.”
Sunghoon blinked, turning toward her with a forced grin. “Yeah, just the usual stuff. You know, keeping up with Heeseung.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been competing with him all day.”
Sunghoon rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s nothing. Just a little fun, right?”
Y/N crossed her arms, tilting her head, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You sure? You look like you’ve been trying to prove something.”
Sunghoon stiffened. Am I that obvious?
She smiled lightly, uncrossing her arms. “You know, Sunghoon, Heeseung’s not trying to take your spot. He’s just… well, Heeseung.”
Sunghoon’s heart skipped at her words, but the tension in his chest didn’t fully ease. “I know,” he muttered. “I just want to make sure I’m good enough.”
Y/N blinked, surprised. “Good enough for what?”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, and the silence hung thick in the air. Finally, he sighed. “For you, for this place. Just… good enough.”
Y/N smiled warmly at him, her gaze softening. “You are good enough, Sunghoon. You just have to believe it.”
⸻
The Unspoken Realization.
As they prepared to clock out for the day, Sunghoon stood by Y/N, suddenly aware of how much he wanted her to see him as more than just a student nurse. More than just a guy who was trying to catch up to the others.
And maybe—just maybe—Heeseung’s friendly competition wasn’t the real issue here.
⸻
The storm outside howled, fierce winds rattling the hospital windows as rain hammered the roof in a relentless downpour. The usual hum of the hospital was muted, the corridors quieter than usual, the usual rush of foot traffic dampened by the weather. Nurses and doctors alike had been instructed to stay inside the building, as the storm had caused flooding in some parts of the city. Shifts had been extended, and the team was stuck for the foreseeable future.
For Sunghoon, this felt like the longest night of his life.
He glanced at Y/N from across the hallway as she pulled on her scrub jacket, the wind outside gusting against the walls. Their shifts had been chaotic; patients were coming in non-stop, the ER was backed up, and now, a fresh round of complications had left the staff running in every direction.
Heeseung, the ever-present, confident nurse, had already been assigned to a new hospital—his skills in high demand after a major staffing shortage at a nearby clinic. Sunghoon hadn’t been thrilled about the change. It had always been a strange dynamic between him and Heeseung, but with Heeseung gone, something felt… off. Even though the rivalry was never overt, it had kept Sunghoon on his toes, pushing him to prove himself. Without it, there was an empty space that he hadn’t anticipated.
“Hey, Y/N,” Sunghoon called, walking over to where she was standing near the break room, peering out the windows, her face thoughtful. She turned to him, offering him a tired smile.
“Everything okay?” she asked, her voice softer than usual.
“Just…” he paused, glancing out the window at the rain. “Just a lot of work tonight.”
Y/N nodded. “I know what you mean. I think everyone’s running on fumes.”
He smiled faintly, his eyes still lingering on her. “We should grab some blankets. For when the night goes longer than expected. The storm might have knocked out the heater in the supply closet.”
“I’m on it,” Y/N said. “Meet you there?”
He nodded, then both turned to head down the hall toward the supply closet, where extra blankets were kept in case the night stretched into the early hours. As they walked, the silence between them felt heavier than usual—comfortable, but somehow laced with unspoken things.
The supply closet was small, even for the two of them. It was cluttered with boxes, extra sterile gauze, and various supplies, and when Y/N reached for the top shelf to grab the blankets, she bumped against Sunghoon’s chest.
She froze for a moment, and in that brief instant, the proximity felt much too intimate—too personal, as if the world outside was momentarily paused. The small, stillness lingered in the air between them, heavy and thick.
Sunghoon’s breath hitched, and he felt the warmth of her body against his, the electricity that surged through him at the contact. His hands instinctively reached for the shelf as well, brushing against hers.
Her back brushed his chest again as she shifted, and the small, confined space made everything feel a little too close. Neither of them said a word, the silence amplifying the tension between them.
After a long pause, Sunghoon’s voice dropped, a hushed tone as if he were unsure whether he should say it. “You always smell like lavender.”
Her breath caught at his words. She hadn’t expected that—his comment felt almost too personal, but it also felt like something that had been there all along. Something he’d noticed, but never mentioned.
Y/N turned slightly to meet his eyes, and she felt a rush of warmth in her chest. “It’s a body wash I’ve been using for months,” she explained softly, not sure why she was offering the detail but suddenly wanting to share something with him.
He smiled faintly, his gaze softening for a moment. “It’s nice.”
They stood there for a few beats longer than necessary, the moment stretched thin by the closeness, the space too small, the unspoken things too large between them. He almost wished he could say more—ask her why she always smelled like that, if she wore it on purpose, or if it was just something she didn’t notice.
But before he could, the sudden noise of the emergency paging system broke the spell, and they were jolted back to reality. The quiet of the night came crashing in, dragging them both back into the chaos of the hospital.
⸻
The break room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a flashlight that Y/N had managed to find after the power went out. It flickered, casting shadows across the room, but it was the only light they had. Sunghoon and Y/N sat at the small table, their faces illuminated by the flickering light, a quiet exhaustion settling over them.
“I can’t believe we’re stuck here all night,” Y/N said, letting out a deep sigh as she leaned back in her chair.
“Yeah,” Sunghoon agreed, his voice quiet, but his gaze lingering on her. “But… I’m kind of glad you’re here.”
Y/N smiled, but it was softer than usual, the tension from earlier still lingering in the air. “I think you’re just happy I’m not running off to work at another hospital,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Sunghoon chuckled, the sound low and warm. “You know I’m not that dramatic.”
“Not dramatic?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, as if not believing him. “Come on, you’re definitely one of those ‘everything’s a crisis’ type of people.”
His smile faded a little, and he leaned forward slightly, his hand brushing the edge of the table, closer to hers. “Maybe. But it’s different when I’m around you.”
Her heartbeat quickened, and she could feel the charge in the air between them. She reached for her mug of coffee, trying to hide the way his words made her feel, trying to pretend she didn’t notice how the space between them felt just a little bit too small.
The flashlight flickered again, and for a moment, the silence stretched between them—heavy, thick, filled with unspoken words.
Y/N’s hand moved instinctively across the table, her fingers brushing his, and they both paused. The soft contact was a momentary connection, but it felt significant. His fingers curled around hers, gently, but there was an intensity in his touch that made her heart skip.
Their fingers stayed intertwined for a moment too long, the silence in the room amplifying the weight of the simple act. It was as if everything in that moment froze, the noise of the storm outside, the chaos of the hospital, all faded away, leaving only the two of them.
Before either of them could say anything else, the door to the break room burst open, and a nurse rushed in, face urgent.
“Emergency in Room 312. We need both of you!”
The moment shattered. Sunghoon quickly stood up, and Y/N followed, their fingers reluctantly separating. The energy between them had shifted, but before they could explore it further, they were both thrust back into the chaos of the night.
⸻
As they rushed to the room, Sunghoon couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed between them. He wasn’t sure what to make of the touch, the soft words, the unspoken promise in her eyes. But for the first time, he was certain of one thing—he didn’t want to leave this feeling behind.
And as Y/N walked beside him, the storm still raging outside, a soft thought crossed his mind. Maybe, just maybe, this storm could lead them to something more.
⸻
By the time the emergency in Room 312 was stabilized and the chaos temporarily quelled, the hospital halls fell into a lull. The storm outside still raged, but inside the ER, the tension had eased—just enough for the exhaustion to creep in.
Y/N leaned against the nurse’s station, stretching her back and letting out a low groan. “I think my spine turned to dust an hour ago.”
Sunghoon plopped into the chair beside her, rubbing his eyes and sighing. “If it makes you feel better, I’m at the stage where I’d sell my soul for a warm pillow and a blanket.”
She let out a tired laugh, bumping her shoulder into his. “You’re such a drama queen.”
“Says the one who moaned like a grandma five seconds ago.”
Their laughter echoed softly down the hall, warm and sleepy.
Sunghoon watched her as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her face looked tired, but beautiful in the faint glow of the emergency lights still running in parts of the wing. He hesitated for a moment, then tilted his head slightly toward the dim hallway.
“Come on,” he said quietly, voice mischievous. “Break room’s empty.”
Y/N narrowed her eyes playfully. “You planning to sneak in a nap during shift hours, Mr. Almost-Graduate?”
He grinned. “What’s the point of being your favorite student if I don’t abuse that privilege at least once?”
“You’re assuming you’re my favorite.”
“I know I’m your favorite,” he said without missing a beat, walking backward with a cocky little smile that made her roll her eyes—and follow him.
⸻
The break room was quieter than before. A few blankets from earlier were tossed in the corner, and the fluorescent lights above flickered gently. A faint hum of vending machines filled the silence. The storm still whispered against the windows, but everything else inside felt still.
Sunghoon sprawled onto the couch, pulling one of the thin blankets over himself before motioning for her to join him. “Come on. I’m not sleeping while you’re still out here suffering.”
“I’m not suffering,” she scoffed, but her limbs were lead-heavy, and the couch looked painfully inviting.
After a second’s hesitation, she sat beside him, both of them squished onto the narrow couch. Their bodies brushed—knees bumping, shoulders aligned, the kind of closeness that was undeniably intimate, but too comfortable to feel awkward anymore.
Y/N tugged the blanket to share it between them.
“I swear to God, if you fall asleep and drool on my shoulder, I’m clocking out and leaving you to fend for yourself,” she muttered, adjusting the blanket.
Sunghoon turned his head lazily toward her. “I don’t drool. I’m a classy sleeper.”
“Sure you are,” she teased. “I’m sure Jungwon would back you up.”
“Jungwon said I look peaceful when I sleep.”
“Oh, so you’ve got a sleep witness.”
“Jealous?” he smirked.
She elbowed him, making him grunt and laugh.
A silence settled over them, not uncomfortable, but filled with something softer. Sleep tugged at both their eyes, and slowly, her head tilted to the side—landing gently against his shoulder.
Sunghoon froze.
He didn’t dare move.
Her lavender scent filled his senses again, and despite the thunder rolling outside, all he could hear was her quiet breathing. His heart pounded a little harder, not from nerves anymore, but from the sheer awareness of her.
⸻
It wasn’t long before a familiar crinkle broke the silence—Sunoo, standing at the door holding a bag of vending machine snacks with a mischievous smirk.
“Well, well, well,” he said, popping a chip into his mouth dramatically. “What do we have here?”
Y/N jerked awake, blinking rapidly as she sat up. “Sunoo?! How long were you standing there?”
“Long enough to consider leaving you two snacks as an offering.”
“Shut up,” Sunghoon muttered, his ears slightly pink.
Jungwon appeared behind Sunoo, holding two bottles of water and raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t realize this couch came with couple’s privileges.”
“We weren’t doing anything,” Y/N said, though she was already grabbing a chip bag to change the subject. “Just resting.”
Sunoo’s eyes twinkled as he sat on the arm of the couch. “Resting… dangerously close.”
Sunghoon grabbed the chips from her hand and popped one in his mouth just to stop himself from saying something dumb. His pulse still hadn’t slowed from having her so close just moments ago.
Y/N, lips twitching in amusement, grabbed them right back.
They all sat there for a while, sharing snacks, teasing each other, and basking in the strange, cozy quiet of a hospital caught in the eye of a storm. The power flickered again, and the vending machine buzzed like it might give up—but inside the room, the warmth stayed.
At some point, Sunoo and Jungwon dozed off in the chairs. And once again, Sunghoon and Y/N found themselves shoulder to shoulder on the couch, sharing warmth beneath a scratchy hospital blanket.
This time, when her head landed on his shoulder again—he didn’t freeze.
He leaned into it.
And smiled.
Because maybe being stuck in the hospital overnight wasn’t the worst thing in the world… not when he had her next to him.
⸻
The hospital was always buzzing—monitors beeping, wheels squeaking across linoleum, pagers ringing through the air. But lately, it buzzed with something else.
Whispers.
It started small. A knowing glance here. A muttered comment there.
Then someone caught sight of Sunghoon loitering near the nurse’s station long after his shift had ended—clearly waiting for her. Another time, he’d “just happened” to help Y/N restock linens she didn’t ask for. He stood closer than necessary when talking to her, smiled wider than usual, eyes lingering a beat too long.
To the untrained eye, it could’ve been harmless.
But hospitals breed gossip like bacteria.
⸻
“Park,” a voice called out one morning during pre-rounds.
Sunghoon turned, raising a brow as one of his fellow student nurses, Minji, approached him. She crossed her arms.
“You might want to tone it down,” she said flatly. “People are talking.”
Sunghoon blinked. “Tone what down?”
“You and Y/N,” she said pointedly. “You’re being obvious. Some of the senior staff are starting to notice. You don’t want this getting reported, do you? You’re graduating soon. Don’t risk it.”
He stiffened.
The warning settled like lead in his gut.
⸻
Y/N heard about the rumors from a different nurse, in a passing whisper that hit her like a slap. It was framed casually—“You know people are saying he’s a little too attached to you, right?”—but the implications rang loud in her head.
She was immediately on high alert.
The next day, she pulled away.
Back to form. Back to structure. Strict again, focused. She corrected Sunghoon’s charting without the usual teasing, kept conversations painfully professional, didn’t look at him longer than necessary.
Sunghoon noticed the shift instantly.
He didn’t push at first—thought maybe she was tired.
But after a full day of being treated like just another name on her roster, he cornered her near the stairwell after shift.
“Y/N,” he called out softly.
She turned too quickly, like she’d been hoping he wouldn’t speak to her at all. “Sunghoon. I have to head upstairs—”
“No,” he said gently but firmly. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I haven’t—”
“You have,” he interrupted, voice laced with quiet hurt. “You won’t even look at me.”
She exhaled, jaw tight. “I heard what people are saying.”
“So what?” he said, stepping forward. “They’re rumors. Who cares?”
“I do,” she snapped, eyes glinting with something between fear and frustration. “You’re graduating soon. Do you want to risk that because someone thinks I’ve been too friendly?”
“It’s not just friendly.”
She flinched.
His voice was low, sincere.
“I like you,” he admitted, brows drawn. “I thought—God, I hoped—you knew that by now.”
She looked away, swallowing hard. “That’s the problem.”
The silence that followed was thick. Unbearable.
Sunghoon looked at her like he was trying to memorize her face. “I get it. I do. But don’t treat me like I’m just some dumb kid with a crush. That’s not fair.”
“I’m your mentor,” she whispered.
“For now,” he replied. “But I won’t be forever.”
She didn’t answer.
And he didn’t push.
⸻
The last day of clinicals arrived too fast.
The entire ward seemed to buzz with energy. Everyone loved Sunghoon—patients, staff, even the notoriously grumpy supervisor from OR. Jungwon and Sunoo teased him mercilessly, snapping photos and calling him “our local hospital heartthrob.”
Someone made him a tiny paper crown.
Y/N had stayed out of the spotlight all morning, but as the clock inched toward shift end, she quietly arranged a little celebration near the nurse’s station. Just for the student nurses.
There were cupcakes. Coffee. Printed polaroids of funny moments throughout their time in the hospital.
When Sunghoon approached, the others cheered. Y/N smiled and handed him a small gift bag—a pen engraved with “You’re going to make a great nurse.”
He looked down at it, and then at her, eyes glassy. “You planned this?”
She nodded. “You earned it.”
Their fingers brushed briefly. Too brief.
The party moved on around them—Sunoo making a toast about how he’d miss “his emotional support rival” and Jungwon giving a half-serious speech like it was an awards show.
But eventually, Sunghoon had to go.
Y/N stood by the elevators when he approached. He looked good in his uniform—hair still a little messy from hours of movement, but eyes bright and full of something she refused to name.
“I just wanted to say thanks,” he said. “For everything.”
She offered a polite smile. “You did all the work. I just guided you.”
“That’s not true,” he said, holding out a small white envelope. “Don’t open it here.”
Her fingers curled around it without thinking.
He hesitated a second, then stepped into the elevator.
And just before the doors closed, he said softly, “If things were different, maybe I’d ask for more than your mentorship.”
⸻
Later that night, she opened the letter in her apartment.
It was short, neat handwriting she immediately recognized.
Y/N, my boss nurse
Thank you for being more patient with me than I deserved.
Thank you for pushing me when I wanted to give up.
Thank you for being someone I looked forward to seeing every day.
I’m sorry if I made things harder.
I never wanted to jeopardize your job or my future.
But I meant everything I ever said to you.
And if it ever feels like things can be different…
Call me.
[XXX-XX-XXX]
Y/N stared at the digits at the bottom of the page for a long, long time.
Her heart thudded in her chest.
Because even though he was gone now—finished, graduated, moved on—he’d left behind more than a number.
He’d left hope.
⸻
Sunghoon’s graduation ceremony was held in one of the city’s larger academic halls, packed wall to wall with caps, gowns, and the proud hum of voices echoing beneath the tall ceiling. Families clutched bouquets. Cameras clicked. Applause rang in waves as each name was called.
From his seat near the front, Sunghoon scanned the crowd automatically.
He told himself not to look.
Told himself she wouldn’t be here.
She hadn’t called. She hadn’t texted. It had been weeks since that letter.
But still.
Hope was a stubborn thing.
And then, in the upper left wing of the balcony—half-shrouded by shadows and dressed in scrubs like she’d come straight from shift—he saw her.
Y/N.
She sat alone. No flowers, no fanfare. Just her hands clasped neatly in her lap, eyes quietly following him as he stood to walk across the stage.
Their eyes met for only a second.
But it was enough.
She was there.
She came.
And in that fleeting, barely-there glance, everything in his chest that had been wound tight slowly… unraveled.
⸻
After the ceremony, his phone buzzed.
He was surrounded by noise—Jungwon snapping goofy selfies, Sunoo loudly pretending to cry and thanking “his baby boy Sunghoon” for surviving three years of caffeine and chaos.
But none of that compared to the message that lit up his screen:
Y/N: congrats, my fav student nurse.
Sunghoon’s heart did something ridiculous.
He grinned.
Wide. Giddy. Stupid.
⸻
He stood at the edge of the campus lawn, people swirling around him like a celebration in motion. But his world had narrowed down to one small screen and six simple words.
She came.
She watched.
She texted.
And maybe—just maybe—she hadn’t closed the door entirely.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before he finally typed back:
Sunghoon: Didn’t think you’d come.
Sunghoon: You didn’t say anything.
Sunghoon: But I’m glad you were there.
The typing bubble on her end appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared again.
He waited, holding his breath.
Finally:
Y/N: I wasn’t sure I should be.
Y/N: But I’m proud of you. So proud.
Y/N: You’re going to be an amazing nurse.
Sunghoon bit his lip, fighting the urge to grin again.
Sunghoon: Guess that means I’m not your student anymore, huh?
A pause.
Then—
Y/N: No. You’re not.
A beat passed. Then another message came.
Y/N: So if you wanted to ask me to dinner…
Sunghoon blinked.
Stared.
Smiled.
And finally, under the fading sunlight and the buzz of celebration around him, he replied:
Sunghoon: I thought you’d never ask.
⸻
Sunghoon double-checked his reflection in the café window, smoothing down his collar before pushing the door open. He wasn’t nervous—he told himself that multiple times during the ride over.
But the way his heart skipped when he spotted Y/N sitting at the corner table, sipping on something iced and lavender-colored, betrayed him entirely.
She looked up and smiled.
And everything tilted just a little.
⸻
“You’re late,” she said, eyebrow raised, though her tone was soft.
“Traffic,” he replied, sliding into the seat across from her. “And existential dread.”
She laughed. “Still dramatic.”
He grinned. “Still your favorite.”
Her smile faltered for the smallest second, caught between nostalgia and something new. “I didn’t know if you’d actually say yes.”
“I’ve been waiting for a chance to say yes.”
Her fingers curled around her cup. “I didn’t think it’d feel this strange.”
He tilted his head. “Does it feel wrong?”
“No,” she murmured. “Just… different. We’re not at the hospital. No buzzers. No supply closets. No patients between us.”
“No rules,” he added quietly.
A beat of silence passed.
And in it, the air between them changed—just slightly.
She looked up, voice more tentative. “And no excuses.”
Sunghoon swallowed. “Do we need any?”
⸻
They talked for hours—eating slow, sharing bites of dessert, laughing at old moments from the ward. He told her about his first interview next week, she teased him for almost fainting during his first blood draw. The ease came back like muscle memory, but underneath it, something new had settled in.
Something less guarded.
When they walked out into the warm night, the sidewalk was quiet and still damp from an earlier drizzle.
He walked her to her car.
“I really missed this,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
She leaned against her door. “I did too. More than I wanted to admit.”
There was a moment—brief, heavy, weighted with all the words they hadn’t yet said.
He took a step closer.
“You know this doesn’t have to be one dinner, right?” he asked.
She tilted her chin up. “What are you saying?”
“I want more,” he said. “More than just a dinner. More than supply closet tension. More than one kiss that never happened.”
She bit her lip, softening. “We really never did kiss, huh?”
“Not officially.”
The pause lingered just long enough for the air to still.
Then, finally, she said, “So kiss me now. Let’s make it official.”
And when he did—when his hand came up to gently cup her cheek and his lips met hers in a kiss that was sweet and sure and years in the making—there were no rules, no titles, no student or mentor.
Just them.
[Bonus scene]
The break room was dim, lit only by the flickering vending machine light and the steady glow of a desk lamp someone had left behind. The hospital night shift was unusually quiet—an eerie calm that made it the perfect time to cram for the nursing board exam… if you weren’t already dead tired.
Y/N leaned back in the creaky couch, stifling a yawn as she reached for the flashcards. “Alright, Park. One more round and then I’ll let you take a five-minute nap that lasts two hours.”
Sunghoon sat cross-legged on the floor in front of her, hoodie sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his hair tousled and eyes slightly bloodshot from the long shift and even longer studying. His books were sprawled across the coffee table with color-coded tabs sticking out like battle scars.
He looked up with a lazy grin. “I’m starting to think you like torturing me.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And yet you begged me to quiz you.”
“Because I like the sound of your voice when you talk about cardiac meds,” he teased, grinning when she rolled her eyes.
She threw a peanut butter cup at him. “Focus, Romeo. Signs of digoxin toxicity. Go.”
He caught the candy mid-air, still smirking. “Green halos, bradycardia, GI upset, visual disturbances… and my personal favorite, confused ghosts.”
She blinked, then snorted. “You mean confusion. But sure, ghosts. You’d find a way to flirt with a specter, wouldn’t you?”
“Only if she wore lavender.” He glanced up at her meaningfully, a little more serious now. “You always smell like that.”
She paused, lips parting slightly.
Lavender. The same scent as the lotion she kept in her locker, the one she only used on night shifts to stay calm. He remembered.
“Sunghoon…” she said quietly.
But he looked away first, cheeks faintly pink, mumbling, “Keep going. If I fail, I’m blaming you.”
⸻
It had been three agonizing weeks since he took the exam, and Sunghoon swore he aged at least a decade.
He was walking out of a convenience store when the notification pinged on his phone: NCLEX Results Available.
He didn’t even wait to get to his car. Right there in the middle of the sidewalk, he tapped through the results portal with shaking hands.
Status: Passed.
He just stood there, wind cutting through his hoodie, staring at the screen until his vision blurred.
He passed.
He actually passed.
There were a million people he could’ve called first, but his fingers moved on instinct. He pulled out the pen she had given him—still kept safely in his hoodie pocket—and clicked it like a grounding motion before opening his messages.
[Sunghoon🩵]: RN, officially. Passed on the first try.
He attached a picture of himself holding his results, eyes glassy and grin too wide. The background was a little blurry, but he made sure one thing was clear—the lavender pen in his hand.
Y/N didn’t respond for two whole minutes.
Then:
Y/N: Told you. Superhero material.
Y/N: You remembered the pen?
[Sunghoon🩵]: I brought it to the exam. It was my lucky charm.
Another pause. Then:
Y/N: I’m proud of you. So proud.
And for a moment, all the exhaustion, anxiety, and stress of the past few months faded beneath those words.
⸻
He hadn’t planned to stay at the same hospital.
At first, he wanted to explore, stretch his wings. Try something new.
But then… the thought of not seeing her in the hallway, not hearing her call out sarcastic remarks across the station, or missing her coffee cup balanced beside the vitals cart—it made his chest ache more than he wanted to admit.
So when an opening popped up at the hospital where he did his clinicals, he applied in secret.
He even used a different email so she wouldn’t catch on.
And when the offer came—with the exact department she’d be in—he accepted immediately.
Jungwon called him dramatic.
Sunoo just said, “You’re either in love or insane.”
He just grinned. “Aren’t they kind of the same thing?”
⸻
Y/N was already three hours into her shift, juggling charts, setting up orientation packets, and trying not to scream at the broken coffee machine.
“Okay,” she said, clapping her hands to get the new nurses’ attention. “Today’s gonna be a mess, so smile through the pain. I’ll give you your assignments after a quick tour of the east wing.”
A few sleepy groans and nervous nods followed.
She turned around to lead them out—and then stopped dead in her tracks.
There he was.
Fresh uniform. ID badge clipped to his scrub pocket. Hair pushed back. And that damn smile on his face.
Park. Freaking. Sunghoon.
Y/N blinked. “You…”
“Surprise,” he said, flashing his badge like a movie reveal. “Guess who’s officially your coworker now?”
“You applied here?”
“Yup.”
“Without telling me?”
“That ruins the drama,” he said, stepping closer so the others couldn’t hear. “Still my favorite boss nurse.”
She tried not to smile. Really, she did.
But he pulled the lavender pen from his chest pocket, tapping it against his clipboard meaningfully.
And just like that, she was smitten all over again.
“You’re going to make this shift hell for me, aren’t you?”
He leaned in, eyes warm. “Only if you don’t assign me to bed 3. I heard the patient there likes flirting with tall nurses.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re impossible.”
He winked. “And yet, here I am. For you, Boss Nurse”
Synopsis: Being one of the smartest students at Hogwarts had its perks… and its downsides. Case in point: you’re now stuck tutoring the Slytherin Prince, Lee Heeseung who looks just as thrilled about this arrangement as you are. With his pride and your stubbornness, neither of you want to admit that the tension isn’t just academic frustration, so it’s only a matter of time before someone breaks the ice.
a/n: been letting this sit for too long in my drafts..
You had your fair share of students come and go—some eager, some desperate, and a few who were just hopeless cases trying to coast on charm alone. Transfiguration, Herbology, Potions, Muggle Studies… you’d tutored in them all. Somewhere along the way, without even meaning to, you'd built a reputation. The kind of reputation that followed you through corridors and whispered in the spaces between classes—one of the gifted ones, the prodigies. The student with the highest potential in your year.
They said you'd make a brilliant Auror one day. That you were bound for something great, something important. You heard it often—from professors, from classmates, from those wide-eyed first-years who nervously asked for help with their essays. Slughorn, in particular, never missed a chance to sing your praises, his twinkling eyes always watching you like he already saw your name in the Prophet headlines.
You didn’t care much for any of that.
It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate the acknowledgment, or that you didn’t enjoy helping others. It was just… none of it felt like you. The applause, the ambition others projected onto you—it never reached deep enough to move you. You did what you were good at because it came naturally. Because it gave you something to focus on. Something to control.
And you wanted your life to be under control. You needed it to be. Every parchment neatly organized, every schedule memorized down to the hour. Your wand movements were precise, your essays meticulously worded, your notes color-coded and charmed to reshuffle themselves in alphabetical order if anyone dared mess with them.
Because if one thing slipped—even just a little—you weren't sure what would happen.
One step out of line, and you didn’t know what to do. Chaos made your skin itch. Uncertainty felt like standing on the edge of a broomstick at impossible heights with no safety charm in place. You didn’t do messy. Or unpredictable. Or reckless.
Which is exactly why he irritated you so much.
Lee Heeseung.
He was everything you disliked wrapped in a too-confident grin and that stupidly charming laugh that echoed through the corridors when you were just trying to concentrate. It was like he had been placed on this earth—sorted into Hogwarts—for the sole purpose of ruining your peace.
He was loud. He was chaotic. He strolled into class five minutes late like he owned the place, hair a mess, tie half-untied, and somehow still managed to get away with it every time. He was too laidback, like he’d never felt the pressure of a deadline in his life. He flirted with danger the way most people flirted with their crushes—boldly, carelessly, like he knew he’d come out unscathed.
And worst of all? He was a professor’s pet.
But not in the hardworking, straight-A kind of way. No, he got away with everything on sheer charisma. He cracked jokes that made even Professor Flitwick chuckle during lectures, and Professor Slughorn—who had once told you that your potion skills were “brilliant for your age”—had the audacity to say Heeseung’s last-minute disaster of a draft had “potential, if not promise.”
You despised him. Truly, sincerely, deeply.
So when Professor McGonagall cornered you after class with that look in her eyes—the one that meant you were about to be volunteered for something you didn’t want—you already knew who it would be.
“Mr. Lee is falling behind in Transfiguration,” she said, as if that were a surprise to anyone. “And I believe you’re the best person to help him.”
Of course you were.
Of course she would say that.
And of course, the next time you saw him, leaning against the wall outside the classroom with his hands in his pockets and that damned smirk on his face, you already knew how this would end.
“Well, well,” he said, pushing off the wall to fall into step beside you. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, genius.”
Merlin help you.
“I have a name, you know,” you muttered, not bothering to look at him.
“Oh, I know it,” he replied, voice dripping with forced enthusiasm. “I’ve heard it enough—‘top of the class this,’ ‘perfect marks that.’ Bet you’ve already got your future planned out by the hour.”
You rolled your eyes. “Flattery won’t make me go easy on you.”
“I’m not trying to flatter you,” he muttered under his breath.
You glanced at him. His usual grin wasn’t quite as smug—if anything, he looked vaguely irritated, like he’d just been assigned detention with a particularly strict professor. Which, to be fair, wasn't that far off.
“If you think I’m thrilled about this,” he added, “you’ve got another thing coming.”
You stopped walking.
Heeseung nearly bumped into you.
“Okay,” you said sharply, turning to face him. “Here’s how this is going to go. You meet me in the library after dinner—on time. You bring your notes, you shut up, and you listen. If you’re not serious about this, don’t waste my time.”
Heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair like he was already regretting everything.
“Yeah, yeah. I got it,” he muttered. “Let’s just get this over with.”
You didn’t believe him for a second.
Later that evening, you sat at one of the quieter corners of the library, books already spread out, ink bottle open, quill poised. You’d even drafted a lesson plan—because of course you had. You were five minutes early. He was seven minutes late.
Naturally.
When he finally slouched in, he looked every bit like someone headed to a funeral. He dropped his bag onto the table with a dull thud, flopped into the chair across from you, and gave you a dead-eyed stare.
“Can’t believe I’m spending my evening like this.”
“You and me both,” you said flatly, sliding a textbook across the table. “Page seventy-three. We’re starting with Switching Spells. If you’re not at least decent by the end of the week, I’m telling McGonagall to assign someone else.”
Heeseung opened the book with a sigh, flipping to the page like it physically pained him.
“You threatening to give up on me already? We just started.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Try me.”
He didn’t smile. He didn’t talk. He just looked at the page like it had personally offended him.
Merlin, this was going to be a long week.
It had been three days. Three long, patience-testing, soul-draining days.
And Heeseung hadn’t taken a single one of them seriously.
Every evening you sat in the same corner of the library with your neatly organized notes and structured lesson plans, and every evening he showed up like it was some sort of social event. He greeted half the students on the way in, stopping mid-step to fist-bump friends, wink at passing girls, and occasionally ruffle the hair of a random first-year like he was the Hogwarts mascot.
And when he finally sat down across from you, he didn’t sit. He slouched. Laid back like the chair was a hammock and this was a holiday. You’d start talking—calmly, clearly, even with diagrams—and he’d nod like he was listening, then immediately start doodling little Quidditch plays in the margins of his parchment. Or worse—he’d turn to whisper to students at the nearby tables. You’d hear little bursts of laughter, the quiet flutter of someone giggling at whatever stupid, charming thing he’d said.
By the fourth time he leaned over to flirt with a girl who “just so happened” to pass by your table, something in you snapped.
You placed your quill down slowly, deliberately, and looked at him.
“Heeseung,” you said with an edge of tight restraint. “Do you mind?”
He turned to you, raising a brow, lips still curled in that maddening grin. “What? Just being friendly.”
“I’m trying to help you,” you said through clenched teeth. “And you’re too busy chatting, drawing, or—Merlin forbid—flirting to actually pay attention. Can you stop wasting my time?”
He blinked innocently. “Aw, come on, are you jealous?”
You inhaled sharply.
“Jealous?” you repeated, your voice calm—dangerously so.
He smirked, eyes dancing. “Of them. All these girls getting my attention when you want it so bad.”
You were this close to hexing him on the spot.
Instead, you exhaled and sat back, pressing your fingers together tightly to keep from reaching for your wand.
“Focus,” you said slowly, voice low but firm. “Please.”
He paused, and for a second—one second—you thought maybe, maybe you’d gotten through to him.
But then he leaned in, resting his chin on his hand as he looked you up and down in a way that made your skin buzz.
“Oh, I’d very gladly focus on you,” he said, voice dropping into that infuriating, flirty drawl. “Whenever I want.”
You didn’t flinch. You didn’t blush. You didn’t so much as blink.
Because you knew—everyone knew—that Lee Heeseung was handsome. Stupidly so. And charming. And infuriating. And just the kind of boy you’d spent your whole academic career staying the hell away from.
So instead of reacting, you looked him dead in the eyes and said, flatly, “I’d say you have the attention span of a flobberworm, but honestly? That’s an insult to flobberworms.”
He laughed—laughed—and slouched even further down in his seat.
Then, like he had all the time in the world, he picked up the textbook, flipped it open lazily, and spread his legs under the table like he was stretching out in his dormitory and not the school library.
The audacity.
You were mid-sentence, trying—still trying—to go over the theory of Switching Spells when he tilted the book sideways, squinting at it like the text was written in ancient runes.
You cleared your throat, sharp and pointed.
He didn’t ignore it this time.
His gaze snapped to yours.
But instead of the usual mischief, or that smug grin he wore like second skin, what you got was something else entirely.
Focus.
His undivided attention. His dark eyes locked on you with a sudden intensity that hit you like a Stupefy to the chest.
You almost gasped.
Almost.
Swallowing nervously you forced your voice to remain steady. “Did you get that, or are you just pretending again?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he blinked slowly, then leaned forward—arms resting on the table now. “You talk like I haven’t been listening this whole time.”
You scoffed. “You’ve done everything but listen.”
“I watch,” he said simply. “I pick things up.”
His eyes flicked to your hand, where your fingers gripped the quill just a little too tightly, then back up to your face.
“I pick you up.”
Your pulse stuttered.
You hated how it did that. Hated how your body reacted when your brain was screaming to stay cool.
But you didn’t let it show.
You leaned forward slightly, voice cold and crisp. “Then pick this up too: if you don’t stop wasting my time, I will stop tutoring you. And Professor McGonagall won’t save you from the next exam.”
You then picked up your wand and pointed to the diagram in the book, keeping your eyes on the page and not on the heat of his gaze.
“Now. Watch closely.”
And for once, he did.
His eyes didn’t flick away. No snide comment, no snort of fake interest, no distracted glance at someone walking by. Just full, uninterrupted attention on you.
And you didn’t know if you preferred it when he wasn’t focusing on you.
Because when he wasn’t, it made you annoyed. Angry, even. You could deal with that. You were good at handling irritation. You’d perfected the art of brushing it off, biting back sharp words, and pushing through.
But when he was?
When his gaze followed your every movement, when his expression dropped all traces of that cocky, careless mask he always wore, when he tilted his head just slightly like he was trying to understand you, trying to see how you worked?
It made your skin warm.
It made your throat tighten and your hands go still for a beat too long.
It made you flushed.
You kept your focus on the parchment between you, using it like a shield. You lifted your wand, demonstrated the proper movement for the Switching Spell—slow, precise, circular—and muttered the incantation under your breath. The inkwell and the candle beside it switched places instantly.
“Got it?” you asked, proud of the steadiness in your voice.
He didn’t answer right away.
“Yeah,” he said, a bit lower than usual. “Yeah, I got it.”
You looked up, and there it was again—that look. Not amused. Not impressed. Just… locked in.
You snapped your fingers, trying to shatter the tension like it was just another spell. “Then show me.”
Heeseung leaned back, rolled his shoulders, and picked up his wand with an ease that was almost insulting. For someone who was supposedly failing, he sure held it like he knew what he was doing.
“Don’t half-ass it,” you warned.
He smirked, but there was something less smug about it this time.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, and cast the spell.
The movement wasn’t perfect—his circle was too wide—but the objects did switch places, albeit with a small spark and a thud that made the nearby students jump.
You blinked.
He looked down at the table, then up at you with a crooked grin. “Close enough?”
You didn’t say anything at first. Because no, it wasn’t perfect. But it wasn’t bad, either. It was better than anything you expected from him.
“…Lucky shot,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.
But he only chuckled, sitting back with that same maddening confidence. “Nah. Told you I pick things up.”
And again, that gaze lingered.
You turned back to your notes to hide the way your pulse betrayed you, scribbling something down just to keep your hands moving.
Because if he kept looking at you like that…
You weren’t sure what would burn first. Your face. Or your patience.
Good news for you was that things did change. Not overnight, but gradually—just enough that it made you question the entire reason you ever thought this tutoring arrangement was a waste of time.
Heeseung didn’t stop acting like a cocky, insufferable idiot, though. No, that part remained stubbornly the same. He’d show up late, talk too much, make offhand comments that usually made you want to hex him, and still find ways to turn every lesson into some kind of twisted competition. But something else had shifted, too—something deeper than his usual antics.
When he listened, he really listened. When he struggled, he admitted it (rarely, but it happened). And when you got frustrated with him, he didn’t ignore it, or brush it off with some half-hearted attempt at humor. No, he seemed... almost genuinely concerned. But only for a second. Then his pride took over again, like some kind of safety mechanism to protect that delicate ego of his.
It was maddening.
One evening, after a particularly tough session with a tricky Transfiguration charm, Heeseung let out an exaggerated sigh, running a hand through his hair like the world was falling apart. His textbook lay open in front of him, the pages filled with smudged notes and scribbled doodles.
“I’m just saying,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “Transfiguration isn’t supposed to be this hard. It’s supposed to be about finesse. A little magic here, a little concentration there...”
You raised an eyebrow. “Is that why you still can’t turn your quill into a bird?”
He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Don’t remind me.”
You scoffed, eyes narrowing as you crossed your arms. “What’s your excuse this time?”
“I don’t have an excuse,” he muttered, but his tone lacked the usual bravado. He looked down at his wand, tapping it idly on the table. “Just... sometimes it’s harder than it looks.”
“Sometimes?” You shot him a skeptical glance. “You’ve been barely passing this whole year, Heeseung.”
He flinched at the words, the usual cheeky smile fading for just a second, but then he quickly recovered, slapping his hand on the table with a grin. “It’s not that bad.”
You weren’t having it. “It is that bad. You can’t keep slacking off and expect things to work out, Heeseung. Not everything can be handed to you because of your charm or your looks.”
His expression shifted again—this time, he looked a little less amused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
It was your turn to bite back your frustration. “You act like you don’t care about anything but your reputation. But if you actually put in the effort, you might actually get somewhere.”
There was a long, tense silence between the two of you. Heeseung’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, it almost seemed like he was going to snap at you. But then he just looked away, clearly annoyed.
“Whatever,” he muttered, shoving his book aside. “Not like I need to impress anyone. I’m just here because you’re too stubborn to let me fail.”
You scoffed. “You think I care if you fail? I care because you’re better than this. I’ve seen it, Heeseung. I know you’re capable of more than this laziness.”
He shot you a quick, almost bitter smile, though there was something different in his eyes. “So you do care.”
You froze, caught off guard by his words. But you couldn’t let it show, so you quickly masked it with a scoff. “What? No. I just don’t want to waste my time with someone who thinks they can coast through everything. If I’m tutoring you, you might as well try.”
Heeseung leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, a glimmer of that familiar smirk returning. “So, you do care, but not because of me. Got it.”
You glared at him, but there was something in his expression—something that wasn’t the usual cocky arrogance. It was vulnerability, but it lasted only a moment before he buried it under his usual snark.
“I don’t care about your pride, Heeseung. I care about you getting a decent grade. You don’t have to keep acting like you’ve got everything figured out, because trust me—you don’t.”
Heeseung didn’t respond at first, but when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more serious than usual.
“I don’t need anyone’s help, alright?” He looked you in the eye, his expression hardening. “But I’m here because... maybe I want to try. Not for you. But for myself.”
You paused. That wasn’t what you were expecting. But instead of softening in the moment, you just shook your head.
“Then stop pretending it’s all easy. Focus, Heeseung. Or you’re not going to get anywhere.”
He stared at you for a long moment, his gaze unreadable, before his lips curled into that annoying half-smile.
“Fine,” he said, pushing the book back in front of him. “But don’t act like I’m going to be good at it just because you say so.”
“Don’t act like you’re above it, and we’ll get along just fine.”
Heeseung rolled his eyes, the motion so exaggerated that it almost looked like it hurt. “Yeah, yeah. Sure, genius. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
You just glared at him, but he didn’t seem to care. Instead, he grabbed a piece of parchment, uncaringly scribbling something down, his concentration on the paper only lasting a second. And then—of course—he crumpled it into a ball, smirking like a mischievous child.
Before you could even react, he flicked his wand, and the ball unfolded, neatly transformed into a paper plane. With another flick of his wand, he sent it sailing through the air.
It was perfect. Too perfect.
It flew across the table and landed with ease at a nearby group of girls who were quietly studying—or so you thought. They looked up, surprised at first, but as one of them picked up the paper, curiosity lit up in their eyes. She unfolded it, quickly scanning the message, then immediately burst into giggles. The others leaned in to read it, then broke into even louder giggles.
You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at the table, watching as they passed the note around. The girls all glanced at Heeseung, their giggles escalating.
Heeseung, as usual, couldn’t resist. He winked at them, a self-satisfied smirk tugging at his lips, before looking back at you.
You groaned, rubbing your temple in disbelief. "You’ve got to be kidding me."
Heeseung leaned back in his chair, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he casually surveyed the girls across the room, whose attention was now entirely on him.
“You know,” he drawled, his voice low, “you should stop groaning so much. It’s a little... distracting.”
You glared at him, but the look on his face told you he was only getting started. He leaned in, dropping his voice an octave lower as his eyes slowly traced over you—way too much attention for your liking.
“Tell me," he teased, voice dripping with mischief, “what other sounds can you make?”
You felt your heart jump in your chest, but you refused to let it show. Instead, you just crossed your arms, straightened your posture, and focused on the textbook in front of you, trying to act like he didn’t just pull your focus away from everything you were trying to do.
But then—damn him—he took his time eyeing you up and down, and that was when he did it: He bit his bottom lip slowly, like he knew exactly what that simple motion was doing to you.
You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks despite yourself. It was bad enough he was acting like this—completely insufferable. But the worst part? It was working.
You shook your head, pushing the feelings down. "You’re so annoying," you muttered, knowing full well you’d never get through this session if you kept reacting to his ridiculous antics.
He leaned back in his chair again, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Oh, don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t bite... unless you want me to.”
You wanted to throw your book at him. You really did. But you didn’t. Instead, you just rubbed your temples again, trying to keep your voice steady.
“You’re wasting my time, Heeseung. Focus.”
“Focus?” He arched an eyebrow at you. “I’m always focused. You’re the one with the fascinating reactions.”
You opened your mouth to snap back at him, but he was already standing, stretching his arms above his head, clearly in no hurry to actually do any of the work you’d assigned.
“What are you doing?” you asked through gritted teeth.
“Taking a break,” he said, flashing you another one of those infuriating smiles. “You’ve been at this for hours. Don’t tell me you don’t need one, too.”
Your fingers twitched toward your wand, ready to curse him into next week, but instead, you held yourself back. “I’m fine,” you said, voice tight. “You go ahead and enjoy your little break.”
He winked at you again before strolling over to the girls at the other table, as if they were more interesting than your study session—or you, for that matter.
And it drove you mad. He’d clearly given up on pretending to care about the lesson, and that annoyed you more than it should have.
You were left to grumble quietly under your breath, flipping through the pages of the textbook without really reading a word. You could feel the frustration building again. No matter how much you tried to focus, you kept thinking about how much easier it would be to just report Heeseung to Professor McGonagall and be done with it. The constant interruptions, the childish distractions—he was making it impossible to tutor him. But then again, you had agreed. You’d taken this on because you thought you could make him better, and you hated admitting when something was beyond your control.
But with every lesson that went by and with Heeseung clearly not caring, your patience was running thin. You had a reputation to protect, and you refused to let him make a mockery of that. But deep down, you were tired. And that was the part you hated the most, the fact that you did care, even if he didn’t seem to.
Lost in your thoughts, you barely even noticed the shift in the air around you. It wasn’t until you heard a voice call your name that you snapped out of it.
“Hey,” the voice was familiar—warm and friendly. “Mind if I sit?”
You blinked, looking up from your notes to see your friend Taesan sliding into the seat next to you.
“Taesan?” you muttered, surprised but relieved to see him. You hadn’t even realized you were so wound up. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, his voice light as he dropped his bag beside him and began pulling out his own materials. He looked over at the table where Heeseung was still chatting with the girls, the laughter from across the room not at all surprising to him. “Is that your project for the day?” He nodded toward your open Transfiguration textbook.
You snorted, rubbing the back of your neck as you forced yourself to relax. “You could say that. More like a hopeless case.”
Taesan raised an eyebrow. “A hopeless case? Someone finally getting under your skin?” He turned to look at Heeseung with a knowing glance. “I take it the charm of Mr. Unpredictable isn’t working in your favor?”
You sighed, closing the book with a snap, the frustration bubbling over despite your best efforts to hold it in. “Heeseung isn’t getting anywhere. He doesn’t even try. He just ignored me at first. But now, he’s making me look like a joke.”
“Sounds like he’s really pushing your buttons,” Taesan remarked, a teasing glint in his eyes. “But you’re not giving up, right? Because if you’re thinking of quitting, I’ll need to get some popcorn for this show.”
You rolled your eyes, but his words made you pause. You couldn’t give up, could you? Not after everything you’d put into trying to help him. You weren’t the type to throw in the towel—especially not now.
“I don’t know,” you muttered, almost to yourself. “He’s just making everything so much harder than it needs to be. I don’t know how much more I can do, Taesan. I’ve tried everything.”
Taesan leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head in that carefree way he always did, his expression suddenly serious. “You know, sometimes people act out because they’re scared. Or because they don’t want to face what’s right in front of them. Maybe that’s why Heeseung’s acting like such a... pain in the ass.” He looked at you, then back at Heeseung. “He might need someone to call him on his crap. But it’s clear that someone isn’t gonna be you unless you’re okay with taking the risk.”
You stared at him, unsure how to respond. “But I can’t just... let it slide. I’m responsible for this. I said I’d help him. If I bail now, I’d look like I can’t even keep my word.”
Taesan shrugged nonchalantly. “So what? If you need a break, you need a break. You’re not going to be able to help him if you’re burning out yourself.”
He had a point. You were burning out. It wasn’t just Heeseung—it was all the pressure you’d put on yourself to fix everything. You hadn’t realized how much it had been weighing on you until this moment.
Taesan smiled knowingly. “Look, whatever you decide, just remember that you don’t have to do it alone. Sometimes even the people who act like they don’t care the most are the ones who need help the most. But you can’t save him if you’re drowning yourself.”
You exhaled slowly, letting his words sink in. “I don’t even know how to start,” you said softly.
“Then start by letting go of the idea that you have to do it all,” Taesan said, giving you a reassuring look. “You don’t have to fix him. Just... let him find his own way. But you’ve got to stop trying to control everything. It’ll help.”
You were silent for a long moment, the weight of his words settling over you. Maybe you didn’t have to fix everything. Maybe you just needed to let Heeseung handle his own mess for once.
But you couldn’t help the lingering doubt. Was you stepping back enough? Would he finally get it?
Taesan snapped his fingers, pulling you from your thoughts. “Hey, we’re friends, right? So don’t think you’re getting away that easily. You are going to help me with Herbology later, right?”
You smiled, despite the lingering frustration. “Yeah, I guess I owe you one.”
He chuckled and nudged you with his shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”
Taesan's lighthearted smile pulled you out of your thoughts as you looked over at him. You couldn’t help but chuckle a little too. It felt good to just be with someone who didn’t make everything feel like a battle. He was calm, focused, and actually listened.
“Alright,” you said, shifting your attention to Taesan’s Herbology assignment, “let’s see what you’ve got.”
He grinned sheepishly, pulling out a parchment covered in messy notes. “I know, I know, I’ve been slacking on this. Help me out, yeah?”
You couldn’t help but smile at him. “I’ll give you the basics. The rest is on you.”
The two of you spent the next while reviewing the material together—practical plant care, the finer points of herbology ingredients, and their magical uses. The difference between working with Taesan and Heeseung was night and day. Taesan actually engaged with the lesson, asked questions when he was confused, and gave you his full attention. It felt like a relief. You were able to help him piece everything together, and you even managed to finish his assignment far faster than you’d expected.
“So,” Taesan said, setting down his quill, “how’d I do?”
You reviewed his work with a critical eye before nodding. “Better than usual. Just pay more attention to the details next time, but overall, not bad.”
Taesan looked pleased, but then his smile faltered slightly as he glanced over your shoulder. You heard the familiar sound of footsteps, and despite your best efforts to ignore it, you knew exactly who it was before you even turned around.
Heeseung.
And the look on his face made your stomach drop.
He wasn’t mad, per se, but his gaze was sharp—like a storm brewing just behind those dark eyes. And more importantly, he wasn’t happy to see Taesan sitting there.
Taesan, ever the easygoing one, noticed the shift in Heeseung’s demeanor and raised an eyebrow. “Did I miss something, or is there a problem, Heeseung?”
Heeseung’s gaze flicked between you and Taesan, his jaw tightening for a brief second before he forced a smirk onto his face. “No problem,” he said, his voice too casual to be genuine. “I just didn’t realize you two were so cozy.”
You could feel your nerves tingle, and you noticed Taesan’s posture shift slightly. You quickly turned to face Heeseung, trying to keep your voice steady.
“You’re late,” you said, keeping the irritation from creeping in. “Did you finally get done with your ‘break’?”
Heeseung didn’t answer you right away. Instead, he glanced back at Taesan again, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “I didn’t think I needed an invitation to join the fun, but I see you’ve found someone else to entertain you.” His eyes narrowed slightly as he continued, “You sure he’s... worthy of your time?”
Taesan didn’t even flinch at the insinuation. He leaned back in his chair, clearly unfazed by Heeseung’s attempt at intimidation. “I don’t need your approval, mate. We were just talking—something you might want to try more of.”
You could feel the tension crackling between them. It wasn’t the first time Heeseung had been possessive or thrown a subtle jab, but you couldn’t help the growing sense of discomfort that settled in your chest.
“I’m here to study, not to deal with this,” you said, cutting in before things escalated any further. You stood up, setting your quill down with a little more force than necessary. “Heeseung, sit down. Let’s get this over with.”
Heeseung looked at you for a long moment, his face unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he did as you asked. He pulled out the seat across from you, though he was clearly still holding a grudge.
You sat back down, trying to ignore the tense atmosphere between him and Taesan, who was now staring Heeseung down with the same quiet defiance. There was a moment where you thought Heeseung might open his mouth and throw a remark, but then, he just sighed.
“Fine,” he muttered, dropping his bag on the table and flipping open his textbook. “Let’s get this over with.”
The silence that followed was thick with unspoken words. Taesan, sensing that things had shifted enough, gave you a small, almost apologetic smile before standing up to gather his things. “I’m gonna head out. Looks like you’ve got this under control,” he said, his tone still light, though there was a knowing edge to it.
You nodded gratefully, smiling back at him. “Thanks, Taesan. Don’t worry about me.”
Taesan gave you a casual wave before heading toward the door, leaving you alone with Heeseung.
Once he was gone, the tension in the air thickened. Heeseung didn’t look at you, instead focusing on the book in front of him, but you could feel the way his mood had shifted. The easygoing act was gone. Now, it was just the two of you, and for the first time in a long time, you weren’t sure how this was going to go.
“So,” you said, trying to fill the awkward silence, “ready to focus?”
Heeseung didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he turned his attention to the textbook in front of him, flipping through the pages with surprising focus. For a moment, the only sound was the rustling of parchment and the quiet humming from Heeseung. You waited, unsure of whether you should prod further or just let him work.
To your surprise, he muttered something under his breath, then pointed his wand at the textbook, murmuring the incantation. You had expected him to stumble, as he had so many times before. But when he flicked his wrist, the transformation happened on the first try. The object on the table shifted seamlessly—just like it was supposed to.
You blinked, staring at him for a moment, before glancing at the textbook. It was perfect.
“Did you... just—?” You couldn’t even finish your question, your surprise evident in your voice.
Heeseung didn’t seem fazed at all. He shrugged nonchalantly, dropping his wand onto the table with a casual gesture. “Yeah. First try. I’m not completely hopeless, you know.”
Your mind raced, trying to make sense of it. For the last few days, you’d been ready to give up on him, thinking he was either not trying or just plain incapable. But this? This was... different.
“You’ve been holding back, haven’t you?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him. Something didn’t sit right. It was too easy, too quick for someone who had been struggling with the incantations for so long.
Heeseung glanced at you with a bored expression, as if he couldn’t care less about your suspicion. “No, I just didn’t feel like trying before. But if you want me to pass, guess I have to get serious.” He said it like it was no big deal, like it was nothing.
You stared at him, speechless for a moment, before you caught yourself. This wasn’t the Heeseung you were used to. No, this one was determined. And the fact that he’d done it so effortlessly made you wonder just how much of his previous behavior was an act.
“You’re telling me you’ve been pretending this whole time?” You couldn’t quite hide the incredulity in your voice. “You’ve been messing around just for fun?”
Heeseung met your gaze, his expression unreadable. “Maybe,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards into a small, mischievous smile. “Or maybe I just didn’t think you’d be able to handle it.”
You felt a sharp pang of annoyance rise up. “Handle it? You’ve been wasting my time with this nonsense?”
Heeseung’s smile widened slightly, but there was no mockery in it. “Well, it’s not like I’ve been completely wasting your time,” he said lightly. “Look at you. You’ve been pushing yourself so hard, just to fix me. And now... well, now you get to see that I’m capable of more than you think.”
For a split second, you were caught off guard by the way he said it. His words weren’t condescending, nor were they playful in the usual way.
You sighed, rubbing your temple. “This is so much more complicated than I thought.”
Heeseung leaned back in his chair, looking at you with an unreadable expression. “Life is complicated. You should know that by now.”
And with that, he grabbed his wand again, flicking it casually at the book in front of him, demonstrating the spell again, as if to prove a point.
Again, there was no hesitation in his movements. Just a simple, clean transformation of the object on the page.
You had to admit it—he’d done it again. Perfectly.
You couldn't help but feel a bit unnerved. Was Heeseung really just playing you the whole time? Or was there something else going on here? Either way, you had no idea what to make of it.
“Alright, you’re done,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. “Just... don’t let it go to your head.”
Heeseung didn’t respond at first, but you could feel his gaze on you as he packed away his things. When he did speak, it was quieter than before, almost... serious.
“I’m just getting started...”
It was the first time he’d said anything without his usual swagger. And it sent a ripple of unease through you.
It was much easier for you to get Heeseung to focus after that day. His sudden progress—effortless and unnerving—was like a shift in the universe that made everything feel just a bit off. He listened now, followed instructions without teasing, and actually managed to nail every single spell you demonstrated. For once, he wasn’t playing games. The lessons were no longer frustrating. They were... manageable.
But you couldn’t shake the suspicion that had wormed its way into your mind.
It was too much of a coincidence that Heeseung’s sudden motivation came right after he saw you with Taesan. And it wasn’t like you were blind. You knew there was something between them. You weren’t stupid. The way Heeseung would glare at Taesan, the tension between them—it was obvious.
You could tell from their interactions that there was a rivalry, maybe even something more personal. The small comments Heeseung had made, the way he’d been on edge when he saw Taesan at the library, it didn’t take much to piece it together. You weren’t used to meddling in other people’s business, but this situation had you curious. You weren’t sure if it was just Heeseung being... Heeseung, or if there was something else at play.
So, you did what anyone would do when they were curious: you asked Taesan.
It wasn’t hard to find him. He was sitting at a table in the Great Hall, eating with a few friends. You walked over and slid into the seat across from him, giving him a small smile.
"Hey," you said casually, your voice low so the others wouldn’t overhear. "I need to ask you something."
Taesan looked up from his meal, pausing when he saw the seriousness on your face. “Sure, what’s up?”
You glanced over at Heeseung, who was sitting at a table nearby, surrounded by his usual crowd. He looked as smug as ever, but you couldn’t miss the way his eyes flickered to you and Taesan for a moment.
“Is there something going on between you and Heeseung?” you asked bluntly, cutting straight to the point.
Taesan blinked at you in surprise, but then he chuckled, shaking his head. “You noticed, huh?”
“Of course I did. You two are clearly not on the best terms. What’s going on?”
Taesan leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful for a moment before he spoke. "We’re rivals. Quidditch rivals, to be exact." He shrugged nonchalantly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You know the competition, right? He’s a Chaser, I’m the Seeker. We’ve been going at it for years.”
You raised an eyebrow. "Quidditch? That’s it?"
Taesan chuckled again, this time with a bit more warmth. “It’s more than just the game. There’s... a bit of history between us. It goes beyond the pitch. We’ve always been at odds. Heeseung likes to act like he’s all carefree and cool, but trust me, there’s a lot of pride under that laid-back act.”
You couldn’t help but frown at that. Of course Heeseung had pride. You’d seen it firsthand. But you didn’t realize how much of it was tied up in something as simple as a rivalry. It felt deeper than that, more personal.
So you leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. “You said it goes beyond the pitch. What did you mean by that? What history?”
Taesan let out a long, tired sigh, raking a hand through his hair. He looked like he was debating whether or not to tell you, but in the end, he gave in with a shrug.
“It’s stupid, really,” he muttered. “But back in fourth year, there was… a girl.”
You blinked. “A girl?”
“Yeah,” he said, glancing at you as if gauging your reaction. “She wasn’t just any girl, either. She was brilliant—top of her class in Charms, wicked on a broomstick, and not afraid to throw a Bat-Bogey Hex at anyone who crossed her. Both Heeseung and I were… interested.”
You stared at him, trying to picture it. Heeseung chasing after someone with the same chaos and cocky charm he always wore like a badge. And Taesan—calm, composed Taesan—competing alongside him? That was a dynamic you hadn’t imagined before.
“So… what happened?” you asked slowly.
“We both tried to win her over,” Taesan explained, his voice laced with the bitterness of old memory. “It got competitive fast. Dumb things. Dueling in secret, trying to outshine each other in class, showing off during Quidditch matches. She didn’t pick either of us in the end.”
You tilted your head, brows furrowed. “Why not?”
“She got expelled,” he said flatly.
Your eyes widened. “Wait—what?”
Taesan nodded, a bit grimly. “Turns out she was experimenting with some really dangerous spells. Things that weren’t exactly legal. Word got out. She was caught with a restricted book and some potion ingredients that she shouldn't have had access to. Boom. Gone. Just like that.”
You sat there in stunned silence, processing that. “And neither of you knew?”
“Not a clue,” Taesan admitted. “We were both so wrapped up in competing, we didn’t even realize what she was up to. After that, everything between me and Heeseung just… soured. It stopped being friendly competition. It turned personal. Real fast.”
You looked over at Heeseung’s table again, at the way he leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head, laughing at something one of his mates said. You never would’ve guessed a story like that lived behind the easy smirks and constant flirting.
“Merlin,” you muttered under your breath.
Taesan gave you a wry smile. “Told you it was stupid.”
“It’s kind of tragic,” you said honestly.
“Yeah, well, so is being stuck tutoring him,” Taesan joked, nudging you with his elbow again. “You’ve got patience. I’ll give you that.”
You huffed, more to yourself than anyone else. Because the more you learned, the less simple Heeseung became. And for someone who liked things to be controlled and straightforward… you had a feeling you were walking right into the storm without even meaning to.
You were mid-grumble, muttering something to Taesan about prideful idiots and hopeless causes when you suddenly felt it—that eerie, unmistakable tingle of someone standing directly behind you. Too close. Too quiet.
Taesan’s eyes flicked up from his plate, a small smile pulling at his lips.
“Oh—Heeseung.”
Wait. What?
Your heart stuttered.
Heeseung was right behind you?
Before you could turn, before you could even react, strong arms wrapped around you from behind, and you were abruptly pulled to your feet with a surprised yelp that got caught in your throat. Your back hit a solid chest—his chest—and before you could squirm away, he had you trapped there, completely engulfed in his arms like this was a normal thing. Like this was something he always did.
“What are you two gossiping about, hmm?” His voice was low, teasing, warm against your ear.
You blinked, stunned, a thousand questions swirling in your head—but your body was locked up, frozen by the sudden contact, by how close he was, by how tight his grip had become around your waist. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t loose. It was possessive. Like he dared you to even think about slipping out of his grasp.
Taesan just chuckled from across the table, completely unbothered. “Nothing much. Just how tragic it is that someone needs tutoring in the first place.”
You could hear the grin in Heeseung’s voice. “Ah, I’m sure you’re both having a lovely little bonding moment over my academic struggles.”
“We were,” Taesan said casually. “Right up until you crashed it.”
You tried to move—just a little. But Heeseung’s arm only tightened, pressing you a fraction closer, like he was trying to make a point.
“Comfortable?” he murmured, eyes probably dancing with amusement.
You finally managed to find your voice, though it came out a bit strangled. “Heeseung. Let go.”
He didn’t. Instead, he dipped his head, speaking just loud enough for you to hear. “You smell like cinnamon.”
You almost choked.
“Heeseung.” You tried again, firmer this time, ignoring the burning in your cheeks.
But he didn’t budge. If anything, his hold on you tightened subtly, his mouth lowering just enough that his breath brushed the shell of your ear.
“You know,” he murmured, voice low and smooth like velvet, “you get this little crease between your eyebrows when you’re annoyed… it’s kind of cute.”
You stiffened.
“And when you blush,” he continued, tilting his head closer until his nose nearly brushed your jaw, “it climbs all the way to your ears. Like right now.”
Your breath hitched—barely, but enough.
Taesan, ever the gentleman—or maybe just wisely pretending not to see anything—went back to his food with a quiet hum, though you noticed the small smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth.
You tried to wriggle free again, but Heeseung was already turning you slightly, his arm sliding around your waist, guiding you like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Come on,” he said softly, lips still far too close to your skin. “You’re too tense. Let's get some air.”
“Heeseung—”
“Shh,” he said, the sound near your ear making your skin erupt in goosebumps. “You’ll thank me.”
And before you could protest again, he was steering you smoothly out of the Great Hall like it was his own personal ballroom and you were a dance partner he’d claimed without asking.
You glanced behind you in disbelief, catching Taesan’s knowing gaze as he lazily chewed on a piece of toast and lifted a subtle eyebrow, like told you so.
Heeseung didn’t stop until you were halfway down a corridor just outside the Hall, where the hum of voices faded behind you and the only sound was the soft echo of your shoes against the stone floor.
“Can you let go now?” you muttered, though your voice wasn’t nearly as sharp as it should’ve been. It came out softer than you intended, too laced with the breathlessness he always seemed to draw out of you—like he knew exactly how to unravel your composure.
He didn’t move at first.
Heeseung just looked at you, head tilted slightly, eyes flicking across your face as if he was reading something only he could see. “No,” he said finally, voice low. “Not yet.”
You blinked. “Why not?”
His grip around your waist loosened, but only so he could trail his fingers along the side of your arm. “Because the second I do, you’re going to run,” he murmured. “And I’m not done messing with you yet.”
You stared at him, heart pounding. “I’m not some game, Heeseung.”
His gaze softened for a fleeting second. “I know.”
Then—just like that—his expression shifted again. That cocky grin returned, sharp and smug. “But I do like the way you play.”
You scoffed, trying to push away from him, but he caught your wrist gently before you could take a step back.
“Relax,” he said. “I’m not dragging you into a dungeon. I just wanted you away from him.”
Your eyes narrowed. “Taesan?”
Heeseung rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Quidditch boy. With the puppy eyes and that little half-smile like he’s the good guy in a tragic romance. Please.”
You gaped at him, stunned. “Are you jealous?”
Heeseung laughed—loud, unbothered, head tipping back just a little as the sound echoed off the stone walls. “Jealous? Trust me, princess,” he said, flashing you a lazy grin, “if I was jealous, you wouldn’t be standing all prim and proper like this.”
Your brows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He tilted his head slightly, eyes dark with mischief, and in a low, velvety whisper he said, “You know exactly what I mean.”
You stiffened. Your lips parted, but no words came out.
Because Merlin help you, you did know what he meant.
Heeseung’s gaze dragged down the line of your body and then right back up, settling on your mouth for a fraction too long before he smirked again—like he’d just won a game you didn’t know you were playing.
Your heart was thudding in your ears, heat climbing your neck as you instinctively crossed your arms—whether to shield yourself from his gaze or stop yourself from grabbing him by the collar, you weren’t entirely sure.
Damn him. Damn him and his stupid face and his stupid voice and his stupid everything.
You clenched your jaw, staring hard at the empty stretch of corridor ahead of you instead of the very real, very smug boy standing beside you. If you looked at him now—if you met his eyes—you knew you’d lose the last ounce of control you were holding onto by a thread.
“For what reason exactly,” you eventually bit out, “did you drag me out of the Great Hall like some deranged lunatic?”
Heeseung only hummed, hands casually stuffed in his pockets like he hadn’t just manhandled you in front of half the school. “Hmm… good question.”
You turned to him sharply, fully prepared to tear into him again, when he finally moved.
With an exaggerated sigh, he pulled something out of his pocket—a folded parchment, slightly crinkled at the edges—and held it out between two fingers like he was offering you a sweet.
You blinked, hesitated, then snatched it from him, unfolding it with a frown.
Your eyes scanned the page once. Then twice.
It was his most recent Transfiguration assignment. The same one Professor McGonagall had assigned last week. The one you’d spent literal hours preparing him for—between all the teasing, the distractions, and your mounting frustration.
You stared at it in disbelief, lips parting slightly. “You…”
And there it was. In neat, slanted handwriting at the top of the parchment:
Outstanding.
Heeseung leaned against the wall again, smug as ever. “I know. Don’t look so shocked. Hurts my feelings.”
“But you—” You looked back down at the parchment, flipping it over like maybe it was a trick. Like maybe he’d bribed the house elves to forge it. “You barely paid attention. You threw a paper plane across the table, for Merlin’s sake.”
“And still managed to impress McGonagall,” he said, voice lined with pride. “Maybe I just needed the right kind of motivation.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Me threatening to quit tutoring?”
He grinned. “You sitting next to Quidditch boy with the doe eyes.”
You flushed instantly. “It’s not like that.”
“Didn’t say it was,” Heeseung said lightly, pushing off the wall and stepping closer again, chin tilted just slightly as he watched you—like he was trying to read something from your face. “But maybe I didn’t like it.”
You folded the parchment and shoved it back into his chest, scowling at the way your heart thudded. "Idiot."
You had found the perfect form of motivation for Heeseung to actually study and learn.
And that motivation?
Taesan.
It was ridiculous how fast Heeseung would straighten up, stop doodling, and actually focus the second Taesan entered the picture. Just the sight of the other boy sitting beside you, exchanging notes or laughing at something you'd said, was enough to turn Heeseung into the most attentive student Hogwarts had ever seen. Wand out, quill ready, eyes glued to the parchment like he had something to prove. And in a way… he did.
Only downside?
You felt horribly guilty for using Taesan. Not that he minded. In fact, he was thrilled to play along.
"Anything to get under Heeseung’s skin," he'd said with a wink one afternoon, leaning a little closer to you on purpose. "And if I get to spend time with you too? Bonus."
It made you laugh—awkward and a bit flustered—but it worked. Every. Single. Time. Heeseung would visibly bristle, jaw tight, mouth twitching with words he didn’t say. He never said it, but you knew.
Because the second Taesan was gone, the aftermath began with Heeseung.
Cause he suddenly acted like he'd laid a claim on you.
That was the only way you could describe it.
Suddenly he was everywhere—next to you in the corridors, walking you to class even when he had somewhere else to be, sitting close enough during tutoring that your knees brushed under the table. He started calling you his tutor in a tone that left no room for argument. When people passed by and looked too long, he would casually drape an arm over your chair, or mutter something low like, “Should we give them a show?”
You told him to shut up.
You told him to stop.
But you didn’t move away.
And that was the real problem, wasn’t it?
Because you stopped wanting to. And you hated it.
You hated how easily Heeseung got under your skin, how his smirks lingered in your mind long after he was gone, how the scent of his cologne clung to your robe whenever he leaned in too close. You hated that you were supposed to be the composed one—the logical, focused, untouchable one.
But then he’d tilt his head and say something like, “You missed me, didn’t you?” and you’d feel like your entire body betrayed you with one stupid skip of your heart.
It became a pattern. He’d be an asshole in front of Taesan, smug and dramatic, acting like the library was his personal performance stage and you were his muse.
You told yourself it was the game. Just tension from tutoring and competition. Just hormones.
But it didn’t explain the way he looked at you now, the way he acted around you now.
You caught him once, watching you too intently as you explained something. Your words faltered mid-sentence, and his mouth quirked up into something soft, almost fond.
And when he wasn’t throwing smug glances or making comments under his breath that had no right making your face warm, he was staring at you like he wanted to memorize you.
Like he already had.
“What?” you mumbled.
“Nothing,” he said, eyes twinkling. “Just… I don’t think you even realize it, do you?”
“Realize what?”
He just leaned back in his chair and grinned.
“How fun it is to be yours.”
And you swore your heart forgot how to beat.
You actually almost slipped once.
It had been one of those quieter study sessions—no Taesan, no distractions, just the two of you tucked into the corner of the library where no one really went after hours. You had your notes spread out, a well-worn Transfiguration text open between you, and Heeseung was shockingly cooperative that evening.
At least at first.
He was sitting beside you—closer than usual. So close your legs were almost touching beneath the table, and your arms kept brushing whenever you reached for your quill or turned a page. You told yourself it didn’t matter. You told yourself you were used to it by now. You were fine.
But then he leaned in.
You didn’t even notice at first—too busy flipping to the next chapter and scribbling notes—but then his shoulder pressed against yours, and the heat of him was right there, and before you could even blink, he was so close.
You turned to say something—maybe a snarky comment, maybe a reminder to focus—and froze.
He was already looking at you.
Both of your faces were so close, your noses practically brushed. The words caught in your throat, completely useless now as you felt his breath fan across your cheek.
Heeseung inhaled slowly, like even the scent of you was enough to short-circuit his brain.
And then he looked down at your lips.
Your gaze dropped too—without thinking, without meaning to—and Merlin, it was like everything in the room stopped. The flickering candlelight, the soft scratch of parchment from nearby students, even the voice of Madam Pince scolding students.
Nothing moved.
You didn’t move.
And Heeseung?
If he leaned in even half an inch more, you weren’t sure what you’d do.
But your body knew.
And that was what terrified you most.
But as you and Heeseung locked eyes again, that fear that felt so suffocating a moment ago seemed to melt away.
It felt like a slow-moving storm, the kind that doesn’t give you a chance to prepare. You could feel his breath brushing against your skin, the steady rise and fall of his chest as his gaze dropped to your lips once again.
You both leaned in so slow at first that it felt like the longest moment of your life.
Heeseung’s hand moved, fingers brushing against the table, as if he was hesitating, waiting for something, or maybe waiting for you. You didn’t know. All you could focus on was the fact that every inch of space between you was slowly disappearing.
And then, in that instant, your lips almost touched—just the smallest gap left between you, the air thick with tension, and you could’ve sworn you heard your own heart pounding in your ears.
"Stop," you whispered.
The word didn’t even sound like it came from your mouth. It was too quiet, too shaky, too unconvincing.
Heeseung’s lips quirked into that familiar, maddening grin, though it was different now—softer.
“You don’t really want me to stop,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, yet the tone sent a shiver down your spine.
You agreed with him breathlessly, the words slipping out before you even realized you’d said them. “No... I don’t.”
The moment you agreed, his hand, which had been lingering beside you, slowly slid to the back of your neck, fingers brushing against your skin with just the right amount of pressure. You inhaled sharply as he gently cupped the nape of your neck, his thumb tracing circles that made your skin prickle.
Before you could think, he closed the distance between you, his lips pressed softly against yours. It was almost like he was claiming you, but there was something tender in the way he moved, as if he was savoring the moment. Like he was savoring you.
You couldn’t pull away. Not that you wanted to. Everything in you was telling you to let go, to lean into it, and so you did. You let yourself fall into the kiss, hands trembling as they reached for him—one resting against his chest, the other finding its way into his hair.
Heeseung’s other hand slipped around to your back, pulling you closer until there was no space between you at all. Your breath mingled with his, shallow and fast, and the kiss deepened, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. You were losing yourself to him. The way he tasted, the way he moved, the way his body fit so perfectly against yours.
You clung to him, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt, as if you needed him to ground you. Every little touch, every movement, felt like it was pulling you deeper into the moment, and you couldn’t fight it, not anymore. Heeseung’s groan escaped quietly, his body slightly tensing as he responded to your touch.
He paused for a split second, pulling away just enough to catch his breath. His gaze was dark, almost like he was fighting with himself, but he didn’t let go of you.
His lips ghosted over your cheek, just a gentle caress, and then he whispered, “You’re making this harder than it needs to be…”
You could only nod slightly, too lost in the sensation of him against you to form coherent words. It felt so... right in a way you hadn’t expected.
Heeseung’s hand rested on your waist, a steady pressure that kept you close, yet he wasn’t pushing any further. And then, as if he had suddenly realized how dangerously close you both were to crossing a line, he leaned back slightly.
“Maybe we should... slow down,” he murmured, eyes never leaving yours, though his voice was still thick, like he wasn’t completely ready to let go of this moment either.
You shook your head, the words barely leaving your lips before you found yourself closing the distance again, your mouth finding his in a fierce kiss.
“No,” you mumbled against his lips, your voice breathless, almost desperate.
Heeseung let out a low, frustrated curse, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he kissed you back with a force that made your knees weak. His hands roamed, pulling you even closer, as if he couldn’t get enough of the closeness either. His lips were insistent, hungry, and you responded in kind, losing yourself again.
Everything about this felt like a blur. The way his body pressed against yours, the heat between you two, the quiet noises of your breath and his mixed together. There was nothing but him and the way he made you feel, like you could finally let go of all the tension that had built up between you.
But just as quickly as it had started, Heeseung slowed the kiss, pulling back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours as both of you tried to regain some composure.
“You’re trouble,” he muttered, still catching his breath, a small, amused smirk tugging at his lips.
You agreed with him dazed, your voice barely a whisper. “I know.”
It wasn’t a lie. You were trouble. You wanted trouble. And right now, you didn’t want to fight it. You were a woman of control, always calculating, always careful. But at that moment, you wanted to lose that control. You wanted him to take it. Heeseung had a way of making everything else feel insignificant—like all the careful walls you’d built around yourself were nothing compared to the pull of his presence.
And when you felt his hand slip to your waist, pulling you even closer, his lips pressing to your neck, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want to fight it anymore. You needed him to take control.
His lips trailed down the curve of your neck, and you couldn’t help but shiver, your breath hitching as he kissed the sensitive skin there. You could feel his smirk against your skin as if he knew exactly what he was doing, how much power he held in this moment.
"Isn’t it fun letting everything go," he murmured against your skin, his words making your pulse quicken. You barely registered that he’d stopped speaking before he pulled you into another kiss.
The warmth of his body pressed into yours as his hands slid down to your hips, fingers brushing lightly before tightening as he pulled you even closer. He was taking control, and every part of you responded to it, eager, willing.
Heeseung’s kisses became more deliberate, teasing, as he moved his lips lower, his hands guiding you effortlessly, making you forget everything but the sensation of him. You felt like you were falling, and you didn’t want to stop.
“You’re going to make me lose my mind,” you murmured, barely keeping it together.
Heeseung only chuckled, a dark, teasing sound that sent another wave of heat through you. "That’s the plan," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear before he kissed the sensitive spot just below it.
It was too much and not enough all at once. You could feel your heart racing, your breath uneven. Heeseung wasn’t just teasing anymore—he was making sure you didn’t have a single ounce of control left to cling to.
And, strangely enough, you didn’t want it back.
Heeseung's lips never left your skin, trailing slow, teasing kisses down your neck as his hands explored the curve of your waist, pulling you tighter against him. He wasn’t in a rush. No, he was savoring every second, every shiver that passed through you. His breath against your skin made you tremble, but his words did something entirely different.
"You’re such a good tutor," he whispered, voice low and laced with amusement. "Kept up with me so well. But I have to say, it’s funny how easy it is to make you crumble."
You felt the heat in your cheeks spread, your pulse quickening, but you couldn’t decide if it was from embarrassment or desire. His words were like a cruel taunt, yet they stirred something in you, something that was both humbling and arousing. You wanted to hide from the way he made you feel, but at the same time, the compliments mixed with his teasing sent a rush through your body that was impossible to ignore.
He kissed along the edge of your jaw, his lips brushing against your skin with deliberate slowness. "You're good at pretending to be in control," he continued, his voice turning darker. "But I can see it, can feel it... how easily you let go when I touch you, like a little defenseless kitty."
You clenched your fists at your sides, trying to maintain your composure, but it was getting harder to hide the way your body betrayed you. The way your breath hitched when he whispered those words, how his touch made your thoughts scatter. You wanted to tell him to stop, to pull away but the way he made you feel… it was like nothing else mattered anymore.
And then, as if he could sense your internal struggle, he pulled back just slightly, eyes dark, smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “You know, it’s cute when you try to pretend you’re not enjoying this,” he teased, voice low, almost a growl. “But I think we both know better.”
You couldn't meet his gaze. You couldn’t even bring yourself to speak, feeling too exposed, too vulnerable, too lost in the way he had turned your emotions inside out.
You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the heat of the moment swallow you whole. Heeseung had this uncanny ability to unravel you, to make you forget everything you had ever tried to control. He was playing with you, juggling your emotions with a skill that left you confused, unsure of where you stood, but completely under his spell.
Heeseung’s smirk only widened as he noticed the way you struggled to hold your ground. His hand slid lower, just enough to make you tense, his thumb brushing the curve of your waist in a way that made your breath catch.
“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’ve been pretending all this time, haven’t you?”
He leaned in closer, his lips grazing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as he whispered, “You think you can handle me, don’t you? But you’re already cracking. You’re already letting me win.”
Heeseung’s hands were everywhere now—one still at your waist, the other now threading through your hair, tilting your head back as if he owned you. His lips brushed against your neck, and his teeth nipped at your skin, causing you to gasp.
"Don’t act like you don’t like it," he whispered, low and threatening. "You think I can’t see it? How easily I can make you forget all that control you love so much." His grip on you tightened, holding you in place as he added, “You thought you had everything under control, huh? But you’re nothing but a perfect little puppet on a string."
You felt the sting of his words, sharp and cutting but there was something about it that made you flush even more. Something about the way he made you feel both degraded and desired at the same time.
"You’re so good at pretending, but you can’t hide from me," he murmured, his voice dripping with fake sugary honey. "I see the way you need me. How badly you want me to break you down, make you lose control. I’ll take my time with you, though. Make you beg for it.”
His words were cruel, but the way he said them, the way his fingers gripped your jaw to force you to look at him, made it clear that he wasn’t going to stop until he had you exactly where he wanted.
And despite the warning bells ringing in your mind, part of you couldn’t help but lean into him, your body betraying you even as you tried to hold on to your last shred of control.
You hated chaos. You hated messy. You hated unpredictability and recklessness.
You thrived on control, on order, on being able to predict every outcome, to mold everything to fit into neat little categories.
But when it was all smashed together in a person, when it was him, something you couldn’t tame, something you couldn’t figure out no matter how much you tried?
Oh, how you loved it so much.
It was maddening, infuriating, and yet... addicting.
Heeseung was everything you hated. He was unpredictable. He was reckless, and he didn’t care who saw it. He didn’t care what anyone thought, least of all you. And it drove you insane. It made your blood boil, but it also made your heart race in ways you couldn’t explain.
With every teasing word, every touch, every taunt, he peeled away at your control until there was nothing left but the raw need that had taken root deep within you. He made you ache in a way that was both pleasurable and frustrating, like being trapped in a whirlwind that you couldn’t escape but didn’t want to.
You couldn’t help but crave him—crave the chaos he brought, even though it scared the hell out of you. The way he made you feel alive in a way that no amount of control or precision ever could.
You didn’t want to be in control anymore.
You wanted him.
Because as much as you hated chaos, it felt so damn good when it was with him.
You wanted the chaos he offered, the unpredictability of him. Because, somehow, with him you were starting to find pieces of yourself you didn’t even know you’d lost somewhere along the way. And for once, you didn’t care.
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statusᝰ.ᐟ 2/9 completed!
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it has been a week since you got the message.
seven days since your phone lit up with his user for the first time. seven days since those words slid across your screen and rewired the chemistry in your chest—since that simple, perfect sentence cracked something open inside of you and refused to let it close again.
god, you were so fucking hot. why don’t you let me see what more you’re capable of doing?
you didn’t answer at first. not out of disinterest or shock, but because your breath caught in your throat and refused to let go. because your body lit up in a way it hadn’t in years. because the sudden heat that flooded your skin felt so raw, so consuming, you didn’t know if it came from fear or desire or both. you stared at the message in the dark of your room, the sound of your breath uneven, your fingers hovering over the screen like it might burn you.
and then you said yes.
you haven’t looked away from him since.
you haven’t stopped thinking about the way his voice curls into your ears, low and patient and warm with something just shy of menace—how he never tries to impress you, never tries to talk himself up, just says what he means and means what he says. you still haven’t seen his face. not fully. he’s careful with his camera, careful with his angles, his hair always falling into the frame and covering the details that might make him feel too real. but that doesn’t matter. because it’s not his face that made you agree.
he told you his name on the third night. not dramatically. not as a reveal. just tucked into the middle of a message like a comma.
heeseung.
thought you should know.
and that was it. no last name. no photos. no follow-up. and for some reason, that made you trust it more.
the days since then have been slow and fast in turns. mornings feel stretched out, your body heavy with anticipation you don’t know how to burn off. nights feel electric—your phone screen the only light in the room, your fingers trembling as you read and reread everything he sends. he’s not always sweet. he’s not always careful. but he always makes you feel seen. he always reminds you that you said yes. and you keep saying yes, over and over, in every message you return.
until this morning, when the yes had to become real.
because today’s the day. tonight’s the night. and he’s waiting.
your bag is half-packed. your body is half-numb. you’ve been staring into your closet for twenty minutes now, unsure of what it means to dress for someone who’s already seen you at your most bare—someone who watched you fall apart in silence, whose voice sat in your head while your fingers pushed deeper into yourself than they ever had before.
he told you to bring whatever makes you feel good.
and you wish you knew what that was.
you tug down a black lace lingerie, something you bought months ago and never wore—something that felt too bold, too obvious, too much skin. you smooth it out over your bed with slow, reverent hands, then lay a silk robe beside it. then another option. then another. the pile grows until it looks more like you’re preparing to become someone else than getting dressed. because maybe that’s what this is. not a costume. not a mask. but a version of yourself that hasn’t been touched yet. one that only lives in the shadow of a camera light.
you fold everything slowly. precise. intentional. like the way you pack will dictate the way he undresses you.
be ready by 7.
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you don’t remember the drive—not in any clear way, not in the kind of way that leaves images you can describe. you remember the sound of your bag shifting across the seat beside you, the constant press of your thighs against each other beneath your hoodie, the way your fingers curled into the hem like they were holding on for stability. you remember the driver didn’t speak, and you were grateful. you didn’t think you could have formed a sentence anyway. the city moved around you in streaks and shadows, lights bleeding into the windows like soft threats, buildings you couldn’t name passing in patterns you didn’t register. your stomach stays tight the whole way, curled in on itself with the kind of heat that makes you feel nauseous, but not sick. it wasn’t fear in the way most people feel fear. it was quieter. heavier. like your body was preparing itself for something it had never done before, but had already decided it would endure.
the car slows, and you know before the driver says anything that you’ve arrived. something in your chest drops, cold and sudden, and it stays there as you look out the window. the building is sleek. modern. smooth walls and quiet lighting. tall glass that reflects just enough to keep the inside hidden. it looks expensive. clinical. the kind of place people rent for short terms, the kind of place that doesn’t hold stories—just moments.
your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you flinch even though you were expecting it.
unit 603.
you stare at the words, fingers gripping your phone tighter than you mean to. your eyes trace the message once, then again. it’s not dramatic. not aggressive. just information. a direction. a point of no return.
your lips part. not to speak—just to breathe. just to test if you still can. you turn your head toward the driver, your mouth opens like you might ask him to keep going, to turn the car around, to pretend none of this happened. maybe you’ll say you made a mistake. maybe you’ll lie and say you have the wrong building. maybe you won’t say anything at all—you’ll just go home, crawl into bed, and forget that this ever felt real enough to chase. but you don’t. the air stays trapped in your throat, and the words never come.
because you remember why you’re here.
you remember the numbers at the bottom of your bank statement. you remember the rent due in four days. you remember the red stamp on that envelope and the way you stood in the corner of your kitchen with your heart thudding so loud it felt like it might shake your teeth loose. you remember your first video—the shaky way your hands touched your skin, the breathy little moans you tried to bite back, the way your legs trembled when you came—and how that one night covered groceries for the week. the one that paid for a quarter of your tuition bill. you remember the messages. the tips. the strange little thrill that came with being seen.
so you open the door and step out into the cold.
the night wraps around you immediately. the air has a bite to it—nothing violent, just enough to raise goosebumps along the backs of your thighs. you adjust your hoodie and sling your bag higher onto your shoulder as you approach the building, heart thumping with a rhythm that doesn’t match your pace. the inside is even quieter than it looked from the outside—soft lighting, clean tile, no front desk, no noise. you walk toward the elevator like your body’s been programmed to do it, and when the doors open with a sound that feels too loud in your ears, you step inside and keep your eyes down.
the mirrored walls don’t help. they catch you from every angle, all soft curves and stiff limbs and the subtle trembling of your fingers where they press against your thigh. you don’t look at your face. you know what you’ll see. too much. too vulnerable. too obvious.
the ride is short but unbearable.
each number lights up like a warning.
and then the doors part again, and you’re stepping into a hallway that looks like all the others—long, narrow, lit with warm bulbs that hum faintly overhead. the carpet swallows the sound of your steps. you feel like a ghost. like someone halfway between becoming and undoing.
unit 603 is near the end.
you don’t rush toward it. you walk slowly. deliberately. like your body is stalling, trying to delay what’s inevitable. like maybe if you just slow down enough, the tension will go away. the heat in your stomach will ease.
it doesn’t.
you stop in front of the door and just stand there. you don’t reach for the handle. you don’t knock. you don’t breathe. you just… exist, trembling slightly, caught in the kind of silence that feels like it should be protected.
your eyes drop to your feet. you shift your weight. the strap of your bag digs into your shoulder, and your hand reaches for it without thinking, like it might steady you. your other hand hovers near the door, fingers flexing once, twice, like they want to touch something they don’t believe they deserve.
you don’t knock.
you don’t have to.
you could leave.
you could turn around right now. no one’s seen you yet. you could head back to the elevator, back down to the street, call a new ride, go home, crawl into your bed and cry about it later. tell yourself you’ll find a different way to get the money. a different life.
your heel shifts.
your body starts to turn.
and then, quietly—smoothly—the door opens.
you freeze.
the hallway holds its breath with you.
you don’t know what you expected to see. you don’t know what you hoped he’d look like. you don’t know if you even dared to imagine. maybe you thought he wouldn’t answer. maybe you thought you’d stand out here until the hallway lights went out and the quiet pressed into your lungs so tightly you couldn’t take it anymore. maybe you thought you’d be strong enough to leave.
but now the door is open.
and he’s real.
and everything in your body goes still.
your eyes widen instantly, and for a full second—maybe two—you forget how to move. your fingers curl tighter around the strap of your bag, breath caught at the base of your throat, chest tightening like it’s reacting to something it never thought it would see in real life. because there he is. standing just inches from you. real. solid. and so painfully beautiful it almost feels cruel.
he’s tall, taller than you imagined, his frame filling the doorway with a presence that makes everything behind him blur. his body is broad and built in a way that feels effortless, like he was never trying to be impressive—he just is. his arms are bare, exposed by the loose black tank that clings to the outline of his torso and drapes perfectly over the swell of his chest. his skin is smooth and golden, glowing faintly under the warm hall light, veins barely visible where they run down his thick forearms. he looks strong in the way that matters—not for show, not posed—but like he knows how to use every inch of himself. like he could hold you up and tear you open in the same breath.
his hair is the same cotton candy pink from his previews, but messier now—soft strands falling over his forehead in loose waves, the ends curling just slightly where they brush against his temple. it looks like he’s been running his hands through it all day, and the idea of those hands—big, rough, ringed—tangled in your hair, gripping your hips, wrapped around your throat—makes your stomach twist so tightly you have to shift your weight. a few strands cling to the side of his cheek, the light catching on the moisture like maybe he just showered, or maybe he’s been waiting. pacing. preparing.
his ears are a constellation of silver, pierced through with hoops and cuffs and studs that glitter faintly each time he shifts. one of them dangles slightly—a thin, delicate chain brushing the edge of his jaw. and then your eyes land on his mouth.
and you stop thinking altogether.
his lips are almost too pink. full, soft-looking, the kind that look like they’d leave a stain on your skin no matter where they touched. he has the faintest indent of a bite mark on the lower one, like he’d been chewing at it without realizing, and it glistens slightly with the sheen of spit or gloss or both. you don’t know if you want to kiss him or watch him speak. maybe both. maybe forever.
and then his eyes meet yours.
brown. impossibly dark, but warm. deep in a way that makes you feel like you’ve already said too much, like he’s pulling the truth out of you just by looking. they glimmer faintly in the low light, lined with thick lashes that make him look devastatingly pretty and disarmingly unreadable all at once. there’s a slight drop to his gaze, heavy-lidded like he’s already seeing you undressed. like he’s been seeing you that way from the moment you said yes.
they remind you of boba pearls—glossy and rich and bottomless. and just as dangerous. you feel like you could fall into them without realizing you were drowning until it was already too late.
you’re frozen.
completely and utterly off guard.
this is not what you expected. not what you prepared for. not the image you tried to sketch in your head based on his previews. you thought he might be attractive, sure—maybe even cocky. you assumed he’d be confident, comfortable in his skin, maybe a little smug about how much he’s watched you. but this?
this is something else entirely.
he’s not just beautiful. he’s unreal. he looks like something that stepped out of the fantasy you didn’t even know how to finish. and he’s looking at you like you’re the one that took too long to arrive.
he smirks, soft and knowing.
“i knew you’d still be here.”
his voice doesn’t just sound good. it sounds dangerous. smooth and rich and low enough to sink through the fabric of your hoodie and press directly into your skin. it’s slower than you expected, a little raspier, like it’s made for private conversations and whispered commands. it doesn’t rise above a murmur, but it fills the space between you completely. it curls under your ears and down your neck and makes your stomach dip so hard it steals your balance for half a second.
you swallow, but your throat is dry.
your heart flutters violently against your ribs, pounding loud enough you wonder if he can hear it. your lips part slightly, maybe to say something, maybe just to breathe, but no sound comes out. your tongue feels too heavy. your mouth is too unsure. and the last thing you want to do is stutter over yourself while he’s standing there, relaxed and perfect and waiting.
your eyebrows pinch together without meaning to—just a small, confused furrow, like your body is trying to process what your brain can’t catch up to. you hadn’t thought this far ahead. hadn’t planned for what it would feel like to be seen like this. not through a screen. not through a message. but here. in person. under his eyes.
you thought you were prepared.
you were wrong.
he doesn’t say anything at first. he just stands there in the doorway, holding it open like it weighs nothing, while your whole body feels impossibly heavy. his gaze is steady, quiet, unwavering—not intense, not invasive, just there. patient. like he’s not surprised you showed up, like he always knew you would. like this moment was never a question.
when he finally shifts to the side, it’s a small, effortless movement—barely more than a step—but it sends something sharp through your chest. he doesn’t gesture. he doesn’t usher you in or flash a grin or try to ease the nerves that are curling tighter in your stomach. he just opens the space. clears the path. leaves it entirely up to you.
you hesitate for a beat longer than you mean to. the hallway feels colder now, the air thinner somehow. your fingers twitch where they’re clenched around the strap of your bag, your heartbeat pressing against the inside of your ribs like it wants out. but your legs move. maybe from instinct, maybe from need, maybe because part of you knows that if you don’t do it now, you never will.
you cross the threshold.
the air inside is warm—soft and still, carrying the faintest trace of something unfamiliar and expensive, something dark and clean and musky like amber or smoke. it hits you in a slow wave, curling up your nose and settling in the back of your throat. you take a shallow breath, then another, but it doesn’t help. everything feels too quiet now. too private. the silence inside the apartment is thicker than the silence outside, not empty, but full—of tension, of weight, of waiting. like the walls know what’s about to happen. like they’ve already seen it a hundred times.
you take a few careful steps forward and stop just inside, unsure what to do with yourself. unsure where to stand, unsure what to look at. your body is taut with nerves and anticipation, your hands suddenly too aware of themselves. your mouth is dry. the sound of the door clicking closed behind you is sharp in your ears, the lock sliding into place like a thread being pulled tight.
you don’t turn to look at him. you can’t. not yet.
his apartment is clean, but not in a soulless way. everything is curated. intentional. the lights are low and warm, tucked beneath shelves and mounted in corners, glowing like dusk instead of buzzing like daylight. the walls are matte, smooth concrete or something close to it, and the furniture is dark—black, deep gray, the kind of colors that drink light instead of reflecting it. a massive bed dominates the space, not tucked into a corner, not hidden behind doors, but bold and unashamed in the middle of the room. the sheets are dark. rumpled. there's a throw blanket tangled at the end, half falling over the side. and scattered around the perimeter of the space, you spot his gear—tripods, light stands, cameras. they’re sleek and familiar, but somehow more intimidating now that they’re not behind a screen.
he gestures toward the kitchen with a small tilt of his head, his hand brushing lightly against your lower back as he leads the way, not forceful—just present. his touch is gentle, careful, a whisper against fabric that leaves warmth in its place as you follow the slow rhythm of his stride. the kitchen glows in soft amber light, casting long shadows across the clean counters and illuminating the faint sheen of condensation on the glass he’s set out for you. it’s quiet here, the kind of quiet that doesn’t press but cradles, wrapping around your shoulders like a weighted blanket. he moves like the silence belongs to him, like he’s always known how to make space feel soft instead of suffocating. the air smells like faint vanilla and spice, like clean linen and a memory you can’t name. you slide onto the stool he pulled out for you, your palms damp against your thighs, the hem of your hoodie gathered loosely in your grip. heeseung remains standing across from you, arms braced on the counter, eyes soft but intent as they meet yours.
“before anything else,” he begins, voice low and smooth, every word laid down like silk on stone, “i want to talk about boundaries.” he doesn’t blink too much when he speaks, doesn’t fidget, just holds your gaze with something steady, like it’s not a challenge but a promise. his hands spread slightly against the marble surface, fingers relaxed, the veins on his forearms faint but visible beneath warm skin. he’s not performing. he’s not playing a part. it’s in the way he waits—silent after each phrase, giving you room to process, not expecting your answer before you’re ready to offer it. “if there’s anything you don’t want to do, say it. if you change your mind mid-way, say it. we stop whenever you say stop, and i won’t ask why.” there’s nothing rehearsed in his tone, no false sweetness, only care shaped by confidence and restraint.
you nod slowly, your eyes dipping toward the glass he set in front of you, its surface dewy against the soft light. your throat is dry, but your voice finds its way through the haze, low and hesitant but certain. “i’m okay with most things,” you say, the words trembling slightly as they leave your lips. he nods as you speak, never interrupting, never shifting his weight too abruptly, like he wants you to feel the space between each word instead of rushing past it. “but it’s been a while,” you admit, your shoulders curling inward slightly, your hands clasping together in your lap. he doesn’t react with surprise or even curiosity—just attentiveness, the kind that feels like a door being held open instead of a window being peered into. “and… i don’t want to show my face,” you finish, the truth dropping into the space between you with more weight than anything else you’ve said. “i want to stay anonymous.”
his expression doesn’t flicker, doesn’t shift into confusion or disappointment—it deepens, softens even, like your request settles into place with ease. “we’ll work around that,” he says, the certainty in his voice firm enough to anchor you, even as your nerves start to pool low in your stomach again. “no face, no identifiers. close shots, over-the-shoulder angles, shallow focus. i’ve done it before, and it works.” he moves slightly, adjusting the way he leans against the counter, one hand tapping once against the glass as if to ground the moment. “this is about what makes you feel good, not what the camera sees,” he adds, voice dipping even lower, like it’s meant to reach beneath your skin. “if you don’t want the world to know it’s you, then they won’t.” your chest eases at that, something unspoken unraveling in your lungs. he doesn’t ask why. he just honors the request like it’s law.
you look up at him then, really look, and his gaze hasn’t drifted once—it’s still locked to yours, patient, open, unreadable but safe. he hasn’t made a single move to close the distance between you again, even though it would be easy. his restraint isn’t cold—it’s reverent, like he’s watching you bloom slowly and doesn’t want to bruise the petals. “thank you,” you say, quieter this time, the words heavy with relief you didn’t realize you were holding. he nods, a small motion that carries more weight than it should, then steps back just enough to gesture toward the hallway. “bathroom’s on the left if you want to change,” he says. “take your time.” you slide off the stool with a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your legs moving on instinct, the pulse between your ribs still uneven but quieter now. you clutch your bag loosely, fingers curled around the strap like a lifeline, and head towards the quiet hall.
the bathroom is clean and warm, wrapped in that same subtle scent of something smooth and expensive and low—soap and eucalyptus and a hint of whatever lived beneath his skin. you lock the door behind you gently, setting your bag on the closed toilet lid, your reflection already waiting for you in the wide mirror. the light here is softer than expected, casting a muted glow over the white tile and catching faintly on the metal fixtures, making everything feel a little too clear. you unzip your bag slowly, each sound exaggerated in the quiet, each movement deliberate but hesitant. the fabric of your hoodie feels heavier now, like it doesn’t want to be peeled away, but you force your hands to keep moving. you fold your jeans with care and lift the set from your bag, the lace cool against your fingers. you pull it on carefully, the straps snug where they wrap around your shoulders, the softness of the fabric suddenly feeling like too much.
you face the mirror again, eyes sweeping slowly over the new version of yourself standing there—exposed, yes, but not ruined. the lingerie hugs you in all the places you thought you wanted to hide, lifting and shaping you into something elegant, something quiet but striking. but even as you look, your stomach knots. you think of the camera. of your body in motion. of being watched, of being remembered. of existing somewhere outside yourself. the doubts creep in slowly, delicate as poison—what if you look awkward? what if you can’t do it? what if he’s disappointed the second he sees you? your fingers brace against the sink, palms flat, knuckles pale, your breathing shallow and uneven. for a moment, you wonder if you should leave before it starts.
but then you think of his voice again—measured, thoughtful, unrushed. you’re in control here. you remember how he looked at you—not like something to consume, but something to hold, to coax open with time. your chest rises and falls once more, slower this time, deeper, steadier. you adjust one last strap, swipe your thumb beneath your bottom lip, and blink once at your reflection. she doesn’t look scared anymore. she looks like someone beginning. you reach for the doorknob and step out into the hallway, the cool air brushing against your skin, your pulse quickening with every step back toward him. and you know, as your bare feet sink silently into the dark flooring—that you’re about to let someone see you, truly, maybe for the first time.
when you return to the room, the silence greets you like a held breath, still and warm and heavier now, coiled around the soft glow of ambient light and the faint hum of something electric in the walls. heeseung is standing near the kitchen still, his posture easy but not casual, one hand resting lightly against the counter, the other falling slowly to his side as he looks at you. his eyes catch on the shape of you like he wasn’t prepared, like he thought he was but somehow still feels like the floor just dropped out beneath him. his gaze sweeps down, slow and deliberate, not in hunger but in reverence, like he’s taking in something rare he’s never seen in full daylight. he doesn’t speak right away, but the silence between you blooms like a confession, every second weighted with something unspoken but deeply understood. your bare feet shift against the hardwood, the coolness of it whispering up your calves, grounding you even as your breath begins to shallow. his lips part slightly, like he wants to say something—maybe a compliment, maybe a request—but nothing comes. and then finally, slowly, he steps forward.
his approach is quiet, not calculated but intentional, his body moving like it already knows how not to startle you, how not to rush, how not to steal. he stops a foot away from you, eyes still holding yours, one corner of his mouth lifted in something soft, something just shy of a smile. you can feel the heat radiating off of him now, feel the quiet pressure of his presence like it’s brushing against your collarbone, your ribs, your thighs. his hand lifts slowly, fingers hovering just beside your arm, and he doesn’t touch you—just lets the air between your skin and his feel thicker than it should. his voice, when it comes, is low and quiet and perfectly clear. “can i show you where we’ll start?” he asks. your lips part, and your nod is small, breathless, but sure. he waits a second longer, then gently tilts his head toward the center of the room.
the bed looks larger now than it did earlier, all shadow and suggestion, the dark linens catching the warm light and folding it into softness. you follow him slowly, each step silent, deliberate, your nerves curling into your spine and blooming down your arms like smoke. the mattress dips faintly under your weight as you sit, the fabric cool beneath your thighs, your back straight but uncertain. heeseung lowers himself beside you, not quite touching, his knees bent and body angled toward yours like he’s shielding you from the rest of the room. his hand rests on the bed between you, close enough that your pinky grazes his knuckle, but he still doesn’t reach. his eyes find yours again, deeper now, full of something steadier than want. he breathes in, slow and even, his tongue wetting his bottom lip before he speaks. “can i kiss you?” he asks, and it’s not a whisper—it’s a vow.
your heart stutters in your chest, not from fear, not from surprise, but from the weight of being asked—of being given the choice. the air around you hums with heat, not the kind that scorches but the kind that builds, lingers, waits for ignition. you meet his eyes fully now, let yourself hold there, let him see what it means for you to say yes. your voice is quiet when it comes, but steady, a single word laced with permission. “yes.” he doesn’t move all at once—he moves like something precious, something unfolding, his hand lifting first to cup your jaw, fingers warm where they press against your cheek. your breath catches when he leans in, not because you’re afraid, but because you’ve never been kissed like this—not yet, not even now. his nose brushes yours, a breath shared in the space between, and then, gently, he closes the gap.
his lips are soft but sure, pressing against yours with a slow ache that makes your knees curl into the mattress and your fingers tighten in your lap. he kisses you like he’s reading you, like every tilt of his head is a question and every pull of his lips is an answer you didn’t know you could give. his hand stays on your jaw, his thumb tracing lightly against your cheekbone, grounding you even as your pulse picks up. there’s no rush, no hunger, no desperation—just heat, slow and sinking, pouring into your spine and rising up behind your ribs. you kiss him back with equal weight, not matching his rhythm but meeting it, finding your own within it. the room feels quieter now, the lights dimmer, the air denser with the sound of your shared breathing and the subtle hitch of your chest when he shifts closer. his other hand moves to your thigh, not gripping, just resting there, heavy and warm.
when he pulls back, it’s not abrupt—it’s a soft retreat, like he’s giving you time to breathe, to think, to want more. he stays close, his forehead resting lightly against yours, the bridge of his nose brushing your own, his thumb still stroking your cheek. his eyes are closed for a moment, and when they open again, there’s something darker in them—still soft, but heavier now, like want coiled behind patience. you don’t speak. you don’t need to. your body is already leaning forward again, your lips parting just slightly as your breath mingles with his. he waits, just a second, just to be sure, and then you feel the kiss again—deeper this time, fuller, still slow but firmer, like he’s letting go of a layer he’d been holding back. your hand lifts to his chest, pressing lightly against the cotton of his shirt, feeling the heat of him through the fabric, the steady beat of his heart.
you’re not sure when it happens—when your thighs brush, when his hand slides slightly higher on your leg, when your breath comes faster—but it’s there now, pulsing between your bodies. you’re not overwhelmed. you’re alive. every nerve alert, every part of you tuned to the press of his mouth and the pressure of his palm and the low sound he makes when your lips part just enough for him to taste you. it’s not just a kiss—it’s something more deliberate. a grounding. a beginning. and it feels exactly like it should. when he pulls away again, his eyes meet yours, searching—not for doubt, but for reassurance, for confirmation that you’re still here, still with him, still choosing this. and you are.
he doesn’t rush the question—he asks it like he’s offering you the last word in a language only the two of you speak. “are you ready?” heeseung says, and it sounds less like a formality and more like a thread of silk brushing across your skin, soft and waiting. you pause for half a breath, letting the moment linger there between your chest and his voice, letting it settle just behind your ribs. you meet his eyes, steady now, your heart loud but your voice quiet and sure. “yes,” you answer, and it lands softly, but it rings through the room like a bell. heeseung gives you a single nod—silent, smooth, composed—and then turns slightly toward the camera. the lens is positioned precisely, angled just enough to capture the space you share while keeping your identity untouched. he reaches for the remote resting on the bedside table, presses one button, and the soft red light comes on.
the room doesn’t change when it starts recording—it just feels heavier. the silence stretches a little longer, the air thickens a little deeper, and your skin starts to feel like it’s holding more than just heat. he doesn’t turn to the camera. he doesn’t acknowledge the lens. his eyes are on you, and only you. heeseung takes a slow breath and shifts his position on the bed, moving a little closer, the dip of the mattress drawing your knees toward his. his hand reaches up, fingertips brushing lightly against your jaw, and his touch is warm, sure, almost grounding. he watches your reaction like it’s the only thing he needs to see to move forward—like your body gives permission long before your mouth does. “can i kiss you?” he asks again, even now, when you’ve already said yes to everything else. and when you nod—small, breathless, trembling a little—he moves in with a reverence that feels like worship.
his lips meet yours with the kind of care that makes your chest ache, a kiss not rushed or shallow but deliberate, slow and full of intention. he doesn’t press for more than you give—he lets the rhythm unfold with time, lets your lips part when they’re ready, lets the tension curl warm and slow between your knees. his hand stays cradling your cheek, thumb stroking the soft skin just beneath your eye, as if he’s memorizing the exact way you feel beneath his fingers. your breath stutters slightly when the kiss deepens, when his mouth opens just enough to taste you, when your tongue brushes his in something quiet but certain. his other hand finds your thigh again, not moving higher, not demanding, just resting there—heavy and warm and present. you kiss him back with something softer than desperation, something more vulnerable than lust. your fingers twitch, aching to hold onto something, and when they finally curl into the edge of his shirt, he lets out a breath that sounds a little too much like relief.
he doesn’t speak when he pulls back—he just watches you, eyes dark and steady, breathing a little heavier than before. your forehead brushes his, your mouths still so close they could reunite with a single breath, and the quiet feels louder now than anything else in the room. you feel his fingers flex against your thigh once, like he’s holding something back, like he’s still giving you room to shift or stop or say anything else. but you don’t. you just nod again, slower this time, your eyes half-lidded, mouth still tingling with the press of his. “good,” he whispers, and the word moves through you like heat. then his hand slides—just slightly, just above your knee—tracing the edge of your thigh with the same patience he kissed you with.
his lips find yours again before the silence can thicken too much, and this time the kiss is heavier, more certain, laced with the tension that’s been building since you stepped inside his apartment. his hand doesn’t rush higher, doesn’t slide beneath your lace just yet—it just lingers, exploring the softness of your skin in slow strokes that burn like silk dragged over bare flame. you part your lips more eagerly now, letting him taste the corners of your breath, letting his tongue find yours in something messier, something that leaves your lungs stuttering and your thighs tightening together. your fingers drag up his chest, slow and careful, the fabric of his shirt warm beneath your touch, the steady drum of his heart loud enough to match your own. heeseung groans softly against your mouth when your grip tightens—low and hushed, like the sound slipped out without permission.
when he pulls back again, it’s only to look at you—really look, his gaze trailing from your eyes down to your lips, then back again, lingering like he doesn’t know where he wants to settle most. your breathing is ragged now, lips kiss-bruised and chest rising in slow, uneven swells, your hands still resting against his collarbones like you’re afraid he might float away if you let go. his thumb brushes across your bottom lip once, dragging lightly over the spot where his teeth had pressed seconds before. “you okay?” he murmurs, not because he thinks you’re not—but because he wants to hear it from you. you nod again, slower this time, your voice catching in your throat as you answer. “yes,” you whisper, and your legs shift slightly where they’re tucked under you on the bed.
heeseung leans in again—not to kiss you this time, but to trail his nose down the curve of your cheek, to inhale the scent of your skin where it glows faintly warm. his lips press against the corner of your mouth, then the edge of your jaw, slow and reverent, like he’s tasting gratitude. his hand moves again, slightly higher this time, fingertips tracing the underside of your thigh, still careful, still asking. his lips find your collarbone, pressing once, then again, just beneath the strap of your lingerie. his teeth graze the edge of your skin there, not biting, just lingering, a question written in touch instead of speech. and when you tilt your head to give him more room, heeseung breathes out a soft, broken sound against your neck that makes your core clench and your pulse spike.
“you like that, baby?” he asks, his voice husky against your skin, his teeth grazing your shoulder—but never biting, never hard enough to leave a trace. you nod, breathless, and tilt your head back further, offering your throat like instinct, letting him kiss and suck and worship without ever crossing the boundary. his hand tightens gently around your thigh, holding you still as your hips roll against his palm, wetness soaking through the lace with each drag. the moan you let out is quiet but needy, slipping out against his ear as he nuzzles beneath it and hums in return.
his fingers pause just at the hem of the lace, the pads of them slipping under with a kind of patience that makes your lungs seize and your hips twitch. the fabric drags slightly against your folds as he shifts it to the side, the air hitting your bare heat and making you tremble despite the warmth of the room. he groans under his breath when he finally feels you, his fingertips gliding slowly through your slick, parting you so delicately it makes you clench around nothing. your thighs try to close out of reflex, but his palm presses gently against the inside of one, guiding them apart without force—just the weight of intent. his mouth is still at your neck, lips soft, kissing lazily beneath your jaw as if he isn’t already making you fall apart with nothing but his hand. “you’re soaked for me,” he breathes, lips brushing the edge of your earlobe now, and the sound of it nearly makes you whimper. his fingers drag through your folds again, this time stopping at your clit, circling it slowly in wet, aching spirals. you’re already shaking, your head dropping back slightly as the pleasure coils tighter in your core.
heeseung doesn’t rush the motion, doesn’t press harder than necessary, just works your clit with the kind of care that makes your vision blur and your body hum with electricity. his fingers are long and warm, slick with you, moving in soft, controlled circles that never lose rhythm, never falter. every time your hips shift to chase the pressure, he meets you halfway, adjusting the angle, letting you grind subtly against the heel of his palm. his other hand stays at your waist now, anchoring you in place, thumb rubbing gentle strokes into your hip like he’s reminding you to stay with him. his mouth hasn’t left your neck, only moved lower, teeth grazing your skin without ever biting, lips pressing over every place your pulse flutters wild beneath your flesh. “that’s it,” he whispers, low and soothing, “just like that, baby…” your breath is broken now, little gasps slipping out between parted lips, and you can barely keep your eyes open, your lashes fluttering as the pleasure builds deeper in your belly. your fingers reach for his arm, gripping at his wrist like it’s the only thing tethering you to the bed beneath you.
he kisses down your neck with the same rhythm he’s touching you, soft and unhurried, lips brushing along the delicate edge of your collarbone like he wants to memorize it with his mouth. your skin is warm beneath his tongue, flushed and trembling, and his breath leaves it damp as he continues to move lower. his fingers never stop working your clit, thumb pressed gently but firmly, circling in slow, wet loops that make your thighs twitch and your hips rock forward on instinct. you can feel the weight of him between your legs without him even being there yet, just his hand and his mouth and the thick tension swirling in your core like a storm waiting to snap. he lifts his head for a moment to look at you—eyes dark, wide, mouth flushed from kissing your skin—and the way he looks at you makes something ache deep in your chest. “you tell me if it’s too much, okay?” and when you nod, breathless and already shaking, he finally slides his middle finger down and pushes it slowly inside.
you gasp—high and sharp, your mouth falling open as the stretch hits, not painful but deep, too real, too much after so long without. his finger sinks in carefully, inch by inch, and he watches your face the whole time, like every twitch in your brow and shift in your hips is more important than anything else in the world. your walls pulse around him, already clenching tight, wet and warm and so reactive his jaw tightens with the effort of keeping his own hips still. he exhales against your collarbone and presses his lips there again, kissing gently as he begins to move the finger in and out, slow and shallow. his thumb keeps working your clit, synced perfectly with the curl of his finger as he searches for that spot inside you that will make you crumble. you can’t speak—your breath is too staggered, your moans too broken to shape into words—but the way your body arches toward him says enough. “fuck, you feel so good,” he murmurs, kissing just beneath the swell of your chest, his voice vibrating through your skin. “you’re perfect like this.”
your breath hitches when he curls the single finger inside you again, the slow glide of it dragging perfectly against your walls, thick and precise like he knows exactly where to touch without needing to be told. your body is already arching into him, your hips grinding down against his hand as the slick sounds between your thighs grow louder, needier, messier. he doesn’t tease—not once—he keeps the rhythm steady, intentional, with every motion designed to draw the tension higher, to coax your body open instead of ripping it wide. when your walls begin to flutter, tightening around him with the kind of resistance that begs for more, he presses a kiss to your sternum, right between your breasts, and lifts his head just slightly. “gonna give you two, baby,” he whispers, lips brushing over your skin as he speaks, his voice dark and low and reverent. “i want you to take it slow for me, yeah?” you nod, breathless, your nails digging into his forearm as his finger slowly pulls out. the moment his second finger presses in beside the first, your mouth falls open on a soft, broken moan. the stretch burns for a second, sharp and thick, but his thumb keeps circling your clit, and the pleasure blooms fast enough to swallow the sting.
his lips part as he watches the way your body reacts—your thighs trembling, your hips jerking up, your slick coating his fingers as he begins to move them in a slow, twisting rhythm that makes your stomach flutter. heeseung groans softly, his forehead brushing your chest as he sinks lower, dragging the flat of his tongue along the curve of your breast with aching care. “so fucking tight,” he breathes against your skin, his voice thick with restraint, his jaw clenched as your pussy clenches down on his fingers. “you feel unbelievable, baby.” his mouth moves to your breast, kissing softly over the top of it, then trailing down until his lips brush over your nipple through the thin lace. he sucks gently, just enough to make you whimper, and the combination of his mouth and his hand makes your eyes roll back into your head. his fingers curl inside you again, deeper this time, pressing right against that spot that makes your whole body jerk, and he doesn’t stop—he does it again, and again, and again. your back arches off the bed, your fingers clutching the sheets now, your breath coming in broken little pants that you can’t control.
he pulls the lace down with his teeth—slow and controlled, his mouth never leaving your skin—and when your nipple is bare, he takes it into his mouth like it’s something sacred. the suction is warm, wet, steady, and his tongue flicks just enough to make your core tighten dangerously around his fingers. every motion feels choreographed, like his entire body is synced to yours—your breath, your pulse, your need, all dictating the way he moves. his fingers fuck into you slow but deep, knuckles brushing your soaked entrance with every stroke, the squelch of your arousal thick in the air between your bodies. his thumb never leaves your clit, drawing small, precise circles that keep you trembling, unable to come down from the tension he keeps pulling tighter and tighter. “you’re doing so good,” he murmurs, voice muffled against your chest, “taking me so well, baby, just like that.” your hands move instinctively, threading into his hair, tugging gently at the soft strands as your head tips back into the pillow. he groans at the touch—low and needy—and his pace shifts slightly, fingers thrusting just a little faster, a little rougher, still watching your every breath.
your thighs begin to tremble uncontrollably, the pleasure peaking in your lower belly, every muscle tensing like you’re caught on the edge of something massive. you can barely speak, barely form a thought, the only thing in your mind is him—his hand, his mouth, the deep pull of his voice every time he praises you. he lets go of your nipple only to kiss a path across your chest to the other, his lips never leaving your skin, his breath fanning out over every inch he touches. “you gonna cum for me?” he whispers, his voice shaking now, wrecked with how wet you are, how tight you are, how you’ve soaked his hand with nothing but slow kisses and a little praise. “let me feel you cum, sweetheart.” your body jerks when his thumb presses harder against your clit, circling faster, and your moan breaks—loud, breathy, raw. your hips buck, your walls clamp down around his fingers, and everything inside you snaps.
you cum with a force that steals your breath, your body seizing beneath him, your voice reduced to high, desperate whimpers as the orgasm crashes through you. he doesn’t stop—his fingers slow but stay buried inside you, his thumb softening into soothing strokes, guiding you through the aftershocks as your legs tremble and your stomach flutters. his lips kiss over your chest again, murmuring sweet, quiet things into your skin—“so good for me,” “so beautiful,” “you’re perfect like this”—until the tension in your limbs begins to fade. he finally pulls his fingers out, slowly, carefully, and your pussy twitches with the absence, fluttering around nothing, still dripping with your release. he lifts his hand, coated in your slick, and glances at you once with heat in his eyes before licking his fingers clean, slow and shameless. your chest rises and falls in uneven waves, your eyes glassy, your thighs sticky and trembling where they rest open. and all he does is smile—soft, sinful, and absolutely wrecked—with the taste of you still on his tongue.
he climbs over you slowly, the mattress shifting with his weight as he settles between your legs, his thighs bracketing yours while your slick coats the sheets beneath you. his hands press gently into your hips, guiding you back into the center of the bed, keeping you open for him as his mouth finds your throat again. you feel the heavy drag of his cock through his sweatpants, thick and hard, pressing flush against your soaked slit with nothing but damp fabric between you. the sensation makes your head fall back into the pillow, a sharp gasp catching in your throat as your hips roll up, grinding against him without even meaning to. he groans, a low, guttural sound that vibrates in his chest and melts into the curve of your neck as his lips drag down to your shoulder. “fuck… you feel that?” he rasps, his hips rocking down just once, slow and deliberate, forcing a desperate moan from the back of your throat. he grinds again, firmer this time, the head of his cock catching perfectly against your clit through the soaked material, and it makes your eyes flutter closed. “so messy for me already, baby.”
your moan slips out before you can stop it, soft and high and cracked open with heat.
“heeseung…” his name trembling on your tongue like a secret that finally escaped. his whole body jerks at the sound, like he wasn’t expecting to hear it, like it did something to him that he wasn’t ready for. he lifts his head, eyes dark and wide and hungry, his breath hot against your cheek as his hand slides up to cup your jaw. “say that again,” he breathes, thumb brushing your bottom lip, voice low and tight like he’s barely holding it together. “please, baby—say my name again.” you do—whispered at first, then louder, your moan broken around it as your hips buck up into his again, grinding shamelessly into the thick line of his cock. “heeseung…” you whimper, and he lets out a sound that’s half a growl, half a praise, pressing his forehead to yours as his hips grind down harder. “fuck, just like that,” he groans. “keep saying it. don’t stop.”
you can barely think anymore, the friction dragging over your sensitive clit, your core still pulsing from your orgasm, your skin too hot and your breath too fast. heeseung keeps rocking against you, not thrusting, just grinding, slow and deep, letting the drag of his cock over your soaked folds speak for itself. every roll of his hips pushes a new moan from your mouth, and every time his name leaves your lips, his rhythm falters like he’s losing control one syllable at a time. he’s not speaking now—just breathing, hard and fast, his mouth open against your shoulder as he chases the pressure, the heat, the tension pulling tight in his spine. his hands are on your hips again, holding you down as you writhe beneath him, his name falling from your lips in messy, broken cries that make his cock twitch harder against you. “god, you’re driving me fucking insane,” he chokes out, grinding harder now, faster, like he needs the friction or he’s going to snap. “i could cum like this—just like this, fuck—just from you saying my name like that.”
you’re soaked again already, the wet drag of your pussy against his cock leaving a dark, sticky stain on his sweats, and the sound of it makes your face burn. he kisses your jaw again, his lips soft and reverent, like he’s grounding himself before he loses what little control he has left. “you make me so fucking hard, baby,” he groans, voice rough against your ear, “you don’t even know what you do to me.” his hips stutter as you arch up, grinding harder, needier, chasing the pressure and the weight of him and the sound of your name in his mouth. your fingers claw at his back now, slipping under his shirt, dragging your nails down the smooth muscle there as he grinds again and again. his name falls from your lips like a chant now, breathless and ruined and wrecked, and each time he reacts—his hips jerking, his teeth biting down on a moan, his hands gripping you tighter. “again,” he begs, lips at your throat. “say it again—please.”
heeseung pulls back just slightly, just enough to sit up on his knees between your thighs, the cool air brushing over your sticky skin in the wake of his body. his eyes never leave you as he lifts his shirt with one hand and tosses it aside, exposing lean lines and smooth muscle, his chest flushed with heat, his collarbones glistening faintly in the low light. your breath catches, and before you can even say anything, he’s dragging his fingers down the waistband of his sweats, sliding them low on his hips until his cock finally springs free—thick, hard, flushed deep red at the tip and already slicked with precum. your thighs twitch at the sight of him, your mouth parting on instinct as your eyes drop and your stomach coils at the sheer size of him. he watches you watch him, and the look on his face shifts into something darker—needier—like he knows exactly how you’re feeling. “you want it?” he asks, his voice a low rasp as he wraps a hand around the base and strokes once, slow and tight. “you wanna feel it, baby?” you nod quickly, breathless, the answer already written across your body in the way your legs part further, your back arches, your fingers curl into the sheets.
he lowers himself again, one hand steadying his cock, the other gripping your thigh as he settles between you, his body flush against yours once more. the first drag of him through your folds punches a moan straight out of you, loud and broken, your hips jolting upward as the thick head of his cock slides perfectly over your clit. heeseung groans low in his chest, teeth clenched as he guides himself back and forth, letting your slick coat his shaft, every motion slow and heavy and deliberate. “fuck—so wet,” he mutters, his voice wrecked, breath catching as the head of his cock catches at your entrance before he pulls back again. he doesn’t press in yet—he just teases you, again and again, the tip dragging down your slit, catching, slipping, soaking. “say it again,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth as he rocks his hips forward just enough to make you feel every inch of him. “say my name like you did before.” you moan it again—soft, breathless, full of want, and it makes him hiss through his teeth, his forehead dropping to yours.
he keeps moving his hips, sliding his cock over your pussy in slow, deep grinds that make the head catch at your entrance just enough to make your walls flutter and your thighs shake. heeseung’s breathing hard now, the muscles in his arms flexing beside your head, sweat starting to gather at the nape of his neck as he holds himself above you. “you feel that?” he groans, cock slick and heavy between your folds, grinding against your clit with every roll of his hips. “you feel how fucking hard i am for you?” you nod, gasping, your back arching off the bed as your body chases more pressure, more friction, more him. “i could do this all night,” he rasps, voice cracking against your throat. “just like this—grinding my cock on you while you moan my name like that.”
“heeseung…fuck..” you whimper it again and he nearly loses it, his hips stuttering, cock twitching, precum smearing hot across your swollen clit. “fuck, baby. don’t stop.”
you don’t—you can’t. the way he feels against you is too much and still not enough, the thick head of his cock dragging through your folds, slicking you up more with every stroke. your pussy is dripping now, soaked and swollen and clenching on nothing, desperate for him, but he just keeps teasing—keeps grinding—like he’s determined to make you come again before he even gets inside. he leans down to kiss you again, tongue messy and breath ragged, and his hips roll deeper, grinding the head of his cock harder against your clit until you cry out into his mouth. “say it again,” he whispers between kisses, his voice hoarse, eyes burning into yours. “say it while i make you come just like this.” you moan it again and again—his name spilling off your lips like prayer, like surrender—and the sound of it makes him twitch, makes him curse, makes his cock slide lower and nudge right at your entrance again. you gasp, trembling, and he pulls back just barely, smirking against your lips. “yeah… just like that.”
heeseung doesn’t speak at first—he just looks at you, eyes locked to yours, breath coming heavy as he reaches down to line himself up with your entrance. the swollen head of his cock rests right against your soaked slit, and you feel it twitch, leaking more precum that drips down over your folds as you clench around nothing. his hand tightens on your thigh, holding you open for him, and when he pushes just the tip in, you both moan—his, low and broken in his chest, yours sharp and high as the stretch hits hard and fast. “fuck…” he breathes, voice cracking as his forehead drops against yours, “you’re so fucking tight.” your walls flutter around him already, pulling him in instinctively, and it takes everything in him not to sink in all at once. “relax for me,” he whispers, kissing the corner of your mouth as he strokes your side with his free hand, “breathe, baby… let me in.” you nod, your legs trembling, your nails digging into his biceps, and with one slow, steady push, he eases in another inch. the burn is intense, but it’s exactly what you need—he’s so big, so thick, and your body is clenching so hard it makes your vision blur.
he stills halfway in, giving you a second to adjust, his mouth pressed to your jaw as he breathes through his nose and murmurs softly into your skin. “you feel unreal,” he says, voice wrecked, like he’s speaking through gritted teeth just to keep control, “so warm… so wet… you’re fucking perfect.” your body trembles beneath him, thighs twitching, toes curling, your hips arching off the mattress in a slow, involuntary motion that makes him groan deep and filthy. his hands move to cradle your hips, holding you steady as he rolls his in return, easing another inch into your soaked heat. the stretch makes your eyes flutter shut, makes your mouth fall open in a breathless moan that turns into a plea, your fingers gripping the sheets now. “heeseung…” you cry, broken and sweet, and it makes his cock twitch deep inside you, his hips rocking forward until he’s fully seated, the base of him pressed snug to your aching folds. “fuck, that’s it,” he growls, his jaw clenched, sweat starting to bead along his temple, “you’re taking me so well, baby… so fucking good for me.”
he doesn’t move yet—he just stays there, deep inside you, letting your walls pulse and flutter around his cock while he kisses your temple and whispers through shaky breaths. your pussy clenches again, so tight and hot that he has to squeeze his eyes shut to keep from coming too fast, and his hand lifts to brush your hair back from your face, his thumb sweeping over your cheekbone. “i can feel you squeezing me,” he whispers, so low it almost sounds reverent, “like your body doesn’t wanna let me go.” you nod, whimpering, your whole body buzzing from how full you are—how stretched, how completely consumed by him you feel. his cock fits inside you like it was made for it, like every vein and curve was molded to your walls, every inch pushing against spots you didn’t know were there. “you’re so deep,” you whisper, voice shaky, breath caught, and he presses a kiss to your lips again—soft, open-mouthed, messy. “i know, baby,” he says, and the way he says it—like it’s a promise—makes your whole body tremble again. “you want more?”
his hips pull back slowly, just enough to make you feel the stretch of his cock leaving your body, the drag so thick and heavy it makes your breath hitch. your walls flutter at the loss, already aching to be full again, but before the whine can slip out, heeseung thrusts forward—slow and smooth, burying himself back inside you until your bodies are flush again. the moan that escapes you is soft and breathless, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as your back arches, your chest pressing into his. “that’s it,” he breathes against your ear, his voice low and shaking with restraint, “just like that, baby—take it.” he sets a rhythm that’s deliberate, not fast, just deep—so deep—like every stroke is meant to make you remember the exact shape of him. the bed rocks beneath you in soft, steady pulses, the slick sound of your bodies filling the space between each breath. your pussy clenches around him with every thrust, soaking his cock with more wetness, and he groans, long and low, his mouth brushing the side of your neck. “you’re so fucking tight,” he says, the words barely a whisper, “you’re milking my cock, baby…”
you cry out his name again, broken and high, your voice shaking as your hips start to move in sync with his, meeting each stroke with the kind of desperation that makes your thighs burn. heeseung’s hand slides up your body, past your waist, your ribs, and finally settles around your throat—not squeezing, just holding, his thumb brushing softly against your jaw. “keep saying it,” he tells you, fucking you deeper now, his strokes heavier, thicker, the drag of his cock so intense it makes your eyes roll back. “say my name while i’m inside you.” and you do—his name tumbling out between gasps, your lips parted, your moans turning to pleading whispers that make his pace stutter. heeseung’s head drops to your shoulder, his breath hot and ragged, his teeth grazing your skin as he tries to keep control. “fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice raw now, wrecked, as he drives back in deeper. “you were made for this—you were made for me.” your nails dig into his back, dragging down his spine, your walls clenching again, tighter, hungrier.
his thrusts grow a little rougher now, not fast but more forceful, each one punching moans from your chest and making the bed creak beneath you. the rhythm is everything—steady and perfect, his hips rolling with precision, never breaking contact, always dragging back just to push deeper again. his hand on your throat moves to cradle your jaw now, tilting your head so he can kiss you, sloppy and breathless and open, your tongues tangling as you moan into each other’s mouths. his other hand grips your hip harder, holding you still as he grinds deep into your core, your clit brushing against his pelvis with every thrust. your pussy is soaking him now, slick dripping down his cock, your inner thighs sticky, your skin flushed and trembling. “you’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he says, kissing down your neck again, “i could stay buried in you forever.” and he means it—you can hear it in the way he moans when your walls tighten, in the way he slows down just to feel it, in the way his voice cracks when he says your name again. “don’t stop, baby. don’t stop saying it.”
heeseung’s lips don’t leave your skin as he slowly starts to move again, his cock still deep inside you, twitching slightly from the last wave of pleasure. your body is warm and pliant beneath him, flushed and wrecked and trembling, but still hungry—your walls fluttering around him like they’re begging for more. he lifts his head slowly, brushing his thumb across your cheek, and you see it in his eyes—there’s no hesitation left, just need, raw and open and laced with something darker now. “turn over for me,” he murmurs, voice thick and low, like the words are dragging out of his throat from somewhere heavy. he leans back just enough to let his cock slide out, and even the loss of him makes your body ache, your pussy clenching at the emptiness. you move without thinking, already shifting beneath him, rolling to your stomach as your thighs tremble against the mattress. his hands are on your hips instantly, lifting you up just enough so your ass tilts higher, your chest pressed to the sheets, your back arched beautifully for him. “just like that, baby,” he groans, one hand sliding down your spine, the other gripping your ass as he positions himself behind you, “fucking perfect.”
you feel him again—his cock dragging slow between your soaked folds, thick and hot and still dripping with both of you as he lines himself back up with your entrance. your breath hitches when the head presses against your hole again, pushing in with that same slow, stretching pressure that makes your jaw drop open. he slides in deeper this time, the angle sharper, the thrust more intense as he sinks into you inch by inch, both of you moaning as he fills you back up completely. “fuck—you’re tighter like this,” he groans, hands gripping your hips hard now, thumbs digging into the softness of your skin as he pulls you back onto him. you’re gasping into the sheets, your hands fisting the covers, your knees spread wide as your pussy takes him all the way to the base. the new angle hits deeper, rougher—his cock dragging against spots that make you cry out, your body jolting with every thrust. “look at you,” he breathes, hips snapping forward, his cock slamming into you now with full control, “taking me so good, baby… so fucking deep.” your moans get louder, more desperate, your voice breaking on his name as you start to fall apart all over again.
he builds a rhythm that feels brutal and perfect, his hips slamming against your ass, the clap of skin on skin echoing through the room with every thrust. your walls are soaked now, slick running down your thighs, the mess of your first orgasm coating both of you and making every stroke louder, wetter, filthier. heeseung growls under his breath as he leans forward, one hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair, gently pulling your head up so your cheek turns toward him. “say it again,” he demands, breath hot against your ear as he pounds into you from behind, “say my name while i fuck you like this.” your voice shakes as you sob it out—“heeseung, heeseung, heeseung”—and the sound of it makes his hips stutter, his grip tighten, his cock jerk inside you. “that’s it, baby—keep moaning for me,” he groans, his hand sliding down your front now, finding your clit again and rubbing tight circles while he keeps thrusting into you hard and deep. your legs tremble, your elbows give out, your chest sinking into the sheets as your second orgasm starts building fast, burning low and hot and uncontrollable.
his thrusts grow slower, deeper, deliberate again—not to ease you, but to let you feel it all, to make your body stretch around every inch of him like it’s learning him. he doesn’t say anything for a second, just breathes through clenched teeth, his hands gripping your hips like handles as he watches the way his cock disappears into your soaked pussy with every roll of his hips. your moans are soft and broken, spilling into the pillow as you push back to meet his rhythm, the pressure building inside you sharp and sweet. “you’re dripping, baby,” he pants, voice dark and strained, “can you hear that?” and you can—the filthy, wet squelch every time he fucks into you, your slick coating his cock, the mess of both your bodies echoing in the quiet room. his fingers tighten around your hips, dragging you into him harder now, the new angle hitting deeper, the tip of his cock nudging your cervix in a way that makes your back arch and your breath catch. “i’m not gonna stop,” he groans, and he means it—you can feel it in the way his body moves, like he’s addicted to the way you take him. “not until i feel you cum on me again.” his voice breaks on the last word, and you choke on a moan, your thighs already starting to tremble from how close you are.
his free hand slides down again, slipping between your legs to circle your clit with his fingers—still soaked from earlier, still trembling with how sensitive you are. “i know you’re close,” he says, breath hot against your back as he leans over you, his cock still grinding deep into your pussy with slow, firm thrusts, “i can feel it—you’re squeezing me so tight.” your body jerks under him, your hands clawing at the sheets, your moans broken and high as the pleasure builds higher, tighter, hotter. he doesn’t let up—not with his cock, not with his hand—he keeps fucking you slow and hard, his fingers pressing tight circles against your clit until your legs shake uncontrollably. “come on, baby,” he whispers, voice right in your ear now, “cum for me again—cum on my cock, let me feel it.” and the way he says it—so low, so desperate—breaks something open inside you. your pussy clamps down, walls fluttering in tight, wet pulses as your second orgasm takes hold, crashing over you harder than the first. “fuck—heeseung!” you cry, your voice breaking, your whole body convulsing under him as you cum, hips jerking wildly, back arching, mouth open and gasping.
heeseung groans loud—filthy—his hands grabbing your hips tight as your pussy squeezes around him, your slick spilling down his cock and dripping onto the sheets. “holy fuck,” he growls, hips stuttering, his pace falling apart as he ruts into you hard, deep, chasing his own release now. “you feel—so good—so fucking good,” he moans, each word punched out between heavy, desperate thrusts. your body is limp beneath him, ruined and twitching, but he holds you up, keeps you open, keeps driving into you like he can’t stop. “i’m gonna cum,” he gasps, “gonna cum inside you again, baby—fuck—i’m not pulling out.” your moan is soft, breathless, nothing but wrecked permission. heeseung groans, loud and broken, as he thrusts deep one last time and spills into you, hot and thick, his cum flooding your pussy in long, heavy pulses. he doesn’t stop moving, not right away—he keeps grinding into you, burying it deeper, fucking it up into your sore, overstimulated cunt like he wants it to stay. your walls twitch around him, fluttering from the aftershocks, your breath shallow as he collapses forward, his chest pressed to your back, sweat-slick and panting.
he stays inside you as long as your body lets him, his cock twitching with every breath, his cum warm and sticky between your thighs, leaking down onto the sheets. his arms wrap around your middle, pulling you close, holding you still as your body shivers beneath his, overstimulated and buzzing. he kisses your shoulder slowly, reverently, murmuring soft things you barely register—“you were perfect,” “i didn’t want to stop,” “you’re so fucking good.” his voice is hoarse, wrecked from moaning your name, from holding back, from fucking you like he meant it. your eyes flutter closed, your body loose and heavy, your chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. heeseung doesn’t move, doesn’t let you go—his arms stay locked around your waist, his cock still half-hard inside you, like he can’t stand the idea of being anywhere else. “stay like this for a minute,” he whispers, kissing the back of your neck. “just like this, baby… let me feel you a little longer.”
heeseung’s chest rises and falls against your back, each breath brushing over your shoulder as his arms slowly loosen around your waist, just enough to let you shift. you let out a soft sound—half-whimper, half-sigh—and he presses a kiss to your spine, so featherlight it almost doesn’t register. “hold on,” he whispers, low and hoarse, and he pulls out carefully, the slow drag of his cock making your body twitch as his cum begins to slip out of you. he steadies your hips with one hand, still gentle, still warm, and reaches for the small remote near the bedside table with the other. you hear the soft beep as he presses the button, the red light fading instantly, the lens no longer watching, no longer recording. he exhales deeply, like some part of him only now lets go, and he sets the remote aside before turning back to you. “it’s off,” he says softly, brushing your hair back from your face, his fingers trembling just slightly. “it’s just us now.”you hum faintly in response, eyes half-closed, body limp and heavy against the mattress, and heeseung smiles—small, crooked, fond—before leaning down to kiss your temple. “you did so fucking good,” he murmurs, his voice all warmth now, rough around the edges but soft with pride, with affection. he moves slowly, lifting himself from the bed and disappearing for just a moment, the faint sound of running water coming from down the hall. when he returns, his hands are full—warm washcloth, small towel, a bottle of water already uncapped. he kneels beside you again, coaxing you onto your back with a careful hand on your hip, and when your body winces from the soreness, he just nods. “i’ve got you,” he says gently, his eyes full of something deep and quiet. he cleans you up slowly, thoroughly, without rushing—starting at your thighs, then between your legs, wiping away the mess with care, never looking away from your face.
the rag is warm, soft, comforting against your skin, and his touch never loses its patience, even when you shiver or twitch from the overstimulation. “tell me if it’s too much,” he says, barely louder than a breath, his hand resting lightly on your knee as he presses the cloth between your legs once more. your voice is weak when you say “you’re okay,” but it’s enough—his shoulders relax, and he finishes the last gentle sweep before setting the rag aside and covering you with the clean towel. he presses another kiss to your thigh this time, lingering, almost reverent, before he climbs back into bed beside you, body warm, arms open. “come here,” he whispers, and you move slowly, shakily, letting him pull you into his chest. the moment you settle against him, everything melts—his hand in your hair, your cheek against his collarbone, the steady thump of his heart beneath your ear grounding you completely. “you’re everything,” he says again, and this time it isn’t just praise—it’s a truth.
he stays like that with you, holding you close, stroking your back, letting the silence settle like a blanket. the heat from your bodies still lingers, but it’s not heavy anymore—it’s soft, intimate, something woven into the quiet between your breaths. heeseung doesn’t try to fill the silence with anything unnecessary—he just exists with you, his touch constant, his presence wrapping around you like something you never realized you needed. his hand moves to your waist, tracing lazy circles against your skin, grounding you gently, reminding you that you’re safe, that it’s over, that you’re okay. “do you want anything?” he asks quietly, lips brushing your hairline, and when you shake your head, he nods, content to just be here with you. his fingers curl around yours beneath the towel, and you feel his thumb stroke the back of your knuckles once, twice, again. “we’ll stay like this as long as you want,” he says. “there’s no rush.”
you feel your chest swell at that—your lungs tightening with the weight of something you don’t want to name, something warm and stupid and dangerous. the words hit you somewhere low and vulnerable, curling beneath your ribs like they belong there, and for a second, you almost let it. you almost believe this could be more, that the way he touches you means something deeper, that this warmth he gives isn’t just for the camera. but then you remember the red light, the lens, the view count still sitting at zero. you remember why you’re here in the first place—money, rent, survival. and just like that, you shift again, sitting up slowly, the sheet slipping down your chest as you turn your back to him. “i should go,” you say quietly, forcing the words out like they don’t scrape your throat raw. heeseung moves beside you, confusion creasing his features as he reaches out gently, his hand brushing your back. “wait—what’s wrong?”
you stand before he can touch you again, grabbing your clothes from the floor and pulling them on with unsteady hands, refusing to look at him. “nothing’s wrong,” you say quickly, too quickly, because everything feels wrong now—the closeness, the softness, the way your body still buzzes with the ghost of his touch. “this was great. it was good.” you pause, slipping on your hoodie, heart pounding too loud in your chest. “but this is business, remember?” heeseung’s face shifts at that—something subtle breaking in the way he exhales, in the way his eyes fall to the sheets, then back to you. “i know,” he says quietly, sitting up, raking a hand through his hair. “i just didn’t think you’d want to leave so fast.” you ignore the way that stings and reach for your phone, already stepping toward the door. “can you call me a ride?”
he doesn’t argue, doesn’t beg, doesn’t guilt you—he just nods, slides out of bed, and grabs his own phone from the nightstand. the air feels heavier now, the silence between you no longer soft but sharp, cutting against your ribs with every breath you try to take. you watch him through your lashes as he types, jaw tense, his brows furrowed like he wants to say something he knows he shouldn’t. “ride’s five minutes away,” he says, voice flat, and you nod, hugging your arms around yourself even though you’re fully dressed. neither of you speak again—not until the buzz of your phone signals the driver’s arrival, and even then, you just give him a short, “thank you,” before heading for the door. he doesn’t stop you, but you feel his eyes on your back the entire time, like he’s memorizing the way you walk away. the door clicks shut behind you, final and quiet, and it takes everything in you not to look back.
────୨ৎ────
you don’t cry in the ride home—you’re too tired, too overwhelmed, too busy replaying the feeling of his hand on your jaw, the warmth of his voice in your ear. your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pull it out without thinking, eyes widening at the notification that lights up your screen.
@heefreakshow posted a new video: “moan for the camera, baby.”
your stomach flips, breath catching as you tap it open, watching the views tick up in real time—hundreds, then thousands, climbing faster than you can process. the comments pour in, the gifts, the subscribers, and your inbox is already starting to fill with names you don’t recognize.
your eyes stay fixed to the numbers, the sound of the car engine barely registering over the pounding of your heart, the dull throb between your legs still pulsing with the ghost of his cock. comments begin pouring in, flooding the screen in a blur of praise and fire emojis, messages of “who is she?” and “this is fucking art,” and “the way he touches her???” flashing by too fast for you to breathe. the heat in your chest blooms again, twisting tight, painful in a way you can’t name—because this was supposed to be just business. but it doesn’t feel like business when you’re watching yourself fall apart under him, when your moans play back through the speakers like something sacred, when he touches you like you matter. your hand tightens around your phone, jaw clenched, eyes wide as the numbers keep rising—ten thousand, twelve, fifteen—until you can’t look anymore. you close the video, thumb hovering over the home screen, heart still pounding.
and then it hits—a soft buzz. one new message.
@jayafterhours has sent you a message.
natty's notesᝰ.ᐟ it's not proofread so sorry >-< but i hoped y'all enjoyed it anyways !!
A lazy body of water couldn’t stop the wave and downpour of love on you and the boy merely visiting for the summer
pairing— city boy!jake x fem!reader
genre: smut minors do not interact, first/second love au, angsty, fluffy, 2000s timeframe, p with plot, p with feelings, slice of life
wc: 13.4k
warnings: kissing, profanity, reader doesn’t do emotions well, jake is very sweet, just a lot of emotions, implied heartbreak, convenience store, mention of theft, swimming
smut warnings: unprotected sex, p in v, virginity loss, body worship, desperate and needy jake, oral (f rec.), fingering, dirty talk, praising, creampie, cock warming, usage of nicknames (baby, love, sweetheart, good girl, my girl)
One. Two. Three. Four.
You counted the raindrops from the air to the ground. Small drops landing on your shoulder, staining the material—dampening it to a different shade.
Rainfall was upon you and yet you couldn’t drag yourself away to seek shelter. Summer rainfall was the beauty of the season that was overshadowed by the blaring heat and clear skies.
Focusing on the beauty as the countless droplets fall from the sky, you heard the clamoring of people who ran, hands covering their head to protect their tanning lotion, sunblock, hair and makeup from it.
Smiling softly you stand from your crouched position and stretch your limbs that cheered to be freed from the pressure. While everyone was running in the opposite direction, you walked towards the body of water.
You see the constant ripples in it, how the additional water doesn’t affect the amount in the slightest, not a single change in it. Yet, a loud splash and the larger ripple caught your attention.
Taking yourself out from the daze to look around the surroundings, there was a male—soaked hair, flimsy T-shirt outlining his abs, a smile that made the gloomy day brighten, a laughter echoing through the crash of water.
Instead of swimming to shore, he swam deeper, his body stretching out and falling backwards, not caring if engulfed by the water. He jumped out and shook his head to spurt out the droplets around him.
He pushed back his hair and wiped his face from the falling rain and salty water, he squinted in your direction catching sight of you staring.
Your eyebrows jumped in shock but instead of repulsed. He waved happily over to you before extending out his arms, throwing his head back in the process to accept the rainfall falling on his skin.
The platters of rain on you didn’t bother you, even though they never did, it now felt like nothing because for the first time, someone else enjoyed it as much as you did.
𓂃 ོ𓂃
You threw the wet towel to the side, a relieved sigh escaping you after finally cleaning up from the shower fall. And yet, you can’t seem to get rid of the male haunting your mind.
Softly nibbling on your lip, you wonder who he was? You’ve never seen him before so naturally you’re curious but you push the thought away deeming it pointless for someone you’ll only see one time.
Walking to your kitchen only to find nothing in any cabinet, you sighed heavily, grocery shopping was happening sooner than you thought.
Left to grab the nearest shoes and keys, you peeked out the window to see the clearing skies, the sun beaming out and a faint rainbow casting in the skies.
You smiled before stepping out of the air conditioned home into the humid summer afternoon. You cringed at the feel on your skin despising it more than anything but having to look past it.
Not wanting to walk anymore in this climate you spot the closest store and see the door was wide open, a small fan perched on a chair outwards for any that walked in. When you stepped into the shop, you saw many fans pointed in all kinds of directions to cool down the burning up shop.
You looked around to see no one else in here but you. Knitting your eyebrows, you glanced around but shrugged your shoulders at the lack of anybody. You were a good person—you wouldn’t dare steal from a small business.
Grabbing a plastic basket just to get the essentials until you were able to properly go grocery shopping. You roamed around, a beauty in authenticity made your heart warm but when rounding the corner you jumped at the shout.
Jumping behind the aisle to hide yourself, you peek from behind to see the back of a male behind the counter and what seems to be a watery radio that he banged lightly before grumbling under his breath and placing the broken item on the counter.
He sighed heavily and ran his fingers through the fluffy locks as he pushed his hair back in annoyance, that is when you managed to catch a glimpse of his face and the plush pink lips he licked over.
Your eyes widened when your hand managed to slip causing an random object to fall to the floor.
A sharp whip of his turned to face you had you meekly squeak and hid even further behind the asiel in hopes he didn’t actually see you.
But the wishes were diminished when his voice echoed through the store, “Ah I’m sorry- I mean welcome to our store! If you need any help just let me know” He told through an accented voice you’ve never heard around town before
Paying close attention, you managed to catch the faint curse under his breath but instead of sticking around to respond, you turned back in the direction you came from and allowed your feet to carry you far away from him. There was a clenching feeling in your chest and you don’t know why you felt it.
It felt odd and tightening that you nearly couldn’t breathe properly—it was frustrating, just straight up annoying.
Gripping tightly at the basket you grabbed anything in sight and pushed them into your filling basket until you physically couldn’t put anything else in it without another item falling.
Hoping you spent enough time clearly enough for there to be a possible switch of employees behind the register would be an understatement but as you were walking up, the basket nearly fell from your arms when you were met with a much different smile than earlier in the day.
“Hi! I hope you found everything well-” He started as he straightened his posture but stopped when he recognized your face
The once kind and professional smile changed into the bright genuine one from a few hours ago, “Hey wait a minute you’re from the dock right? In the storm just a little bit ago?”
Your mouth opened but quickly closed to just nod in response. He chuckled softly and reached over to grab your basket and push the broken radio away to start scanning your items.
There was a moment of silence, only the sounds of the fan running, the soft beeps of the items before they were put into bags. You fiddled with your fingers out of sight and kept your head low until he spoke up again.
“The storm was pretty cool earlier huh?” The attempt at small talk was appreciated, you weren’t the best when it came to it but you vowed to work on it now so you awkwardly laughed and nodded
“Uh yeah it was” The response was short and sweet, the male’s eyebrows perked hearing your voice for the first time before he smiled even more which you didn’t think possible
“How come you were out during it? Pretty sure everyone was on the run to not get caught by it” He commented but you shrugged your shoulders and rubbed your arm
“Corny as it may sound, rain doesn’t bother me as much… Plus it’s just water, it’s not going to melt anyone away unless you’re a witch” You joked but quickly squashed your lips together and screwed your eyes closed embarrassed by the poor joke you made
You thought he wouldn’t laugh but instead he let out a giggle. Peeking open your eyes, you turn to face him as he covers his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes sparkling as he looked at you, laughing like he heard the funniest joke ever.
“Sorry that was good” He wiped fake tears away clutching his stomach, “But I wouldn’t be surprised if they already melted away because of the heat”
You scoff a quick chuckle while looking at him, remembering how he was swimming all by himself during it. “Is that why you decided to go swimming?” He repeatedly nodded his head at your question, proud of the fact that he did
“I wasn’t going to allow the rain to ruin my moment” He told before bagging the last items, “Plus it’s water mixed with water. You know what you get with that?” He leaned on his arms over the counter with a raise brow
Unable to trust yourself to speak coherently and not make a fool out of yourself, you slowly shake your head and he softly slams his hand against the counter, “Water! You get water” He laughed with a smile
You gulp down and pursue the corner of your mouth into an ‘o’ shape. Noticing the clear discomfort in the air, he clears his throat and leans back to sit on the wobbly stool but misses it entirely.
You gasp and peer over the counter to see him sitting flat on the ground, staring into oblivion. “Are you okay?!” You asked but had to stifle a laugh seeing his shocked expression
He rubbed his sides in a pained expression, he looked and saw how your hand covered your mouth. Forming his mouth into a fine line as his cheeks were beginning to hurt by how much he was smiling in the last few hours.
“Yeah stupid stool just needs to get fixed” A warm blush crossed his cheeks as he stood on his feet and dusted off his clothes
You watched his actions with a hand covering your mouth and he could tell you were holding back a laugh and you know he knew you were. The situation is amusing but neither of you wordingly acknowledged it. Merely looking at each other, a knowing smile on each of your faces.
Wanting to move on from the embarrassing moment, he looked past it and punched in the last numbers until the total number summed up. “Will you pay with cash or card today?”
“Interesting that you think anyone has card around here” You moved from the topic and you can see how he sighed to himself with closed eyes in realization
The town was not as advanced as the city, he was so accustomed to the new technology taking the world by storm that he didn't realize there were some that only heard of it through news.
“Right- Sorry” He jumbled but you waved him off and handed him the direct pricing to the cent and he was shocked, normally people would pay in a bigger bill and deal with the change but guess not you
Ripping and handing you the recipe with a smile, you grabbed it and stuffed it into a random pocket before grabbing the bags into your hand and arms. “Thank you. Have a great day…” You narrowed your eyes to read his crooked name tag, “Jaeyun” You finished your sentence with a quick smile
“Oh you can just call me Jake!” He shouted but you had already turned around and walked out the opened door
But assuming you didn’t hear him when there was no response or even reaction from you. He stood awkwardly behind the counter, he hadn’t said a word of goodbye to you and you were already walking out with full arms and hands of bags.
Cursing under his breath, he tapped his finger against the peeling counter, he looked around and nibbled in his bottom lip.
Without much thought left, he quickly shouted in hopes someone heard him that he would be taking 5 and to look over the store as he rushed from behind and went out the door.
The heat from the inside of the store didn’t compare to the humidity of the outside. He huffed and blinked his eyes, a hand extending out to block the shining sun from sight as he searched for you.
That’s when he spots you less than 20 yards away. Surely he didn’t expect you to move hastily with bags at hand but he stood correct.
While you were walking, you heard rapid footsteps coming from behind. Your eyebrows creased in the middle as you tried to turn around but nearly lost your balance at the running person in your direction.
Letting out a shriek and your bags nearly flailing from your arms only to be stopped by a hand keeping your arms in place. You jerk at the sight of Jake, the employee you just saw not even 5 minutes ago, holding your arms from launching the bags.
“What the-” You start but he cuts you off
“Sorry! Sorry! It’s just that I noticed you were carrying a lot of bags and I wanted to help you” He quickly explained himself when he noticed the lack of words from you
You eye him up and down in confusion even still the weight from your arms lessened when he grabbed the majority of the bags into his own hold. “I can manage plus don’t you have a store to watch after?” You question but show no efforts to stop him
Jake cheekily smiled and shook his head, “I got someone to cover me plus who is going to steal from such a small business. It would only look bad on the person who would idiotically decide to rob us”
“Wouldn’t you be the idiotic one for leaving the store unattended?” Your question made Jake blink rapidly at you before shaking his head with a small ‘nah’
While you denied not needing the help, you didn’t mind it. You just didn’t want to have to tell him you told him so.
𓂃 ོ𓂃
While you indirectly in fact tell him so, Jake was okay with the sacrifice made.
After dropping off the bags at your place, he expected a possibility of an exchange in numbers of any kind. But you only gave him a grateful smile and bid him on his way.
At least you gave him your name at the end of it all, in his mind that was a foot in the right direction for whatever he was trying to achieve because when he ran all the way back to the store he saw the knocked down fan and the door closed.
His shoulders slumped when he stepped in and saw the racks of ice cream missing, meaning one thing. The store did in fact get robbed but not even of money just of ice cream to beat the summer heat.
He knew he was going to hear it but he would cover it with what he yelled instead of asking that he was taking 5 which happened to bleed into 15 minutes of straight silence with you with the exception of some small talk here and there.
But when helping you with the groceries, Jake realized a few things during the walk. One, you didn’t really talk much and when you did it was short responses. Two, he doesn’t really know why he was doing all of this. Three, while you didn’t seem to mind him there, you did in fact acknowledge him.
And last and not least, he felt a fluttering in his chest whenever he looked in your general direction. While he may be oblivious to some things, he knows when someone piques his interest.
And seeing you standing at the dock while he was swimming, a look in your eyes he couldn’t explain made him think. Jake could only wonder what was held behind those eyes. There was something he didn’t understand and yet, he wanted to so badly.
Lightly groaning, pushing his head into the crevice on his arm, he jumped at the ting of the door opening. He shot up right and cleared his throat, wrinkling out his outfit while craning his neck to see who just walked in. A spike in his heart rate didn’t ease the nerves jittering within, he helplessly hoped that it was you.
Maybe you needed to buy something else or wanted to give him any type of form to contact you but was just too scared to do so at first but grew the courage to give it too late and deci-
Knocked out of the daze at the same thump on the counter, he looked down on the counter to see an ice cream bar, perching slightly over the counter to see a little girl smiling up at him, a dollar crumbled in hand.
Jake sighed in disappointment but also relief before replacing the frown with a smile before scanning the item.
“Hot summer huh?” Deciding to make small talk to which the little girl nodded her head and placed the bill out for him
Grasping the crumbled bill, he straightened it out and saw that was all she had. While the ice cream was a dollar and 78 cents, he decided to hand back the bill to her which she was confused about. “It’s on me, don’t want to melt away from the sun right?”
The girl accepted the cash back and beamed up at Jake, “Thank you Mister!”
She ran along out the store without a glance back and he smiled softly before sitting back on the stool. It might not be good for business after losing said ice creams to thieves—but nothing beats helping someone.
“That was kind of you” The soft perk of your voice nearly made him topple off the stool again but he managed to catch himself and stand up in shock to see you in the shop again
”You’re back-” His voice squeaked and he cleared it to change the tone, “I mean you’re back”
There was no reaction to the deeper change of his tone but you didn’t walk away which must mean something good right? “What brings you back here?”
You place a jug of water on the counter, “Forgot the thing I need most” But to your shock, he pushes the water back to you scanning it
“Feeling generous today?” You raise an eyebrow which he shrugged, a cheeky smile that didn’t show his teeth
“Isn’t that bad for business?” The comment different from your action while you grab the jug in your arms, Jake’s hand flexed at his sides as he watched you carried the jug but shook his head to rid the thought
“Already got robbed today don’t think business could get any worse” Your eyebrows jumped at his words while you stared at him shock
When you made the comment earlier, you weren’t actually wishing for it to exist. The world or more so the universe had a weird way of casting words into existence, picking and choosing which to listen to and which to deny the luxury of.
Your mouth moved around before resting in a thin line. You opened your mouth but Jake cut you off, “I know, I know you told me so” He heavily sighed but you didn’t say anything
He looked at you waiting for a response but you only stared at him before turning a heel and walking out the now closed store door. Standing in shock by the moment, his eyes remain on where you once stood—now gone.
Something clicked in his head and his leg began to move on its own as he left behind the counter. However, a curt call of his name made him freeze and he slowly turned around to see two people staring at him, arms folded and a displeased look written on their face.
Opting to awkwardly laugh and hunch his shoulder with hopes of disappearing into nothing, he really was going to hear but unfortunately it wasn’t from you.
𓂃 ོ𓂃
The sun was setting, casting a beautiful hue over the horizon. Jake stretched out his arms behind him taking a deep breath to allow himself to get lost in thought and soak in the atmosphere he’s still not used to.
It was only the beginning days of summer and yet, he’s already enjoying it far much more than what he originally had planned with friends across the valley. Unsure if it were for the ability to spend time away from the suffocating nature of people, able to see old faces that he hasn’t seen in so long, or if it was for the encounter of a new face he can’t see to stop thinking about.
Whatever the case may be, he’s enjoying life—in ways he has never done before.
“Jake” At first he thought he was hallucinating, he must really be going mad because now he was dreaming of your voice
Rapidly shaking his head, “Not going to get me today brain” He called out but he shot open his eyes with another call of his name
Whipping his head back, he froze at the sight of you standing on the dock. His mouth fell slack trying to accumulate proper words to form a coherent sentence but nothing came out.
“What are you doing here?”
Jake fumbled his words before meekly responding, “Decided to get some sun”
“During sunset?” Realizing the logistics behind his words didn’t make sense, lightly groaning in embarrassment, a warm blush casting over his cheeks but he tensed up when you motioned for him to move
Quickly abiding to your wordless actions, he scoots to the side enough for you to plop yourself beside him. You let out a satisfied sigh and stretched your legs in front of you, Jake not moving his attention off of you.
“Do I have something on my face?” You remarked but he quickly shook his head and cleared his throat to rid the awkward silence
While you looked ahead at the body of water, Jake snuck glances every now and then towards you. Choosing to ignore the prying gaze and the question eyes pooling out of him as much as possible but you could only ignore it so much.
Sighing heavily, you adjusted yourself before crossing your legs over the other, “So did you get caught in the end?”
Jake whipped his head fully towards you with wide eyes, you weren’t a person of many words and yet, whenever you started the conversation he was willing to run with it. Running a hand over his face in excuse of pushing his hair back when he was concealing his smile.
“Yeah I did” Jake rubs the back of his nape, “There was no escaping my parents with that one”
This time you were the shocked one which must’ve been noticeable when he chuckled and nodded his head, “Yeah my parents own the store ever since they moved here”
“Told me they wanted to get away from the city life and live peacefully and they choose out here”
“So what are you doing out here?” You question realizing why you had never seen him out here before, he hums before pushing himself off his arms to sit up straight
“I hadn’t seen my parents ever since they moved here and decided this summer might be the best shot to see them and so here I am” He extends his arms out in a laugh but it didn’t crack a smile in you
Awkwardly retracting his arms back clearing his throat in the process, he glances over to the glimmering water and admires the crystallization. The body of waters that he sees where he lives don’t look like this, they’re too clouded with dirt to shine brightly. If people allowed themselves to thoroughly take time to care for it, there can be beauty.
“We call it swan lake” You softly point out and he furrows his brows, he knew the story of the shared name
A gust of wind brushes past and you softly hummed enjoying the way it crashes against your burning body, “This lake has witnessed passion, sadness, and misfortune”
Jake turned away from the water to you after the mellow tone of your words. Your eyes looked ahead and yet clouded with an emotion he couldn’t begin to decipher, it ached his heart for some reason.
“Then it must have experienced happiness, greatness and love no?” Your face contorted in the choice of wording, a complete opposite from yours
Looking over at him to already find him looking at you, his mouth pressed against his shoulder, very poorly hiding his soft smile, “When there’s misfortune then surely there is greatness that would follow after”
The corners of your lips tugged downwards before correcting it into a thin line and yet right when he was going to speak again a swoosh sound caught your attention.
Your mouth slightly falling agape while Jake felt a jut inside of him. A soft ripple formed in the water as a single swan landing in the distance.
𓂃 ོ𓂃
You don’t attempt to look for Jake but somehow he always appears. Whether you’re taking a walk down the pier or merely stepping outside to admire the rainfall that everyone shies away from, he always seems to be in the distance, smiling warmly and waving his hand in an attempt to be seen.
While you always do see him, you turn away and ignore his existence. Each time you look away from him, his chest caves in itself but he covers it by maybe you didn’t see him even though you stared directly into his eyes.
So stepping into the same shop close to your place, you expected to see him but instead you saw the familiar face of his parents chatting behind the counter. They stop when they hear the ding of the opening door and plaster a kind smile.
However, it grows when it is registered that it was you. Arms extend out as they motion you over to them. Now knowing that these were Jake’s parents, you begin to see the resemblance. The knowing bright smile, the naturally opening and comforting nature, it made sense why Jake seemed to be the way he is.
It clicks in your head the few times when they would talk about their son who is studying hard and beyond them and how they couldn’t be more proud of the person he is turning out to be. All this time they were talking about Jake.
Your nails dig into the flesh of your palm as you awkwardly shuffling to them, watching you with pitiful eyes.
You nibbled at the plush of your bottom lip weakly giving them a smile, “Hi hon are you doing?” The question meaning to be lighthearted and yet, it felt like a heavy tug on your heart strings
Only nodding your head not trusting yourself to say anything else to show that you were doing well. Unconsciously, your eyes roam around the store, “Searching for something?”
Snapped out to the quick daze, you blinked harshly and shook your head. You weren’t sure why you even came here or what you were searching for to begin with.
The comforting saddening gaze emitted from them to you leaning to a churning feeling within your stomach. You open your mouth to say something but they beat you to it.
“We never got to tell you personally but we are sorry about what happened with-”
”It’s fine” You were quick to rebuttal the sentiment, “Actually I have to go, if you’ll excuse me” Deflecting harsher than intended you felt sorry for the abrupt lash out but your body moved on its own and saw yourself out of the store
Unbeknownst to you, Jake rounds from the wall he was hiding behind and looks at his parents in confusion when they sigh sadly at your disappearing figure.
𓂃 ོ𓂃
There were too many questions and thoughts in his head and not enough answers but he didn’t wish to hear it if not from you—well only if you’re daring to tell him.
Jake fanned himself with the nearest newspaper to kill the heat. He knew as time went on and proceeded deeper into the summer months, the heat would only get worse. Yet, having to live off of fans in the store as it took nearly forever for the air conditioner to work again, felt like utter torture.
But what made it worse was that he hasn’t seen you this past week. No matter how much he turned his head, you never appeared. He curses at himself for hiding instead of showing himself the last time you were in the store. The conversation was just far too intriguing that he felt like if he showed up, it would make matters worse.
Now it wasn’t known whether it would’ve or not, he would never know since he never dared to move from his spot. Cowardly is what he would say if you asked him.
His body ached more than he would like to admit from sitting and standing. Even his cheekbones were starting to hurt from the constant fake and kind smiles he’s been doing but his mind was in shambles.
He knew that he could merely ask his parents about you and they would tell but it felt wrong. It didn’t feel right that he would learn about you if it’s not you telling him directly to his face. While he doesn’t really believe in spirituality, he sure as hell doesn’t know what was casted upon him.
Every waking moment he experienced had thoughts of you. He didn’t want to be rash with what this could mean even after having to sneak into his parent’s room for the only computer available to search up what it could mean for it to be in bold letters, ‘You like her!’
It’s not like he wouldn’t believe that he does. You’re pretty no denying that but you had a mysterious sense that drew him in and seeing you that day, your eyes following the small raindrops just before the storm came. While everyone remained clueless, you knew what was to come.
And when everyone ran away, you stayed.
He sighed loudly and weakly kicked his hanging feet as he shook his head but his act dropped to be replaced with professionalism when the ding of the door opened. He straightened out his posture and stood on his feet, “Welcome” He weakly called out
A few days prior he would’ve searched to see if it were you but it was tiring to be met with disappointment when it wasn’t. He did know where you lived after helping you take your groceries but he was not going to show up unannounced.
“Still no AC?”
Jake stared at you with wide eyes and you placed two jugs of water this time on the counter. His jaw fell slacked not believing his eyes, quick to rub them harshly and blink before repeating it until you didn’t fade away.
It’s you? It’s you. This time it's finally you.
“I-I uh-” Words were not spewing the way he wanted to but he gulped down the lump and laughed
The smile not forced and but instead true like you could even tell, “Guess not since you’re sweating up a storm” You murmur, hands pocketed into your pants and tapping fingers against your thighs
“Right… Right! Yeah no AC still” He grabbed the jugs and slowly scanned them not wanting to rush time, it wasn’t known when the next time he will see you
“Hot summer huh?” You point out and he stopped midway scanning to look at you
You stare at him in unease when he just stopped, looking around the store to see what promoted this reaction. Left to fiddle with your nape while you waited for him to respond. He quickly realized that he was staring and not saying anything, he mentally cursed and chuckled.
“Yeah, definitely not used to this” Handing you the total price and you take out the exact number in bills and cents and paid for the two items
Cashing them he printed out your receipt and handed it which you were quick to grab. While your face remained unphased his contorted while his heart leaped when his hand brushed against yours.
“Bye Jake” You bid him goodbye and walk out the store before he could say anything else
Standing there staring into oblivion he managed to snap himself out of it and stumbled over his feet to rush out the door without much thought, he yelled ‘be back in 10’ in hopes someone heard him as he left the store unattended once again.
As you were walking, you held the two waters in your arms. The sun beaming down that you closed your eyes and inhaled softly, humidity was gone, it was merely the sun and clear skies.
But your eyes fluttered open when you heard the shout of your name, you turned around to see Jake rushing to you. Deja vu hits you like a wash and you stop in your tracks and take a step back when he pants in front of you. He gulps harshly with heavy breaths to regulate himself after running for less than 5 minutes under the sun.
The sweat trickled down the side of his face to his chin to hand before dropping to the ground. Naturally glowing just by himself, he shined even more than ever before. His chest rose and dropped as he finally caught his breath.
“What happened?” You raise an eyebrow but to your shock he raises up the bright orange paid stickers
He stares at you before peeling off two stickers and putting them on the jugs, “Forgot to put the stickers on them” He softly smiled at his simple work
Knowing Jake somewhat through the time you spent with him, never once did he use that whenever you or anyone else for that matter bought something, nor was it ever used before he took over.
You looked at him and caught his gleeful gaze on you, his eyes sparkled like they held the universe in them. “Are you going to the get-together tonight?”
He jerked his head back at the question but instead of dwelling on it, he shook his head no. “Someone has the watch the shop, plus my parents told me this is my punishment for leaving the store unattended”
“I thought you already faced the consequences?”
“Yeah I’m talking about the one that I am going to get when I go back right now” He chuckled but stopped when another faint one for that manner joined his as well
You were smiling softly as soft laughter came from you. His gaze zeroed in on you, everything else fading to nothing. This was the first time he had seen you smile like that or even laugh at the manner.
It was beautiful. You were beautiful.
𓂃 ོ𓂃
Clamoring and happy people were wandering around, all excited and heading to the get together that was held frequently during the summer. Jake watched everything through the windows, his own parents bidding him goodbye as they made their way out.
He pursed his lips into a pout, his chin resting at the palm of his hand. The talks of this gathering even coming from you made him feel like he was missing out.
Kicking the counter in front of him in annoyance—he thrives in this type of environment and yet, he’s casted away to attend the shop after leaving it unattended once again.
He sighs heavily with shoulders slouched, no one would going to be coming in here anyway what’s the po-
His thought process was disrupted when you peeked through the door before fully opening it and placing the nearest item to allow the cold night breeze to sway in. Jake’s jaw dropped when you waved at him and stepped into the store.
Your attire is different from what you usually wear. It was more open despite the temperature dropping for the night, the weak artificial light glowing behind you casted a outline over you. Each step you took snapped his heart.
“Wha- Aren’t you supposed to be going to the gathering?” He asked clearly confused on why you were there but when you grabbed a random item and placed it down on the counter, you didn’t say anything
“And what makes you think I’m not going?” You knit your eyebrows making Jake hold the item at hand to mentally curse at himself for thinking you were coming for him
He played with the back of his hair and chuckled, “Right! Don’t know what I was spewing”
“Think the heat is finally getting to me”
The coverup was poor and weak, you moved your mouth around as he rang up the item and you paid in total with no need of change. Grabbing the item, you leaned on your arms, “Do you always leave the store unattended or is it just once in a blue moon?”
Jake looked at you wondering why you were lingering around but instead of questioning it, he took whatever he could get. He shook his head and sighed, “Just once in a blue moon”
You softly hummed and nodded your head before turning your back on the counter but resting your arms on it, “Do you have an extra chair? My feet are already killing me”
While it didn’t fully register in his mind, Jake jumped and rustled to give you one. Quietly thanking him while focusing on the greater matter that you were staying with him. “So what happens during these gatherings?” Jake decided to break the ice, his body hovering on air in the motion of a chair
“Nothing. It’s just everyone getting together and talking, seeing what’s up with the latest drama amongst everyone twice a month for the entire summer season” You explain but there was an underlying hint in the way you told it to him
He watched as your hands gripped the counter, the soft scratches against it marking your concealed emotions, your jaw clenching while you admired outside through the open door. “How come you’re not going?”
”Don’t need the whole town having their eyes on me more than what they already do when I’m walking down the street” You sigh in a breath but he was taken back, searching over your expression for anymore hint on what you were talking about came up negative
You maintained a neutral face, a facade that seemed to slip every now and then only to be replaced with what you show everyone.
“It looks like it’s going to rain soon” Jake points out the clouding skies to move on from the topic
You merely shrug your shoulders not ultimately caring but a gratitude felt for his efforts in not questioning you. “Hey I have an idea” Your interest was peaked when you heard the playful tone
Finding yourself running soaked by the downpour, a held back laughter as you ran through the night shower, Jake ahead of you with his arms extended out before reaching behind—offering his hand for you.
You looked between the offer and him, a thump pounding in your chest made you scared but before being able to dwell on it any longer, your hand hesitatingly reached out and clasped your hand in his. Soft calloused hands dragged you alongside him as you both random the empty street, the moonlight beaming through the gray clouds.
While everyone ran in the directions for shelter, you and Jake ran in the opposite direction. Unknowing or more like uncaring of the peering eyes towards you both, for the first time it felt right. Not like old times where you felt stranded alone—This time someone enjoyed this like how you did.
At the shop, a crippling wet note tapped hurriedly on the door, ‘Closed for the night! P.S- sorry mom and dad’ but at the sight of you and Jake disappearing off into the night, hand in hand, maybe it wasn’t bad leaving him at the store that night.
leading and diving head first into the said ‘swan lake’ was not what you anticipated to do with Jake. However, once submerged in the water you brought yourself to the surface in a lost gasp. Searching around there was no sight of the male with you.
Your heart hammered as you called for his name louder each time, you swished past the water in hopes of sight of him despite the pouring rain. Suddenly you yelled when arms wrapped around your waist and tackled you.
Turning around in haste at the sound of Jake’s laughter, “You scared me!” This was the first time you had ever raised your voice loudly in a while
He continued to laugh while you swatted him away, “It’s not funny” You tried to stand your ground but he continued to giggle until it finally came to a stop
“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you” He wiped the fake tears away and pushed his hair back in a smile, “But I’m okay”
You huffed and push at his chest to get out of the lake but he grabs your wrist to stop you, “Woah hold on I’m sorry I’m sorry” Jake apologized profusely and turned you to face him
The hard glare you sent him made the straight face grow into a smile which you rolled your eyes at but before being able to rebuttal anything Jake pulled at your arm deeper into the water.
Your eyes widened as he swam each stroke a laugh emitted from him, nothing seemed to bother him. A thump in your chest grew more while wiping your face off of the droplets on them. When he turned around and extended a hand for you, your insides twisted in themselves and squeezed like you were underwater.
“I’m right here with you” Those words never uttered to you before, not even when you were in your supposed happiest
A flick switched and nerves coursed through you as you slowly swam to him. Jake watched your every move and his breath hitched when you swam past his hand straight to be in front of him.
His eyes reflected the cloudy moonlight, the raindrops surrounding you and rippling across the valley. Hands reached up to cup your cheek, the pad of his thumb creasing your cheek softly, gaze softening the more he looked at you. Even under the night sky, you shone brightly like the day he first saw you.
“Jake” He weakly hummed when you called his name, not truly responding, too in enamored to register anything other than you
Unsure of who leaned into who first but your hands gripped his wrist and gripped onto him, eyes scrunched together only to flutter them open when he pecked your cheek instead.
You pulled away to squint at his softened face, his hand hovered over your eyes to block the downpour. “Did I tell you that you look lovely this evening?”
Your mouth opened and closed, eyes traveling everywhere, his face unsure how to respond but he stroked your head softly, tilting his head to the side showing a toothy smile, “May I take you out..? Please”
𓂃 ོ𓂃
The air from the on-going fans weren’t cutting it anymore, choosing to fan yourself instead in hopes of calming down the burning nerves which in reality did nothing to do so.
Nervously rocking between your feet while you stand behind the counter adjusting your clothing to free yourself of dust you were oblivious to creeping person behind you until a voice knocked you out of your daze, “You look beautiful hon”
Slightly jumping, you turn around to see Jake’s mother smiling softly at you while walking into the store, an arm behind her back—something out of sight, you bashfully smile at the compliment and hang your head low while rubbing a hand over your arm.
“You know when Jake told us while running around complaining how he didn’t pack a single item that would be worthy enough for a date, we thought he had gone crazy” His mother began while lightly chuckling, “But when he mentioned you, we understood”
Your shoulders tensed but the burning in your cheeks grew nibbling softly on your bottom lip to conceal the faint smile daring to show. “I can’t lie that I wasn’t shocked to hear that you were going on a date and also a little nervous but right now I feel more happy than anything”
She sighed heavily patting your shoulders in hopes of a comfort which easily eased your hunched up shoulders. “I know how you were after he who shall not be named left without a word but…”
“I know my son like I know the back of my hand so trust me when I say this” She gazed upon you in the corner of her eye to stand in front of you, dropping her hand in the process, “He may know love but he has never fallen in love before—not in the way he has fallen for you”
“Mom have you seen the flowers I set-” You heard Jake while he walked into frame only to stop dead in tracks when he sees you
He wore a white shirt underneath a blue button up tucked into dark blue trousers, the sleeves folded up his veins tracing from his hand up to his forearms. His hair slicked to the side that exposed his forehead just enough and a bracelet wrapped around his wrist.
Cliche as it may sound but it felt like slow motion when his mouth quivered before forming into a shy smile, his hand rubbing the back of his nape while walking over to you, “Seems like your date is ready” She whispered before walking backwards not turning her back to you
Your brows furrowed but when Jake grabbed the bouquet of flowers into his hand, a smile of your own formed. When it was only you and Jake left, he extended out the bouquet, “I’m allergic to flowers” His face morphed into terror and took back the flowers but you giggled and grabbed them from him, “I’m kidding, they’re beautiful”
A wave of relief washed over him while you admired the flowers, his gaze heartily watching you only to be caught. He coughed and diverted his gaze away with a heat on his cheeks, “Thank you Jake”
“Let’s head out?” He offered a hand to grasp and hesitantly you shakily put yours into his while he intertwined your hands together
Allowing yourself to be guided down the familiar road, a comfortable silence bestowed upon you left to admire the growing sunset in the distance. Jake’s thumb creased the back of your hand and tightened his grasp around it while sneaking glances and smiling at you.
Returning the gestures until you took into account the familiar pathway, “Jake are you…” You cut yourself when the dock at the lake came into view
Decorated with fairy lights across made pillars that weren’t there before, a patterned cloth set and held down by shining rocks painted with a glitter that made them sparkle, and a candle-lit at the edge of the dock. You sucked in a breath when Jake let go of your hand and allowed you to walk first.
Looking around your heart churned and fluttered to face back at him, the sunset casting a golden hue upon him while gracefully smiling at you, his eyes softening even more.
Jake’s heart was thumping out of his chest, seeing you standing there, the sunset behind you and his entire efforts bestowed before you while you gripped the flowers he personally picked out and created were a dream he never imagined coming.
But now you were his unexpected dream come true.
𓂃 ོ𓂃
Your face scrunched as you laughed at something Jake had said. He giggled, covering his mouth while leaning his body forward while you reached your front door step, which he told time and time again he wanted to walk you back.
In front of your door, you and Jake simmered down the giggles to nothing. While you looked at the floor, he looked at you. You exhale heavily and lift your head up in a gleam. Your gaze flickered from his eyes down to his mouth for a split second.
Not being discreet like you thought you were, Jake quickly picked up on it but brushed past it deeming his mind messing with him. He opened his arms like a welcome invite that you closed away only to open back up into something new, raw, fresh. All because of Jake.
Engulfing his arms around you, your arms lay at your sides, hands twitching at the baggy button up before gripping the material. It may not have been much in your eyes but to him, it was more than enough. He smiled in the hug and when he started to pull away—the warmth disappearing leaving you to panic, selfishly you didn’t want it to end.
With Jake’s head turned, you awkwardly reached in to peck his cheek like how he did to you. What failed to be accounted for was the fact he would turn his head back to speak.
You landed your lips onto a soft plush, you pulled back to be faced with Jake’s surprised face. A horror washed over, loudly gasping you covered your mouth spewing endless apologies.
There was no response or any movement from Jake for that manner, he remained frozen in place, blinking every now and then as he stared into oblivion with his arms still wrapped around you.
Your hands pressed at his chest, ignoring the firmness of them to push him away but he tightened his hold while shaking his head roughly. “Hey wait no it’s okay. I don’t care- I don’t mind at all. Do it again actually”
“What-” You tried to collect your thoughts when the soft plush landed on your lips again but failed to do when you instantly melt in the kiss
Shaky hands grasp his cheeks and Jake holds his hand over yours, his calloused one creased yours while focusing on the greater aspect, that he was now kissing you. Something he never believed to experience.
Moving his head just enough to grasp yours, he felt like fireworks were blaring off in the distance.
Pulling your arms over his shoulders while his hands rest at your waist, never breaking lip contact once. He wouldn’t dare to do so now that he’s gotten a taste of it. Rubbing his thumb in a circular motion in order to ease the shake within your body. “You okay?” He asked within the kiss
But instead of replying, you pressed deeper, shutting his mouth to prevent less talking. An urge taking over you that you were once afraid to take but with Jake felt natural.
He held you, tight fingers digging into your side to keep you rooted into place. He was soaring through the sky—in the deep end. The lack of oxygen made you light headed but you continued on. It didn’t bother either of you, saliva messily mixing together, your teeth and tongue clashing every now and then in spurts of air before getting sucked back in.
While Jake pulled away with a heavy pant, you weakly chased after his lips to reconnect them but he softly giggled at the attempt. You fluttered open your eyes and breathlessly said, “Jake”
His cheekbones were hurting by how much he was smiling and yet, he couldn’t stop. Continuing his endless fit of giggles, it prompted your own because of the brightness it omitted during the night sky. Jake’s head began to loosen and you were worried the light and warmth would disappear to never return again.
Quickly you grab his biceps to let him continue to hold you. He froze when you looked up at him with a shaky in eyes and a quivering bottom lip, “Stay the night” You rushed out to stay not properly comprehending what you were asking for
His heart dropped and the smile faltered while his expression morphed into shock. You were afraid that it wasn’t the right choice of words and that all chances were ruined but instead of being questioned he softly nodded his head, “Okay” He breathlessly whispered
This time you were the surprised one not believing he would agree and yet, your heart roared.
Bringing Jake inside your place felt different. It wasn’t to help you take your grocery in or for any other reason but you inviting him in.
Taking his hand and not letting go after kicking off your shoes to guide him to your room and slip into bed, sheets covering the both of you pulling and emptying the tiny space in between to nothing. He draped an arm around your waist, his head resting on your shoulders while he circled his thumb on your skin.
There was a moment of silence that a pin drop could be heard, which it was. A light summer rainfall began, the droplets hitting your window casting a soft pattering sound while the shadows of the raindrops filled around the room. You stared at the shadows and softly sighed which garnered his attention.
While he didn’t make a sound, you could feel his question. You blinked around your room before using a hoarse voice to speak not wanting for it to crack while you talk, “Jake I’m not who you might think I am”
You curled your body inwards forgetting how his arm held you but he mimicked your motions. The way you caved in, he caved with you.
“I’m- It’s not- I’m not easy. This isn’t something to be fixed overnight” You mumbled that if he weren’t paying attention he would’ve missed it, you opened your mouth to continue but Jake cut you off before you could say anything more
“Look at me” You refused to turn around and face in worries of making it real but he wanted it to be
Softly tugging to have you face him, you didn’t put up much of a fight. Landing on your back until able to properly face him on your side, choosing to divert your gaze down. He took a moment to take you in before he lifted your chin up. “Please look at me”
Jake wanted to be seen by you and when you carefully took the chance to raise your gaze up and look into his, he felt his heart rate racing, the pad of his thumb creasing your skin with a fond smile. None of the other emotions besides care.
“Look you don't have to tell me now or ever if you don’t want to. I don’t care about your past because all I care about is now” He starts off, “And right now you are you, right here with me. Not who you were in the past with whomever or whoever you will be in the future. Just you right now”
He lightly chuckled while retracting his hand from you, “Plus what made you think that I want something easy or even attempt to fix you”
“There’s nothing to be fixed because you were never broken to begin with”
“You’re perfect the way you are”
You let out a shaky breath, your heart beating loudly that you swore Jake could hear it from where he was laying. You shuffled closer into his embrace, a warmth that was never provided before until seeing him swimming when it was raining.
A person like you with their own twist to life that differs from yours. A point of view that you had never seen through before and yet, he gave it up for you without even being asked to.
You raised your head just high enough to place a peck on his forehead, he giggled softly when you did so. When the moment was right, he leaned you back, his head hovering yours. Eyes bore into yours in search of an answer.
Nervously nodding your head with the faint words, “Kiss me” Uttered from you were more than enough to land your mouths together
The kiss is different from the first, a more gentle approach. His hand never leaves your waist only to loosen up to travel it higher up your side, tracing up your neck.
Fiddling with the back of his hairs, you tugged softly at the fluff of it igniting a soft moan directly into your mouth. Drinking up the sound there was a dizzying effect taking over whilst it was unclear of what it entailed, something in your heart knew it was right.
“Please” A weak breath plead that rang through Jake’s mind like an echo, he pulled away from the chaste kiss to look at you
Eyes looking up at him, a nervous but certainty in them that ran a shiver down his spine. Hands trailed through his hair, racking them through the slot of your fingers in an attempt to stabilize. He gulped down harshly, “Please what love?”
“I need you” Three words that managed to switch something in his mind, a desire grew tenfold without being able to be stopped, the rationality thrown out at the window to be forgotten of
Not having to be told twice, he crashed his lips back to yours. Your legs pried opened and welcomed him while situating himself in between, laying his body upon you.
Your hands growing more intagled into the fluff of his hair, hiking up your leg while the kiss grew more feverish, bodies contorting to each other in order to accommodate the new position.
Jake grew lost in the sense of you, lack of oxygen making him lightheaded but you were making him more lightheaded than anything. He chased after your mouth when you broke it not wanting to end it yet.
So he decided for the second choice, he messily planted kisses at your cheek down to your neck, soft whispers into your ear, “You’re perfect”
You withered under his hold only to wait as he brushed his mouth into the crevice of your neck and nipped the skin making you squeal. You felt his smirk against your skin and you tugged at his hair in a warning to not say anything which he brushed past.
The hands that gripped his hair fell to his shoulder as he softly sucked on the unblemished skin. Wishing to taint it with him, Your hands gripped tightly when he teeth gritted the skin to run a tongue over it to soothe to burn.
Weakly calling his name, he hummed in response but your moans were his answers. The hands at your sides began to slip down until tugging softly at the hem of your shirt. Softly threading up exposing your skin from the fabric to run the cold slender hands up making you shiver.
Your back arched when he tugged down at your bra to have enough space for him to clasps it off. Working on detaching himself from your neck, Jake pulled away to untuck his button his shirt as hastily as possible.
Copying the rush, you carefully removed your shirt and bra in one go failing to notice the hard gaze he had while watching you. Your attention was brought back to him when he peeled off his upper wear that exposed the linen abs that traced perfectly, the wide back and broad shoulders, and formed bulging biceps when he leaned down to attach his mouth to yours.
Gasping in shock at the desperation but melting right into the kiss, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip to be welcomed back into your mouth. Shaky hands reached your before grasping at your breast, you opened your mouth to gasp and whine when he tugged at your hardening nipple.
“Just the way you are. Perfect. Perfect” He blabbed against your lips before kissing down your chin, down the center of your neck to the crevice of your breast
You peeked down to see how he looked up at you already. Licking your swollen lips, you nod at the silent question he asked through his eyes. He softly smiled before engulfing one of your breasts into his mouth.
Instantly knocking your head back into the mattress when a wet stride strikes across the sensitive bud. “Jake. Jake” You chant his name like it’s the only thing you’ve ever know, digging your hands back into his locks
He grinned before fiddling his fingers on the other side, he nicked the bud with his teeth making you wail with a precision to twist the other at the same time. Holding your arms up, he tilted his head to switch sides in order to soothe the burning feeling.
Giving butterfly kisses all over your chest, smearing the mounds with his salivas and growing marks made his heart thump harshly against his chest. The sight was a view he never wanted to get rid of, one that he will cherish forever.
Jake focused on the way you jerk in his hold as he trailed down the middle to your stomach. A kiss on every exposed inch while muttering sweet nothings along the way. Each word he said made your heart fuller.
His hands let go of your arms to drag them to your hips as he sank to his knees. Calloused hands ran over your bare stomach, a kiss left on each side while he muttered incoherent sentences. The tugging of your waistband made you look towards his pleading eyes, “May I?”
Alarms rang through your mind and you quickly blurted out, “I haven’t done this with anyone before”
Jake freezes and instantly pulls his hands back at the news, the cloud that hovered over him broke. Harshly blinking and snapping his head back while he peeled his body off yours.
However, you flailed and grabbed his hands to put them onto your waist, “I want this” You whispered loud for him to hear, “I want this with you”
“I don’t want…I can’t- I don’t want you to feel like you have to” He stuttered his words, a worry that slowly took over but you washed it away
Your gaze softened at the initial worry, you let go of his arms to cup his cheeks and pull into a kiss. He let himself be dragged back to your lips. You hummed softly rubbing the pad of your thumb onto his jaw, “I have never been sure of anything in life”
“Are you really sure?” He carefully asked
“More than ever”
He gulped down the lump in his throat slowly nodding his head, “I’ll take care of you sweetheart” He murmured, “Let me know if I’m doing something that’s making you uncomfortable, I don’t want to hurt you”
“You could never hurt me Jake” You jumped in staring directly into his eyes
His gaze never broke from yours, a smile etched on his face before pecking your lips “Are you sure-”
“Get on with it Jake” Jake chuckled when you interrupted him with a crash of your lips, a desperate need and desire overtaking you
He held tightly at your waistband fiddling with it until hooking underneath. Adjusting your body to allow him to slip off your pants, kicking them off somewhere in your room to be forgotten about.
Jake pulled away and you furrowed your brows but the unbuckling sound of his belt made your eyes travel down.
A bulge dented in his pants and made you nervously gulp, while you have never done anything like this before, you weren’t so oblivious. Jake saw the nervous expression, “It’s okay baby” He stroked your cheek, “We’ll take it slow”
You didn’t give a response, to only watch him as he unbuttoned his pants to your dismay somewhere in your room and left the rest of the artifacts leaving himself in his briefs. The thought that the pants concealed the truth behind his size was gravely mistaken.
Your eyes widened at his sheer size before looking up at him to see the bashful smile he had while rubbing the back of his nape in a shy manner. Your own smile formed while you reached out and pulled his arm from behind his neck, “And here you were calling me perfect”
He whipped his over to you and roughly shook his head, “Because you are. Everything about you doesn’t have to be changed in order to accommodate everyone else”
“But even in any shape or form you decide to take, you will be perfect. Each and every single time you will be” He strokes the side of your face before planting a soft kiss against your temple, “You’re amazing. Every inch of you, inside and out is a beauty that has graced me”
Your mouth fell agape, words wanting to accumulate but nothing being able to form. Jake smiled when your eyes stared at him, a natural pout that he’s grown to adore from the moment he saw it. “Thank you” You weren’t sure what he was grateful for however, you felt the same way
His fingers traced the material of your underwear, drawing shapes at the elastic before pulling them down. Your breath hitched at the cold air hitting your bare self but he cooed to help ease you. “It’s okay baby, it’s okay I promise”
Your legs unconsciously closed but his hands traced over your knees, “Let me see you” His voice soft and comforting—alluring almost that when he pried your legs open there was no resistance
He sucked in a breath when he caught sight of your glistening core. A shimmer through the dewy moonlight and he nervously gulped. The silence made you worried but when Jake placed a kiss at the inside of your thigh you loudly gasped. “Flawless sweetheart…” He slurred, each kiss growing closer to your leaking entrance and your heart pounded,
A warm breath fanned against your pussy and you shivered, a cold sweat trickling down your neck. You peered down to see Jake in between your legs, his gaze longingly up towards you with a dizzy smile. “You know you speak through your eyes” He muttered making you giggle
Yet when you were going to respond a loud moan ripped out instead as he kissed your soapy self. Hands immediately tangled in his hair when he buried deeply into you. Loudly exhaling, shoulders visibly dropping as he placed opened mouth kisses. “So sweet baby… Fuck”
You squealed and jerked from the contact but Jake dug his fingers into your thighs to hold you in place. He messily rubbed his face in, the arousal leaking over the face but he groaned at the essence on his taste buds. His tongue glided over your slicked folds, lathering and mixing them with his saliva.
“Ja-Jake” You weakly call his name, the plush lips messily kissing you folds while he sucked the wetness out of you and into his mouth
Each drag up your folds lead to him sucking at your swollen clit, making you screech when he tugged at it only to run his tongue over to ease the pain. Your moans grew louder and into a sharp gasp when something protruded into your hole.
Jake groaned when the grip in his hair tightened and you pulled him closer to your core. Your lower body rocking into his face and legs hooking behind him, his nose rubbing against the bundle of nerves making you shake. He wrapped his arms around your legs, lifting your hips just enough to push himself deeper into your core.
You squeaked each time he left open kisses on your soaked self, his breath fanning over the arousal made you shiver each time. “Jake please” You wailed unsure what you were begging for
He focused on what erupts the most reaction out of you, flicking his tongue up and down before taking a long stride and sucking at your clit to repeat the motion again.”So beautiful. So pretty. Just so fucking sweet”
A tightening in your stomach made you attempt to push Jake away but he only held tighter, “Let go for me baby” He blabbed against your pussy knowing you were close
You weakly shake your head but too engrossed in eating you out like a man who’s been starved, he focused on reaching your high. “Wa-Wait Jake!”
“Give it to me love” Your back arched off the mattress as you let out a loud guttural moan, thinking he would stop but Jake continued on
Slowing down his pace but he continued to latch onto you, leaving faint kisses around your spasming self. You withered under his tongue but each slurp he took, the more he felt dizzy, a cloud forming in his head that he could never get sick of.
With a failed attempt, you finally succeeded in prying him off your sensitive self. A weak string attaching his mouth to your smearing wet self, Jake gasped a breath, his arms dropping your legs as he stared at you in a daze. Eyes big and hooded with something you couldn’t begin to decipher, the lower half of his face masked in your arousal while having a loopy smile.
You brushed the curtains of his bangs back, the sweat covered forehead exposed making you giggle softly which he followed after with his own. “You okay there?” You shakily asked and he quickly nodded his head
“I don’t think I’ve ever been better” Smiling and rolling your eyes, he pushed himself up from his knees you caught a glimpse of the raging hard on he sported but unable to comment when he kissed you
Your face scrunched at the taste of you on his mouth but his hand cupping your jaw and holding you melted all thoughts away besides him.
Pulling away from the kiss, you stared into each other’s eyes. Shy smiles from the other while you softly nod your head, “Please Jake” You softly say, “I need you”
Jake hastily rushed to remove and free himself from the confinement that could barely be contained. Your jaw dropped at the sight of his raging hard on slap against his stomach, glistening in all its glory for you. The precum leaked out of its slit and trickled down the side, mimicking the viens tracing down.
You harshly gulped down the lump and looked up at him, his fingers traced over your knees in an attempt to soothe you but your heart hammered out nevertheless. He pushed your legs apart and his slender fingers ran over your sensitive folds. You jerked at the sensation while his other hand rubbed its thumb in a circular motion at your hips.
“Need to prep you before anything like that baby” He slurred before easing a finger inside of you, hissing at the intrusion and the tightness, you screwed your eyes shut
Your hands fisted your sheets, crumbling and messing it up under your body. “Jake” You called out his name weakly grabbing his wrist as he pumped it in and out slowly
“I got you baby. I’m right here” He slurred feeling how your clenched around his finger
The slickness made it easy for him to glide in and out, burying the red knuckles deep into your gaping hole before pulling out and repeating the motions leaving your mouth slack. The lewd sound from the squelch of your arousal meeting his finger filled the room.
You grip his wrist tightly but you weakly let go to clasp over your mouth when he slipped a second finger in. You moaned into your hand loudly, holding back the noises erupting but Jake scratched the back of your hand making you look at him.
He weakly pulled your hand away, “Don’t stop yourself. I want to hear you” As he said that he curled his fingers into your gummy wall making you gasp loudly
He smirked at the reaction and repeated the motion, the squishy walls around engulfing his fingertips, clenching around tightly as he attempted to scissor them open. You rolled to the back of your head when he found the pace that had you seeing stars.
The pad of his thumb rubbed over your swollen clit, “Was asking for attention, I couldn’t ignore… I’m sorry” You knew he didn’t mean the apology as he continued to rubbed down on the nerves
“More- Please!” You wail out, your hands grasping his biceps tightly, your filled holed gripping onto his fingers in a need but he ripped his fingers away when he felt that
You gasped and weakly opened your eyes to stare at him as he gave you a quiet apology and a sad pout. He bent your shaky legs and planted a kiss on your knee before reaching a hand down to hold his base.
Suddenly the initial frustration faded away as a wave washed over you, “Take a big breath for me” He whispered and with a shaky inhale, your chest heaved and you let out a pained whimper when he pushed his tip in
“D-Damn” You let out when he sank himself deeper, Jake let out pitched breaths and faint whines as you gripped around him, “So good”
He ran a hand at your hips to ease you. Your grip at his biceps grew tighter as you screwed your eyes shut but you weakly opened them when he tapped at your side, “Look at me. Just look at me baby”
Through heavily eyelids you look up at Jake who weakly smiled, faltering into a hiss every now and then, “Taking me so well, ‘m so proud of you. So fucking proud”
His body toppled over in a huff, your arms wrapped around his shoulders to hold him close. His cock twitched inside of you and it flared something fiery within you. You felt like you were being split apart by his cock alone.
You sucked in ragged breaths and released shaky breaths, trying to get accustomed to the stretch. Jake patiently waited for your sign, to show him that you were ready and he got it when your fingers drugged into his shoulder and your hurried head nodded in the crook of his neck.
He pressed a kiss at the side of your face, “I’m going to make you feel good, I promise” He reassured you before carefully pulling out just a little before pushing back in
A shallow thrust at first but it was more than enough to leave you dizzy. “So good for me love. So good to me. Taking all of me” Jake blabbed, slowly moving his hips once more to get accustomed to the clench around his cock
He heard soft sniffles come from you and he ran his hand up and down your side. Your body slightly shook under him and he cooed in your ear, “It’s okay let it out. You’re doing amazing. So fucking pretty”
You clawed at his skin, nails dragging down his skin and redding it. The rain hitting the window and the winds pushing up the tree to clunk at the side disappeared to nothing, “Need you Jakey… Please move” You slurred and it was like a switch flipped in his mind
Pushing in and out in slow thrust he soon got caught up in the feel of you wrapped around him. He never thought he could experience heaven while being alive but the wet, warmed confinement that is the heaven to him that he never wants to part form.
Each thrust started off slow and calculated, shallow but sweet. You feel the drag of him against your walls before he pushes himself in again. Able to feel his tip protruding into your g-spot, repeatedly hitting it when his pace quickened.
Your moans and whines grew louder when his tip kept poking your insides, teasing them in ways you never imagined of before. “You’re doing so good for me love” He murmured and you relished in the praise
“F-for you- Just for you” You weakly said, his heart hammered at the confession
Each thrust grew quicker, a desperation that wiped your mind cleared besides of the fullment within you that he provided. You whined out pants when he dragged his cock out fully leaving you empty for a moment before pushing back in to fill you up.
Your voice cracking whenever he did that, you hole gaped for him to be filled by him.Your walls parted and welcomed him with ease, arousal leaking at the sides and soaking his shaft.
The squelched and lewds sounds of each time you met filled the room, his hip meeting yours. Jake ran a hand up and down your body—gripping the skin that he could touch and hold onto.
“So pretty” While unable to see you he knew it was a sight to see, “My girl”
The call of words made your heart swell, you cling tighter onto him while seeps of moans slip past your mouth as you feel him inside, poking into your insides like it was always his to explore.
The obscene grew louder, no longer blocked by the rain pattering against the window or the gush of winds that swayed by. Your broken wails filled his head and consumed his body whole. Each thrust pressed your body deeper into the mattress.
Your hands fisted the sheets as your mouth fell slack, endless noises coming out and bouncing off the room. Jake groaned when he felt you grow tighter around him. A clear indication that your orgasm was approaching.
You sucked him deeper, not wanting to let go. “Clenching around me like you don’t want to let me go” He strained a chuckle, his free hand rubbing on your clit making your wail even louder
Running an infinity motion over the twitching bundle of nerves had you shaking even harder. You buried your head deeper into the crevice of his shoulder and jaw as he was your solace.
Jake grunts a chuckle when you hold onto him, “Give it to me. Let go for me baby” He wrapped his arm around you while his hips never faltered
Each thrust sent your body further into your bedding, the once slow thrust growing quicker and irregular, the tame rhythm disrupted and erratic, you felt him twitch in you whenever you clamped around him. Your legs hooked around his waist to keep him in you.
His eyes widened at the silent jester however he continued the relentless thrust into you. Your moans were frequent until you released the loudest one yet while you clamped around his shaft, he stuttered his hips and gasped a huff when you came around him—a bliss taking over you in an instance.
“Take it for me. Please. Please” He weakly pleaded, vision growing blurry, “Take it baby” Jake sniffled his thrust coming to a hilt when you felt a warmth spread inside of you, his pitched moans filled your ears while his cock twitched painting your velvet walls white of him
Jake’s rest rose with every pant he took, too dazed to comprehend what’s around him besides your fluttering hole engulfing him and taking everything he spilt into you.
Your sharp soft gasps dialed down into small hums, the hold you had on each other never loosening. He rested his forehead against yours. He smiled softly at the tired afterglow you bestowed and his heart fluttered in his chest.
When you heard a soft giggle your eyes opened to see the cheesy smile Jake had, a look in his eyes that seemed to hold the stars in them even though he was only looking at you.
Unable to hold back, you softly chuckle yourself and rub your sweaty forehead with his. He began to pull his body away to pull out but you locked your legs behind and weakly shook your head, “Let’s stay like this for a little while please”
Without another word, his body rested on top of you and head cracking into your neck, adjusting himself to slot perfectly in your arms while he took a heavy sigh, his body relaxing instantly.
He placed a kiss on your skin as he softly smiled, “We can stay like this for however long you like”
𓂃 ོ𓂃
The sun is barely up but growing in the distance, you take small steps on the dock. Jake instantly perched up to the sound and turned around, his smile growing bigger when he saw you wearing his shirt.
You shyly smile seeing the beaming gaze he had for you before walking over to him and taking the seat next to him. Your sides plastered to each other and he pressed his mouth against your head with a gentle smile, “Hi love”
You hummed in response, your heart full with joy and new beginnings. Resting your head upon Jake’s shoulder, hands interlacing with each other while he planted another soft kiss on top of your head.
The sun was rising and the sound of a swoosh followed by another wasn’t enough for you and Jake to pull away from each other. Then in sight, two swans flew and landed beside each other. Watching how they followed the other in whatever path is decided without a question or resistance.
While the swans swam in the lake named after them before ultimately choosing a spot in front of you, neck craned high to rest their heads on each other’s to bask in the sunlight of the humid dewy morning.
Forming a perfect heart shape to new humble beginnings of greatness, happiness and love.
You were just browsing, looking at all of the various kinks and fantasies the great world wide web had to offer. It’s not like you intended to make an account on a specific website to meet someone. Really, you were just curious about what was behind the “only members can view this page” banner. What you definitely weren’t expecting was to be pulled into actually meeting one of the men behind said banner, or enjoying it so much that you’d like for him to hurt you more.
or the one where you join a kink website and a specific dom’s profile catches your attention enough to actually meet him at a hotel and practically ignore your safe words bc man, he’s good.
minors dni !! | kindly leave feedback.
WORDCOUNT ― 8.7k
PAIRING ― heeseung x afab reader
CONTENT ― dom!heeseung, open minded sub!reader, smut, reader wants to explore her interests in kinks and finds the best person for the job
WARNINGS ― this is mildly cnc in some areas but reader does want it and there are safe words (colors) but she intentionally doesn’t use them. she’s having fun.
NOTE ― if you’ve read this before it’s bc i wrote it on @/ncteez for johnny ages ago! SHOUT OUT TO MY BELOVED PATREON BABES!! They voted that the member I revamp this for be Heeseung, so now everyone gets another Heeseung work from me :D
smut tags under cut::
smut tags― MONSTER COCK HEESEUNG AGENDA, reader is referred to as: “sweetheart”, "baby”, “dirty girl”, “pain slut”, and “plaything”, face fucking, bulge kink but like– via throat, choking, drooling, dirty talk, slapping, restraining, suffocation, degrading, praise, panty sucking, brief oral for the reader, teasing, short lived thigh fucking, cream pie, cock-drunk reader, biting, abuse of breasts, orgasm via nipple stimulation, clit abuse, hair pulling, fingering, overstimulation, Heeseung is kind of a sadist at times, unprotected sex, aftercare
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
You joined this website out of curiosity, and you also messaged user SayPlease out of curiosity. You said please to him, you thanked him, you used all of those manners you grew up learning in a way that they were never intended for, and…well, it worked.
Truly, it was because you were curious and you had no intentions of actually doing it. You wanted to try out some fantasies in the safety of your own room, alone. You wanted to keep it under wraps and just see how your body reacts to the words and images the people on this website offer. You were expecting your body to react at least a little bit, but you weren’t expecting to have one of the best orgasms of your life guided by his words through a muffled speaker.
Heeseung knew you were new to this, he knew you were just exploring, and most of all, he knew he could control you. After all, you did so well during that first phone call. He’s truly not surprised that you were willing to meet with him in person after a short week or so of communicating.
All of them eventually want the same thing, you’re no different.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Pulling up to the hotel felt ill-fitting for you considering this isn’t something you’d normally do. No, of course not. Why would you go out and meet some random man you met on a fetish website? Why would you be wearing the prettiest panties you own in hopes to get some praise for them? Why would you have been the one to suggest meeting him in the midst of a sexting session where he sent you the most delicious image of his hand squeezing around his cock, texting that he knew you’d do a great job of choking it?
Why you, right? No one needs to know that answer. This is a private affair, one where only you and Heeseung know what’s going to happen. You’re nervous, based on how he speaks to you alone. You keep forgetting how new you are to all of this. Some rules you know are in place, but what about other things? Will he explain? Will he sit you down and make you sign a contract like what happened in that one book everyone was raving about?
The walk from your car to the room with dainty metal numbers screwed into the door felt like it took ages. You didn’t have a key, and you were a bit early for this meeting but the anxiety bubbling in your gut said that if you didn’t do this now, you’d probably have already been pulling out to drive home and pretend this never happened.
He was already behind that door though, and only when he starts opening it do you realize that never once have you seen his face. You’ve heard his voice, you’ve seen his body, but never his face. He, on the other hand, never saw you at all, he only heard you.
Is this how this type of thing usually goes down? Are appearances not part of the fun? Suddenly, you find yourself worried that he’s only going to be attractive from the neck down, which would ruin it for you, if you’re being honest.
On instinct you back away from the door, ready to run back to your car and delete your profile, block his number, and erase this endeavor from your memory but when he comes into view,, you find yourself freezing on the spot.
Messy dark hair, somewhat soft eyes, taller than you, pretty smile. This man looks exactly like a dom that would talk to you the way he already has. It doesn’t match the face you imagined on him though. Hardened eyes, a grimace on his lips, something along the lines of a person who probably carries themself as some type of cocky prick with a huge ego to match his cock. But no, this is what Heeseung looks like. He looks…soft, and almost compassionate if you’re reading his facial expression right.
He doesn’t say anything to you at first, he just watches your reaction to his face reveal all while he takes in what you look like for the first time. He liked the surprise of it all, not knowing what his next partner actually looks like until he’s about to have them on their knees. He’s had all sorts of partners fulfill his fantasy without the expectation that he would want them too, after all, it’s about the pleasure and not entirely the attraction in his mind. You, however, are incredibly attractive. What a perfect little pair of eyes to match that whining voice of yours that he’s heard so much of. He imagines how much better you’d look while crying..
“There she is.” He says warmly, stepping to the side and letting you into the room. “More beautiful than I could have hoped for.”
Already you’re blushing as you step into the room, deciding once and for all that, yeah, you’re doing this. His confidence in complimenting you matches the way he talked to you before, except now he’s in front of you and looking at you. It hits you straight in the stomach, even as you still try to comprehend his kind words versus the ones he growled through the speaker at you just days ago.
You’re silent as you take your shoes off and stand awkwardly in front of the made-up, plush, probably half-assed cleaned hotel bed.
“You’re nervous?” He chuckles out, locking the door behind him and walking over to casually sit on the bed. His legs fall open easily as he looks down at himself, then up at you through the messy fringe falling in front of his eyes. “You can still back out, you know.”
You shake your head, struggling not to make eye contact with him.
“Are there like–” You’re embarrassed by how nervous you are, unable to string together a sentence or try to keep this calm and casual.
“Hm? Go on, I’m not going to do anything until you’re sure you want it.” He smiles, cocking his head to the side and trailing his eyes up and down your body. He really can’t stop looking at you, hoping that you’ll let him have his way. The memory of how you sounded on the phone flooding his mind as he puts your face to the moaning voice over and over again. He remembers how wet you sounded, he could hear you fuck yourself so clearly.
“Rules. Are there any rules?”
Heeseung darts his eyes to the ceiling in thought. Right, he knows you’re new but– damn is he selfish.
“If you want rules, we can set them now. A safe word is good,” He pauses, reaching to grab at your hand to pull you next to him. “Sit.”
He says it politely, more like an offer than demand but you can’t see him as anything other than the dominant man you’d spoken to before. Even with a face that looks as soft as his right now.
Your stomach does flips as you obey, already feeling entirely dominated.
“Usually, a safe word is the only thing I set and it tends to help people learn their limits. I will stop if you say it.” He tries to explain, ultimately to leave limitations up to you during the act.
After all, since you’re so new, how would you even know what you don’t like anyway? Sure, some people in this community find Heeseung’s way of doing things shady at best, but he does communicate his preferred method first. He isn’t trying to trick you into doing something you don’t want to do, he just wants the freedom to let you explore all of the things that he likes.
“I’m not sure what rules are even meant to be set.” You explain, finally gaining enough composure to talk clearly now. “Don’t pee in my mouth?”
He nods in agreement with a roll of his eye, looking at you as if he is encouraging you to continue.
“What’s the safe word then?” You ask, unintentionally fiddling your fingers in a nervous way. You catch his eye watching you, and you note the way he does his best to calm you from any anxiety.
“Some people pick random words, but colors are usually a good way to go. Yellow for when you’re not sure, but I can keep going. Red for when I need to stop.”
“No green?” You ask.
“I mean, technically everything is green until you state otherwise, isn’t it?”
He’s right.
“Any other things that are a hard no?” He asks again, ruffling his hair through his fingers. “Fair warning, I will hit you, choke you, restrain you, among many other things,” he pauses and looks for your reaction. “unless you tell me now that you don’t want it.”
You look at him and how his soft features have hardened slightly with his tense jaw, your thoughts derailing again as you see the words coming from a mouth so plush and pretty.
“Is kissing allowed?” You ask, completely unrelated to his string of offered abuse.
“If you want to kiss me through all of this, and your mouth is available, sure, I don’t see why not.”
You nod, taking it all in. Yellow. Red. No piss (this time). You’re going to hurt, and you can kiss him.
“Okay.” You say in a small voice, looking away from him and down to your lap. “Can you start slow?”
“No.” Heeseung admits. He’s incredibly attracted to your nervousness, and even more attracted to the way your voice is already shaking despite not having touched you yet. God, you’re like a brand new canvas. “You have safe words, use them if it’s too much. I don’t ‘go slow’,” He adds, spreading his legs a bit more. “I do what I want, you do what I want, and maybe you’ll get what you want in return.”
There is no tone of politeness in his voice now, and you assume he switched fully into this persona the moment you muttered the word “okay.” More nervous now, you almost wonder if it’s too late to back out. Do you even want to? Because now you’re turning and you can see the way he’s looking back at you. You’re just exploring, and he’s right, you have safe words.
“Okay.” You say again against the anxiety in your belly, knowing that once it starts, that’s your chance to decide if your exploration was worth it.
Without warning, you hear the zipper of his jeans being pulled at, and before you know it his length is out and on display. He grips it much like he did in the photos he sent to you. Matching his body more to his face now, you stare at it. It’s much bigger in person, and more intimidating to imagine having inside of you. Not only is it long but it’s incredibly thick, part of you wonders if you could even fit it into your mouth at all.
“You mentioned being on birth control, right? And being tested as clean?” He asks, looking down at himself and then back at you to watch you slowly nod in an answer.
He basks in the way you stare, blinking at the way he’s gripping onto himself for you to see. But, like he said, he’s not going to start slow for you. With the brief discussion and questions out of the way, he’s going in full force.
“On the floor.” He nods his head to the space between his legs.
Your body takes you to the position between his legs without so much as a second thought. Your fingers instinctually land against the harsh fabric of his jeans as you attempt to prepare yourself, swallowing hard at the image of his cock towering before you.
“No, hands behind your back.” He guides you with a smile and watches the way you pull your hands back and put them right where he asked you to.
“Already so obedient? I knew you wouldn’t be hard to handle.”
You can’t tell if it’s a compliment or not, but it feels like it is because it sends a sense of pride through you. Does he like to fight for what he wants, or does he prefer having full control?
Heeseung releases the grip on his length and places his hand at the back of your head, slowly guiding your mouth to his balls, twitching a bit at the way you instantly have your tongue out to lick and taste wherever he guides you. That alone drives him wild, seeing as how you may be new to this whole submissive thing, but surely you know how to suck a man off, right?
“You barely even know me, look at you lapping away.” He teases as he watches you, a smirk against his lips while he guides your head up to the underside of his cock. “What would your parents think?”
You knew he’d degrade you, but in all fairness, none of what he just said to you is a lie. You don’t even know his last name, you didn’t even know what he fucking looked like until fifteen minutes ago. Your parents would have a heart attack if they knew, and somehow feeling this dirty makes your stomach tumble and panties dampen.
He stops guiding you for a moment, feeling your tongue travel back down to his balls, licking and prodding against them in a way that makes him want to buck his hips up, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t show want or need for his partners, ever. That’s their role to fill, because if he wants to fuck something, he can.
“Up,” He guides with a slap to your cheek, feeling your tongue travel up the underside of his cock again. “Open up.” He adds as he stares down at you, seeing you open your mouth fully while keeping your tongue flat against him.
When you circle your lips around the head, you want to take your time. You want to prepare for the fact that Heeseung has a huge cock and it’s going to take some getting used to. Apparently, that wasn’t going to happen though, because now his hand is putting pressure on your head to go down, and your body fights it slightly because your throat has never been prepared for this kind of size?.
“No?” He asks, pulling your head off of him and seeing if you’re already going to give him a red, but you don’t. You don’t even look at him and instead, focus your eyes on the head of his cock trying to be better prepared.
You almost hear the chuckle he lets out, the silent code word of green shining through in the way you say nothing. With that, he places both hands on your head and holds it there.
“Deep breath–” He encourages. “Look at me.”
Your eyes dart up to his as you take in a sharp inhale, and then, he’s not sliding in, he’s plunging past your lips, straight down your throat. The thickness of him forces your jaw to strain open as he angles himself, watching you try to close your eyes to refrain from gagging.
“Open your eyes, look at me.” He demands this time, pressing further into your mouth and leaving little room for you to fight it. You do your best to look up at him, straining as he watches his cock disappear deeper into your mouth. Then, he holds you there, stiffening his hips just to twitch his cock and stretch your throat out.
For a moment, ignoring the fact that your lips are being spread impossibly wide and you can feel your throat attempting to constrict around the intrusion, you watch the way his face stares down at you. He’s really into this. Concentrated on sliding his full, hardened cock as deep as it can go into your mouth. And when he hits the back of your throat a third time and there’s a tear shedding down your cheek, he fucking chuckles.
“It’s not so bad, right?” He asks, knowing you can’t answer with a mouth full of him.
That’s when the grip on your head becomes harsher and he starts fucking his hips forward, past your lips. He can feel you struggle, squeezing his length as it fills your throat, dripping precum and fully aware that you can’t even taste it.
“Deeper.” He decides in a quick grunt, standing to his feet from the edge of the bed, holding your face on his cock and pressing in more, until he can hear the drool bubble from the corners of your mouth.
He stares down at you and the way your neck cranes. He can almost see the bulge of his cock intruding your throat as he presses in tightly if he angles his head right. He coos at you, rubbing a thumb against your cheek.
“Pretty, tight little throat.” Heeseung compliments, reaching his hand down to rest against your neck so that he can feel his length sliding in and out of your throat. “Do you hate this?”
You can’t respond, closing your eyes and trying to breathe through your nose. Your jaw is already hurting, your makeup is now ruined, and for some reason, you don’t hate it. You like the feeling of your breath being lost, with his hand pressed against any airway you could have possibly used at this moment.
Arms still behind your back, you can’t help but pull them forward to brace your hands against your own knees as he continues to fuck into your mouth at a more aggressive pace. When he pulls almost all the way out, you steal little gasps that end up sounding more like wet, desperate, attempts to breathe. When he presses all the way back in, bruising your throat in an immaculate show of how big he is, he doesn’t make a single sound and only concentrates on the way he can feel his cock sliding against the palm of his hand through the expanse of skin along your neck.
He does this for what feels like ages to you, and briefly you forget the pain of it and remember when he texted you the photo, saying you’d probably rather be choking on it. Experiencing it now, it’s more than you had imagined before, but also, in its own way, a million times better than you could have imagined.
Heeseung’s hips start to slow as he releases his grip on your neck and moves his hands either side of your head. He holds you there on him as he tenses his muscles, your nose pressing against his abdomen and you can feel his cock twitch in the deepest depths your throat has to offer. You are continuously gagging around him and only now does he let out a moan, one that is deep and breathy. You open your eyes to try and look, but the angle doesn’t allow for it. All you can see is the expanse of skin along his abdomen and chest before his hands release your head.
He’s expecting you to pull back, considering you haven’t gotten a full breath of air since he started doing this, but you don't. He jerks his head down to look at you when he feels your hands grip at his jeans again. Heeseung doesn’t even think to tell you to put them back behind your back now, because you are willingly still choking on him. He can feel your tongue struggle to share the space in your mouth with him, the heaviness of his cock weighing it down.
“Shit–” He groans, staring down at you and the way you close your eyes so tightly in concentration, all in an attempt to please him. “Oh, fuck.” He throws his head back again this time, feeling the way you try to move your mouth on him, essentially deep-throating all on your own.
When he looks back down at you, he’s floored by the wetness against your cheeks. You’ve been crying this whole time, dribbling drool, and taking it so well. He makes a point to pull himself out of you because of it.
The whimper that leaves your lips is something he doesn’t think he can forget. A raspy whimper. A fucking cry, he’d be lying if it didn’t sound like you were disappointed that he stopped suffocating you.
“Eager to please.” He starts sweetly, pinching your drool-coated chin between his thumb and pointer finger. “You like letting me use that tight little throat?”
You blink through your tears, nodding to him. You surprised yourself with how much you were able to take in that instant, and how willing you were to do it for longer.
“Like you were made for it,” He hisses out this time, pulling you up by the chin so that you can stand in front of him, “Show me how wet this pussy is.”
You can’t look away from his eyes, especially with the way he stares directly into yours when he cups his palm between your legs. Even with your clothes on, your body prickles with goosebumps at the sensation of him touching you there.
“Can feel you through these shorts,” he smiles, dipping his head down to ghost over the shell of your ear before moving his hand to the button of your shorts. “Do you want me to touch you? I bet you do.”
You’ve never begged before, and you never really understood why people begged at all, but at this moment you think you would absolutely fall right back to your knees and plead for him to touch you. You can feel your shorts sticking to you, your panties uncomfortably tucked into your seeping pussy at the very act of him fucking your mouth.
“Please?” You choke out, voice still raspy as you try to speak.
Heeseung chuckles at your pathetic attempt and pulls you by your shorts to step forward as he takes one step back. He shakes his head at you in pity, sitting himself on the bed as he drags you to stand between his legs.
“Turn around.” He guides you with his hand before circling your ass with his hands and landing a short slap against the back of your thigh. “Now, sit.”
He still guides you, positioning his cock between both of your plush thighs and holding in a shiver at the way the hem of your shorts drags against his length.
You know you get nothing out of this, and he’s not going to touch you yet but fuck, you need it at this point. He watched you gag around him, he watched you try your fucking best, and this is what you get in return? The head of his cock peeking from your thighs as you squeeze around them? So be it.
You keep both feet on the floor, doing your best to keep your legs together as you make an attempt to bounce against his lap but he stops you instantly.
“I didn’t say you could move,” he warns, placing his chin on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your waist before leaning both of you back and then rolling you over to your side. “Cross your legs and squeeze. Don’t move.”
You do exactly as he asks, crossing your legs at the ankle and lying there still as he slips his cock from between your thighs. You wait like this for a moment before you feel the head of his length nudging between, this time more wet than before, and then his hand is traveling to your belly and under your shirt from behind you.
“Big tits too, ever gotten off from nipple play?” he whispers, his hand ignoring your bra and pinching straight through the sheer fabric against your nipple. “Would love to see how you’d drench these shorts if you could do that for me.”
Your mind is racing, feeling his fingers tightening the pinch against your nipple and his cock lazily sliding between your thighs. You shake your head, not knowing if it is even possible to get off that way. Sensitive tits aside, if he can do it, you might just have to find a way to claim Heeseung as your dom, and no one else's.
“You haven’t?” He chuckles from behind you, snaking his other hand under you and up to your other tit. “Let’s see.”
He uses both hands to move your bra to the outer swell of your breasts and gropes both of them before pausing and focusing on his cock between your legs for a split second.
“Keep your legs tight for me, babe, I’ll reward you for it.”
You squeeze your legs tighter as you feel his fingertips gently flick both of your nipples. You try to focus on that sensation alone, feeling a short jolt of pleasure travel down your body and straight to your clit. God, you want him to touch your pussy so badly, because there’s no way you can get off from this alone.
His focus falls back to you, fucking his hips forward all while he allows his fingers to put more and more pressure into the flicks and pinches. You must not realize the way your body trembles even at this, and it’s driving him fucking insane. You’re so new to this, but you suck cock like you’ve been a submissive plaything for years. You have so much to learn, so much to experience, and it’s hard for him not to want to do it all right here, right fucking now.
Without warning, he pulls his hips back and leaves his cock untouched. You’re about to turn your body to him in confusion but he does it for you. Rolling you over onto your back before kicking his own pants off. Now, he positions himself between your legs. He looks at you, deep and dark eyes matching the smirk on his face.
“Show me,” he starts, pulling your shirt off of you in one swift motion and staring down at your chest. “Wanna see them before I fucking ruin them.”
Typically, it’s normal for you to be fairly silent in these situations, so having no response for him isn’t a surprise. What is surprising is the way your throat instantly forces out a small moan when his legs force you to spread yours as he settles between them.
Even the sensation of your pussy opening beneath your shorts at the spread of your legs has you feeling more aroused than before. So, when he shocks you with a quick slap against one of your tits, you’re not even surprised that it feels good.
He watches your face after that slap, your slack jaw rising into a small and cocky smirk at the realization that you’re liking what he’s doing. He’s still in the green, so he slaps again, harder this time before leaning down and licking the spot he just hit.
He pulls your bra up with one hand, raising it to your collar bone to release both of your tits and leaving them vulnerable to any hit, kiss, bite, or pinch he has to offer. You don’t care, because when you manage to open your eyes and look at him, he’s entirely focused on the way your nipples harden and soften from the sensations.
When he leans down to lick, your pussy clenches at the wet heat of his tongue flicking your nipple, and when his teeth graze as a warning for a future bite, you only anticipate it. Your body instinctively humping up each time a jolt is sent to your clit. He bites hard, and then pulls back to slap against your other tit even harder. Until you’re left shaking, babbling incoherently with gasps and curses.
“Does it hurt enough?” He coos, leaning back down to lick the growing swell against your tits. “Do you want more?”
He’s surprised that you nod, chuckling to himself because he was already going just as hard as he normally would when a woman likes breast abuse. You want more? You want him to go harder? He hums in response, using one hand to grip harshly against one tit and dipping down to suck against a particularly swollen and sore area on the other..
You feel the pain, the sensation running down your body much like the arousal and pleasure does. It’s almost hard to tell the difference between them, aside from the fact that the pain actually hits harder. The feeling of his mouth abusing you, his hands, all while his cock is hanging heavy and neglected against your thigh? You can take more than this even, you’re sure of it.
Without really intended to, your hands find their way to his hair. He almost pulls back to demand that you let go, to inform you that he gave no permission to touch him, but the way you pull against his strands has him replacing his harsh sucking and biting against your flesh to flicking his tongue against your nipple again. Surely, you can cum from this, surely, you’re close if you’re stepping out of line, right?
He’s going to make damn sure you’re soaking your shorts before he rewards you again, after all.
You moan at the flutters of his tongue gently flicking your nipple, especially in contrast to his other hand bruising your other breast. It’s strange, really, to feel that familiar build up in your stomach but then again, your panties are tucked so tightly between your lips that your clothing is actually offering a bit of pleasure on that front too. Your clit is harshly being restricted and somehow, that offers relief in its own way.
For the first time in your life, you feel waves washing through your body that feel so hot that you’re sure you have a fever. He continues to stimulate your nipples, replacing his tongue with his other hand as he pulls back and watches you fall apart beneath him. His cock twitches wildly at the image. Your lips parting, tongue darting out to try and collect the saliva threatening to fall from the corners of your mouth, eyes rolled back before you squeeze them tightly and fucking tremble.
Your lower half is humping up, your chest is chasing the abuse of his fingers, and you feel nothing but heat as you orgasm for an embarrassingly long time. All the way until your ears pick up the sound of him cooing at you.
“Dirty girl, you made a mess.” He smiles, releasing your tits and sliding down the bed before resting his chin on your knee.
You’ve barely come back to reality when you feel your shorts unsticking from your pathetic cunt. Panties still tucked uncomfortably against you, he tries to coo again, but instead he groans at the image of both your pussy and your shorts.
“Fuck,” he stares. “So goddamn wet.”
He analyzes your shorts briefly before tossing them to the side and bracing both hands on your knees to spread your legs out. There, he hooks his pointer finger beneath the panties sitting between your pussy lips pulls them out.
“So messy for me.” he comments, realizing that your entire pussy is glistening with arousal. He pulls your panties off of you easily, eyes focused on the way your hole pulses for something, anything.
You weren’t expecting him to do it, but then again, you weren’t expecting to let him do it when he shoves the panties into your face.
“Say ahhh.” He smiles, pressing the panties into your mouth with two fingers when you instantly obey. “Suck.”
You do, wondering how the fuck you ended up in a situation where this actually turns you on. He’s loving it though, watching your pussy pulse even more as you suck your own mess out of the fabric. You almost forgot his promise of a reward, if you’re being honest. So, yet again, you’re surprised when you feel his tongue, without any warning, lick straight against that pulsing hole and up to your clit.
Your legs shake around him, instinctively closing around his head before both of his strong arms spread them back out again. He chuckles against your pussy, and when you inhale to try and regain control of the sensitive pleasure taking over your body, you can only taste yourself. Each breath replaced with your past orgasm, each moan coming out as a choked and desperate whine.
The pleasure is short lived though. Heeseung takes note of your whining, licking and tasting you to the point that he’s the one that’s about to fucking lose it. He’s quick to regain his control, licking a languid stripe up your folds before landing against your clit and grazing his teeth against it.
He holds you down when you jump at it, groaning at the sensitivity and pain. He grazes his teeth against it again, and again, and then finally nibbles against it. Your whining gets louder and he swears he can hear a whisper of a ‘wait, stop–’ as you spit the panties out of your mouth and your legs still try to squeeze around him, but he holds you down more, chuckling.
“You know that’s not going to stop me.” Heeseung reminds you before nibbling again.
You could end this torture right now. Your clit has been neglected this whole time until now, and it’s not gentle. He’s biting, he’s grazing, and it fucking hurts. All you have to do is say the color, all you have to do is choke it out between his evil ministrations, but you don’t.
“That’s what I thought.” He laughs, leaning back and sitting up between your legs. He releases his hold on your hips, now pressing one hand flat on your stomach and holding you down that way instead before slapping your clit.
“Didn’t expect you to be a pain slut.”
You groan, unable to answer between his quick slaps to your clit. Swallowing hard, you try to speak. He notices your attempt and holds back his next, harsher slap.
“Baby wants to speak now?” He asks, rubbing your clit gently and encouraging you to try.
“Yellow,” you finally whimper, and he raises his brow.
“Oh?” He confirms, waiting for you to nod before holding back entirely from the slaps and instead, pinching your clit much like he did to your nipples.
For some fucking reason, this hurts more than the slaps but the consistent pain is more tolerable than the sudden, anticipated slaps. This, you like.
“Mhm,” You manage to moan out this time, biting at your bottom lip as your eyes roll back in pleasured pain, hips humping up for more.
He tilts his head, liking the way you whine for it, happy to have found someone so willing to hurt for him. He pinches harder, watching you react, he dips his head down again and offers a bit more pleasure that way too as a means of secret reward. All the way until your legs are shaking, and he knows now that you’re already about to cum again.
Despite your confirmation and willingness to let him continue the abuse of your pussy, he pulls back entirely, collecting the wet seeping out of you and sliding it down his cock with his fist.
“Eyes on me.” He demands, staring between your legs. You listen, managing to open your eyes in frustration and watch him. “Were you about to cum again?”
His eyes dart to you, and your pussy pulses yet again when you nod, releasing a frustrated sigh. He ignores it, looking back down at your hole, his thought process switching to his own pleasure.
“Do you know how much I want it to hurt when you do?” He asks again, fisting his cock faster, using his other hand to grab your face and force you to look into his eyes. “I could be so fucking deep inside of you right now, you know that, right?”
You groan, your body threatening to release something that resembles an orgasm on those words alone.
“Fuck–” You try to moan for him, you try to beg, but he stops you by squeezing your cheeks tighter.
“Fuck, what?” He asks, feeling his own orgasm welling up inside of him before he grips the base of his cock, denying him of that pleasure. “You?”
You nod aggressively, your hand reaching to grip his arms and brace yourself.
“Say it,” he demands, releasing his cock and using his other hand to run his fingers up your pussy. “Scream it, beg me.”
You choke out the words before releasing a raspy shout, begging a man you barely know to stretch you open, to use you as he sees fit, salivating at the very idea of him doing it more than he already has.
“Yeah, just like that,” he groans at the sound of your desperate voice, standing to his feet. He quickly removes the rest of his clothes, the musky scent of him blowing past you as he throws his shirt over your face. “You’d let me do anything right now, wouldn’t you? ”
Instantly you do, trying to adjust your head to knock his shirt away and off of you, only half of it slides away, allowing you to peek at him with one eye.
“Come on, take it.” He says, glancing down at his cock as he stands at the foot of the bed in front of you. “You think I’m going to fuck you?”
“Fuck yourself.” He smiles in a cocky, almost evil way. “Get on it babe.”
Honestly, it’s like you’re seeing tunnel vision. Nothing in this room exists but you and his cock. Entirely tuned into your pleasure, your pussy aching from sensitivity and lack of being stretched open, you’re instantly leaning forward to get to him, leaving your tits abandoned almost instantly.
He watches the way you pull yourself from the bed, acting like an animal as you fall to your knees and take him into your mouth much like you did before. His jaw tenses at your hunger, and he holds back a moan at the way you appear to have lost yourself entirely for him. He doesn’t fuck his hips forward, he doesn’t touch you, he just stands there. Watching you unravel on your knees, feeling your eager tongue try to force a reaction from him.
“I said to fuck yourself,” He warns, stepping back and pulling his cock from your mouth. “Didn’t you just beg?”
He smiles when he says it, and in your head, you don’t care if it’s some sort of trick or play of words. You’d gladly spread out on the bed and absolutely pound your pussy on your fingers alone if he so much as hinted for you to do it, but at this point his cock is out, and it’s heavy.
Heeseung is a bit shocked when you shove him back, eyes still glazed over in a way that shows him that you’re not in your right mind. He steps back, allowing you to press him all the way until he’s leaned against the hotel vanity. Raising his brow, kind of impressed, he allows you to hook one leg around him and instantly holds your leg in place to balance you there.
He still says nothing, he doesn’t move past holding your leg in place around him, and his eyes remain on yours as you reach between the two of you and position his cock straight to your hungry cunt. There, he chuckles when your face turns from something that seemed determined, into relief at the stretch of his head entering past your lips.
Still, he stands, chuckling at how desperate you are to fuck him this way, rather than just turning around and bending over. Surely the position would be easier for you, but then it all makes sense when he feels your lips slacked against his, panting against him as you make attempts to find some sort of rhythm.
You did ask if kissing was allowed, and god, you’re like a fucking animal. He breathes into it, pressing his tongue past your slack lips and tasting the remnants of your panties.
“You’re already so gone,” he whispers into your mouth, feeling your shallow humps on his cock. “I’m hardly even inside of you, I said I could go deep.”
You don’t really hear those words. Honestly, your body is moving on its own and doing what it can do at this moment. The angle isn’t easy, but you wanted to kiss him so fucking badly.
He pulls out of you though, leaving little reaction for you to do anything other than feel embarrassed by your attempt to fuck yourself on him just for a kiss. He doesn’t expect you to keep going though, apparently, because he’s instantly swirling you around and shoving you to the bed. Bending you over and placing a hand at the back of your head before pressing your face into the blankets. His other hand holding both of your hands behind your back with ease.
“Better?” He asks, easily positioning his cock and shoving into you with one quick thrust, bottoming out entirely. “Hm?” He adds, pulling out and shoving in again.
Your mouth is open in a silent moan at the intense stretch, tasting nothing but the fabric of the blanket your face is currently shoved into.
“Can’t hear you,” He grunts, picking up the pace and pistoning his cock in and out of you so fast that you can barely catch your breath regardless of the blankets already making it difficult. “You like it so fucking deep, don’t you?”
You can’t answer. You can only groan at the feeling of his cock stretching you open repeatedly, at his hand shoving your face further against the mattress until all you can do is tense your body.
He feels it, your pussy clenching around him so tightly that even he gets the breath knocked out of him. Gripping your hair, he pulls your head up and listens to your gasps for air. His hips slam harder, harder, harder, until he feels the pleasure threaten to hit him. That’s when he stops, burying himself into you entirely before releasing your head and falling forward against you.
“Don’t fucking move.” He warns, twitching inside of you as he feels you heave for air beneath him.
You try not to move, but your sensitive body reacts to even the sound of his breath behind your ear. Everything is more sensitive than you could ever imagine your body being. Your bruised and swollen tits are throbbing against the mattress, your clit is pulsing at the fullness of his cock inside of you, and your pussy is struggling still to adjust to his size. It feels fucking immaculate. You want him to move, you want to move. You want to be fucked, obliterated, destroyed.
“Wait–” You manage to muffle out, knowing full well that it’ll get him to do the exact opposite.
“I’m not even fucking you,” he laughs, pressing his hips forward a bit more, causing you to whimper in response.
“Stop, just, give me a second.” You cry out.
“Not how this works.” He laughs, pulling his hips back and pointedly thrusting into you again. “So dumb you forgot how to use your words properly?”
You nod, smirking against the blankets.
“Liar.” He groans, amused by your little attempts to control how hard he goes. “If you want it harder, all you have to do is beg.”
His hips speed up, this time thrusting into you so hard that the bed itself scoots further forward and bangs against the wall. You yelp in pleasure, rolling your eyes back and wanting so badly to see his face as he fucks you.
“Hee– please.” You groan and he pulls back, wondering if you actually are so lost that you’ve forgotten the colors.
“Colors, sweetheart. Red for stop.” He goes harder, harder, harder, “Or is this exactly what you want?”
You shake your head almost aggressively at that, bracing your hands on the bed and pushing your ass back against him.
It floors him, really, that you’ll ask him to stop and then blatantly ignore your own words by fucking yourself back on him. You’re insane, honestly.
“Please what, then?” He asks out of breath, smiling as he watches you fuck back against him.
“Let me see you do it.” You whine out, desperate to feel intimate, to feel close.
He obliges, tilting his head at the request but allowing it nonetheless. You can feel him slip out of you before his fingers replace his cock. He doesn’t want to lose the feeling of your clenched pussy even for a moment as he guides you to roll over and shoves you back on the bed, your legs hanging off the end of it. He braces himself at the end of the mattress, resting his cock against your you as he scissors his fingers inside of you with a smile.
“Wanna see me fucking ruin you?” He smirks at you, pulling at your legs and guiding you to wrap them around him. “Then watch.”
You do, eyes zoned in on him as he grips tightly at your legs and pulls his fingers out of you. You can’t even catch your breath, which is no longer a shock to you, when he slides back into you. Studying his face as he does it, you can’t tell if he feels good or if this is just a service he does on the regular. You wonder what you’d have to do to break that stone-cold look in his eyes, what it takes to get him to moan without restraint, to show you that you’re also making him feel good.
He fucks you so well, so deep, and god, it becomes so difficult to keep your eyes on him with each painful thrust. The bed continues to knock against the wall, your cries become louder and louder, and finally, fucking finally, you hear him release his breath in a low and guttural moan.
That’s it. That’s what you want to hear from him, time and time again.
“Harder,” you urge him, feeling his hands tighten around your legs before he’s releasing them and dropping his hand to your throat. “Harder.” You continue now with a strained voice.
He does, putting all of his strength behind his thrusts, losing himself momentarily in the moment and squeezing your throat tighter as he grunts out at you with a defeated chuckle.
“Of course, you’d be the one to pull this out of me.” He admits, his smile never falling from his lips as he closes his eyes and listens to the wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of you. “Of course, you’d be the one to grip my cock like this.”
You’re gone, not even realizing that you’ve been on the edge for a while now in the way his thick cock continuously massages your g-spot. You tighten your legs around him, forcing him to bury himself deep inside of you as you clench and grip around him in a release.
He allows it, surprising himself for being so lenient, then slides his hand up your throat before releasing it and using two of his fingers to hook your mouth open. There, he watches you drench him, he feels your arousal gushing out of your stuffed pussy and onto the bed, and now, now it’s his turn.
“That’s it, all over me, baby–” he coos, pulling his hips back and slamming back into you despite your tightened legs around him. “Feel it.” he adds, accenting his words with another particularly deep thrust.
You’re entirely silent, and he’s loving it as he slides his fingers deeper into your mouth, holding your tongue down and imagining which way he’d like to fill you up. He could watch his seed run down your thighs, he could pull out and fuck your throat until climax, he could pull out and deny himself a bit more, just to see you fall apart more.
It hits him a bit too fast though, when he’s looking down your throat and watching your eyes slowly open to look at him. There’s the tears, your sensitive pussy probably begging for him to pull out, to give you some relief, to be gentle. He offers one last thing to you, pulling his fingers from your mouth and dragging them down.
There, he rubs against your swollen clit until you’re writhing under him to get away. Still no safe words have been used, and you’re fully capable of stopping him at this moment. But you don’t. So, he doesn’t stop. The sensation of your body writhing, fighting the pain, chasing the smallest hint of pleasure throws him into his release. He presses into you so hard that the bed remains in a slightly tilted position, fitting snugly against the wall as he paints your inner walls with thick, hot cum.
You whimper at the feeling, legs falling open from around him as your body tries to wiggle away with your post-orgasm shocks. He moans each time, falling forward half way through his orgasm..
“You feel that?” He growls against your ear as he fucks his the entire mess into you. “Is this what you wanted to see?”
You listen to him speak, the words matching the pain in your body to such an extent that you’d probably let him keep going if he wanted to. You’d let him break you of all sanity, you’d let him tie you up, use you, abuse you.
And when he goes silent, his sweat dampened skin raises and he slips out of you with care and a deep sigh of relief. You simply lay there, staring up at the ceiling and wondering how long you’ve been here, why it took you so long to explore this side of your sexuality, and why you’re not ready for it to be over, despite your aching body.
You feel his presence leave you for a brief moment and return with a warm and wet towel, and you jolt when it touches between your legs. Your body jolts in aversion at the feeling of the rough material against your clit, but still you try to relax.
“You must be sensitive,” Heeseung says gently with a voice you’ve never heard from him, “They always are after their first time.”
Nodding, you try to pull yourself up and close your legs, but your body feels stiff again.
“Relax, you’ll probably faint if you try to stand up too fast.” He tries to explain, folding the towel over to clean you with a different side of it. “It’s not like a normal hook up, you know? If you’re gonna let me hurt you, you’ve gotta let me take care of you after.”
Your throat is dry as you lay there, the sensation of even his gentle touches feeling like too much to handle. You feel like you can’t move, so you trust his words and try to relax.
“That’s it, yeah,” He encourages, going to try and help you shuffle your body up to the head of the bead so that you at least have a pillow. “Take your time. You have my number if you ever wanna meet up again.”
With that, Heeseung steps himself into the bathroom and cleans himself up. When he comes back out, he’s already dressed and fixing his hair in the mirror before heading toward the door.
“Wait,” You panic, lifting up quickly and feeling a bit light headed at the sudden movement, “You’re leaving?”
He smiles at you, nodding. Everything else you do as a newcomer may be fairly expected, but it’s rare when Heeseung ends up with someone who doesn’t want him to leave after.
“I do have a day job, you know,” He tries to play it off as a joke, but he really didn’t think you expected him to stay after general aftercare. “Stay here and rest up. Check out is tomorrow at eleven so feel free to enjoy the room. Not sure if you noticed, but it’s one of the nicest hotels in the city.”
Oh. Right, you didn’t notice. After all, when you got to the door the room practically didn’t exist to you outside of the floor in front of the bed, the bed, and the ceiling.
“Red.” You say, unsure if it’ll work.
“You can’t do that.” He finds it sweet, but dangerous nevertheless. He doesn’t sleep over with his website meetups. He’s here to bring you pleasure and pain sexually, not emotionally. “Like I said, you’ve got my number.”
You’re silent, watching him turn the knob on the door.
“Oh and,” He pauses, turning to look at you. “Don’t go off with other randoms from the site. Some of them don’t offer the kindness I offered to you today. Ease into it, I’ll be around to help if you need me.”
Wondering if he’s implying that you should only see him when it comes to this sexual dynamic, you nod to him, trying to ignore the fact that he claimed “kindness” was being offered to you. If this was him being kind, you can’t help but wonder what he’s like when he’s…you know, not.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
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the last thing you were expecting when taking a smoke outside was to see someone trying to sneakily cut flowers off your mom’s bushes in the front of your house in the middle of the night—nor were you expecting to become so enamored by him, either. and it seemed that the feeling was completely mutual.
( 𝓷 )。 a month and a half, a new username, and a new theme later… i am back!!! hello my lovelies, i hope you been well!! (>人<)♡ enjoy this lil fic while i work on some of my bigger wips! lowkey, i don’t like this one that much, but we prevail ... kisses mwah!! ♡♡
The cold night air bit at your skin through the thin cardigan you had thrown on minutes prior. It didn’t help that the only thing you had on underneath it was a simple tank top. You curled more into the cushions of the wooden porch swing you sat on, but it gave you no more warmth. Sighing at yourself, you let the smoke curl out from your nose and fill the air around your face. The least you could’ve done before creeping out of the house was put on something warmer than the—also—thin shorts you wore.
It was a rather quiet night, the only other noise coming from the slight wind that picked up here and there and the sound of you taking another drag of the burning cigarette between your fingers. The blackness of the night draped over you like a blanket, giving you slight comfort at the thought of sitting outside alone. Taking another drag of the cigarette, you were pulled out of your thoughts by the soft sounds of grass under the soles of shoes.
Your head turned towards the sound. A blur of black and denim passed in front of you and stopped in front of the beautiful arrangement of hydrangeas and azaleas your Mom had planted in front of your house. You froze in your spot on the porch swing, your cigarette halfway to your parted lips. Heart thumping in your chest, you forced yourself to take a deep inhale of the cool spring air and calm your nerves.
Little by little, you stood from the porch swing and tried your best for it not to creak as you moved across the porch silently in your mismatched slippers. The blurry figure came more in view as you rounded the column, and if you weren’t so shaken you would’ve laughed.
You let the smoke spiral from the cigarette as you watched some guy cut flowers from the bushes your Mom delicately planted in the front yard. Somehow he hasn’t noticed you practically standing above him, despite his head being on a swivel for potential onlookers. A heap of hydrangeas and azaleas sat next to him as he cut another one off from the bush at an angle. Was he really stealing flowers from your yard right now in the dead of the night?
“Hey!” you called out, making sure not to be too loud that you might accidentally wake your Mom. The flower thief’s eyes darted up to yours in sudden fear. You raised an eyebrow at him, the corner of your lips lifting as you brought the cigarette to your lips and inhaled more smoke into your lungs. He jumped up, stolen flowers in a death grip in one hand and scissors in another, and suddenly came face to face with you. You blew the cigarette smoke in his face.
He took a couple steps back, coughing and waving the smoke away from his face with the hand that held his scissors. They glinted in the moonlight, the metal catching your eye. You chuckled a little to yourself, mainly because you thought that he was actually something to be afraid of at first. Who steals flowers from their next door neighbor?
You gasped, pressing your free hand to your chest in mock fear, “Are you trying to kill me with scissors right now?”
The flower thief looked like a deer caught in headlights. You could see the fear rippling through him like a stone in water as his wide eyes stared at you. He was frozen in his place. “What? What? No! I-I… Uh—”
He looked down to the flowers in his hand with furrowed brows and then held them out towards you. You chuckled again from your place on the porch still, the smile on your face growing as he stumbled over more and more of his words. You took one last drag from the cigarette before dropping the butt to your feet and smothering out the flame with your slipper. The flower thief persisted, continuously cutting himself off, “I was just… You see, it’s—”
You crossed your arms against your chest, trying to seem nonchalant but really trying to mask how cold you were right now, and got a good look at him. If you thought about it, he was pretty cute with his round features. He seemed rather tall—clad in a black oversized zip-up hoodie, loose denim jeans rolled at the bottom to show his funky socks that you couldn't make out that well, and dirty converse that were grass stained.
He must steal your Mom’s flowers a lot.
His brick red hair was disheveled and his wide brown eyes landed on just about anything other than you. “So you’re just a petty thief then, huh? Is that it? You like to steal flowers from poor innocent mothers who break their backs planting them, don’t you?” you ask him, trying not to let the laugh come out through your voice and barely succeeding.
“No!” he exclaimed, shaking his head rapidly with his arm still outstretched. “No… it’s for—I’m… I—”
The flower thief suddenly surged forward towards you and the flowers, making you take a wild step back. He quickly cut another flower from your Mom’s hydrangea and azalea bushes and took off towards his own house. “Sorry!” he threw behind him, giving you one last look.
You ran off the porch and into your yard after him, but stopped yourself short. “What the fuck, dude? Those are my Mom’s flowers!” you shouted in his direction. He threw more apologies at you, but didn’t stop his sprint. You just shook your head at him. Let him keep the flowers if they were so important to him that he had to steal them in the middle of the night.
You finally let out the laugh you were trying so hard to keep in. You tried your hardest to keep it relatively quiet, but knew you didn’t succeed when the neighbor across from you’s light flicked on. Taking off yourself, you darted back onto the porch and towards your front door, flinging it open and hiding yourself within the comfort of your own home.
“I wish you’d stop wearing these beat up shoes,” Heeseung’s Mom said as she examined the outfit he came downstairs in. She still hadn’t told him what he needed to get dressed for so he didn’t put much thought into his outfit. But, seeing how nice she cleaned up in a pretty jewel-toned dress, made him realize that that was a mistake. Heeseung’s Mom sighed in an ‘it’s good enough’ way as her gaze flicked back up to meet her son’s. “And you desperately need better clothes,” she continued, waving her hand in the air at him. “Did you not buy any new ones? Have you just been walking around your dorm and campus in this… questionable attire?”
Heeseung sighed at the way his Mom raised her brows at him in question. He couldn’t tell her that his shoes were so beat up because he’s been dragging them through dirt and along grass. As for his clothes… That was just his style—and he hadn’t thought there was anything wrong with it until now. Heeseung decided to not answer her and instead guide the conversation in a different direction. “You never said where we are going and why it’s so important for me to go with you,” Heeseung asked instead.
After fiddling with the collar of his faded t-shirt, Heeseung’s Mom smiled up at him. “The neighbors have invited us to dinner! I hear their daughter is also back from college on spring break!” she exclaimed. Heeseung knew his Mom well enough to catch the hint in her words. This was all some elaborate set up to bring him and this poor random girl together, and the neighbors were most likely also part of it.
“Mom—” Heeseung started, but was cut off by his Mom raising a finger, the smile still on her face.
“From all the stories I’ve heard she’s a nice, sweet girl and I think that the two of you would get along well. Now, go grab your jacket. It’s chilly outside.” Heeseung just sighed, a slight pout forming on his lips as he walked over to the coat closet.
When his Mom was grabbing her own jacket, Heeseung pulled the vase full of hydrangeas and azaleas out from its hiding place and presented it to her turned back. When she turned, her eyes landing on the beautiful display of flowers, she gasped. “For you, Mom,” the smile on Heeseung’s face grew wider with how his Mom’s face lit up.
She took the vase of flowers from his hands, smiling softly down at them. “You are so very sweet! But, don’t think that this is getting you out of this dinner.”
Heeseung groaned as his Mom placed the vase down by the window. Together, they stepped out of the house.
“So which neighbor is it?” Heeseung asked. He looked around at the houses that surrounded him. Heeseung wasn’t that familiar with his neighbors, especially not since he’s been at college, so it really could’ve been anyone.
Heeseung’s Mom tilted her head towards the house right next to theirs, “The ones right next door! Come on, I don’t want to be late.”
Heeseung froze in place. Surely his Mom meant a different neighbor, right? One where he hasn’t been stealing flowers from every odd night since he came home? Too late his mind was putting together the pieces. The daughter that is back for spring break… That must’ve been you. He couldn’t come face to face with you again after that embarrassing encounter from last night! What if you exposed him? “Maybe we should skip out this time,” Heeseung practically begged.
“Nice try,” his Mom replied, “let's go.” She pushed him in front of her and towards the house. Defeated, Heeseung accepted his fate and crossed the shortcut through the grass to where your front walkway was. He stood behind his Mom hunched over himself—he really didn’t want to be standing on your doorstep right now.
A woman who he could only assume was your Mom opened the door after his knocked, a welcoming and warm smile on her face as she beckoned the both of them inside. Heeseung didn’t hear what your Mom was saying she cooked for dinner tonight, he was too busy scanning the living room for your presence.
Your home looked like any old suburban home in the area. As his Mom and yours began to chat, Heeseung looked around more at the photographs that hung on the wall. There were various photos of you and your Mom at different stages of your life—some where you were at a pool and others where you were holding trophies for an achievement Heeseung couldn’t make out.
His gaze lingered on the photographs that seemed more recent that were in frames along the table by the front door. You looked so different from how he last saw you at dead of night. In the picture, you didn’t have the smudged dark eyeliner around your eyes or the cigarette smoke clouding around you almost like a halo. It was somewhat odd to Heeseung to see you without them.
Heeseung’s name being said lowly caught his ears. He looked to the side to see his Mom and yours chatting in low—but not low enough—voices about the two of you, a please smile on their faces. “I told you he’d be interested!” Heeseung’s Mom whispered, her eyes quickly darting to where he stood, still bent over slightly to get a better look at your picture. “Speaking of, where is your daughter?”
All heads turned to the descending sound of footsteps at the staircase, your arrival coming at the perfect moment. Heeseung couldn’t deny that you were absolutely gorgeous. Your eyes met his and it felt as if time started to move more slowly. As you rounded the stair landing, your Mom rushed towards you and practically pulled you right in front of Heeseung before you could even have the chance to blink. “Honey, come greet our guests,” your Mom says.
You tilt your head at the guy standing before you, barely hearing your Mom give you his name. You almost couldn’t believe your eyes—this was the guy who was stealing flowers from the bushes out front last night! Did he have no shame? Why was in your house having dinner with you and your Mom?
You could, once again, see the barely disguised fear in his wide eyes. Lifting a finger at him, your brows furrowing, you began to speak but was quickly cut off by your Mom beating you to it. “Well, Heeseung’s Mom and I are gonna finish up here in the kitchen. Why don’t the two of you wait on the couch? Get to know each other before we eat dinner?”
It wasn’t like they gave you both a choice. One moment you were seconds from confronting the late-night landscaping larcenist and the next you were shoulder to shoulder on the couch with him while your Moms giggled and scurried off to the kitchen. You both jumped away from each other, and you gave him a glare.
“Listen,” Heeseung started, “I’m really sorry about the flowers. Please don’t tell your Mom! It’s just—I… They’re my Mom’s favorite flowers and they were just so accessible being in your front lawn, I thought it wouldn’t be that big of a deal! You know, shave some off the top and—”
You cut off his rambling by pressing a finger to his lips to silence him. Chuckling a little, you say, “I don’t really care about the flowers. Just… Why in the middle of the night? Why didn’t you just ask for some? I’m sure my Mom could've even given you some seeds or something.”
Heeseung’s stare immediately dropped to your finger still on his lips, to the chipped black nail polish that coated your nails. He could smell the perfume you sprayed on yourself and it briefly clouded his senses with its sweetness. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. His head was completely empty as he dragged his gaze back to you. It took you raising an eyebrow at him for Heeseung to snap back to his senses. “Uh… I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t really think about it,” he finally says, his voice slightly muffled.
You retracted your finger and Heeseung’s lips immediately felt cold without it. Lifting the corner of your lips up at him, you leaned back onto the couch, “I guess I’ll keep your secret, flower thief.” You said it loud enough for your Mom to potentially hear and Heeseung sat up straighter, peering over the couch to where the entrance to your kitchen was. You laughed, and Heeseung looked back at you shaking your head at him. “Don’t worry, they can’t hear us. They’re probably in there, like, planning our wedding or something… You do know this whole dinner is a set up, right?”
Your face grew serious for a moment before you broke out into another laugh. This time, Heeseung joined in. “Yeah, I figured. I wonder what made them put the two of us together.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” you asked, an offended look passed across your face. “Were you expecting something else? Am I not up to your standards?”
Heeseung was quick to say that that wasn’t the case, stumbling over his words on how pretty you were and that he wouldn’t mind being with you or even someone like you, before you cut in with another laugh. His heart was racing, but he awkwardly laughed along with you as he brought his hand up to scratch the back of his neck. Heseung was glad that the length of his hair hid how red the tips of his ears no doubt were.
“I’m just fucking with you,” you say, patting his shoulder. “You don’t have to fall over yourself trying to make me feel better.”
Before Heeseung could respond, his Mom poked her head out from the entrance of the kitchen. Behind her, the sound of your Mom’s voice caught both of your attention and you turned around at it, “—come hell or high water! Just you wait, they’ll be together!”
You looked over at him and gave him a wink. A smile pulled at Heeseung’s lips and his gaze lingered on you as you stared at your Moms emerging figures from the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready!” your Mom says, a delighted smile on her lips.
The two of you rose from the couch and made your way to the kitchen to help set out the dishes in the dining room. Each time Heeseung passed you, you made sure to graze your fingers along his bicep or let the fabric of your flannel brush his shoulder. When the two of you were alone in the kitchen, you pulled him down a little so your lips were at his ear and whispered: “Let’s give them something to be excited about.”
Dinner consisted of fake stolen glances and laughing a little too hard at anything Heeseung said. Between the act the two of you were putting you on, Heeseung was trying his absolute hardest to not let his face heat up to the point where everyone at the table could see how red he truly was. You subtly taunted him, bringing up the flower incident in front of your Mom without her putting two and two together.
“Mom,” you spoke, garnering the table’s attention, “I love the flowers you have planted out in front of the house. Don’t you like them too, Heeseung?” You turned to look at Heeseung and suddenly the table’s entire attention was on him.
Heeseung shifted in his chair, the cushion suddenly uncomfortable. He finished chewing, swallowing hard, giving him precious seconds to think before answering. “Y-Yeah—Yes, they’re very beautiful!” Heeseung’s voice came out a little strained, but he hoped that your Mom didn’t think too deeply about it. He glanced at you, raising a brow ever so slightly. What happened to keeping his secret?
You cleared your throat, clearly a tactic to mask your laugh as you hid your smile with your hand. You rested your head on your hand as you looked at him. Heeseung felt the toe of your boot at his ankle, slowly making its way further up his leg and dragging the bottom of his rolled up jeans with it. He shifted in his seat a little again and you smiled a little more, biting your lip.
“My exquisite hydrangeas and azaleas…” your Mom trailed, tsking and shaking her head. “I think we’ve had an uptick in bunnies or something! Every time I go outside to water them and make sure they are doing okay there’s always some that has been chewed off.” You looked over to Heeseung and he looked over to you. You shook your head at your Mom’s words, pretending to be sorrowful. “It’s so strange too! I never see any bunnies around, but I don’t know what else it could be,” your Mom continued.
“Such a shame…” Heeseung’s Mom trailed. He was glad that she didn’t piece together that the flowers he gave her earlier were the exact same flowers that were in front of your house—same color and all. If he was lucky, she must think that he had gotten them from the shop. Heeseung made sure to keep his mouth shut.
Under the table, your foot had traveled all the way up to right below Heeseung’s knee. He was trying his hardest to keep composed, but it was glaringly obvious that something was wrong with him by the way he kept squirming in his seat. His Mom’s eyes flicked over to him in question and Heeseung inhaled deeply. You tilted your head at him in concern, your brows furrowed. “Everything alright, Heeseung?” you asked him, trailing your foot up further.
Heeseung pushed back from the table, his chair scraping along the hardwood floor and making an awfully loud and grating noise. Your foot dropped, and you tried your hardest not to laugh at his reaction. “S-Sorry,” Heeseung spoke, looking around the room. Forks were stopped halfway to mouths and all sound in the air died out. “Uh—Where’s your restroom?” he asks, standing to his feet awkwardly.
“Down that hall and to the left,” you smiled, there was a hint of knowing in your expression that made Heeseung feel even more embarrassed. You rested your head in your hands again, looking up at him. Heeseung apologized again, rushing towards where the restroom was located and adjusting his jeans in the process.
He didn’t understand you. Heeseung thought that when you said to give your Moms something to be excited about, that your actions would be a lot more out in the open. What was the point of teasing him under the table? Did you just want to see him flustered? Maybe that was it.
Heeseung couldn’t stop thinking about your touch—your finger on his lips and the graze of your fingertips on his bicep or the feeling of your knuckles brushing together when you both accidentally reached for the same platter. It was driving him a bit crazy at this point, and it didn’t help that the potential threat of his secret being exposed by you loomed over him. He couldn’t tell if this was all to make your parents happy still and if he was supposed to just play along, or if it had somehow along the way turned into actual flirting. Heeseung turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face.
It was undeniable that you were attractive. Your smudged eyeliner and chipped nails just made Heeseung even more attracted to you. He wouldn’t mind if things between the two of you delved deeper than the surface, if possible. He wanted to ask you what your end-goal was, but he also didn’t want to possibly mess up his chances of getting to know you better. Either way felt like a lose-lose battle to him, and that drove him even more crazy than before.
Heeseung looked at himself in the mirror, the cold droplets of water running down his chin and dripping off his face and into the sink below. Heeseung liked you, that he couldn’t deny anymore.
He cut the water off and dried his face with the hem of his t-shirt. Heeseung took another look at himself in the mirror, sighing softly, before exiting the bathroom and making his way back to the dinner table.
The first thing Heeseung did when getting home from the dinner with you and your Mom was immediately rush up to his room. He pressed his back against the coolness of the wooden door, finally feeling like he was able to breathe fully as he shut his eyes. He stayed there for a moment, just slowly inhaling and exhaling until his body didn’t feel like a livewire anymore.
Heeseung opened his eyes and his gaze fell on the way the moonlight filtered through his still-open blinds. He exhaled again and pushed off the door to go close them. What he wasn’t expecting to see was you. Your window was right across from his and you looked to be getting ready for bed as you moved about your own room, the light from your room flooding outside the panes of your window and onto the side of your house. Heeseung was mesmerized for a moment as he watched you. You were completely oblivious to him, and most likely at the fact that your windows faced each other too.
Heeseung swallowed hard when you stripped off your shirt right in view of the window for him to see. You turned towards the window and he could see the black bra you wore before you bent down to take off the black denim shorts you had on, leaving you in a matching pair of black panties. Heeseung’s eyes widened. He knew he shouldn’t be watching you get undressed right now, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you either.
You turned your back to him, unclipping your bra and letting it fall to the floor. Heeseung’s breathing picked up and he was so focused on you that he didn’t even notice the growing bulge in his jeans—nor how it was on full display for you too, if you happened to turn back around and look up at your window. Heeseung was glad that the darkness gave him a bit of coverage as he pressed more against his window, taking great care to get a good view from between his blinds. Only when you hooked your thumbs onto the hem of your underwear and began the action of pulling them down your legs did Heeseung finally snap back to his senses and practically fling himself away from the window.
He fell into his desk next to the window, various trinkets and pencils falling off from the surface of it and onto the floor. What was wrong with him? What if you caught him in the act? Heeseung looked down at his pants and the insane boner he had. “Fuck,” he breathed, bringing his hands down his face as he caught his breath. He moved from the desk to his dresser so he could grab some clothes for a shower.
As he stood under the hot stream of the shower, he couldn’t stop his mind from running rampant with thoughts of you. No matter how hard he squeezed his eyes shut, all he saw was you in front of that window, stripping for him. He couldn’t stop himself from conjuring up the image of what he would’ve seen had he stayed for a few seconds longer and watched the black fabric of your underwear fall down the curve of your ass. Heeseung imagined what your tits might’ve looked like when they weren’t below the fabric of your shirt or bra. He jerked himself off faster at the thought.
The stream of water ran down his shoulders and he inhaled sharply, slowing his hand until he was gripping just the tip of his cock. No matter how hard he tried wiping his mind clean, the images just kept appearing. Heeseung cursed under his breath and started to move his hand again, at first starting slowly before he couldn’t pace himself anymore. He was so glad that the sound of the water muffled the mewls spilling from his mouth.
His hand moved hastily, like he couldn’t bring himself to wait any longer, and Heeseung squeezed his eyes shut and pretended that you were in front of him—stripping for him. A gasp left his parted lips and he braced himself with a hand on the tiled wall. In his mind, you were smiling that knowing smile from the dinner and beckoning him forward. And of course, he followed.
It's almost like he could feel your touch still—that it wasn’t his hand fisting his own cock right now, but yours. If he thought about it harder, which he was desperately trying to do, maybe he could even feel your lips around him too. Or, even better… Maybe he could feel the way you wrapped around him until his cock fully disappeared inside of you. The thought brought him over the edge and he fell into the tile in front of him, the stream of hot water suddenly hitting his back.
Heeseung’s cum sprayed all over the front of the tub below him and washed away with the water down the drain. His chest heaved and he forced himself to take deep breaths as he slowly stroked himself to come back down to Earth, more spurts of his cum spilling from him as he emptied himself out completely. Heeseung’s eyes fluttered open finally and he was disappointed to find himself still in the shower. God, what were you doing to him?
He cleaned himself up and left the shower, the feeling of embarrassment and slight shame weighing down his shoulders. After he was dressed and all ready for bed, he checked his window again. Part of him was hopeful that you’d still be standing there—and another part beat himself up over the fact that he was being a creep. Still, he made the short trek to his window to see anyway.
Your light was off and your blinds were closed, much to Heeseung’s disappointment. But, to his surprise, there was a piece of paper with writing on it taped to your window for him to see. On it, the paper read: “Perv” with a smiley face sticking its tongue out next to it in bold, sharpied letters. For a second, Heeseung’s heart dropped. He had been found out and you actually did see him after all. But… Did the note and the smiley face next to your writing mean that you didn’t mind it? Heeseung’s head felt even more clouded, but he couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at his lips.
Maybe the lines between the two of you were getting more and more blurred like he thought. Maybe it wasn’t so surface level and you were flirting with him at the dinner after all, and he was just too stupid to realize. Whatever the case, Heeseung knew that he had to see you again, no matter the cost.
You were back outside at the dead of night again, sitting on your porch swing as you looked out into the vast, dark sky and breathed out cigarette smoke. Some random bottle of wine was at your side, and you occasionally took swigs from it. The alcohol left you hazy, your eyelids weighing heavy the more you drank. It was another quiet night, much to your dismay. You had been coming out the past couple of nights to see if you could catch Heeseung in the act of cutting your Mom’s flowers again, but it's been a few days since you last saw him at the dinner your Mom hosted. If you were being honest, you thought it wouldn’t have taken this long—not with the whole window interaction. You had thought you made your intentions clear, but now you weren’t so sure.
Or, maybe he just didn’t feel the same way you did and was intentionally ghosting you.
You sighed, ready to retire for the night and call it quits before you heard the sound of someone walking near you. Looking up, you scanned the yard and saw the blur of a hoodie. Your face broke out into the slightest smile and you sat up a little straighter, standing from the swing.
“Hey,” you said, your eyes falling on Heeseung’s figure walking up to the stairs of your porch. He jumped, clearly not expecting you to be there, before smiling. You nodded him over to the porch swing you stood in front of and he climbed up the stairs while awkwardly fiddling with the hair at the back of his head. You sat back down and he sat down next to you, close enough that your shoulders touched and your thigh brushed against his. “What are you doing here?” you ask, looking over at him before taking another long drawl of the cigarette. You made sure to blow the smoke away from his face this time. “Here to steal some more flowers, thief?”
Heeseung laughed, waving a hand in the air. “No, I—Uh… I came to talk to you actually.”
You raised a brow at him, curious as to what he wanted to talk about. A chuckle fell from your lips, “Oh, really? About what?” You handed the half empty bottle of wine to him and he graciously took it. You’d offer him a cigarette as well, but he didn’t look like the type to even know how to light it, nevermind smoke it. Heeseung took a large swig from the bottle, thickly swallowing the wine down before he brought it back up to his lips to take another. “Woah… You must need to tell me something serious. Take it easy,” you told him before taking the bottle away.
Heeseung wiped his lips, looking at you with big eyes. He fumbled over his words, nothing coherent coming out. You smiled at him and leaned over to the small table next to the swing to put your cigarette out in the ashtray. “Here, let me start. I have something I want to say, too,” you say.
Raising the bottle to your lips, you drink some more of the wine before clearing your throat to speak. “Listen, I get it if you aren’t looking for something right now. Or-Or, maybe I wasn’t clear on what I wanted? Fuck, I’m so bad at this…” You ran a hand down your face, shaking your head a little. Your brain was already foggy from the alcohol and trying to think right now wasn’t exactly working. “You’re hot, okay? And-And I like you.”
You avoided Heeseung’s gaze, opting to look back out at the sky and the stars. In your peripheral vision, you saw his face change, but couldn’t see to which expression. “And I think that… maybe you like me too?” you continued. You dared to look back at him and your eyes met. Heeseung looked stunned, like he couldn’t believe that those were the words that came out of your mouth and he was actively trying to figure out if he was hearing things or not.
When he was silent for a moment, you quickly stood from the swing, bringing the bottle of wine with you. “Y-You don’t have to say anything. We can finish this talk when it’s daylight,” you rushed out. You moved past him, feet moving quick to get to your front door before Heeseung’s hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you back towards him. In the seconds it took for you to turn to him, his other hand reached up to cup your cheek and his lips pressed to yours.
You stumbled backwards a little, shock flooding you like the breaking of a dam, before you wrapped the arm that wasn’t holding the wine bottle around his neck to pull him closer to you. Your lips moved in perfect sync with his and you melted into the kiss. Heeseung’s other hand snaked up your side and pulled you close to his chest.
You didn’t even think about the fact that you needed to breathe. The only thing that ran through your mind was his soft lips against yours and your bodies pressed together. You wished that the two of you had kissed sooner. You wished that when the two of you sat on that couch together that you had climbed into his lap and brought your lips to his then. What a whole world you were missing out on.
Despite his better judgement, Heeseung was the one to pull away, his breathing falling heavy and his eyes shining. You smiled at him, shy all of a sudden. You didn’t really know what to say, even with Heeseung’s grand display of how he also felt about you. Finally, you settled on, “Do you wanna come inside?”
The two of you laughed, but Heeseung shook his head, his smile lingering. “Next time,” he said. “I want to be completely sober for this. I want us both to be completely sober for this.”
You laughed harder, pulling away from his grasp. He sounded like he was waiting his whole life for this moment and he didn't want anything to potentially taint it. You doubted the alcohol would make much of a difference, especially for him since he barely had any, but you nodded along anyway. “Next time, then,” you say, heading towards the door. “Goodnight, Heeseung.”
“I meant what I said, by the way,” Heeseung called after you. You turned back towards him, confusion written all over your face. He hadn’t said much of anything. And if his large gulps of wine were anything to attest to, you supposed it was from the nerves. “Before dinner, on the couch,” he clarified.
You took a second to think back to that night, to think back on the conversation the two of you had and go back over it in your mind. You came back with your own words: “You don’t have to fall over yourself trying to make me feel better.” You had jokingly said it when he started to ramble on about how he would love to be with you or someone like you. A smile pulled at your lips as realization fell over you.
“I know I was pretty awkward with it, but I was serious,” Heeseung says.
Rushing forward, you bring your lips to his once more, but only for a brief moment before pulling away. With your lips just centimeters from his, you say, “See you next time.” You turn again, heading for the door, and right before going inside you give Heeseung one last look before closing the door completely.
Heeseung is still awestruck that this all even happened, that you actually liked him like he liked you. He truly couldn’t believe it. He was sure that any moment now he would wake up in his bed and it all would’ve been a dream—he even pinched himself on the way from your porch to his house to confirm it for sure. But, it wasn’t. It all really happened, and that made Heeseung light up inside again like no other.
He wanted to jump up and shout from the rooftops and click his heels together. He couldn’t wait to see you again, and he especially couldn’t wait for that “next time” to finally happen.
A knock on the door sounded throughout the house and Heeseung looked towards the door from his spot on the couch where he was lazily flipping through channels on the TV. He wasn’t expecting any company, and his Mom didn’t tell him to expect anyone either. Heeseung raised a brow and he stood to his feet and let the remote fall somewhere on the couch from his hand.
When he pulled the front door open, he surely wasn’t expecting you to be on the other side of it, a big smile on your face as your figure basked in the springtime sunlight. For a moment, Heeseung was stunned. He hadn’t really seen you in the daylight before, as the majority of your encounters had taken place at night. He loved the way the sun made you glow like his very own angel sent to see him.
After the kisses the two of you shared, you both mainly spent time together in the middle of the night outside on your porch swing talking about everything and nothing. The two of you haven’t even kissed again. Everytime Heeseung would lean in and try to kiss you, you let him get as close as a brush against your lips before pulling away teasingly—telling him that “All good things come to those who wait.” He didn’t know how much longer he could—didn’t know what was taking him so long. He was so focused on finding the perfect moment that he seemed to be missing out completely.
It seemed you couldn’t wait much longer either, deciding to take matters into your own hands.
“Hey,” Heeseung smiled at you as he stepped to the side to let you in, “what are you doing here?” You entered his house, taking a brief look around the place before spinning to face him, the smile still on your face. You kicked off your boots and adjusted the leather jacket that you wore. Heeseung shut the door, giving you his full attention.
“It’s next time,” you say, taking a step towards him. Heeseung’s eyes widened, his face surely showing the shock he felt. Did you mean right now? Not that he didn’t want it, but Heeseung didn’t have any time to prepare. He doesn’t even look his best, either. And where were you supposed to do it, here on the couch? What if his Mom walked in?
Heeseung began pulling his shirt off but you grabbed his arms to stop him. “Not right here! Take me up to your room or something!” you exclaimed, looking at him incredulously. You slid your hand in his.
He pulled you with him towards the stairs and up to where his bedroom was, his heart racing with each step he took. Behind him, you giggled at his behavior and how nervous he was to finally sleep with you.
When you got to his room, he let go of your hand to hurriedly dart around his room. He rushed to pick up random shirts and jeans on the floor and shoved them into his closet along with throwing away any garbage that was still on his nightstand. As he cleaned, you walked over to his desk and shrugged off your leather jacket and laid it on top of the back of the desk chair. You turned and watched him, trying to keep your laugh in, as you patiently waited.
When he was finished he rushed up to you, pulling you to him by your waist. “Sorry… I wasn’t expecting you to come over,” Heeseung said, a bit breathless. You smiled at him, leaning forward to press your lips to his. Oh, you’d bet. A girl can only wait for so long—and if you left Heeseung in charge, you would’ve been waiting forever.
“Don’t worry about it, it’s not what I would’ve been paying attention to anyway.” Your hands trailed down Heeseung’s chest to his stomach as you slowly pushed him back towards his bed. He followed your lead, letting you back him up until the back of his knees hit the side of the bed and fell down onto it. He looked up at you with those big eyes, desire swirling inside of them as he hungrily looked over you standing above him.
You slowly stripped off your long-sleeved shirt and let it fall to the ground below you, your dark red bra pushing up your tits. Heeseung sat up further—his hands reaching for you—but you pushed him back down, wiggling a finger at him. “You really know how to make a girl wait,” you tell him, hooking your thumbs into your jeans to pull them down. “I had thought you’d change your mind.”
“Never,” Heeseung breathed as his sweatpants got tighter and tighter the more clothing you took off. There was practically a tent in his pants, and for once he wasn’t ashamed about it. Your jeans fell down to the floor and you kicked off the rest, smirking at him.
“Look familiar?” you ask, referring to him seeing you in just your matching dark red bra and panties. You turned your back to him, unhooking your bra and letting that fall, too, before looking over your shoulder at him. “Maybe this will jog your memory?”
Heeseung’s mind was taken back to that day he watched you strip through the window, his thoughts now finally being confirmed that you did in fact see him. His face completely flushed and he opened his mouth to speak, but only jumbled words came out. You giggled at him, turning to face him again, but Heeseung could only focus on how he finally got to see what your perfect tits looked like. His eyes widened even more.
You grabbed onto the band of his sweatpants, pulling at them to signal Heeseung to lift his hips so you can take them off. “That was a pretty big boner you had that day, don’t you remember?” you ask, your hand trailing over the boner he had currently. Heeseung’s hips jerked from the action. “Let me guess, you immediately ran to the shower, didn’t you? Disguised all of the noise behind the sound of the water?”
With his sweatpants, you had started to pull down Heeseung’s boxers too. They were halfway down his thighs when his cock sprang free out of them, the tip of it flushed and leaking. You didn’t even bother pulling his pants and boxers down further, too impatient to finally get your hands on him. Instead, your hand grabbed his rock-hard cock firmly, slowly stroking it as you leaned forward to press chaste kisses to Heeseung’s lips. Heeseung tried to keep his moans of pleasure down—even trying to kiss you for longer—but you wouldn’t let him. You wanted to hear him.
“I bet you fucked your fist all night and imagined it was me,” you say in a low voice against his lips.
You picked up the pace and Heeseung broke away from your lips, his head falling back as his eyes rolled to the back of his skull. He struggled to keep himself upright—and if you kept pumping him he was sure to cum at any moment. “Nothing…” Heeseung started breathlessly, taking a moment to find his words through his heavy breathing and shallow pants, “Nothing compares to the real thing.”
You stopped stroking him, your hand stopping at his leaking tip and running your thumb along the slit of it. Heeseung moaned loudly, his eyes fluttering open so he could look at you in question. He was so close, why would you stop? Before Heeseung could ask, you pushed at his chest so he laid on his back fully and climbed on top of him. You sat your clothed pussy right on the base of his cock and slowly started to move your hips.
Heeseung desperately wished there wasn’t fabric separating the two of you. He needed to feel you—needed to feel the way you wrapped around him as your arousal got him even more wet. He wanted you to roll your hips against him until you accidentally rolled them a little too much and he slipped inside you. But, you were having none of that. You were going to make him wait, like he had made you wait.
“Yeah?” you asked, your lips smashing against his in a sloppy kiss. His words must’ve ignited something in you because it wasn’t long before you were both moaning into each other’s mouths. Heeseung nodded, his hands coming to rest at your hips to help aid them in moving faster.
Breaking away from his mouth, you placed both hands on his chest, brows furrowed in pleasure as you continued to rock your hips. Your panties were completely soaked through and they stuck to your wet folds as you grinded against Heeseung. You moaned so prettily, the soft sounds escaping through your plump lips, that Heeseung wanted to hear the sound forever. He never wanted you to stop—in fact, he wanted to make you moan louder, have you feel so much bliss that you didn’t even think to muffle your alluring noises by taking your bottom lip between your teeth.
Heeseung’s hands reached up to your chest, taking your tits in them and squeezing. He needed to know what cumming inside you felt like. He needed to know how it felt to see your mixed cum pour out of you from around him as he fucked it back inside of you. His hands settled down at your waist and he flipped you over to where his pillows were at so that you were on your back instead.
You gasped, stunned by the change in position and the sudden lack of friction. Heeseung spread your legs apart so he could get a full view of you. Your dark red panties almost looked black from how soaked they were, and Heeseung wasted no time as he pulled them off—tossing them somewhere towards his dresser so he could remember to steal them later.
He froze for a moment as he looked down at you completely bare for him. Heeseung dropped his fingers towards your folds, smearing around your arousal in a trance. You watched him as you caught your breath, twitching slightly at his touch. It was so lewd how wet you were, with each pass of his fingers it felt like the sound reverberated off the walls of the room. “I can’t believe this…” Heeseung muttered to himself, barely loud enough for you to hear. His words only made you wetter.
Heeseung pulled off the rest of his clothes. He didn’t want any barriers stopping him from being able to feel you completely.
Grabbing his hard cock, Heeseung slid it between your folds, giving you a slight taste of your own medicine as he watched the way your back arched off the mattress. The joke was complete on him, though, because you squeezed your thighs together and trapped his cock with them.
Heeseung’s mouth fell open and you giggled at him. “It won’t be that easy,” you say, sitting up on your elbows. Heeseung groaned but you cut him off by sitting up fully and kissing him. “This is for the flowers, you thief.”
You turned so your back was flat against his chest, his cock between your thighs begging you to give it some release. You then grabbed Heeseung’s hands and brought them to your tits as you squeezed your thighs together tightly. Heeseung moaned at your ear, his hands squeezing you once again. “You’ll have to get off like this, first,” you told him while pressing your ass to his hips.
You looked down at his big cock between your thighs, at how flushed it was. Every small move Heeseung made drove you crazy because of the way he brushed against your clit. Each touch felt like a shockwave through your body, but you were too stubborn to let it go any other way. “You’re killing me,” Heeseung groaned again. “Haven’t I paid my dues?”
“Not even in the slightest,” you replied, moving away from him a little before pressing your ass back to his hips again so he took the hint. You hummed in pleasure, your gaze flicking towards him. If he wanted to be inside you, he better start moving.
Heeseung’s hands trailed down to your hips and he held you against him tightly as he leaned forward a little to catch your lips. He began using your thighs to fuck himself, his pace starting leisurely before all the pent up desire caught back up with him. Heeseung’s lips never left yours and the kiss only grew more and more sloppy as he pushed his tongue into your mouth to taste you.
You couldn’t hide your moans from him now, even despite them being muffled by his lips. Heeseung had you right where he wanted you and every brush of his cock against your clit made you dizzy, too dazed to notice the tremor in his hips against your ass as he fucked your thighs nor the way his abs tightened against your back. Heeseung only held you tighter to his body, his skin slapping against yours and mixing with the sound of your shared moans.
Soon, Heeseung’s hips jerked and he groaned against your lips. “Fuck, baby, I need to be inside you right now,” he dragged out. “Please. I want to cum inside of you.”
You shook your head at him and squeezed your thighs together tighter. Curses flew from Heeseung’s lips and his pace slowed. “Not yet,” you said, raising your hand to grab his face so you could kiss him again.
A thin layer of sweat coated the both of you and your body felt like if it burned any hotter it might explode. Heeseung had a death grip on your hips, like he was afraid that after he was done fucking your thighs you might change your mind on letting him fuck you fully. He stilled as he pressed you to him tighter, if possible. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—” Heeseung spewed out.
He barely moved from against you, too obsessed with the way you squeezed him to pull away from it. Thick, white ropes of cum gushed from him and coated the front of your thighs. Heeseung kept sloppily fucking you, a sigh releasing from his lips as more of his cum splattered across your lap.
You were dripping down his cock and all of the teasing and waiting you did backfired and was starting to make you desperate. You wasted no time flipping into your back, not even letting Heeseung come down from his high for even a moment. His cock hadn’t even stopped leaking cum—the rest of it dripping along your lower stomach—before you were rubbing it along your needy pussy. “Put it in… Hurry.”
Of course, Heeseung wasn’t going to wait any longer either.
He pushed inside of you, not being able to hold back any of his loud moans as he finally was able to feel what he’s been dreaming of. “You feel so good,” he breathed, bringing his thumb down to rub at your clit.
Heeseung let himself sit inside you for a moment, just really appreciating how amazing you felt wrapped around him—how deep your pussy swallowed him up until he was inside of you completely. He was pulled back down to Earth by the sound of your whine and the way you rolled your hips up. The movement sent a wave of pleasure throughout his body and he pressed down on your hips to keep them still without thinking.
“Please move,” you begged him, holding tightly to his wrists.
Heeseung pulled his hips back and watched the way his cock slid out of you covered in your arousal. The sight turned him on so much that he felt like he was going to cum again just from that. He brought his cock out until just the tip of it was still inside of you. Heeseung then wrapped his arms around your thighs, smearing his cum that was still splattered on top of them, while moving your legs to rest on his shoulders.
You were expecting him to start slow and build up to a faster pace, but Heeseung skipped that completely. Instead, he pushed into you completely—the sound of his skin slapping against yours filling your ears—until his hips were flush with yours and pulled out of you again just as quick to repeat the process. You cried out, clawing at the sheets as you were hit with intense euphoria.
His cock didn’t even have to try at hitting your sweet spot, he was already there by just being inside of you. With each thrust he hit it more and more and more until your back was arched up off of the bed and you were seeing stars. “Fuck, right there! Please, don’t stop!” you moaned. You couldn’t even begin to care how loud you were being. All you cared about was how good Heeseung was fucking you.
Heeseung was panting like a dog and not once did he even think of stopping. He was chasing that high he first felt when he jerked himself off to the thought of you in the shower—when he imagined how it would feel to be fucking your pretty little pussy the way he was right now. It was complete heaven, better than that even. His words from earlier rang truer than ever before right now: Nothing compares to the real thing.
“You like that?” Heeseung asked, his eyes moving up your body from the way your hips rolled up to try to meet his, to the way your tits bounced with each thrust he made, then to the harsh rise and fall of your chest, and finally to the purely fucked out expression on your face. Heeseung’s chest swelled with pride and he couldn’t help but smile. He was making you feel this way—he was causing all of these pretty whines and moans to fall from your parted lips. It was all him.
Your head was way too clouded to even answer him, the sound of your own euphoria drowning his words out. Heeseung knew as much, but that didn’t stop the next words from coming out of his mouth. “Yeah, you like that.”
He was slipping in and out of you so easily, it truly felt like your pussy was made to take his cock—and you were taking him so well. Tears formed in your eyes from all of the pleasure and messed up your already smeared eyeliner until streaks of black were running down your cheeks. Your body tensed and you squeezed down on him, letting Heeseung know you were close before you even had the chance to say anything.
“Keep going… fuck—” you cried. You tried pulling your legs away from Heeseung, but he wrapped his arms around them tighter and held them firm to his chest. You squirmed and pulled at his bedsheets, the euphoric bliss suddenly too overwhelming. Your body started to shake all over, and Heeseung relished in it all.
Seconds later, you're cumming all around his cock—some of it even spilling out from around him and dripping down the curve of your ass. Heeseung moans at the sight and angles one of his arms down so he can run his fingers along your folds, coating the tips of his fingers in the creamy white. You jolt at his touch, gasping.
It’s not long after until Heeseung’s thrusts get sloppy and his hips start to jerk. He pushes himself inside you completely, stomach tightening as his head falls back and he releases another load of his cum—this time inside of you like he’s been dreaming and begging for. Only when he’s sure that all of his cum is inside you is when he painstakingly starts to move, chasing the last bit of his high.
Heeseung slowly pulls out of you and watches the way all of the cum he pumped inside of you spills out until it’s forming a puddle beneath where your two bodies connect. “You just made all my dreams come true,” he says awestruck, pushing apart your thighs more so he can see the way your pussy glistens in the sunlight coming from his window. “Every single last one of them.”
You barely have the energy to laugh, but you do. Did Heeseung just basically call you his dream girl?
It catches you off guard when he takes the tip of his cock and scoops up some of the cum that dripped down your ass and pushes himself back inside of you. A loud whine leaves your lips and you press your thighs together. “S-Sorry, I—Uh…” Heeseung mumbles, his mouth falling open with another moan. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this feeling. I need to be inside you forever. Would you let me?”
You rapidly nod, but push at his arms when he starts to move his hips again, slowly pushing in and out of you. “Heeseung,” you whine again. He chuckles a little before pulling his cock out of you completely.
Heeseung leans down so he can sweetly kiss your lips, his hand caressing the side of your face. “Good?” he asked you, a bit shy.
“Amazing,” you reply. “Next time, let’s not wait as long.”
Heeseung perks up at your words, “Next time?” You laugh at him, cupping his face with both of your hands. How can he be this clueless? It was genuinely astonishing. You kiss him.
“Yes, of course there will be a next time.” Heeseung’s face lights up and he gives you the most passionate kiss the two of you have shared yet. You laugh more in the middle of it. He is so adorable, it blows your mind that all of this came from him stealing flowers from in front of your house. “Now go get something to clean me up,” you say.
Realization crosses Heeseung’s face. “Oh, yeah. Right.” He gets up from the bed, still fully naked, and flings his door open to rush to the bathroom. Distantly, you hear water running before he’s back with a wet washcloth in one hand and his other hand tucked behind his back. When you raise an eyebrow, he smiles brightly at you.
“For you,” Heeseung says as he reveals the flower behind his back. Funnily, it’s one of the flowers he stole from your house. You burst out laughing, and he joins you, crawling back on the bed so he can start cleaning you up. You take the flower from his grasp.
“Wow, thank you for the flower that was already technically mine! It’s beautiful. Where did you get it?” you ask. Heeseung looks away, the smile still on his face, as he opts not to answer. You shake your head at him, sitting up so you can bring his lips to yours.
He can steal all of the flowers he wants, as long as he steals your heart next.
✉️ ⦂ there’s a lottienat everywhere for all eyes to see… himbo heeseung with a big dick please come and save me i’m begging
ROCKSTAR BF! JAY who rules the stage like he was born for it but only ever looks for you in the crowd. under the flashing lights, drenched in sweat, guitar slung low, jay is in his element—unstoppable, untouchable. fans scream his name, hands reaching for him, but the second the song ends, his sharp gaze scans the crowd for only one person. when he spots you, his smirk softens into something more private. later, when you meet him backstage, he immediately pulls you into his arms, pressing his forehead against yours. “saw you out there,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your temple. “made me play even harder.”
ROCKSTAR BF! JAY who kisses you like he has all the time in the world, even when he doesn’t. minutes before he goes on stage, his team is calling for him, but jay only has eyes for you. “one for good luck,” he murmurs, brushing his lips over yours. it’s soft at first—teasing—until you tug at his collar, and he groans, deepening it, hands slipping around your waist. the distant roar of the crowd is nothing compared to the way you sigh against his lips. “jay, you’re gonna be late,” you whisper, breathless. he smirks, thumb grazing your jaw. “they can wait.” but you push him toward the door, laughing. “go be a rockstar.” he huffs but obeys, stepping away with a smirk. before he disappears, he calls over his shoulder, “if i mess up, it’s ‘cause you distracted me.”
ROCKSTAR BF! JAY who writes love songs but will die before admitting they’re about you. he sits on the floor with his guitar, strumming out a melody, humming to himself. you peek over his shoulder, reading the scribbled lyrics. “‘her smile feels like home’?” you glance up at him, teasing. “jay, is this about—” he immediately clears his throat, cutting you off. “nope. just lyrics. could be about anyone.” you narrow your eyes. “oh? so the part about ‘singing in the car off-key to my songs’ is totally random?” his ears turn red. “…next question.”
ROCKSTAR BF! JAY who loves when you wear his clothes, but he’ll never say it outright. the first time he sees you in his oversized hoodie, fresh out of the shower, hair damp, sleeves covering your hands—he actually forgets how to breathe for a second. but instead of admitting it, he just raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms.“so you’re just stealing my clothes now?” you grin, tugging the hoodie tighter around yourself. “yep.”he exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “unbelievable.” but later, when you fall asleep wearing it, he snaps a photo and saves it to his favorites.
ROCKSTAR BF! JAY who takes you on midnight drives with no destination, just the two of you and the open road. after a long show, when the adrenaline is still pumping, jay grabs the car keys and drags you along for a ride. one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh, he hums along to the radio, occasionally glancing at you with a small smile. “you tired?” he asks when he notices you nodding off. you mumble something incoherent, and he chuckles, squeezing your knee gently. “go ahead and sleep, babe. i’ll wake you when we get home.”
ROCKSTAR BF! JAY who is effortlessly cool, but the second you get sick, he turns into the biggest worrywart. you sniffle, bundled up in blankets, and jay frowns like you’ve personally offended him. “you have a fever. did you take medicine? have you eaten?” you groan. “jay, i’m fine—” he cuts you off by pressing the back of his hand to your forehead, brows furrowing. “nope. you’re officially under my care now.” he disappears for ten minutes and returns with soup, tea, and—somehow—a teddy bear. you blink. “where did you even get that?” he shrugs, setting it beside you. “don’t ask questions. just let it comfort you.”
ROCKSTAR BF! JAY who pretends he’s fine with people flirting with you, but he is not fine. you’re at an afterparty, chatting with someone a little too friendly. across the room, jay watches, expression unreadable, fingers tapping against his glass. he doesn’t storm over—no, he’s too composed for that—but he does make his way to you, slipping an arm around your waist. “hey, babe,” he says smoothly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “ready to go?” the other person quickly backs off, and as you two walk away, you smirk up at him. “you jealous?” he scoffs. “pfft. no.” but his grip on your waist tightens just slightly.
ROCKSTAR BF! JAY who loves teaching you guitar but ends up just watching you instead. “okay, hold it like this,” jay says, adjusting your grip on the guitar. his hands guide yours, voice soft in your ear. you strum the strings awkwardly, wincing at the off-key sound. he chuckles, resting his chin on your shoulder. “not bad, babe. if we ever need a backup guitarist, i’ll let you know.” you nudge him with your elbow. “you’re just saying that because you love me.” he smirks, eyes twinkling. “maybe.”
ROCKSTAR BF! JAY who sends you voice notes of unreleased songs at the most random times. your phone buzzes at 2 am—another voice memo from jay. “wrote this just now. don’t tell my manager i sent it to you first.” his voice is slightly rough, thick with sleep, but the melody is soft, intimate, unmistakably about you. the next morning, he casually asks, “did you listen to it?” when you gush about how much you love it, he just smirks, ruffling your hair. “good. it’s yours before it belongs to anyone else.”
ROCKSTAR BF! JAY who lets you mess with his hair even though he pretends to hate it. you run your fingers through his soft strands, trying to braid them, and he groans dramatically. “babe, i am a rockstar. do i look like someone who wears braids?” you tie off the tiny braid and hold up a mirror. “yes.” he sighs, but later, when you’re not looking, he takes a picture of it and saves it.
ROCKSTAR BF! JAY who always pulls you into his arms the second he comes off stage. the moment the set ends, he barely waits for the crowd to settle before he’s rushing backstage, looking for you. when he finds you, he doesn’t say anything at first—just wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your hair. “missed you,” he murmurs against your skin. when you laugh, teasing him— “jay, you were literally just on stage.” —he only holds you tighter. “doesn’t matter. it wasn’t close enough.”
ROCKSTAR BF! JAY who sings you to sleep without even realizing it. it’s late, the two of you curled up in bed, and he’s absentmindedly humming a tune while stroking your hair. his voice is low, soothing, lulling you into a peaceful haze. “you’re humming our song,” you whisper sleepily. he pauses, then chuckles softly. “guess it’s stuck in my head. just like you.”
ROCKSTAR BF! JAY who looks at you like you’re his entire world, even when you’re doing something completely mundane. you could be tying your shoe, scrolling on your phone, or eating a snack, and jay will just… stare. when you catch him, he shrugs, smiling softly. “just making sure i remember exactly how you look.”
𝓦c ::: roughly 0.8k 𐙚 𝓢harinote ::: brother's best friend is one of my fave tropes... yet I don't think i've ever written for it :( ALSO not proofread cause omfg please (I'll do it later) 𐙚 warnin𝓰.ᐟ ::: brother's best friend · reader is 21 · oral (f) · kissing · pet names · unprotected sex [be safe!!!] · cum eating (?) | spit · dacryphilia [kinda, not really] · not proofread, like I said.
you were never the biggest fan of your older brother. in fact, you liked to think that anyone unfortunate enough to actually know him wasn’t.
he was a dick—plain and simple. though, arguably, so was his best friend. but for some reason, you never seemed to mind that quite as much.
ever since sunghoon brought him home his freshman year of college, something inside you had stirred at the sight of his stupid honey skin and his stupid gorgeous hair—face and his nose... god that nose.
you couldn't help but stare at the older boy... you'd be out of your mind not to take advantage of the opportunity to admire such a sight—heeseung looked like the kind of guy you only saw on TV or social media.
though, it's not like your brother would let you anywhere near him and heeseung anyways.
"heeseung doesn’t want to hang out with some little girl. go away."
your older brother wasn't only a dick—but a pain in the ass too.
you'd just stepped into the kitchen for a cup of water, not to bother them... yet he'd already tried to run you off.
"whatever, hoon. I just wanted some water." you rolled your eyes so hard you're sure they could've gotten stuck if you weren't careful.
"yeah, yeah, whatever. come on, heeseung. 'don’t want to keep jimin waiting, do you?" he teased his friend.
"dude, shut up," heeseung muttered, pushing himself up from his seat... your breath caught in your throat noticing the slight bit of skin peeking from beneath his shirt as he stretched up. no way in hell you'd ever have a chance with... that.
but as he passed you, he lingered for just a second—long enough to ruffle your hair and long enough to look down at you with a smirk. "later, princess." he'd waved, soon following your brother in suit out the door.
god, that felt like ages ago—though, it was only two years ago give or take.
and now, all these months, years later, you were finally home from college. it was supposed to be a surprise to your mother, she'd begged you to come home during the summer.
you came home expecting a peaceful summer to catch up with your family and asshaat brother.
except that wouldn't happen because he was here too.
"woah, look who finally decided to show up," sunghoon snickered from the couch, stretching lazily.
"oh, fuck off, sunghoon," you snapped.
the familiar sibling rivalry kicked in instantly, causing your parents to intervene—running from down stairs, completely surprised to see you after almost a year.
though your little family reunion was cut short by the sound of the bathroom door unlocking. and then—him. heeseung stepped out, running a hand through his dark hair, looking effortlessly good the same way he did your junior year of high school.
“heeseung,” your brother said, glancing over his shoulder. "oh, y/n's home, by the way." idiot, you swore... as if you weren’t sitting right there.
"oh, hey." he nodded.
"h-hi, heeseung."
the first few days of your stay you felt strange... strange because it was your first time home in... a while and strange because the feeling of being watched haunted you throughout your own home.
heeseung... he was looking at you.
taking in the way your hair fell over your shoulders... how snug your shirt seemed to cling around your body or... or how perfect your tits sat in said shirt.
twentyone looked good on you.
"so," he leans against the counter beside you, fingers drumming lazily against the countertop. his eyes are anything but lazy, they deliberately flicker over your face, down to the curve of your throat, to your collarbones, and then back up again.
your grip tightens around the edge of the marble island center of your kitchen. "oh, heeseung. what's up?" you gulp down, hard. if there's one thing heeseung has always been good at, it's making you nervous.
he exhales a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "what's up?" he repeats, amused by the flushed shade of red creeping up your neck. "nothing, nothing… just thought we should catch up. it’s been a while since we’ve all seen you, princess..."
the nickname lands differently now—it's less playful and more... serious? it rolls off his tongue dripping with a sickening sweetness, sending a slow shiver down your spine.
you turn to fully face him, but the moment you do, he shifts closer, his large frame seeming to cage you against the cool counter. "how've you been, baby?"
"i-i've been good," you manage, voice barely above a whisper as you choke on your words.
heeseung hums, low and approving, tilting his head as he watches you—really watches you... taking in the way your eyes dart around and the way your throat bobs.
"just good?" he smiles teasingly.
your breath catches once more as he leans in, his arm brushing against yours, his scent swarming around you.
"'and how’s college treating you?"
you can hear the smirk in his voice before you even dare to look up.
"a-also good," you stammer, pulse hammering in your ears as you manage to lock eyes with him. "well I guess that makes sense," he's so close you can feel his breath fanning across your face.
his grin deepens. he knows exactly what he’s doing—however, before he can get any closer, he suddenly peels himself off of you. finally allowing you the opportunity to take a breath of fresh, cool air. "things would be going well for a good girl like you, wouldn't they?"
you nod, unsure of what else to do. "I guess... I guess so."
"i didn’t come to bother you for no reason, y’know." his tone shifts. It’s far softer this time.
your brows lift slightly. "oh?"
"i really did miss you…" he chews on his bottom lip.
it’s not a complete lie.
you were always sunghoon’s cute little sister—off-limits, but easy on the eyes, you were something pretty to look at whenever he got tired of your brother’s antics.
but still, he realizes he missed more than that.
he missed the way you used to light up every room you walked into. he really misses the whole 'school flower' thing you had going for you... the way that even at eighteen, you’d already left an impression on him that no girl at his college ever had.
"i know your parents’ll want to hang out with you," he continues, watching you closely. "and as much as you guys won’t admit it, you and hoon are practically attached at the hip."
you can’t help but laugh because, well… he’s right, you and your dickhead brother are attached at the hip.
heeseung grins at your reaction. "i just wanted to come get dibs before anyone else could and i lost my spot."
your heart stutters, but you mask it with a smile. this is something high school you could've never imagined. "that’s... that's really sweet, heeseung. i’d love to spend some time with you."
score.
"perfect. you remember where my room is, right?" heeseung pauses, tilting his head as if he’s really thinking about it—"you ‘wanna come around about… ten, eleven? we can watch a movie or something." his smile is contagious, you hardly catch yourself grinning along with him.
you shift on your feet, still hyper-aware of how close he’s standing. "the guest bedroom?" you chuckle softly, quirking your eyebrow.
"our guest bedroom," he corrects with a smirk.
the invitation alone is enough to send your thoughts spiraling, the lee heeseung had just invited you into his bedroom. be cool, y/n. you think to yourself.
"fine… as long as it’s not that stupid movie you and sunghoon always watch." you manage the snarky remark.
heeseung’s brows lift in amusement, his typical lazy grin tugging at his lips. "oh? you don’t like it?"
you shake your head, staring down at your fingers as they fidget with the hem of your sleeve. "it's just… you guys have watched it a lot. I’ve watched it a lot.”
"wow," he exhales, hand flying to his chest like you’ve just wounded him. "that’s cold, princess."
your cheeks burn at the nickname, you dont think you’ll ever get used to it. “I’m just being… honest.” you stare up into his eyes, his gaze is piercing as he doesn’t shy away from your sudden eye contact.
heeseung watches you for a moment, something flickering behind his eyes before he lets out a low chuckle. "fine, fine… no toy story," he concedes.
you nod, relieved, though the nervous flutter in your stomach doesn’t settle.
but before either of you can say anything else, sunghoon’s voice cuts through the air, calling for heeseung from upstairs.
heeseung sighs, throwing you one last glance before pushing off the counter. "guess i’ll see you later then," he murmurs, voice quieter now, like it’s meant just for you.and as he disappears up the stairs, you exhale shakily, heart pounding at the thought of what later might bring.
when the clock strikes ten, you find yourself lingering outside his door, fresh out of the shower with your heart hammering against your chest.
your hands feel all clammy and your nerves are bad.
you have to force yourself to knock—when it’s so soft you barely even hear it yourself.
but he does.
the door swings open, and there he is, standing in a dimly lit room, hoodie hanging loose around his frame with his sweats slung low on his hips. his lips twitch at the sight of you… tiny pajama shorts and the cutest little top. "you look nervous," he teases, stepping aside to let you in.
"i’m not," you lie through our teeth.
he chuckles, closing the door behind you. "sure you aren’t, c’mere." heeseung’s hand latches onto your wrist dragging you further into the room. he leads you to the bed where his laptop is propped open, some random movie that isn’t toy story playing on the screen. you sit beside him where his hand pats the mattress next to you.
you’re stiff as a board, while he lounges comfortably, one arm resting behind his head.
and then—slowly, he shifts, one of his arms draping over the back of the bed, curling around your shoulders as he pulls you in closer. your breath hitches as the heat of his body sinks into yours, the weight of his arm making your entire body heat up.
"relax, princess," he murmurs, lips seriously close to your ear. "i don’t bite."
you swallow hard, forcing yourself to focus on the screen, but then his fingers brush against your bare shoulder, heeseung hums, as if pleased by your reaction. "cute," he muses, letting his fingers trace down your arm, featherlight and slow. you can practically feel your stomach bubbling with eagerness. you’ve never been this close to heeseung. sunghoon wouldn’t allow it—and he’d flip, if he knew you were in bed with him. but, god, you can’t find the desperation of wanting your brother’s best friend to touch you even more.
"you’re so nervous… don’t tell me you’ve never been this close to a guy before."
your face burns. "i have," you mumble, though the way your body reacts to his touch completely betrays you. “I-i’m in college,” you ramble, “obviously i’ve… i’ve y’know, been with guys or whatever.”
"mhmm," he hums, clearly unconvinced. his fingers continue their dance over your skin, up to your collarbone, and along your jaw before he carefully grabs your face to look at him… tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
and then, just as you suck in a shaky breath, he leans in, close enough that you can feel his lips ghost over your cheek.
"should i stop?" he whispers against your skin.
you shake your head. “I need you to use your words, y/n.” he frowns. fuck, if you made it out of this alive… you’d be sure to go into great detail for your best friend. though you’re not sure she’d believe you actually got into bed with heesung. “I-i don’t want you to stop.” you whimper.
heesung’s frown melts into something darker, something almost smug, and it sends a fresh wave of heat curling through you. his fingers tighten their grip—just slightly—but enough to make you shiver.
“see? that wasn’t so hard, was it?” his voice is low, teasing, but there’s an edge of restraint there, like he’s holding himself back. like your words alone have made it harder for him to stay in control.
you swallow, pulse fluttering as his gaze drags over your face, searching, memorizing. your breath stutters when he shifts, the weight of him pressing down, surrounding you, making escape impossible—not that you’d ever want to.
“you want more,” he murmurs, brushing his lips just barely against your jaw, your ear, as if savoring the way you tremble beneath him. “so be good for me, and i’ll give you everything.”
and then, before you can think, before you can breathe—he does.
heesung hums, low and approving, his fingers already slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. his touch is slow, deliberate, tracing up your ribs, mapping out the heat of your skin like he wants to memorize every inch of you.
“this in the way?” he asks, though he doesn’t wait for an answer. in one smooth motion, he tugs the fabric of your shirt up and over your head, tossing it somewhere behind him without a second thought.
his gaze darkens as it drags over you, and you can feel it—burning, searing, making you squirm beneath him, clad in your bra and shorts.
“fuck,” he breathes, almost to himself. then his hands are on you again, warmer than the air against your exposed skin, sliding down your sides, lingering at your waist.
the waistband of your shorts is next, and he hooks his fingers there, beneath your panties and the elastic of your shorts... glancing up at you through heavy-lidded eyes clouded with lust.
“'think these'll get in the way too?” he murmurs, teasing, but you can hear the hunger woven into his voice, feel the tension in the way his fingers flex.
as if he’ll tear them off if you make him wait too long.
you nod. In one swift motion, he yanks them down, leaving you bare as he buries his face in your neck. his breath fans over your skin, sending shivers racing down your spine. without thinking, you arch into his touch, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“whenever you’re ready…” his voice is low, barely above a whisper as he leans into your ear.
your fingers clutch at his shirt, tugging at the hem. “mmm… p-please…”
you notice his gaze darkening—his eyes stagger across the expanse of your skin… the sultry expression of pure desperation etched across your face. “that’s all?” he cocks his head, letting the silence stretch as though he was expecting more. “please what, princess?”
you swallow hard, heat creeping up your skin. you know what he wants. “p-please touch me,” you choke out, embarrassed.
his smirk deepens as he watches your lashes flutter—your eyes brimming with tears. “see?” he coos, tilting your head to look at him with his fingers. “that wasn’t so hard, now was it?”
before you can answer, he peels his shirt over his head in one swift motion.
you barely have time to process the sharp toning of his torso before his lips crash into yours. the kiss is hungry, his hands fervently paw at your sides, slithering up your back to unclasp your bra.
once the cool air hits your bare skin, you can’t help but to gasp. the swell of your breasts fall into his waiting palms, his fingers tweak your nipples between their dexterous, steady tips. heeseung’s mouth never leaves yours, swallowing every breathy moan as he discards your bra, tossing it aside with your hoodie and shorts. his tongue swipes against your bottom lip—forcing your mouth open so that he can intertwine your muscles.
“taste so sweet, princess…” he murmurs against your swollen lips. “you this sweet everywhere?”
the low rumble of his laugh sends sparks flying, and before you can reply, his teeth sink into your neck. you jolt, gasping as he marks you. it stings, but only for a second as he continues to nip and suck on your skin. “I-I don’t… ah! I don’t know…” you stammer, breath hitching.
you’re sure there’ll be a flattering bruise in the morning left from his biting… one that hopefully no one will question.
he hums, dragging slow, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, your collarbones… your breasts… your stomach. each press of his lips is deliberate, each touch leaves a trail of heat in its wake, making you feel pleasurably hot.
he doesn’t stop his assault until he’s face-to-face with the plush of your thighs, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin surrounding your navel. your head falls back against the headboard, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths as you feel him closer approaching your aching cunt.
“dreamt of this for so long,” he mutters between kisses, lips dragging up your inner thigh. “last summer…” he pauses, breath hot against your skin. “that stupid fucking bikini…” another kiss, closer this time. “god, it was so hard pretending I wasn’t staring in front of your brother, your parents…”
you feel your thighs twitch as he exhales against you, indulging in the delicious aroma of your arousal… each syllable of his words only make you ache more, and more.
“I wanted to rip that skimpy little top off you… bend you over the damn poolside table for everyone to see.”
“f-fuck hee…”
“what? you would've liked that?” the teasing tone in his voice returns, as he plunges his hands between your legs—they separate your thighs in one hasty motion. there’s no time to process any of it before he’s nuzzling into you cunt.
no one’s ever eaten you out before.
heeseung licks a fat stripe up your cunt, collecting every bit of your slick as he laps over your clit. “o-oh..! ohmygodohmygod, heeseung!” one of your hand shoots up to clasp your mouth shut. heeseung takes the other in the palm of his own, gently tangling your fingers in the roots of his hair. “pull on it, pretty girl.” he demands.
the foreign feeling of his tongue flexing against your sopping cunt leaves you feeling dizzy, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you babble out complete nonsense.
and just when you thought it couldn’t get any better—that your head couldn’t be sent any further into the clouds… he pushes two of those long, thick fingers between the snug warmth of your silken gummy walls, earning an almost pornographic mewl to erupt from your throat.
“feeling good?” his brown eyes sparkle, they dart your face admiring the view of your mouth hung open and your brows knit together as his fingers curl inside of you. “mm close! oh, fuck! I’m so close, heeseung! hah…”
“I know, baby… just hold on.” heeseung purred—he resumed his prior actions of making out with your pussy, jaw slack as he pushed his fingers as deeply inside of you as he could manage.
your fists clenched around his sheets as your stomach wound itself up… your orgasm threatening to wash over you.
heeseung’s fingers pressed against the spongy spot buried within you once more, a scissoring motion of his to fingers accompanying his previous abuse. “ffffuck!”
“there you go.” a smirk tugs on the corners of his lips. He allowed you to ride our the high, tongue swiping your cunt once more to savour the mess of creamy slick pooling at your entrance and around his fingers.
“good girl.” he carefully sat up, bringing his body to hang over you as he planted yet another kiss onto your lips. “say ‘ah’, sweet girl.”
of course, you obeyed… forcing your puffy lips to gape so that he could leave a glob of his spit on your tongue. “taste yourself…” you clamp your mouth shut, doing as he asked. “swallow…” another command comes out rushed, rolling off of his tongue. your throat bobbed, heat pooling in your stomach at the way he watches you—his dark eyes full with satisfaction.
before you can catch your breath, his mouth is on yours again, this time slower, deeper—he presses his lips against yours savoring the taste of you on his tongue (yet again).
“h-hee…” you squeak, your voice barely above a whisper.
“hm?” his hum vibrates against your lips, full of patience.
you tug at the waistband of his sweatpants, fingers curling into the fabric. “i want…” your breath catches in your throat as his forehead rests against yours, the warmth of his skin making you feel lightheaded with longing.
“i want you.” your pout is clear, yearning—an attempt to keep him from making you say it. but you know better.
he always makes you say it.
before he can tease you or ask for more, you tug at his waist again, fingers tightening. you really mean it. “i want your dick… please.” your breath stutters, heart hammering against your ribs. “please fuck me.”
“aw, baby…” heeseung can’t help but find you so adorable—your soft whining pleas to fuck you and the way your eyes are are glassy as the stare into his own… not to mention your fingers digging into the material of his pants. your sudden boldness is endearing.
“that’s what you want? ‘want me to fuck you so good you forget about anyone else?”
you nod dumbly without thinking.
“p-please i want that so bad… so bad it hurts.” you frown.
heeseung takes your hand, cupping his bulge and you feel the damp spot that’s formed whilst he humped against the bed, eating your out.
he usually would’ve made you wait—fucked your throat or fingered you open some more… however, you asking is all it takes, heeseung yanks his pants down and when does—you’re in awe. he’s big, just like you imagined.
his tip flushes an angry red, blushing where it meets the girthy length of his cock. your mouth drools at the sight of each adorning vein, thy pulse much like the head of his dick, which is leaking sticky pearls of precum.
“enjoying yourself?” he interrupts your thoughts… you nod, not even pretending as though you weren’t admiring his dick and it’s slight curve to the left. "can I suck you off?" you question, boldly, earning a chuckle from the male. "maybe next time, baby... but i'm glad you're enjoying ‘cause i’m about to give you even more to enjoy,” he grins.
heeseung doesn’t give you a warning—just the sudden, firm pressure of his hand pressing against your lower stomach, making you gasp as he breaches your entrance, pushing inside of you. he’s so. fucking. handsome.
his brows furrow together as his face contorts into something of pleasure. a hand runs through his hair as he bottoms out, balls laying snuggly against your ass before he begins thrusting.
each drag of his cock feels like what you’d imagine to be the equivalent to heaven. he fills you up so well—tip kissing your cervix as heeseung’s hips fuck into you at a steady pace. You tuck your lip between your teeth to keep quiet as his pace becomes more relentless.
“‘wanna hear you, princess…” he snaps his hips into you. “you were just so loud… c’mon make some noise for heeseungie, yeah? let me know h-how good i make you, shit! how good i make you feel...”
he makes you feel good. really, really fucking good, however, you remeber where you are… your parents room is right down the hall—not to mention your pain in the ass brother.
you know he’d blew up if he walked in on this… his little sister folded with her legs up as his best friend stroked himself inside of her like a madman.
“oh…” heeseung nodded. “I know… ‘scared ‘hoon’ll hear you?” you shake your head. he laughs, knowing that that is actually it.
“It’s okay, yeah? I’m fucking you so good it’ll be worth it if we get in trouble. Isn’t that right?” his hands grip around your thighs pushing them into your upper half—really folding you in half, so that his cock can bully it’s way further into your cunt.
“h-hee…” you moan ever so slightly. the new position allows you to feel him much deeper than you did before. “what was that, princess?”
“fuck!” you squeal. “f-feel you in my tummy, oh my fucking… ah!” the relentless pace picks up as he slams into you again, and again. “‘gonna cum all over my cock?”
you nod. “s-shitt! ‘I-i’ll do it! ‘gonna cum all over your, ohmygodohh oh, oh!” you gasp, before you can get your sentence out your body is trembling with pleasure. your second orgasm comes crashing over you.
“god, y/n… fuck,” heeseung groans, his thrusts are steady and relentless. “do that again… clench around me.”
you’re sensitive with your body still trembling, you do as he asks, eager to please—tightening around him, squeezing… and it must work, because within moments, his head falls back, his hips falter, and a deep, guttural moan rips from his throat as hot white spurts of his release spill inside you.
“good girl,” he breathes, voice thick with pleasure. “good… fucking girl.”
he collapses onto you, bodies flushed and slick with sweat, bare skin sticking together as you both try to catch your breath.
“you okay?” he asks, voice hoarse and worn.
“y-yeah.” you nod, lips curling into a tired smile.
heeseung shifts, turning to look at you. “and how was it, princess?” the nickname is lighthearted as always, though now, it carries a different meaning only the two of you’ll share.
you giggle, cheeks warm as you meet his gaze. “amazing.”
he grins, wide and satisfied. “i’m glad…” a beat of silence passes before he’s sitting up again. “let’s clean you up, hm? you can sleep in here… with me, tonight.” he grins.
“can i really?” you tiredly sit up on your elbows. “what about..?”
“don’t worry about him, baby.” he chuckles, “we both know how late sunghoon sleeps in.”
your brother does love to sleep in…
still, as heeseung helps you up, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before leading you to the bathroom, the thought barely lingers. because right now, the only thing that matters is the warmth of his hand in yours and the promise lingering in his smile.
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